SA - I loved Buffy finding the Watchers' diaries. Like Beverly, their relationship is my favorite on the show.

Thank you!

Cindy! You made me turn pink!

Fair enough, deb. I just read One Thing That Should Have Happened in Sunnydale, and am sitting here, crying for poor, foamy Tara at 5:25 am. Dammit. That totally should have happened. You asked for crit, but I have none. I love how your Warren: darkness with a gun.

(for all the other skippers and skimmers, deb's short is at: deborah grabien "Bitchy Fic: It Could Be Plot Bunnies" Jul 17, 2003 2:31:35 pm PDT)

I have the fantasy crossover in my head, where it turns out Luther Mahoney is actually a vampire. But I'm never going to write it, because Luther Mahoney was better written and better portrayed than any other TV villain in history, and I don't mess with perfection.

Oh dear me. Yes. But you're right - already perfection. (I'd still read your vamp!Luther though, because he totally was a vampire. Now I feel like season 5 Buffy, arguing about Rasputin with her history professor. That would be a fun take on non-paranormal-'verse shows - taking hard-to-catch villains and showing there was really something else going on, the whole time. Whee!)

...

Okay, an hour ago, I started Nillying Victor's serial. Then I found myself reading and Nillying it. Then I found myself giving much fawning feedback, while reading, and Nillying, so that all will live in its own, separate post.

A Nilly (with feedback) of When You Are Tired of London, by victor infante

Part One: Blood Is Thicker...
victor infante "Bitchy Fic: It Could Be Plot Bunnies" Jul 17, 2003 2:17:40 am PDT

“Language!” said Buffy, in mock horror. “You’re gonna burst a scone. So, you have a wacky, identical cousin. From England! Will there be hijinks?”

Whee! Victor, that's fun dialogue. I haven't watched Manchild all that much, but you've hit James so far. What a great idea.

...

Part Two: Dooooomed!
victor infante "Bitchy Fic: It Could Be Plot Bunnies" Jul 24, 2003 12:03:28 am PDT

"Good," said Giles. "Buffy, you'll interview his friend Terry, and I'll talk to Patrick. Then we'll converge and see what we can discover of his," Giles adopted a disgusted look, "liaisons."

"Are you sure that's a good idea," said James. "Sending a young lady alone to talk to Terry? I mean she..."

This is fantastic, because as soon as I read Giles' line, I thought, "Sending a young woman to Terry, Giles? Not so wise." Heh.

...

Part Three: Xander’s Day
victor infante "Bitchy Fic: It Could Be Plot Bunnies" Jul 25, 2003 11:37:12 pm PDT

Plus, he’d get to see the unaired episodes of Firefly, which was a plus.

I am subtle, well-placed meta's bitch. Love this.

“Right, cause that’s a load of bullocks if you are. James is my mate, and I’d never hurt a hair on his head. Don’t care how many models he parades in front of me, even with a dodgy wanker!”

“Whoah!” said Xander, “Too much information!” He placed a comforting hand on Gary’s shoulder. “We’re just gathering information. You’ve got nothing to worry about.”

I now, officially want victor to write us a season's worth of Manchild/BtVS, to help fill the BtVS-shaped hole in our lives.

...

Part Four: Willow’s Day
victor infante "Bitchy Fic: It Could Be Plot Bunnies" Jul 28, 2003 11:43:52 pm PDT

“Did you…”

“Well, of course I did,” said Elizabeth. “Couldn’t resist, really. Never pass up an opportunity to let them know who’s on top.”

At this point, to paraphrase a line of poetry, Willow wasn’t certain whether she wanted to be this woman, fuck her, or run screaming from the room.

She took another sip of wine while deciding.

Oh, Victor! This is delicious. I also like that the thought of Kennedy held no resonance for Willow. I believe that. It's a truth, you know?

...

Part Five: James’ Morning
victor infante "Bitchy Fic: It Could Be Plot Bunnies" Jul 29, 2003 11:59:27 pm PDT

He let the thought go. He wondered what sort of school this was, but then, it had always been strange schools with that side of the family.

On occasion, James’ mother spoke of how her sister, his aunt, had suddenly one day begun private tutoring. And then, there was the odd academy that Rupert had been sent off to—none he’d ever heard of, but evidently prestigious enough to get him enrolled in Oxford, even with his dubious behavior record.

