HSU Fic: "Don't Fear the Ripper"
Author: Donna
Beta: Meabh, Dande... maybe others?
Timeline: Before Emmy gets back from her vacation and before a certain Ho gets her hair back to red from brown. <g>
Rating: LHF! [Let's Have Fun!]
Summary: Crow and Tom do an experiment... with a "VR-5" twist.<g>
====================
"In a woods full of princes,
Freedom is a kiss;
But the prince hides his face
In dreams in the mist."
"These Dreams" -- Heart
====================
Boredom is a very dangerous state of mind. It's the Chaos theory in its purest form, with disaster written all over it more times than not. And when it's a bored 'bot -- particularly one Crow T. Robot -- be afraid, be very afraid. Especially if he can talk his buddy Tom into being his partner in crime, just like the old days back on the Satellite of Love...
"An experiment?!?" Tom shook his transparent bubble head. "Didn't we do enough of those with Joel and Mike? And what's wrong with helping Ken develop her super-high-tech long-lived under-water Swedish Gummy Fish storage unit?" Tom segued into the Swedish Chef for a moment. "Vee-da-sheer.... Ver-da-bis-ka-bor.... Vee-da-sheer-ver-da-ster-dor, bork, bork, bork!"
"Ken?" Crow cast around in sudden panic. "Forklift? Where?"
"Okay, I mean 'Kendra'. Jeez, get nit-picky, why doncha?"
"Yeah, whatever." Crow reached a long skinny robot arm to snag the palm pilot he'd appropriated from the absent Diva Dean. "Okay.. so we need some equipment and medical supplies -- Darry should be locking up in a few minutes. Bring a lock pick, and an equipment transport. And step on it, we haven't got all night."
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Tom Servo watched dubiously as Crow placed electrodes on HSU's Theatrical Director's forehead.
*Crow hasn't thought this out completely,* he thought, *and that means something's gonna go wrong. I mean, think about it... She's a wench; and besides, she and the General treat each other like siblings. What Crow proposes flies in the face of reality as they know it. Poor wench is bound to be severely squicked; and severely snarked out at Crow if and when she ever finds out about this experiment. And then there's the legal ramifications... We'd have fewer legs to stand on than Enron.*
Crow connected the last electrode to Donna's forehead, then leaned closer to whisper in her ear:
"Welcome to the game, Sydney Bloom."
"Huh?" Tom sprung back from his reflections. "Did you say something, Crow?"
"Um... no. Nothing... not a word."
Tom was sure Crow was lying; but since he hadn't really been paying attention and his sensory re-play was on the fritz since *somebody* had emptied a cup of espresso on him, he decided to let it slide.
"Shouldn't we get their permission before putting the General and Donna into this experiment?" Tom had watched Crow hook the General up to this weird looking machine that looked like something out of "Enterprise" about 10 minutes earlier. "And shouldn't there be an observer along to see that the experiment goes well, or at least a random element thrown in to make sure the results aren't skewed?"
"Are you questioning me?" Crow was in full Dr. Clayton Forester imitation mode now. "I didn't spend 8 years in evil parapsychology school to be questioned by a hopped-up fire-hydrant." Seeing the slight change in Tom's body language that was equivalent to putting his hands on his hips, Crow sighed wearily. "Oh, all right. We'll put in a free radical."
"Oh, good! How about Kendra?" Tom's voice was filled with glee. "Or... or... Giles. Yeah... this'd be right up his alley."
"Can't use Kendra," Crow murmured. "Tonight's song therapy night at the Cottage. And Giles?" The golden 'bot raised a hand to chin. "I dunno... he seems a little bit, well, STODGY for what I have in mind."
"Stodgy is good," Tom assured. "It will balance the whole exercise." He led the way out of Donna's Bag End II bedroom and down the hall. "Let's give him a call right now and..."
"Nooooo," Crow followed, staying Tom's hand before he picked up the receiver. "No, no, no, nooooooo. We'll knock him out and hook him up like we did the others. And why? Because I'm maaaad... MAAAD, I tell you! Bwahahahaha!"
"Crow, switch to unleaded."
"Bite me."
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Rupert Giles had just taken a tray of chocolate chip scones from his oven and was setting them on a parchment covered tray to cool off, the soft strains of "Sheherazade" by Nikolai Rimsy-Korsakov playing in the background.
Giles had planned a quiet evening at home doing what he loved best -- cross-referencing and enjoying hot Darjeeling tea and fresh scones. At least that was the plan; for all he knew, Dor would be calling at any moment to ask for advise on that spell she was preparing to use in combat against the Princess Chickens.
As the symphonic suite proceeded from movement II (The story of the Kalandar prince) to movement III (The young prince and the young princess), he heard the knocker battering his front door quite urgently.
"I'd best set another place," he sighed, stalking out of the kitchen and toward the front door. He raised his voice. "Coming!"
The knocking continued, more frantically.
"Bloody hell, this had better be good." he muttered, his hand on the door knob. "Yes, what is it?" But to his surprise, his eyes were greeted not by Dor but by a gangly gold 'bot with a hypo in it's hand. Before he could react, the needle had found a vein in his wrist and he was rapidly loosing a battle to maintain consciousness. As his surroundings swam drunkenly around him, Giles stumbled back into the foyer, trying to steady himself on one of the mahogany paneled walls. "Damn," he gasped, then darkness fell.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Within minutes, Giles had been moved to his bedroom, changed into his pajamas, and tucked snugly into bed... with little electrodes on his forehead to monitor his brain activity and peek in on the dream from his point of view. Crow and Tom had left for a neutral location to monitor the experiment undisturbed. In each of the subjects rooms, Crow had left a tiny web camera.
"Let the games begin!" Crow glanced at Tom. "Push the button, Max."
"Why don't YOU push the button?" The smaller 'bot huffed. "I'M not the one meddling in areas best left alone. So the General hasn't had his redhead fix lately. SO WHAT? This is.... This is just WRONG, Crow. "
"Jeez, are you always such a baby?" Crow pushed the button, then glared at Tom. "Why doncha just cry to your mama? Ya big baby."
Tom sniffled a few moments, then noticed movement on the three monitors.
"Look, Crow! They're entering R.E.M. sleep."
