Title: Story of a Girl
Disclaimer: I don't own anything. At all. If I did, I'd have more money then God and would never have canceled BtVS and Angel.
Summary: A teenage girl is given an impossible destiny. She's taken away from everything she knows and everyone thinks she's dead. Eight years later, she's back, and in for one hell of a fight.
Distribution: Just ask if you want to use this.
Spoilers: All of Buffy and Angel. Through GoF, and some minor ones from OotP.
a/n: Okay, I'd just like to thank everyone who reviewed this chapter, especially Moonjava, Jenna Summers, Etoile Star, clcountry, Lorency, Alen Pitt, and Just Me. Thanks for the reviews! There were a lot of questions asked, so this might take a while…
Jenna Summers- Draco is still a bit (okay, a lot) of an ass on the outside, don't worry. But if anyone asked him (though if I met either Tom Felton or Draco Malfoy, I wouldn't be thinking about this) he'd never admit what he was really feeling. And, you've got to remember, he's going to meet someone whom he's spent the past eight years thinking was dead, never mind the fact that she is one of his best friends' friends, that he spent years picking on. Anyone would let a few things slip under those circumstances.
Alen Pitt- First, I'd like to say that you must be one of the most perceptive people alive. No, I'm not going to tell you how (or if) the demon bunnies fit in (hint hint) but I have to say, you've summed up exactly how I thought some of the characters would feel in this situation. Yay! You get a cookie:hands startled reviewer a gooey warm sugar cookie: I thought I'd mentioned why Dawn didn't get a letter from Hogwarts, but I guess I forgot to. See, I've always thought that the monks didn't create Dawn's memories, but simply cast a spell to fit her into the life a second Summers' daughter would've had- they didn't pick and choose how to fit her into everything, they just did a spell to automatically insert her into everyone's lives. And Dawn should've gotten a Hogwarts letter, after all, she is a living magical battery, and all that other Key-ness junk, but she didn't because by the time she was eleven, the Summers' (or most of them) had already moved to the Hellmouth, where there's so much magical energy that the arrival of two new witches wouldn't have been noticed, compared to all of the power already in Sunnydale.
Ash- No, Harry did not mention Hermione's "death" in a car accident, I checked. That'd be his parents, thought they're not mentioned either. Hermione and her family "died" in a plane crash on the way back from Spain, or at least, that's what the Watcher's Council told everyone.
Just Me- I am planning a pairing, although that might come in the sequel (if I ever finish this fic and go on to do another one, that is) but I'm going to be all secretive and mysterious and not tell you who it is. Thanks for your review! It made me feel happy and hyper!
Clcountry- I don't care if this has nothing to do with my story, I'm going to ask anyway- please please update Merging With the Traffic! Pretty please? I'm addicted, and I need more!
Phew, I think that's it. I told you it was long. Now, onto the story…
Buffy couldn't believe her eyes. Literally, couldn't. In fact she was having so much trouble trying to convince herself that she wasn't in some demon induced dream world that she actually blinked, turned around, and pulled Giles into the doorway with her, looking to him for some type of silent confirmation that she wasn't hallucinating. Unfortunately, the mystified Watcher had no clue what the Slayer's unspoken dilemma was, and settled for looking confused, puzzled, and thoroughly bewildered.
Buffy looked at the redhead standing in front of her. Freckles? Check. Bright, red hair? Check. Tall and skinny body? Check. Knows her old name? Check. Oh shit, Ron. If possible, the blonde's eyes got even wider. Hoping for some proof that she was wrong, she quickly scanned the man standing next to her, and felt her heart plummet all the way down to her toes. This was so not good.
Why? Because looking at that man, Buffy knew there was no way her original theory could be wrong. He had messy black hair, bright green eyes, and pale skin, as if he hadn't been in the sun for a little while. And since this was England, he probably hadn't been. Most important of all, a thin, red scar was visible through the man's thick bangs. Although Buffy couldn't see all of it, she knew exactly what it looked like. A lightning bolt. Her old friends had found her once she finally didn't want to be found.
To quote Giles, Dear Lord.
Seeing the woman's deer-in-the-headlights expression, Harry nervously cleared his throat.
"Er, Hermione? Why don't we take this inside?" he asked cautiously, as Buffy still hadn't done anything besides open her mouth, though no sound was coming out.
"It's Buffy," the Slayer managed to say, "Buffy Summers."
