Lighthouse

By Sabrina & E. Marshall

http://border-princess.net/btvs/lighthouse/index.htm

Disclaimer: Buffy the Vampire Slayer is not me. Or I mean, I don't own her or any of her friends or enemies, those all belong to Joss Whedon, that monster guy, and 20th Century Fox. I'm just borrowing them for a little entertainment. Jeff Tweedy and the other Wilco band members also do not belong to me. I assume, hope anyway, that they belong to themselves and would enjoy a romp in the Buffy-verse. Again, I'm just playing a bit to entertain myself and hopefully anyone else who enjoys Buffy.

Archive/Distribution: Please link to this site.

Timeline: Fits in probably sometime early second season. Angel's still got his soul, everyone is still in high school. Specifically between Reptile Boy & Halloween.

Act 4

‘You know its all beginning

To feel like pretending

No love’s as random

As my love

I can’t stand it.’

-“Can’t Stand It”

‘What do you mean?’ Buffy turned around to face Angel. ‘What do you mean they can still perform the ritual?’

‘That dark haired vampire drank his blood, right? There’s a loophole. I mentioned it earlier, and that’s why I was trying to track down the vampire groupie types. I thought we were safe though, since the three surviving rock chicks hadn’t had anything to drink.’

‘I’m going home… I’m going home…,’ Tweedy murmured, completely draped over Willow. He was kind of smiling. He was almost asleep.

‘But that dark-haired one got him. I didn’t notice her until it was too late…’ Willow said, protectively tightening her hold on Tweedy. ‘Buffy, I’m sorry.’

‘So we know Buffy’s still in danger,’ Giles looked at Angel. ‘But you haven’t exactly been forthcoming as to why she is still in danger.’

‘Ah. Sorry.’ Angel hadn’t taken his eyes off of Buffy’s face. ‘The ritual is supposed to take place with the blood of the sacrifice. However, there’s a loophole. If a vampire has drank of the blood of the sacrifice, then that vampire can be used as the sacrifice in the mortal’s place.’

‘So,’ said Willow, ‘Spike is going to use that dark haired vampire instead of Jeff?’

Jeff Tweedy was snuggled against her, completely asleep. Before she knew what she was doing, she had gently kissed him on top of the head.

Then she glanced around, hoping that no one had seen her.

‘Bet she’s going to wish she didn’t get so impatient for a snack,’ Buffy said. Thankfully, she was still looking at Angel.

‘OK, if that’s the case then,’ Giles spoke up suddenly. ‘Why didn’t Spike just do that in the first place--- have his goons drain Mr. Tweedy behind the Bronze, and then simply sacrifice one of the well-fed but unlucky vampires?

All eyes turned to Angel and he stared back for a minute before shrugging. A satisfied smile twitched at his lips. ‘Maybe Spike didn’t know about the loophole.’

The sliding door to the loading dock slammed shut with a thunder loud enough to make the most stable person wince--- and Dalton was not exactly the most stable person. He made a sound that was a combination of a shudder and a gasp, and proceeded to trip over his own feet, barely catching himself from landing nose-first on the cement. Spike turned around to face him, his eyes glowing.

‘What the hell is this about? What do you mean? How are we ready to perform the ritual?’ Spike held Dalton by his shirt collar, his red eyes burning through him like lasers. ‘You’d better not be lying to me about anything.’

‘No, no, of course not,’ Dalton quavered. ‘See, it says here in the text that if the sacrifice itself cannot be obtained for the full ritual, than the blood of one who has drunk of the sacrifice may be used instead. So you can still perform it.’ Dalton pushed his glasses up on his nose and stared wide eyed at Spike.

‘Alright, so what you’re telling me,’ Spike spoke calmly. ‘Is that all this trouble I’ve gone through--- getting the bleeding rock star, for example--- was a total waste of my time and resources. Because all I had to do was have one of my rock chicks take a drink from him--- hell, that was the easy part--- and then we could have just sacrificed her?’

Spike’s voice raised in volume, ‘And just when the bloody hell were you planning on letting me in on this piece of information!?’

Dalton pulled away and skittered backwards, out of reach. ‘I, see, well, you see---I only now found the text! I didn’t realize it earlier!’

Spike cocked his head to one side, and smiled with disgust. Dalton held the book up in front of his face like a shield, ‘But we have Nastya, here, and she drank his blood! So the ritual can be performed using her!’

‘In the moonlight,’ Spike’s eyes narrowed.

Dalton nodded.

Spike dug around in the pocket of his leather duster, and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. He lit one and took a slow draw on it. He held the smoke in his lungs for what seemed an eternity, and then exhaled it lazily in Dalton’s face. ‘All right, scholar man. You had better be right.’

Spike glanced at Nastya and Joycelyn. ‘Nastya, it seems your little crush has come in handy for all of us.’

‘I don’t want to be the sacrifice!’ Nastya exclaimed suddenly. ‘I want to go back, find my love, and turn him--- so we can find a nice crypt to settle down in!’

Joycelin laughed loudly and added, ‘And I’m in love with the drummer! He has very attractive feet!’

Spike crossed the warehouse in a rage, grabbed Nastya by the neck and flung her across the room.

Drusilla stepped out of the shadows, her eyes glittering. ‘Spike! Don’t kill her. We must perform the ritual yet.’

‘I won’t kill her,’ Spike snarled as he crossed back over to the other side of the warehouse where Nastya was sprawled across the floor. He put his foot down on her long curly hair. ‘Not yet anyway.’

Drusilla slid across the room and placed her hand on Spike’s chest, lifting a tarot card with her other hand. ‘It’s not time yet… the mice haven’t found the rainbow.’

Spike’s hand wrapped around Drusilla’s and he pulled her close to him. ‘We’re just going to have to help them along then, pet. You and me.’

Nastya didn’t even try to move. She stared sullenly up at the ceiling, unable to turn her head.

‘Uh…’ Dalton spoke up nervously.

‘What is it?’ Spike didn’t turn around, but clipped each word, the muscles in his back tensing.

‘Just that… tonight. It is the only night we can…’

‘That’s right,’ Spike cupped Drusilla’s face in his hand and kissed her hungrily. ‘It’s tonight. That’s why we should all get our things and get going.’

Spike looked down at Nastya, snarling. ‘Now, I’ve kept you around, allowing you to eat me out of house and home, and it’s time that you repaid me for my generosity. So let’s go.’

He hauled her to her feet by her long curls. ‘You should have known that relationships with rock stars never last. All they want is sex, and they can get that just about anywhere--- with women who are a little more lively than you. Just think Nastya---we sacrifice you, and you get the time-honored privilege of giving your life for your own true love. Consider the fact that you are being sacrificed in his place. You should be flattered, really. It’s poetic! It’s beautiful!’

He lit up another cigarette. ‘Why, if it wasn’t for you, there would never be another Wilco album. Nastya, essentially,’ he paused, exhaling a cloud of smoke, ‘you are saving rock and roll.’

She didn’t look at him. ‘I just want a nice crypt.’

‘In hell, Nastya. You can have your cozy little crypt in hell. Dru,’ his eyes softened, and he flicked his cigarette to the ground, ‘I want you to stay here this time.’

Dru’s lips sunk down into a pout. ‘But the mice, they call me. I’m safe with you Spikey… I’ll hold onto your tail…’

‘Listen, Pet,’ Spike slid his hands down to cover Drusilla’s hands and he squeezed them lightly. ‘It’s too dangerous. The Slayer’s on our trail, and its likely that she and those impotent puppies of hers are trying to track us down. They are not going to succeed, of course,’ he couldn’t stop himself from lightly sucking her fingertips, ‘But I don’t want anything to happen to you.’

‘Spike…’ Drusilla looked down.

‘Come on, love,’ Spike lowered his face so that he was looking up into her midnight eyes. ‘I’ll be right back, and I’ll bring you a tasty Slayer beverage. Remember China? Boxer Rebellion?’

Drusilla’s eyes lightened and she moved her face so that her lips were nearly touching his ears, growling lightly.

Spike kissed her deeply before releasing her, and turned to face the waiting minions, vamping out as he did so. ‘Let’s go.’

‘The old lighthouse?’ Cordelia’s voice dripped disbelief. ‘The lead singer of a major band is hanging out at the old lighthouse?’

