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Wirly-Swirly

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Summary: Phoenixes aren't the only things to rise from their own ashes.

Categories Author Rating Chapters Words Recs Reviews Hits Published Updated Complete
Anime > NarutoReallyBoredFR1819,8833173,11619 Feb 1319 Feb 13Yes
Disclaimer: Really people, by this point you ought to have figured it out--I OWN NOTHING HERE! Buffy The Vampire Slayer its settings, characters, materials, and copyrights belong to Joss Whedon and his group. Masashi Kishimoto created and owns that other beloved blond--Naruto. I OWN NOTHING HERE! AGAIN, AS A HALLOWEEN FIC, IF YOU RECOGNIZE ANYTHING IN IT, THEN REMEMBER, IT'S NOT MINE!

 

 

Ah, another Halloween fic! Can't get enough of 'em, really. This one is rather a long one-shot story. Originally, I wanted it to be a humorous short fic, with maybe a thousand words or so in it. Instead, it grew to over nine thousand with more writing on the horizon, and worse, it was starting to get maudlin, and depressing, and it just wasn't funny any more. Or much fun.

End result: I started losing interest in finishing it. I did come close to deleting the thing, but thinking about all the work I did on it, I decided to rush the end, and post it as is.

So, for those of you who decided to go ahead and give it a read anyway--Sorry about the crummy ending, and all those parts that don't quite make sense.

Well, here we go . . .

This story is a Naruto crossover. How about . . .instead of just one individual permanently affected by Halloween, how about enough people to recreate a certain clan?

 

 

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Phoenixes aren’t the only things to rise from their own ashes.

 

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Wirly-Swirly

 

 

THE REBEL FORCES

 

 

"Jeez! Not even with a disability! There goes my beautiful, once-a-year, night off! Thanks, Darth Snyder!" Buffy grumbled darkly.

"Maybe the evil Troll man would have been more sympathetic, if you'd told him you were holding a late night memorial service for your beloved dead dog?" Xander absently suggested, mentally going over the exact amount of cash he had to spare for a costume, and coming up with the dismal sorry amount of two dollars.

"Oh, yeah . . .You could have introduced us as Fido's sad, very sad, mourners," said Willow, with a small, gentle smile. She knew EXACTLY the costume she was going to be wearing--As far as Willow knew, there were no problems in that direction. So, hey, all good, right?

"Uh, 'Fido', Wils?" Xander broke out of his own depressed thoughts to stare incredulously at his best friend.

"Sure," Willow brightly confirmed. "When in doubt, go with the classics--They're classics for a reason, you know."

At that moment, suddenly, a true jolt of inspiration struck Xander--That, or some alien Power saw fit to interfere and meddle, placing foreign ideas inside a stubborn, rock hard head.

"You know . . .Why give the Troll any form of satisfaction? Why waste our money on anything but our own pleasures? You know, clothing, shoes, books, Twinkies--You know, good stuff." Xander smirked and shrugged. "Sure, we could go ahead and spend our hard earned allowances on costumes we'll likely never wear again--Or . . ."

"Or?" Buffy prompted, suspiciously.

Xander grinned wickedly. "We could make our own! What I have in mind will allow us to wear our own clothing, with only a few identifying touches to them! After a few hours, they can then be returned back to a safe, and comfortable, civilian life style!"

"Oh? Exactly who, or what, are you suggesting we go as, Xander?" Willow asked, slightly panicking. It was just that her costume was so perfect for her--Why change perfect?

"Hmmmm, remember my new Manga?" Xander purred in satisfaction.

Buffy scrunched up her nose in puzzlement. "Are you talking about those weird Japanese comic books of yours, Xander?"

"They're called Manga, Buffy!" Xander cried out in outraged shock. His eyes narrowed in displeasure. "Not comic books! Manga!"

Buffy shrugged, indifferent. "What's your point?"

Xander sighed. She was going to be difficult. "My point being that instead of going as individual characters, we can go as members of a group, a Clan to be exact. All we need to do is attach a symbol to the back of a jacket or shirt--And there we go!"

"That's all, Xander?" Willow asked, suspiciously. She was unsure of his plan. Wear her regular clothing, with only a jacket with a funny symbol on the back. Would that work?

"Well," he added, slightly sheepishly. "We are going to need a few other things . . .A few things, that by the way, Buffster, you or Giles could easily get."

"A few things?" Buffy questioned, watching Xander closely.

"Well, we need kunai--Oh, right. You don't know what those are." Xander brightened. "Those are ancient Japanese all-purpose combat knives. That's right, my dear sweet little konoichis--We're going as ninjas!"

 

SCHOOL LIBRARY, A LITTLE WHILE LATER . . .

 

"Kunai?" A puzzled Giles stared at the list he had in one hand, and an odd comic book he held in the other.

"And Shuriken, too! Don't forget them, Giles!" Buffy happily chirped.

"Um, um, correct me if-if I have anything wrong here--But-but you said that you, and Willow, and-and Xander were going as ninjas?"

"Yep!" Buffy confirmed it. "We're going as members of the Paddleball Clan!"

"Paddleball Clan?" A clearly confused Giles repeated.

"Yeah--You know, that red and white paddle thingie the clan has painted all over the place, including their clothing!" Buffy pointed to the open comic book.

Giles glanced down at the comic book in his hand, and sighed in exasperation. "Buffy . . .That's not a paddle--It's an uchiwa, a fan. They're the Uchiha Clan, not the Paddleball Clan."

The Slayer looked at him with awe. "Wow, Giles. You know Japanese?"

Giles felt a throbbing headache collecting behind his eyes. "Yes, Buffy, among a few other languages . . .Buffy, I-I'll see what I can do about the items on this list. Can you come back in a few hours?"

"Can do!" The bubbly little blond said cheerfully. "Bye Giles! See you later!"

As the door closed behind the exuberant blond, Giles closed his eyes and shuddered. He hated when his slayer decided to play Blond Bimbo. However, he could see how it could sometimes grant her an advantage. Any enemy that underestimated Buffy would likely be severely punished for that oversight--Most likely to a permanent and lethal degree.

His darker side approved of that.

Hastily dismissing those thoughts, Giles opened his eyes and stared down on the list he had been left with. He will do it, Giles suddenly decided. He will allow his children to have a small victory over the Troll. Besides, he thought, walking towards the weapons cage, if I do this, then they will leave me alone to enjoy MY Halloween night!

 

ON A SIDE STREET, NEAR ETHAN'S COSTUME SHOP . . .

 

"Oh, god! Oh, god!" Sobbed another little blond.

