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Sam Seaborn, International Man of Mystery

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Summary: So what's our favourite former Deputy White House Communications Director been up to? So glad you asked.

Categories Author Rating Chapters Words Recs Reviews Hits Published Updated Complete
Multiple Crossings > GeneralLizkaFR72937041,71629 May 0630 May 06No

Fear

Author’s Note: If I keep this going, it’ll probably end up AU later on. AU-ish. Maybe.

Disclaimer: It’s all Joss Whedon’s and Aaron Sorkin’s. Don’t sue. Please.

Sam Seaborn, International Man of Mystery
by Lizka


Chapter One: Fear

Sam stared at himself in the hall mirror. It was a handily situated mirror, as all the mirrors were in the great manor house. He supposed that it came in handy what with the hundreds of teenage girls that lived here day to day – and what they did at night. Sam’s hair was short and neat, his glasses were clean, and his tie was straight. He was wearing one of his more expensive suits, a leftover from his days of Gage Whitney. He looked every inch of his credentials. He was a brilliant lawyer, politicians, and had the references to match. Now if only he didn't feel like the people he would soon meet would be able to smell his fear, he would be all right.

Chin up, Sam. They're probably more scared of you than you are of them. After all, you're a senior advisor to the President.

The momentary cheer Sam felt at this thought faded abruptly when he remembered that they had faced off against ancient hell-gods. In all probability, wouldn’t be the least impressed with him - his boss, maybe, but not Sam.

Was it too late to make a break for it? If he started running now and drove off in his rental car, how long would it take until they found him again? They were much faster than he was, but if he could get a good head start …

“Mr. Seaborn? They’re ready for you now.” A pretty, athletic girl – no more than fifteen, tops – gestured for Sam to go through the doorway.

The panic that had been building up inside him only intensified as he followed the teenage girl down the hall, and was shown into a small study.

“Good evening, Dr. Giles, Ms. Summers, Ms. Rosenberg, Mr. Harris. It’s an honour to meet you.” Good thing his manners still worked.

Buffy Summers flashed the nervous man a brilliant smile and turned to her friends. “He’s a polite one, isn’t he?”

Alexander Harris grinned back, and it was amazing how a muscled, scarred, weather-beaten, one-eyed man could suddenly seem harmless. “Don’t worry, Buff. We’ll train it out of him.”

And Sam felt better.
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