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5 Times the Scoobies Didn't Hear It

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Summary: A catch phrase many are familiar with. A character that defines what it means to be a super genius nerd trapped in an uncoordinated body for all time. Life won't be the same for our Scoobies.

Categories Author Rating Chapters Words Recs Reviews Hits Published Updated Complete
Television > Surprise CrossoversSithicusFR762,8580144,87014 Oct 1017 Oct 10Yes

NOTE: This chapter is rated FR13

Look What You Did

Author's Notes: Well gentle readers this has been a fun little story idea. But it must be done, finished, marked as completed. Why? Well because of my currently ambitious choose your own scooby adventure idea. :D And also because the review to reader numbers seems to have dropped off considerably since I first started this one. Probably because you can take only so much of Steve before you wonder why you ever enjoyed the character in the first place.

Anywho. This time we get to hear one of his other famous catch phrases. Also I'm upping the rating on this chapter for references to alcoholism and drunk driving. Though it is done for comedic purposes.



Steven Q. Urkel was best known for three things. He was a klutz of monumental proportions. He enjoyed a good wedge of Wisconsin Brie every now and again. And his wardrobe consisted of the same basic outfit with an emphasis on what he perceived to be cool. Although in recent years Stefan – his cloned alter ego – had given him a leg up in better choices while dressing.

Currently Steve was enjoying a lucrative career as a special technological consultant for the newly reformed International Council of Watchers. They specialized in fighting nasties that were the stuff of nightmares and legends.

Ever since Judy Winslow – the youngest Winslow child – had been murdered by vampires. Steve had been trying to perfect technological devices that could be used to destroy them.

His solar bomb was a particularly nasty device, but Xander Harris preferred the UV lightsaber – a special laser sword made with UV light that could cut through vampires like hot butter or a perfect slice of well aged cheddar.

So when the IWC – abbreviation made backwards because ICW didn’t make as much sense – had approached him to hire on as their weapons manufacturer. How could he refuse?

That being said. Despite his usual MO – for once he hadn’t been behind the current disaster that had resulted when one – very beautiful looking sport job. Tore through the garage at breakneck speeds and proceeded to total Xander’s vintage nineteen fifties hot rod. Something he’d been working on for months.

Buffy Summers drunkenly got out of said vehicle and proceeded to retch all over the floor of the house. The car was sticking into the front room partially where Steve had been relaxing – about to head off back home to spend some quality time with his wife of three years Laura.

Buffy looked a mess – her hair was disheveled, her makeup wasn’t pristine perfect and her clothes were dirtier than usual. She blearily eyed the place as though she wasn’t sure what exactly had happened.

“Beer Bad,” she said before collapsing to the floor and her hair fell into the pile of puke she’d just left there.

Steve made tsking noises and stared at the unconscious woman with a look of slight righteous smugness. “Look what you did,” he told her.

The Studio Audience began to clap and wild shrill whistles could be heard.

Dawn and Xander came running in through the front door.

“She didn’t,” Dawn said.

“She did,” Xander growled.

Steve shrugged and headed to get his coat so he could meet up with Laura back home before it got too late – she was after all in one of those moods of hers because of their soon-to-be born second child.

“But how?” Dawn asked. “Nobody ever let’s Buffy drive or drink,” Dawn added.

Steve left and Xander watched him leave. “I don’t know how, I know I can’t prove it, but somehow I have a feeling he’s behind this,” he declared.

“Come on, let’s get Buffy up to bed,” Dawn said with a sigh.



Earlier that same night…

“Please, Buffy, you’re the perfect test subject for my new alcohol pill,” Steve urged.

Buffy stared at the nerd. “What are you talking about? I don’t want to test anything that involves alcohol,” she said frustratedly.

“But that’s why you have to try it. Normally you don’t drink. The pill is designed to allow an alcoholic to get the same fix they need from the drink without actually affecting them,” Steve explained holding out the tiny blue-green pill.

Buffy eyed it uncertainly. “I don’t know, Steve, Mister Winslow told us to never let you use us as guinea pigs for your inventions when we hired you,” she said.

Steve smiled. “Good ol’ Carl. But trust me, Buffy, nothing bad can come of this. I’ve tested it on several rats, a few dogs and even a bird, they all came out of it just fine!” Steve insisted.

Buffy sighed. “Alright, Steve, I’ll do it. If only to get you to stop harassing me,” she relented grabbing the pill and swallowing it in one go.

Steve grinned. “Now. That wasn’t so bad was it?” he asked.

Buffy broke into a very big smile and wrapped Steve up in a giant hug. “Thank you so much for this, you’re not so bad… for a geeky science guy,” Buffy said. “Have I ever told you how much I’m glad you work for us instead of against us?” she added.

Steve eyed her nervously. There was one factor he hadn’t considered about his new pill. The effects it could have on a mystically empowered individual… In Other Words, the Slayer. “What could happen?” he asked himself with a tiny shrug.

The End

The End

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