The Other Half Lives
by Patti, Rae, Rob, and Spring - Summer of 2003
Chapter 11 – Bewhiskered, Bot-ed, And Be Done With It
(Patti)
by Patti, Rae, Rob, and Spring - Summer of 2003
Chapter 11 – Bewhiskered, Bot-ed, And Be Done With It
(Patti)
"Hello, honey," Buffy smiled sweetly as Greg yelped in alarm and dropped his bag of lanthium on the couch.
"Hey . . . who is . . . SHE?" his companion asked Greg in a tone of suspicion.
"Uh . . . n-no one . . . just a friend, not even a friend, really, just an . . . an acquaintance!" Greg stammered as his eyes darted frantically left and right, searching in vain for a way out. Unfortunately for him, the stairway was the only exit, and Buffy was directly between him and the stairs. "Excuse me - I gotta - ouch!" His move to rise was halted by Buffy's casual pat on the back, pushing him back onto the couch. Only the grimace of pain on his face would have alerted anyone that the gesture was neither casual nor a 'pat'.
"Just an 'acquaintance'? Why Greg . . . .I thought we had sooo much more in common lately, if you know what I mean." Buffy's fingers now gripped Greg's shoulder and he winced.
Turning her head slightly, Buffy calmly told his new friend, "Please leave. Now."
"No problem," muttered the thoroughly ticked-off girl, giving Greg an icy stare as she headed down the stairs, passing Xander on his way up.
"Buffy! Excellent! You found him! Now . . . you just keep him here . . . ok, I see you're doing that . . . watch the clavicle, Buffy . . . ease up . . . good girl. I'll just . . . go call Anya." Xander rolled his own shoulder in unconscious sympathy and hurried back down the stairs to the pay phone beside the back door.
Buffy released Greg's shoulder and took the purple pouch of powder from the couch beside him. She tossed it from hand to hand, staring at him. "So . . . what were you going to do with this, Greg? Give another unsuspecting girl the chance to be a better man than you are? What had SHE done to you? Wouldn't pay for the drinks? You are such a miserable excuse for a man. I swear if I had my way you'd be spending the rest of your cowardly existence in prison getting a new perspective on things from Big Bob and the boys."
"Whoa . . . B! So this is Dr. Frankenfurter?" Faith stood at the top of the stairs, arms folded, grinning in amusement. She looked Greg over and shrugged. "Seems harmless enough, if ya take away his bag of tricks. Whatcha think we should do to him? Other than the prison thing, which, from my perspective . . . harsh."
"We? 'We're' not going to do anything to him. 'I'm' not going to do anything to him. Seems while I was away learning to pee straight, all my bestest friends decided Greg here just needs a good woman to understand him! What no one seems to have thought of is that the good woman better understand she's dangerously close to getting chest hair and y-chromosomes!"
"What?" Faith took a step forward, tossing her hair back, eyes flared in amazement. "This guy gives you an instant sex change operation, making you a candidate for a LIFETIME of therapy, which, ok, you probably already- '"
"Faith," Buffy glared at her fellow slayer.
"Ok, ok, just saying . . . doesn't seem like a real harsh sentence here . . . ya know?"
"I know . . . " Buffy turned back and sighed at Greg, who was sitting quietly, slumped on the couch, his head in his hands. "To tell you the truth . . . I don't know what we CAN do with him . . . "
"Don't worry! I'm here now and I know exactly what to do with him! I have the allergy spell!" Anya's beaming smile and business-woman's approach produced an odd feeling of relief in Buffy, which quickly changed to alarm when she realized the prospect of Anya in charge had given her a feeling of relief.
Buffy darted a look at Xander, who was standing behind Anya, and caught his smile and wink. This time, her relief was less temporary.
Realizing that she'd hurt Xander had made her recently uncomfortable world even worse. It was good to feel comfy with him again. She returned his smile and handed Anya the bag of lanthium powder. "What's the procedure? Do we have to say another one of those goofy poems?"
