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Out of Africa
by spikeNdru
Genre: Gen; Action/Adventure
Pairings: Xander and Ensemble; no pairings yet.
Rating: PG-13
Timeline: Two years post-Chosen
Disclaimers: The characters belong to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy and 20th Century Fox; they aren't currently using
them so I'm borrowing them for awhile.
Chapter 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25
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Chapter Eleven
Xander looked over the selection of coffees and decided that hazelnut would smoothly compliment the Chinese cuisine they'd had for dinner. If a sommelier is an expert on wine, what would a coffee expert be called? A cafélier, maybe? He noted that they were running low on the more popular flavors and would have to restock soon. Especially since there's five of us now. Well, six, if you count Dennis, but he doesn't drink . . . anything, so coffee-wise—I'm goin' with five.When the coffee had been poured, passed around and savored, Willow tossed her cell phone to Xander. He caught it and gave her a questioning look.
“It's not sunset yet, so I figured Harmony will still be home, so why don't you call her now?” Willow explained.
“Me? Why do I have to call her? Why don't you call her?”
“Because Dawn and I talked to Giles, so it's your turn. She doesn't really know Connor or Faith, so that leaves you, Xander.”
“Your logic is not like our Earth logic, Will, but okay. What's her number?”
“Where did I put that card?” Dawn wondered. “Oh, wait! It's probably in the front pocket of the jeans I wore the night we met her at IHOP.”
Before Dawn could bestir herself to go look for it, a pink card floated through the air and landed on Xander's thigh.
“Thanks, Dennis,” Dawn said.
“Yeah. Thanks, Dennis!” Xander added.
Connor looked around at the Scoobies. “Uh . . . did everybody just see that?”
“That's Dennis,” Dawn clarified. “He's a ghost. He lives here, too.”
“Oh, okay. Just as long as I'm not hallucinating or anything, that's good. Hey, Dennis. I'm Connor. How're you doin'?”
Xander reluctantly dialed Harmony's number.
“Hello?”
“Harmony? It's Xander. Giles said you wanted us to call?”
“Oh, yeah. You'll never guess who I saw at Jimmy Choo's last night!”
“Jimmy who?”
“Jimmy Choo.”
“Who's Jimmy Choo?”
“The shoes?”
“Who's shoes?”
“Jimmy Choo's!”
“Jimmy Choo's shoes?”
“Yes!”
“What was the question again?”
Harmony sighed loudly. “I saw Eve!”
“Was Adam with her?”
“Who's Adam?”
“Never mind.”
“Xander, you're not making any sense at all, dumbass. Put Dawn on—it's impossible to have a conversation with you, because of the, you know, not making any sense.”
“I'm not making any sense?”
“Forget it. Just put Dawn on.”
Xander held the phone out to Dawn. “She wants to talk to you,” he said. “Adam and Eve are wearing Jimmy Choo's shoes, or something. And she says I'm not making any sense? Pot—kettle.”
“Hey, Harmony. It's Dawn.”
“Thank goodness! Xander Harris never did make much sense! Even when we were in high school, half the time I had no idea what he was talking about, and he's obviously gotten a lot worse!”
“What did you want to tell me, Harmony?”
“Oh! Right. I was at Jimmy Choo's last night and I saw the most darling pair of strappy sandals with real seashells—”
“The watermelon-colored ones with the four inch heels?”
“Yes! Aren't they fantabulous?”
“They are. But definitely out of my price range.”
“But it's the July sales! They're closing out the summer styles at half-off!”
“Half-price Jimmy Choo's? You're kidding me!”
“It's true—I swear! If you get a chance to get over to Wilshire you should totally stop in and check them out! But you'll have to hurry—they're going fast.”
“No wonder—at half-price! I'll definitely have to get over there soon. Um . . . was that what you wanted to tell us?”
“Oh . . . no. I called to tell you that I saw Eve there. You know, the former liaison for Wolfram and Hart? She's mortal now, you know, and she is still really pissed at Angel for letting Lindsey get killed. But she did happen to mention that she was in Palm Springs for the weekend and she's positive she saw Lorne! You know, Lorney Tunes? He reads peoples' destinies or something? He used to work with Angel? I just thought I should let you know.”
