Chronicle Three: The Rat's Tale

Buffy was patrolling. It was a nice night for it. Clear, not too cold, not too hot and the moon was nice and bright. In fact, it was perfect. Except for one little, tiny detail. She had a shadow. True to her word, Amy had followed Buffy on her patrol, never more than two steps away from the slayer. She even made herself useful, hauling around the clunky and unfashionable bag o’ stakes that Buffy hated, yet needed for her job. What was worse was the young woman’s surprising efficiency. She always had two stakes ready for Buffy to grab.

On top of all that, it was a busy night. Vampire after vampire, demon after demon, Buffy slew and Amy, well, Amy ducked and ran and stayed out of the way as best as she could. Currently, they were patrolling one of the many cemeteries that dotted Sunnydale’s neighborhoods.

"So this is Paradise Lawns. Doesn’t look like Paradise to me, much, what with all the headstones and dead people, but there you go." Amy nodded solemnly, offering Buffy a new stake to replace the one that broken during the last fight.

"Thanks. Anyway, so this is what I do, every night, but then you knew that, because you were with me as a rat and why, do I suddenly feel like I’m living a bad remake of ‘Dead Again’? I mean, do I look like Kenneth Brannagh to you? No. And I hate to say this, but you are way prettier than Emma Thompson, so why am I making like Willow and babbling my head off?"

"Now what do we have here? Looks like the Slayer got herself a puppy." A newly risen vamp stepped out from the shadows, several of his cronies shadowing him. "Here, puppy, puppy. You look like you’d be tasty," the demon licked his lips.

"Oh please. Spare me the repartee. Your quips are childish and you’re wasting my time," Buffy said, reaching for a stake. Amy handed it over wordlessly, smiling in anticipatory glee.

One of the vamps piped up. "What’s the matter, puppy, are you stupid or something? Cat got your tongue?" The other vamps laughed and high-fived each other..

"Oh, great, I had to get the Beavis and Butthead vamps tonight," Buffy said, flipping the stake around into a ready position.

"I’m hurt," the lead vamp said, looking at his followers. "You’ve insulted my people. Now I’m going to have to hurt you."

"Get her, Pete," one of the vamps egged the leader on, "we’ll take the dummy," he added, pointing at Amy.

Amy frowned at him and flicked her wrist, sending the stake flying at him, hitting him square in the heart. "Bad," she said, as Buffy gawked.

"Go Amy," Buffy said encouragingly, leaping toward the now angry group of vamps. Amy grinned and proceeded to pitch stakes with unerring accuracy at the vamps that Buffy missed. It was a short, but brutal fight. When it was over, Buffy limped over to Amy, who was massaging her wrist. "Where’d you learn to toss a stake like that?"

Amy frowned and concentrated, finally saying, "Grr, mom, grr," and making throwing motions.

Buffy blinked confusedly. "Grr, mom, grr? Hungry mom?" she asked uncertainly, but Amy shook her head negatively and made a mean face. "Grr… grr? Angry? Mean? Mom…mom…your mom?" she asked, adding, "body switching bitch who wanted to be a cheerleader?"

"Yes! Grr!" Amy nodded emphatically, picking up a stick about the size of a dart and throwing it at a tree. When Buffy still didn’t get it, Amy paced around, thinking. "Amy…hate," she said haltingly, "mom. Daddy have dirtbard, dortbird, um…"

"Yes! Dart board! Amy have picture of mom. Amy throw dart at mom," Amy put actions to her words, picking up random sticks and pitching them at a knothole in a tree and hitting the mark almost every time.

"I like you too, Amy," Buffy said, putting a hand on the young woman’s shoulder.

Amy grabbed Buffy and hugged her, joyfully chanting, "Amy-Buffy-friends," over and over again. When she tired of that, she let go of Buffy and said, "Amy really like Buffy."

Buffy laughed and started to walk back toward home. "I really like you too, Amy."

Buffy stopped walking. In fact, she almost stopped standing, but held herself upright through sheer force of will. Slowly, she turned around to face Amy, who was standing almost on the slayer’s heels, arms held behind her back and smiling shyly.

Buffy slowly shook her head. "No, Amy. Amy doesn’t kiss Buffy. Buffy not - I’m not…" how did she explain to the young woman that she wasn’t interested in girls. But you are, or at least, you were, her inner voice said mockingly, taunting her with half-remembered daydreams of kissing Willow. That’s different, Buffy protested silently, I was young, and it was a phase.

She tried to make it sound convincing, but her mind had other ideas. It persisted in pointing out all of Amy’s good qualities, such as the beautiful red-gold hair that the moonlight washed out to a pale silver, the clear blue eyes that seemed to look right through her and the heart-shaped face that smiled sweetly whenever she noticed Buffy looking at her.

"But she’s like a child," Buffy protested aloud, then clapped her hand over her mouth as Amy’s face fell.

"Amy not child," she said sadly. "Amy stupid," she said with a grim finality that struck Buffy to the quick.

"No Amy," Buffy said gently, reaching a hand out toward the girl, then stopping, "you’re not stupid. Maybe I am. Can you - will you accept that I can’t make that kind of step with you right now? It’s just too soon."

Amy looked at Buffy, eyes filling with tears. "Buffy not like Amy," she said, as tears glistened on her cheeks.

"Not that way," Buffy said, wondering if she was telling the truth, or if she was just fooling herself.

When they got home, they found a note from Joyce, which caused an impromptu reading lesson. The gist of the message was that Buffy’s mom had made up the spare bedroom for Amy and had made sure there would be breakfast for the girls, and that she was going out of town the next day to look at some things for the gallery. The last thing Joyce had written made Buffy groan. "I left some money on the counter. Perhaps you can take Amy shopping tomorrow. Buy her some nice clothing, since all her old things were donated when her father left town. See you afterwards for supper. Love, Mom."

"Okay, let’s get some shut-eye," Buffy said between yawns. Amy nodded as she finished re-reading the note for the tenth time, sounding out each word slowly, as if tasting them.

"Hey, you made a good sentence," Buffy said proudly, lightly patting Amy on the back.

Amy smiled briefly, then accompanied the slayer upstairs. She quietly followed Buffy to her room, to the bathroom where they both changed into sleepware and into the spare bedroom, where Buffy turned down the covers on the bed. "Okay, in you go."

"No," Amy said, using the word for the first time, "No, no, no, no! Amy sleep with Buffy!" The young woman reached out and touched Buffy’s shoulder, where she, as a rat, had slept every night for two weeks.

Buffy shook her head. "Amy, you can’t sleep with me anymore, my bed’s too small." It was a feeble excuse, and by Amy’s expression, Buffy could tell the young woman knew it.

"No," Buffy said, sharply, having had it with Amy’s persistence. "I’m sleeping in my own bed and you’re sleeping in here and that’s final!" she said, and walked out before Amy could say anything else. Buffy quickly strode into her room, shut the door and locked it. "Oh God, Summers, could you be any crueler?" she asked herself, flopping down on her bed. She almost got up and gave in, but something, some little, niggling part of herself refused to allow Amy’s stricken face to rule her actions. Instead, she forced herself to pull up her covers and close her eyes.

The next morning, when Buffy sleepily opened her door, she got the shock of a lifetime. Amy was curled up on the floor, sleeping right up against her door. Embarrassed beyond belief, Buffy looked around to see if her mom had noticed, but apparently, either Amy had waited until Joyce had left, or her mom had been so sleepy-eyed when she woke up, that she hadn’t noticed the extra decoration in front of Buffy’s room.

"I," Amy started to say, trying hard to make herself understood. "I sleep with Buffy - comfort you," she finally got out.

Buffy had to smile, because it was true. "Yes, when you slept with me as a rat, it gave me a lot of comfort, but, it’s …different… now."

Buffy settled on the floor next to Amy and shrugged. "I don’t know. I just know that it’s different."

Buffy dropped a friendly arm around Amy’s shoulders and gave the young woman a one-armed hug. "No, it’s not. I can’t really explain that to you Amy, other than to say that kissing is something people do when they’re in love."

"Amy love Buffy," Amy said with a certainty that sent a bolt of electricity straight through Buffy’s gut.

