PART ONE

September the 29th, 2001
    I'm not exactly sure why I chose now, out of all the years I've been alive, to begin recording my experiences in a journal.  The only explanation I can come up with is that there is something different and remotely special about the town I'm staying in right now.  Something about this little town called Sunnydale makes me want to record for posterity.  That's kinda funny considering I'll probably be around when posterity hits.  Anyway, I ought to begin my official account by explaining as much as I can about who I am.
    I don't have a name anymore.  I don't have any friends, just begrudging acquaintances.  People call me Snoops because I'm constantly watching something or someone.  I'm sort of homeless at the moment.  What I mean by "sort of" is that I don't live in an official home, but I do have a place to stay.  It's a small, dirty room with one entrance.  I pay a minimal amount of rent with some cash I have saved from a previous job.  The entrance is hidden in one of the darkest and narrowest alleys in Sunnydale.  It's terribly ironic that the name of the town is Sunnydale, because here in the rough part of town, it's not actually that sunny.  Oh sure, there's some amount of sunlight that finds its way down here occasionally, but most of the time it's dark and gloomy.  That's not very helpful to the hundreds of people who live in the alleys, but the conditions are ideal for the creatures that hunt here.
    In regards to the creatures, I've never had to worry about them and I never will.  I won't go into that right now, but the truth will eventually come out.  I have to listen to the creatures feeding, their victims screaming for help, every single night.  I haven't been in Sunnydale that long, but I've been here long enough to know about the Slayer.  I've seen and heard about the legendary things she has done and continues to do for her town.  I have yet to catch her and the famed group of friends she fights with in action, but I know I will soon.  It genuinely puzzles me as to why she doesn't do some of her slaying here in the slums.  She would have no trouble finding a bad guy to stake.  I've heard that she patrols in graveyards by night, and by day she attends UC Sunnydale.  Graveyards?  College?  She fiddles around in graveyards, which incidentally are just as dead as rumored, while people die here?  And there's plenty to do here after dawn.  If I wasn't so martial arts impaired, I'd do something myself.
    Don't get me wrong, I appreciate that she makes the effort, but she just doesn't make the effort here.  I'd like to meet her someday, and ask her a few questions, but that's not important now.  Now, I have to get back to my recording for posterity.  I'm not like other girls.  I've known a lot of girls and some guys who write in diaries or journals, and most of them write about secret crushes and bad days at school.  I, on the other hand, write about the not-so-subtle battle that rages non-stop in this little town called Sunnydale.  I've seen my share of battles of every kind, and none of them have so prompted me to pick up a pen and write words as this one has.
    I've just about exhausted my information store for today, but before I end this entry, I must explain the rules.  I will not reveal anything about myself outside of that information I have already divulged.  It is not necessary for the future reader of my journal to know too much about who I am.  It is only necessary, if not imperative, that the reader knows whom Buffy Summers, Rupert Giles, Alexander "Xander" Harris, Willow Rosenberg, and Oz are.  I apologize, but I can't seem to divine the last name of Oz the Werewolf from any of my observational sessions.  Well, that's it for now.  I hope I haven't bored you until you've passed out and broken your nose on any furniture around you.  Trust me, it's possible.  I've done it.
         -Snoops

    "There.  I've done it," I said to myself as I closed the cover of the diary.  It was an old book; the binding was much looser than it should have been.  The binding itself was made of smooth leather.  Caps of gold protected the corners, and there was an intricate locking mechanism attached to the edge.  I lifted an ornate, but equally ancient key that hung on a chain about my neck.  I locked the journal up and placed it carefully in its new hiding place.  It changed hiding places every week, an easy thing to do in the cluttered room I lived in.
    I was suddenly overcome with a sense of nostalgia, as I often was when I took out the old journal.  The ancient book and the key to the lock had been gifts from my father just before he died.  I took a deep breath and pushed the thoughts from my mind.  I had more important things to do now than sit and mull over lost times.
    It was very early in the morning, just after dawn.  This was the only time one could find some peace and quiet.  When the sunlight was just beginning to filter over the rooftops of Sunnydale, my alleyway is flooded with light, keeping the creatures silent and at bay.  The screams and sounds of predatory killing cease for about half an hour each morning, but that's the only time it ceases at all.  It was coming up on the end of the half-hour.  If I was going to leave, now was the time to do it.
    "Alright then," I said to myself.  "Today, I am going to college."
    It came as no surprise to me that I was talking to myself.  What else was I supposed to do?  The alley was so crowded with the lack of intelligent life with which to speak that I had to improvise.  As a rule, I wasn't actually a talkative person.  I just found it easier to think out loud once in a while.  Doesn't everyone?
    I looked myself over to make sure I didn't look too destitute.  I brushed any dust clinging to the brown, rough, denim jacket to the floor.  I straightened the form-fitting, black T-shirt I was wearing underneath it.  I made sure the laces of my sort of old, black Doc Marten's were nice and snug.  I wiped off my rear end where I had been sitting on a dirty chair and double-checked the cleanliness of my slightly baggy brown khaki's.  None of my clothes were exactly the right fit.  The shirt was a little too small; a small section of my midriff was exposed.  The jacket was too big; my hands were lost in the sleeves.  But then, I really couldn't be picky considering the way I lived.  These clothes, and the unmentionables under them, were the cleanest and best I had.  I only wore them when I was going somewhere important to see important people.
