Smile, Darn Ya, Smile
So the Time And Relative Dimensions In Space machine, or TARDIS, as it was known at that time, chose to go to Earth, North America, United States, California, Sunnydale, Sunnydale High School, the library, the Hellmouth, in the twentieth century, hundredth decade, seventh year, fifth month, seventeenth day, twenty-third hour, fifty-ninth minute, and twelfth second. And not only did it land in the middle of a rather intensive battle, it landed directly on top of a rather large hole filled with a variety of demonic creatures. And the combined mass of demonic tentacles, brains, and other rather gooey bits of demon flesh with the surprisingly large bulk of the TARDIS provided a very effective barrier to encroaching demonic activity.
In other words, much like the little Dutch boy of legend, the TARDIS plugged the hole.
The dramatis personae in this epic battle filling the library, a tired-looking foursome, were struck dumbfounded by this sudden appearance, weapons still raised, muscles still tensed, bodies primed for the oncoming storm.
Except it was not a demon, monster, villain, or even mildly diabolical creature that they faced. Rather, out of the large blue box, with classic styling and the words "Police Box" emblazoned across the front, a single human-looking head poked out, with attractively ruffled hair and rather large thick black-rimmed glasses.
"Oh," he said, his voice cultured, polite, and terribly English. "Hello."
The scene did not receive the full dramatic pause it demanded, however, for, just as the nattily dressed man appeared from inside the box and offered his salutations, there was a loud crash, and a man fell through the skylight, instantly becoming impaled upon a rather sharp and pointy piece of wood that might have once been a bookshelf, a desk, or even a credenza.
The man, who had by now recoiled back into the box, did not even have the time to make a witty aside before the strange man, wearing all black and suffering strange facial deformities, like a Whitby Goth after a night drunkenly passed out on cobblestones, exploded into ashes, leaving only weathered, ancient bones.
There was another pause, a longer, more drawn out moment of silence, and the man managed to extricate his entire body from the box. "Hmm." he stated, pulling out a small pen- shaped tool that glowed at one end. He traced the tool along the skeleton, the blue light glowing over the bones, then looked up at the still tense people standing around him. "This is a vampire!" the man exclaimed.
The people, who, by now, were lowing weapons, untensing muscles, and realising that perhaps the forthcoming apocalypse was, at least, taking a five minute time-out, looked at him with an expression they so rarely got to use in a place such as Sunnydale -- disbelief.
"We know it's a vampire," one of the people said, a tall young lithe woman, the kind you expect to see either sleek- haired and modelling the latest fashions, or with an awful perm and cheerleading for a basketball team. "What are you?"
"Oh!" the man exclaimed, as he was fond of doing. He carefully stepped away from the box, wincing slightly as his delicately Converse-clad shoe tread upon what could only be the remains of a demonic tentacle. "Hello!" he said again, holding out his hand for the obligatory handshake. "I'm the Doctor!"
The single man, a quiet-looking middle-aged man, looking rather rough for wear and yet ruggedly attractive despite a large bruise upon his jaw and cracked glasses, blinked a few times in surprise, then finally quietly said "Doctor...?"
The Doctor smiled and shook the man's hand firmly. "Exactly." He looked over the people in the room. "I'm sorry..." he said, carefully picking his way through the debris. "Did I come at a bad time?"
The two other people in the room, one young redheaded girl wearing a unfashionable ensemble and a slightly older dark-haired woman who looked like the kind of girl who would gladly join the Doctor for a trip around the universe or two, and then, possibly, some literal travelling, looked at each other, then looked back at him.
"Um..." the girl said.
"Actually, I'd say you pretty much picked the right time," the woman said, looking the Doctor over.
"Excellent!" The Doctor clapped his hands together, causing the foursome to jump in surprise. "So..." He pointed back at the skeleton. "That is a vampire!"
"Was a vampire," a fifth voice piped up.
The five people inside the library looked at each other, as if wondering who had been practising the ancient art of ventriloquism, then looked towards the doorway.
A single hand waved through the broken window. "Guys?" the voice, female, young, and just a bit hoarse, said again. "Wanna open the door?"
After minutes of detailed exposition, complete with hand gestures, poses, segues, and the occasional flippant remark, the man known as just "The Doctor" learned all there was to learn about Sunnydale, the library, the concept of a vampire slayer, and, even more surprisingly, the names of the foursome he had originally met, and the threesome that had joined them at a later period.
So when Buffy suggested that the only proper way to cap a day of murder, mayhem, and inappropriately phallic demons sprouting from the floorboards was to party, the Doctor not only jumped at the opportunity, but might have performed a little dance.
