LEGAL A/N: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
and all characters belong to Joss Whedon, 20TH Century Fox Television, UPN, The WB and CW. The Dead Zone
and all characters belong to Shawn & Michael Piller, Stephen King, Lion's Gate Television and USA Network. Monk
and all characters belong to Andy Breckman, Mandeville Films, Touchstone Television, NBC Universal Television and USA Network. Psych
and all characters belong to Steve Franks, Tagline Pictures, NBC Universal Television Studios, GEP Productions and USA Network. The 4400
and all characters belong to Scott Peters & René Echevarria , Renegade 83, American Zoetrope, Paramount Network Television Productions, Viacom Productions Inc. and USA Network. Final Destination
and all characters belong to James Wong, Jeffrey Reddick & Glen Morgan, Hard Eight Pictures, Zide-Perry Productions and New Line Cinema. No profit is being made off of this and no copyright infringement is intended or implied. All ownership not mentioned here is acknowledged and respected. AUTHOR'S NOTE
For Jan, made with Dawson’s idea. I seriously thought of this while zoning-out at work.
To Your Final Destination
Mr. Harris and the Fake, Obsessive-Compulsive,
Reluctant Psychic Detectives Cheat Death
1: Characters Unwelcome
Xander Harris opened the door of Room 218 of the Sunset Suites Inn in Los Angeles carrying a plastic bag and a wide grin on his face. Wearing a hunter green plaid shirt, wrinkled jeans, and his eye-patch, he walked into the foyer, closing the door behind him, and greeted with an excited tone. “Females!” the dark, curly-haired young man declared with a smile. “I come to you bearing awesomeness.”
He strolled into the living area of the hotel suite just as Willow Rosenberg walked in from the kitchen nook with a bag of freshly-popped popcorn wearing sheep pajamas. “Heya,” she greeted as she sat down in an arm chair in front of the television set. Buffy Summers was curled up in her sleepwear on the couch with her pajama’d sister Dawn next to her, the two of them sharing a blanket.
Buffy and Dawn glanced over at Xander with curious expressions. “Hey,” said Buffy, “what’d you get?”
“Well,” Xander began with a wide, proud smile on his face as he stood before his female friends like Superman after saving Earth from a meteor. “I know I was just going to get donuts…”
“Uh oh,” Dawn whispered to her sister.
“But when I was at the store, I found exactly
what we need to watch tonight,” Xander announced, digging into the plastic bag and retrieving a DVD-box set. He held it up in its glory: Final Destination
s 1-3 in a special-edition trilogy case. “Behold – the Blood-Spillogy.”
“You want to watch that tonight?” Dawn declared incredulously. “Tonight – our one
night off from Slayer-scouting?”
“No offense, Xander,” Willow breathed sensitively, “but… don’t you think we get enough blood-and-guts action on a nightly basis?”
“Oh, come on!” Xander pleaded. “What’s not to love about these? You’ve got your drama, you’ve got your romance, you’ve got pretty teenagers, you’ve got your action, your suspense… sure, there are one or two decapitations, but other than that it’s your standard Jennifer Love Hewitt flick.”
“You know that’s pretty much the biggest stretch you could’ve possibly made, right?” Buffy responded in disbelief.
“Yeah, sure,” he shrugged. “But give it a shot.”
“Sorry, Xander,” Dawn cut in. “We’ve already voted on what we we’re going to watch tonight.”
His face fell flat with disappointment as his arms fell to his side. “Oh, no,” Xander protested. “We’re not watching another Nicholas Sparks adaptation… or anything that features any contribution whatsoever by the cast or crew of Dawson’s Creek
“Even better,” said Dawn. “Tonight USA Network is showing a marathon of all their original shows. It’s gonna be great!”
“What?” he stated with disgust. “How is that better than the Blood-Spillogy?”
“Are you kidding me?” Dawn excitedly declared. “Shawn Farrell from The 4400
is so hot! Omigod, I think if I met him I would die
. Or no, not die, because then I wouldn’t be able to see him. Let’s just say there would be kidnapping involved.”
Xander sighed as Buffy added, “Ooh, and let’s not forget that Anthony Michael Hall has come a long way from the Brat Pack. And boy, what a good-looking journey it’s been.”
“Oh!” Dawn replied. “And that guy from the new show Psych
... I’d take a side-order of that
Hopelessly, Xander glanced over at Willow with a desperate gaze in his eye. “Will,” he pleaded, “I know
you’re not a part of this, too.”
