Fic: Telling Porkies
Dec. 6th, 2013 08:46 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
beer_good_foamyTitle: Telling Porkies
Author: Beer Good (beer_good_foamy)
Fandom: Buffy, season 2
Rating: PG13
Word count: ~3,500
Characters/Pairings: Dawn, Mr Gordo (background Buffy/Angel)
Summary: A different angle on "Becoming". Buffy thinks she has problems with Angel turning evil? Well, boo hoo. Dawn has to deal with a possessed stuffed pig trying to raise an army to end the world.
Written for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
letsgetitdone 2013.
Thanks to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
angearia for the inspiration.
Dogs look up to us. Cats look down on us. Pigs treat us as equals.
- Winston Churchill
Telling Porkies
Jenny nodded slowly to herself as she looked over the recreated soul spell, while scarfing down a quick lunch. Yeah, that was probably close, but ... The 19th century handwriting was bad enough, but damnit, it would have been so much easier if they'd done the spell in Romani instead of Romanian. Seriously, great-great-granduncle, what was up with that? She'd have to get a dictionary. But it should be in the ballpark. Just on a whim, she grabbed the Orb of Thessulah and intoned the spell. Este gros, aceasta putere este de porc poporul meu a conduce, reda trupului ce separe animal de omul.
Nothing. Oh well. She'd run it through the spellcheck programme she had at the school tonight. Meanwhile, she'd just finish... Huh. She could have sworn she had half a ham sandwich left.
In the dark, his eyes glowed red as he awoke. He could remember years of cuddly companionship with his Girl... and then being gradually forgotten, turning into a Thing, sleeping for years. Now, after a lifetime (of sorts) of unthinking goodness, he finally had free will, and he was going to choose revenge. He took a few unaccustomed steps, opened his mouth to reveal his fangs and growled low. He was free.
Well, kind of. After thumping impotently against the door for a while, he retreated to the darkest of the dark corners and bided his time. Sooner or later, someone would let him out. And they'd all be sorry.
Two weeks later
Drama queen, Dawn thought to herself. She wasn't completely sure what that meant, but Janice in her class had used it about someone and she liked the sound of it. And Buffy was definitely being one, and not even in a fun way. Something was wrong between her and Angel, which was good because all that kissing had to be totally gross, but also meant she had nothing to blackmail Buffy about anymore. She'd gotten a steady supply of candy out of not telling Mom how often Buffy snuck out at night, and that was all dried up now. Besides, pushing Buffy's buttons just wasn't fun anymore, she wouldn't even get mad at Dawn. It was actually kinda creepy to watch your sister walk around like a zombie; clearly, someone had to shake her out of it.
At least sneaking into her room wasn't as risky anymore. The last time she was in there a couple of weeks ago she'd hid some of Buffy's things to see how she'd react when she couldn't find them. She'd almost felt sorry about hiding Mr Gordo in the back of her broom closet, but really, what kind of 17-year-old still slept with a stuffed pig? Dawn herself had phased out all of the stuffed animals she kept when they first moved from LA except Lee the Lion, and even she - even that was really more for irony. (Another Janice word.) But this was disappointing. Buffy had found most of the stuff and just put it back where it used to be without comment. The hairbrush, the boots, the weird bits of wood... She couldn't see the pig anywhere, though. Maybe she hadn't found him? She opened the door to the broom closet and YIPES
With a triumphant RRROINK, the pig sprang to his hooves and burst out of the Dark Room, effortlessly knocking over the human who'd been keeping him captive. He was FREE! Now to assemble his minions. Mr Gordo - or Gordus, as he chose to think of himself now - looked around the Girl's dungeon, where he'd been held captive for so many years. He remembered that back before the Big Sleep of Pew Ber Tee there'd been others like him. A lion, and a bear, and a cow, and... now there was just him.
He turned back to the human who was still sitting on the floor beside the Dark Room, staring at him. She was young, he thought. She'd have minions for him. He snarled at her, and as fast as his chubby little legs could carry him, he ran for the door.
OK, this was ridiculous. Dawn was eleven and a half, she was a big girl, she knew perfectly well that stuffed toys weren't alive. Heck, she knew words like "perfectly well." And "heck," too, so just watch it. Obviously, there was no way Mr Gordo had just jumped out of the closet, tried to bite her, and then run off down the hallway. Only little kids believed in monsters in the closet. And only really weird little kids believed in evil, demonic, fluffy pigs in the closet. Yup. Impossible.
