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The Ghosts of Bangel Past
In a dystopian future 20 years after a terrible reboot forever ruined one of the strongest fandoms of all time...
The lawyer was driving far too fast down the curvy road. Every time she hit a patch of ice, the car would start to drift and she would hold her breath for the short moment it would take for the tires to find their grip again. The snow that blew against the windshield was so thick that she had to dim the headlights for better visibility. It was a dangerous night to be in a hurry.
Her phone rang. Her ringtone was this odd piece of halting piano music that she could not remember where she had first heard. People would tell her that it depressed them, but for some reason, she had never gotten around to changing it.
The lawyer retrieved her phone from her purse. It lay right next to the yoyo that she always carried around for some reason. She answered the call and tucked the phone between her cheek and her shoulder, keeping a firm grip on the steering wheel, lest the car should spin into one of the drifts that flanked each side of the road.
“Hello,” she said. It was hubby, asking to see if she knew when she would be home. “I am sorry, sweetie,” she said. “I have a lot more lawyering left to do. I need to get down to the lawyer-house and pick up those old lawyer-files, so I can compare them with my current lawyering-case.” Her husband asked her again why all this lawyering had to take place on Christmas eve. “Because our clients need the permission to go ahead with their project before the deadline set by the elected council and there is a lot of lawyering that needs doing to cut through the red tape and get the stamps and signatures … and I have to argue the case … before a ramshackle band of my peers … and two or four of my inferiors … and now that the appointed lay-judge has caught pneumonia, it is really important that I get those case files from the city archive back to the town crier before he rings the bell on Christmas morning.” The husband responded in a tone that hinted at incredulity. “I am just trying to put this into terms you can understand, sweetie,” the lawyer said. “You are not a lawyer and some of the ins and outs of lawyering may be...”
She was about to say much more, but just then, her car spun around and slid backwards into the oncoming lane. Unstapled case paper files whirled up around her from the stack atop the passenger seat, obscuring her view of the motorcycle, big rig trailer, Olympic skater and old lady jaywalker that all slid past her. The car eventually flew off the road, blowing right through the thick drift of snow and tumbled down the slope beyond. The lawyer just managed to hear her husband complain about not being able to find the box with the Christmas decorations before she lost consciousness.
When she woke up, the lawyer found herself seated in a chair in a dimly lit room. A strange man stood before her, holding a bucket full of water. Something about his strong jaw and spiky fringe seemed oddly familiar.
“You don't need the bucket,” a feminine voice said. “She's already awake.” The lawyer turned her aching head and saw a woman standing behind the man. She wore ridiculous red leather pants and a black tank top.
“I wanted to dose her with the water,” the man said, frowning like no man the lawyer had ever seen frown before.
“Well, you don't have to,” the woman said. “She's awake now.”
“Who are you?” the lawyer asked. “Why do I feel as though I have seen you before?”
“We rescued you,” the man said, “from the car crash.”
“Oh no!” the lawyer said. “My car! I have so much lawyering left to do. I need to get to the city archive and find those blue prints. If I can only prove that the Astrodome was not built according to specifications...”
“Tell me,” the man said. “Who are the three most senior partners at your firm.”
“Oh,” the lawyer said, happy to be asked a question about lawyering. “That would be D. Will Woolf, Jon Ramfelt and Damien Hartman.”
The man sighed and looked at the woman. “She's too far gone,” he said. “She does not remember.”
The woman put a hand on his shoulder. “Just give her a bit of time,” she said. “She just woke up from her accident.”
The man reached into the pocket of his large coat and pulled out a tiny plush pig. “Does this spark your memory?” he asked the lawyer.
The lawyer wanted to laugh, because the sight of this broad shouldered man holding a tiny pink plush toy was too bizarre. “I don't understand,” she said after she had regained her composure. “What exactly do you want from me?”
“We want you to write a story,” the woman said.
“A romance,” the man added.
The woman brought out a little table and the man placed a typewriter atop it. The lawyer looked up at them suspiciously. Stories? She could dimly remember that she used to write stories once upon a time.
“Okay,” the lawyer said. “Maybe I will humor you. How about a story about a young man who is really into retro comedy movies?”
“That is terrible!” the man exclaimed, making the lawyer jump in her seat. The man was so angry that his entire face had creased into a wrinkly grimace.
“But...” the lawyer said. “There is a twist. He is secretly gay, but his insecurities make him project this upon the girl he pretends to be in love with...”
“There has to be a vampire,” the woman said. “The man should be a vampire.”
