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.

Thanks, I thought so. And picturing Kay hearing that is funny too...it's gonna be a long day all around.

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

“Yeah, “ I say, thinking “I survived gunshots for this?!” But what if I didn’t? How would I find it, huh?”

”You mean like amnesia? Cause that happens with spells sometimes.”

“No!”(Temper, Howard.) “Yeah, ok, like amnesia. And, maybe I’ve got partial amnesia and can remember either the demon or the client, not both, hmm. You need to make two files.”

“Amnesia doesn’t work like that. Wesley, tell Kay amnesia doesn’t work like that.”

“That would be highly atypical of magic-based amnesia. Perhaps in a more organic variant...like that caused by blunt-force trauma.” I had hoped those two would work together, but of course the one time they do without being nagged, it’s to make me look like a hump. Great.

KAY

"Humor me. Wes can talk to our client,huh?”

“Oh, that’s no client. That’s just Gunn.”Cordy was taking her time getting back to the filing cabinet. I swear, you could stun that girl with a piece of tinfoil. Jesus.

“Damn, Cordy, that’s cold. Hey, English, you gonna just sit here and let her say that? I saved your life ...in some countries we wouldn’t be even till you saved mine. Which you’ll be doing on payday.” The young black stranger said.

“You work here?” I ask, trying not to give him the suspect stare.

“Yes, Agent Scully, I do. I just took some time to do some freelance demon fighting. Freelance as in free. I would complain, but hey...it’s a family thing. You know?” He carried a stuffed duffle bag, which he plopped down the desk.

“Yeah,” I said. “I do, sort of.” I’m not the kind for chat so much, but I was thrilled to get away from the paperwork disaster. But the invoices were perfect.What's the deal with that?

”I don’t recall getting your name. Or is it classified? Should I just call you Dana?”

“Kay. Kay Howard. I’m just here paying off my bill....You really think I look like Scully?”

“I think Scully wishes she looked as good as you. Without makeup anyway.”

“Charles? Is that you? I didn’t hear you come in.” Wesley said, in the library with his books.”

”That’s why this business is taking off so great. Keen detective instincts.”

A lifetime ago, I’d said the same thing about Bayliss. Now, he was damn good. Not as good as me, but good.
“You are way too young to be such a snarky pain in the ass, you know? Even if you do need glasses.”

“What’s the right age? I'm old enough to vote. And drink, although at times in my past I treated rules like polite suggestions, if you feel me." Pembleton would be in full quotation mode just looking at this guy, but I was happy to find another streetfighter in this crowd.

“Thirty. I’m thirty-four...I’ve paid my dues, huh?”

“I grew up fast. Being disadvantaged and all.”

"You're with me, huh? At least for today, till I work out the rotation."

"Rotation? Sounds like the Army or the cops...I sure didn't sign on for that. Nuh and uh. Are you asking me or telling me? Because one will definitely work, and the other might just get me filling out job applications."

This guy made the Munchkin look like an Amway salesman. Deep breaths, Kay. Think about the beach over the weekend, huh?

"I am the cops. OK, let's try this again. Gunn, would you please be my partner?"
" There, was that so hard? Pretty hair for a 5-0, though."

"Detective." Someday, I've really gotta stop correcting people about that. And I need to apologize to Gee about giving him so much static(Well, ok, for the half I wasn't justified about.) Being a leader sucks sometimes.

"If I had a dollar for every time I heard that I could be on a plane to Charm City already."

"Maybe Wesley knows a spell." Cordy said, as if her prayers would be answered.

"Love you, too, Cordy. I can't leave just now either. Got my own family thing,huh?" ETA: stuff.