Face The Strange - Chapter 5/11: The Importance Of Being Tara Maclay free porn video

FACE THE STRANGE by Crazy Baron Chapter 5: The Importance of Being Tara Maclay Little by little I became aware that I was still alive and breathing. I was sitting on a soft surface, maybe a cushion, reclining with my eyes closed; and someone was nearby, looking at me intently. I made a very feeble attempt to think and reason so as to find out what was going on and where I was, but it failed before it had even begun. I was too tired and the temptation to return to the sweet slumber was too tempting. There would be time for these questions later, given that contrary to my every expectation, I hadn't died in the clutches of the vortex that was ripping through the psychedelic Elysium. Regardless, I was unnerved because I was clearly under close observation. Maybe it was best to find out who the watcher was. If the situation did not require immediate action, I could always get some more rest later. On my second try, I managed to open my eyes, but all I could see at first was blur. I blinked, scared that something might be wrong with my vision. There was indeed a person right in front of me, staring at my face. As my eyes focused, the face of the person cleared up and solidified. She was Dawn, formerly my cousin Scott Anderson. "Hi!" she greeted me happily. "Did you get your beauty sleep, Buffy?" "What?" I mumbled. My mouth was dry, but the voice was immediately familiar to me. Michelle's bulk was gone, and I realized at once that I had stayed a female. The sensations made one thing perfectly clear for me. I was in Buffy Summers' shape and living in her small, attractive and superhumanly energetic body again. After everything that I had been through lately, it almost felt like returning home, as paradoxical as that was. "Where am I? Sunnydale?" "If only!" Dawn laughed in response. "No, this is plain and boring old Greensville, basically, with a little extra twist." I was hugely relieved upon hearing the news, and as I spent the next couple of seconds looking around me, I could finally recognize the room, its furniture, the windows, the light fixtures and the rest. Without the remotest doubt, I was sitting on the couch in the living room of my parents' house. "What day is it?" I asked Dawn. "Wednesday. Wednesday evening," she replied. "No, I meant the date." "The eighth." "What month and what year?" She burst out in giggles. "I guess you're really out of it, Buffy!" "Don't call me Buffy," I grunted wearily. "That sounds better," she went on, still giggling. "You're back to being yourself!" I had just spent--or I thought I had spent, in any case--several hours in Michelle's loose-fitting and not particularly feminine clothing, and so the next thing I noticed was the tightness of the snug blue jeans I had on, in addition to a black, long-sleeved shirt. As for underwear, the chubby college girl's roomy boxers had been exchanged for a pair of Cindy's customary panties. The breasts, much smaller but firmer than those of my previous physical form, rested cozily inside the cups of a bra that was properly sized and adjusted. These thoughts led me to remark, with no more than mild curiosity at first, that Dawn's outfit was also perfectly in character. She had on a pink t-shirt or a top and a purple cardigan, plus a pair of jeans like mine, only a little darker in color and likely an even tighter fit. A whiff of her girlish perfume reached my nostrils whenever she leaned towards me. My brain needed several more seconds to reorient itself and organize the jumbled pieces of memories that it had collected over the last couple of days. When the fragments began to settle in place, though, the Sunnydale adventure returned to my mind in a flurry of images and emotions. Dawn had been kidnapped by the Sathir'na demons and held hostage, and while we had been able to save her before she had sustained any serious bodily harm, the experience must have been traumatic to her. "Are you okay?" I asked her, deeply concerned about how she was doing. "After what the demons did to you, I---" "I think that's my line, sis," she said with a bright smile. "I've never been better. You're the one who was put through the wringer not so long ago." "What? What's that supposed to mean?" "You know, what with the adventure you and Willow had back in the woods. I really am glad you were there. She could be dead right now if it wasn't for you and your mad slayage skills." "Dawn, what on earth are you babbling about?" I blurted out, unable to make any sense of what she was telling me. Before Dawn could answer, two more women came into the living room. My mother Gail was carrying a tray with four mugs on it, and my sister Kate was following in her wake. I smelled the sweet aroma of hot chocolate. We were going to enjoy it together, perhaps in celebration of my having returned safely from the woods, whatever it was that had occurred there. I forgot about everything else at that instant. When I had stepped through the portal, I had resigned to a permanent, heartbreaking separation from my loved ones, but some extraordinary favor from a higher power had reversed that unexpectedly. I was back at home and together with my mother and sister. The happiness and relief that washed over me were so powerful that tears came to my eyes. I very nearly sprung to my feet and ran to Mom and Kate to give both a fierce hug. As a matter of fact, if Dawn hadn't been inadvertently blocking my way, I would have done just that. "Here are the drinks," Mom announced and set the tray on the table. There were coasters on the tray as well, and these she placed on the table before setting the large mugs neatly on them. She and Kate pulled the armchairs closer to the table so all four of us could drink and talk comfortably, without having to reach for the mugs, and the women sat down opposite to the couch. Dawn found her seat next to me and tucked her legs under her bottom, as was her habit. The hot chocolate underscored that I was not only reunited with my family but eminently warm and loved and sheltered too, and as the others picked up their mugs, sipped their drinks carefully and began to chat, I could do nothing but stare in front of myself and silently struggle to keep my emotions from overflowing. Even if this was only an illusion or fantasy, I couldn't have asked for a better treatment for the wounds my soul had suffered. "I meant to ask you earlier," Kate piped up, directing her words at Mom. "Any news from Dad?" "He hasn't called since the day before yesterday," she responded, "but as far as I'm aware, there have been no changes in his plans. He's due to leave for Frankfurt on Thursday, that is tomorrow, and he'll spend the last night at a hotel there before getting on the plane to New York. He should be home some time around Saturday." "The poor guy must be beat when he gets here." "He'll survive," Mom quipped. "He'll have plenty of time to recover as he's got all of next week off, and there's also a pretty nice paycheck waiting for him, from what I've heard. I mean, for sure, he'll let everyone know how exhausted he is and he'll be loitering around the house, making a huge deal out of it, but don't let the act fool you." "It'll be lovely to have your family together under the same roof again," Dawn commented cheerfully, "especially now that he's been gone for so long." I tasted my hot chocolate cautiously, so as not to burn my mouth. The precaution was not absolutely necessary since Mom always took care not to serve anything overly hot, at least not without conscientiously warning everyone beforehand that they should be careful. True to form, she had made and brought us drinks that were simply perfect in both taste and temperature, in my opinion. I soon took another sip, savoring every drop. "Are you alright, Mike?" Mom asked, interrupting my little reverie. Her choice of name prompted a curious look from Dawn, and my mother hurried to correct herself, "Buffy." "Sure," I replied, less than completely truthfully. "It's just that I'm a little..." "You've been awfully quiet," Kate observed. "Are you sick or something?" I had become the undisputed center of attention. "Okay, you've got me," I finally confessed and added a somewhat strained chuckle. "I had this... I don't know; maybe it was only a nightmare, but I'm really confused, to be honest with you. What's the situation here?" Mom, Kate and Dawn exchanged looks at this, but only Dawn's expression showed overt