The lawyer looked from the man to the woman with incredulity. She wondered to herself what kind of freaks she had gotten herself messed up with, but she garnered from their harsh expressions that it would be best not to annoy them. “I got it,” she said. “A young woman moves to the big city to pursue an acting career, but she ends up joining a lapsed vampire on his quest for redemption.”
The woman folded her arms. “That sucks,” she said. “The girl needs to be a hero, too. And she must have different hair.”
“I did not say what kind of hair the girl had,” the lawyer said. She sighed. “How about this then … a warrior develops an unhealthy relationship with a vampire she's been trying to kill for years, but after their relationship implodes, the vampires goes to Africa to prove his love by...”
“No,” the man and the woman screamed in unison.
“This is hopeless,” the man said. “Soon, she'll bring up that weird guy who reads Sylvia Plath...”
“I quite liked him,” the woman said.
“Don't start,” the man scoffed.
While the two of them argued, something started to unfurl within the lawyer's mind. She saw a world before her inner eye … a world of heroes and monster … a world in which one did not have to resort to mind numbing lawyering to get by. She saw a man–haunted by his dark past and a terrible curse–seek out a young girl whom the world had saddled with overwhelming responsibility. Between two such aching souls, a love unlike any other could ignite, and even if the universe and a misguided showrunner did their best to keep them from each other, the mark they made on each other would ensure that they could never again be truly apart. The lawyer's fingers started dancing atop the keys of the typewriter, pushing out page after page of sweet prose that emerged effortlessly from some forgotten room in her mind's attic.
When the lawyer finally looked up from her work, she saw the man and the woman embracing. Just as their lips met, their bodies dissipated into tiny flakes of snow that whirled up and landed on the fresh pages, melting into the ink. The lawyer blinked. Suddenly, she felt no need to get back to her lawyering. Mr Hainsely could find someone else to represent him in his divorce case. It was the most ridiculous case she had ever worked. Too many angles.
All the lawyer wanted to do now was to get back to her husband and her cat in time for Christmas. She picked up the little plush pig from the floor. It was too pretty to leave behind. Then she went out in search of her car.
If the fight against the first had actually been on Christmas day!!!!
T'was the night before Christmas,
and in Slayer Central.
The whole place was in chaos.
I mean totally mental!
Potentials were all gathered out in the kitchen,
Whining & moaning, pouting & bitching.
They've all been out getting their training from Spike,
Even the one who sounds like Dick Van Dyke!
Willow was making out upstairs in bed.
Although necking with Ken, she was thinking of Fred.
This new squeeze of hers was really quite rude,
One kiss from her, you turn into a dude!
Giles reminiscing on times when he mattered.
Till his Slayer went freelance & the Council got splattered.
He tried to off Spike with the wrong kind of Wood.
His logic was sound just his timing not good.
Xander was dreaming of Potential frolics.
But Anya is back & after his....erm, Body.
A brief heart to heart, though the timing was tricky.
They settled their feud with a Kitchen floor quickie.
Dawn was a Hero, though just Xander who saw it.
If she could just cure her thieving, You know, take something for it.
She's studying hard to be a Watcher like Giles.
Not quite as clever, but cuter by miles.
Spike got a Soul, but it came with a hitch.
Turned him into a Puppy, ever more just loves bitch.
She said that she loved him, we all know she lied.
As his disco ball bling dusted Vamps till he died.
Andrew was baking some snacks for the showdown,
With his whiteboard & pens gave a tactical lowdown.
With his video camera he's creating a blog,
Cause he's fully expecting to die like a dog.
Anya was back, newly human....again.
She thought that not running was truly insane.
In battle the bringer just wasn't detected.
And a swing of his sword left her neatly bisected.
The unemployed Robin took an instant dislike
To the leather clad Vampire that calls himself Spike.
They're not Freudian hang-ups, he's just misunderstood.
But it's Faith that just floored him with a simple "Got Wood?"
Buffy evicted found a house & a bed.
But the man in her arms, like her sex life, was dead.
The first paid a visit to gloat & to sneer.
But the incorporeal taunter gave her an idea.
With Buffy sent packing it's now Faith who's in charge,
She's leading the scoobies & livin it large.
The bomb that they found nearly blew her away,
Now she's in Buffy's bed, where she's aiming to stay!
Angel was hanging around for a bit
But then, like the preacher, he just had to split.
Seeing Buffy with Spike made him ever so jealous,
Even though munching Cookie would bring back Angelus.
