Some days, Cordelia’s clothes hated her. Some days, it was her hair. Today however, the very first outfit looked perfect, and her hair was great. Today, it was her makeup that hated her. Most of her makeup was fine, but her lipstick was straight from the hellmouth this morning. Various makeup was scattered over the top of the dresser and Cordelia was frustrated. None of her lipstick looked good today. Something about her eye shadow and her clothes put together made her look pale and her darker lipstick made her look even paler, but the lighter ones were too light. Frustrated, she brushed the back of her hand violently across the dresser top, scattering the lipstick all over the carpet. She bent down to pick them up, regaining her composure. She noticed one that had fallen behind the dresser. She hadn’t tried it yet. It wasn’t the same make as any of her others. She remembered buying it a few days ago at the drug store, and the color seemed like it might work. She put it on and was surprised to find that it did work. It was the perfect shade of pink. She smiled, satisfied. Grabbing her bag, she ran out the door, a little late for school.

Xander felt like someone had repeatedly banged a blunt, but hard, object on the top of his head. This class had been known to make him feel sick, but this was way worse than the normal biology headache. He shook his head, attempting to get rid of the pounding pain. He felt like there wasn’t enough air to go around. The air he did breath in felt stagnant and rancid in his lungs. It seemed to have a smell, like extremely toxic fish smog. He didn’t think that air was supposed to smell like that. Something was wrong. The bell rang. Xander slowly stood up, leaning on the desk for support. He walked slowly to the door, stopped there, and leaned on the doorframe. He blinked, trying to clear his vision. The people in the hallway converged into a mass of movement and voices, a sickening blob of colors. He gripped the doorframe so hard that his knuckles went white.

“Are you okay, Mr. Harris?” the biology teacher was standing behind him, trying to get past the door.

“Yes sir.” Xander took a deep breath. He staggered as quick as he could, trying to get to the library before he passed out.

There was a sound of laughing from the library. Xander pushed open the door and walked to the table before collapsing in an empty chair.

“What’s with you, Xander?” Willow asked.

“I think I’m dying.” He managed to get out, gasping for oxygen.

“Wanna hear the joke?” Buffy replied, turning towards him with a smile. “So this guy walks into a bar and ordered a baked potato, and the bartender...” Buffy was unable to finish the joke because she was laughing too hard. Willow and Oz took one look at Buffy and burst into hysterics. Even Giles smirked.

“Hello? I’m dying and you tell me a joke?!? Don’t you even care what’s wrong with me? Look at me! I’m sitting here wheezing and you guys are cracking up! The joke isn’t even funny!”

“God! All you think of is yourself Xander! Really!” Buffy looked at him with scorn, before beginning to giggle uncontrolably again.

“You guys want to Bronze it tonight?” Oz asked the others, after they’d calmed down, completely dismissing Xander.

Xander stood up slowly, trying not to faint from the harsh pain in his chest every time he took a breath. Everyone else turned towards each other, discussing their plans for the evening. Xander spoke over their voices,

“You guys are being really weird, but in case you’re interested, I’m really sick so I’m going home. Whatever you guys are on, I hope it wears off soon.” He staggered out the door.

After a few minutes Willow looked up. “Wasn’t Xander here a few seconds ago?”

Willow walked into the girls bathroom after her last class. Cordelia was fixing her makeup at the first mirror. There was something about her lipstick that intrigued Willow. The color seemed to plead Willow to try it. To want it.

“I really like your lipstick, Cordy.” she said.

“Oh thanks. Do you want to try it?” Normally Cordelia would never have offered her lipstick to anyone to try, but something told her she should. Willow took it.

It actually looked really good. Cordelia put the tube back in her makeup bag.

Oz was waiting outside the door of the girls bathroom.

“There you are.” he said, as Willow came through the door. She kissed him lightly on the lips and took his arm as they began to walk. The taste of her lips lingered on his. There was something different today. Different, but not bad. He licked his lips a little bit and suddenly felt even happier than he had before.

The radio was loud, and Willow sung along at the top of her lungs. She was getting dressed to go to the Bronze later on. She sat down at her dresser to brush her hair. The song ended, and the announcer came on.

