BUFFY The Vampire Slayer: RPG! Episode 2

[TG Barighm]

Second episode presented as a fan fic by request.

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DOWN THE 41, at night


"Do you like chicken?

Do you like FRIED chicken?

Of course you do! Which means you don't just like fried chicken, you like fried chicken that is FRICKIN' good!

Then you should come on down the 41 to my frickin' chicken truck where I serve the best frickin' fried chicken in the state!

Remember, if it's not frickin' lickin' good, then it ain't Frickin' Fried Chicken!

So come on down! We're open all night long, so you've got no excuse to miss out on the best frickin' chicken you've ever tasted!"


The angry looking man ended the late night commercial by posing for the camera, his hulking arms bulging as they crossed his chest. He wore an apron, sparkling clean, which featured a cartoonish caricuture of an equally looking angry chicken spouting a speech bubble. Whatever the chicken said, it must be a curse because the words were replaced with symbols.

Ned looked away from the TV playing the ad at the same man standing before him.

"You like my commercial?" said the same angry man. His apron wasn't nearly so clean as it was in the commercial, and a hair net now covered his greasy hair. It ended in a top-knot. "Cost me an arm and three legs," the angry looking man continued in a gruff voice. He flashed a toothy grin that somehow still appeared angry. "Glad I'm in the chicken business. I've got legs to spare, ha! So, whaddya orderin'?"

Ned gulped. The angry man's stare bored into his soul and threatened to cut out his heart and serve it with a side of fries and a drink. No coupons accepted.

"Uh..." was all Ned could get out.

"How about my grand openin' special? Fried chicken, nuggets, and fries! That sound good to ya, chief?"

Ned found himself nodding. He wanted to make the angry looking man happy.

"Fine choice, my friend! Order's up!" the angry looking man said. He turned away from the ordering window and reached for the fryer. "Be about ten minutes, chief."

Ned turned away from the food truck's window and sat down at a nearby picnic table. A few had been placed around the lonely food truck at the end of the 41, way at the end of town. He looked at the other picnic tables. They were worn, but clean, and yet Ned couldn't help shivering at the sight of them. Or rather, what lay beyond them. An unbroken wall of darkness and trees stood at the boundary created by the food truck's party lights. There were no streets lamps this far down the 41. Just trees and darkness.

And a quirky food truck occupying the one clearing for miles.

Ned sighed and glanced at his car.

This was a stupid idea. He saw the commercial earlier and was suffering from post-high munchies, so he hopped into his car, well past mid night, and made the drive down the 41 and out of town to snag some of this frickin' chicken. Now that he regained his senses, all he saw was a beaten up old food truck operated by a serial killer wearing a chicken apron. He began to wonder what made the chicken so good.

The reason probably explains why the truck is so far from town.

Ned rose to his feet and dug into his pocket for his keys. This was a stupid idea. He doesn't need fried chicken from what is likely a wanted felon running a food truck as cover. What he really needed was to get back home and sleep for...

"Here's your chicken!" a gruff voice declared. A box of food practically slammed down onto the table.

Ned dropped his keys in surprise, then looked at the food truck's operator. He proudly grinned at Ned, his hands on his waist and a speck of some kind of sauce on the tip of his nose.

Ned stared back, then sighed and slowly reached for his wallet.

"Nah! Don't worry about it," the angry man said. "I'm so confident you'll love this chicken so frickin' much you'll be orderin' more. You can pay me then." He then turned away, shouted "Oh, yes!" and returned to the truck.

Ned blinked after the food truck's operator, then looked at his food. It didn't look exceptional. Just a standard box most food trucks use. He opened it. Fried chicken and nuggets. Fries on the side. It smelled like fried chicken, it even smelled good, but good enough to be worth the trip?

Well, he came out here and he hasn't been murdered yet. He might as well try the chicken. Ned sat down, picked up a leg, and bit into it.

An explosion of flavour rocked Ned's senses. He stopped chewing. Such a wonderful combination of spices and flavours. When the initial shock passed and his surprise allowed him to taste again, that same blast of flavour struck him again. For a solid minute he stared, his brain processing these flavours and struggling to comprehend how so many delectable flavours could originate from such a simple thing in his very hands. Only then did Ned finally begin chewing. He swallowed far too soon if it meant getting another heavenly bite of that fried chicken.

Before he knew, his meal was finished. There was no more chicken. Just fries. Which were okay, but they weren't that fried chicken.

Ned turned and leapt to his feet before he was fully off the picnic table seat and found himself falling to the ground, so great was his haste to get another bite of that wonderful fried chicken. He scrambled to his feet and ran up to the food truck window.

"More!" Ned said. He opened his mouth to speak again, but found himself panting instead.

The angry looking man in the truck grinned darkly. "Don't you worry, chief. I thought you might want more, so I took the liberty of preparing you a second helping." He placed another box of chicken out on the sill. "Dig in, chief."

Ned snatched the box from the window and immediately made his way to the picnic table. He stopped and looked over his shoulder. "And prepare another!"

The angry looking cook pointed in response. "You got it, chief!"

Ned was not sure how much more chicken he consumed, but eventually his stomach began to feel sore and the desire to taste more wonderful chicken subsided. He slowly rose from the picnic table and limped over to the food truck's window. He fumbled his wallet out of his pocket and dug out a few bills. He had not bothered to keep track of how much he ordered, but a fifty should be enough. Oh crap, was it more than fifty? One hundred?

Ned prepared to hand the cash to the truck's proprietor, but the angry looking face did not await his money. Ned looked around the truck. The cook wasn't there.

There was sound from behind the truck.

Ned stuffed his wallet back into his pocket, but kept the cash in his hand. He was certain he would be sick be sick soon, he doesn't even drink this much, and wanted to get away from this wonderful bastion of heavenly fowl. But maybe...one more order to bring home? The thought of more chicken waiting for him at breakfast hastened his step. He rounded the food truck. The light from the party lights faded. A series of crates and supplies blocked him. Where was the cook?

"Um, sir? I'd like to order one more...for the road. And I would like to pay," Ned said nervously. His stomach bulged and his mouth burned from the hot sauce he added to later orders. He burped. Another flash of flavour. "Sir?"

A shadow stepped out in front of him.

Ned froze.

The shadow was small, not much taller than his knees.

"Sir?"

The shadow stepped towards him.

A car passed. Light briefly flooded the space.

A chicken?

Ned stared at the shadow standing before him. It was a chicken, he was sure of it. Why is there a chicken out here at this time of night? But wait, of course there is a chicken. This is a fried chicken truck. Is the secret to that wonderful chicken the freshness?

"Uh, sir? One of your chickens seems to have escaped," Ned said.

The chicken stepped closer.

Wait a minute.

The chicken stood as high as his knees. Are chickens normally that big?

Ned took a few defensive steps back.

No, that can't be right. Chickens are small. But this one wasn't. Is that the secret?

With every thought, the shadowy chicken stepped closer. And it appeared to grow larger. Ned's heart started pounded. Is it really growing larger? No, it can't be. It's just a trick of the light. It's so dark...

"Sir! Sir!" Ned cried out.

Red, fiery orbs suddenly appeared in the darkness. At the top of the mound that was the shadow's head. It's eyes? Do chickens have glowing red eyes?

Ned backed into one of the crates. Something caught his foot. He fell backwards. He hit he ground.

The fiery eyes grew brighter. There was a deathly shriek. It completely drowned out Ned's scream.

[TG Barighm]

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SUNNYDALE HIGH SCHOOL, DAY



On the date of nobody cares, way before anyone wore deodorant, a certain phallically challenged manchild rebelled against his parents and attempted to claim the throne of somewhere no-longer existent; therefore, not remotely interesting or useful. As a result of this temper tantrum, other extinct kingdoms were forced to step in and blah blah blah...

Buffy sighed long and hard as the history lesson continued. Her head was propped up by one hand while the other slowly spun a pen. The pen had scraped the open page of her notebook and formed a series of red circular scratches across the notes she had been taking a second ago. "Phallically" had been scratched through multiple times while manchild had now been coincidentally underlined in red ink.

Buffy suddenly grins at the thought of using that verbiage in her test answers. No, she is already in hot water with the principle.

Here is some verbiage the teachers might respect: Buffy wrote "BORING" in large letters across her notebook.

The slayer quickly thought better and turned to a fresh page in her notebook. She put pen to the page again. Maybe she could stave off boredom if she focused on taking notes. Buffy began writing, but it wasn't long before some words began to resemble certain people, some letters pools of blood, and other letters choice weapons. Soon the mighty slayer of the kingdom, known simply as "The", took up his legendary sword "L" and used it to slay the menace that was "B". "B's" head rolled across the page, leaving behind a bloody trail of "o's".

"More exciting than this class," Buffy said under her breath. "What's this? Now the vampire lord, "V", has sworn revenge! Die, vampire lord! Die!" Buffy's finger swept across the page, beheading the cap of her pen. The cap rolled across the page. "Ahhhhhhhhhhhh...! *gurgle, glub*"

"Ms. Summers! Would you mind sharing with us what it is you find more interesting than the history of Europe?" the teacher said suddenly.

Buffy froze. She stared at her teacher's disapproving face for a long moment before replying.

"Um...I'd like to, but I don't think anyone else would like my take on the history of Europe. It's a lot darker. And bloodier. And smells less."

There were a few chuckles. The teacher crossed her arms.

"Sorry," Buffy said sheepishly.

Eventually the bell rang, and Buffy fled from the room where fun goes to die. She didn't realize she was hustling to get away from the room until Willow's face flew by.

"Hey, Buff! Wait up!" the red-head called.

Buffy slowed allowing for Willow to catch up.

"Don't worry. I'm sure the tacos will still be there," Willow said. She suddenly adopted a pouty face. "Oh, Buffy, why the frownies?"

Buffy blinked. "Huh?"

"Your face. It looks like you sat on gum."

"Oh. Right. Have you noticed the normal things have become so much more boring since I started slaying?"

Willow rolled her eyes in that unique way that she does. "Not me! I think the normal things have gotten much better since you started slaying. They're so much more normal. And less bloody. Don't get me wrong, slaying is exciting. And fun! Scary fun, but...fun."

"I'm glad you're enjoying it." Buffy muttered.

Willow responded with a friendly nudge. "You gotta admit. There is a certain exotic charm in learning about, well, charms. And hexes. I could live without the witches using them to try and kill us."

"We do. We beat them, remember?"

"Oh, that's right."

"If it's not cursed drinks, it's enchanted books or hexed cupcakes. You know I remove every strand of hair from my hairbrush? Just another normal thing that has become so much more...interesting," Buffy said.

Willow shrugged. "Better than cheerleading."

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SUNNYDALE HIGHSCHOOL, CAFETERIA


Xander suddenly dropped into the seat on the other side of the table. "Hey, guess what?"

"Chicken butt!" Willow replied exuberantly.

The two girls had found an empty table in the cafeteria, but not before supplying themselves with today's taco special. Tacos in hand, they had settled into a table at the edge of the room. Xander appeared shortly afterwards.

"That is actually relevant to what I'm about to say," Xander replied with a pointed finger.

"What? Butts?" Buffy asked.

"Is Cordelia trying super tight jeans again?" Willow asked.

"No, not until winter, but after Christmas," a familiar voice said. As if summoned, Cordelia appeared from behind Xander. She took a seat at the table next to him. As usual, she didn't buy any cafeteria food. "But I could totally pull it off if I wanted. You could, too, with the right guidance and proper fashion sense." She gave Buffy a sharp look.

Buffy glared back.

"It's not about butts," Xander continued.

"It can be, right, gorgeous?" Oz said suddenly from nearby. He appeared behind Willow and kissed the back of her head. She grinned. He settled next to her.

"Can we please stop talking about butts?" Xander asked.

"Yes, please stop," Cordelia added.

"So, what are you talking about?" Buffy asked.

"Legs!" Xander replied.

Cordelia rolled her eyes.

"No, not legs...wait, not that your legs aren't worth talking about..." Xander shook his head. "Chicken!"

