Grip grunted loudly as he was slammed against a marble headstone. Thoroughly winded, he slumped to the ground and was just beginning to regain his bearings when a heavy boot lashed out, aimed directly at his stomach. But Grip had seen the attack coming and was able to curve with the impact. Consequently, the blow didn't hurt quite as much as it might, but was nonetheless painful. The boot prepared for a repeat trip, and this time, Grip was able to avoid it altogether by a desperate body roll. He was trying to scramble to his feet when a hand reached out and snatched a fistful of tee-shirt. Suddenly, Grip found himself staring into the cold and lividly yellow eyes of a vampire. The sound that burst from Grip's throat was almost primal, a gut reaction born from coming face-to-face with something that logically should never exist. Acting wholly on instinct, he landed a solid uppercut to the vampire's jaw. The vampire was rocked back, but its hold on Grip didn't falter. What was more, the vampire was grinning, relishing in the idea of prey fighting back.

But the glee was short-lived. With a high-pitched shriek, probably intended to be a battle cry, Dawn leapt on the vampire's back and began to rain punches on the top of his head. She inflicted little real damage, but the whole affair was agonizingly annoying. Flinging Grip to one side, he scrabbled at his back, trying to extract Dawn from his person.

Landing on the ground in a heap, Grip shook his head in an attempt to clear both mind and vision. Seeing the vampire flailing to get a hold on Dawn, Grip didn't hesitate. He covered the distance rapidly with his lengthy stride and, mustering every ounce of strength, struck the monster across the chin with a double-fisted blow.

The end result was a vampire with a split lip - and one who was now even more pissed off than before. Grip realized that this was far from a good situation, but he wasted no time in capitalizing on his perceived advantage. He tried to duplicate the move, but this time, the vampire was ready for him. Just as Grip swung, leaving himself exposed and vulnerable, the vampire lashed out at Grip's already injured midsection.

Once again, Grip found himself on intimate terms with graveyard soil. Temporarily out of commission, he was helpless to assist Dawn, who was now screaming in both fear and frustration as the vampire grabbed her by the hair, wrenching her roughly from atop his shoulders. He made ready to kill, lips drawn back in a snarl to reveal wickedly honed fangs, but he lingered too long in pleasurable anticipation.

Launching a flying tackle that would have made any college quarterback proud, Grip plowed into the vampire's legs and they all tumbled to the ground in a heap. Recovering quickly, Dawn immediately perched on the vampire's chest, doing her best to pin him down in a move she had likely picked up from her training sessions with Kennedy. There was a thrashing flurry of limbs, but for the moment Dawn had leverage.

"Grip, the stake!" she shouted, barely managing to contain the vampire. "Get a stake!"

For a brief second, it seemed that Grip didn't understand, but then something clicked and he began scouring his surroundings as rapidly as possible for one of the fallen weapons.

"Stake, stake, stake, stake," he chanted in something of a panicked mantra. Then, his eyes glittered as he spotted one of the pointed sticks. Hurriedly, he scooped it up with a triumphant, "Stake!"

In his rush to get back to Dawn, who in danger of losing her advantage at any moment, he failed to notice a second vampire emerge from behind a crypt. The vampire didn’t miss a beat in engaging in hot pursuit. Dawn's eyes opened wide in terror as she screamed, almost drowning out Grip's cry of pain and surprise.

There was no screaming at the campsite. No pain, no surprise. There was, in fact, no sound at all. No terrifying howls, no clash of weapons, not even a hint of labored breathing. Everything seemed entirely normal, save perhaps for the unmoving body of the giant monster sprawled just inches from where it had appeared. One tent pole, slightly used, was sticking out of its chest at an angle that could only be described as "uncomfortable". This, coupled with the tattered remains of blue tarpaulin in Faith's hands, were the only signs that a battle may have taken place.

The Scoobies had gathered around the head of the beast, peering down at it with mild wonder.

Buffy tilted her head first to one side and then the other, her bangs dangling in her face. "That," she finally decided, "was so disappointing."

