PLEASE READ: We fully realize that authors' notes are annoying and usually a waste of time, but we feel this one is important and will make it as short as feasible. This story, as you have no doubt noticed, is an unconventional crossover between Buffy the Vampire Slayer and Bleach, though by no means the first.

1) First, it is important that you readers understand that we have actually never seen Buffy. Our knowledge of it has been gleaned from reading numerous fanfictions. Please expect mistakes regarding the Buffyverse canon, some intentional (because this story would be borderline alternate universe even if it wasn't a crossover) and some unintentional. Feel free to point out mistakes.

2)Second, this story was written for our own enjoyment and we originally had no plans to post it here on . However, we believe there may be a few of you who would enjoy reading it so we decided to post it. That being said, it is not polished at all nor has it been revised. We have given only a cursory glance to spelling/grammatical errors, so expect to find both these and the occasional plot hole. Once again, feel free to point out mistakes. Constructive criticism (as well as quick notes about whether or not you, our readers, liked the story) is appreciated.

3)Third, in light of number two, do not expect this story to be updated on any regular basis. Although we are currently working on it at a much greater rate than any of our previous whims, it too is subject to hiatus or abandonment when we get tired of it. However, reviews may sway our feelings.

Thank you for reading our note! (If you indeed did). We hope it has cleared up any misconceptions you may have had. Please enjoy our story!

DISCLAIMER: Miss Lullaby does not own Buffy the Vampire Slayer or Bleach. They are property of Joss Whedon and Tite Kubo, respectively.

SUMMARY: In which Rayne's shop has a shortage of guns and Xander buys a sword instead. In which said sword once belonged to someone else. And finally, in which the changes wrought by Halloween are distressingly permanent.

Xander watched in stunned horror as his young charges transformed into the hideous monsters they had been dressed as moments before. The ones at the door of the old woman's house reached for her with taloned hands. He was about to intervene when a wave of pain swept over him from head to toe.

He stumbled and fell to one knee as the pain intensified. His eyes felt as if someone was viciously grating sandpaper against them. His scalp burned and stung—he swore someone was trying to pull out his hair. Every muscle and bone in his body was being ripped apart and he could barely breathe.

He gasped and choked, trying to get air, but his vocal chords, too, were in agony. The worst of the pain centered on his right cheek and lower abdomen. It was like someone was clawing the skin off his face and digging a hole in his gut simultaneously.

His mind finally had enough and he toppled over, falling into unconsciousness. As his eyes closed, he caught a glimpse of a transparent, blue-haired man with a jawbone attached to his face and a hole through his stomach coming towards him. Then Xander Harris knew nothing.

SEXTA

After waking up to find herself separated from her body and unable to interact with the physical world, Willow's first task was locating Xander. He had been about thirty feet behind her, at the house across the street, when the spell hit.

There was a man-shaped lump of green and blue sprawled in the lawn where Xander must have been standing, and she quickly rushed over, ignoring the howls and shrieks of the newly created monsters for her friend's wellbeing.

As she came within ten feet, she was close enough to see through the darkness that something was very wrong. Xander was lying on his side with his back to her, but her eyes were quick to pick out the changes.

The most obvious was the blue hair. In place of the usual straight, dark brown locks were spiked strands of an unnatural light blue. Xander was taller too, by at least half a foot, and the tightness of the fatigues spoke of broader shoulders and well-developed muscles.

As she came within a few feet, he began to stir. She reached out a hand, forgetting for a moment her intangibility, and then he moved, faster than she could track, than she had thought possible, whirling around and vaulting to one knee, the short katana he had been carrying already drawn and slicing towards her head.

As the very real, very sharp blade passed harmlessly through her head, time seemed to slow, and she got a look at her oldest friend. This could not be Xander! He looked nothing like Xander. His face was leaner, sharper, with piercing blue eyes the same color as his hair. Splashes of teal swept from underneath both narrowed eyes. Blue brows were drown down, brushed by falling strands of the same color hair. The most astonishing feature was the bone half jaw—it looked like it had belonged to some large feline—that was attached to his right cheek.

