Face The Strange - Chapter 1/11: Things Got Bad, And Things Got Worse free porn video

FACE THE STRANGE by Crazy Baron (Sequel to Life Out of Joint & Not Very Nice People) DISCLAIMERS This work is not intended to make profit. It may be distributed to forums where it can be read free of charge, provided that the author gives his explicit permission and that the text is not altered. While it contains copyrighted intellectual property (namely, appearances of fictional characters), no copyright infringement is intended. As the story deals with topics and themes related to sexuality, violence and mental illness, it is intended for mature readers only. The people and incidents depicted herein are completely fictional. ***** THE STORY Chapter 1: Things Got Bad, and Things Got Worse William I. Quinn, the Chief Physician of the psychiatric ward, was a fairly short man and now in his fifties, perhaps around 55. While his round head sported a large bald pate, he still had copious amounts of long brown hair surrounding it, with the result that the hairstyle was uncannily reminiscent of a monk's tonsure. It gave him a playfully irreverent, almost mischievous quality. His face was friendly, with a pair of lively dark green eyes and slightly puffy, ruddy cheeks. In perfect harmony with his outer appearance were his laid-back manner and disarming friendliness, backed with a diverse and quick sense of humor and seasoned with a slight touch of impishness. It was not hard to imagine that he could win anyone over with his charm. "So," Quinn asked me, "how are you today, Mike? Anything new?" "Not really," I responded and leaned back in my chair. I was seated opposite to his desk in his office. "I'm doing pretty well, I think." "That's very nice to hear. How was last night?" "It was okay--or more than okay, actually. I don't remember when I last slept that peacefully. I have a faint recollection that I dreamed of something but I can't for the life of me remember what it was. Probably nothing important." "Good! Did you take the sleeping pill before you went to bed?" "As a matter of fact I didn't. I thought I'd try going without. The pill was my discretion, wasn't it?" "Yes, that's what we agreed. If you don't need them, you don't have to take them. So much the better." Quinn paused for a brief while. He put on his reading glasses and looked at one of the numerous sheets of paper that littered his desk. "Mike," he continued in an ostensibly absentminded manner, his eyes still on the paper, "there are a couple of things I'd like to talk about. I have a feeling you're holding back some issues that perhaps should be brought to daylight and dealt with." "Such as what?" I asked, feeling mild nervousness creep up on me. "Things that have to do with your recent experiences," Quinn said and put the sheet down. He looked at me over his glasses. "Plainly put, you haven't told me everything. I don't know why that is. Maybe the memories are embarrassing or frightening to you and you want to forget them. It's only natural, and I understand that, but I believe it would be beneficial for us to tackle them as soon as you feel up to it." "Okay, I get it," I said. I put my hands behind my neck and stretched my arms in an effort to prolong the inevitable, if only for a short time. However, Quinn had already managed to convince me to share all of my secrets; there would be no going back anymore. "It actually is kind of embarrassing, you might say." "How so? Don't worry--I've probably seen and heard a lot worse than what you're going to say, so you have nothing to be ashamed of." "Well... Okay. I did tell you about how I thought I was being transported from one time and place to another and then back again, didn't I?" "You did, but you're free to go over it again. I'd be especially interested to hear anything that you feel you could add to what I know so far." "Anyway, as I've said, it began a few days before Halloween. I went to see my parents and my sister in my old hometown, and then suddenly it was as if I were something like twelve or thirteen years in the past, around the middle of the last decade. We were supposed to attend a party, and she gave me a magical costume of some kind." "The costume was what changed your body into a different one, am I right?" "Yep. It was a suit that somehow transformed the wearer into another person. Other people had suits like that too, and that was when I seriously started doubting my sanity." "Go on." "So, then there were a few changes back and forth, and later I ended up in the fantasy universe." "Sorry to interrupt, but I'd like you to clarify one thing for me. Was the place you call the fantasy universe distinct from your hometown in the past?" "Yes, it was. It had nothing to do with either this world or the past world. Anyway, that led to me winding up in this facility for the first time. The police officer found me on a street when the fantasy universe episode was ending in my mind." "And the trip to Texas was after you were released from here?" "Exactly. The symptoms returned on the first day on the road. I thought I was again seeing people transform into others. There were two separate cases of that, actually. One involved an acquaintance from my high school years, and the other happened to a guy we had met on the trip. This second person was a stranger, a mentally handicapped young man by the name of Dan Mancini." "What part did he play in your experience?" "You mean Dan? Oh, he was for the most part just along for the ride. He was lost, I think, and we were supposed to take him to another town where his cousin was waiting for him, allegedly. He seemed as if he was roughly at the intellectual level of a ten-year-old child. He kept talking about cartoon characters who were his imaginary friends, or something along those lines. I don't remember half of it, but there was lots of nonsense like that from him." "Okay. Were you transformed yourself?" "Sort of. I believed I was back in the past and in a different body. Then I found myself in the other universe for a second time, or third, depending on how you count. I came across a portal or a wormhole in the woods and I jumped through it." "Why did you do it?" "Someone convinced me that I had to go there to save my cousin and both the fantasy world and the real world from destruction." Quinn paused and rubbed his chin lightly with his fingers, taking the information in. "Let's talk about the fantasy world for a bit," he continued at length. "What was it like? Can you tell me more about it now?" "I can. Here comes the embarrassing part, actually." "Please go on, Mike." "Do you know Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Doctor? The TV show?" "I think so," he said slightly hesitantly. "My daughter used to watch it years ago, if I recall correctly. Maybe you could jog my memory a little." "It's about a teen girl who is destined to fight all kinds of supernatural monsters. The setting is basically like our world, except for the vampires and demons that most people don't even know about. An urban fantasy of sorts." "And you were living in that world, I gather." "Yeah. As the heroine. I was transformed into a high school girl by a magical Halloween costume!" I confessed and punctuated the sentence with a forced laugh. "Can you believe it? I mean, I've never had any issues with my gender or sexuality or anything, and then... this." "If you don't mind," Quinn said thoughtfully, "I'd like to explore that angle a little bit more." "I was afraid you might," I commented with a chuckle. "No, you shouldn't be. My point is that there's no reason to feel embarrassed. Even if you experienced an episode where you saw yourself as a girl, that doesn't automatically mean you have gender issues. Regardless, I think it would be best to dig deeper and see what we can find. Living in a girl's body, for you, could be a surface representation of something different that contributes to or is underlying what you have gone through." "I suppose that makes sense." "Miss Summers!" a man's voice called out. Instinctively, I looked over my shoulder but didn't see anyone. "What was that?" I asked Dr. Quinn. "What was what?" he responded, clearly surprised. Apparently the voice had been only in my mind, I thought with a twinge of worry. I was in a worse condition than I had believed if--- "Miss Summers!" the voice repeated, and I opened my eyes with a start. For a fraction of a second, I was absolutely bewildered. The doctor had disappeared, and his office had morphed into a school classroom. I was sitting upright at a desk, and sunlight was