The O.C.

Act Three: Jubilee

The sound of smacking and swishing was something all too common to be heard from the Pacific Harbor library during the summer. Inside, the Slayer and her Watcher were engaged in a full-on spar match, sweat from the roasting temperatures and relentless physical activity coated on their foreheads. Only a few months ago, Buffy had been consecutively giving demonstrations on how to kick Giles' ass. But, he too was learning well, and soon he wasn't the only one who went home with bruises. He'd become a formidable opponent for the Slayer, nearly as strong as a vampire. Both stood, motionless except for their heaving chests, waiting for the other to strike.

Buffy took the initiative, her stick slapping Giles' claves, causing him to go head over feet and make a painful landing on the tile floor. She pointed her stick a few inches from his exposed throat, ever the proud warrior, "I-I think that may be enough for today," Giles admitted as Buffy withdrew her weapon and helped him up. "Good—very good, Buffy…" he recomposed himself, collapsing to a chair next to the table. "Anything of interest last night during your patrol?"

Hesitantly, she shook her head, "Nothing really—the usual. Lotsa vampires. Lotsa slayage. Anything I should be watching my back… and the rest of me… for?"

"Well," he began, re-examining a pile of texts sprawled out on the counter. "There was quite an, em, interesting prophecy I was reading last night, during your patrol. It documented the arrival of a-a vampire, though if I'm correct, it was vampire, who was not a vampire."

"Gee, these people who write these texts really like their metaphors," said Buffy. "So, how do I kill it?"

"Apparently, there's no way you can—it's as if you're not supposed to," Giles answered.

"But it's a vampire," the Slayer countered. "It's bad—right?"

"Well, it's supposed to bring about an apocalypse, but other than that—"

Buffy's eyebrows furrowed. "It's not bad, but it'll bring about the apocalypse… wow."

"It—it isn't quite clear, Buffy," he said, taking off his small-framed glasses. "But… well, I'll work on it. As for now, we must focus on tonight's patrol…"

"But tonight is Saturday night," the blonde teenager whined. "I've got much better things to do than to stake the undead."

"Such as?"

"A party at Harmony's," Buffy glared at Giles as he chuckled. "What—it's important!"

"Why, may I ask?" he struggled in tearing the bemused expression away.

"Well… you wouldn't understand… you're old… and male… and wear tweed."

"Ah, I see."

"Wow. I've been here my whole life, and I don't even think I've talked to a girl who wasn't my mom, and here you are, oh, two minutes, and you get invited to a party!" Xander observed, flopped on the couch with Angel, watching the Saturday morning cartoons.

"It's not like I'm trying… she… she seems really… sweet," Angel said fondly, dressed in a set of Xander's pajamas, which looked a bit awkward on him.

"You know Buffy has a man, right?" Xander asked after awhile, still slightly hypnotized by Teen Titans.

A hole in his stomach expanded. "No." he admitted ruefully.

"Guess you have some competition, forehead boy," Xander said distantly.

"Forehead boy?"

"Yes, I dub thee forehead boy," Xander replied seriously. "I mean, look, your forehead is huge."

Changing the subject without a second thought, Angel asked, "So, you got a girlfriend?" he waited, and then amended, "Or a girl you have in mind?"

"Cordelia," he answered instantly. "She's—amazing… I've had a crush on her since I was… oh, about four." He thought about something for a moment. "You know, Cordy is Buffy's best friend—so… she's bound to be at the big party scene, right?"

"I guess."

"So—maybe I could come along, do some good ole… um… stuff, and then—"

"You can ride off in a giant onion and live happily ever after?"

"That works."

"Harm," Cordelia Chase began, surveying her friend with an experienced set of dark eyes. "You look gross. I mean, who are you and what have you done with Harmony? You obviously haven't been to a tanning salon in too long…" The bronze goddess immediately had her eyes darted from her radiant tan body, with cascading, deep brunette locks, to her comrade's pallid, blonde one. "And I haven't seen you in forever, either. Buffy and I have been wigging out when your cell keeps and going and going and going, like the freakin' Energizer bunny!"

"Well, summer's… changed me," Harmony replied, acting much like she was cooler than a refrigerator in Antarctica. She flipped the tofu burger, broadcasting her frustration to the greater Newport Beach region as it managed to slip between the grill into the soft, glowing orange charcoal.

"Buffy!" Cordelia greeted, momentarily ignoring her other friend's irritation. "'S'bout time you showed up at a party. Where has my rave buddy been?"

"Busy," the blonde replied, tossing her hair back as a group of boys dashed towards the beach past her. "You know, with mom."

"Oh, don't I know it," Cordy sighed. "My stepmom—wow. They added some Prozac… and she's been a-bitchin'—" she cut herself off, her eyes sparkling as they fell onto the porch. "—Hello, salty goodness."

"Angel?" Buffy whispered, somewhat surprised that he'd showed up. And brought Xander, too.

There he was, in all of this sexy glory; hair spiked, a sheer wife beater beneath the long leather jacket, and black slacks. He needn't make a huge effort, like all of the others there. Buffy herself even spent an hour in front of the mirror, along with time spent showering, dressing into a lacy white tank and far-too-short shorts, and thinking about him. Oh yeah, she was crushing like a little seventh grader on the substitute English teacher. Only in this case, much younger, and much, much more… hot.

And just like seventh grader Buffy, to-be-junior Buffy stood there, smiling like an idiot with the tips of her ears turning a heavy shade of magenta. As he sauntered down the porch and onto the sand, engaging in an inaudible conversation with Xander, Buffy gave a slight wave in his direction.

"You know him?" Cordelia asked. "Oh, you can totally hook him up with me!"

Satisfied as Angel walked over with purposeful strides, Buffy flashed a million watt smirk. "Hi, Angel… I'm really glad you came," she greeted with outmost sincerity, the reddening on her ears spreading like a virus down to her lobes and a small splash on her cheeks. "Oh, these are my friends—Cordelia and Harmony."

"I'm Xander Cohen," Xander nodded in Cordy's direction, disappointed when he held out his hand, and it was not taken.

"Hello Angel!" Cordy added, vying for his attention.

Buffy suddenly jumped, feeling the unfamiliar sensation of arms wrapping themselves around her waist. "Spike," she said softly, reality sinking in. She cleared her throat, "Um… Angel, this—this is Spike."

"And who's Nancy-Boy-Hair-Gel-Man?" Spike asked, chuckling lightly as he began to sway to the motion of the ocean's distant crashes.

Angel glared, correcting, "Angel."

Spike burst out laughing. "Angel?" he repeated.

Cordelia glanced around, interrupting the squabble, noticing the lack of Harmony's presence. "Where'd she go?"

"Dunno," the others chorused, halfway in unison.

Under the floorboards of the porch, nestled in the sand, Harmony flashed a beam at the adorable, shirtless boy lying close to her. "You're so cute!" she squealed. The boy stared back in horror as Harmony's face contorted, her eyebrows disappearing and rising up, making her appear extremely frustrated.

"Cute enough to eat!"

Author's Note: God, you don't have any idea how fun it is to write this! Anyway, I'm really proud of this fic, and I'm glad so many people like this! Now, to ask the reviewers; would you rather have the episodes be one big fanfic, or released as separate episodes? Your opinion would be appreciated more than you know.

And, next chapter; the party turns into a booze and blood fest…