Summary: Yet another Halloween fic. With demons.
Disclaimer: I own... hmm. I own nothing. The bank owns any money I make, at the moment. The concepts building 1001Keys do not belong to me, most probably.
Feedback: Why not? It helps me write more and better...
AlbumThisWasWrittenTo: 'Lights Camera Revolution', by Suicidal Tendencies
Pre-fic Comments:
Visual C is evil. More to the point, the 'help' is a pain in the proverbial until you remember that nasty little inheritance thing.
I know, Troy, the issue of dilution would be a serious technical problem. It piggybacked on a mindcontrolling spell the Mayor has in the water, I don't know. Hang on, that makes a good excuse... yeah. That's it.
Joyce blinked. She sneezed again, as a world of new smells flooded into her suddenly sensitive nose. Really, she'd never realised just how much the workroom smelt of oil and turpentine.
The next sensation was unsteadiness, as she tried to balance on legs that seemed to have more joints than normal. She caught herself on the edge of the desk, claws digging into the wood as she carefully sat down on a stool. That series of movements were in themselves a world of experience.
She blinked again, looking around. A full length mirror hanging on one of the walls showed a tall leopard-woman sitting on her stool, whiskers limp with a dazed expression on her face. David, her employee, was slack on the floor. He had knocked himself out on the wood floor.
"What... on... earth?"
Giles' nose twitched as he suddenly realised just what he could smell. He looked at Cordelia, as Xander had left to get Buffy from the classroom.
"Might I enquire as to what you and Xander did?," he asked.
"We asked Rosenberg what she found," Queen C shrugged.
The Watcher tapped his feline nose. "I can smell a shade more exertion than that."
"Who died and made you my Dad?," Cordelia demanded. "My God, is it /any/ of your business?"
"Er, no," Giles said, blushing under his new coat of fur.
"Yeah, it is /so/ not your affair what I get up to," Cordelia sniffed.
Xander appeared then, a six-armed and snake-tailed Buffy with a length of cloth wrapped around her chest following close behind through the double doors. "Hey, guys. El Slayer was snoozin'."
"I'm up, I'm up," Buffy said, still somewhat groggy. "What's up? Besides Mrs Kerbopple not being there. That must be like a new record for her, unless she got the flu or something."
"You're closer to the mark than you might think," a somewhat fuzzy voice said.
Buffy swivelled her torso around to see who was speaking. She saw a tall cat-man in a ripped up tweed suit speaking. "Giles? Is that you?"
"Indeed," he said. "Er, Cordelia? How do I... change back?"
"What was that?," Cordelia said. "Was that an apology for being nosy?"
"I'm sorry," Giles sighed.
"Concentrate, and will it," she shrugged. "Works for me."
The Librarian looked quite relieved as he managed to regain his normal self with his receding hairline. "Ah, good. Although paying for repairs to my suit shall be quite a bother, in this country."
"Eh, you've got a million more just like it," Buffy said dismissively. "What happened, anyway?"
"Someone spiked the water cooler," Xander said. "Slipped the town a mickey. Pulled a fast one."
"That's enough, Xander," Giles said firmly.
"Gotcha, G-man," Xander shrugged.
"Ah! Cordelia's blood," Buffy realised. "Whoever stole it dumped it in the water supply."
"And Willow found out who found out about Queen C's little secret," Xander nodded. "A Thousand And One Keys."
"That O'Neil guy that Willow was freaked about?," Buffy asked.
"Yeah," Cordelia said. "We kinda forgot to get an address off her for him, though. Hey, maybe my mum knows. She knows everyone."
"If she isn't panicking right now," Giles said, brow furrowed in thought.
"O'Neil, O'Neil," Buffy repeated. "I've heard that name somewhere..."
"Your new neighbour," a familiar voice said from the shadows of the Stacks. "The guy who got your mum to nail that cross to your doorframe."
"You're right, Angel!," Buffy said. "That's it! Next door!"
"Okay, that has to be the shortest search session yet," Xander said. "Only one overnighter on the part of Wills, and ten minutes on our part."
"..low... willow... Willow!," a familiar, if panicked voice, said.
The redheaded girl hugged her pillow, trying to get back to sleep.
"Wake up, baby!," her father's voice said. "C'mon, you've got to help us!"
"Dad?," Willow said muzzily. "What's up?"
She turned around, to find a large cat's face looking at her. She screamed briefly, before her heart stopped beating again. "Ah, there it goes."
"Why haven't you changed, baby?," her mother asked.
"I dunno, mum," Willow blinked, waking up the rest of the way.
"There has to be some reason," her mum insisted, voice still sounding quite panicked. "What cure are you hiding from us?!"
"It isn't your fault," her dad said soothingly. "We just want to know why you're still okay."