"And you're sure he was following her?" Buffy squinted in the bright winter sunshine.
Xander tossed a pebble away. "Speaking as someone who's something of an expert in following women at a distance, oh yeah."
Buffy shaded her eyes with her hand. "So what did you do then?"
Xander shrugged. "We offered to take her home but guess what? She's homeless." He shook his head. "Can you imagine that? In high school with no place to live?"
"Seems very real to me." Buffy's voice was somber.
"Yikes. Sorry."
Buffy shrugged. "No big. What did you do with her?"
"Cordelia graciously offered to let her spend the night at her house?"
Buffy arched an eyebrow. "Cordelia graciously offered?"
Xander looked up at the trees. "Maybe I offered for her. Point is, she spent the night in a place Trick can't enter."
Buffy nodded, then rocked back, letting her heels come off the ground. "Did it ever occur to you that she might be working for Trick? It's the sort of thing he would do." The look on Xander's face made in abundantly clear that this possibility had not crossed his mind. As he groped for an answer his gaze flicked past Buffy's shoulder. A look of relief crossed his face and he nudged the Slayer.
"I don't think that's a problem," he said, using his head to point over her shoulder. Buffy turned.
Josie and Cordelia crossed the lawn, cutting across the general flow of the student body. Josie wore the trench coat and sneakers from the night before, but a faded navy-blue T-shirt had replaced the rollneck sweater. The old jeans she wore were rolled up a couple of turns. Xander and Buffy stood up as they approached.
"Hey," Xander said, "how are you guys this morning?" He grinned at Josie. "Snappy new threads."
Josie tossed her head. "Cordelia let me borrow a few things."
Xander made a mock-impressed face. "And she broke out the really nice duds, too." Cordelia's look clearly said 'Don't go there.'
"It's okay," Josie said. "They're just a little big is all."
Cordelia's eyes blazed. "And what's that supposed to mean?"
Josie's eyes widened. "I meant... you're taller... long. They're a little long is what I meant." Cordelia glared at her for a beat, then banked the fire.
Xander took his girlfriend by the hand. "We'd love to chat some more, but we gotta go. See you later."
"Much later," Cordelia called out with much false good cheer as they walked away, leaving Buffy and Josie alone. The Slayer shuffled her feet. Josie stuck her hands in her pockets and looked around.
"So, uh," Buffy said, "I've gotta be going. Classes and all that stuff, you know."
Josie nodded. "Yeah, sure. I understand. Go ahead."
"You'll be okay?"
Josie pointed toward the building. "I have classes of my own to go to."
"Okay then." Buffy walked away, fighting the urge to look over her shoulder.
***
Rupert Giles chuckled.
"You seem to be in a good mood," Willow said as she entered the library.
"Oh, hello." Giles turned his attention back to the catalogue. "I'm just doing some Christmas shopping."
"Really?" Willow frowned. "You never seemed like the Christmas type."
"The day that's now observed as Christmas has been a festival day observed by various religions for thousands of years." Giles didn't even look up from the catalogue.
"Mmmmmm-hmmmmm." Willow decided to let it drop. "Who are you shopping for?"
"Buffy. And I believe I've found the perfect gift." He turned the catalogue toward Willow. "Have a look."
Willow looked at the catalogue, cocked her head to the side and looked again. She flipped the volume shut to look at the front cover. "Giles, what's a Bass Pro Shop?"
"It's a sporting goods store in... well, somewhere in the Midwest. It's enormous, and when I saw this, I knew it was perfect for Buffy. What do you think?"
Willow read from the copy. "Advanced polymer resin frame. Re-engineered ergonomic design. Compound recurved mechanism." She looked up. "Well, it's very nice Giles, but are you sure a crossbow is the perfect Christmas gift?"
"You don't like it?" Giles was nonplussed.
Willow shrugged. "I understand how you think this is a great gift, and I'm sure it would be very nice, but I think maybe Buffy would like something a little more... girly?"
Giles practically sputtered. "B-But look at it! Compared to Buffy's old crossbow, it's... it's a work of art!"
Willow looked doubtful but looked again. The door clicked open and Oz entered. He waved to Giles and peeked over Willow's shoulder.
"Nice crossbow," he said.
"I'm thinking of getting it for Buffy for Christmas," Giles said, only a slight sulk in his voice.
Oz nodded. "Outstanding." Still looking at the catalogue he asked Willow, "Ready for lunch?"
Willow sighed. "Obviously this is some sort of guy thing." She hefted her books. "Giles, just promise me you'll think about what I said." She took Oz by the hand as they left.
Giles looked down at the catalogue. "But I still think it's a wonderful gift."
