Notes: Big thanks to Mr Pedia for explaining how “magic” fit into this.
Disclaimer: I claim no ownership and am making no money.
Distribution: Hey, whatever. Just let me know.
allthejellies writing prompt set 3: Green, Magic, Sexy, Ice Cream
100 to 500 words
“No, really, Buffy, one can of lighter fluid is all one needs to get the charcoal going. We won’t need a second.”
As Giles squeezed the can and shook out the last drops, the back fence went down with a screech and a shower of splinters. A huge demon flattened what was left of the fence and headed straight for the grill. The demon had an axe and Buffy didn’t, but that was all right. Giles hit it with a below-the-knees flying tackle and the axe went slithering across the grass.
Buffy scooped it up. “Huh, sweet axe,” she said. Nice balance, cushy padded grip, cool inlay on the head. Everything a Slayer wanted in an axe. “Sexy.” She snapped it up to meet the demon’s charge. The perfect conjunction of demon momentum and Slayer axe-swipe ought to have ended the matter right away, but the pesky thing turned out to be wearing copper armor. Buffy was starting to get annoyed. This demon had the potential to seriously ruin her barbecue.
“Stay!” swing “away!” swing “from my!” swing “potato!” swing “salad!”
The last blow did the trick. The breastplate shattered and the axe bit deep into demon flesh. Ichor exploded out and showered over Buffy. It was green, and sticky, and thick, and surprisingly cold. Buffy blinked, then scraped her face clean against the inside of her elbow.
“My word, yes,” said Giles, with the casual sympathy of a man not currently covered in half-solid pale green yuck.
“This is going to put me off pistachio ice cream for life,” said Buffy.
“Ohmygod, this is cold.” It was refreshing, actually, since the day was about 90 degrees in the shade. Or it would be refreshing if she didn’t suddenly feel the need to cross her arms across her chest. What had she been thinking when she put on that thin tank top?
“Fascinating,” said Giles, leaning close to look. “The temperature drop must be some kind of endothermic reaction. Or maybe it’s just, er, demonic.”
Buffy trudged over to the back door, dragging the axe behind her, slowly dripping goo.
“You’re not tracking that into the house,” said Giles, interposing himself between her and the door.
“This stuff is freezing, Giles! I gotta get it off!”
“Scrape it off.”
“Can’t you use a spell, and just, you know, make it vanish?”
“Hmm, yes, I do know a spell for this. My mother taught me this one when I was seven. Please face west.” Buffy took a moment to work out compass directions, then pointed herself away from the house. She heard a squeaking sound.
“Now face east.” Buffy turned. Giles moved his thumb over the end of the garden hose and nailed her with the spray.
“Look!” he said. “Magic!”