Disclaimer: I do not own Castle or Buffy the Vampire Slayer. All rights remain with owners.

Summary: Buffy is checking out a possible slayer when she runs into a certain author whom she mistakes for Caleb, the crazy priest. Set after Buffy S7.

Note: And now for some crack-lite. I'm sure this has been done a number of times, so my apologies.

Word Count: ~710

Buffy Summers had firsthand knowledge that death was fickle. She also knew that Big Bads, more often than not, somehow reappeared, even after, supposedly, being destroyed. So, she didn't really question it when she spotted a certain crazy priest before her in New York. Even though he'd been sliced in half by her own hand. Even though his remains were sucked into the Hellmouth along with the rest of Sunnydale.

His reaction to the dagger in her hand, though, was unexpected, because, as far as she could remember, Caleb had never screamed like a girl.

Rick stepped out of the corner shop with the small paper sack hugged against the crook of his arm and a cocky smile on his face. He knew for a fact that Alexis was gambling on him forgetting the ice cream he'd promised to pick up. And, sure, that was true, because, frankly, his mind was still on the spectacular case that he'd solved earlier today.

Well, okay, the case Beckett had solved today. With his immense help, of course.

A billboard intent on calling attention to endangered polar bears had reminded him of the phone call, though, and he'd hopped into the first store he came to, scooping up several pints of his daughter's favorite flavors. One of her friends was spending the night, and apparently they couldn't complain about their latest science project assignment without their favorite frozen treats. Superdad to their rescue. Rick's smile widened at the thought.

He was barely out the door when he ventured a glance down the sidewalk. His eyes met her gaze. There were plenty of beautiful women in New York, but something about the strong stance of the perky petite blond left him raising a brow in intrigue. And, if he was perfectly honest with himself, the low cut green sweater hugging her subtle curves was quite the draw as well.

The young woman was only a few yards away, walking in his direction, but she came to quick stop, eyes widened in surprise as soon as she spotted him. Rick knew that look. It was recognition. Her mouth opened slightly with a silent question. Yes, she was definitely a fan.

Rick was giddy. His day just kept getting better.

She started walking again, picking up speed, a different, darker expression on her face now. Rick barely had time to consider it before she slammed into him, tossing him past the corner, down a much darker street, with much fewer onlookers - details he picked up immediately. The most important detail, though, was that she, a tiny little woman, had managed to throw him that far in the first place. Fear rushed over him in a crashing wave.

"Didn't anyone ever tell you that resurrection is impolite?" she quipped, a certain Valley-girl playfulness in her words. Then she paused, a small pout at her cherry-stained lips. "And, yes, I do realize that's kind of hypocritical of me…"

He wasn't proud, but when she pulled the vicious-looking dagger out of her jacket, Rick couldn't hold it in. He screamed.

Buffy frowned as she crossed the street, shooting a staring cabbie a glance that clearly stated "move along, nothing to see here." She'd been all of twenty seconds into the encounter with the doppleganger when she'd panicked. Because evil monsters weren't supposed to scream. Not unless they were on fire. Or being eviscerated.

She answered the vibrating phone against her hip before it had a chance to give a first ring. On instinct alone, she knew exactly who was calling.

"Hey, Willow, remember when I told you I was going to New York, and you said you knew you were forgetting to tell me something important? I think I figured it out," Buffy began.

The other woman seemed cheerful. "Yeah - I just remembered what it was! Oh, wait…" Buffy could practically see the sheepish wince on the other end. "Umm, you're not a fan of the Derrick Storm books, are you, Buffy? 'Cause, as it turns out, the author looks a little like... "

"Caleb," Buffy snapped. "Yup, I noticed. And it's not 'a little,' so much as 'a heck of a freakin' lotta.'"

"Any casualties?"

"I think he smacked his head on the wall trying to run away from me."

Willow grew quiet. "Buffy?"

"He'll live," Buffy assured.

"No, I was just going to ask… would you mind going back and asking him for an autograph?"