***
Xander looked up as Willow and Oz approached hand in hand. He turned to Buffy and Cordelia. "It's Oz and Willow. Or maybe we should try that as one big name, you know, Ozwillow."
Willow made a sarcastic face. "Keep trying Xander. One day you'll make a funny."
Xander clutched an imaginary wound in his chest. "Ouch."
Oz nodded toward the other side of the cafeteria. Josie sat alone at a table with a glass of water in front of her. Oz stood up. "I'm gonna ask her if she'd like to sit with us." He ambled away, weaving between the tables.
"Who's that?" Willow asked.
"What?" Cordelia said. "You mean you haven't met the unbelievable Josie?"
Xander looked annoyed. "Hey Cordy, sheath the claws. We're all friends here."
Buffy muttered, "You would say that."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
Buffy shrugged as she dipped a french fry in ketchup. "Nothing. I was just observing. I've observant girl."
Willow looked over at the table where Oz leaned down, his head close to Josie's. "They certainly seem to be having a conversation." They watched Oz grin. Willow tugged at a lock of hair. "I don't like her."
"You don't even know her," Buffy pointed out.
Willow turned to the Slayer. "Do you like her?"
"We're not talking about me."
Cordelia chimed in. "I don't like her either."
"Not a lot of love at this table, no sir." Xander folded his arms in disgust. Before any of the girls could reply, Oz was heading back toward the table, Josie in tow. There was much scuffling and shuffling of chairs as they created a space for her.
"Wow," Josie said. "They sure didn't plan for six people to sit at these tables, did they?"
"No. Probably a good idea." Cordelia's tone was formidably off-hand.
Josie ignored her and addressed the others. "Thanks for asking me to sit with you." She extended a hand. "You must be Willow. I'm Josie."
"Hi." Willow shook hands briefly.
"So," Cordelia said, "how come you don't have a place to live?" She looked around at the horrified reactions of the others. "Oh please. Like you weren't dying to know."
"Come on," Josie said. "She's right. You're all wondering." A succession of slow nods and muttered assents greeted her statement. "Okay. The reason I'm homeless is..." Josie hesitated. The Scoobies leaned forward. "...because I don't have a place to live."
There was a beat of silence, then the collective breath was loosed and they all began talking at once. "Cordelia," said Buffy.
"I can't believe she said that," Willow said to Buffy, then leaned across to say to Cordelia, "I can't believe you said that."
Cordelia said, "I don't get it."
Xander patted her on the shoulder. "Never mind."
Willow looked puzzled. "But what about your parents?"
Josie shrugged. "Let's just say that they're... not present, okay?"
"So shouldn't you be in, like, an orphanage or something?" Cordelia said.
Xander slumped in his chair, muttering, "Torpedo number two!"
Josie shook her head. "The state social services system is not a friendly place when you're sixteen."
"So, where do you stay?" Willow asked.
Josie pursed her lips. "I, uh, I just sleep, you know, around."
Xander nodded. "So you have that in common with a lot of girls in Sunnydale. Ow!" He reached down to rub his ankle.
Cordelia gave him a sweet smile. "That one I got."
Oz said, "You shouldn't do that. Sunnydale isn't the nicest place after dark."
Josie shrugged. "No place is, but unless you've got a better idea, I'll just have to take my chances."
Oz said, "You could stay at my house." They all turned to stare at him. "Not my house house. I meant, the attic in our garage is finished. You'd have to move some stuff around but it's dry, and maybe we could find you a sleeping bag."
Josie turned to Willow. "Is that cool with you?"
Willow stammered. "Well, yes, I mean, I don't think anything bad would go on. Not that I was thinking that something bad would go on, or that you're the sort of person who would try anything bad, you know, or that Oz would, so, yes, I guess it's okay with me."
Josie turned to Oz. "Then thank you."
He nodded once. "See me after school."
Cordelia leaned over and whispered to Willow. "You are so going to regret this." Willow nodded. The miserable expression on her face said 'I already know that.'
***
To call the attic over the Osbourne garage 'Spartan' would be an insult to Greek city-states everywhere. Boxes were against the walls, the floor was bare plywood and a naked 60-watt bulb provided illumination. Oz pushed a few boxes out of the way as Josie unrolled the sleeping bag. He straightened up and looked around.
"You know, now that we're actually up here, this place looks like crap," he said. "Maybe you'd rather stay somewhere else?"
"Nah." She shook her head. "This is warm and quiet, two qualities I value highly in lodgings." She shrugged. "Actually, it is a lot nicer than some places I've stayed. Thanks."
"No big." Oz went to the trap door leading down to the garage. "It's almost time for dinner. You have any special dietary needs?"
Josie laughed. "Whatever you and your family are having will be fine."
