"Huh?" Xander wondered out loud, pausing on the sidewalk in front of his home during the late afternoon of October 31st, Halloween.
He stared in matching puzzlement at the small wooden crate lying to one side of the house porch. That box hadn't been there when he'd left for school earlier today, only to be callously drafted in there by Principal Snyder into escorting around Sunnydale the younger trick-or-treaters along with Wils and the Buffster, both who'd also protested to no avail.
After classes, a very grumpy Scooby Gang trio visited the town's newest costume shop to buy their holiday attire, with Xander acquiring there an ultra-low budget outfit of an U.S. Army enlisted soldier and a toy rifle to go with it. Hey, call him the Two-Dollar King, why don'tcha? Shifting these cheapo purchases carried under his arm which he'd brought home to change into before going to Buffy's house where he'd meet her and Willow around dusk tonight, Xander walked up the pathway overgrown by weeds sprouting from an unkempt lawn to take a closer look at the crate.
It was a plain, unpainted chest the size of a foot locker with a couple of short planks nailed down for its top. Attached to the center of the middle plank was a taped shipping address label, the bottom portion giving the location of SUNNYDALE, CA 93117.
That was all, since the label's upper half had been torn off, leaving nothing but a jagged edge on this slip of paper where the rest of that stub should've displayed the crate's street address and the name of whoever it'd been intended for. Obviously that slip was intact during its delivery, or the post office wouldn't have known where to convey it in the first place.
That didn't help Xander now at all. He knew for sure that crate wasn't intended for him, what with not expecting anything lately in the mail. So, maybe the crate was for his parents, either or both of 'em.
That brought up a big problem for Xander right then and there. Just this morning, Tony gruffly informed Xander he and Jessica were leaving town to attend some distant cousin's wedding and would be back in a couple of days.
"That means you stay here and keep an eye on things, boy, or I'll kick your butt, you hear me?"
Xander prudently hadn't mentioned his first smart-ass reactions concerning that surprising little bit of news coming completely out of the blue. Such as, who'd be crazy enough to marry into the Harris clan, anyway? Or that Tony and Jessica weren't going to the wedding to show any kind of family solidarity, nuh-huh. Instead, his parents more likely jumped at the prospect of free food and booze at the reception, plus the chance to freeload as some relative's guests for however long they could get away with this until they were finally told to beat it.
This meant Xander had no way to contact his parents to ask them about the crate, or even know when they were coming back to Sunnydale. It could be tomorrow, or a week from today.
The teenager eyed the crate again with growing exasperation. If whatever it contained was perishable and needed to be put in their refrigerator in order to stay fresh, Xander had to open it and do that as soon as possible. Tony wouldn't accept any excuses about something like the newest delivery of the Cheap-Bourbon-Marinated-Steak-of-the-Month-Club getting ruined, no matter how Xander definitely getting his butt kicked for it complained that this wasn't his fault!
On the other hand, said butt-kicking would instantly commence if Xander really should've let that damn crate alone rather than lay a single finger on it without his dad's permission. As if his home life wasn't crappy enough already…
Muttering various imprecations under his breath, Xander walked past the crate, opening the unlocked door to the house (who was going to burgle this crummy place?), leaving it ajar. He tossed the soldier outfit and the plastic toy rifle onto the run-down living room couch cushions, and headed for the door to the garage.
A minute later, Xander was back outside, a claw hammer scavenged from the garage workplace table in one hand. He looked down at the crate innocently resting upon the porch, thoughtfully hefting the claw hammer.
How'd he get to this point, automatically checking there was still sunlight falling on the crate even if it was much too small to contain within itself a curled-up vamp waiting to drain the nearest unwary neck once that demon was freed by some stupid kid?
Sighing, Xander finished this with a sardonic aside, "It's Sunnydale, buster."
