DISCLAIMER-A-GO-GO: Okay, admittedly, this chapter is mostly fluff. But it's a good kind of fluff. Enjoy!

After hours of digging through all the clothes from his Goth phase, Shaun managed to put together an outfit of loose black jeans and a black T-shirt with some obscure band name scrawled on it. His long black leather coat lay across the bed. While he was lacing up his black Doc Martens, there was a knock at the door.

He bounded down the stairs and opened the door. There was a strange woman at his front door. His eyes slowly took in her figure clothed in black stiletto boots, tight black leather pants, and red corset. Black hook & eye arm warmers extended from her wrists to her elbows, and a spiked choker encircled her neck. Voluminous waves of black hair interwoven with red streaks framed her pale face, dark-rimmed brown eyes staring at him expectantly.

"You okay, Shaun?" the stranger asked in a familiar voice.

"Sara?!" he sputtered in belated recognition. "Wow, you look..."

"Like a circus freak?" she suggested bitterly, stepping past him into the hallway.

"Actually I was gonna' go with 'incredibly hot,' but yeah, I could see that."

"Well, it's definitely more Faith than Buffy," she remarked, running a hand over the satin corset. It painfully restricted her breathing, but she had to admit she liked the smaller waistline and the enhanced cleavage that it had magically bestowed on her.

Shaun continued to stare. "Never have the words 'Reach out and touch Faith' meant more to me than right now."

She gave him a "don't even go there look," though she wasn't sure that she meant it.

"So how sexy do I look?" he inquired.

She took in his outfit. "Very," she replied. "That's a nice look for you. Went through a Goth phase, did you?"

"Briefly, from the ages 18-21. I'd rather not talk about it."

"Then I won't ask. Michael's waiting in the car. You ready?"

"Let me get my coat. I'll meet you there."

After Shaun hopped in the car, they started the painfully slow ride to the SW9 address, the tension seeming to mount with every mile. Shaun hoped that Tyres had told them about the right party, Michael hoped that no innocent civilians were harmed in this seemingly hopeless effort, and Sara hoped that she didn't pass out from the tightness of the corset.

They all hoped they might be getting close when they passed the converted St. Matthews Church on their way through Brixton Hill, the once-consecrated ground now home to the happening Mass Club and the Bug Bar in the crypt below. Sunset was fast approaching, leaving them little time for preparations once they reached the warehouse. A few blocks later and they came upon what seemed to be a bike messenger clad in a track suit of silver aluminum locking up his bike on the corner.

"Hey, it's Tyres!" Shaun cried. "This must be the place."

The large building loomed on the corner, its faded lettering identifying it as a former warehouse for paper storage or printing. Michael parked at the curb and let Shaun and Sara out of the car. They retrieved boxes from the trunk and stacked them on the sidewalk. Once they were done unloading, Michael disappeared to find a place to park.

Tyres approached the waiting Shaun. "Oy, you lucky people!" he greeted. "Evenin', Shaunie. I see you brought a little 'friend'." He held up his hands in a dramatic quotation mark gesture. "What's a honey like you doin' with a zero like him?"

"Is he for real?" Sara leaned over and whispered to Shaun.

"I'm afraid so," he responded.

She turned her attention to Tyres. "What can I say, I'm a sucker for guys in long black coats who can get me a discount on flat-screen TVs," Sara replied, with a wink to Shaun.

"Have to say I'm wonderin' what else you're a sucker for, sunshine," Tyres said with a lascivious look.

Shaun interrupted as he caught Sara's look of rising anger. "Careful, Tyres, this girl will not hesitate to kick your ass."

"Feisty, eh? I like that in a woman. Tell me, my corseted cutie, are you currently happy with your choice of dance partner?"

"Yes, actually, I am."

"Because our Shaunie here doesn't exactly know how to show a girl a good time. Unless her idea of a good time is a night in a dark, smoky pub sipping pints and listening to his sad post-traumatic self whine about what his life could have been if only he'd had the guts to get up off his arse. But you don't strike me as that kind of girl." He turned away to light a cigarette and wave to some friends across the street.

"I don't strike you?" she muttered. Shaun caught the movement in the corner of his eye of Sara winding up her right fist.

He managed to snatch her arm in mid-flight before she could deliver a blow. "Ah, ah, ah. No hitting the humans," he advised.

"Shaun, I am not going to let him talk to you like that."

Shaun was a bit shocked that she was thinking of him rather than herself. "Look, much as I appreciate your concern, it's just Tyres. He's harmless. He's an alright guy once you get to know him."

"I'm not interested in getting to 'know' him," she said, repeating the same dramatic quotation mark gesture with her hands. "I'm just saying, if by some chance he gets turned into a vampire tonight, he's dust."

"Okay," he agreed.

Piece by piece, they began to transfer the equipment and boxes from the sidewalk into the warehouse. A few other staffers from the Council showed up to help them hang the UV lights from beams across the ceiling and connect them to the light grid so that a flip of one switch would activate them all.

