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The set up to a Greater Story

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Ficlet(s)

Summary: Why weren't any of Wes' family notified when he was in hospital with a slit throat? What if they were and one of them showed up?

Categories Author Rating Chapters Words Recs Reviews Hits Published Updated Complete
BtVS/AtS Non-Crossover > GeneralIrnBruOrDeathFR1817350590017 Feb 0917 Feb 09No
Ok. I’m just going to use this to set up a history for a story I’m working on. I own none of the recognisable characters in this piece. Only the O.C.s are mine and they’re not getting me any money.

 

 

It Starts!

 

“Excuse me Missus?”

Ward nurse Jon Markesan blinked at the crisp English accent in the bustle of the LA Hospital. He looked up from the gurney he had been pushing along the corridor. He blinked again at the sight of a scrawny little girl, who couldn’t be any more than fifteen. Black hair was cut boyishly short and looked decidedly rumpled and icy blue eyes peered expectantly up at him through a pair of wire rimmed glasses. She looked a bit like….Did she just call him Mrs?

“Oh.” The girl uttered softly as her pale cheeks suddenly flushed in embarrassment. “Terribly sorry sir. I’m afraid I’m not quite with it after my flight.” She offered a wry little smile before moving briskly on. “I am looking for room 352? I got quite turned around and am now thoroughly lost. Would you help me please?”

“Sure kid. End of the hall, turn left and it’s the second door along.” Jon offered somewhat ungraciously. He knew he wasn’t the buffest guy around. And his mom was always nagging him to cut off his ponytail. But he didn’t look that girly!

The girl looked over her shoulder in the direction he had pointed. She then pulled the large knapsack on her back more firmly onto her skinny shoulders. “Yes, well. Thank you sir. Have a nice night!” She offered, not even bothering to look back at him before trotting off down the corridor.

“Snooty little bitch!” Jon muttered before going back to what he’d been doing before his masculinity had come into question.

 

IBOD

Madeleine ran her hand through her hair tiredly as she regarded the closed door of room 352. She was probably going to be in a whole world of trouble for this, but when she had overheard father and mother arguing about the situation two nights ago she had been horrified at father’s command that under no account was anyone going over the pond to see Wesley, he didn’t care how injured the boy was. She hadn’t been surprised, after all Madder had figured out years ago that her father was a complete and utter git! But there was no way she was not going to see the only member of her family she actually liked. Wesley’s throat had been cut for Christ’s sake!

Shaking all the thoughts of imminent rue-age, or at the very least stern lecturing, looming in her future she squared her shoulders and pushed the door open.

“Who are you?” A voice growled from over her shoulder. With a startled ‘eep’ Madder whirled around and looked up at who had spoken. And looked up some more. The great brute was tall and certainly knew how to work a good looming. She supposed he would be considered good looking usually, with his dark Irish looks. But there was something nasty about his expression. Something that seemed to say ’ I want to play hopscotch in your messy innards’. Or words to that effect.

“Madeleine.” She blurted almost without thinking, before putting some starch in her spine. “Who are you, sir?”

“What are you doing here little Madeleine?” He growled, ignoring her question.

“I’m visiting!”

“Really? So am I. I didn’t think Wes was into them that young. But then there’s a whole lot of things I didn’t realise Wes was into.” The Looming Hulk said almost musing. Before those black eyes pinned her to the spot, and something in the back of Madder’s mind told her that this was no friend of Wesley’s. Maybe she should have tried to find that Angel Wesley worked with? She was sure having a souled vampire-champion-whatever at her side would have made this entire conversation much less unnerving. “Run along Little Madeleine. I’ve got business here that little girls have no business interfering with. I’ll tell Wes you said Hi.”

“I think not you great looming tit!” Madder snarled at the condescending idiot. “Only my parents call me Madeleine. You may call me Miss Price! And I think you should be the one oozing off back to whatever dark pit you escaped from, and I shall pass on your regards to my brother!”

The End?

You have reached the end of "The set up to a Greater Story" – so far. This story is incomplete and the last chapter was posted on 17 Feb 09.

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