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Vegas Divine

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Summary: Xander, true to form, get into trouble, this time in Vegas. This time taking it to eleven, out of ten.

Categories Author Rating Chapters Words Recs Reviews Hits Published Updated Complete
Miscellaneous > Myths & Legends(Current Donor)FeynorFR1544,05062511,78610 May 1310 May 13No

Prologue

Disclaimer: I don't own Buffy the Vampire Slayer.
Challenge response: "Woke up in Vegas" (http://www.tthfanfic.org/Challenge-310) By Jinni.
Note: I started this as a Plotbunny, people wanted more...



Xander was woken up to a string of profanities, which he luckily was unable to understand.

He groaned, and grabbed his throbbing head. This was the worst hangover he’d had in a long time. The only one really. Considering his home life, he tended to avoid heavy drinking. Last night had been the exception, though. After the fight and collapse of Sunnydale, and the hectic weeks following it, they had all decided to spend a weekend in Las Vegas, now that they were passing through anyway. His head was telling him that this was not the best idea.

Not any more.

He pried open his eyes to take stock of his situation. His first revelation was that this wasn’t his room. For one, the ceiling was too far away, and too clean.

Second, the bed was too damned comfortable, compared to the one he had in the motel room.

Third, the string of profanities had yet to end.

HE looked at the woman pacing back and forth on the carpet at the end of the bed. Beautiful didn’t begin to describe her, an assessment made far easier by her being completely nude. If anything she looked like a Greek goddess. All the right curves, all the right features, and dark, almost black with a bluish tint, and close cropped hair.

And she spoke something that sounded vaguely like Greek. And she was upset, so he closed his eyes again, trying to figure out what had happened.

He could remember entering the casino. He remembered taking a tour of the slot machines, then talking, and some drinking. After that...nothing.

“Aww, what happened?” he groaned, as much to himself, as to subtly get the woman’s attention.

“Alexander?” she asked, in English, but with a slight accent.

“Yeah, but please, I prefer Xander,” he answered, once again opening his eyes, taking in the sight. Her head scrunched up in distaste.

“Alexander it is. It’s a good name, don’t sully it,” she replied firmly.

“Ok, and you are?” he asked. he was used to beautiful, bossy women, though most accepted his preferred name.

Instead of telling him, she dropped a piece of paper on the bed next to him. He gingerly reached for it. The ornamentation around the edge of the stiff paper filling him with dread.

And with good reason.

The beautifully scripted letters “Marriage Certificate” said it all.

He was screwed.

Alexander LaVelle Harris, of Sunnydale, California

to

...

His head snapped up so fast that it even made his neck pop. The hangover was gone, adrenaline was a beautiful thing at times.

“Artemis?”

Xander passed out.
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