Author's Note: One of my top ten favorite episodes of BTVS.
Chapter 27: Halloween
October 29, 1997 - Wednesday
The Great Pumpkin Patch
Darkness had fallen over San Francisco, and The Great Pumpkin Patch had closed its gates for the night.
Now a brisk fall wind rattled the scarecrows and cornstalks along the fence and shook the strings of colored lights draped festively overhead. Dead leaves swept across the ground, over piles of straw and bales of hay, beneath an old wooden wagon with its equally old wooden sign: Pop's Pumpkin Patch.
Grinning jack-o-lanterns flickered eerily through the shadows.
And the vampires were restless.
Buffy hit the ground with a thud, feeling a jack-o-lantern smash beneath her. Breathlessly, she rolled to one side, grabbed a smaller pumpkin, and hurled it at the approaching vampire as he leaned in for the kill. The pumpkin caught him full in the face, throwing him off balance, and before he could recover himself, a second pumpkin hit him between the eyes. The vampire stumbled backward.
Buffy glanced quickly over at Prue and Phoebe who were fighting their own vampire. She returned her attention to her opponent as a fireball formed in her hand. She threw it straight at him, but he managed to grab a scarecrow, using it as a shield. The vampire grinned delightedly as the scarecrow lit on fire. He quickly threw it aside before the flaming scarecrow had a chance to lit him on fire.
For several minutes Buffy stubbornly held her ground, until two sidearm blows and a merciless kick sent her back down again. Buffy, Prue and Phoebe were so busy fighting, they didn't even realize they was being watched—watched and filmed through a video camera a safe distance away.
Buffy gained the upper hand. A vicious head butt and a swift kick to the vampire's chest sent him sprawling headlong into a mountain of pumpkins, where The Great Pumpkin Patch sign toppled to the ground. With one smooth movement, a fireball formed in Buffy's hand. She sent it at the vampire as he was getting at his feet. This time there were no scarecrows to save him as this fireball hit its intended target and as he screamed he exploded to dust.
Buffy looked over at Prue and Phoebe and saw they too had dusted their vampire and were making their way to her. "We calling it?" Prue asked as she checked Buffy over for injuries.
Buffy glanced down at her watch and then at Prue. "Yeah might as well," she said. "I'm already late for my date."
Prue glared at her cousin. "Buffy, I'm still not sure about…" she said taking on a motherly tone.
"Let it drop already," Phoebe interrupted. "You've already talked her ear off about the merits about not dating Angel." She looked at Buffy and smiled. "Go on, Buffy. We'll see you back at the Manor."
The Bronze
For the last half hour, Angel had kept his attention focused on the doorway, but now, more and more unsettling thoughts were weighing on his mind.
'Maybe Buffy was in trouble. Not that she couldn't defend herself, she was the Charmed Slayer after all,' he reasoned, 'but nightly patrols were always potentially disastrous. Or maybe she hadn't been able to sneak out of the house tonight. Or maybe she'd made other plans and simply forgotten about their date.'
Angel sighed. Oblivious to the partying all around him, he sat there and brooded.
"I know. Is the Bronze not-happening or what?"
Angel glanced up to see Cordelia standing beside him. "Um, hi," he said. "I'm waiting for Buffy."
"Great!" Sitting down, Cordelia made herself comfortable, leaning forward a little to reveal her plunging neckline. "I'm supposed to be meeting Devon, but he's nowhere to be seen. It's like he thinks being in a band gives him an obligation to be a flake. Well, his loss is your incredible gain…" She droned on and on.
Angel managed a thin smile and drummed his fingers nervously on the table. He gave her his halfhearted attention, trying to be polite.
That was why he didn't see Buffy come in a few minutes later. He didn't see the sheepish look on her face, or how she stopped to catch her breath, or how she ran her hands self-consciously through her hair, pulling out dirt and seeds and pumpkin slime. Scanning the crowd, Buffy spotted Angel and Cordelia at their table, and felt her heart plunge. It was obvious Cordelia was in full-flirt mode. Buffy watched her chattering and laughing, and after awhile, Angel shook his head and laughed, too.
Buffy looked down at her own filthy clothes. She looked back at Cordelia's carefully planned perfection. And then miserably she turned away.
"So then I told Devon," Cordelia rambled on, "you call that a leather interior? My Barbie Dream Car had nicer seats."
Angel laughed again, rather painfully. And then he noticed Buffy at last. "Buffy?" He got up and hurried toward the club entrance, leaving Cordelia hanging in midsentence.
Buffy saw him coming and late now. Steeling herself, she put on her best game face. "Oh. Hi," she greeted him cheerfully. "I'm—"
"Late," Angel said. He appraised her with one swift glance while Buffy managed a nod.
"Rough day at the office," she mumbled.
Smiling, Angel pulled a piece of straw gently from her hair. "So I see."
He handed it to her. Humiliated, Buffy tried to turn it into a joke. "Hey, it's a look. A seasonal look."
"Buffy." Cordelia sashayed past them, an obvious smirk on her sensual lips. "Love your hair. It just screams street urchin."
Inwardly Buffy cringed. Outwardly, she tried once more to sound casual. "You know what?" she told Angel. "I need to go . . . put a bag over my head."
But Angel wasn't fooled. As he looked down at her troubled expression, his voice softened. "Don't listen to her. You look fine."
"You're sweet." Buffy managed a grim smile. "A terrible liar. But sweet."
Turning again to leave, she felt Angel's hand on her arm.
"I thought we had . . . you know."
"A date?" Buffy turned back to him now, all her resolve suddenly crumbling. Her voice was quiet but tight with emotion. "So did I. But who am I kidding? Dates are things normal girls have. Girls who have time to think about nail polish and facials and stuff. You know what I think about? Ambush tactics. Beheading, warlock vanquishes. Not exactly the stuff dreams are made of."
Angel stared down at her, feeling her pain, not knowing quite what to say. As he watched her go, Cordelia glided up to him again, holding out two cups of coffee. She smiled a triumphant smile.
"Cappuccino?"
October 30, 1997 – Thursday
Gateway High School
Volunteers Are Winners, the signs read. Safe and Sane Halloween.
The halls of were thronged with students moving to and from class. Halloween decorations were plastered everywhere, and a long table had been set up, manned by several kids and their neat rows of sign-up sheets. Principal Snyder stood by, arms clamped across his chest, beady eyes surveying the crowd. He looked even sneakier than usual today. It was obvious he was on the prowl.
An unsuspecting girl almost made it past the table before he grabbed her.
"Hey!" she exclaimed. She tried to wriggle free, but his grip was relentless.
"You're volunteering," he ordered.
"But I have to get to class—"
His grip tightened even more. He steered her over to the sign-up table just as Buffy, Willow, and Xander walked by with curious stares.
"Snyder must be in charge of the volunteer safety program for Halloween this year," Willow observed.
Xander hunched his shoulders, hands dug deep into his pockets. "Note his interesting take on the 'volunteer' concept," he said dryly.
Buffy warily eyed the table. "What's the deal?"
"A bunch of little kids need people to take them trick-or-treating," Xander explained, sounding less than thrilled. "Sign up and you get your very own pack of sugar-hyped runts for the night."
"Yikes. I'll stick to vampires, demons and warlocks—" Buffy broke off as a hand fell to her shoulder.
Principal Snyder was looking at Buffy with an undisguised sneer. "Ms. Halliwell. Just the juvenile delinquent I've been looking for."
"Principal Snyder," Buffy said, trying to sound polite. She always found it really hard to keep a straight face around the man. With his balding head and huge ears, he looked amazingly like a Ferengi from Star Trek.
"Halloween must be a big night for you, huh?" the principal continued sarcastically. "Tossing eggs. Keying cars. Bobbing for apples. One pathetic cry for help after another. Well. Not this year, missy."
Before Buffy could respond, he walked her firmly over to the table, Xander and Willow reluctantly following.
"Gosh, I'd love to volunteer," Buffy said, her mind racing for an excuse, "but my cousins have a big party planned. Halloween is a big thing with them."
Principal Snyder handed her a pen. Willow began to look worried.
"The program starts at four, and the children have to be home by six," he instructed.
Buffy stared down at a long list of names.
Xander and Willow stared at each other, and then at the pens Principal Snyder handed each of them.
They signed.
0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0
"I can't believe this," Xander grumbled, as the threesome headed into the school lounge. "We have to dress up and the whole deal?"
"Snyder said costumes were mandatory," Willow sighed.
Buffy forced a rueful smile. "Great. I was going to stay in and veg. It's the one night a year that things are supposed to be quiet for me. Well on the Slayer side of things anyways. I don't think there is such a thing as a quiet night on the witch side of things."
"Halloween quiet?" Xander shot her a quizzical look. "I figured it would be a big old vamp scare-a-palooza."
