See Part One for disclaimer and details. Thanks to everyone who has reviewed so far, and please, keep 'em coming. By the way, if any of you are thinking of painting a house in the boiling summer heat and then having quite a few beers on New Year's Eve to relax? Trust me, the next day you'll pay for it.

Part Two: Halloween 2.0

Lowell House, UC Sunnydale, Sunnydale

October 31st, 1999

2:54 pm

It was that time of year known as All Hallow's Eve, and whilst most of the Scooby gang was preparing to attend a Halloween party at the UC Sunnydale Alpha Delta fraternity house, Buffy was talking to Riley Finn about her late assignments for Psych 101.

"You've got to be aware how your work's taken a little downturn lately. I can't remember the last time I've seen your hand up in class," the undercover Initiative agent said to the Slayer.

"Does stretching count?" Buffy asked somewhat forlornly.

Riley shook his head. "Look, things get pretty intense freshman year, as I dimly recall. Lemme guess – too much fun, or not enough?"

Miss Summers paused for a beat. "Both, actually."

Riley just handed her the paperwork for the class she'd missed. "Well, you just gotta keep your priorities straight. Trust me, Professor Walsh is worth your time."

Buffy nodded. "Right. Well, thanks. I'll get this done tonight."

Finn looked surprised. "Tonight? It's Halloween, Buffy. You're not going to dress up and party on a weekend night?"

"Yeah, but I'll get this done first. Like you said, priorities," Buffy answered. "And hey, thanks for the pep talk, coach."

Riley smiled at the tiny blonde he found himself rather attracted to. "You're welcome."

Buffy quickly left him behind. Not long after, she encountered Cordelia elsewhere on campus. "What are you doing here?" the Slayer asked in surprise.

"Looking for you or Willow," Cordy said, as they came to a halt on one of the grassy areas. "This frat party we're supposed to attend tonight. Apparently costumes are required?"

"Oh, yeah. They are," Miss Summers replied vaguely. "I, I'd forgotten about that."

Cordelia's eyes bored into Buffy's like lasers. "God, what is with you these days? If I didn't know better, I'd think that you were on drugs or something!"

Buffy scowled. "Well, thanks for that vote of confidence. Really."

"I mean it, Buffy! Have you even looked at yourself in the mirror lately?" Miss Chase criticized. "The skin and the hair, only one step away from the street urchin look. And the clothes you've got on. I wouldn't be caught dead wearing that halter top!"

It was precisely the wrong thing for Tact Girl to say to a young woman possessed of a short temper and Slayer super-strength. "Now I remember why Xander always used to make those jokes about you and hooker-wear. Apart from the obvious, y'know, I still can't figure out what the hell he ever saw in you in the first place!"

Cordelia cocked her head slightly, as the stakes of the game went up a notch. Her inner bitch came out and she smiled coldly, "We've had this conversation before. I told you then how Xander could have built himself a life in LA even without my help, and I would have helped the big dorkhead if he'd wanted me to. But no, he wanted to come back to home sweet Hellmouth because of Willow – and you. The hopeless idiot simply can't see how there's more to life than hanging with someone who actually preferred a vampire to him. But I figure he'll wise up eventually. 'Cause not even Xander can remain that stupid forever, don't you think?"

Buffy simply glared at her as Cordelia turned and walked away, without even waiting for a reply. After Graduation they hadn't parted as friends, but neither had they parted as enemies. However ever since the brunette had come back to the Hellmouth and that big fight over her roommate, it was becoming obvious Sunnydale just wasn't big enough for both Buffy Summers and Cordelia Chase.

The Espresso Pump, Sunnydale, California

Not long after sunset

What appeared to be two ordinary women talking in the busy coffee shop were actually one woman and one vengeance demon, whose names were Anya and Halfrek.

"God, this is depressing," Miss Jenkins said to her demon friend, who had her human mask on. The former Anyanka looked around at all the holiday decorations and said, "An inane ritual celebrated by a bunch of mortal fools who have no idea that they're actually living on the mouth of Hell. What did I ever do to deserve this?"

"Listen, sweetie. You lost your powers, it happens. But if you want D'hoffryn to give you your amulet back before your mortal body ages and rots, you're going to have to do a lot more than just sit here and whine to me about it," Halfrek told her.