‘Look,’ Xander raised his hands as Cordelia turned off the road and into the gravel parking lot. ‘I don’t know, he just said this was where he was going to be. Maybe he wanted him and you to have some privacy.’

‘Him and me?’ Cordelia said. ‘Then remind me why you are coming along again?’

‘Pictures. Tabloids. Blackmail.’ He shrugged and looked out the window, so she wouldn’t see that he was snickering. ‘I’ll stay out of your way, don’t worry. Sex, drugs, and rock n’ roll, baby. You get the sex. And I get the drugs.’

‘Oh please.’ Cordelia rolled her eyes and turned the car off. ‘You are truly a humiliating blemish on the face of mankind. I can’t believe I am about to be seen--- by a rock star--- with you. Just make sure you stay out of my way, Harris.’

‘Aw, Cordelia,’ Xander smiled patronizingly. ‘Such love.’

Cordelia opened her car door while checking her reflection in the rear-view mirror. She quickly applied a fresh coat of deep plum lipstick. ‘Now, I’m going to find this hottie,’ She smacked her lips together, ‘And you are going to effectively disappear for the next hour--- or,’ she perked up, ‘For the rest of my life.’

‘Now what would be the fun in that?’

Cordelia ignored him, stepping out of the car, and slamming the door. ‘Ew!’

‘What’s the matter?’ Xander said, also slamming his door. ‘Ruin your street walking shoes?’

‘Mud. There’s mud here.’

‘Right, that’s generally what happens when it rains and the ground isn’t paved.’ Xander grinned at her. ‘Should I carry you over to the sidewalk?’

‘And give you the opportunity to touch me--- probably grope me?’ Cordelia responded. ‘Not likely.’

‘But you’re going to give band man the opportunity to grope you. Hey, no offense meant--- I was just thinking in terms of Equal Opportunity Groping. But then, that’s right,’ Xander clapped his hands together. ‘You’re always willing to let men grope you when they pay you enough.’

Cordelia’s brow furrowed. ‘You are a moron, Harris.’

‘Yeah, I’m just a plain old run-of-the-mill moron, but you’re a real celebrity--- you’re the only person I know with their own Hate Club.’

‘That’s it. I think I’m going to puke if I have to look at you for one second longer.’

Cordelia walked towards the steps on her toes, attempting to keep her heels from sinking down in the mud. Her heart began flutter as she looked up at the lighthouse’s bright beam, imagining her rock star in waiting. With any luck, tonight would be the night she would say goodbye to dumb, immature high-school guys like Harris for good.

Hold on a minute--- her rock star in waiting was all the way at the top of about five billion slippery stone steps. And she was wearing heels. ‘Shit…’ she whispered.

She could hear Xander tromping toward her through the muck.

‘So, Wilco guy’ she still didn’t know his name, ‘is all the way at the top? Great, just great. Why can’t historical landmarks ever have elevators?’

Cordelia had managed to tip-toe nearly halfway to the stone steps, when she heard voices. Oh no. It was Buffy and her gang. They were coming down the steps from the lighthouse.

Cordelia’s heels sunk down in the mud as she crossed her arms and tossed her hair. ‘Harris, what the hell is this? I thought you said he was coming up here so we could be alone. This,’ she wrinkled her nose, ‘is hardly what I would call privacy.’

She glared at Buffy, rolling her eyes, ‘What is going on? Wait, let me guess--- you freaks are all out to ritualistically sacrifice me?’

‘Cordelia?’ Buffy looked up from her conversation with Angel. ‘What are you doing here?’

‘Looking for…’ Cordelia snapped her head around, glowering at Xander. ‘Oh, I get it. You just wanted to make a big fool of me, didn’t you!? See if I ever listen to you again, Xander Harris.’

‘I’m sorry?’ Buffy looked at Xander. ‘Xander, what’s she doing here?’

‘Ask your boyfriend, or your kinda boyfriend.’

Buffy looked at Angel, who shrugged lightly. ‘I told him to get a ride.’

Cordelia was chewing on her deep plum lips. ‘I come all the way out here to see my favorite band member in the entire world--- of course I should have known that Xander wouldn’t have the inside link. Xander---’ her silver swept eyelids lowered ominously over her eyes, ‘You are the biggest loser I have ever met. And because of your lame little prank, you’ve made me ruin my shoes. They’re real leather--- did you know that? So, you owe me four-hundred and forty three dollars. How does that sound?’ She stamped her foot in the muck and turned sharply.

‘Your favorite band member as in Jeff Tweedy?’ Buffy said.

Cordelia swung back around, her mouth forming a perfect ‘O’.

Sure enough, trailing behind the group, was Jeff Tweedy, his arm still around Willow’s shoulders. Willow and Jeff clambered down the final few steps, and into the mud, joining the rest of the gang.

‘I’m sorry,’ Buffy patted Jeff on the back. ‘We saved you from the vampires only to throw you to Sunnydale’s own High School Evil.’

‘Oh, my goodness,’ Cordelia crossed the distance between her and Jeff Tweedy in about two steps. ‘Where did you go to? Nobody knew what happened and they were all worried sick. I kept thinking that maybe I should go after you, see if you were all right and stuff, but naturally, I didn’t know where you would be.’

Jeff stared at Cordelia as if she were a vampire, dizzily taking in her tight leather pants and her deep plum lips. ‘No. No. No. No high school girls. Evil.’

Buffy raised her eyebrows. ‘Well, not all of us.’

‘And don’t you think evil would be a bit too strong of a word?’ Willow added.

‘Please,’ Giles exclaimed. ‘All of you, we need to focus here. Right now we know that Spike has the material to complete the ritual. And if he does complete it, I can’t protect you, Buffy.’ He quickly cleaned his smeared glasses. ‘None of us can.’

‘We don’t have a lot of time,’ Angel’s eyes darkened. ‘Where would he be having it?’

‘Well, it can be any open place where they’re in full view of the moon, right?’ Buffy looked at Giles, who nodded.

‘It could be anywhere,’ Willow said. ‘I mean, a parking lot of something.’

Cordelia ran her hand through Jeff’s ruffled hair, and caressed his pale, damp forehead. ‘Hey, is he OK?’

She narrowed her eyes at Willow. ‘What in the world have you guys been doing to him?’

Jeff couldn’t take his eyes off Cordelia’s deep plum lips. They seemed to be getting bigger… and bigger… He was absolutely terrified. He held tightly on to Willow.

‘Willow,’ Cordelia sighed impatiently, ‘I don’t know what you think you are doing, but he told me to come all the way out here because he wanted to see me. Let’s just say that we hit it off backstage before the concert. And we does not include you.’

She shoved Willow aside, and wrapped Jeff in her arms.

He was shivering. He swallowed nervously. ‘Umm… help?’

‘I’m sorry.’ Willow looked at him, completely pained. Her voice was gentle, ‘I know she’s scary, but she’s not a vampire.’ she glared at Cordelia. ‘I promise.’

‘Oh, oh no, ugh---’ Xander turned his head away from Tweedy and Cordelia, cringing, ‘Could you two please take that somewhere else?’

‘Guys, hang on a minute,’ Buffy interrupted, turning to Giles, ‘Spike wouldn’t use somewhere as public as a parking lot, would he? He’s probably going to a place that is open in the sense of full moon viewage, but not open in the sense that he’s performing a ritual involving blood and vampires right in the middle of town.’

‘What about Rock Hill Cemetery in Old Town?’ Angel asked. ‘It’s close to the warehouses and there’s a good chance Spike might have a group of people holed up down there. There’s a rock wall around the entire cemetery, and a huge open area in the middle.’

‘It seems as likely a spot as any,’ Giles nodded. ‘Let’s check there first.’

‘What about Jeff?’ Willow felt like she was going to be sick. ‘Could she get any closer without being his winter coat?’

‘We don’t want to take him with us,’ Angel agreed. ‘We’d just be taking him back to the lion’s den.’

‘I could take him back.’ Willow said. She tried to catch Jeff’s eyes, but Cordelia had his face in both her hands. She was smiling and murmuring things to him that, thankfully, were too quiet for Willow to hear.

‘Or the fact that you don’t have a car could mean it would be a very long walk,’ Xander pointed out.

‘Wait a minute,’ Buffy said. ‘I’ve got an idea, although I really hate to do this to him… Cordelia?’

