Holiday Offerings
By Gaeriel Mallory

NOTE: These were all written for Twisting the Hellmouth's 2004 Holiday Fic-for-all. These are all Buffy or Angel crossover one-shots of various pairings, both romantic and not.
DISCLAIMER: None of the characters are mine. They all belong to their respective owners.

FFA Pairings: 50 ~ 5 ~ 34 ~ 8 ~ 154 ~ 203 ~ 225 ~ 548 ~ 516 ~ 777
 

(50) Guardian Angel (Wesley/Barbara Gordon)
Fandoms: Angel/DC Comics

Wesley stood over the red-haired woman in the hospital bed. He sighed and placed a hand over hers laying on top of the blanket.

“She’s hurting pretty badly,” Cordelia whispered beside him. “Are you sure you can handle this?”

He graced her with a faint smile. “I’ll do my best.”

The former seer laid a hand on his back and looked at the woman in the bed. “Be careful, Wes. She’s one of the Powers’ and she’s pretty close to just giving it all up forever.”

“She’s needed then?” he asked her.

“Desperately. Her life is tied with too many other Champions for her to turn her back on the good fight.” Cordelia stepped back. “You’ll do fine.” She vanished with a brief pulse of light, leaving the hospital room empty save for Wesley and Barbara Gordon. The machines beeped and pulsed as they measured her vital signs.

Wesley sighed and sat down in one of the chairs provided. “I guess I’ll just have to wait then,” he murmured.

~~~

Barbara blinked away the drug-induced fog that had taken over her brain. “Ugh,” she groaned. She froze as she memory swept back to her and she realized she could not feel anything below her waist.

“Take it easy there,” a British-accented voice told her softly.

She looked up and frowned. “Who are you?”

“I’m Wesley.” His lips twitched upwards slightly. “I suppose you can call me your guardian angel.”

She squeezed her eyes tight and attempted to fight past all the chemicals in her system. “Why are you here?” she finally managed. He had kind eyes behind those glasses, she observed absently.

“I’m here to help you.”

~~~

“Oracle out.” Barbara slid off the headset and turned to the man standing behind her. “Well?” she asked.

“You were brilliant,” Wesley told her. “I told you that you could do it.” He studied her. “Do you feel any better now that you’re helping again?”

She toyed with the headset. “A little,” she admitted. “It’s nowhere near as satisfying as punching a thug in the face, though.”

“But think how many more people you’re aiding now.” Wesley knelt in front of her and placed his hands over hers. “Barbara, look at me,” he commanded softly. Green eyes slowly met his brown ones. “I’m so proud of you. You had a terrible loss but you didn’t let it stop you from fighting.” He gestured around the room, at the mass of computers and computer hardware the covered the wall. “Look at what you’ve done.”

“I couldn’t have done it without you.” She put down the headset and reached down, embracing him. “Thank you, Wes. I don’t know what would have happened if you weren’t there to encourage me.”

He hugged her back. “I do recall there was some berating involved as well.”

She chuckled wetly. “I appreciate the berating too.” She sat back and wiped her eyes. “How will Batman react when he finds out?”

He stood up. “I’m afraid that’s something you’re going to have to figure out on your own, Barbara.” He placed his hands on her shoulders and smiled down fondly at her. “You’re back on track now and you don’t need me anymore.”

She blinked in confusion. “Wait—you’re leaving?”

“I have to,” he told her gently. Sitting down in the chair next to her, he looked down at his hands. “I never told you this but when I died, I was given a choice to become what I am now. I help those who were destined to fight on the side of good but are going through a time of confusion find their way again. Barbara, my job is done. You’re exactly right where you need to be.”

She was silent for a long time. Finally, she spoke. “Wesley, can I ask you a question?”

“Anything.”

“Why did you choose this?” She shook her head. “Why did you choose this life?”

He shook his head. “God, anything but that.” He sighed and removed his glasses, rubbing his eyes. “I’m afraid I’m not quite ready to talk about it yet,” he admitted. “The wound’s still a bit too fresh.”

She clasped his hand. “I understand.” She smiled softly. “Thank you for everything.”

