Final Chapter of Silence of the Hams. WHEW.
And aren't you glad? Now that I've alienated 95% of my flist... Remember: it's a READING LIST. If you need to knock me off, feel free, no harm, no foul.
Here we go! Previous chapters under the cut, disclaimer, etc. with the first chapter.
One
Two
Three
Four
Five
Six
Seven
Silence of the Hams
Cast of Characters:
Clarice Starling - Buffy Summers
Dr. Hannibal Lecter - The Mayor
Jack Crawford - Rupert Giles
Jame Gumb - Revealed To Be "Spike" aka William the Bloody
Dr. Fredric Chilton - Principal Snyder
Catherine Martin - Cordelia Chase
Sergeant Boyle - Faith
Frederica Bimmel - Harmony Kendall
Senator Martin - Wesley Wyndam-Pryce
Nerds from the Smithsonian - Jonathon/ Andrew
Ardelia - Willow Rosenberg
Barney the Orderly - Xander Harris
Multiple Miggs - Angel/Angelus
Sergeants Boyle and Pembry - Mr. Trick/Allan Finch
PART EIGHT
[SETTING: Buffy is in her car, racing to the address that she found in the case file, cell phone wedged in her ear. She is calling Giles to relay the new information.]
Buffy: Giles! Giles, I found out his name it’s-
Giles: Buffy, listen. The Council has decided that you are too much of a liability. We like to control our weapons, and you are clearly out of-
Buffy: Giles, LISTEN TO ME! I got the guy’s name! His address!
Giles: (pained voice) I’m sorry Buffy, but you’re out of the Council. I’m terribly sorry. I’ve done all I can. Oh, also, I’m heading out to a neighboring town to trap and catch the JC Penny’s Killer. We have new information that came from an anonymous tip, no reason to distrust an anonymous tip, correct? If you’d like, you could do a little digging. Get some background information so we have all the evidence we need? Could go a long way to getting you back into the Council. (Hopeful voice)
Buffy: (sitting in her car in front of William the Bloody’s house, tapping her fingers on the dashboard with a bored look on her face) Yeah. I’ll do just that.
Giles: Excellent. And Buffy... I’m terribly sorry.
Buffy: Yeah, yeah, yeah.
[CUT TO: Extreme closeup of Spike’s face from the nose to his chin - he’s applying white makeup to his face with a sponge. Celine Dion is playing in the background - it is his “transformation” music. He lines his lips with vivid red liner, fills them in with color, then gives it all a top coat with Dr. Pepper lip-smackers.]
Spike: I’d fuck me. I’d fuck me so hard and then I’d cry and bat my eyelashes and say “Cor, Blimey” and sigh with love and peace and be happy for ever and never be mean again.
[CUT TO: Velvet chair shaped like a high-heel where Cordelia is still bound. She has a ponytail in a bandana-print scrunchy on top of her head with bad makeup on her face. There is an orange base line at her chin. She looks terrible, but is determined.]
Cordelia: Put this damned drug-store crap on me? I’ll show him. Kitty! Here, kitty kitty! (She whistles)
[CUT TO: Spike’s workroom where he is finishing adding false eyelashes. The camera pans to the side where a basket of kittens gambol. One adventurous little puss scampers out, presumably towards Cordelia.]
[CUT TO: Cordelia, whistling, agony and desperation on her face]
Cordelia: Kitty? (Whistles) Come on, damn cat! Kittykittykitty...
(Wee little white cat scampers to her feet, playfully attacking her shoes)
[CUT TO: Spike’s workroom. He pulls out a camera, sets it up on a tripod, turns it on, and starts swaying to the music, blowing kisses at the lens. EXTREME CLOSEUP as he leans in, and adjusts himself - we can’t see anything but his face, tongue sticking out with concentration. The Celine Dion song builds to its crescendo, “‘Cause I’m your laaaaaaaaady!!!!” as Spike steps back, arms out, head up, and we finally see his vision of himself. He is dressed in a kimono, the obi miraculously tied in mere seconds - obviously a butterfly obi, which is pre-tied. In case that’s not common knowledge.]
Spike: (whisper sings) And you are my maaaan...
[CUT TO: Cordelia making a sweet face and cooing to the kitty, while trying to grab it with her feet.]