Then the sword was swinging out the other end, and the man-who-couldn't-be-Xander had an almost comical look on his handsome features. He was on both feet immediately and he leapt almost five feet backwards, his blade coming up in a ready stance as he surveyed her, the other free hand cupped at his side.

"Xander?" Willow asked meekly.

"Guess again," the man replied in a low, husky voice, his mouth twitching into a manic, teeth-baring grin.

"I…I…Xander?" Willow was too stunned to formulate a proper reply.

The man started to look pissed.

"Not him, lady. Grimmjow Jeagerjacques, the Sexta Espada."

Xander's become his costume! Willow realized in horror. Only Xander had dressed as a soldier—but the sword was the same!

"What are you?" Grimmjow asked, "And how can you see me?"

"Well, I, ah, you see, I dressed as a ghost for Halloween—" Grimmjow leered a moment at her scantily clad form, "and I think some sort of spell turned everyone into our costumes! I mean, you're Xander, or you were, only he didn't really dress as you, but the sword—"

Grimmjow held up his free hand.

"Whoa, whoa, kid, slow down. I don't really care. What I wanna know is, there somethin' here for me to fight?"

Willow stared at him blankly. He sighed and sheathed his sword. Then he seemed to notice what he was wearing for the first time. He grimaced and began removing his jacket. Willow had never seen a man strip so fast. In seconds, he was out of both fatigue jacket and the grey t-shirt Xander had worn under it.

Willow was stunned to see a five-inch hole in the center of his lower abdomen, going all the way through his body. He looked at the t-shirt for a minute, than turned in a slow circle, surveying his surroundings. On his back, near his right shoulder, a large number six had been tattooed in black ink.

When he was facing her again, he tossed the shirt to the side and thrust his arms back into the jacket, leaving it open and unbuttoned in the front. She thought she heard him mumble something about "dang uncomfortable shirts."

"So, what now?" He said, turning his attention back to her.

"You said something about a spell. Let's break it so I can get back. I was a little busy before I got thrown here."

So he had been listening! Willow nodded and sighed in relief, then remembered Buffy and a streak of horror flashed through her.

"We have to find Buffy!" Willow cried.

Grimmjow smirked at the name.

"Buffy? What does he have to do with anything?"

"She," Willow corrected, "And she's the Slayer! She's the chosen warrior against demons and vampires."

Grimmjow, for once, looked totally lost.

"One question. What's a vampire?"

SEXTA

For the first time in a very long time, Spike was terrified. He'd managed to gather a contingent of monsters created by the Halloween spell, and together they kidnapped the Slayer, who was now a gibbering, 18th century noble women in a ridiculously extravagant dress.

Then his plan had taken a turn for the worse. The Slayer's little red-headed friend had shown up, dragging a tall, blue-haired man with her—a man who couldn't be human. As soon as she told the man he could fight Spike, a vicious, blood-thirsty gleam had entered his blue eyes and a shit-eating grin spread across his features.

Then he spent the next five minutes toying with Spike like a cat with a trapped mouse. The man was fast—faster than Spike, faster than the Slayer, faster even then his eyes could track. Spike was sporting a number of deep slashes, any one of which could have been fatal to a human if the blue-haired man had cared to cut a little deeper.

Unfortunately, the man seemed to be tiring of the game pretty quickly. Spike got the distinct impression that he had been hoping for a better opponent, which was a terrifying thought in itself. Who could match such a monster?

It also did not bode well for Spike. He had no doubt the man would mercilessly kill him the moment he was done playing.

That moment, thankfully for Spike, never came.

A wave of thick magic swept over the room, and the man's eyes widened in shock before he collapsed in a heap in front of Spike. The red-head disappeared from the corner of the room.

Spike waited a moment before he was sure the guy was really down. Then a broad smile crossed his face and he reached for the man's still body. His hands had just brushed the man's jacket when he was struck from behind by a heavy blow, sending him flying into one of the crumbling walls.

He peered blearily through the dust to see that all his monster minions had returned to crying children, and the Slayer was stalking towards him, a length of pipe slapping against her palm and murder in her eyes.

