Oh, now I wish I hadn't said anything. See, this is what I get for posting at 1:00 am. Yes, it is spoilery as in spoilery for things that haven't happened yet. I know enough from just lurking to know that things that have already aired are OK. So, I will not post it and go back to enjoying the wonderful fics here. Maybe I'll post it after it's not spoilery anymore.

Last of the Ff posting:

She listened, keeping her face completely smooth and impassive. In fact, it was an odd story; she wondered if this child knew just how odd a story it was.

When he had finished, she ventured a question. "What made you assume it was traders in black market blood supplies? Rather than, say, someone playing silly beggars and pretending they were Dracula? You know, someone nice and high?"

"There were eleven dead people," he told her flatly. "Eleven. Unless there's a whole lot of people getting that high and doing that particular bit of assing about, I don't see it." He abruptly tipped his still-foamy second pint to his lips, and drained it. "And you didn't see them, either. They were blue, sort of marble-looking. No blood left. So unless it really was Dracula, then someone wants all that blood, right? And what else could it be, except for money on the black market?"

Emma considered telling him about all the twisty things people had historically used blood for - Elisabeth Bathory came to mind - but decided against it. "Right. Supposing you're right - you want us to investigate?"

"That was the big idea," he told her wryly. "Because why else would I take my life in my hands and call a government ministry? Not that you aren't smashing, and all, but I didn't know that when I rang up, did I?"

She laughed out loud. "No, I suppose you didn't. All right. I'll have to clear this with my partner, but assuming it does get cleared, I'll head down at the weekend. Give me your address and number in Oxford."

She headed out into the street, turning over the information he'd given her. Had she looked over her shoulder, she might have surprised a rather odd look on Ethan Rayne's face.

kat perez, I do hope you'll post it here when it is no longer spoilery. I'd love to read it.

I'd love to read it.

Kat, what Elena said.

Well, this is another try. Same topic motel/gun/note. Non-spoilery.

It’s not right. Even though they love each other, it isn’t right. Arriving separately. Checking in under assumed names. Sneaking up to the shabby room and screwing against the wall because heaven only knows who has been on the bed. Trying to let no parts of their bodies touch the moldy shower curtain as they wash up.

They’d been going there for weeks. Oh, he saw the way the guy behind the counter smirked every time he handed over the keys. He thought this was just some afternoon fuck, something secret and dirty. What did he know about it? This wasn’t just some casual affair. He would never do that.

Their cars were parked in the lot now. She’d already gone into the room. He knew they’d be there for a while. It was never just wham, bam, thank you ma’am. He cared about her. He was so good.

He reached into the glove compartment and pulled out the gun. Nobody had ever asked about it, not even after what had happened with the girls. He read the note again, “Our love is pure.” He smiled. Then, Andrew went up to the room to kill Anya.

Kat! Welcome to Fan Fic evil!

That's fun!

My first time here, this is fun stuff! Deena, I'm anxiously awaiting your next one...

Whee! Kat! Fun!

I will be posting something, the start of, later. Err. It's not... pleasant. Just as a warning. My brain is in a nasty spot.

The Phoenix died before I was able to post the last bit, so here's the rest of Gunn's Misadventures in Sunnydale:

Gunn caught the handgun Wes threw and looked at him, exasperated. “Discreet? Do I even know how to use this thing?” He shrugged at Wes’s level look. “Yeah, okay, I do, but I like my ax.”

“Keep the gun.”

“Fine.”

****

Two hours of listening to Lorne practice The Elephant Love Medley from Moulin Rouge in an empty bar with no bartender left Gunn feeling sick. Probably too many weird things going on around here that could get you killed for anyone with authority to come in and ask him to stop. Gunn had tried once and Lorne had offered him the mic. No way, man, not gonna happen.

A movement across the bar caught his eye. He looked up from scribbles he was making in the condensation on the table from the watered drink in front of him. “Alonna?” He could have sworn. She looked over her shoulder and smiled at him sadly.

“Lonna? Honey?” He felt a hand on his shoulder as he started to get up.

“Hey, I have something for you.”

Gunn looked around, annoyance clear on his face. “What? Andrew? I gotta go.”

Andrew smirked at the girl in the shadows by the fire exit. “Pretty. Someone you know?”

“My dead sister.”

“Oh,” Andrew nodded his head wisely. “The First.”

“What?” Gunn slung Andrew’s hand away from him and slipped away from his blocking body, heading for the door in swift strides.

“It’s just the First Evil.” Andrew’s clear but slightly nasal voice carried over the song and Gunn whipped his head back around.

“The first?”

“The First Evil. If she’s dead, that’s the First Evil. It keeps doing that. It got me a couple of times, and, you know, I was evil. I should know.” Andrew looked smugly self-satisfied for a moment and then shook his head, looking down. “I was evil. But, I’m redeemed now. I’m helping.”

Gunn looked back at the girl just in time to see her grin, just like that last smile he saw on her face before she tried to vamp him, the one that wasn’t really her, and then turn to dust.

He turned back to the table and sat down heavily, running a hand over his face.

“Sorry.”

“What?” Gunn shrugged. “Not like it’s the first time evil ever tried to mess with me.”

“I have a message.”

Gunn didn’t respond, so Andrew pulled a chair out and sat on the edge. “You know, without the ax, and, you know, no special robes or anything, you remind me more of Blade.”

Gunn looked up, disbelieving.

“Blade? Not the movie guy. I’m not talking Mister cut with the big teeth and gums. I mean the real Blade.” Gunn sat, trying to take this in. “The comic book? He fights vampires because he hates them so much. Of course, he is one too, well, sort of.”

