You probably all know the preamble by now, but I’ll repeat it anyway.
Inspired by rahirah’s famous words but there's no reason to make Riley a wife-beater, Giles a drunk, Willow an evil mastermind, Xander a moron, Spike a malicious idiot, Angel a Neanderthal, Buffy a stone bitch who glories in her bitchness, or whatever., this is the third installment of the lunatic soap opera “Sunnydale Passions” in which all those things are true.
The first part was HERE
And the second part HERE
Revenge of the Faith
Long ago, in a town far, far, away, many curious things happened.
Buffy the Vampire Slayer married Initiative agent Riley Finn under the influence of a spell cast by the cute and charming – but evil – Willow the Witch. Spike the Vampire, made harmless by a chip implanted in his brain, took up a new career as a chancer, a geezer, a little bit flash, a little bit woah, know wot I mean, guv, a nod’s as good as a wink, can do you a right good deal on some Rolex watches, squire, nearly genuine, innit?; and he shagged Buffy at every possible opportunity. Angel the Souled Vampire drank enchanted beer and turned into a Cave Vampire, clad in skins, and he sought redemption by brooding in front of a crude fire and smiting evil with a big wooden club. Giles, the wise and learned Watcher, turned to drink. And more drink, and a little more just to wash down the others. Riley sought to gain the power of Spiderman so that he could satisfy Buffy’s voracious sexual demands and be able to beat her up hard enough for her to notice that he was hitting her. Buffy found a new lover; a mighty melding of man, machine and demon named Adam. Spike shagged Joyce. A radioactive spider bit Parker Abrams. Faith, rogue Slayer, awoke from her coma feeling mightily pissed. And Xander blundered his way through life as well as he could whilst laboring under the handicap of having a single-digit IQ.
Confused? You will be, after this episode of ‘Sunnydale Passions’. Now read on …
- - - - -
Joyce stood in front of the mirror and surveyed her reflection critically. She smiled at what she saw. She’d hit Victoria’s Secret that afternoon and had made a serious dent in her credit card, but it certainly looked as if it had been money well spent. She hoped Spike would show proper appreciation when he next visited; their amorous adventure had stoked up fires within her that had been smoldering dormant for a long time, but that were now blazing furiously. Joyce could hardly wait for him to ‘shag her senseless’ once more.
The doorbell rang. Joyce slipped on a filmy wrap, covering but not concealing the new lingerie and stockings, and hastened downstairs. She wasn’t accustomed to wearing five-inch heels around the house, and almost stumbled on the stairs, but she reached the bottom without mishap. For a moment she debated the wisdom of the heels; they’d make her taller than Spike, and some men were sensitive about things like that, but then again they did look exceedingly good and showed off her legs to perfection. She shrugged off her momentary doubts and opened the door.
“Hello, S…” she began in her sultriest voice, but it wasn’t Spike at the door, and so she hastily corrected herself. “Uh, hello, boys,” she greeted the visitors.
Forrest Gates and Graham Miller looked at her with eyes wide with astonishment. “Uh, yeah, hello Mrs. Summers,” Graham greeted her. “Can Riley come out to play?”
“Oh, I’m sorry – Graham, isn’t it? – Riley isn’t in. He went out round about six and he hasn’t come back.”
Forrest and Graham exchanged looks. Graham’s gaze drifted inexorably back to Joyce’s flimsy peignoir and he paused briefly to wipe drool from his chin. “That’s a shame. There’s an operation under way to catch a hostile, a giant fly monster that penetrated our labs and stole something, and we need Riley to complete our team. We won’t be able to take part without him. Unless … what about Buffy? She in?”
“I’m afraid not,” Joyce said. “She’s out patrolling, as usual.” She looked the two muscular and virile young men up and down. “They’ve gone out and left poor me all alone with no-one to keep me company. Would you care to come in for a … cup of coffee, or something?”
The two Initiative agents checked her out with trained eyes, surveying her from the five-inch heels up to where her new bustier shoved her boobs upwards and out. They exchanged glances and nodded to each other.
“Coffee sounds nice,” Graham agreed.
“I don’t drink coffee,” Forrest said, “but I wouldn’t say no to some … something.”
Joyce smiled and ran her tongue over her lips. “Well, come on in, boys.”
They moved to accept her invitation with such alacrity that they collided with each other and became jammed in the door.
“Now, boys,” Joyce said, her eyes twinkling. “No need to rush. There’s enough coffee and … something … for both of you.”
