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AUTHOR: Serena
E-MAIL: reeni928@aol.com
SYNOPSIS: Things have gotten out of hand. The Powers That Be send someone to help sort things out.
DISCLAIMER: *uproarious laughter* Are you *serious*?! You think *I'm* responsible for the GARBAGE that has been passing as BtVS and AtS lately? Give me a little credit, here.
RATING: R for language and sex, though it's not very graphic.
CONTENT: I'm fixing things. It gets a little messy.
TIMELINE: After BtVS S6 "Dead Things" and AtS S3 "Waiting in the Wings."
SPOILERS: Everything up until those episodes is fair game.
DISTRIBUTION: My site (http://www.geocities.com/bamadess), ff.net, anyone else who has my stuff. Want it? Embrace your inner Faith and take it, just tell me where it's going.
AUTHOR'S NOTES: It had to be done. Oh, it's also un-beta'ed, as I wouldn't wish this fic on anyone.
AUTHOR'S NOTES 2: This was written back in February, right around the time the goddawful "Waiting in the Wings" aired. It's been rotting on my hard drive ever since, and I finally figured it was high time I sent it.
FEEDBACK: It's like sex. Not important until you aren't getting any.
DEDICATION: For my evil cosmic twin Molly, even though I doubt she'll read it.
*~*
The day started out like any other.
Angel, who had mysteriously adopted normal sleeping hours -- actually, come to think of it, he didn't seem to sleep at all anymore, what with being up during the day with the baby and then stalking around L.A. at night playing Superhero in his bright new pastel wardrobe -- was in the lobby of the Hyperion, pacing back and forth.
Lorne had once again been stuck with baby detail. He was currently covered in baby spit up (all over his new yellow pantsuit!) and was bouncing Connor gently in his arms, trying to get him to stop crying. Given that his father was clearly agitated, which was making Lorne, and, in turn, the baby agitated, little Connor didn't seem to be letting up anytime soon.
Angel, of course, was oblivious. What else is new?
He was busy pacing. And bitching, although he was trying to disguise it as brooding. Lorne knew better, though. Brooding consisted of less pacing and more dark corners, with just a touch of wrinkled brow and pensive face. There were no wrinkles in sight, just the normal overbearing forehead, which clearly made it a bitch session.
Lorne had heard it before, of course (did Angel even talk about anything else lately?). And, in all honesty, he had no one to blame for the latest woe-is-me fest but himself. Why did he have to be so caring?
He'd stumbled upon Angel on his way to the kitchen in the morning, and, seeing his forehead scrunched up looking smaller than usual (thanks to the quasi-brooding), had sat down and asked Angel if he wanted to talk about it.
Now, almost four hours into it, he was really wishing he hadn't bothered. Or had consumed excessive amounts of alcohol beforehand. This was the kind of thing one had the right to be inebriated for.
"And her hair, it's...it's just like silk. Dark silk that shines every time she moves her head. It bounces, and it swishes, and you just want to reach out and touch it." He turned to regard Lorne sharply. "But you'd better not, because no one can touch her but me."
"Angelcakes, she's all goo-goo for Groo now," Lorne reminded the vampire.
Angel snorted. "Groo. Right. Like he can really give her everything she deserves."
"Oh, you mean things like kids and sunlight and a little place in the Hills of Beverly and a *future*? Things you can provide when you stop shooting blanks and get rid of that pesky skin condition that prevents you from turning into Ye Ol' Big Pile of Dust in the sun," Lorne said, adding under his breath, "besides, letting you into her Vicky's Secrets is the last thing on her mind."
Angel turned his head sharply, and Lorne almost wished the sudden movement would've snapped his neck. If he could be dustbuster'ed up, surely this torment would end.
"Okay, so maybe I can't give her sunlight. But I've got Connor, and he needs a mommy. And I'm sure she'd be happy here at the hotel, she always seems to like spending time here," Angel argued.
"Yes, because she gets *paid* to be here."
"Oh, and then there's the part where she's the most beautiful woman I've ever seen," Angel continued. "She is *hot*. H-O-T, hottie hot, bad pick-up line worthy hot. Those legs, and that ass, and her..." He brought his hands up and used them to imitate Cordelia's rather large bust against his own man-boobs, then gave two very enthusiastic thumbs up and said, "*Nice!*" in a dorky, high-pitched voice.
"Cupcake, can we *please* talk about something else? You've been chattering on and on about everyone's favorite half demon for hours now, I've got baby puke in my hair, a permanent Lorne-shaped butt imprint is being left in the seat, and I'm sick to death of hearing about your stupid infatuation."
"It's not a stupid infatuation! We're destined!" Angel argured.
Lorne leaned forward, bracing the baby on his knee. "You need to *move* *on*. Cordelia obviously has. Heck, she didn't even have to give you the old heave ho because she was NEVER INTERESTED. You're barkin' up the wrong tree, my friend."
"But you were just telling me that I should go for it, that we were destined!"
"I tend to blabber on about nothing," Lorne said. "And when I start using Pylean words you should just stop listening altogether. You don't know what they *really* mean so I can use them any way I like."
Angel's face crumbled as he walked over and slumped down next to Lorne on the couch. The green-skinned demon handed the baby over immediately and stood, wincing as his sore muscles screamed in protest.
