Slaying is a Time Suck

Finally getting her much needed hour of sleep before the sun came up, Buffy Summers drifted off peacefully underneath her thick floral comforter. Sure there was vampire dust still caked underneath her nails, but she'd deal with it when she woke. Then she remembered. In a small fit of frustration over tangled cables, she had snapped her hair straightener in half the morning before. A hazard of superhuman strength when handling items made for regular human hands. She sighed and threw off the covers. The Sunnydale Pharmacy would be open by now in the early morning hours. She wasn't about to sacrifice her signature soft tussle and glossy locks in the face of constantly fighting evil. Especially after a break up. She needed to look good for herself.

The hallway carpet was striped with amber bits of morning light through the blinds, and as Buffy passed by Dawn's bedroom door, she knew she'd make it to the last bowl of Coco Puffs before anyone in the house did. That was one thing that made not sleeping worth it.

A soft jingle of tiny bells played a melody. It drifted her attention away, gently at first. Like a music box she used to have with a dancing ballerina. But then Buffy whipped around, looking for the source as it crescendoed. Mysterious music playing for no reason in Sunnydale was never just your in head.
When she reached the top of the stairs the music stopped, followed by tiny footsteps, running from her and into the living room. She ran down the stairs, taking four at a time, practically pommel horsing the banister into the living room.

It was empty and dark. Just as she expected, honestly. And what did she expect? A vampire watching reruns on the couch just out in the open? The kitchen, the garage, the yard, everything was clear with no signs of intruders. After checking the perimeter, Buffy gave up and went in the back door to the kitchen.

Of course, now the sun was out, and Dawn was up for school, sitting at the kitchen island eating, you guessed it. Cereal.
--
Dylan was on his knees, begging Mr. Herfnester to let him go on break. "I've washed this Mercedes like 50 times already! I swear!"

Mr. Herfnester crossed his arms over his blue polo, the logo of his car wash Herf's Wash & Detail embroidered into the pocket. "Dylan, this vehicle just came in and we're backed up 12 cars today, I cannot possibly let you on break right now."

"Please, please, Mr. Herf. I-I-I-I-I swear I've washed it already. Over and over and over and over...." Dylan raised his hands, looking at them and starting to cry, "I can't wash anymore!"

Mr. Herfnester jumped back in horror as Dylan reached out and stained his boss's khakis with dark red blood, coming from Dylan's swollen and waterlogged hands.
The man in the Mercedes stuck his head out the window and yelled while honking, "Um, excuse me! I need the full Herf!"
--
"I realize this is a magic shop, but the stock of Practical Magic VHS's is out of control." Xander heaved a giant stack of unopened video tapes and dropped them on the large wood table, where Anya, Willow, and Tara sat sorting books into piles.

"Maybe we can donate them." Willow chimed in, while flipping through History of Ground Hauntings in Munich in the 1750s.

"Or we could burn them." Offered Anya cheerfully. Everyone looked up at her with looks that she was already familiar with, the kind of looks where she had evidentally crossed a social barrier and they were figuring out how to point it out to her. "What? It's quick, efficient, and more fun than donating."

"Anya, burning a pile of movies about witches isn't very sensitive considering..." Xander motioned across to Willow and Tara.

"Ok well burning real witches is fun too. It's not like it hurts them." Anya argued.

Willow got up from the table with her book. Tara attempted a smile. The front door of the closed and disheveled magic shop creaked open. Buffy walked in dragging her feet and giving a small hello to Giles, who stood behind the dusty and broken counter. She plopped down at the table with the crew. "Most people get at least a two week vacation or President's day from their work," she mumbled.