He decided it was time for a quick getaway.

SEXTA

"It's good to be back," Buffy said, smiling, as she watched Spike escape with his tail between his legs.

"It's good to have you back," Angel murmured.

"We need to get these kids back," Buffy sighed, and then her gaze caught on the blue-haired man who'd been fighting Spike, "and him."

As her eyes raked his form, wondering, she suddenly stiffened. She hadn't been able to place him before, or his costume, but then she recognized his clothes. Those were the fatigues Xander had been wearing…

An icy stillness settled in the pit of her stomach. If that was Xander—then he hadn't changed back. Buffy looked to Angel and saw that he, too, was looking at the other man's unconscious form.

"Willow said that was Xander," he offered, his face wondering.

"This isn't good," Buffy whispered, "We should bring him back to Giles. I'll take the children back to the school. Can you take...Xander…to the library?"

"Alright," Angel nodded, and slung the Xander-that-wasn't across his shoulders.

"I'll be there as soon as I get the kids back safely," Buffy said, and both vampire and Slayer set off to complete their separate tasks.

SEXTA

Xander woke to pain.

Every inch of his body ached. His muscles protested every movement, even the slight rise and fall of his chest as he breathed. He groaned, his eyes flickering.

Someone's footsteps sounded, coming closer, and he made an effort to open his eyes to acknowledge whoever it was. The light hurt his eyes, and everything was blurry, but he was able to make out the tall stacks of books around him and, as his eyesight began to clear, he realized he was lying on a couch in the library.

He had a splitting headache and the last thing he remembered was—

Kurosaki streaking towards him, his slim, black Zanpakuto devouring the light around it, nearly thrumming with reiatsu. The boy's seething eyes, yellow on black, half mad, surrounded by the white bone of his mask. The cold sky and bleak sands of Hueco Mundo between them, a poor buffer—

—stopping in the lawn of one of the last houses on the block as his young charges marched up to the door to receive more candy. Then pain, and blackness.

He groaned again—it sounded horrible, a raw slip of agony. Willow's face appeared in his line of vision, her eyes bright with worry and her brow furrowed.

He raised an arm to block out the ceiling lights, despite the protests of his muscles.

"Wills?" He muttered, his voice unnaturally low and husky.

"Xander? Is it you?" A note of hope entered her voice at the end.

Xander wanted to ask why she had thought it was someone else, but he had suddenly become aware of something very alarming. His free hand had moved to massage his temples when it had bumped into something smooth and hard on the way there.

He fell silent as his fingers explored the uneven mass attached to his face. They slipped over the edge and gently pried, trying to lift it off. No good. It stuck.

His mind was clearing now, and he realized with rising horror that something was very wrong with him.

"Wills? What's…?" He trailed off. That was not his voice. He had dismissed it before because of his pain and grogginess, but it was undeniable now. Willow had stepped back, allowing him some room, a worried look on his face.

Xander propped himself up on his elbows and looked down. The body stretched out before his eyes was drastically different than the one he had seen when he last looked in a mirror.

He was missing his t-shirt, and his jacket was open, so his eyes followed the lines of lean, defined muscle, corded and toned from some sort of intense althletic activity. His gaze stopped at the lower abdomen, where a five inch hole ran through his stomach.

He swallowed hard. The mahogany upholstery of the couch was visible through the hole.

His head whipped back up to Willow, whose hands were covering her mouth, her eyes wet with tears.

"Wills? I…what's happened to me?"

"Xander…you…he…"

At that moment Buffy, still in her noblewoman's dress, and Giles, looking worried, entered the room. Both pairs of eyes riveted immediately to him, drawn like a magnet.

"Xander?" Giles asked, and Xander noted immediately the note of uncertainty in the librarian's voice.

"G-man, what's going on?" Xander asked, his growing fear kindling impatience.

Buffy stepped forward, her eyes on his body, a frown gracing her features.

Giles adjusted his glasses and began to explain.

