Ficlets for Universe_The
Dec. 4th, 2013 01:38 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
catkoFandom: Sherlock BBC/Buffy Crossover
So this is for a 20 in 20 fic challenge at![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
universe_the using various prompts. It's a few more installments to my sometime-series that features post-Sunnydale Scoobies in London with Giles, getting mixed up with the Sherlock BBC gang. The original is a bit of a case-fic, but I don't think these drabbles will advance that story much. Someday I might put it all together. With thanks to my pal ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
blue_sunflowers for the beta help and support that manages to be both distracting and encouraging.
01. Wish fulfillment
Xander sighed moodily and stared at the vaulted ceiling of the hotel room, He stretched out his legs on the couch and kicked his feet idly.
"Aw, what is it, Xan Man," Buffy breezed by the couch and twinkled down at him. "Pouting?" She grabbed the back of the couch and did a few leg kicks, then dropped to the ground for push-ups.
"Yeah, hmmm." Xander kicked his feet again. "Y'know," he said, earnestly, sitting up and peering over the back of the couch down at her. "When I was a kid, and hating being at home, I'd sometimes dream of being an international spy, living in swank hotels, with room service on tap. So, you'd think I'd be so happy. But instead..."
Buffy pushed herself to her feet and started open-air punching, but looked sympathetically at her friend. Encouraged, Xander continued, "I mean, it should be a dream come true...but instead, I feel so, god, bored? Empty?"
With a sudden move, Buffy vaulted over the back of the couch and landed on her feet beside him. Putting her hands on his shoulders, she looked him in the eye and grinned. "Hey, it's no wonder, right? Death, destruction, apocalypse? Escaping with nothing but the clothes on our backs?" She straightened, shrugged, and went back to air-punching. "It's no wonder we're feeling a little weird. And anyway, it's proof of yet another great saying!" Xander squinted at her. "Which is?"
Buffy waved her arms around the room. "Uh. 'Be careful what you wish for'?"
02. Alien
The water dripped in the dark, dank corridor, and sloshed underfoot, adding to the chill and terror. They crept along, eyes darting side to side, clutching weapons, braced for whatever might be around the next corner. Trying to control their panic, their breath sounded harsh and ragged in the echoing gloom, with the occasional clank and clang cracking throughout the darkness. Suddenly, a skittering clatter overhead, and just as their eyes met in alarm, there was a grinding screech, and a huge, scaly beast ripped through the tubing overhead and crashed down upon them.
"Argh! Fuck!" shouted Xander, as he threw himself backwards, while Willow and Dawn shrieked and leapt to their feet. Staring down at Xander, gingerly arising from the floor behind the sofa, Willow yelled, "Dammit, Xander! This movie is scary enough without you freaking out!"
"Yeah, Xander," moaned Dawn, looking through her hands covering her face, back at the television set. "Why didn't we choose something light, and fun? Why did we have to pick Alien?"
03. Stranded
"Oh, man, this is so awesome!" Xander spun around and around, loving the 360 degree view of one of the best known settings in all the world. As he spun, the building-high neon signs, honking cabs, and milling international crowds, all swung by the roundabout surrounding them. "Piccadilly Circus, yeah!" he cried out to the sky and the statue of the naked cherub poised overhead.
"The monument is topped by Alfred Gilbert's winged nude statue originally intended to be the Greek god Anteros, sometimes referred to as The Angel of Christian Charity but generally known as his brother, Eros," intoned Willow, reading from a guide book. "Yeah very interesting, now let's go shopping," said Dawn, heading to a gap in the railing. Xander stopped his spinning and staggered after her, stopping at the curb and looking dizzily into the lanes and lanes of traffic, circling and weaving around them. "Uh, just one problem," he muttered. "How the hell do we get off of here?"
04. Baby
Xander groaned as the rhythmic, thumping sound seemed to get louder and louder, even though earlier he'd buried his head under 4 large pillows to block out the sun. Finally, he lurched out of bed, and, wrapping his bathrobe around him, stumbled out into the front room. There, poised in front of the blaring TV set, was Dawn, jumping and stretching to the music. As one particular move spun her around, she caught sight of Xander. "Hey!" she sang out, turning and kicking.
"Yeah, hey. Uh, Dawn?" he said, rubbing his hand through his hair. "What is this?" She spun around again to face him. "Bangin' it with Baby!" she chortled, hopping and waving her hands around. "It's a daily exercise program with--" she waved at the TV, "Baby Spice!"
Xander squinted at the set, where a somewhat older but still cute-looking, pony-tailed blonde hopped and sang. Then, wondering why on Earth he even cared, he trudged back to his bedroom, with the chipper words, "If you wanna be my lover, then you gotta--" following him all the way.
05. Bar Fight
"No, no, no. John, you can't make me." Sherlock stood stock still in front of the pub, his arms crossed. "Come on, Sherlock, just for a little bit," wheedled John, "for one, it's good form. We're trying to establish relations here, and you've got to admit, it could be a very good alliance. Besides," he added amiably, "I could murder a pint."
