Speaker-to-Customers (speakr2customrs) wrote,

  • Music:

And Glory Shone Around: Conclusion

Happy Birthday to the supremely stylish ljs

Here is the final part of ‘And Glory Shone Around’. 5,600 words, Rating R. A re-written version of the story that I wrote for enigmatic_blue’s Holiday Ficathon two years ago. This is the Christmas episode that was missing from Season 5. For this fic I am assuming that ‘Triangle’ was just before Christmas and ‘Checkpoint’ would have taken place in early to mid January. The ‘Angel’ episode ‘Reunion’ has just taken place and Angel has fired the other members of the Angel Investigations team.

Summary: Crossover with AtS. Comedy and romance ensue when Glory, temporarily bored with her campaign of violence and intimidation against Buffy, suggests a Christmas truce. Part One was HERE

And Glory Shone Around

Part Two

“I think that it’s about time Dawn and I were heading for home,” Joyce announced.

“Oh, what a shame, do you have to?” Glory responded, but didn’t even wait a second for Joyce to reply before addressing one of her hovering minions. “Show the lady and the kid out, Dreg. And order some pizza while you’re at it.”

“Pizza?” Dawn piped up. She’d been getting bored, as the conversation held little interest for her once they had finished rehashing the soccer game, but pizza was worth a little boredom.

“You’ve had quite enough to eat, young lady,” Joyce told her firmly. “And we don’t want to outstay our welcome.”

“We don’t want to outstay our welcome either,” Buffy joined in. “Maybe I should go too.”

“Oh, no, Buffy, it’s far too early for you to go,” Glory protested, with far more feeling than she had shown in her token protest at Joyce’s announcement. “We still have lots to talk about. I haven’t even shown you my Dolce and Gabbana frocks yet.”

“Well, someone has to take Mom and Dawn home,” Buffy pointed out.

“I could do that, Buffy – uh, Slayer,” Spike offered.

“No, you stay too,” Glory ordered.

“Perhaps I could escort Joyce and Dawn home,” Giles suggested. He didn’t believe that he would learn anything more about Glory tonight; and, although it was amusing watching the goddess making advances to Wesley with all the subtlety of a bull elephant seal collecting its harem, he was finding it too much of a struggle holding back his laughter.

“Yeah, why not?” Glory agreed. “Dreg!”

“Your slightest whim is as the laws of physics to me, oh incomparable one,” Dreg groveled. “This way, honored lady, sweet child, respected gentleman.” He brought the three departing guests their coats and led them from the apartment.

“Okay, now we’ve gotten rid of the kid and the old folks we can get down to some serious partying,” Glory declared. “Jinx, do your DJ thing.”

“Yo, divinely scrumptious Glorificus,” the demon replied, and put Prince’s ‘1999’ on the stereo.

“Right, cute English guy, wanna dance?” Glory seized Wesley’s hand and pulled him irresistibly onto the floor.

Anya took that as her cue to drag Xander up immediately. Tara and Willow followed not far behind, leaving Buffy and Spike as the only ones still sitting.

Spike looked at Buffy. “Don’t suppose – nah, you wouldn’t, not even worth me asking.”

Buffy hesitated. She liked dancing. Spike was an evil vampire. There wasn’t anyone else. She added up the pluses and minuses and came to a decision. “Wanna dance, Spike?”

“So,” Glory asked Buffy a little later. “How come a Vampire Slayer has a vampire for a boyfriend, anyway?”

“Spike is not my boyfriend,” Buffy told her. “A whole world of not being my boyfriend.”

Glory laughed. “Yeah, sure. If you say so. Anyway, how come your boyfriend doesn’t eat people?”

“He has a chip in his head that gives him electric shocks if he tries,” Anya informed her, smiling happily. The smile froze as she realized that the entire Scooby gang were leveling accusing stares at her. “Oh. Wasn’t I supposed to mention that?”

