The Secret Life of DJ Trace

Teaser

Story by Dan Joslyn Written by Dan Joslyn Directed Dan Joslyn Produced by CN Winters Edited by DragonWriter17 Sound by CSR Art Direction by Robert Kidman Artists – Rob, David Zahir, Elif, Mattxxx, Isis

Fade In: Int. Radio Air Studio – Night

A female hand reached out to press one of a myriad of buttons on a large, complex radio switchboard. The corresponding indicator light changed from red to yellow, and a male announcer's voice began to play.

"Welcome to Nerd Radio, the only place where you can hear all your favorite music and discuss all your favorite sci-fi, fantasy, horror, video games, comic books, and more!" the announcer exclaimed.

Meanwhile, a hand inserted a CD into the top- most of a stack of players, and then spun a dial to select the correct track. A large red clock above the switchboard showed the exact time down to the second in block numbers.

"Only on Jacket Radio. And here's your host, the lovely DJ Trace!"

Tracey leaned forward, her lips almost touching a large microphone suspended in front of her on a long, flexible, arm. "Hey everybody, this is Trace here again. We've got a pretty decent show lined up for you tonight. Later I'll have my review of Mission: Impossible III. Can J.J. Abrams make me care whether Tom Cruise lives or dies? For those of us here in the states, which I'm assuming is most of you since our signal is kinda tiny, it's almost time for the Doctor Who finale. We'll discuss. And what graphic novels haven't you been reading but should? I'll tell you." She paused. A massive pair of headphones fully covered both of Tracey's ears, looking a little too large for her head. The pounding drums of the "Battlestar Galactica" soundtrack rattled in the background of the air mix.

"So…what did everyone do this week?" Tracey asked her invisible audience. "I hope everything's going well for all the nerds out there. I was going through the e-mails this week, and a lot of you seem to want to know more about me. Someone even wrote in to tell me that I 'sound hot'," she noted, smirking. "I'm not sure how that's even possible. It's not like I'm doing a Barry White impersonation on here."

"Anyway," she sighed, "the reason I don't talk about myself much on the show is that, well, I'm pretty boring. My life would not make very good radio. So I considered this problem, and I think I may have come up with a solution. I'm just going to make stuff up, hopefully much cooler than my actual life, and it will be just like I'm telling you all about myself. Cool?" Tracey waited a moment, as if expecting an answer.

"So what did I do this week?" she continued. "It started out with a pretty typical Monday morning."

Cut To: Int. Tracey's Apartment – Bedroom – Morning

A very loud alarm suddenly blared from a small clock/radio, a noise somewhere between a buzz and a beep designed to be as annoying as possible. A rumpled Tracey rolled over in bed and brought her hand down roughly on the snooze button.

To say that Tracey's bedroom was cluttered would be something of an understatement. Schoolbooks were piled haphazardly around a laptop on a desk by the dirty window. Comic books were strewn across the floor, mixed with old empty plastic bags from the Walgreen's on the corner. The light from the twisted, uneven window blinds fell haphazardly across Tracey's face as she tried unsuccessfully to blink the sleep out of her eyes.

"It's not much, I know," she mumbled. She appeared to be looking directly into a camera, talking to an unseen audience. "But it beats living with my parents or in the slayer dorm. Have I mentioned slayers?"

Cut To: Int. Tracey's Apartment – Bedroom – Later Tracey pulled an "Evil Rabbit" Monty Python T-Shirt over her head and tugged it down over her bra.

Cut To: Int. Tracey's Apartment – Bathroom – Later

The buzzing of an electric toothbrush filled the air as Tracey poked the small white and green contraption deep into her cheek. She was humming "Beverly Hills" by Weezer in a strangled voice.

Cut To: Ext. Outside Seminary Road Apartments – Later

Tracey struggled with the driver-side door of an older, beat-up Ford Taurus. There was a long gouge farther back on the same side of the car, implying the vehicle had experienced at least one previous adventure. With a jerk that sent Tracey stumbling, the door suddenly popped open.

Cut To: Int. Tracey's Car – Later

Oh let the sun beat down upon my face, stars to fill my dream. I am a traveler of both time and space, to be where I have been.

Making up in volume what she lacked in talent, Tracey sang along with Led Zeppelin's "Kashmir" as she sped down the highway. The one hand she kept on the steering wheel tapped along with the song's persistent guitar riff.

Cut To: Int. Watchers Council – Parking Garage – Later

The blue Ford Taurus pulled into an open parking space at more than a little bit of an angle. Tracey got out of the car, visually appraising its position before announcing, "Good enough."

She walked past an RV, her feet traveling over a message spray painted on the cement that read, "Xander's Camper Only – All Others Will Be Toad".

Cut To: Int. Watchers Council – Kitchen – Later

With a practiced flick of her wrist, Tracey flipped a pancake into the air and caught it in a Teflon-lined skillet. As he passed behind her, Tracey gave Andrew a quick peck on the cheek. "Morning, Andy," she said.

"Morning," he agreed without slowing down.

Cut To: Int. Watchers Council – Dining Hall – Later

"Hey!" Tracey yelled, grabbing the wrist of a young slayer whose arm was pulled back, ready to fling a fistful of scrambled eggs across the room. "I didn't make that so you could throw it!"

Another batch of eggs, flung at full velocity, splatted against Tracey's ear.

Cut To: Int. Watchers Council – Restroom – Later

Tracey's grimace was reflected in the mirror of the public restroom where she was trying valiantly to clean yellow goop out of her hair.

"Have I mentioned slayers?" she said, looking into the mirror with her palms flat against the sink.

Cut To: Int. Watchers Council – Kitchen – Later

Looking much cleaner, Tracey gave Andrew a peck on the cheek as she passed through the kitchen.

"Bye, Andy," she said.

"Bye," he agreed.

Cut To: Int. Tracey's Car – Later

Oh, father of the four winds, fill my sails, across the sea of years, With no provision but an open face, along the straits of fear.

"Kashmir" was still going, and so was Tracey's singing, as she turned the steering wheel with what might be described as "loose" technique. Cut To: Ext. Baldwin-Wallace College – Later

Once again at somewhat of an angle, Tracey's car pulled into a space. This one was outside an older-looking stone building, marked with a sign denoting it as "Marting Hall."

Cut To: Int. Marting Hall – Computer Lab – Later

With a sigh, Tracey plopped herself down in front of a computer screen, letting the bag she'd been carrying slip off her shoulder to the floor.

About twenty students occupied most of the computers in the room, while in the front of the class stood a dark-haired woman of medium build, possibly in her thirties.

"Sorry for the late start, everybody," she apologized, as the chatter in the classroom slowly disappeared. "It's been the strangest couple of days for me."

"That's Dr. Callaway, my Computer Programming prof," Tracey explained as she turned in her chair and talked over her shoulder. Her voice rang loud in the relative silence of the classroom, but she drew no admonishment from the professor. "Not the most together woman, but she can fix code like Scotty can fix a starship engine."

"I keep hearing these noises, you know, like there's somebody in the house," Dr. Callaway continued, "or I'll be in a completely different room and suddenly the TV will turn on or a door will slam shut. Then this morning…"

Cut To: Int. Dr. Callaway's House – Bedroom – Earlier

Dr. Callaway shut off her alarm and yawned. Her bedroom was somewhat bare, but neat.

Cut To: Int. Dr. Callaway's House – Bathroom – Later

Dr. Callaway pulled a towel around her body as she stepped out of the shower. She opened one- half of the bathroom mirror to reveal the cupboard behind, pulling out a battery powered hair dryer. When she closed the mirror, Tracey was standing behind her.

"This is usually the part where something creepy happens," Tracey said, before her voice was drowned out by the sound of Dr. Callaway drying her hair. Cut To: Int. Dr. Callaway's House – Bedroom – Later

Pulling the door shut behind her, Dr. Callaway exited the bathroom. When she turned around, she stopped short, a shocked look on her face.

The entire room was turned inside out. All the clothes were torn down from the closets. The drawers had been pulled out of the dresser, emptied, and thrown across the floor, along with their contents. The covers were torn off the bed; one of the sheets was now partially draped over a television set.

Tracey was perched on the end of the bed, legs crossed. "I told you so."

Fade to Black.

End of Teaser

Act One

Starring:

Lacey Chabert as Skye, Elijah Wood as Jeff, Thora Birch as Tracey, Michelle Rodriguez as Kadin, Robert Picardo as Dr. Miller, Evangeline Lilly as Marissa, Brad Dourif as Brell, Gillian Anderson as Gabby, Elisabeth Harnois as Jocelyn, Zooey Deschanel as Dr. Callaway, Cameron Bright as Hugh

The last notes of a song faded, then cut off completely when Tracey pressed the button on the air board that turned her microphone on.

"That was They Might Be Giants with their classic 'Don't Let's Start'," she said. "You're listening to Nerd Radio, I'm DJ Trace. I know, I kinda left everybody on a cliffhanger there with my story, but I think that maybe we need to take a step back here. For some background, if you will."

Cut To: Int. US Army Office – Circa 1982 – Day

A relatively pretty woman sat behind a utilitarian metal desk, her dark hair barely coming down past her ears. Her attention was concentrated on her work at a typewriter in the center of the desk.

"My mother was born and raised in Dusseldorf, Germany," Tracey's voice said, "and when she needed some work, she got a job as a secretary at the local branch of the US military. It was the Cold War then, and there were a lot of cute young American boys being sent over to keep an eye on the Commies next door."

"Excuse me, Miss?" said a young, blond American airman leaning over Tracey's mother's desk. By his uniform, he was a Captain. He held out a sheet of paper to the woman. "Could you type this up for me?"

"One of them was my father," Tracey continued.

Tracey's mother just stared at the man, a dreamy look in her eyes.

Cut To: Int. US Army Hospital – Circa 1984 – Night

The blond serviceman paced nervously in a hospital hallway, stealing a glance periodically through a window.

"Two years later, I was born, already a citizen of two countries, the homes of such great artists as Ludwig van Beethoven and George Lucas," Tracey narrated.

The door to a nearby room opened, and a nurse beckoned Tracey's father in. He entered to find his wife holding a tiny, pink, crying baby.

"I got prettier as time went on," Tracey noted.

Cut To: Int. Plane Flying Over Atlantic – Circa 1985 – Day

Tracey's mother looked wistfully out one of the plane's rounded windows, her hair by now a little longer. The young Tracey dozed on her lap. "My mother soon accompanied my father back to the United States, trading sauerkraut for French fries and good beer for crappy beer."

Cut To: Int. Elementary School Classroom – Circa 1993 – Day

"I discovered video games at a young age," Tracey continued.

A row of third grade students craned their necks to see their teacher chastise a young girl sitting in the back of the room. The teacher grabbed something small and box-shaped from the girl's hand. It was a Game Boy.

