These characters belong to the gorgeous lads and lasses at Mutant Enemy.
The Anti-Mary Sues, Or Nightmares Part II
Willow
and Buffy should've known better.
"Mom
wants me to be just like her," Buffy groused, flopping down beside her
friend on the grass. "I'm supposed to be an exact replica." She picked
up a fallen leaf from the tree next to them, and started shredding it.
"You're
lucky, Buffy," Willow said seriously. She took a bite of her banana.
"My Mom's given up on me. She used to want me to do stuff, but then she
realised I was no good at it."
"Mom
wants me to babysit for the neighbours," Buffy said. "She loved
babysitting. The extra responsibility and stuff."
"My
Mom wanted me to dance, Buffy." Willow shuddered. "*Dance.*"
Buffy
shrugged, unwilling to concede. "I can't cope with babies. They're too
little and stinky. I'm no good at this nurturing stuff, Will."
"You're
good at everything, Buffy," Willow countered.
Buffy
pondered. She rolled over, staring at the sky through the leaves of the tree.
Then she sat bolt upright. "Quadratic trinomials."
Willow
reached across and laid a hand on Buffy's forehead, playfully pretending to take
her temperature. "What?"
"Quadratic
trinomials. And osmosis. And the Theory of Relativity. And Venn diagrams."
"Yes.
. . ?"
"You
helped me with all of those. Ergo, I am not that clever. And you are not that
stupid."
They
grinned.
"You
said 'ergo'."
"Don't
tell anyone."
****
Xander
should've known better.
He
cringed as he reread his essay grade. Another 'D'. "At least Mom and Dad
won't care," he muttered. Then he cheered up a little. "And at least I
still have my sense of humor."
****
Giles
knew better. Trying to contain his temper, he stared at the slight, brown-haired
woman dressed in jeans and a white t-shirt. She raised her eyebrows, staring
back insouciantly. "Nice library," she remarked.
Giles
shook his head in amazement, struggling to remember the exact name. "You're
the Evol Editors, correct? I've heard of you."
"Yes,"
she smiled. "More commonly known as Ass-Kicker Lass, Vicificus, and Orgasm
Lad. Though Vicificus is also known as the Subway Siren. She's not someone to
upset if you want to get off at your stop in one piece."
"And
you? You must be. . . Jennifer."
"You
can call me the Procastinatrix."
Giles
winced. "Does this mean we're trapped in a story?"
Jen
sat in a chair and leaned back. She said with relish, "Oh, *yes*. Just wait
for it to unfold."
****
Buffy
looked around. She was in a tiny little white room, with a window, a small,
carved wooden door, and a big clump of soft toys in a corner. There was also a
cradle, a funny smell, a change-table, a rocking chair, a mobile hanging from
the ceiling. . . and, yes, a blond baby in the cradle. Buffy sighed. "Much
irkage. Again with the waking up somewhere strange and having to deal with
it."
Someone
coughed politely behind her. Buffy spun. A woman sat in the rocking chair, which
had been empty a moment ago. She wore a yellow blouse, blue skirt, and a snowy
white apron, which said "Mother of the Year".
"Who
are you?" Buffy asked.
The
woman smiled, standing to face Buffy. She had short, brown, glossy hair, and was
a few inches taller than Buffy. She displayed supreme confidence. This was a
woman who did not doubt herself easily. "Niceness Personified," she
said sweetly, "but you can call me Dot. Ask me anything you want, dear. I
can't help you get out of here, but I can help you look after the baby."
Buffy
accepted it for the moment. "Okay," she said cautiously. She watched
Dot settle back into the rocking chair.
The
baby cried, screwing up his face and waving his fists in the air. Buffy picked
him up, holding him awkwardly. He squirmed. "Try putting your forearm under
his bottom, and clasping him against your chest with your other hand," Dot
advised, rocking back and forth rhythmically.
The
baby sneezed.
Buffy
inhaled. She looked at Dot sharply, then back at the baby. "Excuse me,
Dot," she said demurely, "can you tell me what to do if the baby has a
runny nose?"
"Crack
open a bottle of tequila and start doing shots," Dot rattled off instantly.
Then she gasped. "Curses! You know!"