concern and worry. On the relatively rare occasions when she did her best to conceal her feelings and actually succeeded in not letting them appear candidly on her face, her moist blue eyes had a tendency to betray her. "What's the last thing you can recall?" Kate asked me. "Jake, Dawn and I went to get the skinsuit antidote," I explained. "I think it was last Sunday. Then, on our way back, we ran into a monster in the woods by the old roadside park and... The thing attacked us, and I killed it. The rest is pretty hazy to me." "That's how it went up to that point," Dawn confirmed and nodded. "By the way, I have, like, no words to describe how glad I am that we lost the bottle with the poison. You would've committed suicide if you had used it, and so would Willow. I really, really have no idea what possessed you into getting your hands on that dreadful stuff!" "Let's not get sidetracked, if you please," I said. "So, anyway, my memory goes blank for a little while after the demon grabbed me," Dawn continued. "Maybe I hit my head when it dropped me to the ground or something. What I do remember is we were standing in front of this weird light circle--you, me and Willow. We assumed it's a portal or a wormhole that connects our world to some other dimension and that the demon must have come from over there, but we were all real scared and tired by then and left the place together and drove home. That was that." I sighed and leaned back. "Well, at least I can't complain that my life is dull anymore," I commented with a weary smile. "Dawn, do you remember going through the portal?" "No, I don't. Like I said, there's a gap in my memory, but I don't think I ever went to a demon world. I probably wouldn't have been able to get out of there." "A good point." Trying to reconcile this story with my own recollections was yet another potential source of a massive headache. Dawn had definitely fallen into the dimensional gateway and I had gone in myself to follow and save her; I was certain of that. The Sunnydale interlude, which had involved me, her, Jake, Charlie and Leslie (or rather Faith, as she identified herself as of late), was also fresh in my mind. The only half-way logical interpretation was that the force responsible for the reality distortions had first removed us from Sunnydale following our successful rescue of Dawn, placed our conscious minds in the future timeline and, after Dan and I had encountered the tornado in the bizarre glass field, thrown us back here again. Only minutes, or a few hours at the most, had elapsed from the viewpoint of an outside observer like Kate or Mom. Why Dawn couldn't remember living in Sunnydale while I could was admittedly strange in and of itself, and I had no explanation for that. "I hate to be asking these stupid questions," I spoke up after giving myself a few more seconds to contemplate the topic, "but--could you fill me in on what happened between Sunday and today? I somehow get the vibe that not everything has been smooth sailing for us." Kate put her mug on her coaster. "It hasn't," she said in a no-nonsense tone. "You and Willow went to the woods yesterday and tried to close the portal. From what you told me, she cast a couple of spells but they didn't do a thing. Then two beings came through from the other side and attacked you, but you beat them off." "Beings?" "Yeah, according to you. Monsters of some kind. So, to sum up, it seems we've found a tunnel that leads to a parallel universe," she said and let out a wry chuckle. "And it would be cool beyond words, if only the bad guys over there didn't know about it too." "Oh Christ," I breathed and closed my eyes. Fragmented images of the events that Kate and Dawn had described began to form in my brain even as they were speaking. I had apparently lost plenty of memories temporarily but, thanks to the others' recounting what had taken place during the missing time, they were gradually coming back to me. Simultaneously, the recent adventure with Dan and Gunner Bill started to lose its reality. The experiences I had had in the future were suddenly little more than an intangible dream, and a very weird one at that, next to this world and the Buffyverse--from which the fiends could now freely cross over and do immeasurable damage, I comprehended. I might have escaped death but the nightmare wasn't over. The doorbell rang and startled me so badly that I nearly spilled my drink. "That'd be Willow," Kate declared and got on her feet. "She promised she'd pay us a visit tonight." "It's good to know I'll have quality company in the nut ward," I commented with a subdued little laugh. "Jake can't be much less confused than me if he seriously thinks he can do magic." "Her name is Willow," Dawn pointed out and sipped her hot chocolate, going on to add, "Oh, and by the way, she can do magic, for real." I looked at Mom, interested to see what her reaction would be, but she contented herself with giving me a small smile. She was apparently unfazed by this crazy talk about magic spells and demons and dimensional portals, most likely having chosen to play along unless our silly little game of make-believe got entirely out of hand. For my part, I decided not to let her in on any of the disturbing details if I could help it. I would deal with her in the same manner that I had dealt with Joyce: share information on a strict need-to-know basis. If she was indeed still under the impression that we were merely pretending and fooling around for fun, as opposed to the whole universe in the actual fact being directly threatened by an Ancient One and its allies, so much the better. The parallel I had drawn between my real mother and my imaginary mother and its implications sank in right away, and for a moment, I imagined that the person sitting in the armchair opposite to me was Joyce Summers and not Gail Caldwell. It was fortunate that I had little time to ruminate over this issue and drive myself to distraction. Kate let the visitor in, and when I glanced toward the foyer past Dawn, who was partially obstructing the view, I saw a woman enter the house. I didn't pay her much attention, as I thought that Charlie in Cordelia Chase's form had decided to drop by as well (even though her hair color was conspicuously different), but then I caught a quick glimpse of a brunette coming in right after her. High heels clacked on the floor. I did an instant double take, but everyone involved had by then disappeared behind the corner of the inner wall that separated the living room from the part of the foyer where our coat rack was situated. "You can take them off," Kate was saying to the women. "Here, let me help you with that." "Thanks," a clear, melodious feminine voice responded. "That's kind of you, Kate!" I lifted my eyebrows in surprise. The voice belonged to Amanda Elkins. I had recognized it straight away. The redhead appeared in the living room a short while later. She was exactly as stunning a vision as I remembered. Elkins had a classically beautiful face, a pair of mesmerizing light blue eyes and a tall, perfectly proportioned body with long arms and legs. Her clothing was tasteful, even if somewhat overdone for a casual visit on a week day--a knee-length brown skirt and a warm beige knit blouse, together with a blue scarf tied around her neck and a pair of three-inch black heels to accentuate her height. She seemed more than a little out of place in the relaxed atmosphere of our home, like a supermodel who had gone out for a drink, become lost and ended up in Greensville's local bar instead of a highly exclusive nightclub in New York or Paris. We stood up to greet her, and just then, the other female strolled in with Kate. She was Faith. I was stunned and even alarmed to see her, not sure how I should react to her presence. Something truly strange was going on if she could simply walk into our house in this reality. "I don't think we've met," Elkins said to my mother and extended her arm for a handshake while Faith waited for her turn. "I'm Amanda Elkins, but please call me Amanda or Mandy. You must be Mike's mom." "Oh yes," Mom replied and shook Amanda's hand. Although Mom was no shorter than the average woman, Elkins seemed to tower above her. "Gail Caldwell." "A pleasure," she said. "I know the rest of you already, so..." With this, she went on to hug Dawn, who gladly reciprocated the gesture. "Wow, what a little stunner you've turned out to be!" she complimented the girl. "Are the local boys already lining