Author's Chapter Notes:
Most definitely AU-ish, set in the twisted time line that is the Grundy ‘verse. The second story in a three story arc, this picks up three weeks after The Grundy Affair.
Disclosure: I own nothing-Joss owns all

As always, a heartfelt thanks to my beta EnigmaticBlues.
Chapter 1- Sittin’ on the Dock of the Bay


Sunnydale
almost any night of the week


Sucking in a deep breath, the Slayer took aim and delivered a powerful roundhouse kick as high as she could reach. Her well shod foot landed squarely on the lower portion of the enormous demon’s stomach. It remained firmly rooted in place while the recoil shot her back several feet.

Wincing, she recovered quickly. Okay, so I didn’t stick my landing, but let’s see Carly Patterson do any better in a foot of California mud wearing three inch heels.

“Hey you, up there in the stratosphere. Did you happen to notice the unusual shade of blue in this skirt? It took me three mall crawls to find matching shoes.” The Slayer wagged her finger at the monolith. “So consider these sandals a no damage zone while I kill you.”

Silently perplexed, the demon stared down at the small feisty creature with its hands on its hips.

Buffy decided right then and there that she really, really hated demons that were over nine feet of rock hard muscle and incredibly stupid to boot. The darn thing didn’t even seem to realize it was under attack and that was just so annoying.

I bet he messes up my shoes anyway.

Resembling the Empire State Building, the concrete gray demon was broad at the base, tapering slowly toward the pinnacle, a narrow head topped with two large, very blank red eyes. Looking up, Buffy expected to see a roaring King Kong clinging to one ear and a zeppelin moored to the other, although in between them both she already knew not one single neuron fired.

“I’ll bet when you take an intelligence test it comes back negative.”

Still receiving no response, she clenched her fist and shook it at the demon’s navel. “Just wait until I find my knife. They’ll have to put out caution signs, you’ll be so demolished!”

Taking advantage of the accidental confusion caused by the triple threat of snappy kick, shaking fist and not quite pithy quip, she quickly scanned the ground around her feet. Nada.

The Slayer had been on her way to Spike’s crypt, when the demon materialized out of Restfield’s tree line, although Buffy would have sworn it was thin air, carrying an armload of moldy bones. Deep in patrol planning mode, the enormous demon was suddenly standing right in front of her. Startled, she’d tripped over a tree root and accidentally flung her knife. Definitely not one of her more shining Slayer moments.

Muttering under her breath about the injustice wrought by enormous, yet seriously quiet demons, Buffy warily watched the behemoth and stepped up the errant knife search. She knew the way her luck was going the landmark impression portion of the evening would end soon and the moving to kill a Slayer portion would be taking its place.

The demon finally blinked. Dropping the armload of stolen bones, it raised a trunk-like arm to squash the brassed off blonde in the indigo mini skirt.

Uh oh.

Cutting her eyes to the side, Buffy noticed a slight glint in the moonlight. It was the handle of her dagger, nearly buried amid the fallen leaves and mud. Darn Slayer strength. It’s at least a foot away. Warily watching the demon, she inched sideways.

The building sized demon, now firmly ensconced on the clue train, matched her move for move, while making a fist the size of some European cars. Buffy was about to do the Pilates bend! and really, really stretch! when she heard a familiar British accent shouting from somewhere over her right shoulder.

“Slayer, incoming!! F-B!! Duck!!”

Grimacing over the now probable ruin of both shoes and skirt, she dropped to the muddy ground. A fireball flew over her, landing with pinpoint accuracy on the top of Landmark’s head.

Grunting at the impact, the demon backed up, patting ineffectually at sizzling skin while red eyes blinked in confusion. Buffy surmised in all its previous experiences fireballs had never rained from the sky to impede enemy mashing.

Welcome to the Hellmouth, where anything’s possible. She felt like sticking out her tongue, but instead leaped to her feet. “My turn.”

Scooping up the serrated knife, she plunged it into Landmark’s stomach and twisted. Doubling over, the demon clutched its midsection as black blood poured from the wound.

Wrinkling her nose at the combined stench of blood and burning skin, the Slayer efficiently decapitated her annoying nemesis. “See? I said you’d be demolished.”

After kicking dirt over the flaming head she turned around to see Spike and Empress walking toward her, wearing identically smug expressions. Darn. Buffy knew they must have seen her searching for the lost knife; they both had annoyingly excellent night vision. She sighed.

Now we bring you the smirking, smart ass comments portion of the evening.

Making an executive decision to cut said comments off at the knees, Buffy went on the offensive instead. “F-B? What, Spike, now it’s too much effort to say the entire word ‘fireball’? You shorten an important word like that and somebody won’t have a clue what’s going on, they’ll get fried and it’ll be all your fault.”

Spike came to a stop next to the muddied Slayer. Well aware of the reason for the preemptive strike, he coolly cocked an eyebrow. “Number one, you were the only ‘somebody’ involved, and unless you’re tellin’ me you’re clueless about somethin’ we’ve practiced at least fifteen times, that argument won’t fly. Number two, that little gem would be Red’s latest daft idea, not mine. She thinks it takes too much time during a fight, or a search, so she’s tryin’ shortcuts for Empress’ fight commands.”

They both looked down at the Grundy standing next to Spike. Empress caught the look and wagged her tail. Glancing around, she chose a dry spot and plopped down on her haunches. She began to pant, forked tongue nearly touching the ground. Summer was in full swing and the furry demon felt it the most. Having heard the entire exchange, she shook her head at them and winked, causing them both to break out in grins.