"Not according to Giles. He swears that tomorrow night is, like, dead for the undead. They stay in."
"Those wacky vampires." Xander shook his head. "That's what I love about 'em. They just keep you guessing." He stopped at the drinks machine while Buffy and Willow found a table. Dropping in some change, he waited for his soda to come out, but nothing happened.
0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0
"So did your cousins really have a party going on?" Willow asked.
Buffy shrugged. "I think they were going to a party was more like it. I told them I just wanted to stay home. You know have a nice quiet night," she said as she noticed Xander was about to be in some trouble with Larry. "Be right back."
0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0
"Oh, yeah? What are you going to do about it?"
Xander stood his ground. "I'm going to do what any man would do about it," he stammered. "Something . . . damn manly."
With one massive heave, he tried to shove Larry into the soda machine but hardly budged him an inch. Grimacing, he saw Larry draw back a fist and aim it at his face, and Xander bravely steeled himself to be mutilated.
But the blow never came. At the last second, another hand suddenly intercepted, grabbing Larry's wrist, snapping it back from Xander's face. In a flash, Buffy spun Larry around, pinned his arms behind him, and slammed him hard into the drinks machine.
A free soda dropped out.
"Get gone," Buffy said.
As Larry scurried away, she picked up the Diet Coke and gave a pleased smile. "Ooh. Diet."
And then it dawned on her that Xander hadn't moved. Hadn't said a word. That he was just standing there staring at her in total shock and disbelief.
"Do you know what you just did?" he finally exploded.
Buffy thought a minute. "Saved a dollar?"
"Larry was about to pummel me!" Xander exclaimed.
"Oh, that." Buffy brushed it off. "Forget about it."
Xander glared at her, positively fuming. "I will," he snapped at her. "Maybe fifteen, twenty years from now. When my rep for being a sissy-man finally fades."
Buffy's mouth opened in surprise. "Xander—"
"A black eye heals, Buffy," he threw at her. "But cowardice has a nearly unlimited shelf-life. But thanks. Thanks for your help."
As Xander stomped off, Buffy and Willow exchanged knowing looks.
"I think I just violated the guy code," Buffy confessed. "Big time." She took her seat again as Willow sighed and nodded.
"Poor Xander. Boys are so fragile." Then, brightening, Willow asked, "Speaking of—how was your date last night?"
"Misfire." Buffy frowned. "I was late due to slayage. Showed up looking trashed."
"Was he mad?"
"Actually, he seemed pretty un-mad. Which may have had to do with the fact that Cordelia was drooling in his cappuccino."
Willow gave her a reassuring smile. "Buffy, Angel would never fall for her act."
"You mean that 'actually showing up, wearing a stunning outfit, embracing personal hygeine' act?"
"You know what I mean. She's not his type."
"Are you sure? I mean, I don't really know what his type is." Buffy sounded frustrated and a little sad. "I don't know his turn-ons and turn-offs or his idea of the perfect evening. I've known him less than a year and he's not one to over-share."
Willow listened sympathetically. "True. It's too bad we can't sneak a look at the Watcher Diaries and read up on Angel. I'm sure it's full of fun facts to know and tell."
Buffy stared at Willow. In the back of her mind she could feel her thoughts spinning, a plan already beginning to form. "Yeah, it's too bad," she said casually. "That stuff is private."
"Also, Giles keeps them in his office. In his personal files."
Buffy's voice lowered, a conspiratorial whisper. "Most importantly," she said, "it would be wrong."
0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0
The library was empty.
As Buffy and Willow peeked through the library doors, they couldn't hear a single sound from inside.
The two girls looked at each other.
Then, slowly, Buffy began tiptoeing into the room, leaving Willow to stand guard at the open doorway.
'The diaries would be in Giles's office,' Buffy reminded herself, so that's where she headed now. She was so intent on her mission that she didn't even see Giles emerging from the book cage behind her.
"Buffy," Giles said. "Excellent."
Buffy jumped as though she'd been shot. She spun around to face him; her voice unnaturally shrill. "Nothing! Hi." She could see Giles staring at her, giving her one of his odd looks.
And then he shrugged, his mind going neatly back on track. "I wanted to talk to you about tomorrow night," he said, carrying a stack of books over to the table. "As it should be calm, I thought we might work on new battle techniques—"
Buffy cut him off. "You know, Giles, you're scaring me now." She glanced back toward the door. "You need to have some fun." She moved deliberately closer as he began sorting through his books. And then, as slyly as she could, she motioned Willow to come in.
Willow's eyes widened in alarm. She shook her head adamantly and mouthed, 'No!', but Buffy only motioned again, more insistently this time. Resigned, Willow took a deep breath and started working her way into the library, creeping silently behind Giles's back.
"There's this amazing place you can go and sit down in the dark," Buffy rushed on, trying to hold Giles's attention. "And there are these moving pictures. And the pictures tell astory—"
Giles raised an eyebrow in her direction. "Ha, ha. Very droll. I'll have you know I have many relaxing hobbies."
"Such as?"
"Well." He'd been leafing through one of the heavy volumes, but now he stopped, obviously struggling for an answer. "I'm very fond of cross-referencing."
Buffy shook her head at him. "Do you stuff your own shirts or do you send them out?"
Without warning Giles closed the book he was holding. He took one step, as though to go to his office. Panicked, Willow froze in her tracks. Buffy's mind raced, determined to keep him occupied.
"So, how come Halloween is such a yawner?" she asked quickly. "Do the vampires just hate how commercial it's become?"
It worked. Giles looked at her. "Well, it's interesting—" he began.
Willow was almost to the door of his office now. As Giles started to pick up his stack of books, Buffy grabbed the one on top, moving off to his other side to divert his attention.
"But not, I suspect, to you," Giles frowned suspiciously, taking the book away from her. "What is it you're after?"
Again Willow froze. They were definitely caught this time, she just knew it.
"Well, of course it's of interest!" Buffy insisted passionately. "Prue was curious. She said I need to know this stuff since I'm the Charmed Slayer!"
Again, Giles started to pick up his stack of books. Buffy grabbed his arm. "Look at me when I talk to you!" she blurted out.
"Buffy," Giles was beginning to sound annoyed, "I don't have time to play games—"
"Ms. Calendar said you were a babe!"
Giles stopped. Buffy smiled. From the other side of the room, Willow rolled her eyes, giving Buffy a shame on you, that's so low, expression.
For a long moment there was silence.
Then at last Giles looked back at Buffy, his calm demeanor obviously flustered. "She said what?" he asked softly.
Willow slipped into his office and began gathering up the diaries.
"She said," Buffy stammered, "you know, that you were hot. A hunk of burning something or other. So. What do you think of that?"
"I, well . . ." Giles took off his glasses and began fiddling with them. "Um, I don't—a burning hunk of what?"
"You know," Buffy made a face, "gross as it is for me to contemplate you grownups having smootchies, I think you should go for it."
Relieved, she saw Willow and the diaries slip out of the office and head swiftly for the door. Mission accomplished. Except Giles was still staring at her, and she still had to escape.
"Buffy," he said, slipping his glasses back on, "I appreciate your interest, but—"
"I've overstepped my bounds!" Buffy agreed quickly. "It's none of my business. My God, what was I thinking? Shame. Shame. Got to go." She bolted from the library and disappeared down the hall, leaving Giles to gaze after her in complete bewilderment.
0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0
Safe in the women's restroom, Buffy and Willow sat side by side on the sinks, huddled over the Watcher Diaries. They'd never seen anything quite so fascinating, and as Willow flipped slowly through the books, Buffy suddenly rested her finger on one of the pages.
"Man," Buffy breathed, "look at her."
What they saw was a detailed drawing of a woman. An incredibly beautiful woman with long dark hair and a flowing eighteenth-century gown.
"Who is she?" Willow asked.
"It doesn't say. But the entry is dated seventeen-forty-five."
"Angel was eighteen," Willow mused. "And still human."
Buffy gave a tight smile. "So this was the kind of girl he hung around. She's pretty . . . coifed."
"She looks like a noblewoman or something," Willow noted, "which means being beautiful was sort of her job."
"And clearly, this girl was a workaholic. Willow, I'll never be like this . . ."
Willow heard the mixture of hurt and longing in Buffy's voice. "Come on," she said reassuringly, "she's not that pretty. She's got a funny waist. See how tiny it is?"
Buffy gave her a withering look. "Now I feel better. Thanks."
"No, really," Willow tried to redeem herself, "she's like a freak. A circus freak. Yuck."
But Buffy wasn't listening. Instead her mind was flowing back, back into some long-ago mysterious past where Angel had been young and mortal. "It must have been wonderful," she said dreamily. "To put on some fantabulous gown and go to a ball, like a princess, to have servants and horses and yet more gowns . . ."