“Well, thanks, Harmony. And thanks for the tip about the shoe sale.”
“No problem! We girls have to stick together, right?”
“Absolutely. Well, thanks again.”
“You're welcome! Talk to you soon. Bye!”
Everyone looked at Dawn expectantly.
“Okay,” she said. “Harmony ran into the former liaison for Wolfram and Hart and she mentioned that she saw someone named Lorne, who reads peoples' destinies, at Palm Springs last weekend. Oh, and Jimmy Choo's is having a half-price summer sale.”
“Who's Jimmy Choo?” Faith asked.
“Who's Lorne?” Xander asked.
A piece of paper floated through the air and wafted gently down to land on the coffee table.
Who's Johnny Depp? it read.
~*~*~*~*~*~
“You people are a real hoot,” Connor said with a grin. “I can't remember when I've had this much fun!”“Yep. That's us,” Xander said. “We're just a barrel of fun.”
“I was thinking I'd go out and patrol for awhile, if you don't need me here,” Connor added.
“Hold on, I'll come with,” Faith said. “Been a few days since I got in a good uhh.” Faith made staking motions with her hand. “Just let me change my clothes first. I'll only be a minute.”
She was as good as her word. In a very short time she returned. She had exchanged the boxer shorts for the leather pants and pulled on Doc Martens over the gray socks.
Connor stared at her appreciatively. He seemed unaware that his mouth was hanging open and his eyes were a bit glazed.
“Another one bites the dust,” Dawn whispered to Willow.
“Ready?” Faith asked.
Connor closed his mouth with an audible snap, his eyes regained their focus and he nodded as he turned to the door. “Nice pants,” he commented.
Faith laughed. “Never underestimate the power of a hot chick in black leather. If a vamp loses it like you just did, even if only for a second or two, it gives me an advantage, an' you better believe I'm gonna use it. Too bad it only works on male vamps, though.”
“Oh, I wouldn't be too sure of that,” Willow muttered.
Dennis frantically waved the pink card in front of Xander's eye.
“Oh, yeah,” Xander called. “If you run into a blonde vampire in a hot-pink catsuit with a big H on her chest, don't stake her. She's kinda on our side . . . I think.”
~*~*~*~*~*~
Willow dug around in her backpack and eventually produced two decks of cards and a book-sized plastic case. “Anyone for pinochle? Or Travel Monopoly?”Xander grinned. “Sure. I'm in.”
“Me, too,” Dawn added.
They played several hands of cards, the atmosphere relaxed and comfortable, and then Xander remarked, “This feels just like old times, doesn't it? When we weren't busy monster hunting, we used to just hang. It feels good. Uh . . . Harris, Rosenberg and Summers—back in business.”
Xander mentally smacked himself in the head. That sounded so lame. The original Summers had, of course, been Buffy, but in an attempt to include Dawn, he'd decided to go with surnames. It had sounded much better when he thought it in his head, and in no way as clunky as it actually sounded when it came out of his mouth.
“You realize that you just made us sound like a law firm?” Dawn said with a laugh.
“Yeah,” Willow added. “The kind with those sleazy personal injury or turn-your-annuity-into-cash late night TV commercials. But I know what you mean. I'm not sure if we were naïve, lucky, or just plain stupid, but it was like nothing bad could really happen to us because we were together. No matter what kind of world-ending nasty we had to face, our friendship would somehow protect us—and it always did.”
Xander nodded. “And although Harris and Rosenberg are somewhat older and, hopefully wiser, and it's a different Summers in the mix, it still feels like we can accomplish anything we set out to do and nothing really bad can happen 'cause we're together. Sort of that the whole is greater than the sum of its parts thing going on.”
“And this time around we don't have to deal with all those secret crushes making everyone crazy,” Willow giggled.
“What do you mean?” Dawn asked.
Willow leaned toward her and said in a melodramatic “important” TV announcer voice, “What romance lurks in the hearts of men—and women? The Shadow knows! Previously, at our intrepid, late-night law firm . . . Rosenberg had a long-standing crush on Harris, yet he failed to notice the adoration of the plucky redhead as she pined for him, because . . . Harris secretly had a crush of his own . . . on Summers. Will the beauteous Miss Summers ever notice her faithful—Awk!”
