Title: What's a Zeppo? Ooo...

Author: Scribe

Sequel/Series: The Evil Series

Fandom: Austin Powers/Buffy, the Vampire Slayer

Pairing: Implied only so far

Rating: NC17

Summary: Scott is fed up with the shenanigans at the Evil Lair (what else is new?), and decides it's time for a road trip.

Archive: Yes, but tell me where, give credit, and post my feedback address.

Status: WIP

Disclaimer: I did not create the characters here, I don't own them. I derive no profit from this effort. I mean nothing but respect for the creators, owners, and the actors and actresses who portray them.

Notes: **PLS--Pre-Lycanthropic Syndrome

Evil Series: What's a Zeppo? Ooo...
By Scribe

*BAM!*

Number Two, sitting peacefully at his personal computer, jumped in his chair as the door to his room slammed open, bashing into the wall. He looked around. Scott Evil, so dripping wet that his normally spiky hair was plastered over his face like wet snakes, stood in the doorway--glaring. Number Two sighed. "Mini Me or Fat Bastard?"

"Would you believe Mom?"

"What?"

Scott shut the door and stalked into the room, sneakers squishing with every step. "Okay,
technically it WAS Mini Me and Fat Bastard's fault." He sat on the edge of the bed. "Fat Bastard was chasing me again, and Mini Me tripped me. Mom used the fire hose to get that plaid hippo to let me go. She sorta blasted me out of his hands. I landed in the pool. Luckily he couldn't waddle around to the end before I did the lap, climbed out, and hauled ass. I've had enough of this shit, Tooey. I need a vacation--BAD."

"Badly."

"What?"

"You need a vacation badly."

"See? Even you agree. I have to get out of here, for a week or two at least." He rested his elbows on his knees, chin propped in his hands. "I don't know WHERE, though. I don't wanna touch the college fund, but it costs to live on the road for any length of time, and it isn't like I have relatives I can go visit." He made a face. "The very thought that there might be people out there from the same gene pool as my dad scares me to no end."

"What about Frau?"

He shrugged. "I suppose some of her Bund buddies might take me in for awhile, but I'm not sure I could handle any more Wagner and swastikas than I already do." Scott sat up suddenly, face breaking into a smile. "I know! I'll go to California."

"Not D.C.? I thought that you had a friend or two there you could stay with."

"I DID, but Fox and Alex had some sort of falling out. I think last time I talked to Alex, he said something about Fox trying to shoot him. Fox might not be the most laid back person in the world, but I thought him and Alex were getting tight. It must've been something pretty hairy to bring guns into it instead of just straps and paddles. And there's Walter, but I'm not really interested in having my butt tenderized right now. No, it's gotta be Cali," he grinned, "with maybe a side trip up to Cascade in Washington state."

The sparkle went out of his eyes. "But what am I gonna do for transportation? I know Dad--if I haul butt in the Evilmobile, he'll report it as stolen. I have my share of jailhouse fantasies, but I damn sure don't wanna live 'em out except when I can CHOOSE the guy givin' me a body cavity search."

"You can take my car," offered Number Two.

"The Beamer? No way!"

"I insist."

"Tooey, thanks, but really, no way. Me, behind the wheel of a Mercedes-Benz? Hello? The only thing that would attract more attention from the state troopers would be a screaming red sports car. They'd assume I stole it."

"Then you can take me with you."