streaming in through the windows on my left. I shook my head lightly, but my confusion was slow to clear. There was a blackboard at the front of the room, and standing by it was a twenty-something, dark-haired, bespectacled man. He was looking expectantly back at me, but I needed still more time to comprehend that he was a teacher and that I was supposed to answer a question he had just asked. However, I had no idea what it was. Even if I had heard him, I was too stunned to react to anything external at just that moment. I was transfixed, inside a body which was not mine. The hands resting on the desk, on top of an open textbook, were dainty and small; they were the hands of a girl or a young woman. The weight of her breasts, supported by her bra, tugged on my chest. Long straight hair, currently tied in a ponytail, covered the top of my head. My clothes coated my soft skin with their fleecy and silky fabric. In my crotch there was a small, warm, snug void that was both alien and--after what I had gone through--also intimately familiar to me. I was in Sunnydale right now, and not in the psychiatric ward. I had simply fallen asleep in the middle of a school day. "Miss Summers!" the young teacher called again. "Uh... What is it?" I managed to reply. The voice was hers as well, Buffy's melodious girlish voice. "It was nice of you to join us," the man joked, and there was subdued laughter and snickering from all over the room. "Maybe you'd like to come over here and solve this problem for us." Several equations adorned the blackboard. This had to be a math class, and more precisely calculus, as the large, carelessly scrawled integration signs, x's, y's and differentials showed. The teacher, who seemed more like a college senior and possibly a substitute rather than one of the crusty old-timers of the faculty at Sunnydale High with his almost boyish face and casual clothes (blue jeans and a button-down t- shirt whose top two buttons were undone), was pointing at an equation in the lower right-hand corner of the board. It was apparently the only one remaining: all the others had already been given their proper answers, as indicated by the numbers and letters after the equality signs. The problem was to integrate x cubed times sine x to the eighth power, with respect to x, from minus pi to plus pi. It was essentially a trick question, of a kind that I had encountered more than once or twice during my undergraduate years, and the answer was fairly simple to find. Given my disorientation, however, I had to double check my notes quickly before I said, "Zero." "Excuse me?" the teacher responded and raised his eyebrows. "The result's zero," I repeated somewhat more loudly so everyone could hear me easily. "No need to calculate anything." "Please explain." "Sine x is an odd function, so if it's raised to an even power, you have an even function. On the other hand, x is an odd function, and x cubed is therefore also an odd function. Odd times even is odd, and any odd function integrated over a symmetric interval, as in here, always yields zero." The room was completely silent, aside from a couple of whispers from the back. The teacher had a distinct look of surprise and incredulity on his face, and he said nothing for a couple of seconds. I thought I could also detect a hint of mild disappointment in his expression before he fully regained his composure and hurried to hide his true personal feelings. "Uh, that's... good," he commended me. "Very good, Miss Summers. It looks like you were the only one to get that answer right. I thought I'd give you guys a little extra brain teaser there from the university calculus course, you know, to help you learn how to think outside the box, as you won't find the formula for that integrand in your standard integral tables." I smiled inwardly. The substitute had no doubt wanted to show off and had deliberately given his class a problem that was too challenging for the vast majority of students, only to have the pretty blond girl in the third row find the solution effortlessly. It was a sweet little victory for me, but also fleeting, as I realized almost immediately that I had broken character and made use of Mike Caldwell's abilities to put the man in his place. Letting him have his fun and lying low in general might have been a wiser course of action. As things stood just then, I had no option but to stay as true as I could to Buffy and her personality, regardless of how much it differed from my own. The bell rung, disrupting my thoughts and bringing me back to the present. In contrast to me, most of the other students had been in full readiness, and they wasted no time in jumping to their feet and starting to gather their belongings. The first ones were out of the classroom in considerably less than ten seconds. "Okay, guys," the substitute teacher spoke up. He had to raise his voice to be heard over the general commotion. "No homework for next time, but we may have a pop quiz, so be prepared." Scarcely anyone paid him much attention, though, now that the class and the school day were both officially over. I stuffed my textbook, notes and pencil case in my baby blue backpack, lifted it on my right shoulder and trudged out as the last of the students. The teacher gave me a surreptitious long look as I went past him, and I, for my part, pretended not to notice it. Walking down the hallway, I was surrounded by the bustle, chatter and laughter of teenagers, most of them happy and anxious to head home at the conclusion of another day. Summer was approaching and the academic year was drawing to a close, so the majority of the students were in good spirits and already looking forward to their vacation. Most were also unaware of the deadly supernatural threats hanging over them. Locker doors were being slammed as the kids picked up their books and packs and then started making their way out of the building, some alone, some in pairs and some in cheerily rambunctious gaggles. The scene was a mundane, perfectly typical example of school life, and while it reminded me of my own distant time at Greensville High, I had little inclination for nostalgia there and then. Other, stronger emotions drowned any hankering I might have had for my own teen years. I was irrevocably marooned in this universe. As far as I knew, I could never return to the place I called the real world, the Earth without vampires, demons and hellgods, and be reunited with my family and friends. Jake and I had found a dimensional gateway that led here, and after briefly weighing my options, I had stepped into it to do my share in the war against Angronok, the superbeing who threatened to rend asunder the very fabric that held the Multiverse together. It had been a conscious decision for me. I could have walked away and resumed my own life in my hometown of Greensville--or at least a life, as a permanently transformed Sarah Michelle Gellar lookalike named Cindy Caldwell--but an overwhelming, sudden realization that my destiny lay elsewhere had made me choose differently. Angronok and his acolytes had to be stopped, and that could only be done here. So I had voluntarily doomed myself to existing only as a fictional heroine in a make believe world and facing the multitude of mortal dangers that awaited her. I was completely alone in a very real sense, sad and homesick, but there was no opportunity to deal with any of those feelings. I had to carry out my mission, stop the pending apocalypse, stay alert, make plans, fight, survive, keep my new friends safe and also graduate from high school for a second time on the side. Only then, if all went well and I was still alive a few weeks from now, could I devote some time to mourning the permanent loss of everyone and everything that had made up my previous life. The crowd of students was thinning fast, and when I reached my destination, the library, the halls were nearly deserted. Giles had asked me to drop by before leaving for home, so I pushed open the door and walked past the reception desk into the unofficial headquarters of our gang. Rupert Giles himself was sitting at the table, with a pile of books in front of him and a tea mug in his hand, evidently deep in thought. As usual, he was neatly dressed and outwardly calm and collected, even though the last few days must have been quite taxing for him, just as they had been for me. "Buffy," he greeted me, lifting his head. "How has your day been?" "Nothing worth remembering," I replied, took the backpack off my shoulder and sat down on one of the vacant chairs. "Just another chance to enjoy the