"I love you too, Amy, but I’m not in," she stressed in, "love with you." She sighed. "I’m sorry I suck so bad at explaining this stuff," Buffy said, resting her head against the door.

"Buffy not suck," Amy declared. "Amy not understand, but Amy try h-harder to l-learn, okay?"

The slayer smiled and nodded. "You bet," she said, standing up. "Now how about some breakfast?"

After breakfast, came bathing and a whole new realm of hilarity for the slayer and her newly de-ratted friend. Buffy carefully explained how to wash while drawing a nice warm bath for Amy. Once the tub was full, she turned to Amy and said, "Okay, I’m going to use mom’s shower, so you just go ahead and climb on in and wash up like I told you, okay?"

"Okay," Amy said, nodding. Satisfied that the young woman had understood, Buffy grabbed her clothes and went into her mom’s bedroom. She turned on the shower and got in, beginning her ritual by lathering up her hair. Her eyes were closed and the water was at its full blast, so when she felt a second set of hands begin to assist with the scrubbing, she was rightfully surprised.

Without bothering to open her eyes, the slayer grabbed her attacker and had them pressed against the tiled wall in under a heartbeat. Quickly, she rinsed off her face, saying, "I don’t know who the hell you think you are, but you’ve got to be one hell of a perv-" she opened her eyes to see Amy, pale as a ghost and ready to faint with fear, hunched up under her rough grip. "Amy? Oh God, I’m so, so sorry!" she said, immediately letting the girl go.

"Amy sorry," Amy babbled over and over, backing away from Buffy and managing to slip in the wet shower. Only Buffy’s slayer reflexes kept the young woman from falling and injuring herself.

"Amy, what were you doing, coming in here?" Buffy gently asked, trying to keep from blowing her top.

"Amy help Buffy," Amy sobbed, shaking with fear and trying to cower away from the slayer.

"I don’t hate you, Amy. I…I just wasn’t expecting you, that’s all. I don’t normally need help in the shower."

Buffy frowned, then laughed. "Oh, you mean when I bathed you back at the dorm? Yeah, I did, but that’s because you were a rat."

"Maybe Amy like being rat better than Human," Amy said grumpily. "As rat, Amy got to patrol with Buffy, to sleep with Buffy and be bathed by Buffy. Amy don’t see what good about being Human now," she sighed heavily. "Buffy make Amy rat again?" she asked, with wistful expression on her face.

"Oh Amy," Buffy said, feeling like the scum on the bottom of an empty swimming pool, "why do you want these things? I’m nothing special."

"Buffy care for Amy when no one else did," Amy said, as if that explained everything.

"Yes, Amy love Willow too, but Willow have Tara now. Buffy have no one, so Amy is Buffy’s." Amy’s lifted her head and suddenly Buffy knew what it must have been like for Willow to look into Tara’s eyes and see the whole universe reflected back at her.

Painfully, the slayer tore herself from Amy’s liquid blue gaze. I can’t, she told herself. I just can’t fall in love again. Not now. I need time. Time to heal, and time to walk alone. I’ve learned the hard way that falling in love time after time doesn’t do anything but make it harder the next time they leave you.

"Amy," Buffy said, taking a deep breath, "you are my friend. As a human, or as a rat. But I’ve only known you as a human for a short time. I-I’d really like the opportunity to know you better, before you make any life altering decisions."

"Great, now let’s finish this shower thing before the water turns to complete ice!" Buffy and Amy showered quickly, with a minimum of fuss, then got ready to go shopping.

Shopping used to be Buffy Summers’ favorite pastime. In fact, just two days ago, she would have told anyone who asked that shopping was a contact sport, meant to be approached with the same fierce competitiveness as any Olympic game. Now, however, in the company of the newly de-ratted Amy, it was hell. Not because of Amy, no, never that. If anything, Amy’s company made it even more fun. No, the hell part of it came when Amy opened her mouth to tell Buffy about what she liked and didn’t like about the clothing they were looking at. Because when Amy spoke, people stared. Open-mouthed, wide-eyed and whisper-behind-the-hands stared, and the slayer found that very irritating.

Buffy had never before been so aware of how "normal" people treated those with disabilities, but today, today she was getting a complete education in the cruelty of humanity. It was enough to make her want to turn her membership card in and go sign up for the Demon Corps.

The worst offenders were children. For some reason, the little darlings felt they had to point out, in the loudest voice possible, "Mommy, that girl over there is a retard," as if Amy were afflicted with some particularly awful disease, one that was even worse than the dreaded cootie.

All through it, Amy stoically ignored the jibes and insults, the stares and the hidden glances; only Buffy gave each and every offender a long, unforgiving glare. Of course, Buffy missed the looks of pure love and adoration that Amy would then bestow upon her, but that was all right, because Amy was learning a little something about wooing her slayer. Yes, indeed, she was certainly learning.

While Buffy spent her mother’s money on clothing and things for Amy, Amy observed and absorbed every bit of information she could. The young woman was determined to rid herself of the pesky after-effects of being a rat in as short a time as possible so that she could become the kind of person Buffy would fall in love with.

Amy stared adoringly at Buffy as the slayer paid for yet another outfit. The young woman sighed, finding herself wishing she could just walk over and run her fingers through the slayer’s beautiful blonde hair. Her attraction to Buffy was a little odd, but Amy shrugged it off as a part of growing and changing. Before being a rat, Amy would have never looked twice at another girl. Boys were her entire world, a world that was tainted by the memory of her mother and how the woman had manipulated her every thought and action. Once she had been freed of Catherine’s influence, Amy had vowed to remove the blinders she had been forced to wear.

What a revelation that had been! Suddenly, all the things that her mother had deemed important, like watching her weight, finding the right shoes and marrying the right man had become the very last things on Amy’s mind. Instead, she was consumed by an insatiable curiosity - a curiosity that even now was burbling beneath the surface of her consciousness. Following that, she’d turned her speculative eye toward the fairer sex and found that the idea of kissing girls wasn’t nearly as disgusting as her mother had made it out to be. Oh, she still liked boys, but girls were now an option as well.

Before the incident with the child-like vengeance demons, Amy would most likely have fixed her affections on her witchy buddy Willow, but afterwards, she discovered that it was Buffy’s quixotic humor and California girl good looks that really drew her attention. As her Human memories faded away and were replaced by the rat’s instincts, she found herself drawn to the slayer’s strength and tenacity. When her Humanity was briefly restored, it was Buffy’s voice that made her so happy that she almost broke her wheel, and finally, when she was fully returned to Humanity, it was Buffy’s face she sought, Buffy’s arms she longed to feel and Buffy’s love she craved.

Oh yes, Amy was desperately, deeply, tragically in love with the slayer, and that was okay with her. Because Amy Madison had one advantage over Buffy Summers - Amy was an empath. At first, Amy had been completely unable to understand the strange sensations that were racing through her mind, but as she spend more time as a human, feeling human emotions, she realized what was happening.

It was earlier that day, in the shower, that her newfound powers had given her the lifeline she needed to keep her afloat. When she had clumsily told the slayer of her feelings and the two had shared a long glance, Buffy’s own emotions had betrayed the slayer. Even if the slayer refused to admit it, she was as drawn to Amy as Amy was to her. So there was no way in hell that Amy was going to give up.

"Okay, Amy, I think we got what we needed here. Are you hungry?" Buffy said as she slipped yet another bag into the huge paper sack she’d been using to carry the smaller bags in.

"Yes, Amy hungry. Buffy call Willow now?" Amy asked, reminding the slayer of her promise to have lunch with the gang today.

"Sure, let’s find a phone," Buffy said, taking Amy’s hand in hers and heading for the exit.

As they left, Amy overheard the clerk say to the next customer, "Isn’t that sweet of her? Taking her sister out shopping even though she’s obviously too retarded to enjoy it?"

"Oh yes," the customer agreed, turning to watch Buffy and Amy walk out, "it just does my heart good to see such familial devotion. Why my sister’s boyfriend’s cousin is dumb just like that…"

"Amy not dumb," Amy whispered determinedly. "Amy will learn. Yes. Amy will learn so much stuff that no one will ever say Amy dumb again," she vowed quietly.