Anya shook her head and said, "No, no . . . no poetry needed this time. We just need this . . . " She reached out and pulled a hair from Greg's head . . .
"Ow!" Greg reached up and covered his hair.
"and this . . ." pulling down his shirt slightly, Anya yanked out a few chest hairs.
"OW!" Greg crossed his arms over his chest.
"And--" Anya leaned forward.
"HEY!" chorused both Xander and Greg, as Greg covered his crotch with his hands and Xander grabbed Anya's wrist.
She rolled her eyes and said, "this!" Twisting her wrist out of Xander's grasp, she reached out and ripped some hair from Greg's arm.
"Yeow!" Greg rubbed his arm and frowned at Anya, who smiled in triumph.
"Now, we just put these hairs - DNA, you see? - in a little pile - where is an ashtray, there should be an ashtray!" Anya looked around at the tables, all free of ashtrays.
"No smoking in here, see the signs?" Faith jerked her thumb at the big cigarette with the red 'X' on the wall behind her.
"Great! Well, we need a container."
Buffy looked around and quickly grabbed an empty beer can. She turned back, holding it out to Anya and saw Faith holding out an empty beer bottle.
"No, it needs to be shorter, and open - "
Buffy ripped the can in half quickly, hearing the sound of glass breaking. She whirled and thrust the can at Anya . . . who was flinching back as Faith held out a broken beer bottle to her.
"Is it ALWAYS a contest between you two?" Xander grinned and shook his head.
"Thank you Buffy, thank you Faith. That was very . . . those were both good choices." Anya spoke soothingly in that 'Humans are so strange' voice she often used, and took the mutilated can and bottle from the slayers. Buffy and Faith darted a look at each other and then both looked away in embarrassment.
Anya dropped Greg's DNA samples into the bottom of the glass bottle and held up her hand to Xander. "Match, please? Honey? Xander!"
Xander stopped grinning at Faith who had both thumbs up in victory, and answered, "Oh - An . . . I don't have any matches. Do you have?" He looked around at the two slayers, who shook their heads.
Slowly, Greg reached into his pocket, raising his other hand in almost a daze . . .
"Wonderful! See? He's reforming already!" Anya beamed at the others.
Buffy snorted and muttered, "Right . . . all that proves is he smokes, too!"
Anya shook a little of the lanthium powder out into the broken bottle and said, "Now, when I light this, Greg must breathe it in. The rest of us need to hold our breath until the flame dies, understand?" When everyone nodded and took a breath, she lit the match, and dropped it into the bottle. A small, bright green flame burst into life.
"Quickly, make him breathe it now!" Anya's voice was strained, as she tried to speak without breathing in.
Buffy grabbed Greg by the head and pushed his face down to the flame, then struck him lightly on the back. He gasped and coughed, breathing in the pale green smoke drifting up from the flame.
Anya blew out the flame and everyone released their breath. Anya sighed in satisfaction and said, "There! That should take care of--"
"AAAA--CHOOO!!" Greg sneezed violently, and the open bag of lanthium blew across the table, spilling its contents.
Buffy's eyes widened 'Oh . . . nooo!" She whirled around and covered her face.
"Haaa--ahhh---choooo!" His second sneeze sent the powder flying into the air, where it was breathed in by a startled Anya, Xander, and Faith.
Buffy held her breath and grabbed a half-empty pitcher of beer on a nearby table. She poured it over the spilled powder, eliminating further danger. Then she took a breath.
"Are you ok? Xander? Anya, Faith?"
