Buffy the vampire slayer/ League of Gentlemen crossover.
BtVS belongs to Joss Whedon. The League of Gentlemen belongs to Jeremy Dyson, Mark Gatiss, Steve Pemberton and Reece Shearsmith. Nothing belongs to me except the story itself. Read and review!
CHAPTER 2
Spike sighed heavily. He was sick of this place already. What sort of self respecting Hellmouth was all shut up before midnight anyway? *Only* in Derbyshire, he thought to himself, shaking his head. Then, out of the corner of his eye, he detected movement in the trees...
"Do you have the Special Stuff?" the bearded man whispered to the other man.
"Yes, it's here. It's all here."
"Good." They exchanged packages. Then each headed their own way. Interesting. Spike was now curious to know what was going on. Especially because he could smell something *very* tasty in the air.
"Evening." Spike suddenly appeared just before the bearded man, who jumped about a metre in the air.
"Argh!" he exclaimed. "Who are you? What do you want?"
"Oh, nobody. Just arrived in this town, and cottoned on to some sordid dealings going on between you and the bloke back there." Spike told him, then sniffed. Mmm. Smelt good.
"I don't have to tell you *anything*." The man said. "Now go home!"
"What's the Special Stuff?" asked Spike, grinning when the man's face turned to utter shock.
"How... how do you know about this?" he asked, frowning. Spike shrugged.
"Got blood in the parcel there?" he asked, then pulled it out of the man's shaking hands. He ripped it open, and took a deep breath. Blood! Yes! Oh, urgh... no.
"Give that back!" The man demanded. Spike threw it at him.
"There's something wrong with your blood there, mate," Spike said with an expression of disgust on his face. "You can *have* it."
"There's nothing wrong with it." The man told him sharply, then considered. "Why do you say that, anyway?"
"It's blood, I could tell that from over there, and it's human and everything... but it's also got something in it, like a disease. Sort of thing that could put a guy off his food."
"You know too much." the man glared at him.
"I know what blood's about, mate." Spike retorted. "And that's not your average sort of blood." The man eyed him curiously.
"What's your name, lad?" he asked.
"Spike." The vampire replied. "Yourself?"
"The name's Hilary Briss." The man replied, shaking his hand. "I'm the local butcher."
"Oh..." Spike smiled charmingly. "Glad to make your acquaintance. You know what I always say about butchers? Greatest blokes in the world."
"What are you after?" Hilary asked suspiciously. "You can't have none of the Special Stuff."
"Oh, please." Spike rolled his eyes. "Not interested. I will probably be a regular customer of yours, but not for *this*. No offence, mind."
"None taken." Hilary said. "Actually, that's not bad news. We've a job opening came up, due to one of our employees... disappearing. Man like you with a good nose for your meat products, who's not likely to be dipping his fingers into the Special Stuff on the sly... it's ideal, ain't it?"
"You'd think so..." Spike said, a worried look on his face. Yes, he would love this job. But there was a complication.
"There's a slight complication." Hilary's words echoed Spike's thoughts. "Due to the way the shifts work out now, you'd be on the night shift. Is that a problem?"
"No problem at all." Spike said. In fact, it solved the problem. He grinned. "When do I start?"
Xander knocked on the door that the woman had told him to come to. He'd met her in passing, and had mentioned he needed accommodation for himself and a friend. She'd instantly offered a place to stay at their family home. He'd been unable to say no, but it had concerned him slightly when she'd occasionally called him Benjamin by mistake.
"Hello?" The man at the door looked condescendingly down upon Xander and Anya. "What do you want?"
"Your wife told my fiancé that we could stay here for a short time." Anya spoke up. "We need a place to live until we find our own accommodation."
"Oh really," the man said, "well I'm Harvey Denton, and my wife is Val. You'll have to be aware that there are rules in this house..."
"Absolutely." Xander said. "Rules obeyed, check, done. Thanks a lot, this is a real favour you're doing us."
"Oh... not at all, young fellow, not at all." The man allowed them to walk in.