"I refuse to see how supernatural crime in London can be vanquished by us spending time in a beer-soaked venue surrounded by caterwauling locals, London police, and a passel of American youths, no matter their penchant for demon-hunting."
"Well how about this then," said John, catching sight of a sign on the door. "It's Trivia Night." And he turned to pull the door open, but not before he caught the avid gleam in Sherlock's eye.
06. Hero
Xander stared moodily into his pint of warm beer. On the up side, yeah, drinking age 18. On the down side, half the table--to be precise, Sherlock, Willow, and Giles--were huddled over the Trivia answer sheet, gesturing at each other and scribbling the answers to various questions being read out loud, on the most boring topics imaginable. Lestrade and John Watson were regaling each other with incomprehensible stories, and Buffy was staring at a group of young men in soccer shirts gathered around a dart board. "Come all the way across the globe and still the Zeppo," he muttered to himself. Suddenly the microphone screeched and a voice intoned, "Next round up, get ready folks, for the topics of…Comic Books and Video Games!" The three brainiacs at the table groaned, but two pairs of eyes alit on Xander, who sat up straighter and prepared to be, for once, the hero.
07. Open Mic Night
"So, that was fun, yeah?" grinned Lestrade, as Sherlock and John swept out, their table having won the Trivia contest and split up the prize of euros and beer. "Yes, quite," said Giles brightly. And in fact it was fun, and he was realizing how long it had been since he'd just, actually, had fun: a night out with compatriots, however diverse, enjoying activities like normal people. God, it seemed like it had been years; certainly the life of a Watcher, particularly in a high-school setting, didn't lend itself to much frivolity. Indeed, however desperate the actual decision had been, and whatever dire circumstances they might yet have to face, he was convinced that he had made the right choice bringing them here to London. He took a swig and watched as the younger set bantered among themselves, when he felt a clap on his shoulder. "Get ready for more, mate," said Lestrade, gesturing to the corner where they were setting up equipment. "Karaoke!"
08. Teamwork
Giles experienced a sharp stab of deja vu as the notes rang out for the start of the song. He surreptitiously cleared his throat and moved the mic to his mouth to sing. "No-one knows what it's like, to be the bad man, to be the sad man, behind blue eyes…." As he sang, the crowd and lights in front of him faded, and he was once again at the Espresso Pump in Sunnydale, crooning to his guitar. The memory was so intense that he was gripped with emotion, and realized, as the room faded back in, that he was standing agape, not singing, as the music played on. He blinked in the lights and froze. Suddenly there was a flash of movement, and a figure jumped up on stage. Pulling the mic towards him, Greg Lestrade began bellowing out in a respectable growl, "When my fist clenches, crack it open, Before I use it and lose my cool, When I smile, tell me some bad news, Before I laugh and act like a fool." He turned to Giles, gesturing him to pick up the next verse, which he did, and the two of them finished the song with a flourish, to the cheers of the crowd.
09. Cake
Mycroft brushed down his lapels and pushed open the door to the pub. One thing was certain--this new turn of events, the appearance of the Americans and the Watcher, had altered much, not the least of which was in his personal habits. For example, prior to this, he would have been very unlikely to join an ill-assorted group for, of all things, a "pub night." But needs must when the fate of the world was at stake, and his keen sense of tactics assured him that this was the best way to reconnoiter, to survey the situation, and assure that matters were in hand.
It had nothing to do with the knowledge that this particular pub specialized in the City's best Battenburg cake. No, nothing whatsoever.
10. Mistaken Identity
"Whoof!" gasped Willow as the three girls blinked against the bright lights, waved to the crowd, and headed down the stairs from the tiny stage. "That was fun!" "Not a bad version, if we do say so ourselves," preened Buffy, grasping Dawn's shoulders and steering her back to their table. "Whoops, I did it again, la la la la la…" she hummed as they moved towards their seats in the crowded, messy booth. Xander, the Detective Inspector, and GIles had been joined by a well-dressed man eating a piece of cake and looking somewhat, yet not at all, out of place. "What's all this?" asked Willow, gesturing toward the table now littered with slips of paper. "Your admirers," grinned Lestrade, taking a sip of beer. "Well, not precisely YOUR admirers," averred Xander, as he picked up one of the slips. "See, apparently there's a rumor going around this pub about the three American girls," he grinned. "Here's one: if you lot really are American singing stars, we got three blokes here wud take you out. And here," picking up another slip, "Britney, Demi, and Selena, you birds are awesome, why not let some real English lads show you the old town tonight." The men around the table chuckled (save the newcomer, still concentrating on cake), while the three young women stared at each other, then broke into loud laughter.
11. Holidays: Jolly Holidays
"Hey, guys, look what I got," called out Dawn, as she entered the hotel room, juggling several packages. "Shock and surprise," groaned Xander, staring at the football Match of the Day. "Dawnie goes shopping in London, what else is new?"
