DISCLAIMER: None of these people belong to me. Some of them belong to Chris Carter and some of them belong to Joss Whedon. If you don't know who belongs to who you won't get the full impact of the story anyway so go and absorb some popular culture from the box then come back and try the story again. I received nothing from writing this but pats on the head for being clever.

Rated NC-17, eventually.

***

BUFFY THE XFILES SLAYER a possibility in four parts

***

"And here I thought it never rained in southern California."

Special Agent Dana Scully shot her partner a sideways glance and when it became quite clear that he was neither going to expand on the comment nor break into song, she sighed. "Sometimes I think you're only happy when it rains."

"What makes you say that?"

Scully examined and discarded a number of replies before settling on the one that wouldn't get her involved in an argument she couldn't win. "The amount of time I've spent in your company with wet shoes."

Deftly steering the rental car around a largish puddle, Special Agent Fox Mulder grinned He couldn't deny the fact that it rained significantly more than fifty percent of the time he and Dana were in the field. Nor could he deny that he enjoyed the possibilities inherent in a dark and stormy night, the sorts of possibilities that would avoid a bright and sunny day.

He'd barely finished the thought when the rain ended as abruptly as it had begun. The world glistened and the sudden sunlight fractured into an infinite number of rainbows. Spotting a road sign, he read, "Welcome to Sunnydale."

"Truth in advertising," Scully muttered, squinting. "I wonder how the Chamber of Commerce managed that." When Mulder lifted an ebony brow in her direction, she smiled. "I'm kidding." When the brow lifted higher she raised a cautioning finger. "Don't start."

***

"The FBI; well, well, well." Raising a sparkling gaze from the presented pair of ID cards, Mayor smiled broadly. "Book 'em, Danno!"

Scully sighed. "I believe that was Hawaii Five-O."

"You know, I never really understood that show. Hawaii should be sunshine and beaches and pretty girls being careful not to get too much exposure to ultra violet light -- not weekly murders." Before either of the perplexed agents could reply, he continued. "I firmly believe that one of the greatest problems in our society today is the amount of violence on television. What *does* it teach our children? Mint? No?" He set the dish back down on his desk and spread his hands. "So, how can I help the Federal Bureau of Investigation?"

Mulder straightened and pulled out his *I'm significantly smarter than you are* voice. He used it deliberately to irritate and put people on the defensive -- defensive people often told him more than they intended. "Mayor Wilkins, I'm sure you're aware that Sunnydale has a disproportionately high number of deaths and disappearances."

"As compared to what?"

Scully hid a smile at Mulder's nonplused expression. It wasn't so much the mayor's interruption as the tone in which it had been delivered -- a cheerfully honest request for more information. Having been on the receiving end of Mulder's emotional manipulation more than once, she settled back to enjoy watching him get worked over by a pro.

"As compared to national statistics."

"Statistics? Tsk, tsk, Agent Mulder..."

Scully had never actually heard anyone say, tsk, tsk before. From the look on her partner's face, neither had he.

"...statistics are open to so many interpretations. Are you certain you wouldn't like a mint?"

"Mr. Mayor, your assistant..."

"Would like a mint?" He glanced toward the office door. "No, I don't think so."

"No. Alan Maitland. Your dead assistant."

"Oh." Comprehension dawned. "Well, he's certainly beyond mints, isn't he?" He popped a mint in his mouth then pushed the candy dish away as though he couldn't bear to look at them any longer. "Poor, poor Alan. What a terrible tragedy. I'd known the boy almost his entire life, you know. He was destined for... Well, lets just say he was destined, shall we?"

"According to the coroner's report he was killed by a wooden stake driven into his heart."

Years of practice kept Scully from visibly reacting. At least she now knew why she'd been dragged across the county. And why Mulder had been playing his cards so close to his chest. //Vampires again. Wonderful.//

The good humor had frozen onto the mayor's face. "You saw the coroner's report?"

"You seem surprised."

"I am rather. You see, I hadn't wanted that information to get out."

"Why not?" Scully asked, more because she felt it was time she said something than because she thought they'd actually get a useful answer.

"Well, you may not know this, Agent Scully..." He made his appeal directly to her, one reasonable human being to another. "...but nasty deaths, like poor Alan's, will make the front page of the tabloids. You'd amazed at what the people who read those so called newspapers believe. Alien abductions." He rolled his eyes. "Lizard babies..."

Scully glanced up at Mulder from under her lashes.

Mouth slightly open, he'd been about to reply when he realized she was expecting a protest. As the mayor continued, he pressed his lips obstinately together.

"...Government conspiracies. I let a story about someone being staked in Sunnydale reach one of those scandal sheets and faster than you can say Bob's your uncle, my town is overrun by so called vampire hunters. I just don't want the citizens of this fair city to get hurt."

Nodding slowly, Scully acknowledged he had a point. And yet... "And yet, there's that statistically high death rate."

"We live in violent times, Agent Scully."

"Has anyone been arrested for the murder of Mr. Maitland?" Mulder asked.

"Unfortunately, no." Drumming his fingers on the table, the mayor appeared to come to a reluctant decision. "Although, one name has come up again and again in police investigations of violence in this town. It hurts me to admit it but, try as they may, our valiant boys in blue have never been able to actually press charges but still..." His brows drew in dramatically. "...that name keeps coming up."

"What name, Mayor Wilkins?"

"Buffy Summers."

***

"Buffy?"

Mulder slid the keys into the ignition. "Welcome to Southern California, Scully."

"You don't seriously believe that one teenage girl named *Buffy* is responsible..."

"For staking a man because she thought he was a vampire? For dozens of unexplained deaths?" He started the car and pulled out into traffic. "We've both seen stranger."

"True." She leaned back against the seat and rolled her head to one side so she could see her partner's profile. "But I don't see how that makes this an XFile."

"Come on, she thought the mayor's assistant was a vampire."

"*If* she had anything to do with that. We only have the mayor's word."

"If," Mulder acknowledged.

"And so you're thinking?" Scully prodded in a tone that said, *Why am I bothering?*

"I'm thinking there's no smoke without fire."

"If she staked a man because she thought he was a vampire, she has reason to believe there are actual vampires in Sunnydale."

Mulder grinned. "Scully, you can read my mind."

"I know. And it scares me."

***

"You sicked the FBI on B." Faith turned from the window, smiling broadly. "Cool. I like it."

"And I'm happy you're happy," the mayor told her matching her smile. "Now, if you want to make me even happier, you'll go pay the coroner a little visit."

"And say?"

His expression suddenly looked a lot less jovial. "Oh, I think there's been enough said, don't you?"

*****************

Opening credits: Into every generation an FBI agent is born. One man in all the world, an ignored one. One born with the strength of purpose and absence of social skills to hunt the absurd, to declaim the occurrence of alien abductions, to investigate the XFiles...

***

First commercial -- M&N Meats with a wide selection of prime cuts for when you're tired of stakes.

***

Second commercial -- Dudley Car Rentals; bleed all over them, blow them up, abandon them; with the amount you're giving us as a security deposit we don't care. Special rates to government employees.