Anya sat back comfortably on the sofa. Not a bad place at all. Warm, well-furnished, and meticulously clean and tidy. Xander was being given the tour of the house, while she was allowed to watch a film. They'd mentioned something about young women being less of a disorderly threat. Oh well, that was ok by her. Eventually Xander came through, and fell into the couch beside her, eyes glazed with fear.
"This is a bad, *bad* place, Anya." He said, staring straight forwards. "We have to leave."
"But... you were the one who insisted we came here." Anya complained. "And now we do get here, you just want to go? And its warm and comfortable here, unlike outside."
"You don't know... those people..."
"Are they demons?" Anya asked. "I don't think they are. Are we in any immediate danger of death from either of them?"
"Well, no... but -"
"No buts!" Anya cut him off, and looked back at the TV. "We're staying, and you'll be quiet, or... or I'll figure out something I can do to you *without* my powers." Xander opened his mouth to speak, but said nothing, and closed it again. Harvey walked into the room, and Xander shuddered beside her. Anya smiled at him.
"Good afternoon, Mr Denton." She greeted him. He smiled and waved at her.
"Val?" he called his wife through. "One of my toads appears to have gone missing. Have you seen it?"
"Sorry, dear." She said, coming through and giving him a simpering smile. "I'll look for it right away."
"Is this it?" Anya asked, lifting a toad she'd seen on the floor. "I was wondering what the little critter was doing down there. Siberian river toad, right?"
"No, it's a Mongolian, actually." Harvey informed Anya.
"Oh, yes, of course. The ridges on it's back are purple, not red." Harvey nodded, impressed. Xander elbowed her. "What?" she muttered, "I live for eleven hundred years and I'm not allowed to learn anything?"
"I must say, it's rare to come across one who shares my interests." He told her. "Why don't you come and see the rest of my collection?" Anya shrugged. It was only polite, after all.
"Hmm, you sure have a lot." She commented, looking over the staggering number of toads in small plastic tanks. She opened one, and took it out.
"Be careful!" he warned. "That's one of my new toads." She looked it over, critically.
"I'm sure I've seen one like this before," she said, "but I don't know where. I think it's one of the race bred by Myllog 800 years ago, but I can't be sure. It'd be pretty cool if it was though, I mean - think of the power it could have developed through the generations..." she mused.
"Yes, well I don't go in for all of that mythology and folklore myself." He said, disdainfully. "I tend to think that's all wishy washy girly nonsense." Anya frowned.
"I think in a town like this, that's a dangerous attitude to have," she told him bluntly. "Do you *know* how many half demons I saw, just the other day? It's not surprising there are so few vampires here, they'd have nothing to eat!"
"Vampires! Demons! Indeed. I expect you'll tell me next that these demons are living amongst us and working respectable jobs?" he commented sarcastically. Anya glared.
"They are too!" she insisted. "Ooh, I wish I had my powers back, I'd show you soon enough who's..." she broke off, as she was sucked through some rip in the fabric of dimensions. Oh, fantastic. What now?
"Anyanka." D'hoffryn greeted her. Anya folded her arms and said nothing. What was going to happen now? They'd already turned her mortal, wasn't that enough punishment? Or was it to be straight to hell now?
"What is it?" she asked, boredly.
"It would appear that you have... called upon the correct powers. Now, while I stand by my decision of making you mortal, I am impressed in your resourcefulness. Congratulations. You have proved your worth, and earned the right to hold your power centre again."
"I... what?" she asked, wide eyed with disbelief. "You're giving me my powers back?"
"That is correct." D'hoffryn said. "Now, take this, and return to earth, Anyanka - patron saint of all women scorned."
"Thank you." Anya said, and took the green pendant from him. "I will serve vengeance well. You... can't know how much I've missed this."
"Oh, don't thank me. Thank yourself, for discovering the Myllog toad, the last remaining of its kind."
"Last of its kind... therefore infused with all of the energy multiplied through the generations throughout the years concentrated into one being..."
"... Of course!" By the time she had exclaimed the last two words, she was back on earth in the exact moment she'd left it.
"Did you just threaten me?" he asked. Anyanka fingered the pendant, and shook her head.
