Untitled fic in which Maegunnbatt geeks out like a fangirl in a shop full of dark heroes.

Author: Maegunnbatt

Rating: R

Pairing: Not realllly...

Disclaimer: All belongs to respective real life owners, not us geekish fan-people.

Author's notes: Mmmm... redemption, apocalypse(s), and Jedisex.

Summary: Spike, Anakin Skywalker, and Draco Malfoy walk into a pub at the end of the cosmos...


Spike, Anakin Skywalker, and Draco Malfoy walk into a pub at the end of the cosmos where such things are not only likely to happen, but often do, and without much cause for alarm by the locals. They crowd themselves into a small booth in the corner where they can hide in the shadows, not only because they are quite accustomed to the shadows, but also because it provides some reprieve from the horde of fangirls slathering at the windows, trying to get a peak inside. (This pub has a strict "No fanboys or girls" policy, which is why Andrew is waiting outside, keeping an eye on the motorcycle, the broomstick, and the speeder and currently arguing the merits of Timothy Dalton to a Hufflepuff and an Imperial guard. In about five minutes, he will wonder if he's died and gone to heaven, but then remember that if it were really, truly heaven, Xander would be here, too. This causes him exactly thirty seconds of heartbreak before he spies a lonely bounty hunter leaning against the building and initiates a conversation, even though the bounty hunter claims to have no idea why Jango Fett's head was not actually inside his helmet at the end of the arena scene in Episode II when Boba picks it up after his father has been mercilessly slaughtered by Master Windu and his destiny is thereby changed forever.)

Meanwhile inside the pub, Spike orders a scotch straight-up. Anakin keeps one hand on his lightsaber and wonders, vaguely what Obi-Wan would say, the prick, then decides to have what Spike is having. Draco turns up his nose at the dust collecting on every imaginable surface, makes a mental note to be sure to tell his father all about it (for this is truly Potter's fault somehow), and then demands the finest scotch in the system.

After a while, they're all quite smashed. Well, as smashed as a vampire, a Jedi, and a wanker with a wand can safely get in a bar at the end of the cosmos where the clientele don't seem to mind that three fictional characters from completely seperate universes are gathering for drinks.

"Oh, my hero could totally kick your hero's arse," Spike slurs to Draco. "Potter doesn't stand a chance against my Buffy."

Draco raises an eyebrow and takes another small sip of his scotch. "Potter. Stupid Potter! If it weren't for his friends..."

"If Obi-Wan was here," Ani whines, "he'd be all, 'Trust your instincts. Don't give in to the Dark Side. A Jedi craves not these things. Blah blah blah.' When do I get to have my fun, huh?"

"There, there," Spike says, patting the mulleted Jedi's shoulder. "We'll sic Buffy on him, too."

"A little bit of demon won't stop him, I can assure you," Ani says, then adds, under his breath, "Believe me, I've tried."

Spike gives Ani a strange look, but decides not to approach that subject.

"What I don't understand is all this hype about redemption," Draco spits. "Who'd want such a thing? My father..."

"Oh, it's not too bad," Spike concedes, "once you get used to the idea of sucking the cock of the big Good for the rest of your days. The pay-offs can be rewarding. Cushy chair in heaven, choirs of angels singing you to sleep, the whole bit. Like a holiday, really, only without the benefit of being corporeal."

Ani snorts into his empty scotch glass and reaches out to the bar, from which a bottle of top-shelf something or other comes zooming to him, barely missing hitting Draco in the back of the head. "I can hear him now. 'Sucking cock, a Jedi craves not these things.' Can't you just see him now?"

"Sounds like a real ponce, mate," Spike consoles.

"You don't know the half of it," Ani says darkly, drinking straight from the bottle. "All this talk of prophecies and chosen ones. Blah blah blah."

"Oh, you've got those, too?" Draco says. "Potter isn't so special, after all, then, is he? Wanker."

"Prophecies and chosen ones are old hat," Spike says dismissively, taking the bottle from Ani and splashing some of the liquor into his glass. "Where do you go to find a good apocalypse around here? You know what I like about Angel, mate? Got a pair the size of Mexico on him, that one does. Straight in he goes-- well, as straight as he can, I suppose-- sword out, forehead shining, hips swaying to the beat of dangers unforetold... Have I told you about the dragon?"

