AnOpenFanfic

Archive: Just let me know the URL.

Feedback: Oh, yes, please.

Part 17 of the Summer Vacation Series

Disclaimer: They�re not mine. But if they were, it might go something like this�

Dear Joss:

Can I call you Joss? I know we�ve never actually met, but I feel my relationship with you has been as meaningful and intense as many I�ve had with people I actually do know personally, and far deeper than most (and here I�m of course thinking of my co-workers).

Yet, in the past year or so, I�ve stolen from you shamelessly. Taken your most precious creations and bent them to my own will. At times I�ve felt entirely justified. For instance, I would bet money that neither you nor your staff has considered what Cordelia put on her tax return. But I did, so why not make a funny story out of it?

But the time has come to make it up to you in some small way.

What follows is a series of vignettes, some little more than mere inklings of ideas, perhaps snatched prematurely from the incubator. But the point is, they�re yours, if you want them.

I so want to see these things happen on �Buffy� and �Angel� I don�t care who gets the credit. Call that hubris if you will, but the fact remains: I hereby absolve myself of any right to these stories. Take them. Use them as you will.

And if the rest of you can get over the egotism in the preceding statement, I hope you enjoy them as well.

- - - - - - - - - -

Scene 1 � A Dorm Room, U.C. Sunnydale

Author�s Note: There�s a reason there�s so little B/R fanfic (I actually have never found any); Riley has no past and very few strong character traits. There just isn�t anything to excite the imagination. But if he and Buffy just talked�

Another year at school. No longer a frosh, Buffy felt comfortably confident. She hadn�t over-packed like last year; she knew the size of her dorm room, the general style of the students, and the campus seemed a little smaller. It was a good feeling.

A knock came at the door just as she was hanging her clothes in the closet. �Come on in,� she called.

The door swung open and Riley stepped into the room. �Hey, Buffy,� he said, in that warm, deep voice she loved.

�Riley,� Buffy chirped excitedly, throwing her arms round his neck and kissing him hard.

He broke off the kiss with a laugh and surveyed the boxes and trunks around the room. �Buffy,� he said bemusedly, �I�ve been to your house. Did you leave anything there for your mother?�

�Ha, ha,� Buffy said with mock annoyance. Help me unpack. Not that one!� she added quickly as Riley reached for a trunk. She went to him and lifted it to the foot of her bed. �Weapons case,� she explained.

�Buffy, I know you have weapons,� he said.

�It�s just really heavy, and� you probably didn�t need to see me swinging it around� and I should just shut up already�� she finished lamely.

Riley gave a soft chuckle. �Buffy, I know you�re stronger than me, too,� he said. �It�s not exactly a traditional relationship, but I wouldn�t want you any different.�

Buffy smiled fondly. �Thanks,� she said softly, then pointed to a large cardboard box. �Get those,� she said. �It�s my desk things.�

Riley hoisted the crate onto the desk chair and opened it. The first thing he pulled out was a well-worn book. ��Misty of Chincoteague,�� he read from the spine.

�That was my favorite book when I was little,� Buffy said defensively. �I just like having it around.�

�You don�t have to explain, Buffy,� Riley said. �Contrary to popular impression, I was a kid once, too.� He unboxed several more books and arranged them on a shelf. �Say,� he asked, �did you read the Horatio Hornblower books growing up?�

�No,� Buffy told him. �I grew up in America. And a girl.�

�Those were good books,� Riley said. �I read them so much I think I could probably have passed the lieutenant�s exam.�

�Which you did,� Buffy reminded him.

Riley pulled a fuzzy pink item out of the box next. �Hello-o-o, Mr. Gordo,� he said in a fake Art Carney voice.

�And again I say �ha, ha,�� Buffy said dryly.

Riley placed the toy pig in its place of honor on the shelf, then turned and put his arms around Buffy�s waist, kissing the side of her neck.

�That�s nice,� she told him.

He gave her a little squeeze. �I like this,� he said. �No pressure to go hunt monsters, no sneaking around��

�Classes haven�t started yet,� Buffy added.