"Ethan Rayne—the owner of the shop you bought your costumes from—is a wizard. He cast some sort of spell that caused everyone to change into their costumes. But you… from what Willow told us, that sword once belonged to a real person, and you, well, he possessed you."

"He said his name was Grimmjow Jeagerjacques… and he was, um, the Sex Espadin?" Willow finished softly, unsure.

"Sexta Espada," Xander corrected, and wondered how he knew. He didn't remember anything of when he had been possessed.

"Well," Giles continued, "Everyone else turned back when I broke the spell… but you didn't."

He fell silent, and Xander swallowed thickly.

"I want a mirror," He said, so quiet the others almost didn't hear him.

"What? Xander!" Buffy said, surprised.

"Get me a mirror!" Xander barked, and Willow jumped.

Buffy nodded, left the room, and returned a moment later with a handheld mirror.

Xander got to his feet and swayed. He was taller… a lot taller. He took a slow step, unsure of himself, and reached out for the mirror. Buffy looked at him, gauging his determination, then reluctantly placed the mirror in his hand.

Xander raised it to his face quickly before he could lose his nerve.

What he saw almost caused him to fall back down onto the coach.

It was not him. He was not himself anymore.

The face in the mirror was the surprised visage of a man in his early twenties, a lean, sharp-angled face with slightly slanted, hard blue eyes and upward sweeping eyebrows. Splashes of teal swept up from underneath his eyes, drawing his gaze to his now spiky blue hair.

And, attached to his right cheek, was the naked jaw bone of some large feline.

"What am I?" Xander whispered quietly, watched the thin lips of that handsome face move in tandem with his voice.

SEXTA

Getting the hand of his new body was proving to be a lot harder than Xander had thought it would be. He had already smacked his head twice (due to his new height)—once on the top of Giles' car as he got in, and then again on the door frame of the apartment complex when they entered.

When they got to Giles' apartment door, Xander ducked, and avoided further head trauma. The smile that lit his face was very Grimmjow-esque.

After some awkward silence in the library, it had been decided that they would meet again the next day (it was Saturday) and decide what to do about Xander's new appearance. For now, Xander was staying the night at Giles' apartment.

He could hardly go home like this. His parents wouldn't notice if he didn't come home (at this time of night, they would already be in an alcoholic stupor), but they would notice if a strange, blue-haired man walked into their house like he lived there.

So here they were, in the living room of Giles' apartment, Xander sitting wearily on the couch where he would be sleeping and the librarian rummaging through a closet for some extra blankets.

On the end table was a pile of clothes Angel had lent Xander. The thought of wearing something as broody as Deadboy's clothes was mortifying, but it was better than any of his old clothes, which would never fit now, and which he had no way of getting at either.

Giles came through the doorway with an armful of blankets and a pillow and plopped them down on the couch next to Xander.

"Do you need anything else?" The Librarian asked, trying to be cheery.

"No," Xander said heavily, still getting used to the new sound of his voice.

"Do you want something to eat? Or a bath?"

"I just want to go to bed," Xander replied.

And it was true. His body still ached horribly, and although the headache had lessened, it had not disappeared entirely. And more than even his physical weariness, he longed for a few hours of blissful unconsciousness, where he could forget for a bit what had happened that night.

"Alright," Giles said softly, "If you need anything, I'll be in my bedroom."

Xander nodded and the older man walked away down the hall. A moment later a light flicked on in the direction he had taken. Xander curled up on the couch, pausing only to haphazardly cover himself with a blanket, before falling into a heavy sleep.

SEXTA

He woke up the next morning to the sounds of someone banging around in the kitchen. He was, unfortunately, still sore, but he thought it was something he could deal with. He sat up, blinking the sleep out of his eyes, and looked over to the kitchen where Giles was making pancakes.

The other man caught sight of him and smiled sheepishly.

"Sorry for waking you up. Would you like a shower before breakfast?"

"Yeah," Xander said, his tongue thick and his voice rough.

Giles turned the burner heat off and motioned for the young man to follow him. Xander stood up, wobbled, caught himself, then grabbed the pile of clothes before heading after his host.