"But, Miss Johnson, I was just about to beat King Coopah!"

Cut To: Int. Tracey's House – Circa 2000 – Night

"When I grew up," Tracey's voice said, "I decided that I was destined to become a game designer."

The high-school version of Tracey and somewhat older versions of her mother and father quietly sat at a candle-lit table eating dinner.

Deliberately, young Tracey set down her fork and announced, "Mama, ich möchte Computerspiele entwerfen."

Tracey's mother just sighed.

Cut To: Int. Tracey's House – Circa 2003 – Day

A few years older, Tracey tore open a letter and speedily read its contents. "Sweet," she said, smiling.

"I was accepted into the computer science program at Baldwin-Wallace," Tracey narrated. "It was the closest place to home, but far enough to give me an excuse to get my own apartment."

Cut To: Int. Tracey's Apartment – Circa 2004 – Day

Tracey tore open another letter, this time looking much less happy. At the top of the page "RENT STATEMENT" was written in block lettering. "I needed money, so I answered an ad looking for kitchen help at a boarding school."

Cut To: Int. Watchers Council – Kitchen – February 2004

Both Tracey and Willow's parents ran screaming from the Council kitchen at the sight of several small blue children with Andrew.

"Things got a lot more interesting than I bargained for. I got a cool boyfriend out of the deal, though, so that worked out okay."

"That went well," Andrew commented to the children.

Cut To: Int. Marting Hall – Computer Lab – Morning

"So you see," Tracey said from her seat back in the college classroom, "my life experience had uniquely prepared me to be special consultant on the supernatural to my programming prof."

"Okay," Dr. Callaway was saying in the front of the room, a video projector lighting her face bright blue, "that's it for today. Remember, your final projects are due Thursday."

As the rest of the class began to gather their things, Tracey slung her bag over her shoulder and made her way to the front.

"Dr. Callaway?" she asked.

"Yes, Tracey, what is it?" the professor replied, while at the same time checking something on her computer console.

"You know those weird problems you've been having, the ones you told us about? Well, um, I think I might be able to help."

Dr. Callaway was suddenly interested. "Really? That would be great. The whole thing has just been so stressful. I've been drinking Slim-Fast like you wouldn't believe." Her expression changed to one of confusion. "Wait…what makes you think you can help?"

Tracey suddenly looked a bit apprehensive. Flash To: Ext. Reteesk's Apartment – Day

Reteesk opened his front door to find Tracey waiting for him while grasping a brown paper bag.

"Your goat's eyes," she said proudly, holding the bag out for him.

"Exquisite!" Reteesk exclaimed, his tentacles vibrating in anticipation.

Cut To: Int. Marting Hall – Computer Lab – Resume

"I…have some experience with things like this," Tracey finally said.

Dr. Callaway nodded. "Well, I'm really at my wit's end. Anything you could do would be greatly appreciated."

"Yeah, about that." Tracey scratched her nose. "The appreciation, that is. I, well, I sort of was hoping that, maybe, I could get an extension on the final project. I'm not done with the rendering on some of the sprites."

The professor looked hard at Tracey. "And in exchange…"

"I could do some investigating, try to get rid of your little haunting problem. Like I said, I've got experience with this type of thing. I could come by tonight."

Dr. Callaway thought for a moment, then sighed. "All right, but only for you, Tracey. You're my best student."

Cut To: Int. Radio Air Studio – Night

Tracey's face was lit up with a self-satisfied smirk. "I rule," she said, leaning close to the microphone and drawing out the sentence playfully.

Tracey pulled back and frowned a bit. "But that morning, back at work, things weren't going quite so well." Cut To: Int. Watchers Council – Conference Room – Morning

Tracey walked into a meeting that was just getting started. Her entrance went completely unnoticed by Buffy, Kennedy, Willow and Rowena.

"They never let me in on their big hoo-ha meetings," she said toward the camera. "Nope. I'm strictly the 'go-to gal in the galley' around here." Tracey leaned against the wall and crossed her arms.

Buffy opened a folder in front of her. "There're some dead people with two fang marks on their necks."

"Let's kick some vampire ass!" Kennedy said, smacking her right fist into her left palm.

"Not so fast," Rowena interrupted. "Who do we think is doing this?"

"Vampires, duh," replied Kennedy.

"Really, Sherlock? Good job," Rowena shot back. "What kind of vampires?"

"Blood-drinking vampires?" Kennedy said, continuing her sarcasm.

"No, Ro's right," Willow said. "Remember Vancouver?"

No one said anything. After an awkward stretch of moments, Buffy finally spoke. "This requires more investigation."

Tracey rolled her eyes. "There's a shock."

Cut To: Int. Watchers Council – Slayer Dorm Room – Same Time

Marissa threw a stained white t-shirt into a plain green duffel bag. It wasn't the most careful of packing jobs. She had dark circles under both eyes, looking like she hadn't slept the night before. Marissa turned in place for a moment, vacant eyes looking around her dorm room for anything she might have missed. What few possessions the head of Black Ops had amassed during her time at the Council were now in the duffel bag. Spotting something in the corner, Marissa walked over, passing Tracey on the way. "Rumor has it that it's been a foregone conclusion for months," Tracey said, "but things seem to move slowly these days at the Council. Marissa here," Tracey gestured over her shoulder at the slayer, who was now slipping a small battleaxe into her bag, "she just officially found out that she's been relieved of her post at the Council. She's been kicked out. Kaput. She's exiled. Persona non grata…"

"That's enough!" Marissa snapped, noticing Tracey's presence for the first time.

"Okay, okay," Tracey backtracked, as Marissa grabbed her bag and headed for the door. "But where are you gonna go?"

"I was doin' just fine on the street before these jackasses found me," Marissa replied, stopping in the doorway. "I can do it again." There was a pause as Marissa seemed reluctant to leave, looking back at her now-bare dorm room. Tracey was now nowhere to be seen.

Cut To: Int. Watchers Council – Lobby – Later

Her eyes focused downwards towards the floor, Marissa strode through the Council lobby, her duffel bag slung across her shoulder. As she passed the front desk, Tracey, who was sitting on the edge of the desk, grabbed Marissa's wrist, stopping the girl in her tracks. Marissa avoided eye contact, tapping her foot in frustration as Tracey held the hand she'd grabbed up for all to see.

The knuckles were scraped and bloody, while the entire hand was covered in a white, powdery substance.

"Plaster," Tracey observed. "Possibly from the wall of a dorm room. Just another part of the price tag when the Council parts ways with a slayer."

"Whatever," Marissa said, frustration evident in her voice. "Can I go now?" With a sigh, Tracey nodded.

Nearby, Faith and Xander were sitting in the seats on the far side of the lobby. "The good part about losin' my job is that now I have a lot more time to watch afternoon TV," Faith was saying.

"Really?" Xander asked skeptically. "That's a good thing?"

"You've got a point," Faith admitted. "Maybe I'm trying a little too hard to look on the bright side. You can only watch so many episodes of Tyra where people have a fear of pennies and Styrofoam before your brain turns to Jell-O." "Yeah but everyone always has room for Jell-O," Xander assured her. "Probably safer for everybody just to lay low right now."

"Yeah," Faith agreed unhappily. "Everybody's a little on-edge lately, like they're just waitin' for me to start stabbing people or somethin'."

"Nobody thinks that," Xander said. "Now, on the other hand…" He nodded towards Marissa as she walked toward the front door. Faith said nothing as she watched Marissa exit. In the doorway, the slayer bumped shoulders with a nervous-looking girl who was entering.

Andrew ran into the lobby, looking somewhat put out. "Xander, could you take a look at room 304 in the slayer dorms? It's kinda…destroyed."

Meanwhile, sixteen-year-old Jocelyn O'Hara stumbled backwards into the Council lobby, looking fearfully at the slayer now moving quickly away from the building. The young woman pulled the strap of her purse back onto her shoulder and turned around.

Jocelyn gazed about the room anxiously until she saw Faith. Her eyes grew wide, and she looked back at the door as if considering a hasty retreat. Instead, she turned back to Faith, swallowed, and headed toward her. Unnoticed by Jocelyn, Tracey walked right along beside her.

As Jocelyn was just about to reach Faith, the blonde cleared her throat and started to speak.

"Excuse me…" she began. Just then, her shoe inexplicably got stumped on a spot on the floor, causing her to trip. Faith reached out for her, but Jocelyn managed to catch herself and stay on her feet. Tracey rolled her eyes.

When Jocelyn had righted herself, she addressed Faith. "Hi. I, um, I'm Jocelyn," she said, wringing her hands. "Jocelyn O'Hara."

Faith gave her a "who?" look.

Jocelyn forced a smile. "You, um, you know, sorta broke into my house, thought I had some kinda bomb or something?"

Faith's face registered recognition. "Oh yeah. The girl with the zit problem. I gotcha. What can we do for ya?"

Jocelyn reached into her purse and pulled out a Council business card. "Well, Jeff gave me this card and said if I needed any help…" When the teenager didn't elaborate, Faith said, "Just have a seat and I'll get Jeff."

As Faith moved to the telephone at the reception desk, Tracey looked over Jocelyn from head to toe, shaking her head in disapproval.

"This girl is a disaster waiting to happen," Tracey announced toward the camera.

Cut To: Int. Dr. Callaway's House – Living Room – Late Afternoon

Dr. Callaway led her best student through her front door and into the living room. When they entered, they found the television blaring.

"What the devil?" Dr. Callaway said loudly over the television as she made her way over to the coffee table. She picked up the remote and switched the television off. "Now I swear that I did not leave that thing on. Do you see what I'm dealing with?"

"You could be dealing with a ghost," Tracey theorized.

"How do you know?" Dr. Callaway asked.

"Poltergeist," Tracey muttered to herself. "Can we take a look at the basement?" she asked her professor.

"Why do you want to go in the basement?"

"Because…if you're looking for creepy stuff, the basement's always a good place to start."

"Well, all right," Dr. Callaway said, "but the lights don't work down there."

"Of course, the lights never work in the scary basement," Tracey said to the unseen camera before turning back to Callaway. "That's fine. Just give me a flashlight, and I'll be set."

Cut To: Int. Dr. Callaway's House – Basement – Moments Later

As Tracey descended the basement stairs alone, she scanned the area ahead of her with her flashlight. "You know, it's times like these that make me wonder whether I'm really sane," Tracey shared with her audience. "Do I really have friends from another dimension? An ex-super-villain for a boyfriend? Superheroes who eat my cooking daily?"

A sudden scuffling stopped Tracey's pondering. She froze in place and flashed her light in the direction of the sound. She drew in a surprised breath when her light illuminated the figure of a young boy huddled in the corner.

Tracey hurried down the stairs, keeping her light fixed on the boy. She crept slowly towards him. When she got to him, he turned to her. Tracey gasped. The boy appeared to be made of plastic.