Scott stared at him, then grinned slowly. "Yeah! It'll do Dad good to have to run this insane asylum without you for a while. Mom'll see that he doesn't burn the place down... Well, unless Austin decides to do one of his funky 'international man of mystery' raids." He hopped up and gave Number Two a fast hug. Two got damp, but didn't mind in the least. "Throw a few shirts and a change of eye patch in a bag, dude, while I go raid the kitchen for munchies. Won't be but a few." HE trotted for the door. "Oh, and if you hear a lot of screaming, don't sweat it. Mom handed over some pepper spray, in case Mutt and Jeff tried anything else."

~~~***~~***~~***~~***~~***~~~

The phone rang. Giles laid aside the manuscript he'd been reading and picked it up. "The Magic Box, California's premium emporium for all things Wiccan--and beyond. How may I help you?" There was silence on the other end of the line, save for the sound of traffic. "Hello?"

"Um, fuck. I think I have the wrong number." The voice was male.

"What number were you trying to reach?"

"I'm trying to get hold of my friend Oz. This is the number he gave me."

"Ah, Daniel. Yes, I do take messages for Daniel, since the boy can seldom afford to have his own phone line. He isn't here right now. Can I help you?"

"Can you tell me where I can reach him?"

"I'm afraid he won't be up for several hours. Last night was the full moon, and he's, um, he doesn't
sleep well then."

"Well, is there somewhere I can wait for him? I've driven all the way from Vegas..." there was a voice in the background, "Yeah, Tooey, I KNOW that you did a lot of the driving, too. It's for the sake of brevity, all right? And that's pretty much been screwed, since I had to explain it."

"Did you say Vegas? You wouldn't by any chance be Scott Evil, would you?"

"Not by chance, but by design, dude. I wasn't any accident--they SET OUT to make me."

"Yes, the attitude is definitely in place. I've heard quite a lot about you, Scott."

"Yeah? Who might you be?"

"Rupert Giles. I'm an old friend of Oz. He currently is without residence, so he's staying with me."

"Ozzy mentioned you. Shoulda recognized the accent. Sorry, but I haven't had enough caffeine. Tooey refused to let me have any more Jolt after the last time I made him pull over to let me take a whizz in the bushes."

"Why don't you and your friend come by The Magic Box? I can leave the shop under the care of my assistant for the rest of the afternoon, and we'll adjourn to my house and wait for Daniel to join us."

"Sounds like a plan."

Giles gave them directions, then hung up. *My, oh my. Scott Evil. If I recall correctly, the Council
considered keeping tabs on his father for awhile, then determined that he wasn't truly evil, merely annoying and inept.* "Anya, can you handle the shop for the next hour or so, and close up?"

The blonde ex-vengeance demon looked up from the shelf she was dusting. "Will I be allowed to physically chastise any customer who becomes annoying?"

Giles sighed. "We've discussed this before. The last one didn't press charges, but it cost me an entire set of healing crystals. Once again, no."

"Will I be paid more for doing this?"

"You will be docked if you do not."

"I can do it."

"Splendid. Oz has some friends coming in from out of town, and I'll need to take them to the house."

"Are they lycanthropes?"

Giles blinked. "I didn't ask."

"If they are, will you have enough space to store them all?"

"Anya, we do not STORE Oz--we merely, er, confine him. In any case, last night was the last of the full moon, so that won't be a problem."

Giles quickly finished up a few bits and pieces of paperwork. Anya was a big help with certain things, but she still had yet to grasp the modern need for carefully kept physical records. The fact that her word wouldn't be enough to satisfy any IRS agent who requested an audit wasn't a subject that Giles wanted to discuss with her.

A few minutes later the bell over the door jingled, and two men came in. One of them was a distinguished looking man of about Giles' age, wearing a nice suit and an eye patch. The other wouldn't have looked that much out of place at Sunnydale High, at least among the slightly ragged fringe element of skaters or head-bangers.