Still, best to make sure.
"Mom?" Dawn stampeded down the stairs. "Did you see - Oh. Hi."
The very serious man standing next to her mother in the hallway turned and looked at her. "Hello there. Who might you be?"
Mom quickly moved next to her and put her arm around her shoulders. "Dawn, this is Detective Stein. He's with the police."
"Hi there, Dawn." The policeman smiled in that way some adults do when they think they're good with kids. "Say, have you seen your sister today?"
Mom quickly answered for her. "Dawn is eleven years old, Detective. I'm pretty sure she doesn't have to answer any questions." Woah. Mom was mad. "Dawn? Why don't you go back upstairs while I talk to Detective Stein?"
"Uh, sure. Just, did any of you see a stuffed pig? Like, this big?"
"Not now, Dawn."
"But it's really - "
"Not. Now."
Crud. Dawn plodded back upstairs.
* * *
"LION! AWAKE!"
Gordus stood over Lee the Lion, who just lay there on the smaller human's bed like so much plush and cotton filling, refusing to move.
"AWAKE, MY MINION! THERE IS EVIL AHOOF!"
Nothing. Cusses. It seemed the lion was well on her way into the Big Sleep, and wouldn't be awoken by mere words. Time for the heavy artillery. Gordus bared his fangs and sunk them into her neck.
"Oh no you don't!" Dawn grabbed the pig and flung him across the room. Lee was her stuffed lion, darnit, ever since Buffy gave her to Dawn when Mom and Dad stopped getting along, and no matter how impossible or ridiculous it was she wasn't going to let some spoiled little pig bite her. She sat down to check Lee for damage. There was a tear in her neck and some stuffing was leaking out, hopefully not so bad Mom wouldn't be able to fix it. Now where did that pig - WOAH! She barely managed to get her hands up as Gordus launched himself at her with an imporcine squeal. They tumbled off the bed in an awkward ball of fluff and clumsy limbs, and she hit her head hard on the floor while trying to keep his snapping jaws away from her face (and not laugh or sneeze from the way his fur tickled her nose). "Quit it! You're not rea- Achoo! OW!" Funny, it felt real when he bit down on her finger. She tried to fight him off, but she was a bit woozy from hitting her head, and -
Suddenly there was a flash of brown and yellow. Dawn flinched and closed her eyes, felt something tumble over her followed by the sound of something running away. She looked up again just in time to see Gordus leap out the open window. Lee was lying next to her on the floor with some stuffing leaking from her neck, to all appearances just another toy. She must have fallen off the bed in the scuffle, Dawn told herself, but... She tried to put the stuffing back in, gave the lion a quick squeeze and put her back on the bed, then prepared to go pig-hunting.
Climbing out a window wasn't at all scary. Really. She knew Buffy did this all the time, how hard could it be? Of course, the hoodie she borrowed from Buffy was a little too big and she kept having to pull the sleeves up, but - woah - eeep - wooooah - see, no problem at all. She looked around the garden, under the bushes, up in the tree, and - oh shoot.
* * *
"So what do you think, Detective?" Officer Murphy asked as they left the Summers' residence and walked towards their car. "Do you think Mrs Summers knows more than she's telling?"
"Well, if your daughter was killing people on school grounds, would you cooperate with the police?"
The young police officer frowned. "Of course I would. It's the law."
"Right, when pigs fly..." Detective Stein looked up and quickly added, "I mean, uh, when hell freezes over. HEY! Watch it, kid!" he yelled to the girl who zoomed past them on a bike, looking up at the sky rather than where she was going.
"Wasn't that the sister?"
"Yes."
"Are we going after her?"
Detective Stein shook his head. "Forget it, Jack. It's Sunnydale."
* * *
Gordus felt the wind whistling past his fuzzy little ears as he soared over Sunnydale. He wasn't sure how this was possible, but he wasn't about to complain. This town belonged to him now, and he knew what he was going to do.
The high school loomed up ahead.
He was going to open the heckmouth.
* * *
Turns out, riding your bike down Main Street while keeping your eyes on a flying pig was just as easy as climbing out a window. As long as you didn't think of the cars breaking and honking and yelling at you, that is. She watched the pig land in one of the windows at Buffy's school and quickly made her way there, ducked under some ribbons saying CRIME SCENE DO NOT CROSS and snuck inside.
