Sunnydale, California, An Hour or Two Later (December 2002, Tuesday Fandom Time)

[brat_inslayage]

So just because the big explanation thing was out of the way, it didn't mean 1630 Revello Drive was suddenly excitement-free. Figuring out where to put everyone was shaping up to be a pretty big project, not to mention feeding people, and there was a whole big logistical... thing. Also there was still a nerd tied to a chair.

If this was going to be the new standard for normal, at least life wasn't going to be boring. Assuming they kept surviving and all which, with this many people in the house, might not be a sure thing.

Great way to welcome Giles back to town. Anya and Dawn did so in their own special ways, anyway.

Anya	"How many of them are we going to get?" Anya asked, loudly, as she dumped a load of blankets on the floor. "I am not running a youth program for wayward future Slayer-delinquents."
Giles	Giles reached up to touch his temples. And he'd thought the car ride over here was bad. "We'll get as many as we're going to get," he said. "There are only a handful of them left, and this is the only place where they'll be protected." Because it wasn't like they could get a hotel room or put them up at Xander's or anything. Duh.
Anya	"If you're going to keep collecting them, we're going to end up making Xander build bunk beds in the basement, and none of us want that to happen," Anya pointed out. "And feeding them all? Teenagers eat more than...than...small furry rodent-things! How are we supposed to cook for a litter of rodent-children?" The term was 'bunnies,' Anya. Bunnies.
Giles	Yeah, somehow that hadn't been on Giles' mind during the whole Saving The Potentials From The First ordeal. Not to say that it wasn't important! But there it was. "Cooking in... shifts, I suppose?" he suggested wearily. "Perhaps Andrew...?" He cast the man tied to a chair a look, then appeared to reconsider the notion that he might possibly have any useful skills. "Or Dawn...?"
Anya	"Child labor laws are unfortunate, but very real," Anya sighed. "We can't keep her chained in the kitchen; it's unsanitary." "Which means we have to deal with the health inspector, too. Can we feed the health inspector to vampires?"
Giles	Giles didnt know why he was momentarily surprised by this. Maybe six months had sensitized him somewhat to her... Anyaness. Regardless, he had to stare at her a bit bemusedly for a moment. "No, Anya, we cannot -- " Big sigh. Why was he even explaining this? "For the present, we can make do with what's already in the kitchen, all right?" As long as that kitchen contained a strong cup of tea. Because really now.
Anya	Anya just stuck out her hand. "Give me your money."
Giles	"Anya! I'm not about to give you --" Waiiiit. "Fine," he said at last, thrusting out his wallet. Containing thirty British pounds and change. Go nuts.
Anya	Anya was going to stand there and count it out, thank you, before nodding once. "This will provide groceries for the next twenty-four hours," she decided. "All Buffy and Dawn have here is Buffy and Dawn food." Meaning things that were simple enough Buffy couldn't screw up, but not enough to feed an influx of teenagers.
Giles	"I see." Right. Well, then. "Do try to make sure to pick up tea," he added. "Something strong." Pause. "Do you have the exchange rate memorized?" That was just something he'd been wondering.
Anya	"Of course. Exchange rates are wonderful, much like charging interest. It lets you change money into more money, if you know what you're doing," Anya chirped, pleased with herself. "One British Pound Stirling generally equals about a dollar fifty US, assuming nothing earth-shattering happens." "The world ending doesn't usually cause the exchange rate to flux, oddly. Probably because most humans are stupidly oblivious."
Giles	"Yes. Well. Thank you for that... edifying explanation." He shouldn't have asked. He really should not have asked. "Well. I should, ah, go... help Willow. It looks like she's being harrassed." She was.
Dawn	"Wait, what?" Yes, she heard that, Giles. "What am I being volunteered for while in the middle of a home invasion?"
Giles	Oooh. Showdown! "Helping to cook?" he suggested, his tone vaguely hopeful that Dawn would be more reasonable than Anya. Althought now that he thought of it, that had been a terrible suggestion. Dawn couldn't cook.
Dawn	Hey! She cooked well! She was a culinary genius in the tradition of Karla Gordon Ramsay! Dawn's eyes narrowed. "'Helping' implies someone else will be doing it too," she pointed out. "But I might do it. Since their arms and legs are broken and they just got here from places that don't have microwaves, and... wait. Ooo." She sat up and brightened. "I could introduce them to my anchovy-and-artichoke special!"
Giles	"Well -- well, I -- that is -- perhaps -- " Weary sigh. These girls were Potentials Slayers. Might as well get started toughening them up. It could be like training! "Go on, then."
Dawn	"We'll bring you some when it's ready." Dawn beamed at him. "Welcome back!" Yeah, don't try to take the Dawn Patrol on her home ground, Watcher-man.

