I do not hold the copy right to Buffy the Vampire Slayer™, Angel:the Series™, or Supernatural™ nor do I claim to. All characters belong to their original creators, networks, and subsidiaries. I make no profit from the making or sharing of this fanfiction.
I stepped into the motel room I was currently sharing with the Winchester brothers. I had been assigned as the Council Representative for the Allied Freelance Hunters. Which basically meant that every hunter I come across I have to interview/interrogate about their kills and write it up as a report for G-Man. I was traveling around with the brothers because A: they had the highest and most varied kill count we found and B: Dean. Can you say "Hello salty goodness"?
Do I have to tell you how awkward it is living out of a car with two brothers while trying to maintain a sex life with one of them? I think not.
Anyway, I stepped into the motel room. We were looking for a demon-du-jour with six inch teeth and a vaguely canine-esque, quadruped form. We were drawing a blank. I had been out scouring the local demon population (such as it is in Bumfuck, Alabama) for any info. Nada. So I came back to the room to wait for the brothers. Depending on which of them got back first, Dean and I might be able to get a quickie in.
It was as I was tossing my jacket off that I noticed a puke-orange astral figure off in the corner. And let me tell you, that is not a nice colour for an astral body to be. Kinda like orange pop mixed with mushy peas after being processed through an infant. Ick.
A force, telekinesis or magick, take your pick, slammed me into the wall, which I began to slide upwards on. Then I had my light-bulb moment. YED. The yellow-eyed demon the boys had been hunting for most of their lives. And it was going to kill me like Jess, their mom, and countless others. So not happening.
"You are not sticking me to the fucking ceiling!" I hurled the telephone (the only thing in reach) at the astral body, knowing full well it would have little affect. It did however surprise it/him/what-the-fuck. I ended up dropped on my ass.
And of course, logical man that I am, I wrapped my arms around the leg of the bed. "I have not survived uncounted apocalypi to be done in by some backwater, Big Bad wannabe! You are so not fucking putting me on the mother-fucking ceiling!"
My legs rose straight into the air, like I was wearing iron boots under a super-magnet. Only my death grip on the bed (which seemed to be bolted to the cement floor)kept me from being plastered to the big brown watermark. "Put me right-the-fuck down! I'm warning you!Do you know who the fuck you're messing with? The Red Witch is so gonna kick your astral ass! And then the Golden Slayer once we find the body!"
The figure shuddered and my legs dropped and I accidentally let go of the bed. Now I was beginning to get pissed. I had so wanted some nookie once Dean got back. Again I got slammed into the bloody buggering wall and slid straight to the ceiling. I braced my hands and leveraged myself. "Back the fuck off! You are not going to fucking-well put me on the fucking ceiling!"
It was at this point that the boys came running in, guns drawn, eyes blazing. They stopped in shock at seeing me nearly plastered on the ceiling, shrieking at an empty corner. "Xan? Where is it? What is it?"
"It's your stupid ass demon-stalker, YED! His astral ass is over there!" I tried to gesture with my head, while still maintaining my potent, patented Glare of Painful Death®. "That's it! No more White Knight! D'Hoffryn! Get your horny ass up here!" Over the years, Anyanka had done a lot of favors, collected a lot of debt markers. I inherited them when she died.
The Demon Lord of Vengeance appeared in a flash of light and puff of smoke. "Who dares summon me?"
"Up here!" The creepy-ass perv looked up at me, and I swear I saw him smile. "I'm calling in some markers. See him? I want him dead. Permanent-like. And painfully. And before I get plastered to the ceiling and cremated!" I started swearing in Latin and Babylonian, some of which were considered open declarations of war. I got a smile out of Olde Horny. YED on the other hand was looking skittish. a count of three had me landing on my face and the demon-stalker fleeing.
"Ten markers." And the outrageous bargaining begins.
"Do I look retarded? Three."
"Six! It's a bargain!"
"Done." D'Hoffryn huffed and pouted. There was an incident a few years ago with the Scoobies ignoring me/down-playing my contributions/protecting me and generally emotionally abusing me. A few raging arguments, threats, spells, and my coming out of the closet later, D'Hoffryn pops up, offers me a job and a place in his bed, both of which I decline. He's been trying to get in my pants since.
YED appeared in a puff of sulfurous smoke (and can I say Eew?) looking like he/it/what-the-fuck was about to crap his pants. "Any preferred method of death?"
"Same way his victims went. Plastered to the ceiling and cremated. But I want his essence destroyed to the point of being unable to reform/resurrect/whatever. I want him dead and to stay that way until the end of eternity." And poof, done. we watched the motel burn from
the parking lot, once Dean got the car a safe distance away and all of our stuff in it. D'Hoffryn vanished when the two of us started making out in the back of the Impala. Sam muttered something about driving and police, but I was too distracted by all the yummy skin.