Home for the Holidays?
Email from: Buffy Anne Summers
To: Everyone in her address book
Hey all!
I've been enjoying Boston, but something's come up and I'm going away for the holidays. Nothing to worry about I've still got email. I'm sure it's all OK.
Catch you when I get back!
-B
PS -- If you wanted to really impress somebody with your thanksgiving cooking skills, what might you cook? Not that I want to impress anybody. There's nobody to impress. Just boring holiday stuff.
/email
There was a lot to be said for hotel living, and Buffy had been enjoying the benefits of room service. And nobody even blinked when she staggered through the lobby at 5 AM after a long night of slaying. OK, most of the employees probably thought she was a call girl, but they weren't judging her or anything. She had developed a pretty good relationship with the bellman, and the girls at the desk -- although the people who always wanted to turn over her room at 11 AM, when she was still in bed, were maybe not in the fanclub. So she started leaving tips outside the door, tucked into the "Do Not Disturb" sign. Once she heard one of the maids mumbling to the other, "Who lives here, a vampire?"
This morning, when she stumbled into the room, she saw a note stuck under the door, and assumed it was from housekeeping. But as she picked it up, she noted the lavender-colored stationary, and that it was a piece of stamped mail -- originally addressed to Anne's shelter in L.A., then forwarded to Todd Campbell's corporate address in Boston, and finally to this hotel room, in handwriting she recognized as her sister's. But the next thing she noticed was the return address: Hank & Trish Summers, and a street address in Washington, DC.
She ripped open the letter to read:
Dear Buffy --
We were thrilled to hear from Dawn that you are back in the USA. I'm sure that your travels have been very educational, but as time goes on, you are not getting any younger, and it is time to emulate your sister and start thinking seriously about plans for the future. Perhaps this is the sort of thing we can discuss over Thanksgiving dinner? I don't think the ice capades are in town, but we have season tickets to the NHL team here in Washington. You know that both of my lovely girls are always welcome here!
-Dad
After it a scrawled P.S. I can't wait to meet you! Hank has said so many wonderful things!
Hugs,
Trish
Buffy read and re-read the note, trying to make sense of it and then, even if it was 5 AM, dialed her cellphone.
"Dawn!" she cried as soon as her sister picked up. "You sent me this letter. What the --? Hockey tickets? He wants to have a college talk and give me hockey tickets? And who in the world is Trish?"
"Okay," Dawn mumbled. "It's five in the morning, psycho. And that letter just came in and I had it messengered over. I didn't even read it."
"Who's Trish?"
A long pause. "You have been away. It's not like we talk about Dad a lot. It kind of slipped my mind."
"You're coming with me, right? I can't march into this alone."
"I've got plans," Dawn said quickly. "I have such plans and. . .I was there for Easter, when you were wandering around Disney's Alternative-Universeland and. . . look, I'm all for you and me frying up a turkey, any time. But I've done my time in Dadsville for the year and. . .well, technically, he's not even my real father."
"Dawn. . ." Buffy pressed her lips together and counted to ten. "How many times are you going to use 'I'm really a mystical ball of energy' thing to get out of doing something you don't want to do?"
"As long as it keeps working for me?" Dawn offered. "Look, I'm not making you go. You can totally hang out with me on turkey day. I've been talkign to some friends, we're gonna throw something together.
Buffy bit her lip until it drew blood, then said pointedly, "You do not FRY a turkey." She sighed. "I have to go. I wonder if I could take --"
"The Immortal?" Dawn said helpfully. "Todd would totally make a good impression on parent-types."
There were about twenty seconds in which that seemed like a good idea, and then Buffy said firmly, "No. He's engaged. To like -- seven different people, apparently. And it's all been in the papers. That is not a way to make a good impression on my --" She tried the word out. "Stepmom? Hey, what's the chance she's a robot? Or a witch or. . .demon, give me something."
"Nope," Dawn said, then added, "I'm pretty sure she's a Republican. Now, sorry but. . .I'm thousands of years old, I need my beauty sleep."
Dawn hung up, leaving Buffy staring at the phone. Great, she thought, Just great. This is gonna be the best Thanksgiving EVER.
*OOC -- Buffy's pretty much going to be fic-only for the next month, while I finish up the semester. I will answer tags, but might be slow about it.
