Speaker-to-Customers (speakr2customrs) wrote,

  • Mood:
  • Music:

Sunnydale Passions

rahirah made a post last night in which she, among other things, commented on her dislike of character-bashing in fics; when one character is made to act like a complete jerk in order to make another seem saintly in comparison. She said:

but there's no reason to make Riley a wife-beater, Giles a drunk, Willow an evil mastermind, Xander a moron, Spike a malicious idiot, Angel a Neanderthal, Buffy a stone bitch who glories in her bitchness, or whatever.

to which I replied

I'm deeply tempted to write a story in which all of the above apply. I'm not sure who I would sanctify by contrast; unless I make the hero the tragic. misunderstood, benevolent Adam.

and she responded

Do it! I triple-dog-dare ya!

So I did. 2,350 words. Rating – PG-13-ish, probably. If I hadn’t done this I still wouldn’t have been able to do a ‘Savage Beauty’ chapter as that requires actual research and plot and stuff, whereas this – well, see for yourselves.



Episode One

The Fandom Menace

Riley unleashed a rain of blows on Buffy. A right hook, a left jab, a nifty left-right-left combination, an elbow smash to the nose, a head butt, and a spinning kick. “Stupid whore!” he yelled. “Vampire-screwing slut! Bitch!” He snatched up a perfume bottle from the dresser and brought it down on her forehead again and again until at last he ran out of energy and collapsed, panting.

“Have you finished?” Buffy asked, examining her nails. “I need to pick up some dry cleaning, and I’ll have to go to the ATM first, and I want to call in at the butchers and pick up some blood in case Spike comes over to give me some vampire loving and fill me up with his cold dead seed.”

“Bitch,” Riley panted again. “I’ll teach you respect yet.”

“Yeah, whatever,” Buffy said. “Oh, did you boink me while you were at it? I wasn’t paying attention, and I wouldn’t have noticed your little thing now that I’m so used to Spike’s gigantic spike.”

“No, I didn’t,” Riley told her dejectedly.

“Okay, I’ll see if I can fit you in this evening,” Buffy said. She stood up and began to dress. “Now, don’t forget to vacuum. And wear your apron so you look cute if anyone comes over.” She pulled on a pair of thigh-length PVC boots and went out.

- - - - -

“I used to be an important Watcher,” Giles lamented, raising his glass. “I could watch anything. I worked in a lirab – libar – place with lots of books. I could do research.” He drained the glass and fumbled for the whisky bottle. “Bugger, it’s empty.”

“Try this, squire,” Spike offered, handing him a plain bottle of amber liquid.

Giles poured out a glassful and drank. “Unusual flavor,” he commented. “Not single malt, that’s for sure. Must be that bloody awful American rye.” He took another swig. “Bye, bye, Miss American Rye,” he sang, and chuckled to himself. “You’re my best mate, Spike. I love you like a brother. Aren’t you having any?”

“No, ta, mate,” Spike declined, and added under his breath “Already been through my digestive tract once, don’t fancy putting it through again.” He looked up at the corners of the room, where cobwebs hung and spiders lurked. “Mind if I take a few of your spiders?”

“No, help yourself. You’re a pal, Spike. Sure you won’t have some?”

“Nah, guv, I’ll just take the spiders.”

“Ziggy played guitar, jammin' good with Weird and Gilly,” Giles sang. “The spiders from Mars, he played it left – uh, what’s that word again, funny shaped thing at the end of your arm?”

The door flew open and Willow burst in. Spike’s jeans sprouted an immediate bulge and drool trickled from his mouth at the sight of her skin-tight leather outfit and her prominently-displayed cleavage. “Wotcher, witch,” he greeted her. “You wouldn’t be up for a shag, would you?”

“Gay now, dumbass,” Willow reminded him. “Hi, Giles, I’ve just popped in to see if you’ve got the fifty bucks you owe me.”

“Oh, hello, Willow,” Giles smiled. “Certainly, my dear. Would you like a drink?”

“Not at this time of the morning,” Willow declined, rolling her eyes. And her ass, making Spike groan and clutch his groin. “Just the cash. Show me the money.”

Giles fumbled in his pocket. “Here you are, my dear.” He handed over a bill, and Willow tucked it away in her bra. Spike came in his pants.

Willow’s hand came out of her bra holding a sprig of Lethe’s Bramble. “Forget,” she declaimed, and hastily tucked the plant away again.

“Wotcher, witch,” Spike said. “You wouldn’t be up for a shag, would you?”

“Gay now, dumbass,” Willow reminded him. “Hi, Giles, I’ve just popped in to see if you’ve got the fifty bucks you owe me.”

“Oh, hello, Willow,” Giles smiled. “Certainly, my dear. Would you like a drink?”

“Not at this time of the morning,” Willow declined, rolling her eyes. And her ass, making Spike groan and clutch his groin. “Just the cash. Show me the money.”