“I might as well put a notice in the sodding Sunnydale Times,” Spike groaned. He glared at the nearest of Glory’s minions. “Don’t get any ideas, mate. I can hurt demons just fine.”

“Spike is not Buffy’s boyfriend,” Xander said emphatically. “He’s evil and dead. Okay, he has a certain sinister attraction; kinda compact yet well muscled, and with piercing blue eyes and killer cheekbones, but – hey, forget I said that.”

“There would be a certain pleasing symmetry about it,” Anya remarked. “Angel was good and turned evil because he loved Buffy. Spike was evil and is turning good, perhaps for the same reason.”

“I’m not turning…” Spike began automatically, and then sighed. “Okay, maybe I am.”

“I notice you’re not denying loving Buffy,” Anya observed, smiling smugly at her own perceptiveness. “It would definitely be a good match in many ways. Vampire stamina is legendary; you could give Buffy many satisfying orgasms.”

“Ahn!” Xander exclaimed in horror. “Don’t say such things!”

“But everybody likes orgasms. They are one of the greatest advantages of a sexual relationship.”

“But not from Spike!”

“Well, of course not, Xander.” Anya rolled her eyes. “You get yours from me and I get mine from you. Spike can’t have you. Or me.”

“And he can’t have the Buffster either.”

“Isn’t that decision Buffy’s to make rather than yours?” Tara put in.

Willow had been about to add her voice to that of Xander, but held back when her girlfriend spoke up, and merely looked from Buffy to Spike with a thoughtful frown on her face.

“Buffy is not to date Spike. That’s a no-brainer,” Xander insisted.

Even a few minutes ago that would have been Buffy’s own opinion, but Xander’s attitude was starting to annoy her; and hey, Spike had been really good company over Christmas, and they had worked so well together in the soccer game, and he was a really good dancer, and, yeah, Anya had a point, everybody likes orgasms. “I’ll make that decision, not you, Xander,” she told him. “He hasn’t even asked me out yet.”

“But when he does you’ll say ‘no’, right?”

Buffy noticed that he’d said ‘when’, not ‘if’. “Whatever my answer would be, you don’t get a say in it, Xander. That’s final. Another dance, Spike?”

Xander’s mouth opened for another objection, but Willow spoke up first. She had decided to follow Tara’s lead and back Buffy’s right of choice. “Leave them to it, Xander. Buffy’s right, it’s her choice. Spike might not be who I’d pick for her but hey, it’s not our job to pick. He’s pretty okay these days, anyway, and I don’t think it’s a big deal.” She turned to Spike. “But if you hurt her I will beat you to death with a shovel. Well, I suppose I’d stake you, but there would be some creative shovel use first.”

“Thanks, Red,” Spike said with quiet sincerity in his tone. “Means a lot. Thanks, Tara, Anya. I’d love another dance, Slayer. Buffy.”

Xander glared at him, but Jinx started up the music again and Anya squealed and snatched at his hand. “Oooh! Shania Twain! I love this one.” She dragged Xander away, his mouth hanging open, and his objections were temporarily silenced.

Glory continued to monopolize Wesley. “Man, I feel like a woman,” she sang along with Shania Twain as they danced. “It’s kinda fun forgetting about the whole deity bit for a few days. Just being a woman.”

“But a woman of divine beauty,” Wesley complimented, “whose figure is the benchmark of perfection, whose eyes are like the stars in a tropical sky, whose lips carry the promise of infinite pleasure for any man bold enough to venture a kiss, and whose silken-smooth legs seem to invite the caress of worshipful fingers.” He had deduced that flattery couldn’t possibly be laid on too thickly for Glory to accept at face value, and he was proved right when she smiled delightedly and threw her arms around his neck.

“And are you bold enough?” she challenged him.

“I might be,” he smiled. “With the right seasonal trimmings.”

“Murk!” Glory called. “Let there be mistletoe. Lots of mistletoe.”

