Disclaimer: I own nothing. All Buffy the Vampire Slayer characters and DC Comics characters are the property of their original owners.
Just like every other high school in the country, SHS had its jealously-guarded territories claimed by the various societal groups at that educational facility.
For instance, during free periods, the jocks tended to cluster at the back of the gym. At least, when the cheerleaders weren’t bursting into flames during their practice routines inside this building. If that happened, the school athletes then usually drifted outside to head towards the metal bleachers around the football field. There, they’d huddle together for a quick smoke, while also admiringly commenting on how hot the girls had looked dashing towards the gym showers as their skin-tight clothing combusted.
At the same time in their citadel behind the securely-barred doors of the audio-visual room, the geeks and nerds would be gathered there, happily occupied in throwing multiple-sided dice for a never-ending game of Dungeons and Dragons. The clatter of these small objects on the room table would eventually be broken by some dweeb in the room boasting how he’d managed to catch a glimpse of actual panties during one of the cheerleaders’ panicked flight, only to be promptly hooted down by the others, who knew quite well none of their number would ever be that lucky.
However, undoubtedly the most exclusive, the most private, the absolute holy of holies of these locations was the gathering place for the Sunnydale High cheerleading squad themselves, which was the girls’ restroom at the back of the school. It was implicitly understood and obeyed by every other student (both male and female) at SHS that anyone not a member of this elite group of young women ruled over by Queen C shouldn’t even consider
daring to stick a cheaply-shod toe over the threshold of this sanctuary. Nobody had ever been brave enough to defy Cordelia Chase regarding this outrageous exhibition of sheer privilege, not even the school staff, given that she was the only child of the richest man in town, besides being an extremely vindictive, albeit truly gorgeous, bitch.
During one particularly boring patrol without coming across any vamps or other demons at all during the whole night, Buffy had broken the monotony by describing to her incredulous companions exactly what the interior of the restroom had looked like, when she’d visited it during the Slayer’s short membership on the cheerleading squad. An open-mouthed Willow and Xander heard about marble floors and counters, gold-plated fixtures, silk wallpaper, antique mirrors, and a crystal chandelier. Mind you, that was just for the booths. Outside these, the main room was a lot
Skipping over such minor things as a private spa in one corner of the restroom, Buffy confessed to her enthralled audience as they strolled through tonight’s graveyard, that in the Los Angeles native’s judgment, the strangest thing there in the cheerleaders’ haven simply had to be what was placed against the far wall, and the surprising ceremony that came along with the use of this odd piece of machinery. Thankfully, Buffy only had to go through this bizarre ritual just once before leaving the squad and never returning to the restroom, so the Slayer wasn’t sure if it was still happening, and she wasn’t ever going to ask.
Speaking of that, Buffy also warned a flabbergasted Xander and Willow concerning what Cordelia had icily informed the blonde when the time had come for the formal turning in of her pom-poms: “Summers, we do not talk about the restroom. Ever.”
Buffy spent the next minute or so cleaning under her fingernails with Mr. Pointy, patiently waiting for both Willow and Xander to stop laughing while clutching onto a pair of handy gravestones for support.
Still, from then on despite an occasional moment of inner hilarity among the trio concerning this, none of the Scooby Gang particularly thought all that much about a certain female’s reign over a sacrosanct location. Not even when Cordelia Chase joined their little group trying to protect Sunnydale from the forces of evil. Nor when this same truly stacked young woman decided Xander Harris’ tonsils needed to be thoroughly investigated with her tongue every so often in the supply closet. However, when as might be expected, there came a time when this pair’s relationship entered a rather bumpy phase…
Imperiously sweeping down the school corridor, She-Who-Must-Be-Feared (mere obedience was automatically expected; actual terror tasted far sweeter) was trailed along after by her acolytes, all of them dressed in their dazzling finery of individually-fitted cheerleader uniforms unknowingly paid for by dear old Daddy. Trim limbs flashing in their brisk walk, breasts bouncing in Victoria’s Secret bras, and sculptured hairstyles held utterly immobile by an application of hair sprays reaching bulletproof levels, the squad headed straight to their safe haven to recover from an exhausting half-hour of standing around the football field to bask in the admiration of the local peasantry.
None of these young ladies even flicked a glance at the figure mopping the other side of the corridor floor as they passed by this bearded man facing away from them in his work clothes draped over wide shoulders, just before entering their sanctum. Of course not! A…a…janitor?! Noticing someone actually doing manual labor?! Guhhhh-ross!
Xander Harris was counting
Several minutes later, the other members of the cheerleader squad stopped in their usual savaging of the reputations possessed by every other girl in the school, as they fractionally tensed in their positions standing around the restroom. Cordelia Chase had finished retouching her makeup, which meant the next step was about to begin. Turning away from the mirror, Queen C arrogantly regarded something across the room that would tell her precisely what she expected, or it’d turn out for the worse concerning that ornate, wrought-iron, Victorian-era, sidewalk weighing machine.
Nobody but Cordelia knew where that antique set of scales had come from before being moved in here the same week Miss Chase had started attending public (ugh!) high school, but years ago, a timid question from one of her first minions had received a lofty answer that it was none of their business, but their leader had decided then that she deserved something with a much more higher tone than a clunky foot scale…right?!
That final word had been spoken with such deadly ferocity it resulted in everyone in Codelia’s vicinity falling over themselves to hastily agree.