"Well, Brood Boy, I'm off for a nice hot shower and a nice cool Seabreeze." He started to walk away, then stopped and cocked his head around to glare at the pouting vampire. "And this time, obey the little plastic sign and DO NOT DISTURB!"
He hadn't gotten more than a few short steps before a blinding white light burst open the doors of the lobby. It threw a startled Lorne to the floor and was gone as quickly as it had come, leaving a stunned vampire, disgruntled green demon, and gurgling baby in its wake.
The two men -- err...non-men...no, non-humans, ahh yes, there we go -- looked at one another, skeptical and alert. Angel had the presence of mind to clutch his offspring tighter against him to keep from dropping the baby, although it looked rather like he was lugging around a ten-pound bag of sugar instead of an infant. But Angel's less-than-stellar baby-holding skills were ignored as attention quickly shifted to the couple in the corner.
The blonde couple in the corner.
The blonde couple fucking against the wall in the corner.
This time Angel did drop the baby, and it was only preternatural speed that made him catch Connor before he hit the floor. "B-Buffy?"
Buffy moaned in response, wrapping her arms and legs tighter around Spike's body as he moved against her. "Ohhh yeah, Brad...I mean Ang-...no, uh, Spike. Yeah, Spikey, do me. Do me hard. Don't stop."
Lorne walked back over to the couch, watching the couple. "That your girl?"
Angel nodded wordlessly, his big brow furrowed as though he couldn't understand what he was seeing. "I take it the original model came unattached to Billy Idol?"
Again Angel gave an affirmative sounding grunt as he watched them, something akin to jealousy slowly creeping through his system.
Finally Brad -- err, Ang-...no, wait, *Spike* -- yeah, that's him, bleached hair and cheekbones that qualify him for a job as a poster boy for the 'Starving Children of Ethiopia' campaign -- and Buffy seemed to notice that they had an audience.
Buffy opened her eyes and met Angel's gaze, immediately stilling her hips. She nudged Spike until he too stopped his thrusting and looked at her, obviously annoyed.
"*What*?" he growled. "You broke my concentration! Do you have any idea how difficult it is to pretend you were enjoying yourself while doing this? Not to mention trying to ignore the wicked zipper burn I'm getting. It takes a lot of energy."
"We've got company. Or, actually, I think *we* are company. Where are we?"
Just then Willow came stumbling down the stairs, clutching the railing. She was quickly followed by Dawn and Tara. Xander and Anya crept in through the garden doors, and Wesley, Gunn, Fred, Cordelia, and Groo all walked out of the office.
They were all quiet as they regarded one another. Buffy subtly dislodged herself from Spike, and the sounds of zippers being drawn up were heard. They joined the group in the center of the room, who had yet to say one word.
"Umm...where are we?" Willow finally asked. "And what're you guys doing here?"
"We live here," Cordelia retorted hotly, then paused. "Well, not all in the building, but within city limits. Therefore, we get to do the interrogation. What're *you* doing here?"
"Oh, like it's our fault," Buffy snapped.
"Shut up, Blondie, I saw you and Spike making with the thrusting. And *what* are you wearing?"
"Don't comment on the outfit," Buffy warned, unconsciously tugging on her striped Doublemeat Palace uniform. She gestured at the baby in Angel's arms. "What's with the doll?"
Angel looked hurt. "He's not a doll, he's my son. Connor."
At that, the Sunnydalers all began asking questions at once while taking a few casual steps away from the Slayer.
And rightly so. She was shocked into silence for a moment before shouting, "Your *son*?! *You* have a *son*? What? How? What?"
"Dead Boy made with the procreation. The world must be ending," Xander mused.
"He appears to have passed his overbearing forehead on to his offspring," Anya observed, peering at the child with distaste. "Don't pass any bad traits onto ours."
Xander paled visibly. "Ahn, we--"
"Yo, not to be rude or nothin', but who are you people and what the hell do you want?" Gunn asked. He was ignored, as people were glued to what they were sure was going to turn into another exciting hour of the Buffy and Angel Show.
"Yes, he's my son," Angel said. "And you're having sex with Spike? Have you no standards?"
"Hey, shut your hole," Spike piped up. "You never used to complain when I got down on my knees and--"
"No sex talk in front of the baby!" Angel interrupted, clutching Connor against his chest.
Dawn moved over to where Angel stood. "Cute kid. Can I hold him?"
"Dawn, you stay away from that baby!" Buffy ordered. "Who knows what it is."
"It's a *he*," Angel said defensively.
"And he's human. We did research," Fred added helpfully.
"Who're you?" Buffy demanded, taking a threatening step towards Fred. Gunn stepped in between the two women, easily towering over Buffy.
"Back off, Blondie," he warned.
"Hey, stripes-wearin' girl. What's with the outfit?" Cordelia asked.
"She got a job," Dawn said proudly.
"Where, Fashion Victims R Us?" Cordy snapped.
"ENOUGH!" A loud, deep, authoritative voice boomed. The room shook with vibrations and the group looked around, searching for the source. Another bright light appeared over by the recently repaired elevator and they all shied away, unconsciously moving together. A dark, imposing, hulking shadow materialized in the light and began walking towards them.
The light faded, leaving behind a large metal-covered man. "Hey all," Skip said cheerfully. "Sorry for the entrance, traveling through dimensions is always such a hassle. All the lights and glitter and noise. No wonder Mariah Carey loves it."
"Mariah Carey?" Angel repeated, nodding a greeting at Skip.
