Strange Customers
Author's Note: None of this belongs to me. None. Nothing. Zilch. Nada. Absolutely none of it. I don't even have an un-named OC in this. Everything in this fic is somebody else's intellectual property. For lack of a better word, I am stealing aforesaid property to make what is probably only a passable fic. That's what I'm doing. Theft and Copyright Violation. But at least I'm honest about it.
Additional Note: It's been a loooooong time since I last watched Buffy. Please inform me if I get something wrong.
Dawn drummed her fingers impatiently on the counter. Anya had gone off to do 'demon things' and had cozened her into manning the counter at the Magic Box. She sighed for what seemed to be the millionth time.
Like anything was going to happen here anyway. How many people in a normal American town would come to an occult shop?
Well, she had to admit Sunnydale wasn't exactly what you'd call a 'normal American town'. But how many customers could this place possibly get? Surely not much.
As if to prove her wrong, the door opened as someone walked inside.
The person was garbed in a long red robe with a tattered red cape dragging behind him. Was it a him? Dawn couldn't really tell. The person's face seemed to be both feminine and vaguely masculine at the same time. The persons robe was baggy enough to hide most of its wearers figure. The shoulder length purple hair and the golden circlet didn't really help when it came to identifying gender identity either.
Dawn briefly thought about calling Giles or Buffy but decided against it. After all, this was Sunnydale, home of all that is weird. Should she really be so surprised when a ma-…a wo-…a person with purple hair comes in to look at the shop?
The robed figure walked up to the counter. Dawn couldn't help but notice that it had pointed ears under its purple hair.
"Good Morning Miss. Are you the proprietor of this establishment?"
"The what?'
The man/woman sighed and muttered something.
"Why am I plagued with idiots wherever I go? Don't answer that question Miss. What I am asking is are you the owner of this shop?"
"No. That would be Giles. Or Anya. Or somebody who's not me anyway."
"I see. Despite you not being the being in possession of this magically-charged domain, your mere presence in it implies that you know something about the world-shattering powers of the Occult, does it not?"
Dawn wasn't sure if she liked where this was going.
'Err…yes. I know that magic exists and stuff like that."
The elven figure flung his hands in the air in an overly theatrical gesture.
"Good heavens woman! Who doesn't know magic exists? What I mean, is that do you know that this mostly human settlement is sitting on top of an extra-dimensional portal of great power?"
She blinked.
"The Hellmouth? Yes. Who doesn't know that? It's like the first thing you learn when they tell you about the occult stuff in Sunnydale. That and the Slayer."
She was almost pleased to see the man/woman elfish thing falter. Looks like he didn't know as much about the occult as he thought he did.
"The Slayer? What's the-…Nevermind. The way things have been going lately it's probably some sort of magically empowered bone-headed fighter of some kind. Almost certainly beneath my notice. The reason why I am so inquisitive about this 'Hellmouth' as you call it, is far beyond your mere mortal comprehension that the knowledge would surely send you mad! Mad I tell you!"
Dawn was pretty sure that she wasn't the mad one in the shop right now as the robed person continued in a length diatribe about 'the awesome and mind blowing powers of magic".
After a few minutes she interrupted him(?).
"Look, are you going to buy something or not?"
"-so vast and dangerous that even a small mispronounced word could spell the doom of any p-Huh? Buying something? Well…yes I suppose so. Sorry about that. I sometimes get a little carried away with this sort of stuff. Heh." His voice trailed away into a nervous laugh.
He picked up an armful of sealed glass bottles containing a red bubbly gloop.
"I'll just take these 27 Potions of Heroism then."
He reached into a pocket and drew out a handful of odd coins. He placed them on the counter.
"I trust these gp will be sufficient?"
She looked at the coins. They were certainly not any form of currency she was familiar with.
"No actually, they won't. I don't know what sort of money that is or how much its worth or even if it's real money. Don't you have something else?"
The man(?) looked downcast for a few moments before perking up again.
"Do you take cheques?"
"Aaah…I think we do."
"Most excellent!"
He(?) pulled a piece of paper out of his pockets with a flourish and wrote something on it in small letters. He then handed it to her before beginning to back away with the potions.
"There you go, miss. I trust that this amount is more than enough?"
Dawn looked closely at the 'cheque'.
"This isn't a cheque! This is just a scrap of paper saying 'I took the liberty of preparing Explosive Runes this mor-"
Her sentence was cut off as the paper exploded in a bang hurling her back against the wall to land in a crumpled heap.
Vaarsuvius ran out of the Magic Box, being careful not to drop any of the potions.
"Terribly sorry miss! But I currently have an appointment with the Hellmouth!"
A few minutes later, Dawn got up, covered in soot. The interior of the Magic Box was completely ruined, things strewn everywhere from the fortunately non-lethal explosion. This wasn't good, especially if the last thing the elf had said meant what she thought it meant.
But before she could move anywhere, the door opened again. She stared at the thing that had just come through. Well, she would except that she couldn't see it.
Whatever it was, it was shrouded in a pitch black darkness. The only things visible were two demonic glowing yellow eyes…and a pink umbrella that the thing was holding over its head. It had pictures of cute little kittens on it.
"Oh…Hello," it said nervously. "I don't suppose you would want to have a tea party with me would you? Only I've been so lonely since Flopsy left and I lost Mr Stiffly…"
End