    Very cautiously, I opened the secret door to my humble abode and checked both ends of the alley for onlookers.  The way was clear.  I casually closed and locked the hidden door in the brick wall.  I was quite proud of my secret entrance.  It looked like any ordinary brick wall to the untrained eye.  The door was made of wood, but it was cleverly painted to look like the graffiti-heavy wall around it.  When I first moved in, I had blithely guessed that the previous owner had used it for the purpose of dealing drugs or something equally illegal.
    I made my way toward the street.  I smoothed my chin-length, light brown hair as I went.  I had a tendency to keep my hair short because long hair was too much of a hassle to take care of.  I mean, who was I trying to impress anyway?  The creatures of the night?  Certainly not.
    After much twisting and turning through the complex alleys of Sunnydale, I emerged onto the main sidewalk.  It was about 7:00 AM, judging from the people hustling and bustling up and down the street to their places of work.  None of them looked twice at me as they went.  I appeared to be a normal young woman of about seventeen or eighteen years of age.  I smiled to myself.  It was my intent for everyone to ignore me.  I worked best under such conditions.  I walked with the flow of humanity and thought about my agenda for the day.  Unconsciously, my hands reached up to fiddle with the earrings on both my ears.  They were the only jewelry item I still owned, and I was tremendously proud of them.  They were made of pure gold, circular, with a royal blue sapphire carved into the shape of a crown embedded in the centers of each.  These were one of many gifts from another shadow of my past, my former beau.  He gave me countless gifts of equal finery, but these were the only things that weren't ugly as sin.  I never really liked him all that much anyway.  He kept following me around all the time.
    I kicked myself inwardly for such stupid reminiscing.  Focus on the matter at hand!  You must find the Slayer today.  You must observe her and her friends.  If it's worth it, you will follow them and record their epic struggle.  Epic struggle?  Boy, am I getting overly poetic!  It suddenly occurred to me that I didn't know where to go from where I was.
    "Excuse me, sir?  Could you tell me the shortest way to UC Sunnydale?  I seem to have misplaced myself and I can't find my way there," I said to a young man who was just passing me.
    "Certainly," he said, turning to look at me.  He looked to be about twenty or so with spiked brownish-blonde hair and piercing blue eyes.  Something about him seemed strangely familiar.  It made me positively uneasy, but I possessed enough training not to let my discomfort show.
    "Just go straight from here about four blocks, then hang a left on Idaho Road.  Walk two blocks straight from there and take a right on University Street.  It'll be right there, you can't miss it," he said to me.  "I take a few classes, so I could get there with my eyes closed!"
    "Thanks very much," I said, smiling politely.
    "No problem," he replied, grinning back at me.  He was incredibly handsome, but the grin only unnerved me further.  "Oh, and by the way, nice earrings."
    He turned and walked in the direction I had just come.  I stood there looking at the back of his head, waiting for the uncomfortable feeling to pass.  Unfortunately, it didn't pass; it only lessened slightly.  I was forced to continue on my way with my stomach tying itself into large knots.
    I did as he said and just as I was rounding the corner onto University Street, I nearly smacked into the wall of UC Sunnydale.  Man, he wasn't kidding when he said I couldn't miss it.  I looked at the concrete monstrosity before my eyes.  It was only the first of many of its kind that made up the whole of UC Sunnydale.  I wondered where I ought to start my search.  In my many outings and eavesdropping sessions with the creatures that lurked near my hovel, I learned that the Slayer's mentor and former Watcher, Rupert Giles, was a librarian.  Because Sunnydale High had been strangely destroyed a couple of years earlier, he quit his job there and was given a position at the university library.  Some people have all the luck!
    Remembering this, I decided to begin my search at the library.  I looked at a large map of the college standing just to my left, and found the route I would have to take to get to the library.  I had to work my way through the inner labyrinth of UC Sunnydale, walking up staircases and down hallways.  It was now 7:23 AM, and the neither the university nor the library was fully functioning as yet.  The library, however, was open.  I closed my hand around the cold metal door handle and held my breath as I entered.  The entry hall in which I found myself was empty.  The main library with its spectacular staircases and rows of books was the same.  Sunlight burst into the immense room through large windows near the ceiling, sending columns of luminosity spilling onto the tan and brown tiled floor.  I exhaled silently.  This is a beautiful place to house books, I thought.  This is exactly what a library should be like.
    I noticed after far too many moments that I was just standing there out in the open, exposed.  This was never advisable if one hoped to be a decent observer.  Anonymity was essential to anyone like myself.  I casually and quietly moved myself to one of the upper balconies where there were tables set up.  I parked myself at a table where I had a favorable vantagepoint, but my position was relatively concealed.  I waited there for over an hour, never once making a sound.  I was very used to this kind of silent waiting, seeing as how I'd been doing it for a good portion of my life.
