•••

“Well, shit.”

Buffy looked around the Hyperion’s lobby, taking in the mess. Mess? Actually, it was more of a disaster. For that matter, so was she. Everything she laid eyes on was covered in a thick coating of chunky, slimy, smelly demon remains. How was she to know that the demons who’d come to ‘see’ Angel would explode at the touch of a stake?

A lurching movement out of the corner of her eye had the Slayer spinning around, stake at the ready. The wriggling mass stood slowly, transforming into her sister, Dawn. “Buffy, you are so dead.”

“Um, I didn’t know?” Buffy tried. “Really, Dawn, I didn’t.” She felt bad that her sister was covered in the obnoxious leavings of a bunch of dead demons, but there wasn’t anything she could do about it.

“Holy…” Lorne whispered as he stuck his head into the lobby. “What did you do, put them in a blender with the lid off?”

Buffy sent a rude gesture towards the demon and took a sticky step in the direction of the kitchen. “No, I staked them. No one told me they were the ‘exploding’ variety of demon.”

“Oh,” Lorne murmured. “You are going to clean this up, right?”

“Yes, I’m going to clean this up,” Buffy snarled. She hoped that Dawn would volunteer to help her, but she didn’t bother asking. Her little sister was much more likely to lend a hand if she chose to do so on her own, out of the goodness of her heart.

“Fine, fine, I’ll help,” Dawn muttered, following her sister to the kitchen. “Krev, where’d you put the shovel?”

“It’s in the pantry,” Lorne replied. Once the two girls were gone, he returned to the club to check on Willow. Of course she was in the same place he’d left her—sitting at a booth, sorting paperwork. When Lorne slid into the seat across from her, she stopped moving papers around and looked up.

“You’re overpaying for Gran Marnier,” Willow commented, thrusting a paper at him.

“How so?” Lorne inquired, peering at the bill.

“They stopped giving you the bulk discount three months ago. Then they started charging you for smaller bottles.”

“Ah.” He folded the bill and stuck it in a pocket. He’d call them later to complain. “And the rest?”

“Fine,” She murmured, yawning. “I’m tired.”

“Why don’t you…” He stopped when he realized that sending her to bed meant going through the lobby…and all that gore, obviously inhuman though it was, would do nothing good for her shaky hold on sanity. “listen to some music while I get the bar ready for tonight?”

Willow nodded and moved off toward the stage. Before long Caritas was filled with yet another round of sad, depressing music—Willow’s perennial favorite these days. It didn’t bother Lorne very much; at least she was interacting with the world and not just drooling in a corner. Her therapy had done more for her than anyone could have predicted. In less than a month, the young witch had gone from catatonic to semi-functional. She was taking care of herself now, from eating and bathing to walking around, and she’d even begun to verbally communicate with her friends again. Of course, she still needed a lot of guidance, but all in all she was very much improved.

From his place behind the bar, Lorne could hear Buffy and dawn cleaning up the lobby. From what he could tell, it wasn’t going to be easy. The gore was drying out, leaving a gummy, gluey residue. He really hoped they got it back to normal before the club opened. Nothing turned away customers like a foul mess.

•••••••••••••••••••••

“Clorox?”

“No.”

“Kerosene?”

“No.”

“Vinegar?”

“No.”

“Ammonia? Detergent? Piss?”

“No, no, and yuck.” Dawn looked up at her sister, who was trying to run her hands through gore-caked hair. “What haven’t we tried?”

“Peanut butter, oil, and transmission fluid?” Buffy tried desperately. They were the only three things left in the kitchen they hadn’t opened and thrown at the gunk in the lobby.

Dawn thought for a moment. Which one would work… “Oil first. Transmission fluid’s bad for you, and the only peanut butter we’ve got is chunky…and that would be so gross.”

Buffy nodded her agreement and clomped her way back to the kitchen. A few minutes later she returned with several spray bottles, a turkey baster and a three gallon tub of cooking oil. “Before you ask, no I don’t know why Angel has this much oil.”

