Title: Wheels Of Engagement
Author: Jane McCartney
Disclaimer: Not mine, never will be either, damn!
Classification: BTVS Season 7 Halloween future fic.
Rating: PG13
Feedback: Gimme, gimme, gimme. Ah, 'nuff said.
E-mail: titania-dora@bol.com.br
Distribution: Anywhere, I don't mind, just credit me and inform me where it's at.
Acknowledgements: Thanks to everyone involved and, of course, a big special thanks to Theo.
Summary: In one possible reality, the Sunnydale gang comes together on October 31st, 2002. For some, things are looking up; for others, definitely down.
***
"You're enjoying this far too much, aren't you?"
Buffy Summers looked at her friend and tried to suppress a smirk, shaking her head vehemently. "Nuh-uh, nope, no way," the blonde girl stated firmly, forcing a serious look onto her face and shaking her head the entire time.
For some odd reason, Xander Harris just didn't seem to buy it and glanced at her, looking surprisingly menacing all of a sudden.
"Maybe just a little?" the Slayer frowned tentatively, feeling the pressure of her friend's rather unamused expression.
"Oh, come on! I mean I'm Rudolph here, Buffy!" Xander cried out in an undignified way, his Halloween costume - the last in the shop, and gotten by the man at the very final possible minute - making his snappy behavior somehow hard to take seriously.
The former Zeppo started to pace back and forth, with nervous and hurried steps. "Do you even realize what this implies? I'm destined to be some freaking reindeer of Santa's!"
"It's not so bad," the petite girl risked saying, crossing her arms above her chest with a suppressed urge to crack up in laughter.
"My nose is red, Buff," Xander said, exasperated, a hint of despair in his voice. "And it glows in the dark!"
Buffy tried to repress another laugh with her fist, but failed miserably this time.
The man standing by her side just eyed her, not seeming to share her joy at the moment at all. "How nice to know you find my suffering amusing," Xander snorted grumpily.
But once again, the gigantic and monstrous trappings of a reindeer - with Xander's uncovered head present, as that part of the costume was on the table with its pointy antlers - just couldn't make his mad face as threatening as he'd intended.
The doorbell chose to ring at that moment, and then a desperate sequence of heavy knocks on the door followed almost instantly. Xander grunted. He knew whose trademark that kind of knock was and, quite honestly, he just wasn't feeling in the mood to deal right now.
Buffy opened the door and a thick sandy-colored blanket burst in quickly, swearing so many British curses the two friends couldn't even begin to try and decipher at least half of them.
"Bloody hell," Spike finally shoved away his protection against the weakening sunlight of late afternoon, adjusting his outfit with quick sweeps of his hand to take some of the dust off his clothes.
The British undead raised an eyebrow at the brunette reindeer. "Lovely costume, you wanker."
Any other time Xander would have certainly bitched back at him, but his and Buffy's mouths had just dropped directly to the floor the moment Spike had taken off the blanket, the both of them unable to speak at all.
"You look... different," Buffy quailed after some time, finding it hard to use words.
"What? Charlie Chaplin was an alright bloke, ya know," Spike replied, in a defensive mood, as he looked at his duds.
Xander was still frowning, eyeing the blonde's costume with an awkward glance. "I dunno... from this angle that moustache kinda makes you look like Hitler, Spike..." the glorified bricklayer shrugged.
"Bloody Americans," the vampire sighed, "Can't appreciate a li'l bit o' culture..."
"And please, remind me why he's here again?" Xander snorted to Buffy. But his glance, one none-too-amicable, was maintained on the other male in the room instead.
The thing was, even though the attempted rape thing was long since in the past, the son of Anthony Harris knew he could never again trust Spike to be left alone with his girls - ever.
The blond-haired vampire echoed his unfriendly stare. "Look, whelp, me night's plans certainly don't include you, but I made a promise to the Nibblet I'd come 'ere - and I'm going to stick to it!"
And with a smirk of sarcasm, knowing he'd hit a weak spot there, Spike then added, "And maybe I just 'appen to find it bloody amusing seein' your idiot face gettin' all broody, over seein' that former pet o' yours and her new beau hanging 'round all lovebird-like..."
"Hey!" the young man replied grimly, poking his costume's claws against Spike's black suit in a threatening way. "You stay away from that topic, ya hear me Soul Boy?"
"So, you think they've shagged already?" the vampire asked Buffy, with a nod of his head and a raised eyebrow, obviously just to piss Xander off.