Back in her studio, Tracey gave a small smirk then leaned into her microphone.

"See what I mean?"

Fade to Black.

End of Act One

Act Two

Tracey played air drums with wild abandon as the current song finished its climax. On the final thump, she tossed her hair back and moved to her microphone, hitting the on-air button.

"Oh god," Tracey said a little breathlessly, "I love that song! It's so good it made me forget where I left off. Now…where were we?"

Cut To: Int. Watchers Council – Lobby – Morning Andrew came skidding into the lobby. When he saw Xander talking with Faith, he ran over.

"Xander, could you take a look at room 304 in the slayer dorms? It's kinda…destroyed."

"Oh, wait…we were after that, weren't we?" Tracey corrected. "That's right."

Cut To: Int. Watchers Council – Coven Room – Later That Morning

In the Coven Room, Jeff led Jocelyn to a seat next to Willow, before sitting down next to Andrew.

"Willow, Andrew, this is Jocelyn," Jeff introduced.

"It's nice to meet you, Jocelyn," Willow said.

As Andrew merely smiled his greeting, Willow stuck out her hand for a friendly shake. Jocelyn didn't reciprocate; instead, she only gripped her purse strap more tightly. Willow withdrew her hand.

"So…Jeff tells me you can do magic," Willow prompted.

Jocelyn nodded nervously. "Yeah, I can…well, sort of, sometimes. I mean, it doesn't always do what it's supposed to do, you know?"

Willow chuckled. "How well I know," she admitted.

"Anyway, I-I-I decided to take you up on your offer," the girl continued, "even after what you did to my cat. 'Cause…'cause…something happened with my boyfriend."

Willow, Andrew, and Jeff shared a curious glance and then turned back to Jocelyn.

The blonde dropped her gaze to her hands, which she had placed on the table. "We were, um, getting serious, and then I accidentally…"

Jocelyn leaned over to Willow and began whispering in her ear. Suddenly, Tracey popped up behind them. She too leaned over and listened in. Within seconds, Tracey began giggling.

"I'd tell you what I heard," Tracey said into her microphone, "but the FCC would have my ass."

Cut To: Int. Watchers Council – Coven Room – Resume

As Jocelyn finished her whispering, Willow's eyes widened. Andrew and Jeff were leaning across the table, anxious to hear what the blonde was saying.

"Oh my," Willow said. "And do you do things like that all the time without meaning to?" she asked.

"Yes," Jocelyn said.

"Do what?" Jeff asked.

"Yeah, do what?" Andrew echoed.

"Details not important, guys," Willow replied when Jocelyn appeared to be getting a little upset.

"My boyfriend broke up with me and told everybody at school!" the teenager complained woefully. "That's why I want to transfer here, to the Council's school. If that's okay, anyway."

"It won't be easy," Willow instructed. "You'll have to learn how to use magic properly, all while keeping up with your regular studies. It will be a lot of work."

"I'll try," Jocelyn said. "I mean, I want to try, if you'll let me."

Willow smiled and nodded. "Of course," she said, picking up a pen and form on the table. "Let me just get you to sign a few papers, and we'll go from there." Willow handed Jocelyn the pen as she slid the papers across the table.

Once in Jocelyn's hand, the pen began to glow. She yelped and dropped the pen onto the papers, which instantly caught fire. She backed away from the table in fright as Willow and the others extinguished the flames. "Sorry…" Jocelyn said apologetically.

"Oh boy," Willow muttered under her breath.

"Speaking of boy…" announced Tracey behind Willow and Jocelyn.

Cut To: Int. Dr. Callaway's House – Kitchen – Late Afternoon

"Do you know this kid?" Tracey asked in a tired voice. The plastic-looking child she had discovered in the basement tugged on her hand, its head swiveling in an attempt to take in every detail of the room. Dr. Callaway's eyes were wide with horror.

"I…I have never seen it before in my life!" she stammered.

Tracey sighed and leaned down to talk to the child. "What's your name?"

The boy stopped his squirming momentarily to consider the question. "I dunno."

"You don't know your name?" Tracey asked. "What about your parents? Who are your parents?"

"I don't know what I'm for," the boy replied, his face innocent as only a child's can be.

"Maybe I should call animal control," Dr. Callaway said nervously.

"What?" Tracey blurted, standing upright again. "He isn't an animal, he's a kid! Admittedly, he's a little weird, but that doesn't make him animal!"

Tracey looked in a completely different direction and said, "I can relate."

Flash To: Ext. Elementary School Playground – Day

A third-grade version of Tracey hung upside-down by her knees from blue monkey-bars, She waved a long tree branch in the air.

"By the power of Grayskull!" she shouted. "I have the Power!!!" She smacked the side of the monkey-bars with the stick.

Cut To: Int. Dr. Callaway's House – Kitchen – Resume "That's not a human boy," Dr. Callaway argued. "Look at it!"

The child had managed to get free of Tracey's grip and grabbed a spatula off the top of the counter, and was now banging it against different buttons on the front of the dishwasher. The boy laughed as the indicator lights on the machine changed color.

"That's not for playing," Tracey said gently, prying the child's fingers loose from the spatula. He just looked at her, eyes wide. Tracey then rounded on her professor. "Whatever you think about him, he was in your basement. He's your responsibility!"

"Just get rid of it!" Dr. Callaway shouted.

"I can't just get rid of him!" Tracey yelled back. "What am I supposed to do with a little kid?" Behind her, the boy was now opening various drawers and rummaging through them.

"If it stays here, I'm just gonna call animal control," Dr. Callaway insisted.

Tracey opened her mouth and closed it a few times before answering. "Fine." The child was tugging on her hand. "What?" Tracey asked him, exasperated.

"What does this do?" the boy asked, holding up a long wooden spoon.

Tracey took the boy's hand and turned to leave, but Dr. Callaway called after her. "Tracey?"

"Yeah?"

"Promise me you won't tell anyone about this."

Tracey brow furrowed. "Why don't you want me to – ?"

"Just…don't, okay?"

Slowly, Tracey nodded. "I promise."

Cut To: Ext. Dr. Callaway's House – Moments Later

"What's this?" the boy asked, pulling down on Tracey's arm. She looked to see him leaning down to touch Dr. Callaway's impeccable front lawn with a slightly-too-shiny finger. Tracey kneeled down next to the kid. "That's called grass," she said patiently.

"I've never seen this before," he said, his words very clear for a boy his age.

"What, grass?"

"Everything."

Tracey just stared at the small boy for a second, then shook her head. "Yeah, well, just wait until your parents decide you're spending too much time indoors and tell you to go mow the lawn."

"What is 'parents'?" the boy asked.

Tracey stopped in the middle of getting to her feet. After a moment, she turned her head to look at nothing in particular. "I am the only one having a Twin Peaks moment?" She grabbed the child's hand. "C'mon, let's go."

"What's that?" he asked, pointing.

Tracey sighed. "That's my car. Not the Batmobile, I'll grant you, but I had my girl Marie trick out the…"

"What's it do?"

"Do all your sentences have question marks on the end?"

"It looks scary," the boy noted.

"Guess not." One corner of Tracey's mouth curled up in a half-smile. "It's fine." She opened the passenger-side door. "Look, nothing scary. It's like When a Stranger Calls in there."

The boy stomped one foot on the white pavement of Professor Callaway's driveway. "I DON'T WANNA!" he screamed.

"Okay, okay." Tracey motioned frantically in an attempt to soothe the child. She knelt down next to him again, stroking his hair. "Shh, shh, it's okay." Slowly, his bawling began to quiet. Tracey smiled. "You know, I have to call you something." She thought for a moment, then her expression changed to indicate that an invisible light bulb had just appeared above Tracey's head. "What about Hugh? You know, from TNG, when they adopt that Borg and he doesn't…you have no idea what I'm talking about, do you?"

"I like Hugh," the boy said after a moment.

"Hugh it is, then," Tracey grinned, getting to her feet. "Now, if you get in, we can play a game.

Hugh considered this before nodding. "Okay." Cut To: Int. Tracey's Car – Moments Later

After making sure Hugh was strapped in behind her, Tracey turned the key in the ignition. The engine sputtered, but refused to start.

"Is it broken?" Hugh asked.

"No, we're good," Tracey insisted. "Marie, you said you were good with cars," she muttered under her breath, before trying the key again to the same result.

"Work, darnit!"

Cut To: Int. Interstellar Spacecraft – Bridge

"Work, darnit!" Tracey banged on the side of her blinking console. "We need the hyperdrive back on-line!"

"Captain, we've got deconfessions…," reported Hugh, who was reading a console on another part of the bridge.

"Decompressions," Tracey corrected. "Seal them off and get me the engine room."

Tracey and Hugh were the only two crew visible; both in futuristic uniform. The spacecraft was in the Trekkian mold, a little too clean with more blinking lights than a Vulcan could understand, much less a diminutive, shiny-skinned human. However, Hugh appeared to be doing just fine.

Tracey grabbed the side of her workstation to keep from toppling over as the entire bridge suddenly shook.

"Shield levels?" Tracey prompted.

"Bad," Hugh replied. "The aliens want to talk."

"Put 'em through," Tracey ordered, striding to a command chair in the center of the bridge, pressing a few buttons before sitting down. An image of Kadin Van Helsing wearing a silver-colored jumpsuit and sporting large ridges on her nose and brow appeared on a large view-screen in front of her. "Greetings, human," the alien spat. "Are you prepared to surrender?"

Tracey scoffed. So did Hugh. "Humans don't surrender," Tracey said. "We just keep fighting. It's this thing we do. I thought when you called you were prepared to be reasonable, but…"

"Zorlon 7 is rightfully ours!" the alien bellowed.

"Since when?" Tracey replied. "Intergalactic law doesn't change just because you say it does. Rules are rules."

"Yeah," Hugh agreed, his tone making evident his distaste for their foe.

"I make my own rules," the alien growled. "Our readings show that your shields are almost depleted. Surrender now or die!"

"Which part of 'humans don't surrender' didn't you get?" Tracey wondered.

The alien huffed and broke the connection. The bridge soon shook again.

"We're gonna blow up!" Hugh shouted, his voice high-pitched and scared.

"No, we're not," Tracey said, determination in her voice as she stood up. "I've got a plan. I need all power to weapons!"

"All power to weapons!" Hugh repeated enthusiastically.

Tracey looked up from examining her console and grinned. "This is always the best part."

"He has to lower his shields to fire, if only for a second," she explained, now talking to Hugh. "The next time they fire, fire back immediately."

"But our shields are down, too," Hugh pointed out.

"That's why we gotta hang on," Tracey replied.

"They're shooting at us!" Hugh squealed.

"Fire!" Tracey ordered.

The bridge rocked wildly as the alien shots came in. Sparks flew everywhere. Hugh screamed. Tracey sprawled on the floor.