Oz nodded. "Ravioli-Os it is, then." He made his way down the ladder. As the trap door closed behind him Josie wriggled through a gap between a couple of boxes and looked out the small octagonal window. Across the street, underneath the street lamp, a single tall, gaunt figure stood, looking up at the window. Josie shook her head and turned away from the window. She sat down on the sleeping bag and waited for dinner.
***
Buffy hitched up the strap on her Slayer bag. It was crazy out tonight. She'd already staked three, and number four was just ahead. She reached under her jacket and brought out a stake as she dropped the bag. The hulking figure of the vampire stood in the middle of the park's playground equipment. Buffy sidestepped toward him, using great caution, until she realized that he was unaware of her presence. He kept looking from side to side, then shaking his head like he was trying to dislodge something from his ear.
"Screw the stalker approach," she murmured, and rushed him. She was within three strides of the bloodsucker when he noticed her, but by then it was too late. She hit him like Cordelia hitting a Lancome sale, coming in low and hard and flipping him over her back. Buffy rolled to her feet, ready to fight. The vamp struggled up and lunged at her. She ducked, avoiding him with ease, but he spun, displaying unexpected agility, and jumped at her again. She stepped back. He landed at her feet. One hand grabbed an ankle and pulled. She landed on her back with a thud. The vamp reared over her, growling and shaking his head. As he fell on her, Buffy raised the stake, point up. The demon could see his own death coming; he just couldn't do anything about it. "Yeah," she said as he impaled himself on the stake. "It sucks to be you." The vamp exploded.
"Bleghh." Buffy rolled over and pushed herself up on all fours, spitting out gray ash. As she got to her feet, she wondered why the vamp had acted so strangely. Great, she thought. What does it mean when the vampires start acting weird?
Buffy surveyed the remains of one of her favorite stakes and shook her head, overcome with the sad realization that it was finished. Stakes were like shoes; theoretically they all did the same thing, but some just felt better. This one had been a nice length of white oak, smooth and straight with just the right heft and balance. It had shattered upon striking the sternum of a vampire. One of the splinters had penetrated the demon's heart, so even as it expired the stake had done its job.
"Come on, get a life," the Slayer muttered to herself. "It's a piece of wood." She tossed the cracked pieces into a trashcan and dug through her bag for another. Maybe the stake was a metaphor for life coming apart. It didn't take much of a stretch to make it work. Take her life for example. Not long ago her existence had seemed to be on a relatively even keel. Now... Faith was bitter, hostile and violent... on a good day. Buffy hadn't seen much of the dark Slayer since Lindsay's death. She'd basically stopped coming to school. Buffy's attempts to talk to her had not been encouraging. Then there was Angel. Another fine mess. That situation had been complicated and painful enough, and that was before she'd gone to his mansion after Lindsay's death and ended up kissing him. No, Mr. Pointy didn't have it so bad.
The Slayer had kept moving during her interior monologue and now she was pulled back to reality by a commotion up ahead. A few trees screened her from a clear view, but she was pretty sure it wasn't a Living Nativity.
***
The last vampire tried to run, but she caught it by the collar and yanked it back. She pivoted, pinwheeling the creature around and running it headfirst into the wall of the park's restroom. The demon bounced off the wall; she spun it around and slammed it against the wall. The vampire struggled feebly, but all the fight had already been taken out of it. It was marked with half-a-dozen wounds and one elbow bent the wrong way. The stake poised in her hand was beginning to look like a pleasant alternative.
"I'd tell you to take a message to your slimy boss," Faith snarled, her left hand around the demon's throat. "If you were going to see him this side of hell." The stake thrust upward followed by a soft pop and a gentle sigh. Faith stood in the middle of the carnage she had wrought-five swiftly dissipating piles of ash. She jammed the stake into the back pocket of her jeans. She was hungry.
***
Buffy sprinted toward the melee and with each step she felt the confusion and misery lessen. She had a target and a purpose. Sometimes it was so simple and straightforward. Violence was her gift, her trade, her release, even. She might not know everything that was going on, but she knew what to do next, and how to do it.
Four vampires surrounded one man, who was putting up a pretty decent fight. Still thirty yards away, Buffy dropped to one knee. Her crossbow swung to her shoulder. She sighted and squeezed the trigger. With a twang and a buzz the quarrel flew straight to its target. It struck the closest vampire in the back, boring through the heart and flying out the other side.