Now purposefully making her way over to the weighing machine, Cordelia shot an expectant look at the side of the restroom, where the newest member of the squad was nervously waiting, a small, pure silver bowl held in her trembling hands. At this unspoken command, Krystal scurried over to carry out today’s assigned menial task, which was still a lot better than having to scrub the inside of Queen C’s locker with a toothbrush dipped in Chanel No. 5, as scheduled for tomorrow. Coming to a petrified halt besides Her Majesty, Krystal lifted the silver bowl to display its contents for Cordelia’s haughty examination while this brunette girl stood in front of the scales. After a nerve-racking few seconds, an infinitesimal flare of her nostrils indicated Cordelia was grudgingly willing to grant as acceptable the small pile of hand-polished pennies in the bowl.
Her stomach beginning to settle down in grateful relief at learning the results of totally ruining her last manicure while making sure every single penny was in sparkling-clean condition, Krystal selected the most dazzling coin, and with bated breath, the junior cheerleader inserted this metal disk into the proper slot of the weighing machine. Every inch of her magnificent body displaying overwhelming hauteur, Cordelia waited for the tiresome events to be carried out by somebody else, as was only proper. A searing look of pure contempt would have been bestowed upon anybody suggesting that things might have gone otherwise. A Chase actually touching
filthy, germ-laden, physical examples of currency? That was why God invented the credit card!
A soft ding!
rang throughout the restroom, as the weighing machine indicated it was ready for its next customer. Stepping onto the lower platform where only she was allowed to place her feet, Cordelia proudly awaited the predictable outcome, which would surely mirror the last time she’d done this, and also the other thirty-seven times for the past week alone. Beginning to slowly spin around, the pointer of the glass-faced circular dial at head level that displayed in flamboyant 1890’s script the exact amount of weight for its users finally had this metal needle come to a dead halt, revealing once more that Cordelia Chase had not gained a single ounce--
Before a smug young woman could even turn in triumph to her followers, the pointer jerked into motion again, without any possible cause or reason for this. Cordelia and also the other cheerleaders now stared in utter disbelief at the indicator wildly spinning around and around on the dial, becoming an actual blur as it reached aircraft propeller speeds. An instant later, the indicator slammed to a halt with such force that the metal hand bent in half. Right after this, the round face of the weighing machine shattered, spraying glass to the floor below. Next, the entire dial then popped outwards, to dangle helplessly from the upper portion of the weighing machine while staying connected only by a few thin wires. Lower down on the scales, the coin box flipped open, spilling out its entire contents of pennies onto the floor also.
Last of all, the ornamental iron ball atop the short column that crowned the weighing machine exploded upwards, ricocheting off the ceiling to then unerringly shoot across the room and making a direct hit, right between the eyes, of the life-sized, illuminated portrait of Candy Spelling hanging on the wall there in its own place of honor. A thin trickle of dust dribbled from the bottom of where the metal globe remained imbedded in the painting of a now-headless wife of an immensely rich film and television producer, who used her husband’s money to build an enormous Los Angeles mansion that was so extravagant it had its own gift-wrapping room. It was no wonder this last blasphemous touch against someone idolized by the entire cheerleader squad was the final straw for these young woman.
Screaming in terror in response to the latest Hellmouth atrocity, the cheerleaders burst out of their restroom in a state of sheer panic, clustering together for protection as they frantically sprinted down the school corridor at such a speedy velocity they soon outstripped their sovereign, leaving a pursuing Cordelia Chase far behind and no longer the leader of their pack. Of course, with all of these girls presently preoccupied with their own affairs that included running for their lives, it was only natural that none of them even bothered to notice the janitor casually strolling in the opposite direction down the corridor, all while deeply sniggering to himself.
Sensing that his latest manifestation of the Halloween Chaos magic was about to wear off any second now, a very tickled Xander picked up the pace so that he’d return in time to the supply closet and change out of his overalls before he transformed back into his original body. Regretfully stroking his beard that Thom Kallor, alias Star Boy, had grown years before in the 30th Century, Xander felt much more disappointment over losing that fine chin foliage rather than the gravity-manipulating powers this member of the Legion of Super-Heroes normally possessed.
However, the fact was when Xander had changed into Star Boy an hour ago, he really couldn’t think of any way to immediately make use of the ability to turn objects super-heavy that would directly help the Scooby Gang protect Sunnydale. When it became evident his newest gift from that long-ago day after Halloween was going to disappear even before school ended today, Xander had instead been gleefully inspired to play a truly fiendish prank on those snobby, stuck-up cheerleaders, and especially upon little Miss-Don’t-You-Dare-Tell-Anyone-About-Us.
All it’d taken was for him in his new body to dress up as a janitor and confidently walk into the girls’ restroom with a bucket and mop. Yeah, he’d known Cordy and her sheep were outside the school, and nobody else would dare enter their lair, but he’d still worked as fast as possible inside the lavishly furnished facilities. A quick application there of his power over gravity to the old-time set of scales ensured the fun would start once the penny actually dropped, as Buffy had told them months before. Xander had been pleased to find out his abilities would also protect anybody in the room from stray debris when the booby-trapped weighing machine violently self-destructed. There was no reason for anyone to be hurt, after all.
Why, he was even willing to later on administer comfort to the very best of his ability somebody trying to recover from learning that according to a previously trusted and very accurate measuring device, Cordelia Chase now weighed twelve hundred pounds. And seven ounces. With that last additional weight making the teenage girl the heaviest ever documented female, according to the latest book of Guinness World Records.