"This is where the real fun starts," Crow chuckled.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
The setting Crow had programmed in for this Virtual Reality / Dream session was a location well loved by most every woman on HSU campus, whether Ho, Wo, or Wench: it was a little club in Paris around the beginning of the 20th century called the Moulin Rouge and it embodied the Bohemian ideals of Truth, Beauty, Freedom, and Love.
Donna scanned her surroundings with fascination, then looked down at her clothing. She wore a lovely red dress -- the same one she'd drooled over since she'd first seen it in this film. The air pulsed with music, the sound of laughter and conversation, totally invigorating her.
Then she saw somebody she didn't expect to see; the General. He was stalking toward her in period costume, his hair dyed black.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Giles found his consciousness again as he was about to step out of the men's room. Absently, he glanced at his reflection and found himself in a very natty suit with a wing-collared shirt and bow tie, his brown hair combed back in his usual style.
"Must be dreaming," he thought aloud. "There's no other logical explanation as to how I came to be here." Then he laughed. "Well, as long as this is a dream, I might as well have a bit of fun." And just by thinking of it, a single diamond stud earring appeared in his left ear, glimmering in the light. Then he looked at his face and noticed a familiar gleam in his hazel eyes. "Good evening, Ripper. Time to come out and play."
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
The General had taken Donna's hand and given her a very sultry look, which made her feel more than just a bit nervous.
"General," she stammered. "Are you okay?"
"Let's dance," he purred, pulling the wench suddenly closer, much to her annoyance.
"Obi-Wan, knock it off! You *know* I don't like you like that... and you don't like *me* like that, either!"
But why was she starting to dance with him anyway? Donna was getting distressed now... she hated being out of control.
That was when a familiar stranger came into view exiting the Men's room...
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Ripper looked through Giles' eyes and caught sight of an attractive albeit somewhat annoyed redhead in a red dress being swung out onto the dance floor by a man who appeared to be the General.
"Curiouser and curiouser," he mused, then smiled wolfishly. "Perhaps a rescue bid by Ripper, the King of Seduction, would not be amiss."
He strolled over to the pair [for they couldn't truly be called a couple] and tapped the General on the shoulder.
"Good evening." He paused, taking in the woman's scintillating appearance with an appreciative wolfie smile. "Good evening," he repeated seductively, his eyes locking on the woman's. He was pleased to see her lips part slightly as a gasp of admiration passed them. "May I cut in?"
The General's growls went unheeded as the woman stepped out of his arms and toward Ripper; she held a hand out to him, her brown eyes shining.
"Yes," she breathed.
Ripper took the hand of his intended conquest, kissed the back of it as well as the pulse point, then led her to the dance floor as Valeria's version of "Rhythm of the Night" began. This dance of seduction combined a variety of Latin-influenced dances, gratuitous exchanges of body heat, and intense eye contact. Ripper was glad she'd said 'yes'; the woman seemed to be considerably more at ease since he had taken her hand.
She was smiling, her pupils dilating noticeably as they danced together.
Somewhere in the depths of his dream, Ripper found this seduction was becoming mutual and smiled longingly under this mystery woman's gaze.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
"NOOOOOOO!" Crow sobbed. "That wasn't supposed to happen! It was supposed to be the GENERAL and Donna, not Giles and Donna!"
"So much for stodgy," Tom snickered. "That Giles is a regular Don Juan. Who'd've thunk it?"
"Yeah, well... We'll try again tomorrow night."
"What do you mean *we*, Kimosabe?"
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Tom had been roped into going back and removing all the electrodes from the foreheads of the General, Donna, and Giles as well as removing the web cameras.
"They can't know this wasn't just a dream," Crow had decreed.
Tom switched Giles CD player back on and set it to track three. The gentle, romantic tones of "The young prince and the young princess" started again as he left the house.
A few moments later, Giles purred in his sleep; then his eyes flickered open.
"The dream is over," he sighed. "Pity." He sat up in bed, his brow knitting. "Now, what am I doing here? Wasn't I going to spend the evening cross-referencing?" He got out of bed and padded down the stairs and into the kitchen where the kettle was shrieking. He ran the last few feet to switch the burner off, then poured the kettle's contents into a corn-flower blue tea pot.
"Who *was* the girl? She looked so familiar," he reflected softly. "Eyes like honeyed Darjeeling tea... Is she real or is she a dream?" He poured himself a fresh steaming cup and stared into its depths. "We'll find her again, Ripper.. I promise you."
There are times when therapy and torture are almost indistinguishable, when the cure is nearly as cruel as the poison to be dispelled. No one knew this better than Kendra at that moment as her tender ears were assailed by the sound of a Water Buffalo with a very bad toothache; well, the nearest to that sound, anyway: Qui-Gon Jinn's singing. The fact that he was thinker than he drunk he was didn't help matters.
"I'll take you home a-GAIN, Kathleen...."
"ARGH!" The Water Ho with serious groping issues pulled a throw pillow from Dande's couch down around her ears as hard as she could, but it was snatched out of her grasp by the Force as wielded by the pain technician on duty... um, I mean the singer.
"You *do* wish to be cured, don't you little one?" He purred in most un-Jedi-like glee.
"Dande," Kendra pleaded, "*please* call off your dogs"
"Dogs?" Tipsy though he was, Qui-Gon wouldn't resist this prime opportunity. "Who let the dogs out?" He droned painfully. "Wooh-wooh-wooh-wooh-who let the dogs out?"
Soon after, the chaos was broken [or compounded] by a pounding at the door; it sounded as if the visitor wanted to escape Ceribus itself.
"Dande! Help me, you're my only hope " The panic-stricken voice belonged to Donna; Dande would know her wench sister's voice anywhere. "Open up, quickly! It's an emergency!"
She opened her front door and found Donna disheveled and shaking on her doorstep clad in a blue bathrobe, slippers, and rubber ducky pajamas. Dande ushered her visitor inside, noticing that she looked paler than usual.
"Are you okay, Doll?"
"No." Donna shuddered as Dande ushered her inside. "Have you got a minute or ten?"