The bathroom was small, but clean, and Giles left him to his own devices after getting him a towel and showing him how to work the shower. Xander started when he caught sight of his reflection in the mirror. He grimaced, and watched in fascination as his reflection, his new face, made the expression.

The next several minutes were spent making faces at himself in the mirror. He noticed an arrogance in this face—every expression he made carried a sense of self-confidence and almost superiority. That and all his smiles were now decidedly more sinister grins.

Then he began to peel off the dirty fatigues, watching as more and more of his new body was revealed. When it was done, he stood staring at his new body, dumbfounded.

Whoever Grimmjow had been, he had spent a lot of time in some sort of intense physical activity. Xander's new body was in excellent shape—he was broad-shouldered and tall, with the lean but defined muscles of a serious athlete. There was not an inch of fat or excess skin. It was really an impressive display. The hole, however, was more than a little disconcerting.

Not for the first time, Xander wondered what sort of being Grimmjow had been. Tracing his fingers along its edge, he discovered it was more sensitive than the rest of him. Not in a painful way, just…different. He briefly contemplated sticking his hand in the hole, than decided he wasn't brave enough to try that yet. He could foresee shirts being uncomfortable in the future.

With his spirits just a little higher, he got in the shower and turned the water to nearly scalding. He spent almost a half hour just enjoying the way the water loosened his muscles and ran down his skin. He wasn't used to the jawbone on his face, and kept knocking into while trying to wash his hair, but eventually he was clean, and after a vigorous session with a towel, dry.

He slipped on his boxers from the night before—even if Angel had left him some, he wouldn't have wanted to wear them—and contemplated the items of clothing before him.

There was a pair of dark grey jeans, some dark socks, and a non-descript black t-shirt. Not too bad. Except it was all depressingly dark.

Though I suppose I would look incredibly silly in my regular shirts with this blue hair, Xander thought as he dressed.

The clothes fit (better than the fatigues had, at least) and Xander left the bathroom and made his way to the kitchen.

Giles was sitting at the adjoining dining room table and had a plate piled high with pancakes ready for him. They ate in silence. Xander was just glad the food didn't come trickling out of his new hole. They could figure out why it didn't later.

After that, it was time to meet up with everyone at the library.

"You should probably sit in the back," Giles observed when they got to his car in the complex garage.

Xander agreed that this was a good idea.

He could already tell that it was going to be a long day.

SEXTA

As it turned out, they were the last ones to arrive at the library. It took some creativity, but they were able to get Xander inside without being seen. Of course, it helped that it was 9:00 am on a Saturday morning.

When Giles and Xander entered the main room, they were greeted with the sight of Buffy, Willow, and Oz (the former two crouch over a table spread with papers and a laptop). All three looked up at the sound of the doors.

Their faces were a mixture of expressions. Oz, the only one who had yet to see Xander's new look, was the calmest, with his usual bored expression set on his face. The only difference was a sliver of curiosity flickering in his eyes. Buffy looked stunned, but she quickly masked it with her business face. Willow's face was morose, her dark eyes slightly wet.

Giles, thank the Lord, was quick to diffuse any tears. He strode ahead of Xander and over to the table.

"So, have you found anything yet?" He asked.

Willow sniffled once, then put on her Resolve Face and pointed at the screen.

"We've only been here for twenty minutes, but we did google 'sextin espad—"

"Sexta Espada," Buffy corrected.

"—right, 'Sexta Espada.' It's Spanish. It means 'sixth sword.'"

Xander, now standing a few feet from the table, nodded and mouthed the words silently. A tingle ran up his spine and he shuddered, his hand groping involuntarily for the sword he's strapped to his waist.

"It might be some sort of military term," Giles mused, his hand on his chin, "Maybe this Grimmjow fellow was part of some elite unit."

"There are ten of us…" Xander murmured, his eyes far away, and everyone turned to stare at him, "Diez Espada under Aizen-sama. And I'm…Grimmjow was…we are the sixth. Espada Numero Seis."

"Xander?" Buffy queried, cautiously.

"I am the Sexta Espada!" Xander hissed, his knuckles white as his hand gripped his sword.