He sighed. "You didn't really think she was a product of this dimension, did you?"
"Skip," Cordelia said, watching him warily. "I'm not having another out-of-body experience, right? And, wait, I thought you were, like, evil. Or something."
Skip shook his head. "Nah." Sighing, he pointed to his nose. "It's the ring, isn't it? I swear, you make one mistake a few millennia ago and live to regret it."
"But--"
"No, Princess, you're not all 'It's A Wonderful Life'-ing it again. I'm here for all of you."
"All of us?" Dawn squeaked. "But we didn't do anything. At least I didn't do anything. Please don't eat us."
Skip regarded her for a moment before bursting out in laughter. The metal of his armor rattled with the shaking of his shoulders. "Eat? Sweetheart, I don't do humans."
"So you and Buffy have that in common," Cordelia said.
Buffy shot her an evil glare and cleared her throat. "Okay, so if eating if off the agenda--"
"Let's not rule it out, love," Spike purred in her ear. She slapped his hands away.
Angel stood between Buffy and Cordelia, and seemed torn as to whom he wanted to go to. Groo was panting in Cordelia's ear and his hands were making their way up the front of her shirt, which did not make Angel happy. But Spike was also trying to stick his hand into Buffy's pants, and Angel was sure he wasn't fishing around for spare change or lint.
"Hey. Bleached Boy Wonder. A little less innuendo from the Peanut Gallery, 'kay?" Skip ordered. Spike grumbled but kept his mouth shut as Buffy shooed him away. "Now, where was I? Oh yes." He paused, taking a long deep breath. When he spoke, his voice was back to the commanding, loud tone it had been at first. "NOW, I AM HERE..." Skip trailed off, looking at them. "Do I have to keep doing the voice?"
Dazed by the wacky turn of events, they just shook their heads. "Oh good. Kills my vocal cords. So. I'm here because you're all very screwed up people, and even the best therapist in L.A. can't help. Plus, I'm free. Well, for this stuff. I charge for parties."
"Umm, Skip? Is there a point buried in there somewhere or are you just trying to get money from us?" Cordelia asked.
"Yes," Groo agreed. "If you are looking for payment, perhaps I could interest you in some copulation. Cordelia assures me I am good enough to sell."
Everyone blanched at that, and Angel's gaze grew dark. Buffy noticed this and inched over to him, jabbing him in the ribs with her Slayer strength. "Cor*delia*?" she hissed. "Suddenly have a thing for leftovers?"
"I heard that, Slutty," Cordelia snapped. "I am no one's leftovers."
"That's not how Xander tells it!" Buffy shot back.
"Hey!" Skip interrupted, silencing them. "I love a good chick fight as much as the next guy, especially when it's two ladies as beautiful as you. But, as there's no Jell-o pit in sight, we're just going to skip the cattiness and get down to business."
"And what business is that, Mr., ummm, Skip?" Wesley asked.
"It's just Skip," he corrected. "Mr. makes me sound like my dad."
"Skip!" Cordelia cried, throwing her hands up in the air. "A point!"
Skip, noticing the others were getting antsy, cleared his throat. "Right. Okay, I'm here because you all screwed up. Well, okay, not all of you. Just some."
"And, what, you're like a giant Band-Aid coming to tape us all back together?" Buffy asked.
"Hey, I'm here to help! This was all 'As the World Comes to a Screeching Halt' before I came along to fix things. And since you volunteered, we can start with you," Skip said, walking over to the Slayer. He towered a good foot and a half over her, but that didn't deter Buffy from glaring up at him. "Tell us, Buffy, how do you feel about Spike?"
She faltered at that, dropping her gaze to the floor and immediately becoming fascinated with the tile beneath her feet. "You know, I always pictured an intervention to be invite-only. Which I guess this is, but still. How about we talk about someone else? Ask about Willow's magick issues! She's a junkie...or, uhh, something."
"We'll get to her soon enough. Now, Ms. Almighty Slayer, talk. William the Bloody give you that low down tickle?"
"When he's fucking me, sure. That's the whole point."
"Okay, I vote that we talk about something else too," Angel objected, not eager to hear about his ex's sex life. Especially not in front of his son. Who was too young to understand anything that was being said, and was much more interested in chewing on his fingers. Right. It was all about Connor and not the fact that he couldn't stand hearing about Buffy and Spike. Uh huh.
"How do you feel about him?" Skip asked, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder.
"This is ridiculous!" Buffy cried. "I don't have to take this. I'm going home." She spun to leave, but only managed one step before she froze. "Apparently not. Spot! Let me storm out!"
"It's Skip," he said darkly, sidling up to her. "And I really didn't want to have to use this, but you leave me no choice."
Reaching into the pouch at his waist, he withdrew a powder and threw it in Buffy's face. She sneezed and coughed, but the powder had already taken effect. It was the only way the truth was going to come out, and Skip knew it. It wasn't a cheap plot device to get the story to work. Honest.
"Now, let's try this again. Buffy, how do you feel about Spike?"
Buffy spoke, her voice soft and slightly monotone. "I...I don't know," she admitted, slumping down. "I mean, sure, he's got a few centuries of experience in the bedroom, and he's fun to beat up on. But his jokes aren't all that funny, and he seems to be competing with me to see who can get skinnier."
"Focus, Blondie. Focus."
