No. 54

Prompt: Buffyverse. Giles. Getting used to the American ways.
http://comment-fic.livejournal.com/685961.html?thread=90173833#t90173833

Getting to the chemist's was a bloody disaster, mostly because in this heathen land it was called a pharmacy. After much miming and using half of a thesaurus, Giles finally found the place, a small, dingy place with harsh fluorescent lighting and sterile linoleum floors. He remembered the chemist shop from his youth, with its gleaming wooden counters and glass jars full of obscure remedies that could be combined into common remedies, like aspirin or cough drops.

Giles stood in the doorway, basket in hand, and was dismayed by the lack of overhead signs. The dispensary counter was not currently occupied by a customer, so Giles marched over to it. The girl behind the counter looked barely older than his newest Slayer. She was reading a magazine about 100 things boys find irresistible.

He cleared his throat.

She looked up. "Oh, hey. What can I help you with?"

Giles unfolded the shopping list he'd stowed in his pocket before leaving the school. "The lack of signage is rather disconcerting, and I think it would be most efficient if I ascertain the locations of my purchases before I wander the aisles uselessly."

The girl's smile brightened; that Americans found his accent charming was often useful. "Sure. What's first on the list?"

He was in dire need of office supplies. The school was woefully under-funded, but in conversations with other teachers he learned that most of them supplied themselves and accepted it as part of the job. He started to read, "Index cards, pens, rubbers –"

The girl made a choking noise. "What?"

"Rubbers," Giles said, enunciating slowly and clearly.

The girl turned an unattractive shade of puce. "Um, how about you give me the list, and I'll write which aisle each item is on?"

Giles smiled hesitantly and handed her the list. "Yes, thank you." The girl, still blushing, accepted the list and set to scribbling on it quickly. Then she handed the list back.

"Good luck."

"Thank you very much for your assistance." Giles scanned the list and headed for the nearest aisle with his required items. The girl had written several question marks next to 'serviettes' (for his morning cup of tea) and written 'napkins' next to it, which was utterly the wrong thing and caused him to blush. Horribly. But she hadn't led him down the feminine hygiene aisle, so maybe she wasn't as mixed up, or American women were terribly uncivilized.

Giles shied away from that thought and continued shopping. For all the girl's mercurial mood swings, she had been very helpful for everything, although the rubbers were near the pencils and pens and not down the aisle she'd listed. Out of an abundance of caution, he checked the aisle she'd written down as the location of rubbers anyway...and came face to face with a display of condoms.

And suddenly he understood why the girl had turned so red. He cleared his throat and ducked into the next aisle before anyone spotted him. Maybe he should have accepted that tutorial on Americanisms after all.

No. 3

Prompt: Buffy the Vampire Slayer/Stargate SG-1 fusion, Buffy Summers + Daniel Jackson, Daniel in the Buffyverse where his obsession is Slayers rather than Ancient Egypt and he replaces either Giles or Wesley as Buffy's new Watcher.

Buffy was convinced that all Watchers came from the same family, because every one she'd ever met was tall, slender, bespectacled, and had brilliant blue eyes. None of them had been blond - Giles gray, Wesley dark, and now Daniel. He had lighter brown hair, and he'd probably been blond as a child, but he fit the Watcher mould to a T.

Except that he wasn't British, and he was much more excitable than the patient Giles and the stuffy Wesley. He spoke a couple of dozen languages and talked with his hands, and he was well-versed in Ancient Egyptian lore.

"Please, call me Daniel," he'd said upon introducing himself. "Calling me Dr. Jackson just makes people confused and try to get me to help with medical emergencies. Which are not my area of expertise."

"Heya, Danny," Buffy said, perched on the edge of a desk in the library and swinging her legs.

"Daniel," he said firmly. "My father called me Danny when I was a kid."

"And he calls you Daniel now?"

"He's dead." Daniel pushed his glasses up his nose. "Now, what's this about a yellow-eyed demon calling itself Apophis?"

Buffy blinked. "What about your mom?"

"Also dead," Daniel said, and his gaze softened. "But she lived longer than most, for a slayer."

Buffy stared at him. "Your mom was a slayer?"

"Yes," Daniel said. "She and my father both died when I was eight. Ancient Egyptian curse. Now, this demon?"

"Slayers can have kids?"

"Barring any medical anomalies, I assume so." Daniel flicked a glance over her. "You appear in perfect health. So, Apophis is the Greek name for the Egyptian serpent god Apep –"

"Ooh! Was your dad her Watcher?"

Daniel set down the heavy leather tome and leveled a glare at her. "No. Unlike Wesley, I will not be frightened off by come-ons from teenage girls, nor will I respond to them. We have work to do. If you want to live long enough to be a mother, pay attention."

Buffy pursed her lips. So she was always going to have a Watcher, and he was always going to be a buzz-kill. "Fine. So, serpent god. What'll kill a serpent?"

"Beheading is very traditional," Daniel said. "I think there is a special ceremonial sword the ancient Nepalese used to behead Nagas, which are snake-women. That might be appropriate. Come on, Ms. Summers. I brought additional weapons."

Buffy hopped off the desk. New weapons! Maybe Daniel wasn't a buzz-kill after all.