"No, Amy say nothing," Amy smiled and walked out. "Thank you," she said, taking hold of the handle and holding the door open for Buffy.

The afternoon sun was warm and pleasant and almost drove out the lingering bad taste shopping had left in the mouths of both young women.

They met the rest of the gang at Mama Rose’s for lunch. Xander and Anya were the first to arrive, so they scored a table in the shade, while Tara and Willow showed up next. Buffy and Amy were last, since they had walked from the shopping center downtown to the little café near the college campus. The other four members of their little group had already ordered drinks, so Buffy just asked the waitress to bring a couple of sodas for her and Amy.

Buffy and Amy casually walked up to the table, dropped their packages next to their chairs and sat down. "Hey Xander," Buffy said, running a hand through her hair.

"Oh, look, it’s the Slayer and… who’s the new girl?" Anya said, peering around Xander, who had his nose planted in a comic book.

"No way!" he said, as he read. "There’s just no way she can be a vamp and not go ‘poof!’ in sunlight, right Buff?" he asked, without looking up from the book.

"Xander!" Anya said, snapping her fingers in front of his face. "Hello, new person sitting at the table!"

"Oh, that’s right, Anya, you didn’t know Amy. Amy, this is Anya; Anya, Amy," Buffy said, picking up her menu and perusing it. Amy gave the former vengeance demon a little wave and smiled winningly.

"Amy? As in, Amy-the-rat, Amy?" Anya asked as Xander let his comic book fall to his lap.

"Amy?" he said, turning to stare at the young woman he hadn’t seen in almost two years. He blinked in surprise, then jumped out of his chair and ran around the table to hug her. "Amy!" he crowed joyfully, dancing around delightedly. He turned to Willow and hugged her. "You did it! You brought her back! Way to go wiccagirl! You got the mojo now," he said pulling her out of her seat to do a little victory dance.

"Actually, it was Tara who found the spell…" Willow said hugging Xander back after they had circled the table once.

"Tara! You witchy, vampy, woman you! I am so blessed to be counted among your friends," Xander said expansively, enveloping the astonished wiccan in a huge hug.

Anya got up out of her chair, walked over to Amy and grabbed her collar. "Okay, who the hell are you and what the hell have you done to my boyfriend?"

Amy flinched away from Anya, then gave Buffy a pleading glance, unable to cope with all the chaos. "Is Amy," she said simply, hoping that Buffy would rescue her.

She wasn’t disappointed. "Anya, sit down. This is Amy. She was a friend of ours before she turned herself into a rat. Xander’s just glad to see her, that’s all. Relax, no one’s going to take your bed buddy away from you."

Anya slowly let the young woman go, giving her a long stare, then said, "Okay, but just remember, Xander’s mine and you can’t have him!"

"Xander Anya’s," Amy agreed, nodding emphatically, her blue eyes wide as saucers.

The gang laughed. Xander came around and timidly reached for Amy, who stared at him for a minute, then smiled. "Xander," she said happily. "Funny boy," she added, hugging him warmly.

"Yup, that’s me, the funny man. But, um, what’s with the funky speech?" he asked after sitting back down.

"It’s a side-effect of the transformation. She was a rat for so long that much of her Human memory was shut off. Now that she’s back to her normal form, she’s got to relearn what she forgot," Tara explained, as a waitress approached the table.

"Ah, okay. Well," he said, giving Amy a thumbs up, "here’s hoping you can remember everything." He thought about that, then said, "Well, all of it except when I…"

They each ordered, while Buffy pointed out the different selections on the menu to Amy, going over each item at least twice before Amy smiled and nodded. The slayer looked up at the patiently waiting waitress and smiled. "I’ll have the chicken salad with ranch dressing, please."

"Okay, honey. What’s your sister want?" the waitress asked in a voice full of pity as she gave Amy a look that clearly said she thought the girl was as dumb as a post.

"Amy not sister," Amy said defiantly, frowning fiercely at the waitress. "Amy not stupid, either. Amy just need to ‘member," she explained patiently. The waitress just stared at Amy blankly, nodding. "Amy want hamburger, fries and a chocolate milkshake," she said, giving the order in precise tones.

"Okay, kid, how d’ya want that burger?" the waitress asked, scribbling down the order in her notepad.

"Cooked," Amy replied, as if that should be obvious. Everyone at the table tried to keep from chuckling, and only just barely succeeded.

The waitress rolled her eyes. "Everyone’s a comedian. Your burger, girl, do you want it rare, medium or well done?"

"Just make it well done," Buffy said, forestalling a question she saw in Amy’s eyes.

After lunch, Buffy took Amy to see Giles. The watcher was very surprised by Amy’s presence and had many questions for Buffy. Once she had explained how Willow and Tara had restored Amy to her Human form, Giles had begun to muse on what things would be like now that they had another potential witch in the group.

"There’s a very strong significance to the power of three," he was saying, rummaging through his books frenetically. "This has to have happened for a reason."

"Yeah, right, I mean, Willow and Tara couldn’t have just turned Amy back into a human because of the strength of their combined witchy powers," Buffy said sarcastically, while Amy flitted around the room, picking up various objects and studying them curiously.

At first, Buffy thought she was going to have a repeat of the night before when the young woman had made a mess of Willow and Tara’s living room, but she noticed that Amy was very careful and seemed far more interested in finding out how an object worked than in determining what it was.

Finally, Amy found the television and turned it on. For just one, brief instant, Buffy had a bad Splash! flashback, but she let it go, knowing that in the modern age, the television would be a quick way for Amy to regain some of her lost vocabulary.

Giles stopped what he was doing to look at Amy, then at Buffy. "Buffy," he began, sighing. "As much as I would like to think that it was as simple as what you suggest, I’m afraid that I just can’t trust anything around the Hellmouth anymore."

Buffy nodded. "I know, but, sometimes I just wish things could happen because they happen, and not because of some Higher Power’s grand scheme."

The watcher carefully replaced the book he had been looking through and dug up another one. After reading it for a few minutes, he asked, "Has Amy demonstrated any ability with her magic since becoming human again?"

Buffy shook her head. "No. At least, not that I’ve seen. Why don’t you ask her?"

"I’ll do that," he said, moving to sit down next to the enthralled young woman. "Amy?" he said, tapping her on the shoulder.

Amy jumped a little, but turned her head to face Giles. "Books! Bookman!" Amy said, laughing. "Mr. Giles," she added, after closing her eyes and thinking really hard. "Amy member you. You help Amy with h-homework."

"Yes, yes I did assist you with your school work, Amy," Giles said slowly, hoping to warm the girl up to harder subjects. "Amy," he began, "do you remember what you used to do before you became a rat?"

"Yes! Amy study. Amy work. Amy cast!" she said, wiggling her fingers a little and frowning in concentration. A patch of the floor in front of the young woman suddenly sprouted daisies.

"Well, I guess that answers that question," Buffy said, laughing. She sat down on the couch and Amy immediately scooted over to sit next to the slayer’s legs.

"That’s excellent, Amy," Giles said, after some few moments of silence. "Would you - would you like to continue casting?"

"Everything!" the young woman said enthusiastically. "Want to help Buffy," she said, looking up at the slayer, eyes filling with pure adoration.

Giles looked from the slayer to the young woman at her feet and back again, then coughed. "Yes, well, ahem. What if you could learn to cast safely?"

Amy’s face twisted as she considered this idea. "Amy no know," she finally answered. "Amy think about it, though."

"Excellent," Giles said, standing up and returning to his book. Amy smiled and turned back to the TV.

Buffy got up and joined Giles at the table. "Okay, Watcher-mine, spill. What’s so important about Amy being a witch?"

…and there shall come to pass, in the time of the doubly chosen, that he shall arise and walk unshadowed among them. And he shall be magnificent, and command the ley forces with ease and he shall reap a crimson harvest among the mortal sheep. His coming will unite the brethren and all shall bow before him.

…and they shall rise against him, and there shall be three of the power and two of the path. The guardians will find the path, but only the chosen will walk it. One shall have walked in two worlds, but belong to none. One is a trickster, ever changing and mutable, he must be controlled if the Magus is to succeed…

Buffy stopped reading and looked at Giles. "But this…this is about the Master, right? Please tell me this is about the Master, or someone I’ve already defeated."

