Some of my newer friends might not know that I used to write
fanfiction regularly under the username ozma914, and I'm happy to say it
led to over a dozen fanfic writing awards. I've been busy with original
fiction, but I miss the stress-relieving fun of working hard on a story
I don't have to worry about getting published (because that would be
illegal, ya' know).
One of the great fanfiction traditions is crossovers, so to mark the publication of
Storm Chaser Shorts I crossed my most common fandom,
Buffy the Vampire Slayer
, with a character from my own original universe. It's also kind of a
crossover with two other fandoms, since once character appeared only in
an episode of
Angel, and there's mention of another TV show that will be fun for those who watch it.
I had a blast writing this, so if you like the idea of throwing my
Storm Chaser characters into other universes ... I'm open to suggestions!
A/N:
This story is set in my post-“Chosen” universe in which the Buffybot
and Tara have both been brought back to life – more or less – through
magical means. Some of the same magic restored a semblance of sanity to
the imbalanced slayer Dana, from the Angel
episode “Damages”.
Kara Philips is an original character who's been around since my very
first fanfic, and those four appear in a series of stories called "Four
Friends". This tale, which takes place before the events of Storm Chaser
or Storm Chaser Shorts,
first appeared last week on fanfiction.net at http://www.fanfiction.net/s/8353053/1/License_and_Registration_Please
Title: License and Registration, Please
Author: Mark R Hunter (ozma914)
Characters: Buffybot, Tara, Dana, Officer Chance Hamlin of
Storm Chaser, OC slayer Kara
Rated: PG
Warnings: A little silliness.
Disclaimer: All characters belong to Joss and co, except for the ones who belong to me.
Summary:
Post Chosen: A slayer mission is jeopardized by the Buffybot's driving,
and by a traffic cop who's
just a bit too shrewd. 2,200 words
License and Registration, Please
“I believe that police officer is pulling us over.” The Buffybot broke
into a wide smile and steered toward the highway’s berm. “Yay! I love to
meet new people!”
Rousing herself from a half-sleep,
Tara looked back to see red and blue lights flashing behind their
nondescript Ford. “Bottie, how fast were you going?”
“Oh, I matched the flow of traffic. Don’t worry, I was going at a safe speed for the conditions.”
“Uh-oh. What state are we in?”
“Indiana,” Bottie told her. “US 6, north of Fort Wayne.”
In the seat behind them, two young slayers who’d staked vampires,
beheaded demons, and sauntered through downtown Chicago at 3 a.m. sat
back in their seats, wide eyed and pale. Kara nudged Dana. “No talk
about what we do for a living.”
“Why not? Maybe cops should know.”
“Yeah, and maybe we’d spend the next three days in a psychiatric ward.
No talk about a robot and a ghost in the front seat, either.”
Tugging on her safety belt, Tara reflected on all the ways this could
go horribly wrong, not to mention the demonic ceremony they were
scheduled to break up in less than ten hours. “Okay, everybody act
casual.”
Kara and Dana sat stiff as statues, their eyes saucers. Buffy threw a hand out the window and waved vigorously.
Oh, boy.
As Tara watched a giant of a man unfold himself from the squad car, she
went to plan B. “Okay, everybody act … sexy. It works in the movies.”
“Kara’s sixteen,” Dana pointed out, sounding shocked.
“Okay – cute, then.”
The blue clad trooper slowed as he approached the car, examined the
back seat, then bent down to look in Bottie’s window. “Good morning,
ladies. Do you know how fast you were going?”
“Good morning!” Bottie chirped. “Seventy-four. The speedometer’s off by two miles per hour, though.”
The cop’s eyes were shadowed by the brim of his campaign hat, but his
lips quirked as if he was trying to decide whether he was being jerked
around. “The speed limit in this area is fifty-five.” He was a looker,
Tara realized – the kind of guy who’d make her heart skip if she went
that direction. His skin was a bit too tanned to match his blue eyes and
blonde sideburns, and muscular arms showed that he skimped on the
donuts and not on the exercise.
Bottie hesitated.
“You’re very handsome, officer. We, on the other hand, are all pretty,
which is a better description of females. Except for Kara, who’s only
cute because she’s underage.”
Oh, boy.
The trooper’s lips thinned into a straight line. “License and registration, please.”
Tara dug into the glove compartment and passed Bottie the registration
and insurance information. She took the opportunity to glance into the
back seat, to see how the girls were holding up. Kara stared straight
ahead, looking as guilty as humanly possible, but it was Dana that Tara
worried about most – sometimes she lashed out when she felt trapped.
To Tara’s surprise Dana seemed considerably more relaxed, and just stared at the trooper with open curiosity.
“Bottina Elizabeth Summers, of Chicago.” The cop glanced at Bottie. “Bottina?”
