Hi. Back. Stuff's not mine, except the characters you've never heard of. There'll be a few, I guess. If my characterizations are off, um, I don't know, flame or something. I don't *want* you to, but I guess I could live, if you did ...with therapy. Have fun, enjoy story, expect more.
~Star Mouse
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Xander was very carefully putting the final touches on a large sandwich when a shrill, mechanical version of "Au Claire de Lune" at about twice the usual tempo rang out from his hip. He laid down the last slice of bread, and then backed away, hands out, as if he could stabilize his masterpiece from ten paces, and then answered his phone, which was plaid.
"Y'ello."
"Xander!"
"Anya? What's wrong? You sound ...teary."
"Xander!"
"Anya! I'm here. Talk to me. It's okay."
"Nonono! No, Xander, it is not okay! I'm sitting here, in the Magic Box,
with the *Slayer*!"
"Xander narrowed his eyes. "I don't get it. Are you and Buffy having a catfight? 'Cause if you are, I wanna watch."
"No, Xander! That's what I'm trying to tell you! This isn't Buffy! This weird girl Buffy brought in today just got called as a Slayer! In front of me! It was really creepy, and not very attractive at all," she added.
Xander's mouth went dry. A new Slayer had been called? That meant-- "Buffy?" he croaked.
Anya replied quietly, "I don't know. She's not answering her cell phone. I'm scared, Xander."
Xander nodded, even though she couldn't see him. "I know, Ahn. I'm coming over. Just wait for me, okay? I'm gonna call Giles. We can figure this out. It'll be okay, Ahn. Alright? It'll be okay."
@ @ @
Buffy blinked. She was still staring at the gun. Which hadn't fired. She'd heard the trigger... But it hadn't shot. For whatever reason. Thank God. She wasn't dead. She wasn't dead....
She moved like lightning, kicking the gun out of the man's hands. Then she proceeded with a brief and intense session of anger management, through purging.
Feeling more alive than she had in months, she left the unconscious mugger on the grass, and walked off to enjoy the beautiful world called Earth.
@ @ @
Giles pulled off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. Birdy shifted nervously. Anya leaned against Xander. The annoying customers had been removed. And no one had been able to contact Buffy. No one was ready to contact Dawn. Willow was on her way. Giles had also put in a call to Spike, who had said he'd be by at sundown. Giles sighed.
"As near as I can tell, she has indeed been called as a Slayer. Which means, I can only assume, that the prophecy we read last night did in fact come to pass. The Slayer is dead." He sounded weary, and old. Xander looked around. He couldn't stand it. Giles, an old guy? He wasn't, really. He was strong, and he was vital, no matter how much the twenty-something Scoobies teased him.
"Woahwoahwoah. Not 'The', okay? We're talking about the death of *A* slayer. There's more than one, G-man. You know that. I mean, for all we know, Faith kicked the bucket in a prison brawl."
Giles frantically rubbed his glasses. "No," he said quietly. "I called the Los Angeles Women's Penitentiary right after you called me. Faith is very well. She sends her animosity."
Birdy raised her hand. "There's still one Slayer unaccounted for."
"Two." All heads turned to the danger room door. Spike stood in the frame, holding a heavy, lightly~smoking blanket.
"Hey! Evil Dead! Come for the panic party?" Xander tried to let out his tension the way he did best: Cracking jokes and annoying people. "I heard you would be around with the nighttime. What's with the being day and you here?"
"Couldn't get back to sleep. Nothing better to do," Spike replied.
"Yeah, man, sorry about the wake-up call. We tend to get a little upset about Slayer deaths, and all."
Giles shot him a glance, then turned to follow Spike's track across the room to the counter. "I'm sorry...Two, you said?"