Bending over, Xander rammed the tips of the hammer's steel claws between the underneath of the right-hand plank's edge and the outer top of the crate's side, levering the plank up from the nails fastening it tight. He did this as carefully as he could to prevent any noticeable damage to the crate. If he found out its contents were indeed none of his business, all it'd take was for him to pound the plank nails down and pretend later to Tony he'd left it alone. Viola, one butt-kicking avoided!
It wasn't all that hard, with Xander removing completely the plank and finding out the crate contained—
"What the hell?!"
Well, at least he'd established for once and all that the crate had nothing to do with Tony.
In fact…when Xander let his gaze fall upon one of the dozen Halloween costumes limply spread out like the others onto the living room furniture, a horrific image of his slovenly dad wearing nothing but that particularly gauzy number made a prompt appearance into Xander's brain to next cause him to throw up a little in his mouth.
Gulping down the trickle of bile which burned his throat on its way back into his stomach, Xander tried to figure it all out regardless. The only thing that made any kind of sense was the crate had been delivered today to the absolute wrong address.
Mulling it over, Xander soon became convinced of the total righteousness of this new theory. After all, considering how Sunnydale's police force still managed to ignore with utter zeal every bit of the supernatural carnage occurring in their town every night to instead preoccupy themselves with the proper number of chocolate sprinkles on their doughnut runs, the local post office guys just might be equally incompetent at their own jobs.
That still didn't help Xander decide what to do next with the costumes, all of which he'd immediately recognized given how famous their characters were for any American growing up in front of their television sets during the last half-century.
None the less, a quick hunt for any hint of those clothes' owners such as business nametags sewn inside the costumes didn't work out for Xander. He couldn't find even a single one of those. After giving up on that, the teenager eyed with some concern how low the sun was getting outside his house. He was already on a tight schedule to show up on time at Buffy's home, which meant there was no way for him to make a quick tour of Sunnydale's various Halloween costume shops before then and ask them about any missing costumes they might've lost lately.
Glancing at one particular set of costumes laid out flat on the rickety coffee table, Xander sighed with genuine disappointment. He'd been gleefully looking forward to bringing along those great outfits to convince his friends to wear them instead of the stupid French countess and the all-purpose ghost which Buffy and Willow were going as tonight. However, picking the costumes up for a closer examination made Xander break out in a sudden cold sweat at his narrow escape and hastily toss these back onto the living room furniture.
These nervous actions were all due to one of those costumes needed their wearer to be a couple of inches taller than the Buffster, while the other necessitated that whoever put it on would require the proper…moreness…of the chest region to successfully pull off the character.
It didn't matter which of his girls were a Slayer and the other was an ordinary human; both at once would've been eager to viciously maim Xander for daring to foist those insults of a costume onto them.
Glumly about to change into his own Army fatigues, Xander stopped short in his tracks as a happy inspiration shoehorned itself into his mind. He couldn't head off to the town's costume shops now, but after Halloween, it'd be a cinch to drop in there and find out who the costume owners were while they were packing up for next year. Best of all, those outfits were not only perfect wardrobe replicas consisting of fine workmanship instead of the normal generic knock-off outfits, but they were worn by classic tv characters. Which meant they were worth serious bucks and would always be popular, so the owners would definitely be anxious to have them back.
"Yeah," Xander muttered with real delight. "Reward time, dude!"
He idly wondered out much actual cash bounty would come his way once those costumes were returned, but hey, even a single $20 bill would find a good home in his jeans pockets. Not that he'd complain if it was more, no sirree…
Humming cheerfully to himself, Xander gathered all the costumes into a big pile in his arms. He'd stash these away in his basement bedroom for now, just in case his parents got back early. Heading towards the stairs, Xander grinned down at the load of first-rate fabric he was carrying. Without thinking twice, the teenager mentioned what'd just occurred to him:
"Looks like you're all mine now, ladies!"
Strolling around his shop well past closing time, Ethan Rayne noted with smug satisfaction the many bare shelves and stripped hangers on picked-over clothing racks throughout the store. He'd done quite a decent amount of business the last few days, disbursing his Chaos-imbued costumes to Sunnydale customers of all ages and societal classes. When this British mage finally performed the concluding spell mere minutes from now to turn all the costumed characters into reality tonight, it'd be his finest anarchistic prank ever!