"Butts?" Willow interjected.

"Yes! No!"

"Good job, babe," Oz said.

Willow giggled.

"Chicken! I'm talking about chicken."

"Oh, so like breasts?" Oz replied.

Xander gestured to the werewolf. "Yes, exactly." Xander stopped. He sighed.

Now it was Oz's turn to chuckle.

"This was really interesting, Xander," Buffy said.

"If you all would just allow me one second to talk..." Xander paused. He gave the rest of the gang glance. Everyone stared back in anticipation. Except Cordelia. She was on her phone. "I want to tell you about this amazing fried chicken joint my folks found last night. Best fried chicken I've ever had. So I say we should all go over there tonight and treat ourselves. I guarantee you've never had anything better."

"Fried chicken? Really?" Cordelia said, her phone held to the side.

Xander shrugged. "Why not?"

"Is it from a five star restaurant?" Cordelia asked.

"It's from a food truck down the 41."

"Oh! I see. Greasy buckets of hormone-injected filth served by a former felon operating out of a rusty truck that conveniently avoids most food safety laws," Cordela said.

Xander grinned. "Yeah! Want to come?"

Cordelia grinned back. "I'll pass."

"Shocker." Xander turned to the others. "What about you?"

Oz nodded. "Sure, I can go for some chicken."

"Great! Willow?"

"Is it kosher?" the red-head asked.

"They have fries. Buffy?"

Buffy glanced at the taco in her hand. "I'm pretty sure I'll be feeling this later."

"Oh, come on, Buff! You can even bring Angel."

"No, I won't," Buffy replied. "I guess there are worse things we can do on a Friday night."

"Hey, if you'd rather be killing vampires, I won't stop you, but at least grab a bite before you do," Xander said.

Buffy sighed. "Yeah, okay. I can do with a normal night out."

Xander punched the air with his fist excitedly. "Great! You won't regret it, I promise."

"Okay, looks like we're all checking out this chicken place. Meet up here after dark and I'll drive us out there in my van? We can patrol on the way back," Oz said.

"Sounds like a plan," Xander replied. He turned to Cordelia. He adopted his best puppy dog look. "Cordy? It wouldn't be the same without you."

Cordelia rolled her eyes. "It hasn't been 'the same' since I met any of you."

"Please, Cordy?" Xander asked. The rest of the group adopted puppy dog eyes, although Buffy's was more like a sneer.

Cordelia grimaced, then glanced at her phone. She closed it. "All right. It's not like my social standing can't get any worse. But you're buying."

"Aw, you're the best," Xander hugged Cordelia. She responded with a shiver. He then jumped to his feet. "Trust me, guys. You've never had anything like it. If you don't like it, I'll...clean your laundry for a week. Do your homework. Hell, I'll even make you dinner."

Oz shook his head. "No, you won't."

"No, I won't," Xander replied with a salute.

"I do all of our homework," Willow muttered.

"He can do my laundry," Buffy added. She suddenly froze. "Oh, god no."

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SOMEWHERE IN THE MIDDLE OF NOWHERE...


"Chickens! Of all the things to ask for," said the man lifting a cage into the back of a pickup truck. Within the cage was a rather fluffy looking red chicken with bright red eyes. The chicken cocked its head curiously at the man as he placed the cage with the other chickens like it in the truck. He wiped his brow between cages, then loosened his non-descript jacket. "Fame. Glory. Riches. Women! Hell, an eight inch prick. Nah, he asks for chickens. There are spices to literally die for. Charms that will guarantee you will love every bite no matter how greasy or burnt. Not even a recipe. The colonel was really using his noggin' when I met him that night. But, no. Chickens. He asks for chickens." He sighs. "Do you have any idea what I have to go through to get these?"

Stepping out of the truck was the angry looking man responsible for this enterprise. The Frickin' Chicken truck owner regarded his partner with an amused look. "Are you complaining, again? You got what you wanted. Give it a break."

The man lifting the cages knuckled his back. The sweat atop his balding head shone in the noon day sun. "I'll stop complaining when the ridiculousness of this arrangement ceases to amaze me." He grabbed another cage with an equally fluffy, and red, chicken in it. He pointed the cage at the other man. "You know I once had a man ask for every member of the original Blonde Bombshells? And not even their younger selves. How they are, now, wrinkles and all."

The angry looking man grinned wryly. "Sounds hot."

"Ask me again when they're all dead," the other man replied. "But my point was his request, although ridiculous, was doable. A crack of the whip here. A snap of my fingers there. Maybe some digging, but all good and done within the week. This," he tapped on the cage. The chicken pecked at his finger in response, "is not a snap of my fingers." He dropped the cage into the truck with a clang. The chickens responded with a series of clucks.

The truck owner laughed. "I already offered you everything I have. Can't offer you anything more, not without dying, anyway."

"Oh, you'll die soon enough, but until then..." he slammed the tail gate shut, "I'm stuck hauling bleeding chickens. Probably until you do die."

The truck owner crossed his arms. "Is that all of them?"

"Yep," the partner replied. "Every last one of their corrupted little hearts."

"Good." He climbed back into his truck and closed the door. He poked his head out the window. "And bring double tomorrow, chief. Business is booming."

"Double!" the other man exclaimed. He ran up to the driver's side window. "Are you mad? Do you have any idea how hard it is to raise these things? And to do so before they go bad? Like really bad?"

"Didn't you say that you always honour your agreements? That's a good boy, now," the Frickin' Chicken creator replied before switching on the engine. "Now get out of my way. I have prep to do." He began to pull away.

"Honour my...? Are you mad?" the partner said as he evaded the truck. "This is costing more than your bloody soul is worth! Nobody will help me because of how stupid it is!" he shouted after the truck.

As the truck sped away, the partner slowly backed away from the side of the road until he stood in the very center of the cross roads deep within rural Sunnydale. "Chickens. Sold his soul for chickens. Bloody hell."

And with that, the man disappeared in a puff of smoke.

[TG Barighm]

DOWN THE 41...

Night fell, and the Slayer and her team piled into Oz's van to make their way down the 41. The drive saw Sunnydale disappear behind a veil of trees and hills and soon there was nothing to see but dark forest and quiet orchards.

"I can't remember the last time I've been this far out of town," Willow remarked, her face pressed against the passenger side window.

"Yeah. It's kind of creepy," Buffy replied from behind Willow. She poked her head around the passenger's seat. "Not in a vampire sort of way. More of a no bathrooms in sight sort of way."

"Buffy, I told you go before we left," Xander said from somewhere in the back of the van.

Buffy shrugged. "I didn't have to go, then."

"I can pull over," Oz said from behind the wheel.

"Ew, no," Cordelia snapped.

"This is pretty far out of town. Are you sure about this place, Xander?" Willow asked.

"Positive. Down the 41 my dad said," Xander replied. "Come on! Oz must know. He's been down this way."

"I come this way all the time, but I've never seen a food truck," Oz replied.

As if summoned, an aura of light appeared in the distance. As the team approached, it grew larger to encompass an opening in the trees. Parked at the edge of opening was a food truck covered in string lights. A couple picnic tables had been placed near the truck. Most of the light came from the truck's headlamps and from within the truck itself. A few people had already occupied one of the tables.

"Huh. Must of just opened," Oz mumbled as they pulled into the space.

"Not even a port-a-potty," Buffy grumbled as she slid open the door and climbed out.

"Thank god." Cordelia followed the slayer. "Xander, if this chicken isn't heavenly, I swear..."

"Heavenly? No way. It's devilishly good," Xander said with a frank nod. "Don't worry! It's way better than any 5 star joint I'm sure you've been to because you're, well, you and...uh...it's six stars!"

Cordelia rolled her eyes. "I can't believe I'd rather be doing my homework on a Friday night. Let's just get this over with."

The gang finished exiting the van and made their way over to the food truck. As they approached the table manned by a few other patrons, Buffy came to a halt. She held out her arms to stop the rest.

"Hold up," Buffy ordered.

"What?" Xander asked. He glanced at the table. "Oh, you've got to be kidding me."

The three people sitting at the picnic table, two men in worn clothing and a goth girl, rose to their feet the moment the gang drew close.

"Well, look at this! The slayer! And her sidekicks," the first of the three said. He flashed a grin.

Cordelia groaned. "Vampires? Really?"

"Look at it this way, Cordelia. If they like the chicken this much, then Xander might actually be right," Oz said.

"Oh, it's pretty good, no denying that. Even we can't get enough of it," the lead vampire said as he picked at his teeth. "But I think it's time to move on to dessert. We were going to get the cook next, but you three look a lot tastier."

"The cook?" said one of the other vampires. "But then we can't have any more chicken."

"I mean we'll bring him back with us and turn him," corrected the lead vampire.

"Over my..." Buffy began to say, but she was suddenly interrupted by Xander whom jumped in front of her.

"Over my dead body!" Xander finished. He paused. "Over her dead body. Because she's the slayer. Her. You hate her. Not me. I'll just take a few steps back now." Xander moved away.

The vampires drew closer to the slayer.

Buffy drew her stake. "I suppose you three wouldn't mind allowing me the courtesy of dinner and a potty break first before we do this?

The vampires hissed.

"Not even a chance to pee. Geez, vampires really suck." Buffy lunged at the lead vampire. As she did, Xander began dancing around, looking for an opportunity to aid his friend.

But then that scrumptious aroma of dozens of tantalizing herbs and spices touched his nose. His mouth watered. His focus waned.

"You got this, right Buff?" Xander called.

Buffy was caught in a headlock by the lead vampire while the second was punching her repeatedly in the stomach.

"Okay! I'll go place our order," Xander said. He grabbed Willow's arm, pulling the red-head away from the fight.

"But...wait...vampires! Fight!" Willow stammered as she was dragged away.

"For once I agree with anything that has happened tonight. Let's just get over there and..." Cordelia was saying.

The goth vampire suddenly grabbed Cordelia's arm.

"The only order you're placing is mine, hot stuff," the vampire said. She licked her fangs.

Cordelia tried to pull away. "I am not a charity!"

"Hey, is that a nipple?" Oz said. He pointed at the vampire's chest.

The goth vampire looked down.

A kick to the back of the knee sent the vampire down to her knees, then a crack to the back of the head sent her face first into the dirt. Oz spun the tire iron in his hand while Willow helped Cordelia pull her arm free from the vampire's grasp.

"Had I feeling I'd need this," Oz said.

"This is stupid. We should get out of here," Cordelia.

"Oh, come on! Buffy has this under control," Xander said as he approached the truck's ordering window.

Buffy had kicked away the vampire punching her, then flipped the other one over her back into the puncher. The two slammed into the picnic table.

"See?" Xander turned to the truck. He knocked on the side. "Hey! You there? We want to order some chicken!"

After a moment, an angry looking man with a shortened pony tail appeared at the window. "Good evening! What can I get you?" The sounds of combat drew the man's attention. "Hey, what's that going on over there?"

Buffy had one of the vampires pinned to the picnic table with her knee and was pounding on his face. A second vampire rose up to grab her arm, but she elbowed him in the deck. She looked around for her stake, then groaned audibly when she didn't see it. She followed up with another crushing punch to the pinned vampire to ensure he was down.

"Oh, that's nothing. Just some jerks from school. Said a few things. You know how kids can be," Xander explained.

"You know. Girl stuff," Willow added as she came to stand with Xander.

"They pointed out her hair was a few seasons too late. The girl could never take criticism," Cordelia added.

"Criticism? It looks like she is about to crush that guy's skull," the truck owner said.

The second vampire previously elbowed in the neck suddenly dove at Buffy's legs and knocked her down. The goth girl slowly climbed to her feet and began staggering about.

"See? No skull crushing," Xander said. "Now can we get four meals and two extra orders of fries? This one is kosher."

The truck owner shook his head. "You know what? So long as everyone pays and nobody dies, I don't care what you kids get yourselves mixed up in. Four meals and two fries, coming up!"