He leaned down and kissed her on her cheek. “Give them hell, Oracle.” He glowed brightly before disappearing.

~~~

The Justice League holiday party was in full swing. Barbara laughed at something that Dinah Lance, the Black Canary said regarding Superman’s choice of headgear. The Man of Steel, dressed in civilian clothes, flashed a grin over in their corner and shook his head, causing the reindeer antlers on his head to bob.

“God, Bruce outdid himself this year,” Barbara observed. The ballroom of Wayne Manor was decorated tastefully in Christmas decorations, complete with a giant tree in the corner, Alfred Pennyworth’s handiwork.

“He certainly has.” Dinah took a sip of her punch and nodded at the host. “He’s even glowering less than usual.”

A man stepped in the doorway of the room, causing those closest to him to look suspiciously his way. In his hand, he carried a large bouquet of white lilies. Alfred walked up to him and the two conversed in low tones. Finally, Alfred escorted him across the room to where the two women were. “Miss Barbara,” the butler said, “this man claims to be an acquaintance of yours?” He sniffed slightly and frowned at the unexpected guest.

Barbara blinked and had to take another look before she believed what she was seeing. “Wesley? What are you doing here? It’s been years.”

He nodded and smiled. “Happy Christmas,” he told her as he handed her the flowers. “We had some unfinished business that I rather cowardly ran away from.”

She accepted the lilies, frowning. “What on earth are you talking about?”

The two ignored the crowd that was collecting around the two, Bruce Wayne and Dinah at the front, listening with curiosity.

“Before we parted, you asked me why I choose the particular career that I did. I never gave you an answer.” Wesley closed his eyes and took a breath. “I lost someone who was extremely dear to me and I went through a period in which I could have used some spiritual guidance. I still had not quite resolved everything with myself before I died.” He smiled slightly. “An old friend of mine met me on the other side and gave me the choice to become what I became so that I could help those who needed help. I suppose you could say I was seeking redemption in my own way for some rather unchoice acts and words of mine after Fred’s death, especially towards the one who replaced her. You see, I blamed myself and I wasn’t quite ready to let go of that guilt yet. So I chose.”

Barbara smiled and took his hand. “Thank you for telling me.”

“Thank you for listening.” He looked around and noticed their audience for the first time. He cleared his throat and grinned sheepishly. “I don’t suppose you’d like to dance?” he inquired.

“Dance?” Barbara laughed a little hysterically. “But there’s no music.”

“On it, Wes!” a brash female voice called out. Barbara looked towards it and saw a woman with short curly brown hair standing by a sound system in the corner. The woman waved at her and made a shooing motion with her hands.

Wesley’s chuckling drew her attention again. “That is Cordelia,” he told her. “It seems death has not done away with any of her louder personality traits.” He extended his hands towards her. “A dance?”

“But—” Her reply was cut off as he plucked the bouquet out of her hands and passed them off to a bemused Dinah. He then pulled her out of her wheelchair and into his arms. Her legs dangled a few inches off the ground.

“It’s okay,” he whispered into her ear. “I won’t drop you. I’m much stronger than I used to be.”

Slow dance music began playing and Wesley twirled her around in a circle. She giggled and wrapped her arms around his neck, enjoying the feel of not being restricted to the chair for a little bit.

“Hey, tall, dark and broody! Let’s dance!”

The two laughed at Cordelia pulling Bruce reluctantly onto the middle of the floor. “You certainly have a way of making a party interesting,” Barbara observed.

He grinned. “You should see some of the holiday parties my old associates threw. No rampaging demons is always a plus in my book.” Ignoring the puzzled look on her face, he spun her around the dance floor again.

--fin--

(5) Internship (Angel/Liz Parker)
Fandoms: Angel/Roswell

Liz Parker sighed as she crouched down to pick up the stack of folders that she had dropped after bumping into one of the many people rushing past her, all more important than the lowly intern scrabbling to get papers back into some semblance of order. God, who knew accepting the winter break internship offer from a law firm would be a fast-forward lesson on real-world hierarchy—of which she was the bottommost rung. Well, maybe second from the bottom. The guy who pushed the mail cart around seemed to get less notice than she did.

Finally getting all the files back into her arms, she hurried to her destination, grimacing at the Musak version of ‘Jingle Bells’ playing in the elevator. “Here,” she told the blonde woman sitting at the secretary’s desk. “These are the forms that Mr. Angel asked Lorne to send over regarding the annual Christmas party.”

Harmony raised an eyebrow at the eager young woman in front of her. “You are way too happy to be working at an evil law firm.” She waved her nail file at Liz. “You know, if I had met you a year ago, I wouldn’t have thought twice about biting you in the neck and leaving your corpse behind a dumpster somewhere. You were just the perky happy little nobody that would have annoyed me just by being alive.”

The door behind the desk opened and a dark-haired man walked out. “Harmony, stop scaring the new intern.” He smiled what he probably thought was a reassuring smile at Liz. “Hi, I’m Angel. Welcome to Wolfram & Hart.”

Liz took his hand mindlessly. “Uh...”

He shrugged apologetically. “Don’t mind Harmony. She’s off her blood at the moment. The butcher was out of her usual and she had to make do with sheep.” Ignoring the tongue his secretary was sticking out at his back, he grabbed the files sitting on the counter and walked back into his office, gesturing for Liz to follow him. “Come on in and take a seat. I haven’t had a chance to congratulate you on getting the internship.” Dropping the files on his desk, he sat down in his chair.

Liz carefully sat in one of the cushioned chairs in front of the desk. “Thank you, Mr. Angel—”

