Fic: I Am What I Am (61/67)
Interlude 27: The Question and the Speech
*October 20th, 2015*
He had a speech. It was a nice speech, one he'd worked on for a long time. He was pretty good at giving speeches these days. He gave them a lot. Practice made perfect.
The speech flew out of his head along with just about every thought he'd ever had when he laid eyes upon her. All that remained was...
"Buffy," he said breathlessly. "Oh my God."
"You like?" she grinned, twirling in place. The thin black dress she wore hugged her every curve, snaking down her body and accentuating the supernatural perfection of a Slayer's body. She was absolutely stunning in every way. Her long blonde hair was worn down, cascading over her shoulders in gentle waves. Most women would wear their hair up for such an occasion. It was yet another advantage of being a Slayer.
It would seem only natural that many people, men and women alike, would be jealous of a Slayer. Buffy's age seemed permanently locked at an indeterminate state. Considering that she'd looked pretty much the same since her late teens, her physical age could be as young as sixteen, or as old as perhaps her early twenties. He'd realized a few years ago that what had seemed like aging in her younger years was more a result of the physical toll her body was taking in Sunnydale. By the time she was twenty, Buffy had lost a great deal of weight, and even her Slayer regenerative powers were having trouble keeping up. It wasn't until years after Sunnydale that she seemed to "snap back." Now he knew for a fact that if she weren't the world famous Buffy the Vampire Slayer, she would be carded at virtually every turn.
Most people, however, knew better than to be jealous of a Slayer. Even with the worldwide cooperation of some extremely powerful organizations, including his Protectors, Slayers still died young. Far too young. Buffy was still a rarity, and there were but a handful of Slayers over the age of thirty. Most were nowhere near as famous as Buffy herself, and most enjoyed pretending to be in their late teens whenever it suited them. They did, of course, have their Protector ID tags in case they ever needed to prove their actual age, or their Status as Slayers.
Xander himself was thirty-five, and unlike Buffy, he looked it. He was in great shape, a result of near constant training, working out, and actual field-work (when he could get some of the pencil-pushers to actually stop their whining and let him go out in the field.) His temples were slightly graying, and his face was harder than it had been in his youth. Crow's feet were beginning to form around his good eye, and the area around his bad one had become rather tighter, giving him a fiercesome look at times.
Xander looked her up and down as Buffy posed for him, standing coyly at the bottom step of the stairs. Her greenish-blue eyes sparkled as he stepped forward, putting his hands on her trim waist. She smiled at his touch, and put her arms over his shoulders, crossing her wrists behind him.
"Just a little bit," he said with a grin, kissing her lightly on the lips. She grinned as they kissed, letting the touch linger for a few moments. When it was over, he whispered into her ear, "You made me forget my speech."
A tug on the front of his jacket made him glance down to see she had stuffed several index cards into his front pocket.
"You're perfect," he informed her with complete sincerity. "You sure we have to go to this?"
"You're the keynote speaker," she said, rolling her eyes. "We can't skip this one like we did the last seven dinners."
"Not even if I promise to do the tongue thing?" he asked, waggling his eyebrows suggestively. "Twice?"
She stared off at the distance for a moment while he grinned lewdly, but then she shook her head, clearing the thought from her mind. She shook a finger at him. "No! Bad Xander. No dirty thoughts until we get home."
He chuckled and kissed her again. "That's gonna be difficult unless you take off that dress," he said. He looked up in thought. "Mmm, that's not a bad idea after all."
Buffy smacked his chest lightly. "Hush, you. Now come on, we're going to be late."
She grabbed the lapel of his jacket and led him out the door. He followed her like a lovesick puppy, entranced by her backside as they made their way to the limo.
The dinner was the nightmare he expected it to be. The rich and powerful of the world congratulating themselves for minor successes. As Xander took a look around the large room, he spotted only a few people who were genuinely part of the huge difference in the world of late. The others were mostly the slowly eroding elite of the Pre-Revelation world, desperately trying to maintain relevance in a global society that was beginning to see beyond such things. Humanity as a whole was gradually caring more about evolving as a culture and surviving against the onslaught of demonic invasion and supernatural evil than purely personal gain.
Most of humanity, that was. There would always be the dregs, and tonight Xander was stuck in a room full of them.