Giles sighed sadly. "I’m afraid not. Actually, the Watcher’s Council was never certain that this was an accurate prophecy at all, since it was part of the ravings of a complete imbecile of a vampire. I’m not sure what prompted me to look at it now, but, if I’m right, we are facing the arrival of this vampire warlock, and soon."

"Why do I not like the sound of those two words used together in the same sentence?" Buffy lamented, looking over at Amy, who was happily watching television, practicing new words with glee.

The Vessel arrived in Sunnydale at dusk, at the hour when all the residents rushed to get home before the frenzy of the town’s unusual nighttime prowlers began. As it walked down the rapidly emptying streets, the shadows seemed to gather around it, drawn as if by some crazy magnetic force. It looked around, and sneered hatefully. Cold green eyes glittered wickedly in a face shrouded by veils and shadows. Soon, it breathed to itself as one of the Human sheep it so despised shoved past it, heading for a parked car. Soon, this place and all within it would know of it’s Chosen Glory. Soon, He would come and all and would worship His name.

Two days later Joyce returned with a carload of interesting and unique items for the gallery. Buffy and Amy were quickly pressed into service; first unloading the items into the gallery’s back room, then unpacking them for cataloguing and pricing. The two young women handled the heavy work while Joyce handled the more delicate tasks.

"So, how have things been going?" Mrs. Summers asked as Buffy deposited a long paper tube against a wall.

"Great, mom, really. Right, Amy?" Buffy replied, wiping her forehead and taking a drink of water from the bottle she had left on a table.

"Oh yes, it’s been just totally groovy tubular, Mrs. S," Amy replied absently as she read the packing slip on the box she was carrying.

"She’s been watching TV. It’s kinda like a bad Splash! rerun but," the slayer shrugged slightly, "it does help."

"I like reading too," Amy said, finally relinquishing her box to Joyce’s hands. "What is a ‘native phallic icon’?"

"It’s an object of fertility art from a tribe in South America," Joyce said, opening the box and removing a unique piece of painted wood. She handed it to Amy, who studied it curiously for a few minutes, then handed it back.

"Like, that’s way too cool, Mrs. S.," Amy said, then turned to Buffy and asked, "Are we almost done ‘cuz I don’t like, want to miss Quincy. He’s just the bomb-o-rama!"

"Almost. Just give me a sec to bring in the last two boxes. Why don’t you go take a look at mom’s reference library?" Buffy suggested, completely serious. The slayer pointed toward an office just outside of the storage room.

"Books!" Amy squealed happily, racing off. Five minutes later, she popped out of the office with a stack of books six inches thick and settled herself happily in a chair. Sighing with obvious pleasure, the girl opened the first book and began to read.

Joyce looked at the young woman, then at her daughter. "Care to explain why Amy isn’t acting like a normal teenager?"

Buffy shrugged again. "Dunno. She seems to just absorb knowledge. She’s read every book in the house, at least twice."

Joyce blinked in surprise, then frowned in concern. "Do you think this is some strange side-effect from Willow’s spell?"

Buffy shook her head. "I don’t think so. I mean, Will would have mentioned something like this. I asked Giles about it and he agrees. He also suggested that Amy might be doing this to get attention, but I’m not so sure I agree with that… she just seems to really love learning stuff. Anyway, who could blame her? I mean, just yesterday she could barely put a whole sentence together and now she knows all about the Chin Dynasty."

Joyce just shook her head wonderingly. "Well, if it is a side-effect, I can’t see how it would be a bad one. You could benefit from her example, Buffy."

"I’m just saying that if the habit stays, she’ll certainly do well in school. Speaking of school, is she going to have to go back to high school?" Joyce asked curiously.

"No, Giles said that all she has to do is study and take her GED. If she passes, UC Sunnydale will more than likely accept her. I mean, it’s not like kids are fighting to get into Hellmouth U." Buffy said, grabbing a chair with her foot and sitting down to talk.

"Oh, yes, that does make sense. I guess the high mortality rate would make most parents think at least twice before sending their kids to school here," Joyce said absently, removing a bubble-wrapped cigar box from the carton she was working through.

Joyce laughed. "All right, just a second. Goodness Buffy, you’d think you’d grow out of that habit."

"No way!" Buffy said, bouncing her legs. "Bubble wrap poppage is, like, the coolest!"

After carefully removing the plastic wrapping from the box, Joyce handed it over to her daughter and watched as Buffy gleefully began crushing the bubbles, laughing happily each time they popped loudly. Amy looked up from her book, then wandered over to see what was happening. Buffy showed her the wrap and demonstrated her favorite popping technique.

"Sure," Buffy said, tearing the remaining unpopped portion off and handing it to the young woman. Amy grinned and tried to pop a bubble. Crack! She giggled and tried again. Crack-crack! This time, she laughed, a gentle sound of mirth so happy that Buffy had to smile.

"Yeah, it is. It’s like the bestest way to relax," Buffy said, looking up and smiling at Amy.

"Thanks for letting me try it," Amy said, returning the smile, then handed the plastic back to Buffy.

"You’re welcome. Hey, you’ve still got bubbles," Buffy said, holding out the wrap.

Amy nodded and walked back over to her book. Buffy smiled and twisted the tube, causing the remaining air bubbles to explode loudly. "Ah, now that’s some good poppage!"

Joyce rolled her eyes and picked up the cigar box. It was made of what looked like aged mahogany and had a brass plate inset on the top. Inscribed on the plate were the words, "B.J. Chesley". She opened the box and coughed at the strong lingering odor of tobacco. Inside were a strange little knife and a smaller box full of stick matches.

Buffy looked up from her bubble wrap and ran her fingers over the brass plate. "Chesley…I wonder if that’s any relation to the people who built Chesley Manor?"

"I think so. The people I got this from said they bought it at an estate sale over fifty years ago," Joyce said, picking up her pen to enter the humidor into the gallery inventory.

"How much are you going to sell it for?" Buffy asked, suddenly seized by a wild idea.

"Oh, probably $500.00. It’s not that old, but tobacco memorabilia is fairly popular these days," Joyce replied absently.

"And how much would I have to pay for it?" Buffy asked, giving her mom her "I’m your daughter and you really love me, don’t you?" face.

"What would you want with a cigar box?" Joyce asked, putting the box down on the table.

"Well, I was thinking that Tara might like it for an incense box. I mean, if it did come from her place, I think it would be kinda cool to see it go back there," Buffy explained, thinking, Why the hell do I want that box? Incense my ass…it’s almost like I just know that Willow and Tara have to have that box, but why?

"Oh, well, why didn’t you say so? I think this would make a great housewarming gift! You’re so thoughtful, Buffy," Joyce said, reaching out and patting her daughter’s cheek fondly. "Now, go get the rest of the boxes so you and Amy can go home."

"So, who is Amy and why were you so happy to see her?" Anya demanded, putting her hands on her hips and glaring at Xander.

Xander looked up from making his bed and shrugged. "Just someone I’ve known for a while. We kinda got involved with her life right after Buffy showed up ‘cuz her mom was this evil witch who stole her body so she could be a cheerleader."

Anya frowned. "Forget I asked. Just…she’s not going to try to have orgasms with you, is she?" the former demon asked, walking up and sliding her arms around Xander’s waist, hugging him close.

Xander turned around and kissed Anya’s forehead. "No, An, she’s not. I wouldn’t let her, even if she wanted to."

"Good," Anya replied, resting her head against Xander’s chest. "How did the interview go?" Xander sighed, but didn’t reply. "That well? Does this mean you won’t be buying me any nice things?"

"An…I’ll get a job, I promise," Xander said quietly, resting his head on top of Anya’s and holding her close.

"You don’t have to, you know. D’Hoffryn may not have let me back into his cadre, but he’s also not going to let his favorite ex-demoness starve, either," Anya said.

Xander rubbed Anya’s back, then pulled away. "I know, but somehow the idea that my girlfriend has food in her belly because of the kindness of a demon doesn’t sit right with me." The young man walked over to his mini-fridge and pulled out a juice box and handed it to Anya. He took one for himself, popping in the straw neatly and taking a long sip before saying, "Besides, I really want to contribute something to the Scoobs when we move into Tara’s place."