“Rupert was cool back then,” thought James, recalling just how much he wanted to be like him. The wild parties, the dangerous friends, the running away to London. James always harbored a knot of jealousy toward Rupert. Even when he suddenly returned to school, transformed into a model student, he was cool. Soon after graduation, he was traveling the world for the museum, his life one seeming adventure after another.

I adore all of this. I love CoW continuity. I love seeing Ripper and young Giles from someone else's POV.

His revelry was disturbed by the sound of someone moving about in the adjoining chamber. Startled, he spilled a few drops of coffee on the table. Not seeing a cloth nearby, he soaked it up with the Book Review section.

Oh, and I love being shown so gracefully why James can never be Giles. That was just elegant, Victor. I wish you'd written this in May, when we were having the show-don't-tell discussions in Buffy NAFDA.

“James, Dawn. We met last night?”

“What are you talking about?” asked Dawn.

Oooh. The thot plickens. I'm excited, even though I know how it ends. This is one of the benefits of being a forgetful spoiler companion.

...

Part Six: Giles’ Morning
victor infante "Bitchy Fic: It Could Be Plot Bunnies" Aug 10, 2003 9:15:22 am PDT

Giles didn’t bother to hide his annoyance, but relief overtook him when he found the gallery he was looking for. It was one of those “contemporary” galleries, where—and he was quite certain of this—those bearing too much money and too little taste purchased formless sculptures as part of an elaborate practical joke perpetrated by the city’s artistic elite. He entered, and Buffy followed.

This is dreamy! Your Giles is so very Giles. In reading the comments and your responses, I know you were overtaken by your Xander!voice muse while writing, as well as your snarky!Giles, and this is a good thing. Your Giles is just spot on.

Giles laughed, gently.

Wow. To a Buffy fan? That line is almost as evocative as Jesus wept. Beautiful image.

Part Six - Cont'd
victor infante "Bitchy Fic: It Could Be Plot Bunnies" Aug 10, 2003 9:16:06 am PDT

Now Patrick is all confused. Fun!

...

see next post for more victor fic Nillying

Cont'd: A Nilly (with feedback) of When You Are Tired of London, by victor infante

Part Seven: Faith’s Day
victor infante "Bitchy Fic: It Could Be Plot Bunnies" Aug 12, 2003 11:13:17 pm PDT

Only bit of criticism so far - Faith is a little too slangy for me in this section that takes place in Giles' office. I say this as someone who cannot write Faith to save my life. I wouldn't go so far as to say she's off. Maybe lose one of the times she calls him James G-Man? I think M.E.'s Faith starts out slangy when she's broaching a subject, and then it lessens. Since she doesn't have the vocabulary she should, she never loses it completely, but she usually tones it down after her initial outburst.

“Yes…Slayer…what’s a… never mind.” He reached a hand up to her shoulder, and pulled her close for a kiss. Their lips pressed against each other for a moment, and soon she had slid down from the desk and was straddling him on the chair.

Lovely! I'm squicked on Faith's behalf, because she starts out thinking this is Giles, and still compelled at the same time.

“You…are the most…incredible….” He started to say, but Faith kissed him again. Her hand caressed his leg, and then ran up his neck, to his throat.

*squick/wibble*

Suddenly, he realized her fingers were wrapped around his throat, and she was standing, hoisting him one-handed up above her head.

“So tell me, lover boy,” she said. “Who the fuck are you, and what have you done with Giles?”

Yay Faith!!!

...

Part Eight: Buffy’s Day
victor infante "Bitchy Fic: It Could Be Plot Bunnies" Aug 16, 2003 4:43:29 pm PDT

(This is where I came in the first time)

Which was funny, she thought, because just about every mystic bad-ass over the age of 25 that she knew came from the British Isles. Giles, Angel, Spike, Wesley. Every member of the Watcher’s Council she’d ever met. Baddies like Drusilla and Ethan Rayne.

“It’s like they manufacture them here,” she thought, “and America imports them. Like how all the toys are made in China, but no one there actually buys gorillas that dance to La Macarena or bendy rubber cowboys or whatever. Huh.

“Maybe it’s a geopolitical thing,” she wondered. “Like, Britain was once the seat of world power, so all the mystical-type things congregated there, to be where the action was, and then when power moved to America, everything started trickling over. Huh.

I love all of this. I love the nod to show canon. I love that your Buffy is bright, and *differently-abled* as far as being articulate goes. I get tired of reading dim or shallow Buffies, because M.E.'s Buffy is neither. She just processes things differently, and doesn't waste her time on things that don't interest her.