Shaun had stepped outside to grab a quick smoke before the chaos ensued. Sara placed the boxes of stakes and pamphlets by the warehouse door and went outside to join him. They were standing together on the corner when the rave's organizer and the DJ showed up. They gave them a nod as they passed them on their way inside.

"Did you see that guy?" Shaun asked with contempt.

"Who?"

"The DJ. What is he, 15? He probably never even bought an album in his life. He probably thinks LPs are some new funk/ska/reggae band."

"LPs? What are those?" Sara inquired.

Shaun looked at her in horror. "Okay, I know I am not that much older than you."

She continued to feign ignorance, then broke down in a laugh to prevent him from launching into a lecture on the true form of music. "I'm just teasing, Shaun. I know what LPs are. I still own quite a few."

"Thank God," Shaun sighed. "I thought I was going to have to reconsider my opinion of you."

"Oh. What opinion would that be?" she requested, only half-joking, while she tugged uncomfortably at the arm warmers.

"Doesn't matter. We can talk about it later," he said. He dropped the finished cigarette to the sidewalk as music started to drift toward them from the warehouse's interior.

"I'm afraid there might not be a later," she said softly, as if all the pain of the past few days had finally hit home. "This might go really badly, Shaun. Not that it's the first time facing imminent death, for either of us."

"That's true," he agreed with a slightly nervous laugh. "Look, we've done all we can. Sometimes we have to leave things in the hands of fate."

"I just hope fate is in a good mood tonight."

"So do I."

She breathed in deeply, or as deeply as she could. "Okay, let's go." She started to walk back inside.

"Wait." He grabbed hold of her hand and she instinctively turned to him. "Before we go in there to face our imminent death, there's something that I need to ask you."

"What's that?"

He stepped closer and brought his right hand up to her face. As he touched her cheek, she felt suddenly warm despite the cold.

"Shaun, wh—?"

With his hand, he pulled her closer. Bending his head, he put his lips to hers and kissed her. His kiss flooded through her like warm sparkling cider. Her every nerve ending seemed to awaken. She felt weak in the knees for possibly the first time in her life. The world around them seemed to be spinning, but she was still, held fast in his arms.

When he pulled away from her, they were still so close she could feel his breath. She had a hard time finding her own, though. She looked into his deep blue-grey eyes, searching for a foothold, something to keep from being drowned by the emotions that threatened to overwhelm her. A desire that she wished would have stayed dormant was now wide awake.

"Uh...umm...huh," she gasped. "Um, how should I answer that?"

"Well, you can take some time and think about it, y'know," he offered in a low voice, his hand still caressing her cheek. "You don't have to answer right away."

"Okay, I...I'll think about it," she struggled to whisper. He smiled in response.

When he released her, the weakness in her knees coupled with the unfamiliar stiletto heels made her stumble but she commanded herself to get it together.

"Ready to save the world then?" he asked.

"Absolutely," she said, a wide smile creeping across her face.

She took Shaun's hand and they entered the club. An empty club.

"Um, where's the DJ?"

Michael came to meet them at the door, looking very guilty. "Yes, well, you see, I wanted to appraise the gentlemen of the situation and the risks they might be facing. And I'm afraid that...well, they did a runner."

"What?" Sara and Shaun blurted in unison.

"Well, they are in charge of this event. I figured that they should be aware of the inherent risks," he explained. "And I might have mentioned the 'v' word."

"Wait, wait, what happened to the whole 'deceive, obfuscate and inveigle' protocol?" Sara reminded him.

"I supposed I wanted to try a new approach."

"Well, you picked a great time for full disclosure, Michael," she chided.

Seeing his chance, Shaun rushed to the DJ's abandoned turntables.

"Shaun, what are you doing? Are you crazy?" Sara cried, following him onto the raised platform.

"We have to keep the music going or the vamps will know something's up." Currently, Depeche Mode's A Question of Time was playing. He flipped frantically through the box of albums for something to put on when the song ran out, momentarily flashing back to the memory of him and Ed as they flung albums at oncoming zombies in their back garden.

"You sure you know what you're doing?"

"You are looking at a veteran of the World DJ Championships, my corseted cutie. Fatboy Slim only wishes he were as good as me," he boasted with a cocky smile.

"All right, then. You stay here and kick the funky jams while Michael and I pass out the party favors."

"Sorry, did you just say 'kick the funky jams'?"

"Well...I was being ironic," she stammered. She kissed him quickly on the cheek. "I'll see you later."

"I thought you said there might not be a later."

"I'll make sure there is," she declared. "Good luck, and stay safe."

"Yeah, you, too."

She jumped down from the platform and went to join Michael at the door, bouncing with renewed energy. Either this night could turn out to be the best night of her life, or it could turn out to be a horrible bloodbath with a staggering number of casualties that almost ensured they would fail to stop the coming apocalypse. Strangely enough, it wasn't the first time she'd been faced with that dilemma. Only time would tell.