"Oh please, Hallie, that's easy for you to say," Anya retorted. "I mean, of course I want my powers back, but it isn't that simple. You have no idea what it's like having to live as a mortal, the things I have to do just to survive from one day to the next. Plus, I have all these stupid human feelings which I can't get rid of. I've been obsessing lately about finding a suitable mate to provide me with a brood of squalling children!"

"Oh, yes, you've mentioned something about that before. But didn't you try to get it out of your system by having meaningless sex with some mortal or another?" Halfrek asked.

"I tried," Anya looked exasperated. "But I just ended up completely contemptuous of every libidinous male I ever came across. Well there was one guy, Xander Harris, the reason I was summoned to this damned town in the first place, maybe he would have been okay. But that stupid ex-client of mine goes crawling back to him? Unbelievable."

"Look, Anya, you know how we go way back. And I've always kind of looked up to you; you were the most dedicated vengeance demon D'hoffryn ever recruited, and we both know it. I mean, remember Mrs. Czolgosz?" Halfrek asked.

Anya was instantly reminded of the wife of the man who had assassinated President McKinley 98 years ago, and smiled. "Hmm. Yeah. Those were the days."

"I'm just saying, the Anyanka I knew who engineered something like that wouldn't just be taking this lying down. It's been nearly a year; exactly how long is D'hoffryn supposed to wait for you to take the initiative?" the demoness asked.

That only served to make Anya annoyed. "So, what are you saying – this is an intervention of some sort? Shouldn't all my demon friends be here, then?"

Halfrek took a sip from her cappuccino as she casually shrugged her shoulders. "Well, that's the thing...until you get your powers back? Apart from me, none of them think that you really matter anymore."

The Jenkins residence, Sunnydale, California

A short while later

Anya had come home after parting company with her demon friend, apparently the only real friend she had left, much to her chagrin. On the way here she'd had an idea with regard to 'taking the initiative', as Halfrek had put it. So the woman born in 9th century Sweden started getting busy.

She drew a circle on the floor of her living room, making a mental note to buy some industrial-strength carpet cleaner tomorrow morning if this didn't work out like she hoped it would. Anya then poured sand into the circle, and started chanting in Latin whilst gripping an ancient parchment.

"Kelkoris, exaudi meam causam. In tenebris invoco, fiat hoc spatium porta ad mundum Abraxis." ( Kelkor, hear my plea. I summon thee, let this space be now a gateway to the world of Abrax. )

The paper ignited and there was a big explosion with bright sparks, as a hole in reality opened up in the air before her. Past the burning edges of the portal could be seen the turbulent, blood-red sky of a hostile demon dimension. Anya gulped nervously, ( Where the heck is he? )

Right on cue a green-skinned and red-eyed demon flew headfirst through the portal. As he rolled to his feet the interdimensional gateway vanished. "What's going on here-?" he started to say, before the demon spied who'd summoned him. "Anyanka? Is that you?"

"Not quite. I'm human now, so the name's Anya," the former demoness replied testily, wanting to get the small talk over with. "For the moment, anyway."

Kelkor the mischief demon raised his eyebrows. "Well, how the mighty have fallen. Someone finally smashed your amulet, did they?"

"Ancient history," Anya growled. "Now I need your help, Kelkor, so I'm calling in that marker you owe me. You remember, when I saved you from getting imprisoned inside that book by those fifteenth century Italian monks?"

The demon hadn't forgotten. "What did you have in mind?"

Anya smiled, but there was no warmth in it at all. "Nothing fancy, just a little something to impress D'hoffryn."

UC Sunnydale, Sunnydale, California

Later that night

Buffy, dressed up as Little Red Riding Hood, was standing with a basket in her hands as she waited for her friends to join her. The outfit had been a last-minute gift from her mother Joyce, who'd been pleased to once again see her little girl dressing up in her favorite childhood Halloween costume.

Xander walked up behind Buffy wearing a tuxedo. "Hey, Red. What you got in the basket, little girl?"

"Weapons."

That instantly killed the mood as far as Xander was concerned. "Oh."

Buffy shrugged, "It's just in case. Liking the tux, Xander."

Xander nodded. "Bond. James Bond. Insurance, you know, in case we get turned into our costumes again. I'm going for cool, secret agent guy."

Buffy stifled a giggle. "I hate to break it to you, but you'll probably end up cool head waiter guy."

