The Universe's Mixer

Dinah left her encounter with the vampires and Buffy feeling more than just a little out of sorts. Her head was spinning, though it was hard to tell if that was from the revelation that the City's baddies were nothing like the bad guys from home, or if it was the blood loss. Thankfully, she had some gauze, medical tape, and sanitary wipes in her first aid kit and so she was able to clean up her wound and wrap it in gauze.

She hadn't been too far from home when she'd been attacked, so she reasoned that it would be a short ride home and then she could sleep off the long fight and the injury. She hadn't counted on the City and its nasty sense of humor.

After the 10th time that she'd tried to turn to get home and ended up, again, on the same street, Dinah felt her temper bubbling over. This was really not her night.

She sped down the street past a walking figure in a long black leather duster, and then took a turn. Two seconds later, she passed the same figure. Dinah exhaled in frustration and eased her foot off the gas. She maneuvered the bike into a parking spot and kicked the tire. To prevent herself from taking out any more frustration on her baby, she turned and then took a better look at the lone person on the street. Her annoyance didn't entirely evaporate, but it eased somewhat as the figure stepped into a street light, which cast a glow over the features of ( Who you gonna call? )

immediately following this log

After putting Dinah to bed, Harry told Mouse to keep an eye on her. Then he shut the door to the bedroom, pulled aside a Navajo throw rug, and opened the trapdoor to the sub-basement. Before descending, Harry grabbed a heavy flannel robe and pulled it over himself. It had nothing to do with wizards and robes, though Harry suspected the stereotype began for just this reason; without heat, it was damn cold in his lab, making the robe a necessity.

Once the trapdoor was shut behind him, and his candles lit, Harry muttered, "You know, I'm the bloody Winter Knight. You'd think that would mean I didn't feel so cold in these temperatures."

On a shelf, Bob yawned in his skull. "Doesn't work like that, boss," he said. "Winter's still cold. You're still mortal." Then Bob's orange eyelights fixed on the wizard. "But if you're that cold, why not warm yourself up with the hot blonde in the fishnets?"

"Bob..." Harry warned.

"She's right there! In your room! On your bed! You could get all kinds of hot and--"

"Bob." The warning became a growl.

"Fine, if you won't, let me out and--"

( ''Bob!'' )