"Quit yer bitchin', Negative Nate!" trilled Dawn in a pseudo-Cockney accent. "Oi've brought you somefing to cheer you up like!" With a flourish, she pulled a flat package out of one of her bags, and tossed it at Xander. " 'Calendar of English Holidays,' " he read. "Ooooookay. How is this supposed to cheer me up?"
"Like this, old chap!" Dawn bounced on the couch next to him. "We're gonna take it upon ourselves to celebrate all the English Holidays. It'll be, like, a way of learning about the culture. And for feeling more at…." her voice faltered. "Feeling more at home." Her joy seemed to evaporate like a London mist. Xander looked at her, and his eyes turned tender. "It's a great idea, Dawnie," he said, patting her knee. "Let's do it."
12. Holidays: Feast of St. Francis of Assisi (October 4)
"First up, Feast of St. Francis of Assisi. We're a week late, but we can cheat a bit." Dawn peered at the text, and began to read. " 'The Feast of St Francis of Assisi is a day when special church services are held to bless pets in the United Kingdom. Pets of all kids, including dogs, cats, hamsters, rabbits, and even a 100-year-old tortoise, have been blessed in churches in England, Scotland and Northern Ireland in the past..' So that's easy. All we gotta do is find some animals to bless." Xander squinted out the window at the bustling city street below. "Allrighty," he said cheerily, "pigeons it is!"
13. Holidays: All Saints' Day (November 1)
"Oh God, why didn't you stop me," moaned Buffy, slumped on the couch. "And I thought Halloween was wild in Sunnydale," groaned Xander, staggering in cradling a steaming mug. "Coffee, my head wants you, but my stomach does not." He woefully regarded the beverage in his hand.
"That's what you get," intoned Willow, setting a lighted candle on the window sill, "if you'd honored the night like the Wiccans do, you wouldn't have a hangover today."
"The calendar says today is All Saints' Day," noted Dawn, "how do we celebrate?"
"We don't," scolded Willow. "That 'holiday' was made up to supplant Samhain! It was those Christians, always trying to force out the pagan rituals. So instead," she said brightly, "we celebrate the Day of the Dead." Xander groaned again. "No disrespect," he mumbled, "but the way I'm feeling, that couldn't be more appropriate."
"Drink your coffee, Xander," Willow said kindly, as Buffy, looking decidedly green, pushed past them to run to the bathroom.
14. Holidays: All Souls' Day (November 2)
"Whatcha got there, kid?" asked Xander, as Dawn opened a bakery box on the coffee table. "Soul cakes! For All Souls' Day," Dawn said happily. "Willow said it's okay if we celebrate this one since it doesn't interfere with any pagan holiday." She lifted up a round bun and gingerly took a bite.
"Yeah, says here that 'It is a time to remember and pray for deceased family members and friends. There was also a superstition that All Souls' night was a time when the dead revisited their homes. People would leave lit candles outside their homes to help to guide the deceased souls.' " Willow
read from the calendar as she set a candle on the table, followed by Buffy who did the same.
The four settled around the table, and fell silent, each remembering those they had lost over the years and most recently. Perhaps also remembering their experiences with the dead revisiting their homes, they exchanged sudden glances and, as one, leaned forward and blew out the candles.
15. Holidays: Guy Fawkes Day (November 5)
"Yahoo, Guy Fawkes Day!" crowed Xander, as they milled around in the dark street with the crowd. "I've been waiting for this one ever since we got that damn calendar! No, actually," he corrected, "ever since I saw V for Vendetta!" With a flourish, he pulled the pointy white mask down over his face. "Ugh," Dawn shivered, "that gives me the creeps."
"Speaking of the creeps, it said in the calendar that they tortured and executed Guy Fawkes and his crew," said Willow sadly. "I guess people have been awful throughout history."
"Well, at least we're talking about people being awful, and not demons and vampires and stuff," said Buffy cheerfully, looking around at the candlelight flickering on excited faces, and the bonfires flaming in the distance. "That's something, right?" Willow's reply was interrupted by a loud squeal, then a huge bang, and the sky filled with falling, sparkly light. The gang looked up and moved closer together as they watched, with happy faces, the fireworks display.
16. Writer's Choice: The Things I've Seen, Willow and Sherlock
I hope you are aware that, as a man of science, I am characterologically inclined to look askance at any phenomena with a highly skeptical eye." Sherlock affixed his companion with a piercing stare, though her happy, wide-eyed sparkle caused his usual iciness to melt around the edges a bit.
"Oh for sure, I know," said Willow eagerly. "I was the same! But then I had a chance to, I mean I was curious, and then I met...well." Her face drooped somewhat, and Sherlock discerned that a past memory had cast a shadow. "Well, anyway, I was a doubter, too, but after the things I've seen, and learned--" again the shadow-- "I have to believe there are things that science can't explain."
