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jedibuttercupPG-13; B:tVS/Transformers; 1200 words. Set during TF: Revenge of the Fallen, for ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
twistedshorts.
Why had Buffy ever thought that going back to college was a good idea?
Title: Heavy Metal Barbie
Author: Jedi Buttercup
Disclaimer: The words are mine; the worlds are not.
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: Post-series for B:tVS; TF: Revenge of the Fallen (2009)
Notes: Another random TTHFFA prompt caught my eye, and I couldn't resist.
Summary: Why had Buffy ever thought that going back to college was a good idea? 1200w.
"Ugh. Why did I ever think going back to college was a good idea?" Buffy sighed, thumbing through a reference book at a table in the university library. The coursework for her Psych major wasn't so bad, but the general basics classes were skull-numbingly boring and populated with kids nearly a decade younger than she was; some days, it was like she'd never left Cleveland at all.
Of course, if she'd still been in Cleveland, it wouldn't be homework boring her to death; it would be Council politics, despite the fact that she'd handed the reins over to Faith and her new spouse the year before. Buffy didn't daydream about getting to live a normal life anymore-- oldest living Slayer; defeater of the First Evil; kinda not mixy with suburban anonymity-- but at least here in Pennsylvania, she only got called in for capital-A apocalypses. She was the first Slayer of the modern era to make it to the ripe old age of twenty-eight; it would be nice to add at least a few more firsts to that before she let events drag her back into a leadership role.
Next step in that plan: finishing the first assigned essay for her Making of the Modern World class (supernatural events need not apply). She found the passage she'd been looking for, and picked up her pencil to make a note-- then stiffened as a loud slamming sound disturbed the air, shifting her grip to a more stabby hold.
A murmur of voices followed, but no more loud noises; probably just someone bursting through the doors on the upper level. "Never attribute to demons what can adequately be explained by frat boys," Buffy chided herself, then shook her head and turned back to her notes.
She'd barely set lead to paper, though, when an explosion ripped through the air: a burst of light and sound barely visible above the stacks that fenced in the study area. A few gunshots followed as at least three people fled in her direction, diving over the railing from the upper level or hurrying for the stairs. They were being chased by something that felt like a demon, except somehow more electric-y, more like sparks fizzing in her gut than the usual Slayer crampiness.
She dropped her pencil and reached hastily into the backpack Willow had enchanted for her; whatever this was, a makeshift stake was not going to cut it. Bottles of holy water, sword hilts, and crumbly book spines bumped against her fingertips like curious kittens; she brushed them all aside until the haft of the Scythe finally settled in her hand, then pulled the silver-and-crimson weapon out of the bag just in time for a writhing, person-sized silver shape to fling itself from the mezzanine down to the main library floor. One of the three kids who'd been fleeing in front of it yelled out a warning, diving under the next table over with his friends; behind him, the attacker lifted its metal hands palm-outward, and a whole section of shelving just exploded into a shower of highly educated confetti.
It was a robot. A robot with glaring bright eyes, snaky metallic Medusa hair, metal boob-shapes on its torso, and knives built into pretty much every joint in its arms and legs. It was as though someone had tried to give the Buffybot a horror-movie upgrade; the very idea made her shudder. And also make her position very clear, just on the off chance she wasn't the only resurrected person present.
"Warren, I swear, if someone brought you back to make my life a misery again, I'm going to give what's left after I'm done with you to Willow as a necklace!" she yelled, drawing the thing's focus away from all the other running, screaming patrons.
"What are you doing," the kid who'd shouted the warning hissed at her. "Get out of here, you don't know what you're dealing with!"
Strangely, he looked more worried for her than for himself, eyeing her in alarm as he and his friends crawled further away from the threat; that would make him the one to ask questions of later, then.
"Well, then we'll be even," she said, and stepped out into the robot's path.
