Chapter 5
A/N: Wooo! Yay! Chaptah five ish up! Translation: Chapter five's up. Just a
quick reminder: Everyone DOES know Connor exists...this is afterwards.
Also, Fred is still with Gunn-they make the cutest couple. :D But anyway-
HI! -Death Hug- I have readers! -Holds Oscar proudly- I'd like to thank all
the vampires that made this possible...-Teary-eyed-
But anyway, I don't own Angel/Buffy charries, yadda yadda. The chapters are short, only because I'm trying to stretch the story beyond seven chapters. Make sense? Well, sit back, grab your bowl of popcorn, and enjoy...CHAPTAH FIVE! Translation: Chapter 5. -Curtains part- "Okay, that's good. Now-block, kick, jab. Yes, that's it..." Buffy slowly coached Trina through the basic moves of defense, quickly ducking to miss a blow from her slayer-in-training. "You're making progress."
"Could have fooled me," Trina responded dully, while she plopped onto the floor in exhaustion. The two women had been practicing in the training room for nearly four hours, and the only thing the potential could feel was the ache in her muscles. Weren't slayer powers supposed to make this easier?
"Would you rather practice with Spike again?" Buffy asked jokingly, grinning. "I think he's getting better with the taunting thing."
"If he calls be a British name one more time, I'll-" Trina began seethingly, but paused. What would she do? The girl could barely throw a straight punch, let alone face the vampire. "...I'll glare at him. Angrily." Buffy chuckled.
"He'd better watch out then." Trina rolled her eyes, her head pointed towards the ceiling.
"Yeah, I'll be real intimidating," she said, purposely doubtful. "The demon can laugh at me a few minutes before ripping my spleen out." Buffy grimaced.
"That's not very positive."
"Would you rather have me say it in a happy way?" The sixteen year-old questioned, swivelling around to look at her. Buffy shook her head.
"There shall be no spleen-ripping, Trina. You'll be ready." The tone in her voice almost gave Trina hope. Almost. "Is this really a good idea, Charles?" Winifred Burkle asked Gunn with concern, as they observed the two womens' training through a window. "Becoming involved with the prophecy, I mean." She rested her head lightly against his shoulder, garbed in a solid-white lab coat.
"I don't really know," the man admitted, as he wrapped his arms around her waist. "Angel and Wesley said it was important, so I'm gonna go with them."
"But you do know what happened the last time we got involved with a prophecy," Fred countered, as she watched Trina rise up from the ground and say something to Buffy. "Wesley got his throat cut, and Connor was taken away to a demon dimension."
"That wasn't our fault; Wesley read it wrong," Gunn argued. "Buffy has come all the way from Rome, so that has gotta be sayin' something."
"I still think that's a funny name," the woman responded, with a wrinkled nose. "Has Angel talked to her yet?"
"Talked to who?" Angel asked curiously, as he rounded a corner. The two jumped, startled, and quickly shoved away from each other. Their boss rose his eyebrows quizzically.
"To, uhh, Harmony," Fred said quickly, flushing. "She has a new client...thing. And you have to call it."
"It?" Gunn and Angel both echoed.
"Ganaque demon," Fred lied. "Ingests eyeballs." She waited a moment in apprehension, unsure of whether he would buy it or not.
"Another one?" Angel asked in frustration, while scratching his forehead. "I helped their clan the other week..." He paused, spotting Buffy through the glass. His expression softened ever so slightly.
"Er, Angel?" Gunn asked uncertainly, when his friend seemed to be mentally gone. Angel blinked his eyes several times, then shook himself.
"Yeah, sorry. I'm going to check on the...demons," his voice was distant as he wandered past them, murmuring something to himself.
"Guy's got it bad," Gunn stated, once their boss was out of earshot.
"I can't believe we helped Ganaque demons last week," Fred added with utter disgust. "It's just...inhuman." "Hey!" Xander yelled in protest, scowling at Spike. "That was the second to my last Twinkie!"
"Bloody good one, too," the vampire agreed, smirking. "Say, how do they get the fluffy cream inside the little pastry?"
"I-" Xander almost exploded with fury, then stopped. "Don't know, really. I always thought they had special pastry tools."
"And who are "they" anyway?" Spike asked, while his studied the torn wrapper. "Is there just this warehouse, with tons of people, stuffing cream into pastries all day long?"
"Is there an occult of pastry-makers?" Xander asked, with a sudden look of horror upon his face. Both sat in a thoughtful silence, their expressions both uncertain and ponderous.
"Hey, guys," Buffy said breathlessly, as she sat down beside them in the cafeteria. "Ooh, Twinkie." With slayer reflexes, she snatched it up hungrily. Xander tore away from his deep thought, just as she ate up the last bit.
"Ah, damn." He sulked. "You ate my last Twinkie, Buff." She frowned, wiping cream from the side of her lip.
"Sorry."
"How's the training going with Mini-you?" Spike asked, noticing her cheeks were a rose-colored. He took note on how hot-both literally and metaphorically speaking-she looked. Buffy sighed.
"You had to ask."
"That bad?" inquired Xander, shoving over his coke from across the table. Buffy thankfully slurped on the straw.
"She doesn't believe in herself," she answered, grimly. "Losing..." Slurp. "...focus."
"Did she have any to begin with?" Spike said.
"Good point," Buffy replied, after a moment. "She's resting right now. Not used to so much exertion."
