Sunnydale, December 2002 - January 2003
Richard Castle, Watcher
Author: Starfox5
Rating: FR18
Crossover: “Castle”
Written for: TtH August Fic A Day Challenge
Disclaimer: BtVS/AtS characters belong to Joss Whedon/Mutant Enemy. Castle Characters belong to Beacon PIctures and ABC Studio. Please do not copy or take this story without my permission.
Summary: Christmas on the Hellmouth. It was an experience Castle could have gone without.
Sunnydale, December 2002
“I love you, Alexis! Merry Christmas!”
“I love you, dad! Merry Christmas!”
Richard Castle smiled and passed his cellphone to his ex-wife, then walked around the porch to the back. He didn’t feel like going inside yet. He wasn’t ashamed that he was crying, but… the mood inside was somber enough, no need to drag it down even more, on Christmas. Besides, Alexis and his mother were safe. Celebrating Christmas with his first ex-wife, a former colleague from work and a bunch of bloodthirsty college kids was a small price to pay for that.
He snorted. Many other men his age would be happy to be one of the few men in a house choke-full of girls, even though a primordial evil wanted to kill them all. A great number of such men would also be willing to exploit the situation, offer the girls a bit of comfort, or whatever the excuse would be. Not him though. He had principles. Morals. Standards. And a healthy respect for the Slayer and the potentials. Maybe a little bit of fear as well.
His gaze fell upon the shovel stuck in the earth near the target range for the flamethrowers. Maybe more than a little bit. He shivered at the memory of the ‘shovel speech’ the Slayer had given him after he had spent one evening talking about his books with Dawn and Willow, who were among his number one fans. As if he’d sleep with an underage teenager! Maybe he shouldn’t have shown them the scar from the first vampire he had met, but they had not giggled, or made jokes about love bites, but nodded in understanding. Though in hindsight, he should have stopped them from showing off their own scars. That had been so easy to misunderstand for someone who had just entered the room when Dawn had been lifting her shirt and Willow had been unbuttoning her blouse.
The redhead was not interested anyway - she was still wobbling back and forth between being interested in and scared of Kennedy. It would have been very entertaining to observe, if they hadn’t been facing the First Evil.
That was the real dampener for this Christmas celebration: the prospect of a battle for their lives that was hanging over all of their heads. It was hard to get a celebration going when death could await them all. Well, hard for the potentials and the other guests in Sunnydale - the ‘scoobies’, as apparently the core crew around Buffy called themselves, were old hands at ignoring such things when there was a party to be had. Even Rupert, and he had let split that Buffy was even worse on thanksgiving.
So, at least a few were having fun, and if Rick was right, the rest would follow, helped along by some liquid Christmas spirit. He wasn’t in the mood for that, yet. Nor to watch the potentials hanging all over Xander, Anya’s disapproval notwithstanding. Dear Lord, if he wrote such a passage in a novel, people would complain about turning ‘Vampire Hunter’ into a soap opera! A teenage drama, at that. He shook his head, chuckling at Gina’s possible reaction.
“Martha and Alexis send their regards.” Mary had apparently followed him, not understanding that he wanted to be alone. Not that she ever truly understood him. “Shouldn’t you be inside, impressing the underage girls with daring tales straight out of the Watcher’s Journals?”
Mary hadn’t taken the completely natural, if not so innocent interest of the potentials in a ruggedly handsome and rich vampire hunting author well. Probably because there was no similar interest in her. Her jealousy had always been her worst flaw. He turned his head to her. “Shouldn’t you be inside, telling them how to properly celebrate Christmas?”
“I left them the Watcher’s Handbook for field Christmas. They’ll be OK.” Mary answered.
Castle stared at her. “That was a decent joke, with self-deprecating humor even. California is good for you!”
“We British have always been good at gallow’s humor. You yankees just seldom get our jokes.” Mary shot back, and he could hear the edge behind her levity. She was tightly-wound, so he just laughed and didn’t escalate.
The two of them stared at the backyard, illuminated by the Christmas decoration that had almost cost two potentials their lives or at least pride before Xander had stepped in and mounted the ensemble without risking anyone’s life. The formerly pristine lawn had been turned into a battlefield - burned, trampled, even hacked to pieces in places by potentials getting trained by a veteran Slayer, a young man with the memories of soldier, and one former mass-murdering vampire who apparently regained his soul. Castle had known people tended to rediscover Christmas during the holiday season, but this was a success story the church probably wouldn’t want published.
“Do you think she’s sleeping with it?” Mary whispered.
“I think I’d rather not know, or think about such private details.” Castle answered. He knew Slayers had supernatural hearing, and vampires too. “Besides, didn’t Travers vet Spike years ago?” He was quite proud he didn’t add a few adjectives to Travers’s name.