Faith gave a somber nod. "It was like goin' out with a body builder," she said, trying unsuccessfully to push her hair back out of her face. "You see a lot of promisin' stuff, but when you get right down to it? Zero bang for your buck."

She shook her head ruefully, heedless of the stares she was now receiving from everyone, even semi-intoxicated Tara. But the allure of the creature was too strong, and the group returned to staring down at it, contemplating.

"He's your terrifying piece of evil, Will," stated Xander. "What's he supposed to do now?"

Willow shrugged. "I was making him up as I went along, I hadn't got that far yet."

"Bad kitty," Tara admonished with a frown.

"I almost wish you hadn't dispatched it quite so quickly," confessed Giles. "I admit curiosity as to what it might actually have done."

Xander was in complete agreement. "One push, and you might've knocked it the hell over. Then maybe you could've not used our tent as a murder weapon."

"Yes, that was my other thought," Giles mused.

Glancing away from the monster to shoot an accusatory look at Buffy, he continued, "I mean didja have to go all Bruce Jenner with our stuff?"

Buffy was unapologetic. "It was closest."

Drawing in a shuddering breath, Tara asked, "Is anybody else maybe ... maybe wondering where it came from?" She looked as though the question caused had caused her no small amount of pain.

The Scoobies immediately redirected their focus.

"Tara?" Willow asked hopefully.

Tara's response was to wince and hold her forehead as though she were fighting to keep her brain from bursting out of her skull in a very Athenian way. "Ow."

"I think she's sobering up!" Willow announced happily to the others.

"I'd like to stop now please, okay?" Tara croaked.

Xander shook his head wistfully. "Oh, the many nights I've said that."

With the initial interest now past, the group straightened and looked away from the fairly grotesque body of the dead monster.

"Tara's right," said Giles. "We need to figure out where this creature came from, and how it came about at all."

As Giles spoke, Buffy caught Faith's eye and, with her gaze, indicated a section of the woods a few yards away. Faith gave an almost imperceptible nod and, slowly and casually, began to inch her way closer.

"Let's start with what we know," began Buffy, speaking in a voice that was slightly louder than really necessary. As she spoke, she began pacing back and forth as though doing her best attention-attracting Hercule Poirot. "Willow was telling a really bad story—"

"Hey!" came an indignant cry.

"—followed by a really bad story, followed by a potentially less-bad story." Buffy spun on her heel and continued pacing. "She describes a scary monster in vivid detail, and seconds later, that monster shows up." Spin. "But that's not the really weird part."

Without warning, Faith threw the remains of the tarp into the brush and dove after it. The sounds of scuffling – and more than a little swearing - reached the Scoobies, but before they could move to investigate, Faith was on her feet once more, holding the tarp aloft like a sack.

And not just any sack. A sack full of something squirming and violently thrashing about.

"The really weird part," Buffy continued as though there has been no interruption, "is the whatever-that-is watching our every move."

Faith and the sack rejoined the group. Although somewhat muffled, from within the small swatch of tarp came a high-pitched, thoroughly nerve-grating series of sounds that seemed to be without end. That is, until Faith lashed out with her sack-free hand and, judging from the immediate lack of thrashing, managed to get her fist around whatever was inside.

Faith addressed the sack in a calm, clear voice. "Cut that out, or I squash you into paste and we try this again with one'a your buddies."

The noise cut out immediately with a squeak of "ooo!", and the bag fell silent.

With a nod to the others, Faith indicated that she was ready, and began to open the bag. Slowly, and careful to maintain her firm grip, she peeled back folds of tarp like a banana.

As she did so, Buffy decided to compound on the threat. "You saw what we did to your big friend? That was a warm-up act."

Finally the thing's head became visible. Although its body was still encased in tarp and Faith's fist, it appeared as though the short, silky russet brown fur on its head would be found all over. Starting from the ridge of its forehead and disappearing from view down its back was a raised tuft of lighter, pearly grey fur. It had heavy eyebrows of the same russet color, and beneath, a pair of beady, unblinking coal-black eyes. With these, it stared at Buffy. Buffy's expression did not change.