He waved a hand to the side. “It’s just Angel,” he told her. “So today’s your first day? What are your impressions of the place?”

She nibbled on her lower lip. “Well,” she said slowly, “It’s a lot different than what I had expected.”

He nodded. “I heard that you saw Paula from the secretarial pool get beheaded this morning. Sorry about that. We learned that she was helping Santa Claus and his elves with his Christmas planning. It’s something we frown upon here, along with demon summoning and baby sacrificing.”

Liz blinked several times at her boss. “It was definitely an experience,” she admitted. “But... Santa Claus?”

“He’s really a demon that climbs down chimneys and eats children.” He shook his head. “God knows where they got ‘bowl-full-of-jelly’ from.” Leaning forward, he asked, “But other than the odd decapitation witnessed, how are you settling in?”

“Okay, I guess.”

“I imagine that this is all a bit of a change for you.”

She shook her head. “Honestly, not really. I used to work for a politician.”

He grimaced in sympathy. “Enough said. So I suppose demons are a step up for you then?” He stood up. “Well, don’t think too much about it. You’ll see some pretty strange things here and as long as you’re not evil you don’t have anything to worry about.”

Liz shook her head as she got up too. “Oh no. I’m definitely not evil. Lorne passed me and everything after hearing me sing.”

Angel sat back down again. “Yeah, about that. Lorne gave me a pretty interesting report about you. Something about aliens?” He looked at her in anticipation.

She resumed her seat and shrugged helplessly. “I’m from Roswell,” she said, hoping that explained everything.

Oddly enough, it did. Leaving Angel’s office, she yelped as she was splattered with purple slime. “Sorry!” Mr. Wyndham-Pryce called out as he wiped the sword on the carcass of the dead demon on the floor. “You can send my department the dry-cleaning bill.”

The music in the elevator was 'Joy to the World.' God, how was she going to survive until New Year's? And what the hell was she going to tell her friends back home about her job--and would they even believe it? Aliens were one thing. Demons were quite another, even with the evidence of demon blood on her blouse.

--fin--

(34) Want, Take, Have (Faith/Wolverine)
Fandoms: Buffy/X-men (Movie)

Faith scowled at the assorted teenagers around her. God, as if it wasn’t bad enough she was surrounded by teenage-Slayer hormones all the time, she had to deal with teenage-mutant ones on her vacation. Don’t get her wrong, she didn’t mind the gaggle of ex-Potentials, so long as they stayed on their side of the Slayer compound and didn’t leave makeup and fashion magazines all over the place. Yet, she had been hoping to escape for a few days. Too bad she hadn’t realized B’s cousin worked at a boarding school before volunteering to accompany her to New York.

The other adults in the room were gathered in a corner, drinking spiced cider and watching the students decorate the large pine tree. Buffy was laughing with her cousin, Scott, and his fiancée Jean.

“Not a holiday person?” a male voice drawled.

She snorted and looked over at Logan. “Too many people under the legal drinking age.” Shaking her head, she smirked. “And here I was thinking I didn’t have to deal with super-powered kiddies for two weeks.”

“Aw, they aren’t all so bad.”

Faith noticed him smiling fondly at a brunette girl with a white streak in her hair. “A little young for you, ain’t she?”

A scathing glare was her reward for that comment.

“Sorry,” she muttered. “I’ve been told I need to work on that tact thing.”

A long silence followed her statement and she was afraid that she had truly offended Logan. Finally, “Well, New Year’s is coming up soon.”

“I don’t do resolutions. They’re not my thing.”

He smirked. “I understand. They’re not mine either.” He gestured with his head over towards where Buffy was standing. “So what’s your relationship with Red-Eye’s cousin?”

She sighed and leaned against the wall, crossing her arms across her chest. “We work together. B’s like me, only better liked by all and sundry.”

“Don’t sound so bitter, darling.” He eyed her. “I take it you guys are compared fairly often?”

“Too often for my liking.” She shook her hair out of her face. “I mean, I know the gang tries but there’s too much history between me and them for them to just forget ‘bout the past.” She looked him in the eye. “Would it freak you out too much to know that I went evil for awhile and tried to kill B and all her friends?”

“I notice that you’re standing here and not over there holding a knife to her throat,” he observed. “Evil’s not something you just get better from. If you were really evil, we wouldn’t be having this conversation. You’d be too busy being dead on the floor.”

Floored for a second, she shook off her shock and regained her balance. “Is that a challenge, champ?”

“Hardly. I wouldn’t even raise a sweat.”

She quirked an eyebrow, her mind instantly going someplace that wasn’t rated PG. Not even PG-13. Ah hell, why not? It wasn’t like she was still pining after Robin; they’d parted ways a good month before. “I’m sure that I could get you really sweaty if I tried,” she purred.

It was his turn to raise an eyebrow. “You sure you know what you’re getting into, little girl?”

“I ain’t no little girl,” she retorted. “I used to have a philosophy that I think I should take up again.” She moved closer to him. “Want.” Closer still. “Take.” Only a few centimeters separated the two. “Have.” She looked up directly into his eyes, bold and brash.

He smirked and looked down at her face . “See anything you want?”

Eying him up and down, she leered playfully. “Maybe. If I’m a good girl, will Santa give it to me?”

Logan shifted, brushing a leg against hers. “Oh, I think there’s a very good chance you won’t have to wait for Christmas to open this present.”

Faith smiled. She found that she didn’t mind teenage hormones so much when she had something else to distract her. The holidays were finally looking up.

--fin--

(8) Political Maneuverings (Cordelia/Lex Luthor)
Fandoms: Angel/DC Comics