up to date you? They must be blind and deaf if they're not!" "Thanks!" Dawn said with a smile that lit up the room. She then stepped aside so that Amanda could get to me. "And last but not least," the latter greeted me with another alluring smile. Even though I tried to avoid the hug, she nevertheless wrapped her arms around me and pulled me into a friendly squeeze. "Oh my, Buffy, you're simply radiant as always!" "Hopefully not in the nuclear physics sense," I commented as she let go of me. "Oh, this is too bad," Mom said. Her expression had morphed into one of concern and slight embarrassment. "I'm sorry; I didn't expect you guys to show up. I'll make something for you, but it'll take a few minutes. Would you like coffee, tea or hot chocolate? You must be hungry! I'll make sandwiches too." Elkins let out a sparkling laughter. "No need for that," she said. "I wouldn't mind a cup of that hot chocolate, though, but other than that, we are good, really. We've already had a hearty dinner." "Don't be too polite," Mom insisted. "I'll whip up something for you if you'd like. I'm afraid the choices are a bit limited at the moment, but- --" "No, honestly," Elkins reassured her. "We're not hungry, and we're just dropping by. Don't worry about it." Although the look on her face continued to show a measure of consternation at not being able to serve the visitors proper refreshments, Mom did calm down enough to change the topic. She shifted her attention to Faith and asked her, "So, you are...?" "Faith," the brunette supplied tactfully and flashed a small smile of her own. The name was yet again in perfect harmony with her looks. She sported dark red lipstick and a hefty amount of eye makeup, and she was wearing a black sweater together with brown and burgundy boot-cut trousers. "We've met, but I'm guessing you probably don't recognize me anymore, Mrs. Caldwell. I used to be Larry Simmons." "Larry!" Mom repeated in astonishment. "I... Um, I think Mike did say something to the effect that you... that you put on one of those skin things and..." "That's how it went down," Faith confirmed. "I didn't like being a man all that much to begin with. When I got the chance, I jumped at it and, well, here I am." "Wow," Mom said. Although she had heard about Larry's transformation, she was plainly at a loss as to how she was supposed to act now that she was face to face with the person he had become. "Those suits are really something." "Yeah, that's absolutely true," Faith said and smiled again. As Mom didn't seem to have anything to add, the Slayer girl turned to Dawn and remarked, "I think you and me can skip the formalities. How are you doing, Dawnie?" "Good," she said and nodded. "I'm good." I detected no animosity to speak of between the two girls, but neither was there any kind of friendliness that went appreciably beyond exchanging common courtesies. "And the big sister's here, too," Faith added, addressing me. She smirked. "Ready for a big night out?" "What? A night out? What do you mean?" "As in patrol," she clarified. "Keeping the neighborhood safe, slaying vamps and demons, that sort of thing. You up for it?" "Last I checked," I retorted, "and that was only five minutes ago, this was Greensville, not Sunnydale. There's---" I was about to point out that this little town had no Hellmouth below it, only to remember to my intense dismay that our situation was in fact hardly any different. As long as the portal was in existence, Hellmouth could come to us. "The reason we're going out is to keep it that way," Faith said. "I could use a hand." "Alright, why not," I sighed. "A pleasant, uneventful night with my relatives was too much to ask anyway." "That's very thoughtful of you, Buffy," Amanda said to me. "It's smart to keep an eye out for trouble. Have a quick look around and come back in an hour or two. I was thinking we could have a little strategy meeting somewhere afterwards." "You can stay," Mom suggested promptly. "I'll fix us something to eat." "Besides," Kate added, "Willow's on her way here as well." "Oh, that sounds fantastic!" Amanda gushed. "Could we really, Gail? That would save us so much trouble!" "Of course. Guests are always welcome in our home." "But let's forget about the food straight away. We don't want to be a burden, seriously, so just a cup of coffee or tea for everyone will do. That's all I'm asking. I don't want you to have to sweat and toil on our account." "Nonsense," Mom laughed. "It'll be my pleasure. I do have to confess my fridge is not quite as well stocked as I'd like for an occasion like this, but I'm sure you won't have to starve." She had slipped into the role of the perfect hostess at the drop of a hat, notwithstanding the fact that deep down, she had to be at least as puzzled, confused and apprehensive as I was and probably not very happy that our family time had been interrupted, regardless of how polite the technically uninvited guests were. "That's totally unnecessary, believe me," Amanda argued with a smile. "You coming, B?" Faith exhorted me unceremoniously. "Time to motor. We haven't got all night." "Can I finish my hot chocolate first?" I asked and gestured at my drink, annoyed by Faith's assertive attitude and goading. "Just leave the mug there, if you need to hurry," Mom cut in helpfully. "I'll make you some more when you get back." My schedule for that night had thus been decided, with little input from me. While Faith waited in the foyer, I went to my room, pulled on a white turtleneck sweater and picked up my purse. A quick trip to the bathroom followed so I could have an opportunity to touch up my face. I was wearing only my customary casual makeup, a hint of mascara and eyeliner with some lipstick, and I deemed it satisfactory for this outing. Having returned downstairs, I exchanged my light sneakers for a pair of black boots and donned a black leather trench coat, which was another typical clothing item for Buffy the character. Elkins had brought it when she had visited us last week. I also borrowed a pair of black knit gloves from Kate, as well as a matching cap to keep warm. Finally, fishing the car keys from my purse, I went out together with Faith, who had also put her dark blue denim jacket on. The sun had set a while ago, but as the sky was mostly clear, some light still remained and the town was under a gradually darkening twilight. The air was crisp, with a promise of biting cold later in the night. Provided that I dressed properly, the weather might have been fairly nice for stargazing, I noted and thought ruefully back to a time when the abominations that might be waiting for us somewhere in the woods had only belonged to TV shows, movies and fairytales. Amanda Elkins' pearl white Jaguar X-Type was standing on the driveway turnaround, keeping company to my car. To my delight, the latter had found its way home after all. It would once more have to serve as my transport as I headed into the unknown. Elkins, in my opinion, could have loaned her car to Faith and me, given that we would scarcely have been in this whole mess if it hadn't been for her, but it hadn't crossed my mind to ask her if we could take it. In any case, we were likely better off avoiding the additional hassle. "Is that Mike's ride?" Faith asked in an amused manner. "As a matter of fact it is," I replied. "Not meeting with your approval?" "No, it's not that. As long as it runs, it's fine by me, but I was kinda expecting something... I don't know, more masculine. Exaggerated, overblown. Guys have this way of compensating with their cars, you know." I was immensely tempted to offer her a heartfelt "screw you" as a rejoinder but forwent voicing my feelings. Picking up a fight with her at the first provocation was not in my best interests, nor in those of the entire Universe. "Pop the lid, Buffy," she said. "I'll put in some weapons for us." She proceeded to take two large battleaxes from the back of Amanda's Jaguar and placed them in the trunk of my car. She also handed me a stake and a flashlight, keeping a similar set for herself. I suppressed a disbelieving, sarcastic chuckle as I held the piece of wood in my hand. The weapon certainly didn't inspire much confidence. I hoped that it would see no use tonight, or any other night. "Good to go?" she asked me. "Okay, moving out then." I sat down on the driver's seat and buckled up. The seat and the mirrors were adjusted for my current frame, a further proof that the car--or, to be more precise, the iteration of the car