(Note: This takes place between the Internet Adventures "Arc" and "Time's Children" and in between the Buffy the Vampire Slayer episodes "Teacher's Pet" and "Never Kill a Boy on the First Date".)

 I. "Previously, on Buffy the Vampire Slayer..."

 This was a place of shadows.

 There was light, of course. Shadows aren't shadows without light; they're merely parts of the darkness. But in this place, candles sizzled and hissed in the damp gloom, serving only to chase the darkness away from their own immediate vicinity. The darkness, however, knew that this was its home. There were not enough candles in the world to chase it out.

 But the true light in this place was enough to chase out the darkness, leaving only the shadows in its wake to populate the cavern in abundance. It was a soft, shimmering light that left strange patterns on the wall, as though one had submerged a light beneath a pool of water. It had a reddish tint, as though the pool was not of water, but of blood.

 Unsurprisingly, both these things were true. Here, far beneath the earth, in a church dedicated to the heavenly but tainted with rituals so corrupt that the skies seemed to have banished it from their view, lay a wound in the universe. It had not healed. It may never heal. Those who knew of it called it the Hellmouth. And it was a place of shadows, and of those things who loved the shadows. The only light that never showed here was daylight.

 And, up until now, the light of a color television set, but that had very recently changed.

 Two figures watched the television set together. One was a woman, her face alive with excitement, of indeterminate age (although the grey stripe running through her dark hair would seem to suggest that she was on the cusp of matronly years.) She was beautiful enough, in her own way, but this was the only circumstance under which you would notice it. At the moment, the disdain that usually coloured her features was lost in the joy of discovery.

 The other was...a man? A thing? It was difficult to tell. His ears were pointed; his skin had the sheen of a burn victim; his face was wrinkled and ancient; his nose was truncated, with the nostrils flaring and open. He resembled nothing so much, in fact, as a man with the features of a bat. He tapped his sharpened fingernails against one another, with an expression of amused appraisal upon his features.

 "This is excellent reception," he commented dryly, his words slurred slightly by the effort of stretching his lips over massive fangs. "You'd be amazed at how difficult it is to get a signal down here."

 The woman seemed barely to register his voice. "We could be on the other side of the planet, and we'd still receive the signal. That was child's play."

 The man allowed a smile to touch his lips, but didn't let it get intimate. "And we're really seeing what Peter is seeing?"

 The woman nodded. "And hearing what he's hearing, as well. If the experiment works, we'll know it as soon as he does."

 "And if it doesn't?" shouted another voice from the shadows. "You'll have wasted Peter's life for nothing!" The voice was female, and petulant. "I still say we just drink her heart's blood, Master."

 Mentally, the woman rolled her eyes at the appellation. 'Master', she thought. Why did men feel the need to show off so? Just like--but then she turned her attention back to the screen, allowing the 'Master' to deal with his own problems.

 The Master, in turn, looked at the woman behind him who had spoken out. "Dorothy, isn't it?" Despite the tone, it was clearly not a question. "Come here."

 Dorothy stepped forward, her eyes suddenly filled with fear.

 "Don't worry," the Master chuckled, "I'm not going to hurt you. I just wanted to demonstrate one or two points to you, since you're new to our gathering. I always feel that one should be allowed to learn from their mistakes. Now--you wish for us to drain this woman of her blood, correct?"

 Dorothy nodded, but her voice seemed to have left for happier places.

 The Master nodded back. He held out a vial. "Please," he said, holding out a vial of an orange-red substance. "Drink this."

 Dorothy took the vial in trembling hands, and gulped it down. "What is it?" she asked.

 "A sample of our...partner's blood," the Master responded. "She provided us with a few, so we could test--" Dorothy suddenly exploded in a cloud of grey dust. "That." He looked down. "See? Now you've learned." He turned back to the television set. "What did I miss?"

 The woman, in turn, said nothing, but watched the screen intently as the camera seemed to finally spot something interesting--a young girl, perhaps age sixteen, with long red hair. She was looking around, with an air of worry about her, as the camera--as 'Peter' began to move towards her.

 The Master leaned closer. "Darla," he called out. A woman stepped into the light of the television set. She was beautiful, in a child-like way, and she accentuated this with clothing that blurred the line between child and adult. Her eyes were distant, as though she had just woken from a pleasant dream. But her beauty was marred slightly, by slight, almost-faded scars.

 The Master pointed to the girl on the screen. "Is this the one who hurt you?"