Cordelia: Kitty, kitty- HA! Gotcha! (She traps the kitten with her feet and flips her legs up a bit, sending the cat into an arc and where it lands between her legs and scampers to her crotch) Ahhh! (She clenches her legs around it as it gives a yelp before settling in and purring)
[CUT TO: Spike, rubbing his nipples under the kimono, still singing Celine Dion. He starts at the kitten’s yelp.]
Spike: Princess? (He reaches over and turns off the music, leans his head out of the room) Princess?
Cordelia: (we don’t see her, only hear her voice) Out here, you disgusting freak!
Spike: PRINCESS!? (Runs out and finds Cordelia with the cat trapped in her thighs, points a shaky finger at the kitten) What’s my pussy doing in your crotch?
Cordelia: Eww. Oh, and I flipped it up here, so it’s probably hurt or something. I didn’t check because MY HANDS ARE TIED.
Spike: That’s my poker kitten! Don’t hurt it! It purrs in code!
Cordelia: You’re a cheater, too? What a waste of good bone structure. What the hell do you use kittens in poker for anyw- You know what? Nuh uh. I’ve done Pilates for years. One squeeze of these thighs and I’ll snap its neck.
Spike: Don’t you hurt my pussy!
Cordelia: Don’t you make me hurt your puss- Ew. Don’t you make me hurt your cat! He’ll never be able to play poker again! His little paws will drop the game pieces or whatever because he’ll be dead!
Spike: (vehemently) You don’t know what poker is!
Cordelia: You get me a cell phone and some Evian water in here NOW.
Spike: You are not the boss of me!
Cordelia: I am going to rub this pussy in between my thighs until it cries out in- (shudders) Dammit! Go get me a phone pronto! NOW.
(Spike races back to his “work room” to put on his Lee™ press-on nails so he can claw her eyes out. Maybe pull her hair a bit. That’ll show her. Then they’ll see. THEY’LL ALL SEE. He’ll take every single pretty girl in town and make them ugly, then he’ll be the fairest in the-
The doorbell rings loudly.
Spike starts, lets slip a high-pitched squeal and clutches his chest.
The doorbell rings again. Because it always rings twice.
Spike checks his makeup in the mirror - still on, still gorgeous - He is Becoming. Both definitions fit here. He races upstairs, shutting the basement door to block any sounds, and opens the door a crack.)
[CUT TO: Buffy on the porch, finger hovering over the doorbell - she doesn’t want to ring a third time, because that’s against the rules. The door opens slightly and a kabuki-masked thing pokes its head out.]
Buffy: Um, hello... madam? I’m looking for a “William” that supposedly lives here? I have some questions I need to ask about the disappearance of a girl from town a few weeks back. Does he live here?
Spike: (eyeing the very pretty blonde in front of him - he’ll NEVER be prettier than her - unless...) Harmony? Hmmm. Oh, wait. Was she a great big bratty person?
Buffy: (small smile) Yes. She was a bit of a bitch.
Spike: William is inside. Won’t you please come in?
(Spike opens the door wider and lets Buffy pass)
Spike: I’ll just move over by a mysterious doorway on the other side of the house and call him. (Begins walking away, a jaunty swing to his hips - he’ll show HER - and he continues speaking) So, does anyone have any information about those girls? The police don’t seem to have the first clue.
Buffy: That’s because the police are generally idiots.
(Looking at her surroundings while the Kabuki-faced woman’s back is turned she spots a few clothing tags that appear to have been torn off hastily and tossed on a table. A bag from Claire’s is lying on the table. Buffy stills. As the “woman” shuts a drawer, a tiny vibration causes a small tube of something to topple over and roll towards her. Instinctively she reaches out to catch it before it falls to the floor. She opens her hand. A Dr. Pepper Lipsmackers tube. Her whole body tenses.)
Spike: (still walking and now running his hand down his side in a seductive manner - he’s a slow walker, okay?) Okay, I think I’m ready to call him now.
Buffy: (slips the tube into her pocket unnoticed) Very good. May I use your telephone?
Spike: (smirks, tucks his tongue behind his teeth™) Sure. Sure you can use my telephone.
Buffy: (leaps into a roundhouse kick, fists and arms outstretched) Freeze!
Spike: (ducking neatly under the kick) I will not!
Buffy: Yuh huh! (Swings her arm to connect with his face)
Spike: I won’t! (Blocks her arm) And “yuh huh” isn’t even a word!
