Story's back. Have fun frolicking. If you honestly have to be told that these characters aren't mine, just head back to the first chapter.
If you need closure and conclusions in your stories, review, so I keep going to the end. If you need a plot, or something silly like that, send in your suggestions [in the form of reviews]. Send any flames that you are possessed to compose to my e-mail, so I'm not embarrassed in front of all my little friends.

~Star Mouse

&& && &&

Not really wanting to explain to his friends why he let the Buffy person get away, he waited out in the alley until he could walk, and then snuck back home, to Revello Drive.

Shimmied in through the window like a pro, if a bit stiffly. He climbed into bed with a combination of guilty~teenager~silence and Slayer~stealth, and set his alarm. Then he lay in bed, thinking very bad thoughts involving vampire lips.

&& && &&

Buffy wandered around town a bit, fed off a not~so~lucky~in~the~friends~arena guy, and made it back to "The Lair" with ample time to spare before sunrise.

The two other occupants of the crypt looked up, probably from something naughty she didn't want to contemplate.

"Buffy," the guy said, in a fatalistic monotone. Pale skin, black hair, sort of spiked. White wife~beater and black leather.

"Xander," she returned, in a slightly more annoyed tone.

The woman sitting on his lap cocked her head. She had somehow managed to retain a semblance of the tan she must have had in life. Dark hair, great body. Dressed in the latest in chic~Goth~wear.

"Buffy. You smell like ...Slayer."

"We fought," she replied shortly, stalking over to the nearest sarcophagus and taking a seat. She lay down, facing the ceiling, so she wouldn't have to deal with awkward eye contact.

The woman raised her eyebrows. "Huh. I take it you lost, then?"

Buffy sighed. "I didn't *lose*, Cordelia. I'm just...biding my time."

Xander tapped his chin with mock confusion, even though Buffy couldn't see it. "'Biding her time...Cordy, does that sound like our Elizabeth?"

"Sure doesn't. I think she lost. Buffy, he isn't one of those 'merciful' ones, is he? He didn't let you go, did he?"

"He didn't let me go! I .let..him...go. ...."

"Uh huh. And why would you do a silly thing like that?" The female vampire who had once been a woman named Cordelia leaned into Buffy's field of vision. "Not going soft in your old age, are you Sire?"

Buffy growled, vamping for an instant. "Of course not. I do have a plan, you know."

Cordelia rolled her eyes and leaned back away from the sarcophagus, heading back over to Xander, who hadn't moved.

"Yeah, yeah. We know. The 'plan'!" She made little air quotes. Then she rolled her eyes again and dropped her hands. "Big whoop."

Buffy growled again, this time not only vamping but launching up from the stone slab and catching her childe in a choke hold.

"The plan," she whispered, voice deceptively calm, "is a good one. A very good one. And it. will. work. And it requires a live Slayer." She slowly loosened her grip on Cordelia's throat. Pulled her hand completely away. Backed up a pace, glancing at the taciturn Xander, still sitting in the same spot.

"...for now," she added.

&& && &&

"So you'd rate her a 'reasonably skilled fighter,' or an 'exceptionally skilled fighter?'" Jenny Calendar asked. Spike bit his lip, still more focused on the fight's abrupt end than it's duration.

"Exceptionally." Just the right amount of tongue...

Jenny scribbled in her Watcher diary for a moment. "And would you describe her general manner as 'uncaring', 'fierce', 'manic', 'gleeful,' or 'strangely distant'?"

"Mm... Fierce. And manic." Yum. He sat bolt upright. Yum?! What the blessed chalice was he thinking? "Uh, I mean, um, more like gleeful, really."

Jenny Calendar's eyes narrowed. "So, a little of all three, then?"

"Uh, sure."

"I expect you to write up a blow~by~blow of the fight, for my records. You didn't see her on patrol today?"

"A' course I didn't. It's broad daylight! How'm I supposed to kill vamps if I'm under house arrest after sundown?"

Jenny shook her head, still a little baffled at this new hurdle. "I'll have to speak with your father, or something. How long are you supposed to stay here?"

"Until my Da comes and picks me up at five~thirty. Stupid grounding."

"Yes, well, you did skip class."

"I was running errands for you, you crazy woman!"

"Spike, you were not. If I wanted you to go take on nests in the middle of the day, I'd tell you too. As it is--"

"Uh, excuse me?"

Both turned to look at the newcomer. He held up a book.

"I checked this out la--a while ago, and I think there may be a late fee..."

Jenny Calendar just kept looking at him. "And..." she prompted.

"...And, you're the librarian?"

She blinked. "Oh. Right. I'll just, uh--" She got up off the table and headed towards the check~out counter. "Spike, you just keep working on that ...dramatic scene... For awhile longer. Then start back on that short fiction from earlier."

Spike muttered something rude and went back to his 'homework,' which had been substituted for a book on vampiric lines and histories.

That Buffy was a little vixen. Slayed three Slayers; even turned one, and her little Watcher, too. Originally Scottish, but it looked like she'd carved a pretty complete circle through most of Europe.

And woah! According to this, she'd been at Woodstock, too! Nice.

"You checked this out last year?"

Spike looked up.