Anya opened her drink and sucked on the straw provocatively. "Xander…can we talk about this later?" she asked suggestively, wiggling her eyebrows.

It was a good thing that Xander had learned to inhale his juice boxes in high school.

"So what’re you going to do with this again?" Willow asked Tara as she backed her newly purchased cargo van out of the DMV parking lot.

"I thought I’d have it painted and fixed up so we have wheels. I mean, if we’ve got a car, then the Scoobies could patrol a larger area of Sunnydale, right?" Tara said, turning onto the street and heading for the nearest Maaco, which was just a few streets away.

Tara shrugged. "Doesn’t the Scooby gang need a Mystery Machine?" she asked, thinking of the plate she had ordered - MYSTERY.

Tara pretended to look hurt, then laughed with her. "How about we get some lunch after I drop the van off?"

"Yum! I’m game," Willow replied, carelessly dropping her hand onto Tara’s thigh, then gently running her the tips of her fingers up and down the skin exposed there.

Tara raised an eyebrow and said, "Willow, if you keep doing that, lunch will turn into dinner."

Four weeks later, Amy passed her GED with flying colors. In fact, she did so well, that UC Sunnydale was nearly falling over itself, offering her a full scholarship. So were fifteen other universities, but UCS had the one thing that the others did not: Buffy Summers. A month full of Quincy, Profiler and Law and Order reruns had given Amy her life’s work, as well.

Coincidentally, UC Sunnydale just happened to offer one of the best programs in the western United States dedicated to the field that Amy wished to study - forensic science. It was an easy decision, really.

What was much, much harder was making the decision to contact her father. Surprisingly, Xander made a pretty good private detective, since his open face made others want to talk to him. One of Mr. Madison’s drinking buddies eventually spilled the beans on his location. Edward Paul Madison, formerly of Sunnydale, was now currently residing in the Golden Groves trailer park somewhere in southern Florida. One evening, instead of going with Buffy on patrol, Amy stayed behind and called her father.

She wasn’t sure what she was expecting when she reached him, but it certainly wasn’t his devil-may-care attitude, nor his complete dismissal of her existence from his life. "I just don’t want to deal with it anymore, kid," he said, then hung up.

The dial tone echoed in Amy’s ear as she sat on the couch and stared at the blank television screen. From somewhere deep within, she felt something shatter into a thousand particles. She hung up the phone, and when Joyce came out carrying two plates of spaghetti, she mechanically accepted the food and ate.

"Fine," Amy replied, then turned her attention to the episode of Law and Order they were watching.

It was a horrible night for slaying. Fourteen newly risen vamps, six demons and the restless spirit of a used car salesman had kept her busy well past her usual four hour patrol, even with the gang’s new vehicle. That in and of itself continued to amaze the slayer. Tara, bless her wiccan heart, had found a cargo van in decent repair and had it fixed up as the perfect slaymobile. A paint job had turned the vehicle into something that looked like it belonged at a Grateful Dead concert, a serious tune up had made the van into something that would win drag races and the interior - well, even Giles was impressed.

In the back, Tara had installed a fold-down cot for an injured passenger, while across from that was a huge chest that held all manor of first aid gear, as well as emergency spell casting supplies. The cot could also double as a stretcher in a pinch. Under the floor boards was a hidden weapons locker stocked with the niftiest of items. All in all, the Mystery Machine was just about the coolest thing on wheels that Buffy had ever seen.

Amy hadn’t accompanied the gang on their patrol; the young woman had located her absentee father and was going to call him. Buffy actually found herself missing Amy’s company, as well as her efficiency with weaponry while she patrolled. Mostly, she missed the young woman’s bright humor and shy smiles. More than once, she found herself wistfully thinking about Amy and wishing that she was there to trade bad dead vamp jokes with.

After her final staking, she looked up and said, "What do you call fourteen dead vamps?"

The two wiccans exchanged sardonic grins, then chuckled forcefully. Buffy sighed. It just wasn’t the same without Amy…

Two more steps and she was almost to her bedroom door, where she could collapse on her own bed and fall into the sleep of the almost dead. One thing stopped her. One, tiny, nearly inconsequential thing. A sound, just a sound, but it was a sound that did not belong in her house.

A sob, pure and wretched in its grief, pierced the quiet of the house, and caused Buffy to stop in her tracks. She looked over toward her mother’s bedroom door, but heard only Joyce’s soft, rhythmic snoring. On the other end of the hallway was the spare room where Amy had slept almost every night since becoming human. Another sob reached Buffy’s ears. Quickly, she tossed her weapons bag into her room, then sprinted over to Amy’s door.

She knocked softly, calling out, "Amy?" There was no reply. Carefully, so as not to wake her mother, Buffy opened the door and slipped inside.

Amy was curled up on the bed, crying softly. Buffy sat down on the edge of the bed and put her hand on Amy’s hip. The girl flinched away from the contact, but didn’t speak. "Amy," Buffy tried again, "what’s wrong?"

"I-I’m not w-wanted," Amy whispered wretchedly, sitting up and hugging her knees to her chest.

Amy shook her head. "No, I’m not," she sighed, and wiped her eyes. "I called my dad," she said softly, dropping her hand down to play with the blanket.

"And he told me that he didn’t want anything to do with me. And after that, he told me that he’d sold mom’s house and put the money in the bank for me. He said, ‘I just couldn’t take Sunnydale anymore, kid. So I decided to take it, and everything that had ever happened there, out of my life for good. I’m real sorry about it, and I guess I’m glad you’re all right and all, so you go on and take that money and buy yourself something pretty, I just don’t want to deal with it anymore, kid,’ so I said, ‘okay,’ and hung up." Fresh tears moistened Amy’s pale blue eyes, and Buffy felt her heart break over the young woman’s pain. What could she say, though? It wasn’t like she had the greatest father in the world either.

She leaned over and bumped her shoulder into Amy’s. "What do you call fourteen dead vamps?"

Amy laughed a little and slowly started to lay her head on Buffy’s shoulder. Buffy scooted closer and wrapped her arm around the young woman and hugged her tightly. "I like your answer too," Amy said, sighing sadly.

"Thanks. Um, I’m definitely not father material or anything - there’s this little problem of me having the wrong um, naughty bits - but I just want you to know that…well, you are wanted, okay?"

"Yeah, really," Buffy replied, then said, "You know, I missed you tonight. See, I found this nest of leech demons and…"

Amy’s smile grew as Buffy talked about her night. Without quite realizing it, both girls ended up laying down, Amy with her head resting on Buffy’s shoulder and Buffy’s arm wrapped tightly around Amy’s waist.

The next morning, Buffy woke up to find that she had never made it back to her room. At some point during her recount of patrol, both she and Amy had dropped off to sleep. Now, she was curled up on her side and Amy was behind her, spooning her gently. A memory of the last time she’d been in this position washed over the slayer, and grief hit her like a brick. Whimpering, she shoved her fist into her mouth and bit down, trying to keep from crying.

"Buffy?" Amy said sleepily, automatically tightening her arm around the slayer’s waist and pulling her close. "You okay?" Buffy nodded and started to roll out of Amy’s arms, but the young woman held on. "Is it Riley?" she asked, somehow intuiting what was causing Buffy’s stress.

Buffy closed her eyes against the memories that welled up, released by Amy’s gentle touch. "Yeah, but it’s okay, really," Buffy said thickly. "I’ll be fine in a second."

Amy pushed herself up so that she was looking over Buffy’s shoulder. "You know, it’s okay to grieve for him," she said, smiling faintly. "I wanted to tell you that when it happened. I wanted to tell you so much," she said, daring to bring her hand up and stroke Buffy’s face. "But it’s really hard to get your point across in squeaks and nose wriggles."

Buffy burst out laughing while tears continued to roll down her cheeks. "Sorry," she said, trying to stop, but failing.

"Hey, it’s okay," Amy said, tugging on the slayer’s arm until she rolled over. "At least now I can do this," she said, pulling Buffy into a hug and holding her until the tears stopped.