Anya bustled over to them. "Hello. Are you here to make a purchase, or to waste my time?"

"I applaud your honesty," said Scott, "Please tell me that you work on commission?"

Giles hurried forward. "Excuse her--she hasn't quite caught the hang of being human."

"Who has more experience with dealing with that than me? You must be Giles." Scott pumped Giles' hand. "I'm Scott, and this is Number Two. Ya know, this looks like he sort of place that would interest my friend--Fox. Got any alien contacting devices or interdimensional portals?"

Giles casually pushed a black-and-gold square lacquered puzzle farther back on a shelf. "Why do you ask?"

"A few hints Oz dropped. Just warn me away from anything that might summon up something flesh eating, or pitch me headfirst into another reality, huh? I want to get away from home, but not THAT far away. Tooey, check out the tweeds." Scott ran a finger down Giles' forearm. "N-i-c-e. Of course there's about, oh, six hours out of the year where you can comfortably wear those in Vegas, but still..."

Giles found himself swallowing. "Oz will be waking up soon, so perhaps we should go. What is it, Anya?"

The blonde ex-vengeance demon had been tugging on his sleeve. "Are you going to need both of them?"

"I... Need?"

"For sex."

"Anya!"

Anya shrugged, pointing, "Well, the little cute one is flirting with you, and the older one has been eyeing your fly, so I figured you were going to go home and have nice orgasms with Oz."

Giles cast the two visitors a desperate look. "She's... um... Her medication..."

Scott smirked. "Dude, my old boyfriend sometimes had a little trouble with the internal monologue going verbal at odd moments. I can deal."

"Anyway, if you don't need both of them, could you leave one for me? Xander has been in his Zeppo mood lately. We only had sex twice last night, and THEN he didn't even want to do anything fun. I went through all that trouble to have those marbles strung on a cord, and then he refused..."

Giles was practically pushing the two men out the door. On the sidewalk, Number Two said, "Hasn't she been on the Howard Stern Show?"

"Perhaps as a call in listener. It would explain some of my phone bills. My car is over here. Will you be able to follow me?"

"Unless you pull a Mario Andretti on me, no prob. What's a Zeppo?"

Giles and Number Two exchanged looks. Number Two sighed. "Usually he makes me feel young, but sometimes..."

"Scott," said Giles. "Do you know the Marx Brothers?"

He frowned. "I'm a capitalist, not a communist."

"Comedy."

Scott frowned a bit more. "Oh, yeah. Black and white movies. Sometimes I catch 'em if I'm up late, and there's no soft-core on Skinimax."

"Can you name them?"

"Er... Lemme think. Oo, not quite as bad as naming the seven dwarves, or the eight tiny reindeer, but... Um... Groucho, of course. Harpo, the one who didn't talk. Theeeen... Chico, the guy who played piano."

"And?"

"And? There are more? Oh," light dawned. "Zeppo?"

"Correct. He's the Marx brother that only the trivia experts remember--the one who was superfluous, in some opinions. He wasn't remarkably funny, or brilliantly subversive, like Groucho, and he couldn't play an instrument, like Chico or Harpo. He was more-or-less an afterthought in the movies."

"And this Xander person feels like a Zeppo?" Giles nodded. "Bummer and a half."

They made their way to Giles' house. Oz was curled up on the rug in front of the fireplace, snoring softly. "Oh, dear," murmured Giles. "He... uh... some of his monthly, er, indulgences occasionally linger."

Scott strolled over and squatted beside Oz, leaned down, and sniffed. "Don't smell any booze, or pot, and I don't believe Oz would do anything stronger. Smells like..." He sniffed again, then made a face as Oz opened his eyes. "Phew. Sorry, man, but you have doggie breath."

Oz blinked up at him, then grinned. "I'll get chlorophyll Milk Bones. Evil!" He grabbed Scott and
dragged him down on top of him, wrapping his legs around the other boy. "Good ta see ya, man!" He humped a little. "REAL good."

Giles snapped. "Oz, down!"

Scott grinned. "Yeah, go down, Oz!"

