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Buffy: the Invitation (an Addergoole Crossover), Part IX

Buffy: The Invitation

Part I: http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/1096503.html
Part II: http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/1100922.html
Part III: http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/1104619.html#cutid1
Part IV: http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/1108537.html
Part V: http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/1112216.html
Part VI: http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/1124762.html
Part VII: http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/1134781.html
Part VIII: http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/1139412.html

Help! I’d like clever individual titles for these chapters as well – now taking suggestions for all 8!

“Are you sure we’re going the right way, Giles? I mean, yeah, massive wards of wardiness seem to say something about ‘here be strange things’ but the scenery…” Willow looked out the window at wheat that seemed to go on forever. “There’s nothing here.”

“No shoe stores,” Buffy sulked.

“Buffy, you bought three new pairs of shoes in the last city. In between making a scene of yourself.” Giles ‘ tut-tutting had very little heat; perhaps, like the other two, he was trying desperately to draw attention away from Xander’s confusion. “And yes, Willow. The Addergoole School is quite isolated. I’m told it helps focus attention on one’s studies, which shouldn’t be a problem for you, but may prove difficult for some others.”

“Hey, I went to almost every class last week!” Buffy glared with mock indignation.

“Indeed. Well, and here we are.” Giles turned a corner in the road that seemed to exist for no reason at all, and in front of them was a barn. “Ah, this is what the instructions said, at least….” He drove up to the barn and honked twice.

“This isn’t creepy at all.” Xander looked from one window to the other. “Next, there were lill these creepy children coming out of the corn, talking all at the same time and their eyes glowing blue…”

“I think you might be mixing movies, Xander.” Willow tutted, but her heart wasn’t in it. “I think the glowing blue eyes — Ah!”

“Relax, Willow,” Buffy teased, “it’s a guy. A… rather… handsome… guy. Scowly, too.”

Giles cleared his throat. “And likely with hearing as good as yours, Buffy, if not better. Hello, sir. Might you be Luca Hunting-Hawk?”

“I am.” He was short, although taller than Buffy, with short-cropped black hair and an impressive scowl; his t-shirt was practically bulging around his biceps, and his jeans looked old, worn in, and as if they covered just as much muscle. “You’re the ones coming to visit?”

“Yes, ah, that is. I am Rupert Giles, called Ripper, and these are my students, Buffy Summers, Willow Rosenberg, and Alexander Harris.”

“Your Students? Interesting.”

“I believe you will find that interesting does not begin to cover the situation where these three are concerned.” Giles coughed. “Which is in large part why we are here now. It’s not just to tour the school, although I’m certain they are all interested. It is because these three come with certain… special circumstances which I am not certain your administration is aware of.”

“Let’s talk, then.” Luke frowned. “Their mothers did not come along?”

“Just ‘mothers’, did you notice?” Xander whispered loudly. Willow and Buffy shushed him.

“Their mothers… ahem. Well, let us just say that I am standing in loco parentis for the moment, as far as the law is concerned, and the rest we can save for our meeting.”

“Loco what?” Buffy whispered. Willow and Xander shushed her.

“Hrrm.” Luke rolled his shoulders. “You weren’t joking about ‘interesting’, were you?”

“No. Not at all. Now, I haven’t been able to find out much about this school…”

“You wouldn’t have. It’s only in its fourth year, and we prefer to fly below the radar. It’s an unusual school…”

“These three are unusual students.” Giles’ voice was dangerously mild. “I wonder if it’s the same sort of ‘unusual.’”

“Hey, now, Buffy’s Buffy and Willow’s, well, Willow, but I’m pretty usual,” Xander complained. “I think I got my invitation by mistake.”

“Ha.” Luke snorted at him. “Regine doesn’t make that sort of mistake.”

“Well, I mean, all sorts of people make mistakes about me. That’s just, you know, I’m mistake boy.”

“Come on in, son. Ladies. Ripper.” Luke turned back towards the barn.

“Ah, if you don’t mine, Rupert or Giles in front of the children…”

“We’re not exactly babies, ‘Ripper’,” Buffy complained.

“Be that as it may, I’d rather that I remain Giles to you three. Now let’s not keep the gentleman waiting any longer, shall we?”

Luke snorted once again and swung open the barn door. “Down this way. We’ll come back and get your stuff later.”

“Creepy much?” Buffy muttered.

“Ah, Buffy. It may be that things are going to seem especially ‘creepy’ here at Addergoole. Please… react with more thought than is normally needed.”

“What? It’s not like I… okay. Move slowly and don’t… punch people too often. Got it.” Buffy nodded sharply. “This is going to be fun,” she added in a quiet mutter.

Although Luke had his back to the three teens, Giles had a perfect view of the short man’s sudden smile. “Know someone who’s gonna like her,” he muttered softly. “She’s sharp.”

“You have no idea,” Giles sighed. “You have absolutely no idea.”

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/1146552.html. You can comment here or there. comment count unavailable

13: The Trees that Do Not Speak, a continuation of a fanfic of Narnia and Valdemar

first: A Door in the Wall
Second: On the Other Side of the Door
Third: The Call Comes Again
Fourth: New Travelling Companions
Fifth: Complications and then Complications
Sixth: Stranger Things
Seventh: A Change and Changes
Eighth: But Not A Return
Ninth: The Gods Not Tamed
Tenth: The Tiny Queen Arises,
Eleventh:The Gentle Queen Awakens
Twelth: The Terror of the Plains

The ride was an easy one, and they were not going at speed. Polla spent a few hours regaling them with tales of her exploits as the Terror of the Plains, tales which Susan suspected were lightly censored for ears she could not help but think of as young.

When they broke for the night, it was at a campsite, the first time they’d had a chance to “rough it” in this new world.

