NEW FIC: It's All Been Done, Part 1/7

[crazydiamondsue]

dovil and spikendru have both been inspiring me to snark it up lately, so I allowed an over-sensitivity-to-profanity rant and some really OOC Willow dialogue (in a fic that shall remain nameless) to coalesce into this little intro that could evolve (de-evolve) into something:

Title: It's All Been Done
Pairing: Spike/Xander, Buffy/Angel
Rating: R for language and utter snarkiness
Notes: Humor, loving snark on both canon and fanon, post "Chosen"


Part One

Willow sat up slowly, her eyes squeezing shut as all of the feeling her body seemed centered on the mass of pain at the back of her skull. She put a hand behind her head, carefully exploring and then wincing as she found a tender spot. She glanced around and realized that she was in the Magic Box, complete with all the details, right down to the “Shoplifters Will Be Turned Into Frogs” sign. Which was abso-freaking-lutely impossible, since the shop now existed only in a giant pit full of ubervamp dust.

She was still blinking away troll-hammer sized pain when the door flew open and Xander raced in, arms flailing and hair flopping. He skidded to a stop when he saw her perched on the edge of the table.

“Willow!” he gasped, his face pale white with shock, “We’re back in Sunnydale!”

Willow stared back at him blankly, her mind trying to process possible head trauma, resurrected Magic Box and buff-and-not-in-Africa Xander all at once.

Seeing her confusion, he snapped a finger in front of her face. “You know, Sunny D! Hello, Sunnyhell? La boca de infierno?”

She sighed and eased off the table top. “Yeah, I know, Xander.”

“Well? And?” he demanded. “This is so not right. I mean, we finally got out of here! I have a life – and a better haircut! And, check me out,” he whipped open the edge of his caramel colored, butter soft, three quarter length leather jacket. “I’m totally ripped and hot.”

He let the coat fall closed and ran a hand through dark, expensively tousled hair. “I cannot be back here. This is the place of badness and abasement and basements of debasement and demon magnetism. This is the land of the not good. Is this a wish? A spell? Demons? Witches? Trolls? Pixies? Banshees…? Gah!”

He jerked back as Willow suddenly grabbed his bottom lip and yanked hard. “Xander!” she yelled, all patience gone, "just tell me before we both asphyxiate from mega-babble. What the fuck is going on?”

Xander’s mouth fell open as he stared back at her, gobsmacked. “W-what did you just say?”

Willow frowned, rubbing her tongue briefly against the inside of her upper lip. “Um, I’m sure I said 'babble be damned!'" She winced as Xander continued to stare at her, google-eyed, and shook his head slowly. “Uh, ‘what the goddess’?” she offered weakly.

“You said f-fuck!” Xander shouted, a finger jerking out to point at her in accusation. His hand flew to his mouth. “Holy shit! I said fuck!” His forehead crinkled in consternation. “I never say fuck. Or shit. Only evil, soulless creatures talk like that, and they’re usually cut off before they can…”

“Fuck piss shit hell,” Willow blurted, her eyes widening in horror. She and Xander stared at each other in silent amazement, and then Xander drew a deep breath, raising his hands slowly before him and held them palms out toward Willow as their eyes met.

“Mother-fucker-titty-sucker-two-ball-bitch,” he intoned gravely.

Willow gasped aloud at that and suddenly realized that there could be only one plausible and fairly simple and not terribly complex because that’s time consuming explanation. “It’s a spell. A goddamn, booger-ass spell.”

“I feel weird, Wil,” Xander said, rubbing his hands against his face. “Fuckity-fuck-fuck weird. And not like me.” His eyes narrowed. “What’s the big shit?”

Willow shrugged, cringing as the pain in her head thudded again. “I have no idea, Xan. All I know is that I woke up here with a throbbin’ in my noggin’ and now suddenly we’re channeling George Carlin.” She raised her brows, considering. “Although the situational Tourette’s seems to be fading.” She glanced around half-heartedly at the shelves. “I guess we could, you know, hit the books…”

Xander groaned. “Ah, horseshit.” Willow looked at him in surprise. “Sorry, that one was all me. It’s just that I thought my dense volumes, donut boy days were behind me.”

Willow smiled in commiseration. “I know. I have people to do this expositiony research crap for me now.”

She yanked open the nearest leather cover and read a passage at random. “Come on let’s take it easy. Take it easy. Everybody’s got something to hide except for me and monkey…” She trailed off. “What the hoo-ha? What is this?”

Xander reached around her to open another book. “This one’s blank,” he said. He quickly slammed shut. “Could be a trapped demon. Quick, look at another one.”

Willow opened a book and ran a finger quickly under the text, translating, “Now for ten years we’ve been on our own, and moss grows fat on a Rolling Stone. But that’s how it used to be, when the Jester sang for the King and Queen in a coat he borrowed from James Dean…whoa!”

Willow felt Xander’s hands grab her shoulders and pull her back sharply as the words began to rise from the book and crawl slowly up her arms.

“Thanks,” Willow breathed as she sagged back against Xander. She ran her hands weakly up her now bare arms. “I would have gone crazy with American Pie stuck in my head all day.” She grinned wobbly. “Though it has been a while since I’ve had a good book suck.”