"Well..." Dande considered her options; she still had another 45 minutes to go on Kendra's therapy, but Qui-Gon could sing to the Ho for a bit longer. That would buy her the time she needed to get Donna calmed down and find out what the frack was bothering her. It had to be something pretty disturbing to rattle The Unbreakable Jug. "Okay... let's go to the study. It has a couch, and Qui-Gon won't mind." Speaking of Qui-Gon, she turned back to her Jedi-Hubby. "Keep Kendra entertained until I get back, will ya, Mastah Dahling?"
Qui-Gon answered with a wink, then turned his attention back to Kendra.
"And now I shall render 'Kathleen' for you... ONE MORE TIME!"
"Oh, fook," Kendra sobbed. "Mommy..."
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
"I had a dream about the General... ack!" Donna continued once they were in private. "It was horrible; really squicked me out big time."
"Ssshhh," Dande soothed. "It's okay, Doll. We're gonna get you through this. Just tell me about the dream. What do you remember?"
"I was at the Moulin Rouge... and then the General asked me to dance and I said no but we danced anyway, and then this hottie... this drop-dead gorgeous guy with a diamond stud earring appeared and sorta cut in on us.... and... and.... I don't know..." Donna sighed in frustration. "It was so clear in some parts, so fuzzy in others, so it's gotta be a dream... right? Am I nutzen? Mew?"
Dande hugged the squicked wench.
"No, you're not nutzen. You're understandably rattled." She paused. "Okay, now about this hottie... what did he look like? Did you recognize him? What do you remember?"
"He seemed familiar," Donna murmured. "But I... I don't remember what he looked like. Would knowing that help?"
"It wouldn't hurt." Dande waved a hand toward the couch. "Make yourself comfy, Donna baby."
Donna laid back on the couch, then glanced over at Dande as she sat in a chair nearby.
"I hope this works," the redheaded wench murmured dubiously.
"It will." The Councilor smiled gently and leaned forward slightly. "Now, close your eyes for me, Donna baby; relax and just *breath." Donna did as requested, then Dande continued her instructions. "You're going back into the dream, Doll. But *this* time you're gonna remember it in detail."
"Okay," Donna shrugged. "Relaxing."
"Close your eyes and count backwards from 10 to 1; when you reach 1, you'll be focused and relaxed, and you will be able to remember everything about your dream."
"10, 9, 8..." Donna grew less and less tense as she went on, "7, 6..." her voice growing softer and calmer as well, "5, 4..." until she was back in the dreamscape. "3, 2, 1."
"Tell me what you see," Dande began. "Where are you, Donna?"
"I'm at the Moulin Rouge," Donna smiled, her eyes still closed, "and I'm wearing that gorgeous red dress Satine wore. There's music playing... and... the General's coming this way. He's dressed like Christian. He wants to dance with me."
"Do you want to dance with him?"
"No." Donna paused, letting out a gasp of admiration. "It's the guy with the diamond earring... he's... he's giving me a wolfie smile."
"Stay focused," Dande reminded. "What does he want?"
"He wants to cut in." Donna seemed to be on the edge of a thud.
"Do you want him to cut it?"
"Oh, yes."
"Do you recognize this guy?"
"Sorta."
"Focus and describe him to me in as much detail as you can."
"He's about 6 foot 1, left-handed, has brown hair, hazel eyes, and the most adorable wolfie grin I've ever seen." Donna paused, a sneaky grin stealing onto her face. "Nice butt, too."
"Have you seen him around Estrogen County?"
"I think so... yes. I definately have."
"Do you know his name?"
"Seasons don't fear the Ripper," Donna sang softly in reply, "nor do the wind, the sun, or the rain..."
*Ripper?? Shouldn't that be Reaper?* Dande leaned closer, keeping her tone as calm and neutral as possible. "What was that, Sweetie?"
"Some song by Blue Oyster Cult; I learned it in the '70's. And it's good, too."
"Anything else?" She paused, not wishing to lead Donna's mind to the wrong conclusion. "Focus..."
"Ripper," Donna whispered. "That's what he called himself." She smiled. "As in 'Bodice Ripper', it seems." A soft laugh, then, "Oh, yeah. Rip away, baby..."
"What do you think of Ripper?"
"I like him.. a lot. He's a wolfie, but he won't hurt me; I know he won't."
"How do you know?"
"I just do. Call it instinct if you like. I think he really cares for me."
"Look closely at his face," Dande insisted. "Who does Ripper look like?"
"Giles." Donna paused. "My friend, the tweedy book guy... but he's so shy." She laughed silently. "I've got to admit, though; I've had a crush on him for an awfully long time before this."
"What will you do about it?"
"I don't know. I'd like to talk to him and find out where I stand with him, but rejection hurts, you know? But since he's already a friend, there should be no harm in this."
Dande smiled, then stood up and crossed to the doorway.
"It's time to come back from the dream now," she announced. "You'll remember everything about the dream and everything we've spoken about, and you'll be rested and refreshed on the count of three. One... two... three."
Donna opened her eyes and smiled.
"This is so weird... but in a good way," she giggled as she sat up. "I'm not nutzen after all."
"You're just seeing what's been in front of your face all along." Dande returned to sit beside Donna on the couch and gave her a hug, which her friend returned. "Trust me, Donna baby... I've got a feeling it's going to work out for you and Giles."
"Awww, thanks Dande. I'll let you know how it goes."
"Yeah, DISH me, baby! Gimme the inside track... like what kind of cologne he wears, how good a kisser he is..."
Donna started giggling uncontrollably.
"DANDE!" She started calming a bit, then the giggles returned again full force. "You expect me to kiss and tell?"
"How else would you KNOW?"
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Obi-Wan Kenobi awoke in a tangle of black silk bed sheets, his arms and legs sprawled across his king size bed and half expecting to hear protests from the Ho he'd spent the night with for stealing all the covers.
But the protests didn't come.
*Why?* The General's eyes finally flickered open, but he closed them again immediately when a stabbing pain caught him just behind the eyes. *Shit, that hurts.* Then the next logical question came to him. *No Ho, but weird marks on my chest... And what was with that dream?* He got out of bed and padded off in search of coffee. *Force... that wasn't a dream,* he thought. *That was a conferenced Virtual Reality experience. And who would have the gall and the equipment to do that?*
The General stood his bare feet, black silk pajama bottoms, and black silk bathrobe, which hung open in front, displaying his chest. He reached for the hot coffee, but noticed the espresso machine. And his memory came flooding back.
