Typical Day

[madimpossibledreamer]

Main Points:
Buffy the Vampire Slayer/NCIS/Arrow
Chapter Summary: This was probably a bad idea.
Word Count: 410
Rating: Gen

        Xander can barely see straight when his best friend finally shows up.  “Jesse.  Hey.”
        “Xander.  I’d ask you how you’re doing, but it’s kind of obvious.”  He can feel the First’s eyes glance over the bottles lined up like ducklings on the countertop in front of him.  The look is concerned.  Judging.  Which is a pretty big clue in itself.  They’d never gotten to the phase of rampant alcohol, but Jesse always did encourage his worst instincts.  He’d just be mad that Xander wasn’t sharing, not worried about the consequences of his best friend possibly overdosing on booze.
        “I knew you were coming, after that thing with Spike.”  He’s pretty sure that everyone on their side’s had a visit from the First, messing with their minds, and equally sure that none of them have mentioned it to a soul, which is just what they can’t afford right now.  They can’t be a divided front, not now.  ‘Course, they’d had all this baggage just sitting around waiting to be picked up by a master manipulator, and it’s entirely possible that this entire experiment will just leave him hazy, without any useful memories, but it’s worth taking the shot.  “Just figured I’d dull my instincts enough I’m not tempted to put an arrow through you.  My aim’s a touch worse than it used to be.” 
        Though he and Willow are working on fixing that, magically, because she feels so guilty about it she’s jumping at the chance to make it right with more than just guilt cookies.  “I get that you’re not Jesse.  And talking to you is dangerous, you being the living,” he puts his hand through the ghostly body, “…pardon the expression, embodiment of the very concept of evil, but hey, I’m the crazy mortal running around a hellmouth with little more than a bow and an arrow to protect me.  Shooting you won’t do anything, but evil always likes an audience, and sometimes, that audience can pick up clues.”  He picks up a hand, points it at the apparition, and quickly realizes that was a mistake due to the fact that he’d been using his hands to prop himself up.  He wobbles just like the bottles.  It’s kind of funny, and he’s tempted to start laughing helplessly, but now really isn’t a good time.  “Well, they can if they’re not too drunk.  We’ll figure out if I erred on the side of a little too much in the morning.”