Only the vampire didn't go down. It turned, spotted her, and began to lumber toward her at an alarming speed. Buffy's mind raced-pierced heart, no dust, therefore not a vampire but some other form of demon. Then it was on her, throwing a hard right hand punch. Buffy ducked, grabbing the front of a shirt and a belt. She pushed up, using her legs as she came out of the crouch. She felt scaly skin slide across her hands. The demon vaulted overhead, a dull thud marking the spot where it slammed into the earth. She scrambled for the Slayer bag. Her fingers closed around the handle as her assailant grabbed her by the ankle. She rolled onto her back, kicking at the thing's face as her fingers closed around the hilt of a knife. A brawny arm swung at her head as she rolled to one side. The fist/paw/claw at the end of the arm buried itself in the turf. She slashed at the forearm with the knife. The fiend howled as the blade sliced through its hide. The knife itself wasn't that impressive-a plain, slightly curved blade with a chisel point. Buffy had seen dozens of knives more ornate, but none of those knives had a channel of pure silver running the length of the blade. Buffy clambered to her feet. The demon snarled, holding its wounded arm, then leaped toward her. The Slayer stepped forward, inside the thing's reach and buried the silver blade in its vital organs (whatever they were). It roared, spewing smoke and a vile liquid from its mouth. Buffy guessed the liquid was its blood, or what passed for blood. Very stinky blood.
She heard a heavy tread on the grass behind her and she wheeled, sweeping the knife through in a great backhand arc. The new demon tried to put on the brakes, and it did avoid decapitation, but the knife scored a deep line across its shoulders and upper chest. The creature clutched its wounds, but its shriek was unheard as Buffy stabbed it through the throat.
She wrenched the blade free and turned to see the remaining two attackers circling their intended victim. Whoever he was, the guy was good. He side-kicked one of the demons in the gut and spun the other into a full nelson. The kicked demon staggered and tripped over its own feet. Buffy scooped up the Slayer bag and dashed toward the brouhaha. She caught the demon trying to rise and cut its throat with one slash. As she watched it die she heard a dull snap. Turning, she saw the last demon drop, its neck broken. She shifted her gaze to the man. She saw his face in the dim moonlight.
"Angel?" she said.
"Hey," he said. Buffy stared at him for a split-second, then swung the bag backhanded, smacking into his mid-section. She was very pleased with the loud "oof" this produced.
"Hey," Angel hissed. "It's me!"
"I know," she said. "That's why I hit you so hard."
"Huh?" He straightened up.
"What are you doing here? Were you following me?"
Angel held up a hand. "I'm not here because of you."
"Oh, really?" Buffy's body language screamed out "liar".
"Really." Angel nodded. "Something strange is happening."
"I say once again, 'Oh, really?'"
Angel fixed her with that stare. "Now may not be the best time to be sarcastic. The level of supernatural activity around here scares even me."
Buffy glared at him. He stared back. Neither of them spoke. Finally she shook her head. "You're right. It's been vamps a-poppin' tonight. What gives?"
***
Faith watched the guy turn and make another pass in front of the bus station. A burly dude in a leather jacket stopped, made conversation for a few seconds, then shook hands. Bus station guy resumed his funny little quick-walk; leather jacket dude slipped his hand into his pocket. Faith had watched a dozen similar transactions go down. She was getting sleepy and her muscles were getting sore as they cooled down; tonight had been one for the record books. Every vampire in Sunnydale must have gotten a B-12 shot. It was time to do this and then crash.
She pushed away from the rough brick wall and sauntered across the street. The guy spotted her coming and automatically glanced over her shoulder, checking to make sure she was alone. As she drew closer to him Faith could make out more details. He sported one of the poorest excuses for a goatee imaginable and his nose had been broken at least twice. He leered as she approached, exposing small, irregularly spaced gray teeth.
"Anything I can do for you?" he asked in a voice that would have been vastly improved by the addition of a hacking cough.
"Maybe," Faith said, looking around. "Can you hook me up?"
"Can I," he said. "What do you need?"
"Whattaya got?" Faith ran a hand through her hair.
"I got whatever you need," he said. "Depends on what you wanna pay."
"See, here's the thing." Faith stuck her hands in the pockets of her jeans and gave it a little squirm. "I don't really have any money--"
"Hey, sorry," he said, stepping back. "I run a strictly cash business."
"I said I don't have any money," Faith said. "Didn't say I wouldn't pay."
That caused a spark to flare in his eyes. "And what, ah, currency did you have in mind?"
Faith shrugged, managing to wiggle her hips as she did so. "See anything you might like?"
His eyes crawled over her, from the tight hip-hugger jeans, past her bare midriff to the black tank top. He wiped his mouth with a grubby hand. "I, uh, we might could work something out. How's about we step into the alley over there and, uh, negotiate."
Faith smiled. "Cool." She followed him into the inky blackness of the alley's mouth. There was a smack, a thump, and a groan; then Faith walked out of the alley. She stuffed a wad of bills into her pocket as she blew on the knuckles of her right hand.
