Give Me The Quiet LifeXander Magnet |
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Give me the Quiet Life Author: Shona Rating: PG-13, verging on the 15 I guess. Shake, swirl There were laughs, jeers and a smattering of sarcastic applause all around him as he tried desperately to spring to his feet whilst maintaining a modicum of dignity. Too late, the very first day of another school year and already he’d waved goodbye to any chance he had of starting things off on a better footing than normal. He was puzzled for a second, just why had he ended up flat on his back? A worried face filled his vision, distracting him, he grinned, "Willow! You’re so very much the person I wanted to see!" There was a cackling laughter coming from nearby. He shook his head, trying to work out what was so familiar about it. His vision began to clear and he could see a figure sitting at a table a few feet away from him. He stopped for a second to wonder why he was flat on his back and apparently locked in a cage before he found his voice again, "Willow." The girl at the table turned, "How are you feeling?" He felt himself start to laugh at the question, "Like someone hit me with a desk." There was a heavy silence all around him. He tried to move but the dull headache flared into an incandescent ball of agony and he settled back again with a groan. Why was he flat on his back in pain again? There was movement beside him as the bed he was lying on shifted with the added weight of another person. "Xander? Are you okay?" He tried to open his eyes and winced at the extra pain. Forcing himself to regain control he tried to sit up, he couldn’t quite get the words out but he knew he had to put Willow’s mind at ease. "Dizzy, Kinda nauseous too. Do I remember having a fight with Spike?" Shake, swirl There were voices around him, they sounded worried but he couldn’t quite work out why. He wondered why it was he’d ended up flat on his back under a pile of rubble, again. Gradually he worked out how to coordinate his muscle movements and pushed up at the flattened cardboard on top of him. The voices seemed to be headed in his direction – maybe they were looking for him? He found his voice finally, "I’m good! We’re fine, just a little bit dirty. Good show everyone. Just great. I think we have a hit!" There was a chill in the air. He opened his eyes carefully, wary of the pain he was feeling in his jaw, and saw no one around him. It was night, and just what was he doing lying flat on his back on the sidewalk? Not a good combination in Sunnydale, so he struggled to his feet and headed for the library. As he went to open the door he could hear voices from within. The new guy, the one everyone ignored, was saying something about the Mayor. Xander pushed at the swing doors and walked slowly in, still seeing the dark stars of concussion exploding in his vision. "I uh, I hate to spoil the mood but this is so much worse than you think." Shake, swirl There was a dank smell in the air. He pushed himself up onto his elbows and looked around. Why was he flat on his back in what looked like a medieval castle? The stone walls seemed to be closing in on him and a new awareness washed over him. Determination drove him to his feet and he grabbed a torch from the wrought iron holder in front of him. Following the distant sound of voices, he eventually came to a brightly lit room and hurled himself round the corner yelling, "Where is he? Where’s the creep that turned me into his spider-eating man-bitch?!" Shake, swirl There was a girl lying across his chest. Not a particularly unpleasant way to wake up but just what was he doing flat on his back on what felt like a shallow stairwell? He checked surreptitiously but a little to his disappointment he realised he was fully clothed. The redhead currently nestled in his arms stirred and then sat up suddenly. He had no idea who she was; still, she was cute, and from the way they’d woken up apparently she thought the same about him. He smiled at her. "Hey." "Um, Hey?" There was an antiseptic tang in the air and he struggled to open his eyes. He could taste a mintiness in his mouth and his head felt really fuzzy. Finally he managed to open one of his eyes and glanced around. What was he doing flat on his back in a hospital bed? And why couldn’t he see out his left eye? He could feel someone holding his hand but he couldn’t see who it was. He tried to lift his head but he couldn’t bring his muscles under control. There were hundreds of white flecks drifting down onto the tiny simulacrum of a town that no longer existed. There was nothing to show that it ever had except for a handful of survivors, a lot of governmental red tape and this tacky tourist souvenir. He watched as the last of the fake snow settled on the plastic model embedded in its glass tomb and smiled sleepily. Here he was, a survivor, flat on his back in his own bed and for the first time in a long time he knew exactly what he was doing. A slender hand reached across to shake the snow-globe once more but he gently grabbed it before she could reach it. "Stop it, you’re giving me bad dreams." She smiled at him, "I wouldn’t want to do that, now would I? I definitely prefer being the cause of the good ones." He settled back, comfortable for once, and told her about the dream he’d woken from. "So you weren’t dreaming about me then?" He shook his head and then laughed as she pouted at him. "I’m hurt." Slowly, almost lazily, she kissed him deeply before resting her head on his chest. "Mmm, s’peaceful here – can we stay all day?" There was a wistful tone in her voice. He listened briefly to the silence in the house around them, she was right it was peaceful here, for once. For a brief moment he let himself get lost in the fantasy of being normal, of being able to sleep in on a Sunday and spend a lazy day, just the two of them, reading the papers, listening to music, maybe even walking in the park. The fantasy was shattered with the almost inevitable sound of breaking glass and shouts from downstairs. So much for it being peaceful. Seconds after the first crash there was a surprisingly tactful knock on the door followed by Faith’s voice. "Hey, you done with Boytoy, B?" Both of them groaned at the old nicknames, Faith seemed to have a knack of labelling people with the oddest monikers that always stuck, no matter how many complaints the recipient made. "Maybe if we ignore her she’ll go away?" Buffy whispered the suggestion and he saw from her expression that she knew it was futile. He grinned in response, "Or…" she looked at him quizzically, "We could always wait for her to give up on the polite thing and come in. There’s this other dream I had, don’t want to spoil it for you but let’s say it involves you, Faith and possibly whipped cream…" Ducking, he managed to avoid the pillow aimed at his head. "You’re just asking for trouble aren’t you, Boytoy?" She used the other Slayer’s nickname for him as an insult but even she had to admit it wasn’t her best; he just grinned at her and waggled an eyebrow suggestively. She shook her head and turned away; dressing quickly she opened the door quickly to reveal Faith kneeling at keyhole level with a huge unrepentant grin on her face. Xander clasped his hands behind his head, lay back against the pillows and watched as the two girls headed down the stairs, the smile never left his face. "Right! Just what the hell is going on down here?!" Buffy sure had impressive lung capacity for someone so little and the entire house fell silent at her shout. For about ten seconds. Then the clamouring and the complaints started all over again. "Yup," he said softly to himself. "Give me the quiet life." |
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