(Connie, we've got to be doing the weirdest multiple-posting ever)

• * *

...She stepped towards the pentagram, dragging Ethan with her, and the demon lunged towards them; it was still missing one arm and part of its head, but what was visible looked more than capable of doing the trick. "One. Two. Thr-"

"ohgreatEyghonIcommandtheetothedarkcircleofhellreturn." For a moment, the demon stood very still, and then popped out like a dead bulb. Emma would have sworn she caught a look of disgust on the extant half of its face before it went.

"Where is Deirdre Conover?" Crispin DeVries' voice was iced rage. "Did you kill her, Rayne? Feed her to that thing? Tell me, or Mrs. Peel will break your arm. Trust me for that."

"Deirdre? Hurt Deirdre?" Ethan sounded honestly bewildered. "Are you mad? Deirdre's my best friend, besides Rupert. She's in Kildare, visiting her sis. Sis just had twins and Deirdre was needed. I wouldn't feed Deirdre to the Eyghon!"

"But you were going to feed Spike to it. And me. Naughty boy." It was Drusilla, suddenly dangerous and demented again. The pointy toe and stiletto heel of one shoe tapped out a rhythm of displeasure on the edge of the pentagram. "Were you really going to feed us to the grotty old Eyghon? You need to be thumped for that."

Emma saw Dru's face begin its change. "Crispin, look alive!" she sang out, and promptly pushed Ethan, as hard as she could, back into the protective perimeter of the pentagram. "Dru's going po-faced again, Spike's likely doing it as well!"

"Not, I'm not." Spike had backed away, and was standing in the front door. "Come along, Dru-love, we'll get no joy here. Besides, I got what I came for - the Slayer's actually a bloody witch. Heard the rumours, now I know, and Oxford's no place for us."

Dru's motion was so quick that Emma's eyes failed to register how she got to Spike's side. Crispin swore, and jumped for the door. He wasn't nearly quick enough.

"Cheery-bye, loveys!" Drusilla sang, and they heard her heels hit the flagstones of the path as they vaulted the unknown girl on their way out of town.

"After them!"

Emma, right behind Crispin, reached the street. They were just in time to see Spike and Dru trundling off down the street into the night, dangling their legs off the back of a motorised milk float. Spike waved; Dru blew them a kiss. The float disappeared around a corner, and was gone.

I've got to admit, Deborah, I liked it better before the Slayer got pulled into it. Emma could have routed them all by herself. OK, with a little help from Crispin. And I'm thinking Spike would have been just a touch more "Bring on the Slayer! I've already munched one, I can take another!"

She did. No Slayer visiting or involvement; she's just a threat to scare Ethan into behaving himself. And the mention was needed; getting the gen on her was the reason Spike came to Oxford. He's a smart boy.

more:

"Blast." Crispin, his face indistinct in the summer night, sounded glum. "I really wanted to bring those two down, and instead? I let them both get clean away. Fine demon hunter I am."

"Demon hunter? Crispin, you rogue!" She saw the slump of his shoulders, and remembered that, no matter her perception of him, he was rising sixty-four years old. "Come on, let's go back in and deal with our cheeky little sorcerer. You're going to tell me all about this demon hunter thing of yours, make no mistake. I can't believe I've just met a pair of genuine vampires. Vampires with friends, no less; I wonder who was driving the milk flo- oh, bloody hell!"

They stared at each other in consternation for a second before both turning back to Number 17 at high speed.

They were too late. A section of the pentagram had been smudged by Ethan's heels as he slipped out. The girl was gone, as well; whether she'd woken up and wandered away on her own, or had been taken away by Ethan, she was no longer on the path. Whatever she was doing was likely to raise some brows, however, since her shirt was precisely where they'd left it.

No Slayer visiting or involvement; she's just a threat to scare Ethan into behaving himself.

I got that, but even the mention threw me. Possibly a little too self-referential.

Well, I kinda like my bit of sixties Oxford as it is; after all, none of this is publishable, or even canon (I mean, Avengers meets Buffy?) This is purely a giftie for Fay. So I think I'll keep as is, unless there's a lot of negative feedback. In and out again go Spike and Dru. Besides, I want them fleeing town on a milk float, as an homage to the original series, which I love.

So much more fun than having a souled Angel brooding away in the back garden at Number 17.

Wow, this was fun to read. Love the drabbles, kat, ita, deb, and anyone I forgot. Oh, and plei, though I think I said so already. Loved the continuations Connie and Deb.

It really wasn't, uh, work-appropriate, you know? Heh.

No, shrift, it wasn't, which made me very happy when I got home.

Connie, I love the take on Willow you've got going. This, though:

"There are so many of them," Willow whispered.

"I guess she's a big eater," Xander shrugged.

Manoman, would he really be that cruel? Tara's in a bed across the way, having suffered the same thing as the people he just dissed. And he loves Willow, and Willow loves Tara.

And here (thank Jah) is the end of it. How it got to push 7000 words, I don't know.

But I may revisit this, all or most of the characters, in future.

• * *

"I'm not saying I don't believe you." John Steed leaned back in his Chesterfield chair, listening to rain bouncing off the window ledges. The summer heat had broken, and London was luxuriating in streams of stormwater, sluicing off the dusty buildings. "I do, actually. For some reason, those two vampires sound familar. The demon is a bit harder to swallow, mind you. But I find I jib rather hard at the milk float."

"I still wonder who was driving it." This one detail obviously rankled. "I can't see how it could possibly have been Ethan Rayne; he hadn't time to get past us and out to that damned float."

"I can't help wondering whether that girl, whoever she was, simply wandered off like an exotic dancer and went, er, toplessly wandering through Oxford City Centre." Seeing this had raised a smile from Emma, Steed relaxed. "I'm shocked about deVries, though. He's actually set up as some sort of paranormal investigator?"

"Not only that, he has clients. Who would have thought there would be so much other-worldly activity in sleepy old Oxford? I wonder if it has something to do with he presence of someone he called a Slayer?"

She knew, by the the way Steed's face suddenly went impassive, that she'd guessed right. He knew something, that was clear. Equally clear was the fact that he wasn't going to talk about it, not now. There were moments when she could cheerfully have run him down with his own Bentley.

"I wouldn't worry about that, if I happened to be you," he said vaguely. And anyway-"

He was interrupted by the jangle of the phone. He lifted the handset and listened for a moment.

"Mrs Peel," he said tersely, "we're needed."

• * *

Connie, that's marvellous stuff.

Manoman, would he really be that cruel?

Well, he's still a bit snarked at the "dependable" thing and Willow being all trusting of V!Giles. It's a tense night.