- - - - -
Spike stared incredulously at the creature standing before him. “What the sodding hell do you call this, you daft berk?”
“It’s a kangaroo,” Riley replied. “A large marsupial herbivore native to Australia, noted for its bipedal stance and bounding gait.”
“I know that, you pillock,” Spike snarled. “Not sodding blind here. Point is, it’s not a bleeding monkey, is it?”
“The Initiative is all out of monkeys,” Riley said. “That’s the best I could do.”
Spike raised his eyes to the heavens. “Bleeding hell, what have I done to deserve this? Half a mo, don’t answer that, we’d be here all sodding night.” He looked at the kangaroo. It looked back at him and twitched its nose. “Oh, sod it,” Spike growled. “Okay, I’ll take the bloody thing. Come on, Skippy, hop to it.” He took hold of the kangaroo’s leash and walked off, with the kangaroo hopping along behind him.
“Hey!” Riley called. “Wait! I need you to help me out of this fly costume. I can’t reach the zipper.”
“Tough shit, Captain Cardboard. Should have got me a monkey, then,” Spike called, and doubled his pace.
“You come back here, Hostile 17!” Riley ordered. “Unzip me!”
“Now, that’s an offer I – have no trouble at all refusing,” Spike smirked. “Won’t catch me unzipping your fly. See you around, Finn.”
Riley began to run after him, but Spike increased his speed again, and although the kangaroo kept pace with ease Riley was soon left far behind. “Bastard!” Riley shouted in futile rage.
“Hostile, bearing two six zero,” a voice in the undergrowth intoned. “All units converge on me. It’s the giant fly monster. Weapons free.”
“Oh, crap!” Riley exclaimed, and dived for cover. Tazer blasts crackled behind him as he fled.
- - - - -
Parker Abrams swung between the frat houses, high above the ground, supported by strands of webbing that shot forth from his wrists. This was hugely exhilarating, a bigger thrill than almost anything else he’d ever experienced – well, except for getting into the pants of sweet and naïve young co-eds – and he was enjoying himself immensely. A thought kept nagging at him, however. Something about ‘with great power must come great…’ but he couldn’t think of the final word. Still, it would come to him eventually, he was sure.
Something caught his attention, something he had glimpsed out of the corner of his eye as he swung past Stevenson House, and he reversed his direction. There was something inside one of the girls’ rooms. He hung outside the window and stared in.
His eyes bulged. The two girls inside weren’t anything all that special; one of them was a mousy blonde with sleepy eyes and reasonable but not exceptional boobs, someone he vaguely recalled having seen around campus; the other was the red-headed friend of Buffy Summers, Wilma or something, who was normally noticeable only by virtue of her extremely sharp tongue and slightly crazed expression. What was so fascinating about them now was what they were wearing, very little and most of that PVC, and what they were doing, which was energetic and obviously pleasurable and seemed to involve fingers, tongues, mechanical contraptions, plastic replicas of various body parts, and – was that an anteater?
He fumbled for his camera. Ah, yes, he had the ending of that phrase now. ‘With great power must come great rewards’. His smile stretched almost from ear to ear as he pressed the shutter.
Oops. He’d forgotten to switch off the flash. The girls turned towards the window. The mousy one squeaked and covered herself with her hands, and with the tail of the anteater; Wilma, no it was Willow, snarled and her eyes turned an eerie black. “Bag of dildos!” she said, in a commanding tone, and a swarm of replica penises rose into the air and hurtled towards him. The window opened wide of its own accord to facilitate their passage.
Parker shot out a strand of webbing to the next building and swung away as fast as he could. The horde of dildos pursued him, buzzing ominously, and chased him off into the night. Fear lent him wings and he stayed just ahead of the penises, hurtling round and round the campus, until eventually they started to lose power and one by one they fell to the ground and lay still.
Eventually he felt that he had outdistanced them. He slowed down and lowered himself to the ground, ran for a short distance into the woods, and then stopped to catch his breath. He stood for a moment and panted, and then bent over to massage his aching calf muscles.
Little did he know that the largest of the vibrators was powered by Energizer batteries.
Far away at Restfield Cemetery Spike was just about to lead Skippy into his crypt when a distant howl reached his ears. He grinned at the kangaroo. “Dunno what sort of creature that is, werewolf maybe, but I wouldn’t want to be in his shoes. Poor bastard sounds like he’s well and truly buggered.”