Willow looked up at him with an apologetic expression and lightly shrugged. “The girl that plays Monk
’s assistant is kinda cute.”
He scoffed at the betrayal and threw up his hands. “Now wait a minute,” he declared. “It’s not a fair vote if I’m not a part of it. I want a recount.”
“All right,” Buffy agreed, “all those in favor of welcoming some USA characters into our room this evening, say aye.”
“Aye,” the three women said simultaneously, raising their hands.
“All ye opposed?”
Xander lifted his lonely hand, but it wavered in the air, and then collapsed at his side in utter defeat. His head rolled back as his shoulders slumped. “The democratic process fails again.”
“Ooh, quiet, The Dead Zone
’s starting!” Dawn interrupted with a thrilled tone. All three of the women were lost at once. Xander watched his ship sink in the distance, then sauntered over slowly to the couch and plopped down.
“Oh, hey,” Willow chimed in, distracted by the television, “Xander, did you get those donuts?”
Disgusted, he tossed the bag over to Willow and she and the other two dug in while Xander closed his eye and willed himself into boredom. In the darkness he could hear Brainy Brian Johnson’s haunted older voice. “I had the perfect life…”
“Xander!” he could hear Buffy harshly snap.
He awakened with a start, but found himself blinded by the daylight. He was sitting alone in a red, vinyl-covered booth in the sunlight of a crowded diner, the light bouncing harshly off of the egg yoke-yellow walls. He gazed around in utter confusion, having no memory of arriving at the restaurant or even the location.
An obese older woman in her fifties wearing a pink-striped shirt approached him and stopped at his table. Without looking at him directly, she poured her pot of black coffee into a red-and-white porcelain mug sitting in front of him. He gazed down at the mug then looked back up at her, wide-eyed and baffled. She moved away without returning a single look and carried on her with her boring job.
Xander glanced over at a sign on the far wall which boasted in pink neon letters: Haynes’ Country Grill.
“Dude, c’mon,” he heard a young man complain across the aisle next to him. “You just touch somebody and you can see their future.” Xander turned to see a light brown-haired man in his early thirties sitting on one side of a booth wearing a red-and-black striped polo shirt under a gray insulated vest. Wearing lazy stubble and a juvenile, whining expression, he scoffed, “That’s not fair.” Across from him was an older man in his late thirties, also blonde, wearing a black leather jacket over a lavender collared shirt.
Xander blinked in shock as he recognized both of them from Dawn’s persistent rants – Anthony Michael Hall as Johnny Smith from The Dead Zone
and James Roday as Shawn Spencer from Psych
. His mind went blank as he watched the interaction between the two bickering men as Johnny shrugged in reply to the question of Shawn, the fake-psychic detective.
“So? You’ve got a photographic memory, right?” Johnny, the real, reluctant psychic, responded.
“Yes, it’s a honed
skill,” Shawn bitterly complained, belittling Johnny’s abilities. “Your ‘voodoo’ just fell in your lap.”
“Dude,” Johnny declared, taking offense and asking for reason as he pointed at him. “That came from years of being in a coma, all right?”
“Yeah, well,” Shawn continued, “I had a lousy father.” Both of them sneered at each other in frustration as Johnny glanced over Shawn’s shoulder to the man sitting alone in the booth behind him. Xander glanced over and dropped his jaw to see Tony Shalhoub as Adrian Monk, the obsessive-compulsive detective of Monk
Johnny nodded in Adrian’s direction as Shawn turned around and glanced behind him. Wearing a light beige tweed suit with a white, collared shirt, he sat alone and stared intently at his plate of corn, meat loaf and mashed potatoes. Xander and the other two men watched as Adrian individually counted out one hundred kernels of corn in a neat little square of rows ten-by-ten.
“97… 98… 99… 100,” said Adrian as he organized the last kernel with his fork. He carefully lifted the remaining three kernels up off of the plate and into a spoon beside him. After a sigh of relief and satisfaction, he gazed down at the plate with a peaceful sense of pride.
Shawn turned back around to face Johnny with a thoughtful expression. “Of course, it could be worse,” he said, holding a French fry in his hand.
“Yeah, good point,” Johnny nodded in cautious and thankful agreement.
“Excuse me, miss,” Adrian said to the red-haired waitress, handing her his spoon of three kernels. “I won’t be needing these.” The hefty woman took the spoon, glancing down at the corn, and then stared at him with blank confusion.
