Title: Miss Congeniality
Summary: A/U...based on the movie, well, Miss Congeniality. Buffy Summers is a no-nonsense FBI agent, who is given the assignment to go undercover at the Miss America pageant.
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: Not mine...don't sue.
Pairing: Spuffy...as always.
~
"Glxxnghxx!" Buffy snored away, sitting next to Giles on the compact commuter plane to Texas.
"GLXXNGHAAXXXXX!" In her sleep, she flung her arm around Giles' waist.
"Alright, wake up time, now." He muttered, slapping her face lightly.
"Mmm..." Buffy stretched herself awake, "We there yet?"
"About 15 minutes. However, I could not bear one more moment of your incessant snoring. You must do something about that."
"That's your job, pal." Buffy said with a yawn. She looked around for something to eat...she was starving.
"Where are the, uh, flight attendants?" She asked, craning her neck.
"Sorry, Summers," The seat in front of her said, "But this is a commuter. No flight attendants, no food." Spike spun around and raised his eyebrow, "Must be hell for you."
"Shut it." Buffy said, holding her stomach, "So, what's the first stop?"
"Beauty warehouse which, incidentally, cost me thousands of dollars to put in place." Giles said, rubbing his temples.
"Oh, right. For my super-makeover." Buffy said, widening her eyes and bobbing her head around, "Will you teach me how to cry, too? For when I'm selected as the top 5, I mean." Buffy pretended to wipe away a tear and sniffed, "Oh, if I only had a brain!" Spike smirked and was about to laugh when he caught view of Giles' face. He decided to turn around and just pretend he hadn't seen Buffy at all.
"You also need to learn some respect for these girls if you ever want to-" Giles began.
"Respect?" Buffy gawaffed, "Respect for what? For girls whose lives revolve around making sure they look pretty for the camera? Sorry, but that's not my idea of a respectable female. It's like the goddamn feminist movement never happened."
Giles stewed in his anger for a few moments before stealing a glance at his latest project, for the hundred and ninth time since they boarded the plane. If he wanted her to be ready, at all, for the preliminaries, he would need nothing short of a miracle...
~
"OW!" Buffy screamed, as the waxist yanked off the first layer of eyebrow hair.
"May I ask you a question? Exactly how many times in your life have cleaned up those monstrosities?" Giles asked, looking over the waxing table, as five people brushed her hair, another two gave her a manicure, seven shaved, waxed, and smoothed her legs, and a team of high specialized dentists cleaned her teeth.
"Um, never?" Buffy offered through the clanking of metal inside her mouth.
"Look at my surprised face." Giles said, rolling his eyes.
"Jerk." She muttered, "Ow! Geez! Could I get up anesthesia or something?"
~
"Hey, Giles." Spike tapped the older Brit on the shoulder, "How she doin' ?"
"How many different world religions are there?" Giles asked, answering Spike's question with a question. Spike shrugged and cocked his head expectantly.
"Well, pray to ALL of their gods."
~
"Here ya go, Summers." Spike leaned down and handed her a tiny ear piece, as she sat, her hair foiled and her face green from a facial. "Microphone, tiny camera," He gave her an American flag pin, "and your pageant registration and new license."
"Buffy Anne Summers." She read, "You didn't change my name?"
"Didn't have to. You were given, at birth, the best bloody pageant name in the lot. Your mum must be some sort of a clairvoyant." Buffy tried to kick him in the shins, but Spike easily dodged it.
"Beat me up later, mate. For now, focus on lookin' gorgeous." Spike smirked and walked away.
"I can't decide who's the bigger jerk...you or Giles!" She yelled.
~
Spike, Xander, Oz, Graham, and Forrest leaned up against the Bureau's car. Xander sighed and looked down at his watch...it was nearing 8:00 a.m. They had been up since 5:00 a.m. the previous morning.
"Need. Sleep." He mumbled, looking straight at Spike.
"We all do, mate. Summers should be outta there in, 5 to 10 minutes is what Giles said."
"A half hour ago!" Xander complained.
