… and a Cherry On Top.
By Adrian Tullberg.
Giles opened his eyes to accept the gentle light of the dawn.
This was immediately established as a bad move, as what could only be described as the mother of all hangovers immediately asserted itself.
The librarian groaned, as it turned out the hangover looked very good for it's age, as it was a great-grandmother at the very least.
He rolled over, to avoid the hellish light assaulting his poor, misunderstood eyeballs - and his face immediately buried itself in long hair.
Still keeping his eyes closed, he stretched out his arm in (he hoped) the general direction of the nightstand, trying to find his glasses. After making contact, he took a deep breath, and hoisted himself on one elbow.
Trying to ignore his brain sloshing around in his skull, Giles put on his glasses while trying to regain his memory of the night before.
Then his eyes focussed, and his stomach contracted in shock.
The hair of the - thankfully - young woman in this hotel bed belonged to one Buffy Anne Summers, the Vampire Slayer. She also seemed to drool in her sleep.
Giles slowly and carefully lifted the sheets to check his own state of affairs regarding appropriate attire. The results were a clear negative, unless birthday suits were the order of the day. And judging from how much of Buffy's shoulder downwards was exposed, so was she.
Giles prayed to whatever Gods were there that he'd gotten so ratarsed that he'd managed to get here - wherever here was - and pass out before anything happened.
And an arm reached out and curled - well, flopped onto - his waist.
Giles' nausea reached new heights, as unless Buffy had another arm she hadn't gotten around to telling him about, there was another female in this bed.
Slowly, he turned his head, to see the bleary slowly waking expression of one Joyce Summers, mother of Buffy.
And from the sounds behind him, and the mounting horror on Joyce's face, Buffy was waking up as well.
"Where are we?"
Giles and Joyce were seated at a little table, managing to find the clothes that had been strewn around the room.
"I ... really can't remember..."
Joyce was covering her face with her hands. Even now, she looked exceptionally pretty. "Was this ... a spell or..."
"Not unless the spell required a lot of alcohol beforehand..." Joyce moved her fingers so that one eye was exposed. "I think we should concentrate on finding out where we are first..."
Giles and Joyce looked at Buffy, who was staring at two pieces of paper (which had previously been hidden underneath her low-riders) with concern.
Those causes for concern were placed in front of Giles, who slowly picked them up and examined them.
They were Marriage Licenses for two different Las Vegas Drive-Through Wedding Chapels. Gathering from the addresses printed, they were practically in spitting distance from each other.
One was documentary evidence of the Lawful Union of himself and Joyce.
The other nearly identical piece of paper stated that a similar state of affairs existed between himself and Buffy.
Giles dropped the papers, then at his two new wives.
"Oh double dear."
He lowered his head - gently - into his arms.
"Oh double dear with whipped cream and a cherry on top."