I love the Xander and Baynar interaction. This story is so comforting for some reason. It makes me feel flinchy, waiting for whatever's coming next.

this. I'm too familiar with connie's work to get too comfy.

erika, the introspection is masterful.

More, please. Both of you.

It's a trend, I tell you! More fic!

Both Joyce and Xander joined the community for Vespers. The sun wouldn't set for several hours yet, but the times of prayers had been standardized generations before to avoid bunching up all the observances at one end of the day or the other. Baynar tried to sneak away from his mother when he saw Xander in the chapel, but Savlin told him firmly to sit still. Xander gave him the best stern look he could manage without laughing until Baynar slouched in defeat and sat quietly.

Supper was a different matter, and Savlin let her son wiggle in next to his human friend to continue chattering in English/Minoto. Xander felt momentarily disoriented when he saw that Joyce's indulgent smile was nearly identical to Savlin's. The Mom thing transcended species, obviously. Fortunately he was distracted from contemplating his own parents by the arrival of a peach cobbler Sister Teresa had put together from the food gifts Joyce had brought.

The three novices sat at the end of the table nearest Sister Agnes. She kept a close but genial eye on them, giving them pointed looks whenever their whispering became a bit too intense. Sister Teresa made sure everyone had seconds, though Joyce tried to demur at more peach cobbler.

"You are too thin," Sister Teresa said firmly. "You've been ill, you need to feed yourself up so you can get well."

Xander failed to muffle his snicker, and Joyce turned to glare at him. She finally sighed, though not too hard. "All right, I'll have more of the cobbler."

"Good for you. And you'll sleep well in the guestroom tonight, and I'll give you a big breakfast tomorrow."

Sister Teresa bustled away, and Joyce sighed more sincerely. "I'm going to go home having gained five pounds." She glanced at Xander.

"I didn't say anything," he protested. "I know far, far better than to make any kind of comment in a conversation involving women and weight. Not me, no, sir."

After supper, Xander went back to the stable, followed by Baynar. They worked until Sister Dymphna brought the cows and the plowhorse in from the meadow.

"And that will be enough for tonight, gentlemen," she said firmly. "Zorrababel, Hepzibah and Mehitable need their sleep."

Out of the corner of his eye, Xander saw Baynar yawning. "Looks like someone else does, too."

"And so do you," Sister Dymphna said. "You drove all that way and you've worked all afternoon. You must be ready to drop."

He shrugged. "If I work hard, then I sleep well. Otherwise I just toss and turn. I'll be fine. Do you need any help with the animals?"

"Not at all. This is my favorite time of the day, when I settle them for the night. You two go on to bed now."

Baynar tried to distract Xander with something interesting further down the road from the convent, but this time Xander was firm. The little demon made loud protests, which immediately stopped when they met Savlin coming out of the dormitory.

"Here he is," Xander said, "safe and sound and fighting tooth and tail against going to bed."

Savlin nodded. "It is the same every night. But he will cooperate soon enough."

Baynar's face screwed up as he fought another yawn, which escaped despite his best efforts. Savlin picked him up and cuddled him against her shoulder. "Say good-night to Xander, little one. You will see him in the morning." Baynar tried to protest, but yet another yawn interrupted him, and he rested his head tiredly on his mother's shoulder before he caught himself.

Xander grinned. "Good night, Baynar. See you in the morning."

Baynar said something sleepy. Savlin smiled. "Good night, Xander."

He watched the two of them go back into the dormitory. For the first time all day, there was silence around him. He almost started towards the dormitory in search of company, but unlike the silence of his apartment in Sunnydale, this silence held a subnote of peace, despite what had happened here just a few months ago.

He listened to the birds in the trees and the cicadas in the grass. The sun was warm on his head, and he could smell the dry dust--and the chickens. Finally he let his mind relax a little and tried not to flinch as the echos of screams and gunshots returned to the corners of the courtyard around him.

Now he was glad he'd come with Joyce. Tara spoke of the great wheel of life and death, light and dark. Now he had different memories he could lay over those of that dark, bloody night.

He started towards the dormitory to ask when a young man could get a thorough wash without running the risk of shocking anyone, but stopped after a couple of steps. No one was around, no one was watching him with caring, concerned eyes. No expectations or worries haunted him with accusations that he wasn't dealing with matters the way that he should. There was something he needed to do before he could honestly think he was on his way to settling things. Glancing around once more to make sure he was unobserved, he walked slowly out the front gates, around the walls, and up the slope to the olive grove and the memories sleeping there.

This is not real fic. This is "Entertain self and others while burning off a LOT of coffee" fic.

Warning. Sugar shock.

Still Life in Slow Nights

"Bored?"

Faith's treating her stake like a cheerleader's baton, tossing and twirling it as they walk between tombstones, looking for signs of life.

She turns and looks over at Buffy. "Yeah, kinda. Cemetery's dead tonight." She says it without irony, but she's right.