Buffy
pointed at her clumsily, cradling the baby with one hand. "I knew it! I
KNEW it!," she yelled triumphantly. "You're Ass-Kicker Lass! Giles
told me about your tricks!"
Dot
drew herself up. Her motherly clothes shimmered, transforming into ripped black
jeans and an Aerosmith t-shirt. Her eyes flashed green. "Don't think you
can do anything about it, little girl," Dot barked, pointing a bottle of
Jim Beam threateningly at Buffy.
Buffy
refused to cower. She strode over to the tiny door. It didn't open, in spite of
her best efforts. "How do I get out of here, dammit?"
"You
don't. Not without help," Dot smiled malevolently. "Now look after
that baby!"
The
smell was getting stronger. Buffy trembled. It felt like her sinuses were trying
to rip themselves out of her head. There was no way this situation would improve
by itself.
It
was time to go in.
Buffy
shot Dot a 'later for you' glance. "I've faced vampires, demons, and the
idea of Mom having sex," Buffy muttered to herself. "I can do
this." She picked up the wriggling baby and placed him on the change-table.
He instantly opened his mouth and screamed. "Shhh, shhh, it's all
right," she soothed.
With
effort, she removed his shorts. "Whoa!" Buffy yelped, furiously
fanning the air in front of her nose. She took a deep breath and opened the
diaper.
It
was brown. Abundantly brown.
****
Xander
found himself facing a man with brown hair, who grinned at him. And kept
grinning. He wore a blue button-down shirt and black jeans. There was a tiny
baby's bottle sticking out of one pocket.
They
were in a small, dusty room with a door on one wall and curtains on another. A
bare light bulb dimly lit the room. Xander noted the mattress in the corner.
[Oh, no, I haven't been drinking, have I?!]
"Hello,"
Xander said cautiously.
"I'm
Pete," said Pete. "Otherwise known as Orgasm Lad."
Xander
flinched. "I really don't want to know."
"Fine,"
Pete snapped. "Get up on stage, then. And be *funny*!"
Xander
was pushed through the curtains onto a stage. Lights were bright in his face. He
squinted, trying to make out the size of the room. It was huge. It was also
packed. Standing room only. "Oh, no," he breathed. There was a
microphone in front of him. "Stand-up?" he said quietly. He looked
down.
Pete
was sitting at the table directly in front of the stage. Nodding in agreement,
he fumbled in his pocket, withdrawing a tiny silver disk. He unwrapped the disk,
revealing chocolate. He smiled, broke it open, and listened to the noise it
made. He waved at Xander to go on
"I
can do this," Xander told himself confidently. "I can be funny."
He took hold of the microphone. "Hello out there!"
The
audience was silent.
He
heard someone cough, way off in the distance.
"So,
um, did you hear the one about – " Xander tried. But nothing came to
mind. No way to finish it off. The well was dry. He smiled desperately.
Someone
yelled, "You suck!"
The
audience rippled with laughter.
"Why
did the. . . something. . . do something hilarious?" Xander said weakly. He
looked down. Pete gave him a thumbs-up, and motioned enthusiastically for him to
continue. "A man walks into a bar, then he. . . then he. . . Aargh."
"You
blow, too!"
Xander
shrugged, feeling himself go red. He walked over to the steps at the side of the
stage, but he couldn't get down.
Pete's
eyes shone greenly in the darkness.
****
Willow
was shoved from behind. "Hey!" she protested, turning. She wasn't in
the hallway any more. She wasn't at school any more, either. She was in a long
dressing room, with bright lights. There were tiles on the floor and mirrors on
two walls.
The
room was empty, apart from another girl. She was petite, with short, wavy,
chestnut hair, dressed in a white t-shirt and khaki pants. "Take
this," she ordered, pushing a – scarf??? – at Willow again.
Willow
looked down at it blankly, then noted the fabric stretched tightly across her
own stomach. She ran her gaze up and down her body. "A pink leotard?!"
At a loss, she took the scarf.
"Mille
grazie," the other girl said sarcastically. "I'm Vic. Put it on."
She shimmied out of her t-shirt and pants, revealing a pink leotard like
Willow's.
"Oh,
no, not again," Willow groaned. " Hey, is this a dream or another real
nightmare? What do I have to sing this time? Not 'Madame Butterfly' again. .