******************

"This is a very large high school," Scully noted getting out of the car and staring across the road.

"Don't worry." Mulder grinned across the roof at her. "You're armed." Dropping the keys into his pocket, he started toward the school.

Rolling her eyes, Scully hurried to catch up. "How are you planning on finding one teenage girl in a school this size?"

His gesture took in the fifty or so students scattered over the front lawn. "I'll ask."

"You know, they have a word for men your age who go looking for girls her age."

"Mr. President?" He flashed her a brilliant smile then picked up his pace toward the nearest group of students.

"That's two words," Scully sighed, following.

"Excuse me."

The four young men in football jackets broke apart and turned, their expressions half challenging -- here was another, older male on their territory -- and half respectful -- he was, after all, an older male in a really sharp looking suit.

"I'm looking for a Buffy Summers."

The four exchanged wary glances.

"Why?" asked the largest of a large crew. "Is she in trouble?" His tone added a clear... again?

Mulder spread his hands. "I won't know until I talk to her."

As Scully joined him, he lost the attention of three of the four but the one who'd been speaking folded his arms and favored him with a speculative gaze. He tried a charming smile. "Well?"

"She's probably in the library. Hangs there a lot."

"And the library is?"

"That way. Go inside, then left. There's big sign over the door, says library. You can't miss it." "Thank you."

They turned together, heading *that way*, ignoring the speculation that broke out behind them, most of it having to do with whether or not Scully was a natural redhead.

"You seem to have made an impression."

Scully glanced up at her partner, and snorted. "They're teenage boys. Anything with two X chromosomes will make an impression."

"And yet, you're so much more."

"You seem to have made an impression yourself. What did you say to make that young gorilla blush?"

"Honestly? I have no idea." Reaching a long arm over her head, he pulled open the door and motioned that she should lead the way. As he stepped over the threshold after her, something occurred. "What do you mean, a man of my age?"

***

Pushing open her half of the double doors, Scully drew in a deep breath and marveled at the way libraries always smelled the same. Not even a couple of thousand teenagers could change the wonderful odor of a room full of books.

Noticing that his partner seemed to be detecting some kind of aroma, Mulder took a quick sniff. For some reason, the air in the library reminded him of Thanksgiving. Specifically, stuffing.

Setting that particular puzzle aside for the moment, he walked toward the silent group sitting around the large library table. There were two teenage girls, a blonde and a red head -- either or neither could be Buffy Summers. Two boys, a brunette and a -- Mulder's eyes narrowed but the short spiked hair remained burgundy. The older man was probably the librarian.

On cue, he stood. "Can I help you?"

The accent took Mulder back. Way back. All the way back to his first day at Oxford when, feeling out of place and embarrassingly homesick he'd heard that question asked a hundred times in the same politely disdainful way.

Scully shot a quick glance up at her partner, realized he wasn't going to answer, and picked up the slack. "We're looking for a Buffy Summers."

"Why?"

"I'm, uh, Agent Mulder..."

The English brows rose.

"...FBI." He fumbled out his ID, heard Scully beside him doing the same. "This is Agent Scully. We need to ask her a few questions."

"Regarding?"

"Vampires," Mulder said with a smile, knowing that he'd put a stop to those irritating, well bred, one word questions.

"Really?"

Or not.

Fighting the urge to snicker, Scully took half a step forward, drawing the librarian's attention from Mulder to her. She liked what she saw. And she saw that he knew exactly the effect he was having on her partner. "We were told by one of the other students she might be in here." Carefully not looking directly at the two girls at the table while noticing that all eyes were following the dialogue like they were following the ball at a tennis match.

"Yes, she often is." Pulling off his glasses, he smiled at her and she revised her earlier assessment. She *really* liked what she saw. "Unfortunately, she isn't now."

"Would you know where she might be?"

"I'm sorry, no. It's a large school."

Grabbing Mulder's arm, Scully began to turn him toward the door. "Thank you for your help. I'm sure we can find someone who can point her out to us."

"Have you checked in at the office?"

All eyes turned to the dark haired young man at the head of the table.

"It's just that outsiders in the school have to fill out a whole pile of paperwork before they can walk around the halls." He grinned and spread large hands. "Safety first."

"We're the FBI." Mulder realized how stupid that sounded the moment the words left his mouth. And from the expression on the librarian's face, he knew exactly what Mulder was thinking.

"Then you realize how important it is to follow the rules. You'll find the office at the end of the next corridor."

It was clearly a dismissal. A well bred, politely English dismissal. Mulder found himself stepping out of the library before he was conscious of moving. Old buttons, newly pushed. Disgusted with himself, he glanced down at Scully who was leading them purposefully through mostly empty halls. "Where are we going?"

"To check in at the office."

"Why?"

"Two reasons. One, we're the FBI ..." Her tone was very nearly mocking. "...carries less weight in this situation than a note from the principal."

"I'm betting she was one of the two girls in that room."

That was too obvious to need a response. "And two, we should have done it when we arrived."

"To follow the rules?"

"These rules are for the protection of the kids, Mulder. Protection -- remember that? Essentially, it's the same racket we're in."

He pulled back and took an exaggerated look. "Someone's feeling snippy."

"I can't believe you told him we were looking for..." Her voice dropped below easy eavesdropping volume. "...vampires."

"Technically, I didn't. And technically, we're looking for a vampire killer." All at once, he grinned. "You liked him, didn't you?"

"What are you talking about?"

"You know, you *liked* him."

Scully rolled her eyes as she pushed open the office's outer door. "Mulder, that is so highschool."

***

"Xander! What were you thinking?!" Both hands flat on the table, Buffy Summers leaned forward and speared the dark haired young man with an incredulous stare. "I'm already not one of Snyder's favorite people and now..." Her voice rose dramatically. "...the FBI?"

"Hey!" Xander raised a cautioning hand. "Suppose they walked out the door without a destination in mind, what's the first thing they'd do?"

"Ask the first student they saw if they knew where Buffy was," declared the red-haired girl.

"Point to Willow. And suppose that student looked right back through the library window and said, there she is; that foxy blonde chick hangin' with her posse."

Willow frowned. "I don't think they'd say that, Xander."

"Whatever. Words to that effect. The point is, Buffy's not only fingered, she's trapped and Giles takes a hit for lying to the feds." He leaned back in his chair and laced his fingers over his stomach, looking smug. "Now, if they go to the office, they either spend time filling out *I've got a reason to be in the school forms* or they spend time listening to Snyder run Buffy down. Either way, she's got time to make her escape."

Oz nodded a burgundy head. "Bureaucracy. Use it wisely."

"I take back my what were you thinking and say instead, well done." Throwing Xander a dazzling smile, Buffy stood. "And so as not to waste the opportunity, I'd better make good my escape."

"Be careful, Buffy." Placing his glasses back on his nose, Rupert Giles, librarian, ex-watcher, gazed down at the slayer he still considered his responsibility. "Until we know what the FBI has actually heard about the situation in Sunnydale they could be very dangerous to you."