Harry looked at her sharply but said nothing as he made his way inside. At least Giles wasn't wondering if they were vampires, as all five of the witches and wizards walked into Buffy's loft without an invitation. Buffy closed the door behind them and walked over to the couch, looking more lost then she had been for a long time. Almost as if needing solid reassurance that this wasn't some horrific nightmare, she reached out and grabbed her sleeping sister's hand, successfully waking the Key.
"Buffy?" Dawn asked sleepily, her eyes fluttering open.
The older girl only nodded mutely, her eyes still fixed on the group that had settled into the chairs near the couch. Unbeknownst to the Slayer, Giles was systematically waking the Scooby Gang up, knowing that they would want to hear whatever these people had come to say. Harry cleared his throat again. It was almost as if he had the words in his head, but couldn't force them out.
"Hermione, er, I mean, Buffy, we need to know what happened," Harry said simply, not trusting himself to ask what he really wanted to know without yelling.
"Why don't we start with you telling us who the hell you are?" Xander, now awake, broke in.
Harry and the rest of his group looked a little surprised to realize that there were, in fact, other people in the room, as they had all been focused on Buffy. Buffy, herself, still looked like she was in shock, dozens of different emotions running across her face.
"I've got to agree with the Yank, Harry," Ron said.
Harry nodded, a little disconcerted. He hadn't pictured Hermione acting like this. Crying, maybe. But she was just staring at them, and it wasn't a remotely happy stare, either. In fact, she looked like she was seriously considering throwing herself out of one of the large windows in the room. And why had she told him to call her Buffy? None of this made sense.
Meanwhile, Buffy was facing some serious inner turmoil. This wasn't supposed to happen! Not now, not when she'd finally put the past firmly where it belonged- in the past. She had had to die to realize that she was long past her Hogwarts days, and while it had been wrong to take her from her friends, she had finally figured out that time and distance change a person. It had hurt enough to grasp that simple concept, why the hell did Harry and Ron have to show up now, and tear open an old wound? Why now? Things were finally going well!
And what would the others say? With a pang, Buffy realized that she had been too wrapped up in forgetting everything to tell her friends about that very same past. And, oh God, Dawn. In all of the many years, she had never once told her younger sister about Hogwarts, about the real reason they had moved. They were not going to be happy. How could this be happening? How? How? How? And why?
Someone up there must really hate her. That was the only explanation. In the year after they'd left England, Buffy had been lost without the life she'd led for years. Scared, lonely, and more then a little pissed off. And she had missed Harry and Ron more then anything. After that first year, she'd been determined to start over. If thinking about her friends hurt, then Buffy wouldn't think about them, that was the only logical conclusion. Then she'd met Xander and Willow, two of the only people who she could actually enjoy herself with; two people who didn't make her think about being a Slayer, and all of the events that had led to her being called.
Right before the final confrontation with Glory, Buffy had wondered if she was growing cold, and she had secretly been wondering that ever since she realized just how callous her approach to Hogwarts memories was. How "easily" she had put her two best friends behind her, with only a year of mourning. Of course, losing Harry and Ron had been part of the Scooby Gang's foundation, the same way Jesse's death had been. People who had already lost someone once would always cling to those they'd found after, and even more to the people they had always had around. With Buffy, people from before wasn't an option, and Willow and Xander had become closer then ever. And, now, now that she'd finally gotten her family back together, with absolutely no problems whatsoever, this had to happen. And every lie she'd told in the past eight years was about to get thrown out into the open.
"Buffy?" Willow's soft voice broke into her thoughts.
Evidently, the introductions were over, and if the expectant looks being thrown her way were any indicator, they wanted to know either what the hell was going on, or what the hell had happened in the past eight years. Could she really tell them? Would she be able to live with herself if they knew? Would anyone ever trust her again? But it wasn't her choice, was it? The Scoobies deserved to know. They had been through too much with her, had lost too many people because of her, to not know the whole truth.
Buffy closed her eyes and took a deep breath. This would so not be easy.
"Right, now, none of you are allowed to interrupt cuz I know all of you are going to wig by the time I'm done," the Slayer warned.
Everyone nodded silently, but Buffy could feel the eyes of her "family" on her. They had questions, and Buffy knew no one would like the answers.