Willow hesitated. "Yeah. Still, I think I prefer being able to vote. Or I will, when I can."
The bathroom door opened, jarring Buffy from her reverie. She looked up to see Cordelia sweeping over to the mirrors.
"So, Buffy," Cordelia pulled lipstick out of her purse and leaned in to check her reflection. "You ran off and left poor Angel by his lonesome last night. I did everything I could to comfort him."
Buffy's tone was grim. "I bet."
"What's his story, anyway? I mean, I never see him around."
"Not during the day, anyway," Willow mumbled.
Cordelia stopped doing her lips. She turned to Buffy now, almost reluctantly. "Please don't tell me he still lives at home. Like he has to wait until his dad gets home to take the car?"
Buffy shook her head. "I think his parents have been dead for, um, a couple hundred years."
"Oh, good. I mean—what?"
"He's a vampire, Cordelia," Buffy said flatly. "I thought you knew."
Cordelia stared, taking this all in. Then she calmly put her makeup back in her purse. "Oh. He's a vampire. Of course. But the cuddly kind. Like a Care Bear with fangs."
"It's true," Willow insisted calmly.
Cordelia crossed her arms tightly over her chest. "You know what I think? You're trying to scare me off because you're afraid of the competition." She paused, then added smugly, "Look, Buffy, you may be hot stuff when it comes to demonology or whatever, but when it comes to dating, I'm the Slayer." She turned and flounced out of the bathroom.
And Buffy watched her leave, not wanting to admit how deeply these words had stung.
Ethan's Costume Shop
Buffy walked up and down between rows of clothing and hats and masks, searching for something to wear. No matter how hard she tried, she just couldn't seem to muster any Halloween spirit. She moved almost mechanically through the mass of excited shoppers, wishing someone would just cancel Halloween this year, or at the very least, wishing she could just spend it in bed.
She glanced up as Willow came toward her, and she tried her best to sound enthusiastic. "What did you find?"
"A time-honored classic," Willow said proudly.
She watched as Willow pulled a costume from a bag. The package read Ghastly Ghost, and it showed a person covered with a large white ghost sheet, complete with eye holes, ghostly smile, and the word boo stenciled across the chest.
"Willow," Buffy managed to hide her amusement, "can I give you a little friendly advice?"
Willow looked worried. "It's not spooky enough?"
"It's just, you're never going to get noticed if you keep hiding," Buffy tried to explain. "You're missing the whole point of Halloween."
"Free candy?"
"It's come as you aren't night. The perfect chance for a girl to get sexy and wild with no repercussions."
"I don't get wild." Willow's eyes grew wide and solemn. "Wild on me equals spaz."
Buffy firmly disagreed. "You've got it in you, Will. You're just scared—" She broke off as Xander walked over. She could tell he was still mad at her, and Willow eagerly took advantage of the opportunity to change the subject.
"Hey, Xander. What did you get?"
He opened his shopping bag. He pulled out an orange plastic machine gun.
"That's not a costume," Buffy informed him.
"I've got some fatigues from the Army surplus at home," Xander explained. And then, in a poor attempt at Schwarzenegger, he added, "Call me the two-dollar costume king, baby."
Buffy took a deep breath and plunged in. "Hey, Xander, about this morning. I'm really sorry—"
"Do you mind, Buffy? I'm trying to repress."
"I promise I'll let you get pummeled from now on."
Xander paused. He could never stay mad at anyone for very long. "Thank you," he said at last. "Okay. Actually, I think I could have—" He broke off, realizing that Buffy's attention had wandered far away from the matter at hand. "Hello?" he prompted her. "That was our touching reconciliation you just left."
"Sorry," Buffy murmured. "It's just . . . look at that."
Xander and Willow both turned around. They followed the direction of Buffy's gaze to the wall at the back of the store.
The red gown was draped over a mannequin. Fashioned in an elegant eighteenth-century style, it hung to the floor in flowing folds of satin and lace. The front of the skirt showed a narrow swath of pink, decorated along each side with small dainty bows, while even more delicate lace accentuated the low square neckline and cascaded down from the sleeves.
Willow drew in her breath.
It looked exactly like the gown in the Watcher Diaries.
Buffy seemed to be mesmerized. Without taking her eyes from the dress, she moved slowly, almost cautiously, toward it, Willow and Xander following.
"It's amazing," Willow whispered, while Xander firmly shook his head.
"Too bulky. I prefer my women in spandex."
Buffy stopped in front of the gown. Gingerly she lifted one hand, about to touch the dress, when Ethan Rayne, the owner of the shop, suddenly approached them from a rear doorway.
"Please." He stopped beside Buffy. He reached out for the gown. "Let me."
Buffy shook her head in wonder. "It's—"
"Magnificent," he said. "I know." Carefully he removed it from the mannequin. Almost reverentially he held it up to her. "My," Ethan Rayne murmured. "Meet the hidden princess."
And indeed, Buffy seemed magically transformed. Even Willow and Xander, her two best friends, couldn't help staring in silent awe. She was stunningly beautiful.
"I think we've made a match," Ethan purred. "Don't you?"
As though emerging from a spell, Buffy stepped away and reluctantly shook her head. She knew Prue would have objected depending on the price of the gown. "I'm sorry. There's no way I can afford this."
"Nonsense," Ethan soothed. "I feel quite . . . moved to make you a deal you can't refuse."
Buffy's whole face brightened. "Really?" Maybe that would satify Prue if she could get the price knocked down to something she could afford on her allowance alone. She pressed the gown to her heart; again, as she turned back to the mirror.
Ethan Rayne smiled.
0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0
Ethan's Costume Shop had closed for the night.
The last customer had finally gone, but the store was not quite deserted.
A tall figure moved silently into the back room.
Ethan Rayne stopped beside an altar. One by one he lit the black candles that encircled it.
Directly in front of him, in the very center of the circle, was a marble bust of a woman. Her features were beautiful and serene. Kneeling before her, Ethan began to speak, squeezing his hands tightly closed, then opening them again.
His palms began to bleed. They bled thickly and freely, from stigmata like wounds on his hands. "The world that denies thee, thou inhabit," Ethan chanted. "The peace that ignores thee, thou corrupt."
He dabbed his blood upon his eyelids. He smeared a bloody cross upon his forehead. "Chaos," he murmured. "As ever, I am your faithful, degenerate son."
He knew the true power of the statue.
He knew it, and he called upon it now.
For the back of the statue was quite different from the front.
It wasn't beautiful, nor was it peaceful to look at.
It was a hideously horrifying male visage.
A mask of pure evil.
October 31, 1997 – Friday
Halliwell Manor
Halloween day dawned crisp and clear.
There was a feeling of unrepressed excitement in the air, and classes let out early so that student volunteers could go home and change into their costumes.
Buffy stood in her bedroom, gazing silently at her reflection in the mirror.
She was wearing the gown from Ethan's Costume Shop, and for a moment she almost wondered if she'd actually stepped back in time. Her hair—a brunette wig—was piled elegantly on top of her head. Held in place with an old-fashioned comb, it still fell loose in a few stray tendrils that curled around her face. Around her neck hung a lovely jeweled necklace, making her throat seem all the more delicate. Even to herself she looked like something from a fairy tale. She'd never felt so beautiful.
"You look stunning, Buffy, really."
Buffy glanced over her shoulder and saw Piper standing in her doorway. "Thanks, Piper. You guys going out?"
"First Halloween the club is open," Piper said with a nod. "Hopefully it will be packed. Prue is already on her way over. She said she wanted to come back early. Something about spending a little time with you. I think she feels a little guilty about you being home alone tonight on your first Halloween with us. Phoebe's getting dressed and will be ready when you leave."
After seeing Buffy's gown Phoebe had decided it would be nice to go as a theme. So she had gone to Ethan's Costume Shop to see if he had another gown like the one Buffy had gotten.
"Where are you meeting Angel?" Willow's voice floated out from the bathroom.
"Here. After trick-or-treating," Buffy answered as she looked at Piper. "If that's alright?"
"Of course it is, Buffy," Piper said as she smiled. "But only because Prue will be home. After what happened with Darla I am just not comfortable with a vampire in the house. Even though we know Angel is good."
"I know," Buffy said as she wrapped an arm around Piper comfortingly.
"Does he know about your costume?" Willow's voice floated out from the bathroom again.
"Nope. Call it a blast from his past. I'll show him I can coif with the best of 'em!" Buffy smiled at her reflection, then added, "Come on out, Will. You can't stay in there all night."
"Okay," Willow sounded resigned. "But don't laugh."
"We won't—" Piper started. She trailed off as Willow emerged from the bathroom, they stared at Willow's amazing transformation.
Willow was wearing makeup, and her hair was pinned in a casual upsweep. A clingy dark, midriff-baring top, leather miniskirt, knee-high boots—Willow was a total rocker babe. Totally gorgeous. And obviously totally miserable.