"Oh yes. Idolizes the man. Don’t know why, really. Anyways, after dinner, I know I know this wonderful little place. Wonderful jazz pianist…”

Buffy began delicately folding the spoon into an accordion shape. Terry stopped talking.

Love this! Love.

“None!” said Terry, wondering how such a small woman could change from being so…girlish to so…intimidating so suddenly. It was as though, all of a sudden, she was remarkably… present. It was unnerving.

Ditto.

Part Eight - Cont'd
victor infante "Bitchy Fic: It Could Be Plot Bunnies" Aug 16, 2003 4:43:29 pm PDT

...

Part nine: Terry’s Day
victor infante "Bitchy Fic: It Could Be Plot Bunnies" Aug 18, 2003 11:44:54 pm PDT

“By one’s thirties and forties, the search for adventure is eclipsed by life’s responsibilities, the demands of a job and a family. But by one’s fifties, once one is freed of the shackles of marriage and children, and when one has enough financial freedom…well, such a man can savor the pleasures he once considered but was forced to pass over.

“Take, for instance, breaking and entering.”

I've watched just enough Manchild to *hear* Terry saying this, and see him nervously look all around, as he does. Brilliant.

...

Part Ten: The Parlor Scene
victor infante "Bitchy Fic: It Could Be Plot Bunnies" Aug 21, 2003 9:30:38 am PDT

“Nice necklace,” she said. “Looks expensive.”

“It would be,” said Caterina, cattily. “It’s an antique. A family heirloom.”

Should 'It would be,' be changed, either to 'It would,' (as in, It would look expensive because it is) or 'It is'? 'It would be' isn't sitting right with me, for some reason.

“Ah,” he said. “Wilde once said that when you are tired of London, you’re tired of life.”

“It was Samuel Johnson,” said Giles, causing all of James’ friends to stare at him in amazement. Sheepishly, he added, “everyone makes that mistake.”

Prettily done.

“C’mon now, Elizabeth,” said Xander. “Don’t you ever wish…”

[...]

Moving with a violent explosion of speed, Buffy suddenly reached out and tore the necklace from Caterina’s neck.

Yipee!

“Right, but how did you recognize her?” asked Giles.

Xander shrugged. “She was at my wedding.” “Oh. Right,” said Giles.

“She was… bumpier then.”

Nicely plotted, Victor. Excellent.

Part 10 - Cont'd
victor infante "Bitchy Fic: It Could Be Plot Bunnies" Aug 21, 2003 9:31:29 am PDT

“Reveal!” incanted Willow. There was a flash of light, and suddenly Ethan Rayne was standing there amid them, looking a bit confused.

Whee! Ethan, we've been waiting for you since early season 7.

“Well, you have to admit it almost worked,” said Ethan. “Caterina was about to curse James there with a nasty growing curse or something, but I interceded. Figured I’d have a bit of fun at Ripper’s expense. Almost trapped James in that dreadfully boring life of Rupert’s, while Rupert was supposed to be tempted by the cheap allure of easy women and booze. Would have worked, too, if it hadn’t been for…

Yes! Ethan is sooooo the Scooby Doo arch-villain, isn't he!

...

Great fun, victor. Now I have to go explain to the husband why - regardless of the fact that I was up by 4:30 am,

dammit - still too long - I was just going to say I have to explain why he hasn't seen me all morning, and I have to do this before he leaves. :)

...

edited much later to put in all the nillied links without the feedback. I suspect that'll be more useful to readers.

A Nilly of When You Are Tired of London, by victor infante

Part One: Blood Is Thicker...
victor infante "Bitchy Fic: It Could Be Plot Bunnies" Jul 17, 2003 2:17:40 am PDT

Part Two: Dooooomed!
victor infante "Bitchy Fic: It Could Be Plot Bunnies" Jul 24, 2003 12:03:28 am PDT

Part Three: Xander’s Day
victor infante "Bitchy Fic: It Could Be Plot Bunnies" Jul 25, 2003 11:37:12 pm PDT

Part Four: Willow’s Day
victor infante "Bitchy Fic: It Could Be Plot Bunnies" Jul 28, 2003 11:43:52 pm PDT

Part Five: James’ Morning
victor infante "Bitchy Fic: It Could Be Plot Bunnies" Jul 29, 2003 11:59:27 pm PDT

