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. Friendship issues, some angst, a little bit of romance and Rudolph the Red-Nose reindeer. B/S, X/A, D/Other.
***
Anya was eyeing Xander strangely. The reindeer-costumed guy noticed, and tried to just shrug it off.
However, Xander Harris and patience hadn't been on good terms for a very long time, if ever. "What?" he eventually inquired.
"Nothing," the demoness replied lamely, starting to play with a lock of blonde hair.
The staring didn't stop, through.
Irritably Xander demanded, "OK, just knock it off, all right? Having a red nose's more than embarrassment enough, I don't need the whole freaky 'gazing at it' thing to make it even worse!"
"So this is causing you discomfort and annoyance? Tell me again why I should stop it," the blonde demoness scoffed, offering him a mean look, its sinister potential maximized by her clown-y makeup - in Xander's universe, anyway.
Xander's patience had disappeared completely by now. Anya had been acting particularly mean on the whole spooky vengeance topic, the entire night.
Which was odd as in the past couple of months, the former couple's relationship had improved considerably; due to the fact that they could now have a civil conversation without threatening to hack each other's limbs off, Anya in particular.
So the construction worker asked, "Seriously - what's going on here, Anya?"
"Xander Harris is being serious and not hiding behind any stupid attempt of making jokes? Now that's damn strong booze," the demoness snorted headstrongly.
Xander scowled. "I'll just glare from now on then, ma'am," he mumbled crustily, taking an indeed very relieving gulp of that damn strong booze.
Anya snorted belligerently one more time before giving up, "You knew," she said in the smallest voice Xander had ever heard coming from her.
"I knew what?" the carpenter asked with some annoyance.
The blonde woman snorted once more, with a roll of her eyes. "You so know what I'm talking about! You know what you knew, and you know that I know that you know you knew," she insisted.
A confused Xander just looked blankly at Anya.
"Rudolph!" she suddenly cried out loud, impatiently raising her hand only to let it drop and cut through the air a second later. "I don't know how you found out because I didn't tell you, but you knew!"
"What exactly did I know, Anya?" the dark-haired guy gave up trying to understand, with a tired sigh.
Anya sighed too, and diverted her eyes. "You knew Rudolph scares me. You found out about the clown thing somehow, and you planned a vengeance gig. And FYI, that's not only against union rules, but it was also a really low thing to do!"
"Oh my God, how will I ever live with my conscience now? A vengeance demon who has caused havoc across the world's accusing me of being low, for having a red nose," Xander mocked sarcastically, simulating a pained voice.
"Ha!" the demoness exclaimed in triumph. "Then you admit you're guilty!"
"Actually, I didn't say anything of the sort," he snarled back at her.
"Guilty, guilty, guilty," Anya just said in a sing-song voice, as Xander finished his half-full can of beer in a single shot and thought about starting to subscribe to the magazine called 'Guns and Ammo'.
***
"Spike, I... hey, Soul Boy, how you been lately? Can I get you a drink?" the Zeppo started to say, then cut himself off.
"Nah, that'll never work. And ix-nay the Soul Boy crap - that'll just remind him of Dead Boy," Xander mumbled smartly to himself, and turned back to stare at himself in the mirror with a feigned wide grin.
"Spike, buddy! Uh, nice duds, that a new leather duster?"
Spike, recently arrived in the room, just raised an eyebrow. "Already tanked on the booze, Reindeer Boy? Or are ya losin' touch with reality 'cause Anya's here, Harris?"
Xander snorted loudly. "Sod off, Bleach Boy," he said in a lousy Cockney accent.
"Gladly," the vampire retorted simply, turning his back to the dark-haired guy, ready to leave.
"No!" the carpenter hurriedly exclaimed. Xander then said painfully, feeling his pride being twisted down into a pretzel, "I... oh, what the hell, screw it! I need a favor," he added humbly.
Spike smirked, before spinning around to find himself staring back at the construction worker.
"And I should 'elp you 'cause I 'appen to be such a benevolent ponce now?" the blonde vamp replied, dripping sarcasm.
Xander sighed violently. "Never mind, it was a stupid idea in the first place. What the hell was I thinking, asking for help to Brood Boy jr. here!"
"Hey, watch it Monkey Boy," Spike advanced threateningly, but stopped harshly all of a sudden.
