a/n: Thank you, everyone, for reading and reviewing. I love hearing from you guys more than anything! I hope you enjoy this chapter.
Quinn led Jesse into her house where they wiped their boots on the welcome matt and shook the snow off of the shoulders of their jackets. Quinn hung both of their jackets up and shivered in her Cheerios uniform. They were issued red and white jerseys and thigh-high knit socks in the wintertime, but it didn't do a whole lot of good in the icy weather. Quinn noticed Jesse looking around, his lip curled downwards distastefully and his idle hands tapping their fingers against the side of his leg in some sort of expression of paranoia.
Quinn smiled to herself. To her, Jesse could always prove to be a bit of an anomaly. Inhumanly wicked
and selfish, yet garishly vulnerable. An equivocal capacity for love. An indescribable disconnection from the rest of society. Her friend and her enemy. He sure wasn't easy to understand, much less articulately describe.
Quinn put her finger to her lips, trying to make sure he stayed quiet. She stood in front of him and crept to the staircase, silently leading him with her. She winced as she heard the kitchen door open at the other end of the hall.
"Queen?" Sofia called, strutting forward in the hallway, her big brown eyes darting between Quinn and
Jesse.
Quinn sighed. "Hi, Sofia."
She noted that the corner of Jesse's lip twitched in a grin as he calculatingly looked at Sofia. She briefly
wondered whether he found her attractive or gaudy, in a blouse patterned with blue roses that hugged her curves and made her bosom look like it was ready to bust.
"This is Jesse," said Quinn, after a moment of awkward silence, "We were just going upstairs to study."
Sofia's expression was, if anything, searching, as she continued to glance between the two teenagers.
"Jaysee," Sofia over-pronounced in her thick accent, "Nice to meet jou."
Jesse smiled widely, like a shark, Quinn thought. "My pleasure," he said, a took Sofia's hand, kissing it
gently.
Sofia blushed and finally broke an eager smile at Jesse. Quinn just rolled her eyes and tried not to smile,
despite how much it amused her. Though ruthless and condescending, Jesse was nothing if not charming. He was someone you wanted to steer clear of, for sure, but unlike Puckerman, Jesse St. James was the boy you brought home to mama. Quinn remembered that even when they were kids, her own mother had been so taken with Jesse. "Is that your little boyfriend, Lucy? Will you and Jesse get married someday? Lucy St. James has a ring to it, huh?" Quinn supposed her mom was just excited that a boy as adorable as Jesse was so interested in a girl as... plain, as Quinn. Of course, he'd never been interested like that.
"Come, come," Sofia said, waving her arm and gesturing for them to follow her to the kitchen.
"Uh, Sofia, we really need to study-"
"No no no, jou just got home from tha cold. I make soup."
Quinn clenched her jaw and followed Sofia - and Jesse - into the kitchen. She wasn't sure whether Sofia
met that she made soup or that she would make soup now, but Quinn was certain she and Jesse would not be able to escape her radar. And she didn't know what she was being so secretive about, anyways. Sofia knew that Quinn was a witch. This was a very pro-supernatural family, despite the fact that Sofia brothers were raised as vampire hunters. Now, Sofia was the mother - for all intents and purposes - of a witch and a vampire.
Maybe Quinn just didn't want everybody to know about her relationship with Jesse. Because that, even she couldn't explain. They weren't quite friends but they weren't quite enemies. They were a bit like a mentor and a student, a bit like a brother and a sister. A bit like frenemies. A bit like grumpy old men when they'd both had a bad day. Whatever Quinn and Jesse were, it sure as Hell was unique. And the fact that Rachel Berry knew about them was bad enough.
Quinn thought constantly about how Rachel probably didn't believe her explanations. About how Rachel probably sat around thinking that Quinn was secretly dating Jesse St. James, Rachel's ex-boyfriend. Quinn tried not to feel too guilty about it. After all, she and Jesse weren't dating and hadn't Rachel dated Quinn's ex-boyfriend? Well, look at how that turned out. Another thing Quinn has to feel guilty about. She practically set up Rachel and Finn. Sure, they probably would have gotten together anyways without Quinn's interference, but even still, Quinn kept trying to outweigh the bad karma by steering Rachel away from Finn's attempts to get back together with her.