"Andrew! Pull yourself together, man!" Snapped an equally short brunet teenager, frantically pawing through a torn plastic bag, scooping up strips and pieces of colorful cloth and plastic. "Oh, god--This is hopeless! There's nothing here in a single piece!"

"Jonathan! We haven't got any more money to go back to Party Town, and get new costumes! What are we going to do?!" Wailed Andrew.

"Gentlemen. Is there a problem, here?"

Both teens turned their heads, and noted the tall, dark haired teenager standing with several large plastic bags in his hands, with the words 'Ethan's Costume Shop' on them.

The taller teen's Cheshire grin identified him as--"Harris. Xander Harris, right?" Jonathan questioned.

"Yep! Got that in one!" Harris's affable grin widened. "Now, want to share with good old uncle Xander what's got you guys doing a weird ragtime song and dance number?" He pointedly stared at the bag in Jonathan's hands.

The other two teens shared a misery-laden look and turned shamed eyes on Xander.

"Um, yeah, um. Well, you see, it was Larry and the rest of the talking apes." Murmured Andrew.

Xander raised an encouraging eyebrow.

Jonathan sighed in resignation, and he explained. "We had bought some really cool costumes from Party Town. We were going as Jedi--And because we were going to reuse them, we had them specially ordered." He briefly shook the bag he was holding. "They were the expensive kind, you know, the kind with the details on them and stuff . . .We saved up months for them. We finally got them today, and were walking home, when Larry and the talking apes, A. K. A., the football squad, jumped us! They didn't beat us up, like they usually do. That we could have lived with--Painful, but we would have healed." He sighed, and fisted his hands in anger. "Instead, they held us down, while--Damnit!--they ripped up our Jedi robes!"

"Laughing and mocking before, during, and after they gave back the pieces--Crap! What are we going to do, now?" Andrew grimaced, and rubbed the back of his neck in angry fustration.

"Snyder 'volunteered' us for Halloween kiddie escort duty," Jonathan admitted softly. "He expects us to be in costume. But right now, we haven't got anything--Worse yet, we spent everything we had on these costumes, so buying new ones is out of the question right now for us."

Xander's grin had turned into a snarl at the mention of Larry. With an effort, he softened and curled his lips back into a friendly smile.

"Ah, well. Maybe I can help you, gentlemen." He began rummaging in his bags. "My friends and I, for our own reasons, have decided not to buy any pre-made costumes. Instead, we've decided to--Say, do any of you know of a Manga by the title, Naruto?"

 

HALLOWEEN NIGHT, SUNNYDALE HIGH SCHOOL . . .

 

"Miss Summers, Miss Rosenburg, Mr. Harris--And I ask this in the face of eternal detention, I may add--Why aren't any of you in costumes?" Principal Snyder questioned in a dangerously soft, cold voice.

Buffy smirked. "But we are, Principal Snyder!"

All three turned around and presented their leather jacket backs with the red and white fan on it.

"I present . . .The Uchiha Clan!" Buffy gleefully crowed. "The red and white uchiwa, is a symbol of Konoha's most prestigious founding clan! And we are proud Uchiha jounin!" She pulled out a Naruto comic from inside her jacket. "If you don't believe me, you can read through this issue and see what I'm saying is true." Buffy added smugly.

Snyder gave her a sour look of disapproval, and eyed the proffered Manga in Buffy's hand, growling out. "No thank you, Summers. I see I should have been more specific in my instructions, and allowed only classic costumes."

Buffy shrugged. "Hey! I can so totally pull off the spandex look--You know, the too tight fitting, leave little to the imagination spandex? Show the kiddies what they can hopefully look forward to having in a few years!" She smiled innocently.

Snyder looked startled for a moment, before scowling--He snarled and barked out. "You have kids waiting to escort, Summers! Don't keep them waiting!" He turned on his heels and disappeared into a crowd of milling costumed students.

"Ah, Buffster . . .About the spandex?" Xander whispered hopefully.

"Not in a million years, Xander." Buffy said, smugly.

Willow giggled, as Xander sighed in disappointment.

 

THREE DAYS AFTER HALLOWEEN . . .

 

"All the little Scoobies, sitting on a tree!"

"Hey! Quit singing that, will you! First off, we're not all Scoobies--And we're not all little!"

"But we're all sitting on a tree!" Challenged the singer.

"Shut up, already!"

"No! You shut up!"

"Shut up, both of you! Don't make me have to come over there!" Buffy angrily bellowed. The baby headache she had developed earlier was growing into a howling monster--Forty-two, Buffy muttered to herself. There were forty-two members of the suddenly real Uchiha Clan in Sunnydale, California. As she had asked herself every day after the Halloween head count, how the hell had Xander managed to get thirty-nine other people to wear the Uchiha fan?

(Not that he had anything to say beyond an apologetic and unhelpful, "Um, I had extras?")

All of them either hitting seventeen, or still swimming in the sixteen years of age range. Worse, they were ALL ninjas! Naruto Universe ninjas with Sharingan eyes!

Buffy, nor any of the others, held any naïve illusions on what could--no, WOULD--happen to them if the wrong person or group found out about those pretty, spinning red eyes. Or for that matter, what they would do with a Chakra user in general. It was worse then being in the Narutoverse with those eyes--No hidden villages to seek sanctuary from, no way to hid in the general ninja population.

That was why they were meeting in a tree, in Miller's Woods--They all knew the buildings and streets of Sunnydale had too many eyes and ears for a safe conversation to take place. Well, at least as ninjas they knew that.

"Hey! Who do you think you are? What makes you think you can boss me around? And why are we meeting in a TREE like a Senju?" A disgruntled loud voice called out.

"Who am I? I am someone who can, and will, beat you to a bloody paste, and then set you on fire! I AM THE BOSS OF YOU! I JUST DON'T THINK I AM!" Buffy snarled out, barely staying in place. "And you can thank the Mayor for the damn tree--He's practically got almost all of Sunnydale wired up for surround picture and sound! Including the tunnels and caves around here!"

Beside her Willow sighed. She was getting a huge, throbbing headache from all the bickering around her. It was time to intervene. She abruptly spoke up, "All those in favor of making Buffy the Clan head, say 'Aye'"

A choppy chorus of 'Ayes' followed.

"All oppose, say 'Nay'"

Silence followed.

Willow waited a few seconds before announcing--"The 'Ayes' have it. Buffy is our Clan head. Now shut up and listen to her!"

