Okay, here's chapter two, up on LJ. Who knows if it'll garner reviews, but meh. It's on here for my benefit, at least.Title: Too Much Information
Status: Mucho Incomplete-o
Rating: PG-13 for now. Just you wait. Muahaha. It’ll be all with the violence. But there's a lot of fluff, too. Mostly fluff at this point.
Characters: Yes, there are quite a few in here. Look into their minds. Mainly Sam, Faith, Buffy, and Dean.
Timeline: Buffy Universe: Season Five (and I haven’t seen all of that season, so if I mess up anywhere please tell me so I can revise!!)
Supernatural Universe: After 2.6, before 2.9. Ahem. After Jo’s foray into hunting and before Sam’s immunity to the demon-y plague thing.
Synopsis: The Scooby gang, bar crew, and Sammy narrate while Dean and Buffy make with the love bunnies and the killing. Sam has plans for Sunnydale. Too bad Faith is distracting him from his work.
Disclaimer: I don’t own either series. If I did I’d waste sooo much of the CW studio’s money trying to coerce Sarah Michelle Gellar into a steady role on Supernatural. I mean… she’s really gotten into a horror kick, right? She belongs on the show! Hell, so do I! I want to be that sad little PA that they send out to try and find the guys and drag them back to work when they run off. Anyway, point: I gain nothing from this. No money, no nookie.
And now, the story.
If there's a link for the chapter, it's been posted. Will update regularly!CHAPTERS:
Sam’s on his way. He’s having some trouble getting through the crowd, but he’s freakishly tall. He can scout a clear path through over the heads of the masses. All he has to so is raise that stubborn chin a bit to give himself that extra inch of higher eye line.
Every year the crowd at The Bronze gets more intense. In more ways than one-technically it’s happy hour for the baddies. But until they pop in, we’re going to try and give out precious little children a little push towards adulthood. And maybe, just maybe, a functional relationship. They’re so much alike it’s amazing they haven’t hugged and become some weird angry hermaphrodite. But they’d have to get along well enough to hug, first.
“They’re pathetic.” Anya is standing behind Xander, pouting. Her voice is high and clipped, lacking any kind of human warmth. Very rarely does she show emotion. It’s kind of a big work in progress with her. She is definitely the blunt one of the group. I mean, even Spike tries to accommodate people’s feelings every once in a while. Anya tries-but she doesn’t have any technique. Xander’s almost as much of a babysitter as he is a boyfriend. It’s cute. Sometimes.
“Speaking of babysitting, who here feels like they’re stuck watching the neighbors’ two year olds?” Tara smiles at me from across the table before the words are finished coming out of my mouth. Great minds think alike.
“Who’s talking about babysitting?” Xander looks confused again. Also cute. Sam finally makes it up to us and pulls up the spare chair that Anya refuses to sit in.
“Hey, thanks.” Xander reaches for Sam’s extra beer and grabs air. “What? You don’t need two.” Aha, the expression is clear, now that the normal blue lights have replaced the strobes. Sam’s exasperated. I guess the gang is kind of draining. I don’t get why we’re the ones wearing him down, though. His brother is amazingly exhausting. It’s impressive. I think he might be better than Buffy with the life sucking style of speech.
“Dean might need that in a few minutes.” Tara grabs the bottle from Sam and clasps it protectively between her two hands, solidly anchoring its bottom to the table. And well away from Xander. Why might she say that Dean needed more alcohol? I glance back over my shoulder at the dance floor. Buffy’s moved farther away from us, probably trying to get some privacy so she can start another fight. Ahah, that’s why. From the moment she pinned him to the floor of the Magic Shop, those to have been going back and forth with childish “I like you but I don’t want to tell you” bickering.
“It’s so weird to see him beaten by a girl. No offense.” Sam clinks his beer with Tara’s guarded bottle and takes a long pull. I get it. Dean’s the dreamy chick magnet type. I totally understand it. Just because I like girls doesn’t mean I’m cold to the presence of men. Really. I mean, there was Oz. And Xander. Okay, so maybe Xander doesn’t count. We were five. People always look at me funny when I mention that, but I see it as a relationship. Isn’t it? I mean, not a serious one. We’re friends. Okay, the friendship definitely qualifies as serious. But back to Buffy. Buffy’s trying her best to be cold, but she’s not fooling anyone.
“Okay, we have a plan.” Tara smiles giddily at the younger brother and nods towards the happy couple on the dance floor. I think if the music cut out right now we’d hear a lot of yelling. Right now there’s a great show of arm waving and dominant posturing.
“God, it’s fun watching them try to beat each other up.” I turn back to the group and shrug. “They act like little kids. It’s so adorable.”
Tara nods again and squeezes my hand reflexively, her little way of showing amusement without laughing out loud. Not the most important issue, here. We’re both pretty psyched about this plan of ours, and I don’t know about anyone else here, but I kind of feel like Dr. Phil. We just need Sam to cooperate.
And maybe for Xander to quit trying to sabotage our heroic efforts. I kick him under the table and he drops his none-too-covert “code red” type gesturing to Sam. “Xander, do you really want to spend the rest of the year listening to Buffy complain about him? No? Then quit trying to ruin this.”
He shrugs an apology to Sam and slides down in his chair like the good little admonished boy that he is. Anya isn’t even pretending to pay attention to us anymore; she’s busy watching the escalating fight. Well, whatever keeps her happy and non-complaining. Actually, there’s a pretty large amount of the surrounding mob of dancers paying attention to the fight, too.
Sam rolls his eyes and takes another drink, slouching down so he can stretch out. I cross one leg over the other to give him more under the table room. “So, our plan,” I started (and why do I always start with repeating what I just said?), “is to make Buffy jealous. Dean’s hot, right?” Okay, I guess I deserve the weird look from Sam. Like he wants to hear this. “There should be no problem trying to get some girl to wander over and make with the goo-goo eyes and the boobs.” Xander perks up at the mention of boobs. Typical Xander. Nice to know he’s in on the conversation, now.
Sam quirked a half-smile at Xander and shook his head. “Are you sure that’s going to work? Look at him.” He gestures to the dance floor with the bottle and our gazes follow. Dean is standing with his arms folded over his chest while Buffy ticks something off on her fingers. They really do look like a fidgety old married couple.
“And we have the perfect candidate.” Tara thumps Sam on the shoulder and grins. She’s so great when her mind kicks into plotting mode. She nods towards the bar and a dark figure waves back. Sam’s expression scrunches up as he tried to get a clear look at the girl… woman through the crazed crowd. And once her gets a clear eye full, his eyes get big. Oh, this is going to work great. I give her the super-covert operation hand signal, also known as the friendly wave, and she slides off of the stool and slinks through the mosh, parting it like some mythological wonder. She doesn’t even make eye contact with any of us as she brushes past, but I swear she ran her fingers through Sam’s hair.
“Sam, meet Faith. Sister slayer.” Tara raises Dean’s beer and waits for Sam to numbly join her in another toast before lifting the bottle to her very nice lips and swallowing.
- Tags:fic, tmi
- Mood:Lookin' foward to the weekend.
- Music:BOC - Flaming Telepaths