Realizing this isn’t helping, Andrew stops and thinks for a moment. “No, I got it. Bishop! Bishop, Issue 283 of the X-Men, where he comes back from an alternate timeline, having beaten Apocalypse, and he’s bald. He really kicks ass. The rest of the X-Men weren’t sure they liked him at first, you know, because he kicked ass and he was so much more violent than they were.” Andrew tilted his head reflectively. “Okay, and he’s kind of crazy too.” He looks up at Gunn hopefully. “Also, his sister was killed, Shard.” He looked at Gunn’s face and stopped.

Gunn turned pointedly away and looked at Lorne again. Verse 43, or maybe just the second verse for the 22nd time, who knows by now. There was no following this crazy song.

Andrew muttered and twitched.

“What?”

“I have a message. It’s important.”

“Fine.” Gunn looked at him expectantly. “What’s the message?”

“Oh, I didn’t read it. It’s here.” Andrew attempted to pass a folded piece of paper under the table but jammed his hand on the leg. “Ow. Here.” He slid it across the top, right through the water spill.

……Sunset…. Motel, room 233….. she….. dies.

“You couldn’t have just handed this to me?” Gunn tried to read the rest, but water, and probably Andrew’s sweaty palms, had made the pencil fade to indecipherability.

“I was trying not to call attention to it!” Andrew huffed. “An old high school friend gave it to me.” He smiled, perky. “You know, she used to live in L.A. I don’t know when she got back. She said it was from a friend who knew how to stop this thing.” He lowered his voice and looked around. “You know, the First.”

“Right. The first, stopping because of someone dying in a motel room? Sounds to me like that’s already happened.”

“Oh, yeah, it did, one of the potentials, and then she pretended to be her. I mean,” He paused at Gunn’s confused look. “I mean the First pretended to be the potential after she died. Eve. The potential.”

“Never mind. I’ll go show this to the guys and see what they have to say.”

*****

Wes rubbed tired eyes and looked up from the note. “And you got this from a hostage? Of Buffy’s? Who got it from an old high school friend?”

“Yeah, I know, not like it’s exactly reliable.”

Fred smiled nervously. “Well, it could be. I mean, it’s not like there haven’t been other weird things happen. It wouldn’t hurt to check.” She looked around. The guys were scowling at her. “What? It wouldn’t! Okay, and yeah, I’m not getting too far with this one. The Garlybrxmtl was a waste. At least this one talks about Bringers of…” She trailed off and scowled at the book in her hand. “Something.”

Gunn twitched the note out of Wes’s hand. “I’ll check it out. Looks like I’m not going to be much use around here. At least I can try to find a hotel before sunset and see what’s up. There can’t be that many hotels in this town.”

At the seventh place, a fleabag motel, after having checked all the hotels, boarding houses and bed and breakfast places in town, and ending up so far at the edge of town it might as well have been in the country, he wondered why didn’t he think of calling around and asking if they had 200 plus rooms before he went looking. This place didn’t look promising either. It was a nasty U-shaped thing from the 70’s. He catalogued the strangeness, cracked pavement, weeds growing up into the parking lot, a lot of shadows. It took him a minute to realize that it was two story and the numbers began with 103 and ended with 293. Seriously, seriously weird.

He looked at the neon sign above and gave a short bark of laughter. “UNSET,” at some point it had lost the first letter. “Whatever.” He shook his head.

So, probably not happening at sunset then, which was a good thing since it was already 9:00.

His cellphone rang.

“Yeah.”

“Gunn? Weird stuff, since about 8:45. Bringers… crazy…” Fred, on the other end, but she broke up badly and he couldn’t catch it all.

“What? Say again.”

“Bringers! Some dead…saw….gouging…eye sockets.” She paused and the line crackled. “It was really icky.”

“What’s going on? Something to do with this First Evil thing?”

“We don’t know…translated… Slayer…die… cause…imbalance… an opposite force….”

“Listen, I can’t hear you and this place is seriously giving me the creeps. I’m just going to check things out and I’ll be right back. Stay where you are!” He started to hang up but stopped and brought the phone back up. “Wait? Where’s Wesley? Is he with you?” Only static responded. He thought about calling back, but decided to get this over with and then go see what was going on.

The room was easy to spot, up the rickety metal staircase to what was almost a catwalk in front of the rooms and about 1/3 of the way from the office. The light was out above the room, but checking the numbers on either side of the door convinced him that had to be the one. The no light thing gave him the creeps, though he realized there were more rooms unlit than lit. Sure, okay, that was better. The whole place could be a monster hangout. He pulled the gun out of the back of his waistband and headed for the stairs. Damn, he would have swore every third one creaked. There was some seriously weird shit here.

He got to the top of the stairs and eased his way down the catwalk. There were no sounds, not even the normal, and slightly freaky ones to an L.A. boy, of nature at night. Nothing. When he got to the door he stopped and looked around. There was no sound from inside, at least, nothing he could hear. He looked around and wondered how to play this.

“Be discreet, my ass.” The stupid gun stuck to his fingers, despite the slick weight of it. Forget discreet and he didn’t do guns. He stuffed it back in his pants and wiped his hands on his pant legs, then took a deep breath before touching the door.

Unlocked. He pushed and the door swung open. A roil of cheap air freshener and blood made him want to gag. “Whew.”

A blond, her back to the door, sat on the floor bent over, awkwardly cradling the body of another girl, while blood seeped into cheap brown carpet, dark into darker. His head jerked reflexively. Nothing special about bodies. Too bad he’d gotten there just a little too late.

He nodded bodyward. "Who’s the stiff?” The blond twitched, but didn’t look at him.

Okay, that might not have been sensitive. “Buffy?”

She looked up. Blood smeared her chin and open mouth.

He blinked, thinking of the gun. “Shit. Shoulda brought the ax.”