“My parents wanted an original name.”
Oh my gosh, who came up with that fake ID? It had to have been Andrew.
“Hm. Wait here.” The trooper headed back to his car.
The four sat silently for a moment, until Dana’s quite voice murmured
from the back. “Trooper Hamlin is going to be encountering a force of
nature very soon.”
Bottie and Tara exchanged glances. Behind them, Kara leaned forward. “Force of nature? Vampire? Demon?”
“Don’t know. I’m seeing … a young woman. Maybe another slayer? Somebody who’ll have power over him.”
Someone with power over him? That sounded more like a witch. Tara shook herself. “We can’t tell him anything.”
“What?” Abandoning her stiff posture, Kara leaned forward. “But Dana
said force of nature – that’s our line of business.”
“We don’t know that,” Tara told her. “Maybe it means a hurricane, with a
woman’s name. You know how it goes: We can’t just go around telling
people the world is full of supernatural scary stuff.”
She had to stop there, because the trooper had arrived back at Bottie’s
window. His nametag, Tara noticed, did indeed say “Hamlin”.
“Miss Summers, I take it you’re an employee of the West Chicago School For Girls?”
Bottie blinked. “Oh – the license plate. Yes, I’m the physical
education instructor, and my friend Tara, here, is a teacher. Kara and
Dana are students. The name alliteration is completely coincidental,
although I think it’s kind of fun.”
Hamlin’s gaze
swept over all of them, then zeroed back in on Bottie. “As a teacher,
don’t you think you should be serving as a better example for your
students? Or are you working on what not to do? Please tell me you’re
not their driving instructor.”
Looking ashamed, Bottie cast her eyes down. “Yes, officer. You’re right, I’m really sorry.”
Thank goodness, it looked like they were going to get out of this with nothing more than a speeding ticket.
“Bottie,” Dana announced, “is very emotional for a robot. And it’s
strange how solid Tara is, and how easily she blushes, because ghost
can’t usually do that well.”
Hamlin blinked. “All of you step out of the car, please.”
Nuts.
The heat hit her as soon as she opened her car door, and not for the
first time Tara wondered if those spells that turned her more or less
alive again had been such a great idea. Not that they’d been completely
voluntary. It was great to be able to enjoy a nice spring day, but the
Midwest’s current drought made her wish she could turn it off.
“Over on the other side of the car, please – we don’t want anyone getting hit by a passing vehicle.”
Dana lined up with the rest of them, and glanced around at the fields
and distant farms before
focusing on the trooper again. “You’re very
caring. Do you have a sibling? Or a daughter?”
Hamlin blinked again. “I have a sister.”
“My family all died, and I was the slave of a psychotic sociopath.”
Dana looked to Bottie. “Did I use the right terminology?”
“Close enough,” Bottie murmured. Her bubbly personality completely
deserted her as she realized what a jam they were in.
“I’ll need to see all your ID’s.”
They passed them down, and Hamlin browsed through them. “Tara McHenry,
Kara Philips, and Dana …” He squinted at the card.
“Slaiermonstonkowski,” Dana supplied.
Andrew, I’m going to turn you into a freaking toad.
“Hm. Is this an approved field trip?” This time the trooper looked at
Kara, who unfortunately had chosen that day to wear her yellow t-shirt
emblazoned with the words “will slay for food”. Definitely time to
tighten up the dress code.
“My father’s a teacher at the school,” she said.
Bottie nodded. “But this isn’t a field trip. We’re taking Dana to a special clinic in Boston, for treatment.”
“Treatment of …?”
“Paranoid schizophrenia,” Bottie said. “Tara and I go together, because sometimes she can be a handful.”
Hamlin looked at Kara again.
“I’m her best friend … I can help keep her calmed down.”
“She doesn’t like long car rides,” Bottie added, “so I try to get her there quickly. Sorry about that.”
My goodness, what a band of liars I’m Watching.
For
a long moment Hamlin hesitated, looking from them to the ID’s. Then he
removed his campaign hat, revealing a shock of close cropped blond hair,
and stooped a bit to be at Dana’s height. “Dana, how are you feeling
now? Can I help you with anything?”
“The voices are quiet. Your sister would make a good slayer.”
“Well, she’s more into pop music.”
Dana
gave him one of her rare smiles. “You should get used to hearing jazz
and classic rock. And you should keep your eyes to the sky, because
that’s where the danger comes from for you. Do you have any Twizzlers?”
Hamlin frowned.
“Like Red Vines … Walter likes them.”
“I’m afraid not …”
“Jelly Babies?”
Bottie caught Tara’s eye, and pantomimed tearing off her own sundress.
