Buffista Redball, Con't,

“Let me see that ME’s report again,” Bayliss asked.

“ What’s that, Bayliss?” Munch asked. “The third or fourth time since yesterday? You might want to consider a hobby...or a woman or something.”

“They’re kind of the same to you, aren’t they, John? But then you let the air out and put them back under your bed.”Kay said, winking at Munch. “Here you go, Timmy. Knock yourself out.”

”She doesn’t mean that literally,” Pembleton said.

“Ha, ha.” Tim said. “Wow, her throat was kind of swollen. Did she have any kind of allergies?”

“Take your pick, according to the husband.” Munch said. “Nuts, metals, you name it.”

“My gut tells me this was anaphylactic shock.”

“Well, then,” Pembleton said. “I guess we can all go home. Kay, don’t forget to write a witness statement for Bayliss’ *gut*.”

“Hey,” Kay said. “We’re all on the same side...we’re all bunkies here.”

“And it’s fucking great,” Munch said. “But not great for fucking.”

“Could you give it a rest?”

“Sure. Tell me I’m wrong, and I will.”

“Honest to God...”

“If anyone needs me, I’ll be in the ballroom.”

“We’ll muddle through, tateleh,”

“Now, what’d you have to do that for? You know how sensitive he is.”

“That’s why it’s so easy, Kay. Didn't you learn anything in school?”

Tim Bayliss had seen a lot in his time in the Homicide squad. But he was still unprepared for the spectacle of several tattooed gorgeous women slipping some kind of necklace around his neck and yelling “Excuse me. You have too much candy...”

Then they nibbled him in ways that usually involved three dates and a bottle of Montrachet. He blushed. He blushed even harder when he heard the women say:

“Who is he? He looks kind of familiar but I can’t place him...he’s kind of foamy, though.”

“Somebody’s DH, maybe?”

“He was blushing. Isn’t that the cutest thing *ever*? If somebody doesn’t claim him, I’ll take him to my lair and corrupt him.”

“Or slash him with Wesley...”

“Six of one...” And they laughed fiendishly.

“Can I help you with your candy burden?”

“Maybe later...Tim Bayliss, Homicide.”

“You’re a detective. Investigate whatever you want, Inspector Hottie.
” “Thank you, but I actually have questions...”

“Is this anything?” Tep says, pulling a card out of her purse...”I found it when everything happened and I forgot.”

It was a card that read “No Hard Feelings” and was signed by somebody from a San Francisco newspaper.

Oh, my. I wonder who I pissed off at the Chronicle?

This week's Open on Sunday drabble challenge is "beginnings". Warning: unregenerate schmoop.

In a perfect world...

She's got bats the size of luna moths in her stomach. Nervous doesn't begin to describe it.

What to say? How to begin?

She signs in at the desk, lets the security guard check her suitcase for ordinance. She heads for the private elevator to his office. Her mind is running possibilities, scenarios, opening lines. She discards cute ones, coy ones, sincere ones, painful ones. She's left with nothing at all.

The elevator doors whisper open. He glances up, and drops what he's holding.

"Buffy!"

"Angel." Suddenly the perfect opening is there. "I'm a cookie. Let's start from scratch, okay?"

Another beginnings drabble.

First Darkness, First Slayer

They took her from her family. They took her from the desert.

They took her to a sacred place, a circle of darkness, a place of loss and tears and paralysing fear.

They took her voice from her, her rights, her oneness.

They gave her to darkness. They gave her power, dominion over that darkness.

They gave her power that they themselves would never understand: sourceless, infinite, beyond rationalisation or reclamation.

They offered no bargains. They offered no escape, no loopholes. This was a kind of rape, this taking.

She, and all who followed her, gave them back the night.

Deb, you write great schmoop. The second drabble is great too, dark and creepy.

Yeah, well, Buffy-Angel schmoop, I know, I know, I ought to know better.

Ah, fuck it. I don't know better. You'll notice I called it "in a perfect world..."

BuffyNAngle4Evar!!!!!! For realz, yo!!!!

I like the drabbles. Both of them. I would hate for Buffy+Angel to have been final canon, but I love it in fic, for some reason.

And the first slayer is always interesting.

I've just always felt that, considering all the stone-cut shite that poor girl had to deal with, the least she could expect at the end of the long dance of Slayerness is the hot stud she dropped her cherry with.

I mean, it's only fair.

More Buffista Redball
Bayliss went back to the room to investigate and left the necklace behind gratefully...although it was a nice feeling to be “Inspector Hottie” he had to admit.

“Frank can *never* know about this.” He mumbled. He was just starting to live down Emma’s coffin. Too much candy would be the final straw. Tim Bayliss, squadroom pervert....Munch would happily give the title up just to make Bayliss squirm.

Munch was pursuing his own line of questioning after visiting the bookstore. “I got the last one...they can’t keep ‘em in stock.”

“Vultures,” Kay spat.

“And the reviews? Mostly they are the love notes she deserved, but this guy? If I could I’d lock him up for felony Philistine. Which, sadly, is not a crime. If I ran the world, Kay...”Munch rattled the paper he was reading for emphasis.

“Please, I just ate, huh? But it has kept you quiet for twenty minutes...I’ll give her that. “
“A good book’s not the only thing that can do that, Kay.”

“Well, let me just muddle through in ignorance, Ok, John?”

“That’s what’s wrong with America, that attitude.”

Finally, Bayliss, looking suspiciously bedraggled and smelling like a perfume counter, came back to the command post. “Timmy,” Kay said. “ I was about to send somebody in after you! Did you get anything?”

“What kind of question is that? You should know I’m a pro by now, Howard. I would never compromise...”
“On the case, Bayliss.”

“I’m testing a plate in the room with the crime lab...some candy arrived with this card.” He gestured toward the card in its plastic bag.

“No hard feelings....” Munch read. “There’s treatment for that now.”

Kay glared. “What does it mean when I look like this?”

“Mostly, I’m sorry Meldrick’s someplace else...”
“Oh for...hey, this is your Philistine, Munchkin..

Finally, Bayliss, looking suspiciously bedraggled and smelling like a perfume counter

Dudesse, I can so see this...