"That's a good policy! Especially around us," Xander says brightly.

Willow gave Xander an odd look. "You're being weirdly obsessive about this."

"Hey, can't a guy enjoy one nice Friday night?" Xander replied. "Let's not let vampires ruin yet another night. Buffy is doing her thing. Everything is fine. See? It's already over."

The vampire that had knocked Buffy over now had his head tucked tightly between her legs. Buffy kept her knees pressed tight while she dragged herself across the ground to the picnic table. As she reached it, the other vampire slumped against it came too and reached to grab her, but a swift kick to the jaw halted that attempt. She ripped off the end of the table seat, and with jagged wood in hand, stabbed it into the chest of the slumped vampire. Its ashes flew into her face. She coughed and spit them out, then jammed the stake into the other vampire held between her knees. She coughed again as she slowly rose to her feet.

"There's goes my appetite." Buffy grimaced. "Oh, I hope that's blood and not pee..."

Oz, coming up behind the slayer, nudged her in the back. "Hey, Buff." He pointed.

Buffy followed the werewolf's pointed finger. The goth vampire had made a run for it, or more of a staggering run. She was approaching the far side of the road and was about to reach the treeline.

Oz handed Buffy the tire iron. "Here."

"Thanks." Buffy took the iron and whipped it at the fleeing vampire. It struck the vampire in the back of the head and knocked her down.

"Bullseye." Buffy stared at the downed vampire for a moment. "I'm just gonna go clean that up."

"Yeah, okay. I'll look for your stake." Oz replied.

Buffy nodded, then slowly made her way over to the vampire, walking funny as she went.

Back at the truck, the cook brought out three orders and placed them at the window. "Hey, where'd those other three go? Their second order is up."

"Oh, you know. They had to go and nurse their wounds." Xander explained. "But we'll happily bring their order to them."

The cook just gave Xander a dismissive wave before turning back to work. Xander took the food and turned to the rest of the group. "Hey, guys! I got the chicken!"

[TG Barighm]

* * * * *

Team Slayer had chosen to occupy the other picnic table. The one not used by the vampires whose remains now dusted the table.

Buffy couldn't help staring at that table. Not only was it gross, they should probably dust it off a bit...well, okay, a good rain will take care of that...in a few days. Or weeks. No, Buffy's primary concern was their presence. Vampires can certainly eat regular food, there is nothing really stopping them from doing it, but they don't crave it, and they certainly don't become addicted to it. There is only one thing they crave, and that thing is found far away from where this food truck is located. What even brought them out here in the first place? She has certainly never identified any vampire lairs this far from town. Animals are not enough to satisfy them. Angel made it very clear pig's blood was barely enough. The cravings were always there. So why fried chicken?

"Hey, Buff! Don't you like your chicken?" Xander asked.

Buffy looked up at the group. Xander sat with wings in hand. His face was slick with oil and his mouth covered in dressing. She reminded him of a baby. Cordelia sat next to him giving him a disgusted look. Her chicken was barely touched. Oz seemed to be enjoying his while Willow was staring at Buffy's order for some reason.

"Yeah, Buffy. Don't you like it?" Willow said with an oddly curious look.

Buffy look down. She had only a couple wings left to polish off, but the wings were pretty oily and she wasn't that hungry in the first place.

"It's okay," Buffy replied.

Xander's eyes widened. He dropped his wing. "Okay?"

"Okay! Fine! It's good! But I don't see why you like it so much," Buffy replied. "It's not much better than the wings you can get from the bowling alley."

"The bowling...?" Xander rolled his eyes. "The bowling alley? Buffy, these wings were prepared lovingly by the skilled hands of a culinary master just for us to brighten our miserable, frightening lives. These are a national treasure. You can't get these at the bowling alley." He turned to Cordelia. "Tell him, Cordy."

"Don't look at me," Cordelia replied. "They're good, but not that good."

Xander scoffed. "You barely touched them!"

Cordelia crossed her arms. "I have a figure to watch, and these are dripping with grease. Some of us have discipline."

Xander shook his head in disbelief. "Help me out, Oz."

Oz, who had a leg in hand, was sniffing it. "What? I like them just fine." He sniffed again. "Does anyone else smell that?"

Xander chuckled. "Look, Oz, I know you have the wolf thing going for you now, but don't forget food is best enjoyed by putting it in your mouth."

"Yeah, yeah. I'm eating it." Oz sniffed it again. "Maybe it's some kind of funky preservative or something. Babe, can you smell that?"

Willow still had her eyes locked on the remaining wings in Buffy's tray. "Oh, yes. I smell it."

Buffy pushed the rest of her wings away. She rose to her feet. "I'm going to take a walk. Maybe find a place to...you know."

Oz gave Buffy a sideways glance. "I thought...you know..."

"No, that was just blood." She motioned to a tear on her leg.

Willow adopted a puzzled look. "Bleeding is better than peeing yourself?"

"You get used it. It's kind of a nightly thing for me," Buffy replied.

"You're not going to finish your wings?" Xander asked incredulously.

"Xander! Knock it off. They're just wings," Buffy snapped.

Xander shrugged, then reached for the abandoned wings. "Fine. Whatever. More for me."

Willow suddenly slapped Xander's hand away and took the wings for herself. She immediately began nibbling on them. "Please don't tell my rabbi," she mumbled between bites.

"All right, Willow! I told you these things are irresistible," Xander said with a grin.

Cordelia nodded in agreement, a leg in her mouth. Her eyes widened. She dropped the leg. "Ew! No! Xander, you can have them." She shoved the tray towards Xander.

"Seriously, you guys can't tell me you don't smell that?" Oz said. He was now studiously studying the leg in his hand.

Nobody answered him. The remaining trio were too busy nibbling on fried chicken to reply. Even Cordelia had taken up the wings again.

Oz dropped the leg in his hand. "Whatever. All yours, Xander." He pushed the tray away.

"Awesome!" Xander said with a full mouth. "Hey, while you're up, can you put in another order for me?"

Oz had risen to his feet. "You haven't finished the vampires' order...yeah, okay." Oz wandered over to the truck's window. He repeatedly glanced back at the remaining members of team slayer at the picnic table. Willow had finished Buffy's remaining wings and was now digging for more from Cordelia's tray. Cordelia slapped Willow's hand away. The red head glared back. Oz shook his head as he stepped up to the window. The angry looking man with the top-knot was nowhere in sight.

"Hello?" Oz called. "Another order for the gobblers over there." He looked from one end of the truck to the other. There wasn't any place for the guy to hide. "Hello?" Oz called again. He shrugged. "Sorry, Xander. No more wings for you."

Something caught Oz's eye on the shelf. There was a suspicious bottle on the shelf. The secret ingredient? Some kind of nasty chemical that passes as a spice in other countries? Maybe something banned for sale in the US? Oz squinted at it, but the label was just too small and the words faded. Oz looked around again. The back doors were shut, but there was a side door on the other side of the truck. And it was open.

Oz warily glanced to either side again, then walked over to the front of the truck. The truck owner wasn't there, either. Oz gave the surrounding area another quick examination before moving around the side of the truck. There were some boxes and jugs piled up on the other side of the truck, but there was still no sign of the cook. And he wasn't in the truck. The door was right there, wide open. Oz gave the area one last cursory glance, still no sign of the man, then moved towards the open door.

A shadow suddenly shot out from beneath the truck. It rapidly ran around in a wide circle, just barely evading the light.

Oz stopped. Was that a rat? A cat? No, it must be a raccoon. The forest is right there, after all.

"Hey, there, little guy. You might want to head into town. I'm pretty sure the garbage there is healthier for you than whatever is in the stuff this guy is selling," Oz said.

The shadowy figure stopped running in circles. It turned to face Oz. It stepped into the light.

It was a chicken.

Or, most of a chicken. It was lacking a certain important characteristic.

It had no head.

Only a bloody fountain where its head used to be.

"Oh, god. That is...disturbing." Oz muttered. He took a defensive step back.

And the headless chicken responded. It took a step forward.

Oz raised his hands defensively. "Um...no. Stop. Don't make me kick you."

But the chicken didn't stop. It continued to move closer. As it did, the fountain of blood changed into a bubbling font of gore. Chunks of gore fell from the wound. Something was beginning to emerge. A mass of flesh forced its way up from the hole. Glowing red eyes poked through the trickling blood. A hook-like beast tore through the flesh. As it emerged, it let loose a piercing shriek.

Oz had backed up against the wall of the truck. He was stopped by the wall of boxes. A jug of ketchup fell over.

"Um...Buffy?" Oz called.

The chicken, now with a new, disturbing head continued to approach. It shrieked again.

Light flashed off steel.

The head flew off. A heavy foot came down on the chicken and crushed it into the ground.

"It's true what they say," the proprietor of the food truck said. He wiped the cleaver in his hand on his apron. "Chickens do run around with their frickin' heads chopped off. Did you know way back when a chicken lived for years without its head?"

Oz didn't even look at the truck's cook. He continued to stare at the chicken held down by the man's foot. Held down was indeed the right word. Despite a gushing wound and a second beheading, the chicken still struggled against the weight of the boot atop it.

"Huh? What? Oh, yeah...back in the 40s in Colorado. This chicken lived for over a year after its owner...um..." Oz found himself pressing into the truck again. The truck's proprietor had drawn close, knife in hand, and was giving Oz a sharp look.

"What was that you were saying about my chicken being garbage?" he asked darkly.

Oz hesitated. "Well...it has this funky smell, but that is just one man's opinion. My friends seem to like it."

"You sayin' you don't like the smell of my secret blend of herbs and spices?" the cook asked.

Oz glanced at the knife. "I don't hate it."

The man leaned close to Oz's face. Oz pulled his head back until it clunked against the truck. The man snorted. He reached into his pocket. The knife lowered.

He held up a piece of paper.

Oz stared curiously at the slip of paper. He blinked. "A coupon?"

"I appreciate your frickin' feedback," the cook replied. He stepped back. "I'll do better next time. I promise."

Oz slowly stepped away from the truck and the man. He kept his eyes firmly planted on the now very angry looking man.

The chicken suddenly dashed away.

"Your chicken is escaping." Oz pointed.

The truck's owner glanced over his shoulder. "It won't get far. Now you best be on your way. It's getting late."

"Right." Oz nodded slowly as he continued to slowly make his away around the truck back to his friends. The truck's owner continued to watch him, even after Oz broke line of sight. As soon as he did, Oz ran over to the picnic table. The rest of the team were still working on their wings.

"Are there any wings left?" Oz asked.

"Welcome back, buddy! Don't worry, I was able to stop Willow from eating all of your wings." Xander said.

"Uh...great! But no more wings. Not tonight. Come on, let's get going. I, uh, want to get some coffee. Great way to follow up wings."

Cordelia frowned. "What are you, crazy? Following up greasy food with coffee? That would make me barf."

Oz winced. "Barfing sounds like a good idea, actually."

"Hey, did you put in that order for me?" Xander asked as the group began to clean up.

"No, sorry Xander. The cook...had to close up for a bit. Come on, let's go. Buffy!" Oz waved to Buffy who was returning from her walk. "We're going!"

As the gang piled into Oz's van, the werewolf grabbed the remains of his order. He stared at the fried wings for a long moment before gingerly wrapping them in napkins. He gave the truck one last wary glance before jumping into the van.

[TG Barighm]

SUNNYDALE HIGH SCHOOL, THE NEXT DAY


Oz stared at the girl chewing on a hand full of frickin' fried chicken. She sat at the table across from his, more towards the edge of the cafeteria, and appeared completely engrossed in her lunch. She didn't seem to care that she looked like a baby with all that grease and dressing on her face, nor did she appear to notice the bones of one wing had somehow got stuck in her hair. So utterly engrossed by her lunch, the girl was completely oblivious to the odd looks she was getting.

But she was not the only one. All over the cafeteria there were students chewing on fried chicken wings. Not all of the students had the packaging marked by the cartoonish foul mouthed fowl that identified Frickin' Chicken. Many students were eating the regular weeks served by the school, but those students regarded their wings with disappointment and disdain. They stared enviously at those students enjoying the real deal.