"OK, that's it - I do not have to take this crap! Not from the Buffy- whipped Captain Peroxide here..." the young man grunted and moved threateningly, ready to throw the first punch.
The blonde Slayer sighed. Never in a million years, would she have thought she'd have to prevent a fight between Rudolph the Red-Nose reindeer, and Charlie Chaplin.
"Guys, please," the girl interjected, putting a hand on both of their chests and pushing them away from each other.
And when the hostile ambience didn't seem to dissipate, with the hostile gazes still exchanged in this idiotic pissing contest, Buffy became exasperated and decided to give her previously girly pushing-away thing a little more Slayer strength.
Enough to have, at the next moment, landed Spike on the floor and Xander on the couch.
"Ouch!" the dark-haired young man got up with a yelp, still a little hazy though. He joked, "Huh - of all the fantasies I've ever had with either Buffy, Marilyn Monroe and spanking... believe me when I say being dressed up in a reindeer costume, so definitely wasn't included in any of them."
Buffy blushed, and then suddenly felt the need to send an explanatory 'it- was-so-a-Willow-idea' look to a grinning Xander, who'd noticed her embarrassment with her costume.
And indeed the blonde girl looked remarkably spectacular, all dressed up in a faithful copy of Marilyn's famous white dress, her hair done up in a similar way to the movie star; Buffy even had the cute dark freckle, painted on with a make-up pencil by Willow earlier.
In the meanwhile, Spike had jumped up from the floor and took some seconds to recompose his equilibrium. And then, he really noticed Buffy for the first time that night.
At least, now that she wasn't majorly behind Xander's enormous costume anymore...
"You look all nice, luv," Spike said with a small smile, his eyes showing more amazement than lust and seemingly fixated on the pretty blonde in the center of the living room.
"Y'know, personally I'd hafta go for Rita Hayworth as my favorite back then, and I always had a thing for Gilda too, but Kennedy's bint was definitely not too bad either," the vampire then added in explanation.
At the same time trying to put on a disinterested face, after his unpremeditated display of practically melting in wonder for a couple of seconds.
"What he's tryin' to say is you look really beautiful, Buff," Xander amended, saving his enemy from a few moments earlier from complete humiliation, at the obvious failure of what presumably was his plan to show disinterest and retain some male pride.
"Thanks guys," Buffy smiled sheepishly, seemingly getting more comfortable with her costume as the minutes passed by. "You also look very..."
The Slayer gave it a second of thought, before looking respectively at Xander and then at Spike. She then said frowning, "Hairy. And... Nazi."
"Bollocks," Spike cursed under his breath, at the duo's agreement to characterize his Chaplin hommage as a remembrance of Adolf Hitler. "Well, I guess I did eat an awful lot o' those bloody Aryans over in France at the time..."
***
Some time and three cans of beer later, the living room's light went off, as well as the kitchen's and hall's, and the threesome stopped their bickering at the sudden disturbance.
Buffy and Spike wondered silently about the unexpected happening, and Xander whispered, "What the hell..."
Before he could end the sentence, Willow Rosenberg's voice yelled from upstairs, "Buffy, I think the power's out!"
"Ya think?" the Slayer muttered sarcastically, at her red-haired friend's statement of the obvious.
Willow descended down the stairs in some hurry, her hair half-curly and half-straight with a hairdryer in one hand. The redhead stopped when she was in front of the girl with the Monroe costume, "Please tell me you remembered to pay the electricity bill?"
"I swear to you, it was the first thing on my mind before I started reading this month's Cosmo," the Slayer winced after some time, sending an apologetic look at her friend.
"Buffy! How am I supposed to get my hair done now?" Willow wailed with a whiny voice. "I, I can't just appear in the Bronze like, la, la, la, a girl who didn't pay her power bill and has freak hair," she concluded with some hint of despair.
The hacker had come a long way, since Tara had died and she'd tried to destroy the world out of grief and pain. Giles had helped her in England, and even though she wasn't completely herself again... she wasn't a genocidal lunatic anymore, either.
"We, we'll think of something," Buffy risked saying, and the redhead sent her a small look of hope.
"Yeah, I'm sure we will," the Slayer sighed, ordering her mind to think up at least 23 backup plans for an actual good idea - and minimize the damage her Cosmo saga had caused, during the time she was supposed to have been at the bank.
***
TBC. Review me... It's taking only a sec from ya, but I'll be super happy girl for ages afterwards!