She wondered if she was really helping or if where Rachel and Finn were concerned, was resistance futile? After all, they were the epic, underdog, endgame romance that made Quinn grind her teeth together. The everlasting symbol of great first loves that made Quinn want to vomit. Meant to be. The thought that Rachel Berry was meant to be stuck in Lima while Finn runs his stepfather's tire shop was just a stupid idea. No. Meant to be, they were not.
All this ran through Quinn's mind in a blurry mess as Sofia sat her and Jesse down at the kitchen table and got set making some kind of mushroom soup. She shook out of her thoughts as she felt Jesse's steely grey eyes boring into her.
"What are you thinking about?" he asked.
Quinn pursed her lips. "Sofia," she replied, because she didn't want to say, 'Rachel Barbra Berry'.
"She's not what I expected," Jesse said with a smirk, looking over Quinn's shoulder at Sofia, busy by the
stove, "She's not exactly Judy Fabray."
"No," Quinn agreed, "Thank God."
"You don't miss your mother?" he asked.
"Not exactly. I visited her once since I was kicked out last year, and... well, I guess she was more impressive in my memory. In reality, she's meek."
For some reason, this made Jesse smile widely. "You're more powerful than her. Definitely. The power
grows with every generation. Beth will be more powerful than you. Especially under Shelby's tutelage."
Quinn grimaced. "Well, she won't be under Shelby's tutelage much longer if you could hurry up this damn St. James School for Witchcraft and Wizardry."
Jesse smirked. "You can't rush power."
"I have power. Lots of it."
"But not control. And don't roll your eyes at me. Control is much more important. Power can be inherited, borrowed, bought, stolen... Control can only be learned. Honed."
Quinn smirked. Sometimes she had an urge to call him sensei.
"Besides," Jesse continued, "The life you have now isn't as bad as I expected it to be."
Quinn frowned. "What do you mean?"
Jesse stole another glance at Sofia. "You have a mother, now. A better mother. She loves you. She makes
you soup when it's cold. My mother can't even remember to remind our chef that I'm allergic to paprika.
And the vampire... she's upstairs?"
"Yes, Jesse," Quinn smiled, "It's only five. She's sleeping."
"Well, she's like a sister to you, no? One of those vapid cheerleaders you befriended as a freshman?"
Quinn nodded. "She's my sister."
"Well, then. You have a family. A family who loves you. Friends. Good grades. More supernatural power than any of your little classmates could dream of, and a devoted teacher willing to help you hone that power into something useful."
"What are you getting at?"
Jesse clenched his jaw and calculated the scene, wondering whether he should say what he's about to say.
"Do you really need Beth?"
Quinn widened her eyes. "...I told you about the pangs."
"The pangs will get easier to manage. Easier to ignore. Surely."
"Not the point, Jesse. Shelby is using my baby as some sort of pawn in her legacy and since when were you in favor of Shelby keeping her? I thought you wanted Beth out of the picture so you could have Shelby all to yourself, which I will never not find deeply disturbing, by the way. I mean, she's Rachel's mom-"
"I know Shelby long before I knew Rachel, for your information, and... and yes, I still want her. And I want Beth out of the picture. I just... are you sure you know what you want?"
Quinn couldn't answer before Sofia slouched over and set two bowls of beige gloop in front of them.
"Deener ees served!"
xxx
Buffy slouched in the chair at her dining room table and watched her mother slink her hand into Darren's. Buffy had refused to take his other hand as he bowed his head in prayer.
"Lord, we ask you to bless this home and help those in it to be more productive, more considerate and
more honest. Amen."
Buffy noted with displeasure that Darren made some meaningful eye contact with her at that last part.
"Amen," Joyce smiled blissfully.
