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: janemccartney@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. Multi-character fic. Friendship issues and a little bit of romance.
***
Buffy sat next to Xander, on the couch. The can of beer, still half-full, was staring at the young man encouragingly.
"Do ya need some cheering up?" the blonde girl asked tentatively, noting the odd ritual.
"Depends," Xander snorted, hints of sarcasm in his voice and his eyes fixed firmly on the dirty-minded can of liquor.
It was like a summoning spell. You couldn't just blame chemistry - especially when your former fiancée's tongue was dancing dirtily inside Johnny the Rich Banker Prodigy's mouth.
Xander continued, as his petite listener took a gulp of the wonderful alcohol herself, "Whaddaya think of getting yourself a nice comfortable cell in some penitentiary, with the government paying all your bills? And the only thing you'll have to do in exchange is pee in front of 50 other women, for like the rest of your life?"
"Sounds appealing," Buffy replied with a frown. "I'd have to get somebody to take care of Dawn, though. And I don't think Social Services would be very amused..."
Xander, in despite of himself, shot a sideways glance to the girl and chuckled.
The Slayer, a sheepish smirk on her own lips too, asked him, "So, what do I gotta do for such a tempting proposition?"
"Well, nothing too big actually," Xander said off-handedly. "You know - murder, maybe some torture, just the ordinary Hellmouth stuff."
"Right," Buffy also nodded casually, playfully entering into his twisted universe of jealousy. "But I don't know if we'll get all those privileges by killin' a demon, Xand. Ya know, it's that damn discriminatory Hellmouth thing..."
"I was talking about John."
"I know. Me too."
Xander shocked his head and grinned. "I'm really pathetic, aren't I?"
"You're askin' this of Buffy Summers, oh glorious goddess of pathetic?" the blonde girl imitated a voice of the British royal family.
Xander chuckled. "Believe me, you cannot win this contest against moi, Buffster. It's just pushing your luck too much..."
Buffy let her body descend further onto the couch. "You serious? My ex- boyfriends, one's a cursed vampire. The other chose an icky jungle instead of me. The last... guy I was with," she added pensively for a second, "tried to impose Nazism all over the world. Plus, that moustache? Just tacky..."
"And he has a soul nowadays," Xander added in a casual manner, but sounding strangely deep and meaningful about it. Buffy eyed him. He just shrugged innocently.
The petite Slayer frowned friskily. "I didn't think - I mean, it was no big. Ya know, not worth mentioning again."
"Huh, me neither. I mean, a vampire with a soul? Pfft," the dark-haired guy snorted, a mocking look on his face. "Been there, done that, bought the Soul Boy T-shirt - ya know?"
Buffy smiled a little, finally lowering her defenses against the smooth and friendly bickering that had been their conversation for the last few minutes.
The dirty-minded can of beer was definitely flirting with Buffy now. She couldn't be so rude with the poor creature and thus took a large, relieving gulp, trying not to think too much - or even at all.
"Ah, and another lost soul gives in to the sweet oblivion of liquor and thus the upcoming hangover," Xander mused.
"Amen to that," the blonde girl chimed in, briefly clinking her can against his.
The two friends stayed in silence for a minute or two, staring blankly ahead, the drinks clasped still in their hands. A frustrated and furious Anya, noticing her tactics weren't working on Xander anymore, shoved John away without explanations and went into the kitchen.
Another beer was about to fulfill its destiny, it was going to be picked up by the blonde demoness in unspoken distress.
Four gone, eight more to go...
***
Dawn was playing absent-mindedly with some locks of her Grease-like ponytail. She was exasperated. Bored. Plus, frightened to death.
Dan hadn't arrived yet for their date, and, in precisely five seconds, he'd be exactly two minutes late.
And four... three... two... one. Oh my God. Two full minutes. That had to mean an official ditch.
What if it was just a prank? Oh no, I'm a prank now? Everybody would laugh at her tomorrow in class. Oh my God, they might even bring a camera! She was dead meat.
Dawn thought that maybe she shouldn't go to class tomorrow then. Maybe she should move to another country. Or make with the plastic surgery, and become a complete different person. Michael Jackson had done it - well, granted he was rich. Whatever.