 Darla's beautiful face shimmered and shifted, to reveal the visage of a demon made flesh. "That's the one," she spat, as her inhuman eyes narrowed in hatred. "The Slayer's friend. I'm going to enjoy watching this if it works."

 'Peter' closed in on the girl, who noticed him when he was perhaps ten feet away. She screamed, and brought up a cross that she held in front of Peter. A slow chuckle came from the speakers in Peter's voice. A hand reached out from just below 'camera' angle and grabbed the cross, snapping it to twigs. And a cheer rose up from the shadows.

 "As you can see," the woman said. "A complete success. The same will be true with holy water--" On the screen, the image suddenly seemed to drift downwards, to settle into an upwards angle staring at the girl.

 The woman checked a large silver bracelet of hers. "But not, as yet, wooden stakes."

 A voice came over the monitor--that of another girl, of approximately the same age. "Hello, Willow? Next time, use the cross. I mean, I know you're Jewish, but...don't think of it as a religious thing, OK? Think of it as...a small letter 't' that hurts vampires."

 The girl still on camera shook her head, seemingly dazed by shock. "I did use it, Buffy...he...he broke it." She held out the fragments she still held.

 A sneakered toe prodded the 'camera'. "That's weird," the voice said. "It looks like there's--" the image snapped off as the woman pressed another button on her bracelet.

 "Sorry," she said, "but it looked like they might have found the implant. I didn't want to risk them giving it to someone intelligent. Still, I think I've given you the demonstration you wanted. Are you interested?"

 "Vaguely," the Master commented. "But you haven't exactly promoted trust. You haven't even told us your name."

 "What you don't know, your lackeys can't prattle to people I don't want to know."

 "People like whom?" the Master asked.

 Suddenly, the television set snapped on again, even as a shrill alarm began to bleep on the woman's bracelet. "LIKE THAT!" she shouted at the TV set, her face knotted with anger. She watched as a blue box faded into existence on a green lawn. "Like that interfering, meddling, irritating busybody of a--"

 "Doctor?" the Master said, leaning towards the set with an expression of new interest. "Well...I think we might have a deal after all..."

 II. "Previously, On Doctor Who..."

 Wil was still astonished, on reflection, on how calmly the Doctor was taking all this. Normally, if someone were to stow away on a ship, or a home, or in this case, both, there was a major problem, but the Doctor seemed to be very accepting of it all. Like he picked up jesters on the run all the time. Right now, he was giving a few basic explanations to Wil over the course of a mug of hot chocolate or two. But there was one thing Wil wanted cleared up right at the start... "So you can really go anywhere in the universe with this thing?" he asked as he sipped at his hot chocolate.

 "Anywhere in the universe, and all through time," the Doctor said as he rubbed at a monitor with a damp cloth. "My people, the Time Lords, invented it long ago to observe the rest of the universe."

 "I dunno," Wil said. "It seems kind of dangerous to me. What if you went back and changed history so that you never existed?"

 "That simply couldn't happen, Wil," the Doctor said very calmly. "The laws of the universe prevent that sort of paradoxical effect. They render it quite simply impossible for that kind of change to happen."

 "Well, I hope you're right," Wil said. "I'd hate to think that my entire existence keeps switching back and forth every time we time travel."

 The Doctor smiled, as though finally remembering something he'd forgotten. "Don't worry, Wil...the universe has a way of taking care of these things." At that moment, an old-fashioned electric light bulb began to buzz on and off in time to some unknown rhythm, and the Doctor's face broke into a wide, beaming smile. "Hullo," he said, "what have we here?"

 Wil looked at the console. "A light bulb?"

 "No!" the Doctor responded as he set down his own hot chocolate and darted to the console, cracking his knuckles. "Well, I mean, yes, but more than that. Do you know what this is?"

 Wil smirked. "I think we covered that in chapter one."

 The Doctor began pushing buttons, turning knobs, and flipping switches. "I've always wanted to see one of these!"

 "Light bulbs? They're not that big of a deal, Doctor. We even had them on Paracastria, and that was the armpit of the universe."

 "No, no, Wil! This," he said as he finished his performance at the TARDIS console, "is a perfect example of a fully intact, entirely stable, four-fold dimensional flexion! They're incredibly rare! I've never actually seen one before...it's a phenomenon that occurs...well, almost never!"

 "Gee," Wil said, "and to think, I'm going to be privileged enough to witness one."

 "Not just witness, Wil," the Doctor said, "study! This sort of weakness in the dimensional fabric should create all sorts of subsidiary interdimensional rifts that will make for fascinating learning...I should imagine we'll want to spend a while there."