“There shall be enough to crush an entire Eisteddfod of Druids, oh supreme majesty,” Murk assured her. “I shall procure it at once.” He beckoned to two more lowly minions and rushed out.

Glory excused herself for a moment and slipped away to the kitchen. “Dreg!” she said urgently. “Where the hell is that pizza?”

“They are short staffed and there was a backlog of orders, I’m afraid, oh supreme one,” Dreg whimpered, cowering before her. “It’ll be another five or ten minutes.”

“Try and hurry them up,” Glory growled. “Those carol singers are starting to run out. I need a power-up. I can feel Benny squirming around at the edges of my mind. If I change when I have that cute Wesley’s tongue down my throat it’s gonna put one hell of a damper on the night, so I’ll have to hang back a while. Jinx had better be ready to cover in case Ben slips through in public. Tell him to have the song ready. Just gonna have to hope that Benny’s smart enough to play along with it.”

She prowled the kitchen for a minute, while Dreg was delivering her message to Jinx, but then decided that she could risk returning to the party. Hardly had she entered the room, however, when she felt the change starting as her alter ego began to take control of their shared body. “No! Not now!” she howled, but it was futile. With the last vestiges of control she ripped off her dress and threw it to Murk. The Scoobies stared in amazement as…

…Ben, the young medical intern from Sunnydale General, stood wobbling on high heels at the edge of the room. He wore stockings, a garter belt, a Victoria’s Secret bustier, and sheer lacy panties. A look of horror spread over his face. Then a note blasted from Jinx’s music system and Tim Curry’s voice filled the room.

How do you do, I see you’ve met
My faithful handyman…

Relief took the place of horror on Ben’s face, and he began to mime along and prance awkwardly forward.

He's just a little brought down, because, when you knocked,
He thought you were the candy man.
Don't get strung out by the way I look
Don't judge a book by its cover
I'm not much of a man by the light of day
But by night I'm one hell of a lover
I'm just a sweet transvestite
From Transexual, Transylvania…

Buffy, Willow, Tara, Xander, Anya, and Wesley all applauded enthusiastically. Only Spike stared in bemusement. “Bloody hell! Glory changed into that floppy-haired git from the hospital!”

Buffy’s face twisted in confusion for a moment, and then her happy smile returned. “I gotta admit, for a hell god Glory has one hell of a sense of humor,” she chuckled. “I guess Ben must be moonlighting for extra cash over the holiday.”

“Moonlighting? He’s being both Bruce Willis and Cybil bleedin’ Shepherd.” Spike raised his eyes heavenwards. “Glory changed into Ben. Ben is Glory. Glory is Ben. He’s her sodding secret identity.”

“Yeah, whoever would have thought of a medical intern doubling as a male stripper?” Anya remarked. “I wonder if he does bachelorette parties? Not that I’m having one any time soon, of course, Xander hasn’t even asked me. But one day.”

“Are you lot all bloody well blind?” Spike fumed. “Glory and Ben are the same person.”

“It’s a shame Glory is missing this,” Wesley commented.

“Oh, I get it. It’s a bloody spell. Protective, like. Anybody who sees the change can’t remember it. Vampires must be immune. So your arch-enemy is a vulnerable human and you can’t take advantage. And I, who could, have this sodding chip in my head stopping me from doing anything about it. It’s enough to make me weep. Bloody chip!”

“What was that about your chip, Spike?” Buffy asked sharply.

“I was just thinking that at least I’ve got one good thing out of having it,” Spike lied. “Never have got to dance with you without it, still less kiss you, mistletoe or not. That date thing – look, I s’ppose you’ll be going to the Bronze for New Year, right? Wonder if you might, well, sort of partner me there? Doesn’t have to be an actual date unless you want it to be.”

“Xander would probably spontaneously combust,” Buffy mused. “Giles would take off his glasses and say ‘Dear Lord’.”

Spike’s face fell. “It’s okay, Slayer, just thought I’d ask, is all.”