“I am quite certain he didn’t know about that particular private detail.” Mary pressed out through her lips.
“No one else seems to have a problem with that,” Rick shrugged.
“Mister Harris and Rupert do not approve.” Mary stared at him with disapproval written over her face.
“They haven’t staked him yet, and given the way the locals seem to to voice their disapproval with lethal violence when they’re really serious, that’s as good as handing the bride over at the altar I’d say.” Rick shrugged again, and hid his amusement at her reaction. “Besides, he’s chained up in the basement. Although that doesn’t preclude some kinky action, of course.”
Marry sniffed at that remark, turned on her heels, and walked into the house. Mission accomplished. Rick sighed, then jumped up, gasping, when the Slayer revealed herself right next to him.
“For someone who does not want to know about my private life, you’re making with the speculation a lot.”
“Jesus! You almost gave me a heart attack!”
“Don’t worry, you’re not that old yet. And you’ll not be getting any older if I ever catch you with my sister, mister ‘I write tales about Watchers sleeping with teenagers’!” For someone who barely reached five foot, Buffy Summers could be very threatening. Mike Tyson would probably shy away from her glare, so Rick didn’t feel bad at cringing.
“I told you! I am not interested in Dawn!” he protested.
“She’s interested in you though. She always had a taste for men completely unsuited for her. Her first date was a vampire, you know.” The Slayer explained.
“Shouldn’t you be frightening her into staying a good girl then, instead of terrifying me?” Rick knew he sounded a bit petulant, but he couldn’t help it.
“Of course not. She’s my sister, if I tell her not to do something, she’d do it out of spite. Or you, in that case.” Buffy grinned with a slightly manic touch. “Scaring you though works!”
“You’d blame me for your sister’s faults? That is so unfair!” Castle pouted at her. She was probably joking. At least a bit.
“You’ve been married to Miss Watcher Handbook, you should be used to getting blamed.” With a wide smile, the Slayer nodded at the shovel in the corner, then stepped inside.
Caste had to ask Rupert how he had managed to not become an alcoholic living with those maniacs. Or, if Rupert hadn’t managed that, ask where he kept his stash.
*****
Sunnydale, January 2003
“We’re up against the First Evil. The force who invented the concept of evil. How many of us will die, screaming, in the battle? So many potentials have been killed already…” Eve sighed dramatically, and Castle was sure the girl was close to crying. And the rest of the potentials - their number had grown over Christmas again - were not doing much better. With the exception of Kennedy, who was putting the moves on Willow. She’d made progress over the holidays too, the redhead didn’t try to flee anymore when she was getting cornered by the rich girl. Still, she was not falling into the potential’s arms, and if she’d hold out another week, then Castle would win the pot.
“But we’re with the Slayer. We’re safe!” Rona answered Eve. The redhead, Vi, nodded.
Eve shook her head, hugging herself. Castle would have tried to calm her down, but each time he as much as took a step towards her, she was shying away from him. “She won’t be able to protect us. She can’t even protect her best friends, or their friends. Xander’s best friend was turned under her watch. Willow’s girlfriend was killed because of her. She's a danger to us all!”
“And you're dead!” Buffy was suddenly standing in the door, to his horror, Castle saw two daggers flying towards Eve - and passing straight through the girl, as if she was… oh, Buffy hadn’t gone crazy, but had been speaking literally.
Eve sneered at them, then laughed. “Finally found my corpse? It doesn’t matter. None of you will escape me!”
“We found her body. You’re not Eve, you’re the First! And we’ll kick your ass down to hell whenever you dare popping up!” Buffy stepped in front of the ... ghost? Projection? Illusion?
Laughing louder, the girl disappeared. Buffy turned around, addressing everyone. “Alright, we’ve been infiltrated by the First. She can take the form of any dead person you know. Knew. Whatever. But she can’t touch anyone. So, we’ll be using a buddy system, and touch ourselves a lot. I mean, each other.” The Slayer corrected herself while blushing slightly.
Xander nodded. “If you see someone alone, touch them. Even if you know they’re not dead, touch them. Get in touch with your inner toucher. Now’s the time to get all touchy but not touchy-feely.”
Most groaned at Xander’s puns, but a few of the girls looked very interested. A squeak from Willow told Castle that Kennedy had adapted the new policy enthusiastically.
“That’s touching, not groping.” Rick added.
“Actually, that pretty much was groping, “ Anya cut in. “Xander used to grope me all the time like that, and then we had sex.”
“A touching revelation we all would like to hear more about, but I’ll have to find Mary and inform her of this.” Rick knew a clue to exit the stage when he saw one. Martha’s rehearsals had seen to that. He took a step back, grinned at the coughing Xander, who was the center of attention now, and left the room before any of the underage hotties or former vengeance demons decided to grope him.