After the sun went down and Buffy took Giles out with her on patrol, the logistical battle at the Summers household wore on. Kennedy didn't exactly have a lot of unpacking to do, but she needed a distraction, and well-- two of Buffy's friends were familiar faces. Sort of. Not exactly, but close enough.

Xander and Andrew	"Shut up." Not that Andrew had said anything, but he looked like he might, and Xander felt like it needed stating. Again. "So, how long have you followed Buffy?" See, he'd been right. "I don't follow her; she's my best friend. Also, shut up." "She seems like a good leader. Her hair is shiny. Does she make you stab things?" She might have trouble stopping him from stabbing one particular thing, if it didn't-- "..........Shut up."
Kennedy	In all the hecticness of necessary exposition and figuring out what to do with the new house-crashers there hadn't been time until now, but it had not escaped Kennedy's notice that this Xander, unlike the one she'd met at Homecoming however-the-hell-long (or not)-ago it had been by now, was not wearing an eyepatch. That was a little concerning, but she was still too busy processing everything to puzzle it out right now. Still... "Xander, right?" she asked, drifting over toward him (and giving Andrew a dubious look). "I remember you. Not you-you, but..." Ugh. Complicated science stuff; she rolled her eyes and waved a hand. "Different you. It's a thing. My high school was weird." ...she said as though Sunnydale High hadn't been.
Xander (and Andrew)	Indeed. "Your high school was weird?" came as a chorus from both prisoner and jailer, followed by another "I said shut up," from Xander, who turned his back on Andrew and took a few steps over to meet Kennedy. "Whaddya mean, different me?" Then, as his experiences with that concept rolled back, he added, "Crap - was I a vampire?"
Kennedy	"There's a locker that randomly sucks people into other dimensions, the karaoke bar has a zombie band, and a flying saucer full of Vikings invaded the stage at my graduation," Kennedy answered, totally matter-of-fact. "And no, older you. Said to tell you-you-- in a broad daylight conversation, B.T.W.-- when I met you that the black-ops outfit is gonna be a mistake." He'd also said he'd get that outfit to go with the eyepatch, and maybe she should warn him about that? Warning people about their future was a big Do Not Do This according to Professor Skywalker's Ethics class, but hey, it'd seemed important to the other Xander. "Also to duck if someone goes for your eye with a thumb."
Xander	"...I'll trade you my giant snake for your alien Vikings, and no, that wasn't a come-on, it was my graduation. As pick-up lines go, mentioning the giant snake has a really limited audience." This Xander's gaydar? Noooooot as finely tuned as his Fandom High counterpart's had become over the years, and even his wasn't all that great. Speaking of... "Seriously, though?" Liiiittle bit skeptical, after a certain incident at a certain wedding that never happened. "The last guy who said he was me from the future turned out to be a demon."
Kennedy	"I can already guarantee you that come-on was gonna go nowhere, really, really fast." Kennedy looked mildly exasperated; whether she'd admit it or not, she'd just tried to start a little game of weird-high-school one-upmanship that she was probably fated to lose. "Yeah, heard about the snake and the school blowing up. Wesley told me, and oh yeah, he said to say hi whenever I got here." She was not above playing the old familiar game of leveraging connections here, not if it got her status points from the start. "...'cause other you told me I'd end up here, which, would it have killed him to give me more details about how?"
Xander	"Wesley...as in Windbag-Pryce?" Sorry, Wes. If it's any comfort, the version that actually went to Fandom has slightly more mature opinions on the subject. And a little bit of motorcycle envy. "You went to school in L.A.?"
Kennedy	"Yeah, him-- school in L.A.?" Kennedy managed to make that sound like a fate worse than... um... okay, scrambling to readjust the Scale of Dire really, really quickly here, but let's just say she sounded horrified, if a little amused at the 'windbag' thing. "No way. Fandom, in Maryland. It's a whole..." She waved her hands vaguely. "Way sci-fi sounding thing." Which she was in no way qualified to explain.
Xander	"Where there's a future me who thinks I'm an idiot," Xander said, still warily. Granted, that might be evidence that the guy did know him...
Kennedy	Kennedy was doing an awesome job of first impressions today. Really. Just hitting them out of the park. "Well, he didn't exactly say that..."
Xander	"He thinks I don't know enough to duck if somebody tries to poke me in the eye."
Kennedy	Kennedy rolled her eyes. "Hey. That's between you and, uh... you. I'm just the messenger."
Xander	"Correction, future me who thinks I'm an idiot and have bad fashion sense." Xander looked down at his t-shirt and jeans, then reflected on some of the things he'd worn in high school. And, you know. Done in high school. Also, last year. And... this morning. "Okay, maybe he really was me."