Tara frantically shook her head. If the officer decided to search their
car, even the stripping thing wouldn’t help when he reached the cache of
weapons in the trunk.
“I’m afraid I don’t carry any food at all in my squad car, Dana.”
“What if you get trapped in a blizzard?”
“That’s … actually a very good point. I’ll see about stocking some
snack bars and bottled water later, but right at the moment I don’t have
anything.”
“Oh.” Her head tipped down, but she kept
her gaze aimed up at him in that unsettling way she had. “May I get back
in the car?”
With a glance at the others, Hamlin
swept his hand toward the car. “Sure. And you too, Kara … you two
others, come to my car with me.”
Tara half expected to
get cuffed and stuffed, but instead Hamlin paused by the police car,
leaned against the hood, and crossed his arms. “You’re driving from
Chicago to Boston with a mental patient who hates going on long drives.”
That was actually fairly accurate, but Tara figured saying so would be a
mistake. “She has issues with flying. Really, she’s not that bad – she
just has a bit of trouble with reality sometimes.” So far, Tara was the
only one of the four who’d stuck to the truth. To a degree.
“And a sixteen year old student has been allowed to take this cross country trip with said mental patient.”
Having expected that part, Tara pulled an envelope from her skirt’s
wide hip pocket, and handed it over. She had the strangest feeling she
was playing mental chess.
He read it over – twice – then looked up. “Wait here.”
They waited, while he got into his car and closed the door. “You should erase his memory,” Bottie hissed.
“Wh-what? Bottie, I’m ashamed of you. You know I’d never do that. I’ve told you what – happened.”
“Okay, but in the interest of the mission? I mean …” Bottie sighed. “I know.”
“Remember, we really are a school, and Richard really is Kara’s dad. The rest is … negotiable.”
“Stripping would have distracted him. Maybe I should offer him sex. I used to do that, you know.”
“Ick.” Tara shook her head, and tried to fight off a feeling of nausea.
As far as she knew Bottie’d had only one sex partner, and Tara was no
fan of the circumstances.
It was minutes afterward
when Hamlin climbed out of the car and handed her the paperwork. “Well,
your story checks out, mostly.”
“Of course it does!” Bottie chirped.
“Your Mr. Giles confirmed things. As for your destination in Boston …”
He gave Tara a hard stare. “You didn’t mention that the study Dana’s
involved in was sanctioned by the FBI.”
“Oh, well,
we’re keeping it low profile.” Okay, she’d had to lie there, since
during their rare visits the FBI agents who hung around Walter’s office
mostly pretended they didn’t exist … Walter must have pulled some
strings to keep them out of trouble. She found it hard to believe he had
it together enough to manage that.
“I see.” Hamlin
crossed his arms again. “Miss McHenry, I’m not much into conspiracy
theories, but I suspect there’s more to this trip than you’re letting
on.”
“Oh?” She fought to keep her voice steady.
“W-well, that’s …” Okay, so she hadn’t thrown in the part about Walter’s
role in inventing some interesting demon detecting devices, and how the
eccentric scientist’s only real help to Dana had been keeping her
supplied with snack food. Or the upcoming demon apocalypse, conveniently
also in Boston.
“Did you talk to Agent Astrid?” Bottie asked. “She’s really nice!”
The trooper took a deep breath. “Apparently the whole thing is above my
pay grade. I don’t have a problem with that –“ He leaned forward, his
eyes suddenly menacing “—As long as it doesn’t involve
my area. So you slow down, go about your business, and don’t unleash any of whatever it is in northeast Indiana. Are we clear?”
“Yessir,” Bottie squeaked.
She should have kept her mouth shut, but as they headed toward their
car Tara couldn’t help turning back. “Trooper Hamlin --?”
“Yes?” He hadn’t budged.
“Dana’s … special.”
“I noticed.”
“No, I mean … look, sometimes she just says nonsensical things. But
after knowing her so long … well … I just think you should watch the
skies, like she says. I think this time it means something.”
He glanced up. “I hope it means rain.”
Five minutes later Bottie got up to cruising speed and, at Tara’s
direction, set the cruise control. “So, how did the rest of it go?” Kara
asked.
“We’re apparently on the FBI’s radar. I guess
we should have figured as much after the run-in Willow and Kennedy had
with that Mulder guy in Sacramento.”
Dana leaned forward, giving her hand an agitated wave. “Tell someone to keep that guy on
our radar.”
“Why?” Kara asked.
Her friend fell back, looking frustrated. “Don’t know.”
“We will,” Bottie assured her. “I’ll do it – he was very handsome!” She
glanced down at the car’s dashboard and added, “The speedometer reads
56, but we’re actually going 54. That explains why the guy behind us is
so impatient.”
Tara sighed. It was going to be another long trip.