Cordelia froze, sighed, and turned around. ‘Do you mind, Buffy? We’re discussing music.’

‘Right, and that would be why there is lipstick on his cheek,’ Buffy quipped. ‘Look, I need to ask you a favor. I need you to take Jeff back to the Bronze,’

Cordelia’s mouth opened as if she were going to say one thing and then quickly changed her mind. ‘Hello!? Where have you been the last few minutes, Buffy? Of course I’m going to take him back to the Bronze. Thank to you guys, he’s all banged up and muddy. He’s going to check in with his band mates, and take a shower. And then we’re going to go have a nice cup of coffee and discuss music.’

‘OK, well,’ Buffy smiled. ‘That’s all taken care of. Have a good night, and if you see any vampires, don’t let them in.’

‘Vampires?’ Cordelia mouthed silently as Buffy turned back to her waiting friends.

Willow waved to Jeff, looking worried. She watched as they crossed the muddy lot, and Cordelia loaded him into her car.

‘All right, I think we’re ready, Giles.’ said Buffy.

‘I don’t really like the fact that we’re leaving him alone with Cordelia,’ Willow frowned, falling into step beside Buffy as they crossed to the Giles Mobile. ‘Maybe I should go with him?’

‘That would go over really well, Cordelia would—’ Buffy turned to her friend. ‘You have a crush!’

‘No! No.’ Willow shrugged. ‘Okay, maybe a tiny one.’

‘We’ll discuss this more later,’ Buffy grinned at her friend.

Giles unlocked the car and climbed into the front seat. Buffy took shotgun, as usual, and Willow, Xander, and Angel piled into the back.

‘All right,’ Buffy said. ‘When we get there, we’re all going to spread out. Willow, Xander, I’m going to distract Spike and the other vampires as much as possible. I need you guys to find the curly haired vamp that snacked on Tweedy and take her out. Do whatever it takes.’

Buffy reached into the bag beneath her feet. ‘Here’s the usual: crosses, stakes, and holy water. I need groupie girl good and dusted. Giles, if you can help me?’

‘Distract Spike,’ Giles nodded. ‘All in a day’s work.’

‘Good,’ Buffy straightened up. ‘Once again, in case I hadn’t mentioned it before, I think it would be a good idea to get a new car.’

‘What should I do?’

Buffy turned around and looked at Angel. ‘Oh. I guess, you should help Giles and I. Or Willow and Xander, if you notice they need help. You know.’

Angel’s dark eyes flickered and he gazed at her a moment. Buffy turned her head away. ‘We should be fine. We’ll take care of this. And I really, really want Spike dusted.’

Spike strode across Rock Hill Cemetery, cutting through the shadows cast by trees and crumbling stone walls. He took a step into the center clearing--- into the brilliant unfiltered moonlight. The moon still hung high in the sky, patiently waiting. But the moon would not wait forever. It wouldn’t be long before it got fed up, like it always did, and turned its back on them, disappearing around the corner of the horizon.

And then they would have to wait another whole year.

‘Hurry up!’ Spike yelled to the vampires who trailed behind him, through the maze of shadows. ‘Get out in the clearing! We’ve wasted enough time already.’

Dalton emerged into the clearing, blinking, followed by Mr. Sleazy, who was more than happy to be dragging a tied up, miserable Nastya. Joycelin had latched herself on to Nastya like a barnacle, and was bawling her head off.

‘Oh honey,’ weeped Joycelin, ‘I’m so sorry! What is Jeff Tweedy going to do without you? Don’t worry, I’ll tell him what happened. I’m sure he really liked you a lot. I know the drummer really liked me a lot.’

Joycelin froze. ‘The drummer.’

She laughed happily and let go of Nastya. She began to turn cartwheels all around the clearing. ‘I love him, and he thinks I’m cute, cute, cute! I’m going watch him drum every night, and I’ll be his groupie for ever and ever, and they’ll write a cute song about me---‘

‘Silence!’ Spike shouted. Joycelin tumbled to the ground mid-cartwheel.

‘Please,’ Nastya was verging on hysteria, ‘I’m in love! Can’t you understand that!?’

She tried to whip her head around to face Spike, but was stopped by Mr. Sleazy. ‘I want Jeff Tweedy! He’s so… so perfect! I… I’ve seen his soul! Such a tender, delicious, delicate soul! I don’t want to hurt him! I want to protect him.’

Her breathing came in ragged gasps, ‘OK- I admit it- I just want to ravish him!’

‘Somebody please shut her up,’ Spike said, ‘I’m really getting tired of her whining.’

Mr Sleazy responded with a slap to Nastya’s face that would have turned a human’s cheek cherry red.

‘It’s love. True love!’ She exclaimed. ‘You know about love! You have to! You have Drusilla.’

‘Yes,’ Spike turned violently and grabbed her arm, dragging her to the middle of the clearing and sitting her down on a large family gravestone. ‘I do have Dru. And I want to continue having her. Which is why you must die.’

He raised his eyebrows, ‘Just blame it all on true love.’

‘Dalton,’ Spike tilted his head toward the scholar, ‘open up your ‘Healing for Dummies’ manual, and let’s get started, eh mate?

Dalton nodded.

‘Let’s get moving here people!’ Spike said cheerfully, ‘All right Dalton, mate, why don’t you start by giving us our instructions.’

‘Uh…’ Dalton pushed his glasses up on his nose. ‘Here. We need a circle. Around Nastya.’

‘Right then,’ Spike nodded. ‘You heard the man: a circle.’

Mr. Sleazy, Joycelin, and Dalton all closed in around Nastya.

‘Now,’ Dalton peered at the text. ‘Let’s see. We have to purify what she’s had. Then I need to speak some uh… ritualistic lines. And then…’

‘Well speak them already.’ Spike glared at the moon. ‘Our friend the Man in the Moon grows impatient, as do I.’

‘Right. After I speak the lines you’ll drink her blood and you’ll be invincible against the Slayer.’

‘This gets better and better,’ Spike said. ‘You’re my new best mate, Dalton boy.

‘So yeah,’ Cordelia said, resting her hand casually on Jeff Tweedy’s leg, ‘I’ve always really been into music. I’ve thought of becoming a singer, you know. I really can sing, believe it or not. I actually sound kind of like Madonna. All I need is an agent, you know? Which isn’t a problem; I mean, my dad knows tons of them. When I finally graduate from this hell mouth, I’m so going to make my way to LA.’

With her other hand, she turned the steering wheel sharply to the left, narrowly missing a low rock wall that bordered the side of the road.

Jeff had wilted in his seat, and was staring at the speedometer, his eyes feeling like they were clouding over. They were going at least thirty miles over the speed limit. This situation felt terribly familiar.

His voice was almost non-existent as he sang, ‘You’re gonna make me spill my beer… if you don’t learn how to steer...’

He had a habit of singing old songs to himself in times of terrible trauma. This was one of those times. ‘I don’t like riding... on the passenger side...’

Man, he had never needed a beer so badly in his whole life. And he didn’t even really like beer anymore. And wow, he could sure use a smoke.

‘Wow, I could sure use a smoke.’ he muttered.

‘What was that you said?’ Cordelia was rummaging through her purse, one hand on the steering wheel and the other buried in the strongly perfumed depths of her purse. ‘Oh, here’s my lip gloss!’ she pulled it out and uncapped it. The right front wheel of the car thumped into the curb.

‘I just hate it when my lips get dried out, don’t you? You know, lip gloss is just so totally addictive. Like, they should put a warning label on it or something. Want some? It’s called ‘Sexy Strawberry Supreme’.’

She handed Jeff the lip gloss. He rubbed it over his lips. He liked the taste of regular strawberries OK, but Sexy Strawberries tasted really gross.

‘When I get back to Chicago... ‘ he said, ‘I’m going into my house and I’m never coming out again. Not even to get the mail. Or the newspaper.’

He could hardly hold up his neck; it was so incredibly sore. He tried to prop it up against the back of the seat, but it kept slumping to one side.

‘I might even grow a beard... and stay in my pajamas all day... for the rest of my life...’

He reached into the pockets of his coat. Ah yes, he felt the cool smooth metal against his hand--- his final can of Diet Coke. He popped the tab, and took a swig, trying not to move his neck.