"Okay, well, I guess I've gotta start from the beginning. See, there's this whole other world, and it's all magic. It's filled with witches and wizards, only they have wands and broomsticks, and they go to schools to learn how to use them. I used to be one of those guys, back when my name was still Hermione Granger, and I was pretty good at it, too. But in the Wizarding World there are people who've had magic in their families for, like, ever. Then, there are people like me and Wills. We woke up one day and bam it's like magic! Only I guess you didn't get to go to a school cuz you lived in Sunnydale, but anyway. Some of the dudes with all of the magic in their blood- they're purebloods, stupid name, I know- think they're better then people who just found out they're witches. Serious Drusilla-thinking, huh? Then there's King Voldy, who is, like, the pureblood hobbit-minions' Glory- only without the blood thing, or Dawnie, or the whole death and brain-suckage.
"So, Voldy decides to get rid of all of the Muggle-borns- that's people like me and Will- and while he's at it, he can take over the Magical World. So he's off with his own army of frightened little wizards in Halloween costumes, making people fear his name, and all of that other "Big Bad" tough talk, when he tries to kill Harry, over there. The curse rebounds, and old Voldy gets his ass kicked by a one year old midget.
"Lots of time passes, eleven years, if you want to get into the technical stuff. Harry, Ron, and I get our Hogwarts- our magic school, even stupider name the 'pureblood'- letters. Off we go, little mini-witches and wizards, ready to learn our little spells… and we do. Harry almost dies in First Year, Harry almost dies in Second Year, Harry almost dies in Third Year, Harry really almost dies in Fourth Year, and Voldy comes back. Then comes the summer after Fourth Year, I was fine. We went to Spain, had a great time, and got a great tan, you know, the usual vacation-y goodness.
"We'd been home for a week, still all jet-lagged, and everything, when this old guy who wore too much tweed shows up at the door- and no, it was not Giles," Buffy said as Xander opened his mouth. Her guess seemed to be right, since his jaw snapped shut after she answered his unspoken question.
"He tells me, Mom, and Dad that I'm a Potential Slayer- no clue what that was- and we're in 'grave danger'," the Slayer made air quotes around the last two words, "and now we had to move- to LA. Not really smart, if you ask me. I mean, we move, like, 80 miles away from the Hellmouth and the stupid Council expected us to be fine and dandy? Puh-lease. Then Dad went on his whole "My-Life-Sucks-So-Much, Everyone-Should-Pity-Me" tour of love and the lives of us fascinating Summers gals went straight to hell- literally.
"So we start the Sunnydale Chapter of our favorite daytime soap, starring Buffy Summers, her best friends Willow and Xander, Giles, her new Watcher, and several other audience favorites. We blow stuff up, I get to use a rocket launcher, and I prove just how much un-luck I have with men. Things suck so much in Sunnydale that I was too busy to stop and think about calling you- even if there wasn't the whole Council-almost-intimidating thing going on until I fired them. Then, when I came back… well, things were a lot clearer. Like, before, I was Angst-y Buffy, pretty, perky, and much with the world-savage, but channeling some serious Angel inside. Though, with much better clothes. Then I was Martyr Buffy, who had to do it all alone. In the last year of our days in Sunnyhell, Big Bad, but Not Evil Buffy came out to play.
"We wept to leave the Hellmouth we had enjoyed so many not life-threatening situations in. Not. This year, I've figured stuff out. Like I was finally over my life being royally screwed by those stuffy old people. Most of the people who count are already with me. So pretty much, I did some philosophical thinking and found out that for a guy who's supposed to have centuries worth of experience, the Immortal was only okay in bed. Things are finally alright, for once. Until… this whole story comes pouring out like a knockoff of Niagara Falls. Now, on our latest episode of Buffy, the Vampire Slayer, our favorite tastefully, yet sexily dressed Slayer sits in her living room surrounded by her bestest friends in the whole world humbly begging for your forgiveness."
Buffy knew it was a long shot, but she had to start letting the Scoobies know just how huge the I'm Sorry vibes really were. As it was, every single ex-Sunnydaler in the room had extremely hurt expressions, and Buffy couldn't blame them. She had lied to them for eight years. Put them in danger for eight years, without ever letting them know the truth. Some of them had almost died to help her, yet they didn't know the truth of who they would die for. Her friends- hell, her family- had been cut off from one of the most important stages of her life, all because she was too busy wallowing in her own self pity. The Slayer couldn't even begin to say who looked more betrayed. Dawn, Giles, Xander, and Willow were all tied in the top four spots, each of them looking as if they had been stabbed in the heart.
