Angelus and Xander wandered disorientedly into the large auditorium, blinking at the harsh lights and various chairs and music stands set up.
“Dead-Boy... ?”
Angelus had no answer. He didn’t know why he was here, who had called for him, or even how the two of them had gotten there. He squeezed Xander’s hand, helping himself to a heaping helping of comfort. Though the notion of a 200+ vampire receiving comfort from a teen aged boy would have shocked the old, growly Angelus, this Angelus was totally willing to accept yummy feelings from his schmoopy.
And the schmoopy apparently felt the same way, squeezing back with zest and ... more zest.
The couple advanced into the airy room, taking seats close to the back, staring at the random sheet music on the stands.
*****
The hacker’s nimble fingers danced over the clarinet, playing a deft melody. Spike sat back, only half enjoying the song, eyes focused on her mouth working the reed. Mind focused on the movement of her lips, up and down, slicking it with her saliva as she blew--
“Stop it, before I go bloody insane!”
Willow looked at him, her eyes wide and innocent... wide and innocent until she noticed the painful bulge in his pants. Reaching over, brushing it lightly with her palm, she grinned impishly at Spike.
“Coming out in public?”
“Luv, pet, I can’t help it. And it’s not as if this... place... is public.”
She surveyed the room, looking at the assembling people. She thought she recognized Xander and... Angelus? among a group of random gorgeous teens who she did not recognize. But she refrained from getting up.
Who knew what kind of funky place this is?
*****
“Lucy, will you please shut up!”
“Come on! You know that he was looking at me.”
“Right. Like anyone would look at a little girl like you.”
“Oh, so you are a queen of womanness?”
“Much more than you.”
“Sure. The basketball girl. Feminine.”
“Oooh, who’s that guy?”
“Mary! I wasn’t finished!”
*****
The disorientation on Giles’ face was audible. One moment, he was in bed with his Slayers, giving them a lesson in stamina, when suddenly, flashingly, he was standing amongst a bunch of sickeningly gorgeous teens, all staring unbelievingly at his leopard skin briefs. One, a girl with a small face and amazingly huge hair poked her friend.
“Dawson... why is he so inappropriate? I can feel my sensibilities practically vomiting in terror.”
“Dear, you know how I hate the V word. Try using a word more appropriate for a youth of your years going through the problems a university existence presents.” He smiled at the girl of Frizz, proud of himself. Then, as if coordinated, the group turned a simultaneous stare on the Watcher.
“What, you expected tweed?”
The group stared harder, jaws dropping with thumps that could be heard throughout the room. He walked sedately, keeping his stiff upper lip, trying to find a place to sit nonchalantly. Eventually he selected a seat next to a young man with long, silky, brown, didImentionsilky? locks.
“Quite a large crowd here... Any idea why?”
“None. Just that I had to escape my sisters for a while.” The boy turned towards the Watcher, smiling. “Matt Camden.”
“Rupert Giles.”
*****
At the sound of a mike being tapped, the people gathered in the auditorium began to settle down, finding seats. A murmur of wonder washed over the room like a wave as people questioned the music and instruments before them. Finally, as things quieted, heads turned towards the podium at the front of the room.
“Hi!”
“Hi!”
The two kids at the mike waved at the crowd, loving the spotlight.
“Hi all! I’m Simon, and this is Ruthie. And this,” gesturing at the dog, “is Happy.”
Happy barked. Yippee!
“We want to welcome you to this Very Special Valentine’s Day Episode of 7’th Felicity, the Dawson Slayer. Well, more like the recording of the score for this episode. See, the WB decided to film the actual episode on the Fox studio, and is using all of the Melrose and 90210 folks.”
Ruthie grinned, and continued. “So we are going to leave you all alone. By yourselves! to record this score. Have fun!”
Happy barked again. Yippee!
And like a flash, they were gone. Replaced by their marvelous conductor, Pacey.
And here is where you insert the helpless groveling of all that exist, because Pacey is god.