Author: Starfox5
Rating: FR18
Crossover: “Castle”
Written for: TtH August Fic A Day Challenge
Disclaimer: BtVS/AtS characters belong to Joss Whedon/Mutant Enemy. Castle Characters belong to Beacon PIctures and ABC Studio. Please do not copy or take this story without my permission.
Summary: Christmas on the Hellmouth. It was an experience Castle could have gone without.
Sunnydale, December 2002
“I love you, Alexis! Merry Christmas!”
“I love you, dad! Merry Christmas!”
Richard Castle smiled and passed his cellphone to his ex-wife, then walked around the porch to the back. He didn’t feel like going inside yet. He wasn’t ashamed that he was crying, but… the mood inside was somber enough, no need to drag it down even more, on Christmas. Besides, Alexis and his mother were safe. Celebrating Christmas with his first ex-wife, a former colleague from work and a bunch of bloodthirsty college kids was a small price to pay for that.
He snorted. Many other men his age would be happy to be one of the few men in a house choke-full of girls, even though a primordial evil wanted to kill them all. A great number of such men would also be willing to exploit the situation, offer the girls a bit of comfort, or whatever the excuse would be. Not him though. He had principles. Morals. Standards. And a healthy respect for the Slayer and the potentials. Maybe a little bit of fear as well.
His gaze fell upon the shovel stuck in the earth near the target range for the flamethrowers. Maybe more than a little bit. He shivered at the memory of the ‘shovel speech’ the Slayer had given him after he had spent one evening talking about his books with Dawn and Willow, who were among his number one fans. As if he’d sleep with an underage teenager! Maybe he shouldn’t have shown them the scar from the first vampire he had met, but they had not giggled, or made jokes about love bites, but nodded in understanding. Though in hindsight, he should have stopped them from showing off their own scars. That had been so easy to misunderstand for someone who had just entered the room when Dawn had been lifting her shirt and Willow had been unbuttoning her blouse.
The redhead was not interested anyway - she was still wobbling back and forth between being interested in and scared of Kennedy. It would have been very entertaining to observe, if they hadn’t been facing the First Evil.
That was the real dampener for this Christmas celebration: the prospect of a battle for their lives that was hanging over all of their heads. It was hard to get a celebration going when death could await them all. Well, hard for the potentials and the other guests in Sunnydale - the ‘scoobies’, as apparently the core crew around Buffy called themselves, were old hands at ignoring such things when there was a party to be had. Even Rupert, and he had let split that Buffy was even worse on thanksgiving.
So, at least a few were having fun, and if Rick was right, the rest would follow, helped along by some liquid Christmas spirit. He wasn’t in the mood for that, yet. Nor to watch the potentials hanging all over Xander, Anya’s disapproval notwithstanding. Dear Lord, if he wrote such a passage in a novel, people would complain about turning ‘Vampire Hunter’ into a soap opera! A teenage drama, at that. He shook his head, chuckling at Gina’s possible reaction.
“Martha and Alexis send their regards.” Mary had apparently followed him, not understanding that he wanted to be alone. Not that she ever truly understood him. “Shouldn’t you be inside, impressing the underage girls with daring tales straight out of the Watcher’s Journals?”
Mary hadn’t taken the completely natural, if not so innocent interest of the potentials in a ruggedly handsome and rich vampire hunting author well. Probably because there was no similar interest in her. Her jealousy had always been her worst flaw. He turned his head to her. “Shouldn’t you be inside, telling them how to properly celebrate Christmas?”
“I left them the Watcher’s Handbook for field Christmas. They’ll be OK.” Mary answered.
Castle stared at her. “That was a decent joke, with self-deprecating humor even. California is good for you!”
“We British have always been good at gallow’s humor. You yankees just seldom get our jokes.” Mary shot back, and he could hear the edge behind her levity. She was tightly-wound, so he just laughed and didn’t escalate.
The two of them stared at the backyard, illuminated by the Christmas decoration that had almost cost two potentials their lives or at least pride before Xander had stepped in and mounted the ensemble without risking anyone’s life. The formerly pristine lawn had been turned into a battlefield - burned, trampled, even hacked to pieces in places by potentials getting trained by a veteran Slayer, a young man with the memories of soldier, and one former mass-murdering vampire who apparently regained his soul. Castle had known people tended to rediscover Christmas during the holiday season, but this was a success story the church probably wouldn’t want published.
“Do you think she’s sleeping with it?” Mary whispered.
“I think I’d rather not know, or think about such private details.” Castle answered. He knew Slayers had supernatural hearing, and vampires too. “Besides, didn’t Travers vet Spike years ago?” He was quite proud he didn’t add a few adjectives to Travers’s name.