"Not for paste!" the little creature pleaded, clearly believing every word the Slayers had said. "Wilderkin enjoy three-dimensions!"

Its voice might have been described as "melodious", if the melody was performed by a third grade orchestra made entirely of kazoos. Tara in particular grimaced at the shrill sound and held her head again.

Willow stared with fascination. "'Wilderkin'? Is that your name?"

"Wilderkin is Wilderkin," it responded. "All are or are not."

Also peering closer, Giles suggested, "The name of their species, perhaps?"

Faith gave the creature a small shake to attract its attention. "How many'a you are there?"

It didn't answer immediately, giving the question some thought.

"Four," it finally declared.

The Scoobies exchanged a glance.

"Bring them all out here," Buffy told it.

This was clearly not such a good idea from the creature's perspective. "Wilderkin are shy to the meeting of those not of the—"

There was a slight crunching sound as Faith began to apply pressure.

"—but always we are adapting!" it finished in a strained voice.

The Wilderkin opened it mouth and another series of piercing notes, presumably its native language, spilled out. The noise was painful to everyone, though again Tara seemed to suffer the most. Had she been offered the choice of continuing to listen to the Wilderkin or putting her tongue in a vice, she would have found the decision a difficult one.

Xander was trying to shove his hands entirely into his ears to block the sound. "It's like Alvin and the Chipmunks singing Marilyn Manson!" he complained over the din.

Eventually, the horrible screeching ceased, and the Scoobies could hear the rustling of something moving in the forest. As they watched, more Wilderkin appeared. A lot more. At first glance there were at least thirty of them.

On average, the Wilderkin stood no higher than 12 inches tall. Their arms were short, ending in little padded paws with rudimentary claws that seemed to be designed more for digging than for fighting. Their large feet were visible from beneath their rotund bellies, but there was no sign of a leg to speak of. The Wilderkin appeared to go straight from torso to ankle without anything in between.

Giles peered at their captive. "I thought you said there were four of you?"

Its hands incapacitated, the Wilderkin could only use its head to point. "One," it said, indicating the closest of its kind. "Two. Three. Rest are four. Do not paste!"

Faith rolled her eyes at the plea and glared at the creature. "I'm puttin' you down now, but if you— If any'a you," she warned, addressing the entire gathering, "so much as thinks about runnin' ..." She brought the heel of her boot down hard on a nearby twig. The resulting snap echoed through the clearing, and a rumble of nervous, high-pitched chatter ran through the assembled Wilderkin.

The one in her hand nodded its head as vigorously as it could. Tentatively, Faith removed the tarp and set it down in front of its fellows.

Buffy decided to hammer the point further home. "And a little more food for thought. Do any of you know what a witch is?"

There was another rush of chatter, but Buffy didn't wait for confirmation before she looked to Willow.

In an almost detached manner, Willow extended her right palm toward the campfire. Tall tongues of dazzling orange instantly leapt from the burning wood. Her left hand hovered above the blaze, manipulating the flames with lightning speed. They swirled and danced like a reborn Phoenix with fluttering wings. Abruptly allowing her left hand to fall at her side, she threw her right arm to the heavens, stretching upward as far as she could reach. The fiery tongues immediately obeyed her silent command. Crackling with energy, the sparking darts burned brighter and brighter, higher and higher, following an invisible path that journeyed into the depths of the night sky. Without a word, Willow cast her arm back again, and the orange flames promptly returned to the kindling.

"That was awesome," Xander whispered.

"Jus' this lil' thing I do," Willow replied with a grin.

Highly impressed, the Wilderkin chatter increased tenfold. The effect for the Scoobies was like having fingernails raked over their exposed spinal cords.

Speaking loud to be heard over the din, Buffy dramatically announced, "And we've got two witches."

Willow ran her hand up and down Tara's back sympathetically. "Only the other has a teensy headache."

"So if you could maybe not make that sound again ... ever," a pained Tara managed to get out, "that would be really nice."

The noise died immediately. The threats had worked like a charm. The Wilderkin were nervous, but trying to run was the farthest thing from their minds.