Oz returned the grin. "Love to, but I don't think that's what Giles means." He let go of Scott enough so that they could both sit up. "Tooey!" He bounced up and enveloped the flustered second-in-command in a hug. "You came, to!" He whispered in the older man's ear. "Or you COULD come, if ya want to."

Giles' eyes narrowed, and Number Two nervously patted Oz on the back, then set him aside. "Good to see you again, too, Oz."

Oz looked over at Scott. "Damn, man, you let his ass tighten back up."

"I can only do so much alone. I have to spend some time checking into colleges, and running errands and shit for my mom--I haven't been able to spend as much time on him as I'd like."

Oz shook Number Two lightly. "Loosen up, guy!" Number Two's eye darted frantically to the side. "What? Giles? Believe me, with all the things he's seen in his life, a little same sex boot knockin' isn't going to flap him."

"Oz, I'm sure he's a very tolerant man, but..."

"He's that, too, but really... Giles, tell him something way weird that's happened here."

"Recently?" Giles thought. "Well, there was that sudden infestation of giant mutated sea bass in a
local man's hot tub."

Number Two blinked, then gave Scott a stern look. "So THAT'S where they went! Scott, do you have any idea what a hissy your father threw over losing those?"

Scott shrugged. "Sorry, dude. I thought for sure leaving the swatch of plaid would make him think that Fat Bastard had eaten them."

"Normally it would have, but it was a Friday, and Bastard never eats fish on Friday."

Now Giles looked puzzled. "He follows orthodox Catholic dietary restrictions?"

"No, he's perfectly happy to eat nuns or priests on Friday, just not fish."

Giles patted Number Two on the arm. "You know, I'm going to be a lot less tense about our little
idiosyncrasies around you than I expected to be."

Oz said, "Hey, could you guys entertain each other for a little while? I wanna show Scott The Bronze, and it should be open in a few minutes."

Giles said, "If Mister Two has no objections, I have a rather fine port that I've been saving for company."

Oz put his hands on his hips. "And what am I?" Giles gave him a look. "Don't answer that. C'mon, Evil." They left. "We'll take my van, okay?"

"Great by me. When I drive Tooey's car, I keep having the urge to bite my nails down to the elbow. I'm used to the Evilmobil--it can pretty much go up against anything but a Hummvee without taking too much damage."

They climbed in, and Oz started the engine. "Check and see if Devon is still back there."

Scott peered into the back of the van. "Kinda hard to tell." Scott eyed the massive pile of laundry that pretty much covered the floor of the van. "You been raiding dry cleaners?"

"I gotta remember to do the wash one of these days. What's on top?"

"Um, looks like a... Banana Republic Tee-shirt."

"He's gone, then. Last night it was a pair of fatigues."

"Fatigues?"

"I'm pretty sure that Devon had Buffy's boyfriend, Riley, in there at some point. He's a GI Joe, of
sorts."

It was dusk, and patrons were just beginning to wander in when they arrived at The Bronze. Scott looked around with satisfaction. "Gotta tell ya, dude--I didn't expect to find anything this cool in a town this size."

"Sunnydale has all kinds of unexpected frills, but you wouldn't want to advertise all of them to the tourist trade."

A pretty blonde girl spotted them and came over. "There you are, Oz. I can't find Xander anywhere, and I need him to take my place on patrol tonight."

Scott lifted an eyebrow at Oz. "Neighborhood watch?"

"Of a sort. Buffy, hasn't he already taken over for you twice this month?"

"Well, yes, but those were emergencies."

"Waiting on line for tickets to see Justin Timberlake, and cramps?"

"Okay, I'll admit that the first one was a little selfish, Oz, but I was feeling really crappy that
other time."

"Buff, I PROMISE you that MY monthlies are a lot worse than yours, and I don't try to back out of my patrolling when I get PLS**. What's the reason this time?"

"Riley's back."

Oz sighed. "Can't you just take him with you?"

"Oz! I haven't seen him for, like, WEEKS!"

"Six days."

"Whatever. It FEELS longer. I need to," she cleared her throat, "blow off some steam."

Scott remarked, "I've always found nookie to be an excellent excuse for just about anything."