Darren rose to dish some shrimp alfredo onto their plates. Of course, it smelled amazing, but Buffy
wrinkled her nose at the creamy seafood pasta.
"How was school, Buffy?" Darren asked as he sat back down, "Did you learn anything?"
"Uh huh," Buffy said, taking a sip of tap water.
"What do you think?" Darren asked Joyce as he watched her shovel a forkful of pasta into her mouth.
Joyce looked lovingly at her boyfriend as she swallowed. "It's fantastic. Don't you think, Buffy?"
Buffy spun her fork around in the pasta and stared blankly at her plate. "It... looks good."
"Well, little lady, it's not just for looks, it's for building strong bones."
"Honey, eat some," Joyce smiled.
Buffy glanced between her mother and Darren before setting down her fork. "So, are you guys gonna get
married or something?"
Joyce spluttered on her pasta and took a sip of water. "Goodness, no, Buffy, what on Earth gave you that
idea?"
"Buffy, your mother and I are taking it one step at a time, but if things go well, someday I just might ask her to tie the knot. Now, how would you feel about that?"
Buffy looked away from Darren, to her mother, who didn't seem to object to this at all. "I'd feel like killing myself," Buffy replied.
"Buffy!" Joyce gasped.
"No, no, Joycee, I told her told her to be honest. Buffy, hon, you should try and get used to me, because you know what? I'm not going anywhere."
Buffy clenched her jaw. "May I be excused?"
"You can go to your room, young lady, that's what you can do," Joyce frowned.
Buffy rolled her eyes and sprinted to her room, outraged.
xxx
Kurt had his arm tucked under his pillow, going numb from the weight of his head resting on it. He
wriggled around in comfort under his freshly scented bedclothes. His eyelids were heavy, his thoughts
were far away and sleep was calling him. He thought he'd never really be able to get used to the dorm
rooms at Dalton Academy, but they were starting to feel like home, especially since he had a small room all to himself.
He smiled peacefully as Blaine appeared by his side, wearing his school uniform, although it was fitted just a little too tightly. I'm dreaming, Kurt realized, vaguely aware as Blaine smiled at him.
"I know what you are," said Blaine.
He didn't have to open his mouth to speak. Kurt heard him regardless. It was more like a telepathic
conversation. Kurt didn't bother to wonder what Blaine meant by that. The statement had sounded simple and almost comforting.
"You know me better than I know myself," Kurt said, sounding more seductive than he knew he could ever sound in reality.
"Look at you," Blaine sighed, and he did, his eyes trailing all over Kurt.
Blaine disappeared, but Kurt didn't mind. This was Kurt's subconscious, after all. Blaine would surely be back. Kurt's mother appeared, instead. It was how she looked in the photo Kurt kept of her. She was tall. Dark blond. Blue eyes. Beautiful. She was wearing a big, silver necklace that said 'S' which made sense to Kurt at the time, even though his mother's name didn't begin with an 'S'. It began with an 'E'. His mother morphed in front of his eyes until she was Buffy. Smaller and spunkier. Kurt didn't say hello, he just watched her.
Kurt looked down and saw himself holding an egg. He crushed it in his hand - for some reason this seemed like the logical thing to do in his dream - and it seeped a green, rotten-smelling yolk. Tentacles slithered out of the cracked egg shell and licked at Kurt's wrist. It gripped the boy and pulled him closer and closer into some rank, wretched abyss.
Kurt thundered forward in his bed, his eyes wide open and sweat drenching his forehead as he breathed
heavily. He looked around, his eyes adjusting to the darkness of his dorm room. He put his hand to his fast beating heart and sighed. Just a dream.
xxx
Buffy pulled herself up the drain pipe and leaned across the windowsill of her open window, pulling herself into her dark bedroom. She'd escaped during the night for a little recreational vampire hunting after her dinner with her mother and the devil. She couldn't figure out what it was about Darren she hated so much, but the point was, she hated him, and prolonged exposure to the mulleted weirdo wasn't going to make her like him any more.