On the view-screen, the alien ship suddenly exploded, a single ring of light traveling out horizontally as the debris of the central explosion disintegrated into nothingness. "We won!" Hugh exclaimed.

"We always do," Tracey said, getting to her feet, looking somewhat the worse for wear.

"Where are we going now?" Hugh asked.

Cut To: Int. Tracey's Car – Late Afternoon

"Where are we going now?"

Tracey turned her head for an instant to look in the backseat before returning her eyes to the road. "I can't take you straight to the Council's big-wigs, but I need help on this one. Don't worry. I know one guy who always, always, always comes through."

Cut To: Int. Andrew's Apartment – Night

Andrew, wearing a t-shirt that read, "Yoda, the best advice he gives," took a break from reading a comic book to drink from his can of soda. He snickered at something he read, then grimaced. "Carbonation in my nose…ow!"

Hearing a noise, Andrew turned his head towards the glass door of his balcony. Another tap was heard when a pebble glanced off the glass.

"This better be good," he sighed, getting to his feet. "This new writer they have on Astonishing X-Men is amazing…"

He slid open the balcony door.

Cut To: Ext. Outside Andrew's Apartment – Continuous

When Andrew stepped through the door, he was suddenly wearing full Elizabethan garb. He wore a red velvet doublet and a pair of baggy, gold embroidered short pants over grey tights. His navy blue hat was topped off with a jaunty feather.

He found Tracey standing on the grass beneath, wearing a rather elaborate white dress with red ruffles.

"Andrew, Andrew," she called. "Wherefore art thou, Andrew?" Looking up, she smiled. "But soft, what light through yonder window breaks. It is the East and Andrew is the sun!" "Here standeth I!" Andrew said. "Why dost thou cast thy stones at the quivering panes, calling for my most fortuitous appearance? Art thou not Tracey and my girlfriend?"

"Neither, fair saint," Tracey replied, "if either thee dislike."

"How camest thou hither, and wherefore?" Andrew asked. "Thou art welcome in my house without these rituals! I beg of thee, come hither with me and we shall partake in Halo 2 together."

"I bear tidings of grave consequence," Tracey told him. "Well, kinda," she added with a sheepish shrug.

"Alack," Andrew said, "there lies more peril in thine eye than twenty of Kennedy's swords. Look thou but sweet, and I am proof against all ill."

"An oath I have sworn this very day, for reasons I know not," Tracey said. "I have many wonders thou hast not beheld, this day or any other. Prithee, come to my abode with greatest speed?"

"By love, who first did prompt me to inquire," Andrew replied, "he lent me counsel and I lent him eyes. I am no Han Solo; yet, wert thou as far as that vast galaxy in the far and distant past, I would adventure for such merchandise."

"O, wilt thou leave me so unsatisfied?" Tracey asked.

"What satisfaction canst thou have as yet?" Andrew answered.

"The exchange of thy love's faithful vow for mine." Tracey looked up at Andrew in adoration.

"I gave thee mine before thou didst request it," Andrew replied, "and yet I would it were to give again."

Tracey's brow furrowed. "Wouldst thou withdraw it? For what purpose, love?"

"But to be frank, and give it thee again," Andrew said. Tracey breathed a sigh of relief. "And yet I wish but for the thing I have: My bounty is as boundless as the Alpha Quadrant, my love as triumphant; the more I give to thee, the more I have, for both are infinite."

"Is not the Alpha Quadrant bounded hard by galaxy's edge?" Tracey asked.

"Thy beauty hast driven my soul to madness," Andrew agreed. "I shall make haste. Stay but a little, I will come again." He retreated back inside his apartment.

Cut To: Int. Radio Air Studio – Night "Isn't he just so romantic?" Tracey beamed. "Best boyfriend ever." She sighed dreamily before catching herself.

"Anyway," she said into the microphone, "things weren't going quite so romantically elsewhere."

Cut To: Ext. Downtown Alley – Night

A strong kick in the middle of the back roughly jarred Marissa awake. She had been curled up over a vent in a narrow back alley, her duffel bag cradled between her arms. Slayer instincts kicking in, she instantly sprang to her feet and threw a punch, only to find her attack handily parried.

"You're gonna freeze to death out here," Faith said.

"I've lived through much colder," Marissa replied, relaxing only slightly. "You just gotta know where the warm spots are. What do you want?"

"I just wanna talk," Faith said.

"And why exactly should I listen?" Marissa countered. "You're with them, with the Council. The people who screwed me over, who killed Janet!" She was almost yelling.

"I seem to recall that it was a giant magic wooden monster that killed Janet, not the Council," Faith said calmly. "Anyway, I'm not with them anymore. Remember? You wanna talk about getting screwed over…"

Marissa regarded the other girl warily for a moment before finally letting her guard down. She leaned on a nearby dumpster, blinking a few times. "You never even shot anybody," she said eventually. "Jackasses."

"Not lately," Faith agreed. "You want a drink?"

"As long as you're buyin'."

Cut To: Int. Arturo's Bar – Later "Just a Bud," Marissa told Tracey, who was tending bar. It was a small, dingy establishment, lit mostly by the various neon beer advertisements lining the walls. Marissa and Faith sat at the bar on two stools with ripped seat coverings.

"You got it," was Tracey's reply. She turned around and winked at the camera.

"So, how're you really doin'?" Faith asked.

"Like a bag of psychotic cats trapped in a burning meth lab," Marissa answered after a moment's consideration.

"Yeah, I kinda remember that feeling," Faith said. "And you know what I figured out? It doesn't have to be like that."

"Yeah?" Marissa said, an eyebrow raised skeptically. "What am I s'posed to do, exactly? Beg the jackasses to take me back? 'Cause that ain't gonna happen."

Faith sighed, shifting position on her stool. "Marissa, just because you got booted doesn't mean you have to go back to where you were before. Living on the streets, angry, not trusting anybody. We both know how much that sucks. You can still protect people."

Marissa laughed. It wasn't out of amusement. Rather, it was cold and full of bitterness. "People have never wanted me. My father drank himself to death, my mother was afraid of me. People have never done jack for me. Why the hell should I care about protecting them?"

"Because people are better than the alternative," Faith said simply. "If you go down that road, if you stop caring, then you're just gonna stay down there in the dark, and you can trust me when I say, it ain't gonna be fun. And the farther you go, the harder it'll be to turn back."

"You wanna talk in metaphors, I'm not really your gal," Marissa said.

Tracey plunked two glasses of beer down on the bar in front of the two slayers. "You should listen to her," she said, motioning to Faith. "The woman knows what she's talking about."

As Tracey turned her attention to the other patrons at the bar, Marissa took a long swig of her beer. Wiping her mouth, she asked, "What do you have in mind?"

"Word back at headquarters has it that there's a new vamp nest in the Flats," Faith told her. "The bodies are startin' to pile up."

"They can do their own dirty work," Marissa replied immediately. "I don't work for the Council. Which, unless my memory's gettin' all Swiss cheese, was their idea."

"I don't work for the Council anymore, either," Faith said. "I'm freelance. Just like you."

"Freelance," Marissa repeated, turning the idea over in mind. "That might work." She raised her glass. "Screw the assholes. We'll show 'em what slayers are really about."

"Hell, yes," Faith agreed, knocking her glass against Marissa's.

As both girls downed long draughts of their beers, nearby Tracey was grinning. "I think this might be the beginning of a beautiful friendship."

Cut To: Int. Tracey's Apartment – Later

"He's…made of plastic," Andrew observed with fascination. He watched Hugh run around Tracey's apartment. "Reminds me of Warren's work."

"Uh huh," Tracey confirmed.

"His name is Hugh?"

"Yep."

"Nice reference."

"Thanks," Tracey said. Her voice was hollow, perhaps from the shock of seeing her apartment so torn apart. Books were thrown haphazardly onto the floor. In the kitchen nook, bowls and plates were turned upside down and piled on the floor.

Brell, looking exhausted, reclined on Tracey's sofa.

Tracey poked at an Xbox controller that now hung from a light fixture by its cord. "What the heck happened?" she asked.

"Hugh very curious," Brell said. "Has more energy than Brell."

Seeing Brell's condition, Tracey managed a sympathetic smile. "Thanks for baby-sitting."

"No problem," Brell told her, waving his hand. "Makes good change from watching nephews and nieces. At least only one of Hugh.

"Why didn't you just take him to the Council?" Andrew asked Tracey.

"I promised Dr. Callaway I wouldn't tell anyone," Tracey said.

Hugh started taking several DVDs off a shelf and throwing them to the floor. "What's this for?" "You told me," Andrew observed.

"And Brell," the blue demon added.

"Well…I can't do this alone," Tracey explained. "You guys are like my family."

A goofy grin appeared on Brell's face.

"But I'm not like your brother, right?" Andrew said. "Because that would be a little creepy."

"Nope," Tracey agreed, snaking her arms around Andrew's torso from behind and resting her chin on his shoulder. "Definitely not my brother." He smiled in response.

"Can Brell be Tracey's brother?" Brell asked.

Tracey saw Hugh reach out to grab her Playstation 2. "No!"

Brell looked disappointed. Hugh took one look at Tracey's face and backed away.

"Not you Brell, him," Tracey said, pointing to Hugh.

"Oh," Brell said, standing up and trying to lead Hugh away.

"Wait," Andrew said, turning his head to look at Tracey just behind him, "I thought your professor said she didn't know anything about Hugh. Why wouldn't she want you to tell anybody?"

"Because she's not telling me everything, obviously," Tracey said. "I need to talk to her again, but I can't until class tomorrow. In the meantime, could you help me try and figure out where exactly Hugh comes from?"

"Sure," Andrew agreed. "Where should I start?"

"Well, he clearly isn't human," Tracey said. "Is that a good enough starting point?"

"I guess it'll have to be," Andrew sighed. "I might have to figure out a way to get inside him and tinker around." Tracey gave him a look. "No!" Andrew said quickly. "Not like that, sheesh!"

"Well, I'll have to figure out how to make it through the night without too much property damage." Tracey shook her head. "Guys, what am I gonna do?"

"If Tracey want Brell's advice," Brell began as Tracey nodded, "maybe practice being mother."

Hugh ran past with a bowl on his head. Tracey did not look happy and turned to the camera.

"Does it look like I have maternal instincts?" Fade to Black

End of Act Two

Act Three

"Sorry about the break," Tracey said into the microphone. A sound monitor on the wall bounced from nothing to green to yellow when she spoke. 'Too bad we have to take them in the middle of the story, but rules are rules. Anyway, when we left our intrepid hero, also known as me, I had a kid on my hands for the indefinite future."

Cut To: Int. Tracey's Apartment – Night

As Hugh attempted to climb over her, one hand trying to get a boost from her shoulder, Tracey sighed.

"I learned some new things about Hugh that night."