Amy shook her head. "Your friendship is the most important part of my life, Buffy. I don’t expect anything more."

"If I had more to give, I would give it," Buffy said in a husky whisper. "But right now, I just can’t. I need to know if I can stand on my own, you know?"

Amy nodded. "I know. And you can. You’re so strong Buffy. Stronger than anyone I’ve ever known."

Buffy smiled a little and said, "I don’t feel so strong these days. It’s friends like you that allow me to face another day." Then she sat up and stretched. "Speaking of facing the day…"

Amy sat up as well and sniffed the air. "Buffy, does your mom know how to make pancakes?"

"Not really," Buffy said, wiggling her hand. "It’s not something she makes often, you know? Sometimes they get a little crispy."

"Well, then I suggest we get downstairs and rescue our breakfast!" Amy said, throwing off the covers and running out the door. Buffy was right behind her.

Amy started summer school, which left Buffy with a lot of empty time on her hands. She started spending most of her days over at Willow and Tara’s place, helping them fix up what had been declared "safe" by the architect that Tara had hired to repair the structure of the house. In a round about fashion, she suggested to the two wiccans that they have a house warming party once the main floor of the castle had been fixed up and Willow and Tara agreed.

They started meeting for lunch at the campus cafeteria to discuss what kind of party they wanted to have and who they would invite. Meeting at the college was Buffy’s idea - a way for her to include Amy in the lives the Scoobies while the new student spent most of her days catching up on the general education classes she had missed out on as a rat.

Today, they were sitting around their favorite table, talking about party favors, snack foods and eating whatever they had managed to grab from the lunch line. Amy quietly watched as her friends argued back and forth over the merits of Twinkies vs. Ho-Hos. Currently, Twinkies were winning, but not by much. Forgotten in Amy’s hand was her sandwich, which she delicately ate, biting off tiny bits from the center and chewing them in rapid nibbles.

Xander looked over at Amy, about to make a point in favor of Ho-Hos, when his mouth fell open and he stared. The others followed his gaze, and only Buffy was able to completely stifle her chuckles. Amy blinked curiously and looked back at them.

"What is it?" she asked, taking another tiny bite. "Have I grown whiskers, again?"

Tara giggled and Willow nudged her with a knee. "No, of course not, Amy," the hacker said, trying to keep a straight face. For some reason, she and her one-time friend were not connecting on the same level they had in high school, and it bothered Willow some. Tara told her it was because she, Willow, had grown and changed. Willow felt that Amy had changed a lot too. Like, before, Amy would have never looked at Buffy with such open lust in her eyes. That kind of freaked Willow. A little voice inside of the hacker’s head suggested that it also made the little green eyed monster rear her head too. Willow felt a hand cover her knee and squeeze and she flashed Tara a brief smile of thanks.

Amy put her lunch down and gave everyone a confused, somewhat hurt look. "What is it then?"

Buffy reached over and put her hand over Amy’s and said, "I think it’s because you were nibbling your food kinda like a," she took a deep breath, "rat."

Hurt blossomed on Amy’s face. "Oh. Is that it?" Her shoulders slumped and she started to get up. "I think I’ll just go to class now," she said softly.

"No, Amy, please don’t leave," Tara said, standing as well. "I’m sorry I laughed. It was just kinda - cute," she explained as she offered Amy a friendly smile.

"Yeah," Xander agreed, stepping on Anya’s toes, causing the former demon to nod as well, "it was really cute."

"Sorta cuddly, like, you know…a trait that’s all yours," Willow added, trying to get on Amy’s good side.

Amy looked around the table, then at Buffy, who just gave Amy a pleading look. "Please stay, Amy?" the slayer asked, still holding Amy’s hand in a gentle grip.

Amy closed her eyes and nodded, then sat back down. "But no more rat comparisons, please? I get enough of it in my phys. ed. class."

Amy shrugged and said, "A while ago. I didn’t say anything because I didn’t want to make a big deal out of it."

Amy sighed. "My teacher is one of the parents who was there that night…and he remembers me, and what happened. He calls me Rattison when I’m not performing up to his standards."

Buffy made a face. "Someone should teach that guy that name calling is for babies."

"No!" Tara and Willow said at the same time, while the rest of the table, including Amy, burst out laughing.

As with everything in Sunnydale, the current wackiness started slowly. A weird animal mutilation out on a rural farm was followed by the discovery of some strange graffiti on the walls of the county courthouse. Nothing terribly out of place for the Hellmouth. When a student found nearly one thousand crucified rats in the high school gymnasium, people began to feel uneasy. The papers immediately began to speculate that there was a new psycho in town and the Scoobies went to work.

Buffy alternately patrolled and attended class while Amy, Willow, Tara and Giles studied every book they could get their hands on, looking for some reference to the Magus Vampyr. Amy continued to patrol with Buffy, refusing to give up their only time together. The young woman excelled in class, earning top marks from her teachers, and the envy of her fellow students. Amy was driven by a hunger for knowledge - a hunger that knew no satiation. Before the summer semester was even half over, she’d passed all her finals and was talking with some of the professors in the classes she wanted to take in the fall.

She began spending her class time in the Forensics labs, assisting the students and teachers there. Because of that, she was slightly prepared to handle the sight that she and Buffy stumbled upon while patrolling.

In one of the small clearings inside of Wilkins Park was a flat rock that had been used for years as a picnic spot for young couples. It was also a favorite vamp feeding ground. Tonight, it had been transformed into an altar for some particularly gruesome work.

Lying spread-eagle, duct taped at the wrists and ankles to the stone was a man in his early thirties. A jagged, puckered slash crossed his body from his throat to his groin, yet there wasn’t a drop of blood anywhere. Buffy turned away, unable to look at the dead man for more than a few seconds. Amy swallowed her bile, forcing herself to make a cursory, sight only examination of the corpse and surrounding environs. She made a mental note that the victim’s genitals were missing and that, given the look of abject horror on his face, he had been alive when he was eviscerated.

Garlanding the man’s throat was a strange wreath made of cherry blossoms, the pink petals sticking to the dried blood that painted his pale skin. Mixed in with the coppery scents of blood and death was the distinct aroma of sage. Black candle wax pooled in five points around the body. The young student also noticed the residue of chalk circling the body. Inside the circle were smudged remains of several runes, but none of them were decipherable.

Slowly, Amy closed her eyes and opened her othersenses, listening to the sounds of the park, feeling its energy flow around her. Here, in this spot, where things should be green and growing, was a black, empty pit. It was as if a giant ladle had come along and scooped up the life force of the land and left a gaping wound in its place.

"Blood magic," she whispered, opening her eyes in time to see Buffy return. The slayer nodded and shivered.

"Nasty stuff. I used the cell to call the cops. They’re sending someone over now. They asked if we could make sure no one disturbs the body. I called Giles as well. He’s on his way over with Will and Tara, but I hope they don’t have to see this." Buffy pointed to the body and swallowed convulsively. "No one should have to see this."

Without thinking about it, Amy walked over and slid an arm around Buffy’s waist, drawing the slayer into a one-armed hug. "You okay?" she asked.

Buffy shrugged and made a sour face. "Yeah, no, I don’t know. Talk about gross. It’s stuff like this that make me really hate my job, that’s all. I mean, it’s obvious that this guy is mine to deal with, but sometimes I wish I could leave the really sick ones to someone else."

"You’ll get him Buffy, I know you will. You’ve got the Scoobies, remember? Nothing ever gets away from the Scoobies," Amy said reassuringly.

Buffy half-smiled. "Yeah, I guess so," she said, then let go of Amy to walk around the rest of the site, careful not to disturb anything. A few minutes later she called out. "Hey, bring the flashlight over here, I think I found something."

Amy walked in Buffy’s footprints, using the flashlight to illuminate her way. Around to the other side of the boulder, half buried in the dirt and covered with more flowers and burnt herbs were the man’s missing genitals. Amy squatted and peered at the rock behind the flesh and frowned. "I sow the seed so that he may rise," she read slowly, interpreting the Latin script. She stood up and back away, then dusted off her hands.

Buffy followed and said half-jokingly, "I’m really glad Xander’s not here to see this. I’m afraid it would permanently damage his mind."