Making things even better, Ripper's little bint of a Slayer would also be trapped as some dimwitted aristo French bitch who might as well be wearing a sign on the back of her ornate gown declaring "FREE LUNCH HERE!" for all the Hellmouth's local hungry demons. Savoring that charming mental vision, Ethan's gratified expression abruptly changed into an entirely different and much sourer glare at one particular display area which was as vacant now as the other empty store sections.
However, that specific area hadn't been previously filled with magical costumes to be sold unlike elsewhere in the store because the town's bloody postal wankers earlier mislaid the chest shipped all the way from England with these fancy dress clothes costing him a pretty penny. Ethan only found this out right in the middle of setting up his shop, forcing him to call them in a vain attempt to locate his absent property.
"The swift completion of their appointed rounds", his arse. They'd brushed Ethan off with a totally insincere promise to look into it and get back to him…eventually. Adding further insult to injury, he'd then been hung up on by them. Holding the phone, an outraged Ethan was about to cast his most malicious wizarding curse against those witless pillocks, until he sullenly realized his prospective targets were already employed by a soul-destroying bureaucracy, so what was the damn point?
Standing in the middle of his shop while brooding darkly over the whole soddin' injustice of it all, Ethan at last consoled himself with the minor point that those costumes still nowhere to be found (however it'd happened) wouldn't be affected by the Chaos spell about to be applied throughout the Hellmouth. Just like none of the remaining unsold shop costumes with nobody wearing them, either.
Hmmm…come to think of it, that might cause even more disorder tonight, what with a bit more enchanted energy available for the purchased costumes out on the city streets tonight. Cheering up a trifle at this abrupt insight, Ethan got himself ready for tonight's derisive two-finger salute to order and good taste. A wicked gleam in his eye now showing how much he was going to bloody enjoy this, Ethan headed for the shop's back room where an ancient bust of Janus awaited this god's summoning.
In there, a circle of lit candles illuminated the small, two-faced stone sculpture resting upon a cloth-covered table set in the center of the room. When Ethan pushed open the door, those candles flickered a little due to the mild breeze produced by him coming inside the room. That subtle shift of dim lighting caused the shadows covering the one of the pair of Janus faces on the exact opposite side from Ethan's position in the room to also move and give the impression that its previous cold expression had changed into something completely different than a moment ago.
It was rather a pity that Ethan Rayne didn't see that, or he might've realized well before it was too late that meddling with godly powers on an active Hellmouth could result in unforeseen consequences to hilariously entertain a deity looking for such a good laugh which hadn't occurred for it in thousands of years. And all it'd taken in advance was a minor bit of misdirection to send off course a certain wooden crate.
On its stony visage still unnoticed by Ethan Rayne bustling about the room to begin the summoning ceremony, Janus now evinced what could only be described as an…anticipatory smirk.
Hours later, a very exhausted Xander heard from behind him Giles' car sputter off down the street from where the older man had dropped off his passenger in front of Xander's house. Not even bothering to glance over his shoulder at the pair of departing Citroen taillights, Xander trudged to the front door. Again, it was unlocked, and Xander went inside, too tired to even think about being ambushed by one of Sunnydale's assorted supernatural monsters during all this.
Screw 'em. If they wanted to snack on him, Xander would've just asked they get it over with right away, as long as he could nap forever after tonight's total weirdness! Escorting the trick-or-treaters, being changed into Soldier-Boy in the middle of it, turning back to normal, and then finishing up by an anxious collection of the scattered, bewildered kids he'd been responsible for… The only good thing was that none of these children were thankfully hurt or even remembered much about all the strange stuff happening to them this evening.