“And the answer is yes,” Buffy told him. “It’s a date. But you have to wear something a bit smarter than T-shirt and jeans, okay?”

The song finished. Ben bowed as the Scoobies applauded and then he kicked off the high heels, turned, and raced out of the room.

Spike didn’t notice. He gazed wonderingly at Buffy, a broad grin creeping slowly across his face. “Bloody hell. I thought the VCR I got from you and your Mum was about the best Christmas present I’d ever had, but this tops it by a mile. Must have been a good boy this year after all.”

“You might get another present later, when Glory gets back with the mistletoe,” Buffy teased him. She turned to Jinx. “Hey, go back a little! Let’s do the Timewarp.”

- - - - -

Ben hastened to his own small room in Glory’s apartment, with Dreg trailing along behind carrying the shoes. “What the hell is going on?” Ben demanded to know. “Glory’s having a party for humans? The sister of one of my patients was there. What’s Glory playing at?”

“She merely wished to celebrate Christmas in an appropriate fashion, sir,” Dreg informed him. “She means no harm. You should be pleased.”

“Pleased? What’s the date? I was supposed to be on call Christmas Eve.”

“The twenty-eighth, sir,” Dreg replied. The doorbell rang. “Ah, that will be the pizza.”

“Pizza?” Ben echoed, confused. He shook his head, staggered, and morphed into Glory once more.

“Damn it!” she swore. “Benny paid a little visit. Any damage done?”

“All went very well, supreme one,” the demon assured her. “The pizza delivery has just arrived.” He passed her the shoes.

“He’s stretched the straps. And I think he’s burst a couple of hooks on the bustier, damn him. Quick, to the kitchen.”

- - - - -

The pizza delivery boy looked askance at the beautiful woman in lingerie who approached him. “Look, lady, we’re strictly on a cash basis,” he told her warily.

“Hey, don’t worry about it,” Glory smiled. “You’re gonna get what’s coming to you.” She seized him by the head and, before he could even cry out, sank her fingers into his skull. He contorted in agony and she writhed in ecstasy as she sucked the sanity from his mind. “Wow, I sure needed that,” she gasped, releasing him.

“The anchovies! They’re plotting to take over the world,” the delivery boy babbled. “They’re in league with the mushrooms. We have to build a wall of cheese.”

“Yeah, you do that,” Glory smiled. “Dreg, you take this trash and dump him. I’m gonna get changed before Murk gets back with the mistletoe.”

- - - - -

Murk stood over a large carton marked ‘Texas Grown Mistletoe’ and distributed the contents to a legion of demon minions. They were standing on each other’s shoulders to reach the ceiling, climbing onto chairs, and generally disrupting proceedings.

Glory entered the room clad in a dress much looser and lower-cut than her original garb. She looked around and then clapped her hands. “That’s enough, boys!” she called. “I don’t think there’s a square yard that won’t be viable smooch territory. Well done. Now, get your ugly faces out of here and get the pizza dished up.”

“Mmm, pizza,” Xander drooled.

“You’re always thinking of food,” Anya frowned. “Oh well, they do say that the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach.”

“That’s funny,” Glory remarked. “I’ve always found that punching through the ribcage works pretty well.”

- - - - -

It was late. Jinx was playing slow songs. The couples on the dance floor swayed together in tight embraces. Spike had kissed Buffy a dozen times or more, and the most recent kiss had lasted a full five minutes. Xander, mellowed by pizza and alcohol, had long ceased from raising any objections.

Buffy released Spike’s lips and drew back slightly. “I think maybe it’s about time I was going home,” she said. “It’s been a great evening, but it’s pretty much over.”

“Best evening I’ve ever had, pet,” Spike said fondly.

“Yeah, it’s been good.” She raised her voice. “Will, Tara, Xander, Anya, time we were going. Thanks for having us, Glory, it’s been great. Are you coming, Wes?”

“I’m nowhere near that stage, Buffy,” Wesley replied, sounding affronted.

