43-part WsIP usually make me want to tear my eyebrows out.

Indeed. Especially when I'm writing them.

I finished one, okay? Now all it needs is some betaing. And, a plot, and some charaterization that actuals works and some decent writing. And the one I've started is only six parts and 30 000 words at the moment, and I know how it's going to end!

When do you know you spend too much time on Buffistas? When smonster's new tag, "Aliens came and fucked the monkey" sounds to your ears like Buffista/Smallville crossover slash.

That's when.

"Alexandra Coombs, nee Rayne, was a patient, open-minded woman. She'd bloody well had to be, what with the family she came from."

I just opened up WordPad and that "magically" appeared. This is all your fault. But I'm eating my lunch first before this goes any further.

Guessing... hoping...

She's Ethan's sister. She has three children, two daughters and a son. Uncle Ethan is coming round for dinner tonight, and...

t /pathetic attempt at evil plot bunny feeding

Tooloo! Tooloo!

Thank you, Am, I was trying to decide on genders of kids. A few years back, then, and she's younger than Ethan? The kids need to young enough for the endearing lisp on Cthulhu, and Ethan's old enough to have fairly grown nieces and nephews.

That sounds good, connie. You might not have to worry about where in the canon it is-- a casual mention of plans to set up a fancy-dress shop would do nicely for pre-Buffy timing.

Precisely! I was thinking of having him mention he was heading to America to look up an old friend.

BrainShare! It's not just a Novell technical convention!

maybe I'm just too lazy to put the opening in email, maybe I'm just a tease

Alexandra Coombs, nee Rayne, was a patient, open-minded woman. She'd bloody well had to be, what with the family she came from. Dark, musty family home in Oxfordshire, with locked attics and basement rooms that one wasn't supposed to try to get in to, whispered history that your parents wouldn't let you listen to, odd relatives who disappeared and reappeared years later with bizarre tales--

"Mum, when is Uncle Ethan going to get here?" asked her daughter Paula.

"He'll be here in time for dinner, love. Go set the table, please, I need to check the roast."

"Daddy's working late tonight, isn't he," Paula said knowingly. At twelve years old, she was beginning to have a more grown-up appreciation of interpersonal dynamics.

"Yes. Yes, dear, he is."

"Daddy doesn't like Uncle Ethan, does he."

Alexandra always made an effort to tell her children the truth. "Your Uncle Ethan does not always go out of his way to make himself likeable." Showing her true Rayne heritage, Paula only giggled appreciatively and went out to set the table.

At a quarter to seven, with the roast just finishing and the wine ready to be poured, there was a knock at the door. "What, no portentious flash of lighting?" Alexandra mused. "Or even a roll of thunder?"

Paula ran to the front door. "Uncle Ethan! Uncle Ethan!"

here's what I've been doing tonight. It's Am-Chau's and amych's fault.

Alexandra Coombs, nee Rayne, was a patient, open-minded woman. She'd bloody well had to be, what with the family she came from. Dark, musty family home in Oxfordshire, with locked attics and basement rooms that one wasn't supposed to try to get in to, whispered history that your parents wouldn't let you listen to, odd relatives who disappeared and reappeared years later with bizarre tales--

"Mum, when is Uncle Ethan going to get here?" asked her daughter Paula.

"He'll be here in time for dinner, love. Go set the table, please, I need to check the roast."

"Daddy's working late tonight, isn't he," Paula said knowingly. At twelve years old, she was beginning to have a more grown-up appreciation of interpersonal dynamics.

"Yes. Yes, dear, he is."

"Daddy doesn't like Uncle Ethan, does he."

Alexandra always made an effort to tell her children the truth. "Your Uncle Ethan does not always go out of his way to make himself likeable." Showing her true Rayne heritage, Paula only giggled appreciatively and went out to set the table.

At a quarter to seven, with the roast just finishing and the wine ready to be poured, there was a knock at the door. "What, no portentous flash of lighting?" Alexandra mused. "Or even a roll of thunder?"