"Thanks, Willow." Buffy said in relief. After three days, she was on the brink of tearing the idiots' heads off! Only the fact that she knew how frighten and confused they were from her own experience with the Slayer, suppressed her impulse to beat each and every single one of them senseless! She spoke up, "Okay, people, what we all have to understand now, is that thanks to that moron Ethan Raynes, we are now and forever Uchiha--The changes are irreversible. We already went through that news after the spell broke, and we found our changes continued to exist. Why? Genetics--It looks like the Uchihas, instead of being just a creation of someone's imagination, really existed. We know that our eyes can do some sweet things--Apparently, opening portals to other dimensions seem to be in their range, and apparently, "she added sardonically, with a touch of disgust. "Those dimension hopping Uchihas had no concept whatsoever of what a condom is all about!"

Buffy paused to allow the news to sink in. "And how do we know that? The Uchiha fan was worn by others that night." Xander, standing next to her, squirmed nervously. "And they all turned back to their normal selves. Maybe, you can say 'lucky them', maybe. Anyway, after going through a bunch of ideas, we decided to check for a genetic cause to our problem, and cobbled together a quick and dirty magical test for anomalies in our genes--And, boy, did it find stuff!" Buffy's voice dropped into unintelligible, derisive, mumbling, before picking up again. "But--putting all that other stuff aside--the thing we all have in common is the genes that give us the Sharingan and other odd little ninja quirks--Genes that were introduced, roughly, about a hundred years ago. About the time Konoha was founded."

A low murmur started in the tree branches. Buffy could guess they knew where she was going. She continued when they quieted down. "Looks like our ancestors were fleeing from their own Clansmen--They might have objected to settling down in a village. And unlike the Hyuugas Byakugan, the Sharingan can't be controlled with a Caged Bird Seal. From the Manga, we all know what happened to the Konoha Uchihas--Murdered by their own precious," Buffy sneered, "village, about a hundred years after they helped create it. Only four survivors of our once great Clan are known to exist in that dimension--And they are unquestionable madmen, the entire lot of them! Damn waste."

Buffy took a deep, steadying breath--Here they go. Her Sharingan blazed into the night. "Now, the real question is: What happens to us now? Do we just fade away? Pretend we NEVER existed at all? NO! I'll tell you what will happen--The Uchiha Clan will go on! It will continue. We will not allow it, or ourselves, to just die and fade away. Nor will we allow ourselves to fall into evil hands. We will rebel against any so-call Fate or Destiny that calls upon either our extinction or enslavement. We will not bow to any being who call for our submission. We are Uchiha--We will continue!"

For a single heartbeat, only the wind spoke, and the leaves answered back. Then, and then--

"Aye!"

A single shouted word, reverberating and strengthening with each new voice shouting "Aye!"

"Aye!"

"Aye!"

From that point on, for better or worse, the Uchiha Clan was a reality.

 

IN A UNKOWN DIMENSION . . .

 

In a place that was neither here nor there, some place between the dimensions, ripples of energy pulsated outwards into the ether as a Higher Being struggled to contain his amusement.

At one time the being of light and pure thought, currently battling spasms of uncontainable laughter, had once been known, in a far away dimension, as the Sage of Six Paths.

The Sage himself, a sincerely humble man for all of his achievements, personally considered it a pretentious and overly long title--One he took almost no time at all in loathing. (His beloved wife, who had long since moved on and away, had also considered it a waste of time and breath, shortening and altering it to 'You Idiot!' whenever her mood and situation allowed for it.)

His wife, the Sage thought with remembered fondness, had been one of the most honest and practical of women--Which made the matter of the two morons they spawned together all the more puzzling.

As a man, the Sage had lived his life, took a wife, and raised his sons. After he Ascended, the former Sage vowed never to interfere, or meddle, in his sons' lives, or in the lives of his descendants. At the time, allowing the Children to exercise their Free Will and chose their own way, seemed, in the manner of all ideas like that, like a brilliant and courageous act. Only to prove itself to be, within an embarrassingly short period of time, the most asinine idea he had ever had and exercised!

In short, knowing his children the way he did, how could he have been surprised events turned out the way they did? That his Children would chose a 'Village' over the irreplaceable lives of their own?

The Sage did consider on those odd occasions when disappointment bloomed into a full bouquet, that maybe his long gone wife had been right; the stupidity running wide and deep in his sons, and their descendants, did come from his side of the family.

However, no matter how bad they could sometimes be at it, the Children made their own choices. Good or bad, like it or not, the Sage had decided to honor those choices, and remain a mere observer--Regardless of how unhappy he was about sitting on the sideline, and only watch while the younger generations played their games.

Then, one sorry day, came, like a malediction thrown upon his bloodline, the Others . . .Higher Beings, with no connections to him or his, who had no intentions of staying aloof, or for that matter, had good intentions towards his Children. They had somehow managed to get close enough to his Children to craft them as throwaway tools in their own sordid games. Beings who were set to destroy several of his most promising and talented Children for the sake of their own preposterous agendas and concerns.

HE BURNED!

They dared? They dared turn his Children into disposable tools? The Sage had raged, and Raged, And RAGED! His anger finally burning down to a cold, calculating ember--A thing gifted with sharp, cutting edges. He went on to form a devious plan, one that he was confident would deal with quite a few fools, and allow his Children to once again prosper as their own Will and choices allowed.

The plan was somewhat bloody, but for all that he had been associated with gentler philosophies during the time of his mortal life and afterwards, the Sage had first and foremost been a warrior; taking whatever steps and actions he needed to safeguard his most precious people!

He carefully approached possible allies . . .

Not surprisingly, Janus, the God of New Beginnings and Doorways, offered his freely given help with it. The plan held great appeal to the mischievous god of Chaos, for if nothing else, it allowed him to settle several scores and debts pass due with his fellow gods.

On Halloween night, 1997, as the Sage struggled to contain his glee, the malicious meddling of several higher beings, came to a sudden, dead, screaming halt--As evidenced by the strong pulses of despair, raging disbelief, and outrage quickly spreading out into the ether. At that moment, a number of oblivious, and soon to be surprised, teenagers in Sunnydale, California, and another World entirely, were given that rarest of all things--A second chance.

 

SIX WEEKS AFTER HALLOWEEN . . .

 

The Master vampire Spike, A. K. A., Bloody William, A. K. A., William Pratt, stood next to a table, piled with Naruto comics. He muttered quietly to himself, while flipping through a Japanese version of one edition.

The new LA lair had proven to be quite comfortable, better then the Sunnydale warehouse he and Dru had been using. The house's original owners, a high middle class couple, had been tasty, and later, useful minions. Their ten-year-old daughter, a little bit of schoolgirl innocence and sweetness was currently tied up and gagged, still in her school uniform, having 'tea' with Dru and Miss Edith, and the child's own dolls. His mad Sire and lover had been getting weaker, and Spike hoped that the scent of younger, purer blood might entice Dru to eat.

