Nope! Don't own a thing here! Really, I OWN NOTHING HERE!
Joss Whedon and company own every character, setting, and material associated with Buffy The Vampire Slayer
is the creation of Stephen King. HALLOWEEN FIC, IF YOU RECOGNIZE ANYTHING HERE, REMEMBER, IT'S NOT MINE!
Meh, no reason for it's existence other then the fact that I could.
While the story is set in the book version, the character of the Hat girl and hat slap she gives to Carrie after the Volley ball game, has thrown me off--I can't remember if she was part of the book, or the movie. Hell, I can't remember what the color of the hat was suppose to be (I made it red)! I do own a copy of the book, Carrie
, but it's in storage, and I don't feel like digging it up for the sake of a casual one-shot. Please forgive any inconsistencies you may find in the story . . .Regardless of potential errors, I still hope you enjoy the story! E*E*E*E*E*E*E*E*E*E*E*E*E*E*E*E*E*E*E*E*E*E*E*E*E*E*E*E*E*E*E
Ethan Raynes accidentally gifts a needed thing to another World. E*E*E*E*E*E*E*E*E*E*E*E*E*E*E*E*E*E*E*E*E*E*E*E*E*E*E*E*E*E*E
And Many Happy Returns!
Gift Giving Ideas
Buffy really had no idea what was going on.
One moment she had been denouncing Toothbrush Lady; surrounded by her own troupe of tiny followers, on Sunnydale's benighted streets on Halloween. The next, she was standing in full daylight, a group of shouting teenage girls playing what Buffy recognized as volleyball.
If they had been playing a night game, or in the shade, Buffy would have entertained the idea of vampires--But the sun was high, and shinning fully on the players. So, if vampires were out, then why the hell were they all wearing seventies style gym shorts?
To add to the puzzle, the girls' hairstyles and makeup were early mid-seventies, their striped white tube socks caused Buffy to shudder. As for the sneaker styles they were wearing--A horrifying suspicion was growing inside Buffy.
Time travel? She thought glancing around her. Buffy noted the little details that identified High school athletic yards everywhere. Attending to her own immediate and personal problem, Buffy failed to notice the volleyball flying in her direction, and passing by her.
She did note the sudden screams and yells of hate directed at her. Buffy mostly ignored them--After all, her name was not 'Carrie'. Although, Buffy admitted, there was a vague poke or two of familiarity at the name.
A sharp, loud whistle preceded the announcement from a dark haired older woman--"Period's over! Time to hit the showers, ladies!"
Period was over? Hitting the showers? Buffy looked around her in confusion, as a stream of sweating, angry girls passed by her. How did she end up in a High school gym class? Worse, what they were saying, as they walked by her, about that 'Carrie' girl was not nice, and it made Buffy uncomfortably suspicious that they were talking about her. Again, there was that horrible nagging sense of familiarity.
So, when a girl wearing a dumb looking red baseball cap took it off and hit Buffy with it, she stood there, in dumb disbelief, before the Slayer, and Hemery High former Bitch Queen, suddenly roared up and jumped!
Now, Giles would have been extremely disappointed in her . . .Slayers do not attack Humans! Her mother would have been beyond disappointed--Joyce Summers' daughter brawling? Um, no. Just no! Of her two elders, Buffy would have said her mother was a lot more fearsome then her Watcher could ever be. Because, well, because Joyce was MOM!
However, circumstances were not in alignment to favor certain pests. As a certain girl, who favored red baseball caps discovered. She was led away, almost carried, limping and weeping. Bruises on her face, one eye swollen shut, her beloved baseball cap shredded cloth in her shaking hands.
"Carrie White! I want an explanation for this!" The dark haired gym teacher yelled.
So, would I, Buffy thought, internally wincing at the volume. Instead of answering, Buffy turned on her heels and walked in the direction the other girls had originally been heading towards. Buffy assumed it was the girls' locker room, where the broken sanitary pad dispenser, written about in the book, was. Stomping feet announced the gym teacher's entrance--She was in time to see Buffy remove the pad from the machine's catch scoop.
"I'll be with you in a few minutes." Buffy said softly, but firmly. The book made it clear she had certain immediate business to attend to. She walked off towards where the toilets were.
"In a few minutes." Buffy said, gently waving the hand with her little package in the gym teacher's direction. The woman closed her mouth shut with enough force to make Buffy idly wonder if her teeth were alright.
A few minutes behind a closed door toilet stall, doing something she had practice in doing for several years at that point. An easy, mindless activity, the only thing giving Buffy pause was the size and thickness of the pad, the long taps at the end, and the lack of adhesives on the bottom. Regardless, she managed. The few minutes it took for Buffy to put on the pad was enough time for her to think things through, not as thoroughly as she want to, but enough for Buffy to discard certain things and cling to others until something else came up. Meantime, she had another immediate problem to deal with.
When the stall door opened, a confidant 'Carrie White' walked out, calmly looked an angry gym teacher in the eye, and opened her mouth . . . THE WHITE'S HOUSE, CARRIE'S BEDROOM . . .