"What I meant was, if demons did exist, they'd probably be capable of finding employment in the mortal world. Hypothetically speaking."
"Ah, alright then." Harvey said. "I was worried about you for a minute. Now, would you like to see some others?"
"Maybe later." Anyanka said, walking out with a spring in her step. "I have to have words with Val."
"Right, jobseekers." Pauline addressed the evening class, of which Giles and Angel were a part. Angel was seated next to a man who had introduced himself as Ross Gaines. Ross looked like an ordinary man who had been through a fair bit of stress. Giles was next to a younger, somewhat less intelligent man named Mickey. Mickey had stringy hair in a mullet style, bad skin, and worse teeth, and tended to sound a little like a monkey. "Today, we're going to be looking at places where *you* will not get employed." Pauline said to the group in front of her. Giles coughed politely.
"Excuse me, but you don't know what our previous qualifications and work experiences are, how can you know where we will or won't be -"
"Shut up, dole scum!" she shouted at him. Giles, fearful, sat back immediately with his mouth shut. Ross looked at her darkly and shook his head.
"Right. Can anyone name a job that you need qualifications for?" she asked. "A job that is *beyond* any of your pathetic grasps." Mickey raised his hand and grinned eagerly. "Yes, Mickey love?"
"Policeman!" he called out.
"Yes! Policeman." Pauline wrote the word in large writing on her board. "Well done Mickey. Anyone else?" Mickey sat with an inane grin on his face. Angel raised a hand.
"NASA technician?" he suggested. Pauline sneered at him.
"Noone's *offering* you *that* job." She said, coldly. Angel shrugged.
"Not just now. They might, though?" he smiled, trying to appeal to her sense of humour. This failed miserably.
"I see we have another smart arse in the class, then." She said, face grim and embittered. "Don't cross me young man."
"Young...man..." Angel echoed through gritted teeth. No part of that applied to him in truth. If only she knew, she'd shut up soon enough.
"Don't let her get to you." Ross said, sympathetically. "She's a bullying cow, but she'll get her comeuppance." Angel absent-mindedly ran his tongue over his fangs. Yes, she would, one way or another.
"You been here long?" he asked Ross.
"Weeks." Ross said. "It's hell here, and she's got a very sad crush on that one there." He pointed to Mickey.
"Tell me the truth, does anyone really get a job through this?" Angel asked, bluntly. Ross shook his head.
"RIGHT!" Pauline addressed them. "You two are to sit at opposite ends of the class and *not* talk to one another, have you got that?" Angel looked up apologetically,
"Sorry, I was just asking if..."
"Don't talk back to me!" she exclaimed.
"For god's sake you old hag," Ross glared at her, "why do you have to treat us like school children?"
"Well maybe I wouldn't, if you didn't *act* like school children." Pauline hissed in reply.
"That's it." Angel said, struggling to regain his calm exterior. "I'm leaving."
"Sit down." Pauline ordered, staring grimly into his eyes. Angel looked around at the people, their looks of abject misery and despair, the hell that this woman was single-handedly putting them through. He'd killed demons for a thousandth of the horrific things this woman had done. Mental torture could indeed be as bad as physical, and he recognised *far* too much of himself in this woman for his comfort.
"If you try to stop me leaving," he said, trying to keep his cool, "you will regret it. We're on a Hellmouth, there are all sorts of weird violent energy fluctuations and I can't be held responsible for my actions."
"I've taken Judo classes." She sneered. "You think you can threaten me? Well, go on then. Go right ahead. Try and get out. You'll have to kill me before I'll let you..." CRACK. Angel looked down at his hands in shock. He had done it. Just like that. He'd snapped her neck. And everyone was now... cheering?
"Fucking BRILLIANT!" called out a woman from the back. "Someone should have done that a long time ago!"
"Yeah, good one Angel!" Ross agreed. "Maybe now we can get someone who can do the job properly."
Angel frowned. He'd killed a human being. Where was the horror, the what-have-I-done regret, the torturous guilt? It wouldn't come. He just couldn't bring himself to feel bad about his actions. Oh well. He grinned at the class, and then walked out to dispose of the body.