“Nor do I,” Dawn murmured. “But it’s worth a shot.”

Buffy prized off the tub’s lid and used the turkey baster to draw up some of the fluid. She then dropped it onto the slime at Dawn’s feet, silently praying that canola was the key.

“Fuck!” Dawn scrambled back, landing squat in a big pile of gummy stuff. The oil was definitely doing something—something that involved a little smoke and some bright pink sparks. “I don’t know if it’s working, but it’s doing something.”

Once the light show died down, Buffy bent over to examine the oil’s performance. Much to her surprise, all she found was a dusting of ash—the oil had burned away all traces of the gore. “I think we have a winner.”

“Canola oil?” Dawn asked disbelievingly. “You have got to be kidding.”

“And it makes pretty pink sparks,” Buffy reminded her. The Slayer stood up and began to fill spray bottles with cooking oil. “I recommend a light coating—just enough to burn the stuff off. I’m afraid that if we use too much we’ll be stuck washing oil off of everything.”

“And we get to take cooking oil baths after this, don’t we?” Dawn inquired as she took a spray bottle. “And nobody to share it with.”

“You’re too young anyway,” Buffy groused as she capped off the oil. “Let’s get going. If we don’t get this done soon, Lorne’s going to throw a fit.”

Dawn grinned and began spraying. “Buffy, one thought. If this is an ex..ex..exothermic reaction, what’s it going to do to us when we use it on ourselves?”

“Not thinking about it,” Buffy replied hastily. “Just spray.”

The lobby was soon brightened by a pink sparkle-and-smoke light show as the two girls furiously sprayed every surface with cooking oil. Much to their dismay, the smoke smelled like lobster—an odor neither of them really wanted clinging to the lobby or themselves. Oh well, it was better than chunky slime. The job didn’t take very long once they got started, so within half an hour they were ready to go upstairs and try out their solution on themselves.

“If it hurts, stop and we’ll figure out something else,” Buffy warned as they climbed the stairs.

“Oh yeah, as if I’m going to keep squirting something that sets me on fire,” Dawn retorted.

“Brat.”

•••

“I smell lobster,” Lorne remarked as Buffy sat down at the bar.

“Side effect of mixing canola oil and demon gore,” Buffy replied with a grimace. “It should go away soon. I hope.”

“It’s not that bad,” Lorne offered as a consolation. “After all, you could have smelled like—“

“Don’t say it,” Buffy warned. “Just give me something to drink. Please.”

Lorne grinned and handed her a coke. Buffy sipped it and looked around the club. “Where’s Willow?”

“In my office, resting. I didn’t think it would be good to send her through the lobby,” Lorne replied quietly.

“Point. We’re done now, so I can take her up to bed if you want,” Buffy replied. She was very grateful that Lorne had taken such an active interest in helping them, particularly Willow. His assistance with Dawn was great too. “By the way, thanks for helping Dawn with her homework.” Buffy wasn’t the least bit upset that her little sister preferred the demon’s help to her own—she was no brainiac when it came to school work. That was more Willow’s area, and right now the witch was out of commission.

“It’s no problem. Willow’s got another therapy session tomorrow morning at nine,” Lorne reminded the Slayer. “I can take her if you’ve got business.”

“Really?” Buffy asked. “I’ve got one of Angel’s cases scheduled in the morning. Something about a rat-demon infestation.”

Lorne made a face. “I hate those things. Have you heard from the guys in London?”

“Just an e-mail from Xander. They were supposed to be implementing whatever plan they’ve come up with in the next day or so, so we won’t be hearing from them for a while.”

“Does that mean they’re coming back soon?”

Buffy shook her head. “I can’t tell. Cordy’s visions aren’t coming very often, and from what I can tell Xander’s are still set in London. They’ll come home whenever they want, I suppose.”

“Maybe they’re afraid to,” Lorne said lightly. “After all, it took all eight of them to run this place, but you’re doing just as well by yourself.”