"Right. Sorry. Like, when I'm sure that I hate him, I suddenly doubt myself. Only I don't, because I *know* I despise him. But then I'll get this weird feeling that I *do* like him, even though I don't. It doesn't make any sense," she sighed. "Ask Tara, I couldn't even answer her when she asked me if I loved him."
"You don't, right?" Angel asked quickly, shifting the baby from one side to the other.
"*No*! No. I mean, I don't think I do. It's...complicated." Buffy threw her hands up in the air and shrieked in frustration. "See?"
Skip patted her head sympathetically. "I get it, Blondie. Here, let me make things easier for you." He grabbed Spike by the collar of his duster and yanked him over to stand in front of Buffy.
"Umm, do we have to stay for the lesson? I think my stomach is trying to digest itself," Cordelia muttered. "Plus the attention is no longer on me, and I couldn't care less about Slay Gal's problems. There are limits to my sainthood, you know."
"Oh, I'm sorry, where are my manners?" Skip pointed at Cordy and Groo. "You can go. I didn't mean to summon you all here. Damn spell didn't specify how to call who I needed, so I improvised." Cordelia turned on her heel, Groo right beside her, and started striding towards the door. "Oh, one thing. You're not a champion. You don't even know what it means to be a champion. You became half-demon, sure, and you've got your visions. But you're no superhero."
Seeing she was about to protest, Skip waved his hand and a tremor shot through her. Cordelia shook her head, dazed, then reached up to feel her shorn locks. "Oh my God, what happened to my hair?!"
"Cordelia, the superheroness?"
"Oh, that," she said distractedly. "Well, duh! Like I really want to be like Slutty the Vampire Layer. All that hero stuff is hell on my nails."
Skip smiled happily. "There's my girl! Back to being catty and shallow. Now get outta here, and take that overgrown hulk of a male with you. And another thing." This time he turned to address the Fang Gang. "STOP SAYING THE WORD CHAMPION. Just stop. It's a stupid word, and it's not even the *right* one. He's a *warrior*. Champion is so commercial. And wrong. We clear?"
The two of them exited quickly. Lorne stared after them longingly, obviously wanting to escape too. "Hey, Metal Boy. If you're not needing me, mind if I slip out? I could sure use a fruity alcoholic drink with a little umbrella right about now," Lorne said, cocking his head towards the door. Skip nodded, dismissing him.
"Only he's allowed to call me Metal Boy," he warned.
"Excuse me, Skip," Anya interrupted before they could get back to Buffy. "But do Xander and I really have to be here as well? I'm missing a very important meeting with the caterer, and I was looking forward to discussing the fine art of appetizers with her. Do you have any idea how hard it is to plan a wedding?"
"Sure, by all means. Oh, there is one thing," he told them. "You two never seem to have anything to do, so They've decided that you can have your own spin-off. Sorta like 'Everybody Loves Raymond' crossed with 'Malcolm in the Middle,' and just a smidge of 'The X-Files.' Half hour sitcom. Congratulations."
"Spin-off? Sitcom? What are you talking about?" Xander asked. "All that metal mixing up signals?"
Skip waved a heavy hand at them dismissingly. "Technicalities, don't worry about them. Just say thank you and go to your appointment."
"Thank you!" Anya chirped. "Will we be rewarded with large sums of money?"
Xander dragged her out the door before Skip could answer her. Fred, Wesley, and Gunn exchanged looks and then slipped out behind the couple.
Skip turned back to Buffy. "Now, I've got the answer to all your problems."
"Hey, Walking Scrap Pile. Mind letting off the jacket?" Spike grumbled, getting tired of being held up by the demon.
"Don't speak 'til you're spoken to. Now, Buffy, listen to me carefully. You were in a very dark place when your friends brought you back from the Great Beyond, yes?"
"Hey! It's not like we *knew* where she was coming from," Willow defended. "You aren't the only one who had to improvise when using magic!"
Skip ignored her. "You were lonely. You didn't feel anything. You just wanted to forget." Buffy nodded, indicating it was all true. "Then Boy Wonder here comes along and a few orgasms later you're back to your old self. He's served his purpose. Nice, Spike. One thing you didn't manage to screw up, no matter how hard you tried. And so, by the powers invested in me by, well, the Powers, I proclaim your chip deactivated."
Spike turned hopeful eyes to him. "Really? I'm all Big and Bad again? No more pig's blood? No more Nancy Boy impersonations? I could eat everyone here if I wanted?"
"Yep."
"Now that's more like it! I should eat whoever said doing good doesn't get you anywhere. Well, I suppose he was right, but I should eat him anyway just because I *can*! I've got my teeth, and I've got my bloodlust, now I need to go find me a victim," Spike announced. "Oh, does this mean I can actually sound British again?"
"But Spike!" Buffy wailed. "I thought you'd given up killing because you loved me. You said you loved me."
Spike shrugged. "Sorry, luv, but that was mainly to get in your pants. Sure, I cared for you, but where did you really think this would go? We're just too different."
"Are you breaking up with me?!" she screeched.
"And walking out. William the Bloody, leaving heartbroken women everywhere he goes," Spike smirked, sauntering off across the room.
Magically, a stake appeared in Buffy's hand at the snap of Skip's fingers. She looked down at in, startled, and then back up at Skip. He nodded towards Spike's retreating form. "You do remember how to use one of those, right? I mean, I know it's been a while."
Buffy nodded and before she knew what had happened the stake was flying out of her hand and imbedding itself in Spike's back. He arched back and managed to get out a throaty, "Oh bloody hell!" before he collapsed into dust.