But his eyes were still far away, remembering…

…the strange feeling of having an arm again, of watching his fingers flex and curl as the strawberry-brunette—Orihime!—backed away in awe and fear, her fairies flitting back into her hair clips. And Luppi, that smug smile faltering, and the sickly sweet taste of future revenge as he laughed manically and gathered his reiatstu to his new hand, forming a massive…

Xander gasped, gripped his head in two shaking hands, and bent over.

Willow was at his side in an instant, her slight hands flying over his back, arms, checking for wounds.

"Xander! Xander!" was all she could say.

He looked up at her, his eyes clear now but pained.

"I was…remembering. Remembering!"

"Does that mean….? Is that man coming back?" Willow questioned fearfully.

Giles saw it was time to take charge and stepped closer to the recovering Xander.

"Xander," he said, and the boy—man—focused on him, "is this the first time you've seen parts of…Grimmjow's life?"

"No," Xander admitted, and Willow helped him to the couch, "it happened once before, right when I woke up, after the spell was broken."

"What did you see?" Giles asked patiently.

Xander sighed and rested his elbows on his knees.

"I don't know if you'd understand even if I explained it to you. I don't even understand. It's an entirely different world, with different rules, and if Aizen-sama—"

Xander stopped abruptly, realizing what he'd just said.

"That's the second time you've said that name," Giles observed, "Who is he? I know that 'sama' is a Japanese honorific roughly translated as 'lord.' Was Aizen your—Grimmjow's—superior?"

"Sort of. I think so." Xander replied.

"Regardless," Giles began, pushing his glasses up and rubbing his eyes, "now is obviously not the time to be playing twenty questions."

"That's right," Willow said, some of normal cheerful disposition returning, "We need to be focusing on turning you back to normal!"

Xander looked at her sadly and the young hacker's face fell.

"We can't, Wills. I can't go back."

"What do you mean?" She asked desperately, looking everyone in the face. It seemed that all of the others had come to the same conclusion that Xander had.

"Even if there was a way…," Giles trailed off, "It would destroy Xander. I think that he's as much this Grimmjow fellow as he is Xander now. It would be like ripping him in half."

"So what do we do?" Asked Buffy softly.

"Well, there are several charm spells that could work to disguise Xander's new appearance so he can go back to school, but I'm afraid it will take at least a month to craft one intricate enough to portray his former appearance. Right now, we should focus on making one that can disguise his jawbone and hole. That way he can at least go out in public while we work on the other."

Xander nodded, but it was a nod of grim acceptance.

"Alright," Buffy said, sighing, "What do we need to do?"

SEXTA

The five of them spent the rest of the weekend collecting the ingredients and crafting the delicate charm that would disguise Xander's uniquely inhuman features and allow him to blend in with the rest of the populace. Buffy, Willow, and Oz took turns playing "lookout"—that is, discreetly watching the front entrance of the library and giving a loud greeting to anyone who entered to warn Xander and give him enough time to run and hide.

Finally, at 11:30 pm on Sunday night, they were done. The fruits of their labor—a copper engraved ring with a little faux emerald—sat on the able in front of them, in a space that had been cleared of paper and ingredients to give it room.

The five of them stood in a circle around the table, staring at the ring, each harboring a fear that their almost non-stop efforts had been in vain. It was Giles who finally broke the silence.

"Well, if Xander doesn't try it on, all of our efforts will assuredly have been in vain."

Xander laughed nervously and reached with long fingers for the ring.

"Just a minute." Giles said.

Everyone focused on him, Xander with his hand still hovering over the innocuous looking piece of jewelry.

"Now you have to understand, Xander. This ring won't change anything about you. It will only disguise you. We've set it to camouflage your bone, hole, and the markings beneath your eyes. However, if someone were to touch your right cheek, they would feel the bone, even if they couldn't see it. The same goes for the hole."

Xander nodded and picked up the ring.

"Not yet." Giles smiled at the young man's sudden impatience.

"The ring has a time limit. It'll work for eight hours before it needs to recharge for the same amount of time. That means you have to keep track."