Xander leaned toward his friends, speaking in a low voice from the corner of his mouth. "So we've managed to scare the crap out of 'em, what now?"

Giles spoke out first. "I assume that this-" he gestured to the monster that still lay dead a short distance away, "was your doing?"

There was another burst of chatter from the Wilderkin, though this time in their slightly less shrill English. For the most part, the sound was pure chaos, with each individual speaking over the others. But occasionally, a few voices seemed to ring out louder and more clearly than the rest.

"Very proud!" cried one Wilderkin.

"Masterpiece!" shouted another.

"Nice, yes?" asked the one that had been captured. It seemed to have become the de facto leader of the group, surely due to its wealth of experience in dealing with the Scoobies.

"Not how I'd put it," Xander replied with distaste. He sniffed and wrinkled his nose. "And I think it's starting to smell."

The Wilderkin all spoke at once again, and the monster carcass faded away. The tent pole that had been lodged in its chest fell to the ground, still bent, but blood-free.

Buffy shook her head, still not fully understanding. "Why? Why go through all that?"

"Interlopers!" squeaked a voice from the chittering crowd.

"Wilderkin here first!" a second protested.

"There goes neighborhood!" groaned a third.

"Wilderkin live here," the leader told them. "Nice area. Lots of trees for nesting and very conveniently located. Peaceful is Wilderkin way." His bushy eyebrows furrowed in anger. "Except for sparrows."

"Horrible things!"

"Nasty beasts!"

The leader continued. "Always there are Wilderkin. Then there is big magick too. Magick in forest, forest for Wilderkin, magick for Wilderkin!"

"Saw it first!"

"Get your own!"

"More and more not-Wilderkin come. Wilderkin patient. Wait for time when only Wilderkin again. Wait and wait and wait!"

"Patience eternal!"

"Move on already!"

"Wilderkin tired of waiting. Leaving they not, leaving Wilderkin make!" At this proclamation, the gathered Wilderkin let out a rousing cheer. The leader spread his stumpy little paws wide and pressed on. "But not-Wilderkin big. How with the making?"

"Listening a skill."

"Wilderkin fast learners."

"Not-Wilderkin deeply stupid," the leader said with a mournful shake of his head. "If only with listening patience, not-Wilderkin tell Wilderkin of fear! Get to making of the fear, not-Wilderkin go leaving!"

"Run run run!"

"Bye big stupids!"

Buffy's voice rose above the excited chatter, and the crowd fell silent. "Wait, wait, so you've done this before?"

"Many many."

"Good riddance!"

"Though work not with sparrows."

"Nasty beasts!"

Up to this point, Willow had seemed entranced by the furry little creatures, but something seemed to click and an expression of dread filled her features. "That must be what we've been hearing," she said slowly, turning to her friends. "With the ... the screaming, a-and the ... chainsaws."

Xander blanched. "Oh god."

Faith whirled on the Wilderkin, only a hair's breadth away from making good on her earlier threats. "How many people've you psychotic little hamsters killed?"

As a group, the Wilderkin looked aghast at the suggestion.

"Wilderkin not for killing!"

"Wilderkin for leaving!"

"Killing big others bring more big others!" the leader hastened to explain. "Antithesis, yes? Fear outside, hollow inside."

"All flash."

"No substance."

"It makes sense ... in a sort of broken grammatical way," Tara said. She looked at the Wilderkin with a critical eye. "I- I really don't think they've hurt anyone."

The Wilderkin all agreed with that observation most emphatically. Although some nodded while others shook their heads, the overall message of complete agreement still managed to come through.

Buffy sighed and relaxed a little. "Still, this has gotta stop, before someone does get hurt." Addressing the creatures she said, "Look, you can't keep doing that, okay? The big fear thing."

The gathering was immediately up in arms.

"But Wilderkin here first!"

"Wilderkin home!"

"I know, I know," Buffy tried to soothe, "but ..."

At a loss for what to say to the now highly agitated Wilderkin, she looked around for help.