Giles fumbled in his pocket. “That’s funny,” he frowned. “I could have sworn I had a fifty dollar bill in there. I suppose I must have spent it on this whisky.”

“Okay, I can wait,” Willow said. “I won’t hang around. Just remember you still owe me. Bored now.” She spun around and made for the door, her buttocks rolling in the tight leather pants as she walked.

Spike came in his pants.

- - - - -

Xander Harris walked despondently along the sidewalk. He’d been fired from his job as Safety Officer at Sunnydale Nuclear Power Plant, just for bringing in a box of spiders and hanging them in the reactor. He just hoped Spike paid him well for that little favor.

“Oi! Monkey Boy!” a voice called from an alley.

“Speak of the devil,” Xander muttered. “Hey, fangless. You got me fired!”

“Cripes, squire, that’s a bloody shame,” Spike said insincerely. “Come over ‘ere, you daft tosser. Can’t come out to you without getting crispy fried.”

“Like I care,” Xander said, but went over into the shady alley anyway. “Here’s your spiders, like I agreed. Now, you keep your part of the bargain.”

“Sure thing, guv,” Spike grinned. He greedily snatched the box of spiders and passed Xander a large paper bag in exchange. “One dozen, assorted flavors.”

Xander opened the bag and drooled. “Mmmm, donuts!”

- - - - -

Angel lurched through the cemetery with his club resting on his shoulder. “Angel brood now,” he mumbled. “Redemption. Brood. Paint bison on wall of cave. Guilt bad, soul pretty.”

A vampire sprang out at him and then halted in its tracks. “Oops, sorry,” it said in a high voice. “I thought you were, like, human. Hey, don’t I know you?”

“Me Angel,” the souled vampire grunted. “Slay bad vampires. Seek redemption, shanshu.”

“Gesundeit!” said Harmony, for it was she. “Hey, I’m not a bad vampire. I helped you at Graduation, remember? Against the Mayor?”

Angel’s brooding brow furrowed. “Vampire woman speak true,” he boomed. There was something not quite right about her statement, but he couldn’t put his finger on it, and Harmony definitely had fought against the Mayor’s forces at the Ascension.

“Yeah, that’s me, all big with the truth-saying,” Harmony chattered. “Hey, what’s with the bearskin and the club? It’s kinda cute. You going to a costume party?”

“Angel drink beer,” he grunted. “Much beer. Fire bad, vampire woman pretty.”

“You think so?” Harmony preened. “Hey, wanna boink?”

“Angel bonk,” the souled vampire grunted. He lifted his club and struck Harmony on the head, felling her, and then seized her hair and dragged her along the ground behind him. “Take pretty girl to cave. Legs good, pert titties.”

“Oww!” Harmony complained. “I don’t usually go for the cave-man stuff, and you’re getting my dress all dirty. You’d better be good after this, buster.”

“Angel good,” he grunted. “Soul. Redemption. Help the hopeless. Shanshu.”


- - - - -

“Like the apron,” Spike smirked.

“Shut up, Hostile 17”, Riley growled. “You got the spiders?”

“Yep. Girl likes a bit of monster in her man, you’re gonna have it.” Spike produced the box of radioactive spiders and held it just out of Riley’s reach. “Cash first, squire.”

Riley took a wad of bills from his pocket and handed them over, and the vampire passed him the box. “Hey, wait a minute, how do I know these are radioactive?” the Initiative agent queried.

Spike grinned and turned out the lights. The spiders glowed eerily. “Paid Harris to stick them in the reactor, didn’t I?” he explained. “Paid him right handsome, I did, I’m hardly making a thing out of this deal.”

“A deal’s a deal, Spike, you’re not getting a dime more out of me,” Riley said firmly. “Consider yourself lucky I don’t stake you for boinking my wife.”

“Wouldn’t be doing it if you could satisfy her,” Spike sneered. “Anyway, once you’re Spiderman you should be able to shag her all night. Better watch none of them bite her, mind, or she might eat you afterwards.”

Riley paled. “Good point. I’ll watch out for that.” He stuck his hand into the box and waited. “Why aren’t any of them biting me?”

Spike frowned. “Dunno. Maybe it’s ‘cos you don’t smell like a fly. Perhaps if we smeared your arm with rotting meat? Could get you some, knock-down price, know wot I mean, guv?”

“I’ve got a better idea,” Riley said. “We’ll smear my arm with flies. Use that vampire speed and go catch me some.”

“Righto, guv, but it’ll cost you a monkey,” Spike said cheerily.

Riley frowned. “That’s five hundred bucks, right? That’s a hell of a lot for a few flies.”

“Yeah, it would be,” Spike said, “but I really meant a monkey. You could nick me one from the Initiative labs. They’re bloody delicious.”

- - - - -

Maggie Walsh escorted her distinguished visitors to the exit of the initiative complex. “Goodbye, Mr Glenn, Mr Aldrin, Dr Bluford. I trust you have been impressed by what we have here.”

