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Summary: Members of the Anita Blake cast wake up in Sunnydale, response to challenge 1685.

Categories Author Rating Chapters Words Recs Reviews Hits Published Updated Complete
Anita Blake > GeneralSpiralMemoryFR1832,8171318,0862 Aug 0625 Aug 06No

Chapter One

BtVS is owned not by me, but by Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemies, a.k.a, The Second Evil
Anita Blake and support cast are owned not by me, but by Laurell K. Hamilton, a.k.a, The Dark She-ra


I awoke to the lights blinding what was left of my eyes. It felt as if a freight train had ran over me, repeatedly. Then for the fun of it had a semi-truck hit me. I groaned as I felt for bumps on my head. OUCH, that really fucking hurts. There was a sizable knot on the back on my skull. I guess I took a pretty hard fall. I looked around and found myself in what appeared to be a high school library? Which was strange as the last thing I remembered was that bitch Belle Morte had been chanting into some strange artifact while Jean Claude and me were chained in her “Play room.” Sadistic bitch.

I glanced around and nearly tripped over myself. Looking down I noticed my leather outfit hung loosely on me and I was tripping over my leather pants. Great, I shrunk. Belle Morte must have cast some shrinking spell on me as if I wasn’t short enough before. If I see that bitch, remind me to put a couple of silver bullets in her eyes for her trouble. As I thought those words I noticed not only did I shrink, but my breasts were gone. What the hell? As the insult of shrinking me wasn’t enough, she had to take whatever my boobs away too?

Then it started to sink in what actually happened. As I pulled out my gun I noticed 2 child-like hands gripping the handle. It took a couple of seconds to realize it was MY hands I was looking at. Instead of shrinking me I was young again. From the way everything looked bigger and the size of my hands I had to guess I appeared about 4 to 5 years old? My brain proceeded to come to grinding halt trying to comprehend the reality of the situation. My knees gave away and I sat on the ground with my Beretta in my hands. I wrapped my arms around me and rocked back and forth trying to keep myself from freaking out even worse.

“Giles, have you seen Xander today? He’s been disappearing with Cordy during breaks and I really need to talk to him, “ said a voice from outside the library doors. A teenage blonde no more than I’d say 16 or 17 years old came bouncing into the library. She was like your typical teen: hip-and-up-to-date fashion, bleached blonde hair, and the air of adolescents. I wanted to shoot her in the knees just for the hell of it.

“Oh, “ the blonde said after almost running me over. She couldn’t have been no more than my height, but since I’m now micro-sized she towered over me by a good foot or more. “Hello, little girl. What are you doing here?” the girl asked as she bent over to look me in the face. She stood back up and called out to someone. “Giles! Are you babysitting someone’s kid? When did you started babysitting? And why is she sitting here in leather? Is her parents into some Goth scene or something?” The blonde just rambled on and on. Whoever this Giles character was I felt sorry for them already.

“What are you bloody yelling about, Buffy?” a British voice came from the office to my right. Buffy? Who in their right mind names their kid Buffy? An older, yet handsome brunette man with glasses came out of the office dressed in tweed. He took a look at ‘Buffy’ and then looked in the direction she was looking. “Oh my, “ the man said and took off his glasses. He started to polish them as he stuttered, “ I-I don’t know w-who this young girl is. I haven’t the foggiest who-.”

“GILES! You don’t know who she is? She was sitting her when I came in looking for Xander, which by the way is missing. Have you seen him? Cause I really need to talk to him, “ Buffy said while waving her hands to and fro.She was going off into another tangent about this Xander guy. I finally had enough and this day was just becoming number one on my “Days-That-Suck” list. I chambered a round into my gun and pointed it at the blonde wonder.

“Will you please shut up! I have a fucking headache and your voice is getting on my last nerves!” I yelled at Buffy who’s facial expression suddenly reminded me of a deer caught in some headlights. The Brit just muttered a Dear Lord before he dropped his glasses.
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