Xander hugged her briefly and then stepped back. “I don’t get it. Blank books, classic rock lyrics…it’s like whoever stocked the shop isn’t even trying. We’ve got to get out of here, Wil. I popped up in the alley behind the Bronze, and I didn’t see much on my way here, but the streets were empty.” He frowned. “And somewhat shorter and less…there. We’ve got to see if we’re the only ones here.” He began to hum the tune to Land of the Lost under his breath until Willow cut him off with a look.

“You’re right,” she said, nodding him toward the door. “Let’s get out of here.”

He turned to lead the way and then turned back, his face contorting in horror. “You’re not going outside like that, are you?”

Willow looked down at her jeans and camisole. “What?” she asked in surprise.

Xander sighed. “It’s June? In southern California? And you’re going out without a jacket?”

Willow cringed, crossing her arms over herself in embarrasment. She looked around and picked up a mod-print, double breasted trench coat. “Will this do?”

“I guess,” Xander said, opening the door for her. “Don’t you have anything in leather?” he asked as the bell jangled and door slammed shut behind them.


Lyrics are from "Everybody's Got Something to Hide Except Me and My Monkey" by The Beatles and "American Pie" by Don McLean.

Part Two

Comments

[spikendru.livejournal.com]

I LOVE it! "Situational Tourettes"! Hee!

Xander's “Mother-fucker-titty-sucker-two-ball-bitch,” he intoned gravely. followed by Willow's “It’s a spell. A goddamn, booger-ass spell.” totally did me in! I'm still ROFLOL and don't think I'll recover anytime soon!

Can't wait to read more! Write fast!

[crazydiamondsue.livejournal.com]

Let me get the thank you-thank you-thank you out of the way for your wonderful suggestions and feedback. Now I'm going to over-explain myself in a hopefully amusing way. I read a fic that had Willow doing some unwarranted and way OOC cursing. I know that Joss pushed the envelope as much as he could, but the Scoobies were a pretty tame lot, blue words wise (well, except for Spike, but no one here knows what "bollocks" and "wanker" mean.)

Anyway, I always figured if Willow were to cuss she'd sound like my husband (That's actually where I got the "What's the big shit" line. He was doing an improv and had to curse and that was what he came up with. It doesn't come naturally for him. I, however, am from southeastern Oklahoma and you can kiss my *damn* ass if I can't string the words together.)

So, short story made ramblingly long, I took inspiration from all the fics that have Buffy saying "fuck" every other word. I owe Karabair for the situational tourette's line.

Thanks again!

[likeadeuce.livejournal.com]

glad I finally got to read this! too funny -- hmm, are they trapped in studioland, or what? love the song lyrics. and yeah, why do they always wear heavy jackets?

[crazydiamondsue.livejournal.com]

I can't believe you don't remember saying "situational tourettes." I thought it was terribly appropos. I enjoyed our girl yack last night, unfortunately, the boy talk did nothing to inspire Chap 2. Well, I guess I could have Xander call Spike a "thinky boy" and explain the concept of "Thinky Boy vs. Non-Thinky Boy" to Buffy.

[likeadeuce.livejournal.com]

um, Spike's a thinky boy? perish the thought. I don't really think Xander is either -- now Wes, that's a possibility.

incidentally, the "7 seasons of Buffy" book has one essay arguing that Wes (as in post-AtS s4 Wes) is actually the perfect guy for Buffy. I've been trying to imagine that pairing, and though I'm not convinced I'm somewhat intrigued. is there any fic on it out there, do you think??

[crazydiamondsue.livejournal.com]

Yes, I agree Mr. "Perfectly Good Plan Until I Got Bored" is not much of a thinky boy, I just think that Xander might think he is in his own non-thinky-boy capacity.

I can't see any incarnation of Wes as the perfect guy for Buffy. Huh. I should have bought myself a copy of the book. I flipped through it before I mailed it, but it seemed rude to read your gift. :) (This did not stop me from burning the cd.) I'll have to read it so we can debate the essays.

[ex-dovil323.livejournal.com]

“Holy shit! I said fuck!” His forehead crinkled in consternation. “I never say fuck. Or shit. Only evil, soulless creatures talk like that, and they’re usually cut off before they can…”

Bwah! So true. I love it on the show where 'Bloody hell' is the extent of the *gasp* bad guy language and some stories have them delving into speech that would have truck drivers fainting about the place in horror.

“It’s a spell. A goddamn, booger-ass spell.”

Hee - Tourettes Willow and Xander are of the funny. :)

Enjoyed this so thank you for pointing it out. I'll have to stalk you to look out for more. *stalks you*

[crazydiamondsue.livejournal.com]

Who knew that years of lit classes, creative writing seminars, reading the classics, reading the rebels, and placing first in the vocabulary section of the All-County Academic Contest *twice* would lead to "booger ass" being the most popular phrase I've ever put to paper...er, screen.

Thanks for the fb and feel free to stalk :::turns blonde and walks blithely down dark alley in anticipation of stalkage:::