Author: Jane McCartney
Disclaimer: Not mine, never will be either, damn!
Classification: BTVS Season 7 Halloween future fic.
Rating: PG13
Feedback: Gimme, gimme, gimme. Ah, 'nuff said.
E-mail: titania-dora@bol.com.br
Distribution: Anywhere, I don't mind, just credit me and inform me where it's at.
Acknowledgements: Thanks to everyone involved and, of course, a big special thanks to Theo.
Summary: In one possible reality, the Sunnydale gang comes together on October 31st, 2002. For some, things are looking up; for others, definitely down.
***
"You're enjoying this far too much, aren't you?"
Buffy Summers looked at her friend and tried to suppress a smirk, shaking her head vehemently. "Nuh-uh, nope, no way," the blonde girl stated firmly, forcing a serious look onto her face and shaking her head the entire time.
For some odd reason, Xander Harris just didn't seem to buy it and glanced at her, looking surprisingly menacing all of a sudden.
"Maybe just a little?" the Slayer frowned tentatively, feeling the pressure of her friend's rather unamused expression.
"Oh, come on! I mean I'm Rudolph here, Buffy!" Xander cried out in an undignified way, his Halloween costume - the last in the shop, and gotten by the man at the very final possible minute - making his snappy behavior somehow hard to take seriously.
The former Zeppo started to pace back and forth, with nervous and hurried steps. "Do you even realize what this implies? I'm destined to be some freaking reindeer of Santa's!"
"It's not so bad," the petite girl risked saying, crossing her arms above her chest with a suppressed urge to crack up in laughter.
"My nose is red, Buff," Xander said, exasperated, a hint of despair in his voice. "And it glows in the dark!"
Buffy tried to repress another laugh with her fist, but failed miserably this time.
The man standing by her side just eyed her, not seeming to share her joy at the moment at all. "How nice to know you find my suffering amusing," Xander snorted grumpily.
But once again, the gigantic and monstrous trappings of a reindeer - with Xander's uncovered head present, as that part of the costume was on the table with its pointy antlers - just couldn't make his mad face as threatening as he'd intended.
The doorbell chose to ring at that moment, and then a desperate sequence of heavy knocks on the door followed almost instantly. Xander grunted. He knew whose trademark that kind of knock was and, quite honestly, he just wasn't feeling in the mood to deal right now.
Buffy opened the door and a thick sandy-colored blanket burst in quickly, swearing so many British curses the two friends couldn't even begin to try and decipher at least half of them.
"Bloody hell," Spike finally shoved away his protection against the weakening sunlight of late afternoon, adjusting his outfit with quick sweeps of his hand to take some of the dust off his clothes.
The British undead raised an eyebrow at the brunette reindeer. "Lovely costume, you wanker."
Any other time Xander would have certainly bitched back at him, but his and Buffy's mouths had just dropped directly to the floor the moment Spike had taken off the blanket, the both of them unable to speak at all.
"You look... different," Buffy quailed after some time, finding it hard to use words.
"What? Charlie Chaplin was an alright bloke, ya know," Spike replied, in a defensive mood, as he looked at his duds.
Xander was still frowning, eyeing the blonde's costume with an awkward glance. "I dunno... from this angle that moustache kinda makes you look like Hitler, Spike..." the glorified bricklayer shrugged.
"Bloody Americans," the vampire sighed, "Can't appreciate a li'l bit o' culture..."
"And please, remind me why he's here again?" Xander snorted to Buffy. But his glance, one none-too-amicable, was maintained on the other male in the room instead.
The thing was, even though the attempted rape thing was long since in the past, the son of Anthony Harris knew he could never again trust Spike to be left alone with his girls - ever.
The blond-haired vampire echoed his unfriendly stare. "Look, whelp, me night's plans certainly don't include you, but I made a promise to the Nibblet I'd come 'ere - and I'm going to stick to it!"
And with a smirk of sarcasm, knowing he'd hit a weak spot there, Spike then added, "And maybe I just 'appen to find it bloody amusing seein' your idiot face gettin' all broody, over seein' that former pet o' yours and her new beau hanging 'round all lovebird-like..."
"Hey!" the young man replied grimly, poking his costume's claws against Spike's black suit in a threatening way. "You stay away from that topic, ya hear me Soul Boy?"
"So, you think they've shagged already?" the vampire asked Buffy, with a nod of his head and a raised eyebrow, obviously just to piss Xander off.
