Gamepost / Sunnydale AU: The Monday after

[mm_adiva]

Okay, say what you like about prom, but the clean-up committee did astounding work.

[ooc: The Sunnydale AU strikes again! This is the Monday after the demon prom. Or it isn't -- maybe it's just Monday at Sunnydale. Continuity is for suckers, obviously.]

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[border_prince]

James is mostly circulating the hallways when he's not in his classroom - there's too much to see and look for, too much mess to clear up (more metaphorically than literally; the clean-up crew really did do a great job) for him to want to stay still any more than he has to.

His ankle, however, though it's beginning to feel less stiff, will only take so much, so eventually he stops to rest for a moment or two in the faculty lounge.

It's mostly empty when he sits. Students aren't the only population at Sunnydale High that took a hit at the prom.

[stillbecoming]

Mostly empty, but not quite. There's clanging in the kitchen, although the source of the noise is hidden from view by the ancient refrigerator (which looks like it's been through a few wars, and possibly has).

A few moments later, somebody spins from behind it into view, although somebody's face is actually hidden by the stack of pizza box, doughnut box, carton of orange juice, plate, and handful of napkins in somebody's arms.

[border_prince]

James isn't sure if he should offer to help carry anything or not. He'd hate to startle . . . somebody . . . into dropping everything if she didn't hear him come in.

He debates for a few seconds, then decides that, when precarious stacks of food and kitchenware are involved, silence is golden.

[stillbecoming]

Still blithely unaware that anyone else came into the lounge during her impromptu pot percussion session, Buffy manages to teeter everything onto the single square foot of counter without any casualties. Which puts her back to the couch.

She opens the pizza box, and peers inside. And sighs. To herself: "The eternal question. Students or demons?"

[border_prince]

James raises an eyebrow at that.

And, since the stack is (relatively) safe on the counter, he says,

"I don't think the demons were all that interested in the pizza."

He is right about all except one of them. There's always one ready to spoil the image of the rest of the group.

[stillbecoming]

Buffy whirls around quickly enough to validate his decision to keep quiet before. And stares at him.

After a moment's silence:

"I-I just meant -- you know, they can be little monsters. Pizza-stealing monsters. You know, like...are they students, or demons?"

[border_prince]

It's - not the most convincing cover he's ever heard. This pleases him. He's been hoping, especially since the prom, to find others who know the truth about Sunnydale.

McKinley is a vampire, soul or no, and Hannibal is a student. They don't exactly count, by James's reckoning. Not for what he has in mind.

"The demons usually have horns on," he says helpfully. "That's how I tell."

[stillbecoming]

Her eyes narrow.

Another long moment passes before she says, carefully, "Then you mostly run into kind of a limited range of demon."

If he's just joking, so is she. That's her story.

[border_prince]

"True," James agrees. "I hadn't actually seen too many of them in person before prom. Mostly it's been vampires since I got here." And since he started putting two and two together and figuring out what was really going on. And that it wasn't aliens.

It is true that his very first demon, the one he'd almost fatally mistaken for an Arcateenian, did not have horns.

[stillbecoming]

She relaxes a little. Around the shoulders.

"Well, as you may have noticed, Sunnydale has twelve cemeteries." And also a Hellmouth! "It's like the vampire equivalent of one of those big commercial farms with the irrigation system and the helicopter pesticides."

[border_prince]

"Might as well install a factory for processing," James agrees. "Still, I'd like to think I've managed to throw some sand in the gears every once in a while."

The Hellmouth is, in fact, what caught Torchwood's attention in the first place. They thought it was another Rift.

Which, in a way, it sort of is. James is deeply grateful that it lacks the Rift's taste for spitting out random objects. He can just imagine what it might produce.

[stillbecoming]

The empty pizza is forgotten. More unfortunately, so is the less empty carton of orange juice. Buffy's attention is entirely on him.

"What kind of sand are we talking?"

[border_prince]

"Not much," James admits. "I think I've killed a dozen or so. Drop in the bucket. What I used to do back home - well, it was a bit different, but I worked with a team. Always someone to back me up. It's hard going by myself out here."

The lack of Hellmouth isn't the only reason why he really misses Cardiff sometimes.

[stillbecoming]

And indeed, Buffy doesn't look especially impressed by his count, although this is at least in part because she's a little distracted. "It's also dangerous," she says, after a quick glance toward the door.

She really hopes nobody walks in right now.

"And really makes me wonder what you used to do back home."

[border_prince]

"Top secret things," James says, somehow matter-of-fact and apologetic at the same time. "Didn't involve teaching biology."

Usually.

Of course, if she's interested in the idea that's been coming together in his mind, and he decides she should be part of it, he'll have to tell her why he happens to have an underground base full of stuff right out of science fiction just hanging around at his disposal. But, one step at a time.

"A bit outside most people's experiences, though. Made it easier to accept what I was dealing with here."

[stillbecoming]

Buffy turns around out of sheer exasperation -- she hates top secrets that don't include her -- and is confronted with the sad remains of what was once a delicious pizza.

She tosses it in the trash. And looks at the orange juice, and sighs. "You want in on this?"

It contains a lot of Vitamin C!