"Uh, well, you see... It was under my bed, and I--"

"You realize after six weeks the due turns into the book's asking price, don't you?"

"...And that would be..."

"You're gonna buy us a new gym, you libroklepto." Thunder rolled in the distance.

Spike smiled. He was glad he hadn't gotten a stodgy old guy for a watcher. Much better to have a reformed mystical convict on his side. Especially when she called on the forces of darkness over an overdue book. Made things interesting.

He checked his watch. Still twenty minutes until his da came by. Ah well. He could do some more. . . Research.

&& && &&

Buffy glanced at her watch. It was a nice watch. The kind certain people would kill for. She had.

It was nearly sunset. She had plans for tonight. She should probably wake up the childer.

&& && &&

"Spike, bully for you. You're actually where I told you to be."

Spike looked up. His dad was standing in the library doors in all his tweed~coated glory. Spike started gathering his books.

"Hey, Da. Been here all night. Ready to leave."

"I'd just like to confirm that first part with the librarian, if I could. Gather your things; I'll just be a minute."

Rupert Giles wandered off into Jenny Calendar's office.

Spike tossed all his books into his backpack and stood.

And waited.

A few minutes later, he heard laughter coming from the office.

He sighed. For the love of-- "Da! Any time now!"

The two adults emerged. His father had his glasses off, furiously cleaning them.

Jenny was laughing at whatever Rupert had just said. She caught Spike's raised eyebrow and ended it on an embarrassed cough.

"Yes, well. Thank you again for agreeing to tutor my son. He's really very bright--"

"Oh yes, I agree," replied Ms. Calendar. She shot Spike a look. "He just needs to apply himself. However, I usually have other students here during this time, so it might be easier for him to come by, say, after dinner."

"Oh, yes, of course. That should be fine. Spike?"

Spike rolled his eyes. "Yeah. Sure." Clever Watcher. Now he was open to slay. Of course, he'd have to keep his grades on the rise for his da to buy it. And what could they had possibly been talking about in there if this was a subject change?

He grabbed his da's arm and pulled him from the library, shouting a good~bye to Jenny.

When they were in the car home, Rupert got a thoughtful look on his face.

"Charming woman."

&& && &&

Buffy walked over to the sarcophagus Cordelia and Xander were asleep on. The watcher had his arm draped over the tanned Slayer using his shoulder as a pillow.

Awww.

Buffy smiled, grabbed them both by their dark hair, and pulled.

&& && &&

"Feed. Have fun. Keep anybody and everybody out of this area for about three hours. Do you understand?"

"We're not stupid, Buffy. Xander and I can handle it." Cordelia vamped, and turned around. "No sweat."

Xander nodded, and then turned to follow her, also vamped.

Buffy watched them go, then set off through the newly apportioned Interference~Free Zone. She had things to do, and she'd really prefer not to be watched. Or interrupted. Doing magic always made her feel like an idiot.

She reached the grave.

Making sure no one was looking, she kneeled down in front of the grave of Joyce Summers. Her great~great~grand niece. Her last descendant. Stupid spell and it's ridiculous requirements.

She took a deep breath. You have to, what with the requirement of air being forced through your vocal chords in being able to talk.

"Hello, Joyce. This is Elizabeth. The one that disappeared. The one that everyone thought had run away from that creepy suitor. The one you got your middle name for. I am a creature of darkness now, and just thought you should know." *Stupid spell.* "So, since I've confronted my last heir about my nature," she stressed the phrase to make sure any demigods happening to be listening caught it, "I am now free to go, and free to invoke your name to my aide." She stood quickly. "May you have peace, like I do not."

The most humiliating part done, she got on with the rest of the ritual.

Close to three hours later, leaving the sight of some seriously messy magic, she spied something on the ground.

Intrigued, she picked it up. A folded leather wallet. Oh, goodie! Treasure. She flipped it open to see how much she'd won. And read the ID.

And laaaughed.

&& && &&

The next day at shool, Faith laughed hysterically as Spike recounted Jenny and Rupert's first meeting. Angel brooded, with a discreet bandage still in his neck.

"Well, if it isn't the black cotton squad. Enjoying your lives as social pariahs?"

Angel looked up at the fashionably dressed redhead standing in front of them, flanked by the popularity police.

"Willow."

"'Angel.' 'Faith.' 'Spike.'" She glanced at each one in turn, and put a finger to her chin in mock~confusion. "I forget the story there; you're mother's were all smoking together when they named you...?"

"Willow, make like a tree and leaf."

The redhead raised her eyebrows. "Why, Faith! How clever! You should really take that act into oncoming traffic." But she flounced off, followed by ...her followers.

Spike watched her go. "Has she always been such a bitch, or is that a recent transformation I wasn't around to witness?"

Angel shook his head. "Always and forever. But I think I'm to blame. I stole her Barbie in pre~school. I don't think she ever really got over it."

&& && &&

I didn't get as many reviews as I really wanted, but I updated anyway. Just 'cause I already had this written, mind you. I'm serious. I'll stop if you don't review. have a hit counter, and I'll just assume everyone who doesn't review hates the story. And cry.

So review, please. You'll feel guilty if you don't.

~Star Mouse