TITLE: The Poetic Series: ...What You Wish For

AUTHOR: Scribe

Fandom: Multi- Too many to mention

Pairing: Multi- Too many to mention

Rating: R

Warnings: Rape/Non-con

\\indicates author's written material\\ *indicates thoughts*

SUMMURY: Scribe, a dedicated fan fiction author is sucked into her own MarySue universe, and finds the experience... strenuous.

//The night wind swirled dark clouds across the glimmering wedge of silver moon. Not for the first time, Xander was grateful that it wasn't full. Life was difficult enough without worrying about whether or not Oz was going to break out of wherever it was Buffy and Willow had him stashed.\\

*Okay, that sets the tone pretty well. Let's see...where is he, exactly? Outside, since he's scoping the moon. Hmmm. Park? Outside the mansion? Why would he be there, though, if he's worrying about what's lurking in the dark? Maybe the school? Yeah, the school. He needs to get in for some reason. He needs to...look up a spell whithout Giles knowing! That's it!*

\\Xander gazed at the looming hulk of the high school. The many windows seemed to blink in the moonlight, like blind eyes.\\

*Have I used the blind eye metaphore before? Hmm, not in this fandom, I think. Okay, it stays in. Now, what the hell is the NAME of the high school? Sunnydale something? Damn, I should have watched more than one season. This reading plot synopsises for info is NOT cutting it. I'll just have to avoid the issue.*

\\It wasn't difficult to get in. The Slayerettes had long ago mastered the art of entering places at odd hours. He hesitated to call it 'breaking and entering.'\\

*DO they break and enter? They must. Well, anyway, they should. Now, what's he looking for?*

\\Xander stepped back out under the pale, impassive eye of the moon and...\\

*Damn, I can't have another eye metaphore that soon, Maybe I should say...Wait a minute. Why is he back outside?*

"Hello?"

*Where the hell did that come from? I better...Nope, tv is off. So is the radio. And I'm offline...*

"I said 'HELLO!'"

*Seems to be coming from...Son of a bitch. What the hell happened to my moniter screen? I'd swear that's...It looks familiar. And the name on the building is...HIGH SCHOOL. And that guy on the front steps...*

"I meant to talk to you about that. Shouldn't I be coming around the back, or at least the side, for secrecy's sake?"

"Uhhhh...."

"Yeah, yeah, I know it's you're universe, and I won't be caught unless you have someone come by, but still..."

"Xander?"

"Present."

Scribe stared at her computer moniter. "This is weird. I never get streaming video this clear on the net. I thought I'd have to have a cable connection to keep it from jumping and skipping."

"That's cause this isn't the net. Don't go all techno-pagan on me here, Scribe. This doesn't fit into any of the scientific realms you're familiar with. Not really any of the basic fantasy realms, either."

"Am I talking to myself?" "In a way. This is you're own personal universe, and since it all evolves from you..."

"Why has my imagination suddenly decided to start talking to me? Maybe I need a drink, or a valium, or something."

Xander sat on the steps and said cheerfully. "Sure, go ahead. Anything that breaks down the barriers makes the communication easier."

"Um, maybe not."

"Spoilsport. As to why now..." He shrugged, miniature shoulders moving nonchalantly. "I guess you're ready for it. Don't ask me. You created me, so if you don't know, I don't know."

"Okay, so we've established the 'why now' issue as it applies to the whole magilla. But why are YOU talking to me now?"

"Well, I just wanted to ask when I'm going to get to have sex."

"Uh..."

"And whether it's going to be one of the girls, or Angel or Spike again." He frowned. "I hope it isn't Angelus? He's fun sometimes, but gee, I get sick of going through the oowies. I know it only takes me a few paragraphs to heal up, but that shit SMARTS."

"I hadn't really thought of it. This is sort of an evolving peice."

"I AM having sex, though, right?"

"Well....would you object?"

"Hell no. I get sick of being a virgin all the time. The losing my virginity stories are my favorite ones. So, who's it gonna be this time?"

"I really have no idea." *I was considering Giles. A little rumble among the dusty shelves.*

Xander perked up. "Giles? Kewl! I know you probably want to do the tweed bit, but how about having him do Ripper later on? I love leather!"

"How on earth did you know..." He tapped his forehead.

"I'm part of you, I know how you think, remember? Hey, I have an idea..."

He stood up and took a few steps toward the front of the screen, then held out his hand. "How about doing a MarySue?"

"But those are when the author puts a character representing themselves into a story."

"Yeah. It would be totally kewl if you'd step on over and join in."

"Are you kidding? What if I couldn't get back?"

"In that case you'd just hang here. Hey, this is fanfic. No need to be without a job or a place to stay, unless you choose to write it that way. You can explain your presence with the leakiest of reasoning, and no one will catch on! That is, unless you feel the need to be menaced by some ruthless govenment types, or mobsters. That makes for some good captured, tied up, and ravished themes."

"Well, no. I mean, I write about this stuff, but I'm not ready to give up this version of reality yet."

"Oh, come on! It'll be a lot of fun." His hand seemed to be pressed flat against the glass. "Just reach out and open up."

"I couldn't fit inside that screen if you put me through a blender."

"You don't have to fit through the screen. You just have to fit through the rift into this reality. C'mon, reach."

"I'm not ready for this." Her hands went to the keyboard, and she hit CONTROL+ALT+DELETE. The screen went blank, then the machine whirred as it began rebooting.

*Damn, I forgot to save. Oh, well...If I'm having awake-dreams like that, it's time to shut this monster down and get some shut eye.* As soon as the familiar desktop appeared, she clicked START, then SHUT DOWN, then OK.

She told herself that she really hadn't heard a faint voice saying, "Alright, but next time..."