"'S right. You've got Faith pinned. This girlie's two, Buffy makes three, and you've still got two a the little minxes wandering around somewhere. One of the existing Slayers is dead now. You just have to wonder which of the four passed on the torch to flash-and-boom here." He gestured vaguely at Birdy, who, he noticed, was wearing Buffy's clothes. She reeked of Slayer, but he could tell from here it wasn't just the borrowed duds, either. She really had been called. He felt a slight twinge in his gut at the thought of Buffy lying dead again. But he was pretty sure it was just the mourning of a passing hero, and semi~friendly acquaintance. He'd feel the same for Red.
Giles rubbed his forehead again. "I'm sorry. I don't quite follow your logic. To our knowledge, there are two Slayers. Recent events have suggested the possible existence of a third, I'll admit, but where are you coming up with the fourth?"
"Buffy told me she died three times. That makes for three extras. Three plus one. I'm sure *you* can do that math."
Anya narrowed her eyes. "When did Buffy die the third time? Why don't I remember that?"
"Why indeed," Giles murmured. "Are you absolutely sure about that, Spike?"
"'Course not. Apparently I was in Africa at the time. Didn't she get shot, or something?"
Xander snapped his fingers. Anya's eyes widened in amazement, and as he talked, she tried to imitate the gesture. "That's right! Warren shot her. She went to the hospital, she-- her heart stopped." He looked back and forth between the Brits, as behind him Birdy scooted over to Anya and demonstrated the art of finger~snapping [which, put like that, sounds really violent].
"Does that count?" Xander said. Giles nodded wearily. How many times would his Slayer die before one of them learned their lesson? It was getting ridiculous. If the Council found out about this--- then again, they must have sent a Watcher to all the new Slayers, so surely they realized what was going on. Perfect.
Spike nodded also, with authority. "It counts. Definitely."
The annoying bell on top of the door chimed.
All heads snapped round at the God~awful noise. Xander slumped.
"Oh, Willow. Hi." The others shifted, untensed just a tad. Let out held breaths.
The redhead walked to the table. Her eyes narrowed with rekindled anxiety. "Gee, guys, calm down the wacky level. I'm glad to see you too, but there's no need to get overemotional about it."
"'S good ta seeya, Red," Spike piped up. Willow shot him a grateful look. Off went Giles' glasses. *Rubrubrub*
"Forgive us, Willow, on our lack of enthusiasm. We were expecting...ah, hoping for Buffy. Have you been able to contact her?"
Willow's brow creased, and her chin did that crinkle thing. "No. I've tried, like, five times, and I never get an answer. It just keeps ringing until that message thingy comes on. You know, the one where she swears at all telemarketers and gives that really long, confusing explanation for where she probably is?"
Anya snapped her fingers, with a look of triumph. Birdy gave her a silent round of applause. "Well, let's try her again," the ex~ex~demon said. "It's not like there's anything better we could be doing, like reopening the store and making money, because I know how well that suggestion would go over with you people."
Giles nodded, pointedly ignoring the last part of Anya's suggestion. It was just like Xander's little jibes. There wasn't any real animosity behind it right now; they were all too worried. "Yes. It's been ...a few minutes. I'll try her again." Forgoing the leopard print cell in his pocket, he dialed on the Magic Box phone. He shifted from foot to foot and rapped his knuckles on the counter as the phone on the other end rang.
Spike's ears pricked up. He turned his head this way and that, and then got up and walked over to the danger room. He emerged, holding a ringing blue cell phone by the antenna. Giles blinked at it, looked at the headset in his hand, and set it back in the cradle with a bit of violence.
"I don't know whether to be furious or relieved."
Spike set the phone down on the table. "Well, 't least that explains that little problem."
"Indeed," said Giles.
"Yeah," Xander said, "that's all right, then. Now she has no way to contact us, no way for us to contact her... For all we know, she's been dead for hours."
"Xander." Willow picked up Buffy's cell phone and fiddled with the flip~snappy cover.
Birdy sat awkwardly, not sure how to act, whether she should be hopeful or start mourning.
@ @ @
Buffy was in one of her better moods when she finished her walk. She was happy to be not~dead. She felt like singing, or something. Something really loud, or fast, or both. Something she could work out to.