- - - - -
Faith slipped unseen from shadow to shadow, moving with the natural stealth of a born predator, and crept up to the windows of 1630 Revello Drive. She peered in and saw no-one. She circled the house and looked in through each of the ground-floor windows. Nobody there. There was a dim light coming from one of the upstairs windows, Joyce’s room if she remembered correctly, and Faith made her way to the tree closest to that window. She scaled it in complete silence and then worked her way along a branch until she could see through a crack in the curtains. Her eyes widened and her mouth opened.
“Hoo boy!” she exclaimed, only barely able to restrain herself enough to keep her voice down to a whisper. “You go, girl. Who’d have thought you had it in you, Joyce?” She stared at what was going on and corrected herself. “Who’d have thought you had them in you? Wow. That is wicked. Wicked cool. Wicked hot.” Faith licked her lips and her hands moved to her breasts and to between her legs.
Ten seconds later Faith landed on her head on the lawn. “Ow,” she moaned to herself as she picked herself up. “Note to self; always use at least one hand to hang on to the tree. Way to kill the mood. Well, I guess I can be pretty sure Buffy isn’t around right now. Think I’ll hole up somewhere and check out the mysterious package that guy gave me.” She glanced up at the window. “Or maybe go and check out packages on guys, mysterious or not.”
- - - - -
Once inside the crypt the kangaroo curled up on the floor, tucked its head under its arm, and went straight to sleep. Spike rolled his eyes. “Bugger. Can’t very well eat you now, I’d feel a right bastard biting a sleeping kangaroo. Oh well, not hungry anyway. S’ppose I’d better go and see if I can find Riley and unzip his fly. Can’t afford to get him too pissed off at me if I want to keep my supply of bleeding exotic animals. Or maybe I’ll hit the Bronze and hustle some pool. G’night, Skippy, I’ll probably eat you in the morning.”
- - - - -
Riley leaned against a tree and panted hard. He’d eventually shaken off the Initiative pursuers but it had been a long an arduous chase. “I’ll kill that Hostile 17 for this,” he muttered.
“Hiya, pal,” a voice interrupted his vengeful contemplations. “How’s it hanging?”
Riley looked up. Just what he didn’t want to see; a vampire. He had a weapon secreted away in his costume, but getting at it quickly wouldn’t be easy.
The vampire frowned at him. “You speaka da English, fly guy?”
Riley let out a long sigh of relief. The vampire was also mistaking him for a giant fly demon. “Yezz, I speak Englizzz,” he buzzed.
“Saw you getting chased by those soldier boys, man,” the vampire went on. “Sorry I couldn’t do anything to help; I’ve got this microchip in my head that stops me hurting humans. Name’s Ronald.”
“My namezzz …” Riley began, and then he realized that a Hostile who had obviously escaped from Initiative captivity might well recognize the name ‘Riley Finn’. His mind went blank for a moment and he blurted out the first name that came into his head. “Namezzz Mac.”
“Glad to meet you, Mac fly,” Ronald said. “Hey, wanna get the chance to strike back at those guys? Join Adam’s army, fighting for truth and justice and the American way. Well, in my case not doing much fighting, ‘cause of this chip gizmo, but I do my best.”
Riley was tempted. Infiltrating Adam’s organization would win him lots of kudos within the Initiative, maybe get him promotion. Only, it would also be highly dangerous. A twinge from his bladder reminded him of another factor; unless he could find someone to unzip the fly suit he was going to become exceedingly uncomfortable and possibly damp and smelly. Capturing the escaped Hostile might be almost as good as the infiltration plan, and a lot safer, and the captive could be his passport back into the complex with a plausible excuse for having stolen the kangaroo. He raised his arms and adopted a karate stance. “I zzzink not,” he buzzed. “Defend yourzzelf.”
The vampire looked puzzled, and then snarled. “Okay, you asked for it, Mac. I ain’t scared of you.”
Riley grinned confidently behind his fly mask, knowing that the first blow that Ronald struck would activate the chip and drop the vampire in helpless agony. “Be afraid. Be very afraid.”
- - - - -
Xander scrambled up from the couch as Anya entered the basement. He dropped his donut on the floor and spat out crumbs. “Ahn! Where’ve you been? You were away all night and all day. I’ve been worried sick about you.”