Xander chuckled. "Or what, Fangless? You'll call me mean British words?"
"It's not the bloody chip," the vampire mumbled, his eyes downcast. Then Spike glared at Xander, fed up. "I could still harm ya if I wanted it. It'd be worth every minute of the headache, you can bloody well believe me!"
The carpenter, more curious than arrogant now, teased him, "What is it, then? You've found God or something? Or you're just afraid of Buffy kickin' your pale ass? And here I thought you liked that," Xander scoffed somehow, the tension of his anger over past issues clearly never totally forgotten.
"It's not that," Spike retorted in annoyance. "Anyway, you wouldn't understand, you major arsewipe..."
"Right," Xander sneered, but his acrid tone was absent-mindedly dissolving into a curious and even self-effacing one. "Then what is it, really?"
"I'vegotabloodysoul," the vampire said hurriedly and in a low voice, his eyes travelling along the floor.
"What?" Xander asked loudly, making Spike roll his blue eyes.
"I've got a bloody soul already, you little wanker! I can't call you any mean British names, and I also can't kill time thinkin' o' painful ways to torture you no more - not without feeling major regret and sorrow, alright? Satisfied now?" the blond-haired undead snarled, lighting up a new cigarette.
A little ashamed, Xander uttered sympathetically, "Soul and chip, huh? It must suck being you right now..."
After receiving Spike's glare, the carpenter shrugged, encouraging the broody vampire, "Hey, don't be so down, Bleach Boy - hell, look on the bright side: at least you're not half as boring as Dead Boy was!"
Spike's lips showed a thin grin. "Peaches is really a wanker, isn't him?"
"What's the grand favor anyway?" he asked, changing the subject.
"You mean you'll help me?" Xander replied quickly, a little too ecstatic.
"Eh, why not? Been a boring night anyway, whelp," the vampire said.
"Don't you feel regret by calling me whelp?" the dark-haired guy inquired suspiciously.
Spike just shrugged. "Nope, 'cause it's damn well worth it."
***
Review, please! And hey, if you want, you could take a look at my new fics too, "The Observer" and "And It Feels Like Nothing"... Yep, this is in fact another case of a desesperate author looking for reviews... Can't help it ;)
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. Friendship issues, some angst, a little bit of romance and Rudolph the Red-Nose reindeer. B/S, X/A, D/Other.
***
Anya was eyeing Xander strangely. The reindeer-costumed guy noticed, and tried to just shrug it off.
However, Xander Harris and patience hadn't been on good terms for a very long time, if ever. "What?" he eventually inquired.
"Nothing," the demoness replied lamely, starting to play with a lock of blonde hair.
The staring didn't stop, through.
Irritably Xander demanded, "OK, just knock it off, all right? Having a red nose's more than embarrassment enough, I don't need the whole freaky 'gazing at it' thing to make it even worse!"
"So this is causing you discomfort and annoyance? Tell me again why I should stop it," the blonde demoness scoffed, offering him a mean look, its sinister potential maximized by her clown-y makeup - in Xander's universe, anyway.
Xander's patience had disappeared completely by now. Anya had been acting particularly mean on the whole spooky vengeance topic, the entire night.
Which was odd as in the past couple of months, the former couple's relationship had improved considerably; due to the fact that they could now have a civil conversation without threatening to hack each other's limbs off, Anya in particular.
So the construction worker asked, "Seriously - what's going on here, Anya?"
"Xander Harris is being serious and not hiding behind any stupid attempt of making jokes? Now that's damn strong booze," the demoness snorted headstrongly.
Xander scowled. "I'll just glare from now on then, ma'am," he mumbled crustily, taking an indeed very relieving gulp of that damn strong booze.
Anya snorted belligerently one more time before giving up, "You knew," she said in the smallest voice Xander had ever heard coming from her.
"I knew what?" the carpenter asked with some annoyance.
The blonde woman snorted once more, with a roll of her eyes. "You so know what I'm talking about! You know what you knew, and you know that I know that you know you knew," she insisted.
A confused Xander just looked blankly at Anya.
"Rudolph!" she suddenly cried out loud, impatiently raising her hand only to let it drop and cut through the air a second later. "I don't know how you found out because I didn't tell you, but you knew!"
"What exactly did I know, Anya?" the dark-haired guy gave up trying to understand, with a tired sigh.