that existed in this timeline- -had indeed been last driven by me in the Buffy body. This vehicle had never left Greensville for Texas or taken me to Kenny Taylor's house, to Cinnamon's farm, to the militia roadblock and thence to oblivion. I was beginning to feel as though I hadn't been to those places, either. All the same, I was delighted to be reunited with it, to hold its steering wheel again and to put my feet on its pedals. It was a humble and unimpressive machine compared to cars such as the Jaguar, but it was mine, a reliable traveling companion. After our mind-boggling adventures, it was almost like another member of my circle of friends and certainly a character in its own right. As soon as Faith had strapped in, I started the engine and put the car in gear. Reluctant to rush, I let it roll leisurely down our driveway until we came to the main road. A small red car passed by, and after it was gone, I turned onto the otherwise quiet road, heading away from the town center. On a whim, I switched the radio on. It had been left tuned to a local station that specialized in contemporary and classic rock, in contrast to the cursed teen pop cavalcade broadcast by the other station, the one Kate and Dawn enjoyed unabashedly. This suited my tastes far better. Sure enough, in less than half a minute we were treated to a song that I considered a bona fide classic. As downbeat as the lyrics were, sung in an inimitable vocal style by a male singer, they brought a small smile to my lips. "What's this?" Faith reacted sharply. She was obviously not enthralled by the piece. "'Heaven Knows I'm Miserable Now' by The Smiths," I replied, pretending not to notice the look on her face. "The perfect song for this situation and more or less my life in general." "Figures," she snorted dismissively. "Chances are we're going into combat and I want to be pumped up. Can't you find anything edgier for us, like alternative rock or hardcore you can dance to? Some stuff with a little more oomph?" "There's plenty of edge to this song," I argued, "and as I said, it fits my emotional state." "You're just full of sunshine and positivity, aren't you?" "When there's a reason for it, I try to be positive." "And now there's not? You're healthy, young, smart and sexy, you've got superhuman powers and a loving family, and all you can think of is feeling sorry for yourself! Buffy, get your shit together. I mean, for real. You're insufferable." "My car, my gas, my music," I declared solemnly, and she gave up. Our main item of interest was of course the roadside park and the woods surrounding it. One end of the interdimensional portal was about half a mile away from the park, and so this was a logical location to look for any hostile beings that might have encroached on our universe. I pulled up at almost precisely the same spot where we had left the car during the Dawn incident last week, and then I got out, as did Faith. She pulled her leather gloves on (but had apparently decided to go bareheaded despite the cold), handed me one of the axes and took one herself. They were viable weapons against most varieties of demons, whereas the stakes in our coat and jacket pockets would be faster and more convenient to wield against ordinary vampires. "Can you feel it, B?" Faith asked as I was locking up the car. She drew a deep breath through her teeth and smiled. "Feel what?" "The excitement," she said. "The anticipation when you know there's bound to be action. I'd just love to dust a couple of vamps tonight. It makes your adrenaline flow like crazy and gets you really going. It's wicked addictive, like a drug." "That's one way of looking at it," I commented. "On the off chance that you want my advice, I'd say you ought to put some more distance between yourself and your character, but I suppose it's too late for that now." "There's no character," she stated. "I'm not playing Faith. I am her." "My point exactly." The dark pre-winter forest was forbidding even without any supernatural threats on the prowl. The ground, covered by dead leaves and grass, was wet and treacherous in the absence of daylight, and the trees stood somberly as stiff, black shapes, reaching around with their branches. Fortunately for us, there was no wind, which made it far easier for us to pick up suspicious noises from a distance. We turned our flashlights on and penetrated into the woods, Faith one step ahead of me. The conditions didn't appear to bother her quite as much as they did me. She pushed forward with a large axe in one hand and a Maglite in the other, and I did my best to keep up. As far as we could tell, there were no definite indications of enemies in the woods. We came across no freshly broken tree branches, oversized footprints, strange sounds or unexplained foul smells. Faith and I trekked to the opening where the portal still floated steadily and noiselessly in the air, totally unchanged as it seemed. Its superficial, ostensible harmlessness made it all the more terrifying to me; I could effortlessly imagine it as a huge, unflinching round eye that was endlessly staring at us. Although I had seen it twice before, the unearthly phenomenon didn't fail to make my skin crawl, and I was overjoyed to turn around and leave the place after we had been sweeping the surroundings with our flashlights for maybe five minutes. As we walked through the forest, I glanced back at the portal a couple of times, fully expecting to see some abhorrent monster emerge from it, until the trees hid it from sight. I consciously knew how risky it was to let my guard down, since my days in Sunnydale had driven home that salient point. Furthermore, no matter how familiar and seemingly safe this town was, for the time being it was actually an extension of Sunnydale. I had to remind myself of this repeatedly because it was so utterly difficult to comprehend. Nevertheless, I began to sense that an encounter with demons was unlikely there and then. We had to cross a little brook, the same one that Dawn had jumped over while running away from Jake and me with the antidote bottle. The creek had a bit more water in it than last time, and we could hear it purl as it flowed down from the nearby hills. Regardless, it was hardly an obstacle of note for us, and we were soon past it and making our way through a thick patch of pine trees. After we had cleared most of the woods and were approaching the park proper, I had finally gathered the courage to engage Faith in a hopefully earnest conversation. I wanted to hear her thoughts on a subject that had given me so much trouble lately. "Do you mind if I ask you a question, Faith?" I spoke up. "A personal one." "Shoot," she said plainly. "Was it easy for you?" Faith looked at me quizzically. "Come again?" she asked back. "Was what easy?" "Uh, you know--the choice you made when... you decided to become Faith and bury your old self, Larry. Was it difficult?" "You're getting deep here," she remarked. "But if you really want to know how I feel about it, then I guess I'll have to say it wasn't hard for me in the end. I mean, Larry was okay as a person, but he had a whole lot of emotional ballast and insecurities weighing him down. It was great to let go of that crap in one fell swoop." "Do you ever miss being him?" "Not really, no. Living as Larry had its pros and cons, but I'm way better off now, all things considered." "If I recall, Faith wasn't always exactly a happy camper on the show." "Yeah, but that's different. We're not in a scripted TV drama anymore. This is real." There was a short pause, and then she suddenly turned the tables on me. "Why do you ask, Buffy?" she inquired pointedly. "You never were too interested in my personal feelings." I cast my eyes down briefly. "Well, I... I'm just wondering if I should follow your example," I explained a little haltingly, having to search for the words. It was awkward for me to confide in her, although she was one of the very few people who were in a position to understand my dilemma thoroughly. "I don't know if I can survive all this madness, let alone the crises and battles and who knows what else that's yet to come, and still be myself like nothing ever happened. At times, I think it might be easier to let go of Michael Caldwell. He's not cut out to be a Slayer, or even an ordinary woman." "I don't see the problem," Faith said. "Maybe you don't, but I do. Should I be Buffy if I can cope better as her but end up losing myself in the process?" "Why the hell not?" she responded