"CROW! TOM!" The General stalked out of his quarters without even dressing and headed for the Dean's office.
As he pushed the door open, he saw Tom singing karokee while Crow watched a Kim Catrall movie on DVD.
Tom snapped to attention immediately, but Crow was so enthralled in the video, the only way Kenobi could get his attention was to switch the DVD player off..
"'Bots," the General drawled, "you've got some 'splainin' to do..."
"This is it," Tom sighed. "We're going to die."
"Waaaaahhhhhh," Crow half sobbed, half screeched, " RICKY!!"
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
The cross-referencing wasn't helping soothe Giles' nerves, so he had reached for his old acoustic guitar. He strummed it a bit before seeing where the music would take him. What song would call to him?
He was in the mood for John Lennon music, though he didn't know why.
"Long, long ago," he sang, his eyes closed to focus on the lyrics. "Was it all a dream? Was it just a dream? Well, I know... yes, I know. It seemed so very real... it seemed so real to me..."
He remembered the last time he'd heard that song; he'd put John Lennon's "Walls and Bridges" cd on as background music when Donna had been over for tea. They had gotten into a conversation in which they were comparing and contrasting John Lennon's poetry and lyrics with the complete works of William Shakespeare. He smiled at the thought of this, and of the memory of her reciting the "Budgie" poem from "In His Own Write" verbatim and completely off book.
"It appears I owe you lunch," Giles remembered chuckling, peering over his glasses at the Wench.
"Giles, you don't have to do that," Donna had grinned kindly. "I was in it for the challenge of the dare, not to make you spend your money on me."
And just as quickly, Rupert Giles was back in the present moment in his sitting room, his acoustic guitar in his lap, in his arms...
"Good Lord," he murmured abstractly. "You don't suppose...?"
He wasn't sure, but he couldn't think clearly where he was. Grabbing his leather jacket and a miniature crossbow, he left the old house, locking up after himself. He needed fresh air; to that end, a walk to clear his head seemed a very good idea at the time...
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
The General stood glowering at Tom and Crow, his arms crossed, his black silk bathrobe sitting open. In spite of the fact that he was suffering from that decease that made him look more like Lupin in full Werewolf form than himself, any Ho who had seen him giving the 'bots 'that look' -- grateful or ungrateful -- would have gone into total meltdown. With the possible exception of Emmy, who was still on that lovely little stretch of beach and blissfully unaware of all things going on at HSU and too pissed off at the General to give a rat's ass what he was up to!
"You know," he began, pacing toward Emmy's desk and seeing a framed photo laying face down, "by all rights, I should allow Sere and Julia to dismantle you again." He picked up the photo and glanced down at it absently; it was of himself and Emmy at a pool party last summer, back when they were still speaking. "But I'm going to let you off with a warning this time." He paused for effect. "And a time-out. Crow, no Kim Catrall movies for two weeks; and Tom, no karokee for a week."
"Hey! No fair!" Crow stood suddenly. "Tom's sentence is shorter than mine."
"That's because it was your plan, goldenrod." The General leaned closer to the 'bots. "Just don't *evah* do that again, or I *will* see to it that Sere and Julia dissembled you so thoroughly that not even your original designer will recognize you."
The two 'bots hastily agreed, and the General nodded in satisfaction before moving toward the office door with his patented "I really *am* all that" kind of strut. He had phone calls to make, he decided.
*Force,* he thought, *I wonder if Donna and Giles have any idea what happened, or if they think they had some strange dreams?* He sat in a black leather chair, his long legs draped over one arm and reached over to pick up the phone. *I should get them together and tell them what was really going on.* He punched the buttons of the phone's key pad and waited... and waited, and waited...
No answer for either one; either they were fast asleep, or out. He left them the same basic message.
"Hello, this is the General. I need to speak to you in person. Could you meet me at the Cabaret tonight at 8pm? It's very important..."
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
The gate onto the grounds containing Bag End II was gently opened by a man's strong left hand. Rupert Giles approached the round front door cautiously, a bunch of wild flowers clutched in his right hand. He swallowed in apprehension, worried that Donna may not be home and yet just as worried that she WOULD be home. He reached for the Claddagh door knocker, used it, and waited...
No response.
Then he rapped a knuckle against the door.
Silence.
"Donna?" He paused, biting his lower lip. "I... I need to speak to you," he stuttered. "It's quite imperative."
No response. Then he noticed the front door was unlocked and that the fire in the fire place was dying down to a collection of just so many embers among the ashes.
Giles was tempted to enter the renovated Hobbit hole, but thought better of it as he hadn't been invited. However, Donna had told him very often that he was always welcome...
"Damn," he sighed. "Being honourable can be a bloody nuisance sometimes..." Then he placed the bouquet into the mail box stems down and took a piece of paper from his pocket. Happy to see it wasn't written on, he scrawled a quick note and attached it to the flowers.
"With any luck, she won't think I'm totally daft," Giles sighed, then moved away from the front door and down the road toward the Estrogen County Cemetery.
No sooner had he disappeared from sight than Donna appeared from the opposite direction -- closer to the cottage -- and padded her way up toward her little hole in the hill. Pausing at the sight of flowers where there had been none previously, she took the bouquet of wild flowers from her mail box, only then noticing the note attached to it.
"Donna,
Please forgive the late hour; it's quite imperative that I
speak with you at your earliest possible convenience.
Yours as ever,
RG"
Donna felt her knees turn to water beneath her, her heart rate picking up speed.
"Get inside, *then* thud," she urged herself as she made her way inside, entering the kitchen and switching on the stove without a second thought. She opened the cupboard, let her hand linger on a jar of Taster's Choice for a moment, and then changed her mind and took out a little wooden box full of tea bags. "No Darjeeling... Jasmine will have to do."
Donna prepared the tea pot, then stumbled over to a wing back chair in her living room, collapsed into it, and thudded.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
The dry scent of faded flowers and dead leaves tainted the air of the Cemetery, its central mausoleum of pure white marble standing in for the moon, which was in its new stage.