"Be patient, man." Oz said, strangely serene.
"It is getting a little ridiculous." Forrest said, looking at his watch, "I don't even want to know how many hours we've been here."
"Yeah, yeah..." Spike commented, taking another drag on his cigarette.
Suddenly, the doors opened. Giles walked out, followed by the technicians, all walking in a wall, as though they were concealing something. Giles had an odd sort of smile on his face, one that seemed genuine and not sardonic. Spike walked over and put out his hands expectantly.
"Mr. Raleigh, may I present to you, Miss Buffy Anne Summers, pageant contestant from the Garden State of New Jersey." Giles whispered, pride in himself saturating the words. He stepped away and clapped his hands. The wall broke and all that was left standing was a girl.
Spike's eyes widened and he dropped his cigarette.
The girl in front of him was * not * Summers.
The girl in front of him was wearing a yellow sun dress, with long, silky ringlets of bright, magical blonde hair falling around her bronze shoulders.
The girl in front of him had smooth, pouty lips that were slicked with gloss.
The girl in front of him had perfectly arched eyebrows, which were cocked atop of round, luminous green eyes.
The girl in front of him smiled shyly, only to reveal whiter than white teeth.
Her legs were smooth and strong.
Her waist was thin.
Her arms were toned.
And every contour of her skin was deeply tanned...in a way that Spike knew one could not get from a tanning booth.
"Summers..." Spike whispered, trailing off. He was vaguely aware of his blue eyes moving up and down her, but he didn't care if he was making her uncomfortable. It was taking all of his self-control not to grab and shag her right in front of all these people.
"God, would you stop staring?" She finally said, breaking Spike out of his shell shock, "I'm so not in the mood. Hiya Xander." She said, giving her friend a wave, who she noticed was more or less drooling. She would be lying if she had said it didn't make her feel slightly good about herself.
"Yeah." Oz coughed, "That's her."
Spike blinked again and smirked.
"Just a little surprised is all. Didn't think you could clean up the way you did." He laughed, "Guess I was wrong. Ya look alright."
"Uh-huh." Buffy said, grabbing her heel, not really listening. She was supposed to actually * walk * in these things?
Apparently. She thought as Giles gave her a little push forward. She took one step, however, and crashed onto the floor.
"Bloody hell, Summers, are you alright?" Spike ran over and offered his hand. Buffy glowered at him for a minute and forced herself up.
"I'm fine." She spat out, running her fingers through her hair.
"I second that notion." Xander whispered to Spike, nodding toward Buffy's ass as she walked away. Spike quirked his lips and raised his eyebrows in admiration. Shaking his head, Spike turned around.
"Alright, men! Time to enter Operation Thong!"
~ Buffy exited the car, wearing a pink and white three-piece suit.
Hi! I'm the official Office Fun Barbie!
Giles smiled at his project and whispered into her ear.
"Try not to speak." Buffy squinted her eyes in confusion until she noticed Maggie Walsh walking their way, followed by an extremely tall, extremely buff body-guard. Happy, happy, joy, joy
"Miss Walsh!" Giles exclaimed, feigning happiness, "You look radiant. Hello, Adam." The body-guard nodded and grunted a hello.
"Well, well." Maggie said, after greeting Giles, as she circled Buffy, "Miss Summers, I hardly recognized you. Very nice work, Rupert. Now, the bus which will carry you to the reception hall is right over there. Now scoot!" So, Buffy scooted, picking up her pace.
"Summers, can ya hear me?"
"Unfortunately." Buffy whispered to Spike.
"Great. Now, we'll be watching everything and if we see anything suspic-"
"I know how this works, genius."
"Look, the Finn-Bastard called to tell me to tell you that you are not, under any bloody circumstances, to do anything without my okay, ya hear?" Buffy sighed and nodded, before remembering that Spike couldn't see her.
"I hear."
~
Buffy entered the Barbie-mobile, feeling somewhat sick. She felt like how she felt the one time in high school where almost all of the tables were filled, except for a tiny spot at the end of the popular table.