Part Six: Giles’ Morning
victor infante "Bitchy Fic: It Could Be Plot Bunnies" Aug 10, 2003 9:15:22 am PDT

Part Six - Cont'd
victor infante "Bitchy Fic: It Could Be Plot Bunnies" Aug 10, 2003 9:16:06 am PDT

Part Seven: Faith’s Day
victor infante "Bitchy Fic: It Could Be Plot Bunnies" Aug 12, 2003 11:13:17 pm PDT

Part Eight: Buffy’s Day
victor infante "Bitchy Fic: It Could Be Plot Bunnies" Aug 16, 2003 4:43:29 pm PDT

Part Eight - Cont'd
victor infante "Bitchy Fic: It Could Be Plot Bunnies" Aug 16, 2003 4:43:29 pm PDT

Part Nine: Terry’s Day
victor infante "Bitchy Fic: It Could Be Plot Bunnies" Aug 18, 2003 11:44:54 pm PDT

Part Ten: The Parlor Scene
victor infante "Bitchy Fic: It Could Be Plot Bunnies" Aug 21, 2003 9:30:38 am PDT

Part Ten (of 10) - Cont'd
victor infante "Bitchy Fic: It Could Be Plot Bunnies" Aug 21, 2003 9:31:29 am PDT

...

Again victor, this was excellent. Thank you.

I'm hoping that putting this out in a new place will jar me into working out what has to happen next. It's another Buffy/Smallville crossover, currently titled The Two Alexanders. Guess who stars?

- - -

Alone in his echoing office, Lionel Luthor studied the list of small plants he could send his son to. "Sallyton? No; nothing ever goes wrong there. Smallville? Maybe a little too weird. Sunnydale? Better. Not that it matters a lot."

He picked up the phone, hit a speed dial button, and tapped his fingers impatiently as he waited for an answer.

"Lex? Pack your bags. You're going to take over the plant in Sunnydale."

• * *

"Your father's a lucky man, Mr Luthor," the plant manager said, unaware that Lex was sending death glares at the back of his head. "I wish my sons would follow me, but—well, let me put it this way. Tucker is bad and Andrew's worse."

Lex smiled thinly, reminding himself that there was no point annoying the locals at this stage in the game. "Thanks for showing me round the plant, Mr Wells. I think I can find my way out from here."

Since they'd just reached the main door out into the car park, Mr Wells had to agree—Lex's car was twenty yards away, if that. "Okay. I'll see you tomorrow morning, Mr Luthor."

"Of course," Lex nodded, shook hands, and left, wondering what passed for a night life in a town this small.

• * *

The Bronze, apparently.

Well, there had probably been less hopeful names in the history of evenings out. If you counted 'Ugh's Cave' as a nightclub.

Lex drove on past and up to the castle, figuring that he could explore and then drink alone.

It wasn't a pretty place, but—he had to hand it to his father—it was dramatic. Ill-suited to the town, overly romantic, bought ready-furnished some years ago despite a measure of vandalism, never altered, and practically straight out of Stoker.

The very idea of a vampire living here made Lex chuckle as he unlocked the huge wooden door and swung it—creaking—open. Sunnydale could probably use the enlivening influence of a few vampire fantasies.

• * *

He slept badly that night, dreaming of things he had once felt but could barely remember, and went into the plant prepared to give his staff their first taste of his bad temper.

To find, in a twist both bemusing and bizarre, that the building was alive with the sound of music.

The workers on the factory floor danced their way through the rhythms of the machines with the aid of some sort of electro-rock. The accountants trilled harmonies as they balanced the books. Even his secretary spun him into some sort of good-morning song, with trumpet and tap-dancing.

She seemed rather embarrassed about it afterwards, and he didn't want to dwell on the things he'd sung, so he chose to ignore the whole thing.

Otherwise, the day was fine to the point of boredom. If hidden orchestras could ever be boring.

• * *

The first couple of weeks rushed by—work, sleep, gradual resignation to living here for nearly forever—until one evening he realised that he'd done everything he could for the plant, he wasn't tired, the castle was dull, and he still knew next to nothing about the town.

He picked up a set of car keys, and headed out… but standing on the drive, looking down the hill towards the centre of town, he decided it was so small a place that he'd be better to walk, and not worry about parking it.

And even in the near-dark, it wasn't like anyone would attack him.

• * *

The streets were quiet—strangely so, he thought, even for a town this size. There were shops, selling basic things, and one at the end of the high street called 'The Magic Box', which looked… still quite boring, even though it sold what should be exotic things.