Harris didn't let that bother him. "As long as I'm cool and wield some kind of power."

"And on that day the whole world will shudder in fear," Cordelia said as she joined them, having stopped to fix her makeup a few paces back. "Nice costume, Buffy."

"Likewise," Buffy gritted out, trying to be civil for Xander's sake. She stared at the blue Haitian dress. "Who are you supposed to be, anyway?"

"See, I told you I should have gone with the Cleopatra outfit!" Cordelia said huffily, smacking Xander on the arm.

"No way, sweetheart!" he said. Buffy momentarily cringed at his easy use of the endearment; Xander didn't notice, even if Cordy did, and the young man subsequently told the Slayer, "Buff, let me present to you one of the most beautiful Bond girls ever to grace the big screen. Simone Latrelle, otherwise known as Solitaire, at your service."

"Who?"

"You know, the psychic girl in 'Live And Let Die'!" Xander informed her. He sighed, "The voodoo gal played by Jane Seymour?"

"Only as long as she remained a virgin, apparently," Cordelia shrugged. "Well, it was better than dressing up as the ones called Pussy Galore or Holly Goodhead!"

Buffy made a face at the double entendre. At that moment, Willow and her boyfriend Daniel 'Oz' Osborne joined the trio and the blonde Slayer said happily, "Will. Medieval Will."

Xander smiled. "Hail, ye olde – varlotty – thou."

Cordelia inspected her former classmate intensely. "So who are you supposed to be?"

Willow grinned, "I'm Joan of Arc. 'Cause I figured we had a lot in common, seeing as how I was almost burned at the stake that one time, and plus she had that close relationship with God."

( Hang on, ) Xander thought to himself in confusion. ( What's that last part got to do with anything? ) Frowning he turned and said to Oz, "And you are?"

Oz pulled his jacket open to reveal a nametag with 'God' on it.

Xander shook his head, as the group started to walk off together towards the frat house. "Of course. I wish I'd thought of that."

Oz said, "Blasphemer."

"All I can say is, does everyone remember what happened two years ago? Because I'm telling you right now, if you people turn into your costumes again, don't expect me to save you," Cordelia told the others. "If Spike or whoever shows up, I'm not going to play hero. That's for sure."

Willow brushed that aside impatiently and put an arm around Buffy. "We're going to have the best time tonight. I promise!"

As the Slayer and her entourage neared the fraternity house, with Buffy feeling more and more like a fifth wheel in the midst of the group, Kelkor rubbed his hands together in glee. He had been eavesdropping from behind some nearby trees, and suddenly knew exactly what to do to both fulfil his obligation to Anya and carry out his duty as a mischief demon at the same time.

Alpha Delta Fraternity House, UC Sunnydale, Sunnydale

A few minutes later

Just as Kelkor finished the ritual to turn the Scooby gang into their costumes, the mischief demon suddenly realized he had badly miscalculated on some very important matters.

For one thing, he had not called upon an entity like Janus to empower his spell. Thus the demon was at the mercy at whatever magical backlash could and would occur. Also, turning four of the teenagers into their fictional characters wasn't too great a strain, but trying to turn Oz into God...

Well, it simply wasn't possible. Thus, as they walked along in the haunted house maze, Xander became James Bond, Cordelia became Solitaire, Willow became Joan of Arc, and Buffy became Little Red Riding Hood. But Daniel Osborne did NOT become the Father of All Creation.

Kelkor screamed in incredible pain as he ran out of the fraternity house, just moments before the resident fear demon Gachnar sealed off the building from the outside world as it attempted to physically manifest. Instead of becoming the Divine Creator the werewolf had phased out of reality by this point, disappearing from view. Oz could only watch helplessly as his possessed friends flailed about, wondering what was going on.

James Bond shook his head, trying to figure out what had happened. A moment ago he had been in a New York alley, rescued from certain death at the hands of Harlem mobsters by a CIA agent named Harold Strutter. Now he was in some dark house he didn't recognize, surrounded by three women he had never met before. ( What's going on here? )

One of the women, the redhead wearing medieval armour, said in astonished disbelief, "Ce qui s'est produit?" ( What has happened? ) The last thing she remembered was being burned alive at the stake during 1431.

Agent 007 frowned, he knew the language – he could speak French, German, Russian and even Japanese – but the words and sentence structure seemed rather archaic to him. "Parlez vous anglais? Do you speak English?"

