Summary: Yet another Halloween fic. With demons.
Disclaimer: I own... hmm. I own nothing. The bank owns any money I make, at the moment.
Feedback: Why not? It helps me write more and better...
Pre-fic Comments:
Heard quite a good song today -- "Sleep", by Stabbing Westward. Go forth and dow--, er listen to it, my hordes of devoted fans! I'm a sad man... I've still got a few dozen new albums to listen to. Some of which I have no idea what they're like, like this thrill kill group thingy.
The dice were of no use in deciding Willow's hair colour, so I consulted a fifty cent piece. Heads, two out of three. (I chose tails for blue, as a dirty joke on a review. Don't ask.)
* * *
The next day found Xander staggering out of bed, rubbing sleep out of his eyes.
"ALEXANDER!," his mum yelled. "OUT! NOW!"
"Gimme five minutes," he yelled back, feeling annoyed at his mother and wishing she'd get off his case.
"Alright, Xander," she yelled back, far more softly. "As long as you get to school on time."
That was strange -- normally she'd be screaming at him to get his lazy ass out the door. He shrugged it off, not wanting to look a gift horse in the mouth, and got dressed.
"Is Dad out jobseeking?," he asked his mother, who seemed to be recuperating from last night.
"Don't you make fun of your father like that!," she yelled at him, back to normal. "If it wasn't for him, you'd be out in the street without a home!"
Same old, same old. It was nice, in a way, to know that despite what whackiness the Hellmouth could throw up, some things would never change.
* * *
At school, the first person he came across was Cordelia, for some strange reason. Her eyes widened, her breath quickened, and she tried to avoid him.
"Hey, Cordelia," he greeted her.
"Hi, uh, I've got to go talk to some people, so, later, perhaps?," she said, almost running from him.
"Okay, someone's repressing," he said, reaching around and scratching his upper back. He hoped that he wasn't going to turn back into a demon or something -- the itchy area was right where his wings had been attached.
"I've been doing my best to forget," Willow said, coming up to him. "Thanks for reminding me."
"I see the hair dye came out, Wills, but what's with the hat and the gloves and stuff?," he asked.
It was a fair question. The short-ish redhead had a large, widebrimmed hat on, longsleeved shirt, pants, gloves... even a pair of cheap sunglassses.
"Ahhh," Xander realised, cutting off Willow's answer. "You've still got some of it too."
The hacker nodded resignedly.
"Maybe, if we're lucky, we can /stay/ normal. As normal as people on Hellmouths get, I mean."
"We're not that lucky," Willow said morosely.
"I am Xander!," he said sternly, assuming a pose he had seen in a comic book. "The world revolves around ME!"
Willow had to laugh at that. "Okay, mister, the world might, but what about Mrs Kerbopple?"
"Crap! English!"
The Slayer caught up with them, jogging quickly. "Hey guys!"
"Hey, Buff!," Xander grinned. "How's my favourite Slayer handling? I now have elite relaxation skillz if need be!"
Buffy groaned. "I could use it. My skin feels like a million ants are crawling around underneath it. Do I look bloated? I bet I look ugly right now."
"I'd say you look like perfection, except that that would fall far short of your glory," Xander said expansively. "This is probably insensitive of me to say this, but last night didn't go toooo badly for me."
"I'm glad /someone/ enjoyed it," Willow said. "Why couldn't I enjoy it too?"
"Because you're my pure and sweet little Will?"
* * *
In English, Buffy found it hard to sit still as her skin began to feel a size too small for her frame and muscles. Xander was getting the same feeling, while Willow was fine. (She'd taken a seat far, far away from the windows in the classroom.)
"Okay, Nelson, what are some similarities in American society to Orwell's 1984?," the teacher asked.
"One of the parallels to Victory Gin is Freedom Fries, as--," the student began, then stopped. Extremely abruptly.
The teacher didn't reprimand him for this.
As she was also extremely gobsmacked, for lack of a better word.
Buffy Summers and Xander Harris. She'd known for a long time that the two were troublemakers. But now! Now, they were stooping to contaminating the school water with hallucinogens! Possibly even that PCP substance! There was no other reason for Summers to sprout four extra arms and have her legs replaced with a long snake tail. Or for Harris to grow wings and a tail.
"Class... are you seeing what I'm seeing?," Mrs Kerbopple asked weakly.
"Yes, Mrs Kerbopple!," Nelson said excitedly.
"We must've forgotten to take our costumes off from last night," Buffy improvised.
"Yeah," Xander agreed. "We'll just go and sort this out."
"Oh... alright," Mrs Kerbopple said. Really, she should've noticed. Probably too tired. Well, at least the water was alright. "Miss Rosenberg, please escort them to the nearest bathroom."
* * *
"Really?," Giles asked. "And the two of you just changed back in class?"
"Yeah," Xander said. "Lucky us."
* * *
Post-fic comments:
If you want, the sunnies can be a ZZ Top reference :)
Got the brief 1984 ref from