Summary: A Buffyverse/Star Wars TPM crossover, written as a joke for my family (some of whom are unfamiliar with BtVS-thus the brief character rundown in the beginning). It's not my best effort, but we thought it was pretty funny. My apologies to Joss, George etc for crude characterizations, lame dialogue and flimsy plots. By the by- nothing belongs to me.
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AN INDETERMINATE AMOUNT OF TIME AGO,
AN INDETERMINATE AMOUNT OF DISTANCE AWAY,
IN AN INDETERMINATE SEASON,
IN AN INDETERMINATE REALITY
THERE WAS…
STAR WARS: THE BUFFY MENACE
(dun DUN dun!)
Four figures crept through the musty darkness, the foremost the single one possessed of any real stealth. The rest trailed along diligently in mobile fetal positions, occasionally shooting panicked glances into dark corners. Abruptly the leader, a small blonde girl stopped, and planted her hands on her hips.
"It's empty," she confirmed in a bossy voice.
The others stood upright with relief; an older man, unabashedly dowdy; a lanky dark-haired loser, and an alterna-girl wearing an argyle sweater with a fluffy pink skirt.
The blonde wrinkled her pert nose. "I think I spend more time in icky warehouses than I do in class."
The loser spoke up, "I don't know, this isn't so bad. It seems kind of familiar, somehow." He trailed off.
"That's because it smells just like your basement, Xander." The second girl jibed.
Xander elbowed the girl with a rueful "Thanks, Will."
The older man adjusted his glasses on his nose, and said, "Well, nevertheless, we should leave now while we can. Buffy, can you get us out of here?"
The petite girl considered her options briefly, and led the group down a side corridor. Paint peeled off of damp walls, and the stench was abominable. The older man fell to the back of the group, distinctly green.
"What's the matter with Giles, Buff?" Xander asked. "I thought he used to be tough." Buffy rolled her eyes dramatically and slowed down to let Giles catch up to her.
"Gonna ralph?" she queried solicitously. At his blank look, she pulled one of his arms onto her shoulder and started off again. "Don't worry, Giles. We're almost out. Right through this door should be the alley." Cheerfully, she kicked the door open. The height of the older man threw off her balance, however, and she was forced to prop him on the doorjamb as she stumbled through the opening. She promptly vanished.
Giles stumbled backwards from the portal as he watched the Slayer disappear. The urge to be ill increased. Xander and Willow gasped as only Scoobies could, and ran forward. Giles blocked them with an arm. "Stop you twits! It's not safe!" They crashed to a stop, identical looks of vacuous astonishment on their faces.
"Oh my gosh!" Willow sobbed. "It ate Buffy!"
Giles herded them backwards a few feet and replaced the wooden panel of the door across the gaping opening, careful not to project any body part through the hole. He stepped back to observe at a safe distance. It looked normal. Giles sighed. That was the problem on the Hellmouth. Everything looked normal; sweet-faced ingénues were legendary Slayers, vampires had souls, and boy bands had werewolves on lead guitar. Occasionally, Giles longed for the normalcy of London; punks with safety pins in their nostrils, obsolete monarchies, Marmite and Bovril.
"Is she really gone?" Willow asked in small voice.
"Apparently." He shot back, bristling slightly. Xander and Willow exchanged glances. A more-terse-than-normal Giles meant trouble. "I don't know what this could be. I've never seen any sort of transport spell actually work. It takes a great amount of power. There should have been some stirring in the, er, demon community."
"We have to go after her!" Willow cried.
Giles refrained from sighing again. "With out knowing what we are getting into I doubt we could be of any help to Buffy." He believed a firm course of action to be as soothing as a cup of tea. The pinched look disappeared from Willow's face as he laid out his plan. "The best thing we can do is head back to the Magic Shoppe to research, and then go after her. If we can discover who, or what could be responsible for this…" he gestured hopelessly.
"Whirling vortex of doom?" Xander offered. "Suck-o-matic? Hole in the space-time continuum?"
Willow shook her head to all his suggestions, saving an "ew" face for the last one.
"Too Trekkie?" Xander guessed as they trailed a preoccupied Giles back down the hall in a quest for an alternative egress.
Willow nodded.
"How about 'wormhole'?"
Willow gave him a thumbs up. Xander launched into his best Farscape routine, but was swiftly quelled by a withering look from Giles.
"Thank God you didn't suggest tornado," he whispered to Willow. "I don't think he'd like my Judy Garland imitation any better."
