On the eve of war
Title: War of the worlds actually
Disclaimer: BtVS and Angel folk created by Joss Whedon, Love Actually Londoners created by Richard Curtis, War of World East Coasters created by Josh Friedman and David Koepp. The whole War of the Worlds scenario created by HG Wells over a century ago. I do not own, please do not sue.
Timeline: Set a year after Chosen and four months after the events in Love Actually.
Heroines and warnings: Heroines and their sexual rewards are never allowed to die in my stories and in this story the heroines are Dawn Summers, Sam Finn, Faith Lehane, Kennedy, Karen Williams, Natalie the tea lady and Rachel Ferrier. The rewards might be Mark the art gallery owner, Xander Harris, Colin the sandwich delivering sexual stud, Robin Wood, David the Prime Minister, Rupert Giles, Rob Ferrier and Ray Ferrier, or they might not, but they’re definitely main characters in the story. Every other female and every male is expendable for dramatic or pathos plot purposes - you have been warned.
Occasional coarse language, New Zealand English spelling.
Summary: This story is mainly set in London and the East Coast of the United States, it starts however in Milwaukee, Wisconsin and is about alien demonic invasion and love - of all varieties.
“No one would have believed that in the early years of the twenty-first century that this world was being watched keenly and closely by intelligences greater than humans and yet as mortal as we. I know for a fact I and my cabinet bloody didn’t, which shows that the British tax payer really wasn’t getting value for money at the time.
Perhaps if the Watchers Council hadn’t been blown up two years earlier we might have been prepared, but we weren’t, and in fairness how could we be?”
From the memoirs of David Lemon, British Prime Minister in the early twenty-first century
One month before the invasion of Earth....Milwaukee, Winsconsin
A yellow cab drove recklessly through the piles of brown slush as it made its way from Milwaukee’s international airport to a neighbouring suburb.
Sam Finn instantly recognised the house from her sister Stacey’s photographs. She tapped the Pakistani cab driver’s shoulder. “It’s that one, the two storey wooden frame.” God, what a dump, she mentally added to her sentence at her first three dimensional sighting of her sister’s house. Even daffodils poking their yellow heads up through the melting snow in the front yard couldn’t make the place not look like a haunted house in the making.
Home is where when you show up with your bags they have to take you in. Sam squared her shoulders, grabbed the two suitcases the cab driver passed her from the trunk of his vehicle, and proceeded to march resolutely up the slippery path to her sister’s house.
She knocked on the front door, there was no answer. Sam tried the door handle. She creaked the door open. Sam walked down the hall and into the living room to find her sister and her two roommates having group sex with two youngish guys - that judging from the bicycles leaning on hall walls and the strangely embroidered underwear strewn around the living room floor were recently corrupted Mormon missionaries.
“Oh yuck!” Sam flounced out of the living room and into the dilapidated kitchen. She put on the coffee maker (after cleaning it thoroughly first) and waited for it to brew.
“Samantha honey, I’m sorry, you know how things like that just spontaneously happen in my life.” A hastily dressed Stacey crept contritely into the kitchen and slid her arms around her twin sister’s waist.
“No, I freaking don’t okay? You should have married Riley, you would have been such a perfect damn match, you’re both freaks, creepy disgusting freaks.” Sam threw her fresh cup of coffee against the wall and burst into tears.
“Hey, hey, shush,” Stacey wrapped her arms around Sam, “screw the imbecile from Iowa, huh? You left the Peace Corps for good right?”
“Yeah,” Sam rested her cheek against her sister’s sweater.
Stacey delivered exciting news. “I’m gonna go to London for two friends double wedding next month, they’re marrying English guys.”
“In London, no B.S?” Sam let her sister hug her tightly.
“So come with me, Sam, all of us roomies are going and it’s gonna be so cool.” Stacey pushed Sam away a little so she could meet her eyes. “I’ll pay for you - saving money by not buying pyjamas and sleeping nude with my room-mates every night has left me with a big amount in my chequeing account.”London, United Kingdom
A black cab drove smoothly through softly falling spring rain along London’s asphalt paved streets.
Karen Williams saw the familiar sight of the back of 10 Downing Street, residence of Britain’s Prime Minister, David Lemon.
Policemen recognised her and her offspring Daisy and Bernard and waved the cab through the ever present road block.
She tapped the Afghan cab driver’s shoulder, “I did tell you,” she sniffed.
David Lemon was Karen’s brother; she was staying with him because her son Bernard had accidentally burnt their house to the ground two hours ago. Bernard was rather a little tearaway.
Home was where when you showed up without a stitch of clothing apart from smoke smelling pyjamas on your back, two shaken kids and a traumatised white rat named Marsbar whose running wheel was now a melted pool of steel, they had to take you in.
Karen and the children were taken into a side room where they were greeted by someone who had recently taken up permanent residence in Downing Street much to the tabloid papers great delight.
“Fucking oath,” Natalie the Downing Street tea lady and David’s much younger than him curvaceous live-in-girlfriend clapped her hand over her mouth at the bedraggled sight of them all. “You lot look like tortured gollywogs.”
Karen looked down at her filthy damp slippers and the blackened faces of the kids and nodded. “Yes, I suppose we are quite all horrific sights.”
“Nothing a ‘ot shower won’t fix.” Natalie hastily reassured Karen. “We can even rig somefing up for the rat.”
“Can I say fuck, Mum? Natalie does.” Bernard was never slow to lose an opportunity.
“As Prime Minister I shall send you to the Tower of London if you start that trick, young man.” David Lemon came into the room with the Prime Minister of Canada by his side.
David introduced the Canadian to his sister and her family.
Karen wondered why the hell her brother would bring a strange man to meet her when she was wearing her pyjamas, pyjamas that emphasised how big her bottom was nowadays.
“Sorry, should have realised that at this time of night, time of house fire....” David murmured apologetically in her ear, “The thing is that Doug MacKenzie needs a partner suddenly for tomorrow night’s banquet and I thought now you’re separated, well, you really should get out more, Karen, have a good time, enjoy life, you deserve it.”