    After another fifteen minutes, the main door to the library opened.  As it happened, I had placed myself just over the entrance hall, where I couldn't be spied by the individual just walking in.  I would see them first.  I quieted my breathing even further and slowed the wild beating of my heart as I listened to the footsteps of whoever it was down there moving ever closer to the center of the great room.
    It was a man.  A tall man, of about forty, maybe fifty years, with a head of brown hair and a receding hairline.  He wore a very English-looking three-piece suit.  He walked behind the large and highly polished checkout counter and into the main office behind it.  I saw through the office windows as he set down a briefcase and removed a pair of spectacles.  He polished the spectacles and replaced them on the bridge of his nose.  When he came out of the office with a large pile of old-looking books to stand behind the counter, I knew.  My heart skipped a beat as I made the connection.  Giles.
    Now all I had to do was wait some more.  It was 8:52 AM.  The Slayer and her companions were bound to congregate here.  Finally, I thought.  Finally I'm going to know the truth about the Slayer.
   *   *   *
    It was now 9:03 AM.
    "Hey, Giles!  Long time no see!  I got up early extra special today so I could welcome you back from your trip!" exclaimed the hyper young man bounding through the library doors.  "Normally I'm not even conscious before 11:30, but for you, G-man, I'm willing to lose a couple hours of sleep!"
    "I'm extremely flattered, Xander," Giles said in an English accent and a slightly sarcastic tone.
    "So, how was your trip to jolly old England?" asked Xander as he clapped Giles on the back.
    "It was mercifully relaxing," replied the librarian, straightening his spectacles.  "And how have things been here?  No major problems, I trust?"
    "Nope!  Just 'Buffy see vampire, Buffy slay vampire, vampire go away!'  No straying from our regularly scheduled program!"
    "I don't know whether to be happy that no greater evil has surfaced or distressed that Buffy had to slay at all," said Giles, with a slight smile.
    "Well then, I guess that means that there hasn't been a Slayer around here yet.  Will Buffy and the rest of the Buffsketeers show up anytime soon?  Because, I mean, I've got places to go and people to see, so I can't be waiting around here forever-"
    "You have all day, don't you?" said Giles, nonplussed.
    "I can't tell you how much it hurts me that you would assume I have no life, Giles!" stated Xander while putting a hand to his heart.
    "But I was correct, was I not?" said Giles as he began flipping through an old book.
    "Well…yeah, but it still hurts!" said Xander as he picked up one of Giles' books.
    "Then, instead of carelessly tearing through that six hundred year old volume, would you mind helping me look for something?" said Giles a rather exasperated tone.
    "Giles!  I'm Help Man!  I'm the Man of Help!  So, what we looking for, your Buckingham Palace commemorative tea-stirring spoon, or what?"
    Giles sighed.  He was not in the mood today for Xander's jokes.  There was some very important information buried in the pages of one of these books, and he had to find it before it was too late.
    "I'm looking for any reference at all to the Star of Mosandroch.  It's very important, Xander, so I would appreciate if you wouldn't waste time with frivolity," said Giles, an I-mean-business look covering his tired features.
    "Sure, G-man, no problem," said Xander.  He cleared his throat.  "So uh, what's this Star of Mosanthingy and when will it be destroying the world?"
    "It's called the Star of Mosandroch, and you'll be briefed in due time," said Giles, without taking his eyes off the page he was reading.
    "Okay then," said Xander, resolved to his research now.
    From my perch on high, I quietly witnessed this scene.  There were now two people catalogued in my memory from the Slayer's inner circle.  I studied Xander from my concealed position.  I noticed that he smoothed his dark brown hair much too often during his conversation with Giles, and it had been getting on my nerves.  Now, he was stroking the thin goatee of dark brown hair on his chin.  His dark eyes flitted all over the pages of the book in front of him with lightning speed.  He repeatedly rearranged his lanky frame on the chair he was sitting on.  Such fidgety behavior was a sure sign of a deeper problem within.  I had seen these exact symptoms enough times to know when I was right.  I had no idea what turmoil might be hidden behind those relatively handsome features, but I was sure to find out eventually.
    Giles was another matter entirely.  He was quite undeniably English.  He had an air of placid secrecy about him that puzzled me.  I could deduce very little about him other than his past was not a happy one, and the memories would not give him peace.  His subdued and cautious manner screamed about an inner struggle.
    I had plenty of time to mull over my new store of information.  The library remained empty besides the three of us for at least another three-quarters of an hour.  I was tempted to start humming the theme to "Jeopardy!" but I thought better of it.  If I were discovered this early in the observation stage, my whole plan would be ruined.  Discovery had always been a major concern with me for as long as I'd had the role of observer.  When people know who one is, it makes it considerably tougher for one to observe anything.
  *   *   *
    It was 9:58 AM.
    Xander let out a little yelp and nearly launched the six-hundred-year-old book he was reading across the room.  He caught the book and whirled around to see who had put their hands on his shoulders and startled him out of his wits.  Standing in front of him was a young woman of rather short stature with shoulder-length blonde hair and glittering green-gray eyes.  She was leaning her trim and muscular frame against the counter at a jaunty angle.  Her left eyebrow was raised and she was trying, not very successfully, to hide a smile.