"Wow." Buffy and Piper said simultaneously, they were both practically speechless.
Willow took one look at her plunging neckline, grabbed her ghost sheet, and turned back for the bathroom.
"Will," Buffy reached out and stopped her. "You're a dish. I mean, really—"
"But this just isn't me," Willow argued.
"That's the point!" Piper said.
"Halloween is the night that not you is you, but not you, you know?" Buffy added.
Willow was still pondering this as the doorbell rang
0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0
Phoebe opened the door and smiled. "Evening, Xander," she greeted.
Xander stepped up to Phoebe and saluted. "Private Harris. Reporting for—"
And then his words choked off. As he got a close-up look at Phoebe, his mouth dropped open and his hand fell to his side.
"Phoebe." He bowed his head. "My Lady of Pheobdom. The Duchess of Phoebonia. I am in awe. I completely renounce spandex."
"Thank you," Phoebe said as smiled at the compliment. She let him in before closing the door behind him. She then turned toward the stairwell. "Buffy! Xander's here!" She looked back at Xander. "Buffy and Willow should be down in a minute."
0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0
"You ready?" Buffy asked Willow.
Willow paused, gave a deep sigh. "Yeah. Okay." She tried to smile, but neither Piper or Buffy were fooled. Willow reminded them of a deer caught in someone's headlights. She clamped her arms tightly around her exposed midriff. Terror supreme.
"Cool!" Buffy reassured her as she noticed Piper headed back toward her own room to get changed into her own costume. "I can't wait to watch the boys go nonverbal when they see you."
She ran downstairs to where Phoebe and Xander waited at the base of the stairs in the foyer. True to form, Xander was wearing his low-rent army costume—camouflage pants and jacket, tank tee, aviator sunglasses—and carrying his plastic gun. Next to him Phoebe stood in a gown much like her own.
Buffy glanced at Phoebe, the only difference between hers and Phoebe's costumes she could see was Phoebe wore a blue gown instead of red, the neckline plunged a little farther down and Phoebe's wig was blonde.
Xander looked between Phoebe and Buffy. Now he understood why Phoebe's costume looked so familiar, with a few minor differences it was the same costume as Buffy's. "Wow, I am in awe," he said. "As I told Phoebe, I completely renounce spandex."
"Thank you, kind sir." Buffy curtsied. "But wait till you see—"
"Hi," Willow said from the staircase.
Expectantly they turned.
Willow was standing there, covered head to toe with her ghost sheet.
"Casper," Buffy finished lamely.
Xander stared at Willow's costume, trying to come up with a compliment. "Hey, Will," he said brightly, "that's . . . that's a fine boo you have there."
Willow hung her head. She could feel Buffy's disappointment as she, Buffy, Phoebe and Xander went out the door.
Piper came up beside the four of them and smiled. "Have a good evening," she told them. "And I'll try and keep Prue from the manor as long as possible, Buffy."
Gateway High School
Outside kids were being dropped off by the dozens, screaming and shouting and waving their trick-or-treat bags as they stampeded into the building. Inside, the hallways swarmed with fierce little demons and goblins, while students valiantly tried to separate them into manageable groups.
Snyder led a small group of children over to Buffy and Phoebe. As they quickly scanned their eager faces, they couldn't help noticing that there was a vampire among them.
"Here's your group, Halliwell." Snyder gave Buffy his usual sneer. "No need to speak to them—the last thing they need is your influence."
"And there is no need for you to talk to her that way," Phoebe told the principal who scowled at her.
"Just bring them back in one piece and I won't expel you," he continued ignoring Phoebe. He thrn turned and walked away before Phoebe could get another word in edgewise.
Buffy leaned over to the kids with a smile. "Hi," she began, then noticed Snyder standing a few feet away. Scowling at her.
Streets of San Francisco
As Buffy and Phoebe's weary group returned from a house, they couldn't help noticing their dejected expressions.
"What'd Mrs. Davis give you?" Phoebe asked them, concerned.
They opened their hands to show Buffy and Phoebe. They were holding brand new toothbrushes.
Buffy sounded indignant. "She must be stopped." She and Phoebe herded the kids together and steered them down the sidewalk.
"Let's hit one more house," Phoebe suggested. "We still have a few minutes before we've got to get back."
Perking up, the children ran off again, leaving Buffy and Phoebe to smile at their enthusiasm.
"I have to say, Pheebs, I'm kind of glad Snyder roped me into this," Buffy admitted. "It's definitely been more fun than I imagined it would be."
"I'm glad," Phoebe said.
Ethan's Costume Shop
In the back room, a black-hooded figure was kneeling before a row of black candles, reciting an incantation.
"Janus, hear my plea." Ethan Rayne spoke the words, but he spoke them in Latin."Take this night as your own. Come forth and show us your truth."
Streets of San Francisco
Buffy and Phoebe felt an inexplicable shiver go through them.
At the house on the corner, kindly Mrs. Parker came to the front door, smiling and handing out candy to the group of giggling monsters. Willow waited patiently for them at the end of the porch. The wind was starting to pick up, and the chill in the air had grown noticeably sharper. She huddled into her ghost sheet, wishing she'd dressed warmer underneath.
"Trick or treat!" the children shouted.
"Oh, my goodness," Mrs. Parker beamed at them. "Aren't you adorable!"
Ethan's Costume Shop
Ethan picked up the statue, his hands leaving bloody prints upon the stone. His face dripped with sweat, his body trembled feverishly. And then, again in Latin, he chanted,"The mask is made flesh. The heart is curdled by your holy , this night is yours!"
Streets of San Francisco
Buffy and Phoebe ushered their kids quickly down the block. A sudden gust of wind sent a second, deeper shudder down their backs. They stopped, frowning.
Something wasn't right.
At the house on the corner, Mrs. Parker was looking down at the plastic pumpkin in her hands. She shook her head in utter dismay. "Oh, dear," she mumbled. "Am I all out? I could have sworn I had some candy left."
Ethan's Costume Shop
The candles suddenly went out, leaving the only light now in the room emanating from the hideous statue, casting a sickly green glow through the shadows.
Ethan Rayne lowered his hood, a satisfied grin spread slowly across his face. "Show time,"he whispered.
Streets of San Francisco
Mrs. Parker looked down at the trick-or-treaters clustered around her. Miniature demons, vampires, gargoyles, and witches—they were all staring at her and at her empty candy container.
"I'm sorry, Mr. Monster," Mrs. Parker sighed, playing along. "Maybe I—"
She never got to finish her apology. Without warning, a slimy green hand caught her by the throat and yanked her forward. As she tried desperately to scream, she could see that the hand belonged to the make-believe gargoyle.
Except he wasn't make-believe anymore.
Where a costumed child had stood only seconds before, there was now areal gargoyle. As horribly real as the rest of the creatures swarming over her porch.
Willow couldn't believe what was happening. "Let her go!" she cried, trying to reach Mrs. Parker.
A horned demon deliberately blocked her way. As the demon turned and attacked the gargoyle, Mrs. Parker was finally able to break free and scramble inside to safety, locking the door behind her.
"What—" Willow mumbled. "What's—"
She tried to back off the porch. She felt dizzy and weak and strange. Stumbling, she gasped for breath. Her eyes grew wide with terror. The next instant she fell to the ground, her body limp and lifeless beneath its sheet.
The whole neighborhood was in chaos.
From every street, sidewalk, and corner came shrieks of terror, car alarms, cries for help, sounds of running, howling, the shatter of breaking glass. The air was thick with panic and the smell of fear.
As hysterical children raced past him for cover, Xander turned in confusion and immediately deshouldered his plastic machine gun. For a split second he felt a peculiar dizziness throughout his whole body. Staggering a little, he tried to keep his balance, then just as quickly felt the dizziness leave him, clearing his head once more.
His posture went ramrod straight.
He raised his gun.
Not the plastic gun he'd held only a moment ago, but a fully functional M-16 machine gun.
Xander didn't even look surprised. His demeanor now was all military, his jaw set, his eyes like steel.
In front of Mrs. Parker's house, Willow felt herself sit up. She still felt peculiar, not quite herself, but at least the awful dizziness had gone. She stood slowly, trying to remember exactly what had happened. And then she looked down at her feet.
"Oh. Oh my God . . ."
She was still lying there on the porch.
Or, at least, her ghost was.
Willow stared at the ghost sheet, at the lifeless form that lay beneath it. And then she looked down at her own clothes.
The Willow standing here was wearing a miniskirt and halter top—the rocker-babe costume that Buffy had picked out for her. But the Willow lying there wasn't moving at all—in fact, the standing Willow could see her own boots submerged in the sleeping Willow, as though the two of them were still precariously connected.