Whatever it was firing wasn't very precise, and it clearly wasn't expecting anyone to come toward it. It got one more shot off into the table the kids it was chasing had been huddled under, sending more paper and splinters flying, but it had to more or less stand still to keep its aim. One quick swing later, the Slayer Scythe sliced through its torso, severing the metal column that served as its spine. It shrieked something that hurt her ears, trying to turn and drag what was left of its upper body after her on spidery metallic fingers; Buffy swung again, then a few more times for good measure, taking it apart at the joints like a big metal chicken. It twitched a few more times, but the light finally went out of its eyes, and she made a disgusted face at the oily fluid that had splattered all over her shoes.
"Yuck. What are you into that you had Heavy Metal Barbie after you, anyway?" she called to the suspiciously knowledgeable kid; it might have felt demony, but she didn't recognize it, and none of the three students pinged as familiar, either.
"Uh...." He stood slowly, eyeing her and the blade warily. Behind him, the girl was murmuring angrily in his ear, and the other boy looked like he was torn between worshiping at her feet and puking up his guts. "Shouldn't I be asking what you're into, that you carry around, like, an ax? Not that I'm not, you know, grateful. But it doesn't seem like the best possible life choice, sticking around to answer questions for a potential ax murderer. Kinda got enough on my mind already."
He was inching toward the stairs as he spoke; definitely been through something like this before, with those instincts. Buffy would have approved, if it hadn't been his business that just wrecked her day, including....
"Oh my god, it shot my notebook!" she cried, Scythe drooping in her hand as she turned back to her table. "Two days into the semester! Two! Can't I even have a somewhat normal life for two days?"
Weirdly enough, that seemed to be the thing that finally convinced the kid that she was a friendly. "Tell me about it," he said wryly. "You remember a couple years ago? The stories about Mission City?"
"Oh my god, Sam," the girl hissed again.
"What? She obviously knows what she's doing, and you know how tough those things are-- you want her on our side if one of the big ones shows up again, or what?"
"Wait, wait, big ones? You mean those things from the news really were giant robots?" Buffy's money had been on another Old One; Riley's guys had left their fingerprints all over the cover-up.
"Alien giant robots," the third kid corrected her, still looking spooked.
"Alien giant robots. Because of course they are," she repeated, tiredly.
Well, then. So much for college, take two.
(x-posted on twistedshorts and on AO3)
twistedshorts.Why had Buffy ever thought that going back to college was a good idea?
Title: Heavy Metal Barbie
Author: Jedi Buttercup
Disclaimer: The words are mine; the worlds are not.
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: Post-series for B:tVS; TF: Revenge of the Fallen (2009)
Notes: Another random TTHFFA prompt caught my eye, and I couldn't resist.
Summary: Why had Buffy ever thought that going back to college was a good idea? 1200w.
"Ugh. Why did I ever think going back to college was a good idea?" Buffy sighed, thumbing through a reference book at a table in the university library. The coursework for her Psych major wasn't so bad, but the general basics classes were skull-numbingly boring and populated with kids nearly a decade younger than she was; some days, it was like she'd never left Cleveland at all.
Of course, if she'd still been in Cleveland, it wouldn't be homework boring her to death; it would be Council politics, despite the fact that she'd handed the reins over to Faith and her new spouse the year before. Buffy didn't daydream about getting to live a normal life anymore-- oldest living Slayer; defeater of the First Evil; kinda not mixy with suburban anonymity-- but at least here in Pennsylvania, she only got called in for capital-A apocalypses. She was the first Slayer of the modern era to make it to the ripe old age of twenty-eight; it would be nice to add at least a few more firsts to that before she let events drag her back into a leadership role.
Next step in that plan: finishing the first assigned essay for her Making of the Modern World class (supernatural events need not apply). She found the passage she'd been looking for, and picked up her pencil to make a note-- then stiffened as a loud slamming sound disturbed the air, shifting her grip to a more stabby hold.
A murmur of voices followed, but no more loud noises; probably just someone bursting through the doors on the upper level. "Never attribute to demons what can adequately be explained by frat boys," Buffy chided herself, then shook her head and turned back to her notes.
She'd barely set lead to paper, though, when an explosion ripped through the air: a burst of light and sound barely visible above the stacks that fenced in the study area. A few gunshots followed as at least three people fled in her direction, diving over the railing from the upper level or hurrying for the stairs. They were being chased by something that felt like a demon, except somehow more electric-y, more like sparks fizzing in her gut than the usual Slayer crampiness.