awe-inspiring quality of public education before whichever apocalypse we happen to get hits us." "Well, about that," he said. "I've been able to uncover some potentially useful information." "About which? The Ascension or Angronok?" "The latter. Still no breakthrough, I'm afraid, but at least we now know the identity of the man in the green suit." "Sounds interesting," I commented, but without much genuine enthusiasm. Angronok had a representative in town, a suave if ordinary-looking man who wore an eyesore of an outfit and was highly adept at slaying vampires with his walking stick. He had been trying to strike a deal with a gang of Sathir'na demons who were in possession of a talisman needed to open the interdimensional gate that would release Angronok, but thanks to me and my circle of friends, the bargaining at the old ruined factory had ended with seven slain demons and the man in green running for his life, empty-handed. "I visited Willy's Bar late last night, a little before closing time," Giles related. "Our friend Willy is aware of the man and said he had also shown up at the establishment. He was more interested in information and recruiting followers than in the drinks, I was told." "The guy's already recruited Spike," I said. "Somehow I'd think he has all the troublemaking power he needs in that partnership." "According to Willy, the man is a warlock, or at least claims to be. The rumor has it he is reasonably capable at casting spells but hardly anyone has actually seen him use his abilities so far. His real name is Daniel Lee, but he goes by the moniker Sparklestar in his dealings with the demon world." I felt a shiver pass through my entire body when Giles pronounced the name. All this was perfectly logical and obvious, so obvious that I should have seen it immediately, although it was at the same time also completely inconceivable and nonsensical, even according to the laws of this world. The nickname was the conclusive proof. Daniel Lee was the avatar of another person from my home reality--that of the retarded young man who had traveled with Jake, Charlie, Scott and me in my car. There was no other possibility. "Dan Mancini," I muttered to myself quietly. "Dan fucking Mancini." "E-excuse me?" Giles asked. "No, it was nothing," I spoke up hurriedly and tried to smile. "I was just... I was thinking of his name and remembered something." "Oh? What was it?" "Something totally unrelated. A person I met... uh, back in L.A. before the... gym burning incident and all that." "I see." The Daniel Mancini I had come to know was an obese and untidy man in his early thirties who conversed telepathically with imaginary friends and had a tendency to soil himself in his sleep. He looked and sounded every bit the special needs child he had undoubtedly once been, either babbling incoherently about this and that or petulantly voicing his demands and disapproval whenever other people refused to indulge him straight away. He could be tiresome and irritating to deal with, to be sure, but never intimidating or sinister. The only remotely interesting thing he had said was that he had some kind of connection with Angronok, but even this I had attempted to write off as a mere bizarre coincidence. He couldn't possibly have anything to do with the monstrous supernatural entity that only existed in my delusions, or so I had reasoned. I had made a huge mistake. In all his superficial harmlessness, the intellectually disabled man held the key to the destiny of the whole Universe. Now he was actively and effectively working to bring about the ultimate doomsday by freeing his "friend" from confinement in a parallel reality, in the process exhibiting skills and abilities he should not have possessed. The whole situation was such an epitome of cosmic irony that it was almost enough to make one believe in the capricious Fates of Greek mythology, if not for the fact that this time, they and the Cosmos itself were being threatened. "We must stop him," I declared emphatically. "Whether or not he has the talisman, he's the kind of risk factor we can't have around." "You're absolutely correct," Giles agreed. "Even if we obtain the talisman, Dan could still pose a problem." "What do you have in mind?" "From what Willy told me, Sparklestar the Warlock has been very open about his personal history, at least when visiting Willy's Bar. To me, parts of it suggest that Dan might not have given himself to evil fully or entirely willingly but that Angronok could be controlling him, probably through some intermediary. If we can find a spell---" "No need for spells," I interrupted him. "There's no guarantee they will work or that Dan is not actually a sincere fan of our destroyer of worlds du jour." "What do you suggest then, Buffy?" "Decapitating him with a sharp instrument might be a good place to start." Giles raised his eyebrows and aimed a searching look at me. He didn't say anything at first, but his silence and his muted reaction conveyed everything necessary. He was decidedly taken aback by my words. "Buffy," he commented after a few moments had passed in quietness, "I think that's, um, rather extreme for a preferred and primary solution. True, he's definitely a threat, but---" "He is," I confirmed. "He's the worst thing to have happened to us in a long time, hands down. We can't afford the luxury of letting him live." "So you would kill him without a second thought, just to make sure?" "I see no other way of dealing with this if we want to rest assured there's certainly no more danger from him." "There are several possible ways. As I was saying, a powerful spell might be able to disrupt the link between Dan and Angronok, if one exists, and restore his freedom of action." "What if it's not?" I shot back. "What then? The destruction would be far too great if that plan fails. And what if there is no magical mind control link? Dan could be evil just because he wants to." "Oh, absolutely, but then again he might not." "If we can be sure there's going to be no end of the world when he's dead, then the answer is kind of obvious to me." "I hate to say this," Giles responded somberly, "but you're beginning to sound rather like Faith." "Faith is nothing but a complex-ridden, unhinged nutjob who only looks out for herself," I retorted. I had raised my voice almost without noticing it. "I'm concerned with the future of the world here." "You know, I find it perilous to subscribe without reservations to the idea that the end justifies the means. In my own experience---" "Dan is a worthless piece of shit," I pressed on. "His life is inconsequential in the big picture. I don't care if he can somehow redeem himself or not. Probably he can't. Pretty much every human being on this planet deserves to live more than he does." "Buffy," Giles rebuked me in a calm but determined manner, "I believe this has gone far enough. I must say I find your callousness towards another human both surprising and appalling." "We can talk about that when the world is safe again," I said, making a conscious attempt to rein in my anger that had almost gotten out of control. "Look, Giles, I have all the sympathy for the average person on the street. But Dan is not average. If you give your soul to Angronok, it's your choice. If he wants to side with the forces of darkness, then I have every right to judge him by that." "I pointed out not two minutes ago that he may not be serving Angronok totally voluntarily. There could be coercion and deception at work." "That doesn't change the outcome. He's still evil and might be up to who knows what, right now as we speak. He could be opening the portal. He could have kidnapped Dawn!" "Dawn?" Giles' expression changed to one of shock and deep concern at once. "Has something happened to her?" "She---" I began, only to realize I didn't remember for certain where my sister was and what she was supposed to be doing. I had a recollection that she had not come home last night and was missing, but I could no longer be sure of that. The multiple abrupt reality changes over the last couple of weeks had taken their toll on my poor brain. "Yes?" Giles prompted me anxiously. "I... Uh, I don't know," I stammered. "It just occurred to me that Dan could have something to do with that as well. I'm a little confused, to be honest with you." "We need to look into that and make sure Dawn is accounted for," he said. "Is your mother at home at the moment?" "She should be." "Good. I'll call her straight away." "Maybe that's not necessary," I said. "I'll be going home anyway after we're done, so if there's any