Glory giggled. “I’ll let you have him back tomorrow,” she told Buffy. “I haven’t finished with him yet.”

“Oh. Right. That okay with you, Wes?”

“Very much so,” Wesley smiled.

Buffy gave him a half-smile and an eye roll in return. “It has been a great night, Glory,” she told her hostess. “We’re going to the Bronze for New Year’s Eve, wanna join us there?”

“Yeah, I’ll do that. I like you, Slayer; it’ll be a total bummer if I have to kill you when this truce is over. The Bronze sounds good. Now, you and your friends get outta here and go home. I want to unwrap my present.”

“Present?” Buffy was confused for a moment but then realized that Glory was talking about Wesley. She blushed and hastened to gather up the Scooby Gang. Minions rushed to fetch the coats of the departing guests, and then they scurried off to their own living quarters, leaving Glory and Wesley alone together.

- - - - -

“Your beauty is indeed divine,” Wesley murmured.

“Forget about me being a god, I’m just a woman for you tonight,” Glory said softly. She stood in front of him, her dress cast aside on the floor, now wearing a lacy camisole instead of the bustier.

“Yet still, I think, worthy of being worshipped.” Wesley ran a trail of kisses from her earlobe down her neck and then sank to his knees before her. He lowered his head.

“Oh, yeah. Mmm,” Glory moaned. “Yes, that’s good.” Her fingers clutched his hair. “Keep on. Ohhh. Yes. So good.”

Wesley pulled back. “You taste divine, too.”

“You sure have a magic tongue,” Glory panted. “Kiss me.” She joined him on her knees and pressed her lips to his. Their hands explored each other, stripped away clothes, teased, fondled, stimulated. “Wow,” Glory breathed. “That’s pretty worthy of worship too.” She opened her mouth, dipped her head, and took him in. Now it was Wesley’s turn to moan incoherent words and clutch her hair.

Glory cried out in ecstasy when at last he entered her. “Make love to me,” she urged. “Fill me. You are beautiful. You give me so much pleasure. Wesley. Make me yours.”

He did his best to obey. She strove for his pleasure as he strove for hers; and when, an hour later, he came, the sensation was a pleasure almost too intense for a human to endure. Glory held him tightly and shrieked with pleasure as she came for the fifth time. They gasped for breath in unison afterwards, and together they fell into a deep, exhausted, contented slumber.

- - - - -

Wesley stirred. Memories of the previous night flooded back into his mind, and he smiled. His body began to react as he became aware of the warm body lying next to him. “Glory,” he murmured, opening one eye. Dark hair met his gaze. He frowned, puzzled, and fumbled beside the bed for his glasses.

Two seconds later he was standing in the corner of the room pulling on his boxer shorts with extreme haste. “What on Earth?” he exclaimed. “Who are you?”

Ben opened his eyes. “Where am I?” he groaned. “Oh, my head. What did she have to drink last night?”

“You’re the man who did the Rocky Horror song,” Wesley said, eyes wide. “What are you doing here? Where is Glory?”

Ben shook himself and sat up. “Maybe she was feeling like a threesome,” he suggested, smiling evilly.

“Good Lord. I think I will be going now,” Wes said stiffly. He donned his clothes as fast as he could and fled the apartment.

- - - - -

“Well done, Wesley. I gather you insinuated yourself quite deeply into Glory’s, ah, confidence,” Giles praised, talking as he made Wesley a cup of tea. “Did you learn anything that could be turned to our advantage? Any vulnerabilities, any weaknesses we might be able to exploit?”

Wesley shuddered. “I learned that she is a woman devoid of shame and with unusual, nay excessive, sexual appetites. I strongly desire never to set eyes on her again. I’m going back to Los Angeles as soon as I feel well enough, and I won’t be coming back until she has gone. If she calls for me tell her that I have gone to join the British Antarctic Survey Group at Halley Base on the Weddell Sea Ice Shelf.”

