Buffy stomped down the stairs to the basement, grumbling under her breath about idiotic men and their tendency to stick together in an effort to piss her off. Tossing her duffle on the bed, she stormed into the bathroom and turned the shower on as hot as it would go.

Stripping Spike’s black t-shirt off over her head, she stepped under the scalding spray of the shower. Buffy sighed in relief as she let the heat penetrate her entire body. “Oh, that feels so damned good, I could stay in here all day… or at least until the hot water runs out.” Realizing that the water would start turning colder soon, Buffy began washing herself with the same body wash she had used the night before.

After completing her cleansing ritual, Buffy shut off the rapidly cooling water and exited the bathroom. Padding naked into the bedroom, she gave a tendon popping stretch and groaned loudly. “Nothing like an extremely hot shower to get the blood pumping.” Fishing a silver-backed brush out of her bag, Buffy set the task of brushing out her wet hair.

While doing her hair, Buffy thought about the image she wanted to portray for the little retrieval she was going to do. “Do I want to do the ‘haughty priestess’ or the ‘pissed off warrior’?”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Joyce started down the stairs to the living room, with Dawn right on her heels. “Now remember pumpkin, if you are coming with me to the gallery, you will have to keep your hands, and your fingers, off the displays.”

“But Mom, I’m not as clumsy as I was last time!” Dawn protested.

“Last time was last week, young lady. Now, will you promise me, or do I call Willow and Tara to come watch you?” Joyce asked with a half-smile on her face.

“I promise…” Dawn said sullenly. “But I CAN look at things right? And maybe help you unpack some of the non-breakable things? Please?” she begged.

“We’ll see,” Joyce said. “Depends on how well you mind me.”

I’ll be good, I’ll be very good. No touching anything you say not to.” Dawn promised feverishly.

“Well, let’s go. I have a lot of work to do,” Joyce said as she picked up her keys. “Lock the door dear, and hurry up.”

Dawn pulled the door shut behind her as she followed her mother out to the Jeep. With a laugh, she and a bounce she looked forward to spending the day with her mother, and maybe coming up with a way to keep Buffy in Sunnydale for a long time.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Having decided to go with a combination of the two looks, Buffy pulled her hair into a high ponytail, leaving the ends free to trail down her back. Pulling a small box out of the bottom of her bag, she opened it and sighed. “I really don’t like putting this stuff on…” Lifting out a slender silver circlet set with a dark red stone, she placed it on her head, centering the stone in the middle of her forehead.

Extracting a roll of ebon silk, Buffy shook it out and spread it across the bed. “Gotta love spider silk…,” she muttered quietly, “it doesn’t wrinkle.” Looking around for her boots, she located them beside the dresser where Spike had placed them earlier. “Now let’s see…,” she said thoughtfully. “Pants are out, they just don’t go with the skirt, but I will need stockings under the boots.”

Grabbing a black thong panty from the bag, along with a pair of sheer stockings, Buffy slipped into them and thought for a moment. “Nah, no bra…” she glanced down at herself and shrugged. “Not like I need one anyway.”

Sitting herself down on the bed, she laced herself into the thigh-high, black leather, stiletto boots. Giggling to herself at the thought of what Spike would say if he saw her dressed like this, she dug around in the bag for her set of matching boot-knives. Slipping them into the sheaths built into her boots, she reached back into the bag for what looked like a pile of silver links, along with a wide black belt and some wicked looking silver stars.

Standing up, Buffy wrapped the ebon silk around herself, fashioning a long dress reminiscent of a Greek chiton. Using her sword belt to hold it closed, she fussed with the drape of the fabric until it suited her. Picking up the pile of silver links, she shook it out, taking care not to tangle the delicate-seeming construction. Being careful not to snag her hair, or the fabric of her gown, she slipped the silver construction over her head, where it settled across her upper body and draped down to her thighs, a light chain mail shirt wrought of delicate silver.

Settling the wide belt around her waist, using it to hold the chain mail in place, she proceeded to fasten the silver stars to the tiny hooks that dotted the belt at evenly spaced intervals. Buffy ran one slender finger along the edge of the last star, and grinned when she sliced open her finger. Placing this last star in it proper place, she picked up her sword, and slid it into the sheath on her back.

As she left the room, Buffy grabbed two last items. One was a roll of parchment that she tucked into the top of her right boot. The other was a long, black, hooded cape, which she fastened around her shoulders, drawing up the hood. “Looks like its show time.” Buffy said in a grim tone of voice. Then she smiled, “Oh I am so gonna enjoy this.”

Closing her eyes, Buffy summoned forth the part of her being that she seldom used, the part that is the child of the Dragon, with all the powers it entailed. Silver scales erupted along her cheekbones and above her eyebrows. They also patterned the backs of her hands, as her nails took on a decidedly deadly ruby hue. With a last look around, and a satisfied smirk on her face, Buffy shifted out of the human realm, into the realm of those that called themselves the Powers That Be.