What is Choice?
By Melissa(dettiot@yahoo.com)
Rating: PG-13 mostly, with one NC-17 epilogue.
Spoilers: Through Chosen.
Author's Note: Spike/Buffy, but only kinda. This story is a bit odd. Also posted on my website(http://lostinwonderland.org/buffy/fanfic.html).
The use of Neruda in this chapter is intended as a shout-out to Wisteria, Annie Sewell-Jennings, and all the authors who have used his works so beautifully in describing Buffy and Spike.
This chapter's title comes from "Tonight and the Rest of My Life," by Nina Gordon.
Chapter Two: Down To the Earth I Fell
Buffy Summers, retired Slayer and newest employee of Nordstrom's, was trying very hard to remember that hitting first and maybe asking questions later only worked when you were a Slayer. Doing Slayer-type tasks. Not when you were dealing with society matrons trying to cram their over-ample bottoms into sequined gowns.
Not that LA had many fat matrons. But they all seemed to come to Buffy to be sold the latest in expensive eveningwear.
Buffy sighed, and looked into the fitting room mirror. Her stylish yet professional look screamed boring. Her feet were killing her, she was starving to death, and her forehead seemed to be permanently puckered.
Buffy mused that if anyone would have told her that she'd miss the First Evil someday, she'd have told them they were crazy.
Rather than continuing that line of thought, Buffy blew her hair out of her eyes and asked, "Now, Mrs. Goddard, how do you like this one? I think the green bugle beads brings out your eyes beautifully."
"My eyes are brown!" snapped the short-waisted, large-bosomed woman.
"Of course they are, Mrs. Goddard. But the green offsets your eyes so nicely, gives you an air of mystery . . ." she trailed off, thinking privately that as this dress was the only one that might possibly fit the shrill harpy, she had to do her best to sell Mrs. Goddard on this dress. Because Buffy needed the commission.
Rebuilding your life-literally-was even more difficult than Buffy would have imagined. All her possessions, gone. Anything she had owned of any value, from sentimental to monetary, was currently resting in a crater that used to be a thriving small town, albeit one with a mystical portal to Hell. Pretty tough to get a job when you couldn't even prove you existed.
Thank goodness for the new Watcher's Council. Giles had cleared up some funds, Willow had wriggled her nose a few times, and voila, they all had their identities back. Giles had also freed up enough cash-he'd called it back pay-to permit her to take care of Dawn, fix up a small apartment for the two of them, and give them some savings.
Now, Dawn was in school and doing well. She had an afterschool job, and a nice bunch of friends, including a couple of guys who were noticing the grace and maturity of her "little" sister. Buffy was so proud of her. Seeing Dawn's progress always lifted her heart and made her thankful for her sister.
But for Buffy herself, things seemed to go less well. She couldn't explain it, but the "normal" life she had craved-a job, college classes, time with her friends-now seemed so lackluster after that last battle. Of course, she wasn't prepared to admit that to herself, so Buffy did her best in various jobs, looking for something that excited her. She bounced from barrista to library page to telemarketer to temporary office worker. She was hoping this job at Nordstrom's would work out; they had been very flexible with her hours, the pay was good, and once upon a time, being surrounded by all these clothes would have been her idea of heaven.
Buffy was pulled away from such musings by Mrs. Goddard's voice. "Now, Muffy, I need this dress for the Fire & Ice Ball next week. Can it be altered in time?"
Buffy put on her best 'the customer is always right' face. "Certainly, Mrs. Goddard. And you'll look stunning in this gown."
Mrs. Goddard, once back in her comfortable muumuu, was like a different person. She smiled and patted Buffy's cheek. "You're such a sweet girl for saying such nice things to a foolish old woman like me. My Drew probably won't notice the dress at all. It's not like when we were first married, and his eyes lit up when I walked in the room. But then, I'm sure your young man's eyes do that for you, my dear."
Buffy paused in her work, trying not to think about the stab of sadness that went through her at those words. There had been really only two young men in her past, not counting that stupid fling with Parker. And while she had good relationships with both Angel and Riley-for the most part-it was depressing to think that it had been so long since she'd dated, or even clicked with a guy enough for her to consider him in that kind of light. She made sure her smile was nice and bright, hoping it'd distract attention from the truth that was in her eyes. "There's no one in my life right now, but I got glowy eyes a few times, I do admit."