Part Two

*Seven hours of sleep can make a world of difference. Nothing is quite so sane and ordinary as a breakfast of Strawberry Pop Tarts with frosting and sprinkles. Wish I had some instead of this damn store brand Cheerios and two percent milk. With saccharine. Ugh.*

Scribe munched, trying to imagine it was Cap'n Crunch. She sighed. Diabetes was a bitch. That was one thing in favor of fanfic. People usually didn't get chronic illnesses, except in some of the death fic, and she didn't write that. And she could indulge herself by having them eat any bad for you crap she wanted, without health consequences.

She rinsed the dish in the sink, berating herself for thinking about fan fiction again, so soon after last night's episode. *Didn't that tell you anything, idiot? When your character's start to not only TALK to you, but to philosophize, and PROPOSITION you, isn't it time to give it a rest? I am NOT going to write anything, not today, anyway. What else can I do?*

Mom had rented some videos last night. She sorted through them hopefully, and groaned. Her stepfather must have picked. Nothing but westerns. Now if he'd gotten Tombstone, or Silverado...Wouldn't the Kevin Kline character and Val Kilmer's Doc Holiday make a good slash? Nice little western crossover.... *No. Don't go there. You're abstaining today, remember? Besides, I'd need to review them to get the right details.*

She resisted till mid afternoon, then decided that it wouldn't hurt to turn on the computer. She could...play solitaire. Yeah, and switch the card backs around for variety.

After losing ten straight games, she decided that it would be alright if she opened WordPad and attempted a little poetry. She went to OPEN and began sifting through files. looking to see if she had any unfinished works. *Hello? What's this 'Document'? I don't remember this one.* She double clicked, then hit OPEN. The familiar black scrreen, complete with the large type yellow font she favored, sprang up.

\\The night wind swirled dark clouds across the glimmering wedge of silver moon.\\

*Huh. I thought I hadn't saved that when I had that episode. Just goes to prove that I wasn't altogether 'there'. Thank goodness. I'm nutty enough as it is. Let me see...Xander needs a spell...*

"And sex. Don't forget the sex."

"WHAT?"

"Hiya." Xander waved at her from the screen, and gestured to the building behind him. It was obviously a side view of the high school. "Hope you don't mind. I took the liberty of coming around to the side. More out of sight and closer to the library. And Giles." He grinned.

"I don't understand this, I had my caffeine this morning. I drank TWO Pepsi Ones for breakfast. Why are you talking to me now?"

"Because you're thinking about me, aren't you?"

"Well, yeah. But I think about Tom Cruise, too, and he doesn't come talk to me."

"You don't write fan fiction about him."

Scribe sighed. "Cussed morality. I can't figure out a way for him to dump Nicole, now that they have kids."

"That's why we love you. Not all the authors are so considerate."

"We? And they're not?"

"We, as in the character's you've had fantasies about. And boy, you're a real pussycat compared to some of them. For one thing, you never make us get jiggy with anyone really, really unattractive. You have no idea how much we appreciate that. I know I do. I may get raped on a regular basis, but at least the guys are hunky."

"Shit. Look, I 'm sorry about that..."

He waved it off, "Please, the fanfic universe is no place for the politically correct. And I usually enjoy it to some extent, don't I? Besides, even the hairy ones are over with quickly, and I'm a virgin again in a little while."

"Excuse me. I thought you just said that you're a virgin again..."

"Yeah. Haven't you noticed that? It's one of the natural laws of any fan fic universe. Renewable virginity. I have a hell of a lot of practise at being deflowered, in various ways." He wiggled his eyebrows. "Come on in and we can do a double. That'd really set the lurkers on fire."

"Will you stop that?"

"Awww, c'mon." He came closer to the front of the screen. "If you're worried I couldn't show you a good time, don't be. I've won the Fan Fiction Universe Most Experienced Virgin award for three years running."

"And what makes you think that I'm a virgin? I..." He was tapping his head, and she scowled. "Well, I'm not a mental virgin."

"The best kind! A virgin with a dirty, creative mind. PLEEEEASE come in."

"Go find Giles, you randy little bastard."

"You don't fool me, you know. You don't fool any of us. If I could just get you on this side of the rift..."

"Well, you can't."

He was quiet, staring out at her. Then he gave her a sly, wide, Xander Harris patented smart ass grin. "Yeah, right. Why don't you go ahead and write? I'd like a chance to talk to Giles." The grin widened. "In the afterglow."

"Oh, uh, okay. How do you want it?"

He looked overjoyed. "You mean I get a choice? Hallelujah! I talked this over with Giles last night, and..."

"Excuse me, you talked with him?"

"Sure. We all occupy the same universe, after all. He knew you were thinking about him and me getting together. Anyway, like I said, we discussed it and..." He flushed a little. "If you can manage it, we'd kinda like him to bottom this time."

Scribe looked doubtful. "Giles?"

"Oh, come on. It's not any more odd than Dana Scully being a sexually obsessed stalker in that one you're doing for AllSlash."

"I don't want to talk about that. Okay, but it's going to be just, say, R rated, with a fade out." Hesitation. "That...uh, doesn't give you guys blue balls...or anything, does it?"

He shrugged. "You don't think we do ONLY what's written about us, do you? We manage. Okay, Giles, the library, spell...How do I get in?"

"Lemme think..."

\\Xander eased open the side door, happy to see that the gum and paper he'd stuffed in it earlier had kept it from latching.\\

"More realistic than my having a set of burgler tools." Xander opened the door. "Well? Are you gonna get me in?"

"Damn, you're impatient."

"I'm horny. Hurry up."

\\Xander crept down the dark halls, avoiding the patches of light that fell through the doors of the few still illuminated rooms.\\

"Illuminated. I like that."

"Shut up, I'm creating."

\\The library door was locked, of course, but Xander was prepared. He didn't have a credit card, not at his age. Not that his parents would have been able to afford one for him, or cared to make his life that much more comfortable in any way...\\

"Good, good. Got in the angst and the crappy parents element in one go.\\

"Xander, do you want to get laid tonight or not? You're freaking me out here." He made a zipper motion across his lips.

