Hot damn, Kat.

Bloody good work.

<shudders>

Lovely Fred, kat.

WOW.

Kat, that was chilling.

Thanks. blush

That's the second drabble I've written with Fred, and I'm trying to write something longer with her. I haven't even watched Angel consistently since mid-S3, but I just hear Fred in my head sometimes. I don't know what that says about my head, but there you go.

I like your Fred, Kat.

If somebody had told Frank Pembleton, even six months ago, that he'd be standing in a store called the Magic Box, with a list that included stakes, holy water, and garlic cloves(Which were already reeking quietly in a plastic bag, in the car thank you very much.) he would've thought they were crazy. Or John Munch, making one of his little "jokes". But everything changed once they expected him to babysit a partner. It wasn't like Tim knew anything(although he had to admit his gut was surprisingly good. And that could not be taught.)

But it's hard not to look for somebody to blame when you are a qualified professional in a store filled with crystal balls and chicken feet.

"Excuse me," Frank said. "I need to look at some stakes."
The proprietor looked at him with pity. "Most people in the trade make their own stakes."

Frank said "Do I look like most people?" and flashed his badge.
"No, no. You sure don't. Not around here, anyway. You're from back East, aren't you?"

"Yeah. About this holy water?" "Blessed fresh today. That's why the delivery's late."

"OK. I'll take twelve bottles." He had already spent long enough on this errand. It was beneath him.

"Sir, I didn't say anything when you announced your attention to buy Sunnydale's Finest pre-made Taiwanese stakes. But I must make a pitch for another brand of holy water. Directly from Lourdes." "Hmm, how much?" It wasn't like he was paying out-of-pocket for this hokum anyway. Let the suits upstairs buy the imported holy water. It was the least they could do.

"Just a dollar more. It really is the best value." And he scurried into the back room. "I'm just kind of subletting the place anyway.I'm between jobs anyway, and just wanna help my sister out. She's married to this real asshole, Ethan Rayne. He oughta be put away, really. I'm Bob, by the way."

"We usually don't do that until someone commits a crime."
"Oh, I'll bet you have your ways of making people "disappear".
If so, Frank thinks, I would book you for misdemeanor distraction and Too Much Television in the first degree. Also, in my opinion, you are too old to be living off your sister and using such casual profanity.

"I would think a man in your business could stand to be a bit more discreet."

"Eh, what's the worst that can happen?"

A young woman who'd been looking at Frank intently during the whole exchange was now motioning to him. He thought he knew her. She looked like any number of young white women who came to Mary's women's events. Or book group. "Excuse me. I...couldn't h-help overhearing. The f-foreign holy water thing is...well, kind of a s-scam. For most spells, you really can't tell the difference."

But it's hard not to look for somebody to blame when you are a qualified professional in a store filled with crystal balls and chicken feet.

Damnitalltohell, I am dying over here.

One thing - the proprietor. Who was running it at that point? Because - and this may be a total memfault - hadn't the proprietor been killed? Could we have a specific? I kept seeing Giles but I know that's wrong for timing...

Hmm, I know they gave us at least one man's name, but I understand they had a shockingly low life expectancy for a long time, too.But I just couldn't resist the Box thing.

We need someone totally familiar with the timelines for this part of the series. My brain, she is shredded mozzarella today.

And maybe Tara didn't live in Sunnydale yet, either. But that's my story and I'm sticking to it.