"Buffy!" Dawn cried. "You just killed Spike!"
"About time," Xander grumbled.
"Nice aim!" Skip complimented, watching Spike's remains get swept away by a sudden breeze.
Buffy stared at the spot where Spike had been standing moments before, then turned to Skip. "I didn't feel anything." She looked panicked. "Am I regressing?"
He patted her arm. "No, you're moving forward. It's all about the baby steps. Speaking of the baby, Angel, man, we need to talk. Now, you've got a choice here. See, the Powers weren't paying that much attention when you were all 'the world is a cold, dark, evil place' and so they didn't know about the whole Darla thing until after it happened."
"DARLA?!" Buffy screeched, stalking over to Angel. "You *slept* with *DARLA*?! The *mother* of your *child* is *Darla*?"
"Jeez, Buffy, overreact, why don't you?" Dawn muttered from where she sat on the steps. She, Tara, and Willow had migrated over there during the commotion.
"Yeah, you slept with Spike," Angel argued, clutching his son closer. "You're not exactly one to be throwing stones. Casting stones. Dammit! Why am I so bad with expressions?!"
"Let's talk about you and *what* you were throwing *into* Darla! God, can you say village bicycle?"
Skip cleared his throat, pushing his way between the ex-lovers. "Hey, time out. No need to get insulting."
"Oh there's need!" Buffy snapped, glaring at Angel. "He slept with Darla!"
"Pick a new topic," Angel glowered. "And keep your voice down, you're disturbing the baby!"
"Enough!" Skip bellowed. "Save the sexual tension for later. Angel, she's jealous. Really, it's understandable. If I found out the man -- err, woman, I loved had had a kid with someone...are you two listening? I'm trying to relate here."
But they weren't listening. They were staring at one another with that tormented lovers look. The others rolled their eyes. Yeah, they were *over*. And being possessed by the spirits of dead lovers wasn't a cheap way out of really addressing the chemistry (or lack thereof) between two people.
"You're jealous?" Angel asked quietly, taking a step towards Buffy.
"You had sex with Darla," Buffy said, mirroring his movement. "Of course I'm jealous. I mean, sure, I wasn't little Suzy Faithful -- no, there was never a little Suzy Faithful, was there? I always get them all confused. I--"
"She still loves you, you still love her," Skip announced, obviously bored. "Can we save the rerun of the Buffy and Angel Hot Tormented Love Affair Hour for later?"
They reluctantly broke their lusty stare and turned their attention back to Skip, who had crossed his arms over his chest and was tapping his foot impatiently.
"Sorry," they muttered together.
"Now, back to the little guy," he began. "He's cute and all, but he wasn't planned."
"I know," Angel agreed. "I was shocked when Darla just showed up pregnant. I had to knock down some walls, buy a crib, and the college fund! Do you have any idea how expensive Notre Dame is?"
"Notre Dame?" Skip snorted. "Get some standards."
Angel gaped at him. "What is *with* you people? Notre Dame is a very good school! I started doing research already and--"
"Save it. You don't have to worry about college for a while," Skip said.
"I know," Angel nodded, "Connor's got a few years before he has to worry about scholarships and--"
Skip stopped him. "See, that's the thing. Connor wasn't supposed to be born. They're still trying to figure out how he was conceived at all."
Buffy laughed bitterly. "They're slacking, aren't they? First Miracle Baby, then me coming back to life."
"No, that was going to happen anyway. We were waiting for stuff to align, things to happen, universes to collapse, but *someone*," he shot a look over at Willow, "had to jump the gun."
"How many times do I have to say I'm sorry?" Willow wailed.
"It's cool, Sabrina, I'm just bustin' your balls. Take it like a man," Skip said.
"Things I don't have and am not. Stop picking on me."
Skip shrugged. Tough room. "Okay. Angel. Connor wasn't supposed to be born. He's a fluke. An accident. A freak of nature. Okay, so he's not the last one, but he *did* come too early."
"I've never had that problem before," Angel said darkly.
Skip winced. "Let's save the sex jokes for later. Time is short and you're starting to annoy me. Here's the deal. When I left, the Powers were trying to choose what to do with him."
"I *hate* when They do this!" Buffy grumbled. "Choose between sending your lover to Hell and saving the world! You or your sister! Paper or plastic! It's always so hard."
"Life's a bitch and then you die, sweetheart. And, in your case, then you're brought back and get to go through it all over again," Skip said, then turned back to Angel. "So, this choice. Like I said, when I left they were still debating. Give me a minute, I'll see if they've come to a decision."
Skip turned away from them and cocked his head to the side. A shrill noise was emitted from his chest, which set off the baby crying. Angel bounced Connor in his arms to try and quiet him, but the infant only cried harder. Buffy winced and walked over to them, covering Connor's little ears with her hands in the hopes of blocking some of the high-pitched noise.
As quickly as it had started, it was over and Skip was facing them again. Connor quieted almost immediately, whimpering as he snuggled closer to his father's chest.
"Sorry about that, didn't mean to upset the rugrat. They were voting, and then they started arguing. They always do this! It's always about the politics." He shook his head in disgust.
"What'd They say?" Buffy asked.
"It was a close one, but They decided you can keep him," Skip said. "As long as you stop acting like a dork."
