Disclaimer: I own neither Buffy or Sweeney Todd.
A/N: This was inspired by the Double Meat Palace-I mean what do you think buffy would say? This is set after season 7….enjoy.
Buffy Summers scowled as she marched from the judge’s home.
“Ick, ick, and double ick.”
The lecher had tried in vain to subdue her and have his eghh “wicked way” with her. As much as the slayer wanted to screw the mission and jump right back on the crazy time carousel, click her heels and go home, she couldn’t. Apparently, Giles needed some specific herb that went extinct in a few years-well from where she landed in time and the portal wouldn’t open until midnight.
So dressed up in some obscenely frilly, feathered, and sequined frock she marched down the cracked cobblestone road.
Buffy had been snatched off the street after buying a semi-poisonous herb in front of Judge Turpin’s flunky: The Beetle or Beedle-she wasn’t quite sure. After being unimpressed with his stature in society-or even knowing who he was, Buffy was threatened with death and other pleasant things. After the attempted seduction Buffy was more irritated than before, the corset was chafing in unfortunate places, and her stomach was rumbling.
Mr. Todd, Sweeney to his friends, looked out across Fleet street, it was bustling, the night before had been the grand re-opening of Mrs. Lovett’s Meat Pie Emporium, and customers were back with a frenzy.
There were the usual people dancing around each other on the street, a few ladies, a gentleman and a priest, Toby and a few of his urchin friends, and a spot of sunlight. Through the smog that was London, the sun seemed drawn to her. It gathered around her, giving her an ethereal glow.
Her hair was yellow as the sun as he had only seen at sea. An unbidden lump rose with his breath and settled in his throat. The way she moved was entirely too confident for any lady in this city. Her clothes, a gruesome red frock, seemed awkward on her. She was petite, waif-ish almost, but her air was quite contrary to that. She exuded irritation and frustration.
Though her long hair summoned up the fractured memories of his wife…Lucy, she was too different in every other respect. Pushing back the torrent of only half-remembered sorrow, there was rage. It simmered in him, quashing any doubt he had.
The girl-woman, he corrected himself as he noted the curves of her body a corset couldn’t fake-was stalking across the street in a direct course towards the shop. Smiling to himself and thrumming his fingers over the hidden razor in his pocket, he glided down the steps, intent on the prey before him.
Stepping up to the wrought iron fence, he leaned upon it and cocked his head to the side. Just as she passed by him, Sweeney called out to her, “Nice day for a walk.”
Pausing, Buffy walked backwards until she was level with the man and scowled indignantly, “Oh yeah, I just love breathing in all this fresh mountain air.”
“Well, that’s not a very ladylike response,” his bi-colored hair fell into his chocolate eyes, a secret smirk lacing his lips.
“I’m surprised I can even breath in this stupid corset…and why am I talking to you,” blowing out a heavy breath Buffy straightned and started forward again.
A cool hand locked around her wrist, true she could have gotten away, but it was a waste of energy, “All ladies are defenseless against a man,” a hint of poison in his voice.
“Wow, apparently time doesn’t change men,” Buffy grumbled under her breath.
“You have a name?”
“Duh, ehh, Buffy.”
Eyes widened a tad incredulously but the smile returned, “Mr. Todd, Sweeney, to my friends.”
“Oh, and what am I,” Buffy asked tucking a loose lock of hair behind her ear.
“Come on then, let me buy you a pie,” he was charming, and she was growing on him-she wasn’t weak willed like the women he knew, and her voice was honey in his ears, but still strong despite the distinct accent he couldn’t place.
Her angelic face had twisted up while he was thinking.
She shuddered, “Eww, do you even know what ends up in those. The meat probably isn’t really meat, there could be thumbs or toes in it. I’m strictly vegetarian if I haven’t killed and cooked it.”
The smile slid off his face in the look of disgust he usually saved for Mrs. Lovett and her meat pies, and his eyebrow raised, “Well, isn’t that interesting,” his lip curled upwards before the smile slid back into place, “Tea?”
“Yeah, you brits do that pretty well,” Buffy shrugged and thought fondly of both Spike and Giles.
Tucking her arm under his, Sweeney pulled her up to his shop, “Come on then Friend,” though her guess about the pies was dead on, he wasn’t nervous, he ought to be, but he wasn’t.
“Sweeney, weird, why is it that all of you British gents
always get stuck with the sucky-weird names?”
Hope you all enjoyed so what do you think?