(Spike breaks free, kicks off his shoes at her, ducks behind the door and seemingly disappears. Buffy trips over the shoes - thick soled Japanese-style flip-flops - and races down the stairs and hallway in hot pursuit.)
Cordelia: (voice over - we don’t see her yet) Oh my god, is someone here? I’M IN HERE! Oh, GOD he has me in a poly-cotton blend! HELP!!
(Buffy makes her way down the hallway to an open, centrally-situated room and sees the gaudy chair in the middle, and the girl strapped to it, a cat curled up in between her legs.)
Buffy: Cordelia? Daughter of Senator Wyndam-Pryce?
Cordelia: Yes! Okay, that’s a game we play, but yes!! Tchuh. I mean, hello! My last name is Chase.
Buffy: (hands up in a fighter’s stance, ready to do damage, still surveying the corners, back hugging the wall) Well, you could have your mother’s name but- (stops) Game? I don’t want to know. Did you see where she went?
Cordelia: SHE?
Buffy: William the Bloody! Spike! Did you see where he went?
Cordelia: Okay, all I care about it me getting out of these cheap and itchy clothes and washing my face. My pain is overwhelming my ability to help you, so quit the chatter, get a key, and get me the hell out of here!
Buffy: Yeah. I’ll get to you in a minute.
Cordelia: What? No! You get me out of here NOW. Oh, nice highlights, by the way. Winter’s Ash number 4?
Buffy: (twirls a lock around her finger) Yeah! It brightens my face a bit more than the caramel tones, you know?
Cordelia: No, it doesn’t. But if you get me out of here, I’ll take you to my girl and she can help you not look so last season, k? (Bright smile)
Buffy: (a beat) Yeah, I’m going to go find the cross-dressing freak, okay? You can stay there with your pussy- GOD. With your crotch-cat and I’ll get to you in a bit.
(Buffy checks a door cautiously and slips in, eyes frantically scanning the room for signs of our Spike. Cordelia is yelling and calling Buffy names in the background.
In the room we see various costumes hanging: a Roman soldier’s armor and skirt, multiple kimonos, a loin cloth, a prom dress circa 1987 in vivid purple with a double bubble and a butt-bow. Buffy begins to be frightened. Any man that would wear that is not in his right mind. Just as her eyes light on a green and blue sequined mermaid gown, the lights cut outsuddenly - instant blackness.
Buffy slides her hand up the wall and flips the light back on.)
Spike: Hey! (He is standing on the other side of the room, hand on the other switch-plate)
(The lights go out immediately - frightening blackness.)
Buffy: (sighing, and flipping the light back on) Cut it out!
Spike: YOU cut it out!
(Instant blackness)
Buffy: (flipping them back on) SERIOUSLY. CUT. IT. OUT.
Spike: NO! (Instant blackness)
Buffy: Okay, I trained for this. I can be blindfolded and take you out if you try and get close, bud.
Spike: Well, I guess I’ll have to do this at a distance.
(He pulls out a gun - the action switches to slow-motion. He uses his thumb to release the cylinder, pulls out a few bullets, loads them into the chambers, and flicks his wrist to pop the cylinder back into the gun - big mistake. The bullets come pouring out of the back, giving Buffy just enough indication of where he is - and more importantly what he is up to.
Buffy - still with the slow motion - reaches into her side-holster and pulls out a 9 inch stick. She flicks her wrist and a long ribbon uncoils and drapes on the floor. Buffy knows she needs to get down so if any bullets remained, she’ll be out of firing range. Slowly she sinks into the splits, ribbon twirling in large, graceful circles over her head. She hears Spike’s cursing and flicks the ribbon at where she imagines the sound to be coming from.
The ribbon connects with something solid just as she completes her splits, she yanks, Spike pulls the trigger as the gun is pulled from his hand - a shot rings out. The gun goes flying, hits the light switch, the room is flooded with light. She sees that the bullet grazed his shoulder, but he is such a big girl’s blouse, that he has passed out from the shock of pain.
End Slo-Mo.
Buffy moves quickly to bind Spike’s hands behind his back and grabs her cell phone, punching in a few numbers hastily.)
[CUT TO: Front of Spike’s house, ambulance on the lawn, Watcher’s Council members discussing the situation, some taking notes, and then out of the front door we see Cordelia being led away by two women, both using cleaners to wipe off the makeup from her face.]