"He doesn't eat," Tracey said, as an unidentified pinkish substance hit her in the face.

Somewhere, Hugh was giggling.

"Or drink."

Tracey hardly even winced when a cup of apple juice was thrown in her face. Cut To: Int. Tracey's Apartment – Later

"Or go to the bathroom."

Tracey stood helpless in the center of her destroyed living room; everything that might have once been on a shelf was now on the floor. Hugh was squealing a single high-pitched note as he ran around her in circles.

The bombastic brass of a John William's score could be heard, reflected colors playing across the faces of the transfixed Hugh and relieved Tracey as they sat on her couch watching the television.

"Instead," Tracey said, "we stayed up all night watching Star Wars. The original trilogy, of course – not those newer imposters. He now knows everything there is to know. Though dozing off during The Empire Strikes Back isn't really the best idea…"

Cut To: Int. Cloud City – Ridiculously Large Reactor Shaft

Her Jedi robes flowing around in her in various shades of blue, Tracey warily backed up along a long, thin platform, her glowing blue lightsaber held defensively in front of her.

Regally, with a sweep of his black garments, Darth Vader stepped through the door at the hub of the platform. His faceless black mask seemed to glower despite its lack of features. Without a word, Vader activated his bright red lightsaber.

"I'll never join you!" Tracey yelled.

"Don't make me destroy you," Vader said in his deep baritone.

With a sound somewhere between a buzz and whoosh, Tracey and Vader's lightsabers came together in a shower of sparks. Tracey strained against the pressure of her enemy's weapon. "I know you're evil! Your lightsaber's red!" "Heck, yes, I'm evil," Vader replied. "Soon you will come over to the Dark Side."

"Never!" Tracey shouted, as she broke the stalemate with a quick retreat. Vader attacked above Tracey's head, but Tracey made two parries over her head before stopping a lower attack.

"It is your destiny," Vader insisted. "You were never told what happened to your father."

"Umm…he lives in Fairview Park with my mom," Tracey said, confused. "We had dinner at Applebee's last weekend."

Vader's weapon whined when took a swipe at Tracey, but she avoided the blade by performing a spectacular front flip over her opponent, landing easily on her feet. She tried to catch Darth Vader from behind, but he was too fast for her and stopped her lightsaber with a quick turn.

"No," Darth Vader said. Then he took a step back and removed his black helmet, revealing Vi's face.

"Tracey, I am your father," Vader Vi said.

Tracey's expression was one of utter shock. "That…doesn't make any sense."

"Search your feelings," Vi told her, "you know it to be true."

Tracey seemed to be thinking about this for a couple of seconds. Then she shook her head.

"Heck with this."

With a swift thrust of her lightsaber, Tracey attacked Darth Vi again. Vi was able to block the first strike, but with the riposte Tracey caught her full in the chest. Darth Vi looked down in shock to see the green blade of light sticking straight into her chest.

Tracey tugged her weapon out of Vi's chest and grinned. Darth Vi stumbled toward the edge of the thin platform and slipped off, falling into the seemingly endless abyss below. Cautiously, Tracey peeked over the edge.

Cut To: Int. Tracey's Apartment – Morning "Ow," Tracey repeated, opening her eyes. Hugh was hitting her repeatedly in the head with a remote control.

"What does this do?" he asked, not stopping with his assault. Tracey sighed, making no attempt to defend herself.

Cut To: Int. Council Basement – Same Time

Dawn snored a little, her head resting on Tracey's shoulder. "It turns out that I wasn't the only one who dozed off," Tracey said, turning her head towards the sleeping girl. "Okay," she announced. "Wakey wakey. Sorry, my right arm's starting to fall asleep."

Dawn stirred, blinking her eyes. "Morning, Skye," she said sleepily. Suddenly realizing that she was in fact on a bench across from the cell of her now-undead girlfriend, Dawn shot upright. "Oh, hey Skye. I must've…were you just watching me all night?"

Skye sat Indian-style on the floor in the center of her cell. She never seemed to blink. "Yeah," she admitted. "Kinda romantic, if I do say so myself."

"I was gonna say 'stalkery,' actually," Dawn said. Tracey was still flexing her shoulder and clutching and unclutching her fingers as if trying to get feeling back in them.

"I'm tryin' my best here, okay?" Skye defended. "It's not like I have a…" she trailed off. "Yeah." Both girls looked uncomfortable.

"Awk-ward," Tracey commented in a sing-song voice.

Skye tried to change the subject. "So, does your sister know you're down here?"

"Nope," Dawn said.

Skye smiled a little from her spot on the floor. "Sneaking around behind Big Sis's back, huh? Just like old times."

"Well," Tracey began, "except for that part where you're evil. Oh and you don't have a pulse and Dawn's broken all the laws of Wicca in a failed attempt to restore your soul," she pointed out. "Other than that, everything's exactly like it was in the good old days."

Dawn bit her lip. "Skye…it's never gonna be the same again. You've gotta realize that."

"Why not?" "Why do you think?" Dawn said incredulously. "You're not the same person! The Skye I knew would never sneak around killing people! The Skye I knew would never freak out and start throwing beds around!"

Skye looked guilty. "You heard about that, did you?"

"And the Skye I knew would not sit in the middle of the floor all night staring at me."

"Sure, I'm a little different," Skye said, "but at least now I'm not going anywhere…unless your sister decides to stake me."

"Buffy's all talk," Dawn assured her. "I mean, Spike's still alive." Dawn's brow suddenly furrowed. "I think."

"But, deep down," Skye continued, "I'm still in love with you. You know that, right?"

Dawn looked down at the floor for a moment. "Yeah, I know," she agreed quietly.

"And I know that, deep down, you're still in love with me."

"Yeah." Dawn's voice was barely a whisper.

"Awwwww," Tracey purred. "Teenage vampire-warlock love. It's like an evil version of Saved By the Bell."

Skye stood up and walked towards Dawn and Tracey, stopped only by the bars of her cell. "If we love each other, give me one good reason why we shouldn't be together?"

Dawn stood up as well, still avoiding Skye's gaze. "Because if we let you out of that cell, you're just gonna kill more people."

"No, I'm not," Skye told her. For all appearances, the vampire was sincere.

"What's gonna stop you?" Dawn asked suspiciously.

Skye paused a moment before responding, finally holding Dawn's eyes with hers.

"You."

At that single word, the lights in the cellblock began to dim.

"What's going on?" Tracey wondered, confused. The entire cellblock soon melted into blackness, except for a single bright spotlight, in the center of which stood Skye, her head bowed. There was no longer any sign of the bars holding her back. Then the rhythmic strumming of an acoustic guitar could suddenly be heard, backed by a drumbeat and some notes plucked on a bass. Skye began to tap her foot in time with the beat.

"Since when is there a guitar down here?" Tracey asked, glancing around her in the gloom.

Dawn was transfixed. Raising her head, the vampire began to sing, her voice a beautiful contralto.

I keep a close watch on these fangs of mine. I stop myself from wringing necks just fine. I yearn for the taste of blood all the time, But 'cause you're mine, I walk the line.

"Johnny Cash?" Tracey said, cocking an eyebrow. "Classic," she added approvingly.

Suddenly a full, unseen orchestra kicked in, mimicking the tune played by the guitar. Simultaneously, Skye ripped off her clothes in a single motion to reveal a slinky gold dress. As a platform rose from the floor to lift Skye above the proceedings, the lighting changed to reveal a motley chorus line of incarcerated demons behind her. All the demons were dressed in fancy sequined suits. A top-hat finished off the ensemble, for those demons that could fit a hat over their horns. A bright red demon with a face similar to a bulldog climbed Skye's platform to place a tiara on her head.

"Let's go, boys," the vampire cooed, and with a demon on each arm, Skye began to descend a set of stairs from her platform. Below, Dawn slowly began to keep the beat on her hip. Her eyes never left Skye, who once again began to sing, louder this time.

I find it very, very easy to be true. I just ask myself what you'd want me to do. Yes, I'll admit that I'm a fool for you. But 'cause you're mine, I walk the line.

The demons formed a line behind Skye and began to kick in unison, like an unholy Rockettes. Or at least they tried to be unison. Some of the demons had trouble kicking very high.

You've got a way to keep me on good's side. You give me cause for love that I can't hide. And yet still no one thinks I can abide But 'cause you're mine, I walk the line. Hit it!

Skye did an intricate soft shoe as a loud brass section took over the melody. The demons stopped their own dancing to surround Skye on the stairs as she did a series of crossover steps. Then the number turned into a tap dance, the music dying away into a series of stings. Her heels and toes making a distinct clicking noise whenever she set them down, Skye descended the last few stairs to find herself directly in front of Dawn.

Skye daintily held out her hand. "May I have this dance?"

Dawn hesitated for a moment.

"Now's the moment where we find out if it really runs in the family," Tracey said over the continuing beat of the orchestra.

Dawn's expression changed, the uncertainty leaving her eyes. She smiled, taking Skye's hand. The orchestra swelled into a louder version of the melody as the pair swept off together.

"It's genetic," Tracey deadpanned.

The two girls waltzed quickly around the room, gazing into each other's eyes as the room seemed to spin around them. Now Skye's singing seemed to be only for Dawn.

While it's true that my heart doesn't beat, It still skips when you smile soft and sweet. Each and every moment I'm with you's a treat. And 'cause you're mine, I walk the line.

Then Skye and Dawn kissed, the sort of kiss that only happens in the middle of a musical number between two lovers who haven't kissed in months. When it was over, Skye let go of Dawn and ran back up the stairs until she reached the top of the platform, the orchestra performing a gradual crescendo that grew increased with every step Skye climbed. When she reached the top, Skye belted out the final verse of the song. Behind her, some of the more nimble members of her demonic chorus line were doing cartwheels.

I keep a close watch on these fangs of mine. I stop myself from wringing necks just fine. I yearn for the blood all the damn time But 'cause you're mine, I walk the liiiiiiiiine!

With a big finish, the orchestra cut out, and then the lights went out again in the Council basement. When they came back on, Skye and all the other prisoners were once again confined in their cells. There was no orchestra to be found. The look on Dawn's face was one of pure, glowing adoration. Cut To: Int. Radio Air Studio – Night

"And that's exactly how it happened," Tracey said. "Well, approximately exactly. I wasn't actually there. Anyway, at breakfast that morning, I found out that my beautiful Andrew had done his homework."

Cut To: Int. Watchers Council – Kitchen – Later That Morning

A pair of eggs was expertly broken on the sides of a skillet. Their contents plopped into the pan with a loud sizzle before being poked at by a long black spatula.

"You look tired," Andrew remarked, jiggling the skillet a little by its handle as he stood over the stove. Nearby, Tracey was twisting the cap of a plastic bottle of soda. With a hiss, the bottle opened and the soda proceeded to fizz wildly, splattering over Tracey's shirt and onto the floor.