“Thanks,” Buffy said quietly. The truth was, she enjoyed the work, backbreaking though it was. With Lorne and Dawn’s help, she was keeping Angel investigations afloat, taking care of Cordelia’s visions, and managing to do a bit of traditional slaying on the side. While she missed having others around, for emotional support if nothing else, she wasn’t really looking forward to the others’ return. With that would come tension between her and Angel, her and Wil, and a host of little annoyances…a Cordelia she wasn’t used to dealing with, a demonic Xander who wasn’t straight…the list kept going on and on. The truth was, she wasn’t sure she could stay in the same place as Angel’s group. Then again, she didn’t have a lot of other options. Sunnydale was most definitely not going to happen.

Lorne watched as Buffy sank into a minor funk. He could tell that she wasn’t looking forward to Angel coming back, and that troubled him. From what he could tell about Slayers, they weren’t very good at working in teams. Buffy, however, seemed to have adapted to the more effective method of fighting. The only problem was all the tension and conflict she brought into Angel’s group. She had some sort of problem with every member…well, he couldn’t think of any reason why Buffy would be upset with Gunn, but he was also sure she’d think of something.

The green demon really liked the Slayer—she had they type of style and strength he admired. Actually, she reminded him a bit of a low-key, understated Cordelia, although he’d never admit it. If pressed, though, he’d admit that he liked the less abrasive Slayer more than the outspoken seer. More than once he’d caught himself wanting to ask her out for drinks, a humorous thought considering the type of establishment he ran. While he was interested enough to keep that idea in mind, now was no time to start that kind of thing. Buffy was consumed by her duties, and he’d promised Angel he’d help her with them, not add to her burdens. That was why he was recruiting muscle to assist her instead of taking her out for dinner.

•••

Dawn was just climbing into bed when the phone rang. She let it go for three rings before deciding that Buffy couldn’t hear it. After all, most calls were for the Slayer, not for her kid sister.

“Hello?”

“Dawn?” Wil said, surprised to hear the teenager’s voice on the other end of the line.

“Hey, Wil. How’s London?” Dawn asked as she settled back on the bed. She hadn’t heard from them in a while and wanted an update.

“Tiring,” He replied, not wanting to get into the nasty details of their recent maneuvers. “What’s been going on in L.A.?”

“Same ol’, same ol’. Haven’t you been getting the e-mails?”

“Yeah, but they leave out a lot,” Wil commented.

“Well, everyone’s fine here. Although I do have a question…why does Angel have three gallons of canola oil in the kitchen?” A short, stifled laugh, followed by a brief pause answered her. “Seriously, why? We used it to take care of some demon guts today, and I can’t help but wonder…”

“Cooking,” Wil replied in a choked voice.

“Erm…blood?”

“No, for Fred. She went through a ‘deep-fry’ everything phase some time back,” Wil replied. “She even tried to make a blood-batter, but it didn’t make it past the experimental stage.”

“Thank gods,” Dawn mumbled. The very idea… “So, when are you guys coming home?”

“That’s why I called. We’re about done over here, so we’re planning to fly back late next week.”

“Great!” She’d missed them—Wil especially. He hadn’t been there when she and Buffy had shown up at Angel’s doorstep, so she hadn’t seen him in ages, and he was the coolest of all of them. “So, what do you want me to do?”

“Tell Buffy ahead of time,” Wil replied lightly. “That’s about it. We’re swamped here with getting ready to leave, so we probably won’t call again.”

“How did your thing go?”

“It worked,” Wil said quickly. “So we need to get back to L.A..”

“Oh,” Dawn replied, sensing that he wasn’t happy with things in London. She just hoped it wasn’t because of Buffy being around. “Well, then, I’ll pass on the message. Can’t wait to see you?”

Once Wil had ended the call, Dawn crawled under the covers and tried to get comfortable. She couldn’t wait for them to get back, even if they brought with them the possibility of some memorable vampire-Slayer verbal battles.