That 70's Slayer - Aug 2
Twisted Shorts August Fic-a-Day Challenge - Day 2
Title: That 70's Slayer
Author: shieldage
Rating: FR13
Crossover: BtVS/That 70's Show
Disclaimer: BtVS by Whedon and Mutant Enemy; That 70's Show by the Turners and Casey-Werner Productions
Summary: Donna's been having nightmares and bursts of super strength. New faces in her quiet suburban life open her up to a greater world, but she still has her friends - right?
Characters: Donna, Bob, Eric, Fez and some surprise visitors from Buffy's side of reality
Word Count: 1730
In the Point Place suburb of Green Bay, Wisconsin, Donna Pinciotti woke from yet another nightmare, her pajamas bathed in sweat. This one had one of her friends winning against her in hand-to-hand combat, ending with the victor snapping her neck. Shivering despite the warmth of the room, she changed into some fresher clothes and headed for the kitchen in hopes of a midnight snack.
Reaching for the fridge door left her with a sudden flashback to the subway poles on the train her dream self had died in. A loud shatter and clanging sound broke through her involuntary reverie and looking down she found that she'd pulled the fridge door off its hinges and was holding the fully loaded shelves as if they weighed nearly nothing. She dropped the entire thing in shock and then smacked her forehead, as this had made the mess on the floor just grow larger and brought her frizzy-haired father charging into the room, demanding to know what was going on.
"Dad, I'm alright," she said. "I just had a nightmare and this happened. Let me grab some towels and we can clean this up, but I'd rather not talk much until I can sleep some more."
Bob sighed. "We're okay, sweetie. I know you're a growing girl but we're running out of the funds set aside for house repair with all the doorknobs you've crunched. This is probably going to cut into our vacation. Could be a lot worse, though. And if turns out that you happen to have access to strength-enhancing drugs with few side effects, you could do worse than dealing your old man in, as I'd really love to show up Red..."
"Dad!" Donna palmed her face and shuffled away from the spreading pool of foodstuffs on the floor to the sound of her dad's laughter.
Donna happily waved at the smoke drifting in front of her face as the circle of friends hanging out in Eric Forman's basement erupted in another round of laughter.
A brightly lit coal fell to close to her friend across the table and he gathered his suede jacket closer to himself. "Hey, thanks for the new jacket but it doesn't mean ya can just set this one on fire just because you bought it," James said with a wary smirk.
"The jacket was a woman's anyway." Fez snorted.
"So's your real name, Mister -" James droned on with a long string of syllables while Donna's attention was distracted by Eric's hair.
Fez gasped in anguish. "That's only because my mother's grandmother was Fyarl and she didn't expect most people to recognize the name!"
James shook his head. "Sure, just keep telling yourself that, little 'Princess Crushing Hammer of the Crimson Stained Lilies.' "
"Whoa," Steven chortled, diving in for a high five. "Best adopted amnesiac big brother ever."
"Hey!" Fez pounded his fist on the table. "He's staying with my host family so I get dibs on claiming him as a brother - even if he is a dumb-ass!"
"No!" Eric pounded the table at a quieter volume. "We do not use that word under this roof. That's ten cents in the 'No turning into Eric's father' jar."
Grumbling, Fez flicked a dime into the jar in the corner and returned to the serious business of getting heavily stoned.
Eric was walking Donna home when a figured stepped from out of the shadows of a stand of trees into the street light in front of them. It was a short and older man, who tipped his grey hat in their direction.
Donna stood still, something striking her as familiar in his gaze.
The man opened his long coat and stretched it out to reveal an inner lining full of loops and bands sheathing a number of throwing knives and sharpened stakes. "A blade for the fine lady," he asked with a grin.
Eric frowned. "Old guy with pointy sticks and worse. I think we should back away slowly and run when we're out of throwing range."
Donna shook her head as she reached out and put her hand to Eric's chest, pushing him a step back towards his house. "No, I think I recognize what's going on. You run on home, alright? This may actually be good news for me."
"Oh, if you're s-sure?"
"Hey, I'm Donna Pinciotti." She nodded firmly "I'm always sure."
The man in the hat coughed into his fist with some muffled laughter.
"So, you're one of the Watchers I've been dreaming about." Donna said to Watkins as the man introduced himself in his rented apartment over a cup of tea.