Would they enjoy them so much if they knew the truth?

"Uh, excuse me? Can't you look elsewhere?" the girl with the wing in her hair said.

Oz blinked. He shook his head. "Sorry. That, uh, looks very good."

The girl smiled. "It is! You should try some. It's this little place..."

"Down the 41. Yes. Thanks! I intend to," Oz replied. He turned away. His fingers brushed at the bulge in his pocket. He didn't need to go anywhere to get his hands on more of that chicken.

A greasy bag emitting those gnarly smells was suddenly dropped onto the table.

"Voila!" Xander exclaimed excitedly. "I come bearing gifts."

Oz jumped in surprise. He sneered at the bag. "You got more chicken?"

"Yep! Since my dad found the place he has been bringing it home every night. He even grabbed an extra order so that I can bring it to school," Xander explained. He started pulling out the contents. "Don't worry, I warmed it up in the microwave, but I think wings taste better cold. Don't you?"

"Um...maybe," Oz said slowly.

"Mine!" Cordelia said suddenly. She snatched the box out of Xander's hands and dropped into the seat next to him.

Xander rolled his eyes. "Glad I brought seconds."

"I thought you are watching your figure," Oz said.

Cordelia shrugged. "I work hard to maintain this look. What's the point of it all if you never get to treat yourself?"

"I guess..." Oz said with a slow shake of his head. "Aren't you even a little bit worried? You said so yourself. Food trucks tend to avoid safety standards."

"Less talky. More eaty," Xander replied. Cordelia didn't even bother with a response.

"You two enjoy your meal, then," Oz mumbled. He left the two to their fried lunch, then headed to his meeting with Willow. The red-head had promised to meet him in the biology lab during lunch. When he got there, he found the aforementioned red-head manning the microscope.

There was a bag of Frickin' Chicken sitting next to her.

Oz groaned. "Oh, Willow! Not you, too."

"What? You asked me to study it, so I had to get some. From someone." Willow stared innocently for a moment. Her smile faltered. "I swiped it from the janitor while his back was turned. But that's good, right? Somebody his age shouldn't be eating fried foods, right? Anyway, come take a look."

Oz reached into his pocket and withdrew the wings he had been saving, then tossed them in the nearby trash. Some much for that idea. "Did you find anything?"

"Mm-hm! Lots of fried goodness!" Willow replied cheerfully.

Oz resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "Is there anything wrong with the chicken?"

"Well...maybe." Willow shrugged. "I don't know. It looks like perfectly normal chicken. And the chemical analysis didn't reveal anything too weird. It's a little heavy on the MSG, but that never killed anyone, right? Maybe my uncle at Christmas. His gut, anyway." She offered a pleading look. "I'll keep looking."

"No, it's all right, babe. You did good." Oz stared into space for a moment as he thought.

Willow gestured to the bag. "We could eat the rest of the chic...fries. You can have the rest of the wings. Oh, these things are too evil. You take them."

"Yeah. Totally," Oz reached for the bag, then produced the fries. Willow eagerly dug into them while Oz watched worriedly. "I'll, uh, see you later."

Willow grinned that cute little grin of hers, which made Oz smile, but he had to force himself to turn away. There was nothing wrong with the fries, but he had to do something about the chicken. Whatever was wrong with them. Oz returned to the hall, tossing the bag into another trash bin when he could, and continued walking.

All he had to go on was a strange smell. He couldn't quite explain what the smell was, but then he had learned about a lot of new smells since becoming a werewolf. Maybe this was just one of them? No, he had a lot of food with even weirder preservatives in them. They all smelled fake and synthetic, but that didn't quite describe the fried chicken. The chicken from Frickin' Chicken just smelled wrong somehow. Like it shouldn't be here. In some ways it reminded him of how vampires smelled, but that didn't make any sense. Are they vampire chickens? No, that's just weird. But how else would he explain that monstrous chicken he encountered behind the truck? Monster chickens? It didn't look monstrous until it sprouted a new head, but maybe it very well was undead. Losing its head didn't seem to be much of a problem for it, but that wasn't very unusual for chickens at all.

"Hey!" Buffy said cheerfully.

Oz snapped out of his reverie and beheld the blonde slayer. This is one of those days when she dressed nicer. She usually did the day after enduring Cordelia's taunts. "Hey. If you're looking for Willow."

"No. That's okay. I was kind of looking for you, actually."

"Really?"

"Yeah. You seem to be the only person here not eating that stupid chicken," Buffy explained. "It's like it is everywhere. Which is weird. Because the place just opened."

"It would be weird if it wasn't weird," Oz muttered more to himself than the slayer. "You haven't had any more of that chicken, have you?"

Buffy shook her head. "No. I don't see what's so great about it. What about you?"

"No way. Absolutely not. There's something wrong with it."

"Really? How so?"

"I'm not sure yet. I had Willow look into it, but..."

"You had Willow put a chicken wing under a microscope?"

"Yeah. She didn't find anything."

"So...what's wrong with it?"

"I'm not sure yet. It was dark. I had a lot of greasy food. Sometimes I see weird werewolf things..." Oz trailed off. He stared into Buffy's expectant eyes. "Listen, when I find something, I'll let you know."

"You do that. I don't want to slay any food truck cooks just because you didn't like their food, although there's a burrito vendor by the mall I wouldn't mind slaying a little bit."

"Yeah. Absolutely. When I'm sure, you'll know," Oz replied.

The slayer gave Oz a grin before continuing on her way. The werewolf stared after her for a long moment. Eventually he sighed. "I guess it's my turn to do something stupid."

[TG Barighm]

BACK DOWN THE 41...

The lights were off, the forest bright, and the dust from passing cars plain to see in the late afternoon light, but the Frickin' Chicken site was much as Oz remembered it with one notable exception: the crowd had grown significantly. A couple more picnic tables have been brought in, but they weren't enough to seat all of the people that now flocked to the Frickin' Chicken truck. A whole line of people stretched from the truck all the way to the road, and the multitude of cars present filled the shoulder as far as the eye could see. The tables were packed with people and many more ate chicken on their feet.

"Huh." Oz watched the whole thing from his spot on the road. He sat parked near the entrance to the clearing where the truck was parked waiting to make his turn, but now there were so many people he didn't see a place to park, so he just sat there on the road watching. It gave him time to devise a plan.

What would he say, exactly? Tell me your secret? Yeah, like that would work. Why are your chickens gifted with unholy regenerative powers? That one would be good for a laugh. Why does your chicken smell funny? It only smells funny to him, but at least that question wasn't nearly so wild as...

A truck coming from the opposite side approached. The back was filled with coolers. As it approached, another customer jumped into their car and pulled away. With the approaching truck, it gave Oz an opening, and it gave him the idea he was searching for. Oz pulled into the departing customer's place. As he did, the truck filled with coolers pulled up close to the food truck. A bald man exited the truck and began grabbing coolers.

"Excuse me!" Oz called to the man as he ran across the road. "Are these the wings?"

"Place your order at the truck, mate. I just do the deliveries," the man replied. He didn't even glance at Oz.

"Do you guys put something in the chicken?" Oz asked as he moved to follow the man.

"Just grandma's secret blend of herbs and spices," the bald man replied. He dropped the first cooler near the back door of the truck. Today it was closed. He returned to the pickup truck.

"Is that all? Do you guys use any preservatives? Maybe something that smells a little funny?" Oz continued.

"I'm just the delivery man, mate. I don't do the cooking."

"But you must know something. Have you seen anything strange? Anything at all?"

The delivery man straightened. He gave Oz an annoyed look. "Just what are you implying?"

Oz shrugged. "Nothing. I just want to know what you put in your chicken, that's all."

"A lot of frickin' love and flavour, that's all!" the truck's owner yelled. He came around the back of the food truck and approached the two. He crossed his beefy arms over his chest. "You again? You tryin' to start something, boy?"

"No. I'm just asking questions," Oz replied.

"Some pretty pointed questions," the bald man said with a knowing look to his partner. The truck owner responded with a slow nod.

"I just want to know if your food is safe," Oz said. "Can I see your food vendor's license? Do you have one? What about your permit?"

"What are? Some kind of cop?" the truck own replied.

"Any citizen has a right to ask these things," Oz said.

The truck owner turned to the crowd of people standing in line. "Do you hear that, folks? This 'concerned' citizen wants me to stop cooking for you y'all while I dig around for my vendor's permit. Is that all right with you?"

There was a chorus of boos. Numerous people shouted curses while others gave Oz some choice advice, none of which was acceptable for PG13 viewing. Someone even threw a fry at Oz. He brushed it off.

"The crowd has spoken!" the truck owner declared. "Butt off, boy. And you," he pointed at the bald delivery man, "I need you to go back and fetch more chicken. We're almost out and it's not even sunset!"

"What, are you mad?" the delivery man exclaimed. "It's bad enough you got me playing delivery boy, but now you want me butcher them for you? And from what? The new batch? I just brought them in last night. You already forget what I've said? Too soon and it's a waste of product, but too late..."

"Just get the chicken. Pump them up with extra juice if you have to. I have demand to satisfy." The truck owner returned to the truck.

The bald man grumbled angrily for a moment before grabbing another cooler. "Out of my way!" he yelled to Oz. He pushed the werewolf aside.

"Right. No problem," Oz replied, but that little discussion gave him an idea. He returned to his van. And waited.

Once the delivery man was finished unloading the coolers, he disappeared inside the truck for a bit, then returned with the now empty coolers. Upon reloading the truck, he hopped into the pickup and pulled out of the clearing. Oz waited for the pickup truck to get a good distance ahead before he began to follow it. He didn't have to follow it for very long: a fair ways farther down the 41 and then a right turn eventually brought the pickup truck to a dirt road leading deeper into the forest. Oz passed this road to allay suspicion, then parked in the trees a little farther down. As he parked, he found himself staring into the forest.

Good lord, what is he doing?

He sighed. He slowly shook his head.

"Just one thing. I only need to see one little thing." He paused. He grabbed his phone. "But that's no reason to be entirely stupid." He dialed. Willow's messaging system kicked in. "Hey, babe, just so you know, I went out to the chicken place to ask a few questions and that led me to what I think is their farm or something. If I'm not back by night fall that's where I am, about 10 minutes farther down the 41 to the right, first left shortly after that. I parked the van just a short ways after that. But I'm probably just being paranoid, so...yeah, just call me when you get this." He placed the phone in his pocket, then exited the van.

Oz stepped into the forest, sniffed the air, and began making his way towards a short hill in the distance. There was something odd smelling coming from that direction. Something wrong. That is where he would start looking.

[TG Barighm]

DOWN THE 41, AT NIGHT


"If I'm not back by night fall that's where I am," said Oz's voice through the tiny speakers of the phone. The phone in question was held by Willow, her face contorted by worry and fear.

"It's night!" Willow said worriedly. "Look outside? See? See?" She pushed Xander into a window. His face smacked into the glass.

"Yes, Willow, I thoroughly remember how dark it was the last time you shoved my face into the window. And again at sunset," Xander mumbled, his lips pressed against the glass.

Willow released Xander's face. "But now it's dark! Not twilight! Not sunset! Dark! When the vampires and ghouls and ghosts come out."

Xander rubbed his face. The impression of his face remained where it had been pressed against the window. "Relax, Willow. We're quite a ways out from Sunnydale. We've never seen a vampire or demon or lawyer this far from the Hellmouth. He's more likely to have been eaten by a bear or mountain lion out here."

Willow's face scrunched into a pointed glare. Xander responded with a grin.

Buffy leaned over the back of her seat. "Xander, not helping."

Xander shrugged. "Have you ever brought me along with you on these little hunting trips because I'm helpful or because my pretty face keeps your spirits up?"

Buffy nodded slowly. "Good point."

Xander's face melted. "Good point...what? The spirits thing or...?"

Buffy let the question hang. She was too concerned about Willow to focus on Xander's usual defense mechanisms.