After carefully securing the TARDIS, of course.
When asked about the rather impressive large blue box that was slowly settling into a combination of demonic gore and building debris, the Doctor gave a distracted and bored excuse involving time travel, multi-dimension hopping, and how it was perfectly understandable to leave your co- traveller at home if all she was interested in doing was watching the latest Eastenders omnibus with her mum. Only a third of the group understood only half of what he was saying, and none of them understood it fully, so, naturally, they did what any group would do when dealing with the non-understandable. They paused, looked at each other, then started heading to the party.
It took the Doctor only a few seconds to realise what had happened and quickly catch up.
The party, or, as it was known, the Spring Fling, was a whirlwind of colour, sound, and barely repressed teenage hormonal passion. There was dancing. There was snacking. There was even the surreptitious drink -- or not- so-surreptitious in the case of one Mister Giles, one Ms Calendar, and one Doctor, being all of an obvious mature age and more than in the spirit for spirits.
A stereotypical high school band, populated with rough ill- formed chords and cheap speakers, performed on stage, causing the Doctor to applaud and cheer and regularly point at the stage and shout "Dingoes! The Dingoes! On stage! This is amazing!"
After they departed from the stage, he spent a few minutes talking to each of them, keenly interested in what the small ginger guitarist had to say. Giles, lurking in the corner as only middle-aged librarians who happened to be male could, occasionally glanced over, staring at him with an expression that was hard to define, even for centuries-old vampires that wore all black and had romantic intentions towards blonde teenage girls.
However, the Doctor had a great many centuries' worth of experience with the lesser creature known as human, and, so, when he caught Giles' eye in-between discussing the prowess of attaining e-flat diminished ninth, he paused, holding the other man's gaze, and did not look away.
And much to his rather unexpected surprise, he felt quite a thrill at that fact. Which was more than likely why he bought Giles another drink. And then another. And another. And possibly just one more. Ms Calendar, who had clearly emphasised the "Ms" aspect of her name but then sweetly purred that the Doctor could call her Jenny at any time, raised a single well-groomed eyebrow at the fifth drink, but said nothing. If only because the high-definition surround-sound movies currently hijacking her thought processes was more than enough to keep her occupied. Particularly at home. Alone. In bed.
Especially when Giles took the Doctor home.
Giles awoke the next morning to discover a delicious- smelling cup of tea sitting on the bedside table. As he slowly got out of bed, sighing with cheerful exhaustion, ill- used muscles aching in protest, he took a sip of the tea, and noted that not only was this the best cup of tea he had enjoyed in a very long time, it was also Earl Grey, a blend he was fairly certain he did not have in his somewhat bare kitchen cupboards.
However, he was not one to complain. Particularly after a rather enjoyable, if overly vigorous, night.
As he grabbed his robe and walked down from the bedroom, he noted the open front door, something that would have normally filled him with a sense of dread, if they hadn't had saved the world tomorrow. Luckily, the Doctor's head peeked through the open doorway, hair even more attractively ruffled, and Giles smiled at the sight of him.
"Hello!" the Doctor said. "Lovely view out here!"
Giles joined him on the patio, mug of tea in his hand, beautiful sunrise in front of him. "Yes," he said. "It is rather lovely."
The two men, still in the afterglow of glorious sexual delights, sat on the patio, enjoying excellent tea, a beautiful sunrise, and the celebrated Californian late spring early morning weather.
"I had been wondering," Giles finally said, turning towards the Doctor. "Your...time ship..."
"The TARDIS, yes."
Giles smiled. "Yes." He paused. "What...exactly...will happen with it?"
The Doctor shrugged. "No clue. Right now, it's plugging up that Hellmouth of yours perfectly." He turned to Giles and grinned. "I really can't see a reason to take it out just yet, can you?"
Giles chuckled. "I suppose you're right," he said. "Still, I wonder...the demonic force coming from that area was quite strong. You don't believe that there's a...upsurge about to happen, do you?"
The Doctor thought about it for a few minutes, tilting his head and looking towards the school with a deep expression, as if millions of equations were being worked out in his powerful alien brain, then shook his head. "Nah. Couldn't possibly hap--"
A loud rumbling echoed through the town of Sunnydale, reaching a mighty crescendo just as a large blue rectangular object, more than likely TARDIS-shaped, suddenly shot out of the school, following a perfect parabolic trajectory into the nearby woods.
An unholy inhuman scream ripped through the air, and the Doctor and Giles looked at each other as the world rather abruptly came to an end.
"Oh bol--"