Xander stepped forward and put on his Understanding Guy voice. "I get where you're comin' from, I really do. But people are people, and they're gonna keep comin' here whether you want 'em to or not. Eventually someone's gonna be more interested than scared, and when they find you ..." He grimaced dramatically. "Well, I think paste will be the least of your worries."

In a flash, the situation was diffused, and Wilderkin went from angry back to nervous again.

"Perhaps we can arrange a deal?" Giles tentatively offered. "Compensation of some sort for your inconvenience."

This seemed to be of great interest, and at once the Wilderkin exploded with a flurry of unintelligible suggestions.

Finally, the leader spoke. "Remove sparrows?"

"Show them boss!"

"Nasty beasts!"

"I-I'm pretty sure we can't de-sparrow an entire forest," Willow replied reluctantly.

The Wilderkin seemed disappointed at this news, but returned to their discussions with much fervor until another suggestion was reached.

"Fresh virgin every moon?" the leader asked hopefully.

"Great delicacy!"

"Healthy and satisfying!"

Giles immediately whipped off his glasses. "Good lord."

"Oh that is so not gonna happen," Buffy told them with a note of finality.

The Wilderkin huddled once more.

"An' you ain't gettin' animals neither," Faith called out.

A sound much like "aww" ran through the gathered Wilderkin, but they continued to chitter amongst themselves. Similarly, the Scoobies inched closer together and began speaking in low voices.

"Are we sure this is a good idea?" questioned Buffy.

Tara gave a little shrug. "Do we really have another choice?"

"Our options seem limited," said Giles. "We can either attempt to control their behavior, or- or consider them a threat and remove them entirely."

"And given how big these woods are, we could be huntin' for a year and still not catch 'em all," Xander pointed out. "Pokemon they are not."

Checking over her shoulder to make sure the Wilderkin were still busy, Willow nodded. "I think we scared 'em pretty good. If we can come up with something here that doesn't involve blood or icky fluids in any way, I think it's the best choice for everyone."

As the Wilderkin buzz began to die down, the Scoobies separated.

"If virgin is cannot then Wilderkin seek next best," announced the leader. He paused for dramatic effect. "Chocolate."

The creatures once more burst forth with burbles of pure excitement.

"Chocolate!"

"Chocolate!"

"Good chocolate!"

"Not Hersheys!"

"Ptooie!"

"Best chocolate!"

"Godiva!"

As soon as the suggestion had been made, the Wilderkin seemed to finally be on the same page. Every of them began squeaking "Godiva!" over and over, although since each had its own particular rhythm, the whole thing was just one chaotic mess.

When the initial wave had died down, the leader drew himself up to his full 12-inch height and addressed the Scoobies with a proud tilt to his chin.

"Wilderkin demand Godiva assortment box—"

"Good size!"

"Not four-piece crap!"

"—every moon, to be left on great stump!"

Buffy did her best to hide a smirk at the absurdly semi-serious turn the proceedings seemed to have taken. "And in return...?"

"In return," the leader dutifully replied, "Wilderkin making not big fear. Non-Wilderkin welcome. Non-Wilderkin may borrow Wilderkin home."

"Except sparrows!"

"Nasty beasts!"

Xander shook his head. "Sucks to be a sparrow."

Bending down, Buffy extended her index finger to the Wilderkin leader, who shook it. The deal now set, the Wilderkin burst into a cacophony of cheers in their natural language, much to everyone else's distress. Especially Tara's.

"That's nice," she groaned, trying vainly to shuffle away from the pain. "I'll just go over here. And die. Again."

The graveyard was quiet. The battle was done. To the victors go the spoils of war. And Dawn and Grip certainly looked like they'd could do with a bit of spoiling. Both seemed utterly exhausted as they slumped, shoulder-to-shoulder, against the side wall of a crypt. Dawn sported a nasty gash across her forehead, standing out among the other assorted cuts and scrapes. Grip had the beginnings of a spectacular shiner and a purple bruise was starting to blossom on his jaw. Whenever he inhaled, he couldn't help but wince a little. Both stared straight ahead as their breathing gradually became easier. Grip looked down at his disheveled appearance and with one hand, pulled on the torn fabric of his tee-shirt. A plume of dust immediately spiraled into the air. Grip sneezed and then coughed.