Cordelia studied the man from across the room. Bald, dressed in a very expensive suit. A charming smile, a politician’s smile that looked great plastered across television sets across America. Downing the rest of her drink in one gulp, she placed her glass on a passing waiter’s tray and smoothed her evening gown. “Let’s see what secrets you’re hiding,” she murmured.

Sauntering across the room, she smiled enchantingly at the president and held out her hand. “An honor to meet you, Mr. President,” she said. “I’m a great fan of all that you’ve done for our country.”

Lex Luthor inclined his head in acknowledgement and took her hand. “It always warms my heart to meet a supporter. Miss--?”

“Chase.” She responded, releasing his hand. “Cordelia Chase.”

He smiled that winning smile. “A pleasure, Miss Chase. I would talk longer but I’m afraid that I must speak with the governor.”

Cordelia exited the hotel where the reception was being held, pulling her coat tighter around her to ward off the chill. Glancing at the ring on her right hand, she grimaced and pulled out her cell phone. Dialing a number, she held it to her ear and waited for the person on the other end to pick up. “Angel? No go, I’m afraid. The ring didn’t turn red even a little bit. You sure your friend Clark can handle everything? He may not be a demon but he’s still evil, and a politician at that. You sure we can’t make an exception to the ‘we don’t kill humans’ rule?”

She listened to Angel’s response and sighed. “No? Damn. And I didn’t even vote for him, either.”

--fin--

(154) How the Other Half Lives (Kennedy/Peter Parker)
Fandoms: Buffy/Spider-man

Kennedy sighed and played with the hem of her sleeve. She hated these meet-and-greets that her parents always attended with various politicians, local and not so local. Just because Daddy was an important campaign contributor... She always felt so out of place at these fancy events, out of place in a way that she never felt when she was training with her Watcher.

Not for the first time, she wished that her father wasn’t quite so high profile. If they had been a typical middle-income family with no political ties, it would have been easy for her to disappear. Instead, the Watcher’s Council had to approach her discretely, even more so than normal, and train her in secret from the rest of her family. Her father knew something was up but had let it go for the moment, being too busy with other things.

The particular party was thrown in New York City by Senator Whatshisname, an old college friend of her mother’s. His wife used to be her roommate or classmate or something. The senator was standing in the middle of the room, chatting amicably with her parents. The wife was playing hostess, making rounds of the room to make sure everyone had enough wine and canapés. Kennedy was leaning against the wall by the doorway, studying for potential threats. If she had to be here, at least she could use the experience as a training exercise.

There was a man across the room, a camera around his neck. A press badge was clipped to the lapel of his suit jacket. He seemed innocent enough, but she filed it away in the back of her mind. It would be laughingly easy for a vampire to sneak into someplace like this by pretending to be press.

Her gaze continued the travel the room. The waiters, too, she decided. They all look the same in their white jackets; it would be easy to impersonate one. And unlike reporters, who garnered some attention, waiters were just part of the scenery here. Most of the guests were wealthy and had gained the habit of ignoring servants, taking their presence for granted.

Wait.

Narrowing her eyes, she focused in on one particular waiter. He was dark-haired and was neither overly handsome nor plain. Everything about his appearance screamed normal but Kennedy had noticed that he seemed unusually intent on making his way towards the senator. He shifted his tray of appetizers, reaching inside his jacket with his other hand.

Kennedy ran across the room, ignoring the outraged cries of the people who shoved out of her way. “Gun!” she screamed.

The waiter dropped the tray and pulled the weapon out into the open, aiming it at the senator. Putting on an extra burst of speed, Kennedy leapt, tackling the gunman to the ground. Kneeing him in the groin, she punched him in the face with her right hand, scrabbling for the gun with her left.

A gunshot rang out and she whirled, accessing the room. Other waiters had produced weapons and where pointing them at her, the senator, and other guests in the room. “Shit,” she said, raising both hands in the air. One of the men gestured her to get to her feet and she did so slowly, eyes trained on the gun in his hand.

He walked toward her and frowned. “You’ll pay for that.”

She glared right on back at him, not saying anything. In her quick study of the room, she had counted four other gunmen besides the one she had disabled. Two had been covering the crowd while the third had targeted the senator. The fourth one kept his eyes, and pistol, on her.

Her mother’s voice reached her ears. “Please don’t hurt her. She’s my baby!”

Kennedy resisted the urge to roll her eyes. It was a fine time for her to suddenly show affection. Nevermind the sixteen years before in which she had been raised more or less by the housekeeper. Still, there didn’t seem to be anything she could do in the situation. There were four of them, all dangerously armed, against her. There were no security guards—a stupid gesture by the senator to show his trust in his fellow man during the holiday season.

Suddenly, a white cord appeared, attaching itself to the gun, pulling the weapon out of the surprised gunman’s hand. Kennedy took her chance and side-kicked him in the stomach, ripping her skirt in the process but not really caring. As he was doubled over, she grabbed his arm and flipped him over her hip onto his back, and then finally kicking him unconscious in the head.

She then took a moment to scan the room for any other threats. The man who had been training a gun on the senator was lying wrapped in more white cording on the ground. A figured dressed in a blue and red masked costume was engaged in fighting off another one in the corner.