She closed her window and let her eyes adjust to the darkness of her bedroom, before she caught a glimpse of a figure leaning against her vanity table.
"What are you doing?" Buffy asked, her body rigid as she watched Darren watch her from the desk.
"Your mother said to go to your room, Buffy," said Darren, "I think we both know she didn't mean climb
out your window and go gallivanting around town."
Buffy clenched her jaw. "First of all, this is my room. Second of all-" Buffy stopped as something caught her eye. Resting on the vanity table was a slew of stakes, wooden crosses, miniature bottles of holy water and in Darren's calloused hands was Buffy's diary, given to her by Ms. Pillsbury a year earlier.
"Were you going through my things?" asked Buffy, full of anger and disbelief.
"Yes, I have."
"How dare you! That's my personal... How dare you!"
"What do you mean when you say 'baking', Buffy?" Darren asked, glancing at her journal.
"That's none of your business!" Buffy grimaced, remembering how 'baking' was code for 'slaying'.
"Like Hell it isn't. Everything you do now is my business."
"Get out of my room!"
Darren stood up and moved invasively close to Buffy. "Or what? You'll bake me? I'm not some monster
from your imagination, Buffy. If a psychiatrist ever saw this journal he'd have a name for what you are.
Delusional. From now on, little lady, you do as I say, when I say, or I show this thing to your mother and you spend the best years of your life staring at the walls of a mental institution. Your mother and I are going to be happy and I'm not going to let you get in the way of that."
As Darren turned to leave, Buffy gripped his arm. "That's mine," she said through gritted teeth, "And
you're not leaving this room with it."
"Take your hand off me," Darren sneered.
"Make me," challenged Buffy.
Darren searchingly stared at Buffy for a moment before giving her a stinging, backhanded slap. Buffy
withdrew a little, shocked. The hit had hurt more than she would have expected it to. She frowned,
disgusted, at him before breaking into a grin.
"Oh, I was hoping you'd do that," she smirked, and threw a punch to the side of his face, as hard as her
slayer strength allowed her.
Darren fell back into her bedroom door and stumbled out into the lit hallway. She walked after him only to see him lunge forward and punch her, hard. Surprisingly hard. Buffy was stunned by the force of his punch, actually. Darren grabbed a fistful of her blond hair and began to drag her back to her room, only for Buffy to kick him hard in the stomach. He released her, surprised by the blow, and she took the moment to send punch after punch to the side of his head, forcing him down the landing.
Buffy was vaguely aware that her mother had heard the commotion from her bedroom and had now
thundered out into the hall.
"Buffy, stop!" Joyce pleaded.
Buffy sent a spinning kick to Darren's head, and he stumbled, one foot over the other at the top of the
staircase. He fell head over heels and thudded down the stairs, landing with a nasty thunk. Buffy stood at the top of the stairs, breathing hard as she stared down at Darren's unmoving body. Her mother pushed past her and thundered down the stairscase.
"Darren! Darren!"
Joyce kneeled down to the floor and grabbed for a pulse, looking hopeless. "You... You killed him!"
xxx
Rachel and Tina waited by the school's entrance, pretending to look interested in the bulletin board as they waited for Buffy to arrive.
"She's here," Tina had muttered to Rachel as Buffy stalked up through the doors of McKinley High.
Rachel no longer felt like anyone was staring judgmentally at her. All eyes were on Buffy Summers.
Everyone had heard the story about Mrs. Summer's boyfriend's untimely death over the weekend. And
everyone had heard the rumor that Buffy had something to do with it.
Tina and Rachel flanked their best friend and steered her away from the searching, nosy leers.
"We didn't really expect you to come in today," Rachel said, as they steered aimlessly down a side hall.
"I couldn't stay home," said Buffy, looking like a mess in her Cheerios uniform, with her straw-like hair
spilling out of her ponytail, "Mom won't even look at me."
They quickly found an alcove in the hallway and sat down at a hard, wicker sofa.
"What happened?" asked Tina, "Unless you don't want to talk about it."
"We had a fight," Buffy sighed, staring at nothing in particular, "I lost my temper. I really let him have it."