"Crap!" Tracey yelled, finally running out of patience. She slammed the bottle down on the counter, causing it to fizz even more. "Crap, crap, crap!"

"Here," Andrew said, putting down the skillet and grabbing a paper towel, which he handed to Tracey. "I don't know how you can drink that stuff this early in the morning."

"Us non-coffee people need caffeine like everyone else," Tracey explained, dabbing at the stain on her shirt. "I just didn't get any sleep last night, what with my kid and everything."

Flash To: Int. Watchers Council – Dining Hall – Day

Title: "The Next Day"

A group of young slayers sat a circular lunch table. "Hey," one of the girls said, "you know what I heard? I heard that girl who works in the kitchen has a kid."

Flash To: Int. Watchers Council – Classroom – Day Title: "Three Days Later"

A group of young male watchers chatted among themselves as they exited Robin's class. "Did you hear about how the girl in the kitchen got knocked up?"

"With Wells?" one of his buddies asked. "You're kidding me?"

"Well, I don't know if the kid is his…"

A worried expression crossed Robin's features as he watched the group leave.

Flash To: Int. Watchers Council – Kitchen – Day

Title: "Five Days Later"

Robin walked through the swinging doors into the kitchen, finding Andrew setting the oven to pre-heat.

"Andrew," he said seriously, "I think we need to have a talk."

Andrew looked at the new arrival. "About what, Mr. Wood?"

"Parental responsibility."

Andrew looked horrified.

Flash To: Int. Watchers Council – Kitchen – Morning

Title: "One Week Later"

Andrew looked extremely nervous as he and Tracey worked side-by-side on a mix of pancake batter.

"Tracey, are you pregnant?" he blurted after a moment.

Tracey looked utterly clueless. "Umm…no."

Andrew breathed a heavy sigh of relief. "Oh, good. That's good." The pair went back to work, though Tracey cast Andrew a suspicious sidelong glance. Cut To: Int. Watchers Council – Kitchen – Morning

Back in the present, Andrew went back to his batch of eggs as Tracey continued to wipe off her shirt. "I'm sorry Hugh kept you up," Andrew said.

"And destroyed my apartment," Tracey added.

"But your apartment always looks like that," Andrew teased.

"You're one to talk, mister."

"Anyway," Andrew said, "I wish I could tell you more about him, but I just can't find anything. Nothing in the database matches Hugh's description."

"Well, I had my doubts that he was just a 'plastic monster'," Tracey said, putting air quotes around the last part of the sentence. "That would be just a little too Doctor Who." Her eyes suddenly widened. "Hey, you don't think he's a robot, do you?"

"You think Hugh is a Dalek?" Andrew asked.

"No, I mean, maybe that's why he looks synthetic," Tracey replied, a little absently. She seemed like she was still trying to work things out in her head.

"Nah," Andrew told her. "I told you before, I've seen humanoid robots. They might look like Hugh, but they sure don't act like Hugh."

"You mean Warren's toys?"

Andrew saw Tracey looking at him. "Yeah, he used to make them. He always said he would build me a girl to…"

Tracey raised an eyebrow.

"…help out," Andrew back-pedaled. "You know, with laundry and stuff!"

Tracey just smiled knowingly.

"Anyway," Andrew continued, changing the subject, "he still might be some sort of demon. The database is incomplete when it comes to juveniles."

"Well, either way," Tracey said, "we need to figure out what to do with him soon. I have a busy life – I'm in college, I work here, I've got you, I'm not ready for a kid!"

"Hence my investment in condoms," Andrew pointed out. "Exactly," Tracey agreed. "Brell's not complaining, but I can't keep calling him to babysit."

Flash To: Int. Tracey's Apartment – Kitchen Nook – Same Time

"Hugh, come down!" Brell shouted, frantically trying to reach the small plastic boy who now sat on top of Tracey's refrigerator. The blue demon winced as a frying pan was dropped on his head.

From atop the refrigerator, Hugh giggled.

Cut To: Int. Watchers Council – Kitchen – Resume

"I'm not sure what else to do," Andrew said.

Tracey sighed. "All right. I'll talk to Callaway, and then we'll do the best we can."

"We always do," Andrew agreed.

As Andrew went back to his work, Tracey resumed her storyteller role. "And now back to the riveting vampire story!"

Cut To: Int. Watchers Council – Infirmary – The Night Before

Dr. Miller came out of the exam area and met Rowena in the hallway outside.

"What can you tell me?" Rowena asked.

"Something I hadn't expected," Dr. Miller said. "All of the victims of this new vampire nest had one thing in common." Rowena cocked her head, her interest definitely piqued. "They all had cocaine in their systems," the doctor continued.

Rowena showed surprise then confusion. Finally, she just sighed. "Just when I think we're getting somewhere, things just get murkier and murkier."

Cut To: Int. Interstellar Spaceship – Engine Room In a Trek-style engine room filled with smoke and the roar of struggling engines, a red-shirted Tracey lurched dramatically to her left and then just as dramatically to her right before stumbling to the communications console.

"She canna take the murkiness, Cap'n!" Tracey yelled in a heavy Scottish accent. "We need to reboot the moral clarity drive!"

Cut To: Int. Watchers Council – Infirmary – Resume

Dr. Miller and Rowena still held perplexed expressions on their faces.

"Maybe they're 'drug-dealer' vampires," Dr. Miller offered.

Rowena shook her head. "That doesn't make sense. Why would they eat their best customers?"

The doctor shrugged, apparently all out of ideas.

Rowena sighed once again. "With more questions than answers, we're gonna need some more time to plot our next move. Keep me posted on whatever you find."

Cut To: Int. The Sunset Club – Same Night

With a crunch, the deformed face of a vampire was forcefully smushed against a pool table.

"I don't know anything!" he insisted, with an edge of building hysteria in his voice. As vampires go, this one looked wimpier than usual. He had a large bald spot on top of his head, clearly visible in his current position.

"Ow!" A pool ball bounced off his head and into the side pocket.

"Sorry," Tracey said absent-mindedly, holding a cue in her hand as she sized up her next shot. She stood at one of the many pool tables in a not-very-well-lit dive. A permanent fog of cigarette smoke hung in the air, though no one in particular could be seen to be smoking.

Tracey didn't look up when she continued. "While the grand old lady known as the Watchers Council has gotten cold feet from being burned one too many times…" Tracey paused, her brow furrowing for a moment as she considered the mixed metaphor, before shaking her head, "… the new start-up in town – Spurned Brunettes, Inc. – is taking a more direct approach." Tracey turned back to the table. "Six ball, corner pocket," she called, lining up another shot.

"Let him up," Faith told Marissa. The less experienced slayer pouted her lips. "Do I hafta?" Faith simply cocked an eyebrow. With a sigh, Marissa hauled her catch upright.

"You're slayers, right?" the vampire asked, still gasping. "From the Council?"

"You're half right," Faith replied. "I've gotta confess, Joey, I'm a little surprised by your sudden attack of amnesia. A good authority told me, between screams, that you know everything that goes on in the Flats. And if there's one thing I've learned over the years, it's that if somebody takes time out from a good scream to tell ya something, they're probably telling the truth."

"I don't…" Joey began, but he was cut off when, at an almost imperceptible nod from Faith, Marissa slammed his head back into the pool table.

"We jarrin' any synapses?" Faith asked. At Marissa's confused look, she elaborated. "They're the spaces in the brain where's there's electrical…" Marissa's expression changed to one of surprise. "I went back to school," Faith said with a shrug.

"Ah," Marissa nodded, smiling a little as the vampire squirmed beneath her. "I never finished. Never was much for sitting still."

"You should think about it," Faith told her. "Did wonders for my sex life."

"Huh?"

"Guys…" Tracey motioned to the vampire with her pool cue.

"Oh, right," Faith said, shaking her head. She leaned down, putting her face closer to the vampire's. "I'll ask ya one more time nicely, then I'll allow the Mistress of Pain here to do whatever she wants. Your choice." Faith looked at Marissa. "Pull him up."

This time Marissa complied without question. "Thanks for the nickname. I like it."

"Figured you would," Faith replied. She turned her attention back to Joey. "A new vamp nest. Warehouse District. Possibly west of there. Have ya heard anything?"

The vampire allowed himself a long sideways glance at Marissa, who was attempting to smile innocently. "Maybe I heard something," he admitted. Nearby, Tracey sank two more balls with a perfect shot. "I-I-I don't know about any nests, but there's a whole group of guys, they've started hangin' out at Destiny."

Faith inclined her head again, and Joey once again got a close-up look at the pool table. "The latest, coolest spot in town," Marissa observed, "even for vamps."

"I'm telling the truth!" Joey gasped.

"I know," Faith said. "I just want you to keep on doin' that." "Off the vampire's head, corner pocket," Tracey called. She executed the shot and sent the nine- ball off Joey's head, though it stopped just short of its goal. Tracey furrowed her brow in disappointment.

This time, Marissa pulled the vampire up without having to be asked. "They're into some weird stuff," Joey said. "Drugs. Coke, I think."

"Vampires with drugs?" Faith put a hand on her chest in mock surprise. "I've never heard of that before. Whatever shall we do?"

Marissa smirked.

"Anything else?" Faith asked.

"Listen, that's all I know. I swear," Joey said.

Faith sized up her captive for a long moment. "All right." She gestured to Marissa. "Guess it's time we checked out the latest, coolest spot."

Reluctantly, Marissa released her captive. The vampire flexed his hands, a pained look on his face. Marissa moved closer to Faith, who was turning to leave.

"We really just gonna let him go?" she asked.

Faith considered this a moment. "We don't know if he's killed anybody… that seems to be Council policy." Faith saw Marissa's disappointed look. "I'll tell ya what, though. In my field manual, a vamp's a vamp."

A wicked grin immediately appeared on Marissa's face as she pulled a stake out of her back pocket.

Cut To: Int. Marting Hall – Computer Lab – Day

"Okay, everybody," Dr. Callaway said, standing at the front of her class, "I'm gonna need your projects on my desk before you leave. Have a nice weekend!"

Tracey slowly got to her feet as the rest of the students dropped off compact discs containing their projects on the desk in the front of classroom. When she was the only member of the class left, Tracey sidled towards the front of the room.

"You have your project, Tracey?" Dr. Callaway asked, erasing the dry erase board on the front wall of the room.

"I thought we talked about that," Tracey said. "I took care of your problem like you asked." "Well," the professor noted absent-mindedly, "I hope you have it finished soon. We're near the end of the semester."

Tracey bit her lip before continuing.

"Was there something else you wanted, Tracey?" Dr. Callaway asked.

The younger woman sighed. "I've still got that kid in my apartment," Tracey said. "You know, the one I found in your basement?"

Her professor looked spooked. "You didn't tell anyone, did you?"