"My father could cook up a good apocalypse," Draco brags drunkenly. "Dragons, dudes in masks, dangerous stuff all around."

"Oh, yeah? How's that, then?" Spike asks.

"He knows some people who know a guy who killed a bunch of Muggles," Draco says.

"The way I heard it," Ani says, snatching the bottle back from Spike, "is that your father's a big poof with a ponytail who follows around some guy with a rotting face."

"The Dark Lord would lay waste to your insignificant emperor!" Draco says vehemently.

"Can your 'Dark Lord' shoot lightning bolts from his fingertips?" Ani says. "Didn't think so."

"The Dark Lord almost killed Potter on several occasions," Draco offers.

"Almost doesn't count in apocalypse," Spike says, wagging his finger. "Or shagging your sire's sire."

"Or your enemy," Draco says forlornly.

"Or your mentor," Ani adds with a frown.

Their eyes grow wide and they stare at each other. "I said that out loud, didn't I?" they all say.

"Obliviate!" Draco says, waving his wand.

"Didn't work," Spike says, pointing to himself. "Vampire."

"Jedi, sorry," Ani says, then waves his hand. "I have said nothing incriminating."

Draco and Spike just stare at him. "Not so very weak-minded," Spike says. "Vampire, remember?"

"You have said nothing incriminating," Draco deadpans, then grins. "Ha! I had you! My father's trained me against the Imperius curse since an early age. Your Jedi tricks do not sway me, only money! But your Republic notes are of no value in the Wizarding world."

"Republic notes will do just fine," Ani tries again.

"Not happening, mate," Draco says. "Going to take a bit more to get those confessions off the table."

"I suppose I could just kill you both," Spike says helpfully. "If only it weren't for this pesky soul."

"Oh, see," Draco says, "we're really evil buggers. Doing away with us would actually be doing society a favor."

"You're not that evil," Ani scoffs at Draco. "Want to see true evil? Take a look at that bulky suit and tell me you'd want to be stuck in that for the rest of your life. Death would be a blessing. They pipe ABBA into the helmet as a means of mind control and sexual depravity. Do you have any idea what I have to wear under the suit? There are no undies in space, and it rubs funny. Think of the chaffing!"

"Wish I could, mates," Spike says, unswayed. "But I really can't. Not only would the guilt be unbearable, but the fangirls would probably have my head."

"Damn fangirls!" Draco says, slamming his fist against the table.

"Blast!" Ani says, using his Jedi skillz to knock over a table by the window. "They ruin everything!"

Sulking, they sit in silence for a moment. Then Spike says, softly, "So, you can't shake your canon's slashy undertones, either?"

"The way I'm always trying to get his attention," Draco groans.

"Obi-Wan this, Obi-Wan that. And I think maybe he loves me, too," Ani sighs. "And not entirely in a brotherly manner."

"Yeah. Buffy was just a way to get back at him for dismissing me for nearly a century," Spike adds. "To doom, then?"

"To doom," Draco says, raising his glass.

"To doom," Ani says, and their three glasses clink together in a toast. "You know, if Obi-Wan was here..."

"Let me guess," Spike says. "Doom leads to the Dark Side?"

"Listen, kid," Ani says, "my fandom had bloodplay before your canon even existed."

Draco laughs.

"You think you're above it, you swotty little prince?" Spike says, turning to Draco. "Your fandom keeps trying to make you into me. Leather trousers? Oh, please. I've been doing that for decades."

"I think it's the hair," Ani muses. "I suppose that could be confusing."

"You're not one to talk, Mullet Man," Draco says. "Besides, wizards do it better. We've got wands."

"We've got Jedisex," Ani points out. "You can't beat Jedisex."

Draco and Spike muse for a moment. "Fine, I suppose that's true," Draco concedes.

"Even banging a Slayer can't compare to all that freaky stuff you can do with your mind," Spike says. "Can you get them off just by thinking about it?"

"Oh, good question, old man!" Draco says. "Can you? Because I've been working on this spell..."

Ani lets a malicious grin slowly form on his lips. "Why do you think Obi-Wan is so pissed at me all the time?"


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