“It’s been, shall we say, interesting,” John Glenn replied diplomatically. “Nice to have met you, Professor Walsh.”

“Shall I summon a car to take you back to the hotel?” Walsh offered.

“No, it’s a nice night, I think we’ll walk,” Glenn replied. The three astronauts departed and set off across the campus grounds.

They hadn’t made it very far when Angel lurched into sight, dragging Harmony by her hair behind him.

“Hey!” Guy Bluford called. “Let that woman go!”

Angel halted, but did not relinquish his grip.

“Let her go, feller,” Buzz Aldrin ordered, “or we’ll be forced to take steps. Possibly giant ones.”

“Ugh!” Angel grunted. “Astronauts.”

“You got it, feller,” John Glenn confirmed. “Now, let go of that lady’s hair and put down the club.”

Angel released Harmony’s hair, but didn’t put down the club. Instead he raised it and charged forward. He smote three times in quick succession and the astronauts fell like ninepins. “Astronauts fall down,” Angel boomed. “Cave-man wins.” He looked down at the fallen opponents and frowned. “Hurt humans. Bad. Brood now.”

“No. dumbass,” Harmony protested. She climbed to her feet and began brushing the dirt from her dress. “Boink now, brood later.”

Angel returned to her and smote her on the head with his club. “Bonk now,” he agreed. “Brood later.”

“Oww!” Harmony whined, as she fell to the ground. “Why didn’t I just keep my big mouth shut?”

- - - - -

Adam withdrew his skewer from the body of the late Maggie Walsh and set off along the tunnels. He had to escape from the Initiative complex quickly; now that he knew their secret he was in great peril. They would stop at nothing to shut his mouth. Maggie Walsh had been only a figurehead, and the plan to use demon warriors to overrun the civilized world and install a brutal repressive regime wouldn’t be stopped by her death. He’d have to seek out the true leader, the mysterious mastermind known only as ‘Willow’. It was distressing that he had been forced to take a human life in the course of his escape, but it had been necessary in the cause of the greater good.

He emerged from the artificial tunnels into a region of natural caves. He gazed around him, looking for the first time upon something that had not been made by Man. It had been touched by Man, however; crude clay paintings of bison, mammoths, and saber-toothed tigers decorated the walls and a wood fire was burning in the middle of the cave. By its light he could see two figures; he automatically checked their thermal signatures and recognized them as vampires.

They were engaging in vigorous sexual intercourse.

“Hey, wow, that is fantastic!” one was exclaiming. “You go, Angel. I’ve never had anything as big before.”

“Harmony like club up pussy?”

Adam would have blushed if he had been capable of such physiological functions. He turned away, feeling embarrassed yet also aroused, and hastened along the cave. Ahead of him he detected another human, female, approaching fast and apparently unhampered by the dim light. He prepared himself for combat.

“Stupid vampires, a Slayer’s work is never done,” the female was muttering to herself.

Adam determined that she was unarmed except for a piece of wood and stepped out to confront her.

“Hey!” she exclaimed. “Who are you? You’re no vampire.”

“And you are no Initiative agent,” Adam replied. “I am Adam, created by evil scientists but with a mission to protect humanity and to play the violin to blind hermits. Who are you?”

“I’m Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Chosen One, with a mission to protect humanity and seek out stylish yet affordable footwear.” Buffy wrinkled her nose and looked Adam up and down. “You’re a big one, aren’t you?” Her gaze locked on his groin. “Wow! You really are a big one.”

Adam looked down at himself and realized that he was displaying a prominent erection. “I am sorry. I observed a scene of copulation and became sexually aroused.”

“Oh, don’t apologize,” Buffy said, licking her lips. “I’m impressed. I like a bit of monster in my man. Wanna boink?”

- - - - -

Angel stood up and donned his bearskin, and then pulled on his deerskin moccasins. His bare foot protruded through the bottom of one of them. “Ugh!” he grunted. “Me lose sole.”

“Hey, did I make you perfectly happy?” Harmony asked, clapping her hands together in glee. “’Cause, if I did, and you’re Angelus again, I could totally be up for a campaign of death and destruction. But if I didn’t and you’re still Angel, well that’s cool too. I can be good.”

“Yes, Harmony good, boobs pretty,” Angel agreed, and then a sound reached his ears. “Hush!” he ordered. He cocked his head and listened. Flesh on flesh. Copulation. The strokes were getting faster as the participants approached climax. “Someone comes.”

“Ohhh!” a familiar female voice shrieked in the distance. “I’m coming! I’m – Oh, sweet mystery of life I’ve found you …”

“Buffy!” Angel groaned. “With other man. Angel brood now. Brood, redemption, help the hopeless. Shanshu.”


- - - - -

End of Episode

Continued in Episode Two: Attack of the Crones
Tags: fic, sunnydale_passions
  • 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.
← Ctrl ← Alt
Ctrl → Alt →
← Ctrl ← Alt
Ctrl → Alt →