�Let�s just enjoy it,� Riley said. �Why don�t we order a pizza and tell each other everything that happened this summer?�

�Are you sure you�re a boy?�

Riley brushed Buffy�s long hair over her shoulder. �We don�t have to rush,� he said softly into her ear. �I�m not going anywhere.�

Buffy turned, still held by his strong hands, and draped her arms around his neck.

�I missed you,� she said.

- - - - - - - - - -

Scene 2 � An L.A. High-Rise

Author�s Note: One character on �Angel� reportedly headed towards recurring status is �software billionaire� David Nabbit. I can see the appeal of having him on the show; no more pesky questions about where Angel gets his money, primarily. And for comic relief, they also made him a geek. It�s an easy laugh. But speaking as an adult geek, Nabbit is a false and unfair stereotype. The Bill Gateses of the world may be geeks, but they�re not shy, awkward geeks on the job � not if they�ve reached the level of success Nabbit supposedly has. I�d like to see this scene:

Cordelia strode into the reception lobby on the top floor of David Nabbit�s computing empire. She tried to look confident, in control of the situation, but the lobby, a polished marble temple the size of a tennis court, was a bit daunting.

She approached the enormous redwood desk where a secretary who looked like Gisele (Hell, Cordy thought, she could BE Gisele) was typing incredibly fast on a slim, black, state-of-the-art computer. She looked up at Cordelia and gave a totally convincing welcoming smile. �Can I help you?� she said.

Wow, thought Cordy. She�s good.

Cordelia fumbled with the portfolio she carried. David had told them they could decorate their new office however they wished, but he wanted them to keep him informed every step. Wesley suspected Nabbit hoped it would bring them all together as friends and suggested Cordelia be liaison. As long as the five-figure checks kept coming, Cordy was more than happy to oblige.

�I�m Cordelia Chase,� she said, �of Angel Investigations. Mr. Nabbit��

�Yes, he�s been anticipating your visit,� the secretary said, her smile notching up a few more megawatts. �Just one moment.�

The secretary rose smoothly and walked to the office door, easing it open. Cordelia heard David�s voice inside, but it was a tone she�d never heard him use. It was� forceful.

�That search engine is worth thirty million easy, Jerome,� he was saying. �An offer of fifteen is insulting. Tell them I said that� just one minute��

�Miss Chase from Angel Investigations is here,� the secretary announced.

�Send her in,� David said, sounding, for a moment, like the David Cordelia knew.

The secretary ushered her in and closed the door. David was still on the phone, his hand covering the mouthpiece.

�Sorry, Cordelia,� he said softly. �This�ll just be a minute.� He went back to the phone, again assuming the commanding tone.

�Jerome, twenty is completely unacceptable,� he said, adding a derisive laugh to underscore his words. �Especially if they want it bundled. Now listen carefully � you are to ask for forty, reluctantly settle for thirty-five, but I�m warning you, take less than thirty and they will speak your name in hushed tones as long as this company remains in business. Got it? I�m taking a meeting with an important associate now, Jerome. I�ll call you back in a few hours.�

He dropped the phone into the cradle and pressed the intercom. �Noa, I�m off-line for the next couple of hours. Hold everything and bring in some coffee, please.�

�Yes, Mr. Nabbit.�

David sat at his desk and smiled at Cordy, who was staring wide-eyed.

�Wow,� she said. �I�ve never seen� that was a whole new David.�

The self-proclaimed computer nerd laughed nervously and flushed pink. �Oh, that,� he said. �That�s business. I have to do that.� He laughed again. �Did you like the �hushed tones� comment, though?� he asked. �That was in an issue of Mutant Enemy comics. I�ve been waiting to use it.�

Cordelia blinked, still unable to reconcile the powerful corporate giant she�d just seen and the shy, awkward man who came to their office after hours in a toy cape. �It was great,� she finally said.