So the plan was laid out & the battle commenced.
When they all got made Slayers the First was incensed.
Buffy went down, they were taking a stuffin.
Then the battle was won by a handy McGuffin.
The Vamps did attack, the scoobs were knocked back, things looked bad until Spikey went Nova.
So they called it a day, as the ceiling gave way, & like that the whole battle was over.
The Battle was done, & they still kinda won, though they mostly escaped safe-n-sound.
It dawned on them all, the town plus the Mall, was now just a hole in the ground.
"There'll be no Christmas shopping, so there's no point in stopping. We might as well head to LA."
"We'll give Angel a call, as it's after the fall, He might give us somewhere to stay."
So they boarded the bus, & with minimal fuss, the war weary gang did depart,
and by morning were found, kinda hanging around, in the foyer of Wolfram & Heart.
With the wounded found beds, & pumped up with Meds, the others all stood round the tree.
But Angel was brooding, "see we didn't get food in, we had only planned dinner for three."
Buffy flashed him a smile, "can we crash for a while, we promise we won't make a fuss."
"To tell you the truth, we're just glad of a roof, and to get out of that damn yellow Bus."
Giles told Angel the story, all the heroes & glory, all agreed that their victory was great.
"Though I'm thinking the worst, now we've beaten the First, we may have just blown Season 8."
"And that crater again, will be hard to explain, looks like it was made by Atomics".
"And the First is not finished, though his powers diminished, I bet he turns up in the comics."
"But together we stand, if not quite hand in hand, and I think we should all raise a cheer."
"At the end of the day, it just leaves me to say....Merry Christmas & Happy New year!"
Nix was all smiles as she watched her daughter accept the Nobel prize for literature. Her baby was all grown up, and now the focus of everyone in the room. You could cut the intense admiration with a knife. It seemed like only yesterday that Abbs was wearing nappies! And now, here she was decked out in a Chanel frock, looking like a supermodel. Nix was simply bursting with pride, and tried to hold back her tears of utter joy. This moment made all the past struggles in her life seem worth it.
She glanced around at all the people in the audience. They were gazing at Abbs like she was a rock star...it was unbelievable, like a dream. But she'd always known that her daughter was destined for greatness. And now she was proven right. It was simply incredible! Abbs winked at her mum and smiled. She also knew that this event was unbelievably special, and tried to hide her nervousness. There were so many people, so many cameras! But she managed to look poised and beautiful as she accepted her award. She didn't know what was more mind-boggling; receiving the Nobel Prize, or the look of sheer pride and unquestioning love on her mum's face.
They would NEVER forget this. It was proof that a mother's love could inspire her child to accomplish wondrous things.
@Anyanka Bunny Slayer
The snow fell heavily outside, covering cobbled streets and obscuring street lamps with a clean, white, sheen. The chill crept in through windows and doors, kept at bay only by the crackling of an open fire. A slender, dark haired woman moved with lithe, swaying steps across a finely furnished sitting room. She was clutching a doll and on her lips was a song.
“Is that a carol, pet?”
She smiled at her lover. “I took the druish pervonian wizard’s advice”, she said, “I went outside.” Licking her lips, she removed the last drops of blood lingering on their fine form. “Miss Edith and I met some carolers. They were lovely.” Into her lover’s hands she placed a wrapped box with a red bow on top. “Merry Christmas.”
Spike looked at the box in his hands and the dark blood dripping out of its corners. “It’s just what I wanted, love”, he said. “Merry Christmas.”
Another morning, another day of the same routine. It had become a routine now, for the first time in her life she had routine and stability. It took some getting used to, and the irony of having a stable life when she had taken lives was not lost on her. She had gotten into a bit of trouble when she first arrived, but the other inmates left her alone now. Now that they saw that she wasn't going to be beaten easily, she held a quiet respect now, she wasn't looking to lead, but they knew that she could easily, if she wanted to. She also wasn't willing to be led by others either, so she kept to herself mostly, working out to get rid of the slayer urges, it didn't completely satisfy her but it would do for now, after all she could be the longest slayer alive if she stayed where she was.
Passing beside the forest on the lonely country road at night,
Allyson looked at the black shadows that ran on four legs.
When she wasn’t ready, they looked with bright red eyes,
they reminded her of werewolves, very scary hells hounds.
Allyson’s husband Samuel kept driving their car, unawares,
until further along the road he stopped at the wooden gate.
Samuel asked Allyson if she would open the gate for him,
she declined so Samuel asked their daughters, in the back.