Eyes wide in fear, Xander patted himself down, starting at his chest and moving lower. In a moment he relaxed and sighed. "Oh god . . . for a minute there . . . but little Xander's still here . . . I mean, when I say little, I don't mean . . . "
"It's all right Xander, I can verify-"
Anya's testimonial was interrupted by Faith, muttering, "yeah, I could verify that before you could veri . . . oh my GOD!" Faith grabbed the opening of her shirt and stared down. Everyone stared. Then everyone averted their eyes, trying not to go "eewwwww . . . "
Xander quickly turned to Anya and ran his eyes over her. "An . . . .do you feel . . . ok? I mean . . . I don't see . . . "
Anya frowned, and said, "Well, I'm fine . . . except . . . I'm really hungry. You know what would be soo good right now? Rogan Josh! That's what I want. Xander, take me to get some Indian food now. Buffy and Faith can handle Greg - I want curry!"
Xander looked over at Buffy and shrugged, smiling apologetically. "Anya . . . seems . . . fine . . . sort of."
Buffy sighed . . . "It must be the demon thing . . . affects her differently. Come on, let's get back to the magic shop. Faith . . . uh . . . don't worry, it's only temporary. Nothing a little Nair won't cure. SORRY! Just joking."
Grabbing Greg by the elbow, Buffy headed down the stairs, followed by Xander and Anya, with Faith, head low, muttering, bringing up the rear.
"And some Tandoori Chicken Xander! Is there a takeout curry place in Sunnydale? Oh, don't forget the flat bread!"
"Yes, dear . . . " Xander sighed.
An hour later, indecision still reigned in the Magic Shop.
Tara and Willow were sitting on the floor, Tara resting her back against a bookcase. Willow nestled in front of her, leaning forward while Tara massaged her shoulders. Willow took another bite of rice.
"More Rogan Josh, anyone?" Xander held out the container to the room at large.
"Yes, thank you, I believe I will - is there any more of that wonderful bread?" Giles dumped more curry on his plate. Dawn reached over the table and handed him the basket of bread.
Buffy sighed and wedged herself more closely between Spike's legs, feet dangling together as they sat on the counter. He rested his chin over her ear, happily causing her pulse to rise as he blew softly. Buffy reached back and tapped him on the nose. "Stop that . . . we need to . . . think." She wriggled a little closer.
"I am thinking," Spike purred.
"Can we get to business, people?" Faith mumbled over a mouthful of curry and rice. "We've got a problem here and no solution!"
Anya swallowed, licked her lips and stared at Faith. "Actually, that whisker thing is only a temporary problem Faith. In the meantime, just say you're . . . European!"
Dawn spewed coke on the table while Tara buried her face on Willow's back.
"Yeah . . . that's not so bad. You should have seen some of the women a hundred years ago, before - what? I was just trying to cheer her up!" Spike shook his head and rubbed his side, the one Buffy's elbow had just fiercely jabbed.
"It's just not so funny from my recent perspective. Anyway Faith, Willow said by morning you'll be fine."
"And . . . that ISN’T the problem I was talking about anyway! I'm talking about the guy we've got locked in the training room, who broke out in hives the minute we brought him into the Magic Shop!"
"The book didn't say anything about related allergies, I swear!" Willow began, till everyone assured her they understood.
"The thing is . . . we can't turn him in to the police - what's the crime? Honest officer, he turned me into a man! How? Well, there was this powder . . . "
"And as simple as it seemed at first to just find him a nice girl friend, he obviously can't be trusted. That poor girl at the Bronze was one argument away from trading in her weekly nail appointment for Saturdays at Ace Hardware." Xander looked at Giles and then at Spike. "Well, some of us know how to use tools."
Spike opened his mouth.
"Be quiet, honey. Just . . . be quiet." Buffy said with a grin which quickly faded into a frown as she continued, "What we need is some girl who won't set him off . . . "
"Someone who will be nice to him, and make him feel good." Dawn added slowly.
"And never argue with him . . . " Xander turned to Buffy, his eyes widening.
"Oh dear god . . . " muttered Giles.
"Huh? What are you guys talking about?" Faith questioned.
"Honey . . . do you think you can . . . ?" Buffy asked Spike tentatively.
Spike lifted Buffy down and slid off the counter. "Yeah . . . .I probably can . . . I'll see you back here . . . later."