Mrs. Goddard laughed as Buffy handed her back her credit card. "Oh, you're still a girl. You've got time to meet the right one-and when you do, it's like a thunderclap of the heart. That's how it was for my Drew and me." She smiled softly, then said goodbye.
As Buffy watched her walk away, she couldn't help but wonder what a thunderclap of the heart felt like. She had been in love before, and had thought she was in love. Yet neither of the two experiences were ones she really cared to repeat.
"I sure hope the thunderclaps bring good stuff as well as the lightning and danger," Buffy said to herself as she walked Mrs. Goddard's dress to Alterations.
**
Buffy let herself into the small apartment she shared with Dawn. She sighed a bit when she saw the ever-present mess, but moved on, hanging up her jacket and heading into the kitchen. It was only 4:30, but Buffy had a class tonight and she wanted to squeeze in a few more minutes of reading before she started making dinner.
The apartment was quiet. Dawn was still at her job, so Buffy could fully concentrate on the poem she was trying to analyze. She was in her third semester at UCLA and was surprised to find how much better she was doing now, compared to her last try at college. Before, it had seemed like college was just something to fill the daytime hours when she couldn't Slay. Besides, there was little chance she'd ever really use her degree, so she hadn't worried too much about her grades. She'd done well, but she knew it was luck more than anything else. When she'd had to drop out, she hadn't felt a burning desire to return, except when she was in the depths of her post-resurrection depression.
Yet now, Buffy felt so much more aware when she was in class. She realized she had always slighted her brain in favor of her body, so she sought to make things more equal by giving her brain some front-and-center time. So far, it had been working. While she'd never be the science nerd that Willow was, she had a strong knack for the humanities, and literature and history were two of her favorite classes. She knew Giles had always thought she had lived too much in the now, and she was beginning to agree with him. She wouldn't change her past for anything; she just wished that at that time, she'd been more aware of all the different kinds of 'then' rather than focusing so much on the 'now'. Slayer history, demon myths, vampire lore-she could have been a lot more effective with that knowledge.
This semester, Buffy was taking a poetry class, and she was fascinated. It wasn't that different from the slang her friends had always talked in; it was just a matter of determining what the real meaning was, beyond the exact words. Poetry worked the same way.
With a small sigh of contentment, Buffy opened her copy of Neruda and read the assigned poem.
I do not love you as if you were salt-rose, or topaz,
or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off.
I love you as certain dark things are to be loved,
in secret, between the shadow and the soul.
I love you as the plant that never blooms
but carries in itself the light of hidden flowers;
thanks to your love a certain solid fragrance,
risen from the earth, lives darkly in my body.
I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where.
I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride;
so I love you because I know no other way
than this: where I does not exist, nor you,
so close that your hand on my chest is my hand,
so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep.
The words moved Buffy, in a way she couldn't quite figure out. It was almost like she had heard them before, had loved hearing them. Yet at the same time, she knew she hadn't heard them before. Buffy pushed aside the strange feeling and concentrated on the poem and its structure. She took a few notes before getting sucked in again by the power of the poem. She let her mind drift as she reread the lines over and over again.
When the phone rang, she jumped in her seat, the shrill noise bringing her back to herself. She groaned as she realized it was 5:30 and she still hadn't eaten dinner. But old habits made her grab the phone as she pulled the refrigerator open. You never knew when you needed to rescue a friend from the demon who wanted to use them as bait to draw your attention.
"Buffster, how's it going?"
Buffy smiled at the cheerful voice of Xander. "Great, now that I'm talking to one of my favorite people in the world. I am also, though, running late. What's up?"
"Well . . . "
"Xander, short on time. Stop squirming and spill."
"Well, General Buffy, I wanted to know if you wouldn't mind visiting lovely San Diego next weekend."
Buffy mentally ran her schedule through her head. "That I could do. I'm not working Friday, although we'd need to come back early on Sunday, because I'm opening at work on Monday. What's the occasion?"
"Rich invited me down for the weekend, and I thought you could use a bit of a vacation," Xander said.
Buffy said nothing, and Xander sheepishly said, "And your driving scares me less than Rich's. Even with one eye, I could drive better than him."
