Let’s Get Some Cheese
Disclaimer: I do not own Buffy the Vampire Slayer nor Pirates of the Caribbean, Curse of the Black Pearl. All of the characters, settings, themes, movie, show, titles, witches, slayers, creation, references, ships, and basic gist of the two fantasy worlds all belong Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, Warner Bros., Jerry Bruckheimer, Gore Verbinski, and Walt Disney. All rights reserved.
Timeline: Post Season 5 for BtVS—takes place right after the Gift. As for Pirates, although containing some probably major spoilers for Dead Man’s Chest, I’m gonna have to go off-canon from that movie on this one. Although it takes place after the Curse of the Black Pearl.
Summary: From some stroke of fate, Buffy lands in 17th century-Caribbean; smack-dab in the middle of the Golden Age of Piracy. From whence she meets the infamous Captain Sparrow, along with the never-ending headache he seems to bring.
Notes: Thanks for the reviews, guys! Hope this wasn’t too late for yah!
Chapter 14—Let’s Get Some Cheese
Buffy sighed in mild content. Her back was infinitely sore, and she was pretty sure she had cuts and bruises where there shouldn’t be any. Her throat hurt too, and for some reason, she felt pinned to an admittedly soft floor. But she somehow felt…content.
A feeling she hadn’t had for a long while.
She moaned when the pressure on her navel shifted quite nicely. Then the pressure muttered her name.
If she hadn’t been so shocked at Jack’s position and her recent attitude towards him, his husky voice would’ve sent her to a pile of mush, but as it was, it nearly sent her to a panic attack. What happened?
She tried to shove him off, but her back screamed in protest. Oh yeah. She realized that the soft floor was mercifully a bed, but how she got there was the question. Buffy closed her eyes. The last thing she remembered was accidentally cutting the rope that held her down, then blackness. A shudder coursed through her. Suddenly, flashes of images flooded her mind.
Her hand helplessly reaching up to grab the robe as the angry sea surrounded her.
A loud crash and then the distinct muffled sounds when she went down the Caribbean.
Her back hitting the Pearl’s hull, with oversized barnacles cutting through her shirt like hundreds of little daggers.
Then pressure. So much pressure.
In seconds, she was reduced to a sobbing mess, with the pirate looking around bewilderedly when his warm pillow moved quite suddenly under him. Jack saw the woman in front of him cry hysterically. Without thinking, he took her in his arms, and was slightly surprised when she allowed him to hold her.
She held onto his shirt, her unnoticed bandaged fingers curling around with surprising strength. Awkwardly, he patted her shoulders, but it only brought her more into tears. He never did care much for comforting women like this—more often than not, he tries to escape such a situation. However, he knew well enough that patting their shoulders, in what was supposed to be a comforting manner, was not supposed to make them cry more.
For several long minutes, Buffy continued to cry hysterically. Soon, she began gasping out gurgled words. “Couldn’t…can’t...I can’t…stop it. I…I—“
”What is it, Summers?”
Finally, she looked at him, face flushed from her tears, but she continued to sob. “Can’t stop…I can’t stop…crying!”
They looked at each other, bewildered and shocked at her confession, before they both laughed. And for a moment the tension was broken. However, Buffy could only emit a small gurgled laughter, before she was once again reduced into bawling her eyes out. No matter how much she wanted to stop crying, her body simply wouldn’t listen.
Somehow, Jack knew that she wasn’t just crying for her near death experience. She was finally beginning to let go of her anger and depression. Buffy was at last, accepting her new place in life, and Jack understood that she needed this release. He wasn’t going to be the one to stop her from getting that.
All he did was rub her shoulders as awkwardly as before.
It took a good few more minutes before Buffy eventually cried herself to exhaustion. When she calmed down enough to sleep, Jack looked at her back and wasn’t surprised to see she pulled out several of her stitches and bloodied the bandages from all that crying. He carefully placed her on her front so he could clean and re-stitch her back.
This was going to be a long night.
“And she’s awake!”
Buffy found herself looking into a too chipper-of-a-mood pirate. She groaned, and rubbed her eyes, only to see her fingers in bandages. She frowned and looked down at herself, only to grimace when she saw her chest wrapped in torn linen. “What…happened?”
“You mean you don’t remember?” Jack turned around incredulously, before grabbing a bowl full of soup and walking—no, swaggering—back to her. “None of the cutting of the rope, nearly drownin’ in sea, cryin’ your heart out?”
Buffy almost gagged at the sight of food combined with the images of her ‘accident’. “Thanks for reminding me,” though her tone clearly said otherwise. Jack snorted at her response as he came closer with the soup. “No thank you.”