\\Luckily, his laminated student ID served the same purpose. He wiggled it between the door frame and the place where the lock engaged...\\

"Yeah, I don't know what that's called either."

"XANDER!"

"Sorry."

\\There was s muted click as the lock disengaged, and he eased the door open. The library was always dim and quie. Now, in the dead of night, it was like entering a cave, one that was lined not with rock, but with ancient paper and parchment.\\

She frowned. *Is that corny? Maybe I should try something else.*

Xander's voice was a whisper. "Don't you dare. It's perfect."

"Oh, alright."

\\The dimness was dispelled by a sudden, small pool of golden light, not too far away. Xander turned to see Giles sitting at his desk, hand still touching the switch of his desk lamp. "Giles, what are you doing here this time of night?"\\

"I would have thought that would be my line, Mr. Harris." Giles looked out at her. "Hello, Scribe. Nice to finally meet you face to face. Now, when can we arrange a flesh to flesh meeting?"

"Whuh-huh?"

"I do love the way you can sum up a situation so neatly." He looked at Xander. "So you haven't been able to persuade her yet?" Xander shook his head. "Pity. A three way would have been nice."

"Not you, too?"

"My dear girl, of course. Surely you're aware that in MarySue fiction...Well, YOU'RE MarySue fiction, anyway, anyone even remotely sexy is attracted to you?"

Scribe blushed. "That's not entirely true."

"Oh, there are the odd extras and a few supporting characters, to be sure. But you needent act so uneasy about it. It makes perfect sense to us, doesn't it, Xander?"

Xander jerked off Giles' jacket and tossed it over a standing globe. "Yep."

"Hey." Scribe sat up. "I didn't write that."

"Things get to a certain point, sugar, they're pretty much out of your hands. Ask any fan fic writer." Xander had gotten Giles' tie off and was unbuttoning his shirt. "Guess what, Giles? I get to screw YOU this time!"

Giles laid a very juicy kiss on the boy. "I'm perfectly delighted." He looked up at Scribe. "Thank you so much. I don't get this opportunity nearly as often as I like. Giles as bottom fic is rather rare."

"Don't mention it."

\\Xander's smooth, clever fingers located Giles' nipples, and began to tease them with soft touches, graduating to to pinches as they stiffened.\\

"Oooo," Giles sighed, as Xander followed the prose. "Thank you, my dear. Remind me to be very, very good to you when you come over."

"Will you stop talking like..."

"Lube." Xander was ripping Giles' belt open. "C'mon, Scribe, you aren't gonna make me do him dry, are you?"

Giles winced. "Ouch. Well, you could spit. A bit crude, but effective."

"God, will you guys slow down? I thought I was known more for my foreplay." Scribe gulped. "Wait..."

\\Giles opened the bottom drawer of his desk and offered a tube of lubricant to Xander. 'I was a Boy Guide', he whispered, 'And the motto is, be prepared."\\

"GOOD ONE!" Xander yelped, as Giles handed him the tube.

"Just the right touch of humor, Scribe. Well done." Giles opened Xander's pants while he struggled with the cap of the tube.

"I think maybe it's time for the fade out."

"No need to leave on our account." Giles slid Xander's pants and underwear down with one motion. "Oh, that's nice! Thank you SO much."

"No, really, you two need your privacy..."

"Don't be silly." Xander returned the favor for Giles, stripping him completely. "You're a voyeur, aren't you? Literarily speaking."

Giles frowned. "I'm not sure that literarily is a word, Xander."

"It is if she says it is. Who cares?" He whirled Giles around and pushed him across the edge of the desk. Then he squeezed a thick squiggle of the gel onto his finger and reached for the librarian's ass.

Scribe clapped her hands over her eyes. She heard an English accented voice say, "She did have you clip your nails, didn't she?"

"Yeah, yeah. How's that?"

"Niiiiice."

Scribe squinched her eyes shut, and stuffed her fingers in her ears. She COULD have closed the program, but she'd have had to look to do that. As it was, some sound still slipped through.

"Damn, no wonder you wear those baggy tweeds..."

"Ughhh, yes. That is precisely the right angle. Do that again...ughh."

It seemed to go on a long time. Scribe wasn't sure if fan fiction characters had extra stamina (probably), or if it was just that time seemed to spin out longer when you were in the dark, listening to two people have hot monkey sex.

After a while the noises stopped. She waited another minute or two, rather afraid to see what was left after those ear splitting screams near the end. At last she peeked. Giles had his pants back on, sitting in his desk chair. Xander, nude except for his tee shirt and his sneakers was cuddled on the librarian's lap. They both gave her drowzy, satisfied smiles.

"One of your better effort, oh my Creator." murmured Xander.

"I'm not your creator. I think someone over at Fox is."

Giles perked up. "Mulder? Yes, why don't you send him over this way occasionally? He'd fit right in to this madhouse."

"And I gotta thank you for making this universe STD and AIDS free. It's a hell of a lot more fun to go bareback without worrying about it than to mess around with the rubbers."

"Glad you two are happy. I think I should go now. Sliders should be on any minute now."

Giles perked up. "Do that. I'd like you to seriously consider some Quinn Mallory crossover slash."

Xander bit his neck lightly. "And she calls me a randy bastard. Yeah, go on, Scribe. I want to talk to Giles about that spell you were considering."

"I don't even know what it is yet."

He made a kissing motion at her. "Don't worry. I think I can figure it out You go rest up." The smile he gave her was just the teeniest, tiniest bit suspect. "You may need it."

Part Three

Scribe managed to stay away from her fan fiction for two days. Instead she worked on the two interconnected novels, fleshing out a chapter on each. She was really pleased with the way that wedding reception scene went in 'Origins', and the lesbian vampire seduction scene in 'Acacia' was even better.

