Authors: Jingle, belladonnalin, snarkhunter, queenofthorns, and minim_calibre
Rating: PG/PG-13
Fandoms: Jossverse, The O.C., Farscape, Teen Titans, and Pirates of the Caribbean. Hey, we never said it had to make sense ...
A/N: I know it's essentially unfinished, fragmented, and possibly even schizophrenic. Please don't email me and tell me this.
Disclaimer(s): None of these shows/movies belong to any of us. We're not making any money off of this. Please don't sue.

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A/N #2: In keeping with the theme of the challenge, this is set in Las Vegas. I hope that explains everything.

Jingle -- Jossverse

Dawn sat on the window seat, lost in thought.

Vegas disgusted her. Spending all that money for the thrill of the thought that you just might get it back ... maybe the monks forgot to program that bit of humanity into her. Maybe she was just smarter than everyone else.

In a pitiful attempt at consolation, Spike had gotten them a corner room. One window looked out on the twinkling lights of the city, bringing the flashing neon prostitution right into their bed.

The other looked out on the hotel gardens. This was where Dawn sat, staring out at the shrubs and stone paths. She tried to pretend she was still in Sunnydale, waiting for Buffy or Willow to come strolling up the path, just back from the grocery store or the pharmacy or somewhere wonderfully mundane.

Dawn breathed on the window and traced a swirl with her fingertip. How much longer would it take for Spike to come back, having realized that he could not, indeed, make their fortune at video poker?

There was a knock at the door. Dawn looked up.

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belladonnalin -- The O.C.

Summer laid back on her bed with a small thump. She wasn't really the kind of person to thump or sprawl or plop. That was, like, for people who lived in Anaheim. Or Chino.

Still, it's not like anyone was there to see her. No, she had ended up staying at the Luxor while everyone else was at the Hard Rock Hotel. So she could do whatever socially-lame things she wanted to ... nobody was there to give a shit anwyay.

Summer was applying another layer of polish to her toes when the bed in the room next to hers started thumping against the wall again.

"Ok, that's about enough of that," she muttered, standing gingerly on the bed after pulling the ever-reliable Gideon's Bible out of the dresser drawer. Pounding on the wall, she shouted: "Ok, people. Sex, drugs, rock and roll ... I don't care WHAT you're doing in there, but if I have to hear it one more time, I swear to everything I hold holy that I will come over there. Rage blackouts, people! You do NOT want to see a rage blackout!"

Groaning, she plopped down on the bed. "Ok, ew. I HATE Vegas," she muttered.

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snarkhunter -- Jossverse

"What the hell are you doing here?" Dawn demanded.

"Hello to you, too. Glad to see hanging around Spike hasn't hurt your vocabulary."

"What? You're...you're telling me to watch my language, and you're standing here in Vegas when you're supposed to be dead? Fuck that."

Buffy rolled her eyes and pushed past her into her room. Dawn watched as Buffy's eyes scanned the room, no doubt taking in Spike's duster, discarded on the room's only chair, and the unmade bed. Dawn refused to blush. She was a grown woman, and it wasn't like Buffy'd had a say in the whole thing, what with the being dead and all.

"Wait. Are you the First?"

In response, Buffy gave her a withering look and flung a pillow at her head.

"Right. Not the First. Then what--how--oh, my God are they EVER going to shut up?" Dawn glared over her shoulder at the wall behind her, where she could hear extremely enthusiastic honeymooners starting up again.

Buffy flopped down on the bed, and said, "So. Going to tell me why my little sister is in Vegas, apparently fucking my ex?"

Dawn just glared. "How about you telling me why my supposedly-dead big sister is in Vegas demanding why I'm sleeping with her ex?"

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queenofthorns -- Farscape

"Crichton, why have you brought us here? Is there some strategic value to this place?" Aeryn asked, narrowing her eyes in that way that John knew meant she was about to do something violent. Possibly to him.

“No,” he said. “But I thought it would be fun. And those guys stick out a lot less here in Vegas than they would anywhere else on Earth.” He jerked his head back at Scorpius and Sikozu. Rygel and China were behind them, bickering as usual. “Anyway, I figured we’d try our luck at the poker tables; maybe catch a show.”

“We’re not here to play joker, Crichton,” Aeryn said, giving John a painful elbow in the ribs. “We’re here to find the iridium compound and leave.”

“This is most interesting, Crichton,” Scorpius said. “As I understand it, this city is built around the false belief that there is a pattern to games of chance?”

“Yeah, yeah, something like that,” John said, rubbing his side. “Let’s get you guys up to our rooms.”

China was eyeing a showgirl and John knew she was thinking about how to get one of those feather costumes. He grabbed her elbow and steered her back towards the elevator, bumping into a tiny blonde girl on the way. At least the girl didn’t bat an eye at Chiana’s grey skin – that was something, anyway.

“But I want to blend in,” Chiana argued. “I want to look like the others. It’ll be a disguise.”

“Oh, you think you’re so pretty,” Rygel spluttered, through a mouthful of food. “You’ll get us all imprisoned. Or worse.”

“Will not,” Chiana said. “And I stick out less than you do.”

John wondered if the tub in the deluxe suite would be big enough for him to drown both of them. Envisioning him got him through the ride up to the twenty-eighth floor.

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minim_calibre -- Teen Titans

"Do you mind reminding me why we're in Vegas and you're in drag?"

"Gay marriage isn't legal, and we're undercover as newlyweds."

"I miss Robin." Kon sank down on the bed, his face buried in his palms. Rob would have come up with a much better idea than this. One that didn't involve Bart in a little white dress and fishnets. Or honeymoon suites. "Reading the entire San Francisco library has warped your brain."

"You didn't carry me across the threshold." Bart zipped over and glowered at him.

This was worse than getting detention and repeating exams. And Bart was wearing eyeliner. A lot of eyeliner. And his breath smelled like Jordan almonds, which meant the bowl of them was probably empty, which meant they'd have to leave the room to go and get food, which meant Kon have to be seen out in public as Bart's happily wedded husband.

They even had a certificate. Oh, god, they had a certificate. Sure, they'd lied about their names, ages, hometowns, and in Bart's case, gender, but they had a certificate. He'd married Kid Flash.

He'd even kissed the bride.

And worst part was, he'd liked it.

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snarkhunter -- Pirates of the Caribbean

Captain Jack Sparrow loved Vegas. All the bright lights and shiny clothes...he could get used to a place like this. He ran one hand over the strange, sleek machine in front of him, surreptitiously eyeing his neighbor to see how it worked. Her cup of silver was near to overflowing, but she continued to feed the coins to the machine in hopes of gaining more.

Jack ambled over to the next row of machines. Two bickering honeymooners pushed past him, and he was about to comment when he realized the fetching young lass in the white gown, talking faster than any human being he'd ever heard, was actually a fetching young lad, and he was about to follow this most fascinating couple, when a yelp of pain and muffled curse reminded him of Will's presence.

"Caught my hand in the...door-thing," Will said, shaking his fingers rapidly, and glaring at the machine. "Can't just take the coins out."

Jack raised an eyebrow, and said, "Carnivorous doors. You'll want to watch that, mate. Can't have you getting stuck, can we?"

Will scowled at him, muttered something about Elizabeth killing them both, and sat down next to the nearest machine to wait.