He grinded his teeth in frustration. Spike knew, almost instinctively, that Dru's cure was in Sunnydale--somewhere. However, Spike also knew that if they had stayed in the 'dale after Halloween, the Slayer, with her new spinning eyes, and her 'clan' would have been the cause of both him and Dru's premature dusty expiration.

So, just as he had video taped the Slayer, back in Sunnydale, he studied the Naruto manga, and the Uchiha Sharingan. What he read made Spike want to put the pointy end of a wooden stake directly through his own chest! Damnit! Before Halloween, that little bint had been strong enough to thwart an immediate third notch in his Slayer slaying belt. Now, if Spike was honest with himself (And his continuing survival depended on that honesty), he had to admit the little blond Slayer, with her additional abilities and supporters, was well beyond anything he could handle.

Well, what where the options left to him? Abandon the search for Dru's cure--No, Spike fiercely rejected that option. He tried hiring professional assassins--The only good news there, was the returned fee after the Order's spectacular failure! So what was left?

The soft 'swish' of feet on the deep wool carpet, so soft only enhanced hearing detected it, alerted Spike to his minion's entrance. He dropped the comic and turned around.

"So, how was the professor?" Spike asked casually. "Seidel?"

"Tough and sour, but edible." Responded the minion, nonchalantly. He held out a book. "As you suspected, he had the portal book you wanted."

Spike took the book in his hand, and smirked. Just because a frontal attack was out of the question, a backdoor approach was still available. Spike opened the book and grinned--Hmmm, Pylea . . .That sounded like the right place for a Slayer and her ninjas.

 

1630 REVELLO DRIVE, THE SUMMER'S KITCHEN . . .

 

"--I don't care! I want it out of me!"

Willow sighed, softly. "Buffy, this is really dangerous. Sealing it is safer--"

"No!" Buffy shouted. She turned around to face her best friend, her nose flaring, breathing hard through it, her Sharingan blazing, her three tomoes madly spinning blurs. "This, this so-called 'Love' curse comes out! I won't allow it to spend any more time in me then necessary! It has no business existing in me--Violating my mind, my soul . . .And my body! It's controlling and manipulating every sense I've got! IT. COMES. OUT. NOW!"

Willow opened her mouth, then shut it, turning her lips into a thin, hard line. "I understand, Buffy. The preparations will take a few days, but that Seal I put on you will work fine until then. Are you going to tell Angel before or after we remove the curse?"

Buffy examined the Seal on her arm, still breathing hard, and ran a gentle thumb across the dark tattoo. "Afterwards . . .I'm not sure how much information the bastards can get through him. He is their conduit--THEIR Champion." She sneered. Buffy looked up and around--The ceiling and walls of her house were covered with Seals and runes. The better to keep out mystical eyes and ears, she thought with bitter contempt. Buffy released the Chakra to her eyes, and the Seals and runes disappeared. Buffy had never killed a 'God' before, but she was going to actively research ways to do it--And when she found the bastard, or bastards, who raped her--Who stripped her of Free Will, she was going to apply that knowledge in the most painful possible way! So Buffy vowed to do! "The plan with that Mohra demon stands--If we can make a deal with it for a bit of it's blood, all good. But if not . . .Harvest the damn beast!"

With a huff and a sigh, Buffy switched to other problems. "How's our Wilkins situation coming along?"

Willow smirked. "We found several loopholes we can exploit--From the contract he signed, all the way to his physical security. Heck! If we do it right, everything he owns, including all of Sunnydale, can belong to you."

"How's that possible?" Buffy questioned, narrowing her eyes.

Willow shrugged. "Right of Conquest, tradition, usage, mystical law--And thanks to the magical wards, all the mundane paperwork and documents will be altered to show you as the owner on record!"

Buffy slowly smiled. "That's good, Willow. That's real good."

"Thanks, Buffy." Willow said, with her own shy smile. Then she winced. "Um, yeah . . .Buffy, uh, last night an entire shipment of Twinkies disappeared. Several tons worth of them."

Buffy blinked in disbelief. She closed her eyes, red momentarily leaking through her eyelids, and shook her head in tired exasperation. "Tell the Xanders, that if they continue 'liberating' Twinkie shipments at this rate, the suppliers will stop delivering to Sunnydale. Then what are they going to do?"

"Will do," Willow said, in a cautious voice. She had already tried reasoning with her Twinkie happy, Xander shaped best friend, and his almost clone, to no avail. In addition, Willow found it kind of hard to keep her composure, when the people she was addressing had identical maniacal grins on their faces, and freely drooled whenever the name 'Twinkie' was mentioned.

"Another 'Ethan Raynes strikes again!' moment." Buffy muttered angrily. "God! After all this time, you would have figured everyone would have settled down by now--Still think Xander's Hawaiian shirt got on Ethan's rack via portal, Willow?"

Willow nodded, forgetting Buffy had her eyes closed. "What else could it be? Xander swears all his shirts are accounted for. That just leaves a Xander from another dimension--Although, it's almost strange that a guy like Warren Mears wanted to be Laid Back Guy for Halloween, instead of something familiar from Science Fiction or Fantasy."

"So, now we have two Xanders, and a massive Twinkie heist every few weeks--Ethan Raynes, I can't begin to express how much I hate you!" Buffy growled. She sighed. "Anyone's had any luck on getting a handle on the Bad Hair gene?" Buffy stopped short on touching her hair with a trembling hand. Of all the changes Halloween forced upon them--The Uchiha Hair was the worse of them, as far as Buffy and a few other girls were concerned.

"Uh, sorry, Buffy, but no." Said Willow, blushing. Self-consciously she ran her hand through her hair. While Willow's locks were still red, the once straight hair sprung out in a wild, uncontrollable mass. "For some reason, it defies conditioners, spray, oils, gels--Someone even tried wax . . ."

"Wax?" Buffy muttered, frowning.

"Yep. Not that it worked--It just looked weird, with his hair sticking up and out the way it ended up doing." Willow sighed sadly. "Poor guy finally just shaved it all off."

Buffy shuddered in horror. "God! Tha-that was so extreme!"

"I know," Willow agreed. "Good new, though . . .I did managed to talk Amy Madison out of using magic on her hair--No telling what sort of side effect could pop up with that sort of weird. And I made her promise not to try it out on someone else. Regardless on whether they volunteer or not."

"Oh, that's good," Buffy declared, her tense shoulders slumping in relief. "Don't need to have a snake head Amy running around the place!"