    "Buffy!  Don't do that to a person!  You're gonna give somebody a heart attack doing that, and then where would you be?" said Xander, straightening up.  "In court with a dozen lawsuits on your hands, that's where!"
    Buffy gave up trying to hide her amusement and dissolved into fits of giggling.
    "Admit it, Xander.  You're just too high strung!" she said when her laughter had mostly subsided.
    "Yeah, calm down Xander, it was just a joke," said the red-haired girl standing right behind Buffy.
    "Willow, don't tell me you're on her side!" exclaimed the embarrassed Xander.
    Willow covered her mouth to stifle her laughter.  Her brown eyes danced with some hidden amusement.  She was about the same height and body type as her best friend Buffy, but without all the muscle.  She uncovered her mouth long enough to assuage Xander's embarrassment.
    "Don't be such a nervous wreck," said Willow, smiling.
    "Buffy, Willow, where's Oz?" interjected Giles.
    "Oh, Oz is uh in his dorm room…redecorating," answered Willow.  "He said he'd be along in a little while."
    "Leave it to Will to know everything about her boyfriend," quipped Xander.
    "Redecorating…at a time like this," said Giles under his breath.
    "What'd you say, Giles?" said Buffy, looking around Xander's shoulder at the librarian.
    "I said…it's time you got to work.  Xander and I have been researching the Star of Mosandroch, although not with much success…" The rest of the sentence disappeared as Giles suddenly focused on a passage in the book in front of him.  "Not with much success, until now.  Xander, you may put the rest of these books back in my office now, thank you."
    Xander hefted the pile of books easily and turned toward the office, but not before shooting an angry look at Buffy.  The Slayer smiled a sweet, innocent smile at him in response.  Giles was not amused.  His brow furrowed as he returned to reading the significant passage.  His brows furrowed even more when he had finished reading.  He looked at the Slayer and her friends and motioned for them to take a seat at a nearby table.
    "This is very important, so please pay attention," said Giles before beginning his explanation.  "Nearly seven hundred years ago in England, there was a sorcerer named Mosandroch.  Mosandroch couldn't work a spell to save his life.  He was completely hapless in the ways of magic.  Everywhere he went, he was laughed at, so he decided to get some help.  He sought out the most powerful dark sorcerer in the land.  The name of this sorcerer was never discovered, but knowledge of his powers has transcended time.  He is known to history only as the Dark One.  He granted Mosandroch the ability to cast any spell he wanted, but only once.  Mosandroch chose to inflict a horrific disease on the town and the surrounding area where he grew up.  So many people died from this disease that caused excruciating pain that the inhabitants of the province questioned the origin of this pestilence.  Their superstition compelled them to suspect the disease began at the hands of one utilizing Black Magic.  It was then that the Dark One betrayed Mosandroch in order that his true identity wouldn't be discovered.  He intended to open the Hellmouth and allow it to swallow the weaker sorcerer, trapping him there for all eternity.  All did not go as planned, however, because the Dark One underestimated the Hellmouth's power.
    "He spirited himself and Mosandroch to the uninhabited Sunnydale area and began the spell to open the Hellmouth.  The moment the last word in the spell left his lips, he was bombarded with every last ounce of evil power that Hell could dredge up.  He frantically called upon all his strength to keep the populace of demons at bay, but he could not prevent being pulled in along with them.  He cast his last spell just before the Hellmouth was sealed: he would return to power here on Earth when a red star aligned itself with the North Star.  The Hellmouth would expel him back into a world of powerless humans where he could dominate once more.
    "A red star has nearly aligned with the North Star.  It will complete the alignment in two weeks.  That means we have half of a month to prepare for the Dark One's return.  If we fail to destroy him, catastrophe will surely fall upon the world."
Giles let this information sink in for a few moments before speaking again.
    "I've consulted the Council, although reluctantly, and they know about the red star as well."
    "So, what can we possibly do to stop this?  Is there a spell or something, you know, we just chant and POOF, Mr. Dark Guy is stuck in the Hellmouth?" ventured Xander.
    "Not that I know of, but there are things we can do to destroy him when he arrives," replied Giles.
    "Just to get the record straight, he won't be bringing any, uh, Hellmouth residents with him, will he?" asked a nervous Willow.
    "No.  The spell only affects the flesh of the one who casts it.  Now, I must explain what will happen if we fail to destroy him," said Giles in a grim tone.  "The moment he arrives, he will make a certain lucky few his slaves.  He will then evaluate mankind; if the world today pleases him, he will take over and rule it tyrannically.  If not, he will destroy all but his personal slaves.  Either way, there will be millions of horrible deaths."
    "How do we destroy him?" asked the Slayer.  Buffy had been resigned to solemn silence until now, but the urgency of the situation demanded serious action.  Her eyes were cold and calculating.
    "The Dark One had but one weakness: the selflessness of others.  He hated it with a fiery vengeance.  It didn't really matter seven hundred years ago.  Everyone was selfish and greedy then," said Giles with a sardonic half smile.  He cleared his throat and continued.  "There is a spell that would destroy him completely, but it…would require…" Giles broke off.