Giles, the man who she thought of as a father, who'd lost his job for her, even lost Jenny for her- or, at least, because of her- was finally realizing why she'd never really liked the magical approach to things, and hated to research. Willow could've gotten help from Dumbledore if Buffy hadn't been too self-absorbed to see how bad the witch's addiction had gotten. Xander, her very first friend in Sunnydale, one of the few constants in her life, had never been told the truth. And Dawn, last, but not least. Her little sister had been lied to for almost her whole life. Buffy was supposed to be there for her, the one person who could always be counted on, and instead, she was the one person who could be counted on to never tell the truth.
Buffy closed her eyes. Things were so not alright, and she had the feeling that they weren't going to be until a whole lot of dirty laundry was aired out.
While these thoughts were running through Buffy's head, and countless others were going through heads of the other, very hurt, members of the Scooby Gang, Harry had one thing on his mind. Rage. He wasn't pissed off. Nope, the Boy Who Lived always had to be the overachiever. He couldn't escape Voldemort once to get his shiny title, he had to escape The Lord of Nothing In Particular about twenty times. And when he got mad, simple old anger wouldn't do at all. He was downright furious, something that he wasn't afraid to show. Hermione had just told him that the crazily dressed Muggles on the couch had meant more to her then him, Ron, Ginny, Dumbledore, and scores of others. At the very least, she could have told them the truth.
Harry ignored the nagging little voice in his head that told him that Hermione had never chosen any of this. She had never chosen to become a Slayer, she had never chosen to be threatened, and she certainly had never chosen to move to California. But she had, Harry told himself, she chose to go away, and she chose not to talk to us. Before he really processed what he was doing, Harry was already on his feet, eyes blazing.
"So you're begging for their forgiveness but not ours? Because we're not worth it? I saved your life plenty of times and the only apology I got was 'Harry almost died'! And you barely put Ron in at all! We were there for you for four years, and suddenly, we're not worth a mention!" he began his loud rant.
It promised to go on for a little while, but Buffy cut him off, looking every bit as incensed as Harry.
"What the hell are you talking about? Or maybe you didn't notice that no one got talked about that much. If anything, Will, Giles, Dawnie, Xander, Anya, Kennedy, and god, even Andrew has a lot more right to be pissed off. I mean, they were only with me for eight years," the Slayer's tine was scathingly cold, as opposed to Harry's heated yelling. "And I've saved the world- with the Scoobies' help- way more times then you ever saved me! I mean, if you're petty enough to count it that way. And here I thought the noble and great Boy Who Lived was to perfect for that. Proved me wrong, huh?" Buffy knew she shouldn't be meeting Harry's anger this way, but she couldn't help herself.
So what if it wasn't Harry's fault that she'd shown some serious Valley Girl stupidity? He was the first one to make any argument, and they were pointless enough.
"Versus you? We saw you, you know? Like how you stabbed someone through the heart right after saying you loved him. What does that make you? A murderer? If that doesn't whatever you and that brunette did will. So you're a killer and I'm the bad one? How bloody egotistical can you get? I'd tell you to look at yourself, first, but it appears that that's the only person you care about. You didn't love anyone enough to tell us the truth, and those Muggles you just said meant so much to you? Well, you've been lying to them ever since you first met them. Does that mean they're friends with someone who doesn't exist? Well, Hermione, that means you have no friends. How does that feel?" the uncharacteristically cruel words tumbled out of Harry's mouth before he could stop them.
Like his sparring mate, Harry was letting out all of his frustrations with Hermione and anything remotely connected to her. How lost he and Ron had felt without the Trio's third part, wondering now and then what could've been different if she was there with the Order. How many people could the three of them have saved? Especially with all of the knowledge Hermione had amassed by the end of her Fourth Year, alone. It had been hard after her alleged death, whenever he saw something important, or interesting, or just plain funny, he'd think "I've got to go tell Ron and Hermione", then he'd remember that Hermione wouldn't be around to tell anything to, and Ron would be too depressed to laugh at anything. All of the years they could have spent together, an evil-fighting Trio, were gone because of too many cruel twists of Fate to count.
Right now, they could have created so many good memories, as opposed to the bad ones that populated his mind. Voldemort had staged an attack right after Hermione's fake death, thinking the Boy Who Lived would be vulnerable after losing one of his friends. He'd lured Harry to the Department of Mysteries, and had almost gotten his hands on a very important prophecy. As it was, the Order had lost twelve members- twelve human lives- in the fight that occurred, the Dark Lord figuring it would be the perfect time to make a show of strength and bring Harry down even further. He had been right again, and Harry had felt guilty for years, nightmares about the murdered people plaguing him, haunting him, and blaming him. But no matter how enraged he was, Harry would have never said half of the things he had if he'd known just how close to the truth they were.