"Hmmm," Willow shrewdly nodded in agreement. "With the Hellmouth warping every spell casted around here, the possibility of Amy turning into a Medusa is seriously high."

"I'm glad you caught it, Wils." Buffy praised the other girl. With her eyes closed, Buffy missed out on Willow's blush and sudden nervous fidgeting.

"Any other urgent business?" Buffy said abruptly, opening up her green eyes and glancing up at the kitchen wall clock.

"Nope! We covered everything we need to cover, for now." Willow assured Buffy.

"Good. Just in time, too. I still can't say school is pleasant, but at least Snyder isn't giving us any more grief." Buffy picked up her schoolbag, and walked towards the front door, silently followed by Willow. "Okay, what's for first period . . .? Ah, crap--French! Damn, maybe not so much of the good."

 

IN A TUNNEL UNDER SUNNYDALE . . .

 

"Even to me, that sounds stupid!"

"But you have to!" A familiar voice whined. Andrew stubbornly clinched his fists by his side, and jutted his jaw in defiance. "When you use a technique, you have to call out the name of it! It's, it's--Well, you just have to, that's all, Harmony!"

"It's stupid!" Harmony Kendell spat out at the small, blond teenager, her red eyed, tomoe spinning glare drilling into the obstinate little nerd. Her rising voice echoing slightly in the long, smoky tunnel they were standing in. "I'm not going to warn my enemies on what I'm going to do to them, before I do it to them! Hello! Ninja, here! Just in case you've forgotten--We are suppose to be sneaky and devious! We're not suppose to give the other guy as much as an even chance! Got that, Andrew?!"

A small movement, to the side of the arguing pair, revealed a crouching figure. "Please, guys . . .Let's not fight! We've gone through this already, Andy--Calling out the name of the technique just allows someone to focus. It doesn't matter if they call it out, or not!" Jonathan Levinson said tiredly. He hated playing referee between them. Yet, that is exactly what he had been doing since they had been teamed together. Andrew and Harmony had been at each other's throat practically since laying eyes on one another, pausing only when fighting something other then the other. He straightened up, and sealed close the plastic baggie with the demon sample he had collected from the smoking pieces scattered on the filthy tunnel floor. Jonathan gently placed it inside the blue backpack with other sealed plastic baggies, zipped the backpack shut, and then settled it around his shoulder by a single strap.

"It does too matter!" Shrilly insisted the little blond. He turned back to the other fuming blond, and placed his hand on his cocked hip, his other hand waving in front of him, and began lecturing in a snidely superior voice. "Who has the entire vintage manga Naruto collection--In Japanese? The anime? I do! I do! Who has all the recordings and transcripts of Masashi Kishimoto's interviews? I do! So, listen to me, I'm the Naruto expert here! I know what I'm talking about! And you're suppose to call out the technique's name!"

To Jonathan alarm, he noted the sudden calm, loose stance Harmony adopted--Horrified, he also noted the little smirk that appeared on her lips.

"Call out the technique's name? Okay," she crooned sweetly. Harmony gave a shark's grin, and shout out--"Great Nerd Wedgidous!"

"AAAARRRRRRGGGGGG!!!!!!!"

 

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Outside the tunnel, lounging lazily up in a tree, Xander was enjoying the warm, perfect California day, breathing in the sea scented desert air. He was partly asleep when a sudden, unexpected, pained scream pulled him to his feet, kunai at ready in both hands!

His brown eyes widen, almost popping out of their sockets. As he witnessed Andrew Wells, tears streaming from his eyes, his face a rictus of pain and terror; partially hunched over, with his hands cupped protectively over his crotch area, rocket out of the tunnel entrance on Chakra propelled feet. And with what looked like his underwear--Blue and yellow rocket ships--flapping hard behind him at waist level! An enraged, screaming, shouting, Harmony Kendell, wild hair writhing around her head, close at his heels, snapping a fire whip at his behind! A desperately pleading Jonathan Levinson running closely behind them!

He also caught a glimpse of Jonathan's blue backpack and the heavy drag on it.

Well, Xander thought blinking in the direction the loud odd trio had disappeared to, at least they successfully completed their hunt.

 

LATE NIGHT, ON SCHOOL GROUNDS . . .

 

The small group standing on a quiet, private, spot on school grounds stared up into the trees. The body of a man hung by ninja wire in the tree limbs, the only motion produced by the night breeze. Swing the corpse about in a gentle, slow, circular motion.

Its advance stage of decomposition apparent in appearance and smell, as the wind allowed the odor to spread to a wider area--To the discomfort of the present witnesses.

"You guys should know, I'm still a little surprise the G-man actually had a wild side once." Commented Xander, eyeing the dead thing.

"I know what you mean, Xander." Buffy said, dryly. "But I get to experience a double whammy--Reading mom's records, I expected the perfect lady. Instead I find out I'm the spawn of a Wild Thing!"

Willow huffed in amusement. "Most parents had lives before they had kids, you know."

"Meh, subconsciously I know that," Buffy shrugged. "But . . ."

"It gives you the wiggins just knowing they're doing, you know, normal people stuff." Interjected Xander. He cocked his head, and stared harder at the body.

"The Seals are holding, Xander. Don't worry." Reassured Willow.

"M-me, worried?" Xander coughed nervously. "Nah, it was just that I was wondering if a-a BAT!--Or, or an INSECT--Yeah, an insect, touched the body, will they get possessed too?"

Willow looked thoughtful. "No, Eyghon seemed to prefer a higher host. If he tried it, it's more likely an animal body would melted on the spot."

"Ah, good." Xander nodded. He paused, and added, "Well, not so good for the animal." He shrugged. "Who does the honors?"

Buffy frowned. "I think . . .It's . . .Um, what are you calling yourself now, Chanty? Yeah, it's Chanty's turn!"

"Chantelle." Patiently corrected the tall, slender blond teenager. "I changed my name to Chantelle." She walked a little closer to the tree, crouched down and touched the outer line on the Seal surrounding the tree. The former Chanty-turned-Chantelle sent a spark of Chakra through the Seal.

The hanging body glowed white as the Seals on it activated for the second and last time. A shadowy, monstrous face immerged from the body only to flare white, and then drop to black ash. A moment later, the body flared blinding white, and fine gray ash disappeared into the wind, leaving several strands of ninja wire hanging empty.

 

A PRIVATE ROOM IN SUNNYDALE HOSPITAL . . .

 

"This was the most humane of doing it." The whispered voice carried in the near silence of the hospital room. The noisiest thing in there . . .the periodic beeping coming from the monitors.