Cordelia wrinkled her nose. ‘I’m really don’t think I could stand a man with too much facial hair. It’s so scratchy, you know, kind of like sand paper.’ she glanced over at Jeff and touched his cheek, giggling, ‘You’ve definitely got a five o’clock shadow. But that’s all right. You can shave when you take a shower, right? I so totally love the smell of a guy’s aftershave!’ she giggled again.

The car swerved into the other lane, narrowly missing an oncoming mini van. The mini van honked its horn three times.

‘Hey, maybe you could give me some pointers, you know, how to break in to the music business. You know, help me record some songs, make some cool videos, do some commercials. Photo shoots, touring, and stuff—I’m sure you know all about that. I mean, singing isn’t that much different from modeling—so I basically have experience.’

In one nervous gesture, Jeff gulped down as much of the Diet Coke as he could without tilting his neck back. There was still some left in the bottom of the can, but there was nothing he could do about it.

Cordelia rummaged through her purse again. ‘Hey, I could show you my portfolio. They’re just wallet-sized, you know, for convenience, but I’d really like to see what you think. I’ve got ten head shots, and ten full body shots. Of course they cost a fortune because I went to the best photographer in L.A. And I had to lose five pounds in two days before the photo shoot, can you believe it?’ she laughed and kept rummaging, ‘It was such a living hell!’

The car ran through a red light at fifty-five miles per hour in thirty miles per hour zone. Cordelia didn’t even look up. ‘Oh my gosh, here’s my other earring! I thought I’d lost it!’

‘When I was fifteen,’ Jeff whispered, ‘I was gonna have Jay pierce my ear... with a knitting needle or an ice pick or something. All his older brothers had done it. And they were all in bands, and they all looked really cool.’

He pressed his hand against the cool, damp window. Suddenly, he was feeling really hot.

‘But I couldn’t do it. I freaked out after holding the ice on my ear for about one minute. I didn’t even see the ice pick or safety pin or whatever it was... and my ear was getting really cold anyway...’

‘Wow,’ said Cordelia, shaking her head, ‘That would have been so unsanitary. But I mean, you’re a rock star, right? I guess you’re used to living on the edge. You probably do that kind of stuff all the time.’

She was still digging through her purse. ‘Ew, mascara! This stuff is probably so old and clumpy by now’

She had swerved onto the shoulder, the tires spinning on the light gravel.

Jeff felt around for the power window switch. He couldn’t move his neck, so he couldn’t look down to see what his hand was doing. He flipped one switch. It was the automatic door locks.

‘Um... could we pull over for a minute?’

‘Oh! Here it is!’ Cordelia had pulled a clear plastic photo holder from her purse. She began to flip through the photos. ‘I am so taking one of these photos out before I let you see them. The one of me in the string bikini is just too embarrassing--- but the photographer said that I just had to do it! Oops!’ She “accidentally” dropped the holder in his lap, bikini photo and all.

‘Um... I think I’m going to throw up in your car.’ His head was between his knees, and a painful retching sound inevitably followed.

Cordelia screamed. She slammed on the brakes in the middle of the road, but it was far too late.

He sat up again, having to use his hands to get his neck up straight. ‘Ouch. That really hurt. Sorry... sorry about that...’ he mumbled. His voice was completely shot.

The car reeked of stomach acid and Diet Coke. Cordelia rolled down all the power windows as quickly as she could, desperately gasping the fresh air.

There was vomit on the floor of her car. Her eyes stared disbelievingly at the puddle staining the dark blue floor mats she’d picked up just last week. Turning her eyes back to the road, she gripped the steering wheel tightly with both hands and slammed her foot on the accelerator, whip-lashing Tweedy’s neck as she did so.

Suddenly, rock and roll didn’t seem very glamorous.

‘’We’re almost back at the Bronze,’ she said, trying to regain her composure. ‘You know, actually, I just remembered, I have some plans tonight. And cheerleader practice before school tomorrow, seven in the morning, and you know it takes an hour and a half to get hair and make-up in proper order. So I’ll just drop you off, then. Hey, maybe I’ll see you the next time you guys play Sunnydale, right?’

Jeff shut his eyes, a tiny smile at the corner of his lip. He realized several things at once. One: he was terrified of high-schoolers. Two: he was never, ever coming back to Sunnydale. Three: he might actually live through this night...

Giles pulled up in the street beside the gates to the Rock Hill Cemetery. The Gilesmobile bumped against the street curb and the right tire rolled up and over the sidewalk before settling into the gutter.

Buffy looked at Giles. ‘And they think I’m no good at driving.’

‘Don’t we have some vampires to slay?’ Giles returned her look and opened the door.

‘All right then, we’re spreading out,’ Buffy said. ‘We don’t know if they’re here or not, so keep your eyes open and be careful.’

‘What if they’re not here?’ Xander climbed out of the car.

‘Well…’ Buffy looked at Giles and Angel. ‘We try a different cemetery and we hope we find them.’

The Scoobies entered the cemetery and Willow, Xander, and Giles took off to the left, weaving among the mausoleums that lined the road, looking out between the wrought iron fence that separated the cemetery from the causeway.

Buffy took off straight towards the center of the grounds and Angel, after looking briefly at Willow, Xander, and Giles, followed her.

‘You really think this will be where Spike does the ritual?’ Buffy asked Angel, electing for comfortable shop talk.

‘This wouldn’t be the first time that vampires have shacked up in the old warehouses down by the wharfs. If Spike is there, then it just makes sense that he’d go for the most convenient location.’

‘Which is here,’ Buffy nodded grimly. ‘Does make sense.’

‘Listen, Buffy,’ Angel started. ‘I keep feeling that I’ve upset you for some reason and—’

‘Wait,’ Buffy stopped. ‘I think I hear something.’

A confused babble of voices was wafting across the cemetery.

Buffy and Angel spoke in unison, ‘It’s them.’

‘What kind of a ceremony is this?’ said Buffy, ‘It sounds like a high school football game out there.’

Buffy motioned to Angel to follow her, and she bent over low, keeping in the shadows as they crept toward the clearing.

Sure enough, in the center of the clearing, were five figures.

Tied across a sarcophagus was the curly haired Jeff Tweedy lover.

Standing at the head of the sarcophagus was Dalton, an ancient volume in his hands. He was squinting at the book and making an absurd droning noise.

Spike was in the midst of a disagreement with Mr. Sleazy. He quickly settled the argument with a couple of well-placed blows to Mr. Sleazy’s abdominal region.

Bouncing around the other four vampires was the little red-head, squealing out what must have been verses of random rock songs.

‘Well, they’re certainly not trying to be stealthy about it,’ Buffy muttered to Angel. ‘Let’s go.’

‘Wait, Buffy,’ Angel reached for her arm. ‘What’s the plan?’

‘Killing the Vampires?’

‘I know that part,’ Angel spoke softly. ‘What I mean is, are we just going to rush in without thinking things through? Or are we going to be a bit more…’ he hesitated. ‘Are we going to put some forethought into this?’

His eyes caught Buffy’s and she looked down quickly. ‘You’re right. No rushing in. How about I’ll distract Spike and the other vampires while you try to get to that curly haired one. We need her staked. Once she’s staked, the others are secondary. Although I’d really like Spike out of my hair. He’s ruined two perfectly good evenings for me, and counting.’

Angel nodded. ‘I think we can handle that,’ he touched Buffy’s arm lightly. ‘OK, let’s get this over with.’

Buffy glanced back at him, and then jumped up on top of a gravestone.

‘Gee, you vampires just don’t get it, do you?’

Five sets of eyes widened and looked at her, as Angel slid into the shadows.

‘Slayer,’ Spike loosened his grip on Mr. Sleazy’s throat and took a step towards Buffy. ‘I should have known you would show up uninvited again. What’s wrong with your manners? It’s been a long time since I was human, but if my memory serves at all, generally you wait for invitations among polite society.’

‘That’s still how they do it, Spike,’ Buffy said, jumping off the gravestone and striding toward the group. ‘Among polite society, which, lucky me! excludes you.’

Dalton hid his head in his book, as Buffy landed her boot right in the center of Mr. Sleazy’s chest, hurling him into the side of a nearby mausoleum.

Spike smacked Dalton on the back of the head and hissed, ‘Continue, you moron! Joycelyn, stop your inane dancing and protect Nastya! I’ll deal with the Slayer.’

