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by Chris Kenworthy (scoobyhq@fcmail.com)
Disclaimer: Oh, you REALLY oughtta know it by now.
Buffy dashed off towards the front door even before the doorbell had been rung. "Hey!" she called out, opening the door and hugging the Willow on the other side of it. "Come on in," Buffy urged, it's two minutes past noon and you're the first one here."
"Oh," Willow said sympathetically. "Sorry, or something. Thanks for having me, anyways."
"No probs," Buffy assured her. "After last night, I thought we could all use a party to relax and unwind from the dance. The barbecue's heating up in the backyard - I'm thinking that's mostly where we're gonna be..."
"Sounds very good!" Willow said. "It's a nice day for it."
"Yeah, who'da thought it," Buffy agreed wryly. "Seventy degrees out on December the twelfth. There are times I just love California." She led Willow out the back doors. "So, shall we just hang here until more guests arrive?"
"We shall!" Willow agreed, sitting down in a comfortable armchair and putting her sandaled feet up on a stool. She looked contended and radiant in her casual yellow-green shorts and blue t-shirt.
"Hey, I know that look," Buffy accused, sitting down opposite Willow. "You, you... what else happened last night?"
"Well, Xander and I talked on the phone some after we had gotten back home," Willow started, "and..."
But at that moment the doorbell rang and Buffy had to rush off again.
(Just about halfway across town.)
The white spider skittered from crevice to shadow, then, judging its moment, across a dangerous patch of concrete into relative safety again.
The poisonous fumes had taken so many of its brothers, such a dreadful loss. As far as this one knew, it might have been the only one to survive. Since it had found its way out of the dark building, there had been several opportunities to strike, but these warmbloods were not the target. If it could kill them from the safety of numbers, the spider would have done so, but while it was alone, to attack meant risk.
The spider knew who its true targets were. How it had acquired this knowledge was beyond curiosity, but it could smell its prey. Above all, best to kill the light-furred warmblood that had almost destroyed this one with the shrivel-water. This one spider intended to do just that.
Just then, the wind shifted, but the thing knew in what direction it needed to head. Once the spider was closer, it would pick up the scent again.
(Back in the Summers backyard.)
"Here we go," Buffy said, showing Oz and Leslie onto the porch. "Voila, party central." All of a sudden, she noticed Xander, sitting in the chair next to Willow's. Tension filled the space around them. "Ooh, awkwardness," Buffy muttered, shifting uncomfortably.
It was Willow who next broke the silence. "Uh, Oz, I think we should, um, talk," she said nervously.
"Good idea!" Buffy blurted out. "And... and the grill should be warm by now. Em... Xander, can you help with the food?"
"Ooh, yeah, they call me the golden spatula," Xander quipped, getting up to loiter around the barbecue. Willow waved Oz inside and to the Summers den.
"So, uh," Willow started uncertainly. "I notice you came with Leslie..."
"Not with Leslie," Oz clarified. "I just, well, came with her. We're friends." Willow's face dropped a bit. "Uh, what about you and Xander?"
"Uh, we're not officially here together either," Willow declared. "After the way the dance went, I thought another group event wouldn't be the best choice for our second date."
Now it was Oz who reacted with disappointment. "Your... your sec..."
Willow nodded at Oz somberly. "Yeah. We are going to be having a second date, or a second chance at a first date, really."
Oz looked as if he had had the breath knocked out of him? "You are?"
Willow nodded, remaining silent for a few seconds, but the emptiness of the room was so hostile she felt she needed to say something. Unfortunately, all she had to say was. "Yeah, we're gonna be going out for Italian food later tonight, and seeing Pleasantville."
Oz rocked on his feet as if struck again. "If," he managed, "if Pleasantville goes well, then wha..."
All of a sudden tears were streaming down Willow's cheeks. "We're, uh, if it works, we're, um, we're gonna be a couple." Oz dropped his head down in a sudden jerk, and Willow could tell that he was crying too. "I'm sorry, honey," she crooned. "It's just... it's Xander. I've loved him for so many years - not any more than I love you, but..." She wiped tears out of her eyes and tried to explain it. "Ev- everything inside me - my heart, my soul, everything - is telling me that if this thing is right, between me and Xander, I can't let anything get in the way of it." Willow stopped at this point, still crying. "I'm, uh, I'm so sorry, honey..."
Oz shook his head and met Willow's gaze. "I got the message," he told her simply, and left the room.
(At the front door.)
*Ding-deng.*
After waiting a few seconds, Joyce called out "I guess I'll get it!" Briskly, she strode to the door, turning the knob and pulling it open.
"Oh, hello, Mister Gi-" Joyce broke off, taking in the sight of the pretty, fortysomething woman standing at the door with Rupert Giles. "Um, I don't think we've met. I'm Joyce Summers."
The other woman smiled warmly and stretched her hand out towards Joyce. "Oh, yes, Mrs. Summers, I've heard so much about you I feel like I know you already. I'm Celia Johnson."
"Oh?" Joyce shook Celia's hand. "And, um, who have you heard these things from? As a matter of fact, well," Joyce blushed. "Who are you?"
"Oh. Well, I'm, uh, I'm Rupert's assistant, I suppose, is the easiest way to put it," Celia said.
"At the library?"
"Em, no. Not at the library," Celia told her with peculiar emphasis.
(Back out on the porch,)
"So," Buffy said as she bustled out onto the back porch. "That's one iced tea, the good stuff, not from powder, two caffeine free cokes, one Sprite, one grape soda, um, another Sprite, and a doctor pepper for me." She finished passing the drinks around and hopped up onto the wooden railing.
"Thank you very much, Buffy," Giles intoned. "Well, we've been through another, um, adventure, and very well at that. The teenage population of Sunnydale has been saved from possible fates equivalent to death, and the, um, the kidnappers..."
"You don't need to sugarcoat it, Mister Giles," Leslie Decowski put in. "We all know the score, don't we? The vampires," she pronounced the word with careful enunciation, "have been either killed or have been run out of town."
"They ran away," Faith corrected, startling Buffy, who hadn't realized that her opposite number had arrived. "With their batty little tails between their hind legs. Oh, B, can I nip in and grab myself a black cherry?"
"Uh, sure," Buffy said, nodding.
"Yes, uh, quite," Giles said. "And, well, I was thinking a toast was in order. To triumph, over the, uh, the forces of evil."
"Here, here!" Xander called out enthusiastically, and glasses were clinked into cans with due and proper ceremony.
"Triumph for now," Buffy said uncertainly. "But that magician the vampires warned us about, the Upriser..." She considered the information that Tom of the Brotherhood of the Bat had passed on to her, in exchange for the lives of himself and his partner. "He sounds like a way serious threat."
"Plus, it's just plain creepy," Willow observed. "The idea that he's been living here, working right here in Sunnydale, for as long as any of us have been alive, and centuries before."
"He's got to know this town like the back of his hand," Leslie observed soberly. "And he'll probably have a killer setup. Assistants, goons, who knows what else."
"Who knows indeed," Buffy muttered, taking another gulp of her drink.
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