trouble, I'll call you and then we'll see what we can do." "Very well. Dawn and these other issues aside, I have to admit I'm growing rather worried because of you, Buffy. You're acting a little oddly. At times, it's as though I was conversing with someone other than the Slayer I know." "What do you mean?" "Well, your indifference towards helping a potentially innocent human being is definitely striking, and you seem somehow more troubled in general than usual," he explained, going on to add with a small smile, "Not to mention your tendency to speak in grammatically correct English for the most part." I couldn't help but return the smile, even if only briefly. As he was looking at me, I felt as though he could see through my physical form and into my soul--mine, not Buffy's. This female body was nothing but a disguise, and it no longer fooled Giles. The time had come to end the charade and confess to him that I was Michael Caldwell. It would be a tremendous relief for me, irrespective of the consequences. "Giles?" I said with some hesitation. "I need to tell you something." "Oh? Please go ahead." "It's going to sound really insane, and I don't know how to explain it so it makes the slightest bit of sense, but..." "There's no need to hold back," he encouraged me. "You can confide in me anything." "Right. Uh, you see, what I'm---" I heard the library door open behind me. Whether it was because of the nature of our conversation or simply due to my overall disorientation and tenseness, the sound gave me a fright and I spun around on my heels to face whatever it was that had barged in without warning. My reaction was wildly disproportionate. An immaculately groomed, dark- haired man wearing a pair of glasses and dressed in a neat black suit with a matching tie had walked into the room; he had a tight-lipped, approving small smile on his face as he was eyeing me. "Well, there you are, Buffy," he said. The words came out in a soft voice, which carried a pronounced upper class British accent. "I trust you've had a productive academic day?" "I did learn just now that the definite integrals of even and odd functions can be surprisingly entertaining," I quipped. "Ah! Elementary calculus!" he exclaimed in his restrained manner. "Your observation is quite correct indeed. However, there are some rather more pertinent matters for us to discuss. I would suggest we make time for a session of throwing weapons refresher training since that area has been severely neglected by us as of late." "I was planning on going home and getting something to eat," I commented. "That can wait. Keeping a diverse set of combat skills available and honed is essential for a successful Slayer, and I think various unfortunate events we have witnessed during this spring only underscore the need for preparedness." "Anything to report on the research front?" Giles asked him. "Very little, I'm afraid," Wesley replied in his even tone of voice. "I've had no luck to speak of. The Council notified me their files proved disappointing in that regard." He was clearly about to elaborate when there was another interruption. Cordelia Chase, fashionably decked in a long red V-necked dress and wearing high heels, strutted into the library carrying her own backpack. "What's up?" the brunette asked brusquely. "Vanessa Thompson, who you may remember as the self-appointed head of last year's Prom organizing committee, held me up after the last class ended. She just tagged along and kept talking and talking and I couldn't get rid of her. As if I had the time or energy to spare to get involved with her personal issues. So, what did I miss?" "Nothing much," Giles said. "We were merely noting the current lack of progress in our investigations." "Really?" she countered. "You people look pretty conspiratorial to me to be talking about nothing." She sat down at the table opposite to Giles and remarked brightly, "Anyway, there's no time like the present to catch up on our demon studies. Wesley, get us some stuff to read and come sit here so we can get started." The younger of the two Brits present swallowed and stuttered, "Oh, um, right. Indeed. I-I'll go and get... stuff." My opportunity had come, and I decided to take advantage of it. "I'll be heading home," I declared and made a beeline for the door. "If there's anything new, keep me posted." "I do feel we should carry out the training session I suggested," Wesley interjected, to no effect. "Buffy," Giles called after me, "if you run into Willow by any chance, ask her to come see me. I'd like to discuss a few things with her at the earliest convenience." "Will do," I said, turned my head to flash him a quick smile and then walked out of the door. Some of the students were still hanging around outside. A small group of six people, gathered near one of the benches on the side of the front yard, attracted my attention in particular. As I approached them, I saw that there were in fact five students, male upperclassmen, and a plump, shabbily dressed fellow of indeterminate age. The latter had a potato- shaped, partially bald head and a large nose. They were engaged in a conversation of sorts, with the outsider holding a stack of papers in his hand and explaining something in an overly excited manner to his audience. He was none other than Jamie the failed cartoonist, whom I had had the questionable pleasure to meet during my previous visit to this reality. I had given him the idea of adding a flying mouse from Mars to the cast of characters in his comics, and he had been so impressed by this intentionally ridiculous suggestion that he had presented me with a copy of one of his hand-drawn books as a gift. I had overheard during lunch today that he had, in fact, for some time now frequented the school campus to hand out free copies of his works to the students. Most schoolers considered him a harmless but entertaining joke, and for that reason, some of them feigned interest in his works. The school officials had not yet intervened and driven him off the campus, even though he was clearly under observation by a uniformed security man standing by the main entrance. Maybe Jamie's forcible removal was just the grand finale the kids stringing the poor guy along were waiting for, I thought. An even more familiar figure than Jamie was to be found next to a small- wheel bike in the parking area. A red-haired girl, wearing a fluffy pink cardigan, a flower-print knee-length skirt, white leggings and a pair of sneakers, was completely motionless and staring off into the distance, exactly as though she had suddenly forgotten where she was and what she was supposed to be doing. I circled around so I was approaching Willow from the side, not wanting to startle her, but she remained for all intents and purposes oblivious to me and the rest of the world. Only when I cleared my throat did she turn to look at me, but even then she said nothing and merely gazed at me as if I had fallen out of the sky. I had a theory as to the cause of her confused state, and after a second of uncertainty and vacillation, I decided to put it to a test. I had nothing to lose. If it turned out to be flat out wrong, I could always fall back on the excuse that I had made an obscure pop culture reference. So I said to her, "Mr. White, I presume?" Willow raised her eyebrows, and a bright look of recognition came on her face. "Mr. Caldwell," she said in a quiet voice but with her lips curving into a small smile. An intoxicating wave of joy washed over me at that instant. I was not alone out here after all. This person, who to the rest of this world was Willow Rosenberg, was carrying inside her the soul and consciousness of my best friend Jake White. My own situation and the impending end of Creation were suddenly only minor problems to me, nothing I couldn't handle with trusty old Jake by my side. I was about to hug her on the spot when another thought occurred to me. Jake must have followed me through the portal although I had expressly ordered him to stay behind. I had no way to return to my own world, so he was likewise forever stuck here. Worse, no one had told my family the news of what had happened to me. They would now live in perpetual uncertainty and anguish, searching for me in vain all over the country. The burning bitterness that flared up inside of me due to this realization did much to reduce my elation to easily manageable levels. "So," I began. "You decided to join in on the fun too, old man." "Yeah," he said in Willow's voice and tones. "I went into the wormhole after you. I... I just couldn't leave you to face the evil