Xander gazed at them in horror and bewilderment. “Holy TV Guide… What the hell’s going on here?” he blurted in shock. Shawn, Johnny and Adrian glanced over at him in confusion. They saw the strange young guy with the eye patch pointing at them with amazement. “You… you guys… You’re on TV…”
not on TV,” Shawn shrugged, and then optimistically changed his expression, “…yet
“No, no,” Xander declared, “you guys are all on those shows—”
“I think you’ve got us confused,” Johnny responded, trying to calm Xander down.
“How did I get here?” Xander declared, jumping up out of his seat, looking around frantically. “How did you
get here? Where the hell is
“Whoa, chill out, dude,” Shawn responded.
Xander began to frenetically search the crowded diner from side to side. “Where’s Buffy? Willow? D-Dawn?” The other diner customers began to stop their conversations and stare at Xander suspiciously. Xander looked down to see Adrian studying him with a strange expression on his face.
you doing?” Xander asked. Adrian quickly looked away. “Were you staring at my eye?"
Sheepishly, Adrian replied, “No, no, it’s just… just that… s-some people… Well, most people… Everybody else here… has two.”
He turned away from Adrian with confusion and a desperate tone. “Can somebody tell me what’s going on here?” Xander exclaimed.
“Maybe you should sit back down,” Shawn suggested. “Drink some juice or something…” A metal groan sounded out which caught Adrian’s attention. He watched a teenage guy stroll out of the bathroom with a dirty robe and unkempt hair, rubbing his itching nose.
“That man,” Adrian interrupted, bringing their attention to the cook who meandered over behind the counter, winking at two pretty girls sitting at the bar. “He went into the restroom just thirty seconds ago…”
“So?” Xander replied, still concerned with his creepy problem.
,” Adrian exclaimed with disgust, “there’s no way he had time to use the restroom and wash his hands afterwards… And, look… he’s touched his nose… That’s… It’s horri—”
Xander, Shawn and Johnny watched Adrian as he refocused his acute attention to detail on a bottle of cooking oil sitting on the grill. The cap was clearly crooked and not screwed on all the way.
The others stared into the kitchen as Shawn noted with his sharp perception the unsanitary cook wearing ear buds hidden by his hair as he stared at the lovely girls while he turned the grill up without paying attention. Shawn eyed the cabinet doors beneath the grill, one of them left open. Beneath the doors of the open cabinet, a dirty puddle of water spread out across the floor which had been stepped through for minutes.
Johnny and Xander watched the scene with a strange feeling inside of them, one that reached both Adrian and Shawn as well. The red-haired waitress which had taken Adrian’s corn squeezed in between Xander and Johnny carrying a tray of food. Her elbow clipped Johnny’s shoulder and activated his Dead Zone, catapulting him into a psychic vision.A thick white fog covered the street outside of the diner as bodies lay about covered in dust and debris.
Johnny snapped out of the vision with a jerk and stared around at the others with a horrified expression. “Something’s gonna happen,” Johnny panicked. Xander, Shawn and Adrian turned to him with perplexity as he jumped out of his seat and shouted, “Everybody get out now!”
They stared at him in confusion as Johnny rushed around to the front near the door. Shawn, Xander and Adrian jumped up and joined him, trying to understand the situation. The customers and staff stared at the crazed psychic as if were wearing a straight-jacket.
“This isn’t a joke!” Johnny ordered. “Everybody out!” They glanced over to see the distracted, unsanitary cook step into the puddle of water and slip, falling backwards. He reached out for the counter to stop his fall and he knocked over the bottle of oil which ignited and set fire to the grill. The burning oil spilled out and fell onto the propane tanks inside the open cabinet doors beneath the grill.
“Jump!” Xander shouted, shoving Johnny, Adrian and Shawn out of the door just as they heard a jarring explosion behind them. The glass of the diner windows exploded and Xander could feel the heat on his back from the fireball. The four of them rushed onto the sidewalk just as the entire diner erupted into a fireball, the stored propane exploding inside.
Cars on the street outside suddenly came to a halt as they were rocked by the blast. Terrified pedestrians, the four diner customers included, fell to the ground in horror.
Flattened on the sidewalk, Xander looked over after hearing a low rumbling coming from inside the burning restaurant. The corner building began to tremble as it collapsed on itself, the foundation and supports catastrophically damaged by the blast. A fog of white dust poured out into the street as debris and white ash rained down upon the four men and the pedestrians.