Padawan Obi-Wan Kenobi sat morosely in Amidala's quarters. She, Senator Palpatine, and his Master Qui-Gon Jinn had an appointment with Chancellor Valloram this morning, and he was on pest patrol. Anakin AND Jar Jar. That's what he got for smart-mouthing Qui-Gon- a whole morning wasted baby-sitting when he could be sparring, or reading, or even doing laundry, for Yoda's sake! Anything was better than this.
Suspiciously, he glanced around the main room. It was quiet enough to hear himself think. He had a bad feeling about this. That shrill voice of Anakin's could be heard through permasteel walls; it could probably be heard from hyperspace. Obi-Wan reached out with the Force, sensing Anakin and the Gungan in the hall outside, making their way toward an atrium. He bounded out of his seat with a flashy waft of brown and cream robes, and ran after his wards. Qui-Gon would hang him by his braid from the Temple Spire if he let the Chosen One get hurt. Especially if Qui-Gon discovered he had been brooding in a corner.
Obi-Wan saw a little blond head and ridiculously floppy ears turn a corner in front him. He caught them by the collars just as they were about to disappear through the door in to the garden.
"Hold it right there, you womprats." He resisted the urge to knock their heads together. Just where do you think you're going?"
Anakin wiggled uncomfortably in his grasp, and answered in his most gratingly whiny voice, "Jar Jar needed a bath, Master Obi-Wan, sir, an we thought there might be a pool or fountain in here."
"Nosa big deel, ObiKenobi," Jar Jar smiled ingratiatingly. "Wesa just…"
"Enough," Obi-Wan growled. "You two would try the patience of a nerf herder. How many times have I…" his tirade was cut short by shriek and splash coming from the garden. The three look towards the half-open door, then at each other. Obi-Wan dropped his two charges and bolted into the greenery. Anakin and Jar Jar whooped excitedly and followed.
The trio came to a sliding stop in front of a small pool. A small wet humanoid was pulling itself onto the grass surrounding the water, mumbling quietly.
"Right through here, Giles. No problem Giles. It's an alleyway, Giles. Yeah right. One of these days, someone else is going to be the first through a doorway. Someone else is going to be the expendable one."
Obi-Wan stared as the person stood. He wasn't sure, but he thought it might be a young female; he really didn't have any experience with such things, outside of Amidala and Padme. Anakin's eyes were about to pop from his skull. "It's a girl, Obi-Wan! How did she get here?"
Ah hah. He had been right- it was a girl. He wasn't Jedi Jeopardy champ for nothing.
Obi-Wan ignored the brat and stepped forward to assist the girl from the ledge of grass. "Are you alright?" he asked solicitously.
"Yeah, just great." She said. Obi-Wan thought he detected sarcasm in her voice. Could girls do that? "Where am I?" she scanned his robes mistrustfully. "Is this some kind of monastery? This had better not be Tibet. I'm allergic to yak."
Obi-Wan just stared.
Jar Jar poked his head over Obi-Wans shoulder. "Whosa dat?"
Obi-Wan opened his mouth to answer, but was cut off by a yelled warning from the young woman. "Duck!" Something whistled past his cheek, and buried itself in a tree behind the Gungan. Jar Jar let out a bloodcurdling scream and wrapped his appendages around Obi-Wan.
The girl curled her lip disgustedly "What is that thing?"
"Uh," Obi-Wan stalled, trying to recall some of Diplomacy 101. Too bad he had daydreamed all the way through that class. "Just a moment, please. Stay right there." He made desperate "stay put" motions with his hands. The girl shifted all of her weight onto one leg and glared at him.
Trying to detach leech-like semi-amphibious limbs, Obi-Wan headed towards a secluded bench. He pulled the wide-eyed Anakin along with a tendril of the Force. Roughly, he plopped the boy down on to the bench, the Gungan following with a soggy splat. He rifled through his robes for his communicator. Anakin started to squirm. Jar Jar kept trying to crawl back into Obi-Wan's personal space.
"SIT STILL!" he roared, in a most unjedilike fashion. All motion ceased. Obi-Wan grabbed the com and hailed Qui-Gon. Waiting for his Master's reply, he craned his neck around a large Jukka bush to spy on the intruder. She was twisting water out of her long blonde hair, still looking peevish.
"Jinn here. This had better be good, Padawan."