Buffy laughed, although she always felt a twinge when she thought about how Xander had received his injury. He could drive, but over time, he had found that it was easier to restrict his times behind the wheel to short trips. "The truth finally is revealed. I'd love to, Xan. I'll let Dawn know she can stay with a friend."
"There's also Willow and Kennedy, or even Angel for that matter, if she can't work something out," Xander offered.
Buffy grinned into the phone. "What? You're suggesting I let my whiny, phone hog brat of a sister impose upon Angel's Fortress of Solitude? I thought you'd gotten past your Angel hate, Xander."
They both laughed, and Buffy said, "I'll call you later to work out the details. Gotta go."
Buffy hung up the phone, a smile on her face. Xander was just what she needed when one of her dark moods seemed to be nipping at her heels. A weekend in San Diego with Rich and Xander would be fun, and maybe she could shake the persistent tingle of something missing in her life.
She rolled her shoulders in frustration as she put together a sandwich for dinner. 'Maybe it's some Slayer thing,' she muttered to herself.
But she knew it was more than that.
**
"Welcome, welcome, to the Casa de Rich," was Rich Brendan's greeting for Buffy when she and Xander arrived in San Diego. Xander and Rich knew each other from construction back in Sunnydale, back when there was something in Sunnydale to construct. It was actually pretty amazing that Rich and Xander were still friends, after the "interesting date" he had with Buffy during her never-ending birthday party. Rich had left, along with pretty much everyone else in Sunnydale, during the rise of the First Evil. He had headed to San Diego, and gotten his master's in computer science. His real love, though, seemed to be enjoying life.
Buffy wondered what it was like to feel that young. At 24, she sometimes felt old and worn-out. Like there was nothing new to discover. She knew that being a Slayer made her more aware of the ugly side of life, but she wished she had managed to hang onto a little of her sense of wonder.
Rich showed them around his place, pointing out the kitchen and bathroom before showing them the guest room, thankfully equipped with twin beds. Not that it would have mattered if they had to share; a long time ago, Xander had realized that there'd never be a relationship between the two of them. Thankfully, that realization had happened without an awkward scene.
"So, Rich," Buffy said as they headed out to dinner, "what's the plan for the weekend?"
"Glad you asked. I thought tomorrow we could just hang out on the beach, work on the tan, you know. For dinner, I was thinking about eating at my place, with a couple of people--Xander, I've told you about Will?"
Xander nodded. "Your other best friend that I've never met."
Rich laughed. "That's the one. I was going to drag him over here, so you could finally meet him. Oh, and of course Rosie will be here," he said, mentioning his girlfriend. "She'll probably be bringing her sister along, so we'll be all even, boy-girl wise. Then, you leave on Sunday, right?"
"Yes, unfortunately," confirmed Buffy. "Work kinda insists that I'm there when I'm scheduled, so Nordstorm's will have one tired sales associate on Monday."
"Trust me, we'll pack plenty of fun into the weekend," Rich said with a twinkle in his eyes.
Rich was true to his words. Saturday was spent enjoying a typical beautiful California day. They headed back to Rich's house in the late afternoon to prepare dinner. Buffy took a quick shower to wash salt, sand, and suntan oil off, before picking out some clothes to wear. Thankfully, she had packed for any occurrence, and thus had a perfect outfit for "dinner with best friend, one of his friends, and several other people you've never met."
Buffy dried her hair, let it hang around her shoulders, and applied a bit of makeup. Her favorite jeans and her cream-colored blouse fit well, showing off a body that was more rounded than it'd been in years. A combination of eating more than coffee and salads, and less exercise, had lead to her gaining a few pounds. But they didn't bother Buffy; she was probably the only woman in America happy to gain weight.
Buffy smiled into the mirror. She was happy, even though she was bothered by those strange feelings. Tonight was about having fun, and that's what she wanted. Fun, excitement, something new in her life.
As she stepped out of the bathroom, she spied Rich and Xander in the kitchen, helping Rosie with dinner. She headed there to help, but just as she crossed the threshold, the doorbell rang.
"That must be Will," Rich remarked, his hands occupied with draining the pasta. "Buffy, could you let him in?"
"Sure," she said as she headed for the hall.
As she approached the door, Buffy heard a thud and then a voice shouting, " . . . man with dessert out here!" She yanked open the door, and felt her mouth drop open a bit.
She thought to herself, 'Thunderclap!' as she gazed at the man standing on the doorstep.