"How do I recharge it?" Xander asked.

"Just take it off." Giles replied.

"Can I put it on now?"

"One more thing. The ring also draws some energy from you to work. Because this is a very simply disguise, it's not that much. But it might take a bit to get used to. Also, any significant surge of energy—say if you were to get a shock from an electric fence—will briefly disrupt the ring's disguise field. I have no idea what sort of powers Grimmjow had—or if any were passed on to you—but be careful or you'll find yourself without a disguise. And yes, you can put it on now."

Xander smiled (it was more of a smirk now) and slipped the thick ring onto the middle finger of his right hand. A spark of energy ran up him from head to toe and the jawbone and eye markings abruptly vanished, leaving in their place a strange but diminutive itch.

That must be the energy draw Giles was talking about, Xander thought. Out loud he asked:

"Did it work?"

Willow nodded happily and bounced over to give him a hug. When she had drawn away, Giles said, "Let's see if it covered the hole."

Xander cautiously lifted the shirt (the same from yesterday) and sure enough, his hole appeared to be gone as well.

"Good job, gang!" Buffy grinned, her hands on her hips.

"Alright," Giles said, "before you all go home, we have to discuss what Xander will be doing while we work on the next disguise."

"Well, I can't go home," Xander said, falling back into the couch, his long legs splayed across the arm rest. He was starting to get used to his new body.

"No, you can't. But your parents are going to notice that you haven't been home for a few days." Giles reminded him.

"I know!" Willow suddenly piped up, planting a fisted hand into her palm.

"We can say Xander won some sort of trip to Florida for a month!"

Everyone looked at her blankly.

"No, no! It will work, just listen. We can send his parents a post card from 'Florida' along with an 'official' reward letter. Xander can say it was sort of last minute, and they were too occupied for him to explain before he had to leave. I think I can make it look legit enough to pass inspection."

Xander was mulling it over.

"That could work. We'll have to sneak in and take my clothes and toiletries so it looks like I'm really gone."

"What about school?" Giles asked, frowning.

"Same thing! You'll have to help confirm it, though, Giles."

Giles nodded thoughtfully.

"Great idea, Willow!" Buffy said enthusiastically.

"And Xander can live with me in the meantime." Giles added.

"G-man, I can't—"

"Nonsense. Unless you mind sleeping on the couch, that is. It'll be nice to have some company."

Xander nodded meekly, the expression almost comical on Grimmjow's decidedly fierce face.

"We'll have to get you some new clothes too. You can't continue borrowing them from Angel."

"Okay, that's where I draw the line!" Xander exclaimed, rising to his impressive height.

"Oh, I didn't mean I'd be giving them to you!" Giles grinned, almost mischievously.

Xander looked puzzled.

"Well, what do you mean, Giles?" Buffy asked, exasperated.

"Say hello to Sunnydale High's new assistant librarian!"

"Hell no!" Xander burst out.

"Snyder'll never hire him!" Buffy protested.

"Xander!" Willow said, clasping her hands in excitement.

Oz just looked mildly bewildered.

"Snyder would never hire Xander Harris," Giles began, a Ripper-esque smirk forming on his face, "but I bet I can get him to hire Grimm Jacques!"

SEXTA

The next morning, 7:00 am, found everyone minus Giles waiting impatiently in the library. Xander, complete with his new charm ring, was still dressed in Angel's clothes ("I see you've finally developed a fashion sense," the souled vampire had commented sarcastically), but they had been washed the night before.

Willow was at a computer, directing her nervous energy into finalizing the details for Xander's 'trip.' They would drop the fake post card off today. The letter to the school had already been sent the night before.

Buffy was pacing the room and looked like she wanted to stake something. Badly. Xander and Oz were on opposite ends of a couch, the former fidgeting with his shirt and bouncing one leg, the later calmly flipping through the latest music magazine.

No one had gotten more than four hours of sleep the night before (they'd had to stay later at the library to concoct Xander's trip letters and 'Grimm Jacques'' completely false resume. Everyone, save for Xander, who now had more stamina than he knew what to do with, had dark bags under their eyes.