A quick search of her CD collection in the living room, plus a little snooping in Dawn's room, turned up an empty Pink jewel case. Rats. Now where.... Oh yeah. The Magic Box. Danger room. Left of the stereo, upside down. She could see it in her mind now.
She flicked her wrist to check her watch. About half an hour before Dawn
got off school. She could go over, have a nice, "18 Wheeler" accompanied
workout, and then have a little friend~time and research party while
Dawn was paying off her debt to society and Anya.
She suited up and got set to jog over.
@ @ @
"Should we call Dawn?"
"No. Definitely not." Giles rubbed his eyes again. "We really don't know anything, and we would only worry her. There's no need for that, yet."
"Yeah," said Xander. "'Cause God knows we're doing enough worrying right now for everybody. No need to share."
Willow looked at the clock. "Yeah, but school gets out now. Dawn will be here any minute."
The door chimed.
Xander turned. "Speak of the de--Buffy!"
Buffy blinked as Xander vaulted the table and pulled her into his arms. Taken by surprise, and not really viewing her friend as a threat, she let him crush her face against his chest.
"Uh, hi, Xan," she said, her voice muffled by the material of his shirt. "I assume I missed something? Do I get one of those "while you were out" memos?" Xander finally let go, only to be replaced by Willow. Buffy gasped for breath, looking over at the assembled, relieved~looking Scoobies for help.
"God, Buffy; we thought you died again!"
"Will? The prophesy." That made sense. "Giles told you about the Buffy death thing?" *annoyed look at Watcher*
Anya snapped her fingers proudly. "No. We figured it out for ourselves. You know, when the next one got called."
Willow loosened her hold on Buffy and narrowed her eyes. "What prophecy? Since when are we out of the prophecy loop?"
"Sorry. It was sort of a late-last-night-slash-early-this-morning thing. Not a in-the-closet-for-months thing."
Willow squeezed her friend again and released her. Anya, who had grasped the pattern, hurried to fill the gap. She gave Buffy a happy little squeeze.
"I'm glad you're not dead, because you're my friend."
Buffy returned the hug, not really having any other option. "Uh, me too, Ahn."
Anya released her and went over to the cash register. She turned it on with a triumphant twist of the key, then bounced over to the door to remove the "Reserved by Mystical Study Group, Do Not Disturb, But Come Back Soon, And In The Meantime, Shop Online @ WWW.MAGICBOXINC.COM." sign from the window.
Buffy turned back to Giles, Spike and Birdy, not sure what to do. When her gaze rested on Spike, he rolled his eyes.
"I'll pass on the groping, if it's all the same." He headed for the Danger Room door. "Now, if the crisis has passed, I'll just be on my merry way."
Giles called after him, "Spike, this concerns you as well, you know. If you want to be involved, you'll have to participate."
Spike stopped, half turned, with his hand on the door handle. His eyes flicked to Buffy, who was desperately trying not to look at him. Back to Giles. His hand fell to his side.
"Fine," he said, his tone transforming to almost mocking cheer. "I'm up for some fun and funky reindeer games. I suppose I'll be beating Things up for information, while the rest of you are in Research Land?"
Buffy looked at Giles. "Oo, me too? I want some violence. Can I kill stuff, too?"
Giles sighed. "Yes, fine. But you'll probably have a hard time of it before night falls."
Buffy looked at the sunlit windows. "Oh." She turned back round, and shrugged. "Fine. I'll just beat up Mr. Bag." She flounced over to the Danger Room, a difficult feat in jogging pants and sports tank.
The door shut, but opened again about three seconds later. Buffy's head poked out.
"Did Anya say something about another Slayer getting called?"
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Hey. Review. It'll take five seconds. Less, if you just write something like 'Sucked.' or 'Excellent'. Of course, such a brief response would cheapen the whole thing, leaving us both feeling dirty and used. ... Never mind. Forget that. Please review.
~Star Mouse