He took of the sip of the stew Quinn made for her. “It tastes fine, brat. Now open up.”
“Jack, I will gag all over your sheets if you bring that any closer to me. I swear.”
He sighed. She was stubborn as ever, but at least she didn’t push him away. “Then at least drink your water.”
She pursed her lips in determination. “No.”
“Don’t be bloody ridiculous, Summers! You’re not going to get any better if you don’t start eating anything. That dizzying spell you have is not entirely caused by your injuries, you know. You haven’t eaten in the two days you’ve been incapacitated, and before the hurricane even came, food became like a plague to you. So bloody eat something, woman, or I will force it down on you!”
They both glared right each other, neither one wanting to submit. Unfortunately for Buffy, Jack was right. Her lack of food, along with her injuries, had severely weakened her, and she soon found herself unable to find the strength to argue any further.
“You can’t what?”
Buffy sighed. She took some small comfort that the sheets covered part of her body—even if they were Jack’s—for they provided a distraction for her bandaged hand. “This wasn’t the first time I drowned.”
“So? Half the pirates here don’t know how to swim.”
She glared right at him. “It’s not that I don’t know how, idiot. I swam from Port Royal back to the Pearl remember? And I will hit you the next time you interrupt.”
He gave a mocking look, but didn’t say anything.
“There was this prophecy that said that I was going to die. But as much as I tried not to, I died that night. Drowned in a small pool of water in one of Sunnydale’s many caves. My friend luckily brought me back, and it took me forever to get over that night. But even when I did, I avoided any large bodies of water. Death by drowning is still the worst way to go, I think.” A small shiver ran through her. “Sometimes I feel like such an idiot.
“Then…the hurricane happened. And I…I just don’t think I can handle anything connected with the word that starts with a ‘s’ and rhymes with ‘see’.”
Jack looked at her squarely in the eyes. He was sympathetic to her traumatic experiences, but he was still determined to help her through her recovery. “It’s not stupid to fear the ocean, luv, but I think we can both agree a sip or two, ain’t life threatenin’. More like, life savin’.” He held up a glass of water, and gave her his most charming smile.
Buffy stared at him defiantly for a few seconds, before caving in. She took the glass almost petulantly, and took a small sip. “Happy?”
“No. Finish the glass, but drink as little as you can at a time.”
She scowled back at him, but followed his instructions anyways.
“For what it’s worth, Summers, I am sorry.”
She nearly snorted out the water. “What for?”
Jack shifted uncomfortably. Not once had he had to apologize for his affairs, but he was truly sorry for this one. It didn’t mean that it would be easy to say it out loud, however. “For sleeping with Elena in your room. We…shouldn’t—“
“No,” Buffy cut him off firmly. “I’m actually the one who should be sorry. I…” she looked away and tried not to shift around so much. “It was none of my business, and what I said before was out of line. I made it personal when I shouldn’t have. What you do…or who you do, is something that I shouldn’t be concerned with. I’m sorry.”
He looked at her for several minutes, before exclaiming incredulously, “Bloody hell, that was easy. I even got you to apologize.”
But Buffy saw his guilty eyes, even though his teasing grin made her roll her eyes. “Shut up. Just try not to do it in my room anymore. Doesn’t bode well for the stomach,” her easy remark didn’t match her guarded eyes. “How are you two anyways?”
Jack gave her an odd look. “It was just a one time affair, Summers.”
“Oh.” Buffy had nothing else to say, so she continued sipping her water. It did make her frown at him, however.
Determined to keep her from falling into her old routine, Jack finally asked her the question. “So…the future, eh? How’s it like?”
Buffy gave him a small but genuine smile, before she started talking.
She finished her water along with the bowl of soup that day.
Elena gave a sincere smile to the old chef, before turning around and carrying the tray of food with a disgusted grimace. She never did much care for the working class, and to be forced in closed areas—much less pretend to help—them always made her want to throttle herself. But, she reminded herself, it was part of the plan.
Especially with Jonathan…incapacitated indefinitely, she had to do everything herself.
Once she was out of view, Elena quickly took out the vial of poison that had been gaining potency this past week and a half and poured part of it in Buffy’s lunch. It gave a light hiss and an unnatural purple smoke puffed out of the soup, but after a few seconds, her lunch seemed normal. Finally, it seems as if this terribly dull trip was going somewhere. She placed the vial back in her person before ascending the steps and headed towards Jack’s room.