"The paper said he fell," said Tina.
"He did fall. Hard."
"What was he?" asked Rachel in a quiet voice.
"What?"
"What was he? Demon? Giant bug? Some sort of organ harvesting zombie-maker?"
Buffy turned her head, not answering, but just looking pained with guilt.
"Oh..."
"It wasn't your fault, Buffy," Tina said, looking desperate to believe it, "He started it."
"That defence only works in six-year-old court, T."
"Wait, court?" Rachel raised an eyebrow, "Are they charging you with something?"
"No, I don't think so. It's just-... He was a guy. He was a weird, sleazy guy, but he was still just a guy, and I
killed him."
"Don't say that," said Tina.
"Why not? Everyone else is."
"No one thinks that," Rachel tried to sound convincing, "Everyone knows it was an accident."
"I'm the slayer," said Buffy, "I had no right to hit him like that."
"You would never hurt anyone intentionally," said Rachel, "Unless they were-"
"What? Unless they were dating my mom?" Buffy sighed heavily, "I'm sorry, guys, I have to go..."
xxx
"This is killing me," Rachel shook her head, outraged.
She paced intensely through the choir room as Tina feverishly typed into her Macbook and Mike watched her research, sitting by her side.
"Darren was definitely evil," said Sam, kicking his foot against the leg of the Brad's piano, full of anxiety.
"I thought you liked him," said Mike.
"That was before. There's no way Buffy would use violence against an innocent man. Buffy is honorable. Darren was definitely up to something."
"Well, we need proof," said Tina, "Do you have a pen?"
Sam picked his backpack up from the surface of the piano and dug through it, in search of a pen. "I swear, if Buffy goes to jail because of that guy, I'll lose it. He has to be in there, Tina. Criminal record, history of domestic violence-... ooh, cookies."
Sam removed saran-wrapped chocolate chip cookies from his backpack, as well as a pen for Tina.
"I don't get it," said Mike, "Buffy's the slayer. Shouldn't she have... I don't know..."
"A license to kill?" asked Sam, unwrapping his cookies.
"You know what I mean," said Mike, "She's like Wonder Woman. Shouldn't there be different rules for
her?"
"Maybe in a fascist society," said Tina, as Sam devoured half a cookie, "Damn. Darren's got no criminal
record I kind find. Not even a complaint. This guy is like citizen of the year."
"Don't sweat it," said Sam, "Everything will be fine."
Tina raised an eyebrow at Buffy's boyfriend. "Don't sweat it?"
"Yeah. We'll work it out. No worries."
Rachel frowned. "What happened to 'I'll lose it'?" she asked.
"Look, worrying isn't going to help anybody," said Sam, through a mouthful of cookie.
Tina set her laptop down on Mike's lap and snagged half of Sam's cookie out of his hand, taking a good
look at the sticky, chewy crumble of chocolate. It wasn't long before she was in full chemist mode, beakers bubbling in the Chemistry lab, with her boyfriend keeping a watchful eye out at the door as Sam leaned over her.
"What do you know?" Sam asked eagerly.
"The secret ingredient is not love," Tina grimaced, "It looks like dematorin. It's like a tranquilizer that
makes you mellow and compliant."
"So this is evidence. Actual evidence. He drugged us! Not Buffy, but the rest of us."
"Looks like," said Tina.
Mike opened the door for Rachel, who entered with a sheet of printed paper in her hand.
"I found something," she announced excitedly, "Marriage certificates. And an address."
xxx
Buffy leaned her head against the southern wall of her bedroom. Things seemed so bleak lately, she
wondered if it would ever go back to normal. She and her mother could barely be in the same room
anymore with the tension becoming unbearable. The sad thing was, Buffy could understand with perfect clarity why her mother hated her, because right now, Buffy hated herself. And today, she'd found her bedroom window nailed shut to the windowsill.
"This day can't get any worse," she sighed to herself.
"I beg to differ."
Buffy whipped around in shock, and was stunned to see Darren standing in her room, hunched over like a zombie.
