Disclaimer: I own nothing. All Buffy the Vampire Slayer characters and Friends characters are the property of their original owners.
Diving through the portal, Buffy Summers did a forward roll onto the stained and patched alley asphalt, and sprang to her feet, frantically looking around the narrow passage for the female vampire she’d chased through the mystical gateway a too-much-time-on-his-hands wizard had created. Angel, Giles, Xander, and Willow could deal with the other vamps and minions that jerk with the magic had been ordering around, but right now, wherever she was, the Slayer from Sunnydale had to destroy the blood-drinking demon before it hurt anybody.
Like at this exact moment, when about twenty feet down the alley, that same vampire had a guy in her grip and was about to sink her fangs into his throat. Buffy blurred into action, leaping right at them, while pulling out a stake from her clothing, and as she landed by the pair, the Slayer plunged her weapon into the vampire’s back, causing it to puff into ashes and leaving Buffy standing there and staring nearly nose-to-nose into the potential victim’s face.
Over the short time she’d been the Slayer, reactions to Buffy’s rescuing of innocents from the forces of the dark had run the gamut among these people -- firmly denying everything while in the grip of Sunnydale Syndrome, going into hysterics, being terrified of the teenage girl herself (which really hurt), and even fainting.
She’d never before had anyone grin into her face, and enthusiastically declare, “Awesome!”
“What?!” blurted out Buffy, who then caught sight of something out of the corner of her eye. Snapping her head around, the girl watched in horror as the portal from which she’d come through began to flicker, a clear indication that at any second it would pop out of existence and strand her.
“Can I have your autograph? Man, I knew that show was real life!”
“HUH?!” loudly exclaimed a disbelieving Buffy, bringing her attention back to the very cute guy, even if he was at least a decade older than her, and who was now happily holding out a piece of paper and a pen in his hands and pressing these into her own hands. Next, the man turned around to present his back to her, in an obvious move for her to hold the paper against that part of his body and then sign her name.
It was just too much at this moment for Buffy. Numbly, she did what she’d been asked for as fast as possible, letting go of both the pen and the paper for these to drop to the alley floor, with the young woman then whirling around to leap head-first right at the portal, which blinked out of existence an instant after Buffy’s boot-heels passed through, leaving behind only an unmarked, grimy alley wall.
His mouth wide open, a fascinated Joey Tribbiani, still staring at how his most favorite actress in the whole world had displayed her character from the television show ‘Buffy the Vampire Slayer’ and then disappeared into thin air, now reverently said the only word that could possibly sum up all his feelings about the events of the last few minutes:
A few minutes later, Joey burst into the apartment shared by the girls, waving a slip of paper in his right hand, an ecstatic grin on his face, as he yelled, “Guys, you won’t believe who I just met, and what happened!”
All of the other people in the apartment -- Rachel and Monica, of course, but also Phoebe, Chandler, and Ross -- stopped in their activities and stared curiously at the obviously thrilled man carefully placing the paper he‘d been holding into his front shirt pocket.
Clearing his throat, Chandler said gruffly, “Okay, I’ll bite. You saw DeNiro on the street blowing his nose, and you snagged the Kleenex he threw into a trash can?”
“Even better! I met that hot chick from Buffy the Vamp--”
His words were drowned out, as a loud groan simultaneously came from everyone there, with all of them also showing identical exasperated grimaces. Even by Phoebe.
A confused Joey asked blankly, “What?”
“I’ll take this,” gritted Ross, leaving his seat on the sofa he'd been sharing with Phoebe, and stepping over to stand in front of his actor friend, who was now looking really bewildered. Placing his hands on top of Joey’s shoulders, the paleontologist spoke sternly right into the other man’s puzzled face.
“Joey, please, PLEASE tell me you didn’t come right out and ask Sarah Michelle Gellar if she’s related to Monica and I. For the millionth time, her last name is spelled G-e-l-l-A-r. Ours is G-e-l-l-E-r. Have I finally gotten through to you, dammit?!” The last word by Ross was yelled, accompanied by the nodding of the heads of everyone else besides Joey, who’d all become really sick and tired of his obsession over that named actress and the possibility devotedly hoped by the Italian-American man.
“You don’t have to shout,” grumbled Joey.
Ross threw up his hands in exasperation and went back to his seat on the sofa.
Joey ambled over to the other sofa facing the television, and ostentatiously sat down at the end of this furniture, as far away from the others as he could get, his lower lip sticking out in a serious pout. After a few minutes, the young man casually glanced around, still ignored by his other friends expecting that the sulking man would soon end his bad mood, and then he furtively patted his front shirt pocket where Joey had placed the bit of paper he’d picked up from the alley floor.
Just for that, he wouldn’t show them a totally authentic Buffy Summers autograph.