I finished "Gingerbread Homicide"! The last two parts are at [link] and [link]

Woo hoo! Xander!

Woo hoo! Xander!

Heh. Yeah, Xander's my must use.

This week's Open on Sunday was "watching".

Watching for an Answer

She's watched it twenty times now: the Slayer, a stake, a look of surprise, dissolution.

Dawn's not certain when the question became an obsession: that change to ash, did it hurt? Did the vampire burn? Was it peace, and if so, how, since there wasn't any soul to lay to rest?

She stands back, silently obsessing, keeping her eye on the furrowed face, the gleaming golden eyes, the unnatural canine teeth. Arm goes up, comes down, into the heart. Dissolution.

Peace? Pain? Fire? Ashes to ashes? Try as she might, she can't get a definitive look.

Dawn watches, and wonders.

In the City
Part Eighteen: Blast from the past

The diner looked like the one they shot “Pulp Fiction” in, but Xander was quick to point out that that diner was actually in Hawthorne, and it wasn’t even open when they shot the film, but it re-opened afterward to cash in on movie geeks.

“You went there, right?”

“Just a burger and a Coke.”

Xander seemed all right. The eye patch made him look kind of secret agenty, but really, he was pretty laid back. Of course, Connor was anxious to hear what he had to say about his father.

“I don’t really know anything,” said Xander, sipping his soda. I know the government put together a team of mostly former bad guys to deal with the situation—which is OK, in a “Mod Squad” kind of way—but I’ve got a couple friends hooked up in the gig.

“I know this part,” said Connor. “They asked me to join, but I didn’t trust them. The whole thing was just …”

“Intense. I get that. But let me ask you a question….”

Xander had a way from shifting from … well, goofy… to serious in a heartbeat. His whole demeanor changed, and for a second, Connor realized that he kind of was a mystical secret agent sort of … guy. He didn’t have a name for it. Xander called himself a “Watcher,” but Connor didn’t know what that was supposed to mean.

“Why were those demons back there so afraid of you?”

“I guess they remember me from… oh”

Xander smiled, but there was a something both warm and terribly sad in that smile. Like he had figured something out, and was sorry that you had to know it, too.

“Right. No one’s supposed to remember you. I didn’t find out about you until the other day, and I’m pretty sure I’d have heard about Angel having a kid. So how did…”

“So how did the government know who I really was?”

“You want dessert?” asked Xander. “I want dessert.” Xander turned to flag the waitress while Connor processed the information. But as Xander turned, a thin, graying man in glasses was suddenly standing behind him.

“I’m sorry,” said the man. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

Xander began sliding back against the seat, quickly drawing a revolver concealed beneath his jacket.

“You.”

“Now, now boys. If I’d come to fight, you’d already be dead. I just figured I’d come to extend an invitation.”

“Connor, run.”

“Connor, sit.”

Connor was paralyzed with indecision. This man seemed frail and genial, but Xander was clearly panicking, the gun aimed unsteadily in his shaking hand.

“You can call me, Doc, Connor. We’ll get along famously. I know a lot about losing loved ones.”

“Connor…”

“Don’t listen to him, boy,” said Doc, a blade quickly appearing in his hand. “This really doesn’t need to be a drama. I just want to have a nice, civilized discussion.”

Everything then happened at once. Xander fired, and the bullet’s impact seemed to stagger the old man, but not knock him down. Xander then leapt from the booth at the old man, who clasped his left hand around Xander’s throat while the right one stabbed the blade into his torso. Xander screamed in pain, dropping the revolver.

Connor stood to attack, but could see Xander—dazed and battered—mouthing the word to him.

“Run.”

And without another word, Connor leapt through the diner window, and in a symphony of glass, escaped into the night.

Ooh, excellent.

Oh man. I got the shivers.

Oh man. I got the shivers.

Heh. Thanks, all. Closing in on the end--definitely in the second half somewhere. But still weirdness to go.

And where's Anne W? It was her that called Doc, right?

Yes! 'Twas I! Can I feel all gloaty? Is that allowed?

Yes! 'Twas I! Can I feel all gloaty? Is that allowed?

Gloat away! Of course, it'll get even weirder, if I ever get five minutes again to write...