"We shall see about that," Sherlock said briskly, moving to the lab shelves, where he took down a bunsen burner and some test tubes. "Where shall we begin?"
"How about generating fire?" Willow suggested, grinning. "That's one of my favorite spells." She hefted her backpack onto the lab bench and rummaged around, pulling out small cloth bags, and bowls made of stone and glass. "Spell, or chemical reaction?" interjected Sherlock sweetly, wagging a test tube and, surprisingly, his eyebrows. Willow burst into laughter and began to assemble her ingredients.
17. Writer's Choice:The Things I've Seen, Dawn and John
"So, young lady, cab or Tube?" asked John, smiling at the girl beside him. "Oh, the Tube, the Tube!" said Dawn excitedly. "Good, I prefer that myself," John said definitively, shepherding her down the stairs to the station. "But between Sherlock and Mycroft..." He shook his head, sighing, and prepared to enjoy teaching a newcomer how to use the London Underground. "We'll hop on the Victoria Line and get off at Oxford Circus, then just a few blocks to the Clinic." Once they were on the train, Dawn looked over at him. "Thanks so much for taking me along," she said brightly. "I'm so interested in the medical field, and I've always thought I'd want to do some career where I could help people." John was about to interject that it seemed that she and her little team had already done plenty to help people, not to mention the entire planet, but, enjoying her energy, let her chatter on. "Of course, with all the things I've seen....anyway, and then to be able to come on the Tube! I love public transportation! We didn't have much of that in Sunnydale, you know, typical suburban California thing, cars, cars,cars...." Her voice faltered slightly, and John looked on sympathetically, as his phone buzzed. "Oh, right then," he said easily, checking his texts, "some good things to observe once we arrive. Which do you prefer, stitches, or a leg cast?" "Both!" shouted Dawn, laughing so infectiously that he had to chuckle along.
18. Writer's Choice: The Things I've Seen, Buffy and Mycroft
"So, Ms. Summers, I hope you don't object to my asking you a few questions about your background and interests." Mycroft Holmes adjusted his reading glasses and peered over them across the desk. Buffy leaned back in her chair, flicked open her hands, and put on her most casual smile. "Not at all, ask away," she said in a tone bordering on impudence, a style much-perfected by many stints in the principal's office. But as he continued to stare while the seconds ticked by, she was aware of an undercurrent of nervousness, recognizing that this man had a certain frightening something that surpassed that of other officials, even the evil ones, that she'd encountered. "Yes, quite," he said finally. "Certainly your abilities have proven to be impressive and effective over the period of time that you've been in London. DI Lestrade, and my...brother, seem to have appreciated the intervention of you and your--forgive me--unlikely team, in their altruistic endeavors." "Oh yeah," Buffy said, trying to achieve a breeziness that she didn't quite feel, "It's been cool, I mean, after the things I've seen, London doesn't seem like any big--er." She stopped herself, realizing that perhaps that was too breezy, and waited for the man to speak again.
"So, as for that," he continued, looking only slightly disapproving. "I'd like to offer you...a job."
19. Writer's Choice: The Things I've Seen, Xander and Molly
20. Writers Choice: The Things I've Seen, Lestrade and Giles
Lestrade reached across his desk and handed a tumbler to his old friend. "So, cheers, mate." He gestured with his own glass and they both took a healthy swig. "Damn good few months, yeah? Productive." He leaned back in his chair, swung his feet onto the desk, and grinned. "Indeed, yes, rather surprisingly so," agreed Giles, taking another swallow. Ah, another thing he'd missed about the homeland--easy access to good Scotch.
"Got to say, I'm glad you and your crew landed here in London, no matter how fucked the circumstances," Lestrade said, nodding. "But, got to ask, what're your plans, then? Keep living at the Regis and solving weird public crimes with me, and private ones with everyone's favorite consulting detective?"
"Ah, well. With all the things I've seen," Giles said, musingly, "I've learned not to believe too much for the future. Since after all, it could turn into a big, dusty hole in the middle of suburban California." He frowned as he realized that the memory didn't create quite the pain that it would have a few months ago, and wondered if, after all, he might be able to believe in a future, sometime in the future.
"Yes, but-" challenged Lestrade, downing his whisky and reaching for the bottle. "A man's got to have something to believe in." He and Giles exchanged a glance, and started to grin, saying loudly together, "And I believe I'll have another drink!"
So this is for a 20 in 20 fic challenge at
universe_the using various prompts. It's a few more installments to my sometime-series that features post-Sunnydale Scoobies in London with Giles, getting mixed up with the Sherlock BBC gang. The original is a bit of a case-fic, but I don't think these drabbles will advance that story much. Someday I might put it all together. With thanks to my pal blue_sunflowers for the beta help and support that manages to be both distracting and encouraging.01. Wish fulfillment
Xander sighed moodily and stared at the vaulted ceiling of the hotel room, He stretched out his legs on the couch and kicked his feet idly.