"Master, we have a problem. I'm in the Garden of Generous Flexibility, and something just fell from the sky."
"Is it a life form?"
Obi-Wan looked again, just to make sure. "Definitely."
"Is it pathetic?"
He didn't have to think too hard about his next answer. "Well, I would say yes, but she just tried to kill Jar Jar, so she's tougher than she looks."
"So Jar Jar is NOT dead?"
"No, Master."
There was disgruntled noise on the com.
"Alright, give me ten microts to dump the Queen and the stuffed shirts. I'll meet you in the Garden."
"Yes, Master."
He turned to Anakin and Jar Jar, glaring in his best imitation of Mace Windu. "Not one word about you two ditching me, or I'll feed you to Master Yoda's three-legged drak one body part at a time. Got it?"
He could practically hear the rocks rolling around in their heads as they vigorously nodded their assent. He should have thought of that hours ago.
Xander let his head fall onto the book he was reading, accentuating the thud with a heartfelt whine. "This is hopeless. We're getting nowhere."
Giles and Willow favored him with identical unimpressed looks. He perked up.
"I mean, gosh, hand me another book please, Will."
She mimed pitching it at his head before sliding it down the table. Giles removed his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "You're sure you don't know where Anya is, Xander? We could use a demon's, um, ex-demon's, advice."
The boy assumed a hangdog look. "She went to her friend's place for the week."
"Oh, well," Willow chirped, "Why don't we just call her? Where does her friend live?"
"Somewhere between Poughkeepsie and the fourth level of Hell, off the Jersey Turnpike." He coughed uncomfortably, unprepared to continue, but was saved from further explanation by the extravagant entrance of Spike through the back door.
"Greetings loser, lesbian, countryman. Anyone seen the Slayer about? Fancied a game of mumblety-peg and couldn't find her." He dropped himself into a chair gracefully, and looked up to find three pairs of eyes boring into his skin intently.
"What's all this then?" he asked suspiciously, scooting away from the table as swiftly as his badass image would allow. "I didn't do it, whatever it is. You can't prove it."
"What do you know, Spike, about the Portal in the warehouse on Branch and Third Street?" Giles asked, with feigned calm. "Have you heard any rumors? Any, say, bragging, or boasting?"
"Why?" Spike narrowed his eyes. "What if I have?" He watched Willow's face light up behind Giles's back, hope gleaming in her eyes.
Something seemed to occur to Spike. "No Slayer to be found, and you lot want to know about the hidey-hole on Third, eh?" He laughed uproariously, in a pretty good imitation of someone hearing the funniest joke of his un-life. "What, did you lose the silly bint down the rabbit hole?"
He wheezed into silence at the return of the triple glare of death. "Okay, I get it- losing the Slayer is not a laughing matter." He sneered on general principal, just to let them know who was boss.
"Spike, if you know something, we could really use your help." Willow pleaded, blinking big Bambi- like eyes.
Spike magnanimously ignored Xander's scowl. He considered his cuticles, chipping casually at the dark polish on his nails.
Giles massaged his temples. "A hundred cash, and blood for a month."
Spike met his eyes, and raised a scarred brow. "Two-fifty, and Red Cross blood only. Nothing hoofed, mind you, feels like I'm going to sprout trotters any day now." He wiggled his fingers in a porcine manner.
"Buffy does like to call you a pig." Xander reminded him.
Spike bared his teeth. "Whelp," and Giles cut in "Fine, it's a deal. Xander, Willow, get the weapons." He pulled a wad of cash from the till, and counted it into Spike's outstretched palm.
The nauseous feeling was back.
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Qui-Gon felt ill. No amount of meditation could rid this headache of epic proportions. All he wanted to do was climb into bed, pull a pillow over his head and rock himself to sleep. He was losing handfuls of hair down the drain every night. No mission had ever been this stressful. A blood -curdling shriek from the next room caused a tiny muscle under his eye to tic. He stormed out into the common area, ready to kick butt and take names at the scene he beheld.
"WHAT is the MATTER with you people?"
All four people froze in the middle of their action, unwilling to face the fury of the Jedi Master.
Anakin was standing on the sofa, playing keep-away from Obi-Wan with one of the Padawan's precious starship models. Obi-Wan had just rescued a fichus plant from certain death, and was desperately dumping handfuls of soil back into the planter. That strange girl, Buffy, had cornered Jar Jar again, and was threatening to stick a pointed object through his chest if he didn't leave her alone.
