Rating: PG. For "Star Wars" goofiness.
Feedback: Very, very much appreciated. In fact, it's mandatory.
Distribution: If you want it, by all means... Just let me know first, I'd like to know where my work goes so I can brag about it.
Spoilers: Um... Spoilers? Did you not read the summary?
Disclaimer: Not mine. Everything Buffy and gang belong to the Joss-god and everything Star Wars belongs to the Supreme
Overlord George W. Lucas. How I know his middle initial, I do not know, but it makes his name sound fancier nonetheless.
Author's Note: Welcome to previously aforementioned "terribly lengthy" chapter in which we learn who Han and Chewie are in my own crazy version of the saga. I just know you've all been dying to find out and herein lies what you have all been waiting for.
*****
"Oh, man," Connor breathed, taking in the sight before him. Bodies of Jawas lay strewn about the rubble of their once massive transport. The attack was obviously recent; smoke and dust still clouded the air. "Those Cordettes were really after blood this time. Look, there are purses and high heel tracks and everything. I mean, I've heard of them making people cry, but..."
"It wasn't them," Ripper interrupted mid-sentence. The man had been intently studying the corpses and the track marks left behind by the assailants and had come to a fairly accurate conclusion. "But whoever did this wants to make us believe it was."
"These are the same Jawas that sold us Willow and Dawn."
Connor's elder traced a finger over one of the Jawas' fatal wounds. "And these aren't manicured nail marks of a Cordette. These are teeth marks of a vampire trooper."
"How could they be out this time of day?" the boy wondered aloud. "Would they, you know-" He made an almost cartoonish sound of a vampire dusting.
"Not with that sun protectant armor, they wouldn't," Ripper explained as he rose to his feet. "And I don't think they were after the Jawas, either."
"Then who...?" Two and two added to four in Connor's head as all pieces of the puzzle came together. "If they traced the girls to the Jawas, then they must have found who they sold them to, and that would lead them..." Dinner plates replaced his corneas. "... home!"
It is said that fear for the safety of loved ones makes a man stronger, faster and braver than he would be normal situations. Before Ripper could stop the boy from running into almost certain danger, Connor had already put the petal to the Jeep's metal and left a cloud of choking dust in his wake.
The SUV was tearing like a bat through hell across the desert tundra in a nervous fury to get to his relatives in enough time. And as he approached the ill-fated house, a sight could be seen that frightened him to the very core.
They weren't there.
Not the "they were dead" approach to not being there, but that their physical beings were just not anywhere to be seen. A frantic search of the house came up empty of any human life forms (the droids still milled about doing their daily chores), but a note scribbled in his aunt's familiar handwriting lying on the kitchen table was found in their place.
Walking back to the Jeep, Connor scanned over the note he was now carrying.
'Dearest Connor,
If you're reading this we're already gone, but not in the dead sense of being gone. We knew the Empire was after something we had and would do absolutely anything to get it. Word travels fast around these parts, you know.
Wesley and I decided that for the safety of this farm, we must leave as quick as possible with few people knowing where we actually are. Wesley says it's a good thing I'm writing this by hand because that certain few people are the only ones that can read my writing anyway. He got a good smack for that one, let me tell you.
Anyway, if for any reason you need to contact either of us, you know my parents' address on Austin.
I'm sorry we did this to you on such short notice, but we really don't want to die yet. You understand, I'm sure. We also came to realize that you could take care of yourself and really don't need us at beck and call anymore.
Now you can follow your dreams.
We love you with all our hearts, even though Wes doesn't admit it much.
Auntie Fred
P.S. Your uncle says "Hi" and to give Ripper a good smack if you two ever cross paths.'
"Unexpected, but better than mutilated." The boy folded the note into a small square and threw it onto the passenger seat of the car. "I guess I have no other choice than to join Ripper and the droids on their quest to Los Angeles."
And thus an adventure is born.
*****
The torture part was always Darth Angelus' favorite aspect of keeping a prisoner. Especially when the prisoner was someone of importance, something resembling royalty.