Buffy's eyes flashed, quickly covering up the hurt that had flickered there for a second.
"Son of a bitch," she ground out.
However, she wasn't the only one who was infuriated at Harry's words. Willow's hair had started to lighten, but in contrast, her eyes were flashing dark. Xander looked like he was about to knock Harry out, and Giles had a Ripper-ish grin on his face that could only be described as dangerous. Anya, who knew exactly what Harry was talking about visibly bristled and began to wonder if being a liaison to the Powers meant she couldn't fry just one person. However, Dawn looked positively frightening. If you looked into her blue eyes you would swear that something was swirling in them. Energy. Pure, green energy.
"Get out," the Key spat.
"I really don't think you're old enough to be telling anyone to do anything," Ron shot at her.
Yep, everyone was over the tongue numbing shock factor.
"First of all, she's has done a hell of a lot more then you ever will, second, I am more then old enough to tell you what to do, and I'm telling you to get the bloody hell out of this apartment." Giles said angrily.
"Or you could stay and we can shove those nice pointy sticks up your collective asses," Kennedy suggested, eyeing the wands that the wizards had pulled out.
"I'd like to see you try," Ginny taunted.
There was no denying that the five foot eight inch redhead towered over the other women in the room. Those who knew what Kennedy was tried to hide grins. However, Willow's hair was fully white after that comment, and her eyes had turned dark green, right between their natural green and the Darth Willow black.
"I really don't think you want her to," she intoned, her voice about two octaves deeper then normal, "because I get very mad when people make my girl work. And you don't want me to get angry, do you?"
The Order members were looking at her, more then a little afraid, although to their credit, they tried to hide it. They should have been more afraid of the small blonde Slayer then the powerful Wicca they were currently faced with. As Willow began to whip up a strong banishing spell with a few strings attached to it, and the wizards and witches- minus Buffy- began to try firing spells at her, something strange seemed to be happening to the Slayer. Not bad, just different, yet it was familiar, too.
Buffy could feel her internal magic responding to the multitude of spells around her. She'd been around magic before, but not like this. Willow's spell seemed to have upped her own powers as a Slayer. She knew she was stronger then the newly called Slayers and her senses had become even stronger over the past year. Now it seemed like that increased perception included magic, of which she hadn't been around since the spell, and that was the strange thing. She could feel all of the magic in her blood building, responding to the magic floating around in the air, leftover emissions from all of the useless spells cast by the Hogwarts crew. It was stronger then anything she ever remembered, and she could feel it just beneath her skin, and it felt good. Power. Pure, raw, unadulterated power, the kind that came with being a Slayer. It was exhilarating, making an adrenaline rush seem like a knockoff of the kind of feeling she was experiencing now. It was invigorating, as if she had been a half dead normal girl before and someone had healed her and turned her into the Slayer. It was revitalizing. And Buffy could feel it burning to get out. She wanted to feel the release, and wondered how it could possibly compare to her emotions at the moment. She felt alive, in a way she had never felt before, yet it also felt right. Normal. She felt complete. That was the best way to describe it.
The Slayer had always said that no one could know what it felt like to be the Slayer, at least, until she met Faith. She was beginning to rethink that statement. If this was anything near what Willow felt when she did own unique form of magic, someone who wasn't a Slayer knew the kind of rush that came in a battle. You never felt more alive then when you were fighting for your life.
Unbeknownst to her, Buffy's eyes were bright gold, the same cat eyes that she'd had when Giles, Xander, and Willow had combined their essences with her, and her hair had turned the exact same color, wild. Willow was channeling the powers of light magic; Buffy was pulling from the power inside of her. The power of the Slayer, a mixture of one of the first demon's power and that of the wizards who extracted it. Back when there was no good and evil, everything was still connected, everything was raw and pure. Primal. There was only survival and eliminating those who threatened it. The idea of good and evil came after humans corrupted the power and those who wielded it. Willow was using the power that they all served, Buffy was the power of something much older.
"Go." She ordered. "Come back tomorrow. We need to talk. And check the big-time pride and temper fits at the door- they won't help you here."