End, Chapter Two
By Melissa(dettiot@yahoo.com)
Rating: PG-13 mostly, with one NC-17 epilogue.
Spoilers: Through Chosen.
Author's Note: Spike/Buffy, but only kinda. This story is a bit odd. Also posted on my website(http://lostinwonderland.org/buffy/fanfic.html).
The use of Neruda in this chapter is intended as a shout-out to Wisteria, Annie Sewell-Jennings, and all the authors who have used his works so beautifully in describing Buffy and Spike.
This chapter's title comes from "Tonight and the Rest of My Life," by Nina Gordon.
Chapter Two: Down To the Earth I Fell
Buffy Summers, retired Slayer and newest employee of Nordstrom's, was trying very hard to remember that hitting first and maybe asking questions later only worked when you were a Slayer. Doing Slayer-type tasks. Not when you were dealing with society matrons trying to cram their over-ample bottoms into sequined gowns.
Not that LA had many fat matrons. But they all seemed to come to Buffy to be sold the latest in expensive eveningwear.
Buffy sighed, and looked into the fitting room mirror. Her stylish yet professional look screamed boring. Her feet were killing her, she was starving to death, and her forehead seemed to be permanently puckered.
Buffy mused that if anyone would have told her that she'd miss the First Evil someday, she'd have told them they were crazy.
Rather than continuing that line of thought, Buffy blew her hair out of her eyes and asked, "Now, Mrs. Goddard, how do you like this one? I think the green bugle beads brings out your eyes beautifully."
"My eyes are brown!" snapped the short-waisted, large-bosomed woman.
"Of course they are, Mrs. Goddard. But the green offsets your eyes so nicely, gives you an air of mystery . . ." she trailed off, thinking privately that as this dress was the only one that might possibly fit the shrill harpy, she had to do her best to sell Mrs. Goddard on this dress. Because Buffy needed the commission.
Rebuilding your life-literally-was even more difficult than Buffy would have imagined. All her possessions, gone. Anything she had owned of any value, from sentimental to monetary, was currently resting in a crater that used to be a thriving small town, albeit one with a mystical portal to Hell. Pretty tough to get a job when you couldn't even prove you existed.
Thank goodness for the new Watcher's Council. Giles had cleared up some funds, Willow had wriggled her nose a few times, and voila, they all had their identities back. Giles had also freed up enough cash-he'd called it back pay-to permit her to take care of Dawn, fix up a small apartment for the two of them, and give them some savings.
Now, Dawn was in school and doing well. She had an afterschool job, and a nice bunch of friends, including a couple of guys who were noticing the grace and maturity of her "little" sister. Buffy was so proud of her. Seeing Dawn's progress always lifted her heart and made her thankful for her sister.
But for Buffy herself, things seemed to go less well. She couldn't explain it, but the "normal" life she had craved-a job, college classes, time with her friends-now seemed so lackluster after that last battle. Of course, she wasn't prepared to admit that to herself, so Buffy did her best in various jobs, looking for something that excited her. She bounced from barrista to library page to telemarketer to temporary office worker. She was hoping this job at Nordstrom's would work out; they had been very flexible with her hours, the pay was good, and once upon a time, being surrounded by all these clothes would have been her idea of heaven.
Buffy was pulled away from such musings by Mrs. Goddard's voice. "Now, Muffy, I need this dress for the Fire & Ice Ball next week. Can it be altered in time?"
Buffy put on her best 'the customer is always right' face. "Certainly, Mrs. Goddard. And you'll look stunning in this gown."
Mrs. Goddard, once back in her comfortable muumuu, was like a different person. She smiled and patted Buffy's cheek. "You're such a sweet girl for saying such nice things to a foolish old woman like me. My Drew probably won't notice the dress at all. It's not like when we were first married, and his eyes lit up when I walked in the room. But then, I'm sure your young man's eyes do that for you, my dear."
Buffy paused in her work, trying not to think about the stab of sadness that went through her at those words. There had been really only two young men in her past, not counting that stupid fling with Parker. And while she had good relationships with both Angel and Riley-for the most part-it was depressing to think that it had been so long since she'd dated, or even clicked with a guy enough for her to consider him in that kind of light. She made sure her smile was nice and bright, hoping it'd distract attention from the truth that was in her eyes. "There's no one in my life right now, but I got glowy eyes a few times, I do admit."