Amy smiled and hugged herself as an errant breeze ruffled her hair. "Brr. Why is it that one minute, it’s hot as heck here and the next, colder than a polar bear’s privates?"

"I think it has something to do with the Hellmouth, actually," Buffy said, in serious tones. "Cuz I asked Giles about it and he went on and on about the convergence of mystical forces having an aberrant effect on the local weather patterns." The slayer shoved her hands in her pockets and paced back and forth. "I wish they’d get here. I hate waiting. I’ve got work to do."

"They’re coming," Amy said softly, nodding toward a set of headlights approaching. "Come on, we need to make sure they don’t mess up the scene." Amy set off at a slow jog toward the approaching Mystery Machine, waving her hands for Tara to stop when she came into view. Tara pulled the van to a stop and Amy stepped up to the driver’s window and was talking quietly when Buffy made it over. The rear doors were opened and Giles stepped out, holding two jackets.

"Here, we thought you might like to have these," he said, taking Buffy’s stake in return and stowing it under a seat.

"Thanks, I appreciate it." She peered inside the van and blinked. "Mom? What are you doing here?"

Joyce stuck her head out. "Oh, I was helping Mr. Giles when you called, and I thought you might like some hot cocoa." She started to climb out but Buffy held up her hand.

"Please mom, if you love me, don’t get out of the van. You really don’t need to see this," Buffy said softly, pleading with her eyes.

Joyce nodded, painful understanding shining in her eyes. She had seen far more than her share of gruesome sights since becoming aware of her daughter’s unique destiny. If Buffy said stay, she would.

Giles smiled at Joyce and nodded, passing on the thermos to Buffy, then climbing back in the van to keep Mrs. Summers company.

Theirs was an awkward friendship at best, as they had been more than intimate a couple of years back due to some hexed candy. Yet recently, they had both taken steps to become friends and Rupert found himself wanting to hear his name - his first name - on Joyce’s lips again. This was enough of a conundrum to keep the former librarian lost in thought for many hours.

For her part, Joyce Summers found that she was more and more intrigued by this man who had devoted his entire life to shepherding her daughter and training her to be the Slayer, the one chosen to stand against the tide of evil. That was the one question she had for God, should she ever meet Him. Why He had chosen her daughter to be the One? Yet she could not deny the fact that in the four years that her family had lived in Sunnydale, Buffy’s gifts had saved many, many lives. Perhaps there was a Plan, after all.

Joyce found her eyes drawn back to Giles’ face and she stifled a schoolgirl-like sigh. After their one night, when he was "Ripper" and she was a teen again, she had done her best to bury the memories of making love to him. For a while, it had worked, allowing her to throw herself into her life at the gallery. Lately, though, those memories had crept into her dreams, reminding her of the tenderness they had shared. Now, she wondered, did Rupert remember that night as vividly as she? Was the man who had, after making love, sang her to sleep, the same man who knelt less than a foot away from her now?

"I’m glad you didn’t go out there," Giles said softly, sitting down on the locker across from Joyce’s seat on the cot.

Joyce smiled. "Well, I figure I’ve seen enough horrible things to last a lifetime. Missing this one won’t hurt."

Giles nodded and rested his chin in his hands. "Indeed. I quite agree." He shifted his position and added, "Joyce - would you, maybe, after we leave here, like to have a cup of tea with me?"

In the front seat, Willow leaned over and whispered to Tara, "Oh how cute, Giles is asking Joyce out on a date," and giggled softly.

Willow laced her fingers in with Tara’s. "Nah, just as long as she doesn’t have to read their minds, I’m sure she’ll be cool with it."

"It was nice of Amy to warn us about the grossness factor of that," Tara nodded her head toward the darkened boulder some distance away, "before we actually had to see it."

"Yeah, even if it is weirder than snake shoes to me that someone who used to faint at the sight of a drop of blood is capable of giving such a dry description of a mutilated corpse." Willow tapped her laptop where she’d hastily typed out Amy’s soft-voiced report.

"Well, you know how I feel about blood," Tara said, half smiling. Willow nodded and leaned over to kiss the blonde wiccan, running her tongue over the sharp points of Tara’s eyeteeth.

"I do," she whispered as Tara looked away. "And it still doesn’t bother me," the hacker said, scooting closer and kissing Tara’s cheek and neck until the wiccan gave up and returned her kisses. "I love you, you silly half-vamp," she whispered, causing Tara to smile sweetly.

Buffy brought the extra coat over to Amy just after she had finished talking to Tara. "Thanks," she said, taking the garment and slipping it on, relishing the warmth the coat provided. The slayer also shared her cocoa, which Amy was grateful for. This was one of those things that you never know how much you miss it until it’s gone. While she was a rat, she had eaten only vegetables and things made specifically for rats. Now that she was human again, she could enjoy special things like chocolate with a whole new sense of delight.

Not surprisingly, Amy’s two favorite foods were now anything chocolate and anything with meat in it. A tiny smile edged onto the student’s face as she recalled a conversation she’d had with Buffy. It was just a few days after she had been returned to human form, and they were at a local café with the rest of the Scooby gang. The smile grew as she remembered how their reactions to what had happened.

"Want meat," Amy replied in her customary baby-talk. The young woman made a face as she spoke. She hated sounding stupid, but had yet to fully re-master spoken language.

"You can’t have Xander," Anya said, wrapping a proprietary hand around Xander’s wrist. "He’s mine."

Amy looked over at the embarrassed young man and said, "Xander not meat. Want meat!" she pointed to the triangular shaped "Daily Specials" table decoration. There was a huge steak dinner advertised. "Meat!" she crooned, licking her lips hungrily.

Tara and Willow remained silent, avidly watching as Buffy, known for her more vegetarian preferences, digested Amy’s request. "Oh-kay," the slayer finally said, closing the menu. "How about some chicken then?"

"Amy not want cluck-cluck. Amy want meat!" Amy pounded her fist on the table for emphasis, drawing the stares of several customers.

Buffy quickly reached over and put her hand on top of Amy’s, calming her. "All right, meat it is. Do you want a hamburger, or steak?" she asked, trying not to let her aversion to the idea show on her face and failing miserably.

"I want that," Amy pointed to the steak dinner special. "Please?" she added, batting her eyelashes prettily.

"Buffy, do you think we could stop for a hamburger on the way home?" Amy asked absently as she swirled the cocoa around in the thermos.

The slayer grinned. "Why not? I’m always a little hungry after slaying. You can have the artery hardening beef whilst I stick with the good for you rabbit food."

Amy rolled her eyes and gave the slayer a playful push. "You know," she said, after taking a sip of the cocoa, "Professor Miriani says that red meat isn’t entirely bad…after all, it is rich in iron."

Amy made a face. "Ew. Fuzzy green things with bitter flavors. Ew. Ick. Ptooey! I’ll stick with my hamburgers and green beans, thank you very much."

The cops finally arrived, along with the coroner and the special crime scene unit. Both Buffy and Amy were thoroughly questioned by the detectives in charge of the case, then told to wait while they conducted their preliminary examination of the scene. The detectives, Vanessa Richards and Elise Manning, were both a little upset that the girls had called the other Scoobies, but were also impressed by Amy’s forethought in keeping the Mystery Machine as far away from the crime scene as possible.

The forensics unit was also quite pleased with Amy’s powers of observation and, as a result, allowed her to stand off to the side and watch them work. Every inch of ground was photographed, sifted and inspected for clues, but nothing concrete was discovered. Not one shoe print that didn’t belong to either Buffy or Amy existed. No fingerprints, no fibers, no hairs that didn’t either come from the victim or the two young women who had discovered him existed.

Detective Elise Manning ran a hand through her short blonde hair and blinked owlishly as the sun rose. Buffy and Amy were seated in the back of Tara’s van, quietly talking to the rest of the Scoobies. What a pair, Manning thought as she watched the easy camaraderie between the two young women. I remember when I was that age and I’d just met Van…God were we ever young. The homicide detective looked over at her partner of more than fifteen years and raised a weary hand in greeting.