But after two days with no hallucinations, visual or audial, she decided that it was safe enough to try again. After all her years of burning her mouth biting into pizza she was sure had to be cold enough, she should have known. better.

So it was a bit of a surprise when she went in her bedroom to find her computer on, and Xander Harris sitting crosslegged in the middle of her bed.

She knew that she should have been screaming her head off at finding a strange man in her bedroom, but things had been so bizarre lately that it scarcely registered as more than a surprise. "What the hell are you doing here?"

He reclined on the bed, batting his eyelashes seductively. "Not nearly enought." He crooked a finger at her. "C'mere."

"Don't be ridiculous. I'm asking you again, what are you doinghere?"

"Hey, you changed the italics that time!"

"Quit evading the issue and answer the question."

He pouted, then sighed. "Well, you remember that spell I was supposed to be looking for?"

"Yeah?"

"Found it."

"But...I didn't know what I wanted it to be. I was thinking along the lines of...I dunno. A non dorkiness spell?"

"No you weren't. You hadn't a clue. And I told you, after a certain point, all the fan fic author can do is hang on and ride it out." He got up, and came over to her, offering his hand. "The guys in the universe chose me to come thank you for what you've done for them, and to them, and to offer you another invitation to come and do it with them."

She shook hands. "Tell them thanks, but no thanks. How long are you going to be out here?"

"Oh, not long at all. Just long enough..." His hand suddenly tightend on hers, and he jerked her into a hard embrace. "...to do this!" And he dived sideways.

The lights went out, there was a jarring thump, and the next thing Scribe knew she was rolling around on cool, damp grass. She quickly deduced that the grass and darkness was because she was somewhere outside, at night. This bothered her, as it had been indoors and broad daylight when she'd been standing up a second ago. But she didn't have time to worry about that right now, because she had more pressing matters at hand. To be precise, Xander Harris was in the process of pressing her deeper into the grass by crawling on top of her.

He hadn't gotten settled yet, and she managed to throw him off by bucking hard. Then she rolled away quickly and got to her feet. He was laying on his back, giggling up at the stars. "You're so be-yoootiful when you're angry."

"What did you DO?" she yelled. "Where the hell am I?" She got a look at the big brick building nearby. "Son of a fucking BITCH! Harris, did you drag me into your universe?"

He crossed his arms behind his head. "Nah. Dragged you into your universe. We got tired of waiting. Coy is cute, but we've been getting a little frustrated. Especially Angelus. Whoo, boy, you're lucky they didn't send him out! But everyone knew that he'd get his jollies before he brought you back, and that just wouldn't be fair." He made a face. "Or very comfortable for you."

"This isn't funny, Harris."

He groped his own crotch, wiggling. "Ooo, you sound so dominant!"

"Stop that!" She looked around, not quite frantically. "Where's the exit?"

He snickered, giving himself another good squeeze before getting up. "What makes you think there's an exit?"

"BECAUSE THERE'S ALWAYS AN EXIT."

"Okay. What makes you think I'm gonna tell you?"

She glowered at him. "Harris, what is the point in all this? I mean, I'm a real person, and you're a fictional character. Nothing could happen anyway."

"Wanna bet?" He swooped on her, grabbed her around the waist from behind, and humped against her. There was a very warm, insistant prodding against her behind. *Uh oh*. Looked like she was anatomically and biologically compatible with her fan fic universe characters. This could get sticky, on many levels. *Better not to let him scent fear...*

She twisted away, snapping. "You're impossible. Okay, lemme think...Spell? Go to the expert. Giles should get me out of this."

"Yeah, let's go see Giles." Xander said enthusiastically.

Scribe stalked over to the school, Xander trailing her closely. The door was open. She checked and, sure enought, there was a wad of gum and paper in the slot the lock should have engaged. For a moment she stared down the dark corridor, which was lit only by the occasional square of light falling out of a classroom. *Why do I feel like I'm doing a swan dive down the rabbit hole?*

She stood there till Xander moved up behind her and started rubbing her rump. Then she smacked him and went inside. It scared her how easy it was to find the library.

She felt a little calmer once she got inside. The smells of dust and old books were comforting and familiar. And the tall, tweed clad man sitting at the desk oozed calm assurance. Ah, yes, a rule since she was a child: if you need help, ask the librarian.

She approached with her usual 'hate to disturb you' air. "Excuse me? I know I shouldn't be here, and this is going to sound really weird..."

"Scribe!" He put down the peice of parchment he'd been examining, and removed his reading glasses. "At last."

"Oh, you recognize me."

"Of course I do. You've built up a mental image of us, we have an image of you. And I must say," he gave her a raking glance, and she suddenly wished she wasn't in the habit of going braless around the house, "you more than meet expectations."

Xander had entered behind her, and she shifted to the far side of the desk, out of reach of inquisitive hands. "Look, I need your help. Harris over there, for some ungodly reason, kidnapped me to this place. I can't figure out how to get back, and I thought you'd be my best bet at figuring it out."

"Very possible. That would be, of course, if I wanted you to go back."

"WHAT?"

He stood up. "After all, you've only just arrived. You've hardly had time to experience this universe properly." He started to unbuckle his belt.

She took a few steps backward. Her voice was a little shrill. "I've done very well without experience so far, thank you. Don't want any experience."

He pulled down his zipper. "Just think of it as a learning endeavore."

She fled into the stacks. Xander bounded after her happily. Giles prefered to save his energy for other activities. Bounding was all well and good, but certain forms of bounceing were so much more gratifying. He checked to make sure the library door was locked, then strolled into the aisles, listening for activity. "Xander? Don't be greedy, boy. Leave me at least one virginity."

He found them in the back corner, a tangle of limbs on the floor. She might have been able to throw Xander off, if she hadn't been clinging to her panties with both hands, keeping them elevated.

