Buffy Anne Summers was sternly laying down the law to everyone in the Cleveland House. All those there - the other Slayers, their Watchers, and what remained of the Scooby Gang - were paying very close attention, all due to the white-knuckle grip this young woman had on the mystical weapon known as the Scythe.

The rather crazed gleam in Buffy's eyes was pretty worrisome, too.

Rapping out her commands, the warrior woman finished off with "-and nobody bothers me until it's all over! If an apocalypse actually dares to get started, you guys take care of it! I'm not leaving the room for any reason at all, got that?" With a jerk of her head that sent blonde tresses flying, Buffy indicated the rec room behind herself, that everybody else glumly knew was gonna be totally off-limits to them all until conditions changed. Up to then, they'd have to watch their favorite television shows in their own rooms, assuming they had a set and…

Momentarily turning pale, Giles quickly remembered that the cable bill had already been paid for this month. His color returning at this glad news, the former high-school librarian breathed a sigh of relief, until he, like all there, flinched at Buffy's ear-splitting bellow: "ANDREW!"

Lurching down the hall to finally stand on quivering legs under the crushing burden of a supermarket's entire collection of junk food, Andrew Wells spat out the handles of the plastic bag he'd been carrying clenched in his teeth. Over the soft thud of an assortment of Ben and Jerry's finest hitting the floor, a completely fed-up house cook sarcastically lisped, "Yeth, mithtreth?"

Scooping up the spilled nectar of the gods, Buffy haughtily ignored this disrespect, to instead order in her most imperious tone, "Put the food away inside, and then scram! I'm locking, barring, and nailing shut the door behind you, so you better move it!"

A few minutes later, as they listened to the pounding coming from behind a closed door, Xander turned to Giles standing by the younger man in the house corridor, to then disbelievingly ask, "She's really gonna spend the next couple of days, or however longer it lasts, in there just watching nothing but the Weather Channel?"

Rupert Giles merely rolled his eyes up to the heavens in purest exasperation, to then acerbically reply, "Well, Xander, at least we should be grateful that this will be only a one-time event, since the World Meteorological Organization has already decreed after this they'll retire the name somebody magically hacked as a birthday gift into their computers. I suggest during it all, you take the advice from my country during World War II: keep calm and carry on. Sooner or later, Hurricane Buffy will blow itself out."

Author's Note:

King Lear, Act III, Scene II: Blow, winds, and crack your cheeks! Rage! Blow! You cataracts and hurricanoes, spout…

I just knew I had to write this, when I was flipping through the channels, and on one specific program, they showed a list of storm names, which for the year 2011 includes the potential for a Hurricane Tammy.