“I was working,” Anya told him. “It was exhausting but extremely satisfying, and I have acquired a thousand dollars towards our future home.” ’Sixty two dollars and fifty cents per orgasm’, she thought to herself, but decided not to mention the basis of that calculation to Xander. “Have you done your part towards contributing to our joint budget? Have you found a new job?”
Xander looked at his shoes. “I’ve tried, Ahn, I’ve really tried, but since I was fired from the nuclear power plant all the other bosses treat me as if I was radioactive or something.”
“Nonsense,” Anya snapped, “you’re just not trying hard enough. Anyway, I think that green glow is very romantic and saves us money on candles. It doesn’t matter, anyway, because I have been checking the want ads and making phone calls and I’ve found something for you. You’re hired, as long as you don’t screw up the interview.”
“I’m not good at interviews,” Xander moaned. “What is this job anyway?”
“You’ll be fine. All you have to do is act naturally.” Anya held up a poster. “You are to be the new assistant to Krusty the Clown. Sideshow Xander. You won’t just be the class clown; your fame will spread far and wide. Perhaps even as far as Oxnard.”
Xander paled. “But, Ahn, I’m scared of clowns.”
“Do you like orgasms, Xander Harris? Do you want to have any more this year?”
“I could have them by myself,” Xander grumbled rebelliously. “Okay, not as good, but I could have them.”
“Let me rephrase that,” Anya said, and took a large pair of scissors out of her purse. “Do you want to have any more orgasms before medical science makes significant advances in transplant surgery?”
Xander gulped. “Gee, Ahn, why didn’t you say that it was important to you? Just lead me to the baggy trousers and the – oh, god! – the big floppy shoes.”
- - - - -
“I got you some blood, like you wanted,” Harmony babbled as she entered the cave. “I thought, maybe dinosaur blood would be kinda homey for you, and I saw this thing on the Discovery Channel about dinosaurs evolving into birds, so I thought maybe chicken blood, only then I remembered that the dinosaurs died out sixty five million years ago and you’re all One Million Years BC, maybe the film wasn’t all that hot on prehistorical accuracy, and so maybe sorta Mammoth or Saber-Toothed Tiger blood would be more right. Anyway, I couldn’t get them in Sunnydale. I got pig, that okay?”
“Harmony talk too much,” Angel grunted. “Shut mouth. Make dinner. Tend fire.”
“That’s sexist and misog – misojen – double sexist,” Harmony grumbled. “No need to be all Cave Man.” She put down the cartons of blood and looked at Angel. “D’oh! Kinda dumb of me to say that, now I think of it. Guess you do need to be all Cave Man.” Angel raised his club. “Okay, okay, I’m shutting up. This is me not talking. See? All quiet n – ow!”
- - - - -
Spike pocketed the last ball with a smooth, flowing, shot and extended a hand. His humiliated opponent passed over a fifty dollar bill and slouched off. “Any more takers?” Spike challenged. “No? Right, I’ll be off then.”
“I’ll take you on,” a female voice broke in. “Take you on, chew you up, and spit you out.”
Spike ran appreciative eyes over the shapely brunette who approached. “Bloody bet you could, luv,” he said. “Hope you’re not talking about pool.”
“I was,” Faith said, “but the same applies to other things.” She ran her gaze over Spike with equal appreciation. “I could ride you at a gallop until your legs buckled and your eyes rolled up. I've got muscles you've never even dreamed of. I could squeeze you until you pop like warm champagne and you'd beg me to hurt you just a little bit more.”
“Sounds good to me,” Spike said. “Your place, or mine?”
“Yours,” Faith said. “I’m kinda between places at the moment.”
“I can see a few places I’d like to get between,” Spike leered. “Okay, let’s go. Long as you don’t mind sharing the place with a kangaroo.”
- - - - -
“Oh, I should have mentioned this earlier, I suppose,” Anya said, breaking off from what she was doing. “The other Slayer, Faith, has woken up from her coma and escaped, and is loose in Sunnydale presumably seeking violent revenge upon Buffy.” She lowered her head again and went back to her rhythmic movements, only to stop after a moment. “What’s wrong? You’ve gone soft! There’s something wrong with our relationship. You’ve gone off me!”
“Uh, that news kinda put me off my stroke,” Xander said. “Sorta hard to relax and enjoy the sensations when there’s news that suddenly fills my mind with thoughts of blood and broken bones and death and strangulation.”
“Don’t be silly,” Anya scolded. “That’s never been a problem for me. Just relax. Well, not there.”