Willow's voice was barely a whisper. "I'm a. I'm a real ghost."
Machine gun fire sounded behind her. Willow turned to see Xander backing across the street, surveying the area in silent panic.
"Xander!"
As joy and relief swept through her, Willow raced over to her old friend. But to her dismay, Xander whipped around and pointed his gun straight at her.
"Xander, it's me. Willow!"
Xander eyed her suspiciously. He cautiously low ered his gun. "I don't know any Willow," he said.
"Quit messing around, Xander," Willow pleaded. "This is no time for jokes."
Xander's stare was cold. "What the hell is going on here?"
"You don't know me?" Willow peered earnestly into his face, but there wasn't a hint of recognition.
"Lady, I suggest you find cover."
"No, wait!" Before Xander could walk away, Willow stepped in front of him. But instead of stopping him as she intended, an incredible thing happened.
She felt Xander pass right through her.
Pass right through and step out from her other side.
Willow gazed down at herself in disbelief. She was trembling from the contact, a rush of pure physical pleasure enveloping her from head to toe. "Ooh," she breathed.
Xander, on the other hand, freaked out. Spinning around, he raised his gun and pointed it at her again. "What are you?" he demanded.
"Xander." Willow raised both of her hands where he could see them. "Listen to me. I'm on your side, I swear. Something crazy is happening. I was dressed as a ghost for Halloween, and now Iam a ghost. You were supposed to be a soldier, and now, I guess, you're a real soldier—"
"And you expect me to believe that?" Xander snapped.
Before Willow could answer, a little vampire emerged from the bushes, growling at them. Immediately Xander took aim.
"No!" Willow yelled. "No guns. That's still a little kid in there."
"But—"
"No guns. That's an order. Let's just get—" She broke off, spotting something down the street. "Buffy! Phoebe!"
Buffy and Phoebe were indeed coming toward them, stumbling along the sidewalk in their gowns. At once Willow ran to meet the cousins, leaving Xander to grudgingly follow.
"Buffy…Phoebe, are you both okay?" Willow queried.
As Willow approached her, she heard another menacing growl from the bushes—only louder this time—more like a roar. Behind them, the little vampire had been joined by a very large demon, and the two of them were heading this way.
Buffy and Phoebe stood between Willow and Xander, several paces behind.
The four of them watched as the monsters got closer.
Xander scowled. "This could be a situation."
"Buffy…Phoebe, what do we do?" Willow asked desperately.
Buffy and Phoebe's eyes grew wide, and then they fainted.
Willow stared down in disbelief.
Xander hoisted his gun and fired above the demons' heads. As the monsters took off, he turned back to Willow, who was kneeling beside Buffy and Phoebe and coaxing the cousins back to consciousness.
"Buffy! Phoebe! Are you both all right?"
"What?" Buffy and Phoebe whispered.
"Are either of you hurt?" Xander asked.
"Buffy…Phoebe, are either of you hurt?" Willow echoed.
Buffy and Phoebe gazed up at them. Their faces were blank. "Buffy?" Buffy said in confusion.
"Phoebe?" Phoebe said in equal confusion.
"They're not Buffy and Phoebe," Willow said to Xander.
Xander frowned. "Who are Buffy and Phoebe?"
"Oh, this is fun," Willow sighed. And then to Buffy and Phoebe, "What year is this?"
The cousins thought a moment. "Seventeen-seventy-five," they answered, "I believe."
"I don't understand," Phoebe said looking at Willow and Xander. The only one she recognized was Buffy, but not as Buffy but as Elizabeth, her sister. "Who are you two?"
Xander helped Buffy and Phoebe up.
Willow gave the cousins a reassuring smile. "We're friends," Willow said.
"Friends of whom?" Buffy glanced at Phoebe. "Isabella, doesn't their dress and everything else look strange?"
"You are right, Elizabeth," Phoebe agreed as she and Buffy looked back at Willow. "How did we come to be here?"
Willow noticed that Buffy and Phoebe were panicing slightly, so she tried to soothe them. "Okay, breathe, okay? You two are gonna faint again." She paused to glance at Xander. "How are we supposed to get through this without the Slayer?"
Xander stared. "What's a Slayer?"
Without warning a demon jumped Buffy and Phoebe from behind. Where the Buffy and Phoebe would have tackled the demon as a Charmed One or the Charmed Slayer, Elizabeth and Isabella simply screamed and batted at it with their fingers. Instead of helping, Willow could only watch in utter amazement. The demon pulled at Buffy's wig, but it had become her real hair now, coming loose in the struggle, cascading down around her bare shoulders. It was Xander who finally stepped in, butting the demon with his rifle until it gave up and ran off.
Xander turned solemnly to Willow. "I suggest we get inside before we run into any other—"
"Demon!" Buffy and Phoebe shrieked. "A demon!"
Willow and Xander whirled to defend themselves. Bewildered, they saw only a car driving toward them along the street. Buffy and Phoebe promptly dived into Xander's arms, shrinking against him and hiding their faces.
"It's not a demon," Willow tried to explain. "It's a car."
"What does it want?" Buffy whimpered.
Xander fixed Willow with a level stare. "Is this woman insane?"
"Neither of them have ever seen a car," Willow said.
"They've never seen a car."
"They're from the past," Willow said.
"And you're a ghost."
"Yes. Now let's get inside."
Xander stood for a moment, considering. And then he finally looked over at Willow. "I just want you to know I'm taking a lot on faith here," he informed her. "Where do we go?"
"Where's the closest . . ." Willow shook her head, trying to think. "Uh, we can go to a friend's house."
Halliwell Manor
The four of them piled through the front door. Safe for the time being, Xander locked up the house, then stood at the window to keep guard.
"I think we're clear," Xander announced.
"Hello!" Willow called. "Prue? Piper?"
Prue walked out of the living room. "Willow what's wrong?" she asked looking at her sister and cousin.
"We have a problem, Prue," Willow told the Eldest Halliwell. "I would say a Power of Three problem. But I don't think Phoebe is going to able to do much in her current state."
"Where are we?" Buffy asked.
"Your place," Willow told her. "Now we just need to—"
There was a violent pounding on the front door. Startled, they froze for an instant. "Don't open it!" Willow warned Xander as he moved toward the door.
Xander hesitated. "It could be a civilian."
"Or a mini-demon," Willow answered.
Prue looked at her cousin and sister. "Phoebe? Buffy?"
"They don't know who they are, Prue," Willow said looking at the eldest Halliwell. "Neither does Xander. Both Phoebe and Buffy think it's seventeen-seventy-five and Xander thinks he's a soldier."
The pounding stopped.
At last Xander crossed to a window to look out.
Buffy and Phoebe saw something hanging on the wall and walked over to examine it.
It was a picture. The picture Buffy had given Prue a few months earlier on her birthday. They stared at it, deeply puzzled, as Willow and Prue approached them.
"This," Buffy whispered looking briefly at Phoebe, "this could be us."
"It is the two of you," Prue insisted. "Buffy…Phoebe, can't you remember at all?"
"No, I..." Buffy started.
"Neither fo us understand any of this, and we . . ." Phoebe hesitated, studying the photograph once more. "These are some other girl, we would never wear this..."
It was obvious to Prue and Willow that Buffy and Phoebe were dangerously close to tears. Prue had never seen either of them this vulnerable since they and Piper had become witches.
"This low apparel," Phoebe pouted.
"And I don't like this place," Buffy added. "And I don't like you, and I just want Isabella and I to go home!"
"Payson Patricia Halliwell! Phoebe Johanna Halliwell! You both are home!" Prue told her sister and cousin.
Phoebe and Buffy began to cry. The pounding started again. Terrified, they shrieked.
"You couldn't have dressed up like Xena," Willow grumbled.
Prue and Willow hurried back to Xander. They were just in time to see a demonic hand smash through the window beside Xander's head. The thing grabbed at him, but Xander managed to jump back just in time.
"Not a civilian," Willow observed. Xander gave a curt nod. "Affirmative."
He stuck his gun out the window.
"Hey!" Willow reminded him sharply. "What'd we say?"
Xander ignored her. There was a short burst of gunfire, then they both heard the demon scampering away.
Xander's look was self-righteous. "Big noise scare monster. Remember?"
"Got it," Willow and Prue conceded with a glance at each other.
Prue looked at Willow, "I'm going to call Piper and tell her to come home. Then I will call Giles and tell him what you told me."
Willow nodded. "Good thinking."
Prue turned and walked into the kitchen and picked up the phone and dialed.
"P4," came Piper's voice from the other end of the phone.
"Piper, it's Prue. I need you to come home." Prue said.
"Why what's going on?" Piper wondered.
"I'm not a hundred percent sure. But Phoebe and Buffy believes their someone from the year seventeen-seventy-five," Prue explained. "And Xander believes he's a soldier and he has a real machine gun."