The Vampire Lord strode down the hall towards the current prisoner's cell, anxious to get some information out of her, preferably with the use of hot and sharp things.
Two vampire troopers, standing on either side of Angelus, opened the metal door leading into the princess's cell. Milliseconds later, the vampiric Champion was hit square in the face with a rubber ball that came soaring from the teenager's direction. The ball hit the floor, bounced back up, smacked him in the face and hit the floor once more, repeating the process about seven more times before the object had wasted all its momentum.
"I knew we shouldn't give them things to play with," Angelus growled to whoever was listening, destroying the rubber ball with one crush of his boot.
He focused his eyes away from the ball and onto the grinning princess, who was sitting in her cell quite proud of the scene she had created. Hey, if you were about to be tortured by a creature who prided himself in such a field, wouldn't you want to have some fun before the excruciating pain?
Some would argue that it was just cause the torturer to inflict even more pain...
"Now, your bratty Highness, you and I are going to have a little chat about the location of a certain Rebel base you seem to know so much about."
"And here's poor little misguided me thinking you came here to see how I was feeling." The blonde female crossed her arms and shook her head in false solemn. "You know, you and I don't really have much time to just talk about the little things anymore. I'd really like to know who designs your clothes."
'Oh, how the pain was going to be fun,' Angelus told himself as the metallic door hissed shut, leaving him and the girl, along with the vampire lackeys, alone in the cell.
In space, no one can hear you scream.
*****
Connor returned his comrades on the other side of the desert. They had already created a bonfire of the lifeless Jawas and bits of blasted material from their Sandcrawler. All in all, a pretty depressing sight.
"Wes and Fred did the right thing," Ripper consoled, understanding the look he saw on Connor's face. "If they stayed, they would have been killed and you'd be a lot more depressed than you are now. Look for the happy, a friend once told me."
The dark-haired teenager looked and found the happy in the situation. "You realize I have to go with you to Los Angeles."
Ripper nodded with full understanding. "I realize."
"I want to train to become a Champion like my father."
"I know."
The poignant moment between the two new comrades was broken when Connor slapped Ripper right across the face.
A dumbfounded Rupert-Wan massaged the sore spot on his cheek. "May I ask-?"
Connor held up the folded square of white paper between his first two fingers. "From Wesley, with love."
*****
Ripper, Connor, Willow, Dawn, along with the vehicle, stood on a cliff overlooking a cluster of buildings that formed what we know as the Downtown area of Sunnydale.
"That," the Britishman pointed to the hustling and bustling city beneath them, "is our destination. Downtown Sunnydale. You'll never find a bigger congregation of demons and villainy, let me tell you."
Using the Jeep, it didn't take long for the foursome to reach the Downtown area. But, of course, they weren't about to enter the city without being noticed by *somebody.*
Conveniently, this somebody just happened to be a vampire trooper. Two, to be more exact.
"How long have you had these droids?" the trooper asked as the Jeep came to a stop.
"About three or four seasons," Connor lied. Getting caught with those two in the backseat was the last thing he wanted.
Ripper, obviously, felt the same way. "They're up for sale if you want them."
"But we're not for-" Willow tried to protest, but Dawn's hand clasping over her mouth prevented her from going any further.
Predictably, the vampire trooper, clad in sun proof armor, demanded, "We're gonna need to see some identification."
Connor wasn't sure what happened next, but whatever it was turned out to be a good thing. His elder, looking intently at the trooper to the car's left, flicked his wrist ever so slightly in one fluid motion. In his own commanding voice, "You don't need to see his identification."
Before Connor, Dawn or Willow could tell the Englishman that just telling him wasn't the smartest of plans, the trooper told his partner in an influenced voice, "We don't need to see his identification."
"He can go about his business," Ripper told the demon in the same voice.
"You can go about your business," Connor was told.
"Move along. And have a nice day."
The vampire trooper repeated the human man's words and the Jeep was on its way.
One person and two droids were very, very confused at the situation that had just taken place but Ripper remained calm, cool and collected as if nothing happened at all.
Bewildered silence remained in the car up until the point where Connor was told to park the car. The silence was then broken by the disgusted screams of a redhead as the car doors opened to the city streets.
