See, that's usually what happens to me, as well. One three-word phrase here and there, and I end up mourning them.

Why, look! More V!Giles!

After a typical night of uneasy sleep, Xander arrived at the Summers house, ready for a long day's drive. He was very carefully not thinking about the destination, only thinking about freeways and offramps.

Joyce answered the door. "Good morning, Xander. Thank you so much for helping me with this."

"De nada, Mrs. Summers."

Dawn came bouncing down the stairs. "Hey, Xander," she called as she headed for the kitchen.

"Hey, Dawn." Xander watched her for a few moments, feeling almost cheerful. There was a reason they'd gone through so much hell last spring, and saving the world was only part of it.

"Have you had breakfast?" Joyce asked.

"I'm fine."

"That's not what I asked," she said with a semi-stern frown.

He caved graciously. "I had part of breakfast."

"Then you can help us finish off the bacon." She briefly balanced herself with a hand on the wall as she turned for the kitchen, then walked off with only the faintest of limps.

Xander nodded in satisfaction but made a mental note to make frequent stops today to let the recuperating woman stretch her legs.

Buffy was on stove duty, doing battle with the bacon, while Dawn foraged in the cabinets.

"Where are the Rice Chex? There are supposed to be Rice Chex."

Xander spotted both Buffy's look of guilt and the Rice Chex box sticking out of the recyling bin by the back door. He decided to stay out of the discussion.

"If we're out, we'll get more," Joyce said. She made her way to the bulletin board on the wall, picked up the pen hanging by a string, and added Rice Chex to the shopping list. She studied the writing for a few moments, looking both dismayed and pleased. "Well, at least it's legible. Is there food for the very nice young man who's driving me?"

"We are with bacon," Buffy declared. "And we do have cereal if you want."

Dawn pulled out a box. "Fruity Pebbles? I'm not a kid anymore." She looked at the other suspiciously. "I heard that." Buffy hid her follow-up snicker behind a roll of paper towels.

"Or," Xander offered, "I could stop at the McDonald's on the way out." But he did take a piece of bacon from the platter Buffy put on the table.

The toaster popped up. "Eggos!" Dawn caroled. She placed two on a plate that went in front of Joyce, then two on a plate she kept hold of. She stuck her tongue out at Buffy when her sister pouted. "There's more, hold your horses." Four more went in the toaster, then syrup and butter were applied.

Xander tried to keep his snicker to himself, but Joyce caught it and smiled at him. "Yes, it's always like this." She didn't try to hide the smile from her daughters. Dawn ducked her head and focused on breakfast. Buffy smiled back, but it faded quickly.

"So," Joyce said brightly, "Dawn, what do you have planned for the weekend, with the bad old mom out of town?"

"Trying to avoid the bad old big sister, who isn't going out of town." Dawn wrinkled her nose right back at Buffy. "You remember, I'm going to Janet's tonight. You're taking a cell phone, right?"

"Yes, we are, and the AAA is paid up and the spare tire's in good shape and I had the engine checked last week. What about you, Buffy?"

"I might go see if Willow wants to go Bronzing, maybe watch her flip through the college catalog to see if there are any other general requirement classes she can take before having to settle on a major." She poured herself some milk. "Gosh, a quiet night. I've probably hexed myself just thinking the idea." She looked sternly at her mother. "So, you're going to call when you get up there, right?"

"Sweetie, I won't be surprised if they don't have cellular coverage up there. We'll call before we get out of range."

Buffy turned to Xander. "And you won't drive more than ten miles over the speed limit, right?"

Xander accepted his own pair of Eggos from Dawn, plus the syrup and butter. "I think you may have mistaken me for someone else in this room who needs reminding of speed limits. We'll be fine, Buffy."

She was still frowning a little as she dug into her own Eggos.

and the beginning of something that is threatening to eat my mind if I'm not careful

The Final Investigation of Carl Kolchak

Sunnydale Bus Depot, Spring 2002, 4:20 PM.

The bus in from L.A. was three-quarters full, a typical load. The ones young enough to still be limber after the multi-hour trip were first off, then there were a half-dozen quiet sorts who were bundled up in coats, hats, and scarves in defiance of the mild Southern California weather. The staff at the bus depot knew not to comment on odd travelers, the ones whose coats bulged in odd places or whose briefly glimpsed faces were particularly weirdly colored under the glaring lights of the parking lot.

The last few were the usual assortment of elderly folk, wanderers by choice or necessity and a few retirees who found the cheap accommodations of Sunnydale appealing enough to override the whispered stories.

The last man off was spry enough not to need a great deal of help down the steps, one hand on the railing, the other keeping his duffle bag close. He wore a very battered fedora and a newish seersucker sport coat with lightweight slacks.

When he reached the ground, he paused, ostensibly straightening slowly to let his back unkink. Closer observation showed he was watching all the people around him, especially the ones muffled in coats and scarves, who were nearly all skulking away into the shadows instead of entering the depot itself.

He headed into the depot himself, more interested at the moment in a real men's room than in pursuing his mysterious fellow travellers. His priorities had shifted a bit with the passing decades. He'd once had a bladder a reporter could be proud of, never forcing him off the trail or away from a stakeout.

Once he had business taken care of, he found himself a seat in a corner of the bus depot's lobby where he could put his back to the wall and his duffle bag close to his feet. Leaning back comfortably, he pulled his tape recorder out of the duffle bag.

and I tell myself, "This or V!Giles, and more people are waiting for V!Giles. Priorities, woman."

(rubbing hands together) Night Stalker!

These two sentences:

His priorities had shifted a bit with the passing decades. He'd once had a bladder a reporter could be proud of, never forcing him off the trail or away from a stakeout.

would read clearer in reversed order, perhaps, thus:

He headed into the depot himself, more interested at the moment in a real men's room than in pursuing his mysterious fellow travellers. He'd once had a bladder a reporter could be proud of, never forcing him off the trail or away from a stakeout. (But) His priorities had shifted a bit with the passing decades.

Once he had business taken care of, he found himself a seat in a corner of the bus depot's lobby...

And more V!Giles! yay!

also, this:

Four more went in the toaster, then syrup and butter were applied.

Needs a little rephrasing, I think. Or things could get messy.

Minor nitpicky things, all. Most importantly, Kolchak! And more V!Giles!

Nicely done, Plei. I think you broke me again.

Connie, these two lines read weirdly to me:

instead of entering the depot itself.

He headed into the depot himself,

I think if you deleted the word "itself" it would scan better.

I don't remember enough nightstalker to appreciate that as much as I ought, but I'm enjoying the V!Giles.

Connie, you should know I've been using your work as a standard for Vamping Beloved Characters. It's still hard cause when human Munch sucks the life out of somebody, he does it one little step at a time, like the rest of us.(Which reminds me of when the asked a Famous Woman Comic why she got divorced, and she said because she got tired of starting the day by saying "Stop it, you're killing me!" over and over again.) I had a point here, somewhere, I think I lost it.

I've got the whole printout of the Body Swap story put together in one place now as I start the rewrite. It's 298 pages, and takes up all of a huge 2.5 inch binder....

wow.

I think it weighs more than one of our cats.

Dang, and I thought 40 pages was a lot.