I don’t own Buffy the Vampire Slayer or Star Wars. They belong to Joss Whedon and George Lucas respectively.
Angel sighed as he carefully placed one crate on top of another, working hard at the menial labourer job he had managed to procure. He had much to consider.
Angel was not the geek that Xander was, and he was rapidly coming to regret that in this dimension. The irony was not lost on him, but the facts remained the same. Xander would have figured out where he was far faster then Angel had. In the weeks of his recovery, Angel had finally managed to put together two important names… Tatooine and Anakin Skywalker…
Angel was not a geek, as previously stated. Nor was he a movie buff. Luckily for him, even his massive brooding had not kept him from watching the original Star Wars trilogy when it came out. Unfortunately for him it had only been the once, but Angel’s memory was very good. Tatooine was the homeworld of Luke Skywalker, the hero of the Star Wars series. It was a desert world and quite frankly Angel didn’t recall much more then that concerning Tatooine, though he very quickly caught on to the twin suns.
Anakin Skywalker had been a name that had puzzled Angel for a fair amount of time until he had realised that Anakin was the name of Luke’s father. Angel remembered the startling revelation of Luke’s paternity quite clearly and was absolutely aghast. How did such a sweet child as ‘Little Ani’ turn out to be Darth Vader, a monster that rivaled Angelus in his sadism?
Angel growled as he lifted another crate. Not this time. Angel was going to find a way to prevent the corruption of that sweet child if it was the last thing he did. The only problem Angel could foresee was that he knew absolutely nothing about how Anakin Skywalker had fallen to the dark side. It was never really explained in the movies. And so Angel had determined that he would simply have to stick to the boy like glue, in order to keep watch for corruption and head it off.
“Angel!” The voice echoed across the cramped storage warehouse.
Angel glanced up to find his supervisor had come in. “Yes boss?”
The green-skinned alien, Angel didn’t have the guts to ask what the guy was, looked about the warehouse critically. After a moment he stopped, seemingly satisfied with his inspection. “You’re done for the day. Pick up your pay on the way out. I’ll see you Primeday.”
Angel nodded, not arguing the two days off. The warehouse manager did not take arguments well. The previous day labourer at the place had been fired because he argued too much. It might not have been so bad if Angel hadn’t known what the poor bugger had been fired out of…
Five minutes of cleaning up and Angel left the warehouse, drawing the heavy brown hood of thick brown cloak over his head. It was an interesting fact that Angel did not make like a torch despite Tatooine’s two suns burning so much hotter then Earth’s one could manage. Angel did not feel the need to question his good fortune though. Unfortunately that is where his good fortune ended rather abruptly. It seemed that his skin burned far more severely and quickly then any human’s could under the hot suns. What’s more, animal blood was cheap, but not free. The more blood he needed in order to heal his burns, the more he had to earn to cover his living expenses. Suffice it to say, honest labour did not pay well on Tatooine. Slaves were far more desirable. And so Angel wore his thick cloak in a somewhat successful attempt to lower his costs.
Fifteen minutes walk to the Skywalker residence, where Angel was living thanks to Shmi’s charity, had the vampire wincing as the winds began to hint at an oncoming sandstorm. Luckily Angel was still able to make his way to his new home in time.
As he entered the hovel, Angel’s nostrils flared at unfamiliar scents. “Who’s there?”
A tall, bearded man, who reminded Angel vaguely of Kenobi in his demeanour, stood up to greet Angel. “I am Qui-Gon Jinn. Is this your father, Ani?”
Something about the man set the vamp’s teeth on edge. “I’m not his father, no. I’m Angel.”
“From Iego, right?” The response to Angel’s introduction came from a teenaged girl that he’d never seen before.
Angel shot a withering glance at Anakin. “Please tell me she didn’t get that from you.”
Anakin blushed brightly at the implied accusation. The boy was well aware of Angel’s sensitivity concerning his name and had been ever since Angel had thrashed a spacer that mocked him about it. “Sorry, Angel.”
The vampire sighed theatrically. “Just don’t do it again, Anakin. So what’s with all the guests?”
Anakin shrugged. “They’re stranded on Tatooine until they can get parts needed to fix their ship.”
“Welcome home, Angel.”
Angel turned to see Shmi slipping into the room. “Hello, Shmi. How was work?”
The aging woman smiled gratefully. Angel always went out of his way to avoid using the word slave in describing Shmi and Anakin. He saw how deeply it hurt them, especially Anakin to have their lot in life thrown in their faces. “It was fine, Angel. Watto had me doing bookkeeping today.”
Snap. The rather absurd looking alien snapped its tongue out, apparently looking to snag one of the fruits on Shmi’s table. As the tongue drew back with its cargo Angel snatched it, pre-empting Qui-Gon. Angel glared at the alien. “Do you always just take food from someone’s home without their permission?”
The alien shook his head, blushing profusely, as he released the fruit into Angel’s grasp. Angel then systematically washed the fruit in the cistern and placed it back in the bowl. Anakin and Shmi had little enough as it was without a rude alien taking liberties. “So, have you had any ideas to help these folks get on their way, Anakin?”
The young slave smiled rather proudly. “I was just suggesting that they could enter my pod in the Boonta Eve Classic.”
Angel felt the blood drain from his features. Not good… Not good at all…
And the tale begins to kick off...