"Je ne comprends pas," Joan of Arc said in confusion, still marvelling at how she was now alive and well. ( I do not understand. )

"I can speak English," Solitaire said, gaining Bond's attention. "Who are you?"

"Bond. James Bond," the Englishman said warily.

"I know who James Bond is. I also know what he is, and why we just met," Simone Latrelle said, her eyes narrowing. "You are not him."

"And you are...?"

"You may call me Solitaire," the brunette woman said.

She came across as superior, cold, and disdainful, an attitude reflected by the expression on her face. A face and form which Bond found very attractive and desirable – partly because of their inherent beauty, and partly also their hint of both cruelty and power. Then he pulled himself together and said, "I just met Miss Solitaire in Mr. Big's office, and you look nothing like her. Try again."

The psychic was outraged, but before she could say anything the trembling blonde in the red cape and hood finally spoke up. "E-excuse me? I, I don't understand. I was on my way to my grandmother's house in the woods, when, when I suddenly found myself here. However it happened – I, I'd like to go home now, please?"

Bond glanced at her, "Yes, well, I'd imagine we'd all like to go home, but I take it since none of us even knows how we got here, I'd wager that's not exactly on the cards right now."

"Sommes-nous dans l'enfer?" asked Joan of Arc. ( Are we in Hell? ) She had been growing rather impatient listening to the incomprehensible English conversation, and after looking around at the darkness and cobwebs, she suddenly suspected that this was the afterlife.

"Huh. Wish I could understand what that meant," the out-of-phase Oz said to himself. "And I guess magic really can't turn you into God..."

Joan of Arc whipped her head around wildly. "Mon dieu?" she asked in Oz's general direction. ( My God? )

Oz was a very intelligent person, and figured out that there had been enough chaos magic in the spell currently taking place so that Willow as Joan could talk to him in his present state, since it was an historical fact that she could "talk to God". "Willow, can you hear me?"

Joan babbled in medieval French again as she instinctively drew her sword. Little Red Riding Hood instantly freaked and ran away, and Solitaire began to chase after her. James hesitated, but after finding himself completely unarmed as well as wearing a rather cheap tuxedo, he decided that discretion was indeed the better part of valour and departed after the two women.

At that moment, Gachnar's voice was heard thundering throughout the frat house. "Release me!"

The Giles residence, Sunnydale, California

A short while later

Rupert Giles was feeling a bit out of sorts right at the moment. Not many children had come to his door trick o' treating tonight, and despite his words earlier to Buffy, he almost found himself wishing for a bit of excitement to spice up the evening.

A loud knocking on the door suddenly erupted and the ex-Watcher got up, swallowing his candy. "Just a minute, I'm coming!"

"Hurry! Please!" a female voice said with a distinct note of desperation in it.

Giles opened the door. "Happy Hall-"

Anya darted past him and slammed the door shut. "I'm in trouble, I need your help. I mean, you've got to do something!"

"Miss Jenkins? Anya?" Giles asked in surprise. "What, what are you doing here?"

"I'm running from a demon out to kill me, of course!" Anya told him. "He came to my place screaming his head off about all the agony he was in, how he was going to make me suffer for it, blah-blah-blippity-blah. So I came here to you, since Xander and his friends are probably all dead by now."

"What? Why?" Giles said angrily.

"Because I sicced that demon onto them, of course. Why else?" Anya asked impatiently.

"You, you..." Giles spluttered in sheer disbelief. "You come in here and tell me something like that, a-and you honestly expect me to HELP you?"

"Well, yeah. Because that's what you people do, isn't it?" the ex-demon asked with a dose of pure troll logic.

Giles didn't have time to reply as Kelkor kicked down his front door and came charging in to kill Anya. Rupert was in two minds about whether or not to just let the bloody thing have at it, but if there was any chance Buffy and the others were still alive, he needed Anya in one piece.

At least for now, his Ripper aspect noted.

Giles grabbed a sword from his weapons stash, and just as a careless and negligent Kelkor was about to eviscerate his target, he suddenly collapsed with the bladed weapon sticking out of his back, dead as a doornail. There was no time to congratulate himself however, as Giles quickly interrogated Anya to learn everything. Then he gathered some supplies to set off on his rescue mission.

