Story: Lost Scenes... (chapter 3)

Authors: Pat Kelly

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Chapter 3

Title: ...From Sophomore Year

Never Let Vlad Impale You, Or Else

"What I miss?" Veronica asked as she hopped back onto their bed in Buffy's room, handing over a fresh bag of newly-popped corn.

On the TV, Buffy heard herself moan, and she looked back to make sure Mr. Gordo was faced away. This was...embarrassing. And currently not fueling any fires.

Veronica saw, and rolled her eyes. "Because it's not like he hasn't seen it before." Then she exhaled heavily. "Real pig."

"Do we hafta watch this?" The slayer asked again.

"Orville's got lots more where that came from," said the detective in answer, gesturing to the bag. "And the obvious reply to your next, pointless question? Until I'm convinced you're all 'thralled-out'...so, might wanna put those eyes front-and-center, 'cause we haven't even begun. I *will* resort to 'Clockwork Orange' levels."

"I completely am. The thrall is gone. What thrall?" Buffy claimed in desperation.

One bite from Dracula, and she was in the doghouse. How was that fair? It didn't mean anything. In fact, it was sort of disgusting.

Veronica sadly sighed. "Exactly what an enthralled someone might say. But if ya ask me, he was no Gary Oldman."

She turned her attention to the TV, then took the popcorn back and opened it, as her girlfriend hadn't.

"This soundtrack *sucks*. It's looking less and less likely that we're gonna get our hands on a Woody."

Buffy looked over at her, oddly. "Maybe you're who's..."

She then had a terrific idea. "I'll prove I'm de-thralled. We can have sex. Right now. In the present."

Veronica deliberately ignored this suggestion. "Holy crap." She pointed to the screen. "Lucky my block wasn't knocked off into freaking orbit. Hip control, Dumbers. Gotta work on that."

"And you gotta work on the not-crushing of my head." Buffy wasted no time in giving her own critique.

Super-strong though she was, it did have its limits. Plus, Veronica legs were pretty super-strong themselves. Yeow.

Veronica munched on the buttery snack, speaking with her mouth full. "Sorry, what?"

Then Buffy listened to her recorded self on the DVD make another sound, a squeal.

"I can't sound like that when I..."

"Huh. Whaddaya know? Willow was on the mark. Dead on." Veronica was stunned. "That's the 'shoe sale noise,' all right," she nodded, before turning her head to face the equally stunned female next to her.

"Can you spot me a Franklin? She has to come collecting, it's sayonara little toe." 

The slayer couldn't believe it. "You and Willow bet...? You and *Willow*?"

Veronica wanted "De-Thralled Buffy"? Oh, she was going to see her. She was going to...wait.

"I make a 'shoe sale' noise?"

The detective picked up the remote. "Let's rewind."

__________ 

 

A Bad French Connection

When they got to the restaurant, a nice, hidden away French bistro down an alley of all things (which could be problematic, because, Sunnydale), Buffy and Veronica were shocked at the classy vibe. They got seated and the table had pre-folded napkins and...it was no Bennigan's, for sure. Actually had to have manners here. Or do your best to fake them.

"Did you know it was like this in here?" Veronica asked, after letting loose with an impressed whistle. "I must really be worth it."

Buffy felt in over her head as she shook it. "I just saw it on patrol; wasn't thinking money thoughts. I was thinking, ‘Blow dusty alrea...look, cute.' But it wants a lot, doesn't it? Of money. Probably what it eats. But there's no money to feed. You have to help. Did sitting cost anything?"

"Don't panic. I'm a Mars--I've danced this déjà vu before. It's all about the bread." Veronica's plan was so simple, so perfect. "We pace ourselves, strategically, through a loaf or t..."

She trailed off as something caught her eye a couple tables away. "Forget what I said. Panic."

Buffy turned around in her chair, then saw. "We need to get to an away place. A far, far away place."

As she said that, they were spotted. By a parent each. Joyce and Keith were on a date. Here. The same night they were. Did God like to laugh at them?

"Correction...*needed* to," said the detective.

The slayer tried to hide behind the expensive menu when the older adults got up from their table.

"Quick, they're coming over. You hafta have an out. You always have an out."

"Root canal?" Veronica offered, too busy panicking to think clearly.

"A *better* out," Buffy glared overtop the menu. "They're gonna ask us to sit with them."

Veronica went from panicked to horrified. "Don't say that. Because unless you've got some kind of hard proof or an airtight source, you can't know."

