Title: Just another night in Sunnyhell (1/1)
Author: Brynhild
Pairing: Um... *shrug* It's up for interpretations.
Rating: PG or PG-13 I guess, just to be safe.
Summary: Just another night in Sunnydale, and Giles is faced with a near-impossible task.
Warning: I was up late last night reading Willow fanfic. Fell asleep. Dreamt. I have no idea where my subconscious got this idea.
Spoilers: None really... It's a little crazy fic, that doesn't really take place at any specific point in the timeline.
Disclaimer: Joss Whedon and a whole bunch of other ppl owns. I don't. I just like to dream.
AN: This is my first BtVS fic... feedback and cc is appreciated.


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Giles sighed. As he continued to let his gaze pour over the various columns and ciphers, the sheer amount of possible futures almost overwhelming him. He could avert Apocalypses, he could handle rowdy slayers, he could even cook a mean pot roast, but this... He took a moment to glance at his dark companion, the tension rolling off him in waves an obvious sign that he was having no luck either.

Angel sighed. He was sitting across from Giles at the tiny table, his eyes roaming over a copy of the text Giles was studying. There were even a few pictures, but nothing he really recognized. He frowned, as another word escaped him. "Hey Giles? What does this mean?" He pointed to the strange word.

"Flambé." Giles replied, glancing through the context. "It means the victim is drenched with a liquor and then set on fire."

Angel shuddered. Some people thought draining human's blood was a strange cuisine, but this... he shook his head, trying to rid himself of the mental images of these creatures' peculiar eating habits. Both men returned to their silent ponderings of the manuscript, but were soon interrupted by a loud bang. They both glanced up towards the entrance to see the doors swing wildly closed from their collision with the walls, and the frantic red-head hurrying towards them.

Angel's face creased slightly with worry, his acute senses picking up the frenzied beating of her heart as she raced to the table and sat down beside Giles. She was breathing quickly, her face was flushed, and... Angel bit back a groan as her scent wafted over him... she was incredibly aroused. Instantly he was glad he was in a sitting position with the table hiding any embarrassing evidence. "I am SO sorry I'm late." Willow exclaimed, as a tall blond man strolled in the room after her, his black leather duster furling behind him.

"Not to worry, pet. I told you they wouldn't start the fun without us." Spike grinned before taking the seat beside Angel and snatching the text out of his hands. Angel growled slightly at his childe's impertinence but didn't retaliate.

Willow giggled at the vampires before turning to Giles. She glanced from the small restaurant's lamented menu to the harrowed expression on the watcher's face. "Can't decide what you want to eat?" she asked.

Giles spared her a look before returning to the cuisine menu in his hands. "Well, the smoked salmon looks good, but then there's the spinage-stuffed ravioli, and the water-chestnut salad..." he sighed again. "Decisions, decisions..."

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I know, I'm certifiably crazy, but I figured that was as good a place as any to end it. My subconscious is a dark and dank place. Fictional characters and strange plot bunnies thrive there...

~*~ Brynhild