"Oh and of course Cynthia just had to get the latest nano-fiber treatment for her skin before it was tested, and wound up looking like a leather armchair for the better part of three weeks. I tell you, it quite ruined our trip to Bermuda," complained the man with the overly thick head of black hair. Xander tried to imagine how the man had looked before nano-fibers hit the market. You could always spot a bald man by the ridiculously over-thick hair he gave himself once he was able to afford the nano-treatment to reverse male pattern baldness. Sometimes Xander thought a toupee was far harder to spot. "I tell you, it was our worst holiday ever."
"Oh," Xander replied, idly swirling the soda in his glass and wishing he hadn't given up drinking years ago. "My worst holiday was when I was tortured for three days over Columbus Day weekend by this Ganklos demon named Sherlock. Although I guess popping his head like a grape kind of made up for it, wouldn't you say, Buff?"
Buffy nodded. "Oh yeah. The grape thing definitely made up for how he stuck you with hot pokers."
"I-I-I see," the man stuttered. "Umm, if you'll excuse me, I need to um, yes. Excuse me." He nearly ran from the table.
"A demon named Sherlock?" Buffy snorted when he was gone.
Xander grinned and shrugged. "It was the first name that popped into my head."
"You know, you shouldn't tease all the rich people," she said. "How else are we going to get funding?"
Xander frowned a little. "From the rich people who actually give a crap about other people," he said sourly. "Like Greg over there. Funny how he's not getting an award this year. I mean, he only single handedly-funded the Iowa settlements. Some of these assholes partially fund one settlement in like New York or France and they start slapping each other on the back like they're the greatest things since Elvis. I can't wait till some of that new legislation passes and we don't have to deal with these idiots anymore."
"Oh, come on," Buffy said in a tone of mock-admonishment. "Tell me how you really feel."
"Okay," he said, taking her hand in his and kissing it. "I feel like if you weren't here, I'd probably pop one of their heads like a grape."
"Aww," she giggled. "That's so romantic."
"Only the best for my Buffy," he said, kissing her hand again. He scooted his chair beside hers, and put his arm around her. She leaned her head against his shoulder and sighed, her arm wrapping around his middle.
Pop-Flash.
"Hey, Protector Harris!" grinned a red-headed young man with a Holo-Rec. "You don't mind if I take your picture, do ya?"
"Kind of late for that," Xander sighed.
"Aw, come on," the man said. "Can't run it without your permission, and this one's gonna come out great. It's real sweet." He pressed a button and their image floated in mid-air. Buffy looking quite content as she rested her head on his shoulder, and Xander smiling softly with his arm around her. He had to admit, it was a nice picture.
"It's up to Buffy," Xander said. She looked up at the young man and gave him a soft smile.
"I guess it's okay."
"Five by five!" he exclaimed. "Thanks a bunch!" Then he raced off to call his editor.
They sat together for a few more minutes, a miraculous few minutes where they weren't bothered or asked to make small talk. The speeches would be beginning within the hour, and Xander and Buffy wanted to just enjoy the romantic setting of the formal dinner.
"I really don't know how I'd do this without you here," Xander said, squeezing her to him. "You're just amazing."
"I like being here," she said simply. She closed her eyes as her head rested on his shoulder. "I like being with you."
"The feeling is more than mutual," he smiled, ignoring the whispers and looks they always seemed to receive.
"Xander?" she asked a moment later.
"Hmm?"
"I-I asked Jess something this morning."
He turned his head to better see her. "You did?"
She nodded, and he suddenly realized she was extremely nervous. "I-I thought I should ask her first."
"Ask what first?" he frowned.
"Ask if she, if she thought it was okay if-, if we got married."
"Oh," he said, blinking in astonishment. "W-What did she say?"
She turned to face him, her face close to his. She spoke in a whisper so no one else would hear. "She thought we were already going to. She wanted to know if she could have the bouquet afterwards."
Xander smiled, "You tell her she'd have to catch it?"
Buffy nodded, grinning despite her nervousness. "I said that, um, if you said yes, that we could practice in the backyard beforehand."
"So," Xander said seriously. "You're asking me to marry you?"
Her eyes were watering as she nodded. "Yes," she said in a whisper. "I know it's, you know, kind of weird."
Xander sighed. "You ruined my surprise."
"What?"
He grinned at her sheepishly. "I was going to ask you on your birthday. I got a ring and everything."
"Y-You mean, you want to?"
He laughed. "More than anything else in the world. I love you, Buffy. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. You've even got Jessica Harris approval. What more could I ask for?"
She looked from side to side. "How about an accomplice in breaking out of here so we can get back home, and you can do the tongue thing?"