Anya sighed too, and diverted her eyes. "You knew Rudolph scares me. You found out about the clown thing somehow, and you planned a vengeance gig. And FYI, that's not only against union rules, but it was also a really low thing to do!"
"Oh my God, how will I ever live with my conscience now? A vengeance demon who has caused havoc across the world's accusing me of being low, for having a red nose," Xander mocked sarcastically, simulating a pained voice.
"Ha!" the demoness exclaimed in triumph. "Then you admit you're guilty!"
"Actually, I didn't say anything of the sort," he snarled back at her.
"Guilty, guilty, guilty," Anya just said in a sing-song voice, as Xander finished his half-full can of beer in a single shot and thought about starting to subscribe to the magazine called 'Guns and Ammo'.
***
"Spike, I... hey, Soul Boy, how you been lately? Can I get you a drink?" the Zeppo started to say, then cut himself off.
"Nah, that'll never work. And ix-nay the Soul Boy crap - that'll just remind him of Dead Boy," Xander mumbled smartly to himself, and turned back to stare at himself in the mirror with a feigned wide grin.
"Spike, buddy! Uh, nice duds, that a new leather duster?"
Spike, recently arrived in the room, just raised an eyebrow. "Already tanked on the booze, Reindeer Boy? Or are ya losin' touch with reality 'cause Anya's here, Harris?"
Xander snorted loudly. "Sod off, Bleach Boy," he said in a lousy Cockney accent.
"Gladly," the vampire retorted simply, turning his back to the dark-haired guy, ready to leave.
"No!" the carpenter hurriedly exclaimed. Xander then said painfully, feeling his pride being twisted down into a pretzel, "I... oh, what the hell, screw it! I need a favor," he added humbly.
Spike smirked, before spinning around to find himself staring back at the construction worker.
"And I should 'elp you 'cause I 'appen to be such a benevolent ponce now?" the blonde vamp replied, dripping sarcasm.
Xander sighed violently. "Never mind, it was a stupid idea in the first place. What the hell was I thinking, asking for help to Brood Boy jr. here!"
"Hey, watch it Monkey Boy," Spike advanced threateningly, but stopped harshly all of a sudden.
Xander chuckled. "Or what, Fangless? You'll call me mean British words?"
"It's not the bloody chip," the vampire mumbled, his eyes downcast. Then Spike glared at Xander, fed up. "I could still harm ya if I wanted it. It'd be worth every minute of the headache, you can bloody well believe me!"
The carpenter, more curious than arrogant now, teased him, "What is it, then? You've found God or something? Or you're just afraid of Buffy kickin' your pale ass? And here I thought you liked that," Xander scoffed somehow, the tension of his anger over past issues clearly never totally forgotten.
"It's not that," Spike retorted in annoyance. "Anyway, you wouldn't understand, you major arsewipe..."
"Right," Xander sneered, but his acrid tone was absent-mindedly dissolving into a curious and even self-effacing one. "Then what is it, really?"
"I'vegotabloodysoul," the vampire said hurriedly and in a low voice, his eyes travelling along the floor.
"What?" Xander asked loudly, making Spike roll his blue eyes.
"I've got a bloody soul already, you little wanker! I can't call you any mean British names, and I also can't kill time thinkin' o' painful ways to torture you no more - not without feeling major regret and sorrow, alright? Satisfied now?" the blond-haired undead snarled, lighting up a new cigarette.
A little ashamed, Xander uttered sympathetically, "Soul and chip, huh? It must suck being you right now..."
After receiving Spike's glare, the carpenter shrugged, encouraging the broody vampire, "Hey, don't be so down, Bleach Boy - hell, look on the bright side: at least you're not half as boring as Dead Boy was!"
Spike's lips showed a thin grin. "Peaches is really a wanker, isn't him?"
"What's the grand favor anyway?" he asked, changing the subject.
"You mean you'll help me?" Xander replied quickly, a little too ecstatic.
"Eh, why not? Been a boring night anyway, whelp," the vampire said.
"Don't you feel regret by calling me whelp?" the dark-haired guy inquired suspiciously.
Spike just shrugged. "Nope, 'cause it's damn well worth it."
***
Review, please! And hey, if you want, you could take a look at my new fics too, "The Observer" and "And It Feels Like Nothing"... Yep, this is in fact another case of a desesperate author looking for reviews... Can't help it ;)