"Ew! Ew!" Willow cried, shooing away the tiny demon known as a Jawa as the thing tried to get a hold of the car. When hands weren't working, the droid went to plan B. "Dawn, give me a rock. Preferably big and pointy."
"I don't get it, Rupes," Connor said over the shrieks of a very small demon being bludgeoned with rocks. "How'd we get past those vamps?"
"The Power has a strong influence on the weak-minded or, rather, the stupid." Rupert-Wan turned around to face the droids the moment they were carrying a minuscule, robe-covered sack-like object to the nearest trash can. "Come along, girls."
Willow and Dawn, now covered in a strange brown substance, followed the two males into the seedy, smoke-filled, demon-crowded, music blaring, smelly bar. What, you expect less from Willie's?
Willie the bartender (what a shock!) took one look at the two females in the crowd and started twitched nervously.
"W-we don't serve their kind here," the greasy-haired short man ordered with a twinge of fright in his speech. You could tell by sight alone that Willie was the kind of guy who was always nervous and paranoid, even when there was no immediate danger to his person. Being bullied by demons day in and day out does seem to have that effect on a man.
"Sexist pig," Willow mumbled. Dawn agreed with a nod.
"N-n-no, it's not that," Willie explained, being very careful not to piss the two female droids off. "D-droids. We d-don't serve droids. They're gonna have to wait outside."
The females were about to start a war with the ratty bartender and Connor knew it. Before they could make bigger fools of themselves, the teenager grabbed them both by the collars of their jumpsuits and dragged them out of the bar and onto the city streets.
"Hiding place," he ordered after releasing them from his grip. "Make with one."
"Buh-"
He was gone before either could argue.
Connor went back into the bar to find ol' Kenobi chatting it up with... well, I don't want to give it away yet. He joined his new mentor, who was conversing intently with the stranger, at the bar and, since he was there anyway, ordered himself a drink.
Moments after the drink's arrival, a violent shove struck Connor from the left. The creature, a Fyarl demon he guessed, was extremely drunk and very talkative. Problem is, he couldn't speak English in any shape or form.
"He doesn't like you," a grisly, deformed man sitting next to the demon warned.
"Um..." Connor really didn't know what to say. "Sorry?"
"I don't like you either."
"Well, that's a bit random..."
"Don't insult me!" Deformed Man admonished. He, too, was obviously drunk. "We're wanted men! I have the death sentence in 12 systems!"
Connor knew laughing was inappropriate at this juncture, but he couldn't help it. "O-okay... I'll be careful, then."
Either the man was too drunk or just didn't care, but he reacted all the same. "You'll be dead!" With that inebriant statement, the twisted man hollered a death cry.
It had been twenty minutes since the last bar fight and the crowd was anxious to witness yet another one. Ripper, on the other hand, would rather not lose the son of his long-lost friend to some drunkard in a bar in Downtown Sunnydale.
"Now, just... calm down," the elder Britishman said in a frighteningly calm voice. "Let me buy you a drink."
Words weren't really going to solve the situation. The man-like creature clocked the young one something painful, sending him right to the floor cradling a bruise blooming on his right cheek. Almost predictably, the man, now revealed to be a vampire with a skin condition, bared his fangs and leapt at the Brit who had tried to make friendly with him.
Some vampires were just stupid.
Before the mutated vampire could draw an ounce of blood from Ripper's body, the Champion pulled out a stake from the left hand side of his robes and plunged it deep into the attacker's chest. A cloud of dust later, the vampire was no more.
Willie's cantina went back just as it was a few moments before the outburst, only this time, Ripper had been given more breathing room by the vampires around the bar who liked to stay undusted.
Rupert-Wan helped the fallen Connor, who was cradling a contused cheekbone, to his feet and helped the boy back to his stool at the bar. Here, he introduced the teenager to the stranger Ripper had been talking to only moments before.