Alpha Delta Fraternity House, UC Sunnydale, Sunnydale

Some minutes earlier

Bond and Solitaire were walking along together, having lost all trace of Little Red Riding Hood. That little girl currently was, in fact, screaming her lungs out at the sight of the Big Bad Wolf and running away from it, just as Joan of Arc was shrieking at being dragged to that market square where she'd been burned alive, but neither character from the spy thriller knew anything about any of that.

"You've made a mistake trying to fool me like this. And whatever you hope to gain by pretending to be someone you're not, you'll not succeed in obtaining it," Solitaire said icily to her companion.

"I could say the exact same thing about you, m'dear," Bond said in a distinct British accent. "For the sake of argument – if you are Solitaire, let's see you prove it. Tarot reading, anyone?"

"I, too, have a question if I may. If by some miracle you were who you say you are, do you honestly wish to find yourself with the Fool card again?" the seer replied nastily.

Bond arched an eyebrow. "If anything, I'll be expecting to see the Lovers card again." He saw her tense up. "What?"

Solitaire paid him no attention when she suddenly found herself with a very familiar deck of cards in her pocket. Withdrawing them, she laid out a standard reading pattern, using her powers to try to divine the future.

A full Tarot pack is made up of 78 cards: the minor arcana that have 56 suit cards, and the major arcana that have 22 pictorial symbol cards. The minor arcana, somewhat like a pack of modern playing cards, consist of suits of wands (clubs), cups (hearts), swords (spades), and pentacles (diamonds). Each suit contains 14 cards: four court cards (King, Queen, Knight, and Page) plus cards numbered from ace to ten.

The major arcana, though, consist of a Fool (also called a Madman) card and pictorial cards numbered from 1 to 21. The standard series of cards is as follows: (1) the Juggler; (2) the High Priestess; (3) the Empress; (4) the Emperor; (5) the Pope; (6) the Lovers; (7) the Chariot; (8) Strength; (9) the Hermit; (10) the Wheel of Fortune; (11) Justice; (12) the Hanging Man; (13) Death; (14) Temperance; (15) the Devil; (16) the Tower; (17) the Star; (18) the Moon; (19) the Sun; (20) the Day of Judgement; (21) the World.

Solitaire ended up turning over four cards that she understood were relevant to her own personal future. She paled as she saw which cards they were.

The Day of Judgement.

The Queen of Swords.

The Knight of Cups.

And the Lovers.

"No, no, no..." Solitaire whispered in horror.

"What's wrong?" Bond asked curiously.

"I am to be servant to the prince no longer in this world," she stammered. "According to the cards, the end time approaches. But before the final battle, you and I...we are to join together in earthly love, which means that I will lose my powers. This is my fate, I-I cannot see any way to avoid it. When the prince finds out, he will kill me!"

Solitaire looked up, having expected some sort of comment, yet Bond had disappeared.

"Release me!!" Gachnar's voice boomed out, startling the seer.

Elsewhere in the frat house, James Bond was confronting his own personal fear in the form of his archenemy, Ernst Stavro Blofeld. "So, 007. We meet again. And in the strangest places too," the grinning bald-headed man said, stroking a white cat. "I'd offer you a martini, but then the service around here seems to leave a lot to be desired."

"You're dead. I killed you," James snarled, coming forward and cursing the fact his gun was missing.

"You disappoint me, Mr. Bond. You of all men should know never to count an enemy as defeated until you see his dead body torn into little pieces. And sometimes, not even then." Blofeld sent Her Majesty's top agent a typical supervillain smirk. "Not that your dearly departed wife counts, of course."

At that moment Bond was about to leap forward to strangle his adversary to death when yet again the fear demon's voice was heard to rumble, "Release me!!"

It was also at that moment, in Giles' apartment, Kelkor died – and his spell was finally broken.

Xander blinked, back to himself again as Blofeld vanished right in front of him. Not far away, Oz phased in and instantly grabbed his girlfriend into a comforting hug, as Willow stopped screaming in French and the stake and burning torches all around them disappeared. Buffy stopped running for her life, yanked a crossbow out of her basket and looked around, but the Big Bad Wolf was gone.

And Cordelia just started cursing non-stop as soon as she understood what had happened. "I HATE MY LIFE!!" Miss Chase hollered angrily, startling anyone close enough to hear her.

TBC...