"So, spill."

Buffy, Willow, and Xander were in the library, as usual, after class. Xander was sitting dejectedly in a corner, still brooding over the fact that of the very few times he'd kissed a girl in recent memory, she had yet again turned out to be supernatural and evil. Less evil than Praying Mantis Lady, sure, but still — evil. An evil ancient mummy risen from the grave to avenge herself on her guardian and live out her youth. The girls left him to dwell on his. Not even the half-naked engravings of nymphs in Giles's books were helping to distract him this time, so they were somewhat at a loss.

"What?" Willow asked.

Buffy grinned. "That guy who was chatting you up before we had to run off to save Xan -"

Xander flipped the book closed and pushed it away moodily.

"…before we had to leave the Bronze," Buffy amended. "He was a total cutie, and he was so into you."

"Oh, you mean Sherlock? I told you, I think he's a vampire."

"Oh, come on, Will. Our luck can't possibly be that bad."

Xander huffed out a breath and got up to confine himself to the stacks. Buffy rolled her eyes, slid up onto the table and began stretching. A pile of books close to the edge teetered and crashed to the floor.

"Ooops…"

Giles poked his head out of his office. "Do be careful, Buffy, some of these books are quite old."

"Sorry," Buffy said, hopping off the table to help Willow pick them up.

"Poor Xander," Willow said, tucking some pages into a book and looking guiltily in the direction of Giles's office.

"Yeah, well, it's not like none of us haven't been there before. I'm dating a vampire who comes around maybe once every two weeks, you made out with Robbie the robot…and Xander's already been through this with the bug lady. He'll get over it." Buffy dropped the books carelessly on the table and started stretching again, bending to press her nose to her left knee, then flowing easily into a lunge.

"Still, I feel bad for him…" Willow looked longingly at the stacks, and Buffy made a sound that was somewhere between impatient and sympathetic. "So, you haven't seen Angel lately, huh?"

Buffy sighed, switching over to her right side. "No. Sorry, I've been Miss Grouchy Pants all day. Between not seeing Angel, and the current vamp shortage in Sunnydale, I've been a little restless. Makes me cranky." She wrinkled her nose, and Willow nodded in commiseration.

"But, mummy dearest, yesterday! Just last night, in fact. That was new!"

"True…" Buffy pulled one of her arms across her chest. "But…"

"What?"

"Well, it's like I was saying to Xander. Ampata wasn't evil. She just…wanted to live her live. And now she'll never get to. It just…sucks."

"You feel bad for killing the ravenous mummy who would've sucked the life outta your friends just to get the chance to have a little fun?" Willow sounded skeptical. "Because I distinctly remember her trying to kill me, so she's not gettin' too many sympathy points from me. And Xander! She even tried to kill Xander!" She looked more upset at the prospect of Xander getting hurt. Buffy smiled sadly.

"I don't feel bad. I did my job. I just…I can kinda see her side of it, too. She never got a chance to be a kid. To have a life. Sacred calling, and all that. I guess it hit a little close to home."

"You have a life, Buffy," Willow said. "And you'd never be that selfish."

"Are you ready to train?" Giles asked, walking out of his office covered head to toe in a fencing uniform and padding.

"Some life," Buffy sighed.

Giles tossed her a sword, and she caught it, her face breaking into a grin. "Well," she said, saluting Giles lazily as he pulled on his mask. "I guess the job doesn't totally suck."

Sherlock wandered the halls of the deserted high school for hours after classes let out. He was still staying with Harmony, and couldn't be arsed to spend any more time with her than he absolutely had to. Her parents at first had bee annoyed - apparently Sunnydale didn't exactly have a reputation for safety, although Sherlock couldn't imagine anything happening in a town so bloody small. But they so rarely knew where their daughter was that the location of an exchange student who was only staying with them for two more weeks ceased to be a concern. So Sherlock let himself into the chemistry lab after classes were over, and generally spent as much time as he could concocting experiments with the sadly limited supplies the school could afford, before heading home.

He should have left earlier today, though. Mycroft was expecting him to call to relay the details of Sherlock's first - and, hopefully, only - American high school dance. Sherlock was quiet sure he would rather jump off a building than allow Mycroft this pleasure, so he was once again in the lab. He found himself thinking about the strange things he'd overheard Willow saying about him to her blond friend - what was her name? Betty? Bunny? …no, Buffy; preposterous - the night before. Something about him being a vampire. Well, he supposed if Americans could name their children Willow and Buffy, it wasn't so shocking that vampire would be a slang term. He wondered what it meant.