"Okay I'm on my way, Prue." Piper said.
Prue hung up the phone and dialed the library. "Come on pickup."
"Hello?" came Giles voice from the other end of the phone.
"Rupert, It's Prue Halliwell," Prue said. "We have a situation here we may need your help."
"Fill me in." Giles said.
"Willow brought Xander, Phoebe and Buffy to the house a few minutes ago," Prue began to explain. "Xander, Phoebe and Buffy no longer know who they are. Buffy and Phoebe think the year is seventeen seventy-five and their both wearing eighteenth century gowns. Xander thinks he's a soldier and he is dressed as a soldier."
"So everyone became whatever they were masquerading as—" Giles said putting the pieces together.
0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0
Willow, Buffy, Xander and Phoebe heard a terrified scream. It came from somewhere outside, and as Xander peered out the window again, his muscles tensed for action.
"Hey—!"
Before Willow could stop him, he raced out the front door. Buffy and Phoebe came up behind Willow,
"Surely he'll not desert us?" Buffy fretted.
Willow gave Phoebe and Buffy a look, shrugged her shoulders and walked away. "Whatever..."
Out in the darkness, Xander had located the source of the screaming. Cordelia was running frantically down the street, her costume torn, her hair a disheveled mess. There were scratches on her face. Several yards behind her a huge hairy creature was relentlessly catching up.
Xander headed toward her. Cars had been abandoned in the streets, and shadowy figures were still running in the distance, some of them on the prowl, others fleeing for their lives. As Xander reached her, Cordelia screamed and tried to fight him off, before suddenly realizing who he was.
"Xander?"
"Come inside," Xander ordered her. He didn't have the slightest idea who she was.
He rushed her toward the house. He practically threw her inside, slamming the door behind them.
"Cordelia!" Willow exclaimed as Prue came out of the kitchen.
Cordelia looked supremely irritated. "What's going on?"
"Okay," Willow hurried to explain, "your name is Cordelia, you're not a cat, you're in high school, we're your friends—well, sort of."
"That's nice, Willow," Cordelia cut her off. "And you went mentalwhen?"
Willow's face lit up. "You know us?"
"We just found another student, Ms. Chase," Prue explained to Giles. "She seems to be fine."
"So not everyone changed into their costumes. That means not everyone got them at the same place. Do you know where Buffy and Phoebe got theirs?" Giles asked.
"A new place Ethan's," Prue answered as she walked over to her purse and pulled out the receipt for Buffy and Phoebe's costumes. "I got the address right here."
"I'll check it out," Giles said after Prue had given him the address. "If I need you or your sisters I'll call."
"Okay," Prue said. "Be careful."
"I will." Giles replied.
"So," Cordelia said as Prue ended the call. "What's with the name game?"
"A lot's going on," Willow admitted.
"No kidding. I was just attacked by JoJo the dogfaced boy. Look at my costume! Think Party-Town's gonna give me my deposit back? Not on the likely."
As she was spouting off, Cordelia suddenly noticed a large rip up the side of her leotard. Xander had obviously noticed it, too, for he took off his jacket and put it around her.
"Here," Xander said.
Surprised, Cordelia stared at his pumped biceps, at the tattoo she'd never seen there before. She glanced over and realized Willow was staring at the exact same thing. "Thanks," she murmured.
"Willow, didn't you go to the same costume shop as Buffy and Xander?" Prue asked forcing Willow back to the moment.
"Yeah," Willow answered.
"So what did you change into?" Prue wondered.
"A ghost," Willow admitted. She looked down at herself. "Buffy tried to get me to wear this as my costume. But I'm kind of self conscious about my body, so…"
"You put on a ghost sheet over what you were wearing," Prue said in understanding.
Willow nodded. "Did you get ahold of Giles?" she asked changing the subject.
"He's checking that costume shop where you guys got your costumes," Prue answered before looking at Cordelia. "Corelia, right?" Cordelia nodded. "I'm going to ask you to stay here till we get this sorted out."
Cordelia thought for a moment and then nodded. "Sure, Ms. Halliwell."
Prue turned and looked at Xander. "Xander, whatever you do, no killing. We don't know what is an actual demon and what is a human transformed into a demon. Just try and scare them off."
"Sure, ma'am," Xander replied. "Since this is your house I'm going to barricade us in. Just to be on the safe side."
"Sure that's no problem," Prue agreed.
Xander pushed a table against a window. He proceeded to check all the smaller windows, as well, just to make sure they were secure.
Buffy and Phoebe followed him around like a puppy, not wanting to be alone. "Surely there's somewhere we can go?" Buffy begged him. "Some safe haven?"
Xander wouldn't be swayed. "The lady said stay put." He glanced at Cordelia and added, "Check upstairs. Make sure everything's locked."
"Already done," Prue replied as she came down the stairs. "Everything is locked up tight." She had even locked the attic door to make sure Cordelia wouldn't stumble upon either book of shadows. Not that it mattered much since Cordelia apparently knew that Buffy was a witch.
"You would take orders from a woman?" Phoebe started in on Xander. "Are you feeble in some way?"
"Ma'am," Xander sighed, "in the army we have a saying. Sit down and shut the—whoa."
His voice broke off. He was staring down at the floor where a photograph had fallen, one which clearly showed him, Buffy and Willow. He stared at it for a long time, and then he looked up at Buffy amd Phoebe.
"She must be right," he said waving at Prue and Willow. "We must have some kind of amnesia."
Buffy and Phoebe drew themselves up indignantly. "I don't know what that is," Buffy said, "but I'm sure I don't have it."
"Besides we both bathe quite often," Phoebe added.
"How do you explain this?" he demanded, indicating the photo.
Buffy and Phoebe lifted their noses into the air. "We don't!" Buffy answered. "Isabella and I were brought up as proper ladies. We're not meant to understand things. We're just meant to look good and then someone nice will marry us. Possibly a baron."
"This isn't a tea party, princesses," Xander retorted. "Sooner or later you both are going to have to fight."
"Fight?" Phoebe said, she and Buffy looked appalled. "These low creatures? We'd sooner die."
"Then you'll both die."
"Prue!" came Piper's voice from the front door.
"In here, Piper," Prue called back as her middle sister rushed into the room.
"Okay what's going on?" Piper wondered.
Prue looked at her sister with a sigh. "Possibly a spell. Not sure. Buffy and Phoebe believe their eighteenth century noblewomen and Xander believes he is a soldier in the army."
"And I'm a ghost," Willow added as she pushed her hand through the wall to illustrate.
"Oh, good," a voice spoke out from behind them. "You guys are all right."
They turned to see Angel hurrying in from the kitchen.
Angel shook his head at them in amazement. "It's total chaos out there," he said.
Phoebe, Buffy and Xander stared at him. "Who are you?" they asked.
Angel stared at Buffy and Phoebe's old-fashioned dresses, the lowcut neckline, the delicate lace. Something stabbed at his memory, and for one split second he felt as though he were falling back through time, through centuries...He then yanked himself back to the present. "Okay," he said, "does somebody want to fill me in?"
Prue sighed as she looked at everyone. "Looks like someone cast a spell," she explained. "Rupert is trying to figure out who and see if it's a power of three deal. Basically Phoebe, Buffy and Xander don't know who they are and Willow…"
Willow sighed as she illustrated once again for Angel that she was a ghost. "I'm a ghost."
"We're trying to keep them safe till Rupert calls with information," Prue explained before turning her attention to Piper. "Talking about information. Go look in the Books and see if you can find anything like this."
"On it," Piper agreed. She looked at everyone. "Is there anyone who can help or is…"
"Well I couldn't turn a page," Willow said with a sigh.
"Buffy told me your books protect itself from evil," Angel said. "Since I'm a vampire, even though I have devoted myself to doing good. We don't know if…"
"It might protect itself from you," Piper said with a sigh.
"That means I am the only one left," Cordelia reluctantly admitted.
"I know that you are aware of who we are," Prue said looking at the teenager. "But I was hesitant on letting you up there, the less you knew the better."
"I understand, Ms. Halliwell," Cordelia replied. "It's a big secret after all."
"I think desperate times though call for desperate measure," Prue admitted. She looked at her sister. "Take her."
Piper nodded as she motioned for Cordelia to follow and they headed up the stairs.
"So what did Buffy dress up as?" Angel asked.
"She and Phoebe dressed up as eighteenth century noblewomen," Prue answered. "I think Buffy bought her gown to impress you. Phoebe got hers thinking it would be fun to go as a theme."
Pounding erupted all around them. As the lights went out, plunging the room into total blackness, Buffy and Phoebe shrieked and grabbed Prue.
"Prue?" called Piper from upstairs.
"Power is out," Prue called back. "Grab a couple flashlights and the check the books."