“Oh, let us get the tents,” Edmund chivvied. “We haven’t had a chance to in ages, and it’s always nice, like setting up a new house wherever you are.”

Half or more of the time, their ‘tents’ had been royal pavilions, set up by aides. Susan chose not to point that part out; she was fairly certain her brothers could set up a tent.

“Lu and I can gather firewood.” She looked around the forested area; their campsite had clearly been used thus before; it was set back from the road but in a clearing in the trees, there was a firepit made of stacked stones with a spit already set above it, and there was a wide smooth spot cleared of brush where the boys were already setting up tents. “Is there an axe or a hatchet?”

“…This, I was not expecting. Here, the hatchet ought to be small enough for even Lucy to handle comfortably. Don’t go too far from… ah.” Polla coughed as Susan swung her quiver onto her back. “Still, don’t go too far from camp.”

“We’ll stay within earshot of a shout,” Susan assured her. “What’s the biggest threat in these hills?”

“There are big cats — cougars and something a little smaller but a lot more nasty — and there are sometimes bandits. You’re better with the cats than the bandits, truth be told, because you can scare off a cat.”

“We’ll be careful,” Lucy promised solemnly. She hefted the hatchet thoughtfully. “These trees don’t talk, do they?”

“No, we’re not deep enough into the Pelgaris Forest for that. Still, it’s best to stick to deadwood, even here. None of that will give you any trouble.”

“Of course. Thank you.” Lucy bounded off, her eyes on Susan wide and happy. Susan could read in her sister’s expression what she wanted to crow to the sky: Did you hear? They have trees that talk!

She patted Lucy’s shoulder. “There will be time to explore, we can hope, when the mission is done.”

“I do hope so. This is different, it’s… in Narnia…” she dropped her voice to a whisper. “Anywhere we went, even the trees knew us. ‘Sons of Adam and daughters of Eve.’ And then we were their historical kings and queens, or we were Caspian’s old friends. Here, we’re strangers. We’re kids again. It’s strange not to be known when we’re not at — not on — not at home?”

Lucy, Susan knew, would always think of Narnia as home. “I know, Lu. But we’re going to help these people and do great things here, as well. And then maybe you’ll get to wear lovely dresses again,” she teased. “And give out largess.”

Lucy wrinkled her nose. “I’ll leave the pretty dresses to you. You’ve always been better at them.” She walked in silence for a moment. “And Peter’s always been better at the high diplomacy, and Edmund at the low.” She twisted around and aimed a mischievous smile at Susan. “I just like talking to people.”

“I seem to remember you’ve stopped two wars and started a third by ‘just talking’,” Susan retorted.

“Well, I’m very good at talking. It was… I think it was a little easier when I was little older. But at this size, I’m very good at listening.” She stretched out her arms and tested the hatchet, carefully, on a piece of deadwood. “We should have trained more.”

“We trained as much as we could. There was fencing class, and that archery we practiced. And all those long walks to keep our legs in the habit of walking.”

“But there wasn’t proper training.” Lucy swung her hatchet again. This time, the deadwood cracked and split. “It wouldn’t have done, I suppose. They’d have asked questions. They asked enough questions, about all of us. Peter and all his questions about the War.”

“Me and those awful girls at school,” Susan agreed quietly. “You and the time you split that horrid boy’s lip and made sure he blamed himself.”

Lucy glanced guiltily back at her big sister. “You weren’t supposed to know about that.”

“There are things you’re all good at. I’m good at knowing what’s going on. Like the way that the people in the bar were gossiping — did you hear? They were talking about the Young Prince and all the trouble he gets into. And then in the village, they were talking about King Roald, and they were fussing about him. So the Young Prince…”

“That’s who we’re looking for?” Lucy murmured. “And they think…”

“He enjoys partying, he likes to cause trouble. If he’s missing, it could be a prank.”

“Do you really think Aslan would have brought us here for a prank?”

Susan didn’t say the first thing that came to her mind — they had not seen Aslan. They only had the word of a cat that Aslan had sent them. “No,” she answered instead. “I don’t think he’d send us here to resolve a prank.”

“Then we should treat it as if it is real. Besides,” Lucy added, and although her voice was quiet, Susan could hear the edges, as sharp as the hatchet she was swinging, “we should be mindful not to discount someone, just because they’ve been known to prank before.”

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The Florence Charm and Captain America, a fanfic/Aunt Family crossover, Part II


After Part I

Arranging a trip to New York City was neither a quick endeavor nor one done simply. Eva had to get time off of the job that her family still thought she ought to quit. She had to talk Hadelai into letting Beryl come with her — which, in the long run, meant telling her sister what was going on.

Telling Hadelai came with risk, of course. If Haddy told their mother, then she was likely to tell everyone. The same problem if anyone told their sister Fallon.

In the end, Hadelai, Beryl, and Eva ended up going on a “family trip” to NYC, with a promise to the rest of Haddy’s children that they, too, would get a later trip and a blithe answer to the grannies and cousins who wanted to complain that “Even an Aunt needs a vacation once in a while.”

They could not actually tell her no — after all, no matter what they liked to pretend, the Aunt was supposed to be in control, not the grannies and great-aunts and so on — and so eventually, the fuss stopped. By then, Haddy and Eva had their time off, Beryl had been excused from school for a long weekend, and they’d booked their train tickets.

On the train ride to NYC, they perused scans of the oldest extant Aunt diaries, including hand-copied versions of even-older books that had since fallen into dust despite careful packaging. Haddy raised eyebrows at Aunt Sarah’s most racy interludes, and then made her daughter and sister both raise their eyebrows with some of her own stories. The young businessman sitting in the next seat moved once in Utica, and then again an hour later.

