Speaker-to-Customers (speakr2customrs) wrote,

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Sunnydale Passions Episode Four

Inspired by rahirah’s famous words 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., this is the fourth installment of the lunatic soap opera “Sunnydale Passions” in which all those things are true, and a few other characters get somewhat bashed as well. 3,550 words.

Previously in Sunnydale Passions: Episode One / Episode Two / Episode Three



Episode Four

A New Hop

Previously on ‘Sunnydale Passions’: Buffy deserted her lover Spike for a new romance with the demon-robot cyborg Adam. Angel, having reverted to a primitive cave-man under the influence of enchanted beer, took up with the dumb blonde vampire Harmony. Riley’s attempt to become Spiderman only succeeded in getting Xander fired and in turning Parker into Arachno-man. Spike’s seduction of Joyce awakened fires within Mrs. Summers that led to her subsequent seduction of Graham and Forrest. Spike acquired a pet kangaroo. Faith seduced Spike and then swapped bodies with Buffy. Giles drank large quantities of whisky, some of which had already passed through Spike.

Confused? You will be, after this episode of ‘Sunnydale Passions’. Now read on …

- - - - -

Spike switched on the television and went over to his battered refrigerator, salvaged from the dump, to get himself a beer while the old TV set warmed up. Skippy the kangaroo hopped across the crypt and took up a position in front of the TV.

“Bugger!” Spike cursed. The refrigerator was empty. “Left the beer downstairs, didn’t I? Oh well, nothing’s gonna happen in the first couple of minutes of ‘Passions’ anyway.” He opened the hatch in the crypt floor and clambered down to the lower level. When he returned two minutes later Skippy greeted him at the hatchway, chittering and waving his paws. “Stone the crows, cobber, a talking roo!” Spike exclaimed, adopting an Australian accent. “Strewth! What’s that you say, Skippy? Timmy’s fallen down the well?”

The kangaroo chittered excitedly and hopped back to the TV. Spike grinned fondly, opened his beer bottle, sat down on the couch and looked at the television. His eyes widened. “Bloody hell! Timmy really has fallen down the well!”

- - - - -

Joyce looked up from her perusal of the Victoria’s Secret catalogue when she heard the doorbell. “Now, who could that be?” she mused. “Giles, perhaps? Or those nice young men from the Initiative?” She unfastened a couple of the buttons of her top as she made her way to the door, reconsidered and buttoned them up again, and then compromised on undoing one button.

The man at the door was a stranger. A tall man of about her own age, clad in a crisply pressed military uniform, and who had a bristling moustache and a close-cropped haircut. He stood stiffly erect, his hands out of sight behind his back. “Mrs. Summers?” he addressed her. “My name is Colonel Havilland, acting base commander of the Initiative. Two of my men visited you recently, and after spending the night in your company they returned to base in a regrettable state. Totally exhausted, unable to concentrate on their tasks without drifting off into daydreams, grinning like idiots, and in no fit condition for duty.”

Joyce pouted. “That nice Graham and Forrest? They were very helpful, protecting a poor lonely divorcée from the giant fly monster, and I think they should be praised for their devotion to duty and their outstanding servicing – services. I do hope you’re not going to punish them. And surely you’re not going to take any action against me?”

“That remains to be seen,” said Colonel Havilland. He brought his hands from behind his back, revealing a bunch of flowers and a bottle of champagne. “I’d like to start off by inviting you to dinner.”

- - - - -

‘Buffy & Riley – I’ve gone out to dinner with a charming man. I may be some time. Get your own meal. And do the dishes this time. Love, Joyce.’ Faith read the note and pouted in as good an imitation of Buffy’s mannerism as she could manage. “So, no Mom cooking,” she said to her ‘husband’.

“So get in that kitchen and start slaving over a hot stove,” Riley ordered, “unless you want me to beat you to within an inch of your life.”

“Huh?” Faith stared at him with wide eyes. Was he joking? While she was still wondering what on Earth was going on in Buffy’s marriage, Riley punched her in the face; a move so unexpected that it actually landed. Faith wasn’t totally accustomed yet to Buffy’s smaller body, and she was knocked off balance by the blow and fell to the ground.