Mrs. Goddard laughed as Buffy handed her back her credit card. "Oh, you're still a girl. You've got time to meet the right one-and when you do, it's like a thunderclap of the heart. That's how it was for my Drew and me." She smiled softly, then said goodbye.
As Buffy watched her walk away, she couldn't help but wonder what a thunderclap of the heart felt like. She had been in love before, and had thought she was in love. Yet neither of the two experiences were ones she really cared to repeat.
"I sure hope the thunderclaps bring good stuff as well as the lightning and danger," Buffy said to herself as she walked Mrs. Goddard's dress to Alterations.
**
Buffy let herself into the small apartment she shared with Dawn. She sighed a bit when she saw the ever-present mess, but moved on, hanging up her jacket and heading into the kitchen. It was only 4:30, but Buffy had a class tonight and she wanted to squeeze in a few more minutes of reading before she started making dinner.
The apartment was quiet. Dawn was still at her job, so Buffy could fully concentrate on the poem she was trying to analyze. She was in her third semester at UCLA and was surprised to find how much better she was doing now, compared to her last try at college. Before, it had seemed like college was just something to fill the daytime hours when she couldn't Slay. Besides, there was little chance she'd ever really use her degree, so she hadn't worried too much about her grades. She'd done well, but she knew it was luck more than anything else. When she'd had to drop out, she hadn't felt a burning desire to return, except when she was in the depths of her post-resurrection depression.
Yet now, Buffy felt so much more aware when she was in class. She realized she had always slighted her brain in favor of her body, so she sought to make things more equal by giving her brain some front-and-center time. So far, it had been working. While she'd never be the science nerd that Willow was, she had a strong knack for the humanities, and literature and history were two of her favorite classes. She knew Giles had always thought she had lived too much in the now, and she was beginning to agree with him. She wouldn't change her past for anything; she just wished that at that time, she'd been more aware of all the different kinds of 'then' rather than focusing so much on the 'now'. Slayer history, demon myths, vampire lore-she could have been a lot more effective with that knowledge.
This semester, Buffy was taking a poetry class, and she was fascinated. It wasn't that different from the slang her friends had always talked in; it was just a matter of determining what the real meaning was, beyond the exact words. Poetry worked the same way.
With a small sigh of contentment, Buffy opened her copy of Neruda and read the assigned poem.
I do not love you as if you were salt-rose, or topaz,
or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off.
I love you as certain dark things are to be loved,
in secret, between the shadow and the soul.
I love you as the plant that never blooms
but carries in itself the light of hidden flowers;
thanks to your love a certain solid fragrance,
risen from the earth, lives darkly in my body.
I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where.
I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride;
so I love you because I know no other way
than this: where I does not exist, nor you,
so close that your hand on my chest is my hand,
so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep.
The words moved Buffy, in a way she couldn't quite figure out. It was almost like she had heard them before, had loved hearing them. Yet at the same time, she knew she hadn't heard them before. Buffy pushed aside the strange feeling and concentrated on the poem and its structure. She took a few notes before getting sucked in again by the power of the poem. She let her mind drift as she reread the lines over and over again.
When the phone rang, she jumped in her seat, the shrill noise bringing her back to herself. She groaned as she realized it was 5:30 and she still hadn't eaten dinner. But old habits made her grab the phone as she pulled the refrigerator open. You never knew when you needed to rescue a friend from the demon who wanted to use them as bait to draw your attention.
"Buffster, how's it going?"
Buffy smiled at the cheerful voice of Xander. "Great, now that I'm talking to one of my favorite people in the world. I am also, though, running late. What's up?"
"Well . . . "
"Xander, short on time. Stop squirming and spill."
"Well, General Buffy, I wanted to know if you wouldn't mind visiting lovely San Diego next weekend."
Buffy mentally ran her schedule through her head. "That I could do. I'm not working Friday, although we'd need to come back early on Sunday, because I'm opening at work on Monday. What's the occasion?"
"Rich invited me down for the weekend, and I thought you could use a bit of a vacation," Xander said.
Buffy said nothing, and Xander sheepishly said, "And your driving scares me less than Rich's. Even with one eye, I could drive better than him."
Buffy laughed, although she always felt a twinge when she thought about how Xander had received his injury. He could drive, but over time, he had found that it was easier to restrict his times behind the wheel to short trips. "The truth finally is revealed. I'd love to, Xan. I'll let Dawn know she can stay with a friend."