A pair of Oxfords moved forward soundlessly, much to the continued relief of their owner. In his haste to leave the Old House and visit Bag End II, Giles had just remembered that he'd forgotten to pack along ammo for his cross bow.
"No bothers," he murmured to himself abstractly. "There weren't any ogres or Princess Chickens here according to last night's patrol." He fell silent for a moment at the sight of an adult human sized figure squatting on his heals on the brick wall behind the mausoleum.
This figure leapt down with the grace of a large cat and landed before Giles, who instinctively snapped into a martial arts ready stance.
"Hullo, Watcher." A middle to lower classed English accent belonged to this figure; a young-looking vampire with gaunt features and blond hair. "Fancy seein' you here."
"Spike..." Giles sighed in relief, but continued in exasperation. "Bloody hell. You're lucky the cross bow wasn't loaded."
"If I was lucky, I'd be gettin' some right now instead of talkin' to you!" To Spike's sadistic delight, Giles was blushing. "Sod that, mate! I don't swing that way!" As Giles stuttered and sputtered his protests and continued to blush, Spike leaned in the doorway into the Mausoleum. "Right," he muttered. "Out with it, Giles. What's on yer mind?"
Neither the Watcher nor the Vampire was particularly fond of each other; in fact, they were diametrically opposed. But Giles needed someone to talk to and needed to get a few things out of his mind.
"The concept of reality," the Watcher paused. "What *is* real? Just what our senses tell us, or can we include that which comes to us instinctively in our objective or subjective reality?"
"Philosophy ain't my strong suit, mate. Try spoutin' that mumbo-jumbo to the General or Mastah Jinn... No, wait; Jinn's probably had a bit o' his name sake tonight. Better wait 'til he's sober."
"General Kenobi was in..." Giles paled and stuttered a bit before continuing... "I... I mean, the General wasn't about."
"Kenobi was in what?" An evil gleam entered Spike's eyes; he was enjoying seeing Giles the Watcher reduced to a stammering wreck. Giles muttered his answer, but it was so inaudible that Spike laughed inside. "Awww, don't come all coy with me. Out with it!"
"A dream, " the Watcher relented, "a vision if you like.... Something that seems to have taken on a life of its own; it's become an epiphany of sorts for me. A life-changing experience, as it were..."
"An' it was about a bird, was it?"
"How do you...?"
"Easy." Spike pointed down toward Giles' crotch, smiling evilly. "You've pitched a tent, mate. You might get some if you play your cards right. Lucky bastard..."
"Good Lord." Giles blushed deeply.
"Don't be a sodding fool... get shagging!" Spike cocked an eyebrow.
Giles half laughed, half snorted, choosing that moment to clean his glasses.
"It's not merely about sex," Giles sighed, trying to sound stern as he put his glasses back on. "She's my truest confidant and my dearest friend. I... I love her."
"So shag your friend," Spike shrugged. "It's better than bloody shaggin' an enemy."
"In your own twisted way, you've made a great deal of sense." Giles circled Spike, then headed toward the gate again. "Thank you."
Spike watched Giles go with growing frustration. Finally he called after him.
"Watcher!" He paused as Giles turned to face him, then glowered a bit self-consciously. "Could I borrow one of those puffy training suits?"
"Training suit? You're a *vampire*... What would you need..."
"Just lend me the sodding suit," Spike snarled. "Think of it as your way to say, 'Thank you for helping me get laid, Spike'."
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
One of the many old covered bridges that encircled Estrogen County creaked and sighed with the weight of those who gathered there. Anyone who came upon it would be subjected to the sight of dozens of Princess Chickens conferring in low tones.
"Braaaaaak, brak-brak-brak-brak-brak-BRAK!" Their leader stepped forward, her head bobbing in time with her motions. She flapped her wings around, feathers flying into the air and turning it white and making it look as if Estrogen County had been hit by a minor blizzard. "BRAAAAAAK! Brak-brak-brak-brak-brak-brak-brak-BRAK-BRAK-BRAK-brak-BRAK!"
She skittered over to a flip chart and turned a page to reveal a picture of The General, immediately making possessive gestures, which her sister Princess Chickens mimicked. Yeah... they had designs on poor Obi-Wan... even with the Wookie make-over.
"Brak-brak-brak-BRAK!" She held up a plaid flannel shirt, when the other Princess Chickens saw it, they fell to their knees in total worship. Oh well... There's no accounting for taste. Their leader pointed a finger to her temple, indicating the imagined grandiose size of her brain, then flipped another page on the flip chart. This time, the image of Rupert Giles appeared and the Princess Chickens trembled... some with wacked out lust, but most in fear of what his knowledge of spell casting and demonology could mean to their plan.
The leader of the Princess Chickens held her wings aloft in a placating gesture, then indicated a mysterious figure standing in the shadows.
"BRAK-brak-brak-brak-brak-brak-brak-brak-braaaak-brak-brak-brak-braaaaaak!"
The figure loping forward; it soon became obvious that she was something not of this dimension. She was a Pooka... a human sized ferret waving an umbrella with a question mark shaped handle around like some kind of wand of power.
The Pooka made some strange noises that sounded something like "Grrr-ek-putt-putt," or possibly "Argle-barble-morble-whoosh", then pulled a sheaf of papers from thin air, handing one to each Princess Chicken. The list was titled: "Ingredients For Operation Counter-Counter Spell." It mostly included aphrodisiacs as well as a few lengths of dental floss from the General.
Dawn was just breaking when Pooka and the Princess Chickens set out to fulfill their sinister scavenger hunt, each of them donning cheap cheesy sunglasses to shield their beady little eyes.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
The first long, thin fingers of sunlight were reaching into the Old House's library, gently caressing a man's forehead as he slept. Rupert Giles had fallen asleep with his nose in a book yet again, which would not surprise anyone who knew him. In this case, the book contained "Love Song" by Rainer Maria Rilke in the original German. He had translated it effortlessly as he went:
"How can I keep my soul in me, so that
it doesn't touch your soul? How can I raise
it high enough, past you, to other things?
I would like to shelter it, among remote
lost objects, in some dark and silent place
that doesn't resonate when your depths resound.