"Aw, what is it, Xan Man," Buffy breezed by the couch and twinkled down at him. "Pouting?" She grabbed the back of the couch and did a few leg kicks, then dropped to the ground for push-ups.
"Yeah, hmmm." Xander kicked his feet again. "Y'know," he said, earnestly, sitting up and peering over the back of the couch down at her. "When I was a kid, and hating being at home, I'd sometimes dream of being an international spy, living in swank hotels, with room service on tap. So, you'd think I'd be so happy. But instead..."
Buffy pushed herself to her feet and started open-air punching, but looked sympathetically at her friend. Encouraged, Xander continued, "I mean, it should be a dream come true...but instead, I feel so, god, bored? Empty?"
With a sudden move, Buffy vaulted over the back of the couch and landed on her feet beside him. Putting her hands on his shoulders, she looked him in the eye and grinned. "Hey, it's no wonder, right? Death, destruction, apocalypse? Escaping with nothing but the clothes on our backs?" She straightened, shrugged, and went back to air-punching. "It's no wonder we're feeling a little weird. And anyway, it's proof of yet another great saying!" Xander squinted at her. "Which is?"
Buffy waved her arms around the room. "Uh. 'Be careful what you wish for'?"
02. Alien
The water dripped in the dark, dank corridor, and sloshed underfoot, adding to the chill and terror. They crept along, eyes darting side to side, clutching weapons, braced for whatever might be around the next corner. Trying to control their panic, their breath sounded harsh and ragged in the echoing gloom, with the occasional clank and clang cracking throughout the darkness. Suddenly, a skittering clatter overhead, and just as their eyes met in alarm, there was a grinding screech, and a huge, scaly beast ripped through the tubing overhead and crashed down upon them.
"Argh! Fuck!" shouted Xander, as he threw himself backwards, while Willow and Dawn shrieked and leapt to their feet. Staring down at Xander, gingerly arising from the floor behind the sofa, Willow yelled, "Dammit, Xander! This movie is scary enough without you freaking out!"
"Yeah, Xander," moaned Dawn, looking through her hands covering her face, back at the television set. "Why didn't we choose something light, and fun? Why did we have to pick Alien?"
03. Stranded
"Oh, man, this is so awesome!" Xander spun around and around, loving the 360 degree view of one of the best known settings in all the world. As he spun, the building-high neon signs, honking cabs, and milling international crowds, all swung by the roundabout surrounding them. "Piccadilly Circus, yeah!" he cried out to the sky and the statue of the naked cherub poised overhead.
"The monument is topped by Alfred Gilbert's winged nude statue originally intended to be the Greek god Anteros, sometimes referred to as The Angel of Christian Charity but generally known as his brother, Eros," intoned Willow, reading from a guide book. "Yeah very interesting, now let's go shopping," said Dawn, heading to a gap in the railing. Xander stopped his spinning and staggered after her, stopping at the curb and looking dizzily into the lanes and lanes of traffic, circling and weaving around them. "Uh, just one problem," he muttered. "How the hell do we get off of here?"
04. Baby
Xander groaned as the rhythmic, thumping sound seemed to get louder and louder, even though earlier he'd buried his head under 4 large pillows to block out the sun. Finally, he lurched out of bed, and, wrapping his bathrobe around him, stumbled out into the front room. There, poised in front of the blaring TV set, was Dawn, jumping and stretching to the music. As one particular move spun her around, she caught sight of Xander. "Hey!" she sang out, turning and kicking.
"Yeah, hey. Uh, Dawn?" he said, rubbing his hand through his hair. "What is this?" She spun around again to face him. "Bangin' it with Baby!" she chortled, hopping and waving her hands around. "It's a daily exercise program with--" she waved at the TV, "Baby Spice!"
Xander squinted at the set, where a somewhat older but still cute-looking, pony-tailed blonde hopped and sang. Then, wondering why on Earth he even cared, he trudged back to his bedroom, with the chipper words, "If you wanna be my lover, then you gotta--" following him all the way.
05. Bar Fight
"No, no, no. John, you can't make me." Sherlock stood stock still in front of the pub, his arms crossed. "Come on, Sherlock, just for a little bit," wheedled John, "for one, it's good form. We're trying to establish relations here, and you've got to admit, it could be a very good alliance. Besides," he added amiably, "I could murder a pint."
"I refuse to see how supernatural crime in London can be vanquished by us spending time in a beer-soaked venue surrounded by caterwauling locals, London police, and a passel of American youths, no matter their penchant for demon-hunting."
"Well how about this then," said John, catching sight of a sign on the door. "It's Trivia Night." And he turned to pull the door open, but not before he caught the avid gleam in Sherlock's eye.