bluntly. "Buffy's cool, for the most part. No offense, but Mike just can't compare." "I see your point, but she's basically a stranger to me. She's not me, and I'm not really her." "The sooner you stop repeating that mantra, the sooner you'll get over your issues with being her," she declared. "Try saying, 'I'm Buffy, I slay, and I'm good!' instead. Embrace her, get yourself a well-hung stud and celebrate. Oh, and by the way, I've got a couple of phone numbers I'm willing to share if you're nice to me. Satisfaction guaranteed." "I'm not into guys." "I wouldn't be so sure about that," she said. A mischievous smile had crept onto her lips. "I want you to think of a cock. A long, hard, fat, juicy cock in front of you, with a swollen red head. It's ready to blow its load on your face or into your mouth or your cunt. Focus on how it looks like and smells like. Picture it in your head, down to every tiny detail." "I'd rather not," I grunted and wrinkled my nose. "Okay, now you're taking it in your hand and guiding the tip past your lips. It's in your mouth. It tastes kind of salty and a little bitter. You let it slide in until you're deep throating him. You feel it throbbing---" "Can we get to your point already?" I interrupted her impatiently and indignantly. To my horror and embarrassment, her narration was indeed getting to me and the images she had described had begun to form in my mind despite my efforts to drive them out. What was more, the Buffy body was busily reacting to them. My nipples had hardened inside the bra cups, and a softly pulsating warmth was building in my crotch. "I can watch free porn online if that's the solution to my problems." "Got you hot and bothered, didn't I?" she teased me. "Ha! You want it! You want to bang a guy. Admit it!" "I don't!" "Admit it!" "How old are you?" I snapped. "Eight?" "Old enough to see what's going on," she replied. "With the way you squirm, your panties must be wet right now as we speak." "So very considerate of you to be concerned about the cleanliness of my underwear," I said with venomous sarcasm. "I told you, I'm not into men. I still like girls." "Alright then," Faith said, stopped in front of me and turned to face me. "Prove it. Kiss me." I was stunned by her suggestion. "What?" "Kiss me," she repeated. "On the lips, with tongue, nice and slow. I prefer guys myself these days but I'm always ready for a little bit of girl-on-girl when the right person comes along. Keeps you from getting stuck in a rut." "Are you serious?" I blurted out. "Dead serious. And we can follow up the kiss with anything you want. Hell, I wouldn't mind us ending up in my apartment to spend the night together if you're game. I haven't had any pussy in a while." "I think I'll pass on the lesbian sex," I said and stepped closer to her, "but if you insist, you'll get your kiss. Any time." Faith tilted her head and let her eyes flutter half closed so she could see what was happening. As I leaned forward, I smelled her perfume and her own scent, a combination that would no doubt have made me crazy in my own masculine form. She was pretty, I told myself; no matter what she was like as a person, she had a very good-looking face and a body to die for, curvy, athletic and compact. I had had sex with her once before, and even though I could recall hardly anything of the act itself, it must have been mind-blowing. The little side issue of me inhabiting the physical form of Buffy Summers should have had nothing to do with my perception of her. Yet it did. I closed my eyes, opened my mouth slightly and approached her slowly. She was right there, ready to be kissed, and still I felt as though I had run against an invisible barrier. I tried to concentrate my will and order my body to press my lips on hers--and I failed. Several seconds went past, but I merely stood there, frustrated and frozen in my tracks like a complete moron. I opened my eyes. Faith's face was only inches away from mine, and a wide, triumphant grin was playing on her lips. "Told you!" she gloated. "Momma's little sweetheart doesn't kiss girls anymore. Ain't that right, B?" "I just don't feel---" I began, taking a step back while attempting to defend myself. However, she cut me off with, "Yeah, that's what I said. You don't feel like it because I'm a girl, but you sure wouldn't have a problem with kissing me if I was a hunky guy, or doing other things. I bet you'd be on your knees already, with my schlong down your throat or up your ass." I winced at her choice of words, disgusted at the idea and simultaneously flustered because she was uncomfortably close to the bullseye. "Decency and subtlety aren't your forte, methinks," I needled her. "Maybe not," she fired back, "but cutting to the chase works just as well for me." The rest of our rounds went without notable occurrences. We got safely to the car, which had remained undisturbed by normal and paranormal forces alike in the parking area for the duration of our patrol, put the axes back in the trunk, got in, buckled up and drove home. At Faith's suggestion, I took the long route through Pineridge, and I slowed down so we could observe the road and the environment for signs of demon activity. A pickup truck, doubtless carrying a bunch of high school kids, came up from behind and overtook us a mile or so before the intersection where the Pineridge road connected with the Greensville- Smithfield road. It flashed its headlights at us and roared past, going well over the speed limit. "Fucking idiots," I groused. "Check out Road Rage Buffy!" Faith commented with a touch of derisive glee. "That's a new one on me." "I can assure you it was all Mike," I corrected her. "Oh, I see. So it's his shortcoming and not yours. Remind me again, you haven't cut every tie with that doofus--why?" "And be like you?" "Try it some time," she said and grinned. "You'd be surprised how much fun you can have if you loosen up a little bit." "I'm thinking that might depend on your definition for 'fun.'" Our tour ended where it had started, in front of the Caldwell home. I breathed a small sigh of relief as I turned off the engine and stepped out of my car, once more making sure it was properly locked. Charlie's small Honda had appeared in the meantime, and as a result, two cars were standing side by side on the turnaround in addition to mine. The strategy meeting was most likely in full swing in our living room. My boots, which were much better suited for strutting on a California sidewalk in the summertime than hiking through a Northeastern forest in November, had gathered a fair amount of dirt. I took them off in the foyer and decided to go without shoes for the rest of the day, which was also in accordance with Mom's preferences. She kept a very tidy house and, as a rule, strongly disliked people walking right in with their heavy and dirty outdoor shoes and boots. She would grudgingly give some leeway to strangers such as Elkins, but the proper etiquette was to have only clean sneakers, slippers or something similar on one's feet, or else just socks. This policy was more common here than in many other parts of the country, not least because of the weather, and so Faith, who had been a local resident in her previous life, understood it and obediently shed her boots likewise. We proceeded to take our jackets off at the coat rack, and I duly returned the garments borrowed from my sister. Mom was on her way to the kitchen when we saw her. "Oh, good to see you're back," she remarked with a smile. "How was the trip?" "Uneventful," I replied. "And I wouldn't have it any other way." "Don't be so negative," Faith reprimanded me playfully. "A little action would've been nice." "The others are in the living room," Mom said. "I'll bring you something to eat and drink in a minute." "You really don't have to," I said, feeling sorry for her. Ever the good homemaker, she had ended up serving our gang while being mostly excluded from the conversation, since it involved topics that were altogether too outlandish for her. "It's no problem, Mike. Why don't you and Faith go sit there with your friends and let me take care of the snacks." A merry and chatty, if not downright noisy, group of people was gathered around the living room coffee table. In addition to the couch and armchairs that were usually there, they had collected chairs from all over the room so everyone could have a seat at the table, although they were packed very tightly together as a consequence. Mom had made them hot