Shortly after classes were done for the day, Willow came to Buffy about a message left by Oz. She was worried then, too, but Buffy brushed it off. The slayer didn't think Oz's curiousity about the origin of fried chicken warranted missing a patrol, and food crazes came and went all the time. Buffy even wished a few of those crazes hadn't gone, but it was just food. Unhealthy food with questionable health impact, and she will never look at a fast food hamburger the same way again, but still food. But as the day went on and Oz didn't answer any of his calls, Buffy found herself getting a little worried too. Sunset was fast approaching, and it had been hours since Oz left the message. Finally Buffy relented to Willow and the gang piled into Giles' station wagon and headed down the 41.

The red head was now staring intently at the phone in her hand. She didn't even react when the station wagon hit a bumo of some sort that caused her to bounce. Buffy, twisted around in the passenger seat, grimaced when her shoulder hit the seatbelt hinge.

"Apologies! That was rock in the road," Giles explained.

Buffy shot a frown at the librarian/warrior standing against the forces of evil, then turned back to her friends in the backseat. "But Xander is right about one thing. We haven't encountered anything nasty this from town. Besides, Oz is a smart boy. He'll be fine."

"One thing...?" Xander muttered.

Willow sighed. "I guess you're right. Oz is smart, dependable, reliable, and strong. He isn't like Xander at all."

Xander shook his head incredulously. "I am sitting right here."

A flash of worry filled Willow's eyes again. "But what if he becomes a werewolf? What about everyone else? And all of those animals? What if he...murders Bambi?"

"It's a crescent moon, Willow. The full moon is still weeks away," Buffy replied.

"Oh, that's good," Willow said with a nervous grin. She returned to staring at her phone.

Buffy sighed, then assumed the proper sitting possession for a passenger in the passenger's seat. She stared at the passing trees for a long moment. "Thanks for driving us out here, Giles."

"Oh, it is not a bother. I do not have any pressing matters to which I must attend at all," Giles said.

"It doesn't sound like it's 'not a bother'," Buffy replied.

"To be honest, if this route did not pass three cemeteries that warrant studious investigation I would not be doing this at all," Giles said.

"You didn't have to drive us. I could have taken the wheel," Xander said.

"You will not be taking my wheel without a license," Giles replied.

"But I have a license. I got it last summer."

"Not from me, you didn't."

Buffy grinned. "You're going 40 in a 50 zone. I'm not worried about Xander's driving." She crossed her arms. "You're just as worried about Oz as the rest of us, so cut the busy teacher act."

Giles did that thing where he nods a few times when he knows he's beat. "Yes, well...that is neither here nor there. Suffice it to say, I've been meaning to head out in this direction anyway."

"Oh, you love us," Buffy joked.

Xander suddenly pointed. "There is Oz's van."

The station wagon pulled off the darkened road and into a break in the trees where a small access road could be seen. The white van was parked just a short ways into it.

"Well, nothing suspicious so far," Giles said at the sight of the van.

"Except Oz is not here," Willow noted.

"Aside from that," Giles replied.

"Maybe Oz is taking a leak?" Xander posited.

"Ew, Xander," Buffy said as she exited the car.

Xander shrugged. "What? Do you think bears look for a port-a-potty?"

As the rest of the team exited the station wagon, Buffy walked up to Oz's van and game it a quick one over. After that, she peered through the window, then again when Willow shone a flashlight through the window.

"See anything?" Willow asked.

"No. Keys are gone. Door's locked. The can of soda I drank last night is still in there...nothing is wrong." Buffy wound up a punch.

Willow grabbed her arm. "No! Bad slayer Don't break Oz's car."

Buffy dropped the arm. "Okay, but if I can't get in, then I can't be thorough."

"I don't think that is necessary. He went that way," Willow said. She pointed.

Buffy followed her finger. "How can you tell?"

Willow's eyes widened. She gestured more violently with her pointed finger.

Buffy looked again. This time she spotted the light in the distance. "Oh, right."

Willow suddenly spun her finger to point at something else. "Is that a gun?"

Giles stood at the back of his car, with the back door open, with a rifle in his hand. He was busy loading it while Xander looked on with glee.

"Yes, finally! We're pulling out some real weaponry," Xander said.

Willow walked deliberately up to the librarian. "Why did you bring a gun?"

Giles glanced at Xander. "Well, it is a fair precaution...in case of..."

Willow crossed her arms. "In case he was eaten by bears or mountain lions?"

"Or became a werewolf, by some other means we do not understand. We may need the tranquilizers."

Willow threw up her hands in frustration and walked away.

Xander sidled up to Giles. "So, Giles, ol' buddy, where's my gun?"

"You don't get one." Giles closed the trunk door.

"Why? Because my clumsy hands and neanderthal brain are too irresponsible and immature to handle a weapon as dangerous and volatile as a modern firearm?" Xander asked.

"No. Well, yes, but no, because I only have the one. Do I look like a cowboy to you?" Giles said before walking away.

"Looks like towards the light is the way to go," Buffy said as she fell in line behind Giles and Xander. Willow joined her a second later.

Giles suddenly grabbed Willow's shoulder.

"No, you stay in the car," Giles instructed.

"But...why? Oz might need my help," Willow protested.

"And he will get it, but the best way for you to help Oz is to remain in the car and call for help if none of us return in a half hour or so," Giles explained.

"But..."

"He's right, Willow," Buffy interjected. "We still don't know what's going on. Might be better if we play it conservatively until we have a better idea of things."

"I've fought vampires!"

"Vampires do not use guns," Giles said, "which, assuming the most likely worse case scenario, is what unscrupulous types like these men will be using. In such a case, we will need you to call the police."

Willow pointed at Xander. "But...what about Xander?"

"Xander does not know how to hack a computer, nor does he own the only phone with a long distance plan," Buffy explained.

"Thank you for the vote of confidence, I guess," Xander mumbled.

"Do not worry. We will find Oz. He probably just lost track of time. Now stay in the car and lock the doors," Giles said. He turned and began his trek towards the distant light.

Buffy leaned closed to Giles. "You don't believe Oz just lost track of time, do you?"

"Unlikely. I brought this for him." Giles gestured to the rifle in his hand.

"Is it possible for a werewolf to change without the light of a full moon?"

"It has been reported. If the werewolf is skilled enough or in the right frame of mind. Let us hope that is not what happened here," Giles said as the three continued onwards.

[TG Barighm]

* * * *

The light installed upon the post overlooking the gate was quite bright, its warm glow washing over the gate and much of the dirt road leading up to it. Other lights dotted the compounded beyond the gate, but this particular light had a golden quality. Wherever it touched metal, the glint of the light brought a sparkling quality to that surface. That same quality touched the glass of Xander's binoculars.

Situated at the very edge of that glow, laying on his belly in the tall grass, the high school senior studied the compound. He swept the binoculars two and fro across the length of the compound, gleaning whatever he could. The binoculars settled on one particular vehicle towards the back of the compound. A pickup truck filled with coolers. What could be in those coolers?

"Xander, what are you doing?" Buffy asked.

Xander pulled the binoculars away to glance at the blonde. The slayer was squatting next to him.

"I'm scoping the place," Xander replied. "Military procedure requires a mission target be adequately scouted before engaging in any tactical operations."

"You were a soldier for one day," Buffy replied. "Not even. A few hours."

"Yeah, but I still retain a lot of those memories."

"Xander, I said you could hold my binoculars, not use them," Giles said. He emerged from the tall grasses a moment after the slayer. He reached out to grab the binoculars.

Xander pulled them away. "I know how to use them. I've been trained." As he jerked his hand away, the binoculars hit a nearby rock. Xander sighed.

Giles reclaimed the binoculars. "Yes, but you didn't pay for them, did you?" He wiped the lenses of the binoculars before placing them to his eyes. He studied the compound for a moment before hanging them around his neck. "Yes, well...let's move on."

"What did you see?" Buffy asked.

"A rather innocuous collection of buildings arranged in a roughly circular pattern. Perhaps a ranch or butchery. Given the location it seems the most plausible observation," Giles stated matter-of-factly. He continued making his way towards the compound.

"I could have told you that," Xander said.

"I suppose you could have, but that military bravado might have coloured your perception. A more restrained approach is best, I think," Giles replied.

"So, what should we do?" Buffy asked.

"Approach and judge the situation as it evolves," Giles said.

"But what if Oz is in trouble?"

Giles grinned. "We'll open that gate when we come to it."

Buffy and Xander stared blankly.

The grin melted off Giles' face. "Yes, well...carry on."

The trio abandoned the grasses and headed for the dirt road proper. All pretense at stealth abandoned, they walked right up to the gate and stood bathed in the golden light. Right next to the gate, the trio could better see the chain-link fence surrounding the compound. There was a buzzer installed next to the fence.

"That's an awfully high fence for a ranch," Xander observed.

"They likely keep chickens, Xander," Giles replied.

"Yeah, but chickens can't fly."

"They have wings, Xander," Buffy replied.

"Actually, chickens are capable of some flight and can leap over a shorter fence," Giles added.

Buffy walked up to the gate. She wrapped her fingers around some of the links. "I can climb over the fence. Get a feel for the place."

Giles interrupted the slayer by pressing the button on the buzzer.

Xander shook in surprise. "Hey! Don't press that thing!"

Giles gave the younger man a raised eyebrow. "Why? It is the proper way to announces ourselves, is it not?"

Xander thought for a moment. "Well, yes, but..."

"They are not always monsters," Giles stated.

"What do you want?" a voice said through the buzzer.

Giles leaned close. "Oh, yes, hello! I was just in the area searching for a friend of mine. Um, you wouldn't happen to have seen a young man recently, have you?"

"What's with the gun?" asked the voice.

Giles quickly scanned the area. "Oh. You can see me."

"Yes, I can see you. Did you think you can just waltz in here with a gun?"

"Truly sorry. I was just, um," he grabbed Buffy and pulled her close, "hunting with my...children. Yes, a nice little hunting trip with my son and daughter."

"A Brit out hunting? Around here?"

Giles blinked in confusion. "Why, yes. Deer, I would think. Britain has a long, storied history of hunting. It is not all foxes and swords."

"Those two are related?"

Xander blinked. "Huh?"

"Different mothers," Giles replied hastily. "But nevermind that. I am seeking a young man. A friend of there's, as a matter of fact. He was supposed to meet us out here. We found his vehicle, but we have been unable to locate him. Have you seen him? He would be rather short, with scruffy red hair and freckles."

The buzzer remained silent.

Giles pressed the button again. "Hello? Are you still there?"

There was a buzzing noise. The gate suddenly swung open.

"Um, thank you!" Giles waved. He repeated "thanks" into the buzzer, then gestured for the other two to follow. "Come along."

"What? Just go in?" Buffy said.

Xander wrapped an arm around Buffy's shoulder. "Come along, sis. Don't worry, your butt ugly, inbred brother will protect you."

Buffy threw Xander's arm away, adding a painful squeeze to his hand when she did. Xander cursed when she did. Together the trio entered the compound.

[TG Barighm]

* * * * *

Buffy rolled her eyes. "Werewolf hunters posing as chicken farmers?"

"Is that really so far fetched? We've seen way weirder."

Buffy paused. "True."

As the two talked, Giles reached the far building and knocked on the door. After a moment, the door opened. Giles voice drifted across the compound.

"Oh, yes! Thank you for seeing me despite the unusual circumstances. A beer? Oh, that is most welcome, thank you." Giles stepped through the door and into the building. The door closed behind him.

"Looks like Giles has got a handle on things. We better take a look around," Xander said.

Buffy shook her head. "But he's alone in there, and who knows what that creeper watchman is like. This whole place feels like a creeper farm."

"He can take care of himself." Xander suddenly grabbed Buffy's shoulder. "Buffy! Look!"

Buffy followed Xander's pointed finger to the back of a nearby building. It was dark, but she could make out a stack of box-like objects.

"What? I don't see anything?"