Patrolling outside of the Hellmouth is more like looking for needles in haystacks than keeping the peace, especially now that all the Potentials have reached theirs. Buffy thinks about the trip they took through Romania, where the only vampires they saw were on postcards for tourists, or about the nights they spent wandering around Greece, fending off drunken businessmen.

It's boring compared to Sunnydale, but Buffy loves every minute of it. They're back in England for a few weeks while Willow and the coven try locating more of the newly-called and Giles trains Dawn and Andrew in research while Xander keeps the crew entertained with Sunnydale Puppet Theatre. Italy's next on the agenda, but Buffy's in no rush to get there.

"Race you to the St. John crypt," she says, and takes off at full speed before Faith can answer.

"Cheater." Faith manages to look sullen for all of two seconds before her eyes take on a glint that Buffy doesn't quite trust. A quick buzz of Faith's lips against hers, just enough to startle, and Faith's off and running. "DeWalter mausoleum."

Buffy knows she can't catch up, but that doesn't stop her from trying. Her lungs are as close to burning as they get, her heart pounding and her lips stinging where Faith's touched them. Faith beats her by half a stride, the glint still in her eyes, joined by a grin.

"Forgot to mention, winner takes all." Then Faith kisses her again, for real this time, and losing doesn't seem so bad.

And if you laugh at Munch’s jokes, he’ll follow you anywhere.

This is one I learned the hard way, in reverse: When she stops laughing at your jokes, it's over.

Connie, Erika (and PMM!), the work is beautiful.

connie, I am weak. I gave in and threadsucked.

I am also scared for Xander; I don't know why, but something in that last paragraph is worries me. I don't like the idea that he's outside the gate and the walls and (as far as I can tell) unarmed, for starters. And I don't like not knowing where Giles and Spike are.

Most of all, of course, I don't like not having the next bit NOW!

Fantastic stuff. Fantastic. And scary.

Woo hoo, Connie. Like I said, your stories were the reason the Munchkin's on his long strange trip now. So, brava, and thanks tons. Karl, maybe I should have put that in the divorce section. But there are other things Munchkin is kind of a whore for, and one is being told he is amusing(Not that this feedback junkie knows anything about that.) Masterful? Me? Not the first thought I would have, but thank you.

KAY

He called me Legs. I hate him, honestly, though after what happened it feels creepy to say so. Like tempting fate. Like I got this second chance, so I need to only think and do good things. I already know it won’t last, not forever. We humans aren’t really built like that, huh? If we were, I wouldn’t be so busy all the time. One person whose pain won’t be disturbing my sleep is my perp, Gordon Pratt. In fact, when they told me he was dead, my first thought was disappointment that I was pulling lime-jello duty at the hospital, and was denied that particular satisfaction for myself. Which scared me, more than a little.

Cause that’s one thing they always said to keep women out. That we’re more emotional, and likely to blow people away cause we’re on the rag, stuff like that. All I ever wanted was to be a pro. Personally, I used to worry more about Bayliss and Lewis.Their lids’ve always been on a little tight. But I’m not immune, and they weren’t the ones with the vigilante streak,huh? A few days later, I’m a little bit stronger and fineagle the report out of Timmy.

He didn’t want to do it. He was like caught between being a model cop and comforting an injured person. I was proud to see the human win out...I was afraid he was looking like administrative material for a while there. I’ve gotten kind of off track here, but I have to tell this last part, it’s vintage Timmy.
Ok, so Bayliss comes to visit me in the hospital. He stands by my bed making lame chit-chat then he says he brought me the book I’d asked for. I look inside and find that Tuesday book that they made the Jack Lemmon movie out of.

“Timmy, man,” I say. “I must’ve been higher than Munchkin at Woodstock when I asked for that. You shouldn’t have paid attention to...”

“I think you’ll find page 35 applies to your situation.”

So I open the book, and the investigation report spills out. 35 like my next birthday. And in a book to soothe Tim’s overactive conscience.(Don’t tell Frank or Munchkin, cause they’re so proud of their brains, but I think Bayliss has us all beat. He’s just much quieter about it.)

"lime jello duty" Heh.

Hepzibah and Mehitable

Always wanted sister cats named this, but it's Mehitabel. More with the Baynar and Xander. I can take whatever tortures you have in store for the Xan-man, connie, but please don't hurt little Baynar.

Plei, nice moment. Yeah, sweet, but nice.

Well, if you can be dead and be 10-7(out of service, if I never explained it before) Be in prison and be a "Guest of the state" Then I'm guessing you could call a long hospital stay "lime-jello duty"

I'm sure you could call it that. I just thought you--and Kay--were clever for calling it that. I love getting a glimpse of how her head works. You have her rhythms, that part feels almost instinctive, and it's an extrapolation of how Leo played the character as written by whomever. But using what we were shown of the character to illuminate new situations and making Kay more three dimensional than even Leo played her is an art and a gift.