Spike lifted his fist to knock, then shrugged and kicked the door open with his foot. He swaggered down the cellar steps and looked around.
"So . . . .how are you, Warren?"
***
End of Chapter 11
"Hey . . . who is . . . SHE?" his companion asked Greg in a tone of suspicion.
"Uh . . . n-no one . . . just a friend, not even a friend, really, just an . . . an acquaintance!" Greg stammered as his eyes darted frantically left and right, searching in vain for a way out. Unfortunately for him, the stairway was the only exit, and Buffy was directly between him and the stairs. "Excuse me - I gotta - ouch!" His move to rise was halted by Buffy's casual pat on the back, pushing him back onto the couch. Only the grimace of pain on his face would have alerted anyone that the gesture was neither casual nor a 'pat'.
"Just an 'acquaintance'? Why Greg . . . .I thought we had sooo much more in common lately, if you know what I mean." Buffy's fingers now gripped Greg's shoulder and he winced.
Turning her head slightly, Buffy calmly told his new friend, "Please leave. Now."
"No problem," muttered the thoroughly ticked-off girl, giving Greg an icy stare as she headed down the stairs, passing Xander on his way up.
"Buffy! Excellent! You found him! Now . . . you just keep him here . . . ok, I see you're doing that . . . watch the clavicle, Buffy . . . ease up . . . good girl. I'll just . . . go call Anya." Xander rolled his own shoulder in unconscious sympathy and hurried back down the stairs to the pay phone beside the back door.
Buffy released Greg's shoulder and took the purple pouch of powder from the couch beside him. She tossed it from hand to hand, staring at him. "So . . . what were you going to do with this, Greg? Give another unsuspecting girl the chance to be a better man than you are? What had SHE done to you? Wouldn't pay for the drinks? You are such a miserable excuse for a man. I swear if I had my way you'd be spending the rest of your cowardly existence in prison getting a new perspective on things from Big Bob and the boys."
"Whoa . . . B! So this is Dr. Frankenfurter?" Faith stood at the top of the stairs, arms folded, grinning in amusement. She looked Greg over and shrugged. "Seems harmless enough, if ya take away his bag of tricks. Whatcha think we should do to him? Other than the prison thing, which, from my perspective . . . harsh."
"We? 'We're' not going to do anything to him. 'I'm' not going to do anything to him. Seems while I was away learning to pee straight, all my bestest friends decided Greg here just needs a good woman to understand him! What no one seems to have thought of is that the good woman better understand she's dangerously close to getting chest hair and y-chromosomes!"
"What?" Faith took a step forward, tossing her hair back, eyes flared in amazement. "This guy gives you an instant sex change operation, making you a candidate for a LIFETIME of therapy, which, ok, you probably already- '"
"Faith," Buffy glared at her fellow slayer.
"Ok, ok, just saying . . . doesn't seem like a real harsh sentence here . . . ya know?"
"I know . . . " Buffy turned back and sighed at Greg, who was sitting quietly, slumped on the couch, his head in his hands. "To tell you the truth . . . I don't know what we CAN do with him . . . "
"Don't worry! I'm here now and I know exactly what to do with him! I have the allergy spell!" Anya's beaming smile and business-woman's approach produced an odd feeling of relief in Buffy, which quickly changed to alarm when she realized the prospect of Anya in charge had given her a feeling of relief.
Buffy darted a look at Xander, who was standing behind Anya, and caught his smile and wink. This time, her relief was less temporary.
Realizing that she'd hurt Xander had made her recently uncomfortable world even worse. It was good to feel comfy with him again. She returned his smile and handed Anya the bag of lanthium powder. "What's the procedure? Do we have to say another one of those goofy poems?"
Anya shook her head and said, "No, no . . . no poetry needed this time. We just need this . . . " She reached out and pulled a hair from Greg's head . . .
"Ow!" Greg reached up and covered his hair.