“What are you going to do?” Haddy asked, her voice soft. She shot an uncomfortable look at Beryl before looking back at Eva. “I mean, are you going to tell him? What are you going to tell him? How are you going to get in to see him?”

“I… good question. Good questions.” Eva wrinkled her nose. “I brought the diary. I think I’ll show him the part where she wrote about him, and see if anything sparks — poor choice of words — brings up a memory. I should have brought — well, no, I shouldn’t have.” Eva frowned. “I thought about it, but I didn’t want to risk some sort of imprinting.”

“Both you and Beryl would count, wouldn’t you?” Hadelai looked even more uncomfortable. “Women — well, female people — within a marriageable-age?”

“Technically, yes.” Eva pursed her lips. “Even though no, miss Beryl, you know better than to be aiming in that direction for quite a few years. No, I put together a charm that essentially says ‘nope, not me’ for both of us. I want to scout this round, not end up coming home with a Captain America baby.” She shook her head. “I don’t know what Asta was thinking…”

“I think,” Beryl offered, “she was thinking ‘man, he’s brave, handsome, and strong. I wouldn’t mind spending a little time disqualifying myself with him, but, oh, darn, there’s a war on, and that won’t do. Well, I’ll put him aside for later like a can of peaches.’”

Hadelai stared at her daughter in horror, but Eva stifled a laugh. “That does sound like our family. It even sounds like Aunt Asta, I have to admit. All right. So she stored him for later, and it worked better than it ought. The question is — he’s not some trinket someone shoved up in the attic or between the walls — don’t ask, Hadelai, I can just say that the Aunt House does not have a problem with mice or insects — but we can’t just leave him on the shelf and hope the next Aunt knows how to deal with him, or sell him at a yard sale. We have to do something about the Florence Charm.”

“We have to meet him, first,” Hadelai pointed out. “From the pictures, I have to say I might agree with Asta here. But he could have horrible BO or a curse on him, you know. We could want to remove the charm and flee as soon as possible.”

“We’ll find out soon,” Beryl pointed out. “We’re here.”

~

It was Beryl’s first time in New York City, but she didn’t rubber-neck. It was only her mother’s second time, but she didn’t, either. Eva, who had been there many more times, was both amused and pleased by the determined set of mother-and-daughter jaws, and the way they very intentionally didn’t look around.

“There’ll be time for seeing the sights later,” she reassured them. She had put herself between them, mostly so she could keep an eye on both while navigating them through the packed sidewalks. She didn’t like the city, but there were many things to draw a young archivist here. “Now, let’s see.” She held up her cell phone as if checking a text and floated her small will-o-wisp spell behind it. “Interesting. Definitely not in Avengers tower right now, let’s see. Hrrm. This way.”

“That’s a neat little spell.” Beryl bounced up next to her Aunt. “I mean, I can see — Mom, don’t make that face.

“You’re not the Aunt, Beryl.”

“And? The power runs through the family. The Aunt just holds the weight and bulk of it, not every little sparkle and ember. That would be silly.”

“He’s in this coffee shop just down the road,” Eva interjected. They were going to go on all day otherwise. “Now… are we ready?”

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/1142805.html. You can comment here or there. comment count unavailable

12: The Terror of the Plains, a continuation of a fanfic of Narnia and Valdemar

first: A Door in the Wall
Second: On the Other Side of the Door
Third: The Call Comes Again
Fourth: New Travelling Companions
Fifth: Complications and then Complications
Sixth: Stranger Things
Seventh: A Change and Changes
Eighth: But Not A Return
Ninth: The Gods Not Tamed
Tenth: The Tiny Queen Arises,
Eleventh:The Gentle Queen Awakens

They left the tavern on that solemn note. Polla, Susan could tell, was attempting to hide a limp. She moved until she was between the woman and the mass of the crowd, and smiled as she saw Peter flank Polla on the other side.

The woman, in turn, said nothing, but Susan noted that she let herself lean a little more heavily on her cane, and that she still sighed with relief when they had reached the inn’s stables. “You’re good kids.”

“You’re not the first war veteran we’ve encountered.” Edmund’s answer was casual, so casual that at first Susan thought he’d gone too far. “It’s hard to be out there with strangers seeing a weakness like that, right?”

Polla didn’t answer for a moment. She busied herself with the saddle on her dun mount, a small and flat saddle far less complicated than the ones the Pevensies had been using. There were not so many straps on it to take such time, and yet she was still working on her saddle when Susan had finished saddling her own mount.

“It is hard,” she agreed, so quietly that the jangle of tack nearly covered her voice. “And it’s frustrating. I am not weak, but that’s all they see. A limp, when I used to be the Terror of the Plains.”

“The Terror of the Plains?” Lucy asked, in her high child’s voice. Polla turned from her tack to look down at Lu.

“It was advertising, more or less. Telling everyone I was far bigger than I was. Telling them we were bigger than we were — my merc crew,” she continued, before they could ask. “We were tough and a little wild, but we were a small crew. So we talked ourselves up until we nearly believed it.” She swung herself up into the saddle. Seeing her there, her limp momentarily unimportant, Susan could believe her having been the Terror of the Plains.

Susan swung up into her own saddle. “I — we — know a bit about being seen as smaller and weaker than we are. It can make you want to throw rocks, can’t it?”

“Susan!” Peter was, of course, scandalized.

“Well, it can. It always has, Peter, whether it was you and Ed forgetting that Lu and I had brains of our own, or Mum and Dad thinking we were… we were just children.” She looked directly at Polla. “We’re smaller than we are, as Lucy once said. And so we know all about being looked at as lesser and… incapable.”

Polla caught it. She coughed. “Then the gods look favorably upon Valdemar after all, don’t they? You’re a sharp one — Susan, it was? You remind me of my old Captain.”