"I'm not a dork!" Angel protested. "First I get 'oh, Angel, you brood too much, you need to get out more,' and then when I start to I'm accused of being dorky. I can't win." He didn't give the others a chance to respond before launching into a whole new topic. "And how do *They* get to decide if my son gets to live? They gave him to me! He's *mine*. They're not the boss of him anymore. I'm the boss!"
Buffy shot him a weird look. "Say, Skip, you didn't happen to transport us into some Twilight Zone-y alternative universe, did you? Angel's trying to make jokes, and he's wearing pastels. This is *not* normal."
Angel turned to Buffy, obviously hurt. "What, I'm supposed to brood all the time? Do you have any idea how much energy that takes?!" Buffy shot him an incredulous look. "It may not look it, but it's hard! All that scowling and thinking."
Skip waved a hand in between them, calling a time out. "This is riveting, really, but if we don't get this over with soon I'm going to have to start chanting 'I'm late, I'm late, for a very important date!' And the white rabbit does it way better than me."
They were silent.
"*Thank* you. Now, Tall, Dark and Pastel-Wearing. Let's talk about your recently developing 'feelings' for a certain co-worker of yours. And no, I don't mean Wesley."
"Wesley?! Jesus, Angel, do you really need to get laid that bad?" Buffy asked.
"I'm not desperate enough to go around screwing Spike, who is still an *evil* *soulless* blood sucking *fiend*," Angel retorted.
"Pot, meet kettle." She paused. "Okay, so you're not evil, or soulless, or a fiend. But if you're suddenly in love with Cordy, all that is easily arguable."
Skip smiled. "Ahh, a wonderful prologue to the main act. Angel, man, we need to get these thoughts of Cordelia out of your head. The love of your life takes a vacation for a few months and you start sniffing out new territory?"
"She didn't head to Jamaica, Skip, she *died*."
"And it's nice to see you mourned for a sufficient amount of time and realized you couldn't live without me," Buffy grumbled, crossing her arms over her chest.
"I mourned! I had to go to a monastery so I could work through my grief properly," Angel said. He turned to her. "Buffy, you...you know I love you, but...but I've changed. And Cordelia--"
"Oh would you shut up!" Skip exploded, shocking them. "There's mold in my fridge that has more chemistry with the food it's growing on than you do with Cordelia. And besides, you're just confused. You don't really have some deep feelings for her. She's like your sister, man, that's just gross."
"But...I, no, I *do* have feelings for her! She's a champion like me," Angel argued. "No offense, Buffy, but Cordelia and I have ki...krumpet...kye-rumption!"
Skip snorted. "What did I say about using the c-word?! And don't even start with the Pylean words. You don't even know what they *really* mean! How do you know you're using it in the right context? You just pull it out whenever you try to explain what's happening to you because you know you can use it any way you want, when it really means *nothing* because no one knows what the hell it means." Skip calmed down visibly, taking a deep breath. "You've only got one soulmate, man, and she's the one who's presently not having sex in public with a certain Pylean prince."
"Hey, Skip? Did you do something to them?" Dawn called from the stairs. "They're usually way more Romeo and Juliet-ish than this."
He smiled at her. "It's a little something I whipped up. It's amazing what a little eye of goat and a Furby can produce. It's mellowed them out. Plus, y'know, there's the shock."
Dawn nodded. "Now it makes sense. They're not making with the melodramatic romantic doomed lovers thing, it's kinda scary. They're almost...normal. Are they high?"
"Define 'high,'" Skip joked. "Nah, I'm kidding. Welcome to the future."
"Okay, so what're you saying? My feelings for Cordelia aren't real? They are. I care for her very, very deeply, I...I..." Angel trailed off, looking uncertain. "But then, those kisses when we were possessed. And when I took her dress off, and...well, err, you know, started to...well, there was licking...it was almost like..."
"Like you were undressing your best friend, with whom your relationship has been strictly platonic? Or, better yet, your sister?" Skip suggested.
"But...but...kye-rumption!"
"*Angel*. Listen to me. If you can't describe the connection between you and her in a language from this dimension, what you feel probably isn't what you think it is," he said.
"Explain this kryptonite thing to me," Buffy said.
"It..." Angel seemed to struggle for words.
"*See*?"
The vampire shot Skip a dark look and shifted his weight to the other foot. "It's when two great heroes meet on a battlefield and--"
"Chop each other's heads off?" Buffy supplied sweetly.
"No! And they realize they're meant to be together," Angel corrected.
"Ohhh," Buffy said, pondering it.
Skip stepped in. "Kinda like you did when you and Blondie over here first met in that alley, huh? Or did you know when you saved her from those vampires who accessorized at the nearest dump? Or when you kissed for the first time? Or--"
"Okay," Angel interrupted. "I get your point."
The Big Metal Man shook his head. "No, see, you don't. This thing with Cordy? It isn't real. She doesn't think of you as anything other than the big brother she never had. But Buffy here," he hauled Buffy over to him by her thin shoulders, keeping his arm wrapped tightly around her, "she's the real thing. The Meant To Be. The One. The Reason. The--"
"Am I something meaningful or just a pawn to get him to quit smoking?" Buffy asked.
Skip silenced her with a look. "Get it? She's the first girl you loved in two hundred and forty years. It took you long enough to find her, and you're going to stand there and tell me you're over her, that you've moved on to someone else?"