- - - - -

Glory replaced the phone and angrily wiped away a tear from her eye. “Damn Ben to hell,” she growled. “There has to be some way of killing him. Jinx! Check the sacred texts again. Get Doc onto it too. Find me a way of killing Ben without harming me. Preferably something very, very, painful.”

“Alas, oh wondrous one, although disappointing you burns me like a thousand volcanoes erupting in my liver, there is no way of granting your desire,” Jinx quavered. “His death means your own. Even serious harm to him would be reflected on your divine self. He is untouchable.”

Glory turned her back on her minion, not wishing him to see the expression on her face. “Damn him to hell and back again. I had something good there. I really felt something. I could have skipped the whole apocalypse thing, even; living on this dump of a planet wouldn’t have been so bad with Wesley. Hey, it would have been pretty good. Until Ben screwed it up. Don’t know what he said but it’s blown everything. Wesley’s never gonna speak to me again.”

Glory choked back a sob and then stood silent for a minute until she had regained control of herself. “Okay, the truce is still on. January the Seventh I offer the Slayer a new deal. I tell her how I need to use the Key, what she has to do to stop the walls of reality coming down, how to make sure the crazy guys get their minds back once I’m home, everything. If she hands over the Key we play straight with her all the way. If not, well, I start ripping my way through her friends and family. Breaking legs, pulling off arms, maybe doing the thing with the skull and the spine like in that ‘Predator’ film – starting with that Xander guy who ate more than his share of the pizza – and keeping it up until she sees reason.”

“A plan delightful in its simplicity, truly worthy of your divineness, oh Glorificus. I worship the ground into which you will tread the shattered skulls of your miserable enemies.”

“Thanks, Jinx.” Glory gave him a tight smile, tears still just visible in her eyes. “Give me that old time religion.”

- - - - -

Xander bent low over the pool table, lining up his shot. “This doesn’t mean I’m happy about you dating Buffy, Evil Dead,” he told Spike. “I know you’re only acting good to try to get into her pants.” He struck the cue ball hard and broke up the pack.

“If I get into Buffy’s pants I’ll sing the Frank N Furter song myself, not mime like some pillocks I could mention,” Spike grinned.

Xander laughed as he handed Spike the cue. “I got to admit you’re better company than the usual run of villains,” he chuckled. “But hey, you’re not seriously gonna claim that, if the chip stopped working, you wouldn’t be ripping our throats out before we even had a chance to look up the number of the repair men, are you?”

Spike held the cue and looked Xander straight in the eye. “Wouldn’t rip your throat out at all, even if you can be a bit of a tosser sometimes. You pulled me out of the Hellmouth when the ceiling was coming down on us and one sodding great rock had clonked me on the head. Not gonna forget it. You know I wouldn’t hurt Joyce or Dawn. Had an invite to the Slayer’s house for two chip-free years, remember, never did a thing to them. If the chip packed in tomorrow I wouldn’t do a thing to any of you. If I couldn’t control myself I’d bugger off to Brazil or somewhere. Not claiming to be a good guy, no way, but I don’t let down a mate, and you lot have done me a few good turns along the way. I’ve enjoyed myself more these past few days than I did in twenty years with Angelus. I’m not in any hurry to rock the boat. Rather play another football match with you lot than rip your throats out, and that’s no lie.”

Xander stood motionless for a moment, brow furrowed, looking back into Spike’s eyes. “Jeez. I think you mean it. I really think you mean it. Okay, I can live with that. Welcome to the Scooby Gang, Spike.” He extended his hand to Spike and they shook. “Now take your shot. Let’s get this game finished this year and not next.”

- - - - -

“Happy New Year, Spike,” Buffy wished him.

“Happy New Year, Buffy,” he replied. Her lips were puckered in invitation, and he kissed her.

“Happy New Year,” Willow and Tara chorused as Spike and Buffy parted.

“Happy New Year, pets,” Spike responded. “Happy New Year, Anya. Happy New Year, Harris. Sod that. Happy New Year, Xander.”