."
"Ah,
a comedian," Victoria said, expressionless. Her eyes flared with a green
light. "You're not singing. You're dancing. You know the routine, don't
you?"
The
blood drained from Willow's face. "No. No, I don't know it," she said
firmly.
Vic
smiled. It wasn't a friendly smile. "I'm sure you'll get it." She
pushed Willow out the door and down the corridor.
Rain
drummed loudly on the roof. "Weather's bad," Willow mentioned,
desperately trying to make small talk.
She
paled. Not rain. It was applause.
"How
many people are in the audience?!" she breathed.
"Full
house," Victoria told her impatiently. "Two thousand. Come on."
A
group of girls waited by the stage door. They were all dressed the same: pink
leotards, embarrassingly tight, with white scarves and ballet shoes. Willow's
nose was filled with the scents of baby powder and nervous sweat.
Willow
heard trumpets, then the piano started up. Vic grabbed her hand and off she
went. Willow was on the end of a long line of girls, all doing the same steps.
The light was faintly blue, and artificial snow fluttered down from above. She
stumbled, heard someone swear at her from the wings, then she was on the other
side of the stage. Near the exit. She bobbed vaguely in time with the music, and
ran.
*BANG!*
Straight into an invisible wall. She reeled back, stunned.
Vic
clutched her hand again. Willow had no choice. She bobbed up and down, and tried
to follow the others. Step, leap, turn, bow. Link arms, circle, kick. Step,
leap, turn, bow. Link arms, circle, kick. She started to get the hang of it,
gaining confidence with the simple steps.
Then
the stage went dark. A spotlight came on.
Aimed
at her.
She
froze, stunned. "Your solo!" someone whispered at her from offstage.
****
"I
have frosted brown cinnamon pop-tarts," Giles offered.
"Nuh-uh,"
Jennifer disagreed.
"Yes,
I do," Giles said, becoming more heated.
"Nuh-uh,"
Jennifer laughed. "I ate 'em already."
"What
the-?" Giles opened the drawer. The packet was indeed empty. "I only
bought these this morning!"
"We
transcend time and space," Jen explained. She scratched the back of her
head, muttering. "You have to, when you're a parent." She looked up,
listening to something that only she could hear. Folding her arms across her
chest, she stood, and narrowed her eyes at a section of the library floor.
"Post it," she whispered.
The
floor shimmered. Giles quickly moved a chair back, out of the way.
Six
forms solidified. A man, two women, and. . . Buffy, Willow, and Xander, all laid
out on the floor.
"What
have you done to them?!" Giles shouted. He calmed a little as he noted they
were all breathing evenly, chests rising and falling.
"They're
fine, as you well know," Jen said evenly. "It's all part of the story.
You can't stop it, unless you play by the rules."
Giles
shrugged, considering the implications. If he was in a story, there were a few
options. . . maybe the Editors hadn't thought of everything. It was unlikely,
though, as it was their *job* to think of everything. He walked to the end of
the paragraph, but couldn't see any way to get out.
No
way to escape at the beginning of the next paragraph, either, though it was only
one sentence.
Jen
told him, "Now it's up to you." She grinned. "Don't pout,
dear."
"What
do you expect me to do, dammit?" Giles asked, exasperated.
The
slender woman laughed, folding her arms. Ominously, her eyes flashed green.
"Stand there and look distressed and manly, of course."
Giles
backed down. "Oy," he murmured. "Please tell me what to do."
Jennifer began to talk. He crouched beside Buffy's limp form, listening
attentively, and tried to make her more comfortable. He did the same for Willow
and Xander.
Then
he laid down next to them and closed his eyes.
****
A
jet of yellow liquid shot out, barely missing Buffy's face. Some landed on her
hand. "Ewwwww!" she cried, holding the injured part in front of
herself, looking at it in dazed horror. Something whooshed behind her. Buffy
spun. "Giles!" she said gladly.
He
wore his usual tweed suit, with rubber gloves and a surgical mask. A belt hung
at his waist, containing more equipment. He handed her another mask, sprayed the
air freshener in his other hand again, then swapped the air freshener for spray
cleanser. She held out her hand. He sprayed it all over, and handed her a box of
moist towelettes. "I'll get you out of here soon," he said grimly.