The little groupie was hopping around on one foot, quoting over and over ‘dance in graveyards with vampires till dawn, dance in graveyards with vampires till dawn.’

Buffy swiped the one leg that Joycelin was hopping on, sending her sprawling to the ground.

‘Ouch! Hey!’ Tears flooded Joycelin’s eyes as she glared at Buffy, ‘I believe in peace. I believe in love. Make love not war.’ She began singing again, ‘And in the end… the love you take…’

‘Dammit, Joycelyn! This isn’t bloody Woodstock!’ Spike exclaimed, running up behind Buffy, and sending her flying across the clearing.

Buffy picked herself up off the ground, a streak of mud smeared across her face. Spike was striding toward her, and now, he was smiling. ‘You know, that mud on your face makes you look incredibly sexy. On second thought, why don’t we just forget the whole battle to the death thing, and take Joycelin’s advice instead: we’ll pretend it’s Woodstock! Peace! Love! Mud!’

He grabbed her by the lapels of her jacket, grinning, and she kicked him in the knee. ‘I hate to break this to you Spike, but you’re really just not a flower power kind of guy.’

He laughed mockingly, staggering back. ‘I’m willing to drop my death and destruction image just for one night. Let’s get naked and play in the mud!’

‘Uh. Thanks.’ Jeff mumbled as he stepped out of the car. ‘Um, I’m really sorry about that.’ He glanced down at the floor of the car. Oh gosh, this was embarrassing. ‘Do you want me to uh—I can try and um, clean it up, if you want…’

Cordelia shook her head. She looked exceptionally pale, despite the layer foundation that flawlessly covered her face, ‘Oh. That’s ok…’ she said, swallowing hard and trying to pretend that there wasn’t regurgitated Diet Coke on the floor of her car. For once in her life, she was at a loss for words.

She forced a smile. One thought had been running through her mind, repeatedly, for the last ten minutes, ‘I’m going to kill Xander Harris…. I’m going to kill Xander Harris…’

‘Well, thanks again.’ Tweedy rasped, his voice barely audible.

She forced another smile. ‘First my boots and now my car,’ she thought, ‘I am going to kill Xander Harris…’

‘Bye…’ Tweedy waved at her.

‘Well, bye!’ she hollered, still smiling, as he finally managed to shut the car door… leaving her alone with the vomit.

She took a deep breath and let out a calculated squeal. ‘I am going to kill Xander Harris!’

‘Please, just let me go back and find him! I’ve got to see him one more time! I… I think I hurt him! I just… I just need to make sure that he’s OK!’ Nastya pleaded with Angel, struggling desperately against her bonds.

Angel shook his head. He had his hand clamped over Dalton’s mouth and was busy trying to keep the startled scholar quiet. He glanced at Nastya, ‘You know, your Jeff Tweedy obsession is really unhealthy.’

Dalton chomped down on Angel’s fingers, as Angel flung him to the ground in disgust. Angel picked up the dropped book from the ground. ‘Well, I guess you won’t be completing the ritual without this. Am I right?’ he flipped through a few of the pages and snapped the book shut. ‘Looks pretty boring to me. If you want it, come and get it.’

Dalton stumbled to his feet, nervously adjusting his glasses. ‘What do you care? You’re one of us.’ his voice was shaking, ‘She’s just one human. You could have turned her yourself, by now…’

Angel grabbed him by the neck and sent him flying far across the clearing.

Angel turned to Nastya, reaching into his pocket for a stake. ‘Sorry, but it’ll be better for both you and Tweedy this way. Believe me.’

A nasty blow to his back sent Angel tumbling over the sarcophagus. Before he had a chance to get up, Mr. Sleazy was on him, pummeling him with both fists. Angel brought his knee up into Mr Sleazy’s crotch and doubled him over. His face turned a sickly shade of reddish green and he screamed like a girl.

Joycelyn suddenly hopped to her feet and started dancing around again, shaking her hips suggestively. ‘Wanna whole lotta love!’

‘Can’t. you. Shut. Her. Up?’ Angel emphasized each word with a blow to Mr. Sleazy’s face. The vampire snarled.

‘What are you about?’ He gasped for breath, his voice still at least one octave too high. ‘You’re one of us, but the Slayer’s got you eating out of her hand. Are you house trained?’

‘No,’ Angel replied. ‘But getting to kill really disgusting lowlifes like you is satisfaction enough for me.’

‘Killing might be a bit optimistic,’ Mr. Sleazy gasped. He had resorted to scratching and pulling Angel’s hair. ‘You’ll need a tool to do that and—’

‘Got it right here,’ Angel pulled another stake from his coat pocket and landed it squarely in Mr Sleazy’s chest. The vampire looked down at the stake, his eyes wide, and then he looked back to Angel.

His voice was a high horrible shriek, ‘Kill your own kind… You’ll be punished!’ And he burst into dust.

‘I already am being punished.’ Angel shook his head and took a moment to dust Mr. Sleazy off of his dark coat before turning to the two females.

Joycelyn skittered away from him and was about to scream, when suddenly her scream turned in to a smile. ‘You’re extremely strong. I bet you’ve got nice arms. Um... are you a drummer? Do you want to share a crypt with me?’

Angel frowned and shook his head. ‘Thanks, but no.’

‘Are you gonna stake me?’ Nastya exclaimed. ‘Please, please, let me go! You look like a romantic. A… you know… Romeo, or something. Just let me go so that I can be with my true love! Do you know what it’s like? Loving someone and knowing you’re from two different worlds!?’

Angel glanced across the clearing, glimpsing the petite blonde for an instant, ‘Yeah, yeah, I do.’

‘Then, let me go!’ Nastya breathed. ‘Please, I’m begging you.’

‘Star crossed lovers.’ Angel said, kneeling beside her and picking up the stake that had fallen out of his pocket earlier. ‘That’s what Romeo and Juliet were. And that’s, I’m afraid, what you are.’

Her eyes widened at the stake. ‘Joycelyn! Do something!’

Joycelyn giggled. ‘You’re gonna be poof!’ She clapped her hands and made the motions of dust raining out all over the place.

‘Love,’ Nastya whispered. ‘You know what its like; you just said you did. True Love. Do it for love. Please.’

‘That’s what I’m doing.’ Angel brought the stake down firmly in her chest.

Nastya’s face registered surprise, shock, and then dismay, before disintegrating before Joycelyn’s very eyes. ‘Goodnight.’ Joycelin quavered, ‘Sleep tight. Don’t let the bed bugs bite.’

‘The course of true love never did run smooth,’ Angel said to the dust on the sarcophagus before turning his eyes to Joycelyn, who had curled up on the ground in a tiny little ball. ‘I’m just a rock…’ she murmured, ‘a cute little rock… you don’t see any vampires around… just a cute little rock.’

‘Get out of here, or you’ll be next.’

Joycelyn screamed and yanked off her huge platform shoes, fleeing across the cemetery, with a shoe dangling in each hand.

Dalton was fumbling around the edge of the clearing on hands and knees, looking for his dropped glasses. Angel shoved his face into the ground and snatched the glasses, which were only inches away from Dalton’s dirty hand.

‘Looking for these?’

Dalton chuckled nervously and staggered to his feet. He broke into a blind run across the cemetery, bumping painfully into several gravestones. He crashed through the trees and stumbled into the woods.

Jeff Tweedy screamed as loud as he could--- nothing came out. Not a sound.

Before his very eyes were two tour buses, both idling in the alley, one being loaded up with equipment by oblivious roadies who were streaming in and out of the Bronze’s back door.

He couldn’t take the strain. The final few steps across the alley to the tour bus were just too much. What if vampire groupie girls grabbed him, in between here and the bus? What if the rest of the band had already been nabbed; it was more than likely—Ken was such a sucker for a girl in black leather. They were probably all dead. Or all vampires. Or worse. He even couldn’t bring himself to look up at the moon—it had most likely grown fangs, by now.

He was only a few steps away from safety, but he couldn’t go any further. He was frozen in place with terror. His head was spinning with a thousand thoughts and images—and all of those images had fangs. He imagined a Diet Coke can—punctured by two holes—fang marks. Did vampires like Diet Coke?