But she wouldn't be recognized anymore and, plus, she could make up a real cool story about it. Like saying she'd been captured by aliens. Or become a dancer in Madonna's newest video clip. Or, or a dangerous fugitive on the loose. She could be a myth...
Dawn the Sunnydale Bitch. Sounds better than Buffy the vampire Slayer... Now if that didn't sound cool, nothing would. Maybe it was a little forward... OK, so maybe it wasn't that cool after all.
And maybe, who knows, she should do both and move out too. Dawn had always wanted to visit Brazil, and fly on down to Rio. A tan definitely wouldn't do anything bad for her skin...
Jesus Christ. Just three minutes late, and she was in Delirium Land already!
Well, I do have a vengeance demon just across the room...
***
The familiar noise of the doorbell echoed, and Buffy got up with a grunt and reached for the door.
Dawn, a little too jumpy, eyed her reflection in the mirror one last time and cleaned off a tiny amount of lipstick staining her teeth.
As her older sister, grumpy at the teen's urgings, opened the door, Dawn's wild grin faltered when Spike's familiar figure came in.
The brunette teenager grunted loudly, and started banging her head lightly against the wall, repeatedly and in defeat.
Spike just shrugged, as a pang of worry and hurt passed through his blue eyes. "Me effect on chits used to be an awful lot more pleasant, in the ol' days..."
***
Willow had just come back; more lit candles had been arranged in the living room to attend the nightfall's darkness. The redhead had a small smile of triumph on her face, as her fingers cautiously lit up the very last candle with a match.
"And, fiat lux," the petite girl cheered as the flame brightened one more spot of the hall.
Feeling, above all, surprised at how this exhaustive work hadn't put her mind onto a sulky desire for using, or rather craving, magic.
And then, at the very next second, all the lights of the Summers' house suddenly came on - and several cheers were heard from everybody.
Spike walked in with an odd and proud smirk. Willow just groaned loudly in frustration.
The blonde vampire, a look of hurt present on his pallid features, just whined in a strong British accent, "What's the bloody matter with all the bints tonight, then?"
***
Please, review! I wanna know what you think...
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: janemccartney@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. Multi-character fic. Friendship issues and a little bit of romance.
***
Buffy sat next to Xander, on the couch. The can of beer, still half-full, was staring at the young man encouragingly.
"Do ya need some cheering up?" the blonde girl asked tentatively, noting the odd ritual.
"Depends," Xander snorted, hints of sarcasm in his voice and his eyes fixed firmly on the dirty-minded can of liquor.
It was like a summoning spell. You couldn't just blame chemistry - especially when your former fiancée's tongue was dancing dirtily inside Johnny the Rich Banker Prodigy's mouth.
Xander continued, as his petite listener took a gulp of the wonderful alcohol herself, "Whaddaya think of getting yourself a nice comfortable cell in some penitentiary, with the government paying all your bills? And the only thing you'll have to do in exchange is pee in front of 50 other women, for like the rest of your life?"
"Sounds appealing," Buffy replied with a frown. "I'd have to get somebody to take care of Dawn, though. And I don't think Social Services would be very amused..."
Xander, in despite of himself, shot a sideways glance to the girl and chuckled.
The Slayer, a sheepish smirk on her own lips too, asked him, "So, what do I gotta do for such a tempting proposition?"
"Well, nothing too big actually," Xander said off-handedly. "You know - murder, maybe some torture, just the ordinary Hellmouth stuff."
"Right," Buffy also nodded casually, playfully entering into his twisted universe of jealousy. "But I don't know if we'll get all those privileges by killin' a demon, Xand. Ya know, it's that damn discriminatory Hellmouth thing..."
"I was talking about John."
"I know. Me too."
Xander shocked his head and grinned. "I'm really pathetic, aren't I?"
"You're askin' this of Buffy Summers, oh glorious goddess of pathetic?" the blonde girl imitated a voice of the British royal family.
Xander chuckled. "Believe me, you cannot win this contest against moi, Buffster. It's just pushing your luck too much..."
Buffy let her body descend further onto the couch. "You serious? My ex- boyfriends, one's a cursed vampire. The other chose an icky jungle instead of me. The last... guy I was with," she added pensively for a second, "tried to impose Nazism all over the world. Plus, that moustache? Just tacky..."