“Happy New Year, Spike,” Xander replied. “Happy New Year, Buffy.”

“Happy New Year, Slayer,” Glory chimed in. “You’re quite sure you don’t know where Wesley is?”

“Totally. Like I told you, he left a message to say he’d gone to work in Antarctica.”

“Bummer. Men. They never call. Catch you around, okay?” Glory wandered away, looking miserable.

“Like, weird.” Buffy raised her eyebrows. “Glory seems kind of broke up over Wesley, and Giles says he was totally freaked out. Guess we’ll never know the whole story. Oh well. How about we start off 2001 with a dance?”

- - - - -

“Harm, I want you to do something for me,” Spike told the blonde vampire girl. “Something really important.”

“Sure, Blondie Bear, anything for you, you know that,” Harmony said cheerfully.

“This is a really big thing. It’ll get the Slayer mad at you. So mad that it won’t be safe for you around Sunnydale ever again. You’ll have to leave. I’ll give you my car, all the money that I’ve got saved up, but you’ll have to go and you won’t be able to come back. Ever.”

“But you’ll come with me, right?” Harmony saw the answer written in Spike’s expression and wilted. “Oh. So, this will be, like, the end of us?”

“I’m sorry, Harm. I just can’t love you the way you deserve. You’re a bloody gorgeous bint, you’ll find someone else in no time, but I’m just holding you back. Go, live free of the Slayer, make your own way in the world. Just do this one thing for me first.”

“You never loved me. I’m not dumb. You’ve always been using me. Hey, when you got me to dress up as the Slayer, I know what you were really thinking. I oughta just stake you myself.”

“I’m sorry, Harm,” Spike repeated. “Like I said, you deserve better than me. If you want to stake me, can’t really blame you.”

“Big dumbass,” she said tearfully. “I really love you, you know that. Okay, what do you want me to do?”

“You’ll do it?”

“Yeah. I’m stupid like that. I’ll do anything for you. Keep your dumb old car. Just help me pack and get me Cordy’s address. So, what is this big thing anyway?”

- - - - -

Ben left the hospital late at night. He’d missed several shifts lately, and had had to endure a long lecture on responsibilities and the importance of reliability in one hoping to make his way in the profession of medicine, and then work an extra three hours to pay back a colleague who had covered for him. He was exhausted, frustrated, and furious with his hell goddess alter ego who had gotten him into that position. Still, at least he had the pleasure of knowing that he had completely ruined the morning after the party for the man whom she had lured into her bed; that was some small measure of payback.

He neared his car and saw a blonde girl standing close by; an extremely pretty girl with a short skirt displaying shapely legs. She was far too fresh-faced and innocent looking to be a hooker. Possibly a new nurse or a relative of a patient. “Can I help you, miss?” he asked.

“Yeah, I think so. You’re a doctor, right? What’s your name?”

“Yes, I’m a junior doctor. My name’s Ben.” He smiled at the pretty girl, and she smiled back.

“Cool. Yeah, you totally can help me.” She came up to him and put her hand on his shoulder, the gentle touch suddenly turning into an iron grip, and her face morphing hideously. “Eight pints, please.” Her fangs were in his throat before he could even scream.

- - - - -

The doorbell rang. “I’ll get it,” Joyce called.

“No, wait, it might be Glory,” Buffy reminded her. “Let me.”

“Twelfth Night isn’t until tomorrow, dear, the truce will still be in force,” her mother pointed out.

“I’m not going to count on it too much,” Buffy said. “She seemed pretty upset when I last saw her; maybe she can’t wait for a fight.” She opened the door and stared in amazement at the demons outside.

“Your Slayerness,” the leader addressed her. “May we have a word?”

“Yeah, sure,” Buffy replied. “Jinx, isn’t it?”

“I am indeed Jinx. I bear tragic news. May I come in?”

“I guess so. Just you. Not the whole soccer team.”