Buffy crossed her arms. "Okay, since I can't find Xander, YOU take my turn."

"Buffy!" Oz gestured at Scott. "I have a friend visiting."

Buffy finally looked at Scott, and her jaw dropped. Scott found himself dangling from her fist. "Are you and evil doppelganger vampire?"

Scott looked at Oz. "Man, is there something in the water around here that causes bitchy weirdness in your women?"

"Buffy, put him down," said Oz. "It's just a coincidence--trust me." He sighed. "Scott, if I left
you the keys, could you get home okay?"

"I guess so, but WHY?"

"This is too important to let it slide, dude, and I DO sort of owe some time, since I've been off playing gigs." He handed over the keys. "Hang out all you want, but don't go anywhere with anyone who has cold hands or a pasty complexion, okay?"

"Whatever you say."

"Tell Giles I'll be back around daybreak." He left.

Buffy was still eyeing Scott suspiciously. Scott cocked his head at her. "Ya know, for some reason you remind me of those Fembots that Mom came up with." Buffy blushed, and left without another word. Scott was not upset.

Scott spent a little time, had a soda, listened to the band. He was considering cruising a bit, but you
never could be sure about the reception in a strange town. It might be best to wait till he got back to Giles' house.

A tall, handsome brunette boy, wearing construction clothes, complete with chunky boots, walked past. The butt below the tool belt was spectacular. *Then again, some things are worth the risk.* He followed.

Spike was working the counter. Xander slumped on a stool. "Gimme a beer."

Spike eyed him coolly. "I'm assuming that you have enough money to pay my bail and defense lawyer, plus support me till I get another job, and bribe someone to cut red-tape to reopen this place so that the owner doesn't stake my ass for lost profits."

"Gimme something loaded with sugar and caffeine, then. I need SOME sort of lift after the day I've had."

"Dude, there are better ways to get a buzz."

Xander glanced over at the boy who'd sat down beside him. *Cute, but not local. Wonder if he's legal?* "Legal ways?"

"I'm not sure if they still have the statutes on the books here, but usually they don't bother to
prosecute, if you're discrete enough not to do it in the streets and scare the conservatives." He offered his hand. "Scott Evil."

*Hm. Mayhap a little discretion is needed here.* "Alex Harris." Spike snorted. "You have something to say?"

"Me?" He smirked. "You know me, 'ALEX'--quiet as the grave." He deposited a soda in front of Xander.

"You should be smacked for that." Spike plucked a cherry from the garnish station and dropped it in Xander's glass. "This is a more than one cherry pun." Spike dropped in a second. "Okay, I won't report you to the bad humor police."

"That's big of you, coming from the King of Groaners." Someone farther down was banging a glass on the counter. "Excuse me, duck." He started off. "How the fuck do you feel about swallowing broken glass, you wanker?"

Scott blinked. "How much caffeine does he drink?"

Xander took a sip of his drink. "It's not drinking CAFFEINE that causes it."

"Wanna take that over to a booth?"

Xander studied Scott. *Fuck it. It's been a bitch of a month. I'm not sorry to be broken up with Anya, but I HAVE been on a slow cuddle track since Oz has been out of town.* He gave a mental snort. *Yeah, try 'celibate'.*

*I think he needs some persuading.* "Let me put it this way." Scott reached over, tweezed the stem of one cherry between his nails, and popped the tiny fruit in his mouth. He did some vigorous twisting and poking, then swallowed. He pulled the cherry stem out of his mouth. "Hold out your hand."

"You're not gonna do something gross, are you?" But Xander held out his hand. Scott placed the stem in it. Xander looked down. The stem had been tied into a knot--a DOUBLE knot. He looked up at Scott, who wiggled his eyebrows. "I have a car."

"I have a van."

"I have a nearby apartment, complete with bed and beer."

Scott stood up. "The beer is a nice thought, dude." As Xander stood up, Scott gave his butt a quick
squeeze. "But you had me at hello."

"I didn't say hello."

"Your ass waved, man. Let's go."

END PART 1