"But aren't they the good guys?" Willow protested. "Maybe if we explained things, they could help."

"Explained things?" Xander shook his head. "It's kind of a you had to be there situation, Will."

"I guess. I was just thinking that with the mayor's ascension coming and all we could use the extra bodies."

"I'm thinking extra bodies aren't likely to be a problem."

She shot him an indignant glare. "That wasn't what I meant."

Buffy sighed. "But they'd probably be extra bodies if they stayed around, Will. Somehow, I doubt the FBI is trained to deal with demonic ascensions."

"Buffy..." Giles nodded toward the stacks and the fire door.

"Right. I'm the gone girl."

"Hang on, Buff. I'll come with."

Buffy paused at the top of the half dozen steps as Xander grabbed his backpack and came after her. "Xander, I don't need an escort. I can deal with the FBI."

"Never doubted it. But I, myself, have one final history assignment to hand in and do not want to run into Mrs. Fischer on my way out the door." One hand in the small of Buffy's back, he moved her between the shelves, throwing a, "Later!" back over his shoulder.

"I'm not sure I approve of Xander using that exit to avoid doing his school work," Giles sighed.

"But Giles..." Willow screwed up her face as though she'd just eaten something very nasty. "...Mrs. Fischer."

"Yes." She'd trapped him in the staff room once. Placing her bulk between him and the only door, she'd launched into a twenty minute monologue on the evils of British colonialism. He'd given serious thought to going out the window. "You have a point."

"Principal Snyder will probably send those two agents back here; do you want us to stay and help muddy the waters."

"Thank you, Willow, but no. I'll be fine. About tonight." Giles favored them both with a partial frown. "Are you certain you'll be all right?"

"We'll be fine. Really." Cheeks red, gaze landing anywhere but on Giles, Willow allowed Oz to pull her toward the exit. The last thing she wanted was to have to explain her relationship with Oz to Giles. Well, maybe not the *last* thing. But close.

"You're wearing a frowny face," she said as the library doors closed behind them.

Oz shrugged. "I keep thinking I've seen Agent Mulder somewhere before."

"Maybe he's a fan."

He found her smile too irresistible not to return. "Maybe."

***

"Convinced?"

Scully drummed her fingernails against the closed file folder. "Granted, she *has* been involved in a number of dubious activities but these files are supposed to be confidential."

"So?"

"I just think that Principal Snyder was a little too eager to share. Isn't it possible that both he and the mayor are setting her up?"

"For what?"

"For us."

"All right, why?"

Lying back on the bed, jacket and shoes off, Mulder opened his mouth to reply, paused, and tossed in a few sunflower seeds instead.

"You can't tell me why, can you?"

"Scully, she burned down her school gym."

"That, in no way, suggests she believes in vampires."

He swung his legs off the bed and sat up. "Unless the gym was full of vampires at the time."

Brows nearly at her hairline, Scully stared at her partner for a full minute. "You're reaching," she said at last.

"Then why did she stake the mayor's assistant?"

"We don't know that she did?!"

"Given the other stuff she's been involved in..." He nodded toward the file. "...you have to admit she's a prime suspect."

"I don't have to admit anything of the sort. She has an alibi."

"Provided by Mr. Rupert Giles who just this afternoon lied to two federal officers."

"Two...?"

"Us, Scully." Shoving his feet into his shoes, he grabbed his coat and stood. "Let's go."

Scully stayed seated. "Mulder, I don't want any part of cornering that girl in her home. Her mother would have every right to kick your butt back to DC."

"Oooo, harsh words."

"Mulder."

"But essentially, I agree with them; that's why we're not going to her home." Smiling conspiratorially, he waited for her to ask.

For a moment, she considered not playing but, since he'd play without her, there didn't seem to be much point. "All right. Where are we going?"

"Where would you go if you believed it was your job to stake vampires?"

"Do you have any idea how ludicrous that sounds?"

"To a cemetery." He gestured toward the window. The streetlights surrounding the motel's parking lot had just come on. "In the dark."

Sighing deeply, Scully stood. "Mulder, I want you to think about this for a moment."

"Scully, I have..."

"Hear me out. If, as you suggest, Alan Maitland was staked because someone thought he was a vampire and this has brought you to believe that there are real vampires in Sunnydale, don't you think that a graveyard after dark is quite possibly the one place you shouldn't be?"

He held up the bag of sunflower seeds. "I've come prepared. Hey, it worked the last time," he added when she rolled her eyes.

"What worked the last time was my arriving in time to interrupt the attack."

"And you'll be there this time."

"No. I won't." An upraised hand stopped his protest cold. "I am not spending the night hanging around a graveyard with you." She motioned for him to leave the room. "If you insist on following an ill-advised course of action, I'll drop you off then I'm going to go speak to the one person who might actually be able to shed some light on this wild goose chase of yours."

"And that would be...?" The grin suggested it was a rhetorical question.

Reaching behind him to close the door, Scully answered it anyway. "Rupert Giles."

"You like him, don't you?"

"Just get in the car, Mulder."

***

As the rental car pulled out of the parking lot, the dark figure who'd been standing so he could watch both rooms rented to the Bureau stepped further back into the shadows and disappeared.

***

"...because I've checked into this Fox Mulder and he could be dangerous." Tucking the phone between shoulder and cheek, Mayor Wilkens opened the file folder lying on his desk then picked up a tissue and used it to take hold of the receiver again. "You'll be absolutely astounded by what he believes in -- alien abductions, para normal powers, wild women in the woods of New Jersey. New Jersey," he repeated frowning, "now that's a stretch. Ice worms, lake monsters, the ritual rising of demons... What? You're missing the point. People aren't *supposed* to believe that these things exist, that's how the system works. They start believing and what do we have; chaos. Which is not necessarily a bad thing," he acknowledged, "but I won't have my schedule messed up. I've been planning this for far too long."

After listening for a moment, he sighed and shook his head. "No. Just stay out of sight. *I'll* get rid of him."

***********************

Tonight on the WB; Felicity fails both calculus and chemistry, discovering that neither angst ridden relationships nor sincere friendships outside your socio-economic class are what college is actually about.

***

First Commercial -- Women of various ages talk explicitly about sanitary protection but refuse to speculate about why this particular product keeps showing up on a program about vampires.

***

Second Commercial -- First National Mutual Funds, because you can do more with a trust fund than buy Armani suits.

***********************

For a town of its size, Sunnydale had a lot of graveyards -- which, considering the statistics, wasn't really very surprising. Mulder lifted a hand as Scully drove away then stepped off the sidewalk onto the gravel path. Although he carried a flashlight, he left it off, preferring to allow his eyes to grow accustomed to the dark -- not that it was very dark, the full moon shed an amazing amount of light, silvering the gravestones and making the shadows behind them seem deeper and darker.

He'd walked through lot of graveyards over the years and he'd dug up a few as well. Since, as a rule, he believed the living were a lot more dangerous than the dead, they'd always struck him a peaceful rather than sinister places. The further he walked into this particular graveyard however...