Yet everything that touches us, me and you,
takes us together like a violin's bow,
which draws one voice out of two separate strings.
Upon what instrument are we two spanned?
And what musician holds us in his hand?
Oh sweetest song.."
Giles' leather jacket hung on the back of his chair, the miniature crossbow sprawling haphazardly on his desk across notes for a report to the Watcher's Council. As for the man himself, his hair was tousled and his glasses sat eschew on his face as he softly chuckled in his sleep.
"Hrmmmm.... Donna," he sighed, a drowsy smile forming on his face. "I *do* hope you haven't any pressing plans for the next few days, love, because I intend to keep you *very* occupied." He chuckled. "Just trust me... trust your Ripper."
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
"Pfffft.....ppbbbhhhaahh, ptttah, phaaaahhh!" Obi-Wan Kenobi spat his ever-growing hair from his mouth. It was getting in the way of everything, hindering his morning Katta and obscuring his sight.
*Didn't Sere tell me that Animae characters with psychic abilities were portrayed with hair in their eyes?* He almost laughed, running a hand through his hair to regard his surroundings. *If that's the case, then Force don't fail me now.*
Then straight from the "be careful what you wish for" department, the Force opened the General's third eye and he could see the Princess Chickens and the evil Pooka dispersing from their meeting place. He didn't know which covered bridge they were vacating -- they all looked the same to him! -- but what he *did* know was that the need for action was much more immediate than he'd originally thought. A flash of gold was clutched in the Pooka's hand; on closer examination, the General realized it was an effigy of Crow... Had the 'bot from been taken over? He couldn't risk it; the sooner he spoke to Giles and Donna, the better.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
The General had left Emmy's office hours ago, but Tom remained; in fact, he was there most of the night. In the early morning hours, he was going through applications, or had been until the phone rang. He answered it almost immediately.
"Good morning; this office is closed. Our normal business hours..." He began.
"Tom?" A woman's voice was on the other end... The 'bot recognized it almost immediately.
"Donna? It's 7:53am... What are you doing calling here at this hour?"
A moment later, there was a click and a carrier tone...
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Tom Servo found himself standing outside the Old House that Giles was renting; he was a respectful distance from the house, but Crow had his face against the window, peering in. For a split second, Tom thought he saw a tiny anthapamorphic ferret on Crow's shoulder, whispering to him. With a start, he realized there was another presence near him.
A redhead in a backless white velvet dress and gold chain mail jewelry with red drop gems approached him. Her brown eyes were aglow like gold stone or tiger's eye. With a start, Tom realized he recognized this woman.
It was Donna.
"Tom," she began. "I had a dream last night... but I have a feeling it wasn't *really* a dream. Am I right or am I wrong?"
"You're right," Tom murmured. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean you any harm."
"I forgive you, Tom," Donna sighed from fatigue. "As for Crow, he's going to need some down time."
"Donna.... There's something you should know about Crow. He's...."
She knew this was important, but was distracted by the sound of a piano playing the opening to "Maybe I'm Amazed"...
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
The music coaxed Donna into the glowing white room, which was inhabited by a man in jeans and a sweater -- both white -- playing a white baby grand piano.
"Baby I'm amazed at the way you love, me all the time; And maybe I'm afraid of the way I love you..."
Donna saw herself from a third person point of view: she was closing the shutters on the full length windows surrounding the room. Outside every window she obstructed was a gangly golden figure.
"Maybe I'm amazed at the way you're with me all the time; And maybe I'm afraid of the way I leave you..."
Once the shutters were closed, she went to sit beside the man playing the piano. He turned his face toward her, smiling warmly.
"Maybe I'm amazed at the way you help me sing my songs, you right me when I'm wrong; Maybe I'm amazed at the way I really need you."
Rupert Giles; he took his glasses off and moved toward her with the obvious purpose of kissing her into a state of oblivion. She reached up toward his face, her fingertips lightly brushed against his earlobe; but a spark of electricity arched between them when Donna's finger tips met Ripper's diamond earring.
Crackle...
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
In Bag End II an instant later, Donna removed a set of Virtual Reality goggled; her breathing was slightly labored and her eyes dilated from desire.
"Rupert," she breathed. Then a long pause as her mind processed what she had learned. "We *did* go dancing last night... The flirtyness and all those beautiful things he said; they were real. He *meant* it." Donna thudded.
When she came round, she was still at her computer desk. She looked at the Virtual Reality goggles hanging off her desk and lifted them back to where they belonged.
"Crow's been practicing VR conferencing... that must be it." She leaned back in her computer chair. "But that's dangerous, not to mention unstable... Like practicing astral travel on the median strip of a busy interstate. Doesn't he realize that?" Then she laughed with only a small measure of humor. "As if what I do is entirely safe..."
She picked up the phone's receiver and was about to move it from the modem back to its cradle when Donna caught the sound of a staggered dial tone; a sure sign of voice mail. After keying in her password, the system took over.
"You have... one... new message. To listen to your messages, press 1; to change your personal options, press 2; to disconnect, press star."
"Messages?" Donna pressed one.
"First message, sent today at 12:32am -- " A click, and then.... "Hello, this is the General. I need to speak to you in person. Could you meet me at the Cabaret tonight at 8pm? It's very important..."
"Oh, shit...." She slid her virtual reality gloves off, laying them on her desktop. "If Rupert was really there, then so was Kenobi. And if Rupert meant it... " She hung the phone back up, her face paling again. "Shit, shit, shit... this is wrong. It's.. it's just WRONG. That's incest... Eughy!" She shivered, pulling her knees against her chest and clutching them there as if to protect herself from the squicky images that flashed through her mind. "Not Kenobi... Don't want Kenobi... Where there is fear, there can be no love. Where there is no trust, there can be no love.... I don't fear Ripper... I trust Ripper.... Rupert, I wish you were here."
The phone rang immediately; Donna just stared at it for a moment, then snatched up the receiver. Any anxiety she felt was perfectly masked by her professional, smiling voice.
"Good morning, Bag End II."
"Donna, this is Obi-Wan..." The General sounded somewhat rattled; but why?