"So that's the remains of a living thing that became a dead thing that became an animated dead thing and is now a REALLY dead thing," he said wearily.

Dawn nodded. "That pretty much sums it up."

"I think I can safely say that this is the most disgusting thing I've ever had on me. And I was not a tidy baby."

Rolling her head to the side, Dawn looked into Grip's face.

"Do you believe me now?"

Grip didn't return her gaze. Instead, he seriously regarded his tattered shirt.

"They were either vampires or the world's most sinister dust bunnies," he joked tiredly before turning to Dawn. He stared into her eyes.

"I believe you."

The statement should have been cause for celebration, but Grip seemed to withdraw into himself and went back to examining his tee-shirt. Dawn's hopeful expression faded to be replaced by one of sadness. She lowered her head and nodded her understanding.

"I left the house tonight thinking that if we just sat down and talked, you'd tell me the truth and everything would be alright," Grip told her. "I guess I kept thinking you were making up these ... these stories because you didn't trust me enough to tell me what was really going on." He sighed. "Turns out, you weren't the one not doing enough trusting."

He blinked several times, seeming utterly overwhelmed by the whole experience. Dawn held her tongue, and her breath, as she waited for him to continue. She was afraid for what he would say next, but knew he had to say it.

"Monsters are real." He allowed that to sink in as he stared at the stars. "Your sister's a Slayer." He mulled that over for a bit and then took a deep breath for the hardest reality of all. "You're the Key."

He fell silent. Dawn waited patiently, but it was impossible to tell if Grip planned to add anything.

Eventually, she broke the awkward hush. "That's true," she acknowledged gently. "And there's still a whole lot more scary stuff in the world. There's magick. Hellmouths. Demons that make you sing. It's ..." A rueful smile crossed her lips. "That's part of my life."

She studied Grip's expression but there was no visible reaction to her words.

"But there's this whole other part, you know? Where I'm a senior in high school, worried about SATs, application essays, and not wearing last week's shoes. And ... And you put both of those parts together and that's me." She spread out her arms. "That's Dawn."

Still Grip didn't respond, lost deep in thought.

"I'm sort of a package deal," Dawn said tentatively. "I don't want to give you just half a Dawn."

The silence between them took on a life of its own. There was nothing more Dawn could say or do. It was all up to Grip now.

"I don't want half a Dawn either," he agreed. "I'm an all or nothing kind of guy. Give me a bag of Lays, and I really can't eat just one. I've gotta have it all." Seriously, he regarded her face, tenderly running a finger along the gash marring her forehead. "But that part of you. The Key part. It scares the hell out of me. I don't know if I can deal."

He quickly withdrew his hand and gazed into the distance. Dawn's face, her entire body, seemed to fall, collapsing under the weight of a grief she was just beginning to feel.

"So I was thinking maybe dinner and a movie, and I'll start finding out," he casually suggested.

Dawn stopped collapsing. Had she heard correctly? She turned to Grip, and saw that he was smiling at her.

"Dinner and a movie," she repeated, still not trusting her own ears. "With me."

"I've already had a lot or practice dealing with MY parts," he stated with a shrug. "I'm pretty sure I can swing that one by now."

Dawn's face broke into a huge grin and the pair started to get to their feet. It was a struggle, but eventually, they helped each other to stand. Side-by-side, they walked toward the cemetery gates. Reaching out, Grip took Dawn's hand. She looked down and her face lit up even more to see their fingers intertwined.

"No horror movies though," Grip declared. "I'm thinking something starring someone who used to be funny when they were on 'Saturday Night Live'."

Dawn was only too happy to agree. "Sounds like a plan."

Their clasped hands swinging between them, they continued walking. Neither spoke for a moment and then Grip ruffled his hair.

"Demons that make you sing?"

"It's a long story," chuckled Dawn.