Xander suddenly ceased striving against her, going limp. He looked up at Giles and panted, "DAMN IT! Why am I the only one who comes in his pants on a regular basis?!"

"Don't feel badly, Xander." He started to drag the woman out from under the boy. "I'm sure we can entertain you enough to get you interested again."

Now Scribe found herself using one hand to keep her panties up, and the other to keep her shirt down. She figured if she could just break his concentration, she could get away. But how do you distract a horny bisexual English librarian? She looked over his shoulder and shouted, "LOOK! Rupert Everret!"

The split second that he turned to look gained her enough time to snatch a book (ironically enough Sexual Drawing Spells) off the shelves nearby and club him over the head with it. That loosened his grip enough for her to squirm away, and she hopped over the still supine Xander and ran for the exit.

Part Four Scribe cursed the nightmare quality she often tried to invoke in her fan fiction. It was all well and good on paper, but right now the stacks seemed to be a hell of a lot more twisty and confusing while she was trying to escape than they had when she ran into them. She finally gained the front of the library, and headed for the door.

Behind her she could hear English accented cursing that made her wonder exactly what t hey taught them in those snobby same sex boarding schools. Maybe they had a course in Obscenity: Genteel and Common? Xander was laughing like a loon till there was a thump, and an indignant, "Ow! Hey..."

As she scooted down the corridore, she tried to think of some other way to get back to the cozy safety of her own bedroom. Willow was a witch, wasn't she? Even as she shook her head at the alliteration, she was thinking that this might be Plan B, as she made the exit and ducked out into the warm night.

Scribe paused on the steps for a moment. Well, fuck, how had she ended up in the front of the building again? Oh, yeah. She'd never been too strong on geography. *My universe probably has Los Angeles butting right up against New York. I could probably walk over to Germany for a spot of conversation with von Glower. If I was totally insane, that is.*

A faint voice behind her called, "You're leeeearning!"

She couldn't be sure, but from the smart ass singsong she figured it was Xander, and that got her moving again. She went out to the street, looking up and down, trying to decide which was the best direction. That wasn't easy, as she had no clue where it was she wanted to go, or who *if anyone* she really wanted to see. She just set off walking. If she could get to a public place, it was unlikely that Giles or Xander would try anything overt. At least she hoped so. There'd never been a public molestation in any of her own fan fiction. She was just worried about how much the other fan fiction authors' universes (because she might as well believe in them, the way things were going) influenced the denzins of her own world. She'd read a lot of fan fiction. She knew it could get pretty hairy.

She'd chosen the right direction, it seemed. There was a blessedly normal looking convenience store up ahead, glowing and buzzing with florescent light. *I can at least hide out there, if not ask for directions. Everyone thinks that convenience store clerks know where everything is in an area. Not in MY universe, 'cause I know from personal experience that isn't true. But it'll be a warm body between me and the nuttiness.*

The alarm buzzer over the door made a hellacious racket, just like it had at the last place she'd worked. It seemed that little bits and peices of her outside world found their way into her fiction. Normal, she supposed. Well, as normal as stuff like this could get.

There wasn't a clerk in sight, but her entrance stopped the giggling conversation of a couple of teenage girls standing at the counter. One was a redhead, the other a shining blonde. They gaped at Scribe. She gaped at them. At last she nodded. "Buffy. Willow. Fancy meeting you here."

"Scribe, what are you doing here? I mean, here, now? I thought Xander said you didn't want to come, and it was going to take days and days to convince you."

"Well, there's nothing quite so convincing as being grabbed and dragged headfirst into something."

"He did WHAT? Without telling me?!" Buffy seemed outraged. "How did he manage interdimensional travel by himself?"

"I don't think he did it alone. I think Giles helped."

Willow nodded. "That would explain all that digging and whispering he and Xander were doing yesterday. I'll be. Those sneaks wanted to get..."

"...a chance to show off." Buffy interupted, digging an elbow into Willow's side. She rolled her eyes. "Men! Had to get away from their boasting and bragging, huh?"

"Had to get away from their groping and humping, actually. What is WRONG with them?" Willow and Buffy exchanged glances. "I mean, they were acting like they were both in pon far, and I'd been double dipped in pheromones."

Willow and Buffy laughed lightly. "Guys!" Willow threw up her hands. "Can't live with 'em, can't stake 'em unless they're vamps."

"Hey!" Buffy glowered at her.

"Nothing personal, Buff. But you gotta admit, sexy as Angelus is, we'd all feel a lot more comfortable if he was, er, dustier than he is. Never mind that." Willow took Scribe's hand, shaking it joyously. "We're so happy you're here. And you're just in time for Girl's Night!"

Scribe relaxed a little. "A slumber party? I haven't been to one of those in ages."

Buffy hummed. "Mmm, sort of. Pretty much. Not much sleeping goes on, though."

"Rented some chick flicks?"

Willow tittered. "Yeah, we got some videos."

"And this is the supply run, right?" They nodded. "Let's see. Sodas, chips, cookies...God, you guys are lucky. Young, thin, and don't have to worry about calories in this world. Dip. Lots of dip. Honey. Chocolate sauce, caramel sauce...Where's the ice cream?"

The two girls started giggling again. The door to the back cooler opened, and a generic grocery clerk came out, holding a tall, slender metal can, topped with a bright red cap. "Okay, ladies. Canned whipped cream. You said your friend Blair recommended Redi-Whip, but all I have is Instacreme. Will that do?"

Scribe stiffened and looked around alertly. "No one just came in, did they?"

The other three glanced toward the closed door, and chorused, "No."

"THEN WHY THE HELL DID I JUST HEAR A FUCKING ALARM GO OFF?"