“Yes!” Riley crowed exultantly. “The spider powers must be rubbing off on me after all. Take that, bitch! The military can still kick ass. Now, get up off your lazy fat butt and get to the kitchen.”

Faith bounced to her feet and lashed out with the back of her hand in a slap to Riley’s jaw that sent him flying through the air to land head first on the couch. “Raise your hand to me again and I’ll break it off at the wrist,” she growled.

Riley untangled himself from the furniture and regained his footing, rubbing his jaw, but with his teeth showing in a happy grin that made him look like a complete idiot; or would have done, if Faith’s slap hadn’t knocked out one of those teeth so that he looked more like an incomplete idiot. “You actually noticed! You hit back! Yeah, I’m beginning to get somewhere. Maybe I can be enough of a monster for you yet.”

Faith’s lip curled scornfully. “I want a monster, I know where I can get one. Get your own dinner, asshole. I’m going out.”

“You’ll change your tune when I get the full spider powers,” Riley told her, baffling her even more. “Oh, when you see Spike, tell him I got out of the fly suit okay and I’m not mad at him any more.”

Faith shook her head, realized that Buffy’s body was executing an eye roll without any instructions from the consciousness that was inhabiting the form, and walked out.

Riley climbed the stairs to their room and went straight to the glass cage containing the radioactive spiders, only to find that they had reached the end of their half-lives and were lying on their little backs with their legs curled over their shriveled corpses. “Damn it!” he cursed. “Just when I was getting somewhere. I’ll have to get Spike to get me replacements.” His brow furrowed as he considered his options. “Maybe spiders weren’t the right way to go. They might be strong for their size, but the female eats the male after mating, and that’s not what I’m after. Now, what creatures are renowned for their sexual activities? Ah, of course. Bunnies!”

- - - - -

“Hey, Buffy!” Willow greeted her old friend as the Slayer walked into the Bronze. “Been a while since I’ve seen you in here. Riley getting on your nerves too much tonight?” She didn’t wait for an answer. “Hey, have you met my lesbian lover Tara? Not that you’d remember, ‘cause Tara is pretty bland, while you’re a pretty blonde.”

“W-w-w-w-w-w-w-w-w-we haven’t m-m-met,” Tara stammered shyly.

“Nice to meet you, Tara,” Faith smiled warmly, trying to act as she thought Buffy would act. “Wanna drink? You, Willow?”

“Just a glass of w-w-w-w-water, if it’s not too m-m-much t-t-t-t-trouble,” Tara replied.

“Double vodka on the rocks,” Willow said casually, and then lowered her voice. “Oh, and spike Tara’s water with vodka too, she’s better in bed when she’s smashed.”

Faith’s eyebrows fought to climb to her hairline, but she held them down with an effort. “Sure thing, Will,” she assented, but when she returned for the drinks she presented Tara with a glass of pure spring water.

“So, you a witch too?” Faith asked Tara, sitting down beside her.

“I follow the W-W-Wiccan W-W-W-W-W-ay, and I can d-d-d-do a few s-s-simple s-s-s-spells,” Tara replied. “I’m n-n-nothing like as g-g-good as W-W-W-W-W-W-W-”

“Oh, come on, finish saying my name or we’re going to be here all night!” Willow snapped. “It’s Willow. Goddess, why did I take up with such a useless wet blanket?” She pulled out her trusty Lethe’s Bramble as her lover’s lip trembled and her eyes filled with tears. “Forget!” Willow commanded, and tucked away the herb.

“W-W-W-W-” Tara resumed her stammering.

“Hey, no reason to be so nervous,” Faith soothed her. “I’m not such a big deal. Don’t see any crowds round for my autograph, do you? Just relax. Take a drink. You look like a pretty cool person to me. You go to class with Will? Or just do the lesbian sex thing? Which is cool. You swing that way, well, whatever floats your boat.” She put her arm around Tara’s shoulders. “I hope we’re gonna be good friends, girl.”

Tara took a deep breath and smiled. “Thanks,” she said. “I hope so too. I think you’re really n-nice.” Her stammer had eased off considerably. “I was n-nervous, ‘cause W-Willow had told me so much about you.”