Grip smiled. "My favorite kind."

"You like your job, right?"

"Yah, totally!"

"And the people? The campers who come up here?"

"Absolutely! Especially the ones that give me candy."

"Funny you should mention candy ..."

The figure continued to proceed cautiously and warily through the undergrowth, moving aside every branch with great care. Each step was placed gingerly – left then right, left then right. There was a distinct air of nervousness and uncertainty, but progress was steady and sure. The moonlight cast a golden glow upon an item held with much respect beneath one arm.

"What am I doin' with this again?"

"Perhaps you'd best write it down for him in crayon."

The Ranger checked the package under his arm to make sure it was safe and secure. He pushed aside a tangle of branches to reveal a small clearing. In the center was a large tree stump, ancient and gnarled. Moss clung to its base and mushrooms nestled in every damp crevice. Despite that fact that the tree itself was long gone, there was still something majestic about what it had left behind, all that remained of its legacy.

"The same day, every month. No exceptions. This is so important, you can't forget."

"Aw, I won't forget! An' if I get confused, I got this pretty note right there! Thanks, mister!"

"My pleasure, I'm sure."

The Ranger stepped into the open area, scoping out the surroundings, but there was no sign of anything at all.

"Okay, I think I got it. But, ah ... why?"

While still looking around, the Ranger reverently placed his precious golden box on the tree stump and tilted his head to better see the embossed image decorating the lid – a lady riding a horse.

"Because there are little men in the forest who will scare everyone away if they don't get chocolate."

"Oh."

Continuing to be on the alert for a sign of something – anything – the Ranger slowly backed away from the stump. But there was nothing to be seen. Giving one final look, he shrugged, turned and began to walk into the forest.

From behind, came the distinct rustling of movement, followed by a high-pitched noise that sounded like several tiny voices raised in joyful celebration. There were hearty cheers of, "Godiva!" "Godiva!"

Stopping, he peered through the foliage into the clearing and a crooked smile crossed his face.

"Coooool," he murmured softly.

The Scoobies were in the process of making their way back to the campsite.

"It's been a productive day," stated Willow with much satisfaction. "Got some fresh air, ate a marshmallow, killed a monster, orchestrated lasting peace ... I feel good."

"That makes one of us," groaned Tara piteously, a cloth pressed to her forehead.

"Aw," commiserated Willow, rubbing Tara's arm.

"If I'd known camping was this much fun," said Faith with enthusiasm, "I'd'a gone years ago."

Giles wearily massaged the back of his neck as they arrived at their designated clearing.

"Well I for one wouldn't mind a little more relaxation in my relaxation," he sighed.

There was a collective murmur of tired agreement and it appeared that the intrepid campers were about to split into their respective tent assignments. But Xander had other ideas.

"Wait, wait, wait, we can't sleep yet."

Five pairs of eyes regarded him blearily.

"Not everyone's told a story," he chastised before turning expectantly. "Buff?"

Buffy opened her mouth and promptly closed it again with a shake of her head.

"Nah."

"Come on," urged Xander, tossing the last of the kindling into the fire. It spluttered for a moment and then caught in a nice cozy blaze. "I know you have one you're just dying to tell."

Still Buffy declined. "It's been too long now," she said. "Nobody cares about hearing my stupid old story anymore."

Eyes sparkling, Willow plopped herself down next to Xander. "Well I do!" she announced with enthusiasm.

Giles also took a seat. "I'm always up for a good tale," he said cheerily.

Tara joined them, sinking slowly to the ground. "And I missed half of them, so I'd love a story."

Faith had already claimed a prime spot in front of the fire. "Let's hear it, B."

There was a token second of hesitation. "Okay!"

Despite her earlier protestations, Buffy quickly found herself a place and promptly settled in very comfortably. She smiled happily at the undivided attention coming her way.

"It was a time of bleak darkness," she began. "The people had been waiting for so long, and it seemed the world was nothing but despair. But then, one day, something shifted, and for the first time in a long time, there was hope."

Everyone nodded and looked to each other with excitement. This was going to be good.