Cordelia: And he totally didn’t match my skin tone, and baby blue! BABY BLUE EYE SHADOW! Does this olive complexion LOOK like it wants baby blue? Oh, my HAIR! I need Aveda or Elizabeth Arden NOW.
(She is hustled into a car and off to Red Door for a series of spa treatments.
Buffy walks out of the house, spies Quentin Travers and Rupert Giles arguing)
Buffy: Hey. HEY! Could you two quit with the Tweed-Off for a second? We got him. Oh, wait. I got him. You’re welcome.
Giles: (beaming) Yes, you did. Excellent work, Buffy, just excellent.
Travers: I see from your preliminary report that you used my splits/ribbon technique to disarm the assailant?
Buffy: No. You do the easier lunge split. I did a straddle split, which allowed me greater flexibility to move my upper body. So? What’s going to happen to him?
(A stretcher rolls past with Spike strapped down, IV attached and bloody dressing on his shoulder. He’s moaning in pain.)
Giles: (whips off glasses, rubs them with a cloth) He’ll be treated for his wounds - a scratch, really, such a titty-baby, you’d think he’d been gutted with a linoleum knife. He’ll go through some intensive therapy to remind him that he’s a man, that he is quite muscular and mannish in figure, so cross-dressing would just look foolish on him. He’ll never be Frank-n-Furter on stage, that’s for damn sure. It takes a certain type of man to pull that off. He is not that man.
Buffy: Uh.... Huh?
Giles: (waving a hand distractedly) Basically he’ll be re-integrated into society KNOWING that he’s a man and to act as such. Of course, this will do nothing for his violent tendencies, but the real challenge now is to get him to stop with the makeup, the bawling, the dresses, and the competition with all the pretty girls in town. There are plenty of men who will want what he has to offer, he needn’t disfigure lovely women to get it.
Buffy: ...yeah. Okay, I have some serious ice-cream eating and corn-row removing to do with a friend. Later!
Travers: (hollering out to her as she climbs into her vehicle) Wait! You have a formal report to file! There are papers! Forms!
(Buffy mimes not being able to hear, shrugs, and peels out, singing.)
Buffy: “Well, she was an American girl... Raised on promises...”
(The camera watches her car drive down the street, turn left, and out of view as Tom Petty continues to play.)
THE END.
And a happy birthday and a well-made cake to sweptawaybayou! I hope it's a great day filled with loveliness! *smooch*
Here we go! Previous chapters under the cut, disclaimer, etc. with the first chapter.
One
Two
Three
Four
Five
Six
Seven
Silence of the Hams
Cast of Characters:
Clarice Starling - Buffy Summers
Dr. Hannibal Lecter - The Mayor
Jack Crawford - Rupert Giles
Jame Gumb - Revealed To Be "Spike" aka William the Bloody
Dr. Fredric Chilton - Principal Snyder
Catherine Martin - Cordelia Chase
Sergeant Boyle - Faith
Frederica Bimmel - Harmony Kendall
Senator Martin - Wesley Wyndam-Pryce
Nerds from the Smithsonian - Jonathon/ Andrew
Ardelia - Willow Rosenberg
Barney the Orderly - Xander Harris
Multiple Miggs - Angel/Angelus
Sergeants Boyle and Pembry - Mr. Trick/Allan Finch
PART EIGHT
[SETTING: Buffy is in her car, racing to the address that she found in the case file, cell phone wedged in her ear. She is calling Giles to relay the new information.]
Buffy: Giles! Giles, I found out his name it’s-
Giles: Buffy, listen. The Council has decided that you are too much of a liability. We like to control our weapons, and you are clearly out of-
Buffy: Giles, LISTEN TO ME! I got the guy’s name! His address!
Giles: (pained voice) I’m sorry Buffy, but you’re out of the Council. I’m terribly sorry. I’ve done all I can. Oh, also, I’m heading out to a neighboring town to trap and catch the JC Penny’s Killer. We have new information that came from an anonymous tip, no reason to distrust an anonymous tip, correct? If you’d like, you could do a little digging. Get some background information so we have all the evidence we need? Could go a long way to getting you back into the Council. (Hopeful voice)
Buffy: (sitting in her car in front of William the Bloody’s house, tapping her fingers on the dashboard with a bored look on her face) Yeah. I’ll do just that.
Giles: Excellent. And Buffy... I’m terribly sorry.
Buffy: Yeah, yeah, yeah.
