Tossed Stakes and Scrambled Eggs: Antarctica, probably
by Mediancat
It was a tough row to hoe, not unlike their divorce proceedings, but in this case Niles held an unbeatable trump card – the Slayer lying in wait just outside. Eventually, and for perhaps the first time in his life, he won an argument with Maris.

That he was negotiating to save her life didn’t mean much to her; she vowed to make the divorce proceedings even more difficult because Niles was forcing her to give up her cosmetics.

Well, so be it. That only confirmed to him that divorcing her was the right thing to do, and he swore to himself that this would be the last time, ever, he spoke on her behalf.

When he finally left twenty minutes later, he was convinced that Jimmy Hoffa himself couldn’t have done any better. There was one niggling point, but he was certain Buffy and Giles would not object.

He got outside to find Frasier regaling Buffy and Giles with tales of Maris’ past exploits. “And there was this one time,” he said, laughing, “We went looking for her throughout the apartment and finally found her standing in the corner underneath a pile of coats. They had mistaken her for a coat rack! In Maris’ defense, though, she was wearing all brown that evening. It was a natural mistake.”

“Good evening, Frasier.”

“Niles!” Frasier said. “I was just telling these two . . . these two . . . “ and then suddenly, Niles could tell, Frasier realized that he was happily conversing with two people whom hours previously he had termed dangerous lunatics. A bit wild-eyed, he took a step back and began to gibber.

“Amusing as your impending derangement promises to be,” Niles said, “There are more urgent matters to be dealt with. Mr. Giles and Ms. Summers are . . .representatives of a cosmetics company. They came because Maris’ last purchase exceeded the limits of her credit card and are here to collect.”

“We lost her address on the plane ride up,” Buffy said apologetically. “That’s why we came to track you down.”

“Couldn’t they have hired a local collection agency?” Frasier seemed a little suspicious.

“Ah,” Giles said, blinking, “No. We prefer the . . . personal touch. And we have strict policies over who can and cannot handle our cosmetics.”

“And couldn’t Maris have simply used another credit card?”

“No. By, um, defaulting on this Mrs. Crane has lost our confidence utterly.”

“Really,” Frasier said.

Giles said, “Strict policies.” Buffy looked at Frasier and nodded vigorously in agreement.

“Mm-hmmm.” Frasier’s voice had taken a tone familiar to Niles, that of, “I’m not getting the whole story, I KNOW I’m not getting the whole story, but instead of giving you any satisfaction by actually telling you this I will demonstrate my superior knowledge by the use of sarcastic grunts.” He really was quite a master at that.

However, it beat having Frasier the paranoiac around. “Mr. Giles? Miss Summers? We need to talk for a moment.” They withdrew to a far corner of the porch; to his credit, Frasier didn’t bother to eavesdrop. Sotto voce, he said, “Maris has agreed to all your terms – except she wants to keep one last dose so she can go outside once more. I tried to talk her out of that but she positively would not budge.”

“Do you believe the request genuine?” Giles asked. “What I mean is –“

“I do,” Niles said. “I suspect she believes that if she were to play you false you would come back and kill her –“

“We would,” Buffy interrupted.

“As I suspected,” Niles said. “And since she still enjoys having her place in Seattle society she isn’t overenthused about the prospect about trying to live her life the way I understand most vampires do. Dank caves would be murder on her pores, for example.”

“So you’re saying she has incentive,” Buffy said.

“More than you can possibly imagine.”

Looking at Giles, Buffy said, “Well?”

“I’ll take your word for it, Dr. Crane,” Giles said. “Now, we’d best take the makeup and get going. We need to find a place to destroy it.”

“Leave that to me,” Niles said, his face quirking in a smile.

Fifteen minutes later he called them around the side of the house, towards a barbecue pit that from the looks of it had never been used. Frasier was a bit confused about what the two cases of cosmetics were doing in the pit; for that matter, so were Buffy and Giles. “It’s automatic,” Niles said, stepping back. “As I have the mechanical aptitude of a toddler when it was constructed we made it foolproof. Of course, shortly thereafter --” he suddenly remembered Frasier was there – “Maris found herself permanently in no mood to barbecue.”