Hours later, Buffy sat on Carrie White's bed, in bemused puzzlement, watching a yellow pencil spinning in mid air, in front of her.
"This is not suppose to happen." Buffy commented unhappily into the empty room. "Didn't it take days, or weeks, for Carrie to play Spin the Pencil, like this? And didn't the book say Carrie had a hard physical time with her 'gift'? Like something to do with her heart, or her brain--A stroke thingy, or something like that?"
Buffy stared in confusion at the spinning pencil. She felt just fine. No strain, or any other evidence of excursion--She was just sitting on a bed, watching a spinning pencil.
With a sigh, Buffy reached up. The pencil stopped spinning, and gently dropped down to the palm of her waiting hand.
Another mystery to add to the pile she was collecting! "It's Halloween, Buffy. The supernatural takes a holiday, Buffy!" She huffed and pouted in irritation. "Well, obviously not everyone got the message, Giles!"
Giles . . .Buffy turned pensive. The stuffy, glasses wiping British librarian was her only hope--And Buffy snickered. Star Wars was at least a few years or so away, and yet here she was, practically quoting the classic SciFi movie!
Buffy quickly sobered up, as her brain connected dots and did math problems that added and subtracted. If she was in Carrie's body, was Carrie in her body? Was Carrie going to be able to keep it together, and at least attempt to impersonate her? Or, Buffy gulped, remembering the bloody nightgown she had substituted, at the last minute, for the lovely dress with the ripped skirt ('Stupid, delicate skirt . . .
), did the transfer happen after Carrie had killed her mother in self-defense? That might, MIGHT, explain why she could control Carrie's powers as well as she could.
Groaning, Buffy wondered why the dress had to be so fragile? Why did the skirt have to snag on something, and rip the way it did? The only good in that event, was that her accident took place a couple of blocks away from Ethan's costume shop, and that the man was still inside! However, considering the situation . . .(And, yea, her normally lax brain was actually doing some serious thinking!) And the innocent glow of Ethan's Costume Shop was seriously starting to fade.
She could feel her brain, and gut, knotting up in anxiety. Buffy was aware that IF Ethan had been responsible for what happened to her, were the rest of her friends in the same situation--? What about the others, people who bought costumes, or accessories, were they affected too? If everyone was affected . . .then her thoughts revolved back to Giles. Maybe, he REALLY was the only one who could help them!
Buffy shrugged and sighed in resignation. No good speculating about what was possibly going on back home. For all she knew, she could end up snapping back into her own body and reality--Only to discover she was modeling the latest designer straightjacket: A must have accessory for any reality challenged young lady--A versatile day and evening wear look! Buffy shuddered hard--No use thinking about that at the moment, she soothed herself pushing possibilities like that away for the time being.
Speaking of crazies . . .Buffy's face harden. Her 'mom
' was likely going to show up soon. The woman had been informed, via a phone call by a suddenly nervous secretary (Buffy smirked over the memory of the Slayer glare she had given the woman--It had the effect of being sent home without an adult escort.), that her daughter had been suspended for a week, for fighting. No doubt Margaret White would be coming home in a righteous fury, expecting to beat the crap out of her wicked, unclean 'daughter', all the while spouting bible verses; then slam dunking the poor kid into the closet 'hole', to pray and repent on her 'wickedness'.
That, Buffy promised through narrowed eyes, was not gonna happen! Another thing Buffy considered--did Marge have a type of telekinesis? A weaker form of it, but it would explain the woman's monstrous strength, and her deteriorating physical and mental health--Heart and brain. Those seemed to be the main areas affected by their abilities. So, what to do about Marge? Buffy took inventory of what she still had--Her Slayer package was still with her, upgraded and augmented with her new abilities--Buffy's face brightened, and a sudden wide grin stretched over her face.
Why not tell Marge the truth? Or, Buffy thought in growing glee, at least a very selective, and personally convenient, version of the Truth? That she was God's 'Chosen One'. Go ahead and do the whole 'one girl in the World' speech--Except without the whole Giles accent thing. That might push Marge hard enough to get a very, very public reaction. A big enough display, that even in Chamberlain--a town possibly even more corrupt then Sunnydale, as shocking as that sounded--would be enough to get Marge hauled away and committed?
Well . . .she was never big on the whole Secret Identity Girl thing--So, Truth it was gonna be!
Besides, Buffy thought, a hard, dark glint entering her eyes. It was going to be true, soon enough.
Just how far away was
Salem's Lot? E*E*E*E*E*E*E*E*E*E*E*E*E*E*E*E*E*E*E*E*E*E*E*E*E*E*E*E*E*E*E
Some Star Wars references crept into the fic--But hey! It's the seventies! They had to be made! Needless to say, I don't own Star Wars, George Lucas does.
That's it for me! I'll end it right here, but I'll keep it open, in case anyone want to add a chapter--This is after all, the King Universe. If ever there was a World that needed a Slayer, it's that one--With all sorts of Big Bads and Nasties to Slay, including a few aliens.
Thank you, and good-bye!