[CUT TO: Extreme closeup of Spike’s face from the nose to his chin - he’s applying white makeup to his face with a sponge. Celine Dion is playing in the background - it is his “transformation” music. He lines his lips with vivid red liner, fills them in with color, then gives it all a top coat with Dr. Pepper lip-smackers.]
Spike: I’d fuck me. I’d fuck me so hard and then I’d cry and bat my eyelashes and say “Cor, Blimey” and sigh with love and peace and be happy for ever and never be mean again.
[CUT TO: Velvet chair shaped like a high-heel where Cordelia is still bound. She has a ponytail in a bandana-print scrunchy on top of her head with bad makeup on her face. There is an orange base line at her chin. She looks terrible, but is determined.]
Cordelia: Put this damned drug-store crap on me? I’ll show him. Kitty! Here, kitty kitty! (She whistles)
[CUT TO: Spike’s workroom where he is finishing adding false eyelashes. The camera pans to the side where a basket of kittens gambol. One adventurous little puss scampers out, presumably towards Cordelia.]
[CUT TO: Cordelia, whistling, agony and desperation on her face]
Cordelia: Kitty? (Whistles) Come on, damn cat! Kittykittykitty...
(Wee little white cat scampers to her feet, playfully attacking her shoes)
[CUT TO: Spike’s workroom. He pulls out a camera, sets it up on a tripod, turns it on, and starts swaying to the music, blowing kisses at the lens. EXTREME CLOSEUP as he leans in, and adjusts himself - we can’t see anything but his face, tongue sticking out with concentration. The Celine Dion song builds to its crescendo, “‘Cause I’m your laaaaaaaaady!!!!” as Spike steps back, arms out, head up, and we finally see his vision of himself. He is dressed in a kimono, the obi miraculously tied in mere seconds - obviously a butterfly obi, which is pre-tied. In case that’s not common knowledge.]
Spike: (whisper sings) And you are my maaaan...
[CUT TO: Cordelia making a sweet face and cooing to the kitty, while trying to grab it with her feet.]
Cordelia: Kitty, kitty- HA! Gotcha! (She traps the kitten with her feet and flips her legs up a bit, sending the cat into an arc and where it lands between her legs and scampers to her crotch) Ahhh! (She clenches her legs around it as it gives a yelp before settling in and purring)
[CUT TO: Spike, rubbing his nipples under the kimono, still singing Celine Dion. He starts at the kitten’s yelp.]
Spike: Princess? (He reaches over and turns off the music, leans his head out of the room) Princess?
Cordelia: (we don’t see her, only hear her voice) Out here, you disgusting freak!
Spike: PRINCESS!? (Runs out and finds Cordelia with the cat trapped in her thighs, points a shaky finger at the kitten) What’s my pussy doing in your crotch?
Cordelia: Eww. Oh, and I flipped it up here, so it’s probably hurt or something. I didn’t check because MY HANDS ARE TIED.
Spike: That’s my poker kitten! Don’t hurt it! It purrs in code!
Cordelia: You’re a cheater, too? What a waste of good bone structure. What the hell do you use kittens in poker for anyw- You know what? Nuh uh. I’ve done Pilates for years. One squeeze of these thighs and I’ll snap its neck.
Spike: Don’t you hurt my pussy!
Cordelia: Don’t you make me hurt your puss- Ew. Don’t you make me hurt your cat! He’ll never be able to play poker again! His little paws will drop the game pieces or whatever because he’ll be dead!
Spike: (vehemently) You don’t know what poker is!
Cordelia: You get me a cell phone and some Evian water in here NOW.
Spike: You are not the boss of me!
Cordelia: I am going to rub this pussy in between my thighs until it cries out in- (shudders) Dammit! Go get me a phone pronto! NOW.
(Spike races back to his “work room” to put on his Lee™ press-on nails so he can claw her eyes out. Maybe pull her hair a bit. That’ll show her. Then they’ll see. THEY’LL ALL SEE. He’ll take every single pretty girl in town and make them ugly, then he’ll be the fairest in the-
The doorbell rings loudly.
Spike starts, lets slip a high-pitched squeal and clutches his chest.
The doorbell rings again. Because it always rings twice.
Spike checks his makeup in the mirror - still on, still gorgeous - He is Becoming. Both definitions fit here. He races upstairs, shutting the basement door to block any sounds, and opens the door a crack.)