“That’s three down,” she muttered to herself. “Where’s the last one?” Spotting a person edging towards a door, she grabbed a bottle of wine from the ground—fallen from the tray the fake waiter had dropped, cushioned by the plush carpet so that it hadn’t broken.

The last gunman ran into the wall as the unopened bottle hit him in the back of the head. He slumped to the ground, broken glass and wine surrounding him.

“Nice shot.”

Kennedy turned around and raised an eyebrow at the man in front of him. “Aren’t you a little underdressed for this thing? I thought the invitation said formal wear.”

Spider-man gave a surprised laugh. “Well, I would love to stay and chat but I have to run before the police show up. They tend to frown upon me in this town.” He held out a gloved hand. “Thanks.”

She grinned and took it. “It’s always nice to be appreciated."

He shot out a line of webbing—the white cording that she had noticed before—and swung out an open window. She watched his escape with a smirk.

“Kennedy...”

She sighed and turned to her father. “Yes, Daddy?” she asked innocently.

He opened and closed his mouth several times before settling on, “You aren’t in a gang, are you?”

She blinked. “No,” she responded in disbelief, shaking her head.

“Ah, well, that’s good.” He nodded decisively. “We’ll talk more later, when we’re home.” He then walked away and back towards where his wife was standing with the senator.

As she looked around her, she noticed that the guests were openly staring at her, pointing and whispering. Her shoulders slumped and she walked forlornly over to a corner, intending to sit and pretend she wasn’t the center of attention. Before she got there, however, she was waylaid by the photographer she had noticed before the excitement had broken out.

He smiled at her. “Hi,” he said, “I’m Peter Parker with The Daily Bugle. I don’t suppose you’d let me take a picture of you?”

She shrugged. “Why not? There’s not much more I could do that would scandalize my parents, is there?”

Peter looked a little disturbed at her answer but still posed her against the wall. “I’m not sure if the paper will use this one or not,” he told her. “I took several that Mr. Jameson may like better because they’re action shots.”

Indeed. The next morning at breakfast, her father nearly inhaled his coffee as he saw his daughter on the front page, caught in the middle of throwing a man in a waiter’s uniform over her hip. He held the paper out to Kennedy. “I don’t suppose you can explain where you learned how to do this?” he asked her.

She sipped her orange juice. “Self-defense class?” she answered. He gave her a skeptical look.

Boy was she going to have fun explaining this to her Watcher.

--fin--

(203) Roomies (Wesley/Methos)
Fandoms: Buffy/Highlander

Methos groaned and pulled his pillow over his head, attempting to block out the sound of the phone ringing. Reaching onto the ground, he felt under his bed, grabbing hold of a paperback book which he threw in the general direction of the other bed in the room.

His roommate woke with a yelp and a muttered curse.

“Answer your damn phone, Wesley!” Methos growled. Why did he feel the need to live in college housing again? And why hadn’t he insisted on a single when he had the chance? Oh right. He was closer to the university library this way and he was an idiot, respectively. Dammit, he was over five thousand years old and he still had to deal with a prat of a roommate.

The ringing stopped. Hallelujah. Burrowing himself deeper into his blankets, he drifted back peacefully into sleep. At least, that was the plan. He could ignore Wesley’s hushed murmurings to whoever was on the other line. He could even ignore to a certain extent the curt sharp tones that the earlier murmurs mutated into. What he could not pretend not to hear was the slamming of the phone back into its cradle and the loud cursing.

Pulling back his pillow just enough so that one eye was able to peer across the room, he regarded Wesley warily. “And just who was that?”

Wesley ran a hand angrily through his hair. “My mother. She has taken it upon herself to adopt my poor family-less roommate and invite you to Christmas dinner.” He crawled back into his bed. “I hope you like dysfunctional family arguments with your holiday turkey, Adam.”

--fin--

(225) Old Friends (Giles/Mina Harker)
Fandoms: Buffy/League of Extraordinary Gentlemen (Graphic Novel)

Giles looked up from his book with a frown. Sighing, he got up from his chair and crossed the room to answer the door. He had told everyone that he was taking the night off – he surely deserved one after finally getting the new Watchers Council up and running after a year of rebuilding. It was winter and demonic activity was relatively slow, leading him to leave the Council in the capable hands of others for one night. Even demons went inside to escape the cold, it seemed. “If that's you, Dawn,” he called out, “No, I will not help you with your translation assignment. You wanted to learn ancient Egyptian and have no one to blame but yourself.”

He opened the door and started with surprise. The woman on the other side smiled at him. “I’m afraid I’m not Dawn, Rupert.”

He blinked. “Mina. This is a surprise.”

“May I come in or will you just leave me out in the hallway for the rest of the night?” She adjusted the long scarf around her neck and peered at him expectantly.

“Right.” Giles moved aside and let her enter. “I must say, I didn’t expect to see you tonight.”

“Or possibly ever?” She smirked at him over her shoulder as she shrugged out of her coat. “One of those Slayers of yours let me in. I don’t think she quite believed me when I told her I wasn’t a vampire.” She hung her coat up on coat rack by the door and sat down on the sofa. “I had heard that you were back in town. How was California? As sunny as they all say?”

He walked into the kitchenette area of his flat and poured her a cup of tea from the kettle on the stove. She accepted it with a grateful nod. He settled back into his chair and winced as he felt something pop in his knee. Damn aging. Mina still looked exactly the same as she had twenty years before. “Depressingly so,” he answered her question. “But it was worth it to watch those children grow up.”

She shook her head. “Seven years.” She tsked, studying her old friend. “I see Ripper’s been retired.”

