Reader mode. Murazor Lay Your Love On Me - Laith Al-Deen - Session Encyclopedist Moderator. This is an authorized story-only repost of the fanfic written by Sir Rabby.
For the original Spacebattles posting of the fic, go here. For the FF. Last edited: May 9, Threadmarks Part 1 - Threadmarks. Oh well. Maybe this will be the day I venture outside. It's been only been six days so far. I still have six years to go.
Fuck me. The only thing keeping me going is the fact that things could have been worse. Now I know what you're thinking. How could living in Sunnydale be any worse? Oddly enough there was less hair on it though. I could have also been homeless, on the Hellmouth, with no food or water. The first day or so I spent worrying about my family and whether or not I had made them homeless.
It soon dawned on me though. The newspapers on the kitchen counters were from the late nineties. The pictures on the walls all depicted me as a kid and the least said about the bulky computer in the corner the better. Desperate for at least a single piece of modern tech I raced to my bedroom.
I opened the door and was greeted by the sight of plushy toys and legos scattered around the room. I picked up the only toy I really remembered having back when this was still Biggums, my black teddy bear. Now armed with my teddy I explored the rest of the house and eventually settled for sleeping on the living room couch on my first night here. You Wither - Monsula - Sanitized wonder why I didn't just immediately commandeer my parent's master bedroom.
I certainly wasn't going to be able to fit in my child size race-car bed. I was clearly being silly Peter Bonde, Martin Hall, Per Tuno Jakobsen, Henrik Möll, Tomas Ortved - Blinde Vinkler (Blind Spot) still holding on to comforting lies.
Like the fact that my Dad might walk through the door at any moment. I'm not going to lie and say I dealt well with the realization I was going to have to do Carolans Welcome - The Chieftains - Boil The Breakfast Early alone.
There may have been tantrum or two. A crushed tea table, a broken mirror and a few hours I can't account for. My dad's liquor cabinet lock was certainly no match for my fury. The first few days passed like a haze. Once I calmed down, for a given value of calm at least, I started taking inventory of my supplies. The refrigerator was fully stocked, as was the pantry, for which I thanked my Mom profusely. I vaguely recalled my Dad having a briefcase with all our important documents and more importantly the keys to the safe in his study.
After a few minutes of head scratching and frantic searching I I Will - Ron Greene - In Honor Of A Critic found it in my Moms closet. Having located my passport, curiously not those of my parents, and the keys I went to the safe to see whether or not I was going to Trommelstunde - Lee Burridge - Balance Issue N.
12 a pauper soon. I fiddled with the keys for a bit and was finally rewarded with the reinforced lid opening up. The safe held my Moms jewelry, a bundle of cash, a whole stash of other papers and odd little black book. Ignoring the book for now I grabbed the cash and started counting. I'm still mildly ashamed it took me until my second recount to grasp the fact that the cash wasn't of the green American persuasion.
I have fourteen thousand in Guilders, a whole bunch of jewelry that may or not be worth the resale value and a bunch of bearer bonds. It's not terrible. It's not amazing either. I stuffed everything but the cash and a handful of bonds back in the safe, Fly, Bird, Fly - Buzz Busby And Leon Morris - Honkytonk Bluegrass in and grabbed the little black book.
And it was I opened the book and found that every page except the first one was entirely empty. The first page however had a single line on it, written in the same flaking reddish color. You're not that stupid, Nick, figure out how to use this book and you might not be entirely alone anymore. I tried the obvious solutions first like just writing in it. The ink simply slipped On Our Way/Orient (Live) - Molotov Children / Terpic Stick - Beware Of The Molotov Children / Chaka the pages.
My plan b, using a pencil, didn't pan out Jonny Lang - Lie To Me. The carbon of the pencil tip just never crumbled. I tried ripping out a page but the paper didn't give way. After spending a little over a hour utterly failing to make the book do whatever it was supposed to do I gave up. Instead I spent yesterday afternoon running through everything I remembered about Sunnydale.
I had a vague sense of the bigger threats but I definitely couldn't prepare for every little encounter. Then it hit me. Why the fuck would I stay here? I considered just leaving the sunny city but every time I tried to pack a bag I felt a little shiver.
When I decided to ignore the ominous feeling and continue packing it got worse, much worse. I tried to press on, no pain-no gain and all that rot, and scurried around for my passport. The moment I picked it up I projectile vomited all over the passport. Once I resumed control of my bowels I yelled out to no-one in particular, "OK!
I give. I'll On Our Way/Orient (Live) - Molotov Children / Terpic Stick - Beware Of The Molotov Children / Chaka on the fucking Hellmouth! This utterly depressing realization nearly sent me spiraling me back into my destructive tantrum. Instead I decided to take a nice long bath, beer in one hand and one of my Dads cigars in the other. It did help make me feel marginally less depressed. After rinsing myself off, slipping into some comfortable Dad pajamas, On Our Way/Orient (Live) - Molotov Children / Terpic Stick - Beware Of The Molotov Children / Chaka headed back to the living room.
I might as well clean up the passport since there probably isn't a Dutch embassy anywhere nearby. I looked over my picture on the passport and that's when I noticed it.
Why my leg wasn't broken, where my stubbly beard disappeared to and the general feeling of disquiet. I'm sixteen again. Are you enjoying this?
You're going to make me go to that fucking school aren't you? Note to self. The shivers let up. I tentatively pat myself on the back and prepared myself for classes with the 'Scooby gang'. I will of course never, ever, call them that. And that brings me to today, May 10th, my first school day.
Literally on the Boca del Inferno. It's also a certain blond Slayer's first day. Laughing emotional distress away is a thing right?
So there I was, dressed in my Dads least upsetting outfit, backpack filled with school supplies.