[CUT TO: Buffy on the porch, finger hovering over the doorbell - she doesn’t want to ring a third time, because that’s against the rules. The door opens slightly and a kabuki-masked thing pokes its head out.]
Buffy: Um, hello... madam? I’m looking for a “William” that supposedly lives here? I have some questions I need to ask about the disappearance of a girl from town a few weeks back. Does he live here?
Spike: (eyeing the very pretty blonde in front of him - he’ll NEVER be prettier than her - unless...) Harmony? Hmmm. Oh, wait. Was she a great big bratty person?
Buffy: (small smile) Yes. She was a bit of a bitch.
Spike: William is inside. Won’t you please come in?
(Spike opens the door wider and lets Buffy pass)
Spike: I’ll just move over by a mysterious doorway on the other side of the house and call him. (Begins walking away, a jaunty swing to his hips - he’ll show HER - and he continues speaking) So, does anyone have any information about those girls? The police don’t seem to have the first clue.
Buffy: That’s because the police are generally idiots.
(Looking at her surroundings while the Kabuki-faced woman’s back is turned she spots a few clothing tags that appear to have been torn off hastily and tossed on a table. A bag from Claire’s is lying on the table. Buffy stills. As the “woman” shuts a drawer, a tiny vibration causes a small tube of something to topple over and roll towards her. Instinctively she reaches out to catch it before it falls to the floor. She opens her hand. A Dr. Pepper Lipsmackers tube. Her whole body tenses.)
Spike: (still walking and now running his hand down his side in a seductive manner - he’s a slow walker, okay?) Okay, I think I’m ready to call him now.
Buffy: (slips the tube into her pocket unnoticed) Very good. May I use your telephone?
Spike: (smirks, tucks his tongue behind his teeth™) Sure. Sure you can use my telephone.
Buffy: (leaps into a roundhouse kick, fists and arms outstretched) Freeze!
Spike: (ducking neatly under the kick) I will not!
Buffy: Yuh huh! (Swings her arm to connect with his face)
Spike: I won’t! (Blocks her arm) And “yuh huh” isn’t even a word!
(Spike breaks free, kicks off his shoes at her, ducks behind the door and seemingly disappears. Buffy trips over the shoes - thick soled Japanese-style flip-flops - and races down the stairs and hallway in hot pursuit.)
Cordelia: (voice over - we don’t see her yet) Oh my god, is someone here? I’M IN HERE! Oh, GOD he has me in a poly-cotton blend! HELP!!
(Buffy makes her way down the hallway to an open, centrally-situated room and sees the gaudy chair in the middle, and the girl strapped to it, a cat curled up in between her legs.)
Buffy: Cordelia? Daughter of Senator Wyndam-Pryce?
Cordelia: Yes! Okay, that’s a game we play, but yes!! Tchuh. I mean, hello! My last name is Chase.
Buffy: (hands up in a fighter’s stance, ready to do damage, still surveying the corners, back hugging the wall) Well, you could have your mother’s name but- (stops) Game? I don’t want to know. Did you see where she went?
Cordelia: SHE?
Buffy: William the Bloody! Spike! Did you see where he went?
Cordelia: Okay, all I care about it me getting out of these cheap and itchy clothes and washing my face. My pain is overwhelming my ability to help you, so quit the chatter, get a key, and get me the hell out of here!
Buffy: Yeah. I’ll get to you in a minute.
Cordelia: What? No! You get me out of here NOW. Oh, nice highlights, by the way. Winter’s Ash number 4?
Buffy: (twirls a lock around her finger) Yeah! It brightens my face a bit more than the caramel tones, you know?
Cordelia: No, it doesn’t. But if you get me out of here, I’ll take you to my girl and she can help you not look so last season, k? (Bright smile)
Buffy: (a beat) Yeah, I’m going to go find the cross-dressing freak, okay? You can stay there with your pussy- GOD. With your crotch-cat and I’ll get to you in a bit.
(Buffy checks a door cautiously and slips in, eyes frantically scanning the room for signs of our Spike. Cordelia is yelling and calling Buffy names in the background.
In the room we see various costumes hanging: a Roman soldier’s armor and skirt, multiple kimonos, a loin cloth, a prom dress circa 1987 in vivid purple with a double bubble and a butt-bow. Buffy begins to be frightened. Any man that would wear that is not in his right mind. Just as her eyes light on a green and blue sequined mermaid gown, the lights cut outsuddenly - instant blackness.