She stepped slowly down the hall, hoping not to be noticed.
But she needed somewhere to sit.
The only spot available, it seemed, was next to a red-head, who was staring out the window as though she wished she were anywhere but here.
"Uh, Excuse me? Is this seat taken?" Buffy asked.
"Why? I mean, hi! Um, sure. You can sit there." The girl said, smiling.
"I'm Willow. Willow Rosenberg, um, from Rhode Island." She said, smiling.
"Oh! I'm Buffy Summers, from New Jersey!!!" Buffy yelled cheerfully.
"Relax, Summers." Spike's voice soothed from inside her ear.
"Gee, you're pretty proud of your state. That's cool, because I am, too." Willow replied with an accepting smile. Buffy smiled back, genuinely, despite herself.
"So, what part of New Jersey are you from?" Willow asked, curiously.
"Ummm..." Shit. "Near Trenton."
"Oh, that's neat! I have an uncle who lives in Trenton."
"Cool. What about you, where in Rhode Island?" Buffy asked, faking curiosity.
"Oh, I'm not allowed to say. My mother says that you never know who's a pedophile! Not that I think you're a pedophile..."
"Forget it." Buffy said with a smile.
"I'm so nervous!" Willow burst out, "I only competed in Rhode Island's pageant on a dare! Now, look at me. Of course, for this, I had to get a consultant. Who's yours?"
"Rupert Giles." Willow's eyes widened.
"Didn't he attack a deaf-blind girl?"
"What? No!" Buffy exclaimed, before pursing her lips, "I don't think."
"I did not!" Giles' voice rang through her ear. Buffy made a mental note to ask Spike to not allow him in the surveillance room.
"But most likely not. He seems like an...okay guy." Buffy said, smiling sweetly.
"Yeah. Isn't Miss Walsh gorgeous?" Willow asked, staring at the former Miss America, "I'll never be as pretty as she is."
"Don't sell yourself short." Buffy said with a smile.
"That's it Summers, get some camaraderie with the girls." Buffy perked her eyebrows up.
"Hey! This is really off-topic, but don't you just hate it when guys keep yapping in your ear even when it's completely unneccassary?"
"Cute, Summers. Real bloody cute."
Willow laughed sadly.
"I wish I could hate it. But I don't talk to many people of the opposite sex. I really have never dated either. Not like I'm sure you have." Buffy ignored the prick on her heart.
"Yeah, well, that's okay. Your time will come." Buffy said, patting Willow's hand awkwardly.
"I've never said this much to anyone I just met before in my life!" Willow exclaimed, before smiling at Buffy, "Do you wanna be best friends?" Ugh.
"Okay! Great! Wow! Best friends!" Buffy exclaimed, happily.
"Yay!"
~
"Now entering Barbie- * town *" Spike heard Buffy whisper. He smiled, but replied sarcastically.
"The Barbie thing's getting old, Summers."
"But it's fun." She pouted softly. He shut his eyes, trying to forget the way he felt when he saw her. Or heard her, whatever the case may be. It just wasn't healthy.
Meanwhile, Buffy sat down at the table, surrounded by pageant contestants.
"Oh! Hi everyone! This is Buffy Summers, from New Jersey. Buffy, this is Faith Morgan from Massachusetts..."
"Hey there, B." Faith said with a nod.
"Anya Jenkins from Pennsylvania..."
"Hello neighbor!" Anya said cheerfully and precisely.
"Cordelia Chase from California..."
"Hello." Cordelia replied, eyeing Buffy warily.
"...and Tara Maclay from Montana." Willow finished. The last, blonde girl gave a small wave before turning back to her food. Cordelia cleared her throat.
"I just wanna say that I believe what the sign on the Alamo Dome says. We * are * all winners."
"No, we're not." Anya said, suddenly. The whole table turned around and stared incredulously at the girl, "Well, we aren't. Only one of us will be a winner. The rest will be losers with nothing else to gain. No one remembers the 49th, 15th, or 1st runner up."