Paula ran to the front door. "Uncle Ethan! Uncle Ethan!"

Alexandra came out from the kitchen to see her brother, four years her elder, come in and lean down to hug his niece. "And hello to you, Paula." He looked up at the sound of running footsteps, but the boy who entered did so at a respectable walk--despite the huge grin.

"Hullo, Uncle Ethan," the boy said with all the dignity of his nine years.

"Good evening to you, young Ethan." The pair shared a smile that was too conspiratorial for Alexandra's peace of mind, and she cleared her throat. The elder Ethan straightened and went over to hug his sister. "And, of course, good evening, Lexie." He kissed her on the cheek.

"Good evening, Ethan. Punctual as ever."

"I left in good time to pass customs at the border of this alien land you live in. High Wycomb, Lexie, of all the unbelievable places ..."

She led the way into the kitchen. "You needn't worry, your smog-choked London lungs won't be too badly damaged by the clean air. Would you pull the roast? It's almost done."

Ethan found the hot pads and extracted the roast from the cooker. "I passed your vicar on the way in. I think he blessed himself when he saw me."

"I wouldn't be surprised. He's the same vicar as when you were here last."

"Ah. That would explain it." He set the roasting pan on top of the cooker to cool, then turned to watch his sister assemble the rest of dinner. She hummed as she worked. "It always amazes me how happy you are in this world."

Alexandra reached past him for the rest of the salad makings. "You make it sound like we grew up in Hogwarts or something."

"Hogwarts?"

"Children's books, never mind." She gestured around the kitchen. "This is perfectly normal, Ethan. You are the one who lives in the strange world of mystery and strange doings."

"The word you're looking for is magic, Lexie," he said quietly. He nodded slightly at the uncomfortable look on her face. "Are we waiting dinner for your husband?"

"Um, no. Huw's working late." She saw the smirk on Ethan's lips. "He didn't grow up like we did, Ethan. It's amazing he even believes in it at all, you can't expect him to be easy with it."

He shrugged. "Yes, I suppose it's quite decent of him not to hold your family against you, Grandmother celebrating all the Sabbats with full ceremonial, Uncle Malcolm and his Golden Dawn group, Mother and Father encouraging you to argue with Vicar Thomas. Me. Dashed decent of him."

"Ethan, don't. This is why he isn't here, all right? So you and I and the children can visit without it getting bitter."

"Sorry," he said sullenly. "I'll be ..."

"If you say 'good,' I shan't believe you." That brought a more natural snicker from him. Alexandra went to hug him. "He's a good man, Huw is. I love him, and he's wonderful with the children."

"Oh, I know, but, honestly--he's an insurance salesman, Lexie."

"We can't all fall in love with gorgeous rebels who wear indecent jeans and play guitar." She turned back to the dinner preparations before she could see the memories and plans on her brother's face.

Ethan was distracted by another set of footsteps coming his way. He looked down at the gap- toothed, brown-eyed toddler clutching his pant leg and grinning up at him. "Well, if it's not Rebecca. Self-mobile, are we? What a tragedy for the breakables."

"Ba," the child seriously.

"Really?" He crouched down to look at her more easily. He glanced towards Alexandra, saw she was busy, then leaned forward. "Cthulhu," he said softly.

The grin got bigger. "Tooloo."

"Hastur."

"Assur."

"Janus."

"Ja'us."

"Oh, good girl. Here's a new one, Yog--" A firm hand settled across his mouth, and Rebecca giggled. Ethan raised his eyes to his sister and raised an eyebrow.

"You are not teaching my children summoning spells," Alexandra said firmly. "Carry the roast to the table, we're ready."

The saying of Grace and to whom one should address it was such a topic of debate at any Rayne dinner table that Alexandra decided to skip the whole subject. When her husband presided, of course, he always gave a brief, respectful grace, little knowing his family was only being patient with him.

Alexandra was at the head of the table, with Rebecca in a high chair next to her. Ethan was at the foot, with Paula and the young Ethan to either side. The conversation consisted of school updates and the more innocuous tales of travel in