*Is he interested in me?* Donna shuddered, hoping that wasn't the case. *Maybe he want to make some casting suggestions for that up-coming production of 'The King and I' that I'm putting together for HSU's Theatrical Department.*
"Donna? Are you there?" There was worry in Kenobi's voice. "I said, 'Did you get my message?'"
"Yeah," she murmured hesitantly. "Just heard it. Why...?"
"There's been a change in plan. Meet me at the Cabaret IMMEDIATELY."
"But...."
"No time to argue. I must see you."
He hung up, leaving Donna staring at the receiver in her hand.
"Yeah.. have a nice day." She hung up. "Oh, shit. I think I'm gonna be sick..."
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
"Good Lord..." Giles started awake to the sound of his telephone bleating away on his desk. He stumbled to his feet, not even bothering to right his glasses, and almost lost his balance when he discovered the hard way that one of his feet had fallen asleep. "Hello?" He blinked, fighting to awaken a bit more quickly. "Ah, good morning General." He paused. "Hmmm?" Then started pacing a bit, more to get those confounded pins and needles out of his foot and restore circulation than from any sort of nervousness or disgust. "Indeed... Well, I.... I'll be glad to meet with you, certainly, but isn't...?" Giles paused, stopping in his tracks. "Yes, there is that, I suppose. Do I have time for...?" His eyes widened slightly. "I don't?" He sighed. "Oh, bother. Yes, General. I'll be there."
Giles grabbed up his leather jacket and made his way toward the front door, but paused. His eyes flickered back toward the kitchen.
"Damn his 'no time for breakfast'." He stalked into the kitchen and broke a single banana from the bunch, opening it immediately. "One should never enter negotiations on an empty stomach. It impedes the thought processes."
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Laure opened the door to the Cabaret, her sleep mask still half over her eyes.
Many of the erstwhile party-goers were still sprawled all over the floor in various states of dress and undress, an empty Absinthe bottle sitting upside down in an ice bucket.
The knocking became more insistent, much to the annoyance of Laure and company since they were all severely hung-over.
"Tell those mice to stop stomping their feet," Darry murmured, her voice sounding very strained as she squinted against the sliver of sunlight blazing through the front door. "Ngggh! Close the door..." She muttered an expletive, oblivious to Sere and Julia setting up a video camera. They had a feeling something big was coming.
The General swaggered into the Cabaret with Tom and Crow in tow. He cleared off the largest table with a sweep of his hand and a gentle nudge from the Force, then grabbed a chair and turned it around and sat on it with the back facing forward, straddling it like a motorcycle.
"Coffee... tea... " Kenobi murmured to Laure, his semi-hidden eyes like green lasers, intense and penetrating. "Annathang hot and containing caffeine."
"The Cabaret's closed," Chocolat murmured. "You want it, you get it. The kitchen's that way."
Rather than arguing with the behemoth, the General rose to his feet and stalked to the kitchen, returning a short time later with a carafe of each.
By then, the door inched open and Giles peered in, a half-eaten banana in his hand.
"Hello," he smiled, then indicated Laure's sleep mask. "Rough night?"
A glare and hands on her hips were all the hostess could manage. But even without her voice, Laure was very eloquent indeed.
"Oh, dear," Giles sighed. "I'll take that as a 'yes'."
"Mr. Giles," the General nodded by way of greeting. "Have some coffee."
"NO ESPRESSO!" Tom cowered in fear. "AGHHHHH!"
The door crept open again, and a pleasant faced redheaded wench peeked around the corner, her brown eyes scanning the room.
Laure grinned and hurried to greet her friend at the door with a hug.
"Laure! How's the voice?"
Laure knew just a look or a gesture wouldn't cut it, so she pulled out her handy-dandy white board and wiped it clean, then scrawled her reply in bright green erasable marker.
"It's still AWOL. Blame Darry."
Donna laughed.
"Glad you could make it," Laure wrote next, "but... you know, it's a lot more fun at night..."
"Oh, I don't doubt that." She grinned for a moment, then went totally serious. "The General called..."
Laure pointed absently toward the largest table.
"Psst," Chocolat hissed. "Be careful. The General's particularly anal this morning."
"Hardly a wonder," Donna shrugged. "Probably got the waistband of his shorts caught in that thick Wookie hair of his." She paused. "Has anyone suggested that he use Nair?"
The gentle giant laughed softly, then went back to cleaning up the mess resulting from the previous night's party leaving Donna free to continue toward the table.
*Once more unto the breech, dear friends,* she thought grimly.
Giles looked up from his coffee just as Donna started moving toward the table. He somehow managed to keep from spilling it by steadying the cup with both hands. Then he made eye-contact with her.
*There's something different there,* he thought. *Attraction? Affection? Desire? Confidence, perhaps?* Giles swallowed nervously. *Right. Pull yourself together, man. After the General's said his peace, you can tell Donna how you feel... first things first.*
"'Morning, General." Donna's patented playful grin changed into a warm, tender smile as she turned her eyes to Giles. "Good morning," she whispered.
*They remember something of their experience,* Kenobi reflected, *on a sub-conscious level, at least.*
"The reason I called you here is we have a problem. Actually several problems that might be related." The General rose from his seat and paced around. "First of all, there's this follicle enhancement."
"Did he say 'follicle' or 'phallical'?" Jen-Jen giggled.
"His hair," Donna translated, winking at Jen-Jen.
"Oh, yeah, that..."
"Then," Kenobi continued, "there was the unauthorized usage of experimental equipment which the Committee asked me to store here. I won't say what kind of equipment it is, because if I did, the results could be very messy. Suffice it to say that some 'BOTS can't leave well enough alone."
Crow sniffled.
"I'll come back to that in a moment... The most immediate concern, however, is the upcoming battle with the Princess Chickens. We *must* be ready for them. Since they've been known to use magic in the past, I've called Dor and asked her to get to work on a Counter Spell. They may also have the services of a Pooka -- a magical creature which may fall under the Demonology banner. Mr. Giles, I'll need your help to that end."
"I shall be happy to assist in any capacity necessary," Giles nodded solemnly.
"Now... one last thing..." Kenobi stopped pacing and came to stand before Crow. "I should turn you over to the Committee for what you did, or at the very least slap you with charges of Breaking and Entering..." He looked over at Giles and Donna, who had been exchanging glances on and off during his entire speech. "But something tells me that there may be some good to come from your breech in judgment. Perhaps the Force was using you to bring two people together." He walked over and put a hand on Donna's shoulder.