"No arguments from me, Buffy." Xander said. He looked impassively down at the comatose figure in the bed. "Ford wanted to kill you, Buffy. He wanted to trade you for a vampiric afterlife. That's why he came to Sunnydale, to make a deal--Only he didn't know we had practically emptied the town of vampires. Once he found out, Ford would have gone and blamed you--for taking away the only chance he felt he had for allowing something of him to survive. He was terminal and insane . . .Without anything else he could do, in the short period of time he had, Ford would have done his best to make your life hell. What you did, creating a perfect world inside his own head where he could live and be at peace, was the best thing you could have done. You know what the other alternative was."

"I don't have any illusions about that, Xander." Buffy said, sadly, softly. "Ford wasn't just a threat to me, Xander. But to the entire Clan as well. This was--What would other people call it?--'An unfortunate necessity with a positive outcome'. No, Xander, I don't really regret what I did--It's just--" Buffy sighed. "No matter how things ended there, Hemery had good memories for me. Ford was a part of it. Then, he shows up here, in Sunnydale. Tells me he knows I'm the Slayer, that he believes me--about everything. And, Xander . . .it just, just felt so good for once."

Xander quietly closed the distance between them, and laid a gentle hand on his friend's shoulder.

"Xander . . .Can you lie to me?"

"Lie? Lie to you, Buffy?" Xander asked, puzzled at the request.

"Yes, Xander. Lie to me. Tell me everything is going to be alright."

Xander stared--Then his face broke into a wide grin. "The Twinkie had been declared a National Snack food. The Twinkie is an essential food group. Humanity has declared the Twinkie fundamental to life on the planet--There are Twinkie cults around the globe! All you can eat Twinkie Bars!"

He paused, a bit breathless.

Buffy turned her head, looked up at the slightly panting Xander, and in a deadpan voice said, "Liar."

 

MORNING IN A TWO BEDROOM HOUSE IN LA . . .

 

Sunlight crept over the sleeping face and bare chest of the pale faced, dark haired man in his bed.

With a snort and a twitch, he turned over, and burrowed deeper into his pillows and comforter. A moment later, his eyes popped open, and with a muffled yell, he scrambled out of bed, taking the comforter with him. He scurried over to a shadowed corner, and huddled there, completely covered in the comforter.

"Good morning, lover."

He yelped, startled and surprised his senses failed to warn him on the company he had. He jerked his head in the voice's direction, and he--He froze.

Sunlight glinting off her long blond hair, lips curled in a secret laugh, her low, soft voice carrying over to his ears. "Been a long time hasn't it, Angel?"

Angel gapped. "No-nooo . . .You can't be Darla--She's dead!" Angel breathed in confusion. He paused. Are you?" He questioned, pleadingly.

'Darla''s smile widened in an amused smirk. Pink, glistening lips parted--

"Oi! As much fun as we're having playing with the Great Poofer's oversized head, we haven't got all morning! Here!"

Angel single handedly caught the large, yellow file envelope tossed at him. His other fist bunched tightly around the comforter.

Angel stared at the second figure leaning against the uncovered window.

"S-spike?" He stuttered.

'Spike' smirked. "Nah! Not even close! As you see, no sunlight allergies--In fact, same as you are now."

"What?" Angel demanded sharply. Did he fall down a rabbit hole without noticing? Did someone stake him, and he was in Hell? Was he dreaming? Or, or something else?

A long fingered, pale hand jabbed a finger in his direction. "Take a look." 'Spike' invited.

Angel startled, suddenly reminded of the envelope. It was heavy and bulky. Hesitantly, he opened it and peered inside.

"It's your new life." Explained the Not 'Spike'. "Everything you're going to need to live it. From your birth certificate, social security card, to your driver's and private detective license--Everything has been accounted for I assure you."

"But why? What's going on, here?" Angel nearly shouted out, almost out of patience. His mind about to explode! An uneasy, unidentifiable, nearly itching feeling of, well, wrong, was upon him. There was a nagging familiarity to it . . .Something he had experienced before . . .

"Did you not wake up in sunlight? Did you burn? Do you breathe? Do you have a heart beat?"

"I--" He stopped, his eyes widening. He finally knew what was wrong--He was breathing. HE. WAS. BREATHING! With a trembling hand, he reached for his neck . . .He had a pulse.

In shocked silence, he hesitantly stepped out of the shadows and into the light, allowing his cover to fall past his shoulders. He stood there in a square patch of light, and for the first time in well over two hundred years, warm sunlight caressed his skin without burning.

"A Mohra demon's blood heals--Even vampirism. Once you were healed, and Human again, the demon in you was expelled and destroyed. Before that, we made certain to anchor your soul to your body. Damn! But that curse was the nastiest piece of work anyone's ever seen, or recalled hearing about--One moment of true happiness, and you would have lost your soul! That former inner demon of yours would have been back in the game, and hard at work playing catch-up with its demonic buddies!" The Not 'Spike' said, grimly. "Understand, oh, former leach. There are conditions to your healing--"

That returned his attention to the present--He had been remembering . . .He recalled walking to his apartment, and passing through the threshold of his front door, when an overwhelming, paralyzing pain, similar to a high voltage electric shock, dropped him. He was helpless, unable to move when shadowy forms swarmed him, raised his head, and forced something down his throat. He knew it was blood, but not Human, not animal. A tingle feeling began, then a burning sensation . . .He passed out at that point.

"What are they?" Angel asked cautiously. He knew there were always conditions--Payment always needed to be given.

"Simple enough--You stay the bloody hell away from the Slayer. And not just the current one in Sunnydale, but ALL of them. As well as all your old drinking buddies--Specifically, Spike and Drusilla. Oh, if Whistler comes calling . . .Give him the boot. His bosses are a small group of celestials that cause about as much trouble as the demonic lot does--They care for nothing but whatever agenda is currently spinning their dials." Not Spike scoffed and sneered. "They sure as hell can't really be said to give a damn about Humanity! Occasionally, they ally themselves with the Slayer, Humanities other Champions--But they do it for the sake of their own convenience, and advancing their own schemes. Needless to say, they're not to be trusted."

Stay away from the Slayer? Stay away from Buffy? Angel could have laughed in raging bitterness at the joke. Last time he saw her, she had more or less told him the same thing! Buffy had stood impassively in front of him, and told him about the Love curse. How none of her feelings for him had been real--All the things she had said and done--ALL OF IT!--the produce of the curse. None of it was real! He could feel the cold fingers of loss, and betrayal griping his newly beating heart.

He should have suspected it. He should have known it was too good to be real! He berated himself for not looking too closely at their relationship . . .But he was so lonely, and Buffy had been so accepting, so innocent . . .

