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The Slayer Bride

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Summary: The Princess Bride: the “Buffy parts” version. Not just your basic, average, everyday, ordinary, run-of-the-mill, ho-hum crossover.

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Movies > Princess Bride, TheLoraDarcyFR1388,180094,0464 Jan 038 Jan 04No


Title: The Slayer Bride Part 1/?
Author: Lora Darcy

Feedback: Please.

Summary: The Princess Bride: the “Buffy parts” version. Not just your basic, average, everyday, ordinary, run-of-the-mill crossover.
Rating: PG

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the character found in the following story. The Princess Bride is the property of William Goldman, MGM, and Ballantine Books. Buffy the Vampire Slayer is the property of Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy.

Notes: The narrative is set roughly in early season 6, prior to Giles departure. The actual story within the story is not set within any particular season of Buffy and is completely AU. (You will see that a season is not necessary and actually completely irrelevant.)

ATTENTION: As of June 26, 2003 I’m reediting all parts, in preparation for my big update! Sorry this story has been the same for so long. I’m afraid I was very busy and had no free time. (Blech!) At last, however, summer has arrived. I promise to give ample attention to all my fics. Also, if you ever see any stupid typos (which, even I, make on occasion) or find something that you think doesn’t quite fit, please let me know!


Rupert Giles was sick. Not with a trifling cold, mind. Somehow, Giles had succeeded in catching the flu. Sprawled across his living room couch, the Brit had been reduced to the lowest of all activities: watching television. He loathed being sick. Sore eyes and blurry vision prevented him from reading a good book. He’d even tried to read the comics section of the newspaper, but even that proved too much for his ailing head. A hoarse voice kept him from using the telephone to reconnect with any of his friends back home in Britain. Unfortunately, his computer smarts, or lack thereof, barred him from communicating with them via the strange and fascinating realm of the internet. Despite his years in Sunnydale and subsequent connection with the Scooby gang, Giles had yet to conquer that dread machine. A broken VCR prevented him from watching any of his favorite BBC tapes. All that was left to him was the telly. Of course, it had to be two in the afternoon.

He had ultimately decided to watch the Jerry Springer Show. After watching the first few moments of The Young and the Restless, Giles had been forced to call it quits. The soap just hadn’t matched up to Passions, which he had first experienced (and strangely come to enjoy) while living with Spike. The former librarian hadn’t been able to stomach infomercials, and Pokemon had failed to appeal to him. He’d been left with two exceedingly difficult choices: Ricky Lake or Jerry Springer. Jerry, however, was having a special “supernatural kids” episode. The episode seemed to be entitled “My child is a freak who thinks Halloween lasts year long.” Giles hope it would at least provide some distraction for him.

“You call her a teenage witch?” He mumbled, pointing at a sullen-looking “Goth” teenager on his television screen. “Looks like she’s just been spending too much time in the Salem Museum gift shop. And everyone knows no real witches were there anyway.” Giles glared at Jerry Springer, who was introducing the show’s next guest. The tv series was obviously clueless about the true mystical world. “What? And you think that’s a Derali Demon? That guy looks more like my Grandmother than…” Rupert Giles trailed off, overcome by sneezes. As he desperately fumbled for a clean tissue, he heard a knock sound on his door.

“Oh… Achoo! Bloody… achoo… Hell,” Giles garbled, his sneeze attack rendering his speech nearly unintelligible. The sickly man slowly bumbled towards the door. “Ack… who cwoob id be?” At long last, the Brit’s sneezes seemed to have reached an end. After wiping his nose and eyes one last time, Giles reached towards the doorknob. Flinging it open, he was surprised to find Dawn and Tara.

“Hi Giles!” Dawn greeted, a smile on her face. Her grin widened as she noticed Giles’ disheveled appearance. He was not the authoritative Giles she was used to. Instead, the man was clad only in a long blue bathrobe. His hair was askew and his glasses were dirty and bent, unable to conceal too-bright eyes. Beyond Giles, Dawn noticed an open bottle of cough syrup, a tablespoon resting against it. Clean and used tissues were scattered across a small couch and coffee table. Several fluffy pillows lay across an armchair, while a fleece blanket hung over the edge of the sofa. Beyond the couch, Dawn could clearly see the aged machine that Giles’ referred to as his television set. Jerry Springer appeared to be his current viewing pleasure. Next Christmas they would have to get him a little thing called cable, and maybe some decent electronics.

Both young women walked inside, the apartment door swinging shut behind them. “Buffy told us you were sick,” Tara informed Giles, answering the befuddled expression plastered across his sickly face. “We thought you’d need supplies.” The witch held up a large Safeway plastic bag. “We have everything you’ll be needing: tea, soup, cough drops, Motrin-”

“And we’re bringing in the fun!” Dawn cut in, unable to hold back her excitement for a moment longer. Grinning, she pulled a worn book from behind her back. “I’m making sure your entertainment is completely provided for. No more Springer for you.” With a slight skip, Dawn hurried past the ill Giles and towards his family room. “How can you watch this stuff anyway? I mean, Buffy and I will watch practically, but…” She trailed off, shuddering. “That show just gives me major wiggins.” With a final shudder, Dawn turned off the television set, silencing the talk show. “But trust me Giles, you’re going to like my entertainment so much better!”

Tara laughed softly at Dawn’s outburst. “I think I’ll leave you two pals alone now.” Turning to Giles, she added “I’ll go make you some soup. I think Dawnie’s present will help you feel better.” With a final half-smile, Tara headed to the apartment’s small, but functional, kitchen.

Giles moved towards his sofa, longing to sit down. “What exactly is your entertainment Dawn?” He questioned, reclining in his chair.

“You’re going to love it, trust me.” Dawn pulled a chair over by Giles’ sofa, and promptly plopped herself in it. “This is the book my Grandpa used to read to my mother when she was sick, and Mom used to read it to me. So today I think I should read it to you. It’s just amazing. And it will help you to relax. You’ll like it. The guy who wrote it was some sort of genius with a big head. Apparently he could speak eight different languages or something.”

Wrapping a blanket around himself, Giles nodded. He was flattered by Dawn’s wish to read to him. Joyce’s death had certainly been hard on the girl. Recently she had been acting distant, and it was obvious that Dawn wanted a chance to feel helpful. “I’m sure I’ll enjoy listening to it. Before you begin, however, does it have any magic in it?” Giles always did love a good book chock full of spells and the like.

“You’ve got to be joking. Does it have any? This book has it all.” Dawn suddenly seemed to grow very passionate. “Slaying. Fighting. Torture. Revenge. Vampires. Demons. Chases. Escapes. Pain. Death. Lies. True love. Passion. Miracles.”

“Sounds intriguing. Do proceed…” Giles would try to stay awake.

“Here goes!” Dawn opened the book. “The Slayer Bride, by S. Morgenstern. Chapter One. The Groom.”
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