Suddenly he heard crashing and shouting somewhere down the hall. Quickly extinguishing the gas on the Bunsen burner, he crept out of the chemistry lab and headed in the direction of the commotion. It was coming from the library. He peered through the circular window in the library door.

The blond girl was fencing. And, from the side and rather stiff range of motion of her sparring partner, Sherlock guessed she was fencing with Mr. Giles, the librarian. Sherlock had met him early yesterday to pick up his textbooks. Willow was sitting on the table watching them, laughing at something Buffy had said. Sherlock ducked so that he wouldn't be seen by them, and opened the door slightly to be able to hear what they were saying.

"Well, how d'you know?' Buffy asked, parrying Mr. Giles's attack in four and disengaging to repost in six. She was good, but clearly a beginner: she didn't extend fully on the repost, and fenced too close to her opponent. Still, she was quick, and Mr. Giles was unable to parry her blade. She landed a solid touch on his left shoulder.

"Very good," he huffed. They retreated to their starting positions on opposite sides of the room, the make-shift strip not a straight line in the cramped library. Giles started the attack, and Buffy backed nimbly up the stairs, looking expectantly at Willow for an answer.

"Cold hands. And his outfit. Screamed 'bloodsucker.'"

"See," Buffy said, stepping out of the way of Mr. Giles's blade. "Fashion not such a bad way of identifying a vamp now is it, Giles?" Giles retreated a step, saying nothing, and Buffy followed. "Maybe he was nervous," she called to Willow. Giles lunged again, now that she was closer within range. Instead of parrying, Buffy leapt and with one hand, vaulted over the railing of the stairs. Sherlock blinked. She was rather good.

"Why would he be nervous?"

Giles spun around and slashed - a move more theatrical than effective, Sherlock thought - but changed style smoothly from foil to saber, his blade aimed for the spot in the air where Buffy's head should have been. She brought hers up quickly to parry one and grinned at him.

"Gonna have to wake up early than that to surprise a Slayer, Giles," she said cheekily.

"A Slayer?" Sherlock whispered to himself, his eyes narrowing. He studied the petite blond, her obvious and rather startling strength and athleticism, and wondered what she could possibly mean. Slayers, vampires…what is going on in this town? They couldn't possibly believe that supernatural beings who fed on blood and lived forever were real? And that Buffy - a tiny, cheerful, bouncy American - was, what? One girl in all the world with the strength and skill to fight them? Ridiculous. What kind of town had Mycroft sent him to? They were all bloody insane.

"Alright," Giles wheezed, making his way slowly down the stairs and flinching as Buffy threw herself off the table and in his direction. "It's clear you've been keeping up with your training." He pulled off his mask, his face sweaty and red.

"Not like there's been anything else to do," Buffy said, swiping her foil through the air dejectedly. "Ampata was the only exciting thing to happen to us all week."

"Indeed," Giles said, heading into his office.

"I'm glad my latest dating fiasco was exciting for you, Buff." A dark haired boy emerged from behind the stacks. Sherlock recognized him as the rude boy who had interrupted his conversation with Willow last night before running off.

"C'mon, Xander. She just meant that the slaying's been a little slow before yesterday, that's all," Willow said gently.

"And I just said that I'm glad my back-from-the-dead-and-head-to-stomp-on-your-heart girlfriend cheered you up," Xander snapped. Willow looked abashed; Buffy noticed, and exasperation settled on her pretty features.

"It doesn't reflect badly on you that she turned out to be a mummy," Willow offered meekly. She reached out a hand to touch Xander's shoulder, and he shrugged her off. "And, if it makes you feel better, I do think she genuinely cared about you…" What in the world are they talking about?

"Okay, enough," Buffy said. "Giles, are we done here?"

"Yes, done!" The librarian's voice came feebly from his office just as a kettle started to whistle.

"See you tomorrow, then!" Buffy shrugged into a sweatshirt as Willow placed all the books into neat piles on the table. Xander picked up his book bag. "Let's hit the Bronze before going home. I think some crazy, cathartic dancing is in order." Buffy elbowed Xander in the ribs playfully, earning a smile. A second later: "Ow. Buffy, super strength?"

"Sorry."

Sherlock spun around and ducked into an empty classroom as they shoved open the doors of the library and headed out of the building. He ran to the chem lab to grab his things, deciding impetuously that he would follow them.