A museum, which he recognised from a glimpse of the local news. A diamond had been stolen a couple of nights ago. He'd wondered whether to try and get into touch with whoever had managed to freeze a person alive, and then been swamped with work.

Where was everyone? There should be some people out on the streets—no homeless, no teenagers, no one taking an evening stroll…

There was someone there, in the bushes. This was the graveyard.

Hold on. They're lurking in the *graveyard*?

Seems so. They stepped out, and Lex could see a little better: tall, dark-haired, good looking, wearing baggy clothes that were more than a little dirty. "Hi," the stranger said.

Lex looked at him. Worth the risk? "Hi."

"Are you looking for something?" The man was moving closer.

"I was wondering if there was any sort of nightlife out here," Lex replied, shrugging. The man was getting close to invading his personal space, and it was beginning to make him uncomfortable.

"Nightlife?" A little laugh, leaning in until Lex could smell the man's breath. "Let me whisper." The man's hand was cold on his arm—his breath was in his ear—a growl—pain—Lex struck out, wildly, all fencing moves forgotten, shoving the invader away from him.

"You can't get away from me, idiot," the man said, and there was something wrong with his face. Long teeth, bumps on his forehead. Lex's mind flashed on the thought he'd had as he entered the castle—that this town was ripe for vampires—and then he dismissed it firmly. This was a man, a human, living, breathing, maybe a little deformed or crazy but no real danger.

Lex shoved again with all his strength, but he was no match for his attacker. The fangs curved into his neck, and he started to scream—only to find, a panicked heartbeat later, that the deformed man was gone, and someone else stood there: not quite in his place, but close.

"Are you alright?" the newcomer asked, pocketing something wooden. "Did he… he did. Here, press that where he bit you."

Dazed, Lex accepted a clean cloth, and pressed it to his neck. "He… bit me. What the fuck…?"

"Good question. Look, my car's just round the corner—we'll be safer in there. Come on."

• * *

In the car—something so cheap, or rather, so ordinary and American, that Lex couldn't identify it in the dark, although he did note that it was purple—his rescuer introduced himself. "I'm Xander—Xander Harris. And you are?"

"Lex Luthor."

"Lex—short for Alexander?"

"Yes. I presume Xander is the same."

"Only different. I used to be an Alex, but then I… changed it."

"Very sensible. Would you mind telling me what the fuck happened out there?"

For a moment, Xander just looked at him, and Lex sensed that he was being assessed, weighed up. "One question first—you're the son of Lionel Luthor, the evil business guy?"

Lex nodded. Not a lot of point in denying it. "I've been delegated to run the plant here in Sunnydale for a while."

"Right." Again, Xander's eyes roamed over Lex, trying to make a judgement. "Right. Yeah. You, err, may have noticed that strange things happen around here all the time."

"The singing, and the frozen security guard, and suchlike? It's… hard to ignore."

"Most people manage it."

"Most people are stupid."

Xander laughed. "You're not wrong. The town's built on a Hellmouth. All the weird evil things in the world end up here sooner or later—vampires, ghosts, demons, hell goddesses."

"And people who had their asthma and their hair removed in freak meteor showers?"

"That's what happened to you?"

"Yeah."

"You're not… *evil*, are you? 'Cos if you are…"

"You’d have to kill me, because you're the vampire slayer. No, I'm not evil."

"Good. And—I'm not the vampire slayer. I just help her out."

"Her?"

"I probably shouldn't have told you that much. Come on; you should get home. So should I."

• * *

"So we're agreed, Mr Wells? We will ask a local building company for an estimate on extending the plant onto another plot—and thus producing enough to be competitive."

Mr Wells nodded, grudgingly. "I'll ask around and see who might take that up, sir."

"Good." Lex smiled just a little, and turned away, shuffling papers. "Hopefully, we'll have some plans in a couple of days."

"Yes, sir," Mr Wells agreed, and left, looking rather sour-faced.

• * *

Three days later, Xander stood outside the office, feeling nervous. This wasn't really his job; Mr Kiaren was supposed to present to potential clients, not lowly Harris.

But Mr Kiaren was in hospital following an unfortunate accident, so Mr Harris had been asked—since he was getting so good at the plans and dealing with clients—to go and do the talking. This was, he felt, not a good thing. He didn't even know who the meeting would be with—probably some plant official, but talking to an unknown, nameless, faceless, and knowing his luck, moronic or demonic employee didn't seem like a fun way to spend the day.