"OK, that's it - I do not have to take this crap! Not from the Buffy- whipped Captain Peroxide here..." the young man grunted and moved threateningly, ready to throw the first punch.
The blonde Slayer sighed. Never in a million years, would she have thought she'd have to prevent a fight between Rudolph the Red-Nose reindeer, and Charlie Chaplin.
"Guys, please," the girl interjected, putting a hand on both of their chests and pushing them away from each other.
And when the hostile ambience didn't seem to dissipate, with the hostile gazes still exchanged in this idiotic pissing contest, Buffy became exasperated and decided to give her previously girly pushing-away thing a little more Slayer strength.
Enough to have, at the next moment, landed Spike on the floor and Xander on the couch.
"Ouch!" the dark-haired young man got up with a yelp, still a little hazy though. He joked, "Huh - of all the fantasies I've ever had with either Buffy, Marilyn Monroe and spanking... believe me when I say being dressed up in a reindeer costume, so definitely wasn't included in any of them."
Buffy blushed, and then suddenly felt the need to send an explanatory 'it- was-so-a-Willow-idea' look to a grinning Xander, who'd noticed her embarrassment with her costume.
And indeed the blonde girl looked remarkably spectacular, all dressed up in a faithful copy of Marilyn's famous white dress, her hair done up in a similar way to the movie star; Buffy even had the cute dark freckle, painted on with a make-up pencil by Willow earlier.
In the meanwhile, Spike had jumped up from the floor and took some seconds to recompose his equilibrium. And then, he really noticed Buffy for the first time that night.
At least, now that she wasn't majorly behind Xander's enormous costume anymore...
"You look all nice, luv," Spike said with a small smile, his eyes showing more amazement than lust and seemingly fixated on the pretty blonde in the center of the living room.
"Y'know, personally I'd hafta go for Rita Hayworth as my favorite back then, and I always had a thing for Gilda too, but Kennedy's bint was definitely not too bad either," the vampire then added in explanation.
At the same time trying to put on a disinterested face, after his unpremeditated display of practically melting in wonder for a couple of seconds.
"What he's tryin' to say is you look really beautiful, Buff," Xander amended, saving his enemy from a few moments earlier from complete humiliation, at the obvious failure of what presumably was his plan to show disinterest and retain some male pride.
"Thanks guys," Buffy smiled sheepishly, seemingly getting more comfortable with her costume as the minutes passed by. "You also look very..."
The Slayer gave it a second of thought, before looking respectively at Xander and then at Spike. She then said frowning, "Hairy. And... Nazi."
"Bollocks," Spike cursed under his breath, at the duo's agreement to characterize his Chaplin hommage as a remembrance of Adolf Hitler. "Well, I guess I did eat an awful lot o' those bloody Aryans over in France at the time..."
***
Some time and three cans of beer later, the living room's light went off, as well as the kitchen's and hall's, and the threesome stopped their bickering at the sudden disturbance.
Buffy and Spike wondered silently about the unexpected happening, and Xander whispered, "What the hell..."
Before he could end the sentence, Willow Rosenberg's voice yelled from upstairs, "Buffy, I think the power's out!"
"Ya think?" the Slayer muttered sarcastically, at her red-haired friend's statement of the obvious.
Willow descended down the stairs in some hurry, her hair half-curly and half-straight with a hairdryer in one hand. The redhead stopped when she was in front of the girl with the Monroe costume, "Please tell me you remembered to pay the electricity bill?"
"I swear to you, it was the first thing on my mind before I started reading this month's Cosmo," the Slayer winced after some time, sending an apologetic look at her friend.
"Buffy! How am I supposed to get my hair done now?" Willow wailed with a whiny voice. "I, I can't just appear in the Bronze like, la, la, la, a girl who didn't pay her power bill and has freak hair," she concluded with some hint of despair.
The hacker had come a long way, since Tara had died and she'd tried to destroy the world out of grief and pain. Giles had helped her in England, and even though she wasn't completely herself again... she wasn't a genocidal lunatic anymore, either.
"We, we'll think of something," Buffy risked saying, and the redhead sent her a small look of hope.
"Yeah, I'm sure we will," the Slayer sighed, ordering her mind to think up at least 23 backup plans for an actual good idea - and minimize the damage her Cosmo saga had caused, during the time she was supposed to have been at the bank.
***
TBC. Review me... It's taking only a sec from ya, but I'll be super happy girl for ages afterwards!