"I, umm..." Angel trailed off, not sure what to say. He looked at Buffy for help, but ended up looking away almost instantly, not being able to stand the hurt on her face. "*She* doesn't love me anymore either. She's got Spike. Spike, who can...not give her children, and who has a skin problem and who *hates* mini-vans. Hey, what were you thinking?! I left you so you could--"
"Angel, I swear, if you say 'have a normal life' I will rip your arms off and beat you to death with them," Buffy threatened, taking a menacing step towards her. Angel shied away, clutching the baby closer to him. "And don't try to use the kid as a shield, either. That's just tacky."
"How normal can a gal who's returned from the Great Beyond *twice* really be, anyway?" Skip added.
"But we live in different cities now, and...and...there's the curse! No happiness, remember?"
Skip smacked his forehead. "How could I have forgotten? I really need a Palm Pilot to keep track of it all." He reached out, taking the baby from Angel and handing him over to Buffy.
"Support his head!" Angel cried, immediately reaching out to correct her. Skip didn't give him the chance, taking both his hands and beginning to hum softly. He swayed back and forth, dragging an unwilling Angel with him. "Uhh, Skip? Is this a gay thing? Because I'm not into that anymore."
He stopped in mid-sway, cracking an eye open to peek at Angel. They made eye contact for a moment before Skip pulled away and straightened up. "Sorry. I was trying to make it special and interesting, but if you're too macho for that, we can do it this way."
"Please do."
He raised his hands and made the sign of the cross, and then a pentagram, and then he started waving his hands around in the air really fast, as though he was trying to shoo away an annoying insect. "I now absolve you of your curse. Go forth and make like bunnies."
Buffy and Angel stared at him, glanced at one another, then turned back to Skip again, blank expressions on their faces. "That's it?" Buffy squeaked. "That's all you had to do?"
"Well no, it was much more complicated than that. Obviously. I prepared, though, so you wouldn't have to wait around for fifty years for that stupid plant to grow. Really, I was doing you a favor. Temperamental sucker, too." He stopped, staring at them. They still hadn't moved. Not that he could really blame them, it *had* been a really weird day.
"I'm cured? No more clause?" Angel asked slowly.
"You're entitled to as many perfect moments of happiness as your cute little Slayer is willing to give you. Which means she can help you work off those extra pounds you've picked up," Skip said. He waited, but neither of them moved. Finally, he heaved a sigh and asked, "What're you waiting for? Get to it already."
"But...but we can't just..." Buffy trailed off, making an obscene gesture with her hands. "There's stuff. Now. Stuff that's in the way. We can't just turn to each other and be all 'oh I love you, take me back because we're meant to be together and I can't live without you' and expect to live happily ever after."
"Sure you can!"
"There's too much on the slate! We can't just clear the slate." She stopped. "Can you do it for us?"
Skip shook his head. "There are limits. I just took away the curse. And the confusion. And Spike. Really, when you think about it, I've done more than enough."
"But--"
"Do you need a visual? A pie chart, or maybe a graph? You have the reacquainted ex sex now, and then talk later."
Still nothing. It was like talking to a wall. Or a network producer.
"Here, do you need some help?" He snapped his fingers and Buffy was being shoved up against the wall again, but this time it was Angel who was inside her. Connor ended up in the arms of Willow, Buffy and Angel had somehow lost their clothing in the process, and really horrible '70s porn music was wafting through the room from a mysterious source. "I do believe you were right about..."
"There!" Buffy cried as Angel pushed into her. "Oh yes, right there!"
Angel grunted in return, craning his neck to look back. "Uhh...Skip? Is this a hint? Because, really, we're not that -- oh my *God* Buffy, squeeze me like that again."
"*Where* are their *clothes*?!" Dawn asked, sounding slightly hysterical. "Oh my God, eww!! Is that what sex really looks like?" Tara quickly clamped a hand over the younger girl's eyes to shield her from the image of Buffy and Angel.
Buffy moaned, nibbling Angel's earlobe. "Oh Angel, I only feel alive when you're -- wait, we've moved past the soft porn, right?" She pulled back to get confirmation from him.
"Considering we're both naked, and I'm pounding you into a wall, yeah, I'd say we're past that part."
"That's what I thought. Now will *someone* please turn off that crappy porn music?" As soon as she'd spoken, the mysterious 'wow chick a wow wow'-ing stopped, leaving the cavernous room suddenly silent. Buffy and Angel were still for a moment before they resumed their movements, Angel easily moving inside of her as she tightened her legs around his lean waist for leverage.
They went on for a few seconds, growling and groaning, before Buffy finally pulled away and said weakly, "No, we...we have to -- oh God YES...stop! We have to stop."
"I know," Angel murmured against her skin, obviously torn. "This is wrong, this is so...Buffy, you feel so good."
"Angel," she whined in return, not sounding as though she meant what she was saying in the least, "this is wrong, we, we don't even know each other anymore. We have...we have to take it slow this time."
"We do." Reluctantly, he pulled out of her with a wet popping, sucking sound. There was a short silence.
Angel lowered his eyes, only to focus on her breasts. He started to whistle distractedly and off-key. Buffy craned her head away and tapped her fingers against his neck as though she was bored, then looked back at him. "Well, we did already start. We should finish. You're always supposed to...finish what you start, right?"
He nodded a bit too enthusiastically. "And then we can really start again. Dates, moonlight walks--"
"Sex in the cemetery?"
"Hell yeah."
