The house was a ruin that Xander would never forgive. The shotgun was still smoking. But the evil thing was gone, at least.

"You're dead. I killed you."

For sixty years, she'd seen and heard tales of its exploits. Even as a demon, she prayed that she would never encounter it. It was better at vengeance than anyone, herself included.

"You--you weren't so tough. You never once fooled me."

Yet it had. Successively, it had reappeared, disguised as Xander, then Buffy and Willow. Then finally, Spike. Each time she had blasted it, and each time it had returned.

"Hiya, Toots!"

It now seized her, and planted a disgusting kiss, right on her lips. But now she had it, and blasted it point-blank, until the fully-loaded weapon was empty, and the floor had a gaping hole. Xander would likely have her committed. But at least the thing was dead, and gone, forever.

Or was it?

She heard the slow, methodical chomping of a carrot. She heard the Brooklyn-Queens New York accent in his mock-friendly, chilling voice.

"So....ehhhhhh.....Did You Get That Rabbit, Doc?"