She too had loved this story and the closenessbetween her mother and herself when she read it. Some things never changeshe thought, a big girl reading...to a little girl and the closeness wasthe same, Brenda felt serene.The story was finished, dinner was served and soon Mario was drivingBrenda home. It was mid-November and there was a chill in the air andMario didn't want his girl friend to catch a chill waiting for a taxi."Did you have a nice time today?" Mario asked.Brenda was cuddled next to. For a town of Sunnydale’s size, the number of graveyards might seem excessive to a casual observer, but the small community was far from ordinary. It was built a century before over the Hellmouth, an entrance to the underworld and a center of demonic activity.Her companion, dark-haired and dressed in similar clothing, if of a darker shade, waited a few seconds and then headed for the tall structure as well. Using a different path, she stealthily came up from the opposite direction. Nearing the. Plus she had no idea what time he would order her to bed. The term bed being used for convenience, as she actually slept on the floor next to his bed.Laundry was the one chore that wasn't too difficult in his house. He didn't have all that many outfits, and her entire wardrobe had been reduced to one outfit and she was only permitted to wash it once a week. All of his clothes, however, were to be washed, dried, ironed, folded and put away, everyday. Even id he hadn't worn them. This way. At one point, it seemed that she was actually having aheated conversation with someone unseen in the room but then she woke upfully with a start and realized that it must have been a dream. Shetried, but couldn't recall any of the details of the conversation, oreven what the subject, which had seemed so important, might have been.Lying there, staring up at the ceiling, she heard the sound of someonemoving around downstairs. She rose up on her elbow, heart thuddingpainfully in her chest, and.