“This is the 7:00 news on WZYX, Southern California’s hit music station. In Sunnydale two days ago, three bodies were discovered in an underground cave.”

Willow began to hum. She didn’t care about the stupid dead people. She wanted to hear music. Loud music, with a beat. Or soft music, about love. Who wanted to hear about dead people?

“The bodies have not been identified yet, and local police don’t seem to be making any progress. A Sunnydale police officer issued this comment: ‘Who wants to hear about dead people?’ Further investigation...”

Willow stood up to switch the radio station. The cop was right. She turned the dial a little bit until the static became music. Humming along, she walked back to the dresser, slightly rearranging the flowers that Oz had given her while she passed. The movement of the flowers let out a sweet, heavy scent into the room. The music had a strong pulse and although Willow didn’t think she’d ever heard the song before, she found the words sticking in her brain. It was hypnotic almost, a heady message, creeping into her brain, agreeing with everything. She wanted to be lost in the music. At first she had wanted to lie down and sleep and be happy, she was so giddy. Now, all she wanted to do was dance and never pay attention to any of the troubles she vaguely remembered once having; troubles that seemed so unreal in comparison to the music.

The Bronze was packed. The dance floor was a mass of moving bodies, all perfectly in time with the rhythm. There wasn’t a live band playing because the band hadn’t shown. They’d never played the Bronze before, and they obviously weren’t going to in the future. Gary had been told to keep the music playing, it didn’t matter what music it was. Just keep the kids dancing. Then the boss had left. Apparently, he needed to spend time with his wife. The music that was playing now had only a few minutes till it ran out. Gary looked at the extensive music collection to pick out something. The kids were really dancing tonight. He should pick something with a beat. A nice, strong beat. He grabbed a tape and headed up to put it on.

“Hello, Gary.” said a voice.


Okay, so he wasn’t dying. Xander had come home, put on the air conditioning and the fan, he’d taken a shower, and gotten in bed. He definitely felt better. He tried to think of what could have been wrong with him. It wasn’t food poisoning. It passed too quickly for it to be a virus. Than it struck him. Xander had only been drunk once, and it was one of those memories he’d tried to block out of his mind, so the whole experience was pretty fuzzy. That feeling, in Biology. It had been like a hangover, except way more intense. Well, the post-drunken experience was the closest thing to the way he had felt that he could think of. He hadn’t been drunk yesterday or today, though. He thought back, just to make sure he hadn’t. He could remember vividly everything that had happened about six days ago, but after that, it got a little fuzzy. And after yesterday afternoon, until this morning in Biology, he couldn’t remember a thing. Just trying made him nauseated. What had happened? He had been in school. Giles had told him and Buffy to go enjoy the afternoon. Only looking back at it did he realize how un-Giles that was. He and Buffy had walked down the street...there had been a man...he gave Buffy something...Xander had taken it... But what had it been? He couldn’t remember, but he knew there was something extremely wrong. There was something wrong with the whole thing. Now he just had to figure out what it was.


Gary turned around to see who had spoken to him, but there was nobody there. It kind of spooked him, but he was sure it wasn’t anything.

“Just my imagination...” he said quietly to himself, trying to comfort himself. He reached for the doorknob, and suddenly he found himself unable to breath. He put his hands up to his neck, to try and pull his attacker away from it, but there was nothing to fight against.

“Shhh. Don’t worry. It’s just your imagination.” soothed the voice.

Gary relaxed completely for a few seconds. In that same few seconds, the air around his throat tightened and compressed, squeezing harder than he could handle. He slumped to the ground. Dead. The door that Gary had been about to open opened completely and a slight wind stirred all the papers. The empty tape deck popped open, and a tape appeared in it. The other music stopped playing, and the play button on the tape player was pushed in momentarily, although there was nobody to push it. A steady beat began to emanate from the speakers in the Bronze, and all of the people on the dance floor began to move to its rhythm. There was another breeze, and the door closed.

“It’s just your imagination.”

---

Continues
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