I haven't seen the Spike's Bitch fic site, no. I feel I should, though. Link?

And you seem to have got a doublepost, Plei. Which you'd noticed.

Got something to workshop? Or should I invent something?

I know. My mouse finger is touchy. Decided it wanted to clickclickclick.

[link]

And workshop away, Plei.

Twitchy tigger finger, huh? If only I could fire off porn like that.

Click- porn!

Click- porn!

Click- porn!

Cereal to say thinks, Elena. I'm sure I'll have many happy hours there. And by happy, I mean porny.

Thanks, Elena- but (and I'm not at all sure this is the right thread for this) when I click the fiction link, all I get is a 404 error. Thoughts? Who to ask?

Heh.

[link]

Is working for me.

It seems to be working from the link, actually, thank you.

Works for me, too.

A stack of bills was really not the liveliest of Friday night dates. Buffy glowered at the to-be-paid pile. Somehow, this wasn't how she'd pictured her adulthood. Dawn was spending the night with a thoroughly-investigated and seemingly harmless friend from homeroom, Willow was taking a nap, having worn herself out studying up for the new semester, and the only sound was the quiet scratch of a ballpoint pen in the checkbook. If anything, it was how she'd pictured life in a convent, but without the religion part. Still, she had silence, poverty, and chastity down pat; maybe there was a wimple in her future after all.

"Stupid life," she muttered.

When she'd finished the routine emptying of her bank account, she turned her attention to the pile of coroner's reports and obituaries that Willow had left for her. Nothing, nada, zip. Three cancer deaths, one electrocution, a couple of heart attacks, and a handful of miscellaneous accidents, none of which screamed "supernatural". She'd kind of hoped that she could at least have a cathartic night's slaying, but it looked like another one of those slow patrols she'd dreamed about, back when she'd had a life.

Things must have gotten bad if she found herself more than half-hoping for an upswing in demon activity. There was the Bronze, but things always seemed to go badly there, and besides, if there was anything more pathetic than sitting at home alone on a Friday night, it was sitting somewhere else alone on a Friday night, especially if your job description put you firmly in the uncool grown-up camp.

What she really wanted was to leave Sunnydale. Not for long, just a weekend somewhere where she didn't feel like somebody's middle-aged parent trying too hard to be hip. And if she could figure out a way to get down there, she knew just the place. Her dad owed her big time; if she was lucky, she could maybe even guilt him into taking her shopping. All she needed was a car. She picked up the phone and dialed a number before she could change her mind.

"Harris residence, this is Xander speaking."

"Of course it's Xander speaking. Last I checked, you're the only person who lives there." Buffy hoped she'd managed glib. She gone for glib, but she was worried it had just ended up sounding mean.

"Oh, hi Buffy. What's up? Not planning on killing my ex again, are you?"

"Xander..."

"Sorry, it's just still kind of a sore spot. What do you need?" The strained friendliness of his voice didn't bode well for her request, but she decided she needed to forge ahead anyway.

"Your car."

"You want me to drive you somewhere? Be wheel-guy?"

"Actually, I was kind of hoping to drive myself."

"Buffy, no offense here, but you're not exactly what one would call safe when you're operating a motor vehicle. In fact, I think somewhere on you, there's a little warning label just like there is on cold medicine. Why don't I just drive you to where you need to go?"

"Because I need to go to L.A."

"And this comes up at 7:28 on a Friday night because? Hold on. Look, I know he's been on your mind, but you're not planning on seeing--"

"Angel?" Xander would think that, and to be fair, the thought had crossed her mind. "No, I'm not. I was thinking more of the handsome older guy I dimly remember calling 'Dad'."

"That would be the same one who's bailed on you the last dozen times you've tried to get in touch with him?"

Ouch. Xander must have paid attention to D'Hoffryn, because he was definitely going for the pain. "Yes, that one. He's kind of the only dad I've got, and I miss him."

Xander's voice lost the sarcastic edge. "I get that, but wouldn't it be better if you gave the guy some notice?"

"Why? So he can find something more important to do? His secretary said last time I called that he'd be in town for a while. I'll leave him a message."

"If--and this is still a big if--I let you borrow my car, you'll promise to bring it back intact, right? No scrapes, bumps, or demon parts?"

She had him; he was going to loan it to her. If it wasn't for him being Xander, she could have kissed him. "Cross my heart and hope to, well, not die, but hope to something."

The long-suffering sigh on the other end was music to her ears. "Okay, I'll be over in a few."

"Thank you."

"Just remember, you owe me big time."

"So noted."

After leaving the promised message on her father's voice mail, she went up to her room and threw together a weekend bag. It took her longer than expected; none of her clothing seemed right for whatever it was she wanted to do, not that she was totally sure of what that was. Buffy finally resorted to closing her eyes and grabbing clothes at random. After one last wistful look at the closet, she grabbed the key to her father's place from her jewelry box, and went to wake Willow and let her know she'd be on her own for the weekend.

"You know where Dad's number is, right?"

"Yep. And I know the number where Dawnie's staying, and I know that I should get in touch with Xander in case of emergency."

"You sure you're going to be OK while I'm gone?" She couldn't keep the worry out of her voice.

Willow smiled at her and nodded. "Peachy keen."

Somehow, despite all the last-minute things she found herself doing and then checking to make sure she'd done, she managed to be on the road by a little after 8:00, and in L.A.--car intact, nerves shot--by 11:00. The entry light was on, but the inside of her dad's place was still dark. Buffy swallowed her disappointment and let herself in. When she turned the lights on, she found that he'd left her a note saying he'd had to go off, so she should go and do something fun. He'd also left a neatly-folded stack of cash for her to fund her fun. He hadn't changed a bit.