"I saw someone over there. Come on! Let's go question him." Xander sprinted over to the area of note.

"What? What about werewolf hunters with guns?" Buffy called after him.

"After everything we've faced? A mortal human with a gun...not so intimidating." Xander kept running.

"Xander! Stop!" Buffy grumbled a curse, then sped after him. With her speed, she was quick to catch up with him, but he still managed to round the back of the building before she could reach him. As she did, Xander reappeared, this time slowly walking backwards with his hands raised. Another shadowed before him holding a long, metallic object.

"I lied, Buffy! Mortals with guns are just as scary!" Xander cried out.

"Wait, Buffy? a familiar voice said.

"Oz?" Buffy answered.

Xander lowered his hands. "Oz?"

A flashlight flicked on to reveal the freckled red-head. In his hand was a metal pole.

"What are you guys doing here?" Oz asked. His clothes appeared to be a lot dirtier than when they last saw him.

"Us? What are you doing here?" Buffy asked.

"Um...yeah! You're in big trouble, young man," Xander added.

"I'm working," Oz replied matter-of-factly.

Xander blinked. "Working?"

"Well, yeah. There is like just one guy running this whole place. I came here to investigate what's up with the chicken, but the place is so busy the manager didn't care about my concerns. He was just happy to have someone else around to help. He offered me a job and everything at way higher pay than I've ever seen for a job like this, and the band wasn't playing tonight, so I figured 'why not'. I've spent the last few hours unloading equipment from the truck. I was about to leave."

Xander and Buffy continued to stare at Oz incredulously.

"What?" he asked.

"You didn't think about calling?" Buffy asked.

"Are they still hiring?" Xander added.

"My phone wasn't charged. I thought it was charged, but I guess the charger wasn't plugged in right. It sometimes slips out a bit. I didn't find out my phone was dead until like an hour ago, but by then I was so busy I forgot to ask if I could make a call," Oz said to Buffy. To Xander he said "and yes, I'm sure the manager would love to hire someone else." Oz gave the two a suspicious look. "Did you think there was something happening out here?"

"It was really Willow's idea to drag us all out here," Xander said.

"And you were making a bit of a fuss about the chicken," Buffy added.

"Well, yeah, that's why I decided to come out here myself. I didn't want to waste anyone's time. And I was right to do so: turns out the funky smell in the chicken was just the result of a highly addictive chemical additive used in chicken feed they brought in from South America. I told them it was banned in the US years ago and they actually appreciated the feedback. Spared them a run-in with the FDA. I'll admit I worried Willow for nothing, so let me make it up to you all by taking everyone out for drinks. Let me collect my pay and we'll go."

Buffy held up a hand to stop him. "Wait a minute. I'm sure what you're saying is true, but this place is still creep city. Like why is it so dark?"

"For the chickens. The lights keep them awake," Oz explained.

"And what about the fence?" Buffy asked.

"Predators. There's coyotes and mountain lions out here."

"And what about the pipe?" Xander asked.

"Keeps the door open. The door locks automatically when it's closes," Oz continued. "You know it's not always vampires and monsters, right? What's really going on here?"

Buffy and Xander didn't reply. Buffy's gaze dropped and Xander grinned nervously.

"Oh. You thought I went off the reservation? You know the full moon is still weeks away, right?"

Buffy and Xander remained quiet.

Oz tossed the pipe to Xander whom awkwardly caught it. "Thanks for the vote of confidence." He began to walk away.

[TG Barighm]

Buffy went after Oz. "We thought werewolf hunters had caught you."

"Hey! That was my idea!" Xander responded.

"Werewolf hunters posing as chicken farmers?" Oz asked.

Buffy gave Xander a sharp look. "That's what I said."

"I thought it was your idea?" Oz said.

Buffy stopped. "Well, it wasn't...but I said it. So it was...look, that's not what is important here."

A shrill cry pierced the night.

"Giles," Buffy said.

Oz glared. "You brought Giles, too?"

"It was a team effort," Xander replied.

"That wasn't him," Oz said before speeding away.

The three returned to the center of the compound. Buffy immediately looked towards the one lit window at the far end of the compound. The window was still lit, but now the door to the building was hanging loosely from its frame. Deep scratches covered the door.

"Where's Giles?" Oz asked.

"He was in there," Xander pointed out.

"Oz, do you know what's going on?" Buffy asked.

Oz slowly nodded. "Yeah."

"Then what was all that about 'it's not always vampires and monsters'?"

"I lied."

Xander gasped. "You lied?"

"Yes. I wanted all of you to get out of here without him suspecting anything," Oz explained.

"Him who?"

"The watchman."

There was another shrill cry from somewhere nearby.

The trio slowly began to back up.

"What's going on, Oz?" Buffy asked.

"It's kind of hard to believe," Oz answered.

"I'm the slayer. I'll believe it."

"This doesn't sound like your usual vamps, Buff," Xander said.

"It isn't," Oz said.

"Oz! Stop being cagey!" Buffy snapped.

"Okay. Fine. Demonic chickens."

Buffy and Xander stared blankly.

"You're right. I don't believe you," Buffy responded.

There was another shrill cry. A creature emerged from around the corner of the rear building. It was a chicken, a bright red chicken with a rooster's crest and tail, but it had glowing red eyes.

But it wasn't the eyes that was the most striking element of the chicken. It was the size: standing easily taller than the ruined door to the rear building, the monstrous fowl dwarfed every chicken in height that the slayer had ever seen. The chicken flapped its wings as it approached the ruined door. They were far larger and wider than a normal chicken's wings, and the talons far longer and wicked looking. The chicken pecked at the door. The door flew off in one strike.

Xander's eyes widened. "It's a raptor!"

"That is...ironically correct," Oz whispered.

"Hey! Nuggets!" Buffy called out.

The chicken looked up. Its eyes glowed fiercely as they narrowed on Buffy and her friends. Its beak opened, but it was a shrill, hissing noise that was heard.

"Uh...Buffy? Why did you call the gigantic killer chicken?" Xander asked.

"Well...Giles could be in there...and..." Buffy stopped.

A second chicken emerged from around the other side of the rear building. It had darker colours, but was no less monstrous. It joined the other chicken in hissing..

"Oops," Buffy muttered.

"Um...heh, heh...run," Xander said while slowly backing away. He turned to run. Oz was quick to follow.

Buffy moved to join them, but the chickens charged, rapidly closing the distance frighteningly quickly. They had already cleared the pens in the center of the compound before Buffy had taken a step.

"Hey! Right here! Right here!" Buffy called, waving her arms. One of the chickens veered away from the other, closing in on Buffy. She didn't have time to think about the other. She spun around, dashing towards the pick up truck. The footfalls of the chicken striking the cool ground were in her ears after just a couple steps. She dropped to the ground, sliding beneath the truck.

The chicken struck the truck with a great "CLANG!". The truck rocked from the force of the impact, bouncing heavily on its suspension. A heart beat later, a sharp beak shoved itself beneath the truck and snapped at Buffy's feet. It snatched her shoe away.

"Hey! Those are expensive!" Buffy yelled.

The beak appeared again for what Buffy decided to believe was her second shoe. It gave her the drive to respond with a solid kick to the chicken's face. A crack appeared in the creature's beak where her foot connected.

The chicken shook its head in response, then rescinded.

It went quiet.

Buffy looked around as much as she was able from beneath the truck.

"Hey, chicken. Hear chicken chicken," she called nervously. She pulled herself closer to the left side of the truck.

The beak appeared again, this time from the left. It snapped at her left hand. Buffy pulled the hand away, but not before it was scratched. Buffy yelped. Blood flowed freely from the wound on her hand.


Meanwhile, Xander and Oz ran towards the back of the dark building where they had met Oz earlier, but the werewolf grabbed Xander's arm.

"No! The door locks. This way! To the barn!" Oz shouted. A moment later they stood in front of a green building with a pair of large white doors. Oz quickly slid the door open.

"I thought barns were red?" Xander said.

Oz grabbed Xander by the shirt and yanked him into the barn. He slid the door closed behind Xander.

"Not now, Xander," Oz said. He grabbed a nearby bar and slide it into place.

An enormous weight suddenly struck the doors. They shivered from the impact and threw Oz away. A long talon pierced the wood.

Oz chuckled.

"Being chased by a killer chicken is funny to you?" Xander asked.

"No, I'm just getting Jurassic Park vibes," Oz said.

"Oh, yeah? I'm getting torn apart by a giant chicken vibes," Xander snapped. He pointed at an axe in the corner. "We need weapons."

"No, that won't work," Oz replied. "Come on, let's block the door with that old desk."

The two quickly made their way to the old desk sitting in a corner. Xander got behind it and began to push, but he gasped. "Holy cow! What is thing made out of?"

"Oak. Oak is heavy," Oz said.

"Thank you, professor," Xander replied.

The door rattled again. Another talon tore through the wood.

"Why didn't you tell us about the stupid chickens?" Xander groaned between exertions of effort. The desk was moving slowly, but it was moving.

"They weren't that big an hour ago," Oz answered. "Like I said before, I was trying to get you guys out of here without alerting the watchman. I think the watchman is a demon."

Xander frowned. "How can you tell?"

"Aside from him seemingly knowing everything I was doing no matter where I was doing it? And the way my phone mysteriously discharged in my hands? Or how he snapped his fingers and money just appeared in his pockets?" Oz said. "He also...smelled funny."

"Demons smell funny?"

"Well, no, not outright. You can smell it under certain circumstances. Like when they open their mouths. And burp...or..."

"Demon farts. Why not?" Xander said with a strained look.

The door pounded again. A crack appeared in the bar.

"Gotta hurry!" Xander said.

Oz glanced upwards. "No, wait. If we block the door, it might look for another way in. I have a better idea."

* * * * *

The beak appeared again, snapping at Buffy's hair.

The slayer shifted, pulling her head away from the edge of the truck.

The beak now appear from another direction, snapping at her other hand. She pulled her hand away. It tried her hair again. She slunk away.

Buffy suddenly smelled something funky. She looked down at the dirt.

Is that dog droppings?

"Oh, no. No, no, no...I'm not staying here," Buffy said angrily.

The beak appeared again, but this time Buffy grabbed the chicken's beak. The chicken responded by pulling back violently, nearly pulling Buffy out from beneath the truck. She rained blows down on the side of the chicken's head as she went, losing her grip upon reaching the edge of the truck and quickly retreating. She sighed when she remembered why she went on the offensive in the first place.

There was a clang. Talons scraped on metal. A great weight pushed the truck down.

Buffy found herself pressed into the dirt by the truck. She coughed as the heavy vehicle pressed into her back, praying that it was just dirt, and tried to push back. Slowly the pressure eased on her chest, but the weight shifted and now the truck pressed into her legs. She spit dirt. She will never, EVER slay in the country again.

She heard liquid slosh near her ear. She turned her head.

"Should have taken mechanics class," Buffy mumbled, "but I'll bet that's the fuel line." She took a firm grip on the line. "Come on, you giant nugget! The oil is ready."

The weight on the truck shifted, then eased. Buffy took in a deep breath. Slowly the beaked face of the chicken lowered into Buffy's field of view. The chicken clucked curiously.

Buffy ripped the fuel line free and directed the spray of gasoline into the chicken's face. It wasn't very much gas, but it was enough to reach the chicken's eyes. It reacted violently, hissing and shaking its head rapidly. It hopped into the air and flapped its wings, trying to beat the stinging out of its eyes.

Buffy rolled out from beneath the truck and hopped to her feet. She peered into the back of the truck. A brick.

The chicken was still struggling with the gasoline in its eyes.

"Batter up, crispy!" Buffy chucked the brick.

It sailed over the chicken's head.

Buffy stared for a moment. "Giles may have had a point about dropping cheerleading for sports." She looked into the truck again. A wrench. "Or maybe not."

The chicken was no longer shaking its head. It blinked rapidly in Buffy's direction. It hissed.

Buffy spun the wrench in her hand. "And this is why cheerleading is just as respectable as sports." She whipped the wrench at the chicken with everything she had.