 "Do I get a vote?"

 The Doctor dismissed his comments with a wave of his hand. "Oh, don't worry about finding things to occupy your time, Wil. The anomaly seems to be centered around California in the 1990's...although the subsidiary folds seem to go backwards and forwards for a few millennia...in any event, we'll be heading to a place with nice weather, and lots of humans your own age. In fact, it'll probably make a good acclimatization to time travel for you. Different enough from Paracastria to make a change, while not so different as to give you culture shock. Yes--I think this should be an ideal experience for us all!"

 III. "Discovery"

 Silence, Rupert Giles thought to himself as he finally settled into his chair with a cup of hot tea, was impossible to overrate.

 The books had all been properly shelved; the new arrivals had been sorted, arranged, and codified, including a quite interesting new arrival that he'd barely had time to glance at; the students were all in classes, or skipping, or whatever it was they did in their free time (and quite frankly, he didn't want to know); and now, at last, he was free to relax in perfect solitude.

 Then the doors burst open, and Buffy Summers came in. "Giles!" she said, in that inexpressibly irritating way of making his last name sound informal. "We've got trouble."

 With a sigh, Giles set down the cup of tea and sat up straighter. Inwardly, he boggled yet again at her...bizarre...choice of outfits. Why she couldn't wear something sensible, or even remotely tasteful, was an utter mystery to him. "What sort of trouble?" he asked patiently.

 In reply, she laid a collection of wooden fragments on the desk in front of him. He studied them for a long moment, but they seemed to have no particular meaning. "Mmmm," he said, trying to cover long enough for him to come up with something. "Some sort of...wood elemental? A dryad? Yes, that could be quite serious indeed."

 Buffy rolled her eyes. "A cross, Giles. Not a monster. Didn't hurt anyone."

 Giles blinked. "Ah. Yes, I see now. It's been nearly pulverized. And you wanted to show me this because...?"

 "Because it didn't hurt anyone. Willow used it on a vampire and he made it into bargain toothpicks. That's bad. With a capital B. And maybe an underline or two."

 Giles adjusted his eyeglasses to give her the full effect of his exasperated stare. "You took Willow out with you checking for vampires? She--she's got no training, she's got no powers, she's got--"

 "She's got an A average in science, is what she's got. We've been having all these substitute science teachers ever since Miss French turned out to be the Bug Woman, and my grades have been dipping into the Wonderful World of F. And I can't receive neat Slayer training from the librarian if I flunk out, can I? At least, not without people thinking we're in some sort of weird, creepy thing that I, personally, don't want to think about."

 Giles implored the heavens for strength. "Yes, well...be that as it may, I would suggest that you be more careful in future. If she'd been hurt--"

 "She wouldn't be. Ever." She locked eyes with him for a long moment, then finally pointed down at the cross. "We're getting side-tracked, here. The main point is, I gave Willow a cross--you know, grim death to all things fangy? And it came back...crossettes. You're the research guy." She gestured expansively to the library. "Figure it out!"

 Despite his frustration, Giles found himself intrigued. "Yes..." he mused, "there are some definite possibilities. Did the--did the creature die?"

 "Yup. Major stakeage. It dusted just like your ordinary, average vampire, once I got him."

 "Interesting. That rules out porphyria, shapeshifting...yes, this definitely requires careful study. I'll have to look in the Malleus Maleficarum, the Liber Fulvarum Paginarum, Tobin's Spirit Guide..."

 "And I'll have to get to science class. Substitute teacher number four-hundred-thirty-six starts today, and I learned from the last one that showing up late? Seriously frowned upon."

 Giles nodded absently, already reaching for the new volume he'd received. "Yes," he said. "Go ahead. Oh, and send Willow to me when she's free. She can be a great help." And while she's here, Giles mused privately, I can mention to her the inadvisability of accompanying you on patrol.

 IV. "Lunchtime"

 Wil took a scoop of something unidentifiable and brownish, and put it next to his previous scoop of something unidentifiable and whitish. 'Social interaction', the Doctor had said. 'Acclimatization to time travel', he'd mentioned. Nothing had been said about playing 'Guess That Foodstuff', 'Dodge the Leather-Wearing Guy', or any of the other fun new games he was learning today.

 He took his tray and headed out into the lunchroom, looking for somewhere that he could sit, but everywhere seemed to be occupied. One table was entirely taken up with a flock of gossipy girls, led by one gorgeous brunette who seemed to be unable to stop talking.

 "--you see that new science teacher? Grrrarr! That hair--those eyes--"

 One of the other girls chimed in. "Like a Byronic poet!"