The Order's group of would-be rescuers nodded fearfully and practically ran out of the door. The Scoobies- including the still white haired Willow- turned to look at her uneasily. It was clear that all of them were more then a little wary of her. Then Xander broke the silence with what could only be called one of the stupidest questions in history.
"So, are ya evil?" he asked.
Buffy looked at him. She was used to his comments by now, and had laughed over too many to count, but the Slayer had no idea where that had come from.
"Huh?" she responded eloquently.
"Um, Buffy, maybe you should look in the mirror," Willow suggested hesitantly.
"Maybe you should, too." Kennedy whispered in her girlfriend's ear.
"Why? What's wrong? Did something happen to my hair?" Buffy asked, panicking.
She didn't notice as the dark pupils of the cat eyes began to grow smaller, and the leftover color dispersed over her irises, mixing with the bright gold to create a light brown color with little leftover yellow flecks. The blonde ran into the nearest bathroom hurriedly, peering into the mirror. To her, nothing seemed that different, except there weren't any brown roots showing.
"What? I don't get it." Buffy said confusedly, checking her body over for anything unusual.
Horns? No. Tail? No. Skin? Same as it had been an hour ago. Face? Good. Lipstick on teeth? No. What the hell was causing the wigginess?
She walked back into the living room, perplexed.
"Buffy, your eyes," Giles began.
"What about them?" she asked
"They were gold- cat eyes." The Watcher told her, with an eye roll at her interruption.
"Uh… I'd come up with something witty to say, but there's pretty much no puns for that. Are you sure?" Buffy asked, seeking reassurance.
Everyone in the room nodded.
"You looked kind of scary for a second," Xander admitted.
"Why?" Buffy said, asking the obvious question.
Giles took his glasses off and cleaned them.
"That is the million dollar question, isn't it? I think it has something to do with your-," he hesitated for a second and cleared his throat, before starting again, "magical abilities. Being this close to so much magic might have called out your own."
"But wouldn't it have happened before? Like when Willow was all small, dark, and veiny?" Dawn asked.
Buffy was the one clearing her throat, now.
"If my Slayer powers were on magical steroids, or something, would that bring it out?" she asked hesitantly.
Giles looked at her sharply.
"What do you mean?" he asked quickly.
"Well, ever since Wills worked her mojo and called all the Potentials, I've been feeling kind of juiced up," she admitted.
"Why didn't you tell me?" the question was normal enough, but the words held a hurt and extremely disappointed tone that Buffy had never heard Giles use.
She shrugged half-heartedly.
"I was busy, and so were you," she responded, "I figured it wasn't bad, so I'd be okay."
Giles looked at her.
"Look how well things turned out the last time you thought something like that," he reminded her frankly.
Buffy cringed. She looked at her friends, none of whom were looking too happy. If anything, they looked confused. It didn't seem like they could fully grasp the concept that one of their own had lied to them for so long. It had been easy when Harry had begun his verbal assault, the natural instinct to defend a friend was an easy escape from all of the new information. Now they were back to the nice, welcoming hostility. What Slayer wouldn't love it? How about all of them.
"I'm sorry about that, I really am. And I know that's a pretty lame thing to say after lying for so long, but it's true," Buffy said earnestly, "I didn't mean for it to turn out this way. Back when I first left, the Council threatened to take me away like they did to Kendra if I told anyone. Then after we got rid of them I was finally dealing. There just didn't seem to be a good time- we were either fighting Frankenstein Jr. or crazy hellbitch and that would've been a really bad time to start pulling off the Clark Kent thing and telling everyone you're Superman. When I came back and I was trying to live again, there wasn't room for anyone else. Lying to all of you was just a bad, bad thing to do. I'm Bad, not Evil Buffy who you can lock in a room with Faith and Robin."
It was an inside joke, Faith and Robin hadn't been able to keep their hands off of each other, and watching them was like one of Anya's speeches given illustrations.
Giles smiled slightly at that while the others made various gagging, retching, and generally disgusted noises.
"I doubt you've done anything that bad. Actually, I don't even think the Devil himself deserves that," he remarked.
"So are we good?" Buffy asked anxiously.
"Maybe," Xander said, "but you have to do one thing first."
"What?" Buffy asked expectantly.
"Pull the Superman outfit off, too." He laughed.
Buffy punched him in the back of the head. Things would take a while to get patched up, and Buffy knew that things might get a little bumpy, but all in all, all was good in the yummy world of Slayerness… For now.