Xander tried to redirect his thoughts. He was not entirely successful, but Anya’s skilled ministrations did restore his bodily parts to working order. “And the amazing thing,” he said, looking down at Anya’s caressing hands and bobbing head, “still more romantic than Faith.”
- - - - -
“You’re a vampire,” Faith said. She drew a stake surreptitiously from her jacket and held it concealed against her arm.
“Well, yeah,” Spike said. “Never said I wasn’t, luv. Means I’ve got stamina to put any human bloke to shame, dunnit? C’mon, luv, get your kit off and let’s start the shagging.”
“Well, there’s a problem with that,” Faith told him. “Kinda fond of hickeys that don’t break the surface, know what I mean?”
“Not gonna bite you, luv. Bleeding US Government caught me and stuck this sodding computer chip in my noddle, didn’t they? Can’t hurt any human without getting my brain frazzled with electric shocks. Total bugger. Can’t hunt, can’t kill. Can still shag, though, so it’s about all I have been doing.”
Faith stared hard into his eyes. “Damn, I must be crazy, but I believe you.”
“Yeah, well, I wouldn’t lie to you just to get your knickers off. Oh, who am I kidding, ‘course I’d lie to you to get your knickers off.” He pulled off his T-shirt and licked his lips. “Bloody gorgeous, you are. I’d stand on the rooftops and shout out that Man City are ten times better than Man United if it would get me into your pants.”
“Guess I’d probably feel flattered if I knew who those guys are,” Faith said. She tossed away the stake, causing Spike to raise his eyebrows. “No need, anyway. You’re the hottest guy I’ve seen in months and I’m gonna take the risk. Get ready for the ride of your life. Well, unlife.”
“What’s your name, luv?” Spike asked as he removed more of his clothes. “Gonna want to shout something better than ‘luv’ when the time comes.”
“Faith,” she told him. She took off her top and her bra and smiled at the gleam in Spike’s eyes as he gazed at her breasts. “What’s yours, hot vampire guy?”
“Spike,” he told her. He licked his lips and drew in a long unneeded breath as more of Faith was revealed. “Bloody hell, I’ve gotta have Faith.”
- - - - -
Parker swung from tree to tree with somewhat less grace than he had shown in his earlier web-slinging exploits. Part of his anatomy was extremely tender and needed to be treated with care. He had gotten lost in his wild dash to escape the dildo swarm, had taken a long time to regain his bearings, and now was headed back towards the campus.
A movement caught his eye. A tall figure that resembled a giant bipedal fly was moving along the ground between the trees, a human form slung over its shoulder in a fireman’s carry. Parker felt an odd tingle running down his spine. Something in his mind was saying ‘enemy’. He swung to intercept the creature and dropped to the ground in its path.
“Release that man, fly creature,” he ordered.
“What the – Parker Abramzzz?” Riley buzzed, having fallen into the habit and not yet having managed to break it.
“You know me? No matter. Put the man down and face the wrath of – well, I’ll think of some cool superhero name eventually. Maybe Arachno-Man.”
“My zzzpider! You muzzt have been bitten by my zzzpider! Thatzzz not fair!” Riley moaned. He dropped the captive vampire to the ground and began to extricate his weapon from one of the costume’s tiny pockets.
“So, you recognize the futility of challenging Arachno-Man!” Parker declaimed.
“Parker, you’re a total jerk,” Riley said. He pulled free his tazer and blasted the student with a painful jolt. “Now, unlezzz you want another one, you’ll unfazzzten my zipper.”
Parker obeyed, whimpering from the pain, and gasped in shock as Riley climbed out of the fly suit.
“Parker, you keep your eyes on that guy and use your stolen spider powers to stop him if he comes round and tries to run away,” Riley ordered, and he headed for the nearest tree.
“All – all right, Riley,” Parker acquiesced. “Where are you going?”
“I’ve been in that suit for five hours and there was no zipper I could reach,” Riley said, his hand already at his crotch. “You do the math. No, on second thoughts, if what I hear from the other TAs is right, get someone else to do the math.”
- - - - -
Buffy arrived home from a long night of boinking Adam and Slaying to find that her mother had served up breakfast for two guests.
“Hi, honey,” Joyce greeted her daughter. “Hard night? There’s plenty of food on the go, help yourself. More schitzengruben, Forrest? Graham?”
“Not for me, thanks, Joyce – Mrs. Summers,” Graham replied.
“Not me either,” Forrest declined. “Fifteen is my limit on schitzengruben.”