"It's called an expression, Pennsy. Look into it." Cordelia said, snarling her lip.
"No thank you. I have better things to do with my time."
"Hey, question!" Buffy said, suddenly, "You live in California, right?" Cordelia gave Buffy a look.
"Obviously."
"So, what, do you, um, know any movie stars?" Buffy finished lamely. Cordelia shook her head slowly, as though Buffy were mentally challenged, but still ended her fight with Anya.
Back in the surveillance room, however, Spike was trying to talk to Buffy.
"Summers, are you reading me? Shit, Harris! What's going on? HARRIS!"
"God, I would love to be in the middle of a California and Pennsylvania sandwich..." He said, completely enamored.
"Oz, could you please do your co-workers job?" Spike asked, sending a pointed glare in a wholly unfocused Xander's way.
"Sure thing."
In the reception hall, Maggie Walsh stood up at the microphone.
"Welcome, ladies! To the 68th annual Miss United States Pageant!" Everyone clapped and cheered, "Now, I know this is exciting and thrilling, but please remember to look through your official handbook so that you may remember the ever important rules."
"No sleeping with the judges, guys." Faith whispered across the table.
"And now, without further ado, may I present to you my wonderful partner, Mr. Clement Longbower!" The tables erupted into cheering, so much that Buffy could not even begin to listen, especially now that Spike was yakking in her ear again.
"Summers, you reading me?" An exasperated voice said.
"Sure am." Buffy whispered as Clem talked.
"How's it goin? Nah, I'm joking, um...you listening to this speech?"
"I'm trying to but I'm being distracted by a pesky Brit."
"Well, according to Oz, Clemmy just announced his retirement."
"Mr. Longbower's retiring?" Buffy asked across the table.
"No! I talked to the poor man this morning." Cordelia said, leaning over covertly, "They're * firing * him. Going for someone newer and younger." Cordelia paused for a moment, "I hope it's Freddie Prinze, Jr."
Buffy sat back, the feeling of sickness overtaking her again.
They officially had their first suspect.
~
Summary: A/U...based on the movie, well, Miss Congeniality. Buffy Summers is a no-nonsense FBI agent, who is given the assignment to go undercover at the Miss America pageant.
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: Not mine...don't sue.
Pairing: Spuffy...as always.
~
"Glxxnghxx!" Buffy snored away, sitting next to Giles on the compact commuter plane to Texas.
"GLXXNGHAAXXXXX!" In her sleep, she flung her arm around Giles' waist.
"Alright, wake up time, now." He muttered, slapping her face lightly.
"Mmm..." Buffy stretched herself awake, "We there yet?"
"About 15 minutes. However, I could not bear one more moment of your incessant snoring. You must do something about that."
"That's your job, pal." Buffy said with a yawn. She looked around for something to eat...she was starving.
"Where are the, uh, flight attendants?" She asked, craning her neck.
"Sorry, Summers," The seat in front of her said, "But this is a commuter. No flight attendants, no food." Spike spun around and raised his eyebrow, "Must be hell for you."
"Shut it." Buffy said, holding her stomach, "So, what's the first stop?"
"Beauty warehouse which, incidentally, cost me thousands of dollars to put in place." Giles said, rubbing his temples.
"Oh, right. For my super-makeover." Buffy said, widening her eyes and bobbing her head around, "Will you teach me how to cry, too? For when I'm selected as the top 5, I mean." Buffy pretended to wipe away a tear and sniffed, "Oh, if I only had a brain!" Spike smirked and was about to laugh when he caught view of Giles' face. He decided to turn around and just pretend he hadn't seen Buffy at all.
"You also need to learn some respect for these girls if you ever want to-" Giles began.
"Respect?" Buffy gawaffed, "Respect for what? For girls whose lives revolve around making sure they look pretty for the camera? Sorry, but that's not my idea of a respectable female. It's like the goddamn feminist movement never happened."
Giles stewed in his anger for a few moments before stealing a glance at his latest project, for the hundred and ninth time since they boarded the plane. If he wanted her to be ready, at all, for the preliminaries, he would need nothing short of a miracle...