“Merely hiding. I do let him out every so often when I’m provoked.”

“Warning duly noted.” She wrapped her hands around her tea and sniffed it appreciatively. “Though I must say that I’m glad that I’m no longer the only mature one in the room.”

“I never did understand why you hung about us young louts anyway.”

“Someone had to make sure you didn’t kill yourselves. Though even I have to marvel that you’re still alive sometimes with some of the stupid things you did.” She raised an eyebrow at him. “Demon summoning? Even I thought you would have known better than that.”

He shrugged with embarrassment. “Yes, well, you weren’t exactly there to be the voice of reason for that particular episode. And I can assure you that the entire thing came to bite us all royally in the arse many years later.”

“I’m sure.”

“So why are you here, Mina? I haven’t heard from you in so long that I wondered if even you were still alive.”

She chuckled. “Still very much so, and I expect will be for the foreseeable future.” She sat back and relaxed. “Did you see that horrible movie that they made a while back? I considered suing them for libel for a while but I realized that no one would believe the real Mina Harker was still alive—if she ever existed in the first place.”

He grinned. “I had heard about it but never got a chance to see it. I think we were in the middle of one apocalypse or another at that point. I must admit, I can see why being portrayed as a vampire would make you less than happy.”

“Oh, it wasn’t that so much but the implication that I would ever have relations with such a character as Dorian.” She shuddered distastefully. “And they totally disregarded my role as leader of the League. As if Allan ever could have led us out of a paper bag before we sobered him up.” Sadness crossed her features. “I miss them, Rupert.”

He moved over so that he was sitting next to her and took her hand. “It’s understandable, Mina. They were with you for almost a decade. You become family in that long a time.”

She squeezed his hand. “Which brings me to why I’m here. I heard you were hiring.”

Giles blinked in surprise. “Well, it’s true that the Council would benefit greatly from someone with your experience. But are you sure? It’s a large commitment of your time, energy, and resources.”

“As large a one as that demanded by the League of Extraordinary Gentlemen?” She grinned. “I know what I’m getting into. I want to be part of a group again, Rupert. I want to belong and feel like I’m doing something worthwhile.” She loosened her scarf, revealing the bite mark on her neck. “Besides, I do have a bit of a vested interest in what your organization’s doing.”

He nodded in understanding. “I’ll see about setting you up tomorrow with payroll and give you the grand tour then.” He paused, looking at the vampire bite. “You know, we ran into him a few years back.”

“I hope you gave him my regards.”

“No, I’m afraid I didn’t get the chance. Buffy, my Slayer, she did give him a sound thrashing though.”

She laughed. “I would have paid money to see that. I feel that I should have gotten something out of all that whole affair than just eternal life.” She paused and reconsidered. “Well, eternal life until someone finally does that bastard in once and for all.”

He sighed. “I knew it was too much to hope for that Buffy really did get rid of him.”

“He has a habit of sticking around despite all attempts to kill him. I wouldn’t worry about it too much.” She finished her tea and set the cup down. “I feel that I will enjoy working with you again, Rupert.”

“Do you have anywhere to stay tonight?” he asked her. “You’re welcome to stay here if you would like. We did make sure that the Council apartments were spacious and nice to live in when we rebuilt.”

She smiled but shook her head. “I have my own house in London, remember?” She leaned over to kiss his cheek and then stood up. Readjusting her scarf so that Dracula’s mark was covered again, she remarked, “But I’ll be by first thing tomorrow morning.”

“Do you want someone to drive you?” It was odd. After not seeing Mina since his ‘Ripper’ days, he was loathe to let her go.

She smirked. “I was going to walk home but you could join me if you’d like. It’s snowing right now and it’s always nicer walking in the snow when you’re not by yourself.”

Giles helped her into her coat and grabbed his. “Yes, and we do have much to catch up on.”

--fin--

(228) More Things in Heaven and Earth (Joyce/Professor Xavier)
Fandoms: Buffy/X-men (Movie)

Joyce turned when she heard someone calling her name. Unfortunately, she forgot that she was standing near the top of a ladder stringing holiday lights up around the gallery. She starting falling and scrunched her eyes shut, waiting for the painful impact at the bottom. Arms reached out and grabbed her. She blinked, staring into a familiar smiling face half covered by red-tinted sunglasses.

“Scott Summers!” She flung her own arms around him as he set her on the ground. “What on earth are you doing here? Why didn’t you call first?”

He shrugged sheepishly. “Sorry, Aunt Joyce. We were in a bit of a hurry.”

“We?” she asked, pursing her lips. “Am I finally going to meet Jean?”

“Not quite.” Still keeping one arm around her waist, he gestured to the man behind him. He was an older gentleman, bald, in a wheelchair. “This is Professor Charles Xavier.”

Joyce smiled in welcome and shook the man’s hand. “This is a pleasure. Scott raves about you.”

Xavier nodded, his lips curving upwards. “As he does with you,” he answered with a faint British accent.

“Do you two want to come to my office? We can talk there and I can make us some hot chocolate.”

Scott grinned. “With marshmallows?”

She chuckled. “Of course.”

She always kept chocolate milk in the fridge in the staffroom, being a big advocate of hot chocolate as a comfort beverage. It was welcoming and she offered it to everyone who visited her at home, even that vampire, Spike, who really was much nicer than Buffy gave him credit for. She showed Scott and the Professor to her office and then excused herself to make the drinks.

When she returned, they accepted the mugs gratefully. Settling back in her chair, she shook her head at Scott in amusement. “Buffy is going to be ecstatic when she finds out you’re here. How long are you staying?”