"You... You died."
"That's right. You killed me, little lady. Now don't you have something to say? Are you sorry?"
Buffy wrinkled her brow. "What are you?"
"I'm your new dad."
Darren backhanded her with such unrelenting strength that she slammed into the wall. She looked up,
stunned, as he came at her, and she kicked him hard in the leg. Her jerked back a little before smiling
inhumanly, and gripping her by her throat.
"Fun's over."
She winced as his fingers tightened. Her eyes started to roll back as he gripped her even tighter. Suddenly, she gripped a stake from the inside of her sleeve and stabbed Darren's arm. He lurched back, dropping her to the floor, clutching his arm. A dark liquid that looked suspiciously like motor oil seeped out of his wound and a spark burst.
"Missy, you're gonna find-" Darren's head snapped to the right and a giant smile was plastered on his
face, "Hell of a day! I feel like I'm sixteen again!" His head snapped back upright, "-that I don't like being disobeyed."
Buffy watched, astonished, as Darren looked like he was short circuiting. Suddenly, they both heard a
thud that sounded like a door closing downstairs. Before Buffy could call for her mother, Darren hit her,
dreadfully hard on the side of the head, knocking her unconscious.
xxx
The scoobies were surprised to find that the address Rachel had found was not a house, but some sort of
machine shop that smelled like motor oil. Sam had broken through the window and the opened the door,
leaving broken glass on the concrete floor. The room was littered with broken computers and machine
parts, and smelled musty. Mike flipped on the lightswitch as Tina leafed through the documents that
Rachel had produced.
"I count four marriage certificates," said Tina, "Not one divorce paper... Woah. One of these says he got
married in 1974. Darren must have married young. Like, kindergarten young."
"It doesn't look like anyone works here, let alone lives here," said Rachel as the scoobies snooped around.
Sam lurked around until his foot caught on a rug. He lifted it up to reveal a trap door, with a golden latch
sticking out of the cement ground. Sam pulled it down and was the first of the four to head down the
concrete steps that led to some sort of retro bachelor pad, with a bunch of classic rock posters lining the
walls, a pool table and a wall full of old records. One was already in the record player; an early Journey
album.
"Feels like home," said Mike, "If it's the eighties and you're a psycho."
The four of them looked around, eyeing the shag carpet and the lack of windows in the strange
underground home. Sam's eyes trailed the wall and he found an oddly placed, tall chest of drawers pushed up close to the wall. He pushed the chest over just slightly and revealed the edge of a hidden closet.
"What do we got here, Darren?" he asked himself as he pushed the chest out of his way.
He cracked open the closet and a musty smell escaped. Sam went still as he peered inside.
"Let's go," he frowned.
"We need evidence," said Rachel.
"We got it."
"What's in there?" asked Tina.
"His first four wives."
xxx
Joyce busied herself in the kitchen, washing dishes that really could have been left for the night. She hadn't made dinner. She didn't remember the last time she saw Buffy eat. She sighed to herself. She
didn't want to be a negligent mother, but ever since last night... She wasn't sure if she could ever look at her daughter the same way. It had been an accident. That's what Joyce told herself over and over again. But still. Darren was dead. Buffy had killed him.
She heard a floorboard creak behind her, and drooped her shoulders. "Buffy, I'm sorry, I know you-..."
She turned around and her eyes widened, nothing more than a croak coming from her throat. Unable to
speak, she looked at Darren standing awkwardly at the kitchen door.
"Joyce," he smiled warmly.
"Darren," Joyce said breathlessly, "Is it really... But you were..."
"I'm okay," he said softly, "I'm okay."
He crossed the room and draped his arms for her. Speechless, she held him back for just a second before
backing away, staring at his rugged face.
"I don't understand," she said, baffled, "You were dead."
"They say I must have been dead for six minutes. They said any longer and there would have been brain
damage."
Joyce blinked. "Why didn't anyone tell us?"
