"Because God is a Goth at heart? Why are you asking me?" said Buffy. "I don't critique their living arrangements--I just slay them."

"A little less chatter, please," said Willow. She was bringing up the rear, with Oz. "Of course, I wonder why it is that we use torches when we go into these underground lairs instead of, say, nice halogen flashlights."

"Because it's more difficult to beat a vamp to death with a nice halogen flashlight," said Oz.

"Oh. Right."

"Pipe down," whispered Buffy. They'd just rounded a curve, and a glow was coming from up ahead. "We're coming to the main chamber."

The Scoobies came to a halt where the corridor opened out into a large room. Several torches were thrust into holes in the wall, giving the space a flickering illumination. "They left their lights burning while they went to sleep," whispered Willow. "Dangerous."

"How dangerous can it be when the place is solid stone?" Xander whispered back.

"Shut up," said Buffy. "We need to get going on this." She consulted her watch. "We only have a half hour till sundown."

They made their way into the middle of the room and paused, assessing the situation. There were about a dozen vampires scattered about the room, sleeping on a motley assortment of furniture that had been scavenged from various junkyards and abandoned houses. None of them looked much older than the Scoobies. Of course, being vampires, that didn't mean anything, but the rumor was that these were all fledglings, created and cast aside by careless sires. They were kind of pathetic--unless you took into account that whole 'eat the mortals' thing.

"Okay, free your hands up, everybody," said Buffy. They all located free holes in the wall, and settled their torches into that. "Present arms." Everyone pulled out a sharpened stake. "Okay, by my calculations we have twenty minutes till the sun goes down. That should be plenty of time to dust..."

"Hey, breakfast!"

Xander looked at a nearby couch, where a male vamp was sitting up, grinning at them. "Um, Buff? Either Giles needs to check his figures, or you need to take your watch in for repairs, cause it's running way slow."

All around them there were rustling sounds as vampires woke up, and started to stir. Each of the vampires quickly went to game face. There were also comments--none of which inspired a sense of well being.

"One, two, three, four. There's enough for everyone."

"Two guys, and two girls--blonde, brunette, redhead... All tastes catered to!"

"Dibs on the redhead."

"Which one?"

"The one with boobs."

"I want the tall brunette."

This was from a male. Xander sighed. "Figures."

One of the vampires had gotten up and was reaching toward Buffy. "I wanna find out if the carpet matches the drapes."

Buffy blocked him with one hand, and thrust her stake with the other. It sank cleanly into the vampire's chest. He crumbled into dust before he could even form a surprised expression. "For someone so concerned with interior decoration, your living quarters suck."

"They've got weapons--no fair!" squawked another vampire.

Xander landed his stake cleanly in the creature's chest. As it crumbled, he said, "I never did get top marks for sportsmanship."

Suddenly the light in the room flickered even more than it had been--and this time the flicker was green. All eyes (even the vampires--they still didn't realize that they should really be paying attention to the humans in their midst) turned toward the lights. A large, ornate wooden case shimmered into existence against one wall.

This was unusual--even for Sunnydale. The Scoobies were wondering if one of the vampires was also a sorcerer, or witch, when one of them said something that pretty well indicated that they had no idea what was going on, either. "What the fuck is that thing?"

"Who the hell cares?" said another. "We can look at it later."

Xander glanced at his friends. "I believe it's what the role playing gamers like to call 'melee time'."

He was right. The remaining vampires didn't go by the time honored tradition of seventies martial arts movies and attack one at a time. They dived at the Scoobies. When the vampires had started awakening, the humans had instinctively moved into a rough circle, putting their backs to each other so that no one would have to worry about an attacker getting behind them. Things got very active.

As soon as Mozell closed the box's lid and lay back, something happened. She' couldn't for the life of her say what, but it was definitely something.

It was pitch black in the box, not even a skim of light around the edges of the lid. *It's the lining,* she thought. *Great. That means it's got to be just about air tight. Which means that if I stay in here long enough, I'll suffocate. Of course that's only if I'm not jerked out of here and eaten raw, or given an experience that the rape councilors will have a real hard time believing.* She touched the sides of the box. *Damn, I wish I hadn't watched that episode of CSI where Nick is buried alive. At least I shouldn't have to worry about fire ants. Nope. What I have to worry about is a lot bigger, and purple, and ain't it funny what runs through your mind when you're probably about to die? I thought I was going to get a rerun of my life. Just as well--it's been pretty damn boring up till now.*

A green glow suffused the interior of the box. *Oh, crap. Now what? Shit, this looks like those glow sticks... Now I'm thinking about Grave Danger again. I'm going to start itching any second now.* The box started to vibrate. *If that thing was doing this, wouldn't it feel more violent, and...?

