Disclaimer: I own... hmm. I own nothing. The bank owns any money I make, at the moment. The concepts building 1001Keys do not belong to me, most probably.
Feedback: Why not? It helps me write more and better...
Crossover: Megatokyo
MusicThisWasWrittenTo: Angel Dust
Pre-fic Comments:
If there are any queries as to common, every day items or foods that people in third world countries do not recognise, then speak up.
Spot the mention of someone :)
The next morning was the start of the weekend, for which everyone in Sunnydale under eighteen gave thanks.
"Buffy!," Joyce called up.
The Vampire Slayer jammed her pillow on top of her head in an effort to stave off evil.
"Buuuufffyyyyy!," Joyce called again. "Time to wake up!"
"Nnnrrrr," Buffy mumbled, coils not even twitching. The mumble didn't even make it downstairs.
Joyce sighed, looking down at the kitchen bench. She flipped the pikelet cooking on the electric frypan, sending the smell out.
A couple minutes later, her daughter was in the land of the living and munching on pikelets and golden syrup.
After breakfast, Joyce looked at Buffy from across the small kitchen island. Buffy looked down at the bench, still not used to seeing a seven foot tall leopard woman where her completely human mum used to be.
To be fair, though, Joyce wasn't used to Buffy having a long snake tail in place of legs. Not to mention her four extra arms.
"Have you thought about that O'Neil person, Buffy?," Joyce asked.
"Not really," Buffy said, upper pair of arms rubbing her eyes as the middle pair cut up pikelets. "Giles... yawwwnnnn Giles has come up with a fresh new evil for me to fight."
"We'll call Xander, Giles, and Willow and they can come over and we'll go and sort it out then," Joyce said, whiskers twitching.
"Okay," Buffy shrugged. "I'll call 'em."
Half an hour later, the rest of the Scooby Gang had assembled at 1630 Revello Drive. All the cat people were sitting on Joyce's sofa and La-Z-Boys, while the non-cat-people demons were perched on the stools that normally lived in the kitchen.
"So, has anyone thought about what to do with that man?," Joyce asked.
"Well, we can't hand him over to the authorities," Doctor Rosenberg said. "They'd take him as a scapegoat and eat him alive. Possibly literally."
"Thank you for bringing up that last possibility," Xander spoke up. "You know, that extra little gross-out factor."
Willow's mum ignored him.
"What about the Watcher's Council?," Willow asked. "Could they judge him... you know, ethically and morally soundly?"
"Are those even words?," Buffy asked doubtfully.
"Well, they are one of the few who would have any idea of what would constitute a fair and just sentence in this case," Giles admitted. "Especially as they are a neutral third party to the matter."
"Oh yeah, because they did one hell of a job locking up Ethan Rayne," Xander spoke up. "Pardon the pun, of course."
"They'd be better than nothing, which is what we've come up with otherwise," Buffy shrugged.
"Okay, we'll go and get 'em while the G-man rings up his home-boys," Xander decided.
"Please, /don't/ call me that," Giles sighed, clearly wishing his eyesight hadn't improved so that he could take off his glasses and clean them.
"Has anything like this ever happened before?," Mr Rosenberg asked as Xander and Buffy left for next door.
"Mass transformations, were-cats, or delusional idiots causing trouble?," Giles asked rhetorically.
"Uh... were-cats?," Willow asked. "All the movies I've seen talked about were-wolves."
"Well... the only were-cat in existance prior to this lives in Sweden," Giles thought out loud. "A cheetah, if I remember correctly."
"Sweden," Joyce said flatly. She would've expected South Africa or something.
Giles nodded. "Amazingly stacked, too... living in a defacto with a man called Hat or something. I don't recall whether she infected him or not. The Council decided to leave them be as long as they abided by the law of the land."
"Why would there be someone called 'Hat'?," Willow asked.
"I think it was his nickname," Giles said. "It was so distinctive that that was what I remembered his name as. His full name was John Ericsson, or Carlsson, or something."
Xander sneezed as he wandered into 1632 Revello Drive. The smell of petrochemicals was thick in the air. Buffy was checking the ground floor of the house, while he looked through the basement
"Whew, someone was heavy on the glue sniffing," he said.
"Looks like they've gone off," Buffy frowned, appearing from one of the bedrooms. "Stupid morons."
"No note, either," Xander said. "Spot any computers?"
"Nope, they're gone too," Buffy blinked. "I can't see a bunch of geeks like them going anywhere without their computers."
Xander frowned. "They could be anywhere by now."
"Maybe Willow knows where they are," Buffy suggested. "There could be some big nerd-fest in LA or something."
"I've got a better idea," Xander returned. "We /can/ teleport now, remember?"
The Slayer-Marilith blushed. "Oh yeah."
Post-fic Comments:
Okay, the next few parts after this will be co-authored by Nathan Campbell, as he is teh mastah when it comes to some future plot points and I am the absolute opposite.