rassenfrassen cut off last three lines

From the angle of his head, he was looking at her in the mirror. But when she looked up to smile back at him, the mirror was empty. He brought his head back down quickly and focused silently on the road.

All the sleepers will still sleeping.

Were still sleeping.

Her stomach noted as she realized how fragile it all was.

knotted. (edit - ironic that I spell the correction incorrectly)

I'm loving the Giles and Buffy interaction (and it's awful that I can't bring myself to write that as Giles/Buffy... t shudder )

Really, it's a lovely bit of respect and camraderie(sp?). And I like how introspective and sensible Buffy is being. Much better than Spiral.

connie, I love you. Really enjoying the Buffy and Giles, and the Buffy and Xander, and the ... all of it. coughMORENOW!cough

write, write, write

Glorificus stood on the sidewalk in front of the Summers house and studied it thoughtfully in the darkness just before dawn. "Well, if you *like* Arts & Crafts I suppose it's OK. But I think my closet is bigger." She waved her hands, and her minions scurried forward. "Make sure nobody leaves, guys, OK? We're finishing this thing tonight."

The lock only lasted a couple of seconds. The small robed figures poured into the house and spread out, searching for the occupants. Glory sauntered in through the front door.

"And the decor, really, would just a little bit of sparkly and velvet have killed them?" She settled herself on the couch and waited happily for the shouts of outrage to begin from the occupants of the house. And waited. Busy footsteps going back and forth upstairs was all the sound she heard. "Um, guys? Where are my victims? I expect some cowering mortals in front of me, tout suite."

Dreg came down the stairs slowly. "I'm sorry, most holy, but the house is empty. There's no one here. I think they must have left quickly, there are clothes laying all about."

"Left?" Glory jumped to her feet. "Left? How dare they run away!" She stomped upstairs to do her own investigation. She looked into all the bedrooms and peered into the closets. "Frump," she muttered, turning away from Joyce's clothes. "All right, now this is annoying. Where the heck did they go?"

"The car is still in the driveway, delectableness," another minion volunteered. "The mother has been ill. Someone must have helped them."

She waved Dreg over. "Send somebody over to the boy and Anyanka's place, see if they're there. And check to see where the red-headed witch is."

"At once, most holy."

She checked the other bedrooms again, looking at the disarranged belongings. The minions poked around, looking for any clues as to where everyone had gone. Glory was looking through Buffy's make-up drawer and sniffing the various perfumes when Dreg came running in, carrying a notebook.

"Most holy, most holy, look at this!"

"Does it tell me where they've gone or who the Key is?" she asked petulantly.

Dreg bounced. "Yes, it does."

Glory stared at him, then yanked the notebook out of his hands.

"'Journal of Dawn Summers,'" she read. "'I'm so sick of it all being my fault. Running, hiding, hurting, crying, it's all my fault. They were probably happy before I got here. Some big evil would show up, Buffy would kick its butt, then they'd go party. Mom wasn't sick, Giles wasn't a vampire--'" Glory glared at Dreg. "Why am I reading the self-centered whinings of a teenaged girl?"

"Keep going, Glorificus, you'll see."

She sighed. "'If I thought it would do any good, I'd give myself to Glory and be done with it. Tara got hurt because Glory thought she was me. I don't want to see that anymore, other people hurt because I'm . . . the damned . . .'" Glory looked up, smiling. "'Key.'" She leaned down and hugged Dreg until he gasped in pain and breathlessness. "Dreg, I could kiss you, except, yuck. It's her, that little girl is the Key!"

"But how?" Dreg wheezed.

" I don't know how! I don't care! We catch her, we'll squeeze it out of her--gently though. It's tomorrow morning she needs to bleed. And even if she isn't the Key, we'll grab her and torture her until the Slayer coughs up the real one."

She paused and looked around the room again, frowning at the signs of quick departure.

"Perhaps the neighbors know where they've gone?" Dreg said. "We shall bring them to you that you may interrogate them."

Glory perked up at the thought, then shook her head. "There might be a quicker way, but hold that thought. Where are the Knights?"

"The Knights, splendid and pretty one?"

"The Knights! Gregor and the boys! I haven't seen hide nor hair of them for the past few days. We find the Knights, I bet we find the Key. And we'd better find her first. Round 'em up and let's go, there's nothing here."

Dreg scurried out to collect the others. On her way to the door, Glory spotted a pair of Buffy's strappy high-heeled sandals on the floor. "Oh, pretty. And just my color." When she compared them to her feet, however, the shoes were too small. "Hmph. Probably her little sister's anyway. Little girl shoes." She dropped them, kicked them under the bet, and followed Dreg.

Yay! More fic! I like Glory looking at Buffy's shoes. Just one thing: should 'delectableness' be 'your delectableness'? I seem to recall the minion's names for her mostly being 'your somethingness'.

I'll make sure he's flogged for over-familiarity.

Thank you! It isn't even half past eight, and I've got a minion flogged. Life is good.

oooh, a flogging, a flogging, yay for a flogging!

She dropped them, kicked them under the bet, and followed Dreg.

Under the bet?

We seem to be all about the flogging. Speaking of which, Deena, you should probably flog me. I'm being very slow at reading Tess.