‘What if the vampires stole my amp?’ he mumbled out loud. ‘You tap it the wrong way and it’s gone… the sound’s gone…’

He was going to pass out in the exact same spot that the vampire groupies had snacked on him only a few hours earlier.

The concrete underneath him seemed to be moving, swirling around his feet like the current of the Mississippi river.

He was going to pass out

then they would come again

and eat him

he was dead for sure.

There was a terrible sound—a slamming, a shouting, feet on the pavement. Something was crashing towards him.

He was dead for sure.

‘JEFF!!! Where the hell have you been!?!!!’

Something slammed into him with the force of a wrecking ball, and suddenly he was lifted off his feet. He looked down. It was only a few inches, but the alley seemed like it was miles below him.

He was dead. His spirit had detached itself from his body. He was floating up to that big concert in the sky.

His lips moved almost soundlessly, ‘I could really use a smoke...’

‘JEFF, I CAN’T BELIEVE IT! What in the hell happened to you? Are you OK? You scared the living shit out of us!!!’

Jeff blinked.

He wasn’t clasped in the immortal hand of eternity after all. Oh no—he was trapped in the immortal arms of Ken Coomer.

‘Ow. Oh, ouch.’ He could hardly breathe.

The drummer was giving him the bear hug of a lifetime. If Ken didn’t loosen his grip soon, Jeff would be no more. Instead of being sucked to death by vampires, he would be strangled to death by his own drummer.

‘Jeff!’ John Stirratt had clambered out of the bus, and was racing across the alley. ‘Wow! I’m glad to see you!’

‘Jeff, what were you doing?!!! SHIT!!!’ Ken loosened his killer grip in the nick of time, and put Jeff back down on the pavement.

He grabbed Jeff’s face in both his hands. He was completely hysterical. He was spitting. ‘JEFF I thought you were dead for sure! And Jeff, I felt so bad—I never paid you back for that time in Austin when we went to Wendy’s and you bought me a double bacon cheeseburger and fries and two sodas and a large frosty!! I said I would pay you back—but I was hoping that you would just forget because I wasn’t planning on paying you back—EVER!!!’

Ken began to passionately dig through his pants pockets. ‘It was about eight dollars, wasn’t it? I still don’t want to pay you back, but since you’re alive and I felt so bad about it just a few minutes ago—I guess I have to!’

He pulled out a crumpled five dollar bill and shoved it into Jeff’s hand. ‘There! Now I only owe you three dollars!’

Jeff stared blankly at the five dollar bill in his hand. Good old Abe Lincoln...

A little smile twitched at the corner of Jeff’s lip and tears of relief flooded his eyes.

‘Thanks...’ he mumbled. He put the five dollar bill carefully in his coat pocket.

John threw his arm around Jeff’s shoulders. ‘Come on Jeff, let’s get the heck out of here before Jay kills someone. Wow, I’m glad you’re back—you completely freaked us out.’

He gently squeezed Jeff’s shoulders, and they began making their way toward the bus.

There was another horrible racket, and Jay Bennett darted out of the back door to the Bronze just as it was slammed violently shut by the extremely hostile and frizzy headed club manager.

Jay screeched horribly. ‘OUCH!!! OH!!! HOLY—’

His shin was crushed in the door. He wrenched his leg out of the way as the owner bestowed him with some final choice cuss words and then finished slamming the door.

Jay staggered forward, cursing under his breath, his glasses falling across his face.

‘What in the...’ His vision was pretty blurry since he could only see out of one lens, but he was pretty sure that he was seeing who he thought he was seeing. He squinted. ‘Jeff?’

‘Jay!’ howled Ken, ‘We found him!’

Jay Bennett had never looked more pissed off in his life.

‘If I’d known I was going to have this much fun dancing with you,’ Spike said, dodging Buffy’s blow, ‘I’d have certainly made sure you got an invitation, Slayer.’

‘Gee, Spike,’ Buffy stepped back a second. ‘I’m flattered!’

She landed the heel of her boot square in the center of his chest, and he went careening into the ivy covered stones of an ancient mausoleum.’

‘Bloody well should be,’ Spike clamored to his feet and rushed towards her, landing a blow in the small of her back, forcing her to fall into a forward roll. ‘Prefer to kill my slayers straight up, but I have to confess, you make the foreplay fun.’

‘Spare me,’ Buffy grimaced and pulled her stake from her jacket pocket.

‘Oh, come on, Slayer,’ there was a wicked gleam in Spike’s eyes. ‘Let me show you what a real vampire can do. Not that puppy dog you’ve got following you around on a leash.’

‘I am so going to stake you for that!’ Buffy flung the stake at Spike, but he blocked it with his arm. Spike grabbed her wrist and sent her tumbling into a towering angel monument, its face upturned and its arms lifted to the moon.

Bounding after her, he grabbed her again, and pulled her tightly against himself. His powerful arms were locked around her, and his voice tickled her ear. ‘Come on, Slayer, you really need to loosen up. You take your little after-school job entirely too seriously. The night is still young. Forget, for just one minute, that I am essentially the spawn of Satan, and see me for the fun-loving bloke that I can be. Remember, we were talking about peace, mud, and happiness? Remember, free love?’

‘Nothing’s free, Spike.’ She gasped, ‘Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten that.’ She struggled against his grasp, but he pressed her even tighter to his chest.

‘That the best you can do, Slayer?’ His voice was low and dangerous. Buffy scanned the grounds frantically for Angel.

‘It’s the best she has to do, Spike, old boy.’

Angel’s voice was a welcome relief. Buffy gasped in the cold night air, as Spike loosened his grip, growling. Buffy slipped out of his arms, and slugged him in the ribcage. He staggered backwards, as Angel stepped in front of him.

‘I’m afraid your little slut didn’t make it through her fevered fantasy,’ Spike straightened up and glared at Angel. ‘And I’m thinking things don’t look much better for you.’

Buffy grasped her stake more firmly and lunged towards Spike. He sprung into the air, and snapped a kick into Buffy’s chest that sent her flying backwards, straight into Angel’s arms. The unexpected impact knocked him off his feet and they both tumbled to the ground.

‘This isn’t the end, Slayer.’ Spike growled, pure hatred seething out of his eyes. ‘We’ll dance again.’

He whirled away across the cemetery, his white-blonde hair gleaming in the moonlight.

‘In your dreams, Spike. In your dreams…’ Buffy took a shaky deep breath, dizzily lying back in Angel’s arms for a moment, as she stared up at the silvery moon. It was beginning to sleepily sink down over the huge oak trees that formed the perimeter between the graveyard and the street. She blinked, still feeling too dizzy to move. She imagined that the moon was yawning. It must be getting really late. Even the moon was getting tired.

She could feel Angel’s arms around her. Her head was resting comfortably on his chest.

She closed her eyes, and wished she could just sleep here. Forever.

There was no sound at all in the graveyard now, except for her own painful breathing, and her own heartbeat. But there were no other sounds. Her head was against his chest, but there was no sound of him breathing. No heart beat.

‘Oh God…’ she breathed. Her eyes burned and her throat was so tight that she couldn’t swallow. No heart beat. ‘Oh God…’ she whispered. ‘Oh God, why…?’

She wished she could just sleep here. Forever.

She sighed, and a searing pain ripped through her right side. ‘Ouch’ she wheezed, trying to free herself from his arms and get back on her feet. ‘I think I might have busted a rib there.’

‘Here,’ Angel placed his hands around her waist and gently lifted her to her feet. ‘Are you going to be all right?’

‘Yeah, I think so’ Buffy ran her hand carefully along her ribcage.

‘Here, let me,’ Angel placed a hand on her side.

Buffy was silent, holding her breath. He slowly moved his hand along the contours of her ribcage. She knew that he could feel her breathing speeding up and her heart beat pounding, but she continued to hold her breath, pointlessly. She felt dizzy again. Finally, she sighed painfully and glanced up at his face, but the only thing she could see on it was concern.

‘I think it’s fine,’ he said, dropping his hands and taking a step back. ‘Does it hurt anywhere else?’

‘Yeah. My pride.’ Buffy ran a hand through her hair. ‘You know Spike from before?’

‘It’s a long story,’ Angel shrugged off her question. ‘But, essentially, yes.’

‘Any bright insights on how to make him go away?’

Angel grimaced. ‘He doesn’t give up easily.’