She went for the door. Buffy got tangled with the clerk, who was demanding payment for the items on the counter, and she started digging through her purse, muttering about putting convenience store clerks on the list of creatures to be terminated with extreme prejudice. Willow followed Scribe outside, calling, "Wait! Don't go, she'll be so pissed. She hasn't been getting nearly enough sex since they started slashing Angel with Xander." As Scribe trotted off into a convenient stand of trees (well,this was a convenience store, after all), she called, "YOU DON'T KNOW WHAT A BITCH SHE IS WHEN SHE'S HORNY."

Part Five

*Ohshitohshitohshitohshit.*

Scribe hit the brakes a little ways into the woods, and reviewed her thoughts. Why did that perfectly reasonable train of thought run prickles up her spine? Then she remembered the first chapter of her 'Verliebt' series, Blair running through the woods pursued by...

OH, SHIT!

She shook her head vigorously, looking around nervously. No, God wouldn't do THAT to her. Nothing she'd ever done deserved running into Von Zell. But perhaps the woods were not the best place in the world to consider what her next move should be.

So, which way was out? She started again, picking her way cautiously. It was actually pretty bright in the woods, almost as if...She looked up to see a fat silver circle riding the night sky. *Well, crap, let's just jetison reality entirely, shall we? Because that booger was crescent the other night.*

Something crackled in the bushes nearby. She couldn't see anything. But something was panting in the undergrowth. She started running again, yelling "Please do not eat the author. Not literally, or figuratively." Her voice rose to a shreik, "AND NO BESTIALITY ALLOWED!"

She thought she heard a disappointed whine somewhere behind her, but she wasn't pausing to check. She burst out of the woods and headed toward the closest house she saw. Judging from it's size, location, and the metal music that was rattling the windows, it was probably some sort of frat house. Maybe they'd have a phone book with a 'mages' listing. She could call Harry Potter for advice. He hadn't hit puberty yet, so he'd probably be safe. Though after a few of those stories she'd run into on the web, he might be dragged kicking and screaming into an early adolescense by Draco Malfoy.

She banged on the door, wondering if anyone would hear her over the music. The door opened, and a guy with spiked blonde hair and a punkish expression opened the door. He blinked, then grinned at her. Uh oh. Fangs. "Well now, 'ullo, 'ullo. Delivery."

She squeaked, "Sorry to disturb you. Wrong address." and started to step back as Spike grabbed her by the collar and yanked her inside.

Kicking the door shut, he bellowed, "Angelus! I got a prezzie for ya, if ya promise to share."

She kicked and twisted. "No, really." she babbled. "Must dash. Important appointment. Places to do, things to go."

"I don' wanna insult ya, ducks, but you're soundin' like a female Xander."

She jerked up indignantly. "There's no call for that!"

"I agree, Spike. Be more polite to supper."

He flowed into the room: tall, dark, sexy, and undead. Oh, and add souless. That was pure demon looking out of those dark eyes.

He came over and patted Spike on the shoulder. "Well done. You get seconds for that." Spike shrugged, apparently being sensible enough not to expect more. Everyone knew Angelus was a selfish, greedy bastard.

Angelus grabbed Scribes arms, jerking her out of Spike's grip, and hauled her up against his chest. Like being pressed against a cold brick wall. "Hello, sweetiepie." This was the first kiss one of this universe's denzins had managed to lay on her. Cold, wet, invasive, rough...kinda sexy...*NO. Definitely not. And the stories never mentioned that drinking blood wasn't the best thing in the world for the breath...Wow, who knew a tongue could go that deep?*

She started making muffled noises that a very observant person might have been able to interpret as, "Air. Breathe. Please."

He finally broke the kiss, and she dangled, limp and gasping. "That's what's so nice about not having to breathe. But you'll find out later..."

"Leave me a few sips, eh, mate? Only fair."

"Don't whine, Spike. That won't be for awhile yet. Scribe and I have some reinacting to do, or maybe that's acting out." He rubbed his nose against hers. "Baby, do you remember that little unfinished peice?" She looked blank. "C'mon, you remember," he said slyly. "The one you're too embarassed to post? The one that's just titled 'Document'?"

Her eyes sprang open, and she went from limp to dervish in a split second. "NO FUCKING WAY!" she shrieked. "Not 'Document'! Anything but Document! Okay, anything but 'Document' or 'Verliebt' Chapter Six! Of course, that would hardly apply, since I'm a girl..." When he grinned evilly, Scribe howled and fought even harder.

Spike looked interested. "Oo, I remember 'Document'. You tapered off jus' when me an' Dru were gettin' in on the action." He tugged at Angelus' arm. "Give 'er a pen an' paper for a mo, eh, Dad? I'd really like to see where that 'un goes."

"We can improvise later. Right now..." His hand went up under her shirt.

At about the same time the door burst open and Buffy, Xander, Willow, Cordelia and Giles tumbled in. "Hands off, Deadboy!" snarled Xander. "Why should we ALL have to deal with a cold girlfriend?" Cordelia smacked him. "Ow, hey! Sorry snookums, but if the 'don't fuck me shoe' fits, wear it."

Angelus switched grips, pulling Scribe back against his chest, facing the gang, one arm looped around her throat. He started edging back toward the basement door. "Spike, son, take care of these twerps for Daddy, would you? I'd like a little privacy with our future daughter, sister, and lover."

Spike yelped. "Wha'? The whole bleedin' lot of 'em by meself? That's a bit much, dontcha think?"

"Then call a few minions. I'm busy."

*Drastic measures are called for. What wouldn't he expect? Even if I could turn around, how effective is it to knee a vampire in the groin, and do I want to test that? Because if it just pisses him off...Oh, well.*

Scribe went for shock tactics. She grabbed Angelus' arm. But instead of trying to pull it away (which actually might have worked, because he probably would have laughed his ass off), she bit. Hard. She sank her teeth deep into his forearm...

...and got a mouthful of cold, salty blood as he yowled in surprise and pain. She started to spit, but he covered her mouth and pinched her hip hard. When she inhaled sharply, she also gulped.