His grin widened. "One second."
He stood up, picking up a champagne glass in one hand and a fork in the other. He tinged them together a few times.
"Excuse me, everyone!" he called over the bustling sounds of conversation. "I've got a quick something to say."
The buzz died down as all eyes turned to Protector Harris, perhaps one of the most respected and powerful men in the world.
"It's supposed to be an honor to speak here tonight," he said, his voice ringing out loud and clear. "But you know what? I think I'm gonna take off." He gestured with his thumbs to the back door. Beside him, Buffy grinned and covered her face in amused mortification.
"But you're the keynote speaker!" exclaimed a voice over the murmurs and harsh whispers.
"Yeah, I don't really care," Xander admitted. "This is all kind of silly anyway. Right now there are people fighting for their lives and fighting to protect yours. If we're going to have big fancy dinners to honor people, let's at least honor the people who are actually doing a fucking thing to help the world. Hey, Davis? Congratulations on your pappy being all rich and all, but the fact that you spent more on your third yacht than on contributions to help close the South African vortex kind of makes you an asshole. Meanwhile, Greg Billers in the back there actually manned a Sorenson Turret while defending the Iowa City main settlement, besides just funding it with ridiculous amounts of money. Lost most of his right arm, if I'm not mistaken. Glad to see the nanos fixed that up, by the way, Greg.
"We're not living in the world where 'Look out for number one' works anymore, gentlemen. Either everyone pulls together and starts working towards everyone's benefit, or we go down the tubes. If you want to make money and be successful, fine, more power to you. But if you're ignoring what's going on in the world, it's going to come back to bite you on the ass. You all lived through Revelation. You saw the shit that went down, and here you are sipping your drinks and congratulating yourselves that you've figured out a loophole to underbid for a settlement contract, which, by the way Walters, I cancelled this morning.
"Two thousand people died in Glasgow last month thanks to a new vampire clan that popped up. That means two thousand people dead, and two thousand more vampires. It meant sending Slayers and Protectors over there, and it meant diverting attention away from other, higher profile projects. Most of you didn't lift a finger to help in that operation, but you're sure as shit first in line to help out if Paris Settlement has a breach of one Polgara demon. Do you realize what could have happened if Glasgow had been left to it's own devices? If we just said, 'Fuck 'em, they aren't us, they can deal with their own problems?'
"Two thousand vampires turns into twenty thousand vampires inside of two weeks if they use any brains whatsoever. Twenty thousand vampires that could easily decide to besiege a settlement anywhere in the world. We don't live in America any more gentlemen. We live on Earth, and Earth is a major battle zone in the war between demons and human beings. You're the guys who lobby against the Chinese helping us to secure California, because you're afraid of what having Chinese troops in America could mean. Well fuck you. Slayers died in California because we didn't have enough people on the ground. The Chinese actually seem to have figured out that we're all in this together now. In fact, most of the world has. It's only the select few scared assholes with too much power and money that haven't figured it out yet.
"This is me telling you: figure it out, and figure it out fast. Otherwise, I guarantee you, I will figure it out for you, and you won't like that at all. Enjoy your dinner. I'm going home, where I'm going to make love to my fiancée, who has saved each and every one of your lives ten times over. Good night."
The crowd was in stunned silence when Xander finished. Only a few people, those Xander had pointed out as actual benefactors to humanity, gave him cautious smiles. The others merely sat there. The rich elite of the country had just found themselves the recipients of an official Xander Harris verbal tearing-down, and not a one of them had been prepared for it.
Buffy's face was red as an apple as she grinned behind her hands. Xander reached out for her, and she put her hand in his, rising to stand with him. He kissed her cheek, and whispered, "How was that for a speech?"
"I think the newspapers are going to go crazy tomorrow."
"Oh yeah," he said, as if he'd just thought of that. "I just told everyone we're getting married."
"Uh, actually I was talking about how you just told everyone that these guys were assholes."
Xander waved his hand. "Please. That's old news. Who didn't know that?" Then he smiled, took her face in his hands, and kissed her again. Both were oblivious to the sputtering outrage of the gathered guests as they left.
In the morning, their picture was on every newspaper and news-site, and holo-recs of Xander's speech were circulating the networks. Oddly enough, the headlines were almost all about the same thing:
Protector Harris and Buffy the Vampire Slayer were engaged. Apparently, "Dumb people chewed out" was not headline news.