    "Would require what, Giles?" said Buffy with all her attention focused on the librarian.
    "It would require…a human sacrifice."
    A gut-wrenching silence filled the room.  Giles explained further.
    "A very complicated spell involving the transformation of emotions into energy would destroy the Dark One when using that energy as a weapon, but the energy must come from a person.  Such a spell would surely kill that person along with the sorcerer.  I've looked for an alternative method to defeat him, but I'm afraid there just isn't another way," said Giles, a pained expression covering his features.  "Now, as far as getting close enough to the Dark One to perform the spell, that's another difficulty.  He will undoubtedly surround himself with dangerous spells and with his slaves, but such defenses can be penetrated."
    "That's where we come in," said Willow, nodding.
    Giles nodded back in affirmation.  He sighed sank wearily in an empty chair next to Buffy.
    It looked as though the four people on the lower floor of the library would remain silent for quite some time longer, so I indulged myself in some time to mull over my new influx of information.  The situation that the Slayer and her companions were in was very complicated, and they were short on much vital information.  It was unfortunate that I had a great deal of that information stored away in my memory.  I could never share it with them; it was against my policy of absolute anonymity.
    As far as the identity of the Dark One, I knew that to be Eliaas Quammeriann.  Eliaas doesn't quite strike fear into the heart as well as the Dark One does; I supposed that was why he kept his name a secret for the most part.  I also knew the story of Mosandroch and Eliaas' downfall.  Giles' description of "catastrophe" if they failed to destroy Eliaas was putting it very nicely, I thought.
    So that's the Slayer, I said to myself.  She's not quite what I expected.  There's more vitality and optimism in her manner than I anticipated.  It's plain to see, however, that she's no stranger to very dangerous situations.  She handles herself well: very seriously.  That's an encouraging sign.
    I turned my attention to Willow then.  I studied her with interest.  She had a surface attitude of apprehension, but there was a vast amount of courage residing in her core.  All the signs were there; that courage would make its appearance whenever she needed it.  Such a companion for the Slayer was very beneficial.
    I wondered what Oz would be like.  I had heard the least about him of all the group members.
    I had no more time to think or observe, because the Slayer and her friends abruptly got up and headed toward the exit.  Giles made his way to his office, but he called out to Buffy before she left:
    "Remember, you still have to patrol this evening in the South Cemetery."
    And with that, the Slayer left.
    I waited until Giles was securely shut away in his office before making my escape.  I threw one leg over the railing and pulled the other over a few moments later.  I leaped off the balcony and landed, cat-like, on the tiled library floor.  I never made a sound.  I chose this particular method of exit because walking down the stairs would put me in plain view from Giles' office window.  Years of experience had taught me how to be an excellent spy.  Now, all my experience would be put to the ultimate test.
   *   *   *
    It was 8:04 PM.
    I had passed the day in my room, and now it was time to get down to some real observation.  I would be trailing the Slayer on her patrol this evening.
    I made the walk out of the alleys with some amount of difficulty; the vampires were out now.  I didn't have anything to fear from them, but it wouldn't do for me to be interrupted tonight.  I was in a bit of a hurry.
    The South Cemetery presently loomed before me, dark and ominous.  I melted into the shadows of the various large crypts and headstones.  The Slayer would be here, and she would fight a vampire without a doubt.  My heart quickened its beating at a nearby sound of blows being exchanged.
    Positioning myself behind a monstrous statue of the angel Gabriel, I glimpsed the Slayer locked in combat with brawny creature of the night.  With a stake in her right hand and her left balled into a fist, she pummeled the undead man with a roundhouse kick to his face with her left leg.  Her blonde hair was tied up in a loose bun, and the long turquoise overcoat she wore swirled around her with the momentum of the kick.
    The creature stumbled and made to hit her across the jaw, but she blocked the shot and staked him in the heart while his attention was lagging.  He disintegrated in a cloud of dust.
    "Well, that was fun," said Buffy, brushing herself off.
    I was impressed.  She dispatched the creature with speed and efficiency.  The world had a very good chance of surviving Eliaas Quammeriann with Buffy the vampire Slayer around.  A good chance of making it through his defenses, at least.
    I figured the remainder of her patrol would be more of the same, so I skipped out.  I scheduled my next spy episode for the following day.
   *   *   *
October the 6th, 2001
    I've watched them for nearly a week now.  I become more impressed with them each passing day.  Giles drills Buffy on her martial arts daily after her classes.  Willow works with Giles on useful but complicated spells.  I finally saw Oz.  He assists Willow with the spells.  He has expressed his deepest regrets about his inability to become a werewolf on the evening of the 13th of October.  The moon just isn't in the right place for it.
    They are all preparing well.  I feel I'm overlooking someone again.  Oh yeah, Xander.  He doesn't really do much except hang around and give encouragement and crack jokes.  I've gathered that he isn't entirely satisfied with his job.  I don't guess that I would be either were I in his place.
