Well, Gosh!Author's note: This takes place in season 7, between “Conversations With Dead People” and “Showtime”.
DISCLAIMER, which we all know is Latin for "covering one's ass":
1. This story deals with some religious stuff. It’s not my intention to offend anyone, but IF you know that you’re easily offended by satirical uses of biblical characters, please do us both a favor and don’t read this. It’s intended to amuse, nothing else, and if it doesn’t, I can only offer my apologies. Besides, in the words of Kevin Smith, ”God has a sense of humor. Just look at the platypus.”
2. Buffy and related characters are the property of mighty mighty Joss Whedon. The other characters in this are in the public domain, I think. They’re not mine, at any rate.
“See? You're dead. That enough of a moment for ya?” Buffy held the stake to Holden’s chest, letting him know that she could dust him any second. So why don’t I?
She wasn’t sure. He certainly deserved it; her foot had hurt for days after he dropped the lighting board on it back in 10th grade. But something told her to wait.
Holden’s face changed back to human. “OK. But are you killing me because I'm evil or because you opened up?”
Exasperated, Buffy sighed, stood up... and then turned around and kicked him square in the face. “What is WRONG with you?”
Holden got to his feet and straightened his tie, laughing. “Nothing. I got no worries. I'm dead. The biggest thing on my mind is whether Tricia Waldman came to my funeral or not. Do you remember her? Ooo, biteable.”
“See, this is what I hate about you vampires! Sex and death and love and pain, it's all the same damn thing to you.”
“Well, you know it's... it's kind of a guy thing.” Holden moved around, trying to find a weak spot – and not just physically. “We talk about nailing a girl, there's all this...”
“No.” Buffy interrupted him. “It is not the same. With vampires, it is completely... believe me, I know.”
Holden stopped dead (if you'll pardon the pun) in his tracks, a huge smile on his face as he realised what Buffy was talking about. “Oh my God!”
“Oh your God what?”
“Oh, well, you know, not my God, because I defy Him and all of His works, but... does He exist? Is there word on that, by the way?”
Buffy shrugged. “Nothing solid.”
“DAAAD! Did You hear that?”
Big J looked up from the computer screen. “Would You quit interrupting Me when I’m playing Civilization
? The Babylonians are about to invent the atom bomb, and if they do, I’m screwed.”
Little J put on his best appease-wrathful-Father face. “Sorry, but it’s...”
“The Slayer again, I suppose? Honestly, Son, I don’t know why You keep watching her. I wish You’d find a nice Jewish girl to settle down with... I was hoping it was the Rosenberg girl You were interested in, but of course that’s all down the drain now.”
“For the last time, Dad, I’m not
Jewish. By definition. Anyway, it’s not like that, it’s just... she has such an interesting life. Tragedy, humor, and all those pop-culture references... I just can’t stop watching. But that’s not the issue here.”
“But I’m sure You’re going to tell Me what is.”
“She just said she’s not sure We exist!”
“So? C’mon, Son, wake up and smell the coffee already. Your book hasn’t been selling very well recently, and I must say it seems to Me that there’s more pressing matters for You to attend to than one girl being a little bit sceptic... war, starvation, Michael Bolton...”
“But Jesus Chr-”
“Don’t take Your own name in vain, it’s tacky.”
“But... gee, Dad, don’t You get it? This is the Slayer. She’s been fighting vampires and demons and werewolves and all those things for years now... honestly, I don’t know why You had to create all those monsters. And don’t go blaming Lucifer.”
“I just thought... it seemed like a good idea at the time...” Big J looked embarrassed. The problem with being all-powerful: everything was your fault, and no excuses really worked.
“Point is, she’s fighting them with Our symbols. She’s using holy water and crosses and Latin incantations and it works, yet she doesn’t believe.”
“As I recall, You’re not too fond of crosses Yourself.”
“You try getting crucified, see how You like it! I was hoping they’d use a fish as My symbol. Judas must have been on the design committee or something...” Little J interrupted himself; they’d had this conversation before. “Look, all I’m saying is the Slayer needs a little reminder. Nothing fancy, but if she won’t believe in Us, I see no reason why We should help her.”
“Whatever happened to that ‘do unto others’ speech of Yours?”
“Again: cross, nails, painful drawn-out death, remember? I'm not saying We should kill her or anything, but just... teach her a little lesson. Let her fend for herself a while. So are You going to do something about it or not?”
Big J sighed and relented. “I guess I am.” He couldn't quite suppress a grin at that little pun as He set to work.
Buffy had sent the others off to the building site, and now stood alone in the street, facing the... what was it Giles called it, Genghis Khan, Astrakhan... whatever, übervamp. She knew she would have to defeat it tonight, or they would all be done for, and she’d have to do it in front of everybody. But the last time they’d fought, the vampire had kicked her ass and just about every single other part of her as well, and she really wasn’t sure if she could take it in a fair fight... or even a fight that looked fair... or heck, at all. She’d have to slow it down some.
She steeled herself and ran at the übervamp, drop-kicking it in the chest. No reaction at all, it barely even moved, just bared its teeth at her. OK, let's try this then...
She pulled out the bottle of holy water and smashed it in its face. The vampire snarled and stepped back expecting pain... then looked up and grinned at her as it didn’t come, and the water ran off him like ordinary tapwater. As Buffy took off running, she frowned. Weird. Isn’t holy water supposed to work on vampires?