“Why couldn't Xander be possessed by a puppy or, or, some ducks?”
Rating R. In this post I cover letters I to Q. I’ll probably put the last part up tonight. The first part was HERE.
26 animals that Xander was never possessed by…
Part Two: I to Q
The Three took up concealed positions ready to ambush Buffy. Suddenly an eerie wailing cry rang out from a nearby tree. The vampires snarled. Their surprise was ruined. One climbed the tree but Xander leaped thirty feet to the next tree and escaped.
Buffy arrived and a furious fight started. The Three gained the upper hand but then Angel arrived, summoned by the wailing, and helped Buffy to victory. The Three fled.
“Thanks, Xander,” Buffy smiled.
“No problemo, Buffster,” Xander grinned. “Gotta go. I have this urge to write a great story about the Chinese Slayer. Or maybe about Harmony.”
Xander came to a halt beside Cordelia and leaned towards her. “Hey, Cordelia, like a ride?” he called. “I got leather seats. I got a CD player.”
Cordelia stopped despite herself and stared at Xander. She had to admit that he was rather attractive, in a disheveled sort of way, and she might not be totally averse to making out with him. It was only his complete lack of money, status, and material possessions that made him repulsive. “You have a brand new car?”
“Car?” Xander cocked his head to one side and frowned. “Who said anything about a car?”
Willow gazed at Xander critically. “It’s funny,” she mused. “He’s mangy, incontinent, he spends two thirds of his time asleep up a tree and most of the rest of his time munching on eucalyptus leaves, and really he’s not terribly attractive.”
“You can say that again,” Buffy agreed. “He was much more active when we first met. Now he’s just a lazy slob.”
Xander opened one eye. “Stone the crows, Sheilas, I resent that,” he mumbled. “Give a bloke a fair go. Got any Vegemite?”
Willow ignored his words. “And yet,” she went on, “despite everything, he’s still strangely cute.”
Xander drove off the knife-wielding Peruvian with one of the devastatingly accurate expectorations that had become his primary combat technique over the past few months.
“Way to go, Xander,” Buffy praised. “Come on, we’d better get to the bus station to pick up this Ampata guy. We’re running late.”
Ampata was late too. When he emerged from the shadows he proved to be a she. An astoundingly pretty girl.
“Ay, caramba!” Xander breathed reverently, and then he trotted over to her and bent over. “Put your luggage on my back, Princess. Maybe later you can decorate me with colored wool.”
“I kinda wish we hadn’t killed Miss French,” Xander lamented. “I miss her. She was so cool.”
“You miss her?” Buffy’s eyebrows climbed high. “Hey, she wasn’t really Miss French. She was a hideous Mantis monster. Can I say, eww?”
“I’d dispute that ‘hideous’ part,” Xander said. “She was totally gorgeous.”
“Huh? The pretty teacher wasn’t the real her, Xander. And hey, she wanted to mate with you and get you to fertilize her eggs, and then, and this is the real bad part, she was going to eat your head.”
Xander sighed. “Ah, but what a way to go.”
It was the dance welcoming the exchange students and the Sunnydale kids had dressed in various national costumes. Xander had, inevitably, encased himself in bluish-gray rubber with a spiral twisted tooth protruding from one side of his mouth.
Willow entered and called out a greeting. Xander saw her costume and began emitting panic-stricken squeals and clicks. He dropped prone and tried to press himself below the floor.
“What’s the matter?” Willow asked.
“He tries to dive,” Ampata explained. “Your costume frightens him. Especially the accessory.”
Willow stood in her Inuit furs and looked at the harpoon in her hand. “Oops!”
Xander entered the library with a strange rolling gait. He was holding a tatty brown blanket over his head.
“Xander, have you become a vampire?” asked Giles.
“Ook,” Xander denied. He put down the blanket, peeled a banana with his feet, and swung over to the book stacks and examined them. “Ook ook,” he grunted, finding a History tome that had been filed as Geography, and moved it to the right place.
“Good Lord!” Giles exclaimed. “You’re a monkey!”
Xander puffed up his cheeks, picked Giles up by the feet, and bounced his head off the floor. “Oook ook ook!”
“Throw the ball for me, Will,” Xander yapped. “Go on, throw it!”
“My arm’s getting tired, Xander,” Willow moaned. “Maybe Buffy can, she has all that Slayer stamina.”
“Sorry, Will, he’s worn me out. I’m aching from my shoulder to my wrist. And, hey, we have all this research to do.”
“I’m afraid the research session is cancelled,” Giles informed them.
“Yay! Uh, I mean, shame, what’s wrong?”
“Someone has chewed the Lemegeton Grimoire,” Giles complained, “and the Voynich Manuscript has suffered an even worse fate.” He looked sternly at Xander. “Have you completely forgotten how to use the toilet?”
Xander stalked across the cemetery; hands curved into claw shapes, eyes trained on the ground. He heard a faint rustle in the grass, pounced, and caught a grasshopper, which he devoured with relish.
Dracula emerged from the shadows. “So,” he said, “you are already a bug-eater. Soon you will be my, how you say, butt-monkey?”
Xander immediately hurled himself at the vampire. He shrieked, clawed, bit, and tore ferociously until Dracula fled in panic.
Spike arrived and applauded. “Good for you, whelp. That sorted the poncy git.”
“Too right, cobber,” Xander grinned. “Want a beer, yer Pommy bastard? No worries!”