    I've noticed an increase in awkward silences lately.  They usually occur when the subject of the spell to destroy Eliaas, or "the Dark One", comes up.  I don't really blame them.  Sacrificing one's life for others is a tough job.  No one has ever come back from such a mission without the help of the Devil, except Jesus Christ.  So unless one is the Son of God, one won't be returning from the dead.
    I'm not really sure what each of them is thinking in this matter.  I do, however, have a sneaking suspicion that Buffy plans to sacrifice herself.  She has a strange air of finality about her when she makes decisions.  I also suspicion that Giles and the others know that Buffy is planning this, but they don't know what to say.  Someone has to die for the good of humanity.  This is not a time for selfishness, not among friends, and not among enemies.
    When you read this journal, if there are any people left after the 13th, that is, please know that these were humans who tried and perhaps failed to save the world.  They were real people, with real flaws and strengths.  Know that.
         -Snoops
   *   *   *
    It was 6:38 PM.
    I shut my journal and locked it up.  The new hiding place made itself known and I utilized it.  It was nearly the time for my own patrol.  I left my humble abode wearing my earrings of course, the brown jacket, a baggy black T-shirt, and some brown corduroys that were too big and had holes in the knees.  Really, I'd rather have all my clothes be too big than too small.
    Tonight, Buffy would be patrolling by the old mansion.  I'd forgotten the name of it.  My memory wasn't what it used to be.
    Tall rows of unruly shrubbery surrounded the creepy mansion.  I put myself near a small break in the plants.  I looked for the Slayer.  I saw her sitting on a bench about 100 feet away from me, and I was surprised to find Xander with her.  I inclined my ear to better register the conversation.
    "Gosh, it's just such a lively place, this mansion," droned Xander sarcastically.  "No wonder Angel liked it so much."
    Buffy shot him a fake angry glance and punched him on the arm.
    "Ow!" blurted Xander, rubbing his arm.
    "You better believe 'ow!' cuz that's what you're gonna get when you say things like that!"  Buffy's words sounded angry, but she was smiling.
    "Okay, okay.  I won't talk about him anymore," he said.  A sly look suddenly came over his features.  "How 'bout a certain Riley Finn?  I have plenty to say about that guy…"
    "How about you shut up about my rocky love life, Xander?" said Buffy, raising her fist again.  "Just my luck you would volunteer to come along tonight and I would be such a nice Slayer to let you go with me!"
    "Admit it, you're just acting this way to cover up how nervous you are to be in my company!"  He winked at her obnoxiously.
    She laughed and pushed him.  He ungracefully fell off the bench.  I could barely contain my own laughter.  I suppose my efforts to suppress my giggles threw me off guard so I did something I'd have never let myself do before.  I stepped on a twig.  I heard it snap, loudly.  Oh figs…I thought.  Buffy and Xander had heard it too.  She helped him up and went into battle mode.  I silently cursed myself and began making a hasty escape.
    "There's someone out here," I heard her say as I broke into the quietest run possible.
    I could hear them following me, picking up speed every second.
    No, no, no, no!  This isn't supposed to happen!  How could I have been so stupid?  I started to panic as I sped toward the main road and the safety of the alleys.  Under normal circumstances being chased by normal people, I would have been able to lose them without batting an eyelash.  Unfortunately, these were not normal people.  Well, one of them wasn't, anyway.  This was a trained and capable Slayer, a good runner too.  If I didn't beat it out of the open and into the shadowy labyrinth of the alleys, I was in serious trouble.
    They hadn't seen me, yet.  I still had a leg up on them in reconnaissance methods.  Weaving and ducking go a long way when being chased.  A few more steps and I was across the street and hidden within the blessed shadows of the alleys.  But Buffy and a very short of breath Xander were not going to let me go without a fight.  Their footfalls on the paved street were loud and close behind me.  I made my way through the maze, trying frantically to get away and keep my cool at the same time.  My heart rate was sky rocketing, and panic was taking over.  They were so close now that I could hear her shouting at me.
    "Hey!  Hey, whoever you are, stop now and maybe I won't hurt you!"
    "I would…listen to her…if I were you…," shouted Xander, huffing and puffing.
    Finally, my hovel was in sight.  I dove for the secret entrance and immediately fell silent.  Buffy and Xander reached my previous position within a few seconds.  I peeked through a tiny hole in the door.  Buffy was looking around agitatedly, catching her breath.  Xander was bent over at the waist, breathing heavily.
    "Wh…where…where did he go?" Xander was clutching his chest.
    "I don't know!  He or she or it was right here a second ago!  I had them in my sights and then they just…" Buffy broke off, too frustrated to continue.
    "Disappeared?" asked Xander.
    "Looks that way!" Buffy sighed, an irritated sound.
    The two of them would have no more time to ponder my vanishing act, because the infestation that made the alley legendary was upon them.  A pack of vampires pounced suddenly and violently.
    Xander blocked a shot from a female vampire, but she had him in a headlock within seconds.  Buffy staked the vamp from behind and pushed Xander into the shelter of a pile of trash.  Then she really went to work.  What started out to be a group of about twelve creatures dwindled within minutes to a mere three.  Buffy was quite the worse for wear, however.  She battled the remaining three with a large cut on her forehead above her left eye, a long tear in the shoulder seam of her coat, and innumerable bruises.
