O Slayer, Where Art Thou?
Title: Legally Buffy
Author: Lora Darcy
Distribution: ff.net, TTH, anyone else please just ask first
Disclaimer: Obviously Mutant Enemy and the great Joss Whedon, etc are owners of Buffy. Legally Blonde is owned by Amanda Brown and the people over at MGM.
Spoilers: Through the end of the first Legally Blonde movie, post-Chosen in the Buffy-verse.
Summary: Buffy needs a good attorney and there’s only one person for the job. Enter Elle Woods.
Author’s Note: I’m trying to work on my two other fics when this idea hit and just refuses to go away, so here goes. While the start may seem a tad serious, don’t worry! I’m big on comedy. It will lighten up as things move on. Don’t worry. Also, I’m not completely happy with this chapter and might go back and revise it later. So if you have any suggestions, please give me a holler!
O Slayer, Where Art Thou?
Buffy was shocked –completely shocked. Things like this just weren’t supposed to happen to her. She was supposed to be the good slayer. The one who generally played well with the higher ups, the one who routinely prevented apocalypses, the one who had died to save the world – twice. This just wasn’t right. She wasn’t supposed to be here.
The young girl’s green eyes stared vacantly at the wall in front of her. She slumped against a cement wall, for once in her life, completely overwhelmed by her circumstances. Slowly, her eyes regained focus and the blonde slayer found herself staring at a sign, the only thing on the otherwise barren wall. Her eyebrows rose and she unconsciously clenched her hand into a fist. The sign read “your ass is in the South Boston penitentiary.”
“You’d better hurry up,” a cop informed her, roughly pushing the slayer towards a dirty telephone. It took all of Buffy’s strength not to hit the obese, rude, hairy Boston-Irish police “officer” who obviously got some sort of power-trip out of picking on prisoners. “Remember- just get one call.” The officer – Barry, Buffy amended reading the jerk’s nametag – raised one finger and repeated “just one.” Buffy rolled her eyes. Did the guy think she was stupid? “Make it fast,” sneered Barry, thrusting the receiver at Buffy. “And stop being such a smart-ass.”
After taking the receiver from the cop, Buffy began to dial a number. As her fingers hit the grubby digits, she thought back to the incidents that led to her false imprisonment.
Following the destruction of the First and the end of Sunnydale five months previous, Buffy had been amazed with her changed position. Buffy was free. She was no longer alone in the slayer business. Now, girls all over the world had their own powers awakened. For the first time in a long while, Buffy felt like she could make choices for herself. At long last, she felt like she was on the road to recapturing her own humanity. She was indeed cookie dough and now was time to slowly start baking.
After a stop in Los Angeles for help (due to Sunnydale’s destruction they were all broke, jobless, homeless, and without any possessions), the group had split up, scattering across the globe. Faith and Wood headed to Cleveland to tackle its Hellmouth. Eventually, Giles returned home to England, the few surviving former “potentials” with him. Xander and Willow decided to stay in Los Angeles for a while, promising to visit the others soon. The Summers sisters, however, had their own plans for the future. They began a cross-country road trip that had ultimately sent them to Boston, MA. Buffy decided to stay in New England for a while. She wanted to see a city covered and snow and, besides, Dawn did sort of need to go to school. So, the two sisters eventually found a very small apartment and, after a series of brief jobs that rivaled Doublemeat Palace in gross-out potential, Buffy managed to snag work as a teen counselor at a local community center. It wasn’t much, but hey, money was money.
Things were going well. Buffy enjoyed her new, more relaxed, work-some, slay-some life-style. It was kind of nice not to have to have the world resting on her shoulders. Dawn even seemed to like her new school.
Then, of course, along came the inevitable apocalypse threat. Willow had contacted Buffy to let her know that a big bad was in Boston and their was fear of massive death, end of the world, yadda yadda yadda. But after life on the Hellmouth, Buffy figured she could handle this latest baddie no sweat. And Buffy had handled the demon just fine. It was the afterwards bit that seemed to be the problem. Turned out that when he wasn’t trying to go out and destroy the world, her demon also happened to be a very human-looking member of a popular boy-band. Like Buffy was supposed to know this? And even so, evil is evil. And those boy-bands were way evil even before the disguised demon entered the picture.
Only, somehow the local police just didn’t get why Buffy was found in the middle of a Boston alley standing next to Michael Donahue’s body, pulling a long sword out of his chest. And it didn’t help that Buffy was also armed with a crossbow, small knife, and numerous wooden stakes. Why did Buffy always have to be accused of murdering someone? Really, doesn’t being a superhero mean anything these days? You never heard of that sort of thing happening to Superman.
The phone continued to ring and ring. Finally, a groggy voice answered. “Yeah?”
“Hi Dawnie,” Buffy said, as cheerfully as she could manage. “Are you doing alright? I’m going to need you to call Angel. We need to find a criminal lawyer, pronto. Make it a really good criminal lawyer, super-pronto. I’m sort of having a problem that requires me to wear a big orange jumpsuit….”