Kennedy	"Weird high school," Kennedy said again, as if she'd proven her point, and wandered off to go be... sort of helpful.
Willow	There was great evil to fight and Willow was the only one who could fight it. "Annabelle can sleep here," Willow said as she finished making the couch up into a bed. "Molly can sleep in Dawn's room." What? A houseful of potentials with nobody to organize the sleeping arrangements was totally evil, and Willow was the only one with enough OCD to figure it all out.
Kennedy	So the OCD was cute; could you blame Kennedy for thinking so? "Not if Dawn actually wants to sleep," she offered. Being totally helpful, of course, and not at all with anything at stake in how the sleeping arrangements actually ended up. Okay, so she totally did. Look, she'd had a bad few days; she could have her fun, right? "Molly'll talk her ear off."
Willow	"Okay," Willow said. She clutched her bundle of sheets to her chest as she re-sorted mental spreadsheets. "Then Molly down here and you and Dawn and Annabelle with me."
Kennedy	"Bad idea," Kennedy replied promptly-- and cheerfully (relatively), it had to be said. "Annabelle snores."
Willow	"You know, mental spreadsheets are easier to organize when people aren't wall withholdy with the data!" Willow said, feeling exasperated. "I was totally able to figure out the riddle about the fox and chicken and bag of corn even when they refused to accept my solution of joint counseling."
Kennedy	If Kennedy burst out laughing there (which she did), she couldn't help it. "Yeah, sorry about the whole lack of advance notice. I only know this from the plane ride, and now I want to know what you did with the fox and chicken."
Willow	"Made a sandwich for the fox so it didn't have to starve, and taught the chicken about the ways of portion control," Willow replied. "Also gave a stern lecture about setting up scenarios where we torment hungry animals. Riddles are supposed to be fun and about safe street-crossing with or without poultry."
Kennedy	Oh, sure. Be all adorable, why don't you, Willow. "Okay, that I never would have thought of," Kennedy admitted, grinning. "Not that I've ever had that problem, which is kind of surprising given the way people at my high school had this weird tendency to randomly turn into animals sometimes." A moment, and then: "Also, I met you there once before. Probably a different you, and--" keeping her earlier conversation with Xander in mind-- "not a vampire."
Willow	Willow... had not been expecting that comment. "I - uh - good? I mean good that I wasn't a vampire since bitey and scary and kind of slutty but - me? Another me? Another me who wasn't a vampire? I didn't know there were options." It occurred to Willow that maybe the other her had been dark-haired and evil, which was a bit more than she wanted to get into at the moment. "Maybe other me was better at organizing rooms with or without foxes or snoring."
Kennedy	No, no dark-haired and evil, which was a good thing all around since this conversation really didn't need that many levels of awkward. "I never asked about that," Kennedy said, looking like she wished she had (hindsight and all), "but I did get something about you being the Queen of Closetland." Thank other-Xander for that phrasing; it'd stuck with her.
Willow	"Closetland?" Living on a Hellmouth meant that Willow could allow for the possibility that Kennedy wasn't using a metaphor. On the other hand maybe it was. Not that Willow knew what it was a metaphor for but then again maybe she did and if she did know she didn't think she wanted to know and - okay, the conversation was getting way too complicated and Willow wanted to hit the eject button. "Well if she was so good with closets maybe she taught you more about figuring out sleeping arrangements than I know." Willow thrust the linens she was carrying towards Kennedy. "Here. You figure it out."
Kennedy	Ironically it hadn't been a metaphor at the time... It was like she'd planned it to work out her way, and could she just pretend like she had? Because seriously, this was perfect. Chalk one up for Team Kennedy. "Okay," she said cheerfully and just a little too pleased with herself, reaching for the stack of linens. She headed for the stairs and went up exactly two steps before she stopped, turned around, and grinned in a not at all subtle way. It'd been a while since she'd gotten to play the is-she-or-isn't-she game. "You, uh... better not hog the covers." And no, she was not above throwing in a wink, either.
Willow	Aaaaaaaand this was Willow wordlessly opening and closing her mouth as she tried to tell herself that Kennedy hadn't just said that - ...had she?
Kennedy	Oh, she so had. Luckily for Willow, though, a rather triumphant Kennedy was already sauntering up the stairs to distribute pillows and blankets, which meant no more pushing that issue. For now.