Tapping the podium with his conductor stick, Pacey raised his arms...
Pacey looked expectantly at the people assembled before him, not irritatedly, because gods are never irritable. Only cute. They were all groveling profusely, driven by the inner sense that yes! he is god! Yeeeeees!
“They are so... well, I don’t know what they are.” Pacey tapped sharply on the podium, stopping the groveling with a mere lift of his saintly eyebrow.
Well, all of the groveling except Willow and Spike, who weren’t groveling, but instead doing intense things with the clarinet and some random green glittery lube. Pacey watched for a second with interest, thinking about how cute the red head was, while admiring the blonde dye job which surpassed his own.
But then again, no hairdresser can ever hope to reach the heights which is god’s hair.
Once everyone, except for the frolicking folks and the clarinet, had degroveled, Pacey began to conduct.
Sweeping his arms around, masterfully doing something no one understood, but everyone admired, Pacey began to hum to himself.
Xander stared at Angelus, growling at the lack of attention as Angelus stared at Matt’s hair, growling because it was so soft and silky, as Matt stared at Giles, practically growling with lust and glee as Giles stared at the inevitable tweed covered cello case, salivating.
Then Larry walked through their lines of sight, causing each head to turn with joy, panting in his wake.
All, that is, except for Giles, who was still drooling over the tweed.
Lucy and Mary raced across the room, encountering the small guy picking away at the guitar.
“Hi! I’m Lucy! Don’t you think I’m cute?”
“Hey, I’m Mary. Wanna shoot some hoops?”
“He’d much rather write romantic songs for ME, wouldn’t you?”
“Oh please. Like anyone would go for a half pint like you.”
“Well at least *I* have good hair.”
“Yeah, for a broom.”
As the girls squabbled away, Oz glanced up. “Huh.” And then he returned to his guitar.
In the very front row, center, Dawson kneeled before Felicity, playing a perfect violin melody. His smile was perfect, his teeth gleaming that Colgate gleam. Felicity fluttered her eyelashes in a gloriously perfect copy of a maiden in awe. They sat, protected by their shield of perfectness, scorning all that were led astray by teenage lust.
Pacey continued conducting, sending streams of lust colored(yup, there is a color lust. Like the color bleen.) light into the room.
One hit Angelus, who immediately turned to Xander. “Kiss me, my little lustmonkey!” He pounced, taking Xander to the ground, doing such lovely things to his cock as to make Xander sing songs from ‘The Best Little Whorehouse In Texas’.
Another raced through both Matt and Giles. The two men rushed over to the couch, falling apon the tweed, feeling it rub sexily in that way tweed does as they groped and... groped.
The leeeetle undies wound up swinging from the ceiling fan.
Yet another lusty beam hit Mary in the back. She turned, seeing Pacey through new, lust tinted eyes. She rushed over to the podium, falling to her knees, offering her body to the god. Lucy, lustless nonetheless, followed suit, offering her body MORE then Mary.
Who offered her body more.
Lather, rinse, repeat.
Pacey grew quickly tired of the irritating girls, and waved a holy hand in the direction of the doors. They flew open, and a soft, white light spilled in. Surrounded by a serene glow, Dana Scully walked into the room.
“Yes, Pacey? And please hurry... I was having fun with Frohike in the FOX Crack Emporium.”
“Please, Scully, take care of these girls for me...”
She smiled, beckoning at Mary and Lucy with her sainted hand, drawing them to her with her glorious powers. They came, mindless, seeing the light. The three disappeared into the soft light. And as the doors shut, a faint shriek of mindless euphoria erupted...
“Fox Mulder... He’s mine!”
“No, mine!”
And then merciful silence. Well, except for the goings-on on the floor. Pacey smiled, clicking off his recorder. The sounds would make a wonderful backup for the Valentine’s Day episode. He stopped conducting, slipping out a back entrance with the only mate capable of satisfying his godliness...
David Bowie.