"What would I tell people?" Tracey asked. "I don't know anything about this kid!"

"Oh, good," Dr. Callaway said, breathing a sigh of relief.

Tracey slammed her notebook down on the desk, making Dr. Callaway jump.

"You listen to me!" Tracey's voice was raised almost to a shout. "I am a busy gal. I can't take care of a kid right now, do you understand? You can't just dump this off on me."

"You are getting an extension…"

"To heck with the extension!" Tracey growled. "I'm not gonna let you mess with lives like this, both mine and the kid's. Do you know who I work for?"

Dr. Callaway looked confused. "Umm…not really."

"We have people there. People who can bend solid steel with their bare hands or make other people burst into flames just by looking at them. Do you understand what I'm saying?"

Tracey raised an eyebrow, then turned away from the visibly shaken Dr. Callaway. "I never get tired of threatening people with physical violence," Tracey commented. "Does that make me a bad person?"

"What do you want from me?" Dr. Callaway asked.

"I want some answers," Tracey said firmly. "What is he? I'll bet my PSP that you know."

Dr. Callaway stuttered. "I…my husband and I separated recently."

"What does that have to – ?" "We separated because we couldn't have children," Dr. Callaway explained. "He wanted them, and I couldn't…" The professor trailed off, casting her eyes down at the desk.

"Normally," Tracey said, "this would be the part where I say 'I'm sorry', but…"

"He was really nice about it, but it was never the same," Dr. Callaway said, wiping an eye with her hand. "So after he left, I was really depressed, and I just…I guess I wanted to prove myself somehow."

"What did you do?" Tracey asked warily. "Please don't tell me I have an escapee from the Island of Dr. Callaway destroying my kitchen."

"I figured I could put some of my programming skills to use," the professor continued, "so I… built a little boy."

Tracey held up a hand. "Wait, you're telling me Hugh's a robot? He doesn't act like a robot. He acts like a real kid. An insane kid, sure, but a real one."

"I couldn't quite get it to work right," Dr. Callaway said, "so I used magic to…y'know…get it to work."

Tracey was silent for a moment as she processed this. "Let me get this straight. You wanted a child, so you built a magic robot?"

Dr. Callaway gulped. "Um…yeah, basically," she said in a small voice.

Fade to Black

End of Act Three

Act Four

Fade In: Int. Marting Hall – Computer Lab – A Little Later A dejected Dr. Callaway sat in a stackable plastic chair wedged in the corner of her computer lab.

"Here ya go," Tracey said, holding out a can of Slim-Fast.

Dr. Callaway accepted the offering. "Thanks."

Tracey sat down in another chair nearby, slowly taking a sip from the can of coke in her hand.

"You don't need to lose weight, y'know," she told her professor.

"I like the taste," Dr. Callaway said quietly, though she made no motion to drink from the can in her hand.

Tracey wrinkled her nose at the notion of drinking Slim-Fast, but said nothing.

After a moment, the older woman spoke. "I didn't know what I was doing. When he first…I freaked out."

Flash To: Int. Dr. Callaway's House – Night

Screaming a single high note, Dr. Callaway ran out of her basement door, slamming it behind her. She scurried across and out of her kitchen, hands flailing. The sound of her screaming got quieter. Then the sound slowly got louder again until Dr. Callaway ran back into her kitchen. She continued to run until she had circled the island in the center of her kitchen three times. She never stopped to breathe.

Cut To: Int. Marting Hall – Computer Lab – Resume

"I tried to…turn him off," Dr. Callaway continued. "I thought it worked."

"Well, obviously it didn't," Tracey said. "Probably because of the whole magic thing. Generally, it's pretty hard to 'turn off' magic."

A ghost of a smile crossed the professor's features. "I guess I should've learned from Fantasia, huh?"

"But not from Fantasia 2," Tracey added. "Bad influence." "You'll have to destroy it," Dr. Callaway said, her voice suddenly louder and somewhat decisive.

Tracey raised an eyebrow. "Sorry?"

The professor sprang to her feet. "It's not natural," Dr. Callaway ranted, running a hand through her hair as she paced. "It's an abomination! I see that now."

"Wow," Tracey deadpanned, "I've never had a professor before who was both bipolar and obsessive/compulsive. Kudos." She turned her head to talk to…someone else. "Seriously, the woman's crazy. Like, Jack Nicholson crazy. In The Shining or Batman, take your pick really." Dr. Callaway took a long swig of her Slim Fast. "See what I mean?"

She turned back to her professor, her voice pleading. "You don't understand. I agree with you, it was a mistake to build Hugh. But now that you have, someone needs to take care of him. It doesn't matter how he was created."

"It matters to me!" Dr. Callaway yelled. "I'm not going to have that thing in my house!"

"It was at that point I realized that I wasn't going to get anywhere with her," Tracey said into her microphone. At the same time, she loaded a CD into a deck and selected a track without ever actually looking at what she was doing. "It was a little like talking to somebody who liked the last three seasons of X-Files…what can you do except nod and smile until they go away? And anyway, I didn't want to leave Hugh with that woman on a regular basis, so that pretty much put me back to level one."

Tracey adjusted a meter on her production board, then pressed a red button. The vaguely middle- eastern techno beats of the Chemical Brothers' "Galvanize" could be heard softly in the background.

"At least someone was making progress, though," she said. "And, what a surprise, those someones weren't working for the Council."

Cut To: Int. Club Destiny – Later That Night

The beat of "Galvanize" throbbed through Club Destiny. Laser lights fanned out over the thick, dancing throng. In the center of the gyrating twenty-somethings stood a group of between fifteen and twenty men, their faces twisted into the tell-tale visage of a vampire.

Wearing less than one usually would in the chill Cleveland spring, the nearest of a group of three or four girls tapped one of the vampires on the shoulder. "I heard you're carrying," she shouted over the music. With an animal-like growl, the vampires turned to see who had disturbed them. Frightened looks crossed the girls' faces, but they made no attempt to run. "Could you hook us up?" one asked.

"That depends," said the vampire who had been tapped. "What are you willing to give?" He grinned wickedly.

The screams of the two girls blended into the whine of the alarm coming from the metal detector at the entrance to the club. Faith stood under the contraption's plastic arch with Marissa just behind her. Both slayers were dressed all in leather, long coats and pants, and both wore identical sleek pairs of sunglasses despite the late hour.

"I'm sorry, miss, but would you please step over here?" a burly security guard asked Faith. Her face completely inscrutable, she obeyed. The guard ran a metal detecting wand around Faith's waist. The device immediately emitted a sound halfway between a whine and a beep.

"Could you open your coat, miss?" the guard asked. Without changing her expression, Faith opened her coat to reveal a huge sword strapped to her waist, a couple of crossbows inside her coat, and a myriad of stakes.

"What the – " the guard began, before Faith knocked him unconscious with a punch to the face.

Marissa stepped through the metal detector, setting off the alarms all over again. She pointed to the guard. "Is he…?"

"He'll be fine," Faith said. "Probably on their payroll, anyway, even if he didn't know it." She nodded towards the center of the dance-floor. "Over there."

"You sure?"

"I can sense it."

Marissa cocked an eyebrow behind her ray-bans. "You're good at that, aren't ya? Is that why you knew about Skye when nobody else did?"

"Maybe," Faith responded shortly. A woman carrying an oversized salted margarita glass, bumped into the slayer. "Hey, watch it!" Faith growled.

The red-headed woman turned around and Faith's eyes widened in recognition. "Hey, I know you. You're that chick from the demon bar. Gabbie, right?"

"Glad to see you expanding your horizons, Faith," she replied. She tried to move what seemed like a hundred garnishments in the glass before finding her straw and taking a sip.

"What are you doing here?" "What? I can't get a night off?"

Faith shrugged and said, "Whatever. Let's go."

The two slayers walked away leaving the woman to fight with her beverage. Once Faith and Marissa were at the dance floor Gabbie followed them yet stayed by the bar, unobserved.

While Faith and Marissa walked purposefully across the floor, they seemed to move in slow- motion. Gabbie continued walking at her regular pace, her smile curling up in amusement. Also, moving regular speed, Tracey pushed through the crowd to walk beside the slayers. "Say hello to the new scourge of the underworld," she said. "Now, you may be asking, since when do Faith and Marissa have matching all-leather outfits? Well, I'm telling the story, and if I say that they looked like they just walked out of The Matrix, that's how they looked, all right?" She cast a quick sideways glance at Faith next to her. "I may be straight, but…damn."

In an instant, Faith and Marissa and the crowd around them returned to regular speed. The two slayers walked right past Tracey toward the vampires. In the clearing in the center of the floor, the reveling throng was steadfastly ignoring the group of vampires feeding on the group of girls who had solicited them. Suddenly, two of the vampires drinking from their prey evaporated. The two girls, severely weakened, dropped to the floor, clutching at their bleeding necks.

Faith and Marissa were each holding a crossbow. The remaining fifteen or so vampires growled, surrounding the pair. "That was a big mistake," Marissa muttered. She glanced over at her new partner. "Could use one of Xander's repeating crossbows right about now."

"Don't need 'em," Faith said, dropping her weapon rather than reloading. Marissa followed suit. The volume of the music pulsing through the club seemed to increase. The circle of vampires began to close.

With lightning speed, Faith pulled her sword from inside her jacket while at the same time bending herself over backwards at a ninety degree angle. At quick slash from the slayer, three vampires were sliced in half before their dust tumbled to the ground. Marissa leapt forward, kicking a vampire with each leg while dusting two more with stakes she had produced from inside her sleeves. Falling on her butt, she rolled backwards, staked a vampire that she found standing over her. She then kicked another in the face as she flipped to her feet.

Attacked by vampires from four sides, Faith jumped in the air and did something not dissimilar from a triple axel, her sword constantly moving and finding another neck. Four more of the creatures immediately disappeared. Marissa staked another with one hand while shooting a crossbow with the other.

The remaining few vampires looked frightened and tried to run. Two of them chose the same direction, only to find Faith standing in front of them.

"W-W-What do you want?" asked one of the survivors, panicked.

"I'm just doin' my job," Faith said, before decapitating the pair with her sword.

Nearby, Marissa followed through after throwing a wooden stake into the retreating back of the last vampire from the group. The sound of dusting could faintly be heard over the continuing beat of the music.

Faith reached down to help one of the unfortunate girls get to her feet. But unnoticed by Faith was another vampire creeping up behind her from the shadows. Gabbie casually pulled the pink umbrella from her drink and placing it between her thumb and index finger. With superhuman strength she sent the projectile into the vampires back. As he looked down at his chest, the umbrella seemed to open up, as if mocking him

"Damn," he muttered before turning to dust.