    A vicious uppercut from a creature was dodged and taken advantage of with a stake.  That vampire disappeared, revealing another just behind where the first had been.  That vamp made to grab Buffy around the neck to choke her, but his face met the Slayer's foot before he even got within twelve inches of her.  She sucker-punched the vampire behind her and staked him without even looking.  At last, the stake plunged toward the final creature, still lying on the ground gathering his senses.  A scream, a swirling of dust, and they were all gone.
    Buffy brushed herself off as best she could and put the stake in her pocket.  She winced as she touched the cut on her forehead.
    "Ow," said the Slayer, shaking her head.  "Pity I never got to thank them for their lovely parting gift."
    "A little help over here?" said a voice drifting from a pile of garbage bags.  "Some assistance would be really cool right about now."
    "Xander, you're such a wimp!  But thanks for staying out of the way and out of trouble during all that," said Buffy as she pulled Xander out of the refuse.
    "Hey, you pushed me into the trash!  It wasn't my fault that I was coincidentally stuck in a well-concealed place during a fight.  If I'd had my way, I would've given at least one of those vamps a reason to go crying home to his mommy!" said Xander, cracking his knuckles and trying to look tough.
    "Vampires don't have mommies.  Well, not exactly, I mean I'm sure that all vampires had a mommy before they became the blood sucking undead, but they don't anymore.  Actually, it depends on how recently they were changed…okay, why was I saying this again?" said Buffy looking incredulously at Xander, who just shrugged.
    "So, d'you think there's a nest around here or what?" he asked.
    "I don't know.  What I do know is that was that I got off really easy for fighting twelve vampires.  Most of those things hardly knew their left hand from their right.  It was like staking dandelions or something," she commented.  She looked around at the stained and graffiti-covered brick walls.  "Are we even still in Sunnydale?  If we are, I've never been anywhere near this part of town, have you?"
    "Nope.  I'm pretty sure I'd remember the dirt and the stench and the blood-curdling screams!" shouted Xander, for in the middle of his sentence, a shriek of someone terrified pierced the night air.  "Did somebody just get mugged or what?"
    "No, listen!" She cocked her head in the direction the sound had come from.  Her trained ears picked a horrible, but all too familiar sound.  "A vampire is feeding somewhere.  I'd bet my entire wardrobe that this place is crawling with demons.  Think about it.  No one from uptown Sunnydale knows this exists, so the vamps can hold their big dinner parties here.  That explains why they're such wimpy fighters.  They never have to lift more than a little finger when they hunt.  They probably feed on homeless people and lost tourists…"
    "That's great, Sherlock, but could we get outta here anytime soon?  I'm starting to not like the idea of spending a vacation here."
    "Yeah, sure.  I've gotta get this cut cleaned up.  I think I remember the way out.  Let's go."
    I was relieved that they were going the right way.  It would be really inconvenient for me to have to get them turned around and going in the right direction without showing myself.  As they made their way to the street, I heard Xander say: "What about the person who led us here in the first place?  Maybe they were luring us so we would get eaten…"
    I couldn't hear Buffy's response.
   *   *   *
    I was surrounded by a beautiful green meadow, with wildflowers everywhere.  Over the hill, there would be a castle, a great stone palace.  The sky was bluer than the forget-me-not flower, with tiny fluffy clouds drifting by.  Something about the place didn't seem right.  I shouldn't be here, I thought.
    Then the answer came to me.  I'm dreaming.
    Of course, it was all a dream.  That would explain why I couldn't see my body, and why I stood in the meadow of my childhood.  I used to play here, pick wildflowers, and I wouldn't come home until dark.  I often had this particular dream, and it usually made me happy, but now, a strange emptiness filled my heart.
    After all these years, I'm finally feeling homesickness.
    Suddenly, something was wrong.  The landscape took on a hazy appearance, and a loud banging sound pierced the air.  The banging got louder, my dream world faded away, and I was thrown from the unstable realm of sleep.  I was lying in one corner of my room on a bit of old carpet and a thin blanket to cover me.  I was awake now, so the banging sound should have ceased, but it hadn't.  The sound was coming from the real world, and I sat up quickly.
    I looked at the door, and I saw the frame buckling under the stress of whoever or whatever was pounding on it.  I surprised myself by remaining calm throughout the entire ordeal.  I'll never be sure how I managed to keep my cool when the pounding stopped and the door flew open.  I can only guess that my placidity was due to my expectation of some evil creature at my door, and not Buffy the Vampire Slayer.
    My first thought at seeing her standing there was how impressed I was that she had found her way back here and discovered my secret door.  My second thought was that the creatures would know there was a door here since she'd wrecked it.  My third thought was that I'd have to find a new place to live.  My fourth thought was that I was now officially discovered.  My final thought before the whole mess really got going was that this situation could get really bad.  I was right on the money.
    I'm not sure how long we sort of stared at each other suspiciously.  It must have been less than a few seconds.  Somewhere near the beginning of those few seconds, I arched an eyebrow at her.  Big mistake.