The grass was well manicured, the trees were tidily pruned, the paths were weed free. Granted, there seemed to be an abnormally high number of fresh graves but that wasn't it.

Then one of his footsteps picked up half an echo and he knew... he was being followed.

Carefully nonchalant, he walked toward the cluster of old mausoleums where he'd have cover enough to set up an ambush.

***

Walking warily, eyes scanning the shadows, Buffy moved toward the heart of the graveyard and the half dozen or so old mausoleums clustered there. As the most recent grave had gone in eleven days before -- a Sunnydale record -- she wasn't expecting any new arrivals. She was, however, expecting a few older vampires to be hanging around waiting for her. They all knew she regularly patrolled the cemeteries and they all wanted to be the one to take out the slayer. So far, they'd all died but she supposed even demons had to have dreams.

And it was certainly a lot less work than going and looking for *them*.

Slipping between the first two tombs, she stopped, head cocked and sifted the night for sounds that didn't belong. A moment later, she smiled grimly and pulled a stake from inside her zippered sweatshirt.

Slayer senses told her, she wasn't alone.

That, and the distinct scent of expensive after-shave on the breeze.

***

The school librarian wasn't home and, since there was still mail in the brass mailbox attached to the stucco wall beside his door, he hadn't been home all day.

Scully quickly flipped past a utility bill, an official looking envelope from someone called W.C. in Oxford, a copy of The American Library Journal, a flyer from a religious supply house, and three mail order catalogues -- two specializing in medieval weaponry, the other in tweed.

Frowning, she put the mail back where she'd found it and walked slowly out to the car. Where would a highschool librarian spend his spare time?

No better idea having occurred, she drove slowly toward the highschool. A moment later, she slammed on the brakes. Had she been going any faster she'd have hit either the oversized, and very strange looking dog that bounded across the road or the red haired teenager chasing it.

Heart pounding, Scully rested her head on the steering wheel. When she looked up again, both girl and dog were gone. It might have been the girl from the library but she'd disappeared too quickly for Scully to make a positive identification.

Just for a moment, she considered stopping the car and following them but, in the end, decided to stick with her original plan. For some reason, a reason that had nothing to do with Mulder's adolescent speculation, she was looking forward to speaking with Rupert Giles.

***

"Oz sit! You know better than that! Running in front of cars is dangerous. I'd have a lot of trouble explaining you to a vet if you got hit. Not to mention that you'd be hit and I'd just die if you got hurt. Well, maybe not die precisely but I'd be really very unhappy. From now on, you're to stop in the bushes and let me check for cars before you cross the road." Willow looked down into the wide gray eyes staring up at her and tried to sound stern. "You don't want me to have to leash you again, do you?

"Well?

"Oz! Get your nose out of there!"

***

Realizing he'd read the same page three times, Rupert Giles pushed the book away and sighed. It was no use, he couldn't concentrate. The same three questions kept chasing themselves around and around inside his head. Why were the FBI in Sunnydale? What information did they have? Why did they want to speak with Buffy?

What was that scent the incredibly attractive Agent Scully had been wearing?

All right. Four questions.

And a couple of speculations.

And a rather surprisingly explicit daydream.

"It's a perfectly normal reaction to stress," he told himself taking off his glasses, and rubbing his eyes. "I'm concerned about Buffy, bedeviled by that idiot Wesley..." Who'd be back from his research trip in the morning, worse luck. "...literally sitting on top of a hellmouth, and the world is very possibly going to end a week from next Tuesday. There's nothing wrong with a few harmless fantasies."

That settled, he pulled another ancient book off the stack and opened it. "Now then, back to the ascension. Arimaspians, Armidia, arundel, Ascalaphus, Ashtaroth..." He stopped skimming and started reading. Some of the sections on Ashtaroth went into remarkable detail and, loosening his tie, he found himself substituting another face for that of the goddess in the woodcuts.

All at once, he pushed the book aside. "For godsakes man, get a grip!"

Which, under the circumstances, wasn't a very effective chastisement .

He leaned back in his chair and sighed again. "I have *got* to start spending more time with people my own age."

***

His back against a locked metal gate, Mulder waited in the dark triangle of shadow within the mausoleum's deep doorway, barely able to hear the approaching footsteps over the pounding of his heart. He had his gun in one hand, and a sharpened stake in the other, prepared for every eventuality.

All right, not every eventuality. Not by a long shot. But prepared for either of the two possibilities of the night.

Vampire.

Or vampire slayer.

Under normal circumstances, he'd never consider pulling a gun on a teenage girl but these weren't normal circumstances -- although, upon reflection he had to admit they were remarkably normal for him.

The footsteps drew closer.

Closer.

And then a hand reached into the shadows, grabbed the front of his coat, and dragged him into the light.

***

Buffy didn't so much see the figure in the mausoleum's shadow as she sensed it. Reaching into the darkness, she grabbed a handful of jacket and yanked a familiar dark haired man into the light.

Flat on his back, staring up past the barrel of his own gun, now pointed at the bridge of his nose, Mulder met the narrowed green eyes of the man pinning him to the ground and tried to bring his breathing under control. The fight, if it could be called a fight, had been over in seconds and surprise had kept him speechless a few seconds more. It was long past time to say something. "What are *you* doing here?"

"Here specifically?" Alex Krycek, ex-FBI, ex-KGB, a man who'd betrayed so many acronyms even he'd lost track, smiled and shifted his weight on Mulder's groin. "Wriggling?"

"Here in Sunnydale," Mulder specified through clenched teeth.

"I was in the LA airport when you and Scully landed. I saw you renting your car and decided to follow you, see what you were up to."

"Why?"

Although the smile broadened, the gun never wavered. "Old time's sake."

Mulder trusted Krycek least when he was in his dangerously charming mode; which since he didn't trust him at all outside extremely specific parameters, was saying something. "Which old times?"

"You'll see." He stood in one lithe movement and, still straddling Mulder's body, said, "Get up. And don't touch me while you do it."

Oh, *those* old times. It was awkward but he managed it.

Krycek jerked his chin toward the mausoleum door. "Now, let's go inside."

"It's locked."

"And your point is?"

He waited until he could see impatience starting to harden the edges of the smile then pulled his lockpicks out of his pocket and went to work, thinking, if demons were really fallen angels, then they'd look like Alex Krycek.

***

"Angel, what are you doing! I could have staked you!"

The corners of his mouth turned up into a curve guaranteed to melt resistance. "Go ahead," he murmured, spreading his arms, white T-shirt framed in black leather blinding in the moonlight. "My heart is yours."

"Stop it." But Buffy was smiling when she smacked him. "I thought we were meeting over at Fair Lawn?"

"I finished my sweep early. Didn't see anything."

"No, me either." Pale brows drawn in, Buffy stared past Angel at the moon silvered houses of the dead. "Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse."

"Well, I don't know about mice but there were no creatures stirring."

"So we have time to kill." She clasped her hands behind her back and looked up at him through her lashes. "So what do we do?"

"I have an idea."