06. Hero
Xander stared moodily into his pint of warm beer. On the up side, yeah, drinking age 18. On the down side, half the table--to be precise, Sherlock, Willow, and Giles--were huddled over the Trivia answer sheet, gesturing at each other and scribbling the answers to various questions being read out loud, on the most boring topics imaginable. Lestrade and John Watson were regaling each other with incomprehensible stories, and Buffy was staring at a group of young men in soccer shirts gathered around a dart board. "Come all the way across the globe and still the Zeppo," he muttered to himself. Suddenly the microphone screeched and a voice intoned, "Next round up, get ready folks, for the topics of…Comic Books and Video Games!" The three brainiacs at the table groaned, but two pairs of eyes alit on Xander, who sat up straighter and prepared to be, for once, the hero.
07. Open Mic Night
"So, that was fun, yeah?" grinned Lestrade, as Sherlock and John swept out, their table having won the Trivia contest and split up the prize of euros and beer. "Yes, quite," said Giles brightly. And in fact it was fun, and he was realizing how long it had been since he'd just, actually, had fun: a night out with compatriots, however diverse, enjoying activities like normal people. God, it seemed like it had been years; certainly the life of a Watcher, particularly in a high-school setting, didn't lend itself to much frivolity. Indeed, however desperate the actual decision had been, and whatever dire circumstances they might yet have to face, he was convinced that he had made the right choice bringing them here to London. He took a swig and watched as the younger set bantered among themselves, when he felt a clap on his shoulder. "Get ready for more, mate," said Lestrade, gesturing to the corner where they were setting up equipment. "Karaoke!"
08. Teamwork
Giles experienced a sharp stab of deja vu as the notes rang out for the start of the song. He surreptitiously cleared his throat and moved the mic to his mouth to sing. "No-one knows what it's like, to be the bad man, to be the sad man, behind blue eyes…." As he sang, the crowd and lights in front of him faded, and he was once again at the Espresso Pump in Sunnydale, crooning to his guitar. The memory was so intense that he was gripped with emotion, and realized, as the room faded back in, that he was standing agape, not singing, as the music played on. He blinked in the lights and froze. Suddenly there was a flash of movement, and a figure jumped up on stage. Pulling the mic towards him, Greg Lestrade began bellowing out in a respectable growl, "When my fist clenches, crack it open, Before I use it and lose my cool, When I smile, tell me some bad news, Before I laugh and act like a fool." He turned to Giles, gesturing him to pick up the next verse, which he did, and the two of them finished the song with a flourish, to the cheers of the crowd.
09. Cake
Mycroft brushed down his lapels and pushed open the door to the pub. One thing was certain--this new turn of events, the appearance of the Americans and the Watcher, had altered much, not the least of which was in his personal habits. For example, prior to this, he would have been very unlikely to join an ill-assorted group for, of all things, a "pub night." But needs must when the fate of the world was at stake, and his keen sense of tactics assured him that this was the best way to reconnoiter, to survey the situation, and assure that matters were in hand.
It had nothing to do with the knowledge that this particular pub specialized in the City's best Battenburg cake. No, nothing whatsoever.
10. Mistaken Identity
"Whoof!" gasped Willow as the three girls blinked against the bright lights, waved to the crowd, and headed down the stairs from the tiny stage. "That was fun!" "Not a bad version, if we do say so ourselves," preened Buffy, grasping Dawn's shoulders and steering her back to their table. "Whoops, I did it again, la la la la la…" she hummed as they moved towards their seats in the crowded, messy booth. Xander, the Detective Inspector, and GIles had been joined by a well-dressed man eating a piece of cake and looking somewhat, yet not at all, out of place. "What's all this?" asked Willow, gesturing toward the table now littered with slips of paper. "Your admirers," grinned Lestrade, taking a sip of beer. "Well, not precisely YOUR admirers," averred Xander, as he picked up one of the slips. "See, apparently there's a rumor going around this pub about the three American girls," he grinned. "Here's one: if you lot really are American singing stars, we got three blokes here wud take you out. And here," picking up another slip, "Britney, Demi, and Selena, you birds are awesome, why not let some real English lads show you the old town tonight." The men around the table chuckled (save the newcomer, still concentrating on cake), while the three young women stared at each other, then broke into loud laughter.
11. Holidays: Jolly Holidays
"Hey, guys, look what I got," called out Dawn, as she entered the hotel room, juggling several packages. "Shock and surprise," groaned Xander, staring at the football Match of the Day. "Dawnie goes shopping in London, what else is new?"
"Quit yer bitchin', Negative Nate!" trilled Dawn in a pseudo-Cockney accent. "Oi've brought you somefing to cheer you up like!" With a flourish, she pulled a flat package out of one of her bags, and tossed it at Xander. " 'Calendar of English Holidays,' " he read. "Ooooookay. How is this supposed to cheer me up?"
"Like this, old chap!" Dawn bounced on the couch next to him. "We're gonna take it upon ourselves to celebrate all the English Holidays. It'll be, like, a way of learning about the culture. And for feeling more at…." her voice faltered. "Feeling more at home." Her joy seemed to evaporate like a London mist. Xander looked at her, and his eyes turned tender. "It's a great idea, Dawnie," he said, patting her knee. "Let's do it."