“Fairly hard, yeah,” Buffy said. Her eyebrows descended as she looked at her mother. “You look a little tired, Mom. Like maybe you had a hard night too.”
Graham spluttered out coffee and Forrest choked on his last schitzengruben.
“I was kept awake for a lot of the time, yes,” Joyce admitted. “There was some kind of alert, a giant fly monster on the loose, and it disturbed my rest. Luckily these two fine upstanding young men came … and were able to give me protection.”
“Thanks for helping out my mom,” Buffy said politely but with no real interest.
“Any time,” Forrest smiled.
“That goes for me too,” Graham said, adding under his breath ‘as long as I get a night or two to recover first’.
“Well, I’m off to bed, need my beauty sleep,” Buffy said. “Good night, morning, whatever. See you later, Mom.”
“Good night, Buffy,” Joyce said. Once her daughter was upstairs she slipped off her faded grey toweling wrap and revealed the exotic peignoir once more. “It’s been a wonderful night,” she said to the two young men. “We must do it again some time.”
“You bet,” Graham said enthusiastically.
“Sure thing,” Forrest agreed, putting his hands to Joyce’s hips and pulling her into a kiss. Her hands went to his body and stroked downwards. “Yeah. Oh yeah. You got plans for this afternoon, Joyce?”
- - - - -
“Sodding hell, that was bleeding fantastic,” Spike panted. “Always knew the only thing better than killing a Slayer was shagging one.”
Faith tensed and reached for a stake that wasn’t there, but then relaxed as Spike’s mouth at her throat did nothing more than deliver gentle kisses. “You know who I am, then?”
“Course I do. Not totally stupid,” Spike said. “You’re that other Slayer, the one who killed that geezer.”
“Huh? I’ve never even been to Yellowstone,” Faith frowned.
“That bloke. Guy. Male of the human persuasion,” Spike translated. “Don’t give a toss about that myself, but I know that the sodding Scooby Gang reckon it’s a big no-no. They know you’re up and about, luv?”
“Hey, how should I know? I’ve got my plans, they’ll know before long.” Faith stood up and began to gather up her clothes. “You were pretty damn good yourself, Spike. Five by five. Take care of yourself, you hear?”
“Not sticking around, then? Bugger. Was sort of hoping we might do this again.”
“If I run into you again, it’s a promise,” Faith said, as she hastily dressed. “Well, hasta la vista, baby.”
“Do us a favor, luv,” Spike said as she headed for the crypt door. “Chuck us a few handfuls of grass in. Forgot to do it last night, and I’ve got to feed my kangaroo.”
“Sure thing,” Faith agreed. “Hey, just why does a vampire have a pet kangaroo anyway?”
- - - - -
“Any success in locating that Slayer, um, Pepsi or Shirley or whatever her name is?” Giles asked Collins.
The Watchers’ Council hit-man shook his head. “I take it you mean Faith?”
“Ah, yes, that was it, knew it was something to do with George Michael,” Giles said, only adding to Collins’ confusion.
“Not a bleeding sign of her,” Weatherby put it. “Not that we’ve been in top shape for looking. Totally shagged out. That Annie girl is a right goer, ain’t she?”
“Ah, yes, simply charming,” Giles smiled fondly, and poured himself out a generous shot of whisky. “Oh bollocks, I’d meant to warn Buffy and her friends that Charity was on the loose.”
“Faith,” the third Watchers’ Council operative, Smith, corrected him.
“Quite. Anyway, I neglected to do so. I did tell Anya,” Giles remembered. “I’m sure that she will warn the others. She is eminently practical and competent, as well as shagging like a mink with her tail on fire. Don’t know what she sees in that dimwitted Xander.”
- - - - -
Buffy stepped out of her house and walked straight into Faith’s fist. The blow dazed her for a moment but she recovered quickly and punched Faith twice as hard. The rogue slayer staggered and grabbed frantically at Buffy’s hand. Buffy took no particular precautions to avoid the grab; their hands interlocked, there was a blue flash, and then Buffy punched Faith again and knocked the brunette Slayer unconscious.
“Mom!” Buffy called. “Get the cops, quick. Faith’s here.”
“Oh, dear,” Joyce said, rushing out. “Are you all right?”
“Sure, Mom. Five by five.”
- - - - -
Continued in Episode Four: A New Hop
* just kidding, I don’t mind at all, in fact I’m flattered.