Rating: PG
Words: 200
Characters: Angel, Buffy, Whistler
Summary: Welcome to the Hellmouth humor. First meeting with the Slayer: nervous babbling, not of the good.
Date written: July 8, 2008, for LJ community fantas magoria
She's the Slayer, and a real live girl... and the foot-on-chest thing was always one of Darla's foreplay specials. A combination he finds all too intoxicating.
The carefully-prepared speech flies straight out of his head.
"I'm a vampire!" he blurts, gazing up at her. "I'm 240 years old - or maybe 270? I can do Tai Chi!"
"What?" The Slayer is unimpressed. "Oh my God, now it's crazy vampires? Puh-leease!"
"Hellmouth! Harvest! You've got really nice legs! I'm here to help you!" His mouth isn't cooperating.
The Slayer throws up her hands. "Look, just leave me alone! I've quit - so there."
"Hey, I have a soul! I've been eating rats!"
"Oh, eeeww," says the Slayer, striding away.
"Wait! Allow me to give you this lovely cross!"
Too late. She's gone.
Whistler gives him a long look. "Well, yeah, the Powers can turn back time... But it's special cases only. Don't expect to make it a habit, bud."
"Right, okay." He nods eagerly. "Thanks!"
Then the Slayer is staring down at him again.
"Ah, heh. Is there a problem, ma'am?"
A few minutes later, Whistler buries his face in his hands. "No. Third time lucky, my ass! I said NO!"