Buffy took a deep, relieved breath. It stunk of pine, but that was a helluva lot
better than the alternative.
Giles
twirled the spray cleanser deftly, sticking it back into its holster. He said,
"Right," and grabbed the baby. The baby instantly stopped crying.
Buffy retreated, watching nervously. Giles whipped off the old diaper, threw it
in a huge garbage bag which materialised just in time behind him, then took
another spray bottle from his belt. This one read "Ultra-Heavy Duty, for
use in hospitals and dream sequences only". The baby squealed happily as
Giles aimed the bottle at the mucky area. The baby was soon completely clean.
Giles
deftly applied the new diaper, then pointed Buffy at the little door.
Dot
scowled.
"Out
you go," Giles instructed. "I'll see you soon." Buffy shrugged.
The door opened easily this time. She stepped through.
.
. . and found herself in the library. Buffy bounced up and went for the throat.
Dot fell back, hands raised in panic. She winced as her head hit the wall of the
book cage.
"Give
me one good reason not to hurt you," Buffy snarled.
Dot
jerked her head towards the floor. "Your friends?"
Buffy
turned. Her eyes opened wide.
"You
are an idiot," Dot said, smirking.
****
Xander
tried again. He croaked, "There was an old man from Nantucket. . ."
"Who
got a lot more action than you!"
Xander
wilted. His face was bright red.
Someone
was pushing his way through the crowd to the front. A tall man with glasses, a
top hat, and a yellow bow tie.
"Giles?"
Xander said hopefully. Then, as the figure got closer, "Giles!"
Giles
shot him a warning glance. "Stay in the moment," he warned grimly,
sotto voce. He climbed the steps and took the microphone from Xander. It was as
if someone had flicked a switch. His face lit up with a huge, insincere smile.
"Xander, everyone!" he cried. "Our next act will be here in a
moment. Please, enjoy yourselves. I recommend the chicken." He pressed a
button on the side of his bow tie. It rotated. The audience chuckled.
Xander
smiled and bowed, pretending he'd been immensely popular. Giles ushered him
towards the steps. Xander tensed, but allowed himself to be pushed. Just as he
was about to plant his left foot on the first step, it shimmered.
Xander
opened his eyes to see Pete gazing worriedly down at him. "I'm gonna kill
you," Xander remarked.
****
"Giles!"
Willow whispered, enormously relieved. He was dressed in a tight blue leotard
and ballet shoes, dancing towards her with grace and agility, in perfect time
with the music.
The
leotard really emphasized. . . his.
. . muscles. . .
She
raised her eyebrows, momentarily stunned, then remembered herself. She lifted
one arm slowly, and curved the other across her body. She froze, trying to look
suitably dramatic, rather than desperate to go to the bathroom.
He
made his way to her quickly. The music paused.
He
seized her masterfully, left arm around her waist, right hand clasping hers,
stared into her eyes, and hissed, "One, two, three-and-four. One, two,
three-and-four." She blinked, then the music started up again. He moved off
in one, two, three-and-four. She followed him easily, mesmerized by his gaze
intent on hers.
Then
he said, "Lift."
"Wha-?"
She was hoisted high above his head. His hands were on her hips, a blessedly
neutral area. She bit back a squeak, and tried to move her arms and legs into an
elegant position without overbalancing them both. He circled slowly. Willow
caught sight of Vic inspecting them critically.
Breathing
hard, he strode towards the edge of the stage. Willow hoped they'd be able to
get through this time, but she braced for impact just in case. She heard him
murmur, "Never speak of this to *anyone*," then the world shimmered
and disappeared.
****
Giles
twitched. Willow sighed. Vic gasped. "They're waking up!" Xander said
excitedly.
"Genius,"
Pete snapped. "I swear, if I didn't like you so much. . . "
Xander
stalked up to him. "This is *liking*?" He sniffed. "At least you
didn't make me sing karaoke, I guess." He glanced at Willow. "They'd
better be all right."
"Bah.
They're fine," Pete muttered sulkily. "And I didn't do that for fun. I
had to. She made me!" He swiveled, pointing at Dot, his eyes suspiciously
moist.
Xander
sighed. "All right. What can you do for me, then?"
"Chocolate?"
