Standing with Spike outside of a small colonial home, Buffy looked around in confusion.
“How did you know where to go? Spike, where are we?”
“Buffy, pet, you wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”
“Try me.”
“Well, this is Tabitha’s house,” he said, pointing at the home before them.
“And Tabitha is…?”
He sighed.
“You know ‘Passions,’ that soap opera you’ve been ragging on me for watching?”
“Yeah,” Buffy’s eyes flashed with realization at what Spike was implying, “oh you’ve got to be kidding me.”
“That fella in the Watcher’s bathroom was a Vengeance Demon, I think. Remember I said, ‘I wish you could see why I watch ‘Passions,’? He must’ve sent us here.”
“So there’s a Vengeance Demon strictly for television wishes?”
“Apparently so.”
“Funny that Anya never mentioned that little gem.”
“We seem to have all the luck in the world together, Slayer.”
“So, how do we get home?”
“That’s what we’re here to find out, love.”
Buffy was too confused to frown at Spike again, who was knocking frantically on the red door. An older woman, with a great deal of dark blonde curls and bright eyes that spoke volumes, answered the door. She seemed less than thrilled to see them, but forced a smile none-the-less.
“Ethan…Theresa. What a nice surprise.”
“Tabitha,” Spike said, “we need your help. I really need to speak with you….”
“Go ahead, Ethan.”
“You didn’t let me finish…I need to speak with you and Timmy.”
Tabitha blinked away her confusion, before stepping to the side of her door.
“Well, then, come in.”
Explaining their plight to Tabitha took less time than Buffy would have imagined. Tabitha nodded and rose from the stiff chair she sat on in her kitchen.
“Timmy! Come down here! I need your help, dear.”
A red-headed child-sized figure came down the stairs. Buffy looked at him nervously.
“So, how’s a little kid going to help us, Spike?”
The figure piped up.
“Timmy is not a child, dummy. Timmy’s a living doll. Get with the program already.”
Spike chuckled and knelt down in front of Timmy.
“Buffy and I need your help, lad. We’re from another dimension…one where your life is my favorite soap opera. I’m Spike; I’m a vampire, and Buffy’s the Slayer. But we were sent here by a demon into Ethan and Theresa’s bodies, so you don’t see what we really look like.”
“Timmy knows what you look like, Spike.”
Spike cocked his head to the side.
“What do you mean?”
“Timmy watches you on television too.”
“Right…that’s…odd. Anyway, would you help us figure out how we can get home?”
Timmy nodded and looked at Tabitha.
“Sure. But Tabby, if they’re here, where are the real Ethan and Theresa?”
Tabitha’s eyes grew wide as she waved the group over to the television.
“Oh, Hell’s Bells!”
--
Ethan shrieked in front of the empty mirror he stared into in Giles’ bathroom, where he and Theresa had woken up an hour earlier. Theresa had helped him to get out of the tub, and freed him from the chains, surprising herself with her newfound power. A panicked expression crossed Ethan’s face, though he couldn’t see it if he tried.
“Theresa, what’s wrong with this mirror?”
Theresa shook her head in awe at her own blonde reflection.
“I don’t know, but I don’t like it.”
--
A batch of Martimmis* and a few spells later, Buffy and Spike still sat with Timmy and Tabitha in the colonial home. Buffy sighed.
“So, all we’ve done is figure out that there’s a tear in our dimension where we’re both an hour-long TV show for the other.”
“Yeah, pet,” Spike said, “but there’s a new ‘Passions’ every day. Apparently we don’t have enough funding to run that often.”
“Or you aren’t as interesting,” Tabitha offered, sipping her martini glass.
“Or I make a better show that people will wait to see,” Buffy said with a scowl.
Spike licked his lips and waggled his eyebrows at Buffy.
“ ‘m sure you do, pet.”
Buffy’s urge to fight the growing attraction to Spike lessened with each Martimmi she downed. She was now working on number seven.
“You know, Spike,” she slurred, “we should go and do some investing…envestssss…investigating.”
“Buffy Anne Summers, I dare say you’re sloshed on Martimmis.”
He turned with a smile to Timmy.
“They are great, lad.”
Timmy grinned mischievously.
“That’s why they named ‘em after Timmy. But there isn’t any alcohol in them.”
“Then why is she all,” Spike stood and mimicked Buffy’s staggering movements before plopping back into his seat.
“Well, Tabby does let Timmy use magic to make them…if Buffy is magical in your realm, then maybe our magic would react this way with her.”
Tabitha gasped and put her hands to her cheeks.
“Oh, Hell’s Bells! It’s a good thing there isn’t any booze in there, Tim Tim, this…Buffy girl is in Theresa’s body!”
“And?”
“Theresa’s pregnant body!”
Buffy stared at Spike and nearly fainted.
“I’m…pregnant? But…but…how…when…who,” she stammered.
Tabitha sighed.
“2 months ago on the beach with Ethan. They were supposed to get married the next morning, but Gwen broke it up. And, dear, I really shouldn’t have to explain the ‘how’ to a grown woman.”
“Gwen? I don’t like her,” Buffy slurred.
“Ah yes. Well, Theresa feels the same way, dear.”
“So,” Spike said to Tabitha, “this Ethan bloke, he’s marrying that daft bint? Thought he loved Theresa.”
“Well, he does, he does, but he doesn’t know yet that Theresa’s child is his. He thinks it’s Julian’s.”
“Julian? Who the hell? Like a salad? Oooh, I’m hungry, Spike,” Buffy said, her world spinning around.
“He thought he was Ethan’s father, before Ivy revealed that Sam was, pet, try and keep up. So, what’s the deal then…thought Ethan was breaking it off with Gwen for good.”
“Well, she has a way of…how do I put this delicately…?”
“She’s a whiny bitch?”
“Exactly.”
“Right. Well, the bird does have the right ideas for using this body, so, I s’ppose I’d better be getting home and doing my almost-husbandly duty.”
“Oh no you don’t, buster,” Buffy said, pushing a bony finger into his chest. “Tabitha, where can we stay?”
“Way ahead of you, dear,” Tabitha said as she conjured up a key. “Here, it’s a key to one of the rooms at Grace’s Bed and bloody Breakfast next door. That damned Grace and her ‘tomato soup cake’ or whatever the devil it is can rot. Wreck up the place before you leave; the boys in the basement will love it. She’s out of town, anyway, so she’ll never know what hit her when she comes back!”
Timmy smiled.
“Yeah. Meet us back here tomorrow morning. We’ll figure something out by then.
--
***Martimmis
Preparation Time: 10 Minutes
Ingredients:
3 12oz cans of lemonade, thawed/diluted
1 bottle of ginger ale
1 cup of frozen orange juice, thawed/diluted
1 quart of cranberry juice cocktail
1 orange thinly sliced into 12
Recipe:
1: Combine liquid ingredients together, mix well.
2: Serve chilled with a slice of orange.
Makes 12 servings
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Author's Chapter Notes:
Italics=internal monologue or emphasized word, Timmy speaks in the third person, and the legendary Martimmy Recipe is listed at the end of this chapter! RIP Josh Ryan Evans!