“Thank you.” Susan smiled broadly. “There are far worse compliments than to be reminiscent of a mercenary captain. Some of…” our best friends and finest warriors, my favorite lover, the ones that won that war for us… “We have known some fine mercenaries over the years.”

“I begin to think that your years are counted a little differently than your average gal-on-a-horse counts them.”

“We count every year twice,” Lucy put in, chipper and patently insincere. “That way there are twice as many birthday parties, and we can grow up twice as fast.”

Polla chuckled. “You’re quite adorable. But don’t think I don’t see how you sit your saddle, young miss.”

Lucy slouched deliberately and exaggeratedly. “Dunno whotcher talkin bout, lady?” She ruined it by grinning, which led to Polla barking out a laugh. Even Edmund chuckled, the quiet sound that he normally reserved only for family.

“You’re fun, too. Not sure I’ve ever met people that were clever and kind and fun.”

Lucy straightened up. “We’re still kids,” she answered innocently. “We’re supposed to be fun. And clever, well—” she shrugged. “We might be pretty smart. There’s a reason we were chosen, of course.”

“Of course. Valdemar does some pretty strange things though, young Lucy. And sometimes they are not the best chosen. You’ll forgive me for trusting my own judgement more than theirs, I hope.”

“Only as long as you forgive us for trusting ours.” Lucy’s smile was so bright, people often forgot to take offense even when she was being patently offensive. “We were brought here to do a job, but people seem very reluctant to let us do it. I think it’s making my brothers and sister a little touchy.” She stage-whispered the last as they walked their horses out onto the road.

“And not you?” Polla raised her eyebrows.

“Oh, no, I never get touchy. I’m the cheerful one. That’s what I’m called, Lucy the Sunny.”

“Valiant,” Edmund interjected, lazily but with a point hidden in all the silk. One again, Susan remembered how much she’d missed this side of her brother — and of her sister. “They called you the Valiant. And you earned it.”

Lucy blushed and ducked her head. “They did at that, sometimes,” she muttered.

Polla let the silence hang a few minutes, their horses’ hooves clopping on the cobbles as the only sound. “They,” she said, finally, the single word punctuated by a birdcall.

“They,” Edmund repeated, in the same smooth tone.

“You were brought here to help with our little problem.”

“We were sent,” Susan answered.

“Susan…” Peter began, but she shook her head.

“We were called for — and we were sent. The rest is a wee bit complicated, but we come from a long way away.”

“A long way away, hrrm? Well.” Polla smiled, a strange smile but not a bad one, “let’s hope it turns out to be worth the trip, then.”

Thirteen: http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/1145146.html

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The Hellmouth Job, Chapters 9 & 10 (A Leverage/Buffy Fanfic)

Part I
Part Ia
Part II
Part III
Chapters 7 & 8

The Intersection

“Look, I can help you.” Hardison’s voice was rising in panic. “Just tell me what stores you see.”

Parker looked around. “Nearest intersection has a… Cobalt jewelry and a Costello ice cream. Big fountain thing. No skylight.”

“Cobalt, Costello. Check. Man that’s a big mall. It’s almost like… well, okay. Elliot?”

“Sec.” Elliot had taken advantage of the situation to bash the man’s head into the floor twice. He gave the guy one more heavy thunk. “Yo. One down. No cameras, no mirrors… here comes another one. Parker?”

“Ready.” She was smiling. Of course she was.

“So,” Hardison mused over their earpieces, “is this why the mall is empty, or is someone trying to send us a message? Are we getting too close?”

Elliot slammed his fist into their attacker’s jaw while Parker swept low and kicked his legs out from under him. He went down, and three more came around the corner.

“Too close?” Elliot punctuated his complaint with a roundhouse kick. “We haven’t gotten anywhere yet. You’ve been watching too much TV again, man.”

“These guys are strong,” Parker commented idly. She was around one’s neck, thighs around his throat.

“Parker, you hang upside down from buildings by your fingers,” Hardison pointed out. “I’ve got the infrared, but I think it’s broken. Man, what kind of mall has infrared security?”

“You know, this is why Sunnydale doesn’t have any visitors.” A perky voice complained from the sidelines. “We get some nice scruffy, scary-looking men and bam, someone attacks them.”

“Scruffy?” Elliot snarled. “Who’re you calling scruffy?”

“Who’re you calling a man?” Parker countered. “Man, does this man need to breathe, or what?”

“Probably not.” A blonde girl stepped out of the shadows. “And they’re not very friendly, are they?”

“Perfectly,” Elliot punched one attacker in the solar plexus, “Fine.”

“Ooh, you’re something, but you’re out of your league here, soldier boy.” She bounced into the fray with a spin kick, shoving the third attacker away from Elliot.

“I’ve got this,” he grunted. “…and don’t…” He twisted the man’s arm until it broke, “call me that.”

“He’s not a soldier,” Parker offered cheerfully. She hadn’t managed to asphyxiate her target, but neither had he managed to get her off of him. “He’s with us.”

The newcomer didn’t even raise an eyebrow at the apparent non sequitur. “You’re good, both of you. But these things don’t breathe and they don’t fall down.” She punctuated the last by shoving a large wooden stick through the ribcage of one of the attackers. “Unless you know how to hit them. “

The assailant fell apart in a cloud of ash. The woman twisted around, repeating the move with the second attacker. She looked up as Parker whistled; she was holding out her hand. “Gimme?”

“Don’t miss.” The new girl tossed the piece of wood to Parker in a low underhand toss; Parker caught it, bent over backwards, and shoved it through her target’s back while she flipped off of him. He vanished in a puff as she landed.

“That was fun! Do you get to do that all the time around here?”

“P… Alisha,” Eliot snarled. He turned his glare on the newcomer before Parker could even blink. “What the hell were they and who the hell are you.”