"This is William," Ripper introduced, gesturing to the gentleman leaning against the bar. William was fairly tall (taller than his introducer), shaggy light brown hair adorned the crown of his head, very pale skin that told Connor that he was not a fan of the sun and therefore probably a vampire, and a floor length leather duster that just screamed all kinds of cool.
"Hold it a bloody minute."
This story was going so well when nobody was talking back.
"I'm Chewbacca?"
Looks like it, yeah.
"Is that why I have William the bloody awful poet hair?"
Yep. I thought it would give you more of that authentic Chewie feel.
"And the duster?"
You're just not you without it.
"Fine. But if I'm Chewie, then who's...?"
Patience, William. Patience.
Ripper continued the introduction, despite the side conversation. "He's first mate-"
William coughed, reminding Ripper of something.
The bespectacled one rolled his eyes. "'First Captain' of a ship that just might suit our needs."
"And don't you forget it."
*****
"Somehow, I don't know, but somehow, this is all your fault."
"I love you, too."
Willow's bad mood was not to be totally uncalled for. The Jawa blood would never come out of her only jumpsuit, her head still hurt from the fall, they were thrown out of a cantina by a sexist bartender who doesn't serve droids, and now she was standing in the blazing sun where she was not only sweating buckets, but a deep crimson sunburn was forming on the back of her neck. All the ingredients for a pleasant day.
And now there were vampire troopers wandering the streets, keeping a vigilant eye out for the two girls.
"Great. Perfect end to a perfect day." Willow looked down at her brunette companion. "Did I mention how this is somehow your fault?"
"You might have let it slip in once or twice."
"Well, all right then."
*****
Ripper and Connor took seats around a table in an unseen corner of the bar, joining a previously unknown dark brunette gentleman and his leather-clad companion. The new face of the party was goofy-looking of sorts; his body language and demeanor told the travelers that he was a rather silly kind of character before he even said a word.
It also could have been that said man was wearing a ridiculously loud Hawaiian shirt and khaki pants, but we'll just let that pass.
"Xander Solo," he acquainted, holding out a friendly hand. "Captain of the DeSoto Sportsman."
"My ship," William grumbled. Xander ignored it easily.
"Spike here tells me you guys need a lift to the Los Angeles system."
Ripper nodded. "If it's a fast ship."
William and Xander, in unison, looked at Ripper, glanced at each other, looked at Ripper again and laughed. "Merciful Zeus! You've never heard of the DeSoto Sportsman?"
"Should I have?"
"It's the ship that made the Romania run in less than 12 parsecs."
Ripper was, how shall we say, a little unimpressed with the white lie he had just been told. Xander let out a teeny meep as he was kicked in the shin lightly by his partner. His partner, on the other hand, let out a cry of pain while cradling the right side of his forehead. Both Ripper and Connor found this to be highly unusual, but Xander continued with his sales pitch regardless of his partner's state of being.
"We've outrun Imperial starships, not the local bulk cruisers, mind you. I'm talking about the big Californian ships now. She's fast enough for you, old man."
Connor winced. "I wouldn't call him that if I were you."
"What's the cargo?" William interjected, once all the searing pain had subsided.
"Myself, the boy, a couple of droids and no questions asked." His tone left no room for argument.
Xander leaned back and rested his hands behind his head. His feet now rested comfortably on the stone table. "What is it? Some kinda local trouble?"
The middle-aged Champion leaned forward to counteract Xander's previous movements. "Let's just say we'd like to avoid any Imperial entanglements."
"Well, that's the trick, isn't it?" This time, it was William to talk sly. And it was also his turn to get kicked in the shin, though it didn't hurt as much receiving.
"You're Chewie, I'm Han, got it? I make the deals and you just sit there and look threatening."
William was sure to give his comrade a two fingered salute. "Yes, your Queen Majesty."
"And don't you forget it." Attention was once more on the clientele. "Well, that's the trick, isn't it?" Xander repeated. "And it's gonna cost you something extra." He rubbed his chin in a comedic facade of pondering while coming to a decision.
"This is a miracle, folks," William whispered to the two other men. "Xander Solo is having a thought."
"I heard that." The Hawaiian clad one came out of thinking mode. "Ten thousand, all in advance." The vampire smirked in agreement.