"Sorry about the nose," she muttered. "Maybe third time's the charm."
Xander tossed a pebble away. "Speaking as someone who's something of an expert in following women at a distance, oh yeah."
Buffy shaded her eyes with her hand. "So what did you do then?"
Xander shrugged. "We offered to take her home but guess what? She's homeless." He shook his head. "Can you imagine that? In high school with no place to live?"
"Seems very real to me." Buffy's voice was somber.
"Yikes. Sorry."
Buffy shrugged. "No big. What did you do with her?"
"Cordelia graciously offered to let her spend the night at her house?"
Buffy arched an eyebrow. "Cordelia graciously offered?"
Xander looked up at the trees. "Maybe I offered for her. Point is, she spent the night in a place Trick can't enter."
Buffy nodded, then rocked back, letting her heels come off the ground. "Did it ever occur to you that she might be working for Trick? It's the sort of thing he would do." The look on Xander's face made in abundantly clear that this possibility had not crossed his mind. As he groped for an answer his gaze flicked past Buffy's shoulder. A look of relief crossed his face and he nudged the Slayer.
"I don't think that's a problem," he said, using his head to point over her shoulder. Buffy turned.
Josie and Cordelia crossed the lawn, cutting across the general flow of the student body. Josie wore the trench coat and sneakers from the night before, but a faded navy-blue T-shirt had replaced the rollneck sweater. The old jeans she wore were rolled up a couple of turns. Xander and Buffy stood up as they approached.
"Hey," Xander said, "how are you guys this morning?" He grinned at Josie. "Snappy new threads."
Josie tossed her head. "Cordelia let me borrow a few things."
Xander made a mock-impressed face. "And she broke out the really nice duds, too." Cordelia's look clearly said 'Don't go there.'
"It's okay," Josie said. "They're just a little big is all."
Cordelia's eyes blazed. "And what's that supposed to mean?"
Josie's eyes widened. "I meant... you're taller... long. They're a little long is what I meant." Cordelia glared at her for a beat, then banked the fire.
Xander took his girlfriend by the hand. "We'd love to chat some more, but we gotta go. See you later."
"Much later," Cordelia called out with much false good cheer as they walked away, leaving Buffy and Josie alone. The Slayer shuffled her feet. Josie stuck her hands in her pockets and looked around.
"So, uh," Buffy said, "I've gotta be going. Classes and all that stuff, you know."
Josie nodded. "Yeah, sure. I understand. Go ahead."
"You'll be okay?"
Josie pointed toward the building. "I have classes of my own to go to."
"Okay then." Buffy walked away, fighting the urge to look over her shoulder.
***
Rupert Giles chuckled.
"You seem to be in a good mood," Willow said as she entered the library.
"Oh, hello." Giles turned his attention back to the catalogue. "I'm just doing some Christmas shopping."
"Really?" Willow frowned. "You never seemed like the Christmas type."
"The day that's now observed as Christmas has been a festival day observed by various religions for thousands of years." Giles didn't even look up from the catalogue.
"Mmmmmm-hmmmmm." Willow decided to let it drop. "Who are you shopping for?"
"Buffy. And I believe I've found the perfect gift." He turned the catalogue toward Willow. "Have a look."
Willow looked at the catalogue, cocked her head to the side and looked again. She flipped the volume shut to look at the front cover. "Giles, what's a Bass Pro Shop?"
"It's a sporting goods store in... well, somewhere in the Midwest. It's enormous, and when I saw this, I knew it was perfect for Buffy. What do you think?"
Willow read from the copy. "Advanced polymer resin frame. Re-engineered ergonomic design. Compound recurved mechanism." She looked up. "Well, it's very nice Giles, but are you sure a crossbow is the perfect Christmas gift?"
"You don't like it?" Giles was nonplussed.
Willow shrugged. "I understand how you think this is a great gift, and I'm sure it would be very nice, but I think maybe Buffy would like something a little more... girly?"
Giles practically sputtered. "B-But look at it! Compared to Buffy's old crossbow, it's... it's a work of art!"
Willow looked doubtful but looked again. The door clicked open and Oz entered. He waved to Giles and peeked over Willow's shoulder.
"Nice crossbow," he said.
"I'm thinking of getting it for Buffy for Christmas," Giles said, only a slight sulk in his voice.
Oz nodded. "Outstanding." Still looking at the catalogue he asked Willow, "Ready for lunch?"
Willow sighed. "Obviously this is some sort of guy thing." She hefted her books. "Giles, just promise me you'll think about what I said." She took Oz by the hand as they left.
Giles looked down at the catalogue. "But I still think it's a wonderful gift."
***
Xander looked up as Willow and Oz approached hand in hand. He turned to Buffy and Cordelia. "It's Oz and Willow. Or maybe we should try that as one big name, you know, Ozwillow."