"and this . . ." pulling down his shirt slightly, Anya yanked out a few chest hairs.
"OW!" Greg crossed his arms over his chest.
"And--" Anya leaned forward.
"HEY!" chorused both Xander and Greg, as Greg covered his crotch with his hands and Xander grabbed Anya's wrist.
She rolled her eyes and said, "this!" Twisting her wrist out of Xander's grasp, she reached out and ripped some hair from Greg's arm.
"Yeow!" Greg rubbed his arm and frowned at Anya, who smiled in triumph.
"Now, we just put these hairs - DNA, you see? - in a little pile - where is an ashtray, there should be an ashtray!" Anya looked around at the tables, all free of ashtrays.
"No smoking in here, see the signs?" Faith jerked her thumb at the big cigarette with the red 'X' on the wall behind her.
"Great! Well, we need a container."
Buffy looked around and quickly grabbed an empty beer can. She turned back, holding it out to Anya and saw Faith holding out an empty beer bottle.
"No, it needs to be shorter, and open - "
Buffy ripped the can in half quickly, hearing the sound of glass breaking. She whirled and thrust the can at Anya . . . who was flinching back as Faith held out a broken beer bottle to her.
"Is it ALWAYS a contest between you two?" Xander grinned and shook his head.
"Thank you Buffy, thank you Faith. That was very . . . those were both good choices." Anya spoke soothingly in that 'Humans are so strange' voice she often used, and took the mutilated can and bottle from the slayers. Buffy and Faith darted a look at each other and then both looked away in embarrassment.
Anya dropped Greg's DNA samples into the bottom of the glass bottle and held up her hand to Xander. "Match, please? Honey? Xander!"
Xander stopped grinning at Faith who had both thumbs up in victory, and answered, "Oh - An . . . I don't have any matches. Do you have?" He looked around at the two slayers, who shook their heads.
Slowly, Greg reached into his pocket, raising his other hand in almost a daze . . .
"Wonderful! See? He's reforming already!" Anya beamed at the others.
Buffy snorted and muttered, "Right . . . all that proves is he smokes, too!"
Anya shook a little of the lanthium powder out into the broken bottle and said, "Now, when I light this, Greg must breathe it in. The rest of us need to hold our breath until the flame dies, understand?" When everyone nodded and took a breath, she lit the match, and dropped it into the bottle. A small, bright green flame burst into life.
"Quickly, make him breathe it now!" Anya's voice was strained, as she tried to speak without breathing in.
Buffy grabbed Greg by the head and pushed his face down to the flame, then struck him lightly on the back. He gasped and coughed, breathing in the pale green smoke drifting up from the flame.
Anya blew out the flame and everyone released their breath. Anya sighed in satisfaction and said, "There! That should take care of--"
"AAAA--CHOOO!!" Greg sneezed violently, and the open bag of lanthium blew across the table, spilling its contents.
Buffy's eyes widened 'Oh . . . nooo!" She whirled around and covered her face.
"Haaa--ahhh---choooo!" His second sneeze sent the powder flying into the air, where it was breathed in by a startled Anya, Xander, and Faith.
Buffy held her breath and grabbed a half-empty pitcher of beer on a nearby table. She poured it over the spilled powder, eliminating further danger. Then she took a breath.
"Are you ok? Xander? Anya, Faith?"
Eyes wide in fear, Xander patted himself down, starting at his chest and moving lower. In a moment he relaxed and sighed. "Oh god . . . for a minute there . . . but little Xander's still here . . . I mean, when I say little, I don't mean . . . "
"It's all right Xander, I can verify-"
Anya's testimonial was interrupted by Faith, muttering, "yeah, I could verify that before you could veri . . . oh my GOD!" Faith grabbed the opening of her shirt and stared down. Everyone stared. Then everyone averted their eyes, trying not to go "eewwwww . . . "
Xander quickly turned to Anya and ran his eyes over her. "An . . . .do you feel . . . ok? I mean . . . I don't see . . . "
Anya frowned, and said, "Well, I'm fine . . . except . . . I'm really hungry. You know what would be soo good right now? Rogan Josh! That's what I want. Xander, take me to get some Indian food now. Buffy and Faith can handle Greg - I want curry!"