chocolate or tea and sandwiches, as she had promised, and the participants were enjoying the refreshments. Jake and Charlie, or Willow Rosenberg and Cordelia Chase, were among the attendees. The latter rivaled Amanda Elkins in style: her evening makeup was neatly and carefully applied (albeit a tad exaggerated for the occasion), and her accessories included a golden necklace and earrings. As for clothes, she had opted for a red sweater, a black knee-length skirt and leggings. Jake was no less in character, as far as his appearance went. His Willow form was wearing a yellow and orange fluffy sweater and khaki pants, and he had also made a point not to overlook cosmetics, even though his makeup was far more understated than Cordelia's. "Hey, guys!" Dawn called out perkily to Faith and me. "About time you showed up!" "Did you see anything out there?" Amanda inquired promptly. The others fell silent and looked at us expectantly. "Any demons afoot?" "No, nothing," I reported as I crammed myself past the others and lowered my bottom on the couch, in the narrow space between Dawn and Kate. Faith sat down somewhat awkwardly on the armrest to the right of my actual sister. "It was quiet all around." "Yeah," Faith added. "Didn't get as much exercise as I would've liked, but maybe some other time. What are you folks up to?" "We're brainstorming for ideas to close the portal," Amanda told us. "I'm afraid there hasn't been too much progress, though. We don't know where to begin. One thing seems clear, though. The portal has to be magical, so we need magic to shut it down. No ordinary, everyday means will work, I believe." "Not even explosives?" I quipped. "When I was with the Guard, the engineers had a saying---" "I'm the resident witch around here, sorta," Jake said, "but my powers alone are, like, really not enough for the job. I-I'm just a beginner at this." "And that's where I come in," Cordelia said. "Or me and Willow, but let's start with me. So, anyway, I had this lucid dream last night. There was this short horn-headed, red-skinned man, standing on a platform above a burning lake. I asked him what he was doing up there, and he said, 'There exist two powers, and you must bring them together.' I was pretty flabbergasted at first, but then it kind of like hit me. I realized we need to look for a person who can close the portal. We already have one, but we've got to get the other one too. Next, I saw these girls holding hands, with rays of light coming out of them, so I figured they must be the two with the power. Yeah, and later of course the dream got more entertaining, with a gorgeous naked guy on a beach and that sort of stuff, but I think I'll leave the best part out, for now." I couldn't help but frown, wholly irrespective of the contents of their statements. The thoroughness of Charlie's mental transformation was a known if regrettable fact to me, and the same applied to Scott; what surprised me was Jake's behavior. There was no denying that his Willow act was becoming more and more complete, and it was no longer a given that the old Jake White could hold out indefinitely under the pressure. In a few weeks, I thought sullenly, he might well go the way of Larry, Scott and Charlie. "That's what we have established so far," Amanda summed up the current status of things, "and it brings us to my earlier point. I have the Tara suit available and ready. Considering what's been happening lately, it will more likely than not give its wearer Tara's powers." "Seems perfectly logical," Kate said and continued, "Now all we need is a volunteer." "We have plenty of people here who have taken an unhealthy liking to the skins," I commented. "For instance, Charlie or Faith could put the Tara suit on and take it off again when the deed's done." "No, that's not how it works," Amanda corrected me forthwith. "You can only wear one skin symbiont at a time, even if it has totally fused with you. The other symbiont senses that you're already taken, so to speak." "How about you, Kate?" Dawn suggested. "You're intelligent and brave, plus you're a girl to begin with." "Thanks for the compliment," my sister said with a tense little laugh, "but I don't think I could deal with that under these circumstances. It's not that I don't want to help, but I reckon I should do my share in some other way." "If you prefer being a man," I pointed out without missing a beat, "I'm sure we could use an Angel as well. He's a pretty tough fighter, from what I remember." "Uh, I guess I'll have to say no to that too, for the above reason," she replied. To my everlasting joy, a light blush had risen onto her cheeks and she twisted her wrists slightly. She had an unconscious habit of doing so when she was feeling nervous or insecure. "Well, well, well!" I gloated triumphantly while she turned her head and looked away. "The shoe's on the other foot, isn't it, sis? I'm supposed to take being turned into a woman--against my will, may I remind you--in stride and love it, but when we're talking about you, suddenly it's completely different!" Before Kate had a chance to mount her counterattack, Faith came to her aid. "Buffy, is that sexual frustration of yours really eating at you so bad that you can't be nice to other people for ten seconds?" she asked me snarkily. "How about you take the bitch in you out on someone who deserves it, okay? Or better yet, hit the clubs and score some male meat already." "Out of curiosity," Cordelia chimed in, "if she donned the Angel suit, would she become a real vampire? As in a guy who drinks blood for food, doesn't show up in mirrors and catches fire in sunlight?" "I'm not certain," Amanda admitted. "If somebody had put that question to me last week, I would've laughed the whole thing off and told them not to worry, but seeing as Buffy and Faith have gotten Slayer powers and Willow has magical abilities, I suppose anything is possible. In my opinion, we should be extra careful and not touch the vampire symbionts until we're positive they are safe to wear." "Good thing Tara's not a monster," Dawn observed. "But to get back on track, do we know anyone else who might be interested?" "Hey," Cordelia perked up. "Kate, there's that friend of yours, Joanna. She's got experience with the skins and she's a huge Buffy fan. Let's ask her." "Yeah, she'd be perfect!" Dawn gushed in excitement. "I'm sorry to say that's not an option," Kate shot down the suggestion. "For one thing, Joanna's in Canada, visiting her relatives. I have no idea when she'll be back, but it might be several days or weeks. Besides, I must confess I'm not comfortable asking any of my friends. I'd rather be Tara myself than risk their lives." "It's not like we're sending them on a suicide mission with a bomb strapped to their back," Faith noted. "I know, but still. I don't want them to be part of this if we can help it. The same goes for anyone else who's close to me, and I hate that you guys have no choice but to be involved." "In that case," Jake concluded, "we basically ought to look for a person who wouldn't be missed and who's expendable. In other words, Bucko Griffin." I laughed aloud. "Now there's an original idea! We lure him into the Tara suit and set him loose!" "Well," Jake pretended to reason with a mischievous grin on his lips, "it can hardly mess him up any more, can it?" "You guys are being evil," Kate rebuked but nearly burst into giggles herself. "He's not that hopeless. Pathetic, sure, and dumb, and... maybe a bit ridiculous overall, but he's not a bad person." "Who's Bucko Griffin?" Faith inquired. "Just a loser boy from the other side of this town," I explained, "and a failed suitor of Kate's." "Let's not go there, please," she said and covered her eyes with her hand while still smiling. She was overcome with a mixture of embarrassment and amusement at the memory. "I almost gave up on men for good when that so-called date of ours was finally over." "Is he at Greensville High? He didn't graduate last spring, did he?" "I think he is there," my sister said. "If I'm not mistaken, this is his senior year." "Good-looking?" Faith probed, not bothering to hide her interest. "No," I explained. "He's not repulsive by any means, but kind of plain. It's more the way he acts than anything else that makes him a laughing stock. As Kate mentioned, he's incredibly clueless and fails at everything he tries. Not that it keeps him from trying, which inevitably leads to new failures. You really have to meet him to appreciate the full extent