“I don’t bite, T,” Faith grinned. “The opposite, you could say. Hey, wanna shoot pool with me? Got this kinda urge to use a long piece of wood.”

“N-no thanks,” Tara declined the offer.

“Guess I’ll find a guy easy enough.” Faith stood up, ostentatiously brushed down her leather pants, and moved away from the table.

Willow went with her for a few paces. “What’s up with you, Buffy?” she hissed. “What are you being so nice to Tara for? You know that we only ever are nice to the Core Four, except sometimes to people we’re actually boinking, and niceness to Giles is optional these days. You’re not acting like yourself at all. Are you okay?”

“Sure, Will, five by five,” Faith assured her. “All full of the Buffy bitchiness. Just thought I’d lay the groundwork in case I decided to play on your side of the street for a while.”

Willow smiled. “Oh, I get it. Okay, see you after your pool game, ‘kay?” She returned to her seat, and Faith headed on towards the pool table.

On her way she encountered a familiar figure; a bleached blond vampire lounging against a pillar sipping at a glass of beer, a kangaroo on a string sitting by his side. “Slayer,” he greeted her with a curt nod. Skippy chittered excitedly and gesticulated wildly, but the vampire ignored the strange actions of his exotic pet.

“Spike,” Faith returned the nod. She remembered their lovemaking the previous day, and heat spread through her loins. “Hey, you up for some action?”

“Don’t think so, Slayer,” Spike replied coolly. “You’re not my type.”

Faith bridled. “Not your type? I could ride you at a gallop until your legs buckled and your eyes rolled up. I've got muscles you've never even dreamed of. I could squeeze you until you pop like warm champagne and you'd beg me to hurt you just a little bit more.”

“Sing a new song, Slayer, that one’s getting old,” Spike sneered. “Been there, seen it, done it and, well, you’re good but I’ve had better. Face it, Slayer, I’m over you.” He drained the last of his beer and turned to the bar.

Faith stood stunned and incredulous. Skippy hopped to the full extent of his string and threw his arms around her legs, hugging her and nuzzling at her hands. She scratched the kangaroo under the jaw in response to his mute appeal. “Hey, at least you still love me, Skippy,” she murmured. “Huh? How come you recognize me anyway? Wicked smart for a kangaroo.”

It suddenly occurred to her that she was in danger of giving away her true identity before she’d completed her revenge. Hastily she disengaged from the marsupial and slipped away before Spike finished getting a refill. She returned briefly to Willow and Tara’s table, and claimed to have changed her mind about the pool game because of a headache and said that she was going home.

“So, off to boink Spike?” Willow grinned. “Enjoy yourself, Buff.”

“Goodnight, Buffy,” Tara said politely. “It was nice to m-meet you.”

“Yo, nice to meet you too, Tara. Catch you around, ‘kay?” Faith waved goodbye, left the bar, and hastened towards a cemetery; but boinking Spike was not on her agenda at all. At least not while she was in Buffy’s body.

- - - - -

“I’m not Faith!” Buffy shouted. “I’m Buffy Summers-Finn. God, why are you being so stupid? No, wait, don’t answer that. You work for the Council of Watchers. Enough said.”

“So do you,” Weatherby retorted smugly.

“I don’t work for the Council of Watchers!” Buffy snapped. “I’m the Slayer. Uh, let me rephrase that.”

“You’re Faith Lehane,” Collins said coldly. “Three or four inches taller than Buffy Summers, at least one cup size better endowed – probably two – with fuller lips, sharper cheekbones, better legs, a much more shapely, um, rear, and a mane of sleek and glossy black tresses instead of a straggly mess of badly-dyed blonde hair.”

“Hey, you never saw me at my best,” Buffy said defensively. “I was too better looking than Faith at High School. I just had a bad first year at college. I mean, the roommate from hell, the beer incident, and then getting married by mistake to the planet’s most boring Special Forces soldier. No surprise if I let myself slip a little.” She frowned at their amused expressions. “Anyway, I am Buffy. Faith must have swapped bodies with me. She had this kind of gizmo.”