At 7:17 and thirty seven seconds, Giles burst into the room, triumphantly waving a stack of papers above his head.

"You're hired!" He proclaimed, handing Xander the stack.

"What? Already?" Xander asked, accepting the papers in his bewilderment.

"You start today." Giles informed him, a self-satisfied smile spreading across his lips.

"Whoa, Giles, how'd you do it?" Buffy queried, speeding over to her Watcher.

"I've got a few tricks up my sleeves," the Englishman said secretively.

"Giles, you didn't!" Buffy looked scandalized.

"Just a little bit," the older man admitted.

"I thought you'd given up magic after your Ripper days?" Willow asked from the computer.

"Mostly," Giles admitted, "but this little bit was harmless. Even simpler than the charm."

"Well, whatever you did," Xander said, his eyes raking over the papers in his hands, "thanks a lot. Although I don't know the first thing about librarian-ing."

"You'll learn quick. Now you three better get off to class. I have to open up the library to students now. Xander—or should I say 'Grimm,"—you can help unlock everything and boot the computers up."

"Right-o, boss man!" Xander saluted, causing Willow to chuckle.

"We'll come by and eat lunch with you!" Willow promised as the three students picked up their bags and started for the doors.

"And tonight—shopping spree!" Buffy exclaimed gleefully, rubbing her hands together.

"Get ye back, fiends!" Xander shouted at them, making the sign of the cross with his fingers.

He could still hear their laughter after they had left the room.

SEXTA

Cordelia Chase stepped through the doors of the library and scowled. This was the second time she'd been here in her entire high school career, and it was just as repulsive as it had been the first time. Although she was physically glaring at the racks of book, she was mentally glaring at her history teacher, who had insisted his class use actual book sources (as opposed to internet sources).

This wasn't the first time he'd insisted. The first time, he had promised he would check their sources. And he had. Now Cordelia's grade was in jeopardy. And if it wasn't the grade she was worried about, it was the loss of freedom that would come with it if she failed her next paper and her parents found out.

So here she was, in the library, and she really had no idea where to begin.

"Just set them by the front desk," she heard Mr. Giles yell from another room, "We can sort them later!"

"Right," responded an unfamiliar, low voice.

The voice heralded the entrance of a tall man whose head was blocked by a cardboard box overflowing with dusty books. She watched him walk over to the front desk and plop his cargo at the foot of the librarian's chair. As he straightened up, she got a good look at him. And was he good to look at!

It was a guy she had never seen before (she would have totally remembered!), in his early-twenties, tall and rakishly handsome. He was wearing a simple t-shirt, jeans, and combat boots. The bright blue hair was a little weird, she had to admit, but it really worked for him.

He noticed her for the first time, and a stunned look crossed his face. His eyes were the same fierce blue as his hair.

Cordelia put on her most sultry smile and sauntered over to him, watching his face from beneath long, dark lashes.

"Don't believe I've seen you before. You new?"

The man had regained his composure and grinned at her, showing all of his perfect white teeth.

"I'm the new assistant librarian. Grimm Jacques."

He held out a hand and she noticed (she always noticed men's jewelry) the wide copper band on his middle finger. The emerald was fake, she was sure, but it was a nice-looking ring. He had good taste.

She clasped his hand and gave it a good shake. A little shiver rang up her spine when they touched, which surprised her, because she was nothing if not in her element around men.

"Cordelia Chase."

"That's a lovely name," he said, and another full grin split his face.

Cordelia instantly liked him, including his open grins, even if they were a little maniacal.

"Thank you," she replied, and he let go of her hand.

"I'm still learning my way around, but is there anything I can help you with?" He asked, shoving his hands in his pockets.

"I need to find books about Henry VIII," she said, her distaste evident.

"That I can find!"

SEXTA

An interesting tidbit of information spread like wildfire that day at Sunnydale High. There was a hot new assistant librarian.

And he was off limits, by order of Queen C.

Thank you for reading! Please review if you can, and let me know what you think about the formatting!

Miss Lullaby