“Also thank you,” Parker offered. “What?” She looked between the two of them staring at her. “N… Mr. Boss says we ought to be polite, and… Mrs. Boss agrees.”

“Who am I? I think a better question is ‘who are you and what are you doing here?’”

Elliot sighed. “Shoulda sent someone else,” he grumbled, mostly to Hardison. “Right. Thank you.” He looked at the stick still in Parker’s hand, and the small piles of ash on the ground. “What falls apart like that? I’ve fought some weirder people, and some even weirder shit, but nothing that falls apart like that.”

“You’re not from around here, are you?”

“No.” Elliot didn’t so much answer as snarl it. “We’re from Boston.”

The Introduction

“Buffy, where did you go, there’s shoes to be bought…”

“Buffy, help, Cordelia is trying to make me have an opinion!”

Cordelia and Xander skidded to a stop as they reached Buffy and the two strangers.

“Oh, ick.” Cordelia frowned. “Did you find more of your freaky little friends? Is this the new Kendra? Because seriously, one of you is enough.” Cordelia wrinkled her nose.

“I can still take back the offer for shoes, you know.” Buffy turned her attention to the strangers. “You’re not from around here, you fight like pros… who are you?”

The blonde woman — blonde acrobat, Buffy thought, although next Slayer was not a bad guess — waved cheerfully. “We’re here to join the youth group!”

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/1141327.html. You can comment here or there. comment count unavailable

Buffy: the Invitation (an Addergoole Crossover), Part VIII

Buffy: The Invitation

Part I: http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/1096503.html
Part II: http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/1100922.html
Part III: http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/1104619.html#cutid1
Part IV: http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/1108537.html
Part V: http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/1112216.html
Part VI: http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/1124762.html
Part VII: http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/1134781.html

Help! I’d like clever individual titles for these chapters as well – now taking suggestions for all 8!

Giles pulled the car to a stop on the side of the barely-paved road, very slowly put the car in park, and twisted in his seat to stare at Xander.

Willow and Buffy had already turn to do the same.

“Xander!” Willow broke what was threatening to become an unpleasant silence. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Indeed.” Giles coughed. “The time for this information would have been several days ago, Xander. What if we hadn’t brought you along?”

“Look, guys, it’s no big, okay? So some fancy school wants me — for whatever reason, probably a glitch in their system anyway…”

“From what I have heard of Regine Avonmorea, nothing in her presence would dare to do something like ‘glitch’.”

“Yeah, Giles’ books says she’s a real hardcore accuracy nut. Got in some arguments with some other scientists… I mean. If I had been reading Giles’ books or anything.”

“When we return home, Willow, we will have some conversations about your propensity for breaking into places uninvited.” Giles cleared his throat. “Regardless. Xander…?”

“Hey, no need to bring it back to me yet, I mean, Buffy might still want to get her kicks in, right, Buff? Your turn to yell at me?”

Buffy shook her head slowly. “I got nothing.”

“Come on, Buffster, surely you want to yell at me a little? I mean, I’ve been yelling at you since you got back. Just a little scream? Some witty quips? Anything?”

“Sorry, Xander, you’re just gonna have to answer the question.”

“You don’t look sorry. Does she look sorry to you, Willow?”

Willow tried her best to frown at Xander. “You’re on your own here, buster.”

“Darnit. Maybe I could just…”

“Xander.” Giles’ voice was uncharacteristically harsh. “Now.”

“Aw man… look. Fancy school. Fancy, expensive school. There’s no way my parents can pay for something like that, and I’m a horrible student anyway.”

“You’re not that bad,” Willow offered loyally. “You just don’t really care.”

“Yeah, well, why should a fancy school waste time on ‘doesn’t care’ me? So I threw the invitation out.”

“Xander!” Willow glared at him. “And you didn’t say anything?”

“Look, Will. Two things. One, you really need to get out of Sunnydale. Two, Buffy could use a break. But someone has to stay home and clean up the mess, right? And really, I’m not that good at school, and… no way to pay.”

Giles cleared his throat and cleaned his glasses for a moment. “Well. We will discuss scholarships when we get there… if we can come to an arrangement. I do believe this is something that we are going to need to wait on a decision for, until I can speak to Dr. Avonmorea in person.” He straightened up. “Be that as it may, Xander, if you receive any more mysterious letters or invitations, do tell me straightaway. And it would likely be kind to inform your friends as well.”

“Right. Tell everyone about my junk mail. Do you want to know about my credit card applications, too? Because I just may qualify for a low, low rate.”

“Xander…” Willow set her hand on his leg cautiously. Xander jerked away.

“No, Wills, you’re all mad at me, and it’s just ‘cause you’re not thinking. Yay, you got into a fancy school. Good. You should go. I’ll miss you, hell, yeah, I will, but… let’s not pretend, all right? That just makes the whole thing worse.”

Giles pulled the car back on the road. “I think you’re making several assumptions, Xander, and that — not an unhealthy interest in your junk mail — is why I wish to know things like this. There is information available to you which may change your decisions, especially if it turns out that Willow — and, yes, possibly Buffy — end up attending this Addergoole school.”

“Such as?” Xander glowered. “It’s private school, Giles. They don’t do private school for losers.”

“Xander!” Willow glared at him. One more time, Xander shrugged it off.

“It’s just the truth, Will, and I don’t see why everyone is all worked up about it.”

“Secrets,” Buffy pointed out darkly.

“Yeah, well, we all have those, don’t we?” Xander flopped back in his seat. “It was a mistake. That’s all.”

“Xander.” Giles’ voice may have been soft, but it was firm. “Two things. First, from what I know from my research — as I’m sure Willow can attest — this is not the sort of place that makes mistakes, certainly not in admission. Secondly, the school is free; indeed, they appear to pay for college for their graduates.”