"Nobody knew. They took me to the morgue and I was unconscious for over a day. An intern found me. It's a miracle, Joyce. A miracle."
"Oh, Darren..."
"I know."
"Oh. Buffy. Darren, she never meant to hurt you. You have to believe me."
"You don't have to worry about Buffy. You don't have to worry about anything anymore."
"You should sit down..."
"I feel fine. Never better."
"I should talk to Buffy before she sees you."
Darren gritted his teeth. "Do we have to worry about Buffy right now? I'm the one who died."
Joyce looked surprised. "Of course, I... I just... I don't know what to do."
"I'll tell you what to do," Darren smiled softly, "We'll make this right and then you and I-" Suddenly, a
spark flew from Darren's neck and his head jerked to the side, "Want some gravy with that?" and jerked
back, "-can go away where no one will bother us."
Joyce stared, petrified. "Darren, I think you might want to rest-"
"I think you might want to stop telling me what to do. I don't take orders from women."
Joyce tried to muster a smile, although it looked hollow. She slowly inched toward the dining room, trying too hard to pretend that nothing was wrong.
"I think we could use a drink," she said weakly, "To celebrate."
"We should hit the road soon," said Darren, following her in.
"Hit the road?"
"You'll love the house. I spent a lot of time-" Darren's head jerked to the side, "-telling me what to do!" and jerked back, "-decorating."
Suddenly, Joyce heard a thud coming from upstairs. Buffy?
"I'd better pack then," said Joyce, shaking.
"I already have clothes. They're your size. They're always your size. You left once but I keep bringing you
back. Husband and wife is forever. Forever."
Joyce gasped a little as a loud crash came from upstairs like a door being knocked down. Just as she was
about to scream for Buffy to leave and call the police, Darren grabbed her, wrapping his strong, unmovable arms around her.
"Let go!" she screamed.
With Joyce in his arms, Darren quietly creaked through the living room and peered into the foyer.
"Come out, Buffy. I don't allow this kind of horsing around in my house."
Suddenly, Buffy appeared around the corner, gripping a dining room chair.
"Darren," she said, swinging the chair in the air and knocking it hard against the side of his head, "This
house is mine."
Darren fell to the floor, releasing his iron grip on Joyce, who fled behind her daughter. He sat back up,
looking angrily determined, half of his plastic-y flesh hanging off the side of his face and revealing shiny sculpted metal and tiny, sparking wires, as well as a swivelling prosthetic eyeball.
"Buffy," he said seriously before his head jerked to the side, "How about a game of Parcheesi?"
One more thwack of the dining room chair, and Darren was history.
xxx
Buffy walked through McKinley High, sandwiched between her friends, with Sam and Rachel on one side and Tina and Mike on the other.
"So I'm Darren the sickly loser, I'm dying and my wife dumps me. I build a better Darren and bring her
back. She dies in his creepy Journey love bunker and so he keeps bringing her back over and over. That's creepy on a level I never knew existed," said Mike.
"The sad thing is," said Tina, "The real Darren must have been a genius. The design technique on his
machine predates-"
"T, please tell me you didn't keep any of those parts," said Buffy.
"Not any big ones..."
"Tina! You're supposed to use your powers for good!"
"I just want to learn stuff!"
"Like how to make your own serial killer?" suggested Sam.
"How did your mom take it?" asked Rachel.
"She's beyond freaked," said Buffy, "But technically robots aren't in the realm of the supernatural, so at least my secret's safe."
"I'm sure she just want to forgot all about it," said Sam.
"Exactly," said Buffy as the scoobies made their way to Mr. Schuester's office, "The whole incident is
something I plan to forget. I want to pick up right where we left-"
As the scoobied rounded the corner and peered through the glass walls of Mr. Schue's office, the came to
halt as they saw him nuzzling the neck of Ms. Pillsbury.
"That's it! I give up!" Buffy threw her arms up and turned right back around, "I mean, what is it with adults these days?!"
a/n: I hope you liked this chapter! Please review! If anyone had any questions or comments for me - or the characters - we will do our best to answer you.