12. Holidays: Feast of St. Francis of Assisi (October 4)
"First up, Feast of St. Francis of Assisi. We're a week late, but we can cheat a bit." Dawn peered at the text, and began to read. " 'The Feast of St Francis of Assisi is a day when special church services are held to bless pets in the United Kingdom. Pets of all kids, including dogs, cats, hamsters, rabbits, and even a 100-year-old tortoise, have been blessed in churches in England, Scotland and Northern Ireland in the past..' So that's easy. All we gotta do is find some animals to bless." Xander squinted out the window at the bustling city street below. "Allrighty," he said cheerily, "pigeons it is!"
13. Holidays: All Saints' Day (November 1)
"Oh God, why didn't you stop me," moaned Buffy, slumped on the couch. "And I thought Halloween was wild in Sunnydale," groaned Xander, staggering in cradling a steaming mug. "Coffee, my head wants you, but my stomach does not." He woefully regarded the beverage in his hand.
"That's what you get," intoned Willow, setting a lighted candle on the window sill, "if you'd honored the night like the Wiccans do, you wouldn't have a hangover today."
"The calendar says today is All Saints' Day," noted Dawn, "how do we celebrate?"
"We don't," scolded Willow. "That 'holiday' was made up to supplant Samhain! It was those Christians, always trying to force out the pagan rituals. So instead," she said brightly, "we celebrate the Day of the Dead." Xander groaned again. "No disrespect," he mumbled, "but the way I'm feeling, that couldn't be more appropriate."
"Drink your coffee, Xander," Willow said kindly, as Buffy, looking decidedly green, pushed past them to run to the bathroom.
14. Holidays: All Souls' Day (November 2)
"Whatcha got there, kid?" asked Xander, as Dawn opened a bakery box on the coffee table. "Soul cakes! For All Souls' Day," Dawn said happily. "Willow said it's okay if we celebrate this one since it doesn't interfere with any pagan holiday." She lifted up a round bun and gingerly took a bite.
"Yeah, says here that 'It is a time to remember and pray for deceased family members and friends. There was also a superstition that All Souls' night was a time when the dead revisited their homes. People would leave lit candles outside their homes to help to guide the deceased souls.' " Willow
read from the calendar as she set a candle on the table, followed by Buffy who did the same.
The four settled around the table, and fell silent, each remembering those they had lost over the years and most recently. Perhaps also remembering their experiences with the dead revisiting their homes, they exchanged sudden glances and, as one, leaned forward and blew out the candles.
15. Holidays: Guy Fawkes Day (November 5)
"Yahoo, Guy Fawkes Day!" crowed Xander, as they milled around in the dark street with the crowd. "I've been waiting for this one ever since we got that damn calendar! No, actually," he corrected, "ever since I saw V for Vendetta!" With a flourish, he pulled the pointy white mask down over his face. "Ugh," Dawn shivered, "that gives me the creeps."
"Speaking of the creeps, it said in the calendar that they tortured and executed Guy Fawkes and his crew," said Willow sadly. "I guess people have been awful throughout history."
"Well, at least we're talking about people being awful, and not demons and vampires and stuff," said Buffy cheerfully, looking around at the candlelight flickering on excited faces, and the bonfires flaming in the distance. "That's something, right?" Willow's reply was interrupted by a loud squeal, then a huge bang, and the sky filled with falling, sparkly light. The gang looked up and moved closer together as they watched, with happy faces, the fireworks display.
16. Writer's Choice: The Things I've Seen, Willow and Sherlock
I hope you are aware that, as a man of science, I am characterologically inclined to look askance at any phenomena with a highly skeptical eye." Sherlock affixed his companion with a piercing stare, though her happy, wide-eyed sparkle caused his usual iciness to melt around the edges a bit.
"Oh for sure, I know," said Willow eagerly. "I was the same! But then I had a chance to, I mean I was curious, and then I met...well." Her face drooped somewhat, and Sherlock discerned that a past memory had cast a shadow. "Well, anyway, I was a doubter, too, but after the things I've seen, and learned--" again the shadow-- "I have to believe there are things that science can't explain."
"We shall see about that," Sherlock said briskly, moving to the lab shelves, where he took down a bunsen burner and some test tubes. "Where shall we begin?"
"How about generating fire?" Willow suggested, grinning. "That's one of my favorite spells." She hefted her backpack onto the lab bench and rummaged around, pulling out small cloth bags, and bowls made of stone and glass. "Spell, or chemical reaction?" interjected Sherlock sweetly, wagging a test tube and, surprisingly, his eyebrows. Willow burst into laughter and began to assemble her ingredients.