The wrench flew true, striking the chicken square in the face. The crack in the chicken's beak exploded, rendering the chicken with half a beak, and its eyes popped out from the force of the strike. The chicken dropped like a bag of bricks.

Buffy sauntered up to the chicken and gave it a smug look. "I'm no health inspector, but I don't think you're fit for human consumption."

The chicken suddenly jerked, its head snapping at Buffy.

A dart appeared in the chicken's back. The chicken jerked and twisted for a moment, but then fell still.

"It is best not to taunt one's prey," Giles said, the rifle in hand. "Not until it is thoroughly subdued, any way." He sniffed at it. He sneered. "My, American food handling protocols have really fallen behind UK standards, haven't they?"

"Are there any more?" Buffy asked.

"Likely so," Giles replied. "Only one caused the destruction you see over there, but I'm certain I heard more. Sadly I have only a few darts. We best retreat. Where is Xander?"

[TG Barighm]

* * * * *

The doors shuddered from the impact. A talon poked through the wood. Wood cracked. Paint broke. The doors leaned inward. With another sharp slam, the bar broke and the two pieces fell to the ground. Another strike caused the door to rip open. The creature slowly entered the barn, its eyes casting about for its prey. Its gaze settled on an old oak desk. The chicken studied it.

There was a picture drawn in white chalk. There was a chicken and two stick men. An arrow pointed to the chicken and was marked "You!". At the end of the arrow was a round thing. Next to it appeared to show a chicken cooking in a pot.

The chicken cocked its head curiously.

A barrel suddenly fell from the loft. It smashed the chicken's head against the desk.

"I can't believe that worked," Xander said, standing in the loft overlooking the grisly scene.

"I can. What I can't believe is you taking time to draw that," Oz replied next to Xander in the loft.

Xander shrugged. "It worked, didn't it? It distracted the raptor."

"No, I think our scent on the desk distracted the chicken," Oz explained. "Let's go. It won't stay down for long."

Xander's jaw dropped. "You can't be serious. Its head is literally pancaked."

"Lacking a head isn't a problem for these things." Oz headed for the ladder and climbed down.

Xander followed. "So how do you stop them?"

"Tranquilizers. That's how they put the chickens to sleep at night. And why they smelled funny," Oz said.

"So it wasn't some weird feed from South America?" Xander asked.

Oz didn't answer. He went straight for the door, but as he did, it flew open. Oz stepped back and into Xander whom gasped in surprise and adopted a karate pose.

"Are you okay?" Buffy asked. Giles appeared a second later.

"Oh, thank god you're okay," Xander said. "You're covered in mud."

"Better than blood," Buffy answered. She glanced at the downed chicken. "Okay, that's both of them. You two get out of here."

"Now hold on. We took this one down by ourselves. We're capable," Xander said.

"Xander, maybe you didn't notice, but these things are a lot faster and trickier than a vampire," Buffy said.

"And they can probably fly. I saw one cockatrice jump onto the roof of a building," Giles added.

"A cockatrice?" Oz asked. "Don't those things turn people into stone?"

Giles shook his head. "No, that is a common myth propagated by childish fantasy games. A cockatrice is more of a general term for fowl corrupted by evil..."

"Giles! Focus!" Buffy interrupted. "You two! Go!"

"What about you?" Xander asked.

"We have to get rid of these things," Buffy replied. "This is a farm. There must be more."

"Dozens," Oz answered.

Buffy snapped her fingers. "Exactly. We have to get them before they all turn into...those things."

"But how? Oz said crushing their skulls isn't enough to stop them," Xander said.

Oz pointed to Giles' rifle. "Tranquilizers. It's how they keep the chickens asleep until they can be butchered. There's a vat of the stuff in the next building."

"Can the tranqiulizers be delivered intravenously?" Giles asked.

Oz shrugged. "I don't know, but it's worth trying." He pointed at the darts on Giles' belt. "Do those work?"

"I put enough in them to put down a werewolf. Two, actually..." Giles paused. "Oh, well, you see..."

"Yeah, I get it. That should be enough to put these cockatrices to sleep for an hour."

"Right. Then Oz and Xander shall endeavour to put the rest of the chickens to sleep until we can figure out what to do with them," Giles ordered. "Buffy and I will search for the demon overseeing this operation and put down any other cockatrices we find."

Xander shook his head. "Wait, who told you it was a demon?"

Giles rolled his eyes. "Do you not think I can identify a demon when I see one? I realized what it was the moment I spoke to it."

"It tried to kill you, didn't it?" Buffy asked.

"No, as a matter of fact, it did not," Giles replied. "It decided to taunt me instead."

Xander grinned. "What was that you were saying about how everything can't be evil?"

Giles adjusted his glasses. "Well, yes...statistically speaking it is unlikely every party we encounter will be evil."

"Statistically speaking we live in Sunnydale," Buffy said as she exited the barn. The rest of the group followed her.

"Touche," Giles muttered.

"So you survived my guard dogs," a voice said over a loudspeaker.

The group froze just outside the barn door. Giles raised his rifle while Buffy adopted a defensive stance. Xander hid behnd Oz whom sighed in response.

"I have to say, I didn't believe all those rumours about a Slayer being in the area. I'm a believer now," the voice continued.

"You sure? How about you come out here and I convince you face-to-face?" Buffy said loudly.

"And end the show early? Sorry, darling, but this is the most fun I've had since I took on this sodding project. In fact, I think it's time to crank up the heat a bit. Get this party started."

"Yeah, real smart! Send all of your strongest monsters at us now. Saves me the trouble of hunting them down," Buffy shouted.

"Oh, you think those chicks represent everything I've got? Keep chirping, little canary, and maybe you'll live long enough to meet my bruiser."

Oz nudged Xander. "Let's go while the villain is monologuing." Xander nodded and the two ran off.

"What interest does a demon have in an insipid food truck situated at the outskirts of Sunnydale?" Giles called. As he talked, he pulled out a rolled up bandage and some sanitizer. He motioned for Buffy's bleeding hand. "Allow me. While he is talking."

"Interest? Do you truly believe I would have interest in some bleeding chicken truck run by some country bumpkin? It's a soul deal, you sodding cockney! And the worst one I've ever done. Do you have any idea how difficult it is to round up wild cockatrices? It's a bleeding nightmare! Compared to Hell in general that's saying a lot."

"Oh, how dreadful! A demon honouring a deal," Giles muttered. He released Buffy's hand. "Best I can do."

"If you hate this job so much, why don't you give it up and leave us all alone?" Buffy called. She rubbed the bandaged hand.

"You know what? I think I just might, but I'm not leaving here with nothing. A Slayer's head is a fitting trophy, I think."

"Of course he won't go down without a fight," Buffy grumbled.

"If they did, we would not have need for a slayer," Giles said.

"Unleash the hounds!" the voice said grandly.

Buffy stared expectantly. Giles pointed his rifle. They waited.

Nothing happened.

"All bluster and no finish. Just like a demon," Giles said.

"Bloody chickens! Get out there and kill them!" the loudspeakers blared.

"Maybe they're not hungry?" Buffy said.

"Oh, fine!" A horn blared. "Feeding time! Come and get it!"

[TG Barighm]

Oz and Xander dashed towards the building where Buffy and Xander first found Oz. They made their way through the darkness just as the feeding horn blared. Xander stopped.

"What's that?"

"The feeding horn. We need to move," Oz answered.

"No, I mean what's that on my foot? I can barely see."

Oz took Xander's hand and led him the rest of the way to a door. A jingling sound filled the air.

"Now what's that?" Xander asked again.

"The keys. I still have them," Oz answered.

"No, I mean that!" Xander pointed.

Oz followed Xander's pointed finger. A pair of haunting, glowing red eyes had appeared out of the darkness. They settled on them.

"That is...Buffy's problem," Oz said hurriedly.

"No, it's our problem!" Xander began grabbing at Oz's shoulder.

"Relax. There's only a few keys on this ring." Oz found the right key and slipped it into the lock. The door opened and Xander pushed his way through the doorway. Oz gave the other teen a glare before stepping inside and shutting the door behind him. "Thanks for that. I am glad you can maintain your composure during a crisis."

"Years of monster slaying experience," Xander said with his usual nervous grin.

Oz placed a bar on the door. "Now I know why all of these doors have bars."

A few paces away from the door was a stairway into a basement. As they descended, the scent of barnyard animals rose to meet them. Xander responded with a groan, but they didn't stop. At the bottom of the stairs, Oz flipped a light switch.

A flock of chickens stood gathered in the center of the room within a pen. Their heads turned as one, their haunting red gazes locking on the two teens.

Oz paused for a moment. "Huh. They should be asleep."

Xander gazed back at the chickens. Their gazes met. Xander gulped. He took a few steps to his left. Their gaze followed. Every chicken had eyes only for Xander. He took a few steps back. Again, the chickens followed, their eyes locked on the boy. He lowered, and the chickens followed. He jumped back to his feet. The flock's heads bounced in tune with his movements.

"Uh, Oz, these chickens are creepy," Xander said.

"Demon chickens will be creepy," Oz replied. He quickly crossed the perimeter of the room towards a pile of bags and jugs. He grabbed one of the open bags and spread the opening as widely as possible. He then grabbed a jar, opened it, and emptied its liquid contents into the bag. He shook the bag.

"Oz? Can you, like, make them stop staring?"

"No, because that would mean they're no longer distracted," Oz said. He continued shaking the bag.

"Seriously. Stop! Why are you looking at me? I know I'm hunky but there's not enough of me to go around."

"Maybe they don't like werewolf meat."

One of the chickens let out a shriek. Its wings suddenly expanded and its talons lengthened.

Xander's eyes widened. "Oz!"

"Food's up, folks!" Oz called. He carried the bag to a chute at the far end of the pen, then poured the contents of the bag down the chute. Chicken feed raced down the chute and into a feeding trough.

The chickens rushed the trough, kicking and jumping over each other in their zeal to reach the few. A number of chickens attacked the others, ripping and pecking at them. Feathers flew. So did some legs. And heads. And yet that didn't stop them.

"That...is disturbing," Xander said, pointing at one headless fowl that didn't seem to mind all that much.

"Even regular ones do that," Oz said as he returned to Xander's side.

"Do regular chickens have glowing red eyes?"

"No..."

"So what do we do, now?"

Oz thought for a moment. "Turn out the lights and let them eat. That's why they're down here, to help them sleep. And so does the tranquilizers."

"How long will they sleep?"

"Normally a cup of the stuff will last the whole night, but I just poured the entire jar in there, so..."

There was a sudden pounding noise. The room shook. The lights flickered.

Xander pointed at the ceiling. "That...was no raptor."

"Looks like Buffy has her work cut out for her," Oz muttered. "Let's leave them and see if there is anything else in this building we can use to help her."

[TG Barighm]

Buffy's back was pressed against a wall. She quickly ducked just in time for a razor sharp beak to dig deeply into the wood where her head had been. She immediately countered with a crushing blow to the chicken's breast. It staggered a few steps in obvious pain before pulling away.

Buffy quickly surveyed the scene. A few more of those demon chickens had appeared shortly after the dinner bell rang. The first was quickly brought down by one of Giles' tranq darts, but the other two charged and forced the slayer to fall back. Giles jumped into the back of the pickup truck while Buffy chucked another rock. This was enough to stall one of the chickens, but the second rapidly closed the distance.

Buffy scanned the immediate area for another rock or weapon she could use. The giant chickens were fast and deadly, but they couldn't tolerate a full powered punch from a slayer. The problem was finding an opening for those punches. Slayers come strong, but they're not bullet proof, or torn to shreds proof for that matter.

But that didn't matter. She just needed to keep them off of Giles.

"Buffy! Don't let that one retreat!" Giles called. He pointed his rifle.