Buffy turned back to Spike. “I’ll talk to Willow. That’s got to go, it’s ridiculous. It sounds like a kindergartener’s song.” Shaking her head at one of her best friend’s odder ideas, Buffy parodied a child’s sing-song voice. “Now I know my FBC’s…”

“Won’t you be afraid of me,” Spike contributed, not missing a beat.

Buffy chuckled, acknowledging the quip. “What, you watch the Muppets now?”

“I don’t think that’s ever been on the Muppets, pet.” The vamp waxed poetic. “But they are bloody fantastic, aren’t they? Especially Oscar. He doesn’t take shit from any of those poncy ones. He’s his own Muppet.”

“You’re a fan of Oscar? Isn’t he the one with the ‘tude who lives in a garbage can? Oh wait, now I see the connection.” She smirked at his eye roll. “I would have pegged you as the Count’s fanboy.”

Spike snorted. “That berk? He’s a worse stereotype than Dracula. But I’d give a month’s poker winnings for this.” Spike adopted a terrible Transylvanian accent and struck a B movie pose.

“Von bag of blud, two bags of blud, three bags of blud. Oops, now we have zero bags of blud. Then he’d wipe his mouth with that little cloth hand and smile.”

Losing it completely over Spike’s horrible accent and the hilarious image he’d presented, it took a moment before Buffy could continue. She wiped her eyes. “Okay, so how does a really old vampire know a modern kid’s alphabet song? I mean, you were a kid when they still wrote hieroglyphics on papyrus, right?”

“Actually, Summers, that would have been a couple thousand years ago in Egypt, not Great Britain.”

“Oh yeah, Great Britain is the one with the much more recently lost empire.”

Spike glanced around pointedly. “Yeah, well, some things probably needed losin’.”

Chuckling at Spike’s sudden bout of nationalistic pride, Buffy immediately sobered when she noticed a shadow cross the vamp’s face.

“I know all kinds of children’s songs and rhymes because of Dru. She always did like the little ones.”

Buffy held up a hand and spoke in a kinder voice than Spike expected after that bit of misplaced honesty. “Let’s not go there. Even though I brought up the subject, I think any convo that includes either your ex or mine teeters close to the brink of TMI.”

Relieved, he nodded and changed the subject back again. “So Slayer, you being one of those ‘modern kids’ maybe you can explain something I’ve always wondered about. What’s with all that up the water spout nonsense? Why doesn’t the itsy bitsy spider just build a normal bleedin’ web at the bottom and stay in it?”

Buffy blinked. The stuff that goes through that vamp’s head. Although… “Now that you mention it, that spider does act pretty strange. Hey, I bet it’s a nursery rhyme based on a demonic spider. It was probably trying to break into someone’s house to kill them and then became a nursery rhyme, like that ‘ring around the rosy’ thing.”

“That was such a Buffy Summers thing to say. I think you’ve got a one track mind, Slayer.”

At the vamp’s amused look at her perfectly plausible theory, Buffy shrugged. “Ask a Slayer, get a Slayer answer. Why, don’t you think it’s possible?”

“Actually, pet, I’ve always thought it was probably sexual innuendo, all that up and down, the water rushing out of the spout…”

“Talk about a one track mind. That was such a male thing to say.”

“Well, ask a male….”

Still listening to his laughter- Spike really did have a great laugh- Buffy reached down to scratch the Grundy’s ears. Empress was listening to the conversation with what appeared to be a grin across her muzzle. Buffy loved her expressive face; it was one of her best qualities. After the fireball that had just saved her bacon, of course.

“Empress, that was really impressive. You clocked him perfectly. Thank you.”

The Grundy wagged her tail again and held her head up proudly. Willow, Spike and Buffy had practiced with her a lot and she’d finally mastered pinpoint accuracy in her long range attack. Nearly grown now and with all her demonic aspects at full power, Empress had become a formidable ally during evening patrols. The local demons kept a wary eye not only on Buffy and Spike, but the fierce, protective Grundy who always followed at their heels.

Spike watched the Slayer fondly scratching the Grundy’s ears for a moment and an odd lump formed in his throat. Even with the joking around, it had just been good luck that he and Empress had shown up when they did. Swallowing the lump, Spike prodded the blackened head with the toe of his Doc Marten. “So Slayer, what do you want to do with this rapidly ripening Slowshoo demon?”

“So that’s what it is? It’s so sneaky it ought to be called soft shoe demon.” Buffy disgustedly eyed the mammoth body and accompanying severed head. “Let’s drag it father into the trees, we’ll come back later and bury it. I really came to get you guys early for a reason. Giles wants to see us at the Magic Box before patrol. He called and left a message.”

Hiding the Slowshoo from all the innocents that roamed through the graveyard late at night- Yeah, right, innocents. Why do I even bother?- Buffy headed for the north exit. Spike and the Grundy fell in step beside her.

He lit a cigarette before asking, “What does Rupes want?”

“No clue, but at least it’ll be a few minutes of air conditioning.”

Padding along beside Spike, the Grundy heard air conditioning and crooned her approval. She liked air conditioning a lot. She also heard Magic Box and drooled. Her humans there kept a ready supply of tasty wooden Goddesses for treats. Empress picked up the pace, prodding her fighting partners to walk faster. She’d worked up an appetite with her perfect assault and wanted a snack. Maybe she could turn on the charm and finagle two. If not, there were always plenty of pillar candles stacked within easy reach.





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