17. Writer's Choice:The Things I've Seen, Dawn and John
"So, young lady, cab or Tube?" asked John, smiling at the girl beside him. "Oh, the Tube, the Tube!" said Dawn excitedly. "Good, I prefer that myself," John said definitively, shepherding her down the stairs to the station. "But between Sherlock and Mycroft..." He shook his head, sighing, and prepared to enjoy teaching a newcomer how to use the London Underground. "We'll hop on the Victoria Line and get off at Oxford Circus, then just a few blocks to the Clinic." Once they were on the train, Dawn looked over at him. "Thanks so much for taking me along," she said brightly. "I'm so interested in the medical field, and I've always thought I'd want to do some career where I could help people." John was about to interject that it seemed that she and her little team had already done plenty to help people, not to mention the entire planet, but, enjoying her energy, let her chatter on. "Of course, with all the things I've seen....anyway, and then to be able to come on the Tube! I love public transportation! We didn't have much of that in Sunnydale, you know, typical suburban California thing, cars, cars,cars...." Her voice faltered slightly, and John looked on sympathetically, as his phone buzzed. "Oh, right then," he said easily, checking his texts, "some good things to observe once we arrive. Which do you prefer, stitches, or a leg cast?" "Both!" shouted Dawn, laughing so infectiously that he had to chuckle along.
18. Writer's Choice: The Things I've Seen, Buffy and Mycroft
"So, Ms. Summers, I hope you don't object to my asking you a few questions about your background and interests." Mycroft Holmes adjusted his reading glasses and peered over them across the desk. Buffy leaned back in her chair, flicked open her hands, and put on her most casual smile. "Not at all, ask away," she said in a tone bordering on impudence, a style much-perfected by many stints in the principal's office. But as he continued to stare while the seconds ticked by, she was aware of an undercurrent of nervousness, recognizing that this man had a certain frightening something that surpassed that of other officials, even the evil ones, that she'd encountered. "Yes, quite," he said finally. "Certainly your abilities have proven to be impressive and effective over the period of time that you've been in London. DI Lestrade, and my...brother, seem to have appreciated the intervention of you and your--forgive me--unlikely team, in their altruistic endeavors." "Oh yeah," Buffy said, trying to achieve a breeziness that she didn't quite feel, "It's been cool, I mean, after the things I've seen, London doesn't seem like any big--er." She stopped herself, realizing that perhaps that was too breezy, and waited for the man to speak again.
"So, as for that," he continued, looking only slightly disapproving. "I'd like to offer you...a job."
19. Writer's Choice: The Things I've Seen, Xander and Molly
"Sooooo, you work with dead people, huh?" Xander said eagerly, loping along next to the woman in the white coat, each holding vending machine cups of coffee. "Or, cripes, is that a dumb question? I bet you get tired of answering that one."
Molly smiled to herself at his excitement and energy. It was usual for her to feel the most nervous in any room, or even any corridor. It was rather refreshing to be with someone more awkward than she. In fact, it seemed to bring her a sense of calm and confidence which she typically only experienced in the presence of, yes, the dead. She gestured him towards the door to the morgue and patted his arm as they entered. "I do!" she said brightly, "but, oh! I didn't think to ask, will it disturb you''?"
"Aw, no, not at all," Xander reassured her, "I mean, not that I like it. But with the things I've seen, well..." His voice trailed off, and he stared almost forlornly into the paper coffee cup. Molly wondered at this; she'd heard that the kids and their mentor, the DI's friend, had come here after some type of crisis. But she didn't want to break the earlier mood, so she tucked that away, and continued briskly, "So, if I'm to show you a bit of what I do, where would you like to start?" Xander brightened and leaned on the lab table, and said, so winningly, "Up to you! You're the boss!" that she just had to laugh.
20. Writers Choice: The Things I've Seen, Lestrade and Giles
Lestrade reached across his desk and handed a tumbler to his old friend. "So, cheers, mate." He gestured with his own glass and they both took a healthy swig. "Damn good few months, yeah? Productive." He leaned back in his chair, swung his feet onto the desk, and grinned. "Indeed, yes, rather surprisingly so," agreed Giles, taking another swallow. Ah, another thing he'd missed about the homeland--easy access to good Scotch.
"Got to say, I'm glad you and your crew landed here in London, no matter how fucked the circumstances," Lestrade said, nodding. "But, got to ask, what're your plans, then? Keep living at the Regis and solving weird public crimes with me, and private ones with everyone's favorite consulting detective?"
"Ah, well. With all the things I've seen," Giles said, musingly, "I've learned not to believe too much for the future. Since after all, it could turn into a big, dusty hole in the middle of suburban California." He frowned as he realized that the memory didn't create quite the pain that it would have a few months ago, and wondered if, after all, he might be able to believe in a future, sometime in the future.
"Yes, but-" challenged Lestrade, downing his whisky and reaching for the bottle. "A man's got to have something to believe in." He and Giles exchanged a glance, and started to grin, saying loudly together, "And I believe I'll have another drink!"
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Date: 2013-12-06 05:49 am (UTC)P.S. Love how you made Willow say "Wiccan." As much as I love BtVS, it was always jarring when the characters said something like, "I'm a Wicca."
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Date: 2013-12-06 10:04 pm (UTC)