The door started to open, and Xander took a deep breath, steeling himself, shifting the roll of papers from one sweaty palm to the other.

"Thanks you, Mr Jones," Lex said, concluding his conversation on the telephone. "Come in, Mr Kiaren."

Xander stepped inside, slowly, and cleared his throat.

Lex turned around. He took a second to take in his guest, and then… "Xander Harris?"

"Yeah," Xander said, embarrassed. He hadn't realised he'd be meeting with the boss. Or what that would mean. "Err, I'm sorry Mr Kiaren couldn't come—he isn't well, so he deputised me to bring the plans over."

"That's fine," Lex said. "If you spread the plans on the table here, we can talk through them."

Xander started to do so, while Lex closed the door, explaining, "I'm afraid there's another no-show on my side; Mr Wells, who will probably be in charge of the project once it's actually in motion, was unable to be here today."

"Mr Wells? Tucker's father?"

"You know him?"

"Yeah," Xander grinned. "I expect he's visiting Tucker in prison."

"That… doesn't seem unlikely, from what I know of the family," Lex said, and was a little worried to find himself smiling back. "These plans, then. Is it possible to…"

• * *

"So—I think the next step is to go and look at the site you're proposing for this," Xander said.

"Okay," Lex said. "We'll take my car. It's only three minutes drive."

Xander looked from his car—the old purple Ford—to Lex's silver Porsche, and back again. Briefly.

"Your car," Xander agreed. "*Nice* car."

"Thank you," Lex grinned, sliding into the driver's seat. "I like it."

• * *

"It's not that complex, really," Xander said, standing up straight after some hours spend poring over the plans. It had been a long day—look at the plans, wait while Lex dealt with some emergency, walk round the proposed site, sit and wait while Lex took an important phone call, study the plans again and make notes for changes, have lunch, wait while Lex made more phone calls, then back to the plans.

He was glad working on the building site wasn't as complicated as Lex's work seemed to be. "I'll take the notes I've made today back to Mr Sugar, but I don't imagine that there'll be a problem. The only thing that might cause trouble is the damp area in the north corner—it'll have to be drained—but we can do that. We had to do the same on the high school site."

"Good," Lex nodded. "You were involved in rebuilding the high school, then?"

"Yeah," Xander said, leaning back on Lex's desk. "After the May… after it got blown up, someone had to do it."

"What exactly did happen to it?" Lex asked, curiosity piqued. "Nobody seems to have explained it very…"

"It's one of those things people tend to ignore," Xander said. "I was there, and I suggest that's the best plan of action."

Lex looked searchingly at him. "I was attacked by what you told me yourself was a vampire the other night, Xander. I want to know a little more about what's going on in this town."

"It's safer not to," Xander told him. "Don't ask questions, don't wonder around after dark, and if you have a problem, go to the shop called the Magic Box, in the high street. Even if I'm not there—and I often am—you'll find someone who can help you."

"Right," Lex nodded, but he didn't look like he intended to obey the instructions. Inside, Xander sighed—he liked the business man, strange though that seemed, and he really didn't want Lex to have to deal with the weird stuff that happened in Sunnydale, as well as the seemingly trouble-ridden world he already lived in.

"Okay—I think that's everything, Lex," Xander said, gathering up the papers. "I'll see you around."

Lex nodded again, something indefinable lurking in the depths of his eyes. "I'll look forward to it."

They shook hands, Lex making sure that it took half a second longer than it should, and Xander left, to bemoan the state of his old car as he drove it, bone shaking, back into town.

• * *

"Don't need magic, don't need…." Willow broke her muttering off as the door swung open. She looked up—expecting Buffy with more news, or maybe Anya—but instead there was a stranger.

"Um… hi, but the shop's not open at the moment," Willow burbled, trying to stand in front of the table and hide the experiment she was doing, and knocking over a text tube rack in the process. Luckily, an empty one.

"I wasn't looking to buy anything," the man said, stepping inside. Willow could see his face now: round, bald head, small features, and a sharp smile. "I was looking for Mr Harris; do you know him?"

"Xander?" Willow repeated, struggling to remember where she'd seen this man's face before. "He's, err, just out the back."

"May I wait?" Lex took another couple of steps in, and closed the door.

"Err… yes."

"Thank you," Lex said, crossing the platform and coming down the steps into the main area. "Interesting set up," he commented, looking at the things spread over the table.