~
"OW!" Buffy screamed, as the waxist yanked off the first layer of eyebrow hair.
"May I ask you a question? Exactly how many times in your life have cleaned up those monstrosities?" Giles asked, looking over the waxing table, as five people brushed her hair, another two gave her a manicure, seven shaved, waxed, and smoothed her legs, and a team of high specialized dentists cleaned her teeth.
"Um, never?" Buffy offered through the clanking of metal inside her mouth.
"Look at my surprised face." Giles said, rolling his eyes.
"Jerk." She muttered, "Ow! Geez! Could I get up anesthesia or something?"
~
"Hey, Giles." Spike tapped the older Brit on the shoulder, "How she doin' ?"
"How many different world religions are there?" Giles asked, answering Spike's question with a question. Spike shrugged and cocked his head expectantly.
"Well, pray to ALL of their gods."
~
"Here ya go, Summers." Spike leaned down and handed her a tiny ear piece, as she sat, her hair foiled and her face green from a facial. "Microphone, tiny camera," He gave her an American flag pin, "and your pageant registration and new license."
"Buffy Anne Summers." She read, "You didn't change my name?"
"Didn't have to. You were given, at birth, the best bloody pageant name in the lot. Your mum must be some sort of a clairvoyant." Buffy tried to kick him in the shins, but Spike easily dodged it.
"Beat me up later, mate. For now, focus on lookin' gorgeous." Spike smirked and walked away.
"I can't decide who's the bigger jerk...you or Giles!" She yelled.
~
Spike, Xander, Oz, Graham, and Forrest leaned up against the Bureau's car. Xander sighed and looked down at his watch...it was nearing 8:00 a.m. They had been up since 5:00 a.m. the previous morning.
"Need. Sleep." He mumbled, looking straight at Spike.
"We all do, mate. Summers should be outta there in, 5 to 10 minutes is what Giles said."
"A half hour ago!" Xander complained.
"Be patient, man." Oz said, strangely serene.
"It is getting a little ridiculous." Forrest said, looking at his watch, "I don't even want to know how many hours we've been here."
"Yeah, yeah..." Spike commented, taking another drag on his cigarette.
Suddenly, the doors opened. Giles walked out, followed by the technicians, all walking in a wall, as though they were concealing something. Giles had an odd sort of smile on his face, one that seemed genuine and not sardonic. Spike walked over and put out his hands expectantly.
"Mr. Raleigh, may I present to you, Miss Buffy Anne Summers, pageant contestant from the Garden State of New Jersey." Giles whispered, pride in himself saturating the words. He stepped away and clapped his hands. The wall broke and all that was left standing was a girl.
Spike's eyes widened and he dropped his cigarette.
The girl in front of him was * not * Summers.
The girl in front of him was wearing a yellow sun dress, with long, silky ringlets of bright, magical blonde hair falling around her bronze shoulders.
The girl in front of him had smooth, pouty lips that were slicked with gloss.
The girl in front of him had perfectly arched eyebrows, which were cocked atop of round, luminous green eyes.
The girl in front of him smiled shyly, only to reveal whiter than white teeth.
Her legs were smooth and strong.
Her waist was thin.
Her arms were toned.
And every contour of her skin was deeply tanned...in a way that Spike knew one could not get from a tanning booth.
"Summers..." Spike whispered, trailing off. He was vaguely aware of his blue eyes moving up and down her, but he didn't care if he was making her uncomfortable. It was taking all of his self-control not to grab and shag her right in front of all these people.
"God, would you stop staring?" She finally said, breaking Spike out of his shell shock, "I'm so not in the mood. Hiya Xander." She said, giving her friend a wave, who she noticed was more or less drooling. She would be lying if she had said it didn't make her feel slightly good about herself.
"Yeah." Oz coughed, "That's her."
Spike blinked again and smirked.
"Just a little surprised is all. Didn't think you could clean up the way you did." He laughed, "Guess I was wrong. Ya look alright."
