Buffy and Willow pulled into the parking lot of The Bronze. It was a cool, crisp autumn evening, with the last glow of sunset fading in the west. The lot was already crowded, and there was a steady trickle of people winding in from the neighborhood on foot. The Halloween Party at the popular human/vampire club was always well attended.
Buffy was grumbling. "I don't know why they have to have a themed Halloween party at The Bronze this year. I was going to go as, like, Catwoman. That costume Halle Berrie wore was bad."
"Well," said Willow reasonably, "It could be kind of awkward because A, they won't let you in unless the doorman decides that your costume fits the theme, and B, since the theme is Come As Your Favorite Food, it might be a little awkward for you."
Cordelia was walking past. Buffy did a double take and rolled down her window. "Hey!"
Cordelia paused, then came back. "Hi, Buffy. Willow. Um, nice costumes."
"Yeah, right. Where do you think you're going dressed like that?"
"To the party."
"They won't let you in. You have to be dressed as your favorite food. You look like a Victoria's Secret model."
Cordelia smoothed her hair back. She was wearing a satin teddy. There was a small pair of fluffy white wings attached to her back, and a halo of tinsel bobbed over her head, supported by a wire attached to her headband. "Why, thank you."
"What are you supposed to be."
"Angel food cake, of course."
"They won't let you in like that."
"Watch." She sashayed up to the door and flirted with the doorman. He waved her inside. She tossed a wave to Buffy and Willow before disappearing.
"That is so unfair," said Buffy.
"You just wish you'd thought of it," said Willow.
"But it's a lie. Cordelia doesn't eat cake. She should have come as a yogurt smoothie, or something."
"Give her a little credit for being creative. Let's go in."
They stepped out of the car. Several guys passing by almost tripped. "Oh, are you okay?" Willow asked.
"Dude," gasped one of them (who was probably too young to be going to this sort of party. "You're nude!"
"Oh. No, it's a body stocking."
"What are you supposed to be?"
"Wait, I'm not wearing all the costume." She dug in the car and came up with two items. She put on the long, blonde wig. It reached to her knees. "I really, really like chocolate." The boys looked blank. She held up the second item--a stick horse. "I'm Godiva--see?"
"Oooh. Coooool." They looked at Buffy. She was dressed normally. "What are you supposed to be?"
Buffy sighed and opened the trunk. She pulled out an inner tube. The top half had been painted white, and hundreds of different colored and shaped beads were glued on it. She stepped into the tube, and hooked the attached suspenders over her shoulders so that it hung around her waist. "I'm a donut." They snickered. "Shut up. If I'd had a brown T-shirt I would have just painted a white squiggle down the middle and came as a Hostess Cupcake."
When they got to the door, Oz was arguing with the doorman, who claimed that he wasn't dressed according to the theme. Willow argued that if Cordelia got in like she was for angel food cake, then Oz's Domino delivery uniform should count as pizza. The doorman, distracted by trying to figure out if she was actually wearing any clothes under her hair, let them in.
"It's not like they're being that strict," grumbled Buffy. "I mean, that guy over there has a fake moustache and parted his hair in the center, and is claiming he's the Pringles guy."
"I think all you have to do is slip the door man a few bucks," said Oz, "or maybe flash a little skin. Thanks for sticking up for me." He kissed Willow. "I'm broke, and I don't think he'd have been impressed if I mooned him."
The place was crowded. Besides the usual throb of music, they were playing a tape of 'scary sound effects' at a low volume. There were barely heard groans, shrieks, and rattling chains underscoring the evening. Buffy was looking around. "Have you seen Xander? He's supposed to meet us here. I can't wait to see what he came as." Oz shook his head. Buffy frowned, standing on tiptoe for a better view of the milling crowd. "I hope they let him in. He's been kinda leery of dressing up ever since... you know--the 'incident'." Everyone nodded, remembering the Halloween they'd all actually become their costumes. "And he said he had a couple of important things to tell us."
"Like what?" asked Oz.
"He wouldn't say over the phone. Said something about the costumes being used as a visual aid."
Two young men ambled over to them. One was tall and platinum blond, the other was a little shorter, with brunette hair. The blond waved. "Hi."
Buffy was willing enough to be friendly to a cute new guy. "Hi..." She blinked, and looked closer. "Xander? What happened to you?"
Oz was just looking bemused, but Willow was gaping, too. "Did you get scared really bad, and it turned your hair white?"
Xander rolled his eyes. "Gah. It's a wig, okay. Part of my costume, and the costume will tell you what I wanted to tell you tonight." He spread his arms wide. "What am I?"
Buffy frowned. "It's just clothes, Xander. Kind of, um, well, not quite girly. But I never expected to see you in white jeans and a pastel pink polo shirt. What are you supposed to be?"
"Hmph. The doorman got it right away, and he laughed his ass off. Maybe this will help." He pulled something out of his pocket and shook it out. It was a clear plastic garment bag. He pulled it on like a poncho, poking his head and arms through holes. "Now do you get it?"
"Oh." Buffy and Willow stared at Oz. "What?"
"You don't mean to tell me that you guessed it?" Buffy accused.
"It's pretty obvious, when you factor it all together," said Oz.
"Factor WHAT together?" asked Willow.
Oz rubbed the back of his neck. "I keep forgetting that you girls might fight demons like warriors, but may still be naive in some areas. Okay, first off, Xander has 'something to tell us."
"Riiiight," the girls said cautiously.
"He's a young man dressed in, shall we say, a less than macho manner, and now he's in a clear plastic wrapper. It should be obvious." He paused. They stared at him blankly. He sighed. "Xander is a twinkie."
Buffy said, "Uh... Okay, I know that Xander loves to eat twinkies..." Xander's brunette companion started snickering. Buffy narrowed her eyes at him. There was something familiar about that sound, but she was busy trying to unravel this mystery. "But I don't get what the costume has to do with snack cakes."
Xander looked at Oz. "You tell them. I can't, or I wouldn't be pulling this freaky version of I've Got a Secret."
Oz shrugged, and leaned over to whisper in Willow's ear. Willow's eyes got huge, and her mouth dropped open. She turned pale, then she flushed like a fire engine. "Oh, wow. Xander, that's... unexpected."
"Sorta took me by surprise, too."
Oz whispered to Buffy. "He's what?"
"You're taking it better than I expected, Buffy," said Xander dryly.
"Well... well..." she swallowed. "Okay. Okay, that's... no problem. I can deal with this." She cleared her throat. "And you're here with a friend. Are you going to introduce us?"
"Hardly necessary, ducks," the brunette drawled.
Buffy did a double take. "-Spike?-" She gave him a hard look up and down. The hair might be dark, and flopping rather than slicked back (obviously another wig), but those pale blue eyes were unmistakable. Spike was wearing faded jeans, a little too small, a white T-shirt, and over that an open shirt with a hideously garish print. "You were supposed to come dressed as something you love to eat. What are you supposed to be?"
Oz laughed, and Willow squeaked, her hand flying to her mouth. "Oh, my Goddess! Xander, is that the other thing you wanted to tell us?" He nodded.
Buffy scowled again. She was about a second away from stamping her foot. "What's so funny?"
"Buffy, don't you recognize Spike's costume?" Buffy shook her head. "He came as Xander."
Someone later remarked that they wished they knew where to get hold of the tape of Halloween noises, because one of those screams was positively bone chilling.
Note: Twinkie--A younger gay man. Usually one who is thin and preppy looking. Young, shallow and cute (much like a smurf usually very bar/dance scene), tasty and cream filled, but having absolutely no nutritional value. (from Matt and Andrejkoymashy's Glossary of Gay Slang)