‘Damn,’ Buffy said softly.

‘Should we try to find the others?’

‘Yeah, let’s go.’ Buffy turned her back to Angel and started towards the entrance of the cemetery.

Her throat was tight again. Tears stung in the corners of her eyes, but she wouldn’t let them out. She walked faster, listening to the sound of Angel’s footsteps behind her. It hurt so bad to breathe.

It hurt so bad to live.

Hot tears trickled down her cheeks. She looked up at the moon, making sure to keep her face turned away from Angel. ‘Look at me…’ she thought bitterly. ‘Look at me… I wish I was cold like you. I wish I never cared… and I wish I never cried.’

The moon was silvery and silent. The moon didn’t care.

‘I can’t believe it! That cute little red-head I was making out with was actually a vampire?!!!’

Ken was bouncing up and down on one of the double beds, wearing his Christmas boxer shorts and a ‘Hanson is Evil’ t-shirt. He had the floral bed spread flung around his shoulders like a cape.

‘Wow! I kissed a vampire!! You know, I thought her teeth looked a little funny, but I didn’t want to say anything! That is just so great! I could have died!!!’

He jumped up and flung himself forward, attempting a flip in mid-air. He landed flat on his back with a loud thud. The bed springs groaned miserably as he staggered to his feet and started jumping again.

‘Ken... you’re going to put a hole in the ceiling. Your damn head is going to go right through, and I’ll be laughing...’

Jay Bennett was wrapped in a white hotel bathrobe and reclined in a rather uncomfortable chair, his left leg propped up on the table. He took a long drag on his Camel, and adjusted the bag of ice that was balanced on his swollen shin.

On the tabletop was a very large bottle of Ibuprofen, an overflowing ashtray, and six bottles of Corona, all lined up in a row. Three of the bottles were already empty.

Jay took a sloppy swig from bottle #4 and scratched at his itchy dreadlocks.

‘Yeah... and it was like that lighthouse was controlling the whole thing... It was like this gigantic eye, you know what I mean? Like it was looking for me, saying to the vampires, ‘here’s dinner... come and get it...’ That lighthouse was... evil.’

Jeff was talking to himself so quietly that even he could hardly hear himself.

Which was probably a good thing.

‘Jeff!’ Ken shouted, launching himself into the air and flapping the bedspread like a madman, his head only millimeters below the ceiling, ‘Tell us again about the vampires!’

‘Shut up!’ Jay hollered, lighting up another cigarette, ‘Both of you!’

Jeff smiled slightly. Jay Bennett’s pissed off voice had never sounded more beautiful. He took a long glorious drag on a cigarette of his own. He watched the smoke dissipate in the air, floating up to the ceiling.

Jeff was tucked into the other bed, reclining on about a million pillows. John had insisted on taking all the pillows from each of their rooms, and basically building a barricade around Jeff. He couldn’t have moved if he had wanted to. And he didn’t want to.

John had also insisted on slathering antibiotic cream all over the fang marks on Jeff’s neck and then slapping seven Looney Tunes band-aids over them. ‘Don’t want to get an infection,’ John had joked, ‘it would be shame if we had to amputate your head.’

Jeff took a tiny sip of Diet Coke. Ironically, now his stomach was the one thing that didn’t hurt. However, he was careful not to drink too much. He was still too dizzy to stand up, and he didn’t want to have to pee again. Being carried to the bathroom by Ken and then being uh... assisted by Ken had hopefully been a once in a lifetime experience.

Jeff took another long drag on his American Spirit, his eyes falling shut. ‘Guys... this has been the most embarrassing day of my life...’

‘Jeff!’ John hollered as he unlatched the door with his key card and bounced into the room, carrying what appeared to be the entire contents of a vending machine. ‘What did I say about Diet Coke?’

He was smiling so big that his eyes were all squinty as he chucked the Diet Coke into the trash can.

‘I said no Diet Coke until you finish drinking all of this!’ He gestured to a large bottle of Evian water that sat almost untouched on the nightstand, next to Jeff’s ashtray, lighter, and pack of American Spirits.

‘Here Jeff, I brought you some stuff! You need to eat!’ John dumped about ten tons of junk food into Jeff’s lap: candy bars... M&M’s... hot fries... sour cream and onion potato chips... peanuts... Zingers... a little apple pie...

‘Here, let’s start with the apple pie,’ John began unwrapping it, ‘It was the only kind-of-healthy thing I could find...’

He handed Jeff the mini apple pie. It felt very heavy. Jeff lifted it to his mouth, which was quite an accomplishment, and took a little bite. It actually tasted kind of good.

‘Thanks...’ he rasped.

John kneeled down by the bed and patted Jeff’s arm. ‘Hey, no problem man.’

He beamed, his eyes twinkling. ‘OK now?’

Jeff was about to nod his head ‘yes’ but remembered just in time that that would have been a very painful thing to do. He smiled a little and closed his eyes instead, sinking deeper into the massive pile of pillows.

‘Good.’ John stood up, brushing the flakey apple pie crumbs off of Jeff’s Looney Tunes pajama shirt. He chuckled as he realized that the band-aids on Jeff’s neck happened to match his pajamas.

‘Ken, what the Sam Hill do you think you’re doing?’ Jay coughed loudly and peered at Ken through his crooked glasses. He mashed his burnt out cigarette down in the ashtray and lit up yet another.

Ken grinned sheepishly. He was standing in a pile of Jeff’s clothes, next to Jeff’s open suitcase. Over his own t-shirt and boxers, he was wearing, or attempting to wear, a pair of jeans with a pair of plaid boxers over them, a black western-style shirt over a gray sweatshirt, a denim jacket, a scarf, and a striped stocking cap. Everything was about ten sizes too small.

‘Just playing dress-up.’ Ken smiled oh-so innocently and began waddling toward Jay holding a pair of Jeff’s rumpled pajamas. This particular pair was covered with pictures of little smiling yellow duckies.

‘Come on Jay! You can play too!’

‘Ken!’ Jay almost jumped up, causing the bag of ice to tumble off his leg, ‘Ouch! Cut it out! Get those pajamas out of my sight!’

He fumbled around for the ice pack, trying to keep from falling out of his not-so-comfortable chair, ‘Don’t you dare touch me! I’ll... I’ll---’ he glanced about wildly. Surely there was some sort of weapon within his reach.

‘I’ll burn you with my cigarette!’

Ken had the ducky pajama shirt half-way over Jay’s head when they both heard a loud ‘rip’!

The plaid boxers had split in half, right down the butt.

They both started laughing their heads off.

‘What was that?’ Jeff croaked, his eyes wide. He snatched up the mostly burnt down cigarette that had been smoldering in the ash tray, and took a frightened drag.

John was sitting cross-legged on the other bed, which seemed to be sagging in the middle, thanks to Ken’s acrobatics. ‘You mean that sound?’ he smiled. ‘That was the sound of a pair of your boxers meeting an unfortunate end. Don’t try and turn your head to look. Believe me, you don’t want to.’

‘No,’ Jeff coughed, ‘That...’

‘Oh,’ John blinked, ‘That...’

There was some sort of commotion out in the hallway. In fact, it seemed to be right outside their door. It was a bunch of voices. Girl’s voices. They were giggling.

‘Oh no...’ Jeff began breaking out into the now-familiar cold sweat. ‘Maybe I should have a drink of water...’ He weakly fumbled for the bottle of water on the nightstand.

‘Hey, relax Jeff, just relax for a second.’ John scooped up the pile of junk food that Jeff was practically buried under and dumped it on the other side of the bed. He took the lid off the bottle of water and put it in Jeff’s hand. ‘Don’t worry, I’ll go check it out. Just hang on for a minute.’

John crept towards the door; wearing a white hotel bathrobe over a pair of old paint-covered sweat pants.

‘Hey guys,’ he looked back at Ken and Jay, who were still snorting. ‘Be quiet for a second.’

Then he mouthed to them as quietly as he could, hoping Jeff wouldn’t hear, ‘Vampires.’

Ken began to clamber noisily towards the door, shouting ‘Oh boy! Vampires!’ and ripping Jeff’s boxers even further, while Jay quickly replaced the ice pack that had once again fallen off his leg.