Xavier spoke up. “Not that long, I’m afraid. Though your daughter is the reason we’re here.”

Joyce frowned. “Why would you be here for Buffy?”

“I’d like to look into offering her a place at my school.” He looked at her. “I’m going to speak honestly with you, Miss Summers, since Scott trusts you. My school is one for mutants, which I suspect your daughter might be. I understand that Buffy recently started college but we can work it out so that she can get college credit for courses she takes with us. Or, she could commute from the school; there are several good universities in the area.”

She shook her head. “I think you’re mistaken. I can assure you that Buffy is not a mutant.” She frowned, thinking. “Just where did you get that impression anyway?”

“A couple months ago, I had gotten a letter from one of the teachers at Sunnydale High School. She knew about my school and its special purpose and felt that Buffy would fit in there. She then listed odd occurrences that she had witnessed involving your daughter. Though...” he trailed off. “I have a method that enables me to find any mutant on the planet. For some reason, I was not able to pick up Buffy with it. Yet, given the letter, I wanted to investigate.”

Joyce set down her mug of hot chocolate and resisted the urge to laugh. “Mr. Xavier, the reason you did not find my daughter is because she is not a mutant.”

Scott jumped in. “Are you sure, Aunt Joyce? I mean, she might just have hid any powers she developed from you.”

She allowed herself a small chuckle. “I will admit that Buffy is not normal. I suppose from an outside viewpoint, she might be considered a mutant. She certainly has the qualities of one.” Ticking them off on her fingers, “Super strength, speed, reflexes, agility—I think she even mentioned something about a ‘spider sense’ at one point.”

“So she is a mutant!”

She shook her head. “Nope. She’s something else entirely. Buffy can explain it to you tonight at dinner. I’ll give her a call so that she can come home for dinner rather than eating at the school cafeteria.”

Smirking at the perplexed looks on the two men’s faces, Joyce picked up the phone and dialed the number to Buffy’s dorm room.

--fin--

(548) Secretarial Pool (Harmony/Warren Worthington III)
Fandoms: Angel/X-men (Comics)

“Hiya, boss!”

Warren cringed at the perky greeting from his new secretary. “Good morning, Harmony,” he answered back. “Any messages waiting for me?”

The blonde grimaced. “Right! Messages!” She put down her issue of Vogue and began shuffling papers on her desk. “I have them around here somewhere.” She held up a stack of pink “While You Were Out” notes triumphantly and then began to page through them. “Let’s see... The mayor accepts your kind invitation to the Worthington Industries holiday gala. The governor is afraid he must respectfully decline your kind invitation to the holiday gala. Colin Firth wants to know why he didn’t get an invitation...” She looked up and frowned. “You didn’t invite Colin Firth? Why not?”

Warren sighed and took the papers from her hand. “Thank you, Harmony. Please buzz me when my 9:30 shows up.”

He disappeared into his office, shutting the door behind him. Dropping his briefcase onto his desk, he reached for the phone and punched in a number. “Adrian, it’s me. Just where did you find this new secretary for me? She had a glowing recommendation? From who?” He sat back in his chair and booted up his computer. “Well the CEO of Wolfram and Hart must have had the patience of an angel to put up with her.”

--fin--

(516) Poker Night (Clem/Puss in Boots)
Fandoms: Buffy/Shrek 2

Puss shook his head and got up from the ground. “That is the last time I offer to help Shrek,” he muttered. “Oh sure, Shrek, I’ll help you take an inventory of the Fairy Godmother’s potions room. Of course I’ll go grab the bottles you can’t reach.” He picked up his hat and dusted it off, placing it securely on his head. “Stupid Donkey knocking into the shelves.” He looked around himself and frowned, taking in the gloomy cemetery around him. “Puss, I don’t think you’re in Far Far Away anymore.”

Keeping a paw on his sword, he started walking around the tombstones warily. “Now just where did that potion take me?” It had been one of the potions in the glass case that had been knocked off the shelf, taking him with it. At the bottom, the bottle had shattered on the stone floor, splashing him, who had landed on his feet like any good cat, with the liquid. Then, as he had been about to open his mouth to yell at the clumsy Donkey, the world had fallen out from underneath him.

“When I get back, I’m going to skewer that stupid animal,” he vowed.

“Good game, guys,” he heard a voice call out. Ducking behind a stone, he observed a creature carrying a sack leaving one of the crypts in the cemetery.

“Yeah, you would say that, wouldn’t you?” A second figure appeared, this one human, wearing a long black coat and with the palest skin Puss had ever seen. And that hair could not possibly be that color! “You won all of the kitties tonight.”

Other creatures made their way out of the crypt, calling a good night to the first two.

The first shrugged affably at the human. “Maybe better luck next time.” He held up his sack. “Now if you excuse me, dinner awaits.”

Puss gasped as he saw the sack was moving and heard meowing coming from it. Cats! This monster was going to devour cats! Honor would not let him just stand by while this atrocity occurred. Waiting for the human to go back into the crypt—surely he did not live there?—Puss leapt out from hiding and brandished his sword. “Halt! You will release my breathen!”

The creature stared confusedly at Puss from the many folds of skin on his face. “Are you a talking cat?”

“Sí. Now you will let those cats go!”

It gripped the sack tighter in his hands and shook his head. “No way. I won these fair and square. They’re mine.”

“Then you leave me no choice. En guarde!” Puss leapt forward and slashed the bottom of the sack with his sword. Kittens poured out of the bottom and scampered off into the darkness. Glaring menacingly at the vile creature that would consume cats, Puss snarled. “Now, prepare to meet the wrath of Puss in Boots!”