Angel took in a deep breath. His limited Human senses picking up only the broadest, surface smells and sounds. They were enough, he suddenly decided. As for Whistler . . .Raged blossomed in him. If he saw that Balance demon again, he was certain he was going to do more then give him the 'boot'--Human or no, he still retained knowledge of a number of tricks he could use to hurt a demon!

"What next?" He asked.

"Next? We leave. And you go on with your new life." That said, the Not 'Spike' twisted his fingers into some sort of pattern--And with a 'poof!' of black smoke, Not 'Spike' and Not 'Darla' were gone.

Leaving Angel to stand alone in the sunlight, contemplating his new future.

 

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A few blocks away, in a parked car, a couple in their late teens, almost simultaneously, shuddered as new memories slammed into their brains.

"Well . . .that went well." Xander Harris drawled. He rubbed his temple, wincing at the mild headache throbbing in time with his heartbeat.

"Ugh! I hate it when these clones pop out of existence!" Cordelia Chase complained, gripping the steering wheel of her car, and grimacing in pain as her clone's memories integrated with the rest of her memories.

"Yeah, me too." Xander admitted. "Transforming them into Spike and Darla? Now that was purely cruel--Good thing I thought of it!" He smirked, and leaned away from the shoulder slap.

"Petty, Xander. Petty . . . "

"'Good morning, lover?'" Xander mockingly reminded her. "Wasn't that bit over done? For a moment, I swear, I thought I smelled ham."

Cordelia uncharacteristically blushed, and took a deep breath, noisily releasing it. "Well, whatever . . .It kept him unbalanced, and not thinking too much--Think he'll stay away from Buffy now?"

"Oh, hell, yeah." Xander nodded, with a dangerous glint in his brown eyes. "Stalker tendencies or no, he's been good and properly humiliated--Angel won't go back to that source. He will, however, be guaranteed to be in the mood to take out it all out on any passing Balance demons!" Xander paused and considered. "I'll like to say I feel sorry for him, but . . .Nah!"

Cordelia rolled her eyes. "Are you going to start up another anti Angel rant? Because if you are, you can just step out this car right now, Xander Harris, and run back home by yourself!"

"Jeez, Cordy! It was only for, like--Okay, maybe you have a point here--, a couple of hours!" Xander whined. He suddenly brightened, and pointed out. "BUT, I think I had passed on some pretty good tips on why a teenage girl shouldn't go dating a two hundred plus year old Master vampire! It's not like this sort of thing can be found in a pamphlet or something!"

"Tips? God, Harris! You sound almost like a girl!" Cordelia snapped. She twisted the ignition key, her car engine coming to life. "Buffy won't be dating any more vampires--So, you can give it a rest! Hear me?"

"Yes, Ma'am! I hear you loud and clear, Ma'am!" Xander snapped saluted, and threw himself back into the seat, sulking. He stared despondently at the dashboard and moaned. "Remind me again, why I thought slapping an Uchiha fan on your back last Halloween was funny?"

"Funny? Xander, what are you? Like ten?" Cordelia asked derisively. She slipped the car into drive, and pulled away from the curb.

"Ugh, like you were so mature, trying to prove you were mature!" Xander snickered.

Cordelia guided her car into traffic. She took a moment to give her companion a quick side-glance. "I admit becoming a kunoichi changed my perspective, and gave me a maturity beyond what I had. But at least, before that, I was trying to grow up--Not like you!"

"Excuse me?" Xander's eyebrows rose. "I think hunting vampires, demons, and no name things in the dark out there, knocked real maturity into me--Ms. Sorority-One-Mikey-Away-From-Gang-Rape!"

"I was careful!" Cordelia angrily snapped back. "At least, I got invited to good parties, and had fun! You? You felt lucky if watching TV you came across an unexpected Scifi marathon--And got to see a flash of granny panties on a girl, that these days, IS a granny!"

"Hey! Me, Jessie, and Willow had fun, too!" Xander protested. "And those panties covered some real nice naughty girl bits!"

"Ew! Where's the brain bleach when you need it?" Cordelia pleaded.

"Mature much?" Xander asked sarcastically. A street sign, flashing past the moving car, distracted Xander. "Hey? Where're we going?"

"Shopping!" Cordelia reply shortly. "What? Did you think we were going to LA, and not shop? Are you deficient?"

"Arrggg!" Xander slammed his head against the headrest. A sudden calculating look came to his eyes. "Alright, Alright . . .Cordy, I'll make a deal with you--If you let me pick up something just a couple of streets down from here, I'll, I'll keep quiet for the rest of the ride. Deal?"

"Deal!"

Xander's evil smile should have told Cordelia something.

 

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Winifred 'Fred' Burkle had had enough! She was saying good-bye to LA craziness, and going home to nice, normal Texas for a while, before heading off to the northeast coast, were she hoped things were better!

She sat squished up into the back of the taxi, with her extensive luggage collection digging into her side and leg. The taxi was driving her straight to LAX; she was leaving on a plane, the quickest transportation out of LA!

Fred sighed miserably as she looked out the car passenger window at the passing streets. Her short, happy, flight from her comfortable, Texas childhood home was not suppose to end with her running back to mom and dad with her tail between her legs! Patients, professional and general acknowledgement, her own tech company--And just maybe, a Nobel prize--were the things Fred Burkle thought she was going to experience in her promising life and career. Instead, she walked straight into a murder scene--Her professor, Professor Seidel, had been murdered. His body left sprawled out on the floor of his office, among haphazardly tossed books and papers.

Worse, was the condition of the body: Bloodless, with two puncture holes on his neck. To Fred's remembered horror, the holes looked like they had been licked clean!

Now, a murder alone, no matter how gruesome, would never have been enough to chase Ms. Winifred Burkle out of LA at the risk of her promised future. However, Mr. and Mrs. Burkle had poured, almost to overflowing, enough common sense into their only daughter and child, that when Fred saw the holes in the older man's neck, her immediate thought was: Vampire. Before Denial could settle in, Common Sense arrived and kicked it right out. If it looked like a duck, quacked like a duck--Honey, why call it anything else?

Prying her eyes open, Fred looked carefully around her adopted town--And immediately made plans to escape.

Not that the shocks stopped coming.

Fred's shaking nerves took another hit, when a few days prior to entering the taxi with all her worldly possessions, the cops informed her of Professor Seidal's nasty little secret--He was a serial killer. The students under him were his primary victims, but the police were looking into other disappearances Seidal could have been involved in. The helpful police detectives then informed her that based on what they had found, SHE had been his next target, the next 'missing' student!