Xander swallowed. “Oh.” It sounded small and a little lost. He coughed and managed a lopsided smiled. “Oh, well, why didn’t you say so?”

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The Hellmouth Job, Chapters 7 &8 (A Leverage/Buffy Fanfic)

Part I
Part Ia
Part II
Part III

The Reconnaissance

“So, complaint one, this place is in like the eighteenth century or something. LIke nothing here at all is computerized. That’s going to mean a lot more Parker and Sophie and a lot less me.” Hardison frowned at his computer screen.

“And Tara.” Sophie opened the door to their rental house to reveal her sometimes-partner. “She’s consulting on this one.”

Nate raised his eyebrows. “Hello, Tara. Sophie…”

“No, I didn’t invite her, Nate. I know how you get about these things.” Sophie held up both of her hands.

“I invited myself. Sophie and I were chatting about your little mission here, and, well, it’s Sunnydale. You need a guide.”

“A guide?” Hardison frowned. “A big town, this is not.”

“I’m not talking about the streets.” She dropped her bag and checked her make-up in the mirror. “I’m talking about the nightlife.”

“We’ve handled the mob before, Tara.” Nate frowned at her. “This one doesn’t have a revenue stream. We can’t pay you.”

“Trust me, I’ll make money. If I can’t make money in Sunnydale, then I can’t make money anywhere — and I can make money everywhere.” She made a kiss-face at the mirror and then, only then, turned to look at the three teammates. “Nate, Sophie, Hardison, good to see you. Eliot and Parker running recon?”

Hardison coughed. “Something like that…”

~

“The mall,” Eliot complained. “The freaking mall.”

“Teenagers?” Parker shrugged. “That’s what Nate said. Teenagers like malls, right?”

He side-eyed her. “You’re something else, you know that, right? Yes, teenagers like malls. So where are all the teenagers?”

“Curfew?” Parker guessed. “Do teenagers have that?”

“Why are you asking me?” Eliot nearly snarled it out. He was looking back and forth, scanning for danger, while they were faced with nothing more exciting than a nearly-empty mall.

Parker shrugged. “Seemed like you’d know.”

Eliot glanced at her, then dropped his voice and moved in closer. “Look, I was never what you’d called exactly a normal teenager, either. None of us were, except maybe Nate. Okay?”

“Teenagers are hard,” Parker muttered. “They talk a different language, and the language changes all the time. It’s like being in Paris and suddenly finding out they speak German. That wasn’t any fun either.”

“What… never mind. Look, we’re pretending to be — we’re going in as adults, all right? And the one thing teenagers know about adults is that they’re clueless. Use that.”

“Clueless.” She widened her eyes. “Like normal people!”

“Exactly. So… look. You know that feeling you get when you look at normal people? Like they’re all a bit ridiculous? Just use that. Everyone’s a bit ridiculous.”

“Have you noticed,” Parker shifted gears without warning, “how for a mall, there’s no mirrors here? When Sophie goes shopping… there’s mirrors everywhere. This place… I’ve counted something like three.”

“And there’s this guy sneaking up on us, too,” Eliot muttered. “Go check out the mall,” he sneered. “See what the teenagers in this town do. Thanks, Nate.” He ducked down, barely missing a swinging grab, and swept the attacker’s feet out from under him. “Amateurs.”

The man on the ground shifted; Eliot grabbed his hair. “P… Alisha.” At the last moment he remembered they were here under alias. “Cameras?”

“None.” She looked again. “There’s two camera balls there, but there’s no camera in them. And they didn’t even bother with the cheapest hidden cameras or anything.”

“A kill zone,” Elliot muttered. “It’s a freaking kill zone. I’m gonna murder Hardison.”

“I heard that, man.” Hardison’s voice popped up in both their ears. “All right, so what you’re in is also a dead zone. Half of that place, I can’t even find you. Oh, and the good news? Security ain’t coming.”

Eight: The Debrief

“I don’t know why driving you to the mall is part of my job. I mean, I don’t know why I have a job here at all. I mean, I’m not part of your little scooby gang. It’s not my thing. But here I am, it’s nearly dark, and we’re going to the mall…”

“Because we’re going to buy you a new pair of shoes,” Buffy interrupted, “just as soon as you tell us what you found out from Franklin. Remember, pointy bribery?”

“Yeah, well, just make sure that’s the only pointy thing you aim my way, creep girl.” Cordelia glared at the steering wheel.

“The intel, Cordy?” Xander prompted from the back seat.

“‘The intel’,” she mocked. What are you, army boy?”

“Shoes, Cordy.” Buffy flapped a hand in Cordelia’s direction. “What’s the scoop?”

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The Gentle Queen Awakens, a continuation of a fanfic of Narnia and Valdemar

first: A Door in the Wall
Second: On the Other Side of the Door
Third: The Call Comes Again
Fourth: New Travelling Companions
Fifth: Complications and then Complications
Sixth: Stranger Things
Seventh: A Change and Changes
Eighth: But Not A Return
Ninth: The Gods Not Tamed
Tenth: The Tiny Queen Arises,

This way turned out to be into a tavern and to the darkest back corner. Peter and Edmund were waiting outside the building — the Mended Drum — for them, somehow already looking as if they belonged there. Peter had always been able to do that, step into a scene and belong there. Susan had watched Edmund learn it over their time in Narnia, and then again when they returned.

It seemed to relax Soleck. He smiled sidelong at them and held open the door, leading them far into the back.

In a shadowed corner, a figure sat with hood up, nursing a thick-walled mug of ale. She glanced up at them — Susan had only Soleck’s use of the pronoun to go on, as the cloak the figure was wearing concealed everything — and nodded. “Herald.”