It felt as if the box took an abrupt drop. Mozell wouldn't have been surprised if her body had stayed in one place and, as a result, hit the lid. She didn't, but it felt like the box had been strapped onto a particularly vicious roller coaster--one that did barrel rolls and loop-the-loops. She could tell that she wasn't physically moving--not personally. She was lying perfectly still. It didn't make the sensation any less real.

Then, suddenly, it stopped. *Okay, maybe whatever it is out there will be quicker than whatever is happening to this thing. Or maybe I can outrun it. Stranger things have happened.* She threw up the lid and pulled herself up to peek over the edge, and got a look at where she was, and what was going on. *And it seems stranger things still are going to happen.*

A bunch of humanoid type creatures were attacking a small group of young people. It only took a few seconds for her to realize that the creatures were probably going to come out the worse. She thought that it might be a good idea if she just stayed out of the way for the present.

She did, until one of the boys had a mishap.

It was very violent, and quite messy. The first vampire who came at Oz must have fed very well before he took his nap, because when Oz staked him there was a spray of blood before he fell away to dust. This wouldn't have been too bad (the Scoobies were pretty used to ending up covered in various hard to identify fluids after a vigorous patrol), except that the spray hit Oz right in the face. Consequently, he was temporarily blinded.

He tried to wipe the blood out of his eyes, swiping violently with the stake in the hopes of keeping any other vampires at bay till he could see again.

Mozell noticed that the redheaded boy was in trouble. "Oh, crap." The two vampires who were concentrating on him were getting way too close. She climbed out of the box, looking around. Nothing looked promising as a weapon, and one of the creatures had just almost managed to get hold of the boy. His other friends were too busy keeping alive and killing off their attackers to help him, and his time seemed to be running.

She grabbed hold of one of the torches, came up behind the attacking vampires, and gave the first one that came within reach a whallop on the back of the head, putting everything she had into it.

She succeeded better than she'd expected. The blow itself didn't hamper the creature (she'd never had much upper body strength, and he was a moving target)--but setting his hair on fire got his attention. He danced back, slapping at his own head, while his companion stopped attacking Oz to gape.

That gave Oz the time he needed to get his eyes clear, and he staked the staring vampire. By that time the burning vampire had managed to put out his hair--what was left of it--and he was pissed. But he wasn't interested in Oz anymore. He glared at Mozell and snarled, "What the fuck are you doing? you stupid bitch? Them, not us! What kind of a vampire are you?" Oz put his stake through the vampire's back from behind as he finished speaking.

"A soon to be dead one," said Buffy. The other vampires had been dispatched by the group, and now Buffy stalked toward the pale woman dressed all in black. "She's a little old for this group. Must be the den mother. You sure didn't train your fledges very well, Mom."

Mozell put up her hands, backing up. "Whoa, Jennifer. I don't belong with these..." She looked at a pile of dust. "I didn't belong with these... uh... ex-things. All I want is to go back to my body, because I'm obviously having nightmare, and I'd like to turn it into lucid dreaming, so I can get out of here."

"She babbles," said Xander. "I kind of like it. It's a nice change from the usual vamp drill. 'Stupid mortals. I'll drink your blood and enslave you for eternity. You'll be my bitch. Bwha ha ha!'" His friends looked at him. "Okay, so not so much the last bit."

"I'm not a vampire," protested Mozell.

Buffy put her hand on her hip. Interesting image, since she was still holding her stake. "Oh, sure. All black clothes, very pale, sleeping with a clutch of vampires. Well if it dresses like a vamp, looks like a vamp, and keeps company with vamps..."

"How much Anne Rice have you read? Geez, if you at least watched Buffy, the Vampire Slayer you'd believe that vampires come in all sorts of styles, and..."

Buffy was frowning at her. "Not just a vamp, but an insane one. Just what we need--another Drusilla. We'd better get rid of this one fast." She raised the stake and started toward the woman.

"Hold up, Buff," said Oz, wiping more blood from his face. "Shedid help me. Saved my ass, in fact. That's not a very bloodsucker sort of thing to do."

Buffy scowled. "It was probably an accident."

"Hey! I've never in my life accidentally hit someone with a torch," said Mozell. The others looked at her. "Okay, so I've only done it deliberately once. Look, I'm not going to start trying to say that there's no such thing as vampires..." she shook dust off her shoe. "I've seen compelling evidence. But I'm not one of them. I'm just your average, everyday working class redneck from Texas." She looked around. "Who is apparently a long, long way from home." She pointed. "I came in that thing."

Willow walked over and examined the box, running her hands over its surface. "Buffy, this is a magic object."

"Well, the fact that we saw it appear out of thin air would seem to indicate that. It doesn't mean she's not a vampire," said Buffy stubbornly.

