The Clothes Not Taken

The Count Saint-Germain was enjoying a quiet night going over his correspondence in his Paris residence when he was interrupted by his manservant Roger.

"Two women from America to see you, sir," said Roger.

The Count Saint-Germain raised an eyebrow. "Indians or colonials?"

"Neither, I believe," said Roger. "Judging from the way they talk and the way they're dressed -- or for that matter, not dressed -- I suspect they're time travelers."

"Not again?" asked the Count.

Then he thought a moment.

"Send them in," said the Count.

Minutes later, Roger escorted into the room a young, trouser-wearing, dark-haired maiden who was accompanied by a naked blonde woman. The blonde woman seemed ill at ease with her nakedness, continually moving her hands over her breasts and pubes in a vain effort to hide her nudity.

"Would you like me to send my manservant Roger here to go get you some clothes, mademoiselle?" asked the Count.

"No thanks," said the blonde. "I'm good."

The Count raised an eyebrow but said nothing.

Then he turned to the dark-haired woman. "And you are..."

The dark-haired woman moved forward and shook the Count's hand. "Hi," she said. "I'm Amy Madison. Big fan. My friend Buffy Summers here has been hit by a curse forcing to go naked forever. Every time she puts on clothing, it gives her pain and so she has spent the last few years in a state of constant nudity."

"That, indeed, sounds like a sad case," said the Count. "However, I have little experience with such curses so I'm afraid I can't help you."

"No, you can't," said Amy. "But you can give me access to the Philosopher's Stone so that poor Buffy here doesn't have to age any further while I'm seeking a cure for her curse. For that matter, I wouldn't mind a halt in my own aging process as well."

"I'm still not comfortable with this plan, Amy," said Buffy. "We're supposed to be trying to end the curse, not extend it."

"Oh, hush, Buffy," said Amy. "I know what I'm doing."

Then Amy turned back to the Count and asked, "Do we have a deal?"

The Count shrugged. "Well, there are more traditional ways of acquiring immortality."

"Not for me and Buffy," said Amy. "We hate the taste of blood. No offense."

"None taken," said the Count. "But why me? Why not someone like, say, Nicholas Flamel?"

"We already tried Flamel," said Amy. "He wouldn't help us. Said we reminded him too much of some English girls he had met. Anyway, you have a reputation for being a kind and generous man so can you help us?"

"I'll think about it," said the Count. "What you're asking for is not a thing to be given out lightly. There's a reason why those who acquire it in the more traditional way of acquiring it often refer to it as the Dark Gift."

"Again," said Amy. "Just to be clear. We're not asking you for the Dark Gift. We're asking you for the Not So Dark Gift."

"Perhaps we should just leave," said Buffy. "This conversation is getting just a little too weird for me."

"Relax, Buffy," said Amy. "I got this. Anyway, it's not like we should be in a hurry to get out of here. It's not like we're going to run into anyone we know while we're here."

Just then there was a knock on the door. Roger went to answer it. He soon returned and whispered something in the Count's ear. The Count in turn whispered something into Roger's ear.

Five minutes later, Roger was escorting two women -- one a redhead about Buffy's age, and the other a considerably younger redhead who had an olive complexion and hair that was a bit darker and more curly than her companion's -- into the Count's presence.

"Hi," said the oldest of the new arrivals. "Willow Rosenberg here. Big fan. And this here is my girlfriend Kennedy. We didn't mean to drop by unannounced but we just happened to be in the neighborhood -- Hey, Amy! Hey, Buffy! What are you two doing here?"