"I… err… chemistry experiment," Willow stuttered. "We have to…"

"Find out if there's human blood in a substance?" Lex asked, and then took in her shocked expression. "I'm a scientist, of sorts. It's a set up one tends to remember."

"Err… yeah," Willow said. "Difficult to forget, with the…"

"Exceptional circumstances that tend to require it?" Lex raised one eyebrow, and Willow was momentarily distracted by the way it climbed towards the place his hairline wasn't.

"Right," she nodded. "I… Xander won't be long."

"Good." Willow noted the way the stranger's smile softened a little when she brought the conversation back to Xander, and suddenly she wasn't quite so scared by him. She smiled back. "I'm sorry," he said, "I haven't introduced myself. Lex Luthor."

He held out a hand to shake, and she accepted it. "Willow Rosenburg. I've, err, heard about you."

"People often have," he said, graciously, but the smile had sharpened again. "By the way, your reaction has finished, Miss Rosenburg."

"Oh." She turned round—he was right, the solution had changed colour. "Thanks."

As she carefully dropped a tiny amount onto a microscope slide, she heard the door from the back open. Xander and Dawn came through, chatting.

"… look on the bright side, Dawnie. That's all I'm saying. How's going, Wil… Lex. Hi," Xander said, and fell silent.

"Hi," Lex replied, after a moment. "You said… so I did. I can go, if it's a bad time."

"Err… I…" Xander started, but Willow interrupted him.

"I've got a result," she said. "It's not… but… there's something weird here."

"What is it, Will? Is it human?"

"It's not human."

"Oh God. It's not human," Xander said, a look of panic crossing his face. Then he realised what he'd just said. "It's not human! Hurray!"

"It's… I'm not sure what I'm seeing. It looks like cellulose."

Lex looked confused. "Is it possible for you to explain exactly what's going on here?"

They started at him, mouths open, but didn't reply. The front door opened again. "I'm here! I'm here," Anya announced.

"Willow says it looks like cellulose," Xander told her. "That means… I have no idea what that means."

"It means it's made of plant material," Lex said, before Willow could get a word in. "Whatever 'it' may be."

"I… I ought to go," Willow said. "Buffy needs to know this."

She grabbed her coat and left at a run, leaving the other four standing and gaping at each other.

"What's going on?" Lex demanded.

"Who are you?" Dawn asked.

"Why don't we all just sit down?" Xander suggested.

"Are you a customer?" Anya asked. "The shop's closed, but if there was something you wanted…"

"Ahn, he's not a customer," Xander explained. "Let me introduce you. Lex, this is Anya, my fiancée. Anya, this is Lex Luthor."

Anya's eyes went wide. "Son of Lionel Luthor, the extraordinary business man who single-handedly altered the economics of several entire states, and head of LexCorp?"

Lex nodded. "I've come to run the plant here in Sunnydale."

"To add another town to the rapidly growing list," Anya translated. "It must be fun to run a business that big. I enjoy running this shop, and it’s only quite small. Though we are expanding."

"It's… 'fun' might not be the word I'd choose," Lex said. He glanced at Xander. "Can you tell me what all that 'it's not human' thing was about?"

"Err… it's a long story," Xander said.

"So tell me," Lex repeated.

"No," Anya said. "It's all a secret, and you're not allowed to know. Go home."

Lex stared at her for a moment, and then turned on his heel. He left, silently, somehow managing to restrain himself from slamming the door shut.

"What did you say that for?" Xander asked when he was gone. "You could—we could… there are better ways, Anya!"

"He didn't even speak to me," Dawn said, whiny. "He was all Xander this, Xander that."

"Yeah," Anya said. "That's weird. Is he evil, do you think?"

"No!" Xander cried. "He's not evil. He's just… Lex! He spoke to me because I was the one who saved him from the vampire. What's weird about that?"

"You saved him from a vampire?" Dawn asked. "When was that?"

"A while back. It was nothing. We need to go and help Buffy."

• * *

Some weeks passed. A girl committed suicide and made the front page; Lex noted that she was about his own age, but didn't manage to remember her name. Mysterious helicopters flew over Sunnydale; Lex knew they weren't his, and couldn't prove that they belonged to his father, so he chalked them up to the army doing something odd. The building plans were stalled for a while by combined funding problems and wet weather; Lex put everything from his mind except the plant.

