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Prompt: 459 - Kokopelli
Rating: PG
Summary: Another chapter for Shanshu
Word Count: 985
Waiting for the bags always took forever at LAX. Buffy knew she should have insisted on carry-on but Wesley had insisted on bringing demon relics from the raid where they'd rescued Angel. When he'd said they might help stop the apocalypse, Buffy had been too busy ignoring Angel's griping about Spike's shanshu to counter Wes' arguments. And so here she was standing at LAX by the baggage claim. Waiting.
Up on the level above, the main level of the airport which made this some kind of a basement – right? – were screens, three that she had a clear view of. As the closest blacked out, Buffy hoped against hope that they might be shutting the screens down. Yeah, they gave her something to watch, but she should be keeping an eye on people, making sure they weren't demons and such-not. On the screen, feathers jutted back and forth three times in a rhythmic fashion. The feathers were replaced by a silhouette, a striking birdlike figure but the lights, flashing on, revealed a man dressed in blue, purple, and silver feathers. From his arms, which were stretched up and out, the feathers draped down like a cape. Above were the words Cirque du Solei and Kokopelli. A close-up of the man's face, more blue and silver with feathers rising above giving him an exotic and seductive look, was replaced by two figures dancing. The feathered man, leaping into the air, almost seemed to be flying across the stage. The female, dressed in somebody's idea of native garb, darted across the stage, not leaping as the man did, but her performance was so energetic that Buffy could feel a sympathy ache in her legs just from watching.
Turning from the screen, Buffy found Angel, waiting right by where the bags would get dumped out, as if that would make them arrive faster, and staring toward the sunrise, which was definitely rising. At least Andrew would be picking them up in a car with non-dusty-boyfriend glass. But after fifteen hours of Angel brooding, she needed a break. “So, Kokopelli,” she said to Wes. “Isn't he that Indian flute guy? American Indian I mean, not Indian Indian.”
“Native American, yes, the Hopi specifically but based on ancient Anasazi glyphs. He's a seductive figure of course, having to do with fertility. The modern imagery has been rather, um, emasculated.”
“Ugh, fertility, not so seductive.”
“Oh, I don't know. Seeing Fred's round belly, knowing she's carrying my child, there's a quality to it that's rather arousing.”
“Yeah but wait till you've got three AM feedings five nights in a row. See how sexy you find it then.”
“I'm sure fatherhood will be rewarding even with the ordeals of three AM feedings.”
“Oh, hey, bags are coming out. I guess we should join Mr. Grumpy-pants at the carousel and why do they call it a carousel anyway? It's not like it'd be a fun ride.”
“As Andrew can account for,” Wes agreed.
“Well, he was sort of fleeing that knish demon at the time.”
“K'nsk.”
“Gesundheit.”
Wes gave her a glare as they joined Angel who'd grabbed two of their three bags. “Shouldn't our ride be here by now?”
“I'll give Andrew a call.”
While Wes dialed up Andrew, Buffy stared at Angel. I missed you too, dear, she thought. Not that they'd been apart for long but he could, you know, sort of try to make up from being so broody the entire trip. Spike wouldn't have let some little thing like somebody else shanshuing make him all grouchy and ignorey of the girlfriend. Buffy sighed. Of course Spike wasn't the man, vamp, she loved but, damn, wouldn't life have been easier with him.
“That's odd.” Wes was staring at his cell as if he'd never seen one before.
“What?”
“It's Andrew. He isn't answering.”
“Of course he isn't.” Angel, if anything, looked even grumpier. Maybe she should start calling him Eeyore.
“Andrew always picks up,” Buffy said. “Remember that time when we were rappelling into that volcano and the cell rang and he wanted to go after it so he could answer?”
“Well, he's not answering now.”
“There aren't any volcanoes in LA, right?”
“None that I'm aware of,” Wes replied.
“Give Xander a call and see what's up.”
“I'm afraid he isn't answering either.”
“Willow?” Buffy asked.
Wes shook his head.
“We can't have gone all apocalypsey already, could we?”
Indiana Jones' theme started playing from his cell. There'd been no need for his whole squad to start laughing when they'd heard what song he'd assigned to Wesley. It made sense. The guy had that whole scholarly thing going and Indiana Jones was an archaeologist. Besides that meant Giles could have the Shawn Connery theme even though Giles wasn't Wesley's father but he was older and they were both Watchers, original Watchers that is, so it sort of worked. And then it hit him. By the mighty thews of Thor, the airport. Nobody knew to pick them up. “Oh, hey, I need to get this. Angel, he needs a car with speical glass because he's a va … uh, he has a skin allergy and exposure to sun, that really does him in like as in boils and skin peeling away until it looks like he has leprosy even though he doesn't, have leprosy that is and …”
There was no need for that Rico guy to grab his cell and crush it in one fist. Andrew heard himself gulp as shards of what had been his cell phone were dropped to the ground. “Actually it was sort of important that I answer that. I mean not just important to me but sort of important to everybody.”
“Tell you what, little man. You tell us where Will is and we'll get you another phone.”
Will, as in Spike, whom had vanished so completely that nobody knew where he was. Great.