The cards Xander had been shuffling suddenly burst from his hands and went flying all over the table and startled Willow. She jumped up and knocked over her can of Coke. Dawn grabbed for it in an unsuccessful attempt to keep it from spilling and used the flat of her hand to corral the spreading puddle away from the cards, while Xander grabbed a handful of napkins. Willow sputtered and giggled, and soon all three were laughing uproariously.
Dawn gasped between peals of laughter, “Well . . . it's good to know . . . that . . . that . . . Harris . . . Rosenberg . . . and Summers might have . . . finesse . . . and . . . and . . . suavity . . . is that a word? But . . . Xander, Willow . . . and Dawn are . . . unparalleled klutzes!”
Willow raised her dripping soda can. “To the klutziness that is us!”
They all trooped into the kitchen to wash their hands while Dennis wiped the table with a damp cloth.
Willow collected the pinochle cards and returned them to her backpack.
“See, this is why we don't have TV,” Dawn said. “We get to make our own fun.”
“TV!” Willow exclaimed. “Remember that awful movie with the water buffalo and the telephone and the singing in Hindi?”
“That's something that stays with you—no mater how much you wish it wouldn't,” Xander replied.
Travel Monopoly lost out in favor of a rousing game of “Remember When” that left them all breathless and with sides aching from laughter.
“I've had more fun in the past week than I've had in the last few years,” Willow confessed.
“Me, too,” Xander agreed.
“I've been thinking . . .” Dawn said. “People should have fun in their lives. It's the relaxed, fun times that give you the strength and courage to deal with the not-so-fun times. If your whole life is full of stress and drama and doom, you don't have any . . . reserves . . . for when things get really rough. We're planning an insanely dangerous mission—we all know that—every one of us is aware of what's at stake, and we'll all do whatever we need to do to prepare and to face whatever is out there. But if you spend all your time dwelling on the bad things that can happen, and the things that can go horribly wrong, you're sort of psychologically and emotionally spent, long before the actual mission. Am I making any sense? Do you get what I'm trying to say? I think maybe that's a big part of why we all scattered after . . . Sunnydale.
“Everybody was just so burned out—the last few years in Sunnydale weren't exactly a barrel of laughs for any of us, and I think all that stuff took its toll. I guess what I'm trying to say is that I'm really glad I found you guys again, and I'm so very glad we're all at a point where we can enrich each other's lives, rather than sucking the life out of each other. I just wanted to say thanks. It means a lot to me—you mean a lot to me.”
Willow pulled Dawn into a hug, and Xander put his arms around both of them. “How'd you get to be so smart?” he asked gently.
Dawn smiled. “I had good teachers.”
Faith and Connor returned at that moment and observed the Scooby group hug.
“What'd we miss?” Faith asked.
“Football huddle?” Connor suggested.
“Group sex?” Faith wondered.
“The Farmer in the Dell?” Connor speculated.
“That must be it,” Faith agreed. “The cheese stands alone.”
“So, guess that makes us the cheese,” Connor replied.
Faith lifted her arm and sniffed. “Well, this cheese is startin' to smell like Limburger, so I call dibbs on the first shower.” She disappeared into the bathroom.
“From the sublime to the cheesiness,” Xander sighed, as he moved away from Willow and Dawn. “So . . . how was patrol?” he asked Connor. “Did you and Faith have a good time killing things? Oh, and do you play 'Hearts'? Now there's four of us, we could play a game while Faith's in the shower.”
“Sorry. I don't know 'Hearts', but I play a mean game of 'Go Fish',” Connor replied.
“'Go Fish' it is. Willow? Dawn? Wanna play 'Go Fish'?”
“Sure,” Dawn agreed. “But I gotta warn you, I show no mercy.”
“Cut throat 'Go Fish'? Remind me never to take you on in 'Crazy Eights'!”
This time it was Willow who rolled her eyes and she got out the deck of cards and began to shuffle.
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Continue to Chapter Twelve
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