things alone, a-and I thought this place probably needed a Willow. Needed me." "You could be right," I conceded, "and it's great to have someone from the real world here, but I have to say I'm not too happy that my folks didn't get to hear the update." "The update?" "About us moving into a fantasy universe for good. They'll have no idea what became of us." "Oh, that," he said. "But maybe it'll be alright. Who knows, we may find a way back when Angronok is defeated, and then everything could be normal again. You said so yourself." "I might have said that, but I honestly don't think it's very likely, considering the circumstances." The ersatz Willow had no comment on this, and so I went on, "What did you do with the skinsuit antidote? Did you leave the bottle there, in the forest?" "I tried to bring it along, actually," she replied with a sad smile, "and I had it in my jacket pocket when I stepped into the portal, but when I got out and found myself somewhere down at the docks, I no longer had the jacket on. The bottle was gone too. They both just disappeared." "I see." A short silence followed. The antidote was a potion supposedly capable of restoring our original male bodies, albeit at a great risk to our health. We had obtained it from another person stuck for life inside a skinsuit and were bringing it home when fate had intervened, first in the shape of my cousin Scott, then through a marauding demon and finally by leading Jake and me to the portal. "What about my car?" I inquired. "What about it?" he asked back. "You were supposed to take care of it! Don't tell me you just---" "It's got stick gear," Willow stated defensively, "and I prefer not to drive stick anymore, so you know." "Not to drive..." I repeated incredulously, until the meaning of the words finally dawned on me. I gave her a long look. "Don't bury yourself in your part, pal." "But this is not just a part," she argued. "This is what and who I am. Sometimes. Sort of. I guess." "Fine. Once you've got your identity crisis sorted out, go to the library and pay a visit to Giles. He said he needs to talk to you as soon as you can fit it in your schedule." "Okay, I will," she promised. "Another super fun session of going through a couple of thousand pages of hand-written text awaits, but it's cool. I'm doing my part." We parted ways, with Willow going back inside through the main entrance while I started walking in the direction of my current home address, 1630 Revello Drive. Some form of adventure would in all likelihood follow later tonight, but I figured I had a chance to rest a little before that and I definitely wanted to enjoy it. The streets of Sunnydale appeared the same as before, the arteries of a smallish, easygoing suburban settlement with moderate traffic, lined by generally well-kept buildings. Appropriately enough, the sun was again shining from a nearly cloudless sky and the air was pleasantly warm, not too hot but not chilly either, despite the refreshing wind blowing from the sea. The picture-perfect facade, tidily hiding the horrors that happened here almost every night, was in place again. I still had trouble coming to terms with the fact that this was supposed to be my home now. Some part of me that resided near the border between the conscious and the subconscious quietly continued to scrutinize every detail, every house, every car, every tree for signs that they were fake, just props and scenery on a movie set or perhaps outright illusions, as opposed to actual objects belonging to a real world. I never noticed anything of the sort although I hoped and expected I would. At times, I even gave some thought to borrowing a car and traveling outside the town limits just to see if there was anything beyond them. Meanwhile, the existence that I had left behind was becoming ever hazier in my thoughts, no matter how desperately I tried to cling to my memories of Greensville, the University and my city apartment. Only the pictures of my family stood out and remained clear in my recollections, comforting me but simultaneously also adding to my sadness. That process would continue, I understood, towards the inevitable conclusion where my past life would fade and become like an evanescent dream. Then this universe would seem perfectly normal to live in and the idea that it had never truly been anything other than a figment of a fiction writer's imagination would be preposterous to me. The changes in my thinking wouldn't stop there, of course. The Buffy Summers persona that shared my brain with my own identity was vying with it for control, increasingly successfully. Already there were times when I fully accepted that I was Buffy and I thought, spoke, felt and acted like her for several hours on end; only occasionally and for a short while would I perceive that there was something wrong with me, but then I would simply return to being her. Her hold on me had slackened during the math class, and I still saw myself as essentially the old Michael Caldwell, but she would regain the upper hand soon. It might take days or maybe months, perhaps longer, but the end result was not in question: my own personality would be the loser in that fight. Then again, maybe it was a blessing in disguise, I mused as I walked on, paying the least practicable amount of attention to my surroundings. Buffy was naturally at home in this world as she had never known any other, and if I were to merge with her completely, my own pain would lessen. I turned left at the next street corner and realized that I had yet again managed to get lost. The houses looked unfamiliar to me, as did the intersection up ahead. It took me an embarrassing 20 minutes and an extra mile to find my way to Revello Drive and then to number 1630, which I eventually achieved by going straight on for three blocks, taking a right turn nearly at random and finally cutting through an alleyway. Perhaps the streets, houses, parks and other landmarks really shifted around every once in a while in this town, as I had previously suspected. That idea was certainly beginning to seem more and more convincing to me. The one-and-a-half story family home was sitting in the shade of the tall trees closely flanking it, at the end of the cement walkway that connected it to the sidewalk and the street. I crossed to the other side after checking there was no traffic in sight and walked up to the main door, climbed the steps leading to the porch and opened the door to let myself in. The feeling of being a stranger here had still not completely disappeared, and some mental discomfort at staying in the house with the Summers family and pretending to be a Summers myself remained in the back of my mind when I was not in the total Buffy mode. As I stepped across the threshold, the situation with Dawn suddenly returned to my thoughts. Had something happened to her? My doubts turned into unease and then into full-blown anxiety in a heartbeat. If she were actually missing, I would have to mount a search and rescue operation at once. Dawn was a sweet young girl whose safety was always a major concern for me, and my worries for her were made all the more acute by the unfortunate twist that had placed the mind of my cousin Scott in her body. "Dawn!" I called out, looking nervously around. "Dawn! Hey, Dawnie, where---?" At the next moment, the missing sheep appeared in front of me. I took half a step back in surprise. The girl, who was about the same height as me or even a little taller despite being only in her early puberty, had an amused smile on her face. As was fitting for an evening at home, she was casually dressed in blue jeans and a pink t-shirt. "There you are!" I exclaimed and let out a sigh of relief. "Where else would I be?" she shot back sassily. "Cleveland?" "I thought that... I remembered you were out somewhere and hadn't called Mom." "I did call her, and I came home," she said, "as you can see." "Who is it?" an adult woman's voice sounded from the dining room. "Just our resident space case," the girl hollered back. There was a short pause, and then Joyce Summers peeked into the foyer. "Buffy? Where were you? I was expecting you'd be back from school an hour ago." "We had a meeting with Mr. Giles and a couple of my friends," I explained and flashed her a slightly strained smile. Dawn gave me a mischievous look. The little sister was shamelessly enjoying my occasional bouts of absentmindedness and the comic relief they provided. "Oh, I see," Joyce said. "You might want to freshen up a bit and change your clothes, girls. Dinner's ready in ten minutes." I followed her