The husky note in his voice left Buffy with suddenly dry lips. She swept her tongue over the lower, then the upper, then did it again when she saw the effect it had on the man standing in front of her. When he held out his hand, she put hers into it, loving the way the size difference -- his large, her's small -- made her feel safe and protected, and allowed him to pull her toward the nearest mausoleum. "Wait a minute; inside? Why are we going inside?"

"We'll need some privacy."

"Oh? Oh!" Planting both feet against the threshold, she pulled him to a stop. "But what about..."

"Trust me. I've done some thinking about how we can get around it."

Since not to follow would insinuate she didn't trust him, Buffy followed. She had to admit, she done a little thinking about it herself without coming up with anything that would work but was willing to concede that a two hundred and forty-three year old vampire might be able to draw on experience she lacked.

***

Wondering why the school wasn't locked, especially considering the number of violent deaths that had occurred on the premises, Scully walked down the empty halls toward the library. Light spilled out through the circular window so someone was there but whether it was Mr. Giles or merely a custodian, she had no idea.

//And there's only one way to find out,// she told herself, pushing open the door.

At first she thought she was alone, that the lights had been left on accidentally, then she drew even with the large window dividing the office from the library proper and saw the librarian bending over his desk.

For a librarian, Mr. Giles had a very nice... back, she finished as he straightened. And remarkably broad shoulders for someone who spent his all his time with books. She liked the blue shirt, red suspenders, khaki dockers combination. It made a nice change from the conservative FBI suits she usually saw -- because bottom line, an expensive dark blue suit was still a dark blue suit.

Even when it covered another very nice... back.

She must have made some sound because Rupert Giles turned suddenly, smiled when he saw her, then blushed.

"Agent Scully. What a..." He swallowed, trying to gain control of his voice. "...surprise."

"I'm sorry if I startled you."

"No, not at all. Well, yes you did but I, I don't mind."

"I wanted to ask you a few questions."

"Questions?" Of course, questions. What else? God but she was beautiful. Perpetually surrounded as he was by nubile children, it was wonderful just to look at an actual woman.

"Mr. Giles?"

"Yes, sorry. Questions was it..." He paused and glanced around the library. "Have you eaten, Agent Scully?"

She couldn't stop the smile. "I had intended to ask *you* the questions, Mr. Giles."

"Yes, of course, but you can ask them just as easily over dinner, can't you?"

"Dinner? I suppose but..."

"I haven't eaten, you see."

Hustled along by Mulder's enthusiasm for his newest theory, her dinner had consisted of a bag of M&M's and a diet Dr. Pepper from the vending machine at the hotel. "I haven't either."

"Well, then." He could feel his smile spreading. "There's a very nice restaurant only a few blocks from here. We could eat, you could ask."

"Ask?" He really did have an attractive smile. Gentle but strong, and interestingly speculative. It had been a long time since someone had looked at Scully that way. She liked it.

"Your questions."

"Oh. Right."

Turning off the light as he followed the FBI agent from the library, Giles told himself he'd found the most practical solution. The children were prone to come bounding into the library at any time day or night, interrupting any chance he might have for an adult... conversation.

***

The fact that Oz never actually remembered anything they did while he was in fur form sometimes worried Willow just a bit. But it wasn't like she was cheating on him, it was still Oz.

"See what Willow's got?"

The long tongue curled and he smiled wolfishly as he approached.

"You like this, don't you?" Hiking her skirt up a little, she braced herself. "Yeah, me too." Shifting her grip on the yellow plastic disc in her hand, she let it fly. "Go get it, Oz!"

As he spun around and took off running, she smiled.

***

Krycek glanced around the tomb -- Checking for what? Mulder wondered. -- then crossed over to the concrete sarcophagus in the center. He leaned back against it then gestured with the gun. "Come here."

Heart beginning to race, Mulder came. This version of the game they played was the most dangerous, involving as it did, placing his life in Alex Krycek's not entirely stable hands. Someday, it was going to get him killed. But he never refused to play.

If pressed, he'd have to say it was his favorite variation because he wasn't responsible for anything that happened.

A little less than an arm's length away from the other man, he stopped.

They stared at each other for a moment and he tried not to flinch as the gun barrel stroked his jaw. The cold caress of the steel sent a frisson of terror to his groin.

"On your knees. Hands behind your back."

He obeyed and found himself staring up past the round, dark muzzle end to the cruel curve of Krycek's smile. The muzzle shifted to one side and as it moved he dropped his gaze. The black jeans had seen better days but the bulge that strained the fabric had never looked better.

"Undo them."

As he began to move his hands back around his body, the gun moved into his line of sight -- a momentary caution before it moved away again. "No. Use your teeth."

Shifting his weight on the hard floor, Mulder leaned forward, took the edge of the waistband into his mouth. His face was pressed into the other man's body and he inhaled the familiar musk of arousal. Twisting slightly, he pulled back.

The button popped.

He moved down to the next button and exhaled a gust of warm air down over the curve of satin skin.

"Christ, Mulder..."

The voice stroked velvet down his spine. Moving to the third button, he frowned. Gentleness wasn't part of *this* game.

The blow caught him entirely by surprise. When he picked himself up off the floor, Krycek had the gun in his hand again. //Must've tucked it under the stump,// Mulder thought mussily. The artificial arm was pretty much completely useless.

"Do that again," the other man warned, "and I'll blow your fucking head off."

//Better.// Licking a little blood from the corner of his mouth, he moved to the fourth button.

***

Hands buried in Angel's hair, mouth feasting on the full lips, Buffy moaned deep in her throat as her breasts were suddenly bare and long, strong fingers began to dance over her nipples.

As his mouth began to trace lines of cold fire down her throat, she slid her hands in under his shirt -- only to find her wrists enclosed, her hands pulled away, and Angel staring down at her, a dangerous light in his eyes.

"You don't touch me," he told her huskily. "This is for you."

She could have broken the grip that held her arms away from him but she didn't even try. "But I like to touch you."

"I know. And I like it when you touch me." His smile held two different memories. "I like it too much."

"So if I don't touch you?"

"You get off, I don't. And Buffy, there isn't a man on earth who can find a moment of true happiness with a frustration level that high."

"That doesn't seem fair." As a protest, it lacked force.

Still holding her arms, he bent his head and gently drew one nipple into his mouth, lapping at it lightly with his tongue until it hardened, then sucking, nibbling and rolling it between his lips. When he looked up, leaving the nipple bare and damp in the night air, she found it difficult to focus on his face. "Fortunately, I have years of practice at mortifying the flesh."

Buffy managed a strangled, "Fortunately," as he turned his attentions to her other breast. When he released her, she buried her hands once more in his hair -- as much to help keep her on her feet as anything.

As his hands slid down to her waist and the long fingers begin to work under the elastic waistband of her pants, she managed to find voice enough to ask, "Angel, are you sure... Oh!"

Pants and underwear both were down around her ankles and large, strong hands were cupping her bare buttocks and lifting her up onto the edge of the mausoleum's one tomb.