Fortunately for her, the crewmembers ignored her business and let her do what she wanted. They all shared a certain disinterest in the brunette after the first few days of her arrival in their ship. She did not inspire the crew to know her better, and Elena shared the same feelings. In the end, it worked out for both parties.
Espinosa eyed the captain carefully, even though he looked like he was in his own world. He didn’t even seem to notice her carrying Buffy’s next meal to his cabin, or the very motive behind it. After all, she made her feelings clear about the other female on this boat, and it was a tad suspicious that she was bringing the girl food.
Then again, she thought to herself, they are all idiots and probably think that I’ve grown fond of the girl.
She snorted. If that was the case, the whole lot of them were fools, and they were in for a very big surprise. Buffy was like an annoying itch she simply wanted to scratch out.
Anyone—who wanted to know of Buffy—knew that she finally woke up yesterday. However, Elena was unable to make her move since that dratted Sparrow kept himself locked in that room with her, and made sure she wasn’t slipping back to her almost self-destructive path.
He was disgustingly whipped, but it was going to make her plan ever more successful.
She finally slipped into his room and quietly walked towards the table by the sleeping blonde. With some luck, Buffy would be famished when she wakes up, and see the soup Elena carefully placed beside her. Then, just to make sure she actually takes the poison, Elena poured the rest of the liquid and mixed it with a glass of water. The same little hiss, and purple smoke erupted from the drink.
Satisfied with her work, she turned around and left as quietly she came.
Yes. This was almost too easy.
Sparrow was entirely too astounded to do anything else other than reflect the future Buffy had told him. Horseless carriages. Film theaters. Ice boxes that made its own ice. His head nearly throbbed of the endless possibilities for such a future, and for a brief moment, he almost didn’t believe her. But then he’d remember the wistful gaze that Buffy had every time she mentioned something unbelievable, and then Jack would realize that these weren’t impossible. She was honest to god telling the truth.
And Jack knows a little something about lies and honesty.
Jack rubbed his head furiously. It was three hours ‘til dusk, and all Jack had done was ponder over his last conversation. “I need more rum,” he muttered to himself. Finally deciding it was also time to check on Buffy’s progress, Jack left his post and entered his quarters…
Only to see Buffy’s form convulsing all over his bed.
Jack cursed and quickly ran to Buffy, accidentally kicking the glass and bowl that fell on the ground. He tried to wake her up but only received a healthy slap in the face that nearly knocked him out. “What is it with women and hitting me on the face,” Jack growled with annoyance, before trying to wake her up from her fit. He avoided several kicks and wild, swinging arms, but before he could actually touch her, Buffy’s convulsions suddenly stopped.
She groaned, but there were no actual answers.
“Luv?” he touched her face, and was surprised to feel it so hot. She was suddenly shivering as if exposed to a biting chill and she was sweating profusely. And if he squinted just so, he could actually see an unnatural yellow tint to her skin. “Bloody hell.”
Even with his limited medical knowledge, Jack knew this was no ordinary situation. Something had happened to Buffy, and only one who had more experience with this would be able to help her and tell him what happened. Jack ran towards the door and began frantically calling out for the old man.
He opened the door and almost ran into Elena’s smirking form.
“Problems with your girl, Sparrow?”
That stopped him dead on his tracks.
What the hell was going on here?
As soon as Buffy opened her eyes, she knew that she that was in a dream. Why else would the Black Pearl’s resident monkey be looking at her oddly on top of the cheese-man’s shoulder?
Buffy sighed. “No thank you.”
That’s when she realized she was lying down on a deserted beach, with just the monkey and the cheese-man to accompany her. She stood up and dusted off her clothes. They were the same ones as when she jumped into the portal. Thank god for cashmere.
She tried remembering what happened before she fell into this place. There was pain, that much she recalled. It was like the burning and twisting of the insides kind of pain. Almost like she was melting from the inside out, only it was accompanied by intense cramps that sent her silently screaming. Then uncontrollable spasms followed soon after, and then she woke up here.
Wherever ‘here’ was.
“At least the First Slayer isn’t here.”
“Yeah. You got me instead.”
A familiar voice came from behind her, and Buffy was annoyed to see who it was. “That’s not much of an improvement.”
“Always the charmer, eh Buff?”
“Always the messenger soon to be mauled, eh Whistler?”
He chuckled nervously as he clutched his bowler hat. He waved his hands formally. “Hi kid.”
The monkey suddenly screeched loudly at both of them, attracting their attention. He was waving a piece of cheese, and the cheese-man cocked his head and repeated, “Cheese?”