Fred owned her life to one monster taking out another monster.

Days later, she was in a taxi, on her way to leaving the Big City insanity behind. However, LA did managed to imprint one last image into Fred Burkle's mind--

Forever dancing in her head, was the image of the bright, Californian sun reflecting off a large plastic Twinkie, giving it a golden glow. A tall, stacked brunet teenage girl, stood protectively between the open doors of a waiting car, and a dark haired teenage boy hauling the giant Twinkie on his back and shoulders, all while the screaming girl smashed her leather purse repeatedly on top of his head.

 

SUNNYDALE, MAYOR'S OFFICE . . .

 

"This is completely unacceptable--You know that now, don't you, Finch?" Mayor Richard Wilkins amiably said, sitting behind his desk. His easy, friendly smile stopping at cold, hard eyes.

Dangerous, deadly eyes as Wilkins' trembling subordinate, deputy Mayor Allen Finch could attest. He was suddenly very glad he had invested in those adult diapers.

"Ah, all these years. All the hard work, all the sacrifices--Men, women, children, the occasional animal--and for what, Finch?" Wilkins asked, with a wide-eyed hurt expression, expertly tinted with wisps of confusion. "For what? For a pack of wild, juvenile delinquents to sweep it all away?" He sighed in disappointment. "I pride myself, and rightly I may inject, upon building a clean, wholesome, family oriented town. None of that wild, radical, hippie foolishness--By gosh, no, sir! Instead, I've insisted upon, and protected, the ideals and values of family and community. Call me old fashion, but that is just the way I am--The way I was brought up to be!" Wilkins smiled with sad pride.

Finch felt his terror growing.

"A pity the youth of today have absolutely no respect for the traditions and belief of their elders." He sighed again, leaning back against his chair. "Why Buffy Summers, and that gang of hers--The 'Uchiha Clan' I believe they're called?--are a prime example of out of control children. Not that you can always blame the parents for their children's behavior--Joyce Summers is certainly a responsible, decent, delightful woman. She runs a respectable business establishment." Wilkins sighed sadly. "Respectability. Something not all our merchants have worked hard enough to achieve--This Ethan Raynes . . .A Chaos mage. I tell you, Finch, if I had known the level of trouble that man would have caused me, why I would have used him for a blood ritual or two, depending on the requirements. No doubt gaining considerable benefits for very little trouble!" Wilkins leaned forward, in a low voice confiding. "A mage's flayed skin is useful for so many things, Finch. Oh, why did I allow the opportunity to pass me by? Ah, well." The Mayor leaned back in his chair, giving his deputy Mayor an odd little smile.

Allen Finch suddenly had a hard time breathing. He felt the movement to his sides, and a moment later, iron hard hands gripped his arms, the forms of two vampiric 'enforcers' bracketing his fear frozen body.

As Allen Finch stared in silent, wide eyed terror at the Mayor. Richard Wilkins rolled back his chair, and stood up. He smiled in mock regret, and sighed. "I will miss your services, Allen. But you see, an opportunity to get ride of this Uchiha Clan, and Buffy Summers, has come up, and, well, lacking a ready, and alternative, sacrifice for this ritual--I just have to make do."

Allen Finch began screaming.

 

IT ALL COMES TOGETHER . . .

 

In one side of Sunnydale, an exiled Master vampire returned to an abandoned warehouse. He laid down the necessary ingredients for the ritual he was about to perform.

Nearby, his mad Sire, and companion of over a hundred years, swirled in a dance, Miss Edith in her hands. She KNEW the ritual would not go well . . .but somehow, the will to care slipped away from her . . .like soft wil-o'-wisp fog . . .

Deep under the High school library, a clan of demons had managed to remain undetected, as they invaded the chamber containing the goat headed Great Seal holding back the black tides of Hell.

They dragged forward the struggling, bound and gagged form of Principal Snyder--Soon, after devouring the living sacrifice, they would gain Power and ascend to a greater state! The only thing stopping them from beginning at once, was the lack of enough ketchup . . .

In the mayor's office, a dark sorcerer smiled down in the terror bulging eyes of his deputy mayor, as his obsidian knife swung down--!

Under a library, screams, blood, and ketchup flowed--

In a warehouse, a bleached blond vampire chanted lines in an ancient, dead language. While his Sire laughed and laughed and laughed--!

In that space of nowhere and everywhere, beings of thought, soul, and pure energy violently cracked the spaces around them, as they pulsated with glee!

"Hey, Buffy? Do you feel that?" An uneasy Willow abruptly said.

"Nope." Buffy suddenly snapped her head up from the teen magazine she had been reading. Her eyes narrowed. "Now I do! What the hell is that?"

Xander got up from the chair he had been sitting on, and circled in place looking around him, his Sharingan active.

"There's something . . .I'm not sure what, though." He admitted softly. Xander's hand traveled up to his chest, and he began rubbing it. "Can't see it. But I can feel it--Like heart burn."

"More like a pulling sensation." Willow suggested, rubbing her own chest.

"Crap! It feels like both!" Buffy cursed dropping her magazine, and jumping up to her feet--Her own Sharingan frantically spinning.

"God!" Cordelia loudly announced, stumbling in, bend down at the waist, her arms crossed up against her chest, with her hands pressed against her shoulders. Her face twisted in pain. "What did you people do NOW?!"

"Nothing, Cordelia! We--AAAAAARRRRGGG!" Buffy screamed as white-hot knives shot into her chest!

Screams tore themselves out of her family's members throat as feral energies, whipped violently against them, thrusting and stabbing into every cell with fine, sharp hooks, pulling and ripping them from their own reality!

"Good-by, Spike." Drusilla whispered, cuddling Miss Edith close to her, as tendrils of burning gold-white energy shot threw her and her Childe's chest Leaving ashes in their wake.

Richard Wilkins clutched his chest in disbelief--He dropped his knife, and with a 'thump' the ancient, desiccated remains of a man dropped next to the fresher corpse of his former deputy Mayor.

In the Hellmouth's Seal chamber, a group of bloated belly demons laid in wasted, helpless misery, as the rumblings from their swollen middles became louder, until suddenly they exploded! Splattering the entire chamber with their remains--even speckling the high ceiling!

Almost in an eye blink, buildings, and pieces of the docks, entire sections of Sunnydale--All of those things, and more, disappeared!

Sadly, so did Buffy Summers, and the entire Uchiha Clan.

 

 

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The Scoobies et al end up in the Naruto Universe, where they have lots, and lots, of adventures--THE END.

Yep, THE END. And good-bye!

The End

You have reached the end of "Wirly-Swirly". This story is complete.

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