 The first girl quirked her eyebrow at the speaker and frowned. "A what?" she asked. "Never mind. I'm sure if I wanted to be interrupted, I wouldn't have wanted to be interrupted."

 Wil passed by, smiling. He hadn't known the Doctor long, but he was pretty sure that if he knew he was already the subject of crushes, he'd probably start looking for a different cover identity. Not that it wasn't a pretty amazing job to get the teaching thing on such short notice. It seemed like they just walked in and--

 BAM! A group of massive guys walked past him from behind, forcing him to do an impromptu tightrope act to keep him from dumping his food onto the girl in front of him. Finally, realizing he was fighting a losing battle, he turned his imminent collapse into an abrupt sit into the chair next to her. "Hi," he said, trying to sound nonchalant. "This seat taken?"

 The girl, a slim, pretty redhead, gulped and stared at him for a long moment like a deer caught in the headlights. "Um." It was the only word out of her mouth for a few seconds. "No! I mean, there are, um, I have some people, but they're going to have their own chairs. Here, I mean. They don't carry them with them or anything. But you can sit there. It's fine."

 Wil was suddenly reminded of a girl at court; she'd loved to watch him juggle, but the crowds in the Great Hall terrified her. So she sat up in a balcony, her eyes just peeping out, watching him from a distance... something in this girl was like that. "Hi," he said. "I'm Gwilym Young."

 Instantly, the girl's entire demeanor changed. A smile blossomed on her face as she said, "Oh, are you that new teacher's son? He mentioned you today. He is soo cool! When he was demonstrating chemical bonding today, it was just so fascinating..." her face deflated. "To me. I know I'm the exception to the rule."

 Wil shrugged self-deprecatingly. "Most of what he says goes over my head. In fact, it goes into low orbit, and runs the danger of denting passing satellites. But it's cool to know that somebody gets it."

 Willow smiled back. "I'm really into science. I mean, sure it's lots of," she gestured, "big words and stuff. But it's all so amazing. The world is so full of interesting stuff, and science lets you know...how all the stuff works...and I'm saying 'stuff' a lot, aren't I?"

 Wil was about to respond, when another guy sat down across from both of them. He had dark, curly hair, and a face that was sort of goofily friendly. "Hey, Will," he said.

 Both of them simultaneously responded with, "Hi," then looked at each other. Willow looked down. "I, um...think he was talking to me."

 Wil just grinned. "Hi. I'm Wil. Too. I'm the new kid. Son of the new science teacher."

 Xander winced in mock pain. "Cursed by birth, eh? Well, don't worry. Stick with me, I'll tell you the people to watch out for."

 "Huh?"

 Xander made a head gesture to a nearby table. "Some of the kids here major in not majoring. They're always on the lookout for new tackle dummies, and well, being the son of one of the 'hated enemy', they might decide to see whether you'd fit in a locker."

 Wil sighed. "Never knew school could be this complicated." He caught sight of the looks from the rest of them, and said, "I, um, came from a smaller town."

 "Smaller than Sunnydale?" Xander said incredulously. "I thought they just called that a 'house'."

 Wil was about to respond, but was cut off when a blonde girl walked up to the table. "Hi, Willow--mind if I borrow you?" she asked.

 Willow looked over at Wil. "Um..."

 "It's a Giles thing. Something to do with," she also looked at Wil, "the, um, library books. The ones on...religion?" She invested the last word with a heavy significance, and Wil got the feeling that something was passing over his head.

 "Oh," Willow responded. "Sure." She got up. "Sorry," she said to Wil. "Maybe we'll see each other again?"

 Wil nodded. "It's a small school," he said.

 With a last wave, both Willow and the blonde girl left. Wil turned back to Xander. "Who was she?"

 "That," Xander said, with a long, low sigh, "was Buffy Summers. The Duchess of Buffonia. The Buffinator. The Buffy to End All Buffies."

 "Seemed like a nice girl. She a friend of Willow's?"

 Xander nodded. "Ever since she moved here. Buffy, that is. Not Willow. It's only been about a month, but it seems like a lifetime."

For some people, he thought, it had been.

 V. "Next Time, On..."

 Adam thrashed in the tank, stirring the green liquid into a froth with his rage. He remembered the Master's casual dismissal of him as 'raw material', the restraints, the cutting, the burning sensation in his head as the needle pierced his skull...

 His fury burned within him as the liquid seeped into his pores. The Master saw him as expendable, he now knew. But soon, he would be transformed...