“And did she feed it after midnight?” Weatherby asked.

Buffy sniffed. “Some sorta body-swapping thing. She tricked me. Took me by surprise, took my place, and handed me over to the cops and then you took me off them. Meanwhile she’s free and clear and she’s probably boinking Riley right now.” She frowned. “Uh, maybe I didn’t do so badly out of this deal after all. And you’re right about the boobies. Yo, six by four, wicked warm, uh, other sayings of whatever the Boston equivalent of trailer trash is. Go me, Faith Le-whatever. What are you going to do with me?”

Smith, the most junior of the Council wet-work team, leaned towards her and said “Take you back to the Council for debriefing by Quentin Travers.”

“Ewww!” Buffy exclaimed. “But he’s, like, old.”

“Followed by re-education, assessment, and then you’ll either be assigned to another Hellmouth or else disposed of,” Smith went on.

“‘Disposed of’ meaning let go?” Buffy said hopefully.

“Actually, we usually feed people to Travers’ pet piranha fish,” Weatherby said. “Can take weeks. It’s not a very big piranha.”

“I’m Buffy! I’m Buffy!”

“Buffy Summers-Finn is a college student, studying ‘Psychology’, ‘Twentieth-Century Poetry’, and ‘An Introduction to the American Novel’,” Collins said. “If you are her then tell me, what did John Locke mean when he described the child as a ‘Tabula Rasa’?”

“Uh, the kid kept pulling the cloth off the table?” Buffy guessed.

“Which of e. e. cummings’ poems has ‘How do you like your blue-eyed boy, Mister Death’ as the closing lines?”

“Uh, kind of sounds like it should be about Spike,” Buffy said, gritting her teeth. “Dunno.”

“Which classic American novel begins ‘Call me Ishmael’?”

“Uh, ‘The Adventures of Ishmael’?” Buffy suggested hopefully. “Look, when I signed up for the course on ‘An Introduction to the American Novel’, it was ‘cause I kinda thought it would get me out of reading the whole novel. I thought it meant just the blurb.”

“Your score after the first round is zero, Miss Lehane,” Collins told her with a grim smile. “I hope you enjoy your stay in England.”

“Oh, crap,” Buffy muttered. “Still, coulda been worse. At least I’ve got the boobies outa this. Hey, there’s four of us. We could play cards. Do you know ‘Go Fish’?”

Weatherby smiled. “Only with the piranha.”

- - - - -

“Bloody strange,” Spike muttered to his kangaroo as they hopped back across Restfield Cemetery towards his crypt. “Buffy used exactly the same words when she gave me the come-on as Faith did the other night. And what were you doing pawing at her like that, like an old friend, when you’ve never even met her before?”

Skippy chittered and gesticulated.

“What’s that you say, Skippy? Faith and Buffy have swapped bodies?”

The kangaroo nodded furiously.

Spike laughed. “You’re a marvel, Skippy. Anyone would think you could understand every sodding word I’m saying. Shame you’re really just a stupid marsupial.” He shook his head. “Nah, bloody stupid idea. People can’t really swap bodies.” He walked on.

Skippy rolled his eyes, hopped beside Spike, and stuck out his tail. Spike tripped over the appendage and crashed headfirst into a gravestone. He rose and glared at the kangaroo. “Damn Skippy!”

- - - - -

“Angel, hey,” Faith greeted the Souled Vampire. She looked his skin-clad body up and down. “New look for you, huh? Kinda, retro retro chic?”

“Buffy!” Angel responded. “Angel love Buffy. Soulmate.” He threw aside his club, rushed to her, and clasped her passionately to his chest.

“Uh, I’ll just kinda take a walk,” Harmony said nervously. “I wasn’t really trying to steal your guy in revenge for you stealing my Blondie Bear. It just sorta happened. I’ll be in, uh, San Diego.” She sidled away hastily.

Faith ignored the vampire girl. “I love you, Angel,” she declaimed. “Take me, love me, ravish me!”