He sat in the castle, in the big study, trying to finish checking through the report he had to present to the board. It was boring, and that made it hard to concentrate on.

Once too often, he made some stupid slip.

He shut the laptop, picked up the keys for the Ferrari, and went out for a drive. Anything was better than report writing, even driving in the rain. Especially driving in the rain.

• * *

Frightened by the visions the demon had given him, Xander ran out into the pouring rain, heedless of his suit getting soaked through—images in his mind; Anya upset, hurt; her words… don't come near me… bitter old man… ugly, stupid, useless… he had to get away from that. He had to stop it.

• * *

Lex drove down the hill and through the edges of the town, avoiding busy places, trying to get to the open freeway.

The bend came up fast—too fast—and he braked late; the tires slipped on the wet road.

Xander was running still, feet pounding the road surface—no pavement here, it was just far enough out of town for that, into the land of big estates, turning into fields—round the corner he knew so well and… into a silver bonnet.

He barely saw the car before it hit him.

• * *

A body.

Lying, broken, soaked, on the tarmac, the body of Xander Harris.

Lex left the car where it had stopped—nose poked into the hedge of some huge garden, probably mangled in some other way—and dashed to the body, calling.

"Xander? Xander, are you alright? Can you hear me?"

No response.

• * *

Kneeling by his side, Lex checked Xander's vital signs. There was a pulse, but it was weak. His breathing was shallow and erratic. For the first time in ages, Lex realised that he was close to panic.

Cell phone. He had to have one in the car… but he didn't want to leave Xander.

He thought about screaming, but it would be lost in the wind and the rain. They were out of town, on a quiet road; they wouldn't be heard. The cell phone was his only hope.

Running again, almost before he had thought it through, and rooting round the car. Not in the glove box. Not in the pockets on the door. Not in the… there. On the back seat.

Lex heaved a sigh of relief, dropped to his knees by Xander, and dialled.

• * *

After about an hour, the guests had gone home—some sad, some puzzled, some drunk, some apparently only annoyed at the waste of time.

Anya had left with D'Hoffren and Halfrek, telling Willow that she needed the company of her friends rather than Xander's.

Five hours after the wedding had been supposed to take place, Buffy, Willow, Tara, Dawn, and Clem—the only people left—gathered for a conference. "It's not like Xander not to let anyone know," Willow fretted.

Buffy nodded. "Something must be really wrong. We need to find him. I'll go round the town, check vampire haunts and things; Clem, you see if anyone in the demon world's seen him—maybe Anya's got enemys that would do something? Tara, can you go back to my house—and take Dawnie with you. He might go there, and if he doesn't, you can be a base for operations. Willow, we need to make sure he isn't in hospital or something."

"Okay," they agreed. Dawn opened her mouth to protest, but one glare from Buffy shut her up. This was serious; no time for whining.

• * *

The emergency room was busy, and Willow was glad she knew the layout well. She looked round, trying to spot and nurse she could ask…

Sick children, crying; two homeless men with matching broken legs; people shouting at the nursing staff on duty… no one she recognised at first glace. A bald man, dressed in smart black clothing, not shouting but clearly arguing with a doctor… she knew him. A few weeks ago, he'd been in the Magic Box, asking for Xander.

Xander. He might know something. If he didn't, he might help.

She headed towards him.

• * *

"I know I'm not his next of kin, doctor! Just… let me see him, okay?"

The doctor started to shake his head again when Willow walked up. "Hi, Lex," she said, sizing up the situation quickly. "Doctor—I'm here to see Xander Harris—I'm his sister. Can you tell me…"

"He's in ward three, up the stairs, second door on the left," the doctor replied, warmly, and then added, "err, this gentleman…"

"Can come up with me," Willow said. "I'm sure Xander will be pleased to see him."

She took Lex by the arm and they swept past the doctor, and into the stairwell.

• * *

"Miss Rosenburg, forgive me for asking, but where did you learn to lie like that?"

"Life," Willow said, simply. "Why are you here? What happened to Xander?"

"I… he was running, I guess. On the road. I came round the corner—maybe a little too fast…"

"You hit him?" Willow looked incredulous. "You were… in the car?"

Lex nodded. "The Ferrari."

That got him another hard stare. "My best friend since kindergarten is lying injured—by *you*—in a hospital bed, and you're telling me what sort of car you were driving? Okay, now I know why the world hates Luthors." She saw the sting of that in his eyes, and ignored it. "Let's go and see him."

. . .

TBC, as they say.