Buffy looked at the chicken she had just punched. It had fallen back to nurse its wound while the second was preparing to charge. The slayer sprung to her feet and dove at the chicken's leg, grabbing it and twisting. The chicken shrieked and immediately responded with a deadly peck, but Buffy was ready for it, rolling away just as the beak penetrated the ground. She rolled backed, pounding the back of the chicken's head and forcing its beak even deeper into the ground. She quickly bound to her feet just in time to notice the second chicken eying Giles. As the rifle fired a dart into the chicken munching on dirt, the chicken charged, jumping into the air and gaining some height by flapping its wings.

Giles gasped in alarm as the chicken descended on him, falling backwards and over the side of the truck. The chicken grabbed one of his shoes as he hit the ground. Giles fumbled for another tranq dart, but he dropped it. He spun the rifle around and clubbed at the chicken's face with the butt of his rifle.

The chicken suddenly shrieked in alarm and fell backwards out of Giles' sight. Buffy had grabbed a hold of the chicken's tail feathers and yanked the chicken off the truck. It rolled onto the ground in a heap, flapping and kicking wildly. Buffy quickly backed away, her hands filled with large red tail feathers. She paused for a moment. These feathers are actually kind of nice.

The chicken rolled on its feet and clucked fiercely, preparing to lunge at Buffy. She grinned, taunting it to charge.

The chicken jumped, Buffy nonchalantly side stepped, and the chicken tumbled to the ground in a heap. A dart stuck to its rump.

"Is that the last of them?" Buffy asked.

Giles moved to stand next to her, the rifle again being wielded like a club. "I pray that it is. That was my last dart."

"Sorry to say it, professor, but nobody is listening to your prayers tonight," the voice over the loudspeaker said.

Buffy groaned. "Will you just come out and face us already? Or are you so chicken you have to hide behind your...chickens?" She shrugged.

Giles shrugged back.

"Oh, how very clever," the voice said. "But I'm afraid I will have to disappoint you, slayer, because this is all too much fun."

"Fine. Send more chickens. I can go all night," Buffy shouted back.

"Let's test that theory, shall we?"

There was a sudden flash of light from behind one of the larger buildings.

"What was that?" Giles said.

"Those chickens you bested were just hatchlings. They were happy meal nuggets, at best. But this...this is my prize fighter. My heavy hitter. Fresh from hell and your way, right away...in five minutes or less. Behold!"

A flapping sound was heard. There was a great rush of air that sent the feathers in Buffy's hands flying. She raised her arms to shield her hands from the dust. There was a groaning noise, of wood struggling beneath a great weight. A great shriek filled the air. Buffy and Giles covered their ears. All of the lights around the compound switched it on.

And there, perched upon the roof of the largest building, was a bright, red and orange chicken of colossal proportion. Its wings span easily dwarfed the length of the house, and its head, situated on an elongated neck, matched the size of a small car. Its great talons easily poked through the roof of the building, the roof of which was quickly sagging under the creature's weight. Noticing this, the creature jumped down from the building to the ground. The thud of its weight connecting with the ground shook Buffy's feet. Giles nearly lost his balance.

"Oh, dear..." Giles muttered.

"God, I wish..." Buffy mumbled back.

"Sic'em!" the voice commanded over the loudspeaker.

The chicken shrieked seemingly in reply, and its eyes flashed. No longer just haunting red orbs, the creature's eyes burned. It charged, wings held low, its footfalls thudding with every step.

Buffy exchanged one quick glance with Giles before the two turned and ran.

"Hey, Buffy! We took care of the other chickens!" Xander yelled. He and Oz emerged from the darkness of the feed building.

The colossal chicken bore down on them, charging towards their position.

Xander let out an "Eep!" sound before he and Oz immediately spun around and ran back the way they came.

Already near to the barn, Buffy and Giles made a beeline to it. Buffy threw the broken door of the barn wide open, Giles a step behind behind her.

"Now what?" Giles asked.

Buffy just stared, her chest heaving.

"You led us into a corner without having a plan?" Giles shouted incredulously.

"I wasn't leading anyone! I was just running from the freaking dinosaur chicken."

They were interrupted by the colossal chicken's head, ramming through the door and ripping the doors off its hinges. Its momentum carried its head well into the barn, the walls of the barn sagging from the creature's bulk. It snapped at Buffy as it entered. The slayer dashed for the back wall of the barn while Giles dove into a corner. Unable to reach her, the chicken lifted its head, crashing into the roof of the barn. The building groaned and trembled. The chicken flapped its wings. Thunder reverberated from the quivering walls.

"Any ideas?" Giles called out.

Buffy ripped off a clawed instrument from some old machine. "This! Eyes!" Buffy replied breathlessly.

"If you think that will work," Giles mumbled as he ducked further behind a barrel.

Seeing Buffy step away from the rear of the barn, the colossal chicken again attempted to spear her. It darted towards her, snapping at her head, but Buffy ran around to the side. The chicken tried to follow, turning its head to reach her, but its neck slammed into a wooden beam. Buffy immediately circled around the beam and leaped onto the chicken's neck. She rammed the clawed instrument into the chicken's neck.

The chicken shrieked and reared, shooting upwards and ripping through the ceiling of the barn. The entire building rose off its foundation in response, unable to tolerate any more of a beating. The walls fell away in a cacophony of creaking and splintering wood. When it was all finished, Giles slowly rose to his feet to examine the destruction, quickly realized he was exposed again, and ducked for cover.

The chicken stamped its feet in rage, and flapped its wings to knock off the pest climbing its neck, but this wasn't enough to deter Buffy. She held on for dear life as the chicken continuously spun around, trying to reach her with its beak. She slowly climbed along the chicken's neck. The chicken reacted by struggling harder, spinning and flapping and slamming into nearby buildings. Chunks of buildings were ripped away by the chicken's panic. Fire leapt out of its eyes. Buffy reached the chicken's head and straddled it.

"Buffy!" Giles called. "Do you need any help handling that giant cock?"

Buffy responded with a murderous glare.

"What? It is a cock. And it is..." Giles trailed off.

"Get a weapon or something!" Buffy shrieked. The clawed instrument used on the chicken's neck, she decided on the old standby of just wailing on the chicken's skull. She tightened her legs as much as she could. The chicken coughed. Its tongue popped out. It flapped harder. It started to gain air.

"Oh, no you don't!" Buffy bent over the top of the chicken's skull and landed a punch squarely in the colossal beast's right eye.

By this point the chicken was shrieking so loudly Buffy wondered if she would ever be able to hear again. It stopped flapping, dropping to the ground and kicking at the earth. It kept snapping its head back in an attempt to throw Buffy off. She wrapped her arms around the head. She wouldn't give in. The chicken tried to roll, its heavy body twisting and slamming into the dirt. The pens in the center of the compound were crushed.

"Giles!" Oz called from behind the feed building. Xander was hiding behind him. "The keys!" Oz shook a pair of keys in his hands. He then pointed at the truck.

Giles nodded.

The endless panic had tired the colossal demonic chicken and it had begun to slow. Buffy got an idea from this: She climbed down a bit and wrapped her arms and legs around the chicken's neck, then tightened her hold as much as she was able. The chicken reacted, flailing and kicking about as much as possible, but Buffy could feel the blood pulsing in the chicken's neck. She forced her hold against that pulse as much as she could. The chicken's shrieks changed to gurgles.

And the headlights lit up. A horn honked.

The pickup truck rammed into the cock's legs, bringing the beast down hard. It crashed into the ground, it's head landing upon one of the pens and smashing it. Buffy released her grip at this point and jumped away right before it could thrash again, but this time the chicken could only struggle to raise its head.

"Buffy! The tranquilizer!" Oz shouted. He came running towards her with a jar in hand. He ripped off the lid.

Buffy reached up to grab the bottom of the chicken's beak and yanked it closer to ground, then forced its mouth open with her other hand. Oz poured the contents of the jar into the creature's mouth. The chicken tried to pull away, but Buffy kept the chicken firmly in place. When the jar had emptied, she delivered another series of crushing jabs to the chicken's head until it finally collapsed. It continued to jerk and twitch, but the massive beast was finally put to rest.

Giles emerged from the truck while Xander moved to join the rest of the team, although he refused to get any closer than a few yards.

"I will enjoy your victory from here, thanks," Xander said.

"A victory well earned," Giles said. "I cannot think of the last instance of a slayer downing a cockatrice, let alone one of this size. You should be quite proud. Shall I take a picture or..."

Buffy suddenly rounded on Giles. "There is a line! I draw it...at dinosaur sized monsters!" Buffy shouted between heavy breaths. "Never. Bigger. Than a car. Got it?"

"That is a reasonable request," Giles said softly.

"Good," Buffy mumbled. She slowly began to walk away from the beast.

"Wait! What do we do about this? We can't just leave a monster sized chicken laying here." Xander called after her.

"Oh, you won't have to worry about that," a voice said, but this time it didn't come from the loudspeaker. It came from the short balding man in a workman's outfit emerging from the shadows. "The last thing I want is for anyone to find evidence of this colossal blunder."

Buffy pointed at the man. "You...!"

"Yes, me. Guilty as charged," the man replied.

"You're a demon!" Giles said.

"Brilliant deduction. What gave it away?" the man replied snarkily. "Look, none of you have to worry about this. I'll have it all cleaned up by morning. You'll never know I was here."

"And what is to stop you from returning? We should banish you now," Giles replied.

"Are you kidding me? Do you know how much this debacle has cost me? It's a bloody massacre, it is! It will be centuries before I can show my face again. The last thing I want is to add a beating from a slayer to the list of humiliations," the man replied. "So just...go on. I'll take care of all of this. If I'm lucky the worst I'll have to endure is a bit of torture."

"And the man responsible for this castrophe? Whose soul was sold to fund this operation?" Giles asked.

The demon workman waved his hand dismissively. "Oh, just...sod off. Here, the moron can have his soul back. I don't want it. I don't want to want it. I just want to get as far away from this as possible. I'm done! Good night."

And with that, the man disappeared.

Team slayer all gave each other a bunch of confused glances before limping away from the scene of the battle. As they did, a new car drove up to the compound. It stopped at the gate. A man emerged from the car and yanked the gate open, then ran into the compound. He cried out in alarm at the sight of it all.

"Holy hell! What the frick happened?" shouted the owner of the food truck.

"Looks like your entire operation flew the coop," Oz replied sarcastically.

"How am I supposed to recover from this? I don't have any more frickin' chicken!"

"Well, that is the perils of dealing with a demon," Giles replied. "You should be thankful. The demon was willing to return your soul."

"My soul? I don't need my soul. I need money! And I don't have enough to rebuild this!"

"You'd rather be rich and go to hell? Fine, but if you make it my problem again, I'll personally send you to hell myself, got it?" Buffy warned.

"Try hamburgers next time. I hear beef is only mildly demonic," Xander said with a comforting slap to the man's shoulder.

And with that, the team made their way back through the field. The owner of Frickin' Chicken continued to stare at the destruction before him.

[TG Barighm]

The next day, the team had settled around one of the cafeteria's tables. They quietly sat staring at their lunch...except for Buffy, whom uttered "ow" with every movement.

"I like the feathers," Cordelia said.

A collection of bright red and orange feathers hung from the strap of Buffy's backpack. Buffy shot a dark look at Cordelia.

"I'm serious. They look exotic. And big. Where did you get them?" Cordelia asked.

"I earned them," Buffy said darkly. She didn't say anything else.

Cordelia sighed. "Forgive me for complementing you."

"Hi, all!" Oz said brightly. He dropped onto a seat next to a quiet Willow. In his hand was a greasy take out bag.

"What's that?" Willow asked sharply.

"Wings," Oz replied.

"Ew," Cordelia muttered.

"Oz, you didn't," Xander said.

"What? They're from the bowling alley. I know everyone thinks they're not so great, but you just gotta know which flavour to get. I figured after all of that Frickin' Chicken we should try...these..." Oz trailed off. The rest of the group had quickly abandoned the table.

"Guys! I got some for all of us," Oz called after them. When it became obvious no one would return, he shrugged and opened the bag. "More for me."

[TG Barighm]