It's Alive!
Part Four: She Alone Will Stand Against the Vampires, the Demons, the Evil Ewoks, and the forces of Darkness.
by Holly


"Witness the power of the pineapple! Victorious yet again!" Janson crowed between smug sips of Whyren's Reserve. The three sabacc losers lifted their beverages in a toast to the winner, Hobbie doing so somewhat grudgingly.

"What did I say about him using his divine intervention?" sighed Hobbie. "What's the matter, Hobbie? You always lose!" Tycho pointed out.

"Yes, but not normally this badly," Hobbie said mournfully as he eyed his empty glass.

"I wonder how our furry mutineer is doing," mused Wedge and motioned for the serving droid to atend their table.

~*~

" Harken well ye elements, I summon thee now,
Control the outside, control within,
Land and sea, fire and wind,
Out of my passions a web be spun,
From this eve, forth my will be done.
So mote it be."

~*~

Wedge's comlink began bleeping over the pilot's sprawling, drunken conversation.

"Commander Antilles here," he spoke into it, struggling to convey sobriety with his voice and trying desperately not to laugh at the obscenities Janson was miming across the table.

"Commander, this is Security Officer Zennick at the detention block. I must inform you that the occupant of cell 2A has escaped, sir."

Wedge's lazy Corellian half-grin froze and he nearly dropped the comlink in his lomin ale. "Kettch? The Ewok?"

"Yes, sir."

"Thank you, I'm on my way." He thumbed the comlink off, and looked round the table at the three other pilots, who were all masked with the same expression of consternation as he. "Oh, sithspit."

~*~

"I will that whenever and wherever someone need help, my friends and I shall be there to help."

"Can you put a during-dates-exception-disclaimer on that? I don't wanna be summoned when I'm enjoying snuggly time."

"OK. I will that the previous willing is only aplicable when our diaries are empty. Better?"

"Heaven forbid that your humanitarian activities should obstruct your heady and varied social lives."

&qot;English sarcasm. Ouch. If the apocalypse comes, beep me."

~*~

"Get your pineapple, Janson," said Wedge. "We need all the help we can get with this one."

As Janson lifted his superfruit from the table, the air in the cantina glittered pink, and eight figures hicupped into existance in a cloud of jasmine scented incense.

"Sith," swore Wedge. "I didn't think I'd drank that much!" He lapsed into slack-jawed silence as the newcomers erupted in a babble of confusion.

"Good Lord, that spell was somewhat more powerful than I'd anticipated."

"Did I use too much motherwort? Sometimes I get a bit herb-happy."

"I don't think so. We weighed it out. Twice. On different scales."

"Do you have any idea where you've motherworted us to? I didn't even have time to pack any weapons."

"I still have memories from my night as army-guy, if you need any help."

"Yeah, like you've helped her out before by running and hiding."

"Hey! There's my blondie bear! How's my -"

"I should've done that ages ago. Oi, you in the orange! Where the bloody hell are we, which one of you went and summoned the Scoobies, and where are the sodding demons? I'm up for a bit of a brawl."

The pilots stared at the seven figures and the pile of dust. Wedge stood up and affected as good a pose of dignity and authority as was possible in his state of inebriation. "I am Commander Wedge Antilles of the New Republic Starfighter Command. Who are you?"

"Name's Spike. That used to be Harmony. That one there's the Slayer and those are her obediant little lapdogs."

Wedge ignored the injured looks this comment gained from the Scoobies. "How did you get in here?"

Spike lit a cigarette, grinned, and morphed into his vamp- face. "Magic."

Wedge screamed. Tycho hid behind Wedge. Janson dropped his glass. Hobbie fainted.

Buffy rolled her eyes and punched Spike.


Continued in Part Five