“Very well.” Jinx entered and stood with clasped hands and lowered head. “Our divinity, the splendiferous Glory, is no more. She has perished.”

“Glory’s dead?”

“Oh, you poor things,” Joyce commiserated. “That must be terrible for you.”

“We are cast into abject desolation. There will be no joy in our poor lives for an eternity of suffering. We are remaining in this world only to carry out her last wishes and then we shall throw ourselves into some suitably ferocious inferno. Perhaps Mount Kilauea. We hear Hawaii is nice this time of year.”

“Look, don’t be in too much of a hurry to incinerate yourselves. Maybe it’s some kind of mistake. Are you sure she’s dead? I thought she was, like, indestructible.”

“Your kindness is exceeded only by your ability at soccer, but there is no mistake. The supreme Glory was indeed killed last night. Her human form, in which she was vulnerable to all the weaknesses of frail humanity, was attacked and slain by a vampire last night.”

“Human form?” A buried memory surfaced in Buffy’s mind. “Ben! Glory turned into Ben at the party. How come I didn’t realize that before?”

“As you say, Ben was indeed the human form of Glorificus. A spell protected her identity, causing anyone who witnessed the transformation to forget it immediately; even if one immune to the spell told another of the change the spell would wipe the words from the listener’s mind.”

“Spike! Spike kept saying Ben was Glory, and we wouldn’t listen. A vampire? Oh crap. Sorry. The truce was still on. I’ll kill him.”

“Rest easy, Slayer, it was not your boyfriend. The attacker was female. It was random chance, a tragic accident, and we bear you no ill will. We come to bestow upon you certain of the divine one’s possessions. She had expressed a desire for them to be passed on to you if you somehow managed to defeat her, and, although you were not responsible for her demise, we do not know what else to do with them. If they are of no use to you dispose of them as you see fit.”

“So, what are these possessions?”

“Shoes. And dresses, underwear, other items of apparel, but I doubt if those will fit you. I believe your feet to be of the same size as the enchanting feet of the deceased, however, and you should be able to wear them. Think of her when you grind the faces of your enemies in the dust beneath your Manolo Blahniks and Jimmy Choos. It’s what she would have wanted.”

He presented Buffy with a shoebox. She opened it and gasped with delight at the shoes within. Ruby red Manolo Blahniks. She hastily slipped off her own shoes and tried them on.

“Hey, don’t I get to try?” Dawn complained.

“Me first,” Buffy insisted. “They fit. Cool.”

Jinx summoned his colleagues and they delivered box after box of shoes. The pile grew until it reached the ceiling. In the middle of the delivery Spike rushed in, blanket smoking, and demanded to know what was going on. He’d noticed the demons and was worried until his mind was put at rest. In the middle of the explanations Dawn pulled a box out of the pile and brought the whole lot crashing down onto the vampire.

“Bloody hell!” he complained, struggling out of the heap. “I’m drowning in footwear.”

The three Summers women laughed heartily, and even Jinx permitted himself a small smile.

“You know what, Spike?” Buffy clicked her heels together. “I don’t think we’re in Kansas any more.”

Joyce smiled fondly at her daughters and the vampire. “There’s no place like home.”

And they all lived happily ever after until the end of their days.

The End

The characters in this story do not belong to me, but are being used for amusement only and all rights remain with Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, the writers of the original episodes, and the TV and production companies responsible for the original television shows. BUFFY THE VAMPIRE SLAYER ©2002 Twentieth Century Fox Film Corporation. All Rights Reserved. The Buffy the Vampire Slayer trademark is used without express permission from Fox.

Lyrics from ‘The Rocky Horror Picture Show’ are used without permission.

Tags: birthday wishes, birthdays, fic, glory

  • Post a new comment


    default userpic

    Your IP address will be recorded 

    When you submit the form an invisible reCAPTCHA check will be performed.
    You must follow the Privacy Policy and Google Terms of use.