“Polla. We have a deal?”

“These are them?” Her voice was deep for a woman, or high for a man, and husky. Susan caught the woman eyeing her, and did the same in return. “Well, on Valdemar’s head be it.”

The insult was clear. Susan braced herself, hoping neither her brothers nor Lucy would take obvious offense.

Instead, Edmund flopped into the chair nearest the woman and grinned. “That’s the idea, no?” He held out his hand. “Edmund.”

Susan could not see the woman’s expression, but her voice sounded pleasantly surprised. “Polla.” She took Edmund’s hand and shook it; her hand was broad and scarred, the nails trimmed short. “And the rest?”

“Oh, this is my brother Peter, Peter, say hi to the nice lady, and these are our sisters, Susan and Lucy.” Something about the way Edmund said it made Susan feel like he wanted to add on their titles, the names Aslan had called them by. It made her bow a little more regal than it would have otherwise been.

“Pleased to meet you,” she offered. “You are to be our guide, then?”

“That’s me. Bonded and paid by… them that’s hired you.”

Well, on Valdemar’s head be it. Susan did not say it, but she thought it might show in her face.

That was confirmed, or nearly so, when Polla threw back her head and laughed. “This one, I like. She has steel in her spine. Tell me, Soleck-Herald, what brought these four to you?”

Soleck cleared his throat. “The SunLord,” he muttered.

“The SunLord?” Polla’s voice shifted, dropping down into a conversational tone, and she leaned forward. “Interesting. The gods do not so often interfere directly, do they? Especially not V’kandis, and especially not here in Valdemar. Well.” She nodded to all four of them. “This will be an interesting trip. You can ride, I’ve been told. And you can fight?”

Edmund started to lean forward, as if to speak, and then leaned back, nodding at Peter.

Susan raised an eyebrow but did not interrupt. She wondered if they had been doing some negotiating of their own, while she and Lucy had been off shopping.

Peter cleared his throat. “Ed and I are fine in close-quarters fighting. We’re good with a sword or a mace. Lu and Susan are good with a short-sword, but you don’t want to get between Susan and her target; she’s a wicked shot with a bow, and Lucy’s pretty good too.”

“Girls good on distance, boys close up. Check.”

“Are we likely to see much combat on this mission?” Susan hoped she didn’t sound like a ninny; it was an important question, but sometimes she found her information requests were met with disdain.

Polla leaned back. A smile was visible from under the shadow of her hood. “Likely? Depends on you four. Is it possible? Combat is always a possibility. Once I got jumped while I was eating soup at a tavern three hours’ ride from the nearest battlefront.”

Soleck cleared his throat. “There’s no need to frighten them.”

“There is every need to frighten them, if the idea of battle makes them quake in their boots. But I don’t think they’re frightened. I think they’re measuring me up, am I right?”

Peter cleared his throat. “If you’re to be our guide… then we should know you. This is a strange land to us, and Herald Soleck and his Companion are the only ones we know apart from you.”

Polla laughed, a deep and happy sound that echoed in their small corner. “See? HE’s a diplomat, too. I see why you picked ‘em for this mission. All right. When can you be ready to leave?”

“Immediately, if necessary,” Peter answered for them. “We have little in the way of luggage and our mounts have been rested.”

“Don’t talk half fancy, does he? Well, maybe it’s for the better. Let me settle up my tab, and then we’re off, me kiddos.” Polla levered herself to her feet; it was then that Susan noticed the walking stick by her side.

Soleck put a hand on Polla’s. “I will pay. ‘Expenses’ was said, no? This is an expense.”

Polla laughed again, shorter and more clipped this time. “If you’d been my client…”

“But I am the client now, and we cannot go chasing after last year’s chickens. I will pay. You see these children on to the road.” He bowed low to Polla, and then to Susan and Peter, to Edmund and Lucy. “Bring him home,” he murmured very softly. “Sunlord’s-gift, we are all counting on you.”

Susan stood. Next to her, she could feel her family doing the same. She nodded her head to Soleck, the words and tone of Queen Susan coming back to her. “We will do all we can, Herald Soleck, to bring him home safely to you. On that, you have our word.”

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The Hellmouth Job, Part III (A Leverage/Buffy Fanfic)

Part I
Part Ia
Part II

The Briefing

“All right, so here we go. Missing students and kids include Andromeda Wallace, Felicity Norton, Princessa Washington… okay, I’m going to stop listing names for a moment and ask what the hell is up with these people and their names? I mean, seriously? Andromeda?”

“It’s California,” Eliot scoffed. “They probably think that it’s bad karma or bad feng shui or something to give your kid a name someone else has.”

“Historically,” Sophie offered, “in many cultures, it’s considered good luck to give your children the names of those who have come before.” She mentioned it more to Parker, who was sitting next to her, playing the role of her teenaged cousin, then to Hardison and Eliot sitting behind them.

“Mmm,” Parker agreed. “Or a street.” She smiled, bright and sharp, and then, just as quickly, her smile vanished. She twisted in her seat to look at Hardison. “So these kids… what sort of youth group is this? I mean…”

“The thing is… I’m not sure. I mean, this isn’t any ‘Boys and Girls Club’ thing, this is set up in one of the nicer neighborhoods in what’s a pretty rich school district. This is like, rich kid day care, but for the evenings, and for kids too old to really need day care.”

“Keep ‘em out of trouble,” Eliot opined. “GIve ‘em something to do so they’re not just spendin’ mommy and daddy’s money.”

“But now they’re in even more trouble.” Parker frowned. “Well, we think they are, right? I mean… sometimes missing kids just run away.”

