How to Not Die
Set post season seven for BTVS, Season 8 never has and never will exist. For NCIS, anytime after Ziva joined the team. I, of course, own neither show or anything related to them.
"I swear the path was right here!" Buffy exclaimed, running agitated fingers through her blonde hair and grimacing when she remembered the short bob it was currently styled into, thanks to an unfortunate incident with a slime demon and her latest group of minis.
Faith just smirked at her and shook her head. "Ready to admit you got us lost yet?"
Buffy glared and didn't bother dignifying the derisive comment with a response, instead glancing over her shoulder to make sure that her sister, and the man they'd rescued, were still following. The man still looked a little shell shocked, but was staring at them with bright, curious eyes – she could practically see the questions bubbling in his head and groaned, starting forward again. The sooner they got back to their car, the sooner they could drop him off in town and she could have a nice long hot bath and forget this weekend ever happened.
Timothy McGee blinked bemusedly and continued to follow the three beautiful women who had rescued him, mind whirling. He'd been stuck on his latest book and had taken a rare weekend off, finding a nice secluded cabin and hoping to get some serious writing done without the distractions of cases, his coworkers, or his continuing not-just-friends, but not more either, situation with Abby.
Unfortunately, instead of some quiet time with his muse, he'd barely settled in when a group of people, who looked like they belonged at one of the sci-fi conventions he secretly attended once a year, broke into his cabin and knocked him unconscious. He'd been awakened some hours later and found himself naked, tied to a stone altar in the middle of the forest, with strange symbols painted on his skin in a dark red substance his nose said was blood.
Beginning to come to the sickening realization that his kidnappers weren't wearing costumes, he'd just about given up hope of ever seeing anyone he cared about again, when a ridiculously hot blonde and an equally gorgeous brunette had burst into the clearing, wielding very shiny, and very sharp, medieval weapons. The night had just gotten stranger from there, with the things that had captured him swarming to attack the women, while a third one popped up from somewhere and untied him before handing him his clothes with a faint blush and a gesture to follow her.
Not being a complete idiot, Tony's opinion to the contrary, he had, and soon after he'd gotten redressed, the other two women had appeared, weapons dripping strange colored liquids he just knew Abby would kill to see under a microscope, bantering cheerfully about who had killed the most demons, since apparently, that's what the things had been.
Part of him was convinced that he'd ingested a hallucinogen somehow, but the rest, the part that ached from laying naked on cold, unyielding stone, and that could feel the burn on his wrists and ankles where the ropes had dug in, knew that this was in fact real, and was having a hard time reconciling that with the cold hard facts he'd always assumed made up the world.
The two women, still arguing about where they were and how they'd gotten there, suddenly stopped, and he looked up from carefully watching his feet to see that the brunette one had managed to push the blonde one up against a tree and was kissing her thoroughly. Choking slightly, he only managed to tear his eyes away when the girl next to him, who'd introduced herself as Dawn, snorted as they both halted.
"Giles better give me that pay raise, every time I babysit these two it's the same thing. Fight, then make out, fight, then fuck in the backseat. It's worse than when she was sneaking around with Spike, because now she doesn't even try to hide her sex life from me." Turning big blue eyes on him, she shook her head in clear exasperation. "I'm beginning to regret insisting on field work."
"It sounds awful," he said diplomatically, summoning the higher brain functions that had been suppressed by being almost sacrificed by demons that were not supposed to exist, and rescued by the hottest women he'd ever seen, who now appeared to be trying to writhe their way through
the tree. The thought of how jealous Tony would be made him grin suddenly. "My coworkers drive me crazy too, Tony's a movie obsessed man child and Ziva has some cultural translation issues and is nearly as deadly as your sister; watching the two of them flirt is like watching a train wreck, too horrific to look away."
She laughed and then raised an eyebrow, pointedly not looking towards the moaning couple still blocking the path. "And who do you flirt with at work?"
He blushed, wondering how exactly he'd ended up thinking about the situation he was trying to avoid thinking about, in the midst of being rescued from human sacrifice. Someone was laughing at him right now, and he had a feeling it was Tony.
"Um, well, our lab tech, Abby, she's..." he trailed off, not sure why he was telling this girl anything, and definitely not sure how to describe Abby. Bottled sunshine in a dark and quirky package? That didn't even begin to do her justice.
Luckily, his youngest rescuer didn't seem to want any other details. "Everyone's getting some but me. Even nerdy authors who get themselves kidnapped for ritual sacrifice," she muttered, then reached down and snagged a pinecone off the ground. Pulling her arm back, she threw it, grinning with satisfaction as it bounced off the leather-clad ass of the brunette.
Faith turned and glared, while Buffy had lost her irritated expression in favor of a lust-dazed smile that made McGee blush again. Dawn just stared the brunette down until she rolled her eyes. "Fine, little D, I'll rock your sister's world later. Let's get Mr. Submarine Boxers here back to civilization."
McGee blushed darker and ignored Dawn's chuckles as they resumed their trek through the woods. There were no more R-rated pit stops and eventually they reached the road where the three girls had left their SUV.
It was with a mixture of relief and reluctance that he watched them pull away after they dropped him off in the small town close by, with a warning to avoid being alone after dark in isolated areas and to never ever verbally invite someone into his home. Once it was daylight, he reclaimed his belongings from the cabin and moved them into a nice, well-lit hotel room. Staring down at his typewriter, a smile curved his lips upwards as words finally began to flow from his fingers.
So much for crime, it seemed his next novel would be venturing into the horror genre.