Invitations: No Invitation Required
by Brynhild
Joyce frowned as she heard knocking. Buffy hadn’t returned from going to confront Spike, and Joyce was worrying. She opened the door, recognizing the visitor.

“Hello, Mrs. Summers.” The woman on her porch greeted her.

“You’re Buffy’s friend, right? Darla. You tutored her in History.”

“You remember me.” Darla smiled as she entered the house, closing the door. “It’s been a while.”

Joyce nodded. “It has. I don’t think I’ve seen you since…” she trailed off. Four years ago. Barbecue fork wound. Oh, shit.

“Time to finish what I started.” Glittering eyes sharper than ivory fangs, and Joyce screamed.

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