"Who's this?"

At first glance, the man Buffy saw talking to Xander and Willow simply looked tall... and very skinny, and pale... wait, no one could be that skinny...

As she looked at him, something suddenly clicked in her mind. Her friends were backing away from a six-foot tall skeleton. Wearing a cardigan.

In her *I'm A Slayer, Undead Should Now Say Their Prayers To Whatever Dark, Bloated Elder God Spawned Them* voice (TM), Buffy said, "Xander, Willow, get away!" After which, she dove into an attack.

Three minutes later, Buffy still hadn't laid a hand on the skeleton. "You know, if you keep dodging, I can't kill you, and it looks bad on my transcripts."

ARE YOU FINISHED YET?

Buffy was about to make a witty retort when Xander grabbed her, and attempted to pull her away. "Buffy, he's Death!"

"What do you mean, 'he's Death'? We already did that one!"

WHAT DO YOU MEAN, 'WE ALREADY DID THAT ONE'? He turned, and looked pointedly at Buffy. Two tiny blue spots of light burned in the back of his eyesockets. AND HOW DID YOU SEE WHAT I REALLY LOOK LIKE?

Buffy looked around for a moment, muttering under her breath, "I can't believe I'm talking to Death... If I'm on Candid Camera, I'm going to..." She stopped muttering as those two spots of light kept staring at her. "We killed a demon that called itself Death. And you're a big skeleton. That whole no-skin look doesn't blend in well. And also, that cardigan looks really silly on you."

YOU KILLED DERKINDERSTADT? THAT LOSER'S BEEN RIDING MY COAT TAILS FOR YEARS. AS FOR BEING A SKELETON, MOST PEOPLE DO NOT SEE IT. THEY SEE WHATEVER THEIR MIND CAN SUPPLY AS A SUITABLE FORM. MANY DO NOT SEE ME AT ALL- IT HELPS IMMENSELY TO GET INTO MOVIES FOR FREE. HAVE YOU SEEN THAT NEW BRAD PITT FILM?

Willow and Xander watched, unbelieving, as Buffy began to talk cinema with The End of All Things. Xander leaned over, and quietly said, "This seems to be pretty much under control. Want to go make out?"

Willow looked at him, aghast. "Xander, that's totally irresponsible! How could you say that?" She though for a second more, and said, "Ok, but we come back and check on Buffy as soon as we're finished."

With that, the two swiftly headed off.

Mr. Trick finished drinking a tasty young cheerleader, and let her body fall to the ground. Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, he grinned wolfishly. "Go team."

The phone rang, and he picked it up.

"Trick? This is the mayor. It seems that there's someone here on an unscheduled trip, and I have some patrons who are less than happy about it. They have some under the table operations going on, and the wrong eyes could really foul things up."

Mr. Trick rolled his eyes. This freaking psycho, interrupting him right in the middle of breakfast. "Who's the new undesirable, sir?"

"Death."

"Really, sir. So if he isn't out collecting souls, does that mean nobody can really die right now?"

The Mayor sounded annoyed. "I really don't know, and that isn't my concern. Just get rid of him."

"Oh, alri-" Trick was interrupted when his breakfast, now as undead as he was, (its soul never having been collected), tackled him.

In the motel Death had stayed at earlier, a very annoyed innkeeper pulled the TV off his head, cursing about somebody repaying the $50 it had cost him back.

A charred zombie chauffeur pulled an equally charred millionaire zombie from the smoking wreckage of a limousine. "Thank you, Jeeves. Is there any living flesh about? I'm famished."

All over Sunnydale, the same proceeded to happen to the recently dead.

On the Archangel Michael's death, a perfect phone began to ring in perfect dulcet tones. All the perfectly shaped lights signifying the various lines on the phone began to light up.

Heaven was receiving the first complaint calls they'd had since that little incident 2,000 years ago. Oh, people tried to complain all the time, but very few actually had the means to make Heaven listen.

Michael began to curse profusely as he heard what was going on down on Earth...