Xander turned to Angel. "Take the princesses here and secure the kitchen." He looked at Prue. "Ma'am…"
"Prue," Prue corrected her cousin's friend.
"Prue, you and Ghost girl, are with me." Prue handed Phoebe and handed Buffy over to Angel.
"But I don't want to go with you!" Buffy protested, she and Phoebe tried to wrench from Angel's grasp.
"I have to agree with Elizabeth," Phoebe agreed. "I like the man with the musket."
"Come on," Angel ordered them.
Buffy's voice was tiny and hopeful. "Do you have a musket?"
Buffy and Phoebe clung to Angel as they entered the kitchen. The back door was standing wide open, and Angel slowly shook his head.
"I didn't leave that open."
He moved cautiously and silently toward the door. Fearful, Buffy and Phoebe watched him as they cowered back against the wall. They didn't hear the basement door opening right beside them. They didn't notice the vampire slinking out from the shadows...
Angel shut the back door and turned around. "Look out!" he yelled.
As Buffy and Phoebe spun, the vampire grabbed at them. Amazingly, they managed to seize the door and slam it back on the creature's arm. But the vampire was much more powerful than they were. Almost immediately it flung the door wide again, sending Buffy and Phoebe sprawling to the foor. Angel made a dive for the creature, tackling it and wrestling it into the dining room. As Buffy and Phoebe staggered to their feet, they looked around frantically for a weapon. Buffy took a big knife from the counter.
Buffy and Phoebe peered timidly through the doorway and saw Angel on top of the vampire, his back to them, struggling to hold the creature down.
"A stake!" Angel yelled.
"What?" Buffy and Phoebe asked.
"Get me a stake!" he told them.
Without warning he turned in their direction, and Buffy and Phoebe screamed.
Angel's face was contorted, hideous, an enraged vampire face. Buffy and Phoebe screamed again and raced out the back door.
"Buffy, no!" Angel shouted as Prue rushed into the kitchen.
It was just the opportunity his opponent needed.
Throwing Angel off, the other vampire twisted free and came around on top of him.
Prue telekinetically threw the vampire out the back door.
"A stake!" Angel repeated.
Prue shook her head. "Angel, no. We don't know if he's a real vampire. He could be human who wore a vampire costume. After all a real vampire, as you well know, needs an invite to come in."
"What?" Angel asked as he looked at the eldest Halliwell.
"It's the same thing that's happened to Buffy and Phoebe," Prue said as she raced outside after her fleeing sister and cousin. The vampire she had telekinetically tossed outside was the only thing she saw running away. She let out a sigh as she walked back into the house. "We have a problem. Phoebe and Buffy are gone."
Ethan's Costume Shop
"Hello?" Giles called softly. "Is anyone in?"
Not that he'd really expected to find anyone inside the store at this late hour. The place was dark, seemingly deserted, and yet Giles entered easily through the front door.
He moved slowly through the main room. Costumes were strewn everywhere. Masks lay about on the floor and countertops, like so many severed heads. Mannequins stood within the shadows. He noticed noticed the open doorway in the back of the shop and walked through it, spotting the altar and the ring of black candles, the golden statue—its hideous, evil face, the glowing green eyes.
"Janus," he said.
"Hello, Ripper," Ethan Rayne said as he stepped out from a shadow, smiling at Giles.
Giles stared back at him, his own face tight with shock. "Hello, Ethan."
A dangerous silence fell between them.
Eerie green light played over Giles's face, accentuating its tenseness, its grim determination—and yet Ethan's manner was light.
"What, no hug?" Ethan taunted Giles. "Aren't you happy to see your old mate?"
Giles remained composed. "I'm surprised I didn't guess it was you. This Halloween stunt stinks of Ethan Rayne."
"It does, doesn't it?" Ethan replied proudly. He picked up a Halloween mask, rubbing his fingers almost lovingly over the surface. "Not to blow my own horn, but it's genius. The very embodiment of 'be careful what you wish for.'"
"It's sick," Giles returned. "And brutal. It harms the innocent—"
"Oh, and we all know that you are the champion of innocence and all things pure and good, Rupert," Ethan went on condescendingly. He paused, then, "This is quite an act you've got going here, old man."
Giles's shoulders stiffened. "It's no act. It's who I am."
"It's who you are? The Watcher? Sniveling tweed-clad guardian of the Slayer and her kin?"
Ethan's smile was cold. His tone grew even more mocking.
"I think not. I know who you are. And I know what you're capable of." And then something seemed to dawn on him. "But they don't, do they?" he realized. "They have no idea where you come from."
Ethan finally got the reaction he'd hoped for. It was obvious from Giles's expression that he felt threatened by this new line of attack. Only this time his mild demeanor began to change.
No one in San Francisco had ever seen this side of Giles.
This was a side he kept hidden. Had kept hidden for a long, long time.
"Break the spell, Ethan," he demanded now, advancing slowly. "Then leave this place and never come back."
"Why should I?" Ethan threw back at him. "What do I get in the bargain?"
The answer was deathly calm. "You get to live."
"Ooooh. You're scaring—"
Ethan's words exploded inside his mouth.
As Giles dropped him with a vicious punch, his unfinished sentence oozed out across the floor with his blood.
Streets of San Francisco
Xander, Willow, Prue, and Angel were striding determinedly down the middle of the street.
"You're sure she came this way?" Xander asked.
Angel shook his head. "No."
Willow tried to be upbeat. "She'll be okay."
"Buffy and Phoebe would be okay," Prue reminded her. "Whoever they are now, they're helpless."
"Prue is correct," Angel agreed. "Come on."
The four of them hurried faster, past Spike's hiding place in the shadows. A small demon and an equally small vampire hovered at his side.
"Do you hear that, my friends?" Spike murmured happily. "Somewhere out here is the tenderest meat you've ever tasted. And all we have to do is find them first."
0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0
Buffy and Phoebe were terrified. They wandered through unfamiliar streets in an unfamiliar century, their clothes and shoes muddied and torn beyond repair. Without knowing it, they had entered the industrial section of town, that place of forgotten factories and boarded-up warehouses, where even the lowest of life never dared venture.
They struggled through an alleyway, trying to climb over heaps of boxes and trash. Their eyes darted fearfully around them. Shadows crouched on every side, black and endless as nightmares. And when someone stepped out in front of them, blocking their way, They were so panic-stricken they couldn't even scream.
The pirate was gigantic. He towered high above them, eyes glittering in the darkness, leering down at them with a lascivious, black-toothed grin. "Pretty . . . pretty . . ." he chuckled deep in his throat.
Larry's pirate costume had seemed ridiculous at the start of the evening.
But now it had become the real thing.
Savagely he jerked Buffy into his arms, laughing as she screamed and tried to twist free. When one of her fingers managed to gouge his good eye, he let out a furious bellow and flung her away.
Buffy hit the ground, stunned and whimpering.
Larry turned on Phobe.
"No," Phoebe pleaded knowing what he was about to do, "no. . .. "
Roughly he grabbed Phoebe's face. He opened his mouth and ran his tongue slowly along his jagged, scummy teeth.
Then he moved in for a kiss seconds before he found himself flying backwards through the air.
Phoebe and Buffy looked around at their rescuers to find Prue and Angel leading Willow and Xander.
Buffy and Phoebe ran right into Prue.
"Buffy? Phoebe?" Prue said looking at her sister and cousin. "Are you both okay?"
Trembling violently, Buffy and Phoebe threw themselves into Prue's arms. She stood there with Phoebe and Buffy burrowed against her and watched the battle raging several feet away.
"Are they okay?" Willow asked Prue as she looked at the two youngest Halliwells.
"For now," Prue answered. "They won't be completely till the spell is reversed though.
Larry had always been strong, but in this incarnation, Xander was stronger. As Larry tried to reach for his sword, Xander knocked it away.
Willow looked past Prue and frowned. "Prue," she said. "I think we need to get inside." She pointed behind the eldest Halliwell, to a cluster of shadowy figures that was making its way in their direction. Angel recognized Spike at once. The others seemed to be an odd asssortment of both child-sized and grownup monsters.
Xander took control. "We need to triage."
"This way." Angel pointed. "Find an open warehouse."
Prue wished she hadn't left Piper at home with Cordelia to continue to research into trying to reverse the spell.
Xander gallantly rounded up the females. "Ladies, we're on the move."
Everyone took off except Buffy and Phoebe.
In their weakened condition and torn, heavy dress, it was all they could do to even stand up.
With one smooth movement Angel swept Buffy into his arms as Xander swept Phoebe into his. They held them, carrying them swiftly through the winding maze of dark, dangerous streets.
As they rounded the corner of an alley, Angel shifted Buffy in his arms and motioned to a warehouse door a short distance away. "Over here!" he shouted.