    In a flash, she had me by the collar and I was shoved up against the wall, my arms pinned behind my back.  She looked me straight in the eye.  I looked right back at her.
    "Who are you, and why were you spying on me last night?" she shouted.  "Why did you lure me here?  To have me killed?  My best guess is you don't know who you're messing with!"
    I decided to take the polite and aloof approach to this situation.
    "You see that?"  I inclined my head toward the broken doorframe.  "Last time I checked, that's called breaking and entering.  If you want answers to any of your questions, I suggest you put me down.  Then we can discuss things like civilized people."
    She glared at me, but she put me down.  I had more confidence with my feet squarely on the floor and not dangling in the air.  She stood back a few paces and folded her arms across her chest.
    "I'm not in the mood for games.  Start talking before I start hitting," she said.
    I considered my options.  On one hand, I could make a break for it out the open door and hope I was faster than she was.  On the other hand, I could tell her the truth and ruin my mission.  On the other, other hand, I could tell the sort of truth and hope that she buys it.  I decided on the third option.
    "I'm nobody of consequence.  I was watching you and your friend last night because I was curious, that's all."  I tried to sound sincere, which was pretty easy considering I hadn't told a lie yet.  I was about to continue, but she interrupted.
    "Then why did you run?  Innocent people don't usually run that fast," she said, narrowing her eyes at me.
    "I ran because I was scared.  I didn't know what you would do to me if you caught me.  I didn't mean for you to follow me in here.  But it's not like the creatures that live here could've killed you anyway.  You're supposed to be the Slayer after all."  I still hadn't told a lie.  I scowled slightly at her as I continued.  "And now you've ruined my door.  I'm gonna have to find another place to live…"
    "Look, I'm sorry about your door and everything, but what was I supposed to think?  When someone goes poking around in the middle of the night following me, I have to assume the worst," she remarked in an agitated and yet somehow apologetic tone.
    She bought it.  Good.
    I had to keep up my indignant act, so I plopped down into my old chair and folded my arms across my chest.  She let her arms fall to her sides.  She looked around the room vaguely and eventually let her eyes settle back on me.
    "You still haven't told me who you are."
    "Yes I did. Didn't you listen?"  I kept my face a non-threatening mixture of amusement and annoyance.
    "'I'm nobody of consequence' doesn't tell me much.  What's your name?"
    I didn't enjoy the subject of my name.  My name was a painful reminder of a past long gone.  She wouldn't give up, however.
    "You do have a name, right?  You know, like Susie or Jennifer or something?"
    "I don't have that kind of name anymore.  People just call me Snoops," I said, trying to make it sound casual.
    "Snoops, huh?  I can see why." She suddenly looked at me suspiciously.  "Was last night the only time you've spied on me or my friends?"
    I took a deep breath and decided to risk it.
    "Truthfully…no.  I've watched you for about a week now.  Please understand it's unbelievably boring around here.  I just happened to be in the university library one day, when you people came tromping in.  You talked about something interesting and I wanted to know more, so I followed you around for a bit.  It's not like I had anything better to do," I said, shrugging.
    Now I've done it.  I'll never be able to watch them again.  Well, it's not like I'd be able to do it again regardless.  They would be on the alert anyway just because they know about me.  At least my biggest secret is still safe.
    She studied me for a moment with one eyebrow arched.  It was as if she was making a decision.
    "I'm gonna let this go.  I think you're harmless.  I also think you have enough problems to worry about without having to deal with Giles," commented Buffy in a neutral tone.
    "I guess you'd know a lot about problems," I suddenly said, thoughtfully, without really knowing why.  The words simply left my mouth with a will of their own.
    "Excuse me?"  Her eyes narrowed at me all over again.
    "It's written all over your face.  I've had my share of experiences with people, and I can tell when somebody's been dealt a difficult hand in life," I said.  I laughed softly and smiled slightly.  "You're very good at concealing your pain and you've fooled everyone, including your family and friends.  But very little escapes me."
    I saw her tense and ball her hand into a fist.
    "What would you know about it?"  She spoke with a tone full of defiant attitude, but the slight tremor in her voice was not entirely undetectable.
    "Who was he?" I said.
    "What?" she said, much quieter this time.
    "You have the look.  Only a man can cause a woman to wear that mask of pain," I said.  I studied her.  "So, who was he?"
    "Who are you?" she said suspiciously, her tone edged with menace.
    I sighed.  The matter of Buffy's past wounds would have to be pursued later.
    "I told you.  I'm called Snoops.  Now, if you'll excuse me, I have some writing to do."
    Buffy's expression screamed distrust.  It was obvious she wanted to drag me to Giles and have me interrogated.
    "Look, Buffy, I have no other place to go.  If you feel like coming back sometime with torture equipment to give me the third degree, I'll certainly be here," I said with a quirky half smile.
    She shook her head and backed away toward my busted door.  She didn't say anything until she was all the way into the alley.
    "Just don't spy on me anymore."  A deadpan statement.
    I watched her go until she was out of sight.  Then I began the tedious job of fixing my door.

END PART ONE