Buffy slides her hand up the wall and flips the light back on.)
Spike: Hey! (He is standing on the other side of the room, hand on the other switch-plate)
(The lights go out immediately - frightening blackness.)
Buffy: (sighing, and flipping the light back on) Cut it out!
Spike: YOU cut it out!
(Instant blackness)
Buffy: (flipping them back on) SERIOUSLY. CUT. IT. OUT.
Spike: NO! (Instant blackness)
Buffy: Okay, I trained for this. I can be blindfolded and take you out if you try and get close, bud.
Spike: Well, I guess I’ll have to do this at a distance.
(He pulls out a gun - the action switches to slow-motion. He uses his thumb to release the cylinder, pulls out a few bullets, loads them into the chambers, and flicks his wrist to pop the cylinder back into the gun - big mistake. The bullets come pouring out of the back, giving Buffy just enough indication of where he is - and more importantly what he is up to.
Buffy - still with the slow motion - reaches into her side-holster and pulls out a 9 inch stick. She flicks her wrist and a long ribbon uncoils and drapes on the floor. Buffy knows she needs to get down so if any bullets remained, she’ll be out of firing range. Slowly she sinks into the splits, ribbon twirling in large, graceful circles over her head. She hears Spike’s cursing and flicks the ribbon at where she imagines the sound to be coming from.
The ribbon connects with something solid just as she completes her splits, she yanks, Spike pulls the trigger as the gun is pulled from his hand - a shot rings out. The gun goes flying, hits the light switch, the room is flooded with light. She sees that the bullet grazed his shoulder, but he is such a big girl’s blouse, that he has passed out from the shock of pain.
End Slo-Mo.
Buffy moves quickly to bind Spike’s hands behind his back and grabs her cell phone, punching in a few numbers hastily.)
[CUT TO: Front of Spike’s house, ambulance on the lawn, Watcher’s Council members discussing the situation, some taking notes, and then out of the front door we see Cordelia being led away by two women, both using cleaners to wipe off the makeup from her face.]
Cordelia: And he totally didn’t match my skin tone, and baby blue! BABY BLUE EYE SHADOW! Does this olive complexion LOOK like it wants baby blue? Oh, my HAIR! I need Aveda or Elizabeth Arden NOW.
(She is hustled into a car and off to Red Door for a series of spa treatments.
Buffy walks out of the house, spies Quentin Travers and Rupert Giles arguing)
Buffy: Hey. HEY! Could you two quit with the Tweed-Off for a second? We got him. Oh, wait. I got him. You’re welcome.
Giles: (beaming) Yes, you did. Excellent work, Buffy, just excellent.
Travers: I see from your preliminary report that you used my splits/ribbon technique to disarm the assailant?
Buffy: No. You do the easier lunge split. I did a straddle split, which allowed me greater flexibility to move my upper body. So? What’s going to happen to him?
(A stretcher rolls past with Spike strapped down, IV attached and bloody dressing on his shoulder. He’s moaning in pain.)
Giles: (whips off glasses, rubs them with a cloth) He’ll be treated for his wounds - a scratch, really, such a titty-baby, you’d think he’d been gutted with a linoleum knife. He’ll go through some intensive therapy to remind him that he’s a man, that he is quite muscular and mannish in figure, so cross-dressing would just look foolish on him. He’ll never be Frank-n-Furter on stage, that’s for damn sure. It takes a certain type of man to pull that off. He is not that man.
Buffy: Uh.... Huh?
Giles: (waving a hand distractedly) Basically he’ll be re-integrated into society KNOWING that he’s a man and to act as such. Of course, this will do nothing for his violent tendencies, but the real challenge now is to get him to stop with the makeup, the bawling, the dresses, and the competition with all the pretty girls in town. There are plenty of men who will want what he has to offer, he needn’t disfigure lovely women to get it.
Buffy: ...yeah. Okay, I have some serious ice-cream eating and corn-row removing to do with a friend. Later!
Travers: (hollering out to her as she climbs into her vehicle) Wait! You have a formal report to file! There are papers! Forms!
(Buffy mimes not being able to hear, shrugs, and peels out, singing.)
Buffy: “Well, she was an American girl... Raised on promises...”
(The camera watches her car drive down the street, turn left, and out of view as Tom Petty continues to play.)
THE END.
And a happy birthday and a well-made cake to sweptawaybayou! I hope it's a great day filled with loveliness! *smooch*