There was dead silence in the room. Finally Spike said admiringly, "Cor blimey, all that, and she swallows, too."

Angelus changed grips again, snagging her collar to hold her out a little. He stared at her. Scribe flinched. "You bit me, and I didn't even have to make you do it." He switched to game face. "Do you have any idea how horny that makes me?"

She tried the knee experiment. It worked better than she had hoped. He let go of her collar long enough for her to throw herself out of reach into the kitchen behind them. Three anonymous vampires were just coming in the back door. She pointed at the livingroom and shouted, "They need reinforcements, quick!"

Being as stupid as most lower level vampires in fan fiction, they dashed toward the livingroom, effectively blocking Angelus from following immediately. All but the third one, who must have still had a few working braincells. He snarled and started stalking toward Scribe. She mentally consulted her Generic Unwritten Rules of Fan Fiction, and said, "Not nationally known, not a big threat." snatched a rusted skillet off the stove, and pounded him over the head. While he was getting over the fact that his dinner had fought back, she slipped out the back door and made off through the backyard. As she highstepped through the weeds, she panted, "I'm getting very tired of this!" She was slowing down. "Oh hell, I'm getting very tired, period."

Part Six

*This is too ridiculous. I need some structured help. Lemme see, in the show, the police are incompetent, but are they dangerous and corrupt? I know there's some sort of official conspiracy...Damn, I knew I should have bought 'The Watcher's Guide to Buffy, the Vampire Slayer' last time it came up on eBay. What the hell. How much worse can it get?*

Scribe had made her way to the middle of town, and located the police station. There seemed to be a lot of activity for this time of night. Then she noticed the banner over the entrance. *WELCOME NATIONAL LAW ENFORCEMENT REPS'. *What, a convention? Fine, the more boys in blue, the better.*

Except that the man standing on the steps outside wasn't dressed in blue. He had on the most screamingly red serge jacket she'd ever seen, along with dark pants, and high, shiny boots. What was it, a costume party? As she came closer, he straightened his collar and smoothed his hair. Her steps slowed suspiciously.

He bowed. "Good evening, Miss Scribe. I thought that you might feel a bit beset in this strange environment, and would possibly resort to the local authorities for assistance."

"Um, yes. They're chasing my butt off."

He nodded. "Not an altogether unanticipated situation. Despite the discussion of amicable visitation rights, I knew that certain elements weren't to be trusted. Which one of them 'jumped the gun', so to speak?"

Something cold and wet prodded her leg. She looked down and found herself gazing into the face of a very large wolf. She backed away so quickly that she ran up against the Mountie *well, hell yes, he's a mountie. I didn't watch years of Dudley Doright cartoons to be fooled now*. She might have tripped, but he caught her under the arms. She stuttered, "Which one it that? Oz? Gabriel? Please God tell me it isn't Von Zell."

"No, his name is Diefenbacher. Dief, that was not very polite. You startled the young lady. I must apologize. You do not, perchance, have a jelly donut in your pocket, do you?"

"Not since last week." She straightened up. "Uhhhh...Benjamin Frasier, right?"

He gave her a blinding smile. " Benton. But I am so pleased that you recognize me."

"I'm not sure how much is actual recognition. But since no one I know of has slashed a Nelson Eddy movie, it has to be Due South. And what the hell are you doing here?" He pointed at the banner. "I can see that. I mean...I never wrote any fan fic about you."

"Ah, but you have read a good deal, have you not?"

"Ye-es."

"You have become familiarized with the fanon, and whether or not you have admitted it to yourself, smutty little PWP vignettes have been flitting through your mind." He smiled and spread his arms. "Ergo."

"Oh. Well, at least you aren't trying to jump my bones."

"That is because I am such a gentleman. Besides, this is a rather public place. However, if I could persuade you to accompany me to my hotel room I will unwrap you like a Christmas present and ravish you thoroughly."

Scribe knew that she should be freaking again, but he was so damn polite, she couldn't. And he was awful cute in that uniform. What was there about red? Maybe it reminded her of Santa Claus. But Santa sure as hell never had a body like that...

She shook her head. "No, thank you. Uh...not now. Maybe some other time. As to who...um...jumped the gun... Cute little geekboy named Xander Harris. I never knew the hornly little bastard was so enterprising. Look, you're the sanest person that I've run into in this looney bin. Maybe you can explain something to me."

"Certainly, if I can."

"What's going on here? I've never run into such a pack of horndogs. I sure as hell don't get this reaction in my real world."

"Well, Scribe, to begin with, there is a very strong question as to what exactly IS your 'real world'..."

"Don't go philosophical on me, Canuck."

"Very well. You are aware that this is a MarySue universe?"

"O-kay. I am now. And this means?"

"My dear, creative young lady, you are this universe's MarySue. That means that anyone in this dimension, male or female, that is remotely attractive will find you unbearably desireable. It is axiomatic. Creator, object of lust. Simple as that."

"Oo." She held her head. "I should have stuck to general." She winced. "Or at least smarm, angst, and het. What am I gonna do? I can't get enough breathing space to think straight and figure out a way out of this."

"You are quite certain that you want out of this?"

"YES! I haven't even dated, I'm sure not ready for orgies."

"I cannot offer any practicle solutions. I am afraid that, even if I were aware of a way for you to escape, I would feel inclined to keep the information to myself."

"Well, that's just peachy. If you can't trust the mounties, who can you trust?"

"Truly, I am sorry. But our motto, 'We always get our man' should be paraphrased to include women. Now, if you are genuinely disinclined to have sexual congress any time soon, I suggest that you go inside. I am expecting my partner Ray back any moment now."

"Would that be Vecchio or Kowalski?"

He cocked his head. "Both, I believe. I should have used the plural form. In any case, they are impatient sorts. I believe they were going to the local store to purchase prophylactics."