***

"If I might say, Dana..." Giles folded his napkin along the original creases and laid it beside his cup. "...you have no idea how pleasant it is carry on a conversation with someone who isn't constantly questioning your every word."

Aligning knife and fork on her empty plate, Scully smiled across the table. "Actually, I do." There was just something about a British accent; she found herself wanting to rub up against his voice like a cat.

"If you're thinking of dessert, there's a very good bakery just down the road. They make an incredible chocolate cake." He'd once overheard Xander calling it chocolate lust cake and claiming that it was foreplay all on its own. Suddenly realizing he was using Xander Harris as a role model, he would have been shocked into silence had Special Agent Dana Scully not so clearly been waiting for him to continue. "We can't eat it there, of course..." A russet eyebrow rose and he nearly lost courage, finishing in a rush. "...but I have coffee back at my... my place. It's only Maxwell House but..."

"Chocolate cake and coffee." Eyes half lidded, she added, "And questions."

Giles swallowed and stood. "Yes, and questions."

***

"Give it to me, Oz. Come on, let go!"

Lip curled up above the yellow plastic he growled and hung on as Willow tried to pull the Frisbee from his mouth.

"Please?" She shook his head from side to side and up and down and was just about to give up when the plastic split, the sudden release throwing her backwards. When she sat up, she saw Oz lying with his head on his front paw, tongue lolling, the other half of the Frisbee in tiny pieces around him.

"Some night you're going to swallow one of those bits," she told him, throwing aside the damp, tooth marked section she still held, "and it's going to give you a tummy ache and I'm afraid I'll have to say I told you so."

He rolled over on his back, paws in the air.

She sat down on the grass and buried both hands in his thick fur. "Oh sure," she asked him grinning, "but when's it my turn?"

They went through three Frisbees a month.

It seemed a small price to pay.

***

Mulder sucked at the soft skin of Krycek's scrotum, tongued each of the testicles and, using his lips, pulled the entire sack free, the cock head drawing wet, heated lines across his face with the motion.

"Good." The voice held the hint of a quaver but cold metal of the gun stroked a steady path along the curl of his ear. "Now, take it all the way in."

Face flushed, right hand clasping his left to keep them behind his back, Mulder wet his lips and did as he was told. As he had to do. He suckled the head, savoring the taste of arousal, then relaxed his jaw and slid forward until his forehead rested against the hard/soft curve of Krycek's stomach and the scent of the other man replaced all the oxygen in his lungs. He swallowed, feeling his throat work against the thick shaft of invading flesh then he leaned back until he could suckle the head again.

"Enough."

No. Not enough. Never enough.

"Mulder."

The touch of the gunsight digging in under his chin brought him back to the mausoleum. Breathing heavily, his mouth achingly empty, he waited.

"Front pocket of the jacket. Left side."

As he began to lean forward again, he heard a shaky laugh.

"Christ, Mulder, use your hands."

One condom. One small tube.

"You know what to do with it."

There had always been something about the sight of a cock sheathed in rubber that made him weak. Mulder didn't know what it was. Maybe because of what invariably happened after. He spread the lube thickly, carefully, with as little pressure as possible.

The gun gestured. "On your feet."

His legs ached from the rough stone but he could barely feel them. He could barely feel anything but the heavy ache in his balls. It seemed as if they weighed ten pounds each and had they not be confined by cloth would have been hanging around his knees.

"Get them off."

He blinked, confused. "Them?"

The voice had deepened to a near growl. "The pants, Mulder."

A moment later he was naked from the waist down, so hard he was almost in pain, the night breeze making him acutely aware of the open door to the cemetery behind him. He waited for Krycek's next command.

The gun gestured again and he stepped forward, bending and bracing both hands against the tomb. Barely breathing, he waited, knowing he didn't have a choice.

There was no preliminary nudge. Just one long, hard push that drove him up onto his toes and nearly forced out a cry of pain and pleasure mixed. He could still taste Krycek's cock in his mouth, could feel it against the back of his throat even as it slammed into him over and over.

Opened.

And impaled.

Again and again with punishing force.

Punishing.

Head down, sweat dripping onto the stone, he arched his back forcing deeper penetration.

Minutes, hours, days later Krycek made a strangled sound and collapsed against him, denim scratching against the bare skin of his legs, ragged breathing hot even through the clothing on his back. Then an arm snaked around his waist and icy iron rubbed up the length of his cock.

The world finally exploded.

***

Barely perched on the edge of the tomb, bare legs swung over Angel's broad shoulders, Buffy whimpered low in her throat as his fingertips dusted over pale curls. When he moved his mouth to the inside of her other thigh but no higher, she whimpered his name.

She could feel him smiling.

"You taste like sunshine." His words vibrated against hyper-sensitive skin.

"Angel, please..."

His mouth moved lower to feast on the soft skin in back of her knee but the pad of his thumb finally stroked through to apply the lightest of pressures against moist, engorged flesh.

"Angel..."

"Trust me."

There were more fingers now, spreading her open, touching, rubbing. It wasn't enough. And it wasn't that she didn't trust him...

Folding a knee behind his head, she dragged him closer, felt the warm breath of his laughter, then the first touch of his mouth. Broad strokes of his tongue, lapped at her, back to front, tasting, teasing.

Her whimper became a growl.

Then he drew her clit into his mouth and applied the lightest touch of teeth.

The growl very nearly became a scream before she remembered where she was. If the slayer screamed in a graveyard, half the vampires in Sunnydale would show up. And staking would be too good for anyone who interrupted.

Weight back on her hands, she closed her eyes and concentrated on remembering how to breathe.

Angel was suckling now, pulling her clit deep into his mouth, chewing it, flicking it with his tongue. She lifted her hips, pressing harder against his face.

A finger slid deep into her and withdrew. Before she could do more than breath a protest it returned, but not where she expected. A probing touch drew her cheeks apart then, slick with her own juice, the finger slid unhindered up and in.

The world turned red. She couldn't keep still. Hips began to buck.

Reality contracted to the point Angel devoured between her thighs.

***

"Did you hear that?"

Krycek buttoned the top of his jeans. "Hear what?"

"It sounded like a scream."

Green eyes glittering, he grinned. "Now who'd be screaming in a cemetery? And why?" he added provokingly.

Mulder swallowed past raw and abraded tissue, decided not to argue that he'd buried most of his own scream in his arm, and drew his trousers up over his hips.

"It's probably just teenagers." Allowing the gun to swing around his finger, Krycek presented the grip to the other man. "You know, Mulder, you're one sick puppy."

"Yeah? You were the one holding the gun," Mulder snapped taking his property back.

"This time."

It sounded like a promise but he'd learned not to take Alex Krycek's promises at face value. It could be months until they saw each other again. Which reminded him. "Why *did* you come here?" He held up a hand to stop the snickering. "I meant here to Southern California."

"Business."

"What kind of business?"

Arched brows arched higher. "You know better than that." He shrugged his shoulders, settling the leather jacket more comfortably in place. "I'm not following you if that's what you're worried about. Spotting you and Dana at the airport was pure co-incidence. Why are *you* here?"