“I am quite certain he didn’t know about that particular private detail.” Mary pressed out through her lips.
“No one else seems to have a problem with that,” Rick shrugged.
“Mister Harris and Rupert do not approve.” Mary stared at him with disapproval written over her face.
“They haven’t staked him yet, and given the way the locals seem to to voice their disapproval with lethal violence when they’re really serious, that’s as good as handing the bride over at the altar I’d say.” Rick shrugged again, and hid his amusement at her reaction. “Besides, he’s chained up in the basement. Although that doesn’t preclude some kinky action, of course.”
Marry sniffed at that remark, turned on her heels, and walked into the house. Mission accomplished. Rick sighed, then jumped up, gasping, when the Slayer revealed herself right next to him.
“For someone who does not want to know about my private life, you’re making with the speculation a lot.”
“Jesus! You almost gave me a heart attack!”
“Don’t worry, you’re not that old yet. And you’ll not be getting any older if I ever catch you with my sister, mister ‘I write tales about Watchers sleeping with teenagers’!” For someone who barely reached five foot, Buffy Summers could be very threatening. Mike Tyson would probably shy away from her glare, so Rick didn’t feel bad at cringing.
“I told you! I am not interested in Dawn!” he protested.
“She’s interested in you though. She always had a taste for men completely unsuited for her. Her first date was a vampire, you know.” The Slayer explained.
“Shouldn’t you be frightening her into staying a good girl then, instead of terrifying me?” Rick knew he sounded a bit petulant, but he couldn’t help it.
“Of course not. She’s my sister, if I tell her not to do something, she’d do it out of spite. Or you, in that case.” Buffy grinned with a slightly manic touch. “Scaring you though works!”
“You’d blame me for your sister’s faults? That is so unfair!” Castle pouted at her. She was probably joking. At least a bit.
“You’ve been married to Miss Watcher Handbook, you should be used to getting blamed.” With a wide smile, the Slayer nodded at the shovel in the corner, then stepped inside.
Caste had to ask Rupert how he had managed to not become an alcoholic living with those maniacs. Or, if Rupert hadn’t managed that, ask where he kept his stash.
*****
Sunnydale, January 2003
“We’re up against the First Evil. The force who invented the concept of evil. How many of us will die, screaming, in the battle? So many potentials have been killed already…” Eve sighed dramatically, and Castle was sure the girl was close to crying. And the rest of the potentials - their number had grown over Christmas again - were not doing much better. With the exception of Kennedy, who was putting the moves on Willow. She’d made progress over the holidays too, the redhead didn’t try to flee anymore when she was getting cornered by the rich girl. Still, she was not falling into the potential’s arms, and if she’d hold out another week, then Castle would win the pot.
“But we’re with the Slayer. We’re safe!” Rona answered Eve. The redhead, Vi, nodded.
Eve shook her head, hugging herself. Castle would have tried to calm her down, but each time he as much as took a step towards her, she was shying away from him. “She won’t be able to protect us. She can’t even protect her best friends, or their friends. Xander’s best friend was turned under her watch. Willow’s girlfriend was killed because of her. She's a danger to us all!”
“And you're dead!” Buffy was suddenly standing in the door, to his horror, Castle saw two daggers flying towards Eve - and passing straight through the girl, as if she was… oh, Buffy hadn’t gone crazy, but had been speaking literally.
Eve sneered at them, then laughed. “Finally found my corpse? It doesn’t matter. None of you will escape me!”
“We found her body. You’re not Eve, you’re the First! And we’ll kick your ass down to hell whenever you dare popping up!” Buffy stepped in front of the ... ghost? Projection? Illusion?
Laughing louder, the girl disappeared. Buffy turned around, addressing everyone. “Alright, we’ve been infiltrated by the First. She can take the form of any dead person you know. Knew. Whatever. But she can’t touch anyone. So, we’ll be using a buddy system, and touch ourselves a lot. I mean, each other.” The Slayer corrected herself while blushing slightly.
Xander nodded. “If you see someone alone, touch them. Even if you know they’re not dead, touch them. Get in touch with your inner toucher. Now’s the time to get all touchy but not touchy-feely.”
Most groaned at Xander’s puns, but a few of the girls looked very interested. A squeak from Willow told Castle that Kennedy had adapted the new policy enthusiastically.
“That’s touching, not groping.” Rick added.
“Actually, that pretty much was groping, “ Anya cut in. “Xander used to grope me all the time like that, and then we had sex.”
“A touching revelation we all would like to hear more about, but I’ll have to find Mary and inform her of this.” Rick knew a clue to exit the stage when he saw one. Martha’s rehearsals had seen to that. He took a step back, grinned at the coughing Xander, who was the center of attention now, and left the room before any of the underage hotties or former vengeance demons decided to grope him.