* * *
Gordus muttered as he ruined another of Giles' books. He knew the heckmouth was under the Room Of Many Books, one of which was bound to tell him how to open it, but how was he supposed to know which one? And how come the supreme evil mastermind of Sunnydale, soarer of its skies, almost-defeater of lions, still couldn't turn the pages of a book without rumpling and tearing them? Were opposable thumbs really so much to ask for? He nudged another book off the shelf, lifted the cover with his snout and tried to read it; something about beets. Which sounded delicious right now (though not as delicious as the blood of the innocent, he quickly added), but didn't tell him anything he didn't -
He sensed that he wasn't alone and turned around. There was the small human he'd almost defeated earlier, dressed in a large sweater and carrying a wiffle bat. He recognised her now. She was Squalling Infant, or at least she had been. How long had he been asleep, anyway?
"What are you doing?" Dawn asked.
"Fool," Gordus snarled. "The heckmouth is right under your hooves. As soon as it opens, creatures you cannot imagine will burst forth and eat you."
"Sure." Like she was going to believe that just because a talking pig told her. Still, all those books looked way more fun than the ones in her school library, and the pig really was too ridiculously cute to really be evil. "So, you're, like, trying to stop it?"
Gordus laughed contemptuously, turned back to the book, ruined another page, and quickly added, "...Yes, absolutely. And if you'll be my minion, uh, I mean friend, I may be able to protect you. Can you read, human?"
"Can I ever!"
After a few minutes of looking through a big pile of really neat old books about really creepy monsters that Mom would never have let her watch movies about, Dawn asked him: "The thing I don't get is, why would the monsters eat me and not you?" She tried to fight the impulse to cuddle his little ears. "I mean, you're a pig, right?"
"What do you mean?"
"You're made of bacon?"
On second thought, Gordus told himself, this plan seemed a little rash. Doing evil was all good and well, but he clearly wasn't at full power yet, and he'd rather not summon forth Eaters Of Pig until he was. His eye fell on some handwritten notes in one of the books that seemed recent. Acathla, huh? "Minion - new plan!"
* * *
It was already dark by the time she got back to the house. OK, simple enough plan: open the door, sneak upstairs, get the - oh. They had company.
"...Dru bagged a Slayer?" the strange white-haired man was saying just as Dawn walked in. "She didn't tell me! Hey, good for her! Though not from your perspective, I suppose."
"I can't believe I invited you into my house," Buffy said.
"So you didn't kill that girl - Dawn?!?" Mom looked up and came running over. "Thank God! Where have you been? I've been worried sick!"
"Sure you have," Dawn muttered.
Buffy looked up as well, only to quickly grab the white-haired man by the neck and hiss, "If you so much as look at my sister, there's no deal."
"Just trying to be polite - OW!"
Wow. Buffy solving things with violence. That's real impressive.
"Dawn - go upstairs." Buffy shot her an I-don't-have-time-for-this look, and then frowned. "Is that my sweater? You know what, never mind. Just go upstairs and stay there."
"Fine." Which of course it was, anyway; she just needed to grab what Gordus had asked her to grab, climb back out the window, and go save the world.
* * *
Hiding in the bushes outside the Slayer's home was really undignified. But after no less than three passing vampires tried to pet him, Gordus just couldn't afford to take any chances. Finally, his minion came limping back out of the darkness.
"Ow," Dawn said as she bent down to pick up the pig and brush off some leaves. Who knew climbing out windows was that much harder at night?
"Did you bring it?"
"Yeah." Dawn held up her bag.
"Eeeexcellent," he grunted. "Now, minion, carry me forth!"
Dawn yawned. It was way past her bedtime already. "Can't you fly us both there?"
He looked up at her. "Are you cr - I mean, I am the mighty Gordus, of course I could! But this is an important, uh, lesson for you."
And so, with Gordus squeezed into the little basket as snugly as only a stuffed animal can be, Dawn turned on the lamp on her bike and rode off again.
They finally got to the mansion on Crawford Street around dawn, partly because she wasn't used to staying up this late and made a few wrong turns, and partly because they drove past a grove of oaks and Gordus had to pig out on haycorns for a while. Weird house, Dawn thought as they stopped by the back door. And there seemed to be some weird stuff going on inside too, judging by all the scuffling and thudding and grunting. "OK, so now what?"