"I could give it another go," Spike offered, realizing she, too, was tired. Her eyes seemed weary, fluttering often to stay open. The bleach-blonde also noticed that her hands shook only so slightly, though enough for him to notice. The slayer absently shoved the soda back over to Xander, who irritably discovered the can was now empty.
"Not if you want to be glared at." Buffy said.
But anyway, I don't own Angel/Buffy charries, yadda yadda. The chapters are short, only because I'm trying to stretch the story beyond seven chapters. Make sense? Well, sit back, grab your bowl of popcorn, and enjoy...CHAPTAH FIVE! Translation: Chapter 5. -Curtains part- "Okay, that's good. Now-block, kick, jab. Yes, that's it..." Buffy slowly coached Trina through the basic moves of defense, quickly ducking to miss a blow from her slayer-in-training. "You're making progress."
"Could have fooled me," Trina responded dully, while she plopped onto the floor in exhaustion. The two women had been practicing in the training room for nearly four hours, and the only thing the potential could feel was the ache in her muscles. Weren't slayer powers supposed to make this easier?
"Would you rather practice with Spike again?" Buffy asked jokingly, grinning. "I think he's getting better with the taunting thing."
"If he calls be a British name one more time, I'll-" Trina began seethingly, but paused. What would she do? The girl could barely throw a straight punch, let alone face the vampire. "...I'll glare at him. Angrily." Buffy chuckled.
"He'd better watch out then." Trina rolled her eyes, her head pointed towards the ceiling.
"Yeah, I'll be real intimidating," she said, purposely doubtful. "The demon can laugh at me a few minutes before ripping my spleen out." Buffy grimaced.
"That's not very positive."
"Would you rather have me say it in a happy way?" The sixteen year-old questioned, swivelling around to look at her. Buffy shook her head.
"There shall be no spleen-ripping, Trina. You'll be ready." The tone in her voice almost gave Trina hope. Almost. "Is this really a good idea, Charles?" Winifred Burkle asked Gunn with concern, as they observed the two womens' training through a window. "Becoming involved with the prophecy, I mean." She rested her head lightly against his shoulder, garbed in a solid-white lab coat.
"I don't really know," the man admitted, as he wrapped his arms around her waist. "Angel and Wesley said it was important, so I'm gonna go with them."
"But you do know what happened the last time we got involved with a prophecy," Fred countered, as she watched Trina rise up from the ground and say something to Buffy. "Wesley got his throat cut, and Connor was taken away to a demon dimension."
"That wasn't our fault; Wesley read it wrong," Gunn argued. "Buffy has come all the way from Rome, so that has gotta be sayin' something."
"I still think that's a funny name," the woman responded, with a wrinkled nose. "Has Angel talked to her yet?"
"Talked to who?" Angel asked curiously, as he rounded a corner. The two jumped, startled, and quickly shoved away from each other. Their boss rose his eyebrows quizzically.
"To, uhh, Harmony," Fred said quickly, flushing. "She has a new client...thing. And you have to call it."
"It?" Gunn and Angel both echoed.
"Ganaque demon," Fred lied. "Ingests eyeballs." She waited a moment in apprehension, unsure of whether he would buy it or not.
"Another one?" Angel asked in frustration, while scratching his forehead. "I helped their clan the other week..." He paused, spotting Buffy through the glass. His expression softened ever so slightly.
"Er, Angel?" Gunn asked uncertainly, when his friend seemed to be mentally gone. Angel blinked his eyes several times, then shook himself.
"Yeah, sorry. I'm going to check on the...demons," his voice was distant as he wandered past them, murmuring something to himself.
"Guy's got it bad," Gunn stated, once their boss was out of earshot.
"I can't believe we helped Ganaque demons last week," Fred added with utter disgust. "It's just...inhuman." "Hey!" Xander yelled in protest, scowling at Spike. "That was the second to my last Twinkie!"
"Bloody good one, too," the vampire agreed, smirking. "Say, how do they get the fluffy cream inside the little pastry?"
"I-" Xander almost exploded with fury, then stopped. "Don't know, really. I always thought they had special pastry tools."
"And who are "they" anyway?" Spike asked, while his studied the torn wrapper. "Is there just this warehouse, with tons of people, stuffing cream into pastries all day long?"
"Is there an occult of pastry-makers?" Xander asked, with a sudden look of horror upon his face. Both sat in a thoughtful silence, their expressions both uncertain and ponderous.
"Hey, guys," Buffy said breathlessly, as she sat down beside them in the cafeteria. "Ooh, Twinkie." With slayer reflexes, she snatched it up hungrily. Xander tore away from his deep thought, just as she ate up the last bit.
"Ah, damn." He sulked. "You ate my last Twinkie, Buff." She frowned, wiping cream from the side of her lip.
"Sorry."
"How's the training going with Mini-you?" Spike asked, noticing her cheeks were a rose-colored. He took note on how hot-both literally and metaphorically speaking-she looked. Buffy sighed.
"You had to ask."
"That bad?" inquired Xander, shoving over his coke from across the table. Buffy thankfully slurped on the straw.
"She doesn't believe in herself," she answered, grimly. "Losing..." Slurp. "...focus."
"Did she have any to begin with?" Spike said.
"Good point," Buffy replied, after a moment. "She's resting right now. Not used to so much exertion."
"I could give it another go," Spike offered, realizing she, too, was tired. Her eyes seemed weary, fluttering often to stay open. The bleach-blonde also noticed that her hands shook only so slightly, though enough for him to notice. The slayer absently shoved the soda back over to Xander, who irritably discovered the can was now empty.
"Not if you want to be glared at." Buffy said.