Nate coughed. He’d been quiet, pretending to study a tourist guide to Bright Sunnydale. “It is a rare case that a runaway finds a benevolent mentor who’s a good fit for her, Parker. Many runaways… well, they need rescuing, too, even if they don’t know it yet.”

“Still, I mean. We’re not just returning these kids to sender, are we?”

“If it turns out they want to be lost…” Hardison began.

“Then it’s still illegal.” Eliot’s frown took on a sharp edge. “Anything you do involving kids is illegal, pretty much.”

“Everything we do is illegal, man.”

“I bought a pair of shoes last week,” Sophie offered. “Bought, as in paid for. Now, mind, the price I paid for them ought to be a crime. But it wasn’t technically illegal.”

“You stole the money though, right?” Parker popped her gum. “And the dress?”

“Well, of course, I’m not insane.”

“That’s different.” Eliot’s growl was tense. Both women stopped and looked at him. “I’m serious, guys. One, the people that mess with kids are shit, the absolute worst. They’re going to fight dirtier than…”

“…Moreau?”

“Yes. Dirtier than him. Dirtier than anything you’ve seen. Two… Do not,” he dropped his voice to a fierce whisper, “ever let the cops find you out doing anything at all involving kids. They can get you, and they will, because they can’t get the real assholes.”

“Yes please, two of those lovely little drinks, thank you.” Hardison smiled at the flight attendant. “And could I get a pillow? Maybe some headphones? I know, everyone wants everything, and there’s only the one of you to go around, but you’re a sweetheart to try. Thank you, thank you.” He continued gushing until she scurried off, a little confused but, more importantly, no longer paying attention to what Eliot had been saying. “Man,” he added, annoyed, “we are on a public plane. They will arrest my ass if they think that I am doing anything remotely suspicious. Do not get me arrested again, Eliot.”

“That time in Cancun doesn’t count,” Eliot snapped. “Man, just because—” his annoyance faded into a reminiscent smile as he leaned back in the seat “—that nice policegirl had a thing for me…”

Hardison opened his mouth, gestured, and shut his mouth without saying anything.

“So anyway,” Parker picked up. “We’re just looking. When we find things, then we make a plan for the next step. Wait.” She wrinkled her nose at Nate. “Then we decide which plan we’re going to use.”

“As long as it’s not the one where I die,” Hardison muttered.

The Human Intelligence

“All right.” Cordelia strode in. “One, you owe me. Two, you really owe me. If my lab partner hadn’t gone missing, I would not have done this. Franklin Enrian is the creepiest creep of an amazingly rich, attractive man to ever walk through this school, and after talking to him for half an hour.. I feel as if I need either a shower or a marriage license. With a very nice prenup.”

“Thank you, Cordy.” Buffy managed to sound mostly relieved instead of amused. “If we had petty cash, I’d suggest you could go get a manicure out of petty cash. Giles, why don’t we have petty cash?”

Giles coughed. “What did you find out, Cordelia?”

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Buffy: the Invitation (an Addergoole Crossover), Part VII

Buffy: The Invitation

Part I: http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/1096503.html
Part II: http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/1100922.html
Part III: http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/1104619.html#cutid1
Part IV: http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/1108537.html
Part V: http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/1112216.html
Part VI: http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/1124762.html

Help! I’d like clever individual titles for these chapters as well – now taking suggestions for all 7!

“It’s some big, nasty, anti… anti-us ward?” Willow frowned both with effort and confusion.

“Very good, Willow.” Giles spoke through gritted teeth. “I did tell them we were coming…oh, bollocks.” He fell silent, gripping the wheel.

Xander’s fists were clenched. “Maybe they don’t want us?” he managed, although he was looking a bit nauseous. “Maybe this was all a big mistake and we should… what?” Everyone in the car had turned to look at him.

“Interesting,” Giles managed. “You are feeling…”

“Like a giant force-field is trying to push my out the back of the car? Yeah. I mean, I’ve felt worse…”

“I believe we’ve all ‘felt worse’,” Giles murmured. “And yet still…”

“No still, no nothing, man. Why are you going faster? Why are you not turning around?”

“I’m irked,” Giles snapped, “and I want them to be quite aware of this.”

“Well, um, Giles old buddy,” Xander gulped, “I get that, and everyone in the car is very aware that you’re, uh, irked, but you’re driving headlong into certain danger and that’s normally my job. So, um, maybe slow down just a little bit?”

And just like that, Giles let off the gas as the sense of danger and doom lifted from them. He brought the car down to a sedate pace and turned in his seat to look at Xander.

Xander swallowed. “What?”

“Tell me, Xander,” Giles’ voice was level and terrifyingly calm, “were you that frightened of my driving…?”

“What? No. No! It was just — it felt like the world was ganging up on us. You know, Apocalypse season?”

“I do wish you wouldn’t say that.” Giles sighed. “Well, that is quite interesting. It may be a very good thing indeed that you came along.”

“Well, duh, I mean, I provide much needed humor. But why… Why in specific?”

“Giles, I want to know, too.” Willow leaned forward. “I mean, we were all affected by the wards. Why is it interesting that Xander was?”

“Well, you and BUffy were invited. And I, uh… oh, dear.” Giles sighed. “I was hoping to put this off, but I suppose it can’t be helped. From what I can determine, Addergoole is an academy for a specific subset of very, mm, special students, which is why Willow and Buffy were invited.”

Xander swallowed. “Will and Buff are special, yep, we already knew that. Will’s got these magical witch powers and Buffy’s the Chosen One. Special.”

“Yes, well. There is special, and then there are, um. Other kinds of special.”

“Giles, just spit it out,” Buffy complained. “Is it ‘cause I’m dumb?”

“No way, Buffs, you’re way smarter than me, and I got in…” Xander put both hands over his mouth. “Just pretend I didn’t say that, okay?”

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