Pete said hopefully. "I can do chocolate."
"Go
on, then."
Pete
waved his arms mysteriously. Nothing happened. He rubbed his hands together,
swore, and tried again.
There
was a noise suspiciously like a particular bodily function. It was accompanied
by an appropriate cloud of gas. The cloud cleared to reveal a Mars Bar.
"Is
it safe?" Xander asked, trying not to drool.
"Perfectly,"
Pete smiled. Xander wolfed it down.
Giles
sat up, cradling his head. "Willow?"
"I'm
here," Willow said nervously, sitting up. She rubbed her ankles. "I'm
confused and in desperate need of sugar, but I'm here." Buffy and Xander
helped them stand up.
Vic
sprang to her feet. "Success, Dot!"
"Good
work, groupie," Dot replied proudly. "Let's have a beer." She
frowned, staring at Vic. Dot put a hand to her head, concentrating. She blinked.
"You were in a leotard? With that rack?!"
Vic
crossed her arms over her chest defensively.
Willow
said, "Who are you people?"
"We
are the Evol Editors!" they chorused.
Pete
continued, "We examine people. Test their ability to cope with the
unexpected. Remove the unnecessary elements." He grinned evilly. "Find
the flaws."
"So,
you edit people's lives," Buffy said slowly. "But why us?"
"We've
been watching you for a while," Vic explained. "We have a. . . vested
interest in you."
"Then
why *me*? Why was I singled out?" Giles said dangerously.
Dot
sighed. "One of us has a particular interest in testing *you*, Mr
Giles."
Jen
coughed.
Pete
jumped in, "As a Watcher, of course. Testing your capabilities. Your desire
to protect and love. Your ability to empathize with their hopes and fears.
Making sure you're truly fit to guard the lives of these very special
people."
Jen
glared at him. "Thank you, Mr Mush, I think that's more than enough. Remind
me not to use you for undercover work."
"Undercover?"
Pete snickered, "I'm sure you'd like to get Mr-"
Vic's
knife at Willow's throat made him stop.
"Don't
you dare, Vic!" Pete stamped his foot. "I swear, you're so childish
sometimes!"
"I
know you are, but what am I?"
"Childish."
He gestured. There was a puff of smoke, then Vic's t-shirt suddenly read
"Kajagoogoo Are The Best!"
Vic
let go of Willow, frowning. Willow stood hurriedly behind Xander, rubbing her
throat.
"I
know you are, but what am I?" Vic gestured. With another biological noise,
Pete's shirt now read "Xander and Angel 4-eva!"
Xander
yelped, "Hey!"
Pete
continued, ignoring him. "Childish."
"I
know you are, but what am I?"
"Childish."
"Am
not."
"Are,
too."
"Am
not."
"Are,
too."
"Am
not."
Dot
said pleasantly, "If you two don't start behaving, I'll never take you to
Chuck E. Cheese again." They closed their mouths. Frowning peevishly, Vic
moved away from Xander. Dot continued, "Anyway, we have tested you and
found you to comply to our exacting standards. Though I'd add a few more commas,
if I were you."
"Not
the commas, Dot, please not the commas," Pete whispered under his breath.
"No
backchat, minion." Dot glared at him. "Or it'll be the *semi-colons*
for you!"
Pete's
eyes rolled up into his head. Jen caught him before he hit the ground.
"That was a bit mean, Dot," she said defiantly. Dot raised an eyebrow
meaningfully. Jen looked away. "No mush, please, Dot, I need angst,"
she muttered. Dot nodded slowly.
Pete's
eyes opened. "Oz?" he croaked.
"Get
up, man, or I'll never thwack you again!" Vic said impatiently.
Pete
sprang upright. The four gathered in the centre of the library. Jen glowered as
they began to fade. "Beware the wrath of the Evol Editors! Beware. . .
mwa-ha-ha-ha," she broke into a fit of coughing, "ha!" They
vanished.
Buffy,
Xander, Willow and Giles looked at each other, mystified.
"Is
this another 'Let us never speak of this again' incident?" Xander asked.
"There
was dancing," Willow shivered, carefully avoiding Giles' eyes. "You
bet I'm never speaking of it again."
The
others nodded fervently.
Xander
glanced at the clock. "Lunch, anyone?"