Angel frowned briefly. He had a vague memory that there was some reason why he shouldn’t obey Buffy’s instructions, but he couldn’t pin it down. Then her hands moved between them and fondled him intimately, and the memory vanished completely. “Angel make love to Buffy,” he agreed. “Buffy make Angel happy.”

- - - - -

Riley was waiting in Spike’s crypt when the vampire and his kangaroo returned. “I’ve got a new job for you, Spike,” Riley announced, holding up a large and plump rabbit.

“Paying me in bunnies now, guv? Bloody cheapskate,” Spike grumbled. “What can I do you for, squire?”

“This isn’t the pay, it’s the job,” Riley explained. “I want you to trick Xander into exposing the rabbit to radiation.”

“Then you get it to bite you? Hate to break it to you, mate, but rabbits are vegetarians. ‘Monty Python and the Holy Grail’ is fiction.” Spike’s brow furrowed briefly. “Although, funny thing, there really is a Holy Hand Grenade of Antioch.”

“I’ve thought of that,” Riley grinned. “This time, I’m going to eat the radioactive rabbit.”

“Bloody stupid origin for a super-hero, you daft berk. Still, if you’re paying, I’ll do my bit.” The frown returned to Spike’s forehead. “Half a mo, guv, problem. Xander don’t work at the Nuclear Power Plant any more. He’s a bleedin’ clown, ain’t he? Gonna expose the rabbit to squirting button-holes and custard pies?”

“Stage One requires you to get him his job at the plant back,” Riley said. “Stage Two is getting the rabbit into the reactor. Xander should be pleased enough about Stage One to do that bit for you for nothing; he hates being a clown.”

“This one’s gonna be tricky, guv,” Spike said. “Cost you two monkeys and a pony.”

The kangaroo tugged at Spike’s sleeve, chittered, and drew symbols in the air with his paws. “Oh, and a mate for Skippy,” the vampire added. “Cheap at half the price, know what I mean?”

“Two monkeys and a female kangaroo,” Riley offered.

“Deal,” Spike agreed. He curled back his lips and snarled, his fangs descending and his forehead shifting into the ridges of vampire game face. “Step one, I scare the crap out of Montgomery Burns and get Donut Boy his job back. Step two, reactor time for Roger the Rampant Radioactive Rabbit.”

Riley smiled. “I think we’ve got a plan.” He pushed the rabbit back into the cat carrier he’d used to bring it to the crypt, and deposited it on the top of Spike’s sarcophagus. “I’ll be off to get your payment together.” He exited the crypt, failing to see the two-fingered gesture that the vampire made behind his back.

“Yeah, we’ve got a plan, but it’s the stupidest bloody plan I’ve ever heard of,” Spike muttered to Skippy. “Next to Angelus trying to suck the world into hell, that is. Good thing we’ve seen the last of that bugger.”

- - - - -

Faith rode Angel at a gallop until his legs buckled and his eyes rolled up, and used her special Slayer muscles to squeeze him until he popped like warm champagne. The souled vampire cried out in absolute ecstasy. “Uh! Angel happy now!” he grunted, and then his face contorted in sudden pain.

Faith raised herself from atop the vampire and climbed to her feet. She grabbed for her discarded panties and backed rapidly towards the cave entrance. “Well, it’s been a lot of fun, but I’ve got to go,” she called. “Got to see a girl about a body. See you around, Angelus.”

Angelus clambered slowly to his feet. “Soul gone now,” he muttered. “Angelus free. No more brood. No more help hopeless.” He tucked his deflated member back into his bearskin loincloth and made his way to his abandoned club, picked up the weapon and hefted it experimentally, and grinned evilly. “Angelus smash. Angelus smash everybody.”

“Hey, is she gone?” Harmony said nervously, poking her head around the cave entrance. “Are we still good?”

“Good? Grrrr! Angelus evil. Hurt, maim, destroy. Kill goldfish. Bash everybody.”

“Uh, that’s cool. That’s cool. Does that mean we can eat people? No more helping?”

Angelus growled again. “Not help. Bash. No more redemption. No more brood. No more shanshu.”


- - - - -

Continued in Episode Five; The Vampire Strikes Back

Tags: fic, sunnydale_passions
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