He flushed even more furiously. �Let�s not talk about my business,� he said. �Let�s talk about yours.�

Cordelia took a seat across from David and opened the portfolio, extracting wallpaper samples and swatches of cloth. David took them from her and spread them out over the desk.

�Now I wanted something neo-American,� she said, at last back on familiar ground. �It�s in, but not too trendy. Very comfortable for our clients. But you know Angel� pick any color as long as it�s black. But I think I�m working him towards a happy medium with this navy and gold scheme��

David Nabbit leaned forward to examine the sample, and smiled a contented smile.

- - - - - - - - - -

Scene 3 � Giles�s Living Room

Author�s Note: As every devoted Buffy fan knows, there are a number of, shall we say, inconsistencies in the Buffy timeline. When was Angel born again? Wait, how old did Spike say he was? Did Dru sire Spike, or what? This could all be explained with one short scene:

Spike went slowly over Giles�s bookshelves, until he at last found what he was looking for. He pulled it down and blew the dust from the top.

It was a thick, leather-bound ledger, the cover blank and the spine stamped only with a year. Spike leafed through it, scanning the cramped handwriting until he found what he was seeking. He set the book on the table and lowered himself into a chair to study it.

Giles entered the room, stopping short when he saw the blond vampire making himself at home.

�What are you doing here?� he demanded.

�Reading,� Spike replied. �I do read, you know.�

�I meant�� Giles began.

�Despite what this nonsense says,� Spike added under his non-existent breath.

Realization dawned on Giles face and he darted forward, snatching the ledger from under Spike�s gaze. �The Watcher Diaries,� he said in near-disbelief. �What possible interest..?�

�Red told me stuff was in there about me,� Spike said disdainfully. �So I thought I should check it out.�

�Well, I�d really rather�� Giles started again, but was interrupted a third time.

�I don�t fancy being called �lanky�,� the vampire said, his voice slowly rising as his anger at the long-dead Watcher�s description of his grew. �I�m five-foot-ten, not five-and-a-half, I�m nowhere near two centuries old, and I know how to read!�

�Did you in�� Giles checked the book�s spine, ��1892?�

�Well� no,� Spike admitted, �but I wasn�t ignorant.� He pulled the ledger back from Giles and pointed to several sentences. �Plus I didn�t do all these things. I�d like to take credit for them , but Angelus did quite a few, plus his other one. The ex-fanatic. Penn.�

�Who?� Giles asked, confused.

Spike gave an extravagant roll of his eyes. �Come on,� he said. �He was Angelus�s first. Always made this big deal about being an ex-Puritan. As if anyone cared.�

Giles began leafing through the diary. �I don�t��

�Oh, please, Rupert,� Spike said incredulously. �Are you telling me that in two hundred years of, frankly, very sloppy kills, none of the Watchers even mentioned the stupid git?�

�The Watcher�s aren�t omniscient, Spike,� Giles said defensively. �What information we get is generally extremely sketchy, leaving us to infer as best we can. It�s not like we have all sorts of vampires and demons knocking on the door offering to be interviewed.�

Spike leaned back and laced his fingers behind his head. He smiled smugly.

�You could always ask,� he said.

- - - - - - - - - -

Scene 4 � Angel�s Office

Author�s Note: Okay. This is just wishful thinking. Then again, that�s why I write this stuff.

Wesley held a glass of water to Cordelia�s lips, washing down the three extra-strength ibuprofin. The former beauty-queen groaned, riding out the nausea that always followed the blinding pain of her visions.

Angel hovered nearby, chewing his thumbnail and trying not to pace, but he hated that she had to suffer for his mission. None of his people should be hurt for his sake.

Cordelia raised a shaky hand to take the glass from Wesley and drained it, then turned her dark eyes to Angel.

The vampire bit back the �Well?� that was rising in his throat, but he couldn�t keep the question out of his eyes.

�It�s the oracles,� Cordelia said. �They want to talk to you.�

Angel blinked, unsure how to respond, but Wesley fielded this ball.

