*****

It's really hard to explain what it's like to be around the boy nowadays. He's different. In some of the ways it's pretty obvious that he's changed, but in others it's much more subtle. At times he gives me that creepy deja-vu feeling, but mostly I like the changes in him. I certainly spend a lot more time around him.

It all started about three months ago. Me and him were out and about hunting up some of them that has scales and claws so that we could, as the boy would say, poke 'em with pointy sticks. I remember that I was telling him my grand idea of the *perfect* gift for the bite-sized one when we were attacked by the very gits we were looking for.

We were all having a great time enjoying a nice spot of violence and mayhem when puppy-boy bollixed up everything. One of these days I'm gonna teach that boy how to duck. However, being who he was, the boy didn't go for any of them halfway measures and so he tried to bleed himself out all over the ground. I admit I was a bit insulted by that attitude, I mean, if the silly git's going to bleed all over something it damn well better be the inside of my mouth. Waste of good blood otherwise. So, in the interest of saving a bit for myself, I killed off the tall scaly folk and carried the boy to the local human stichery so them doctor fella's could sew up his seams and maybe put in on patch or two.

He woke up a bit later all pale and weak babbling about dead people. Now, as far as *I* knew, I was the *only* dead person in that room. The boy, however, insists that he's got an entire entourage of the see-through ghostly variety hovering about him at all times. What's more, they talk to him.

Now, I'm not saying that he's lying and I'm not saying that he is. All I know is that no one else can see or hear these glowing sparkly floating people but the boy. Not me, not the witches, not even the nibblet. Just *him*.

Right at the moment the boy's over there in front of Red's house talking to her... and apparently, her mum's rose bush. It seems the rose bush wants to head off to LA to spy on the Sire's Prom-Queen of a secretary. Unbelievably, Red agrees with the rose bush about the trip being a good idea. I'm in total agreement with idiot-boy. I have no desire to go off to be lectured and threatened by that nonce Angel and if the cartoon kids make me go then I'm gonna punish 'em by putting sex-lube in the Irish Pouf's hair-gel container.

As I'm walking up to them I can hear the boy trying to explain to the rose bush that Princess already *has* a ghost what lives in her apartment in LA and how she doesn't need another one. I don't believe the rose bush liked that idea, but then again, what do I know?

I don't *think* I'm making any noise as I sneak up upon them, but suddenly the boy turns around to stare at me and then blushes this amazing shade of magenta from the roots of his hair all the way down to below his shirt. In a strangled whisper he hisses at the hibiscus shrub, "Lar-ry! Don't *say* shit like that! No. No, I'm *not* gonna ask him, so just drop it!"

I grin. I can't help but wonder what the hibiscus told the boy to cause such a wild reaction. I mean, the boy is so embarrassed that he's practically mortified and I think that maybe Red knows what's going on because she's trying to stifle giggles behind her hand without much luck.

I'm about to get snarky with the boy to see if I can't trick him into telling me what the plants have been telling him about me when he suddenly lets loose with an earsplitting girly scream and whirls around to glare at thin air. "Buffy! Don't *do* that! One of these days you're gonna make me wet my pants and *then* you'll be sorry."

I don't even try to contain the sarcastic snort of amusement that rushes out of me at that thought. Puppy-boy spares a quick second to throw a glare in my direction, but then he turns back to the empty space in front of him again, nodding and listening. I don't know if he's really speaking with the Slayer's ghost or if he's just hearing random voices that are coming from radio stations and bouncing off of the stars and back at him, but when he calls a bush or a tree or a chair or whatever "Buffy" then I know he's somehow getting information about a good spot of violence happening somewhere on the Hellmouth. So, I listen and hang around a bit.

The next thing I know, we're all off and running to get weapons and witchy mojo stuff and whatnot so that we can battle it out with some big-nasty something or other. It's as we're heading down these creaky metal stairs to face the beasty in it's lair that it hits me. I mean, *really* hits me about why I sometimes get these odd flashes of deja-vu from the boy and why I like him a whole lot more nowadays.

He reminds me of Dru.

*end*