Willow made a sarcastic face. "Keep trying Xander. One day you'll make a funny."
Xander clutched an imaginary wound in his chest. "Ouch."
Oz nodded toward the other side of the cafeteria. Josie sat alone at a table with a glass of water in front of her. Oz stood up. "I'm gonna ask her if she'd like to sit with us." He ambled away, weaving between the tables.
"Who's that?" Willow asked.
"What?" Cordelia said. "You mean you haven't met the unbelievable Josie?"
Xander looked annoyed. "Hey Cordy, sheath the claws. We're all friends here."
Buffy muttered, "You would say that."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
Buffy shrugged as she dipped a french fry in ketchup. "Nothing. I was just observing. I've observant girl."
Willow looked over at the table where Oz leaned down, his head close to Josie's. "They certainly seem to be having a conversation." They watched Oz grin. Willow tugged at a lock of hair. "I don't like her."
"You don't even know her," Buffy pointed out.
Willow turned to the Slayer. "Do you like her?"
"We're not talking about me."
Cordelia chimed in. "I don't like her either."
"Not a lot of love at this table, no sir." Xander folded his arms in disgust. Before any of the girls could reply, Oz was heading back toward the table, Josie in tow. There was much scuffling and shuffling of chairs as they created a space for her.
"Wow," Josie said. "They sure didn't plan for six people to sit at these tables, did they?"
"No. Probably a good idea." Cordelia's tone was formidably off-hand.
Josie ignored her and addressed the others. "Thanks for asking me to sit with you." She extended a hand. "You must be Willow. I'm Josie."
"Hi." Willow shook hands briefly.
"So," Cordelia said, "how come you don't have a place to live?" She looked around at the horrified reactions of the others. "Oh please. Like you weren't dying to know."
"Come on," Josie said. "She's right. You're all wondering." A succession of slow nods and muttered assents greeted her statement. "Okay. The reason I'm homeless is..." Josie hesitated. The Scoobies leaned forward. "...because I don't have a place to live."
There was a beat of silence, then the collective breath was loosed and they all began talking at once. "Cordelia," said Buffy.
"I can't believe she said that," Willow said to Buffy, then leaned across to say to Cordelia, "I can't believe you said that."
Cordelia said, "I don't get it."
Xander patted her on the shoulder. "Never mind."
Willow looked puzzled. "But what about your parents?"
Josie shrugged. "Let's just say that they're... not present, okay?"
"So shouldn't you be in, like, an orphanage or something?" Cordelia said.
Xander slumped in his chair, muttering, "Torpedo number two!"
Josie shook her head. "The state social services system is not a friendly place when you're sixteen."
"So, where do you stay?" Willow asked.
Josie pursed her lips. "I, uh, I just sleep, you know, around."
Xander nodded. "So you have that in common with a lot of girls in Sunnydale. Ow!" He reached down to rub his ankle.
Cordelia gave him a sweet smile. "That one I got."
Oz said, "You shouldn't do that. Sunnydale isn't the nicest place after dark."
Josie shrugged. "No place is, but unless you've got a better idea, I'll just have to take my chances."
Oz said, "You could stay at my house." They all turned to stare at him. "Not my house house. I meant, the attic in our garage is finished. You'd have to move some stuff around but it's dry, and maybe we could find you a sleeping bag."
Josie turned to Willow. "Is that cool with you?"
Willow stammered. "Well, yes, I mean, I don't think anything bad would go on. Not that I was thinking that something bad would go on, or that you're the sort of person who would try anything bad, you know, or that Oz would, so, yes, I guess it's okay with me."
Josie turned to Oz. "Then thank you."
He nodded once. "See me after school."
Cordelia leaned over and whispered to Willow. "You are so going to regret this." Willow nodded. The miserable expression on her face said 'I already know that.'
***
To call the attic over the Osbourne garage 'Spartan' would be an insult to Greek city-states everywhere. Boxes were against the walls, the floor was bare plywood and a naked 60-watt bulb provided illumination. Oz pushed a few boxes out of the way as Josie unrolled the sleeping bag. He straightened up and looked around.
"You know, now that we're actually up here, this place looks like crap," he said. "Maybe you'd rather stay somewhere else?"
"Nah." She shook her head. "This is warm and quiet, two qualities I value highly in lodgings." She shrugged. "Actually, it is a lot nicer than some places I've stayed. Thanks."
"No big." Oz went to the trap door leading down to the garage. "It's almost time for dinner. You have any special dietary needs?"
Josie laughed. "Whatever you and your family are having will be fine."