BtVS belongs to Joss Whedon. The League of Gentlemen belongs to Jeremy Dyson, Mark Gatiss, Steve Pemberton and Reece Shearsmith. Nothing belongs to me except the story itself. Read and review!
CHAPTER 2
Spike sighed heavily. He was sick of this place already. What sort of self respecting Hellmouth was all shut up before midnight anyway? *Only* in Derbyshire, he thought to himself, shaking his head. Then, out of the corner of his eye, he detected movement in the trees...
"Do you have the Special Stuff?" the bearded man whispered to the other man.
"Yes, it's here. It's all here."
"Good." They exchanged packages. Then each headed their own way. Interesting. Spike was now curious to know what was going on. Especially because he could smell something *very* tasty in the air.
"Evening." Spike suddenly appeared just before the bearded man, who jumped about a metre in the air.
"Argh!" he exclaimed. "Who are you? What do you want?"
"Oh, nobody. Just arrived in this town, and cottoned on to some sordid dealings going on between you and the bloke back there." Spike told him, then sniffed. Mmm. Smelt good.
"I don't have to tell you *anything*." The man said. "Now go home!"
"What's the Special Stuff?" asked Spike, grinning when the man's face turned to utter shock.
"How... how do you know about this?" he asked, frowning. Spike shrugged.
"Got blood in the parcel there?" he asked, then pulled it out of the man's shaking hands. He ripped it open, and took a deep breath. Blood! Yes! Oh, urgh... no.
"Give that back!" The man demanded. Spike threw it at him.
"There's something wrong with your blood there, mate," Spike said with an expression of disgust on his face. "You can *have* it."
"There's nothing wrong with it." The man told him sharply, then considered. "Why do you say that, anyway?"
"It's blood, I could tell that from over there, and it's human and everything... but it's also got something in it, like a disease. Sort of thing that could put a guy off his food."
"You know too much." the man glared at him.
"I know what blood's about, mate." Spike retorted. "And that's not your average sort of blood." The man eyed him curiously.
"What's your name, lad?" he asked.
"Spike." The vampire replied. "Yourself?"
"The name's Hilary Briss." The man replied, shaking his hand. "I'm the local butcher."
"Oh..." Spike smiled charmingly. "Glad to make your acquaintance. You know what I always say about butchers? Greatest blokes in the world."
"What are you after?" Hilary asked suspiciously. "You can't have none of the Special Stuff."
"Oh, please." Spike rolled his eyes. "Not interested. I will probably be a regular customer of yours, but not for *this*. No offence, mind."
"None taken." Hilary said. "Actually, that's not bad news. We've a job opening came up, due to one of our employees... disappearing. Man like you with a good nose for your meat products, who's not likely to be dipping his fingers into the Special Stuff on the sly... it's ideal, ain't it?"
"You'd think so..." Spike said, a worried look on his face. Yes, he would love this job. But there was a complication.
"There's a slight complication." Hilary's words echoed Spike's thoughts. "Due to the way the shifts work out now, you'd be on the night shift. Is that a problem?"
"No problem at all." Spike said. In fact, it solved the problem. He grinned. "When do I start?"
Xander knocked on the door that the woman had told him to come to. He'd met her in passing, and had mentioned he needed accommodation for himself and a friend. She'd instantly offered a place to stay at their family home. He'd been unable to say no, but it had concerned him slightly when she'd occasionally called him Benjamin by mistake.
"Hello?" The man at the door looked condescendingly down upon Xander and Anya. "What do you want?"
"Your wife told my fiancé that we could stay here for a short time." Anya spoke up. "We need a place to live until we find our own accommodation."
"Oh really," the man said, "well I'm Harvey Denton, and my wife is Val. You'll have to be aware that there are rules in this house..."
"Absolutely." Xander said. "Rules obeyed, check, done. Thanks a lot, this is a real favour you're doing us."
"Oh... not at all, young fellow, not at all." The man allowed them to walk in.