recommendation. I went up the stairs to my room, lowered the backpack on the floor next to the desk and took off my necklace and the sweater. There was not a great deal of homework to be done for tomorrow and I might well be too busy later tonight to give the books much attention, but I nevertheless decided to put the whole thing off for the time being. I promised myself that I would sit down and tackle the assignments, like a good girl, if I had the energy and the motivation after dinner and before going out to patrol later at night. It goes almost without saying, though, that 'if' was the operative word. I padded out of my bedroom, across the narrow upstairs hall and into the bathroom. I turned on the light as I entered. The mirror, or rather the image in it, filled my mind immediately and completely. I walked in slowly, stopped in front of the sink and stood there, looking at my reflection as it was looking back at me. I leaned forward an inch or two. A pair of large, light green eyes gazed at me; gently arcing, carefully trimmed eyebrows framed them. Instead of coming to a more or less clear-cut point, the tip of the nose seemed like it formed a peculiar but cute little plateau, at least when seen from this angle. The skin, with or without makeup, was smooth and flawless and had a faint diaphanous glow. Then there was the forehead, the cheekbones, the cheeks, the small feminine jaw and soft jawline--and the lips, sweet, enticing and entirely natural, like the other features. An exaggerated smile revealed perfect white teeth. Every detail combined together in an attractive balance that the old me, the masculine Michael Caldwell, would have found irresistible. Consciously, I knew that the girl in the mirror was me. That point had been driven home time and time again. However, on a very deep level, a small lingering part of me stubbornly refused to believe it. Admittedly, she mimed my gestures in faultless synchronization, pouted when I pouted, grinned when I grinned, raised her arm when I raised mine, spoke in her voice when I tried to speak in mine, but that was of course preposterous. Magic spells and suits capable of changing the shape and identity of a flesh-and-blood human being could not exist, if only because I refused to let them exist. And yet they did. I was living proof of that, together with a host of other things that should have been equally impossible. I touched my cheek with my fingertips and then gave it a little squeeze. The skin and nerves duly passed the sensation to my brain. The face that studied me while I studied it was copied from an actress who lived in my home reality, unaware of what had happened to me. She had once played this character, read out the lines others had written for her and cashed her paycheck, eventually moving on to other things. This life had been nothing but a job for her. The demons she had faced were only other actors and stuntmen in special effects makeup; they knew when to stop and they didn't have the means to destroy the world. She could go to her own bed to sleep when the day was over. All in all, she was in an enviable position, as far as I was concerned. Still, even though I had not had a say in the matter, the fact that I had effectively stolen her form bothered me. Did I have a right to look like her? Would she have been offended if she had known? "And how are we today, Miss Gellar?" I said with sarcastic cheerfulness to my reflection, which mouthed the words back to me faithfully. "Good? Oh, that's great to hear! I'm pretty messed up myself, so that makes one of us, but don't worry about it. Say hello to your friends for me, and if you happen to know who's behind all this, be it that Whedon guy or someone else, please tell them to go f---" "Mom!" Dawn yelled in the hallway. "Buffy's talking to herself in the bathroom!" I had forgotten to close the door behind me, and unsurprisingly, the youngest of our little family had been eavesdropping. For the past few days, she had been unusually bratty and eager to test my patience at nearly every opportunity. "Mind your own business, Dawn!" I chastised her. "Mom!" she went on. "Buffy was---" "Dinner, girls," Joyce called from downstairs. Her timing was ideal. Dawn quickly forgot about her latest initiative to annoy me, and I contented myself with giving her an angry glare as we descended the stairs, she one step ahead of me. As she would occasionally do when there were no visitors in the house, Joyce had set the dinner up in the kitchen, and my sister and I made our way there. A stray bundle of papers was resting on the counter. I didn't have a clue as to how the sample of Jamie's artwork that he had given to me had ended up there, of all places; I only knew that I had brought it along with me to the house and then put it down to get rid of it. Apparently Joyce had not paid it any attention either, but now she suddenly seemed to notice it. Curious, she picked it up and began to leaf through the comic book. "What's this?" she asked me. "A superhero comic?" "Oh, it's just something this strange dude handed to me," I said, trying to sound casual. Only after the words had left my mouth did I understand how poorly I had chosen them. "What strange dude?" Joyce inquired sharply. "An unkempt guy who hangs around downtown and keeps pushing copies of his self-made comic books to everyone," I explained. "Sometimes he comes to the schoolyard and tries to peddle his stuff there. He's totally harmless but kind of... well, nuts, I think. The kids laugh at him behind his back." Joyce's brow furrowed as she turned the pages. A look of disgust quickly crept on her face and intensified until she wrinkled her nose, marched to the trash can and threw the book in. "Hey!" Dawn protested. "I wanted to read it!" "Sorry, but that's out of the question," the mother declared sternly. "I won't allow depraved filth like that under my roof!" After Jamie's masterwork had thus met its demise, we took our seats at the table. The day's menu featured chicken and rice casserole, a main course that would have been unlikely to make my mouth water at the first sight before I became acquainted with Joyce's cooking. I dug in gladly, as did Dawn. "Will you be going out again tonight, Buffy?" Joyce asked me. "Yeah," I responded. "I need to keep the streets clean and collect a bit of intelligence in the process." "You could use some," Dawn mumbled under her breath. "Is there anything serious coming up?" Joyce continued. "Anything I should know?" She was a perceptive woman and had undoubtedly discerned how worried and tense I had been over the last couple of days. "No, not really," I said in a deliberately casual tone, stretching the truth to near the breaking point. "Most likely it's going to be another routine day in the life of a Slayer. Or night, if you want to get technical about it." This had become a stock reply for me whenever Joyce or Dawn wanted to know what was going on with my destiny-defined line of work. I downplayed the seriousness of any threat or crisis and only alerted my family members when I thought that they were in immediate danger and had to take precautions. In case the Ascension could not be stopped, I was firmly planning on having them leave the town well in advance; but if Angronok were to be released, there would be nothing anyone could do and nowhere to run. The knowledge that the safety and lives of these warm-hearted, lovely people were in my hands made for a tremendous weight to shoulder. "I got an A on the biology exam," Dawn announced with satisfaction. "It was the last one this year, so I think the grades on my report card should look pretty nice." "That's great!" Joyce congratulated her happily. "I'm so proud of you! And Buffy's going to graduate high school! You know, girls, I really think we should celebrate. A vacation somewhere nice, maybe; how does that sound?" "Yay!" Dawn exclaimed. "That'd be fun!" "Let's get to my graduation first," I said. "A lot of things could happen between today and that day." "Hey, I know!" Dawn enthused. "Janelle's family goes to Tijuana in Baha California every spring. She says the food is great, and the town's got an awesome beach. We could check it out!" In a flash, I remembered a certain Halloween party with an offbeat roleplaying session. I wanted to ask Dawn if she still wanted to eat rattlesnakes and traffic signs in Baha California, but before I could do that, I burst out in uncontrollable laughter. The other two Summers ladies were left wondering what had made the older daughter of the family giggle so hard that she almost choked on her food