Oz nodded. "Ravioli-Os it is, then." He made his way down the ladder. As the trap door closed behind him Josie wriggled through a gap between a couple of boxes and looked out the small octagonal window. Across the street, underneath the street lamp, a single tall, gaunt figure stood, looking up at the window. Josie shook her head and turned away from the window. She sat down on the sleeping bag and waited for dinner.
***
Buffy hitched up the strap on her Slayer bag. It was crazy out tonight. She'd already staked three, and number four was just ahead. She reached under her jacket and brought out a stake as she dropped the bag. The hulking figure of the vampire stood in the middle of the park's playground equipment. Buffy sidestepped toward him, using great caution, until she realized that he was unaware of her presence. He kept looking from side to side, then shaking his head like he was trying to dislodge something from his ear.
"Screw the stalker approach," she murmured, and rushed him. She was within three strides of the bloodsucker when he noticed her, but by then it was too late. She hit him like Cordelia hitting a Lancome sale, coming in low and hard and flipping him over her back. Buffy rolled to her feet, ready to fight. The vamp struggled up and lunged at her. She ducked, avoiding him with ease, but he spun, displaying unexpected agility, and jumped at her again. She stepped back. He landed at her feet. One hand grabbed an ankle and pulled. She landed on her back with a thud. The vamp reared over her, growling and shaking his head. As he fell on her, Buffy raised the stake, point up. The demon could see his own death coming; he just couldn't do anything about it. "Yeah," she said as he impaled himself on the stake. "It sucks to be you." The vamp exploded.
"Bleghh." Buffy rolled over and pushed herself up on all fours, spitting out gray ash. As she got to her feet, she wondered why the vamp had acted so strangely. Great, she thought. What does it mean when the vampires start acting weird?
Buffy surveyed the remains of one of her favorite stakes and shook her head, overcome with the sad realization that it was finished. Stakes were like shoes; theoretically they all did the same thing, but some just felt better. This one had been a nice length of white oak, smooth and straight with just the right heft and balance. It had shattered upon striking the sternum of a vampire. One of the splinters had penetrated the demon's heart, so even as it expired the stake had done its job.
"Come on, get a life," the Slayer muttered to herself. "It's a piece of wood." She tossed the cracked pieces into a trashcan and dug through her bag for another. Maybe the stake was a metaphor for life coming apart. It didn't take much of a stretch to make it work. Take her life for example. Not long ago her existence had seemed to be on a relatively even keel. Now... Faith was bitter, hostile and violent... on a good day. Buffy hadn't seen much of the dark Slayer since Lindsay's death. She'd basically stopped coming to school. Buffy's attempts to talk to her had not been encouraging. Then there was Angel. Another fine mess. That situation had been complicated and painful enough, and that was before she'd gone to his mansion after Lindsay's death and ended up kissing him. No, Mr. Pointy didn't have it so bad.
The Slayer had kept moving during her interior monologue and now she was pulled back to reality by a commotion up ahead. A few trees screened her from a clear view, but she was pretty sure it wasn't a Living Nativity.
***
The last vampire tried to run, but she caught it by the collar and yanked it back. She pivoted, pinwheeling the creature around and running it headfirst into the wall of the park's restroom. The demon bounced off the wall; she spun it around and slammed it against the wall. The vampire struggled feebly, but all the fight had already been taken out of it. It was marked with half-a-dozen wounds and one elbow bent the wrong way. The stake poised in her hand was beginning to look like a pleasant alternative.
"I'd tell you to take a message to your slimy boss," Faith snarled, her left hand around the demon's throat. "If you were going to see him this side of hell." The stake thrust upward followed by a soft pop and a gentle sigh. Faith stood in the middle of the carnage she had wrought-five swiftly dissipating piles of ash. She jammed the stake into the back pocket of her jeans. She was hungry.
***
Buffy sprinted toward the melee and with each step she felt the confusion and misery lessen. She had a target and a purpose. Sometimes it was so simple and straightforward. Violence was her gift, her trade, her release, even. She might not know everything that was going on, but she knew what to do next, and how to do it.
Four vampires surrounded one man, who was putting up a pretty decent fight. Still thirty yards away, Buffy dropped to one knee. Her crossbow swung to her shoulder. She sighted and squeezed the trigger. With a twang and a buzz the quarrel flew straight to its target. It struck the closest vampire in the back, boring through the heart and flying out the other side.