"Now," Gordus chuckled with all the malice he could muster, which was a considerable amount by stuffed pig standards, "now it's time to make a sacrifice to... Hang on, can you help me out of this basket? Thank you, minion." He shook the stiffness out of his little legs. "Now, as I said... hand me that bag... it's time to make a sacrifice. Through your blood, Acathla shall awaken and suck the world into HECK!" Somewhat awkwardly, cussing his lack of thumbs, he reached into the bag and pulled out the blade he'd asked Dawn to fetch. He stared at it. "What the swill is this?"
"A razor, like you asked." Dawn yawned again; she was really sleepy.
"You call this a razor?!?" Gordus was getting very upset, and threw down the Ladyshave that Dawn had stolen out of Buffy's room. "How am I supposed to slit your throat with this?"
"Look, you just said a knife or razor or something sharp, and I've totally seen Buffy nick her legs with that thing. And..." Dawn quickly rewound the conversation in her head. "Hey! You are evil!"
Gordus fluffed himself up to his full twelve inches and snarled. "Alright then, I'm gonna root your throat out with my own teeth! DIE!" With a mighty squeal, he lept at Dawn, who eeped and threw her hands up.
They say that when you're in a fight for your life, especially if you're not used to it, your body will release extra adrenaline and endorfins and stuff to keep you sharp and alert; that under extreme duress, ordinary humans are capable of almost supernatural feats of strength and agility. It's quite possible Dawn's body would have done that, but just then she was distracted by the sound of a large car smashing through a garage door on the other side of the house and roaring off down the street. So rather than get involved in a life-or-death struggle with a rabid stuffed pig, Dawn ended up stumbling over her bike and falling backwards into the overgrown flowerbed surrounding the house, as Gordus sailed harmlessly over her head and disappeared into an open window.
* * *
This
Was
Just
Not
Villainous
At
All,
Gordus thought as he vaulted through the window, landed on the surprisingly well-polished floor of the villa, and went bouncing, tumbling and spinning all the way across the hall, finally coming to a stop against some sort of big stony statue.
It was time to face it: he just wasn't cut out and sewn together to be a villain. He couldn't remember why it ever seemed like a good idea. Or why plush pigs should even stop to think whether things were good ideas or not. All he'd wanted was to work his newfound aggression out on something, and he -
Hang on.
He sprang to his hooves when he saw what was going in the garden. His Girl was fighting someone - someone he vaguely recognised somehow, but who was clearly winning, so never mind that. Evil or not, that was his Girl, goshdangit, he'd been her Chosen Snuggle for years. He snuck up behind them, just out of sight, as the Dark Broody One pointed his blade at his Girl and spoke.
"Now that's everything, huh? No weapons... No friends... No hope. Take all that away... and what's left?"
Me, Gordus... Gordo thought, leapt up and chomped down on the man's leatherclad butt, distracting him just enough so the Girl was able to catch the blade. His victim stumbled backwards, shaking his ass a bit to dislodge Gordo, who slid across the floor and crashed into the door. He watched his Girl fight the Broody One, driving him back towards the statue. Looked like she was winning. Good for her. She hadn't seen him, which was probably for the best, but he'd reveal himself in a minute. He just really needed to sleep first. It had been a very big day for a very small pig.
* * *
When Dawn finally found the front door and opened it, she almost stumbled over Gordo, who was just a stuffed pig again. After picking him up, she made her way inside the house, and ... OK, what the frick?
There was some sort of big statue with a sword or something sticking out of it, and her sister was standing all alone in front of it with her hands clasped over her mouth, looking like she'd seen a ghost. And Dawn was definitely sure about ghosts not being real. "Buffy?"
Buffy turned and looked at her, blinking a couple of times. "...Dawn?" she asked, like that wasn't obvious. Dawn was gonna say something about that, but then she saw the look in Buffy's eyes and it seemed kind of mean. Buffy looked at the statue, and then back at Dawn as if she was trying to figure something out. "What are you doing here?" she finally asked. She sounded really tired.
Dawn didn't really know what to say. "He turned evil," she finally said. "But everything's OK again now. See?" She held up Mr Gordo so Buffy could see that he was his usual pink, friendly, fluffy self.
Buffy took the pig and stared at him, and then back at Dawn. "What..."
Dawn sighed. "I know, I shouldn't be up this late and I'll be in trouble when Mom hears about this, and..." Suddenly Dawn was being hugged so hard she could barely breathe. "Hey! What are you doing?" But Buffy held on to her, burying her face in her sister's (which is to say her own) oversized sweater. And Dawn realised that maybe part of being a big girl was knowing when to not ask any questions and just hold your sister while she cries her eyes out.
"Buffy?" she asked when the sobs weren't quite as bad anymore. "Can we go home now?"