"What do you want me to do--bleed?" said Mozell in frustration. Buffy looked at her. "No. Bad idea. Look, one of you has to have some sort of holy object on you, right? Give it here." She crooked her fingers invitingly.

"I think I can settle this." Xander stepped toward her, pulling a green plastic gun out of his waistband at his back. "Holy water." She held out her hand. He shot her in the face.

She let her hand drop. "Oh, nice. You're a vicious little puppy, aren't you? If I'd been a vampire, that would have been one of the most painful things you could have done."

"One, most vampires deserve that sort of treatment, since they consider torturing humans as recreation. Two..." He pointed. There was a cracked full length mirror in a gilt frame against the wall. "Saw your reflection."

"Well, you might have said something. Miss Clairol here was getting ready to skewer me."

Buffy looked indignant. "Hey! It was perfectly understandable for me to think you were a vampire. I mean, look at how you're dressed, and how pale you are."

"Oh, right. I forgot that I was got up like Morticia. Anyone got a clean handkerchief?" Xander pulled a bandana out of his pocket and handed it to her. She wiped her face, leaving patches of warm skin showing through the make-up. She also smeared her lipstick all over creation. "I'm in costume, people." She paused. "And you're not, are you? I mean, you didn't get those clothes out of wardrobe?"

"My closet," said Buffy. "I don't have a wardrobe. Mom doesn't go in for the old fashioned stuff in decorating."

"I'm going to regret this," Mozell muttered, "but I have to do it." She raised her voice and pointed at each one of the young people. "Buffy? Xander? Oz? Willow?"

"Mouseketeer roll call?" said Oz.

"That means yes. Oh, hell." Mozell sat down on a sofa, then stood up quickly, brushing at her skirt. "I think I just sat in an ex-vampire."

"What are you going on about?" asked Buffy.

"The fact that at least some of that crap I was selling actually does what my boss SAID it does, and that's very, very disturbing."

"You're not making much sense," said Xander.

"This from you?"

He smiled. "Touche."

"What are you doing in a nest of vampires, in or out of costume?" asked Willow.

"Hell if I know, sweetie, but I'd just as soon get back to where I started from. I want to hand in my notice, and possibly try to kick my employer's butt. I have a feeling that whatever was trying to get to me is gone by now. Believe me, it will probably be easier on your blood pressure if you don't try to understand what's going on. I know that I'M going to do everything I can to forget it, so if you'll excuse me..." She walked over to the box and climbed in. "I'll be saying good-bye, and let me just say that since I don't see a camera crew standing around, I'm very happy to get back to the relatively normal boredom of my own life. See ya in syndication." She lay down and closed the lid.

The Scoobies stared at the box for a minute, then two. Finally Oz said, "What's supposed to happen?"

"I dunno what's supposed to happen, but she's going to suffocate if she stays in there very long," said Xander.

"What should we do?"

"I'd say get her out of there, whether she wants to come, or not," said Xander. "I'm against assisting suicide, especially when it isn't intentional." He lifted the lid, and peered down at her.

She gazed back up at him. "I don't suppose this is a weird shop in a small town on the Gulf Coast of Texas?"

"Not even close."

"Damn. I knew it couldn't have been that simple. And even if it was--you'd be there, which would mean things were still screwed up. Do me a favor--put that lid down and I'll try again."

"Don't think so." Xander reached down, grabbed her under the arms, and hauled her out of the box. When he let go, she slapped him. "Hey!"

"I know I don't have the best shape in the world, but I am not a sack of potatoes." The lid banged shut behind her, there was a green flash, and the box disappeared. She cried out, and smacked him again. "You made me miss my ride!"

He rubbed his cheek. "You have no idea where that went."

"And now I never will, will I?" She got hold of herself. "Okay. Sorry I hit you. I'm sure you meant well." She muttered, "And we all know where good intentions lead," then raised her voice again. "So, what now? I want to go home."

"Be our guest," said Buffy, starting for the exit. "Bus station is about six blocks west."

"Hold it!" Mozell skittered in front of her, spreading her arms like a basketball player on defense. "I seriously doubt I could get where I want to go on a Greyhound, and don't even think you're just going off and leaving me here. I'd be walking vampire chow."

"Somebody give her a cross."

"Oh, stop being snide. I never got into the 'Buffy is a bitch' stories. The worst I ever write you is a little air headed and self-involved."

Buffy stared at her, then looked at her friends. "I still think she's crazy."

"She's right about one thing," said Willow. "We can't just leave her here."

Buffy had obviously caved, but she still felt the need to protest. "Give me one reason."

"Because you're the good guys," said Mozell simply. "Take me to Giles. That's what you usually do when you're not sure of something."

"How did you know that?" asked Buffy suspiciously.

"I seriously do not want to get into that until I've had some caffeine--or possibly something stronger."