Faith looked behind her at the sound only to see the dust and the remains of a tiny drink umbrella on the ground. Gabbie looked on silently and took a sip of her drink as Faith finished pulling the young woman to her feet who joined her friends, confused; all had scared looks on their faces.

"Don't do drugs," Faith told them casually. All four girls stared for a moment, then turned and ran.

Marissa was grinning as she picked up one of her crossbows. "That was…awesome!"

"Better than sleeping on the street and robbing people?" Faith asked, walking over to the other slayer.

"Oh, yeah," Marissa said.

Faith nodded. "Thought so." She reached somewhere inside her jacket and pulled out a few ten- dollar bills, then tossed them to Marissa. "You find yourself a room for the night. Something… Spartan."

"Freelance, huh?" Marissa smiled.

"Freelance," Faith agreed. "I'll call ya tomorrow." She watched Marissa retreat into the crowd, waving. Tracey walked up next to Faith, now also wearing a long leather coat and shades. "So, looks like you've come full-circle," she pointed out.

"Almost as if it were planned that way," Faith remarked, her tone almost wistful.

From her seat at the bar, Gabbie grinned.

Cut To: Int. Tracey's Apartment – Same Time

Andrew handed Tracey several pages of research that he had printed out. She had to quickly move the pages out of Hugh's reach, standing up as the boy tried to grab the papers from her. "Go play with Uncle Brell," she told him.

Brell stood from his seat on the couch with a sigh. "Hugh want to play Morak Beast?" Hugh nodded excitedly. Brell leaned over and let Hugh climb onto his shoulders.

"Hugh is a Golem," Andrew was explaining to Tracey.

"And that would be what?" she asked.

"The creation of intelligent life through magic," Andrew said.

"And also circuitry," Tracey pointed out.

"Yeah…but think of Hugh as a twenty-first-century version of a Golem."

"Well, whatever he is," Tracey said, "he needs to be out of my apartment." She watched Brell carry a giggling Hugh past the pair on his shoulders, the boy holding onto the demon's horns. "We need to find him a nice home." Andrew only bit his lip in response. "What?" Tracey asked.

"Well…" He looked reluctant to begin. "Your professor wasn't exactly wrong about the whole 'abomination' thing."

"Andrew!" Tracey exclaimed. "He's just a little kid!"

"You don't understand, Tracey," Andrew insisted. "The magicks one would need for…" His eyes flickered to the boy on Brell's shoulders. "They're not exactly of the white variety, shall we say? I don't even know how your professor found them." Flash To: Int. Berea Public Library – Day

Dr. Callaway sat at one of the reading tables in the public library. She picked up a book and held it in front of her face. In big block letters, the book's title read "How To Build A Magic Robot."

Cut To: Int. Tracey's Apartment – Resume

"Andrew," Tracey said, "you've seen Hugh. It doesn't matter whether you're made out of flesh or plastic or polyester or white magic or dark magic or purple magic or – "

"Tracey, we don't even know if he has a soul," Andrew interrupted.

"Of course he has a soul," Tracey responded immediately. "He likes Star Wars, doesn't he?"

Andrew smiled. "Well, you got me there."

"I thought so."

"But I still don't know what we're gonna do with him," Andrew continued. "I love you Tracey, I really do, but…we're not ready to be parents."

"Oh, hell no," Tracey hurriedly agreed.

"Brell know someone maybe take Hugh," Brell said suddenly, stopping in front of the pair, Hugh still holding onto his horns.

"Seriously?" Tracey asked. Brell nodded. "Why didn't you say something before?"

"Tracey not ask." Brell shrugged his shoulders as best he could with a Golem sitting on them.

"Who?" Andrew asked.

Back in the radio studio, Tracey excitedly leaned into her microphone.

"I know the suspense is killing you, faithful listeners, but I just have to fill you in on what was going on back at the ranch. Lives in peril, blood-drinking creatures, blah, blah, blah. Y'know, important stuff." Cut To: Int. Watchers Council – Conference Room – Night

Buffy sat at the head of the table. To her right sat Kennedy. To her left was an empty chair. Seated in the remaining chairs were Rowena, Vi, Xander, and Robin. Striking a pose against the wall was Tracey.

"Anybody know where Willow is?" Buffy asked the group.

There were head shakes all around. Buffy's eyes settled on Rowena for a moment, but she quickly shrugged.

Tracey rolled her eyes. "Yeah, right, like she would know. Those two spend so much time tip- toeing around each other when all they really want to do is get horizontal. I don't know why they just don't do it already. Guess they're waiting on one of those life-and-death, 'moment of clarity' situations." Tracey sighed. "Drama queens."

Just then, the door opened, and Willow came in. Soot was on her face and clothes, and her hair was sticking out every which way. She tried to brush off her clothes, but only succeeded in sending small soot clouds into the air.

"Sorry, sorry," Willow said, taking her place next to Buffy. "Jocelyn still needs some work."

"What Jocelyn needs is a luck transplant," Tracey interjected.

Buffy coughed as a soot cloud entered her air space from Willow's attempt to pat her hair back into place. "So, Jocelyn problems aside, what are we going to do about these new vamps? Do we have any idea what's going on?" Buffy asked.

"Don't worry, problem solved," Faith announced as she burst through the door to the conference room, cleaning her sword dramatically.

"You found out what was going on?" Buffy asked.

"Nope," Faith replied, "but all the vamps are dust, so it doesn't matter now anyway. Just thought you'd like to know."

At that, Faith leaned her sword on her shoulder, turned on her heel, and walked out of the room, a self-satisfied smile on her face. Stunned, Buffy and the others just stared at one another.

"Sometimes, there are advantages to working freelance," Tracey commented.

"Okay then," Buffy finally said. "I guess we can move on to the next order of business." Cut To: Ext. Reteesk's Apartment – Morning

Tracey reached up and knocked on a door marked "420" in gold letters.

"What's that for?" Hugh asked from his position at her side.

"It's a door…it keeps people out you don't want to come in."

"Why doesn't he want us to come in?"

"That's the thing about doors," Tracey said. "They not only keep people out…they also let people in."

Tracey changed her eye-line to talk directly towards the camera. "My wisdom is matched only by my power," she quipped.

The door swung open to reveal Reteesk, his tentacles twitching apart into something that might have been a smile.

"My dear Tracey," he exclaimed. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"It's…" Tracey hesitated. "It's complicated, actually. Brell sent us. Can we come in?"

"Of course, of course," Reteesk agreed. "Where are my manners? Come in!"

Cut To: Int. Reteesk's Apartment – Continuous

Tracey still looked uncomfortable as she entered Reteesk's apartment. The place was well- furnished. Ming vases filled with exotic, possibly extra-dimensional flowers sat on varnished wood shelves. Reproductions of well-known works of art hung from the walls…though some of them might have been the originals. The main room of the place centered around a gold-inlaid crate doubling as a coffee-table.

"May I take your coat, my dear?" Reteesk asked Tracey.

"Oh, of course," she said, taking off her jacket and handing it to the demon. "You're always so nice." "I simply believe in the quaint concept of manners," Reteesk said. "Rare in this day and age, I am aware, but still of the utmost importance. And who, if I may ask, is your young squire this fine morning?"

Tracey looked confused for a moment before shaking her head. "This is Hugh," she said. "He's a robot…sort of…anyway, he's a kid, and he doesn't have a home, and he's been staying with me," Tracey rambled. "He's torn up my place, and he's ruining my life, and he may possibly have been created using dark magicks…but I really kinda like him."

Reteesk leaned down and swept Hugh up in his arms. "This child is a Golem," Reteesk said. It wasn't really a question.

"Partially. The other part is robotic," Tracey said. "Brell told me…he thought that maybe you would be interested in taking Hugh in…y'know, permanently."

No one said anything for a moment. Hugh batted at Reteesk's tentacles with one hand.

"You have a funny face," the boy said.

"I suppose I do at that," Reteesk said quietly. After continuing to look at the squirming Hugh for a moment, he put the child down and turned to Tracey.

"I am the last of my line," he began, a certain gravity evident in his voice. "I live here, in a world that is not my own, in a time that I fear has passed me by. I must confess that I might find some comfort in a…a companion."

A smile spread across Tracey's face. "Really? Are you serious?"

"I have never been more serious, my dear," Reteesk said. "Perhaps I can bring some…" They both turned to see Hugh knock over a vase. "…civilization to this boy."

"That's great! Like, Final Fantasy VII great. Of course, we'll have to ask Hugh." Tracey knelt down next to the Golem. "Hugh, would you like to stay here, with Reteesk taking care of you?" The kid did not respond for a moment. "I'll give you a… well, not a cookie because you don't eat, but I'll think of something…Oh! How about Star Wars episodes Three through Six on DVD?" She raised her eyebrows expectantly.

Hugh shrugged. "He smells nice," the boy finally said.

"I'll take that as a yes," Tracey sighed, getting to her feet. "Thank you so much," she told Reteesk.

"Think nothing of it," he grandly assured her. "My father always dreamt that I would produce an heir…though I doubt this is precisely what he had in mind."

The pair regarded Hugh, already climbing up onto the expensive-looking coffee-table. "You might want to do some child-proofing on this place," Tracey said.

"I believe I shall," Reteesk agreed.

Back in the darkened studio, DJ Trace supported her head with one hand, leaning on her elbow.

"So, as in all good stories, everything turned out pretty much for the best," she said. "My professor successfully avoided the consequences of her rash actions, Hugh has a nice, and may I say, posh home, I can now get some sleep, occasionally, and I even have a new cool nephew to watch Star Wars with from time to time. And wasn't my story so much more interesting than reality? I mean, how bored would you be if I'd told you what I really did this week. As my boyfriend likes to say, you would be Episode One bored. And that's not a good bored to be."

Tracey sighed before continuing. "Too bad none of that really happened. Here's the Dresden Dolls with "Sing"." She pressed a button on the board in front of her and a slow song with piano and acoustic guitar began to play. Tracey looked a little wistful, perhaps melancholy. At a sound behind her, her expression changed, and a smile began to slowly spread across her face.

Swiveling her chair around, Tracey held her arms open for Hugh to jump into them. Farther back, Reteesk watched the pair with pride in his eyes.

"You guys came to visit me?" Tracey asked.

"I must confess, I was somewhat curious about your nocturnal broadcasting escapades," Reteesk told her.

Tracey directed her attention back toward Hugh. "Isn't it past your bedtime?"

"I find," Reteesk admitted, "that I am among the more lenient of parents."

"What's that do?" Hugh asked as he pointed, without touching it, much to Reteesk's pride and Tracey's surprise.

"That's the air-board," Tracey said. "These control the volume, and these turn the different things on and off." "What's that do?" he asked pointing again.

"That's the meter. It tells me how strong the radio signal is."

Fade To Black.

Voiceover, Hugh: "What's that do?"

Voiceover, Tracey: "Oh brother…"

End of The Secret Life of DJ Trace