Anya sat back comfortably on the sofa. Not a bad place at all. Warm, well-furnished, and meticulously clean and tidy. Xander was being given the tour of the house, while she was allowed to watch a film. They'd mentioned something about young women being less of a disorderly threat. Oh well, that was ok by her. Eventually Xander came through, and fell into the couch beside her, eyes glazed with fear.
"This is a bad, *bad* place, Anya." He said, staring straight forwards. "We have to leave."
"But... you were the one who insisted we came here." Anya complained. "And now we do get here, you just want to go? And its warm and comfortable here, unlike outside."
"You don't know... those people..."
"Are they demons?" Anya asked. "I don't think they are. Are we in any immediate danger of death from either of them?"
"Well, no... but -"
"No buts!" Anya cut him off, and looked back at the TV. "We're staying, and you'll be quiet, or... or I'll figure out something I can do to you *without* my powers." Xander opened his mouth to speak, but said nothing, and closed it again. Harvey walked into the room, and Xander shuddered beside her. Anya smiled at him.
"Good afternoon, Mr Denton." She greeted him. He smiled and waved at her.
"Val?" he called his wife through. "One of my toads appears to have gone missing. Have you seen it?"
"Sorry, dear." She said, coming through and giving him a simpering smile. "I'll look for it right away."
"Is this it?" Anya asked, lifting a toad she'd seen on the floor. "I was wondering what the little critter was doing down there. Siberian river toad, right?"
"No, it's a Mongolian, actually." Harvey informed Anya.
"Oh, yes, of course. The ridges on it's back are purple, not red." Harvey nodded, impressed. Xander elbowed her. "What?" she muttered, "I live for eleven hundred years and I'm not allowed to learn anything?"
"I must say, it's rare to come across one who shares my interests." He told her. "Why don't you come and see the rest of my collection?" Anya shrugged. It was only polite, after all.
"Hmm, you sure have a lot." She commented, looking over the staggering number of toads in small plastic tanks. She opened one, and took it out.
"Be careful!" he warned. "That's one of my new toads." She looked it over, critically.
"I'm sure I've seen one like this before," she said, "but I don't know where. I think it's one of the race bred by Myllog 800 years ago, but I can't be sure. It'd be pretty cool if it was though, I mean - think of the power it could have developed through the generations..." she mused.
"Yes, well I don't go in for all of that mythology and folklore myself." He said, disdainfully. "I tend to think that's all wishy washy girly nonsense." Anya frowned.
"I think in a town like this, that's a dangerous attitude to have," she told him bluntly. "Do you *know* how many half demons I saw, just the other day? It's not surprising there are so few vampires here, they'd have nothing to eat!"
"Vampires! Demons! Indeed. I expect you'll tell me next that these demons are living amongst us and working respectable jobs?" he commented sarcastically. Anya glared.
"They are too!" she insisted. "Ooh, I wish I had my powers back, I'd show you soon enough who's..." she broke off, as she was sucked through some rip in the fabric of dimensions. Oh, fantastic. What now?
"Anyanka." D'hoffryn greeted her. Anya folded her arms and said nothing. What was going to happen now? They'd already turned her mortal, wasn't that enough punishment? Or was it to be straight to hell now?
"What is it?" she asked, boredly.
"It would appear that you have... called upon the correct powers. Now, while I stand by my decision of making you mortal, I am impressed in your resourcefulness. Congratulations. You have proved your worth, and earned the right to hold your power centre again."
"I... what?" she asked, wide eyed with disbelief. "You're giving me my powers back?"
"That is correct." D'hoffryn said. "Now, take this, and return to earth, Anyanka - patron saint of all women scorned."
"Thank you." Anya said, and took the green pendant from him. "I will serve vengeance well. You... can't know how much I've missed this."
"Oh, don't thank me. Thank yourself, for discovering the Myllog toad, the last remaining of its kind."
"Last of its kind... therefore infused with all of the energy multiplied through the generations throughout the years concentrated into one being..."
"... Of course!" By the time she had exclaimed the last two words, she was back on earth in the exact moment she'd left it.
"Did you just threaten me?" he asked. Anyanka fingered the pendant, and shook her head.