of his, uh, personality." "Imagine the Police Chief's kid on The Simpsons, but as a teenager," Jake assisted. "Gotcha," Faith said and smirked. "To be frank," I went on, "I can't see any kind of real future ahead of him. Rumor has it he's already made friends with King Alcohol, and I think we have a pretty good idea of how the story will continue from there." I knew this for a fact and I couldn't help but crack a faint smile at the recollection of his trip to Glastonbury, the airplane toilet episode and a good many other famous incidents that were in store for him in the next dozen or so years. Kate, Faith, Dawn and Amanda did not say anything for a second or two, but they exchanged knowing and excited looks. Their faces brightened up in a manner that made the blood drain from my cheeks and my merriment disappear at once. "Ladies," Kate announced with a grin, "I believe we have a winner." "Wait!" I interjected. "You're not seriously contemplating---" Faith's grin was even wider and more impish than Kate's. "Oh yeah, B," she said. "We are." "Without even asking him first?" "Waste of time," she commented curtly. "Just like it would've been with you way back when." "I didn't mean w-we should, like, force Bucko into a suit for real," Jake stammered and once again copied Willow's gestures and speaking style to a T in his acute fluster. "It was a joke, people! A jokey remark to lighten up the mood!" "Listen to him!" I protested in unison with my friend. "Like Jake said, it was just a damn joke, and a bad one. We can't pull a stunt like that! It would be plain immoral. Besides, what use would he be to us? You're free to correct me here, but I don't think Tara or any other member of the Sunnydale Scooby Gang was a drooling idiot by nature." "Putting on a symbiont and becoming someone else might well turn Bucko's life around and change him drastically for the better," Amanda countered. "Tara Maclay is unarguably one of the loveliest, most compassionate, considerate and warm-hearted girls ever to have lived, and her personality would work miracles to improve Bucko's, if he's anything like you described." "True," Kate said. "He can't get much worse, anyway, and his life is currently going down the drain fast." "We'll be doing him a favor," Dawn accompanied the other women, who nodded approvingly. "And a huge one at that." "Will he be brainwashed, like some of the former men in this room?" I quizzed in an acidic tone. "Or is that a politically incorrect term nowadays? My apologies, I meant 'reprogrammed!'" "Would you stop saying that?" Dawn snapped back. "The skins just made us happy with our new lives! They didn't brainwash anybody, Buffy!" Her eyes flashed with genuine annoyance and frustration, even anger. "Tell you what," Faith spoke up, handily defusing the brewing confrontation on the side. "Our little friend Bucko likes girls, right?" "Oh yeah," Kate confirmed with a chuckle. "A lot." "Leave him to me. If any of you has his phone number, give it to me; and Mandy, get the Tara symbiont ready. I'll take care of the rest." "Let me get this straight," I interrupted. "You're going to seduce him and then put the skin on him, are you?" "That's the gist of it," she said. "If he enjoys booze, it could be useful too. Might help things along." "So, the final plan is to get him drunk, bang him and get him in the skinsuit when he's passed out?" "If you're intent on giving me a lecture on ethics, Buffy, you can save your breath. I honestly don't care. But if it makes you and Willow feel any better, I'll promise not to let things go too far. No old in-out, unless he's really cute. You guys cool with this?" "It sounds good to me," Amanda said. "We don't have any better options right now." "Yeah," Kate accompanied her. "Let's do it." Dawn and Cordelia also voiced their approval. "I'm willing to go with this on one condition," I said emphatically. "We get him out of the Tara suit the second the portal is closed. No excuses, ifs or buts." "Okay, fine," Faith yielded. "Consider it done. I'll try to set up a date with him for tomorrow or the day after that. I might be needing someone to assist me, though, but since Buffy's clearly itching to volunteer, we've got that part covered." "Don't call me Buffy!" I snarled. "Yes! Finally!" she exclaimed theatrically, put a hand on her chest in a mockery of being deeply moved but also flashed me a wide grin. "Now I know you still care! So sweet of you to let me hear the sacred words of your catchphrase... Buffy." Mom chose this moment to enter the living room. She was again carrying the tray, which was loaded with two mugs and two plates with cheese and ham sandwiches on them. "Sorry to have kept you waiting," she said. "Faith, Mike, here's your hot chocolate and snacks." "Uh, I think I'll come to the kitchen to have mine," I said and got on my feet. "The air is fresher over there. More oxygen and less madness." ***** I have already mentioned that Greensville was neither a major population center itself, nor was it located anywhere close to one. One proof of this was the fact that the only establishment deserving of the name "nightclub" in a twenty-mile radius was the Happy Town in Chesterton. It was there that Faith had arranged to meet with Bucko on the next night, a Thursday. She had wasted no time, and neither had he. Most people might have been rightly suspicious if a total stranger had called them out of the blue and suggested a blind date only 24 hours later, but Bucko had naturally fallen for the plot hook, line and sinker. The Happy Town had something of a mixed reputation. It strove to give out a presentable image and dealt with troublemakers in a determined fashion; the bouncers were quick to act and prone to meting out bans to drunken patrons who broke the rules of decent conduct. On the other hand, the fun-loving, mate-seeking 20-somethings of this part of the county had few other places to go, and so almost everyone always gathered there to have a good time. As a result, the establishment drew in an eclectic mixture of people, from well-to-do upper middle class coeds to essentially broke rednecks and from awkward, shy geeks on their first night out to small-time criminals and tough guys looking for a brawl. The minimum requirement for anyone who considered himself or herself a member of the local party scene was to put in a regular appearance at the Happy Town. After Scott had reached legal drinking age, and mostly before his romance with Sammy Kosinski had blossomed, we had made an occasional foray to the club together. The preparations invariably included downing a respectable amount of liquor to get rid of our social anxieties, and whenever we were able to get in, we would drink more and make fools of ourselves on and outside the dance floor. Not infrequently, the club visit ended with one of Scott's hilarious drunken stunts and the staff escorting us out. That night, however, I was completely sober and driving. I navigated to the parking lot that lay across the street from the club, drove to the end that abutted on the property of a nearby motel, found a free space and parked the car there. "I've gotta say," Faith spoke up with a subdued laugh as we were getting out of the car, "that you've looked better, B. But whatever works for you, I guess." "Like I've explained two times already," I said, "it's a disguise. I'm trying to attract as little attention as possible." "And scare off the birds?" "Very funny." For this outing, I obviously required an outfit that would make me inconspicuous and homely, and after careful deliberation I had settled on a pair of sneakers, Kate's dark velour trousers, a blue hoodie and an oversized black leather jacket, the latter from my own old wardrobe. I had no more than my typical casual amount of cosmetics on. The crowning glory was Jake's dark brown curly wig, which was intended to hide my blond mane and lessen the similarity in appearance between me and a certain TV character, and likewise between me and the actress who had become a household name by playing her. I had calculated that I would likely be allowed in, however barely, but escape notice and attempts by men to hit on me. The getup had earned me plenty of jeering remarks from Kate and Faith, but I had ignored them steadfastly. Faith, in contrast, had to dress to impress. Moreover, she scarcely felt the kind of misgivings about being "recognized" in the first place that I did. She had wrapped herself in an aquamarine duvet jacket to stay warm, but