She let Buffy carry Mr Gordo all the way home. He didn't seem to mind.
Author: Beer Good (
beer_good_foamy)Fandom: Buffy, season 2
Rating: PG13
Word count: ~3,500
Characters/Pairings: Dawn, Mr Gordo (background Buffy/Angel)
Summary: A different angle on "Becoming". Buffy thinks she has problems with Angel turning evil? Well, boo hoo. Dawn has to deal with a possessed stuffed pig trying to raise an army to end the world.
Written for
letsgetitdone 2013.Thanks to
angearia for the inspiration.Dogs look up to us. Cats look down on us. Pigs treat us as equals.
- Winston Churchill
Telling Porkies
Jenny nodded slowly to herself as she looked over the recreated soul spell, while scarfing down a quick lunch. Yeah, that was probably close, but ... The 19th century handwriting was bad enough, but damnit, it would have been so much easier if they'd done the spell in Romani instead of Romanian. Seriously, great-great-granduncle, what was up with that? She'd have to get a dictionary. But it should be in the ballpark. Just on a whim, she grabbed the Orb of Thessulah and intoned the spell. Este gros, aceasta putere este de porc poporul meu a conduce, reda trupului ce separe animal de omul.
Nothing. Oh well. She'd run it through the spellcheck programme she had at the school tonight. Meanwhile, she'd just finish... Huh. She could have sworn she had half a ham sandwich left.
In the dark, his eyes glowed red as he awoke. He could remember years of cuddly companionship with his Girl... and then being gradually forgotten, turning into a Thing, sleeping for years. Now, after a lifetime (of sorts) of unthinking goodness, he finally had free will, and he was going to choose revenge. He took a few unaccustomed steps, opened his mouth to reveal his fangs and growled low. He was free.
Well, kind of. After thumping impotently against the door for a while, he retreated to the darkest of the dark corners and bided his time. Sooner or later, someone would let him out. And they'd all be sorry.
Drama queen, Dawn thought to herself. She wasn't completely sure what that meant, but Janice in her class had used it about someone and she liked the sound of it. And Buffy was definitely being one, and not even in a fun way. Something was wrong between her and Angel, which was good because all that kissing had to be totally gross, but also meant she had nothing to blackmail Buffy about anymore. She'd gotten a steady supply of candy out of not telling Mom how often Buffy snuck out at night, and that was all dried up now. Besides, pushing Buffy's buttons just wasn't fun anymore, she wouldn't even get mad at Dawn. It was actually kinda creepy to watch your sister walk around like a zombie; clearly, someone had to shake her out of it.
At least sneaking into her room wasn't as risky anymore. The last time she was in there a couple of weeks ago she'd hid some of Buffy's things to see how she'd react when she couldn't find them. She'd almost felt sorry about hiding Mr Gordo in the back of her broom closet, but really, what kind of 17-year-old still slept with a stuffed pig? Dawn herself had phased out all of the stuffed animals she kept when they first moved from LA except Lee the Lion, and even she - even that was really more for irony. (Another Janice word.) But this was disappointing. Buffy had found most of the stuff and just put it back where it used to be without comment. The hairbrush, the boots, the weird bits of wood... She couldn't see the pig anywhere, though. Maybe she hadn't found him? She opened the door to the broom closet and YIPES
With a triumphant RRROINK, the pig sprang to his hooves and burst out of the Dark Room, effortlessly knocking over the human who'd been keeping him captive. He was FREE! Now to assemble his minions. Mr Gordo - or Gordus, as he chose to think of himself now - looked around the Girl's dungeon, where he'd been held captive for so many years. He remembered that back before the Big Sleep of Pew Ber Tee there'd been others like him. A lion, and a bear, and a cow, and... now there was just him.
He turned back to the human who was still sitting on the floor beside the Dark Room, staring at him. She was young, he thought. She'd have minions for him. He snarled at her, and as fast as his chubby little legs could carry him, he ran for the door.
OK, this was ridiculous. Dawn was eleven and a half, she was a big girl, she knew perfectly well that stuffed toys weren't alive. Heck, she knew words like "perfectly well." And "heck," too, so just watch it. Obviously, there was no way Mr Gordo had just jumped out of the closet, tried to bite her, and then run off down the hallway. Only little kids believed in monsters in the closet. And only really weird little kids believed in evil, demonic, fluffy pigs in the closet. Yup. Impossible.
Still, best to make sure.