Then again, not everyone coped by flirting, Kennedy. Food was a perfectly valid option, too, even if food supplies might be a little touch and go.

Dawn	Cookies were being hoarded already. She knew how Slayers ate. Dawn could only guess what small degree less that would apply to Potential Slayers. Those Oreos were hers, thanks.
Annabelle	Mostly, the Potential Slayers were hungry because plane food sucked, although once Kennedy hit the kitchen it might turn into a real concern. For now, though, it was Annabelle, all quiet and unobtrusive (as much as it was possible to be, anyway, when you were a stranger in someone's home), who slipped into the kitchen and gave Dawn an apologetic smile. "I really am dreadfully sorry for the imposition."
Dawn	Probably it was the British accent working for her, which always soothed Dawn. Blame Giles. Also, not being the obnoxious one looking around like this was a sub-standard Motel 6. But Dawn found herself thawing a little. "No, I get it. You guys are kind of refugees." She took an Oreo, nibbling it, then finally held out hand, after wiping off crumbs. "Dawn Summers. Aspiring Watcher. Sister of Buffy the Vampire Slayer."
Annabelle	Annabelle really didn't like Oreos (maybe it was blasphemy of a sort but the cream filling wasn't to her taste), but she couldn't help casting a look toward them anyway. "Annabelle," she supplied, taking the proffered hand in a delicate grip and giving it a light shake. "Potential Slayer... but of course we've been over that." Her smile was a little shaky. "I wanted to be an anthropologist, actually." Still did, but that seemed like a far-off prospect now.
Dawn	"Cool." Dawn's expression lightened a little more, and she nodded. "Languages are my thing, but anthropology's pretty awesome too." She'd noted the past tense there, and maybe it was having heard Buffy rail about what she wanted to be so often, but she said, "You still could be, you know. I mean, one in a million shot you get Chosen. You can still be Lara Croft." More nibbling, and finally, "Do you want something to eat? Maybe a banana-and-pepper quesadilla?"
Annabelle	The Lara Croft reference, sadly, went over Annabelle's head, but she got the gist of the sentiment and ducked her head; she'd have laughed, but she didn't think she could manage it right now. "Yes... my odds are good if you put it that way, I suppose," she allowed, but it was hard to make that look optimistic at the moment. If she ever got back to her studies, if they could stop this, if if if. "...banana and what?"
Dawn	"Totally good. Plus, Buffy's not dying again, and Faith's so totally out of touch from anything that would want to waste her skanky butt, so yeah, you'll be way too old to be Chosen, I swear." She better be. Dawn was not losing her sister again. Not not not. The Universe had been informed. And if she could reassure new British Chick -- Annabelle -- while she reassured herself, where was the harm? "Pepper! It's supposed to be either banana," Dawn was already moving to the fridge, getting out the cream cheese and the peppers. "Or banana peppers. I think that together they make a taste explosion that Emeril would love. You've had quesadillas before, right?"
Annabelle	"Of course," Annabelle replied quickly, although there was the whole detail where Mexican food, British style, was a little... dubious. "But I've never heard of banana-and-pepper ones before."
Dawn	"They're my own invention," Dawn said proudly, getting the tortillas out of the pantry, as well as the bananas. "You have to experiment! Otherwise you'll eat boring food forever." She smiled at Annabelle, and handed over a knife. "You want to help?" It was funny. For once, someone was more scared than she was. Even if Annabelle was a Potential, this was all way new to her.
Annabelle	She was British, Dawn. This might be a huge shock to her system. Actually, it probably would be no matter what. Still, Annabelle nodded and took the knife; maybe something to calm her nerves would help. "Thanks," she said simply.
Dawn	It would serve Giles right if Dawn permanently corrupted a Potential and fellow Brit to her way of food. Or accidentally knocked her out. "It'll be okay. You're safe now," Dawn said, just putting that out there, like it wasn't any big thing. "So! First we wash and chop the peppers into strips, and then we puree the bananas with the cream cheese, and *then* we decide if we want to go with tabasco or no-tabasco. Me, I love it, but this is your first time, soooo..."
Annabelle	Annabelle could have been horrified, but under the circumstances she opted for amusement; there was too much to be horrified about. "As long as there's no meat," she ventured with a tiny laugh, "I'll give it a try." Which did not guarantee her devouring everything on her plate, but it was only polite.
Dawn	"Vegetarian or vegan?" Dawn asked, and pulled out the honey. "Either is cool. More meat for us. Especially me and Xander." Then she sang under her breath, "~Come Mr. Talley-man and tally me banaaaanaaaas," as she fed them to the mixer. Whirrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr!
Annabelle	Annabelle would live to regret this, wouldn't she? Well, that was the thing. She hoped she would. "Just vegetarian," she assured Dawn, then jumped in with a soft chorus of "Daylight come and I want to go home." She had a good singing voice, as it turned out, even if it was a little shaky from nerves. The song choice was... much more poignant than expected.
Dawn	"~Lift six foot seven foot eight foot bunch!~" Dawn sang, then with Annabelle, "~Daylight come, and I want to go home~..." Well, Dawn was eating as she prepared it, so clearly, Annabelle should too, since she was pushing pepper slices at her even as she wrapped them in the tortillas. And banana slices. Then adding the cream cheese to the blender. However it turned out, she wouldn't starve. "Daaaayo. DAAAAAAYO." C'mon, try to be sad singing that at the top of your lungs. "DAYLIGHT COME, WE SLAY AND GO HOME."