"Uh-huh." Buffy said, grabbing her heel, not really listening. She was supposed to actually * walk * in these things?
Apparently. She thought as Giles gave her a little push forward. She took one step, however, and crashed onto the floor.
"Bloody hell, Summers, are you alright?" Spike ran over and offered his hand. Buffy glowered at him for a minute and forced herself up.
"I'm fine." She spat out, running her fingers through her hair.
"I second that notion." Xander whispered to Spike, nodding toward Buffy's ass as she walked away. Spike quirked his lips and raised his eyebrows in admiration. Shaking his head, Spike turned around.
"Alright, men! Time to enter Operation Thong!"
~ Buffy exited the car, wearing a pink and white three-piece suit.
Hi! I'm the official Office Fun Barbie!
Giles smiled at his project and whispered into her ear.
"Try not to speak." Buffy squinted her eyes in confusion until she noticed Maggie Walsh walking their way, followed by an extremely tall, extremely buff body-guard. Happy, happy, joy, joy
"Miss Walsh!" Giles exclaimed, feigning happiness, "You look radiant. Hello, Adam." The body-guard nodded and grunted a hello.
"Well, well." Maggie said, after greeting Giles, as she circled Buffy, "Miss Summers, I hardly recognized you. Very nice work, Rupert. Now, the bus which will carry you to the reception hall is right over there. Now scoot!" So, Buffy scooted, picking up her pace.
"Summers, can ya hear me?"
"Unfortunately." Buffy whispered to Spike.
"Great. Now, we'll be watching everything and if we see anything suspic-"
"I know how this works, genius."
"Look, the Finn-Bastard called to tell me to tell you that you are not, under any bloody circumstances, to do anything without my okay, ya hear?" Buffy sighed and nodded, before remembering that Spike couldn't see her.
"I hear."
~
Buffy entered the Barbie-mobile, feeling somewhat sick. She felt like how she felt the one time in high school where almost all of the tables were filled, except for a tiny spot at the end of the popular table.
She stepped slowly down the hall, hoping not to be noticed.
But she needed somewhere to sit.
The only spot available, it seemed, was next to a red-head, who was staring out the window as though she wished she were anywhere but here.
"Uh, Excuse me? Is this seat taken?" Buffy asked.
"Why? I mean, hi! Um, sure. You can sit there." The girl said, smiling.
"I'm Willow. Willow Rosenberg, um, from Rhode Island." She said, smiling.
"Oh! I'm Buffy Summers, from New Jersey!!!" Buffy yelled cheerfully.
"Relax, Summers." Spike's voice soothed from inside her ear.
"Gee, you're pretty proud of your state. That's cool, because I am, too." Willow replied with an accepting smile. Buffy smiled back, genuinely, despite herself.
"So, what part of New Jersey are you from?" Willow asked, curiously.
"Ummm..." Shit. "Near Trenton."
"Oh, that's neat! I have an uncle who lives in Trenton."
"Cool. What about you, where in Rhode Island?" Buffy asked, faking curiosity.
"Oh, I'm not allowed to say. My mother says that you never know who's a pedophile! Not that I think you're a pedophile..."
"Forget it." Buffy said with a smile.
"I'm so nervous!" Willow burst out, "I only competed in Rhode Island's pageant on a dare! Now, look at me. Of course, for this, I had to get a consultant. Who's yours?"
"Rupert Giles." Willow's eyes widened.
"Didn't he attack a deaf-blind girl?"
"What? No!" Buffy exclaimed, before pursing her lips, "I don't think."
"I did not!" Giles' voice rang through her ear. Buffy made a mental note to ask Spike to not allow him in the surveillance room.
"But most likely not. He seems like an...okay guy." Buffy said, smiling sweetly.
"Yeah. Isn't Miss Walsh gorgeous?" Willow asked, staring at the former Miss America, "I'll never be as pretty as she is."
"Don't sell yourself short." Buffy said with a smile.
"That's it Summers, get some camaraderie with the girls." Buffy perked her eyebrows up.