Buffy purred and arched her chest closer. "I'm in."
"No, I believe *I'm* the one who's in," he corrected, nudging his hips against her in emphasis.
They resumed, completely forgetting they had an audience. Over on the steps, Willow and Tara exchanged a glance, Willow bouncing Connor in her arms gently. Tara's hand still covered Dawn's eyes.
"Oh God, I can still hear them! Make them stop!" Dawn whined, turning and burying her head in Tara's shoulder. The older girl brought her other hand up and covered Dawn's ear so she would be spared. "How can you watch?!"
"Lesbian," they said simultaneously.
Skip ambled over to them...or ambled as best as a guy lugging around a hundred extra pounds of metal around could. "I do good work," he said as he stopped in front of them.
"So does Angel," Willow said, nodding her head in Buffy and Angel's direction, where Buffy was currently wailing her head off. "Are they always going to be like this? Just so we can be prepared."
"Probably," Skip shrugged. "Although I'm sure they'll be more clothed next time."
"Well, at least they're back together," Tara said. "Wow. Spike's dead, Buffy and Angel are having sex right in front of us, and we're just sitting here." She turned to address Skip. "Is this what shock feels like?"
He patted her head gently. "Part of the spell. It's got a nice relaxant in it."
Willow, who was staring down at Connor, listlessly added, "Magic is bad."
"Nah. It's actually not that bad as long as you don't go doing crazy things, like bringing people back from the dead. You screwed up a lot of people's plans. I had to postpone my trip to Bermuda for months," Skip said.
"Sorry. I'm getting better," she offered.
"I know. Here," Skip offered, holding out his hands. "Have a new laptop. The Powers know yours is getting kind of slow, and you're going to be needing it."
Tara took the computer from him, glancing at Willow. The red head shrugged helplessly and said, "It's been a really weird day."
Connor grabbed onto a lock of Tara's hair and started gumming on it. She looked down at him and smiled.
"I think someone's hungry," she said. Glancing up at Willow, Tara tossed her head in the direction of the groaning. Willow's eyes widened and she shook her head.
Sighing, Tara tentatively looked over at them. They had moved along the wall and Buffy was now pressed face first against the hard surface, Angel nuzzling her throat. There appeared to be a faint smear along the wall at the level of their hips. "Umm...g-guys? You're, uhh, le-leaving a m-m-mark." They ignored her. "Angel? Uhh, your son's hungry."
Still nothing. She shot a desperate look at Skip, who sighed. "You do one good thing and they try to walk all over you." Tara's brows shot skyward at that, but he waved his hand at her. "Old issues." He pointed his finger at Buffy and Angel, stopping them in mid-thrust.
Their cries of outrage mingled together. "Why did you make us stop?! You're like one of those people who..." she trailed off as Angel began sucking on her neck. "...who...umm..." She gave up trying to come up with something witty. "I'm very frustrated at the moment and can't think of anything, but you're one of those people and I don't like it!"
Skip didn't seem fazed. He tilted his head to Tara, who had turned a dark shade of red. "Umm, A-a-a-a-an...Angel. Connor need-needs his b-b-bottle." She leaned over to Willow. "I stutter when I'm embarrassed."
"I remember," Willow said softly.
Angel interrupted their look with a growl. "Kitchen. Fridge. Two minutes."
Skip rolled his eyes and turned away from them, letting them resume. "Well, looks like my work here is done," he said, sounding almost wistful. "And I've gotta be in Beijing in twenty minutes to punish this guy for summoning this demon who caused this whole big 'Godzilla' reaction with the screaming people running through the streets -- it's this whole big thing." He stopped as though he'd forgotten something and handed Tara a piece of paper. "Oh, here, give this to the green guy. Tell him to call me if he's into that kind of thing."
Tara took it wordlessly, mentally reminding herself that it made sense, given the day they'd had. Skip cast a last look at the reunited lovers. "Good luck, you two. Oh, and Big Guy, have you learned nothing from the last time you did this?"
A confused, growling "Huh?" came from Angel as he continued to not-too-gently reclaim his mate.
"Use a condom," Skip elaborated. He winked at the girls before vanishing without the light show he'd come in with.
Tara and Willow looked at one another again. Dawn was still hiding in Tara's shoulder, humming softly to herself.
"Think this is going to wear off soon?" Tara asked.
Willow shrugged. "I think they're going to be busy for a while. We should probably feed this little guy, then go elsewhere. I've already seen more of Buffy and Angel than I *ever* wanted to."
Tara leaned over and moved her hand enough to speak into Dawn's ear. "Dawnie, we're going to count to three and then make a run for the kitchen. Ready?" She nodded. They waited three seconds and then stood together, taking a step before stopping.
"Uh...where's the kitchen?"
Buffy's loud, orgasmic cries of pleasure answered them. Dawn whimpered, and Connor started to cry. Willow and Tara looked at one another. "We'll guess." They turned and walked in the direction of the office, hoping they'd made the right choice. Of course, given that Buffy and Angel didn't seem to be letting up anytime soon or at least going somewhere less exposed, walking into the fifth circle of Hell didn't sound that bad.
They were finally alone, but neither noticed. Buffy was once again facing Angel, her legs wrapped tightly around his hips, and was trying to shove her tongue as far down his throat as possible. She pulled away from their heated kiss long enough to ask, "Did he say birth control?"
"Uh oh. This is gonna get messy."
--END
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