"Business," Mulder muttered tucking in his shirt.

"Don't sulk, it's unattractive in a government agent. Investigating an XFile?"

"Vampires."

Krycek blinked. "Yeah. Okay. If you say so. Hey..." An upraised hand cut off the incipient protest. "...I'm not going to argue supernatural crap with you -- I gave that job back to Dana."

"Agent Scully."

"Dana," he repeated because he knew how much the familiarity annoyed the other man. "Let me get clear before you leave -- it wouldn't do either of us any good if we were seen together."

Dark brows drawn in, Mulder waved a hand out toward the night. "Who's going to see us?"

Krycek grinned. "Vampires?"

Angel pulled his hand away from Buffy's mouth -- mostly because her tongue kept darting out to lick at his palm. "I hope no one heard that." Turning to the mausoleum door, he wiped his face on his sleeve and tried sifting the night for the scent of danger. It wasn't easy getting past the scent of Buffy. When he managed it, he smiled and returned to her side. "There's two guys in the old Creasy tomb but they're not likely to, uh, throw stones." He watched understanding dawn then frowned slightly at her quiet gasp as she slid off her concrete perch and onto her feet. "You okay?"

Every movement brought a gentle friction. She felt like purring. "I am so far past ok, I'm all the way to w and x."

"W and... Oh. I get it."

"But you didn't get it, did you?" Wriggling her way back into the tight lavender stretch pants, she watched his eyes widen and choked back a giggle. "Sorry, sweetie."

"It's all right, you didn't mean..." As she bent to pick up a shoe, her shoulder brushed against the bulge in his pants. Hands clenched to keep from reaching for her, he leapt back. "Buffy!"

"Sorry."

"I'd better go."

"And...?"

"And beat my head against a brick wall." He swallowed, fighting to maintain control. "Buffy, you don't need to know the details."

She slowly swept her tongue over her lower lip. It felt swollen. Her whole body felt swollen. "Maybe I want to."

"Buffy..." One stride closed the distance between them. He grabbed her shoulders, fingers sinking into the soft flesh, and dragged her up against his chest. Their eyes met then he was feasting on her mouth as he'd feasted on her sex only moments before.

Then he was gone, his frustration leaving a nearly visible trail sizzling in the air behind him.

Buffy smiled. She could taste herself on her lips. All right, so it wasn't very p.c. of her but there was definitely something to said for wielding the kind of power that could bring a man like Angel to his knees.

***

The two men met unexpectedly in the darkness.

Barely maintaining a shred of his control, Angel morphed into full game face, snarled a warning, pushed by, and ran.

Alex Krycek slid his gun back into the shoulder holster, turned thoughtfully back toward the mausoleum, stopped, and shook his head. "He'd be completely unbearable," he told the night as he continued walking toward the road.

One thing about being possessed by the black oil; it made running into an aroused vampire almost mundane.

***

Recognizing that Krycek was right and ignoring the little voice that kept insisting *he's not the boss of me* in spite of all evidence to the contrary, Mulder waited ten minutes before leaving the mausoleum. Lost in thought, he rounded a small copse of trees and found himself flat on his back once again.

"Oh gosh. I'm sorry." Buffy leapt up and stared down at the FBI agent, sliding the stake into her sleeve. "You surprised me. You know..." She danced back as he stood. "...you really shouldn't be out here after dark, cemeteries can be really dangerous places."

"I think I can handle whatever I run into."

"Well sure.." She shoved her hands into the front pocket on her sweatshirt. "...cause you're a big strong FBI agent but..." Aiming for sincerely harmless, she lifted her head and met his eyes. And forgot everything she'd been about to say.

//There's a couple of guys in the old Creasy tomb...//

Mulder saw that she knew, if not the particulars, at least the overview. Searching for a response, he heard Krycek say, //It's probably teenagers.//

In the light of the full moon, he saw the teenager in front of him blush suddenly.

He knew. Buffy didn't know how he knew, but he knew.

"I have to..." They began together. Stopped together.

"There's nothing going on out here." Buffy offered after an awkward moment.

"Nothing," Mulder agreed.

"I have homework."

"Case notes."

"I should really..."

"...go."

They were past each other, hurrying in opposite directions down the gravel path when Mulder remembered he was twice the girl's age. //This is ridiculous.// He turned. "Buffy Summers?"

She should have ignored him but she'd spun half way around before she thought of that.

"You don't know anything about..."

"The old Creasy tomb?"

He had a sudden memory of the name inscribed into the concrete under his hands as Alex Krycek slammed into him from behind. His mouth snapped shut.

Buffy smiled angelically. "About?" she prodded.

Fuck it. "Good night, Ms. Summers."

"Good night, Agent Mulder."

***

After the chocolate cake and the coffee, there were questions asked.

"Here?"

"Oh god..."

"Harder?"

"Nuhhhhh...."

But the answers weren't particularly coherent.

***

The mayor's smile broadened and he leaned back in his chair, tissue wrapped phone in one hand. "Well gosh, Senator, I'm so glad you remember. Yes, I know what time it is in Washington. Why? Has your clock stopped? Good. Nothing worse than a clock stopping in the middle of the night. You'll be late for appointments, people will start to think you're unreliable, next thing you know your reputation has started to suffer, and really, when it comes right down to it, that's all a politician has isn't it? His reputation. You're too kind. No really, you are. Actually, now that you ask, there was something you could do for me..."

*****************

Every evening this week on the WB; half a dozen stupid sitcoms that no one else wanted, two dramas showing overly articulate teenagers free of any kind of parental presence, and one program about a minister who seems to be having more sex than any of them put together and who clearly never read any of the articles about population pressures. And you thought Fox was willing to broadcast anything...

***

1st commercial; The cemetery directors of America want to know if you've considered cremation and allowing your ashes to rest safe and secure in their tasteful 'walls of sorrow'. Because the last thing you need is your eternal rest disturbed by the sorts of activities that go on in most tombs today. If you're not getting it, why should anyone else?

*** 2nd commercial; You'd be surprised by how much our brand of instant coffee will contribute to your getting laid. No, really. What did you think those flavor crystals were made of?

**********************

"I don't want to know."

"Know what?" Scully dropped into the booth across from her partner and picked a menu up off the grey Formica tabletop. "Bacon, eggs, toast and homefries? Are you actually eating that?"

Mulder stared down at his laden fork as though seeing it for the first time. "I seem to be. Why?"

"I can hear your arteries hardening from here. I'll have a bagel," she told the waitress who'd wandered over from behind the cash register. "Whole wheat. And do you have low-fat cream cheese?"

"Honey, this is California -- we have low-fat fat. So, you want a whole wheat bagel, low-fat cream cheese. Toasted?"

"Yes, please. And a coffee." As the waitress took her order to the kitchen Scully repeated her question. "Know what?"

"Know why, actually."

"Mulder, it is way too early to play word games with you."

He grinned suggestively. "I don't want to know why you came home so late."