"And he has a soul nowadays," Xander added in a casual manner, but sounding strangely deep and meaningful about it. Buffy eyed him. He just shrugged innocently.
The petite Slayer frowned friskily. "I didn't think - I mean, it was no big. Ya know, not worth mentioning again."
"Huh, me neither. I mean, a vampire with a soul? Pfft," the dark-haired guy snorted, a mocking look on his face. "Been there, done that, bought the Soul Boy T-shirt - ya know?"
Buffy smiled a little, finally lowering her defenses against the smooth and friendly bickering that had been their conversation for the last few minutes.
The dirty-minded can of beer was definitely flirting with Buffy now. She couldn't be so rude with the poor creature and thus took a large, relieving gulp, trying not to think too much - or even at all.
"Ah, and another lost soul gives in to the sweet oblivion of liquor and thus the upcoming hangover," Xander mused.
"Amen to that," the blonde girl chimed in, briefly clinking her can against his.
The two friends stayed in silence for a minute or two, staring blankly ahead, the drinks clasped still in their hands. A frustrated and furious Anya, noticing her tactics weren't working on Xander anymore, shoved John away without explanations and went into the kitchen.
Another beer was about to fulfill its destiny, it was going to be picked up by the blonde demoness in unspoken distress.
Four gone, eight more to go...
***
Dawn was playing absent-mindedly with some locks of her Grease-like ponytail. She was exasperated. Bored. Plus, frightened to death.
Dan hadn't arrived yet for their date, and, in precisely five seconds, he'd be exactly two minutes late.
And four... three... two... one. Oh my God. Two full minutes. That had to mean an official ditch.
What if it was just a prank? Oh no, I'm a prank now? Everybody would laugh at her tomorrow in class. Oh my God, they might even bring a camera! She was dead meat.
Dawn thought that maybe she shouldn't go to class tomorrow then. Maybe she should move to another country. Or make with the plastic surgery, and become a complete different person. Michael Jackson had done it - well, granted he was rich. Whatever.
But she wouldn't be recognized anymore and, plus, she could make up a real cool story about it. Like saying she'd been captured by aliens. Or become a dancer in Madonna's newest video clip. Or, or a dangerous fugitive on the loose. She could be a myth...
Dawn the Sunnydale Bitch. Sounds better than Buffy the vampire Slayer... Now if that didn't sound cool, nothing would. Maybe it was a little forward... OK, so maybe it wasn't that cool after all.
And maybe, who knows, she should do both and move out too. Dawn had always wanted to visit Brazil, and fly on down to Rio. A tan definitely wouldn't do anything bad for her skin...
Jesus Christ. Just three minutes late, and she was in Delirium Land already!
Well, I do have a vengeance demon just across the room...
***
The familiar noise of the doorbell echoed, and Buffy got up with a grunt and reached for the door.
Dawn, a little too jumpy, eyed her reflection in the mirror one last time and cleaned off a tiny amount of lipstick staining her teeth.
As her older sister, grumpy at the teen's urgings, opened the door, Dawn's wild grin faltered when Spike's familiar figure came in.
The brunette teenager grunted loudly, and started banging her head lightly against the wall, repeatedly and in defeat.
Spike just shrugged, as a pang of worry and hurt passed through his blue eyes. "Me effect on chits used to be an awful lot more pleasant, in the ol' days..."
***
Willow had just come back; more lit candles had been arranged in the living room to attend the nightfall's darkness. The redhead had a small smile of triumph on her face, as her fingers cautiously lit up the very last candle with a match.
"And, fiat lux," the petite girl cheered as the flame brightened one more spot of the hall.
Feeling, above all, surprised at how this exhaustive work hadn't put her mind onto a sulky desire for using, or rather craving, magic.
And then, at the very next second, all the lights of the Summers' house suddenly came on - and several cheers were heard from everybody.
Spike walked in with an odd and proud smirk. Willow just groaned loudly in frustration.
The blonde vampire, a look of hurt present on his pallid features, just whined in a strong British accent, "What's the bloody matter with all the bints tonight, then?"
***
Please, review! I wanna know what you think...