She waited. "What's that? Nothing?" Beat. "Take it back."

"They could. Do you wanna double date with your dad?" Buffy questioned to her, to which Veronica could only blink. "So think!"

"You think!"

"Me thinking is why we're here!"

Yes. Yes, this was all Buffy's fault. Of course. Veronica's eyes didn't hide this feeling.

"Girls," greeted Keith as he and Joyce arrived at their table.

Buffy folded the menu and set it down, trying to smile. "Hello, Mother."

"Hello, Father," said Veronica next, then she made sure to look at her girlfriend to see that they were on the same page.

"We wish we were at Camp Grenada," the younger couple echoed.

Keith's brow rose. Joyce looked upward, in a "heaven help us" manner. These two were a handful one-on-one, but together? Sheesh.

"Looks like we all had the same idea," Joyce spoke the obvious, because nothing else came to her.

"Guess we raised great minds." Keith wasn't any more at ease. "To think too much like we do."

The slayer nodded. "Mistakes don't get any bigger." Beat. "You couldn't've been sucky parents?"

She turned to the other blonde. "See? It's them."

Wasn't her fault.

Veronica downed the contents of her water glass like she was taking a shot. "This eatin' hole ain't big enough for the four of us."

She put it down with force, and then stood up.

Buffy followed her girlfriend's surprisingly direct out. "So make sure you fill us in on what non-Pillsbury croissants taste like."

"There's no reason everybody can't enjoy a meal--" The father began.

His daughter had to interrupt here. "There's where you're full of crap."

"'Cause then why cross to our side of the invisible line?" Joyce's daughter asked. "It was a working line."

Mother answered, "We were just saying ‘hi.' I didn't know we suddenly weren't allowed."

"Remember our talk about ‘common courtesy'?" Keith posed to Veronica.

"That wasn't ‘common courtesy,'" she refuted. "Don't pretend--after all this time, call me greedy, but I expect better. And shouldn't you expect better from yourself?"

"You crossed because you can't be your date-selves now," Buffy enlightened their parents. "Neither can we. If we stayed, we'd be all self-conscious."

"Say we wanted to put our elbows on the table," Veronica gave an example.

"Or chew with mouths open," Buffy gave her own.

"Or you two wanted to be--" Veronica swallowed.

"--couple-y," said the slayer like she had a bad taste in her mouth.

"So being the wonderfully accommodating progeny that we are..." Veronica tried to give them their second out.

"Stay," Joyce said generously, her hand going up to pinch the bridge of her nose. "Have a nice dinner. I've had this headache all day, anyway. I should go home and take some more aspirin."

"Joyce?" "Mom?" Keith and Buffy questioned, concerned.

He shared a look with Buffy, and then by himself spoke, "Should've said something."

"I'm fine." The woman smiled at both of them a few seconds later. "Just need a good night's sleep."

Her focus turned to the girlfriends. "Sit back down, you two. Really."

They obeyed.

Keith placed his hand comfortingly on the small of Joyce's back, and then kissed her cheek. "Wait here. I'll get our coats."

When he walked away, Veronica took her turn. "Mrs. Summers, are you sure--?"

"*Yes,*" insisted Joyce. "Happens when you work as much as I do."

"Got it. Never work."

Things were quiet until the three females saw Keith returning.

"Um, Mom?" Buffy asked.

"Honey, I said I was--"

"No, I-I was gonna ask if Mr. Mars needed his wallet. ‘Cause, um, I kind of need to borrow it."

___________ 

 

Glinda and Hazel Would've Done It By Now

 Willow made her way to Tara's dorm--because she'd work up the courage this time--after helping Anya clean up the Magic Box, post-troll. Everyone else made an excuse that it would give them more time to bond, but really, they just didn't want to pick up a broom. She found Buffy, Veronica, and Tara on the bed with their art history books open.

"Gosh, wasn't that the best game of spin the bottle ever?" Veronica proclaimed loudly as Willow entered. "And using tequila...damn genius, Tara."

The redhead pouted. "I missed spin-kissage?"

A smirking Buffy poked a blushing Tara, then whispered, "Told you."

Veronica however, was disappointed. She wanted Willow pissed off enough by the thought they had Frenched Tara, that the hacker would finally do something.

"Well that backfired."

The girlfriends looked at each other, beginning to get frustrated. As Wile E. Coyote once said, it was back to the drawing board. Godsdamn it.

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