Ficlet: The Swarm (Angel and Slayers, PG)
Dec. 2nd, 2010 05:49 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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still_grrrTitle The Swarm
Author Brutti ma buoni
Rating PG
Word Count 300
Prompt 198 Free for all: lunch, snack, breakfast
Characters/Pairing (if any) Angel, and a lot of Slayers
A/N: after Chosen and Home, Angel's world is changing fast. He's a little fuddled by this.
The foyer of the Hyperion looked unusual. Gone was that blissful sense of gloomy solitude that Angel so enjoyed when life got busy. No space to wander his hallways, thinking of what he had sacrificed for Connor's sake, and wondering how the Wolfram and Hart deal would go bad.
Not just Gunn and Fred chatting today, nor Wes researching as though he'd never been gone. (Angel had whiplash from doing double takes on that one). Not even Lorne in full diva mode. Today, there were dozens of girls in his hotel. Strong girls, born to slay his kind. Wounded, blood-oozing girls, padded with gauze, splinted with whatever could be found. Being, in some cases, revived with packs of human blood got from who knew where. Tasty blood, wasted on these human girls. But he wasn't going to think about that.
Buffy, Giles and a bunch of other ex-Sunnydale faces were spread on the couch, conferring. Sunnydale gone, they needed a new base, fast. (Angel was really hoping it wouldn't be here.) Strategic positioning was discussed. Resource deployment. Squad patterns. This wasn't the Scooby gang he remembered. Buffy had brought an army to his home.
An army requiring feeding. The hotel kitchens would cater for a thousand, but no one was volunteering to take kitchen duty.
Angel crossed the foyer, to the first of the very confused pizza delivery guys. He had practiced on the burger guys earlier. He tried to look reassuring. "Not a prank. Thank you!"
One hundred and twenty six pizzas made their way into the hotel that night. None remained for the morning. The next day was taco day. Also pancakes.
Angel had been wrong. Buffy hadn't brought an army; she'd brought a plague of locusts.
He felt a little sorry for Scotland, when the Slayers chose it as their base.
*
Author Brutti ma buoni
Rating PG
Word Count 300
Prompt 198 Free for all: lunch, snack, breakfast
Characters/Pairing (if any) Angel, and a lot of Slayers
A/N: after Chosen and Home, Angel's world is changing fast. He's a little fuddled by this.
The foyer of the Hyperion looked unusual. Gone was that blissful sense of gloomy solitude that Angel so enjoyed when life got busy. No space to wander his hallways, thinking of what he had sacrificed for Connor's sake, and wondering how the Wolfram and Hart deal would go bad.
Not just Gunn and Fred chatting today, nor Wes researching as though he'd never been gone. (Angel had whiplash from doing double takes on that one). Not even Lorne in full diva mode. Today, there were dozens of girls in his hotel. Strong girls, born to slay his kind. Wounded, blood-oozing girls, padded with gauze, splinted with whatever could be found. Being, in some cases, revived with packs of human blood got from who knew where. Tasty blood, wasted on these human girls. But he wasn't going to think about that.
Buffy, Giles and a bunch of other ex-Sunnydale faces were spread on the couch, conferring. Sunnydale gone, they needed a new base, fast. (Angel was really hoping it wouldn't be here.) Strategic positioning was discussed. Resource deployment. Squad patterns. This wasn't the Scooby gang he remembered. Buffy had brought an army to his home.
An army requiring feeding. The hotel kitchens would cater for a thousand, but no one was volunteering to take kitchen duty.
Angel crossed the foyer, to the first of the very confused pizza delivery guys. He had practiced on the burger guys earlier. He tried to look reassuring. "Not a prank. Thank you!"
One hundred and twenty six pizzas made their way into the hotel that night. None remained for the morning. The next day was taco day. Also pancakes.
Angel had been wrong. Buffy hadn't brought an army; she'd brought a plague of locusts.
He felt a little sorry for Scotland, when the Slayers chose it as their base.
*
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no subject
Date: 2010-12-02 06:02 pm (UTC)Tee! So true! I always thought that whoever got stuck with the supply officer gig would be the busiest Slayer that ever lived.
Have you seen the fic about the number of batteries the Scotland Slayer base goes through in a couple of weeks? Choice.
no subject
Date: 2010-12-02 08:09 pm (UTC)I can't believe I didn't think about this before, you know. All that admin fic and nothing about the catering corps. SSO career opportunities beckon.
I think so. But I can't remember who wrote it. The ring of truth, though...
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Date: 2010-12-02 07:52 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-12-02 08:44 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-12-02 11:18 pm (UTC)Hee! Poor Angel. Though he asked for it really.
Nice one.
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Date: 2010-12-03 05:37 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-12-03 12:16 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-12-03 05:38 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-12-03 09:25 am (UTC)Hee!
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Date: 2010-12-03 05:38 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-12-03 10:16 am (UTC)Strong girls, born to slay his kind. Wounded, blood-oozing girls, padded with gauze, splinted with whatever could be found. Being, in some cases, revived with packs of human blood got from who knew where. Tasty blood, wasted on these human girls. But he wasn't going to think about that.
Hee!
no subject
Date: 2010-12-03 05:39 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-12-03 09:01 pm (UTC)Great ficlet!
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Date: 2010-12-04 01:41 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-12-10 01:51 pm (UTC)Today, there were dozens of girls in his hotel. Strong girls, born to slay his kind. Wounded, blood-oozing girls, padded with gauze, splinted with whatever could be found. Being, in some cases, revived with packs of human blood got from who knew where. Tasty blood, wasted on these human girls. But he wasn't going to think about that.
- Oh Angel!
no subject
Date: 2011-04-06 05:34 am (UTC)