Richards angled away from the forensics unit to exchange a quick handclasp with Manning. "Tough one today," she said as Manning handed her a cup of almost hot coffee. Gratefully, the detective gulped the overly sweet beverage, then handed the empty cup back to her partner.

"Yeah. I can’t believe how together those girls are. At their age, I’d have freaked and gone running in the opposite direction," Manning said, her voice touched with something akin to awe.

Richards shrugged. "Seems like this is just another day in Sunnydale, according to what the Unit guys say. Maybe they’re used to it. Heck, the short one seemed almost offended by our presence - like we were messing up her territory or something." Richards rubbed her chocolate brown eyes and yawned. "Hon, I hope you were right to pick this ‘quiet little community’ as our new home."

"Well, Kate did say it would be interesting, and she wasn’t wrong. I was hoping for something a little less interesting than L.A., but I can deal. At least it’s not gangs, guns and drugs," Manning said, thinking about their mutual friend on the LAPD, Detective Kate Lockley and her newfound obsession with the "strange" cases.

Richards and Manning had blundered into the knowledge of just how "strange" those cases were when the three women had worked a case involving a series of "death by radical blood-loss and arterial hemorrhaging" murders. It had taken the assistance of a private detective known only as "Angel" to catch the perp.

Oddly, instead of arresting the suspect, Detective Lockley had pressed a silver crucifix into the man’s forehead. The perp had shrieked in horrible pain and before Manning and Richards could stop her, Lockely had stabbed him in the heart with a wooden spike. When they reached Lockley, they had been certain they would be calling downtown for an ambulance, instead, what was left of the perp had been swept down the drain.

Right then and there, they had been rudely introduced to the horrible reality of Los Angeles after dark. Vampires, demons and other unsavory nasties that roamed the streets, mixing with the gangs, pimps and drug dealers to create an unholy melting pot of evil. It was too much for the two detectives, so they’d asked for a transfer. Kate suggested Sunnydale, and they leapt on the name, figuring that anyplace so cheerfully named would be a great place to live. They were just figuring out that names meant nothing, in the real world.

"Yeah, now it’s vamps, demons and," Richards nodded over at the covered body on the stone, "ritual killings. A laugh a minute. But at least there aren’t any decapitated chickens."

Manning smiled fondly at her lover. "Hon, voodoo isn’t about headless poultry."

"Tell that to my grandmama. I don’t think a month went by when I was a kid that she wasn’t whacking off some poor chicken’s head for one reason or another," Richards replied, her voice falling into her native Louisiana drawl. "Anyway, Mendoza says that they’ve cleared the road in - the kids can go."

"All right, I’ll let them know. Here, you can finish this," Manning handed over the rest of the coffee, "I’ll meet you at home, okay?"

"Fine. Can we have pancakes for breakfast?" Richards asked in a small voice as she finished off the coffee.

"Of course. Have fun with the Unit boys," Manning replied, squeezing Richards’ hand once more, then heading over to the girls in the van.

Vanessa rolled her eyes and watched as her lover first greeted the girls, then carefully explain the situation to Buffy and Amy. A smile crept over her face as Elise easily worked the group of teens and their concerned adult friends. A few cards were passed out, numbers were exchanged, and soon, the young woman named Tara was pulling the van out and driving away.

"So, Amy, how’s school going?" Willow asked the young woman seated next to her. Giles and Tara were sitting on the couch, pouring over one of the old Chronicles, trying to find some mention of the Magus while she and Amy were looking through demonology web sites.

"It’s great," Amy said, smiling happily. "I’m learning so much, and Professor Miriani is so nice. And there’s this great teacher’s assistant who is so nice to everyone…"

"Cool, so, meet any cute guys?" the hacker said, wiggling her eyebrows knowingly.

Amy chuckled. "There’s a few, but none I’m interested in. I…kind of already have someone in mind…"

"Hey, you can tell me… I’m your best friend, remember?" Willow prompted, hoping that the young woman remembered their long nights of study together back in high school.

Amy looked back up at Willow, eyes widening slightly. "I - I do remember," she said, a little awestruck. "You and me, we will be…"

"Witches and friends till the end," Willow finished softly, reaching out her hand and pressing it against Amy’s outstretched palm.

"Oh Willow," Amy said, covering her mouth with a hand and fighting back tears. "I can’t believe I forgot about that."

"It’s okay, you remembered now, and that’s what is important. I - I’m really glad you did, too. I missed you," Willow admitted softly.

Tara looked up to see her lover and her friend embrace and smiled. "Good," she said softly.

Being alone doesn’t suck, Buffy thought to herself as she dressed for Tara and Willow’s housewarming party. The architect had declared that the old house was now as structurally sound as it would ever be; all that remained was the final phase of redecorating, which would begin the next day. Today, however, the Scoobies would party.

An amazing crowd of people was expected to attend, including Faith and Cordelia, who were coming up from Los Angeles as representatives for Angel and Wesley. Both men were busy on a case involving a group of missing kids. Buffy had offered to help, but Angel had firmly told her that he had it handled.

She was actually looking forward to seeing the other slayer. Having Faith here meant that things might be heading toward a more normal track in her life, even if normal for her included sticking wooden stakes into vampires all night. Patrolling for the next few days would be much easier, with Faith offering to take over half of Sunnydale for her. It was what would allow the party to linger well into the night.

Even Spike was invited, though the neutered vampire had been forced to agree to let Willow and Tara perform some odd little ritual over him that guaranteed that he would only be allowed to enter the house for the party only.

"I don’t even know why I’m going to your silly little shindig," he’d complained while they anointed him with oils and herbs, chanting in Latin.

"Three words, Spike," Buffy had said, watching from a distance. "Beer, blood and chicks."

Tara, perhaps because of her own unique heritage, had arranged for several pints of animal blood to be available to Spike each week. The vampire had taken her charity, but he hadn’t liked it.

He had also, unbeknownst to any but Tara, begun to examine his life, death, whatever his existence was and was discovering that he rather hated himself. After the party, he planned to leave Sunnydale and travel, echoing perhaps another young man’s odyssey to find himself. While he was not looking for a way to control his inner wolf, somehow the knowledge that Oz had some success in his own quest gave Spike the courage to begin one himself. Tara had offered to loan Spike enough money to begin his journey. He still hadn’t decided whether he was going to take it - Red’s girl had done quite a bit for him as it was - but he had to admit, something had to change, because going on as he was just wasn’t an option.

"Yeah, yeah, I’m convinced," he said, grinning and showing off his fangs. "I’ll come to your damned party."

"Oh goodie, does this mean we get to call you the Spike-a-nator and dump beer on your head?" Xander quipped while carrying in an empty keg.

Buffy sighed and gave her hair one last primping with the brush while looking in her mirror, making sure she hadn’t grown a third eye while lost in contemplation of her navel. She was sort of ready to party. This would be her first time "out" since Riley’s death, and she was a little nervous. How would people treat her? How would she react to all the couples, doing couply things?

Buffy turned and nearly gasped. Amy had blossomed, or something. The young woman had taken the time to carefully choose her outfit for the party and as a result, she looked fantastic. Buffy gaped open-mouthed at the way the young woman wore the clothes she had chosen. A dark turquoise blue silk blouse tucked into a pair of soft gray cotton dockers gave her an air of casual elegance that the normally haphazard young woman usually lacked. Amy had swept her hair back into a simple braid that highlighted her face and she wore make-up that enhanced her elfin features to the point that Buffy had to take a moment to calm her suddenly thudding heartbeat.

"Al-almost," Buffy finally worked out, then smiled. "You look great, Amy," she said softly, allowing herself one more look at the girl before turning away. "Everyone’s going to want to dance with you tonight."

Amy smiled shyly and said, "Thanks. I’m not much of a dancer though. I’ll probably wall crawl while you boogie."

"Oh, you have to dance with me at least once," Buffy insisted, thinking, why the hell did I just say that?

Amy tilted her head sideways and looked into Buffy’s eyes, then grinned. "You got it. Now let’s go, I don’t want to miss the ribbon cutting!"

~Part Three~

Part Two

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Buffy the Vampire Slayer and all related characters, history and storylines are copyright to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, the WB and who ever else owns a piece of them. Elizabeth Blaine is copyright to Wes Craven and whoever else owns her.