"Mom?" Dawn stampeded down the stairs. "Did you see - Oh. Hi."
The very serious man standing next to her mother in the hallway turned and looked at her. "Hello there. Who might you be?"
Mom quickly moved next to her and put her arm around her shoulders. "Dawn, this is Detective Stein. He's with the police."
"Hi there, Dawn." The policeman smiled in that way some adults do when they think they're good with kids. "Say, have you seen your sister today?"
Mom quickly answered for her. "Dawn is eleven years old, Detective. I'm pretty sure she doesn't have to answer any questions." Woah. Mom was mad. "Dawn? Why don't you go back upstairs while I talk to Detective Stein?"
"Uh, sure. Just, did any of you see a stuffed pig? Like, this big?"
"Not now, Dawn."
"But it's really - "
"Not. Now."
Crud. Dawn plodded back upstairs.
"LION! AWAKE!"
Gordus stood over Lee the Lion, who just lay there on the smaller human's bed like so much plush and cotton filling, refusing to move.
"AWAKE, MY MINION! THERE IS EVIL AHOOF!"
Nothing. Cusses. It seemed the lion was well on her way into the Big Sleep, and wouldn't be awoken by mere words. Time for the heavy artillery. Gordus bared his fangs and sunk them into her neck.
"Oh no you don't!" Dawn grabbed the pig and flung him across the room. Lee was her stuffed lion, darnit, ever since Buffy gave her to Dawn when Mom and Dad stopped getting along, and no matter how impossible or ridiculous it was she wasn't going to let some spoiled little pig bite her. She sat down to check Lee for damage. There was a tear in her neck and some stuffing was leaking out, hopefully not so bad Mom wouldn't be able to fix it. Now where did that pig - WOAH! She barely managed to get her hands up as Gordus launched himself at her with an imporcine squeal. They tumbled off the bed in an awkward ball of fluff and clumsy limbs, and she hit her head hard on the floor while trying to keep his snapping jaws away from her face (and not laugh or sneeze from the way his fur tickled her nose). "Quit it! You're not rea- Achoo! OW!" Funny, it felt real when he bit down on her finger. She tried to fight him off, but she was a bit woozy from hitting her head, and -
Suddenly there was a flash of brown and yellow. Dawn flinched and closed her eyes, felt something tumble over her followed by the sound of something running away. She looked up again just in time to see Gordus leap out the open window. Lee was lying next to her on the floor with some stuffing leaking from her neck, to all appearances just another toy. She must have fallen off the bed in the scuffle, Dawn told herself, but... She tried to put the stuffing back in, gave the lion a quick squeeze and put her back on the bed, then prepared to go pig-hunting.
Climbing out a window wasn't at all scary. Really. She knew Buffy did this all the time, how hard could it be? Of course, the hoodie she borrowed from Buffy was a little too big and she kept having to pull the sleeves up, but - woah - eeep - wooooah - see, no problem at all. She looked around the garden, under the bushes, up in the tree, and - oh shoot.
"So what do you think, Detective?" Officer Murphy asked as they left the Summers' residence and walked towards their car. "Do you think Mrs Summers knows more than she's telling?"
"Well, if your daughter was killing people on school grounds, would you cooperate with the police?"
The young police officer frowned. "Of course I would. It's the law."
"Right, when pigs fly..." Detective Stein looked up and quickly added, "I mean, uh, when hell freezes over. HEY! Watch it, kid!" he yelled to the girl who zoomed past them on a bike, looking up at the sky rather than where she was going.
"Wasn't that the sister?"
"Yes."
"Are we going after her?"
Detective Stein shook his head. "Forget it, Jack. It's Sunnydale."
Gordus felt the wind whistling past his fuzzy little ears as he soared over Sunnydale. He wasn't sure how this was possible, but he wasn't about to complain. This town belonged to him now, and he knew what he was going to do.
The high school loomed up ahead.
He was going to open the heckmouth.
Turns out, riding your bike down Main Street while keeping your eyes on a flying pig was just as easy as climbing out a window. As long as you didn't think of the cars breaking and honking and yelling at you, that is. She watched the pig land in one of the windows at Buffy's school and quickly made her way there, ducked under some ribbons saying CRIME SCENE DO NOT CROSS and snuck inside.