‘Hey guys,’ Jay hissed, ‘I think this thing is leaking. Hey John, get me another bag of ice. Crap! I’m getting soaked! And John, I need more beer. And maybe some tequila.’

‘Shut up!’ Ken bellowed, taking the stocking cap off his head and throwing it at Jay.

John peered out the little peephole. Nothing. But the voices were getting louder. The girl’s attempts to stifle their giggles were definitely failing.

‘OK,’ he whispered, ‘I’m going to open the door...’ He turned the door knob and shoved his head out the door.

Jeff, blockaded behind the pillow fortress, had no idea what was going on. All he knew was that he wasn’t going to throw up. He tried to take a deep breath.

John was chuckling, with his head still out the door. He waved, and then stepped out into the hallway. He seemed to be talking to whoever was out there.

‘Thank you.’ he was saying, ‘Thank you so much for coming to see us. Oh no, it’s no trouble at all. Well, goodnight to you, too.’ And he shut the door, smiling brightly.

‘It was just a few of those high-school girls.’

‘Um... guys...’ Jeff called weakly, ‘Um... we have to get out of here...’

‘What Jeff? Oh, no man...’ John hurried over and kneeled down beside the bed again.

‘It wasn’t the vampire girls. Yeah, I remember them; there was the mean blonde one, and the red-headed one,’ Ken smirked as John continued, ‘and that curly-haired one who was looking for you. No, no, these aren’t the same girls. These girls came back stage later on. They were really nervous about meeting us, I guess. It was pretty funny. They had nothing to say, so Ken and I just started making idiots of ourselves. You know, I felt kind of bad for them. What was the name of that one? Harmony, I think. Anyway, I guess they followed us back here.’

John shook his head. ‘Hoping for one last shot at a night of real rock star romance. Wow, this is a weird town.’

‘No fangs?’ Jeff murmured.

‘No fangs.’ John looked very serious. He grabbed the bottle of water and put it back on the nightstand before Jeff spilled it all over himself.

The door creaked. Ken was about to sneak out into the hallway, most likely so he could flounce around in Jeff’s clothing like a moron and give the star-struck high-schoolers one last giggle.

‘No!’ Jeff was frantic. ‘No, no, no, no. Please—don’t open it. Don’t... don’t leave. Please.’

Ken turned around and shut the door. He slid the chain lock into place.

‘No, don’t worry,’ said John. ‘We won’t leave.’

He looked at Ken and then at Jay. ‘We won’t leave, right?’

‘Right,’ Ken nodded.

‘What?’ Jay choked.

‘We’re not going to leave this room.’ John said practically.

Jay mashed his cigarette down in the ashtray. He looked completely pissed off. ‘What? What do you mean we can’t leave? I have to leave.’ he shoved both of his hands into his nappy dreadlocks. ‘I have to leave. My banjo is in my room.’

‘You’re joking, right? John said, with a hopeful smile.

Jay stared at him blankly.

‘Your banjo?’ John repeated.

‘Well,’ Jay sighed, ignoring him, ‘If we have to stay, then I get a bed, since I’m a gimp. Hey Ken, go run and get my banjo.’

Ken laughed nervously, ‘Nope. Can’t, Jay. Told Jeff we wouldn’t leave the room. Too dangerous. Too many horny high schoolers lurking about.’

Jay blinked. ‘I can’t sleep without my banjo.’

All three members of Wilco blinked back. Jay was dead serious.

‘Jay,’ Jeff croaked, ‘come here a minute.’

‘Can’t. Like I said, I’m a gimp.’

‘Fine.’ Jeff was smiling a little again. ‘Ken, um, you know that scarf you’re wearing?’

‘Uh huh.’ Ken nodded.

‘OK... take it off.’

‘OK.’ Ken was more than a little puzzled.

‘Now,’ Jeff continued, ‘Go stand next to Jay. I’m going to ask you a big favor.’

‘Alright.’ Ken did so.

‘OK. Now see that scarf in your hands? I want you to use it... to strangle Jay for me.’

Everyone cracked up. Everyone except for Jay.

‘Can I walk you home?’ Angel’s voice made Buffy start, and she turned to see him standing a step behind her. She hadn’t even heard him come up.

‘Uh,’ she nodded. ‘Yeah. Sure.’ She turned back to her Watcher, who was packing the remaining stakes and the crossbow in the black bag sitting on the boot of his automobile. ‘Anything else, Giles?’

‘What? Oh. No. You did a good job tonight, Buffy.’ He pushed his spectacles up on his nose and regarded her fondly. ‘Your training has been paying off.’

‘Thanks,’ she smiled slightly. ‘I’ll be going then, if there’s nothing else.’

‘No, no. Go along,’ Giles nodded at her and worked the black cloth of the bag’s opening around the crossbow. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow during study hall.’

Angel had stepped back a few paces and was watching the two of them. Buffy hesitated for a moment, looking at Giles, and then turned somewhat reluctantly and walked towards Angel. Angel turned, waiting for her to fall into step beside him. She did. He stuffed his hands into the pockets of his heavy black wool coat.

‘You’ve gotten better,’ Angel commented lightly. ‘Your kicks are more powerful. It looked like you were giving Spike there quite a walloping.’

‘Before he got a good kick on me.’ Buffy shook her head. ‘And got away. Which means he’ll probably come back and ruin another perfectly good Saturday night.’

‘Probably,’ he nodded. ‘You’ll definitely want to keep in shape.’

‘Giles… has had me practicing quite a bit,’ Buffy said softly.

‘Right.’ Angel took a deep breath. He hoped he was coming across more collected than he felt. Two hundred and fifty years, and you would think that asking to see a girl would be a piece of cake, but no, no, no. It was like being human again.

They turned the corner, on to a residential street that was a few blocks away from Buffy’s house. Most of the houses were completely dark, with a few lit only by the flickering blue light that signified somebody was either completely restless, or had fallen asleep in front of the television.

‘Angel,’ Buffy turned suddenly, stopping. ‘What are we?’

‘What are we?’ He echoed. He paused before answering: ‘You’re the slayer. I’m a vampire.’

‘I know that part. I mean, us. We. Us. I don’t understand. One minute you’re all shop talk and then the next minute you look at me and… I mean…’

Angel’s eyebrows furrowed slightly and he looked down at his feet. Then he looked up.

He met her eyes, seeing her determination---she was going to ask him—demand an answer from him—no---she faltered.

Lowering her eyes, she stared at the toes of her shoes—her boots needed polishing, or she needed to get new ones—she lifted her shoulders, sighing. ‘I just, you said you might be there tonight, and then you weren’t there… I mean at the Bronze. Obviously, you’re here,’ she laughed nervously.

‘What are we?’ She repeated so low that had he been human he might not have heard her.

‘You’re a Slayer. I’m a vampire. I don’t… You don’t want to get involved with me, Buffy.’

‘I think it’s too late for that,’ she caught his eyes.

Angel swallowed hard and then reached for her hands. Buffy looked up at him. One side of her face was glowing, caressed by the warmth of the street lamp they had stopped under. The other side was dark. ‘Listen, Buffy, I think, back there when we were fighting Spike--- we needed a plan before we rushed in, otherwise I was afraid one of us would get hurt. Sometimes it happens anyway. But us, you and me, Buffy. It’s not easy. We’re from different worlds and—’

‘But we’re on the same side,’ Buffy interrupted him. ‘We fight the same fight. We want the same thing.’

‘Yes,’ Angel’s jaw twitched slightly. ‘I just want to make sure you understand Buffy. It’s not going to be easy… I need you to know…’

‘I know,’ Buffy squeezed his hand and looked up at him, her eyes open, shining--- trusting. ‘I know that when I’m with you, I can’t think of anything else and…’ she stopped.

Angel flinched inwardly, it had gone much further than he’d ever meant for it to go: on both his part and her part. ‘The course of true love never did run smooth.’ His own words from earlier in the evening echoed back through his mind. Leave it to Will Shakespeare. Timeless really.

‘Buffy?’

‘Yeah?’

‘How about we start this slow. How about coffee? Tomorrow night, or the next?’

Buffy looked up at him, a smile spreading across her face. ‘I’d like that.’

He nodded, smiling at her slightly, and then turned around, dropping her left hand but keeping her right hand firmly incased in his. They both fell into silence as they walked down the sidewalk.

And the moon slipped away under the edge of the horizon.

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