Andrew might not be able to play any more, but of course, there are alternatives.

"It's Karen," she says hopelessly in the middle of his doorway like he wouldn't know her a thousand other ways. The whiff of perfume on her, Viktor & Rolf Flowerbomb trapped underneath a thick smear of booze, or the sound of her shoes on the hard tile floor. She's drunk already; her breathing is faint and thready. Her face is too hot.

Khonshu and his avatar have a weird little moment on a rooftop. (Not for the first time and not for the last.)

Listeners, I have just received word that our new visitor—you know, the British one, with his soul unwillingly tethered to a non-euclidean facet of what we perceive to be human terror—is listening to our show!

A podfic of "Pack Mentality"

Five lone wolves do not make a pack. Unless they do.

Buffy and Faith are living it up in Cleveland, over thirty and regularly trying to convince their neighbors they're really just roommates, not "roommates", no matter what Faith wants. Of course, then things get all fucked up, complete with an apocalypse.

Max/Jude; Two different times and bad pickup lines.

Sam didn't need his gun, or Ruby's knife or Cas' blade tonight. He had the power running through his veins to end it all tonight. This sacrifice would be the most righteous thing the demons he drained could ever do. Killing Lilith, avenging his brother, tabula rasa.

Mary’s usual expression of placid calm slipped for a moment before she responded with a twinkle in her eye. “I could possess advanced technology from an alien planet.”

There are still two men in Kathy's life.