Summary: Certain books have found their way to Sunnydale, pre-Buffy.

Disclaimer: I dun' own nuttin'!

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Pre-Fic Comments:

If anyone was following the songs, they might wanna check out the band 'Bal-Sagoth'. Kinda like a mix between Blind Guardian and Cradle of Filth.

I know, there's a lot more dialog-age about the bug lady. It's 2.30am and I don't feel like it.

* * *

"What-ev-er!," Buffy said in response to Giles' vocab correction.

"Hey, Xander," Jesse said. After a response from his friend, he continued. "The new teacher, Ms French, asked me over to her house for private lessons!"

He somehow managed to waggle his eyebrows.

"Are you repressing the shagrugs?," Willow asked.

"Shoggoths, Will," Xander said. "Ever seen a shoggoth? They mix right in with contemporary garden decor."

"Er, in actual fact, they look like--"

Giles shut up when the teenagers gave him a collective Look.

"Ah. An example of the famous American wit. I see."

"Hot teacher, private lessons?," Jesse prompted.

"We'd better pay attention," Xander said. "He isn't getting his fix of adoration for scoring."

"Does it really count if it's with a /teacher/?," Buffy asked. "I mean that's like Willow scoring with Giles."

"Hey!," Willow said. "No offense Giles, but you're waaaay too old."

"So, what's the what with the lessons, Jesse?," Xander asked.

"Don't know so far."

"Keep an eye on her, man. I'm getting a baaaad feeling," Xander said. Buffy nodded.

* * *

"At least Luke atoned for failing so miserably," the Master said. "Darla, what have you learnt about the boy?"

"He's powerful, Master," Darla began. "He learnt of our plan for Metal Night, and stopped it. The boy sucked in the power somehow."

"Fascinating. How many suiciders? How many murderers?," the Master asked, his tone dry.

Darla didn't think her Master was wise to ignore the boy like this, but knew it wouldn't be wise to try and correct him after he'd brushed the youth off.

"The suiciders were stopped, and so were the berserkers. Ahhhh... you're not going to like my next bit of news."

The vampiress in the catholic schoolgirl get up was looking distinctly nervous.

"What?," Master Nest asked. "It can't be any worse than what's happened already."

"Saul can tell you more," Darla said, passing the buck. "He's followed the problems."

A vampire dressed in a waistcoat, pants and a dress shirt stepped forwards. Little goldrimmed glasses were perched on his nose. He referred to a notebook constantly as he reported to the Master.

"Due to unforeseen musical selection, a number of those present at the Metal Night at the Bronze were changed into vampires," Saul began.

"Where's the problem?," the Master asked. "We take them as minions, and there is no problem."

"They aren't Aurelius vampires," Saul said bluntly. "They have souls. They are of at least seven different breeds, the most organised of which are the Whitewolf vampires. All the other groups have drifted apart, solitary for the main."

The Master looked faintly surprised at this. Darla didn't like that; the last time he had been surprised, he had gotten trapped in this church under Sunnydale.

"Tell me more about these Whitewolf vampires, then."

"They're based on the vampires from the Whitewolf role playing game 'Vampire: the Masquerade'," Saul said. "Within the breed, there are nine clans currently existing, each of which has unique abilities. The leader of the breed is a man calling himself Lasombra, after the Clan in the game. He can do almost anything with shadows. His co-leader is a Ventrue clan female, a lineage which in the game was renowned for their leadership and politicking."

Saul paused to clear his throat.

"There are two females of the clan Toreador, quite useless. They're artistes, high society. Two members of the clan Gangrel are present, capable of shapeshifting. A Clan Tremere male, capable of magic--"

The Master interrupted Saul. "Magic? Can we use him?"

Saul shook his head. "Unlikely. The Tremere won't abandon surety for a chance with you, and you won't be able to coerce him."

The Master didn't punish Saul for insolence; the bookish vampire knew more on the subject than he did. "Continue."

"One female Tzimisce Clan, capable of fleshcrafting, or molding flesh and bone with her hands. One male Assamite, assassin, capable of creating a sphere of silence. And one... Malkavian."

Distaste coloured Saul's words. "Crazy, much like Angelus' childe Drusilla. The others call him Malkav from what we've observed. There is another vampire, of a completely different breed, which Lasombra has taken under his wing so to speak. My advice is to observe them for now with a minimum of interference."

The Master thought about the news. "The last thing we needed was another insane vampire."

He flicked a hand at the two vampires. "Leave me for now. Bring me something to eat -- preferably young -- and then go and observe these Whitewolf breed vampires."

* * *

Later that night, the gang minus Jesse were in the school library. Again.

"So basically, Jesse's on a date with the Bug Lady," Xander summed up.

"Indeed," Giles said.

"It was sooo creepy, seeing her head do that Exorcist thing," Buffy rambled.

"I go in and drain her?," Xander asked. "Darnit. Bug people don't have innate magic."

"Have you had your daily twinkie?," Willow asked.

"Ah, no," Xander admitted.

"The Slayer will have to do this the old fashioned way," Giles stated dryly. "I have a tape with high pitched sonar that should disable the creature."

"Does that tape thingy work on other things?," Buffy asked. "I always wanted a boombox."

* * *

Post-Fic Comments:

Short and sweet.