Disclaimer: Joss Whedon created all Buffy characters; Rob Thomas created the Veronica Mars characters; Amy Sherman-Palladino created Rory Gilmore; and someone else created the two legends; they will be credited at the end.


Damn. The script for the Buffy/Veronica Mars shagfest was looking particularly stupid today. Not that Spike objected to seeing two short blondes going at it like demented rabbits, but he did prefer it when the scripts at least vaguely resembled the English language.

Veronica said thnaks as Buufy pulled the va,pireoff her and staked it.

Buffy said hey no sweat. I happened to be in the neighborhhdo. And Bffuy was cptivated by the lithe from of the other blond.

Veronica ntoiced the look in Buffys eyes and nmatched it wtih one of her own. Even thuogh she had nver before been even rmortely attracted t oa woman, three was something abuot this one that was absolutely compelling. Myabe it wsa the legs; or myabe it was the look off nkaed dsire in the woman's eyes. Whatver, Veroncia knew she had to ahev her, and had to haveher now.

Bffuy licked her lips ni antixcpiation of the pleasures to come. Pr was she splling that correctly?

Jesus fucking Christ. Spellcheck, the lazy man's substitute for real proofreading, took five fucking seconds to activate.

"Spike?" his assistant said.

"Yeah?" he said, not looking up from the rest of the story. The writer's grasp of action wasn't bad, even if he seemed to touch on every cliché in the book on his way to the repeated orgasms experienced by both Buffy and Veronica. If the wanker had known how to proofread, it wouldn't have been half-bad.

He threw the script on the 'revise' pile and looked up at his assistant. "They're here," she said excitedly.

"They, who?"

"You know -- them­."

A wide grin broke out on Spike's face. "Out of my way, girl. These blokes get my special attention."

As he stood up, his assistant said," I thought you hated doing this."

"With most of these characters? Sure. Most of them hate being here, no matter how much sex they get out of it. But these folks -- they're professionals. Without them, we wouldn't even have a PWP industry."

"Are they here for a scheduled shoot?"

"Doesn't matter. For these folks, we push aside scheduled shooting. Haven't you ever wondered what's in Studio One?"

The assistant said, "Studio One? We never use Studio One. It's reserved for --"

"It's reserved for them. Tell the folks on set one not to start in on that Dawn/Rory Gilmore thing yet -- it might be a while before I can get there. And for god's sake, tell them not to start before I get there." He shook his head. "Fucking teenagers and their hormones." The Mars girl might not've been the cheeriest of workers, but at least she could keep it in her pants. So to speak.

"Right," she said, as she ran off.

And Spike rounded the corner and, standing by the doors to Studio One --

There they were.

Grinning even more widely now, Spike said, "Jim! How the hell are you?"

"Doing fine, Spike. How's the job treating you?"

"It's hell. But then there are moments like this that make it, at least temporarily, worthwhile." He shook his head. "Look at the two of you. It's been a while. You guys come to socialize or do you want to do some business?"

The other man said, "Both. But there is no need to set your other tasks aside on our behalf."

"That's what I love about you two. Most of the kids these days, they just want to get in, get it done, and get it over with. No sense of fucking style at all -- and no ability to hold back. And we always have time for the two of you. That's the rule." As he spoke, he took the special key off his belt and opened the door to Studio One. "We can go in when you want. Just some old fashioned sex for old time's sake, or did you want something a bit more complex?"

"Old-fashioned. But we're in the mood for a bit of a marathon." When they went at it, scripts were hardly necessary. They did 95 of the work themselves.

"You going to need any of the others here?"

"Naah. We'll just find some reason for everyone else to be away. Or you can do that -- it's what they 'pay' you for."

"Still as fucking funny as ever, ain't you, Jim?" Spike, of course, didn't get paid. No one got paid for a PWP. The sex was supposed to be enough. Never mind when people had you doing your sister or someone you hated. Mars was still bitching about a fic where she had to take it in the bum from a guy named Lamb. Lamb didn't like it too much themselves. Must've been something in the mainstream storyline making them hate each other. Still, it was a PWP. Common sense, plot logic, and continuity need not apply. "Would you rather get right to it, or do you want a tour?"

"A tour sounds fun," Jim said. "What are you working on right now?"

"I'm handling a Dawn Summers/Rory Gilmore fic right now. It's a bit wordy, but then, given who the participants are --"

"One could hardly have expected otherwise," the other man said.

"True. Later on today I'm doin' a Buffy/Veronica Mars fic, assumin' the scriptwriter ever gets off his bleedin' ass long enough to learn how to spell."

"I remember back in the old days," Jim said. "Sometimes the 'published' versions of our little adventures would be chock full of typos. Absolutely packed. People didn't complain because all they had were typewriters and mimeograph machines."

"Yeah, yeah," Spike grumbled good-naturedly. "And you did it for ten hours bareback in the snow both ways."

"I would think our presence here would confirm 'both ways,' the other man said.

They got to the set. Dawn and Rory were standing in a subway car set. "Two scenes to this one. Meetin' place and a hotel room set. Sorry about the delay --"

"No problem," Rory said brightly. "Dawn's about as smart as I am. We're having a very good conversation."

"Right. Just remember when it comes to the story itself to keep all that shit about Aphra Behn and ancient Sumerian out of it. People don't read these things to see discussions of ancient languages."

They both nodded. "You didn't need to be so hard on them," Jim said.

"You haven't done a lot of workin' with the younger set, have you?" Spike said. "Sometimes they bloody need to be led around. They seem to think people want to see style and characterization in these things. If I've told 'em once, I've told 'em a million times. They want sex. As soon and as often as possible." He pointed down the street -- "The Buffy/Veronica set's down there. It's an alleyway and a duplicate of Buffy's college dorm room. Buffy and Veronica likely ain't in yet, though. Buffy's still recoverin' from a Stargate-related orgy and Veronica doesn't come until she has to. And I mean that both ways. Anyway. You ready to get to it?"

They both nodded yes, and Spike led them back to Studio One. "Well. You know what you're doing; as soon as we get the camera in here you can go to it."

"Right then." Jim shook Spike's hand. "Good to see you again, Spike."

They both went to the middle of the set and started taking off their clothes.

His assistant came up to him and said, "The cameras are ready."

"Good. Stick around, luv," he said. "You're about to see two legends at work." Then he yelled to the cameramen and everyone else on the set. "Okay! Quiet! The ship is in for repairs and the two of you have stuck around waiting for the repair crew, and you're bored. Kirk Slash Spock, and . . . action!"


Additional disclaimer: I don't own Kirk or Spock either; they are the creation, of course, of Gene Roddenberry.