She dropped her pencil and reached hastily into the backpack Willow had enchanted for her; whatever this was, a makeshift stake was not going to cut it. Bottles of holy water, sword hilts, and crumbly book spines bumped against her fingertips like curious kittens; she brushed them all aside until the haft of the Scythe finally settled in her hand, then pulled the silver-and-crimson weapon out of the bag just in time for a writhing, person-sized silver shape to fling itself from the mezzanine down to the main library floor. One of the three kids who'd been fleeing in front of it yelled out a warning, diving under the next table over with his friends; behind him, the attacker lifted its metal hands palm-outward, and a whole section of shelving just exploded into a shower of highly educated confetti.
It was a robot. A robot with glaring bright eyes, snaky metallic Medusa hair, metal boob-shapes on its torso, and knives built into pretty much every joint in its arms and legs. It was as though someone had tried to give the Buffybot a horror-movie upgrade; the very idea made her shudder. And also make her position very clear, just on the off chance she wasn't the only resurrected person present.
"Warren, I swear, if someone brought you back to make my life a misery again, I'm going to give what's left after I'm done with you to Willow as a necklace!" she yelled, drawing the thing's focus away from all the other running, screaming patrons.
"What are you doing," the kid who'd shouted the warning hissed at her. "Get out of here, you don't know what you're dealing with!"
Strangely, he looked more worried for her than for himself, eyeing her in alarm as he and his friends crawled further away from the threat; that would make him the one to ask questions of later, then.
"Well, then we'll be even," she said, and stepped out into the robot's path.
Whatever it was firing wasn't very precise, and it clearly wasn't expecting anyone to come toward it. It got one more shot off into the table the kids it was chasing had been huddled under, sending more paper and splinters flying, but it had to more or less stand still to keep its aim. One quick swing later, the Slayer Scythe sliced through its torso, severing the metal column that served as its spine. It shrieked something that hurt her ears, trying to turn and drag what was left of its upper body after her on spidery metallic fingers; Buffy swung again, then a few more times for good measure, taking it apart at the joints like a big metal chicken. It twitched a few more times, but the light finally went out of its eyes, and she made a disgusted face at the oily fluid that had splattered all over her shoes.
"Yuck. What are you into that you had Heavy Metal Barbie after you, anyway?" she called to the suspiciously knowledgeable kid; it might have felt demony, but she didn't recognize it, and none of the three students pinged as familiar, either.
"Uh...." He stood slowly, eyeing her and the blade warily. Behind him, the girl was murmuring angrily in his ear, and the other boy looked like he was torn between worshiping at her feet and puking up his guts. "Shouldn't I be asking what you're into, that you carry around, like, an ax? Not that I'm not, you know, grateful. But it doesn't seem like the best possible life choice, sticking around to answer questions for a potential ax murderer. Kinda got enough on my mind already."
He was inching toward the stairs as he spoke; definitely been through something like this before, with those instincts. Buffy would have approved, if it hadn't been his business that just wrecked her day, including....
"Oh my god, it shot my notebook!" she cried, Scythe drooping in her hand as she turned back to her table. "Two days into the semester! Two! Can't I even have a somewhat normal life for two days?"
Weirdly enough, that seemed to be the thing that finally convinced the kid that she was a friendly. "Tell me about it," he said wryly. "You remember a couple years ago? The stories about Mission City?"
"Oh my god, Sam," the girl hissed again.
"What? She obviously knows what she's doing, and you know how tough those things are-- you want her on our side if one of the big ones shows up again, or what?"
"Wait, wait, big ones? You mean those things from the news really were giant robots?" Buffy's money had been on another Old One; Riley's guys had left their fingerprints all over the cover-up.
"Alien giant robots," the third kid corrected her, still looking spooked.
"Alien giant robots. Because of course they are," she repeated, tiredly.
Well, then. So much for college, take two.
(x-posted on twistedshorts and on AO3)
