Title: Omen Girl
Media: Buffy/Good Omens
Summary: Apocalypses Happen.
Spoilers: for Buffy through S7, and Good Omens
Disclaimer: I do not own either media. That belongs to the Trinity of Joss, Neil and Terry
Archive: At Twisting the Hellmouth, inspired by justaguy’s round robin.
I was having a bit of writer’s block so I decided to do this for fun.
“Wait, so you’re telling me it just stopped? Not ‘too late’, not ‘we missed it’, but that it’s over? It was stopped? By someone else?”
“Er… yes. That would appear to be the case.” Buffy pressed the cell phone closer to her ear. Giles’ voice on the other end had become muffled during his response. She could almost see the Watcher abashedly polishing his glasses, unwilling to admit over the phone that they’d missed their shot at stopping another apocalypse.
“This is not of the good, Giles. Things like this don’t just… stop. I mean, we’ve been doing this for a while now, and our record for random apocalypse stoppage is 0-for-uh, what is it now? Eight? Nine?”
“Including the matter in Kazakhstan? That would be twelve. This one would have been thirteen.”
“Oooo-kay. Not really making with the comfort, here.”
“Buffy, look, I don’t know what else to tell you. As of fifteen minutes ago, we had a definite opening of a Hellmouth. All signs and portents pointed to it. Now. Nothing. The seas have stopped boiling, the toads have stopped raining. I’m even getting reports that the dolphin and whale populations have recovered, which is really quite extraordinary. I don’t know what to say.”
“Look, Giles. I’m standing here outside of some military base in Lower Tadpole—”
“Tadfield,” he corrected, and this time she imagined he was pinching the bridge of his nose.
“—with a large and rather amped-up group of slayers-in-training, and nothing to slay. Things are completely quiet here. I know you and Will had trouble pinpointing this thing, even with all the omens. I’m just… are you sure the apocalypse didn’t… y’know… go all Jack Griffin on us?”
“No. It looks like it was dealt with. In point of fact, until you called, I thought it was your team’s doing. As it is, fifteen minutes ago there was an impending apocalypse. Five minutes ago it stopped. Everything is returning to normal.”
Buffy wanted to argue more, but her and the other Slayers’ spidey-senses had stopped going off around the same time that Giles said they got the all-clear on the apocalypse. “Well, I suppose we shouldn’t look a gift-horseman in the mouth.” She sighed in spite of her words. “I just wish we knew what happened.”
“Willow and I will try to discover that, but we may just have to accept this one as a bit of grace from the Powers.”
Buffy reluctantly agreed, and closed the phone to look at the half-dozen slayers surrounding her. It was their first apocalypse, and they still had a certain dewy-eyed eagerness, but their shoulders were sagging as they realized that they’d come all this way for nothing. The birds were singing; the neighbors were gossiping over their fences; a gang of kids were riding past on bikes. The world was a wonderful place. Nobody should look upon the reprieve from an apocalypse as a disappointment, least of all a Slayer. She shook her head and prepared to reprimand them when she spied a colorful poster nailed to a telephone pole. She was sure it hadn’t been there a few moments ago.
“Hey!” she said brightly. She would save the reprimands for later. A diverted apocalypse called for a celebration. “Who’s up for going to the Circus tomorrow?”