Things had been bad with just his original three charges, but the addition of this odd little alien had thrown their exciting little psychodrama way out of proportion. She was impossible. Qui-Gon couldn't tell if she was an adult or child of her species, her manner fluctuated so extensively between silly giggles and a serious tendency towards violence. She seemed to tolerate Anakin as well as could be expected; he had pulled her hair once, and she had stuffed him into a kitchen cabinet. The boy had kept his distance since then. Jar Jar adored her, and followed her around the Temple as often as she would allow it. He would only back off at the threat of bodily harm, something the alien seemed well versed in describing in minute detail.
In Qui-Gon's opinion, she was a little fixated on the whole killing thing. He had counseled Obi-Wan to instruct her in the peaceful ways of contemplation and reflection, but she had very little patience for such pursuits. In short order she had Obi-Wan twisted about her little finger, and had conned his Padawan into a game of spin-the-bottle the second his back was turned.
"Relax, Jinn." Buffy said with a final glare at Jar Jar and a flip of her hair.
And she had no respect for authority! She constantly addressed him by his last name, and kept asking him if he had a brother named Giles living in someplace called Sunnydale. He could barely stand to think about the meeting she had had with Yoda. No one had pinched the aged Master's cheek in at least six hundred years. And just what was a muppet anyway? Mace would never let him live this down.
"We were just getting ready to go to dinner. If some people could just get their acts together!" She leveled the glare at the young males in the room, to devastating effect. Obi-Wan and Anakin immediately lined themselves up beside Jar Jar for inspection.
Buffy tidied Obi-Wan's robes and smoothed Anakin's hair. She moved on to Jar Jar, reached out a hand, and took it back, shaking her head. "Okay, gentlemen. You may escort me to dinner." She flounced out of the room into the hall, trailed by her adoring entourage.
Qui-Gon buried his face in his hands and shook his head in despair. "Padawan, I am so disappointed in you." Obi-Wan smiled weakly and slunk out, last in line.
A large section of silver-streaked, sable hair gave up the ghost and plummeted to the floor at Qui-Gon's feet. The mighty Jedi Master gave a little whimper. The girl had to go.
Giles gripped the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles were turning white. Given an inch, Spike was taking a mile. He sat sprawled in the front seat of the Citroen, feet on the dashboard, lecturing all those trapped in the car about the vagaries of demonic magic.
"So you see, what with all the deserted buildings in and around the Hellmouth, it gives a demon a fairly wide selection of real estate to play with."
Giles swore to himself if the vampire said "Location, location, location", he would stake him, chip or no chip.
Spike blathered on. "Plenty of room for spell casting, summoning, your occasional sacrifice, and trapdoors to alternate dimensions. Case in point." Spike looked significantly at Giles, who ignored him.
Willow giggled in the back seat. Xander's scowl remained in place. "So, that doorway is just the framework for a spell?" Willow asked.
"That's right, pet."
"Does it have a specific purpose?"
"Prob'ly not, just something someone whipped up just in case. All you gotta do is a reverso-presto-chango spell and the door will work the other way." Spike whirled his hands around, and made a broad "ta-da" gesture, almost smacking Giles in the face.
"Oh, wow, I bet if I added a search spell onto that, the door could, like, FIND Buffy for us!" Enthused Willow.
"Fabulous," growled Giles.
"Wonderful," mumbled Xander.
"Thank you, I know," said Spike modestly.
Buffy faced Master Yoda across the boundary of the training ring. Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan stood to the side, loitering. She could NOT believe they expected her to fight this little green troll. Well, whatever made Tall, Dark, and Stuffy happy.
Yoda bowed, and said, "May the Force be with you." The annoying hum of his light saber filled the room. Buffy rolled her eyes. "Like, live long and prosper. I guess." She bowed back, and switched on her own saber.
"Pink?!" hissed Qui-Gon to Obi-Wan. "You helped her build a PINK light saber?"
Obi-Wan shrugged. "Technically, Master, it's red. A very delicate red."
"And what is all that crap hanging off the casing?!"
"Fluffies, Master, with sparkly bits."
Qui-Gon ground his teeth. "Padawan, a light saber is a weapon, not a fashion accessory."
Obi-Wan pulled a small notebook from the depths of his robe. Right below "the ability to speak does not make you intelligent", he jotted down this newest piece of Masterly wisdom. Qui-Gon yanked the book out of his hands. Obi-Wan fumbled to get it back, but was brought up sharply by a look from his none-too-happy Master. Qui-Gon flipped to the front. " 'Shite My Master Tries to Pass Off as Jedi Wisdom' " was scrawled across the cover.