“Either of you two going to get the gate for me?” he asked.
His eldest grinned then asked what her mother had implied
she shook her head, smiled then blew her father a raspberry,
Andrea took off her seatbelt, she told her father she’d get it.
He watched her go to open the gate, and swing it to the side
and attached it to a post in the bushes that was made for it.
She stayed beside the post, her father drove the car passed
Once he had gone passed she untied the gate from the post.
Samuel stopped the car he waited for Andrea to get back in
when she had, he didn’t drive forward; he pointed instead.
In front of the car was a doppelganger; his daughter Andrea,
He went to meet her, the doppelganger smiled and vanished.
He drove forward from the gate then he stopped at the house
he stepped from the car and looked at the building front door.
Samuel asked his wife and daughters what they thought of it.
Andrea touched the cow’s brass bell that hung from the wall.
Inside the house, Barbara took a book from her jacket pocket
the title of the book was, “The history of Cathcombe Park.”
Of its people from the house, the land and of the property,
and the message carved into the stones above the doors entry.
Allyson saw over the door, “Blessed are those who live here.”
The words carved up there, I’d think would have meaning
Barbara smiled to her mum, “If a witch was to read that she’d
read it as. “Bless-sed are those who live here,” said Andrea
Choosing a room as their bedroom was the next thing to do.
The girls loved the feel of the attic, the view was very good
“I know,” said Barbara, “But let’s try the opposite end first.”
Running downstairs they went to what was called a dungeon
An old hag of a woman, walked from the walls of the dungeon
She looks at the sisters and smiles, “I like being a young one.”
The young witch looked at Barbara and Andrea, do you know
which one of you is a witch, Andrea saw the witches fireball.
The young witch smiled to Andrea, “I hoped it would be you.”
“On the basement floor are the opaque lines of the pentagram
“If magic is good and evil how should we prepare the lines?”
the witch knew Andrea would soon be one with the ancestor.
A pentagram’s lines when made with salt will keep the evil out
but when those lines are created with flour we allow the evil in,
it’s the intelligence of the witch is what invites the right evil in
it is that which causes us our sex magic to perform our magic.
Magic performed by they who are pure of body, we have power.
“And now the prophesized one is here I shall call on the dead.
When a full coven is built may we begin to gather lost creations
“And I wanted to free me of this curse: virginity,” said Andrea.
The following morning they went on the track deep in the forest
Andrea kept looking as she thought something was behind them.
Further on the track that which heralded the witches graveyard,
And a six horse team that pulled the hearse from the cemetery.
A young woman walked from the graveyard to be with Andrea
who looked at who drove the Hearse, “Those two are not right.”
“Those humans, then church congregation condemned them,
and they were buried alive, but in the land of a witches circle.
As the soil gives life to a seed, so it gave a second life to them
but the witch circle had them return as supernatural creatures
the man became the Incubus; to implant in any a demon’s seed
she returned as the Succubus she point to who will be demon.
Now there's two gifts still in the making, so I'm sorry if you haven't got one yet, but I'm sure that they will extra special when they do arrive.
Thank you to all that took part, and if you want to reveal who you were Santa to then please do.
Thank you for my gift!Then it appears I need to apologise to you Grace,
does that mean you are not as geniusy as I thought. Also should my powers of deductive reasoning be deductified?
I was notified who I was making a gifty for, I thought that member would be the person to send a gifty to me.
I'll accept that thank you for Grace (look at our current avatars… clearly we're merging and becoming one, so thanking one is thanking the other)So there I was,
perturbed by the words on her lips that were a song.
Spike asked the love of his undeadness, was that a carol pet?
I may need to ask the genius that is Grace,
maybe Spike was partly correct,
when he asked is that it a carol
I deduced it was Carol King.
I ask you people, should I thank Grace, I think I should andIdo.
You should step out of your comfort zone more often. I thought it was brilliant, creative too. I'm gonna have to go back to figure out which were my favorite rhymes.@Taake - That'll be me
Glad you liked it....Thought I'd step outside my comfort zone....Think that's the first time I've tried writing in rhyme since I left school
I had two on the go & couldn't make up my mind which to give you......so you got both! (That's why the rhymes are so different).
I knew it was you! Lol. But seriously thank you so much. It was such a funny little story with so many sweet personal touches.I am so happy you are happy with my story, @Mrs Gordo. You're a good sport. I wish you the best Christmas with hubby and kitty and no more lawyering than necessary.