"Hey! This is really off-topic, but don't you just hate it when guys keep yapping in your ear even when it's completely unneccassary?"
"Cute, Summers. Real bloody cute."
Willow laughed sadly.
"I wish I could hate it. But I don't talk to many people of the opposite sex. I really have never dated either. Not like I'm sure you have." Buffy ignored the prick on her heart.
"Yeah, well, that's okay. Your time will come." Buffy said, patting Willow's hand awkwardly.
"I've never said this much to anyone I just met before in my life!" Willow exclaimed, before smiling at Buffy, "Do you wanna be best friends?" Ugh.
"Okay! Great! Wow! Best friends!" Buffy exclaimed, happily.
"Yay!"
~
"Now entering Barbie- * town *" Spike heard Buffy whisper. He smiled, but replied sarcastically.
"The Barbie thing's getting old, Summers."
"But it's fun." She pouted softly. He shut his eyes, trying to forget the way he felt when he saw her. Or heard her, whatever the case may be. It just wasn't healthy.
Meanwhile, Buffy sat down at the table, surrounded by pageant contestants.
"Oh! Hi everyone! This is Buffy Summers, from New Jersey. Buffy, this is Faith Morgan from Massachusetts..."
"Hey there, B." Faith said with a nod.
"Anya Jenkins from Pennsylvania..."
"Hello neighbor!" Anya said cheerfully and precisely.
"Cordelia Chase from California..."
"Hello." Cordelia replied, eyeing Buffy warily.
"...and Tara Maclay from Montana." Willow finished. The last, blonde girl gave a small wave before turning back to her food. Cordelia cleared her throat.
"I just wanna say that I believe what the sign on the Alamo Dome says. We * are * all winners."
"No, we're not." Anya said, suddenly. The whole table turned around and stared incredulously at the girl, "Well, we aren't. Only one of us will be a winner. The rest will be losers with nothing else to gain. No one remembers the 49th, 15th, or 1st runner up."
"It's called an expression, Pennsy. Look into it." Cordelia said, snarling her lip.
"No thank you. I have better things to do with my time."
"Hey, question!" Buffy said, suddenly, "You live in California, right?" Cordelia gave Buffy a look.
"Obviously."
"So, what, do you, um, know any movie stars?" Buffy finished lamely. Cordelia shook her head slowly, as though Buffy were mentally challenged, but still ended her fight with Anya.
Back in the surveillance room, however, Spike was trying to talk to Buffy.
"Summers, are you reading me? Shit, Harris! What's going on? HARRIS!"
"God, I would love to be in the middle of a California and Pennsylvania sandwich..." He said, completely enamored.
"Oz, could you please do your co-workers job?" Spike asked, sending a pointed glare in a wholly unfocused Xander's way.
"Sure thing."
In the reception hall, Maggie Walsh stood up at the microphone.
"Welcome, ladies! To the 68th annual Miss United States Pageant!" Everyone clapped and cheered, "Now, I know this is exciting and thrilling, but please remember to look through your official handbook so that you may remember the ever important rules."
"No sleeping with the judges, guys." Faith whispered across the table.
"And now, without further ado, may I present to you my wonderful partner, Mr. Clement Longbower!" The tables erupted into cheering, so much that Buffy could not even begin to listen, especially now that Spike was yakking in her ear again.
"Summers, you reading me?" An exasperated voice said.
"Sure am." Buffy whispered as Clem talked.
"How's it goin? Nah, I'm joking, um...you listening to this speech?"
"I'm trying to but I'm being distracted by a pesky Brit."
"Well, according to Oz, Clemmy just announced his retirement."
"Mr. Longbower's retiring?" Buffy asked across the table.
"No! I talked to the poor man this morning." Cordelia said, leaning over covertly, "They're * firing * him. Going for someone newer and younger." Cordelia paused for a moment, "I hope it's Freddie Prinze, Jr."
Buffy sat back, the feeling of sickness overtaking her again.
They officially had their first suspect.
~