"Yes. We're happy to have tracked you down. Sorry it took us so long. They say a Slayer is called where she is needed and we're frankly not sure why you are here... The demonic activity in Green Bay is pretty much wrapped up in organized crime with little of it breaking into violence on the streets. There are recent reports of vampiric activity targeting muggers and other lowlifes but as there actually hasn't been a trail of corpses left behind it's not exactly a high priority."
"Huh. So, I guess I'll be moving to the big city when I graduate?"
"Unlike a lot of Slayers it seems you may have the chance to make it that far... Well, you're eight hours from the local Mouth of Hell in Cleveland, Illinois, and much, much farther from the Cleveland Mouth of Hell across the pond in Middlesbrough - sorry, little Watcher joke there - in any case there hasn't been a serious attempt to open either in a decade or so as they've pretty much entered their dormant phase."
"Well." Donna sighed. "That's good, right?"
Watkins shrugged tentatively. "One can only hope."
Donna was doing a solo patrol of the Green Bay streets when she heard some fighting in an alleyway. Slipping her hand into some brass knuckles, the weighted metal having proved a better offense against the local ChagNoth demons then the usual edged weaponry, she casually slid around the corner.
Freezing in shock, she saw James throwing a man half again his size against a brick wall and burrowing some suddenly appearing fangs into the throat of another. "Yo," he stated, catching a glimpse of her once his mouth was free. "Turns out I'm a vampire. Isn't that great?"
"Yeah, that sounds like something that's possible," Donna warily said as she patted one of the pointier weapons concealed in her coat. "Fez and his host family are really great about inviting strays into their home so you fit right in?"
"I know. Took me ages to figure out why I was so strong and kept breaking stuff, not to mention my little sunlight allergy." James approached her with a jaunty spring in his step, oblivious to how close he was to getting staked. "Brilliant that you're here, though! It's so hard finding enough people who deserve to be a few pints lighter on my own, but with you patrolling with me as my 'defenseless' bait, they'll be queuing up to get knocked down."
"Hey." Donna punched him in the shoulder.
"Fine. My 'beautiful darling' of 'pure innocence and light' too fair for these mean shoreline streets." He extended his arm with a wink.
Donna snorted and looped her arm through his. "That's better."
"So, this is what we need to restore my memories?" James asked, nodding to the odd construction held by the friend of Watkins he and Donna had called in to help.
The man in the long coat nodded. "It's an all-purpose restorer for causes unknown. There are rumors of avenging spirits one can invoke before they head into battle and of shadows granting the wishes of children who cry in the dark. We may never know the reason you lost your memories but I assure you this is the best way to retrieve them if this is what you really want."
"It is." James nodded as he accepted the cube-shaped Orlon Window. "Thank you," he said, turning to Donna with a roguish grin. "Definitely could not have survived so long in the wilds of suburbia without you and your lot."
"Any time," Donna said, her voice wavering and her smile fragile as if she was about to cry.
With a final nod, James smashed the Orlon Window to the ground, his face bursting with its familiar ridges as his memories returned. James, no, Spike, ran a hand through his bleached hair, still staring at the ground as it occurred to him where he'd seen the man in the long coat before...
Raising his head, he had time to glimpse the crossbow in Donna's hands before she shot him through the heart.
"Well," Donna said, walking to the ashes of Spike's remains. "You were a great friend. I'm sorry it ended this way. I'm sort of happy I helped you get what you wanted, but, the old version of you? I can't let a killer like that roam free..."
She stared down at the floor, her eyes moist, until a hand patted her on the shoulder.
"It's done," said Crowley, Nikki Woods' former Watcher. "You've avenged many, many lives. I hope her son will have a better path ahead of him, once the dark need for revenge that I've already seen in his eyes has been washed clean by fresh tears."
"Right." Donna nodded. "James kept Nikki's jacket in his room... You should take it back to Robin..."
Besides the description she'd given of Spike's hair, the reappearance of the stolen jacket had been enough to confirm the vampire's identity in her first phone call to the ex-Watcher.
Crowley smiled faintly, thinking of the boy he'd taken in following the death of his mother, one of the longest lived Slayers of their time. "No, it's best if you ask Robin yourself. The boy needs closure and right now you're the only one who can give it to him. Besides, while it's ultimately his choice, I think she would have wanted you to keep it."
"Thanks." She shrugged and gave a bittersweet laugh. "I can only imagine Eric's reaction once he sees me wearing it now that 'James' has skipped town... No, Donna, it's not healthy. Oh, Donna, why didn't he leave me anything? Donna, do you think he's going to be okay? What if he gets cold..."