"What I meant was, if demons did exist, they'd probably be capable of finding employment in the mortal world. Hypothetically speaking."
"Ah, alright then." Harvey said. "I was worried about you for a minute. Now, would you like to see some others?"
"Maybe later." Anyanka said, walking out with a spring in her step. "I have to have words with Val."
"Right, jobseekers." Pauline addressed the evening class, of which Giles and Angel were a part. Angel was seated next to a man who had introduced himself as Ross Gaines. Ross looked like an ordinary man who had been through a fair bit of stress. Giles was next to a younger, somewhat less intelligent man named Mickey. Mickey had stringy hair in a mullet style, bad skin, and worse teeth, and tended to sound a little like a monkey. "Today, we're going to be looking at places where *you* will not get employed." Pauline said to the group in front of her. Giles coughed politely.
"Excuse me, but you don't know what our previous qualifications and work experiences are, how can you know where we will or won't be -"
"Shut up, dole scum!" she shouted at him. Giles, fearful, sat back immediately with his mouth shut. Ross looked at her darkly and shook his head.
"Right. Can anyone name a job that you need qualifications for?" she asked. "A job that is *beyond* any of your pathetic grasps." Mickey raised his hand and grinned eagerly. "Yes, Mickey love?"
"Policeman!" he called out.
"Yes! Policeman." Pauline wrote the word in large writing on her board. "Well done Mickey. Anyone else?" Mickey sat with an inane grin on his face. Angel raised a hand.
"NASA technician?" he suggested. Pauline sneered at him.
"Noone's *offering* you *that* job." She said, coldly. Angel shrugged.
"Not just now. They might, though?" he smiled, trying to appeal to her sense of humour. This failed miserably.
"I see we have another smart arse in the class, then." She said, face grim and embittered. "Don't cross me young man."
"Young...man..." Angel echoed through gritted teeth. No part of that applied to him in truth. If only she knew, she'd shut up soon enough.
"Don't let her get to you." Ross said, sympathetically. "She's a bullying cow, but she'll get her comeuppance." Angel absent-mindedly ran his tongue over his fangs. Yes, she would, one way or another.
"You been here long?" he asked Ross.
"Weeks." Ross said. "It's hell here, and she's got a very sad crush on that one there." He pointed to Mickey.
"Tell me the truth, does anyone really get a job through this?" Angel asked, bluntly. Ross shook his head.
"RIGHT!" Pauline addressed them. "You two are to sit at opposite ends of the class and *not* talk to one another, have you got that?" Angel looked up apologetically,
"Sorry, I was just asking if..."
"Don't talk back to me!" she exclaimed.
"For god's sake you old hag," Ross glared at her, "why do you have to treat us like school children?"
"Well maybe I wouldn't, if you didn't *act* like school children." Pauline hissed in reply.
"That's it." Angel said, struggling to regain his calm exterior. "I'm leaving."
"Sit down." Pauline ordered, staring grimly into his eyes. Angel looked around at the people, their looks of abject misery and despair, the hell that this woman was single-handedly putting them through. He'd killed demons for a thousandth of the horrific things this woman had done. Mental torture could indeed be as bad as physical, and he recognised *far* too much of himself in this woman for his comfort.
"If you try to stop me leaving," he said, trying to keep his cool, "you will regret it. We're on a Hellmouth, there are all sorts of weird violent energy fluctuations and I can't be held responsible for my actions."
"I've taken Judo classes." She sneered. "You think you can threaten me? Well, go on then. Go right ahead. Try and get out. You'll have to kill me before I'll let you..." CRACK. Angel looked down at his hands in shock. He had done it. Just like that. He'd snapped her neck. And everyone was now... cheering?
"Fucking BRILLIANT!" called out a woman from the back. "Someone should have done that a long time ago!"
"Yeah, good one Angel!" Ross agreed. "Maybe now we can get someone who can do the job properly."
Angel frowned. He'd killed a human being. Where was the horror, the what-have-I-done regret, the torturous guilt? It wouldn't come. He just couldn't bring himself to feel bad about his actions. Oh well. He grinned at the class, and then walked out to dispose of the body.