To: Everyone in her address book
Hey all!
I've been enjoying Boston, but something's come up and I'm going away for the holidays. Nothing to worry about I've still got email. I'm sure it's all OK.
Catch you when I get back!
-B
PS -- If you wanted to really impress somebody with your thanksgiving cooking skills, what might you cook? Not that I want to impress anybody. There's nobody to impress. Just boring holiday stuff.
There was a lot to be said for hotel living, and Buffy had been enjoying the benefits of room service. And nobody even blinked when she staggered through the lobby at 5 AM after a long night of slaying. OK, most of the employees probably thought she was a call girl, but they weren't judging her or anything. She had developed a pretty good relationship with the bellman, and the girls at the desk -- although the people who always wanted to turn over her room at 11 AM, when she was still in bed, were maybe not in the fanclub. So she started leaving tips outside the door, tucked into the "Do Not Disturb" sign. Once she heard one of the maids mumbling to the other, "Who lives here, a vampire?"
This morning, when she stumbled into the room, she saw a note stuck under the door, and assumed it was from housekeeping. But as she picked it up, she noted the lavender-colored stationary, and that it was a piece of stamped mail -- originally addressed to Anne's shelter in L.A., then forwarded to Todd Campbell's corporate address in Boston, and finally to this hotel room, in handwriting she recognized as her sister's. But the next thing she noticed was the return address: Hank & Trish Summers, and a street address in Washington, DC.
She ripped open the letter to read:
Dear Buffy --
We were thrilled to hear from Dawn that you are back in the USA. I'm sure that your travels have been very educational, but as time goes on, you are not getting any younger, and it is time to emulate your sister and start thinking seriously about plans for the future. Perhaps this is the sort of thing we can discuss over Thanksgiving dinner? I don't think the ice capades are in town, but we have season tickets to the NHL team here in Washington. You know that both of my lovely girls are always welcome here!
-Dad
After it a scrawled P.S. I can't wait to meet you! Hank has said so many wonderful things!
Hugs,
Trish
Buffy read and re-read the note, trying to make sense of it and then, even if it was 5 AM, dialed her cellphone.
"Dawn!" she cried as soon as her sister picked up. "You sent me this letter. What the --? Hockey tickets? He wants to have a college talk and give me hockey tickets? And who in the world is Trish?"
"Okay," Dawn mumbled. "It's five in the morning, psycho. And that letter just came in and I had it messengered over. I didn't even read it."
"Who's Trish?"
A long pause. "You have been away. It's not like we talk about Dad a lot. It kind of slipped my mind."
"You're coming with me, right? I can't march into this alone."
"I've got plans," Dawn said quickly. "I have such plans and. . .I was there for Easter, when you were wandering around Disney's Alternative-Universeland and. . . look, I'm all for you and me frying up a turkey, any time. But I've done my time in Dadsville for the year and. . .well, technically, he's not even my real father."
"Dawn. . ." Buffy pressed her lips together and counted to ten. "How many times are you going to use 'I'm really a mystical ball of energy' thing to get out of doing something you don't want to do?"
"As long as it keeps working for me?" Dawn offered. "Look, I'm not making you go. You can totally hang out with me on turkey day. I've been talkign to some friends, we're gonna throw something together.
Buffy bit her lip until it drew blood, then said pointedly, "You do not FRY a turkey." She sighed. "I have to go. I wonder if I could take --"
"The Immortal?" Dawn said helpfully. "Todd would totally make a good impression on parent-types."
There were about twenty seconds in which that seemed like a good idea, and then Buffy said firmly, "No. He's engaged. To like -- seven different people, apparently. And it's all been in the papers. That is not a way to make a good impression on my --" She tried the word out. "Stepmom? Hey, what's the chance she's a robot? Or a witch or. . .demon, give me something."
"Nope," Dawn said, then added, "I'm pretty sure she's a Republican. Now, sorry but. . .I'm thousands of years old, I need my beauty sleep."
Dawn hung up, leaving Buffy staring at the phone. Great, she thought, Just great. This is gonna be the best Thanksgiving EVER.
*OOC -- Buffy's pretty much going to be fic-only for the next month, while I finish up the semester. I will answer tags, but might be slow about it.