Gordus muttered as he ruined another of Giles' books. He knew the heckmouth was under the Room Of Many Books, one of which was bound to tell him how to open it, but how was he supposed to know which one? And how come the supreme evil mastermind of Sunnydale, soarer of its skies, almost-defeater of lions, still couldn't turn the pages of a book without rumpling and tearing them? Were opposable thumbs really so much to ask for? He nudged another book off the shelf, lifted the cover with his snout and tried to read it; something about beets. Which sounded delicious right now (though not as delicious as the blood of the innocent, he quickly added), but didn't tell him anything he didn't -
He sensed that he wasn't alone and turned around. There was the small human he'd almost defeated earlier, dressed in a large sweater and carrying a wiffle bat. He recognised her now. She was Squalling Infant, or at least she had been. How long had he been asleep, anyway?
"What are you doing?" Dawn asked.
"Fool," Gordus snarled. "The heckmouth is right under your hooves. As soon as it opens, creatures you cannot imagine will burst forth and eat you."
"Sure." Like she was going to believe that just because a talking pig told her. Still, all those books looked way more fun than the ones in her school library, and the pig really was too ridiculously cute to really be evil. "So, you're, like, trying to stop it?"
Gordus laughed contemptuously, turned back to the book, ruined another page, and quickly added, "...Yes, absolutely. And if you'll be my minion, uh, I mean friend, I may be able to protect you. Can you read, human?"
"Can I ever!"
After a few minutes of looking through a big pile of really neat old books about really creepy monsters that Mom would never have let her watch movies about, Dawn asked him: "The thing I don't get is, why would the monsters eat me and not you?" She tried to fight the impulse to cuddle his little ears. "I mean, you're a pig, right?"
"What do you mean?"
"You're made of bacon?"
On second thought, Gordus told himself, this plan seemed a little rash. Doing evil was all good and well, but he clearly wasn't at full power yet, and he'd rather not summon forth Eaters Of Pig until he was. His eye fell on some handwritten notes in one of the books that seemed recent. Acathla, huh? "Minion - new plan!"
It was already dark by the time she got back to the house. OK, simple enough plan: open the door, sneak upstairs, get the - oh. They had company.
"...Dru bagged a Slayer?" the strange white-haired man was saying just as Dawn walked in. "She didn't tell me! Hey, good for her! Though not from your perspective, I suppose."
"I can't believe I invited you into my house," Buffy said.
"So you didn't kill that girl - Dawn?!?" Mom looked up and came running over. "Thank God! Where have you been? I've been worried sick!"
"Sure you have," Dawn muttered.
Buffy looked up as well, only to quickly grab the white-haired man by the neck and hiss, "If you so much as look at my sister, there's no deal."
"Just trying to be polite - OW!"
Wow. Buffy solving things with violence. That's real impressive.
"Dawn - go upstairs." Buffy shot her an I-don't-have-time-for-this look, and then frowned. "Is that my sweater? You know what, never mind. Just go upstairs and stay there."
"Fine." Which of course it was, anyway; she just needed to grab what Gordus had asked her to grab, climb back out the window, and go save the world.
Hiding in the bushes outside the Slayer's home was really undignified. But after no less than three passing vampires tried to pet him, Gordus just couldn't afford to take any chances. Finally, his minion came limping back out of the darkness.
"Ow," Dawn said as she bent down to pick up the pig and brush off some leaves. Who knew climbing out windows was that much harder at night?
"Did you bring it?"
"Yeah." Dawn held up her bag.
"Eeeexcellent," he grunted. "Now, minion, carry me forth!"
Dawn yawned. It was way past her bedtime already. "Can't you fly us both there?"
He looked up at her. "Are you cr - I mean, I am the mighty Gordus, of course I could! But this is an important, uh, lesson for you."
And so, with Gordus squeezed into the little basket as snugly as only a stuffed animal can be, Dawn turned on the lamp on her bike and rode off again.
They finally got to the mansion on Crawford Street around dawn, partly because she wasn't used to staying up this late and made a few wrong turns, and partly because they drove past a grove of oaks and Gordus had to pig out on haycorns for a while. Weird house, Dawn thought as they stopped by the back door. And there seemed to be some weird stuff going on inside too, judging by all the scuffling and thudding and grunting. "OK, so now what?"
"Now," Gordus chuckled with all the malice he could muster, which was a considerable amount by stuffed pig standards, "now it's time to make a sacrifice to... Hang on, can you help me out of this basket? Thank you, minion." He shook the stiffness out of his little legs. "Now, as I said... hand me that bag... it's time to make a sacrifice. Through your blood, Acathla shall awaken and suck the world into HECK!" Somewhat awkwardly, cussing his lack of thumbs, he reached into the bag and pulled out the blade he'd asked Dawn to fetch. He stared at it. "What the swill is this?"