Xander looked over at Buffy and shrugged, smiling apologetically. "Anya . . . seems . . . fine . . . sort of."
Buffy sighed . . . "It must be the demon thing . . . affects her differently. Come on, let's get back to the magic shop. Faith . . . uh . . . don't worry, it's only temporary. Nothing a little Nair won't cure. SORRY! Just joking."
Grabbing Greg by the elbow, Buffy headed down the stairs, followed by Xander and Anya, with Faith, head low, muttering, bringing up the rear.
"And some Tandoori Chicken Xander! Is there a takeout curry place in Sunnydale? Oh, don't forget the flat bread!"
"Yes, dear . . . " Xander sighed.
An hour later, indecision still reigned in the Magic Shop.
Tara and Willow were sitting on the floor, Tara resting her back against a bookcase. Willow nestled in front of her, leaning forward while Tara massaged her shoulders. Willow took another bite of rice.
"More Rogan Josh, anyone?" Xander held out the container to the room at large.
"Yes, thank you, I believe I will - is there any more of that wonderful bread?" Giles dumped more curry on his plate. Dawn reached over the table and handed him the basket of bread.
Buffy sighed and wedged herself more closely between Spike's legs, feet dangling together as they sat on the counter. He rested his chin over her ear, happily causing her pulse to rise as he blew softly. Buffy reached back and tapped him on the nose. "Stop that . . . we need to . . . think." She wriggled a little closer.
"I am thinking," Spike purred.
"Can we get to business, people?" Faith mumbled over a mouthful of curry and rice. "We've got a problem here and no solution!"
Anya swallowed, licked her lips and stared at Faith. "Actually, that whisker thing is only a temporary problem Faith. In the meantime, just say you're . . . European!"
Dawn spewed coke on the table while Tara buried her face on Willow's back.
"Yeah . . . that's not so bad. You should have seen some of the women a hundred years ago, before - what? I was just trying to cheer her up!" Spike shook his head and rubbed his side, the one Buffy's elbow had just fiercely jabbed.
"It's just not so funny from my recent perspective. Anyway Faith, Willow said by morning you'll be fine."
"And . . . that ISN’T the problem I was talking about anyway! I'm talking about the guy we've got locked in the training room, who broke out in hives the minute we brought him into the Magic Shop!"
"The book didn't say anything about related allergies, I swear!" Willow began, till everyone assured her they understood.
"The thing is . . . we can't turn him in to the police - what's the crime? Honest officer, he turned me into a man! How? Well, there was this powder . . . "
"And as simple as it seemed at first to just find him a nice girl friend, he obviously can't be trusted. That poor girl at the Bronze was one argument away from trading in her weekly nail appointment for Saturdays at Ace Hardware." Xander looked at Giles and then at Spike. "Well, some of us know how to use tools."
Spike opened his mouth.
"Be quiet, honey. Just . . . be quiet." Buffy said with a grin which quickly faded into a frown as she continued, "What we need is some girl who won't set him off . . . "
"Someone who will be nice to him, and make him feel good." Dawn added slowly.
"And never argue with him . . . " Xander turned to Buffy, his eyes widening.
"Oh dear god . . . " muttered Giles.
"Huh? What are you guys talking about?" Faith questioned.
"Honey . . . do you think you can . . . ?" Buffy asked Spike tentatively.
Spike lifted Buffy down and slid off the counter. "Yeah . . . .I probably can . . . I'll see you back here . . . later."
Spike lifted his fist to knock, then shrugged and kicked the door open with his foot. He swaggered down the cellar steps and looked around.
"So . . . .how are you, Warren?"
***
End of Chapter 11