Only the vampire didn't go down. It turned, spotted her, and began to lumber toward her at an alarming speed. Buffy's mind raced-pierced heart, no dust, therefore not a vampire but some other form of demon. Then it was on her, throwing a hard right hand punch. Buffy ducked, grabbing the front of a shirt and a belt. She pushed up, using her legs as she came out of the crouch. She felt scaly skin slide across her hands. The demon vaulted overhead, a dull thud marking the spot where it slammed into the earth. She scrambled for the Slayer bag. Her fingers closed around the handle as her assailant grabbed her by the ankle. She rolled onto her back, kicking at the thing's face as her fingers closed around the hilt of a knife. A brawny arm swung at her head as she rolled to one side. The fist/paw/claw at the end of the arm buried itself in the turf. She slashed at the forearm with the knife. The fiend howled as the blade sliced through its hide. The knife itself wasn't that impressive-a plain, slightly curved blade with a chisel point. Buffy had seen dozens of knives more ornate, but none of those knives had a channel of pure silver running the length of the blade. Buffy clambered to her feet. The demon snarled, holding its wounded arm, then leaped toward her. The Slayer stepped forward, inside the thing's reach and buried the silver blade in its vital organs (whatever they were). It roared, spewing smoke and a vile liquid from its mouth. Buffy guessed the liquid was its blood, or what passed for blood. Very stinky blood.
She heard a heavy tread on the grass behind her and she wheeled, sweeping the knife through in a great backhand arc. The new demon tried to put on the brakes, and it did avoid decapitation, but the knife scored a deep line across its shoulders and upper chest. The creature clutched its wounds, but its shriek was unheard as Buffy stabbed it through the throat.
She wrenched the blade free and turned to see the remaining two attackers circling their intended victim. Whoever he was, the guy was good. He side-kicked one of the demons in the gut and spun the other into a full nelson. The kicked demon staggered and tripped over its own feet. Buffy scooped up the Slayer bag and dashed toward the brouhaha. She caught the demon trying to rise and cut its throat with one slash. As she watched it die she heard a dull snap. Turning, she saw the last demon drop, its neck broken. She shifted her gaze to the man. She saw his face in the dim moonlight.
"Angel?" she said.
"Hey," he said. Buffy stared at him for a split-second, then swung the bag backhanded, smacking into his mid-section. She was very pleased with the loud "oof" this produced.
"Hey," Angel hissed. "It's me!"
"I know," she said. "That's why I hit you so hard."
"Huh?" He straightened up.
"What are you doing here? Were you following me?"
Angel held up a hand. "I'm not here because of you."
"Oh, really?" Buffy's body language screamed out "liar".
"Really." Angel nodded. "Something strange is happening."
"I say once again, 'Oh, really?'"
Angel fixed her with that stare. "Now may not be the best time to be sarcastic. The level of supernatural activity around here scares even me."
Buffy glared at him. He stared back. Neither of them spoke. Finally she shook her head. "You're right. It's been vamps a-poppin' tonight. What gives?"
***
Faith watched the guy turn and make another pass in front of the bus station. A burly dude in a leather jacket stopped, made conversation for a few seconds, then shook hands. Bus station guy resumed his funny little quick-walk; leather jacket dude slipped his hand into his pocket. Faith had watched a dozen similar transactions go down. She was getting sleepy and her muscles were getting sore as they cooled down; tonight had been one for the record books. Every vampire in Sunnydale must have gotten a B-12 shot. It was time to do this and then crash.
She pushed away from the rough brick wall and sauntered across the street. The guy spotted her coming and automatically glanced over her shoulder, checking to make sure she was alone. As she drew closer to him Faith could make out more details. He sported one of the poorest excuses for a goatee imaginable and his nose had been broken at least twice. He leered as she approached, exposing small, irregularly spaced gray teeth.
"Anything I can do for you?" he asked in a voice that would have been vastly improved by the addition of a hacking cough.
"Maybe," Faith said, looking around. "Can you hook me up?"
"Can I," he said. "What do you need?"
"Whattaya got?" Faith ran a hand through her hair.
"I got whatever you need," he said. "Depends on what you wanna pay."
"See, here's the thing." Faith stuck her hands in the pockets of her jeans and gave it a little squirm. "I don't really have any money--"
"Hey, sorry," he said, stepping back. "I run a strictly cash business."
"I said I don't have any money," Faith said. "Didn't say I wouldn't pay."
That caused a spark to flare in his eyes. "And what, ah, currency did you have in mind?"
Faith shrugged, managing to wiggle her hips as she did so. "See anything you might like?"
His eyes crawled over her, from the tight hip-hugger jeans, past her bare midriff to the black tank top. He wiped his mouth with a grubby hand. "I, uh, we might could work something out. How's about we step into the alley over there and, uh, negotiate."
Faith smiled. "Cool." She followed him into the inky blackness of the alley's mouth. There was a smack, a thump, and a groan; then Faith walked out of the alley. She stuffed a wad of bills into her pocket as she blew on the knuckles of her right hand.
"Sorry about the nose," she muttered. "Maybe third time's the charm."