Prue telekinetically slid the door open and they dashed inside, just as Spike and his minions appeared behind them. With only seconds to spare, they wrestled the door shut again, then looked around frantically for some sort of barricade. Old crates and broken furniture were stacked against one wall. Xander handed Phoebe to Prue and then immediately started moving stuff against the door.
"Check and see if there are any other ways in!" Xander yelled over to Angel.
Angel was ready for action. "Just stay here," he told Buffy, handing her off to Prue.
Prue looked at her sister and cousin. "I really hope we get this fixed and soon. I really don't want to have educate you two on how things work in the twentieth century."
But the barricade wasn't working.
Xander jumped back as something jerked at the warehouse door. He could see demonic hands punching through it now, tearing it apart.
The door jerked again.
And then it began to slide.
The makeshift barricade flew everywhere. Xander and Angel fell back, retreating with the others as the warehouse door came completely open.
Spike stepped inside, smiling triumphantly at his loyal followers.
Ethan's Costume Shop
Ethan Rayne was smiling, too, even though his bloody face was plastered to the floor.
"And you said 'Rupert the Ripper' was long gone," he taunted.
Giles stood over him calmly. It was a frightening calm, a lethal calm.
Slowly and deliberately he wiped his fingers clean on a white handkerchief.
"How do I stop the spell?" he asked again.
Ethan began to laugh. "Say pretty ple—" he began, but Giles aimed a savage kick at his side, leaving him gasping for breath. "Janus," Ethan finally managed. "Break the statue."
Immediately Giles grabbed it and threw it against the wall. And then, as the statue shattered into pieces, he turned back again to Ethan.
For a long, long while Giles gazed down at the floor.
He was alone in the room now.
Ethan had disappeared.
Abandoned Warehouse
"Witch, I highly suggest you don't use your power," Spike said looking at Prue, who like Angel and Xander were pinned, held at bay by Spike's minions. And though the three of them fought to free themselves, no one could help Buffy or Phoebe now.
"Look at the two of you," Spike murmured softly. He moved toward Buffy and Phoebe and they backed away, his pacing slow and stealthy, his look deceptively kind. He could see how absolutely petrified they were, their eyes desperate and full of tears. Excitement raged through him—the thrill of the hunt, of the kill.
"Shaking," he whispered to the duo. "Terrified. Lost little lambs."
Spike smiled. Then he struck first Buffy and then Phoebe savagely across their faces. "I love it," he said.
"Buffy! Phoebe!" Prue tried to throw off her guards, but they only held her tighter. She watched helplessly as Spike gripped Buffy's head with one hand and her arm with the other, as he bent her slowly backward, as he leaned in toward her neck.
Buffy and Phoebe were sobbing now. Spike's fangs gleamed in the pale, pale light . . .
Without warning, Xander broke free. Before anyone could stop him, he grabbed his gun and scrambled to his feet, Willow crowding in close behind him.
"Now that guy," Willow pointed at Spike, "you can shoot!"
Xander raised the machine gun. He aimed at Spike, tensed, and squeezed the trigger.
Nothing happened.
As Xander stared down at his weapon, he saw that he was holding only a toy—a small plastic gun. His mouth gaped open. "What the—"
Around the room, Spike's minions were suddenly changing, too—not hideous henchmen any longer, but a very scared assortment of high-school kids and little trick-or-treaters. As Spike gazed at them in slow realization, he suddenly glanced down at his hand.
He was still holding Buffy's wig.
Only Buffy's head wasn't in it.
He glanced up again. Right into Buffy and Phoebe's smiling faces.
"Hi, honey," Buffy said. "I'm home."
Spike never had a chance. As all the rage and frustration of their last defenseless hours came flooding through them, Buffy and Phoebe let loose on him with a brutal series of kicks and punches.
Spike sprawled to the ground. Buffy yanked him back to his feet. "You know what?" she said cheerfully. "It's good to be me."
"I can second that," Phoebe agreed.
Again Buffy and Phoebe let loose on him, throwing him viciously into the wall. Spike grabbed an iron bar, trying to fend the cousins off, but Buffy wrenched it away from him. Beating him mercilessly, they stood back and watched as he collapsed once more to the ground.
Spike lay there, stunned. Then, after several seconds, he staggered drunkenly to his feet and took off.
An unsettling peace descended at last, broken only by the frightened crying of several bewildered children. As Buffy and Phoebe stood there, Xander, Prue, and Angel all moved toward them.
"Hey, Buff…Phoebe," Xander greeted them. "Welcome back."
Buffy and Phoebe smiled at him. "Yeah. You, too," they said in unison.
Prue smiled as she looked at her sister and cousin. "I have to echo that welcome back. So you guys remember what happened?"
"It was way creepy." Xander frowned. "Like I was there, but I couldn't get out."
"You okay?" Angel asked quietly looking at Buffy.
Buffy stared back into his eyes and she could see the worry they still held for her, the unmistakabe relief and concern. "Yeah," she smiled.
"Your sure," Prue said looking at both her sister and cousin.
Buffy and Phoebe looked at each and then nodded. "We're sure," they told Prue.
Angel took Buffy's arm and guided her outside, leaving Xander, Prue and Phoebe to stare after them.
"I'm never going to be okay with them dating," Prue admitted to her sister.
"Give it up, Prue," Phoebe said watching her cousin leave with Angel.
"I guess your right, Phoebe," Prue said as she glanced at her sister. "I may not be okay with it. But at least Buffy has someone willing to fight for her. That's better than I can say for you, me or Piper." She turned back to the dazed little group of trick-or-treaters. "Why don't you two get them back to their parents. I'm going to go let Piper know everything is back to normal."
Halliwell Manor
Buffy came out of the bathroom. Dressed in comfortable sweatpants and tank top, she looked like herself again as she paused in the doorway of her room. Her face was scrubbed clean; her hair was brushed and shiny, hanging soft about her face.
Her bedroom was dark. The only light glowed in from behind her, gently illuminating the figure on her bed. Angel had been lying there, deep in thought, but now he looked up at her with concern.
"Taa-daa." Buffy struck a pose. "Just little old twentieth-century me." She crossed the room and sat down next to him.
Angel gazed searchingly into her face. "Are you sure you're okay?" he asked.
"I've been wondering the same thing." They turned and saw Prue standing in the doorway
Buffy smiled at her overprotective cousin. "I'll live," she replied.
Prue nodded as she strode into the room and hugged Buffy. She then looked at the vampire. "I'm going to be honest Angel. I may never be okay with you and Buffy seeing each other. But, at least she has someone willing to go the distance for her."
"Thank you, Prue," Angel said as he held out his hand and she shook it, agreeing to a truth of sorts.
"Now," Prue said as she headed back toward the door. "Don't keep her up too late."
Angel smiled as he looked at Buffy. "I won't," he promised as he watched Prue walk out of the room. He looked at Buffy for a long moment. He'd come close to losing her tonight, and he fought back the urge to pull her into his arms, to never let her go. "I don't get it, Buffy," he said at last. "Why'd you think I'd like you better dressed that way?"
Buffy's eyes lowered. How could she ever explain to him how important it had seemed to experience that long-ago life Angel had lived, to be a normal young woman, the sort of woman Angel might have loved, to share some secret part of him she'd probably never know.
And yet Buffy realized it had gone even deeper than that. It had also been a longing to understand who Angel truly was, to gain some special insight into the human he once had been. And to bring herself closer—now, today—to Angel's heart.
Slowly she raised her eyes again. He was watching her so intently, she felt drawn into the dark depths of his stare. "I—I just wanted to be a real girl, for once," her voice was barely a whisper. "The kind of fancy girl you liked when you were my age."
To Buffy's surprise he laughed softly and shook his head.
"What?" Buffy asked, slightly hurt by his reaction.
"I hated the girls back then," he admitted. "Especially the noblewomen."
Buffy's look was dubious. "You did?"
"They were just incredibly dull. Simpering morons, the lot of them. I always wished I could meet someone . . . exciting."
A soft, lazy smile crept over his lips. He leaned toward Buffy.
"Interesting," he added.
"Really." A warm glow of pleasure spread through her. Her heartbeat began to quicken. "Interesting—like how?"
Angel's smile widened. He knew she was baiting him, and he was all too willing to play along. "You know how," he scolded her.
He leaned in closer. Their lips were almost touching, and Buffy could feel the faint stirring of his breath against her cheek.
"Still," she sighed innocently, "I've had a hard day, and you should tell me."
"I should," Angel teased.
"Oh, definitely . . ."
And as Angel's lips closed over hers, Buffy surrendered to his long, deep, passionate kiss.
"I don't hear talking." Prue yelled from her room.
Buffy laughed as she broke the kiss. "Prue," she yelled back. "Do me a favor and close my door."
Suddenly her bedroom door shut of it's own accord and Buffy and Angel returned to their long, deep passionate kiss.