"You can't compare my satisfying my place on the food chain to whatever your people are up to. My instincts tell me this smells of something different than pressed orchids. As far as the brokers, I'm only finishing the job...their jobs took the life out of them a long time ago. A guy's got to...eat. To live, I mean."

"Mmm." She was driving me crazy not paying attention. If it would've helped, I'dve stood on my head right in the middle of La Cienega. Love, lust, hate, fear, I get, especially with the vampire thing. But indifference, what can I do with that?

But indifference, what can I do with that?

Insight! Munch has to die before he gets insight!

Don't we all? And that sentence put me one step closer on the path to Munchliness. Sigh.(More seriously, it's not too much is it? Cause as I was writing I thought it was either FG or TFM. Sentences that pop in my head are usually one or the other. Like the Springsteen one.)

Ahem. More Connie. Please? Now!

Patience, my preciouses. Have to catch up in Angel first.

she called us preciouses....melt

there should be more, but too much Angel to catch up on

It was well after midnight when Willow left. She was trying to hide yawns, but she swore she could get back to campus without problems.

"Please do try not to get eaten," Giles said as he walked her to the front door of the rec center. "I would be very upset to lose my favorite pupil."

Willow turned and beamed at him. "Your favorite pupil? Really? Wait, I'm your only pupil-- aren't I?"

He smiled and hugged her. "Yes, you are. That doesn't mean you're still not my favorite."

She tried to frown, but she was still smiling. "Good night, Giles. Thank you for the lesson."

"Good night, Willow. Walk carefully."

She waved and disappeared into the darkness. He stood at the door, listening with magic and vampire ears until she was back in populated areas of town. He then headed off towards a nearby dilapidated house, where he smelled cigarette smoke.

Spike was reclining on a pile of rubble in the depths of the ruin, gazing up at the rafters as the smoke rose. A bottle of whiskey was propped up next to him. Giles strolled up to him and borrowed the bottle for a swig.

"Not going stalk-about tonight?" he asked.

Spike blew a smoke ring and didn't answer.

Giles raised an eyebrow and settled onto a nearby pile of debris. "You're being unwarrantably solemn."

"Bugger off."

"Not here, too many splinters." He smiled at the glare he got. "Honestly, if I didn't know better, I'd swear you were hiding in here, brooding." He had to duck as Spike threw the lit cigarette at him. "So, touched a nerve. Why aren't you doing your--deep thinking outside the window of your Belle Dame Sans Merci, alone and palely loitering? With Dawn and Joyce out of town, there's no one to see."

Spike looked away, studying a far corner for a moment. "Got the little witch away, did you?" he asked. "After your . . . lesson? Terribly eager, Red is, comes hurrying here from her lover's bed, all anxious to be . . . taught." His glance slid back to Giles, one eyebrow quirked knowingly.

Giles' eyes narrowed. "Yes, she's a very enthusiastic student. I'm quite pleased with her." He let Spike smirk for a moment. "Still, I doubt you put off your Buffy lurking just to make sure Willow left safely. With Dawn at her friend's house and Joyce out of town, I'm sure Buffy will be doing extra-late patrols. If you leave now, you can probably catch her."

Spike grabbed the bottle instead of answering. Giles pondered the development. Was Spike's fatuous obsession with Buffy finally running its course? He was acting more like a sullen boy pouting because his favorite toy didn't work any longer, rather than a lover frustrated by a discouraging woman. Unless the obsession had shifted targets. Spike seemed oddly upset that Joyce was out of town, but there didn't seem to be any unexpected developments in that direction. Giles knew that Spike still visited Joyce on occasion, most often dropping by the gallery when she was working late, giving her escort to her car and maintaining his chivalrous guard over Revello Drive.

If it wasn't Joyce that Spike was sulking about, then who . . . "Oh, no."

Spike gave him a concerned look. "What?"

"Good lord, no."

"What?"

"Xander? You're obsessing over Xander Harris?"

"I am not!"

"Well, you were annoyed when you heard that Joyce was out of town, and I don't think you've started mooning over her, and you're too depressed to go haring off after Buffy, which means that the person you prefer to be stalking isn't around. Which leaves Xander." He paused and thought about it again. "Xander?"

Spike took another swig of whiskey. "I thought you liked Harris."

"Oh, he's a nice enough lad, though a bit dogmatic in his beliefs. Certainly he's loyal and brave and faithful and all that."

"So's a Labrador retriever, mate." Spike shook his head. "You don't see it, then."

Giles frowned. "See what?"

"There's darkness in that boy. You just have to tease it out."

Told you he was Bayliss. ;) "You, Tim Bayliss, you've got a darkness inside of you." Great, Connie.ETA: I might be tempted to new Xander-appreciation if black leather is involved in this plan.

And the end of that left me going, 'mmmmmmmmmm'.

KAY

(A week earlier)

So, my letter got written, along with more personal, keep-it-light versions to Gee and Timmy.(I didn’t just want to disappear...we’ve had too much of that as a squad. But I didn’t say everything, either,huh? I figured there was a reason this demon fighter gig was such a deep dark secret. So I just sent Beau a postcard. I mean, I love him like a partner, huh. But it’s still telephone, telegraph, tell Felton.

I told everyone Munchkin had been through some changes, and though I wouldn’t be surprised to see him in Balmer, I didn’t expect him to be on The Job again. If he wants to tell them more, he can do it. The v-word is still too hard to say. I both hope I do, and I don’t, see Angel before I leave. Although part of me thought that’d be one way to fill the nightshift without bellyaching. So, now I’m free in the land of sun, fun, and slime-spewing demons. Do I know how to recuperate or what?

I was sorting through the files, which were a screaming nightmare guaranteed to give Giardello an embolism, when he walked in. He had something on his mind, anyone could tell that, but I was in the middle of something.(In some ways, Cordy’s like a puppy. You catch her that minute or not at all, huh?)

” Hey, Chase, what’s a mucus demon doing under “y”? The client’s name was Smithers.”
“I have a name, you know,” Cordy said, giving me an annoying eye-rolling teenage look. “It’s Cordelia. I might just use just it when I’m famous. Like Cher or Madonna.”

”Or Divine,” I can’t resist wisecracking, which cracks our mystery guest up.”Seriously, hon, what’s up with the Smithers file.”

“It’s filed under ‘y’ for “Yuck.” Mucus demons are totally disgusting. You remember."

Heheheheheh. Y for "yuck".

Heheheh.

That's so damned Cordy. Especially since I doubt original flavour Cordy would have spent one minute considering whether anyone else would touch her files.