"It's a good idea," said Willow, "but Giles is out of town. He had to go pick up something for the Magic Box. Whoever has it knows a little about Sunnydale, and refused to bring it. I suppose she could come back to our dormitory. We could make up a pallet on the floor."

"And if anyone notices, they could kick us out for violating the no over night visitors rule," said Buffy. "Oz, any space at your place?"

"Well," he rubbed the back of his neck. "As you know, I'm sharing that little house with three other guys. Any of them would be happy to give her a bed--but they'd expect to be in it, too. She could have mine, and I'd sleep on the sofa, but the lock on my room isn't any good..."

"And I don't want to try to sleep in the equivalent of an unlicensed frat house," said Mozell. "I was going to buy some money order to pay bills, so I have some cash. Thank heavens I stuck it in my pocket instead of leaving it in my purse. I can afford to pay for a motel room, at least for tonight, if someone will take me there."

Xander held up his hand. "I have my car outside, and I go right past a Motel Six."

"That's settled," said Buffy. "And since it's Sunday tomorrow, and we don't have to be in class, we can take you over to Giles bright and early."

"He's spending the night out of town, and you expect him to be back early in the morning? Does he like to get up and drive at 5:30? My Dad used to be like that on our vacation trips," said Mozell. "Of course he was driving through Texas in the middle of summer, so the farther you could get before the sun got high, the better."

"You talk a lot about Texas, don't you?" asked Willow.

"I'm from there--it's in my contract." She blinked. "It's genetic?" Another blink. Mozell looked around. "Don't any of you people have a working sense of humor?" Her eyes lighted on Xander, who was smirking. "Ah. Yes--yes, you do. Okay, can we get out of here? The combination of dampness and powdered vampire is going to make me start sneezing any minute now."

"Before we adjourn," said Oz, "I'd kind of like to know our visitor's name. After all, you've got the advantage of us. You already seem to know who we are."

"Well, perish me for an unmannered wench," said Mozell. "Sorry, I've been a bit preoccupied. The name is Mozell Mozeby." She bowed. "You know, it just occurred to me that I could curtsy, since I'm actually wearing a skirt." She paused. "Nah."

They all retrieved their torches, and started out--Buffy again leading the way, Oz and Willow together, and Xander bringing up the rear with Mozell. After walking for a moment, Xander said, "Mozell?"

"Yes?"

"No, just--Mozell?"

"Watch it. A man with the middle name LaVelle doesn't have much room to talk."

Xander's mouth dropped open. "Okay, how did you know that? I guard that secret as closely as I can."

"I have a copy of The Watcher's Companion--Second Edition. Actually, I haven't read it much--the print is too small. But I read a lot of fanfiction. I wasn't entirely sure that the middle name was canon, and not fanon." She was silent, thinking. "Come to think of it, after talking to you, I'm still not sure."

"I'd ask you to explain that, but I think I'll wait till Giles is around and let him digest it, then give it to me in a simpler form."

"Probably wise. Is there anywhere nearby a frazzled girl could get, say, a Mudslide?"

"Chocolate and alcohol together--you're my kind of woman. I know a place. I'll join you."

"Hold up. I don't want to have the law taking an interest in me, since I'm currently completely without identification. Are you legal?"

"For the last few months."

"Oh, beg pardon, Grandpa. I didn't see the wrinkles. Terrific, I'll be happy of the company. But this is Dutch treat, kid. I don't know how long this money has to last me, and I'm not exactly flush with funds..."

Ethan Rayne looked up from the book he'd been perusing as he heard a muted fizzing noise from the front of his shop. He laid aside the tome and swept aside the brocade draperies, stepping out into the shop proper.

The Traveling Casket was once again standing in its former spot. Ethan hurried over almost eagerly, and threw open the lid. He peered down into the depths of the box, frowned, and slammed the lid again. Ethan stalked back to the room containing his idol, and said tartly, "I BELIEVE that an assistant went with that box." Silence. No movement or sound from the figure on the altar. "Piss. You're going to make me do it the hard way, aren't you?"

Ethan went back into the shop and took a pad of stationary from one of the display cases, and an old fashioned fountain pen from another. He tore off one sheet of cream colored paper and laid it on the lid of the box, then he uncapped the pen and laid it on top of the paper. Next he stood back, closed his eyes in concentration, and started chanting.

After a moment, the pen jerked slightly. It slowly tilted till it was at an angle, nib resting on the paper. Then it began to move. Ethan listened to the scratching sounds as he chanted. When the slight noise stopped, he stopped chanting and opened his eyes. He was just in time to see the pen drop.

Ethan bent over the paper, then leaned back abruptly. "Oh, you have to be fucking joking."

There was one word on the paper, in large, blocky capital letters.

SUNNYDALE