and had tears rolling from her eyes. ***** My patrol rounds that night may have been routine but by no means uneventful, thanks to an enterprising group of three vampires who decided to waylay me in a dark alley near the town center. I had seen movement in there, and as I ventured in to investigate, they sprung their trap, dispensing with the formalities. Someone jumped from a fire escape above me, landed on the ground right behind me with a loud thud and grabbed me by the waist before I could turn around. A pair of thick arms belonging to an undead male squeezed me tightly as another two vampires, a black-haired man and a middle-aged woman, approached from the front and sized up what they believed was their helpless prey. The man attacked first. He walked swiftly to me, took a hold of my chin and opened his mouth. He bared his fangs, intent on drinking my blood, but as he reached for my neck with his mouth, his plan went awry. The one holding me had not bothered to make sure I could not use my arms, so his companion quickly received a powerful blow to his nose and another to his throat. He staggered backwards in astonishment and pain while I pressed my advantage. Next, I put my elbow into the stomach of the vampire who was trying to hold me still. This one had a massive belly, so my strike sank deep and proved to be less effective than I had hoped, but it was nevertheless enough to make him loosen his grip. I tore myself free, spun around and delivered a rapid high kick in his face. The heel of my boot made contact with his mouth and opened a gaping wound in its corner. The vampire--a completely bald, tall and fat man dressed in a plaid shirt and shorts--stumbled and fell to one knee. I pulled a stake out of my pocket and raised my hand to be ready to do him in as he clambered back to his feet, but the woman seized my wrist and managed to twist it so that the weapon fell to the ground and I winced in pain. "You're a feisty one," the she-vampire said into my ear and laughed. "I like you!" "I can't say the feeling's mutual," I quipped, pivoted around her grip and slammed my free fist in her face. She released my hand, and I promptly rewarded her with a series of punches in her jaw, cheeks and chest. She had time to block my first right hook, but the left straight and the follow-up hits found their mark. "You guys are not from around here, are you?" I mocked them as the she- vampire collapsed against the brick wall of the nearby building. I picked up my stake from the ground. "Somehow I thought that the word would've spread---" The next one to be reminded of the dangers of gloating and letting one's guard down was myself. I felt a resounding blow to my upper back and I almost lost my balance. Turning around as fast as I could, I saw that the lean man had found a wooden beam or plank that he was now swinging around, and I barely succeeded in avoiding another strike. The piece of wood swooshed past my head. The vampire wielding the weapon was holding me in the piercing gaze of his glowing yellow eyes, and his mouth was hanging open, showing his near-ungovernable rage at losing a seemingly easy opportunity to feed. In the background, both the fat vamp and the female one had regained their balance as well as their eagerness to attack, and they were advancing to provide support for their fellow monster. I was not about to allow them to draw me into a fight where there would be three against one if I could help it. I grabbed the plank as the lean vampire once more swung it at me. He let out a loud groan as he found out that he was more than evenly matched. I mustered my strength and pried the plank from his grip. He growled again, charged forward and aimed his fists at me, but he was too slow by a narrow margin. I had a firm hold of the plank with my both hands and it was end on to the attacking vamp, who ran straight into it. The end of the plank was not so sharp that it could have penetrated his chest. Nevertheless, the blow stunned him for a fleeting but valuable moment. I dropped the plank, pulled out another stake from my pocket and lunged forward, pushing the stake squarely into his chest. He froze in place, and with a curious hollow sigh echoing in the alleyway he collapsed into fine dust that blew away at once. The other two had halted, and they hesitated for a couple of seconds as their presumable gang leader had been eliminated, but they soon got over their dismay and fear, no matter whether they were driven by a desire for revenge or plain hunger for human blood. I hit the fat one in his throat with my fist, but he managed to hit me back, and I lost my footing and fell down. To even the odds, I swept his feet from underneath him in turn, and as he tumbled down, I got up. I managed to kick him in the head once, but this gave the female vampire an opening to move in from behind. Her cold fingers reached for my throat and began to wrap around it, trying to get a proper hold and squeezing with inhuman strength. For one dreadful moment, I was close to panic, thinking I was done for, but then my Slayer instincts saved me. Before the vampire could start throttling me in earnest, I elbowed her in the chest and then in her throat, with lots of force but a precise aim. A leg sweep then disrupted her balance. She fell to the ground with an angry, pained growl, and I was able to breathe freely again. Nonetheless, the fight was not yet over. I avoided a charge by the fat vamp and bent down to pick up my stake. To gain some distance, I jumped on top of a large dumpster and waited for the attackers to make their next move. The fat one collected the plank and hurried to swing it at my knees, but I avoided the blow with a well-timed jump. He was just close enough for me to give him another kick in the face as I landed, and this made him stumble and drop the plank. I jumped down on the ground, only inches away from him, and drove the stake through his heart. A ghastly wail sounded and then faded into silence as he stopped dead in his tracks and disintegrated, leaving no sign he had ever existed. I was thus left alone with the female vampire, whose demon face--a hideous sight in the first place--was contorted with anger. Her yellow eyes kept flitting around as they nervously surveyed the surroundings and returned to me, repeating the cycle over and over. She had obviously figured out who she was dealing with, and the prospect of saving her life by running away must have been tempting to her. Still, she was clearly loath to turn her back and leave, because she doubted whether she could outrun me or because she wanted to avenge the loss of her comrades, or perhaps both. "You won't get away," she snarled. "This is where and when you die, you know that?" "From what we've seen so far," I retorted, "I beg to differ. You want to call it quits and cut your losses, or do we play this out?" "Goddamn bitch!" she screamed. Her rage had finally overcome her rational thinking, and she lunged at me, only to freeze before she had time to take a full step. A look of disbelief and shock came onto her face and remained for a second, and then her entire body turned into a cloud of dust and dissipated. A dark-haired girl, dressed in a leather jacket and dark blue jeans, holding a stake in her hand, had appeared behind the female vampire. She had a contented smirk on her blood red lips as she looked at me, obviously reveling in how effective, dramatic and timely her entrance had been. "Evening, B," she greeted me. "Need a hand?" "I can manage," I said tentatively. A confrontation and possibly a fight with Faith was the last thing I wanted right then. I had my work cut out for me as it was. "A decent showing, all things considered," she commented on my combat performance, "but I've got to say I've seen better from you. The way you let the woman vamp sneak up on you was kinda disappointing." "Nobody's perfect." "You've got that right." "So," I said, "did you follow me just to offer constructive criticism, or do you actually have something to tell me?" "I enjoy watching you in action, Buffy," she replied, "so it's a little from Column A and a little from Column B, but mostly the latter. I hear you guys have a bit of a problem on your hands, like, say, an Old One trying to conquer the world. Things don't look too good and a powerful talisman's missing." "That's a decent summary of it," I commented. "I've got your attention now? Good," she chuckled. "To get to the point, me and my boss might have something that could be useful to you in keeping the old bad boy Angronok at bay, but we naturally want something