And Frasier could contain himself no longer. “What are you doing?” he demanded indignantly.

“Assisting these fine people . . . and getting a little revenge on Maris in the process,” Niles said. “Now, watch. All you need to do is press this button here and . . .” a jet of flame shot up.

The cosmetics burned,

A faint thump could be heard nearby, from inside the house. “Unless I miss my guess,” Niles said, “That would be Maris fainting.”

“Well,” Buffy said, “It seems our work here is done.”

“Quite,” Giles said. “Dr. Crane? Shall we give you a ride back to the hospital?”

“No . . . I think Frasier’s capable of that.” He turned and saw his brother still staring at the miniature conflagration in the barbecue pit. “Though I suspect I’ll be the one doing the actual driving.”

“Will you say our goodbyes to Ms. Moon and your father?”

“I will,” Niles said. “And – thank you.”

“I believe we owe you the thanks,” Giles said.

Then Buffy grabbed his hand. “The way you two talk this could go on all night – and fun as it is to watch you chat using words I’ve never heard of before, I’d like to get some actual sleep before we have to leave tomorrow morning.” She dragged him off towards the pickup truck and they drove off.

“Frasier,” Niles said, then “Frasier!” a little more firmly.

“Niles,” he said. “What just happened here? Did I just make an ass of myself?”

“No, but it wasn’t for want of trying.” Frasier snorted. “Now come. Daphne’s in the hospital and we must go be supportive.” And, deliberately: “Besides, there’s always the change I might get to see her in one of those hospital gowns . . .”

“Your mind has one track, you know that?” Frasier said as they got back to his car. “Would it kill you . . .”

As Frasier ranted on, Niles knew he’d accomplished the most important task: distracting his brother.

* * * * *

“So, how’d the makeup hunt go?” Faith asked when they got back the next day.

“No worries,” Buffy said. “From now on, any vampire who ventures into the sunlight will flame out and die as God intended.”

Faith laughed and said, “Cool.”

Willow said, “And the rest of the trip?”

“The rest of the trip,” Giles said, “Was spent asleep in our hotel room or trying to scrounge some food at what that pitiful excuse for a hotel laughably termed ‘a continental breakfast.’ Which continent they were referring to is entirely beyond me.”

“Met a couple of interesting people, though,” Buffy said. “And a couple of crazy ones.”

“So, another typical Buffy Summers night, just not in Sunnydale.”

Buffy nodded. “Same ol’ same ol’. Except for that guy Bulldog. Giles, are you sure I can’t kill him?”

“Yes,” Giles said tiredly.

* * * * *

There was a knock on the door of the Crane residence. Daphne went over and answered it.

“Ah, Daphne,” Niles said. “It’s good to see you once again in the flush of health.”

Daphne snorted. “Hello, Dr. Crane. I told you people there was nothing wrong with me. And I swear all that doctor wanted to do is stare at my hindquarters.”

“Would you like me to go kill him for you?” Niles offered.

“Thanks for the offer, Dr. Crane,” Daphne said, “But I took care of that myself when I screamed into his stethoscope.” Niles laughed at that. You know,” she continued, “I never did get the whole story of the young woman. I take it she didn’t . . . take care of your problems with Mrs. Crane?”

“No,” Niles said.

Puzzled, Daphne said. “I just can’t understand it. A psychic flash that strong and it doesn’t come true. I’m beginning to wonder if these things are any good at all.” After a second she forced a smile and asked, “Would you like a drink?”

“That would be lovely, Daphne. Thank you.” And then, when she went to go fix it, he said to himself, “She could have helped.”

“What was that?” Daphne asked.

“Oh, nothing,” Niles said. “Nothing at all.”

This story archived at: The Slayer\'s Fanfic Archive
The Slayer\\\\\\\\'s FanFic Archive - http://www.slayerfanfic.com/viewstory.php?sid=2004