"There's also Willow and Kennedy, or even Angel for that matter, if she can't work something out," Xander offered.
Buffy grinned into the phone. "What? You're suggesting I let my whiny, phone hog brat of a sister impose upon Angel's Fortress of Solitude? I thought you'd gotten past your Angel hate, Xander."
They both laughed, and Buffy said, "I'll call you later to work out the details. Gotta go."
Buffy hung up the phone, a smile on her face. Xander was just what she needed when one of her dark moods seemed to be nipping at her heels. A weekend in San Diego with Rich and Xander would be fun, and maybe she could shake the persistent tingle of something missing in her life.
She rolled her shoulders in frustration as she put together a sandwich for dinner. 'Maybe it's some Slayer thing,' she muttered to herself.
But she knew it was more than that.
**
"Welcome, welcome, to the Casa de Rich," was Rich Brendan's greeting for Buffy when she and Xander arrived in San Diego. Xander and Rich knew each other from construction back in Sunnydale, back when there was something in Sunnydale to construct. It was actually pretty amazing that Rich and Xander were still friends, after the "interesting date" he had with Buffy during her never-ending birthday party. Rich had left, along with pretty much everyone else in Sunnydale, during the rise of the First Evil. He had headed to San Diego, and gotten his master's in computer science. His real love, though, seemed to be enjoying life.
Buffy wondered what it was like to feel that young. At 24, she sometimes felt old and worn-out. Like there was nothing new to discover. She knew that being a Slayer made her more aware of the ugly side of life, but she wished she had managed to hang onto a little of her sense of wonder.
Rich showed them around his place, pointing out the kitchen and bathroom before showing them the guest room, thankfully equipped with twin beds. Not that it would have mattered if they had to share; a long time ago, Xander had realized that there'd never be a relationship between the two of them. Thankfully, that realization had happened without an awkward scene.
"So, Rich," Buffy said as they headed out to dinner, "what's the plan for the weekend?"
"Glad you asked. I thought tomorrow we could just hang out on the beach, work on the tan, you know. For dinner, I was thinking about eating at my place, with a couple of people--Xander, I've told you about Will?"
Xander nodded. "Your other best friend that I've never met."
Rich laughed. "That's the one. I was going to drag him over here, so you could finally meet him. Oh, and of course Rosie will be here," he said, mentioning his girlfriend. "She'll probably be bringing her sister along, so we'll be all even, boy-girl wise. Then, you leave on Sunday, right?"
"Yes, unfortunately," confirmed Buffy. "Work kinda insists that I'm there when I'm scheduled, so Nordstorm's will have one tired sales associate on Monday."
"Trust me, we'll pack plenty of fun into the weekend," Rich said with a twinkle in his eyes.
Rich was true to his words. Saturday was spent enjoying a typical beautiful California day. They headed back to Rich's house in the late afternoon to prepare dinner. Buffy took a quick shower to wash salt, sand, and suntan oil off, before picking out some clothes to wear. Thankfully, she had packed for any occurrence, and thus had a perfect outfit for "dinner with best friend, one of his friends, and several other people you've never met."
Buffy dried her hair, let it hang around her shoulders, and applied a bit of makeup. Her favorite jeans and her cream-colored blouse fit well, showing off a body that was more rounded than it'd been in years. A combination of eating more than coffee and salads, and less exercise, had lead to her gaining a few pounds. But they didn't bother Buffy; she was probably the only woman in America happy to gain weight.
Buffy smiled into the mirror. She was happy, even though she was bothered by those strange feelings. Tonight was about having fun, and that's what she wanted. Fun, excitement, something new in her life.
As she stepped out of the bathroom, she spied Rich and Xander in the kitchen, helping Rosie with dinner. She headed there to help, but just as she crossed the threshold, the doorbell rang.
"That must be Will," Rich remarked, his hands occupied with draining the pasta. "Buffy, could you let him in?"
"Sure," she said as she headed for the hall.
As she approached the door, Buffy heard a thud and then a voice shouting, " . . . man with dessert out here!" She yanked open the door, and felt her mouth drop open a bit.
She thought to herself, 'Thunderclap!' as she gazed at the man standing on the doorstep.
End, Chapter Two