* * *

Spike poked his head out of his crypt. “Just what the bleeding hell is going on out here?”

Clem wailed, trying to shield himself from an orange blur that was dashing all over and around him. “Make him stop!”

The vampire frowned. “Just what is it?” Coming outside, a beer bottling dangling from his fingers, he called out, “Hey now! Shove off, whatever you are. I’m trying to watch television here and I can’t hear How the Grinch Stole Christmas over Clem’s screaming like a girl.”

The blur stopped, resolving itself into an orange cat. It perched on Clem’s shoulders with both front paws on the demon’s cheek, claws extended. “Tell me why I should let this cat-eating coward free.”

Spike started laughing. “It’s just a wee little kitty cat, Clem! Granted, it’s a talking kitty cat but it’s still a cat. Just eat him and be done with it so I can get back to Whoville.”

The cat snarled and launched itself at Spike. The vampire cried out in surprise, tripping backwards and falling back against the wall of his crypt.

“You shall pay dearly for that, señor,” the cat declared.

Spike yelped in pain as he felt claws scratch across his face. He lashed out with his fist but the cat jumped away, landing perfectly into a tiny pair of boots standing upright on the lawn. He brandished a sword and plunked a feathered hat on his head. “I cannot stand idly by in the face of such injustice. I must demand that you cease your cat-eating activities or I shall be forced to exact dire consequences.”

Clem shook his head. “But what else are we supposed to use to bet in poker?”

The cat flourished his cape and sheathed his sword. “Find something else. Or I shall be back.” He then ran off in the night.

Spike looked at Clem. “Well, that was odd, even for the Hellmouth.”

* * *

Puss snarled as he observed the same creatures from last night showing up at the crypt, each carrying a writhing sack in their hands. “I warned them.” He bounded across the grass, slipping inside the crypt with the latest attendee. Leaping up onto the top of the poker table and scattering poker chips, Puss waved his sword at the surprised faces. “I had warned you and you did not listen. Now you shall pay!”

The one human raised both hands. “Now wait just one minute. We aren’t betting cats tonight.” He reached down and picked up a sack. Yelps emerged from it. He pulled out a squirming puppy and presented it to Puss. “We’re using dogs.”

Puss sheathed his sword. “Well, I suppose that I can accept.” He then jumped off the table onto one of the empty chairs. He took off his hat and cape, placing them on the back of the chair. Picking up the deck, he shuffled it competently with his paws. “The game, señors, is five card draw. Jokers are wild, aces high.” After quickly dealing out cards to all the players, Puss fanned out his hand and looked over them to the bemused creatures. “Let’s play.”

--fin--

(777) Delivering Memories (Illyria/Alec)
Fandoms: Angel/Dark Angel

Alec knocked on the door and tapped the package impatiently with his fingers. The door opened to show a cheerful brunette woman who smiled in greeting. “Hiya. What can I do ya for?”

He tried not to roll his eyes at her naïveté and held out his clipboard instead. “Jam Pony messenger. I have a package for Winifred Burkle?”

“That’s me.” She took the clipboard from him and scribbled her signature. She accepted the box he handed her reverently. “Thank you,” she told him, all the cheer gone from her voice. “I’ve been waiting for this a long time. It was something I misplaced years ago and only found recently again.” Her hand stroked the box.

Alec raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, sure, lady.” He tucked his clipboard into his pack and started to turn to walk away.

“You think you’re so superior, don’t you?”

Alec froze and turned around slowly. “Okay. Your voice didn’t turn all low and creepy, did it?”

Winifred Burkle looked at him with cold eyes. “All you mortals are the same. You think you’re important but you’re really just the insects beneath my feet.” Her hand patted the package gently. “And when one of you who is truly great falls, no one remembers. There is no respect shone to him. He is forgotten.”

“Lady...” Alec, who did not feel fear, felt icy chills run up his spine and his hair stand on end. But for some reason, he stayed rooted to the floor of the hallway.

“He will not be forgotten.” Her arm struck out and she grabbed him by the collar before he can react. Dragging him into her apartment, Fred looked down at the package Alec had delivered to her. “You shall sit, mortal, and I will tell you his story so that I will not be the only to remember.”

Alec allowed himself to be pushed into a rather comfortable plush chair. He watched as she ripped open the box and removed a silver urn, the kind ashes were stored in. “Miss Burkle—”

She interrupted him. “Winifred Burkle is the name of this shell. I am Illyria.” Her form rippled and she changed. Her skin and hair was tinged with blue had the sundress she had been wearing was transformed into a red and blue armor that covered her from toe to neck. “And this,” she held up the urn, “was Wesley Wyndam-Pryce. He was my... friend.”

Alec sat in that apartment for the rest of the afternoon, unmindful of the rest of the packages he had to deliver that day. Instead, he listened to an old god tell of people who existed before the Pulse, who fought the darkness and won repeatedly, and who fell during one of the most important battles of all.

Illyria carefully placed the urn on the mantle above the fireplace, next to three others. She ran her fingers over them, naming her old comrades that lay within. “Angel... Gunn... Spike...” She faced Alec and the corners of her mouth turned up slightly. “And you brought Wesley back home to me.” She tilted her head and studied the bike messenger. “I believe that this is gratitude I am feeling towards you.”

Alec stood and bowed, an old move that he had learned back at Manticore during his training. “You’re welcome.” Illyria made no move to stop him as he left, leaving her alone in the apartment with the ashes of four friends and her memories.

--fin--

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