"A razor, like you asked." Dawn yawned again; she was really sleepy.
"You call this a razor?!?" Gordus was getting very upset, and threw down the Ladyshave that Dawn had stolen out of Buffy's room. "How am I supposed to slit your throat with this?"
"Look, you just said a knife or razor or something sharp, and I've totally seen Buffy nick her legs with that thing. And..." Dawn quickly rewound the conversation in her head. "Hey! You are evil!"
Gordus fluffed himself up to his full twelve inches and snarled. "Alright then, I'm gonna root your throat out with my own teeth! DIE!" With a mighty squeal, he lept at Dawn, who eeped and threw her hands up.
They say that when you're in a fight for your life, especially if you're not used to it, your body will release extra adrenaline and endorfins and stuff to keep you sharp and alert; that under extreme duress, ordinary humans are capable of almost supernatural feats of strength and agility. It's quite possible Dawn's body would have done that, but just then she was distracted by the sound of a large car smashing through a garage door on the other side of the house and roaring off down the street. So rather than get involved in a life-or-death struggle with a rabid stuffed pig, Dawn ended up stumbling over her bike and falling backwards into the overgrown flowerbed surrounding the house, as Gordus sailed harmlessly over her head and disappeared into an open window.
This
Was
Just
Not
Villainous
At
All,
Gordus thought as he vaulted through the window, landed on the surprisingly well-polished floor of the villa, and went bouncing, tumbling and spinning all the way across the hall, finally coming to a stop against some sort of big stony statue.
It was time to face it: he just wasn't cut out and sewn together to be a villain. He couldn't remember why it ever seemed like a good idea. Or why plush pigs should even stop to think whether things were good ideas or not. All he'd wanted was to work his newfound aggression out on something, and he -
Hang on.
He sprang to his hooves when he saw what was going in the garden. His Girl was fighting someone - someone he vaguely recognised somehow, but who was clearly winning, so never mind that. Evil or not, that was his Girl, goshdangit, he'd been her Chosen Snuggle for years. He snuck up behind them, just out of sight, as the Dark Broody One pointed his blade at his Girl and spoke.
"Now that's everything, huh? No weapons... No friends... No hope. Take all that away... and what's left?"
Me, Gordus... Gordo thought, leapt up and chomped down on the man's leatherclad butt, distracting him just enough so the Girl was able to catch the blade. His victim stumbled backwards, shaking his ass a bit to dislodge Gordo, who slid across the floor and crashed into the door. He watched his Girl fight the Broody One, driving him back towards the statue. Looked like she was winning. Good for her. She hadn't seen him, which was probably for the best, but he'd reveal himself in a minute. He just really needed to sleep first. It had been a very big day for a very small pig.
When Dawn finally found the front door and opened it, she almost stumbled over Gordo, who was just a stuffed pig again. After picking him up, she made her way inside the house, and ... OK, what the frick?
There was some sort of big statue with a sword or something sticking out of it, and her sister was standing all alone in front of it with her hands clasped over her mouth, looking like she'd seen a ghost. And Dawn was definitely sure about ghosts not being real. "Buffy?"
Buffy turned and looked at her, blinking a couple of times. "...Dawn?" she asked, like that wasn't obvious. Dawn was gonna say something about that, but then she saw the look in Buffy's eyes and it seemed kind of mean. Buffy looked at the statue, and then back at Dawn as if she was trying to figure something out. "What are you doing here?" she finally asked. She sounded really tired.
Dawn didn't really know what to say. "He turned evil," she finally said. "But everything's OK again now. See?" She held up Mr Gordo so Buffy could see that he was his usual pink, friendly, fluffy self.
Buffy took the pig and stared at him, and then back at Dawn. "What..."
Dawn sighed. "I know, I shouldn't be up this late and I'll be in trouble when Mom hears about this, and..." Suddenly Dawn was being hugged so hard she could barely breathe. "Hey! What are you doing?" But Buffy held on to her, burying her face in her sister's (which is to say her own) oversized sweater. And Dawn realised that maybe part of being a big girl was knowing when to not ask any questions and just hold your sister while she cries her eyes out.
"Buffy?" she asked when the sobs weren't quite as bad anymore. "Can we go home now?"
She let Buffy carry Mr Gordo all the way home. He didn't seem to mind.