"I'll show you shite, you ungrateful little ewok molester…" Qui-Gon lunged for his Padawan, who ducked out of the way, laughing hysterically. Obi-Wan made a grab for the notebook, and a scuffle ensued.
In the ring, Buffy and Yoda still danced, all of their focus inward, trying to guess what the other would do next. She hadn't had anyone to really spar with in forever, Giles and Riley not being any serious competition. She hadn't pulled a blow yet. This little green guy could really hold his own. And the light sword thing was way cool too. Too bad it would probably not be very effective against vampires. Oh well, maybe she could be Xena or someone for Halloween.
"PaYOW!" shrieked the troll in obvious delight as he countered Buffy's attack.
Out of the corner of her eyes she noticed a bright light, growing larger, quickly encompassing a large portion of the training area. Buffy and Yoda powered down their sabers to stare. The two Jedi ceased their brawling, entranced by the expanding light.
The middle of the light dimmed, and figures were visible. The four in the training area cautiously edged closer to the light.
"What is that, Master Yoda?" Obi-Wan asked in an awed voice.
"Know I do not, Kenobi. Old I am, psychic not."
Qui-Gon opened his mouth to speak, but Yoda cut him off with a savage blow to his patella. "Quiet be you, Qui-Gon Jinn. Listen!"
The figures became more and more visible in the halo of light, and gradually angry voices could be heard. Buffy and the Jedi edged closer.
"Move, Spike!" came a nasal male voice.
"Sod off, you wanker. I want to see what's in there," replied an English one, rather rudely.
A different English voice overrode them all "Everyone get back! Now! Willow, what do you see?"
On the other side of the glowing portal, a girl came into view. She squinted against the light, and called "Hello? Uh, Buffy?"
Buffy jumped forward. "Willow!" she screeched happily. As one, the Jedi winced. "How did you find me? Where are you?" The light flickered ominously. "What's up with all the glow-y stuff?"
"We'll explain later. You have to come back through this doorway before the spell ends!"
Buffy looked skeptically at the ball of light. "That really doesn't seem safe, Will."
Spike rolled his eyes. "Oh, come on already, girl! I've seen you drive, this is much safer."
"What is he doing here?" she scowled.
"It's a long story. Buffy, you have to hurry!" Willow started to look panicky.
Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan approached the portal, looking over Buffy's shoulder at the alternate dimension. Two young men sulked behind the red-haired friend of Buffy's, and an older man hovered nervously behind them all. With all of his teacher's empathy, Qui-Gon realized the stressed looking fellow in glasses must be the Watcher Buffy spoke of; Giles. Solemnly, he raised his hand in greeting.
Giles recognized the look as well. He nodded in return.
Buffy dithered. "Are you sure this is going to work?"
Spike and Xander threw up their hands simultaneously, and turned away.
Yoda and Qui-Gon exchanged meaningful looks.
"Know what is required, you do, Master Jinn."
"What?" said Obi-Wan curiously.
"Yes, Master," came the calm reply.
"What?" Insisted Obi-Wan.
"Watch and learn, Padawan mine," said Qui-Gon coolly.
Yoda elbowed Obi-Wan in the shin. "Know this trick you would if daydreamed you hadn't through Diplomacy 101."
Qui-Gon smoothly stepped closer to Buffy as she continued to prevaricate with her friends. Casually, he looked right, into the edge of the portal. Slowly, carefully, he brought his left hand around, and as quickly as a starving Hutt in a buffet line, he pushed Buffy into the light. With a surprised shriek, she fell through, and the light vanished.
"That's diplomacy?" Obi-Wan did not sound convinced.
Qui-Gon smiled beatifically. He could feel his hair growing back already.
Some time later:
"So, that's what happened." Willow concluded.
The group lounged around the table in the center of the Magic Shoppe.
"Well, I just hope it never happens again," stated Buffy. "I mean, I got to make this cool light-thingy, and the Obi-Wan guy was way cute, but everything else was just weird, you know? Too weird for me."
"Sounds like it," nodded the Witch.
"Ah" said the Watcher.
"Glad you're back safe, anyway," smiled the guy dating the ex-vengeance demon.
"Yeah, whatever." said the vampire disagreeably.