She was moving up the steps and hitting the entrance before he finished speaking.

Part Seven

As she got into the lobby, she could hear Diefenbaker fussing to follow her, and Fraser scolding him for his misbehavior. There were various law and order types milling about. Luckily, none were recognizable, and most were in the plain-to-ugly range, so she felt relatively safe.

Scribe went to the front desk and caught the sergeant on duty's attention. "What can I do you for?"

"Believe me, the last thing I need right now is for anyone to do me. I'm here to seek asylum, and report some extreme weirdness."

The cop scratched his jaw. "Weirdness, huh? You mean, even weirder than what USUALLY goes on around here?"

"Much weirder."

"Damn! That's bad. But luckily we have someone visiting who specializes in weird." He raised his voice, waving at someone by the coffee pot. "Yo, Spooky! One for you and Red." Two figures, one lanky, the other petite, started over.

Scribe froze. *It's alright, Scribe. You're surrounded by people, nothing is gonna happen. And even if it does...* Ooo, he was smiling at her. *Hey, it IS Fox Mulder, after all...NO! Do NOT go there, Scribe. Besides, this is fan fiction, and if the shippers haven't gotten hold of him, he's probably hot and heavy with Skinner.*

"You know, Scribe," he put an arm around her shoulders. "This is perfect X Files material. Of course, we need to do some in depth research."

Dana pinched her butt. "I think you need a medical exam first, just to be sure everything is alright."

"Look, I'm flattered, really I am, but...but..."

A plaid flannel swathed man with long curly hair had entered, and was peering around. "I dunno, man. You sure she's in here?"

"Of course I am." The man who entered behind him was tall and muscular, with short, dark hair. "I tracked her from that store. Damn, that was a mess at the big house. Piles of dust all over the place."

"But you're sure..."

"Who's the sentinel, Blair? She's here. I can smell her. See the drool?"

"Yeah, don't zone, man. Not at this stage of the game..."

"There she is! Damn, the Feebes have her!"

"Sharesies!" Blair bounced toward them.

"Oh, hell. Look, Blair, I want to apologize for that sixth chapter..."

"Don't worry about it. Water under the bridge. You made up for it with the shower scene." Ignoring Mulder and Scully, he began to wrap himself around the author. "Care to have a discussion about the erotic obsession with the creator figure in ancient cultures?"

"I didn't create you! I say so in a disclaimer on every story."

"You're responsible for this version of me. I'm all yours. Take me."

"I NEED TO BREATHE!"

Scribe managed to scramble back over the desk and hotfooted it into the interior of the police station. She could hear Mulder calling, "Come back! Krycek is wandering around here somewhere, and you don't want to run into him alone. I don't want you running into him alone, anyway. He already said theesies is okay."

She passed the interogation rooms, obvious traps, and found a small office in a back corner. Slipping inside, she slammed the door and locked it, braceing a chair under the knob, hoping like hell that the old schtick worked like it did on screen. Then she looked around desperately. There were no other doors, no windows. *Just as well. Obi-wan or Qui would probably be climbing through, and I'm not sure I could resist Ewan McGregor and Liam Nieson at the same time. But I'd better do something before they start beaming down. What to do, what to...*

Hello. A computer. Well, anything was worth a try. She'd decided that there were a lot of interesting possibilities around here, but she was just stressed and tired right now. Maybe some other time. So she had to get back to 'her' world. Since what she wrote determined reality here...

She booted up the computer. It wanted a password. She typed 'LET ME IN OR YOU'RE COMPONENTS'. Beep. Access aproved.

She located WordPad, and keyed up a new document. *Lemme see....*

\\Scribe was trapped in a world of her own making.\\

There was a lot of shuffling and murmuring outside the door. She heard a voice say "Let me in. I can open that with a paperclip and a bottle cap."

"Damn MacGyver." She muttered. She clicked SAVE AS. There were clicking sounds from the door. In the proper box, after a second's thought, she typed 'whatyouwishfor', and hit Save. It blipped back to her one, saved sentance. Someone outside was talking about drawing numbers. Quickly she double clicked and hilighted the sentance in purple. Right click... shit, no! Not what she needed.

The door was rattleing. Maybe if the lock was opened, the chair would hold them. Clicked on Edit, got the drop down menu. There it was! CLEAR.....DEL. Just as there was a snap, she slapped the cursor on the box and clicked. A heartbeat, then nothing. The door swung open, the chair rattling useless to the floor. Hadn't that damn thing opened IN when she entered? Damn ficitonal inconsistencies!

She jerked her head toward the door, and saw it crowded with familiar faces. Someone, Xander, she thought, said, "Oh no! She's got a mouse, and I think she's going to use it."

One last chance. She hit the X in the upper right corner. A window popped up. "Save changes to 'whatyouwishfor'? YES NO CANCEL. She glanced at the now blank screen, moved the cursor over YES and clicked just as they started to tumble into the room.

The lights went out, there was a thump, and the babble of voices faded rapidly. This time Scribe didn't land on grass. She found herself lying on her side on something that felt very familiar. She dared to open her eyes a crack.

There was the floor lamp that didn't work because she kept forgetting to get a new bulb. There was the tall dresser, with her collection of cat figurines on top. There was the computer...

She narrowed her eyes at it. The screen showed a blank WordPad page.

She was in her own room, lying on her own bed. Back in the safe, sane *dull, boring* world she knew and...tolderated.

"Too weird. What am I gonna do if they try that again?" *I suppose some sort of schedual could be...* "No, that had to be just my imagination. Too late at the keyboard, too little caffeine. I'll just pretend that it never happened..."

A bare masculine arm, attatched to what felt like a bare male, snaked around her waist as someone cuddled up behind her. She looked back over her shoulder.

Jarod smiled at her angelically. "I'd be happy to help you with that. I'm pretty good at pretending myself."

Moral: Be careful what you wish for, you just might get it.