Standard disclaimers apply	 

Standard disclaimers apply. The author will make no money from this story
and does not authorize anyone to make money from this work. No copywrite
infringement is intended. Please, do not archive or reproduce without the
author's express permission.  

  

This is rated G and S for silly. Crossover with Buffy The Vampire Slayer. 

No pairings. 

Comments welcomed at sgmiii@aol.com Thank you for your time. 

  

Meeting of the Minds  

by Anna McLain	

~~~~~~~~~~~~  

  

Willow peeked around the corner of the alley into the deserted Chicago	

street, desperate for any sign of the Slayer. Chicago, being generally	

Slayerless, had a healthy vampire underground. Maybe being in such close  

proximity to the Slayer so much of the time had altered Willow's
pheromones,  

because the vamps seemed to smell her the moment Buffy left her alone. 

  

She tried to slow her breathing, prayed the vampire chasing her wouldn't
hear  

her. Sweat dripped into her eyes. She swiped at it. It was a sweltering  

summer night. The heat surprised her. She thought this far north would be 


cooler than it was in California. Boy, I called that wrong, she thought.  

Willow glanced up the street then down. All clear. Then she turned to go
up  

the street--and smacked her nose into a polyester leisure suit. She looked
 

up. A wide-open mouth of fangs smiled down at her.  

  

"Oo, a redhead. I *love* redheads." The vampire growled low in his throat.
 

  

"Willow jumped back, shaking her head emphatically. "No, no, it's fake.
I'm  

bottle red." She took another step back. "I'm really a blond."	

  

"Blondes have more fun." The vampire laughed and reached for her.  

  

 A hand shot out from the dark alley and caught the undead arm. 

  

"Excuse me, sir, but assault is illegal. I'm afraid I *will* have to
arrest	

you."  

  

The vampire turned confused eyes on the man. "What?"  

  

"That is quite the Halloween mask, isn't it? Were you attending a party?" 


  

At that moment another figure ran up behind the first, breathing hard, and
 

skidded to a stop beside the other man.  

  

"That's it, Fraser. I can't keep up with you. You're like Robocop. What'd 


this guy do, litter?" said the new arrival.  

  

"No, Ray." Fraser turned slightly toward his partner.  

  

 The vampire yanked his arm out of Fraser's grasp and smacked him upside
the  

head, knocking his Stetson to the ground. Fraser fell into Ray. They
landed	

on the ground in a tangle of arms and legs. A chorus of "oofs" and
"Ouches"  

followed.  

  

Willow stared at the retreating vampire's back and then at the tow men on
the  

ground, unsure if she should wait to find out if her rescuers were any
better	

than her attacker, this was the city afterall.	

  

  

Fraser disentangled himself and popped up onto his feet, stepping into the
 

streetlight, searching for the suspect.  

  

Willow got her first good look at him. "Oo, a *Mountie*!" she gushed, a  

radiant smile on her face.  

  

"Ah, yes." Fraser turned to look at her "Are you all right, Miss? He
didn't	

hurt you?"  

  

"The hurting had not yet begun." She stared up at tall, dark and handsome 


with big eyes. "But I am all out of breath...because of him not because of
 

you," She shrugged. "or not."  

  

Fraser smiled and gave her a tilted head confused puppy dog look. Ray  

appeared at his side; dirt on his sweaty face, scrap of newspaper stuck in
 

his spiked blond hair. He looked up and down the street quickly. "You
didn't	

chase him?"  

  

"No, Ray."  

  

"You *always* chase them. Didn't he have a car you could jump on?"  

  

Willow reached out a tentative hand and picked some garbage off Ray's
sleeve.  

"Uh, no car." She said. "They can't get driver's licenses."  

  

Both men looked at her strangely.  

  

"He was wearing a vampire mask, Ray, and attempting to mug, miss, uh--"  

  

"Willow Rosenberg." She supplied, watching the street for attack.  

  

Fraser indicated Ray. "Detective Ray Vecchio, Chicago Police Department
and  

I'm Constable Benton Fraser. I first came to Chicago on the trail of my  

father's killers..."  

  

"And a buncha stuff happened. Now he addresses party invitations." Ray	

finished.  

  

"That's not all I do, Ray."  

  

"Oh, I forgot pigeon roosting post."  

  

"Guard duty? Like Buckingham Palace?" Willow said happily.  

  

"Very much so," Fraser said.  

  

"I love Mounties! The uniform, the horses, the Musical Ride, hey, do you  

know any Inuit legends?"  

  

Fraser grinned broadly, bent to scoop up his hat. "Ah, a woman with
taste."  

  

"Yeah, yeah. Hate to crash the love fest, but, are we gonna file a report
on  

this or are we gonna go home and sleep?"  

  

Fraser raised his eyebrows at Willow.  

  

"Oh, no report here," Willow said quickly. "I do enough of them. Besides, 


it's Halloween, lots of weirdoes out in masks. I'd better get back to the 


hotel."  

  

Fraser held his hand out to usher her towards Ray's car, parked at the
other  

end of the alley. "You're visiting, then, eh?"	

  

Fraser and Willow began a detailed, animated conversation of Mounties and 


Inuit legends.	

  

Ray watched them walk. "Ray's taxi service," he mumbled to himself. "Why, 


sure, Fraser, I'll drive little red riding hood all over the forest."  

  

In the dark shadows above them, undead eyes glowed with reflected
moonlight,  

watching the prey slip away, their owner biding his time until the next  

opening appeared.  

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  

THE END.  

 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~