Buffy stopped dead.  “No way.”

The crowds milled around them, several people giving her dirty looks as she blocked the hallway.  Buffy gave dirty looks right back, swinging it around so that Andrew got full blast.  Or maybe that should’ve been ‘set to kill’ or ‘stun’?  Something.  She glared even harder.

“You didn’t have to come!”  Andrew clung to that thought with all the strength in his skinny little body, eyes frantically darting around for an escape.  At least, Buffy thought he was looking for an escape.  In here, he could’ve been looking at anything.

“Someone has to watch you, Andrew.  I just don’t know why it has to be me.”

Apparently taking her question at face value, he brightened.  “Oh, well, Xander said that he wasn’t available because he’s got to work a double shift tonight.  He was so disappointed, too.  Free tickets ... ”

“Okay!”  She did not need to hear about the bonding of Xander and Andrew.  Er, not bonding.  Something less innuendo-y.  “So why am I here?  Isn’t this more of Willow’s kind of thing?”

Creatures dressed up as who knew what pushed past, chattering about a particular episode.  They headed towards a booth lit by bright lights, before going over to take their seats by the stage.  Buffy carefully didn’t look at who was going to be speaking later.

“Willow was too busy helping Giles do the containment spell thingie.  Buffy, come on,” Andrew whined.  “We needed a Slayer to find them, and you know it.  So please can we go inside?”

Taking a deep breath, Buffy reminded herself that she was the Slayer.  She’d come back from the dead twice, faced all manner of beasts and gods and boyfriends.  Evil boyfriends.  This was going to be cake.  It was.

Resolute, Buffy stood in line for her Enterprise-level pass and name tag shaped like a little Babylon 5 space-station, firm in her decision to not go see Gillian Anderson speak.  She couldn’t afford the extra thirty dollars.


She couldn’t.

Andrew was making puppy-dog eyes at her.