Connor became the slack-jawed yokel. "Ten thousand?! We could almost buy our own ship and a bag of Doritos for that much."
The older dark-haired one chuckled at the notion, but also liked the idea of a bag of Doritos. "Who's gonna fly it, kid? You?"
Here came that 'I'm a big boy' attitude again. "You better believe it. I'm not such a bad pilot myself." He tugged at the sleeves of Ripper's robes, urging the man to get up. "We don't have to sit here and listen..."
Rupert-Wan smacked the boy's hand away from his clothing. "Two thousand up front, fifteen when we get to Los Angeles."
"Seventeen, eh?" Solo glanced at his leather bearing companion. "Group pow-wow." The two pilots leaned in closer and chatted about whether or not to take them up on the offer. Xander figured the two thousand could cover a bag of Doritos and the debt they owed. William really couldn't argue.
Once the group decision had been made, the duo turned back to the others.
"All right, then. You guys got yourselves a ship. We're ready when you are. Docking bay 94."
"Ninety-four," Ripper echoed, then stored to memory.
William's vampiric senses kicked in as two Imperial vamp troopers entered the cantina. His sharp sight caught the bartender, the little rat fink he was, pointing in the table's direction. "Looks like somebody's taken an interest in you guys." Within a blink and a half, Xander and William were left alone, baffling the investigating troopers.
"Seventeen thousand!" Xander declared after the troopers were gone. He slammed his fist down on the table and cringed slightly from the pain it inflicted. "Those guys must really be desperate. This could really save my neck with those nerds. Go back to the DeSoto and get her ready."
"You can't tell me-" An attempt at a mean glare came his way and William knew that, unless he wanted a firework going off in his brain, he couldn't smack it away. "Fine." In a flash of leather, he was gone.
All seemed to go well for Xander, that is, until he got up from the table and came face to face with the bumpy face of a dark-skinned vampire. The face set the human back a couple of steps.
"Going somewhere, Solo?" the smooth-talking voice of the vampire asked. Sarcasm laced the question.
A nervous chortle escaped Xander's lips, but he didn't let that get in the way of his big talk. "Yes, Tricko. It just so happens I was just going to see your head honcho. Now if you don't mind, go tell Troika I've got the money and I'll just be on my merry way."
One growl from the vampire sent Xander back into the seat he had just risen from not too long ago. Mr. Tricko sits across the booth, fangs bared for that threatening effect. "It's too late, baby. You shoulda paid them when the price on your head wasn't as big as Texas. Every bounty hunter in the galaxy is gonna want your head now. Even, oh... what's her face?"
Xander inwardly whimpered at the thought of the female bounty hunter, but didn't let it show. Instead, he turned his eyes away from Tricko and onto his left hand, which was now tracing the lining of the cracks in the wall. "Yeah, but this time, I've got the money."
Tricko grinned, which looked extremely disturbing on a vamp in game face. "Give me the cash and I might just forget this little 'chat' we're having ever occurred."
"I don't have it with me. Tell the Troika..."
"The Troika's through with you. They've got no time for some two-bit smugglers who drop their shipments at the drop of a hat... or an Imperial cruiser."
Xander's right hand reached for the small but deadly contraption he carried at his side, just in case. "Even I get boarded sometimes. You think I had a choice?"
The vampire's grin didn't cease. "You can tell that to the Troika. They might only take your ship, if you're lucky."
"Over my dead body," the human discouraged.
Tricko licked his lips, almost tasting the upcoming blood. "That's the idea, baby. I've been looking forward to draining you for a long time."
Xander silently congratulated himself for thinking ahead. "Yeah, I'll bet you have."
Funny thing is, Tricko didn't even see the crossbow raise above the table surface and shoot the already notched bolt until the wooden object was buried deep in his chest. "Oh, this is not good..." His last words hung in the air just like the dust he exploded into.
Xander stood up once more and started out of the cantina, this time confident that no vampire would stop him. He brushed Tricko dust from his shirt and flipped a coin Willie's way.
"Sorry 'bout the mess."