***

Molly and Annabelle were up before sunrise the next morning, thanks to the wonder that was timezone differences; it wasn't that much of a difference for Kennedy but even if she hadn't been too keyed up to get much sleep in the first place she'd have been up by this hour anyway. None of them had any compunction about raiding the kitchen for breakfast, and Kennedy managed to make a pot of coffee with only a minor spilled-grounds disaster.

"She hasn't come back yet," Annabelle said over the clatter of spoons in cereal bowls, a touch of strain leaking into her otherwise reserved voice.

"Who, Buffy?" Kennedy asked, though she managed to bite back the What are you, new? that sprang to mind; so maybe she was a little cranky. She'd wanted to go along and been shot down, and did nobody get that they could actually help here? "She's probably having a big ol' vamp-dusting night or something. I mean, hello, extra-jumbo-sized pack of evil and everything, right? That is why we're here?"

Annabelle nodded, but nervously. If the girl had been anyone else but a Potential Slayer Kennedy might have felt worse about it, but seriously, wasn't this the sort of stuff they'd been training for?

"Yeah, buck up, Annie," Molly put in. "It's barely sunup now."

Kennedy nodded. "She takes the job seriously, right? I mean, that's good." Okay, so she sounded a little like a fangirl there.

Annabelle, seeing the opportunity to seize on something less worrisome, muffled a giggle. "Sounds as if someone's got a crush."

"Tchah, as if," scoffed Kennedy. "On Buffy? So not my type."

Molly sidled over to Annabelle and made a show of smirking at Kennedy. Fully intent on leaping aboard the distracty-gossip train, she cheerfully blustered right on in. "But your new roommate is, right?"

Kennedy snorted and waved her spoon at them. "Maybe, yeah. Shut up. It's a thing." A thing that had... maybe sort of started like three years ago, but why explain that now? Explaining Fandom wasn't working very well so far. "Hey, you keep yourselves occupied your way, I'll go with mine."

For a few moments it was almost a nice, normal (relatively) scene, vaguely like mooching food out of a common room. Then Buffy walked in, beat up all to hell, with news that there was some kind of ancient and superpowerful "vampire that vampires fear," and thanks for the Watchery melodramatics, Giles, and no, she hadn't kicked its ass.

That was bad enough; hearing her tell them to sit tight and wait it out? That part just knocked a little of the fangirl shine right off of Kennedy's opinion.

[[part 2 of 3. thanks again to my rocking cast. featured in this bit: wesleynotponcy as notagoodwatcher, icecoldfrost as children4cash, needsaparrot as xander and andrew, willbedone, and regretiz4suckas as inthekeyofme, all of whom made this more awesome than i hoped for. i keep typing this out because these usernames bring me joy. again spindled, folded, and slightly mutilated from btvs 7x10, "bring on the night," nfi, nfb, ooc okay.]]