"Good." She extracted a paper napkin from the dispenser, unfolded it, and laid it carefully over her lap, meticulously smoothing the edges flat. "Anything interesting happen in the graveyard?"

The grin disappeared. "No. Nothing."

Had his ears not turned an enchanting shade of salmon, she might have even believed him. Spreading cream cheese over the bagel that had expeditiously appeared in front of her, she looked up and met his eyes. "I don't want to know. Neither what, nor why."

The implication was clear. //You don't tell me yours. I don't tell you mine.//

Mulder cleared his throat and pushed the homefries around his plate. "Good."

The silence had barely begun to grow uncomfortable when his cel phone rang.

"Mulder. Well, no but... Yes, sir but... Look, I'm sorry you were disturbed but..." He moved the phone away from his head and Scully could hear the deep tones of AD Skinner running up one side of her partner and down the other, much like a panzer tank running over a helpless weed. She couldn't hear the actual words but she didn't need to. The meaning was clear.

"I take it we're heading back to DC," she said when Mulder finally hung up.

"First available flight."

"So we won't be talking to Buffy Summers?"

Suddenly realizing what a conversation with Buffy Summers might turn up, Mulder felt a little more cheerful about the recall. "Guess not."

"Skinner sounded upset."

"Not a problem. I figured I'd send you in first."

"Forget it, Mulder. You'll just have to take your punishment like a man." Crumpling the napkin, she slid out of the booth. "We'd better pack."

"I'll be along in a minute."

She frowned down at him. "You look a little flushed. Are you all right?"

"Just want to finish this."

"Don't take too long. In that mood, Skinner probably knows when the next plane leaves LA and if we're not on it..."

"Yeah. In a minute." Mulder watched her walk away and then he shifted uncomfortably in his seat. It would be a minute or maybe two before it would be safe to stand.

//"You'll just have to take your punishment like a man." //

//Opened.//

//And impaled.//

//Again and again with punishing force.//

//Punishing.//

And that wasn't helping.

***

"You're not *listening* to me, Wes." Buffy planted both slender hands firmly on the library table and leaned toward the dark haired man in the three piece suit sitting at the far end. "Not fewer vampires, none."

"Perhaps you missed..."

"I don't miss." She favored him with a tight smile.

Recognizing the smile, and knowing full well the sort of cutting comment it usually preceded, Giles decided he'd best intervene. It wasn't that he didn't appreciate Buffy's skill with repartee but he was the one stuck listening to Wesley whine every time he got shredded. Dana was right, the security at this school had distinct problems. Why *did* Snyder allow Wesley to hang about anyway? *He'd* never found the annoying little man to be overawed by a British accent. "There must be another factor we hadn't considered."

"The factor to consider," Wesley sniffed, "is that Buffy is not infallible."

"Really? Funny that, I'm reading the score as Buffy big number and vampires big zero." She turned to Giles, her body language clearly dismissing Wesley as a lower life form. "Do you think the mayor was using them to prepare for the ascension?"

"It's possible..."

"Hey! You guys know those two FBI agents?"

"Not well!" Giles protested spinning around.

Xander blinked at him. "Wasn't suggesting."

"Yes. No. Of course not."

Buffy settled one hip against the library table and studied her ex-watcher speculatively. Angel had said there were two guys in the old Creasy tomb. Two guys. Agent Mulder was one guy and...

No. Angel would have said if the other guy had been Giles.

Maybe. He still had some pretty old fashioned ideas. He might have thought she'd be shocked.

Shocked? Giles *had* gone to Oxford after all and everyone knew about British schools...

"Xander, perhaps you'd better repeat what you just said. Buffy didn't appear to be listening."

"What?" Giles, Xander and Wesley were all staring and her ears reddened. "Sorry, head in the crypts... clouds." And the worst of it was, she couldn't ask him without explaining her presence in a neighboring mausoleum.

"You listening now, Buffy?"

"All ears."

"Okay. As I said, earlier, when you weren't listening..."

"Got the point, Xander. Not listening then, listening now. Talk."

"Right. Well, me and Willow and Oz..."

"Willow and Oz and I," Giles murmured.

Xander ignored him. "...were sitting out front and we saw those two FBI agents cruise past. They saw us, pulled over, I went to talk, and they're leaving town."

"Because of something you said?"

"No. Agent Mulder, said to tell you that they're heading back to DC."

"Said to tell me?"

"You Buffy Summers? Then, yeah."

Giles pulled off his glasses and studied the slayer. "Is there something you're not telling me, Buffy? Why would Agent Mulder send Xander in with a specific message for you?"

She shrugged with studied nonchalance. "Because he knows that I know he was looking for me and he doesn't want me to think he's still looking for me when he isn't looking for me?"

"Was that a question?"

"Maybe."

"It does seem like it could be a reasonable explanation," Giles allowed.

"Really?" Grinning broadly, Xander turned to face the older man. "Then maybe you can explain why Agent be-still-my-heart Scully sent in a message for you."

Giles put his glasses back on. "Message?"

"Explanation?"

"And why would I have to explain anything to you?"

"Good point. *You* are the authority figure, *you* hold all the power, *you* are the mighty librarian..."

"Xander, I have a loaded crossbow under this counter, don't make me use it. The message?"

"She said to tell you that she still has some questions she'd like to ask you."

"Questions?" Wesley demanded turning on Giles. "Still has some questions? When did you answer the other questions?"

"Wesley?"

"Yes?"

"Don't you have shirts you need to stuff?"

*** "I sure am glad those FBI agents are gone 'cause they could've caused Buffy some real trouble. I mean, looked at the wrong way, some of the things she's done could be misinterpreted..." Willow's voice trailed off as Oz shifted his head in her lap and looked up at her. "What?"

"Willow, can I ask you a question? It's about last night."

"Last night?" Her voice rose and brushed against squeaking.

"Yeah. I woke up this morning and my mouth was really..." He frowned thoughtfully. "...tired, I guess. Are you blushing?"

She nodded, her hair falling forward over her face. "Frisbee."

"Is some endearment no one told me about?"

"No," she told him, smiling in spite of her embarrassment. "We play Frisbee."

"Oh."

"I know you're not a dog or anything it's just..."

"No. It's okay." Lifting a hand, he stroked her cheek. "If it makes you happy, I'm all for it. It does make you happy?"

"Oh yeah."

The skin under his fingers grew hotter so he let the subject drop.

Frisbee.

Made sense.

He supposed that taste in his mouth could be plastic...

***

"As soon as we get back to DC, we'll have to start planning what we're going to do tomorrow night."

Frowning slightly, Scully turned to look at him. "Why? What are we going to do tomorrow night, Mulder?"

She was perfectly serious. He bit his lip but a giggle escaped. Then a chuckle. Then a full guffaw.

"What?"

As they left Sunnydale, it started to rain.

*******************

Next week, Angel says the word Buffy with varying degrees of angst laden emotion sixteen times in seven lines of dialogue and Scully suggests that maybe Mulder should, all things considered, at least trust *her.*

***

Grrrr. Argh. I warped this. narf

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