in return. What do you think?" This particular situation rated very high for sheer strangeness in the mad jumble of multiple personalities and schizophrenic happenings I had gone through so far. I had no clue whether I was talking to Larry Simmons, my high school classmate; Leslie Simmons, his female alter ego; Faith Simmons, a version of Leslie who was also involved in the war against Angronok; or Faith the Vampire Slayer, a rogue champion of the forces of good who was mentally unstable and had defected to the side of evil. It might well have been the case that all of these people were only shades of the same person and individual and that they had fused together, but more likely the Faith personality had assimilated Larry and Leslie completely, much like Scott had turned into Dawn. If she was one with her character, I could expect to be (literally) stabbed in the back at any moment, but if the Leslie-Faith persona still dominated, she might be a valuable ally with an ability to carve her own destiny beyond what had been established by the TV show's writers. "Your boss?" I inquired. "Would that be the slimy murdering asshole at City Hall?" "A murdering asshole, or a driven man making his vision come true," Faith responded with a confident smile as she took a couple of steps and came a little closer to me. However, she maintained a polite and cautious distance between us. "That's a matter of perspective." Her answer did little to allay my fears--much the opposite, in fact, but I couldn't afford not to hear her out. I would give a report to Giles later on, and then we, our whole gang, would discuss it and decide what to do. "Why don't you explain your first 'something' to me," I suggested, "and then we can discuss the other one." "Okay. When you guys move out to get the Angronok talisman, you let me come along. In exchange, I'll provide you with a way of destroying it so Angronok can never escape the other dimension. Deal?" "Forgive me for doubting your motives," I said, "but what's in it for you? You don't exactly strike me as a person who'd do such a thing as an act of pure philanthropy." "Thank my boss, the man you just called a... What was it? Oh yeah, a slimy murdering asshole. He doesn't want to see Angronok being given a Get Out of Jail Free card any more than you do. He's a guy who makes careful plans and doesn't want them interfered with, as I'm sure you know, and an incident with Angronok could like really, really ruin his big day." "I knew there was a silver lining to everything," I quipped. "Even Angronok being released." "If you're trying to piss me off," she countered and smirked, "you need to do a lot better than that, B." There was a short silence. "Faith," I said in a serious tone and looked her in the eye, "I have to ask you a question, and I'd like you to give me an honest answer. Please, that's all I want." "Shoot," she responded nonchalantly. "As long as it's none of that boring why-always-me stuff of yours." "Are you really in cahoots with the Mayor... Leslie?" She pursed her lips and remained quiet for a second or two, and I thought I could see, fleetingly, through her outer shell. Something had stirred inside of her, but I wasn't sure what it was or how she would react. "Now there's a name I haven't heard in a while," she said and raised her eyebrows. With that, her smug outward appearance was mostly restored. "Leslie's gone, Buffy. So is Mike Caldwell, not to mention Larry Simmons. They're ancient history, every one of them." "That wasn't my point." "You hesitate to trust me," she said, lowering her voice ever so slightly. "You're not sure whose side I'm on and if I'm going to betray and kill you as soon as you turn your back. Is that it?" "In a nutshell, yeah." "Long story short: things are different from what they used to be. The players are the same and the stage is still there, but the script has changed a bit, if you know what I mean. Don't be fooled by what you think will happen." "Alright," I said. "I believe I understand." "Good. So, how about my proposition?" "I have to talk with my friends, and... I'll let you know." "Just don't take too long," she warned as she turned to leave. "We don't have all that much time left." "Okay. I'll keep that in mind." "See you around, B," she said, winked at me and began to stroll back to the nearby street. In a few seconds, she rounded the corner and vanished from sight. I remained in the alleyway and scanned the surroundings with my eyes for a good couple of minutes. Primarily, I wanted to make sure there were no more vampires lurking in the vicinity, but I also needed time to process what had transpired. Faith had given me plenty of food for thought. A method of destroying the Angronok talisman permanently would have been more than welcome, supposing we could again get our hands on the item in question, and it appeared to me that I had indeed spoken to a person who had close ties to Leslie Simmons, as opposed to being Faith the canonical character through and through. Even if this was not true, she had a point. The evil Mayor of Sunnydale, a human monster whose fondest wish and foremost goal was to become an inhuman one, would absolutely not suffer any extraneous complications to his carefully designed plans and would do his utmost to stop anyone from interfering, including Angronok and the worshipers of the hellgod. Maybe the offer really could be trusted, at least this once. It was fortunate that no new threats materialized as I left the scene of the battle and walked slowly towards the heart of the town. I was so engrossed in my own deliberations and considerations that a vampire or a demon could easily have surprised me. As a matter of fact, one did when I reached the main street, but luckily he was not one of the hostiles. "Hey," Angel greeted me as we came face to face in the middle of the quiet sidewalk. "A nice night for an outing." "Oh, hi," I responded belatedly, snapping out of my daze, and added with a nervous little laugh, "Midnight, the stars and you. What could be better?" "We can't really see the stars from here, with all these lights around." "Two out of three. That's not bad." Angel joined me, and together we ambled slowly along the street. I had no specific destination in mind, and he didn't seem to be in a hurry to get anywhere either, so we spent a while simply enjoying the relative peace and quiet, as well as each other's company. "Anything bothering you, Buffy?" he asked me in a concerned tone. "You seem a bit lost in your thoughts." "Everything's fine. Oh, as a side note, there was a teeny bit of action about fifteen minutes ago. A group of three vamps wanted to take their chances with me, and... Well, in the end we agreed that I get to keep my hemoglobin, and they're dust, which suits me just fine." "I'm sorry I wasn't there," he apologized. "I had a prior engagement, of sorts." "I didn't have to do completely without support. Faith showed up and staked the last vamp." "She did?" Angel's reaction was understated, as usual, but I could tell the news had had an effect on him. "Yep, and she had an offer for us. If she gets to come along when we go out to retrieve the Angronok talisman, she'll show us how to destroy it." "I see. The Mayor sent her?" "Of course." "Do you think it's a trap?" "There's always that possibility, but then again, the Mayor would hate to see Angronok on the loose. After all, he wants to be the one to devastate Sunnydale, so that's kind of logical, and if I've understood what Giles is saying correctly, Angronok would probably kick his butt and the butt of pretty much any other demon without breaking a sweat anyway. Our planet is not big enough for both of them. Anyway, I'll inform Giles about this. We'll see what he has to say." Angel plainly sensed my unease, and he decided to change the subject after a short pause in our conversation. "There's a new film showing at the Sun Cinema; the title sounded interesting. We could check it out next weekend if you don't have other plans." "Something artsy?" "Yeah, but don't worry. From what I've read about it, the plot's not going to feature creative uses of food, unlike that last picture we saw together." The joke, if it was intended as such, flew past me, and I was too preoccupied to feign amusement properly. "Other plans," I said. "There's the rub." "That's what we always come back to," he observed solemnly. "The desire for a normal life for both of us. We can never have it, and yet we can't stop wanting it. I want it, and you want it." "More than you can possibly imagine," I affirmed and gave him a sad smile.