She flinched, biting her lip in fear, yet too stubborn a wench to show it. Instead, she started whistling a happy tune from "The King and I".
He guided Donna over to where Giles sat, put a hand on the Watcher's shoulder and urged them both toward a little table by the stage.
"I believe you two have something to discuss," Obi-Wan smiled.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Giles and Donna walked slowly to the table together; he held her chair out for her as she sat, then he sat across from her. Silence descended on them; each knew this could be their only chance to open up and tell the other their true feelings.
"He's right, you know." Giles licked his lips. *He who hesitates is lost,* he thought; then, pushing up his glasses, he looked at the wench again. His heart rate increased and he could feel an intense blush burning his cheeks. Finally, he cleared his throat and spoke up. "Um... Donna?"
She looked at him the way she had in that dream -- or Virtual Reality experience -- when he had asked if he could cut in.
Her reply was the same... but in the form of a question.
"Yes?"
All resistance fell away and they kissed tenderly, as if of one mind.
"Marry me," Giles gasped a few seconds after it had ended.
Donna looked at him wide eyed.
"Do what?" A ghost of a smile played around the corners of her mouth.
"Damn," Giles muttered. He stood and paced away from the table. "I... I... I mean... That... that was a bit presumptuous of me, wasn't it? Most indecorous." He swallowed. During his fluster, Donna had also left the table and moved to pace along with him. "After all, you're... you're my dearest friend... and... and... and..."
"Rupert," Donna placed herself directly in front of Giles, so close that they were almost touching. "The answer's 'yes'."
"She said 'yes'," he whispered. "She said 'yes'..." He laughed out loud, and pulled Donna close; Ripper emerging to gently finger comb her hair out of her eyes. "Mine."
"Mine."
Once again they locked in a passionate embrace.
Laure ran to stand behind Giles, grinning as she wrote her next question: "When's the date?"
Donna came up for air just long enough to murmur,
"We'll keep you posted, Laure."
Chocolat was passing by with an empty keg and leaned over to whisper to Laure.
"The Cabaret would be a wonderful place for their reception, don't you think?"
"Ah, face sucking," Tom Servo sighed. "Tongue fencing, tonsil cleansing... nothing quite like it, is there, Crow?
"Bite me."
Sere, Julia, and Laure held up what looked like Olympic scoring cards: 9.4, 9.7, 9.9.
"Sere's a tough judge," Tom reflected. "Must be all the equestrian events she does."
Darry growled low in frustration as she watched this display of blatant horniness.
"Oh, will you get a fookin' ROOM, for cryin' out loud?!?"
"What an excellent idea," Giles beamed, then started leading Donna away. "Right this way, please..."
"Lead on, Ripper darling." Donna left the Cabaret with Giles to get down to some serious boinking.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Epilogue:
Much later that day, the sound of soft breathing whispered in Rupert Giles' mahogany paneled bedroom. At peace, he and Donna lay asleep, her head against his chest. It couldn't be better... which is why the telephone chose that moment to ring.
Donna's eyes flickered open, and she glanced at the telephone on his bedside table... it was closest to her.
"Well," she murmured, a hint of laryngitis in her voice, "I'd better get used to doing this now..." She cleared her throat, then lifted the receiver to her ear. "Hello?"
"Donna?" Dor's voice crackled down the telephone line. "Your voice sounds funny... Were you and Giles...?"
"About half an hour earlier, and I'd have said 'yes'." She giggled. "So, what can I do for you?"
"I need to talk to him."
"Just a minute," Donna murmured. "I'll wake him." She set the receiver down, then turned her attention back to Giles. His face was totally relaxed and at peace, like a child dreaming of opening his presents on Christmas morning... Peace never looked so sexy. "Ripper..." She ran a hand along his chest, then let it rest on his shoulder and she gave him a gentle nudge. "Rupert?"
"Hrm?" He opened his eyes and smiled at her, Ripper playing in the back of his eyes. "Well, hello." He reached up to her, his left hand tracing along the side of her face. "Are you ready again so soon?"
Giles leaned upward to kiss her, but Donna put two fingers to his lips, halting him.
"Rupert, Dor's on the phone..." She reached onto the bed stand and handed him his glasses. "And it doesn't sound good."
Giles put his glasses on and picked up the receiver.
"Dorotea? Would you mind terribly if I put you on the speaker phone?" Hearing the reply, he smiled at Donna. "I promised you there'd be no secrets, love." He pressed the speaker button and returned the receiver to its cradle. "Would you kindly explain the nature of this catastrophe which besets you? You *do* realize it's nearly 2pm, I trust?" He paused. "2pm... Good Lord, we've nearly missed Tea."
"Sorry to interrupt your boinkage," there was a clear grin in Dor's voice.
"W-we... we were *not* 'boinking'." Giles blushed furiously. "It just so happens we were fast asleep."
"Yeah, right." Dor snickered. "Tell that to the Watcher's Council."
"Look, this isn't about my sex life... erm..." He paused, swallowing nervously. "What... what can we do for you?"
"I've been doing some thinking and some research, and you know about that problem the General has?" Dor sighed. "Well, it's definately a curse... and the Princess Chickens are involved. I need your help in casting the counter-spell."
"You know... maybe there's one central spell," Donna mused aloud. "Get it, and the others will unravel."
"You may have a point." Giles slipped an arm around Donna's shoulders and pulled her back so her back was against his chest. With an effort, he returned his attention to the telephone. "How soon can you be here?"
"Oh, damn," Dor sighed in mock frustration. "I've got to get my books and notes together, so I can't make it until well after sunset... we're talking about at least 8pm."
"What a pity..." Giles smiled, Ripper waiting just below the surface. "Mind you, it wouldn't do to rush it. We want to be through, you know."
"Mmmm-hmmm." There was an evil grin in Dor's voice. "I'll let you get through, then. See you around 8-ish. Happy boinking." She hung up.
Giles switched off the speaker phone, then turned to Donna. His eyes were gleaming and a sly sexy grin curled his lips.
"Now, where were we, my love?"
<END>