Unlike one Alexander LaVelle Harris, who'd had to deal with the fallout of his new memories while racing around town with Willow and Buffy to bring the kids back to Sunnydale High in the care of their parents waiting there. Giles had also been anticipating them in the school library, only to suggest at a swift glance at all three drooping teenagers that they meet up here again late tomorrow to discuss what they'd undergone due to the G-Man's old pal known as Ethan Rayne having a jolly good chuckle, don't you know. Bastard.
Stripping off his Army costume along the way down to the basement, Xander was dimly grateful his parents weren't home yet with no signs of their presence around. Frankly, he wasn't up to dealing with Tony tonight. All he wanted was a hot shower, and then to fall face-down in bed for a minimum there of twelve hours of serious slumber.
Pausing at the bottom of the stairs now clad only in his boxers, Xander wearily gave his balls a good scratching through the material, and then ripped off a loud fart. Leaving behind a noxious smell drifting through the air, he next went into the basement bathroom and shut its door where a few seconds later, the sound of rushing water began.
Another couple of moments went by in the basement, until a supremely sarcastic voice declared, "Oh, wonderful. I'm so glad we're the slaves of such a refined young man!"
In the magically-expanded corner of the basement also hidden by Jeannie's notice-me-not spell, Catwoman glared at this genie and her brunette sister among the other females also crowded together in there. She hissed fiercely at them both, "What we all just saw, didn't that maybe give you a little more incentive?! Both of you, get back to work right now freeing us from him and returning us to our homes!"
Jeannie Too put aside her usual feud with her goody-goody twin to glare just as ferociously at that tall woman dressed in skin-tight black leather and a headband with cat ears, snapping to her, "Do we have to tell you again? Our wishing powers are still almost totally gone! We can't do more than what we've already learned, much less breaking the master/genie spell we're all under!"
Ginger Grant joined in the argument with an icy announcement sent towards a fuming Selina Kyle, "What makes you really think we want to get sent back to that damn island, either? It might be a tropical paradise, but frankly, anywhere else would've been better when the sanitary napkins ran out the first couple of months we were stranded there!"
Mary Ann Summers vigorously nodded in agreement, her pigtails brushing against this woman's red gingham shirt shoulders. She piped up, "Besides, I'm not sure if there's enough food to share with the rest if us two show up to join the original me and Ginger."
From where she sat, Morticia Addams dryly said, "I seriously doubt that Gomez would mind the slightest, nor would the other Morticia. He'd say there was plenty of room in our bed and she'd agree!"
Next to her, Lily Munster acerbically sniffed, "Well, that won't do for Herman! One woman is all he can barely handle when Doctor Frankenstein building him forgot to match my husband's schwanzstucker with the rest of his huge body!"
That last part of her comment reduced just about everyone else there to speechlessness, although it had the opposite effect upon the young woman in the upper red leotard with a diagonal line of golden stars. Drusilla, aka Wonder Girl, had been the one to find Xander's porn stash, so she naturally asked Lily, "Is it quite necessary for that to be so big? Those women in the pictures seemed to be happy—"
"Drusilla!" a scarlet-faced Diana hastily chided her younger sister, only for Wonder Woman to receive a stubborn pout from the other superheroine determined to find out soon enough the truth for herself.
Trying to ignore the disturbingly contemplative expression which'd just flashed over Drusilla's face, Diana turned to her sniggering newfound companions. She reminded them all, "Don't we have much bigger problems than that? I'm talking about the fact that we're fictional characters here from...what'd you call it…tel-a-vision?"
"At least most of you are real people," Daphne Blake grumbled. She waved an indignant hand at herself and the buxom redhead seated by the blonde Mystery, Inc. sleuth. "We were just fine never knowing we lived in an animated cartoon before being brought into existence here!"
Velma Dinkley uttered a sheepish "Jinkies!" under her breath at this reminder of the unexpected outcome of her suggestion that once they'd found nobody could leave the home (some sort of magical invisible wall past the opened doors and windows blocked even Wonder Woman's hardest punch), everyone should try to call their friends on the house's phone for help. Unfortunately, not a single number went through successfully. When in desperation Velma rang up the operator instead, all that'd happened was an amused reaction from that person on the other end of the line about being part of a really great Halloween practical joke.