this garment hid a dark blue spaghetti-strapped top that showed enough skin for purposes of seduction. The outfit was rounded out by black skin-tight pants and her boots. "You got your license?" Faith asked me as we started towards the street and the club's main entrance. "The fake one?" "Sure," I said. "It's not often that you see the goons at the door card a girl, though, unless she's clearly underage. You'll get in but they might refuse to serve you anything alcoholic at the bar." "We'll have nothing to worry about in that regard. Let's conquer the joint!" "Scott would always say something along those lines when we came here." "Happy memories?" "Sort of. Our misadventures here weren't necessarily all that much fun when they happened, but they're sometimes great to look back on later, like the one when Scott stole a bottle brush from the bar." "What?" Faith laughed out loud. "Why did he do that?" "I have no idea. He just did and stuffed it in his trouser pocket. Anyway, the next thing I knew there was this 300-pound gorilla behind us, and he kicked us both out straight away and slapped a two-week ban on us. Scott still had the brush not too long ago, as a memento." "Wow. Seems you were nowhere near as pathetic and boring as I thought. Maybe I should have hung out with you guys every now and then." "Speaking of pathetic," I continued, changing the subject, "you'll only do what's absolutely necessary with Bucko, right? This whole thing bothers me a lot, and---" "Look, he won't get further than second base with me," Faith said. "I may be kinda promiscuous but I'm not so desperate or horny I'd fuck literally any random man I happen to meet. This Bucko dude doesn't sound like a prime specimen of the male sex." It was a little past nine, so the queue in front of the doors was only a few persons in length. The crew at the entrance consisted of a scrawny, shortish man with a spiked blond hair and two hulking bodybuilder types with shaven heads, supported by a third just inside in the foyer. When Faith and I reached the door, the small man took our forged driver's licenses, scanned our faces quickly with his eyes and handed the cards back to us, giving us a nod as a sign of approved entry. One of the heavies opened the door for us. I uttered a "Thank you" to them collectively but received nothing in response, not even the tiniest of change in their facial expressions. They seemed to be taking their job and themselves far more seriously than their colleagues at the Bronze in Sunnydale, which was the last nightclub I had visited. Despite or rather because of their attitude, these fellows might not have lasted long in the deceptively welcoming Californian town. The Happy Town had been built as a warehouse some time in the early 1900s. It was a large, two-story red brick house, and it had retained its ornate exterior window and door trims and other small features that hinted at its age and background, even though the interior had been thoroughly remodeled. As another reminder of its past, the building was divided into a series of rooms of disparate sizes. The nightclub owner had put a bar and a dance floor in the four largest ones and assigned each a theme. The rooms on the first floor generally catered to a more mature, rock-oriented taste, whereas the upper floor rooms were dedicated to techno and dance pop. The lobby held the coat check, which was combined with the ticket stand. Faith and I paid our entrance fees and left our coats there. With the confidence of an experienced club patron, my teammate immediately headed for the downstairs Rock Room and its bar. The house was nowhere near full at this early hour, but several men in their twenties, together with a woman of similar age, were already leaning listlessly against the walls of the short corridor that connected the lobby and the Rock Room. One of them was apparently trying to find his way to the toilets, with a look of desperation and drunken confusion on his face. A pair of bouncers hurried past us in the opposite direction, carrying between them a lanky man whose head had nodded off and who was as good as unconscious. It was anyone's guess whether the partygoer would end up in the town jail or the hospital emergency room to receive a gastric irrigation. Raucous music, flashing multicolored lights and an almost empty dance floor greeted us in the Rock Room. Faith stopped briefly to have a look around, grinned and then continued on to the bar. "What'll you have?" she asked me as we got there. Although we were right next to one another, she had to raise her voice to be heard. "It's okay," I replied. "I'll get myself a soda." "No, I'm buying. What do you want?" "A soda on the rocks. Whatever they have." "Got it." She marched to the bar, leaned over it and made her order, topped with an unabashedly seductive smile for the bartender. In another half-minute or so, she had a mojito for herself and a soft drink for me, and we retreated to one of the tables that were set by the walls of the room. They formed a loose circle around the dance floor in the middle. We had to sit close to each other to be able to converse without having to shout. "About Bucko," I said. "How is he going to get in past those people at the door? He's underage." "He told me on the phone he's got a fake ID," Faith replied. "And you're trusting him on that?" "For the present. If he screws up, we'll just have to improvise." "Bucko screwing up is pretty much a foregone conclusion." "He's got good motivation this time around. There's pussy in it for him, so he'll be doing his best to make everything work. If things go south, we'll just play it by the ear." While I was admittedly ill at ease for several different reasons, I nevertheless made an effort to relax and enjoy the atmosphere. I let my gaze wander over the room as I tasted the soda. At the next table over, only a few feet away, there was a young couple kissing, and my eyes homed in on them despite my attempts to look away. They were unmistakably happy together. The man ran his fingers through a strand of her light brown hair, looked her in the eyes and again kissed her tenderly on the lips while she reciprocated, radiating bliss with her every gesture and body movement. A feeling of forlornness, seasoned with a bit of self-pity, came over me. In my previous male life, I had witnessed plenty of lovers' shared moments from the sidelines, and my own emotions had usually been similar; however, they were somehow more poignant now, whether it was because I was going through trying times and was mentally vulnerable or because my female hormones were surging. Why wasn't I able to find anyone to love like that? Was it ordained by fate that I should be alone forever? Faith's voice, coming from beside my left ear, disrupted my thoughts. "Yeah, he's got a great butt!" "Huh?" I blurted out, mortified that the man and the woman might have heard her. "What do you---?" "You were checking out that man's ass," she clarified, "and I'm saying I agree that it looks good." "No, I wasn't," I protested swiftly. The couple got on their feet and left to dance, so engrossed in each other that if Faith's voice had carried over the roaring music, her remarks had luckily gone unnoticed by the two. "Oh yes, you were," she argued. "You most definitely were, Buffy! By the way, if you want to sink your little claws in him, I think you could get him to leave her for you. She doesn't have that much going for her, if you know what I mean." "But I wasn't checking him out!" "Bullshit," she laughed. "You've got to learn how to lie better, B." Our squabbling and my bleak state of mind both came rapidly to an end. When I turned my eyes to the doorway leading to the corridor, I saw a skinny boy in his late teens, with swept back dark brown hair and an angular face, stumble into the room. His arms and legs were thin and spindly, giving him an inch or two of illusory additional height and also an indelible air of awkwardness, quite apart from his demeanor. He had on a pair of torn blue jeans and a white polo shirt with a stylized, grainy picture of a motorcycle and a company logo. Even from this distance, the stare of his dark eyes struck me as vacant and unfocused. The man of the hour had arrived. He was Judson "Bucko" Griffin, a future living legend, ready to sweep his blind date off her feet. But unbeknownst to him, the date that he had was actually with destiny, and it would very soon strip him of his masculinity and his self, if we had our way.