�The oracles are dead, Cordelia,� the ex-Watcher said gently. �Are you sure? Perhaps you should��

�It�s the oracles,� Cordelia snapped. �I�m absolutely positive. This is the least vague vision I�ve ever had. The oracles need to see Angel. And they mean now!�

Wesley stood and headed for the cabinet where Angel kept various herbs and magical powders on hand. �I�ll get what you need,� he said.

Angel was pacing now. �I don�t have a gift for them,� he said. �I need��

Without hesitation, Wesley pulled his school signet ring from his finger and pressed it into Angel�s hand.

�Wes, I can�t�� Angel began.

�Take it,� Wesley said. �If the oracles have truly returned, they won�t appreciate chintzy gifts.�

Angel nodded. �Thanks,� he said.

Less than an hour later, Angel stood at the threshold to the oracles� temple. At least he presumed it was their temple, as it had been much changed since his last visit. The airy, classical architecture was gone, replaced by a dark, Gothic vault. The floor and walls were black stone, and above him the ceiling stretched away into darkness. Stained glass windows, in mosaic patterns of blue and red, admitted the only light.

And then the oracles appeared. Long, black, hooded robes draped their forms, shrouding them entirely from view. The female oracle spoke, the timbre and pitch of her voice slightly higher than her predecessor�s, but the condescending tone was all too familiar.

�What did you bring for us, lower being?� she said.

Angel extended Wesley�s ring. �This,� he said.

The oracle extended a slim hand, patterned in blue and gold. At least that was the same, Angel thought. The ring flew from his palm to the oracle�s fingers.

�This is meaningful to the one who chooses to fight alongside you,� she said.

�Yes,� Angel agreed.

�It is a worthy gift,� she said. �We will now proceed��

�Enough with this crap, already,� the second oracle burst out, and Angel felt as though the tablecloth had been pulled off the dinner table of his mind. His mouth opened and closed twice, suddenly independent of his brain.

The male oracle reached up and pulled back his hood, revealing his face, and Angel gave up the struggle to stay on his feet, sinking gracelessly to the floor. �It can�t be,� he whispered.

The oracle�s green eyes shone knowingly as he smiled. It was a smile that had haunted Angel�s dreams, and the face, though now shifting patterns of sky blue, was the same.

�It can�t be,� Angel repeated more loudly.

The oracle raised one hand and ran it through his thick, black hair. �How you doin�, Ange?� he said, and helped the vampire to his feet.

Angel didn�t know whether to give into hysterics or weep with relief. �That�s kind of a different look for you,� he said finally.

�Well, I wanted to wear an �I�m with Stupid� t-shirt,� the oracle replied, �but the Powers� wardrobe department hasn�t quite made it to the 20th century.�

The female oracle, who had now lowered her own hood, gave a derisive snort and glared at the other two.

�You�ve seen the Powers That Be?� Angel asked.

The oracle opened his mouth, as though about to answer, then put two fingers to his lips and smiled sadly, shaking his head.

Angel�s brain at last shifted into gear. It was a low gear, but at least it was movement. �How?� he stammered. �What happened after��

The oracle shook his head again. �I can�t give you those answers, Angel,� he said. �This is strictly a get-acquainted meeting. Which reminds me�� He reached towards his female counterpart, bringing the ring from her hand to his. He passed it into the vampire�s grasp. �Give this back to what�s-his-name. We don�t call collect.�

Angel was only permitted to stay a few minutes more, re-assuring the oracle he was in good health, and all was well.

�Call on us only in times of great need,� the oracle said finally, his formal tone indicating Angel�s audience was at an end. �Not my rule. You know if it was up to me��

�Lower being,� the female oracle announced, �our time grows short.�

�Ah, shove a sock in it,� the male oracle muttered.

Angel moved shakily towards the door. �It�s enough,� he said. �I know��

�Tell �delia I�m sorry,� the oracle said quickly. �I wish there�d been another way, but��

�She knows,� Angel called back, then he found himself sprawled on the tunnel floor.

Part 18: Annotations
Main Menu ~ Summer Vacation Series