Just to be a good sport over it, the operator then flawlessly identified all the tv shows these characters were from, their full names, and even the exact archetypical costumes they were currently wearing, to the stunned astonishment of the women listening in at the suburban house. Then, the operator firmly told a boggled Velma that if there was nothing else, they needed to get back to their job. The click of the phone hanging up on their side was quite clear in the dead-silence of the living room where a dozen ladies were trying to come to grips with the shocking news they'd just heard.
With Batgirl's cowl pulled back from her revealed face now that there was no point in maintaining her secret identity, Barbara Gordon tried to get things back on track. "What're we going to do about Mr. Harris? I don't know about you, but it still makes me a lot nervous how much control the guy has over us now, even if he doesn't know that. What if he gets mean or worse with it when he does?"
Most of the women glanced towards at Jeannie and Jeannie Too, who shrugged in unison. The genie in the pink and red harem outfit pointed out, "Considering how horrible his parents are, we're lucky he's already a pretty decent person. That'll help."
Even Jeannie Too and Selina, who never felt particularly generous or sympathetic to anyone but themselves, appeared somewhat displeased about what their group had found when checking through the entire house, both physically and magically. The indications of childhood neglect and actual physical abuse in the past were all too clear to the various investigators of those supernaturally materializing at Sunnydale earlier tonight because of an English mage's Chaos spell.
The most dangerous expressions of all were those of the sole pair of mothers there, Morticia and Lily. They exchanged matching dark looks, as if to confirm nobody should ever treat a small boy as badly as they'd guessed had happened to Xander in the past. This plotting of mutual vengeance against Tony and Jessica Harris was interrupted then by the strongest of them all.
Diana Prince stated, "The lad showed himself to be a true hero of Man's World, protecting the innocent and steadfastly standing by his friends tonight when we watched everything through the genies' scrying. He's gained my trust for now, and I think that as long as we carefully explain to him—"
The sound of the water running in the shower which had lasted throughout their entire conversation abruptly stopped, causing Wonder Woman to break off in her announcement. A craning of female heads towards the bathroom door eventually resulted in Xander coming out from there, wearing only a set of sleep shorts and toweling off his damp hair, completely ignorant of the intent stares of his audience still concealed by the cloaking spell.
Looking up and down Xander's revealed body, Lily said disapprovingly, "He's much too skinny! A couple of bowls of my famous bat-wing soup would do him good!"
Unaware of what he was going to consistently choke down in the near future lest he offend a certain Munster matriarch, Xander tossed the used towel onto the bedroom floor and gladly got into his bed by the basement wall with a grateful sigh. Pulling the covers over himself, Xander reached up and turned off the wall light, leaving the room mostly dark except for the dim light coming through the house foundation window from the streetlamp outside. Closing his eyes, Xander contentedly expected a nice bout of sawing z's now that all the Halloween weirdness was over and done with at last.
Yeah, like he was gonna get that lucky.
From where she'd been sitting among their group, Selina gracefully arose and sauntered towards the imaginary line separating their magical expanded area to the mundane basement, offhandedly volunteering to the surprised others, "If we're going to explain to Mr. Perfect how his life just changed completely, might as well as do it now, ladies."
Before anyone could stop her, Catwoman stepped out into Xander's bedroom and then made a nimble hop right onto that young man's body under the bedcovers.
On the very verge of slumber, Xander was abruptly awakened by the full-length slam of something hard descending without any warning upon both his bed and his torso. Eyes flying open in sheer panic, Xander next squinted from the abrupt illumination of his wall lamp being switched on.
Looking straight ahead, it took a few moments for Xander to recognize he was staring from very close range at a magnificent pair of breasts barely contained by a black, clinging outfit worn by an exquisitely fit female body sprawled upon him. Finally dragging away his gaze from that superb view, Xander glanced up directly into Julie Newmar's beautiful face smirking downwards at him.
"Hellooo, darling," Catwoman purred.