Hang Donald
Darcy Galvan

TITLE: Hang Donald
AUTHOR: Darcy Galvan
E-MAIL: mscribe@angelfire.com
SUMMARY: The duck of love dooms the Buffster.
DISTRIBUTION: drop me a line and it's yours
DISCLAIMER: I only own the duck. The rest belongs to Joss and Co.
NOTE: Yet another foray into my madness. Don't blame me. Blame the duck. It told me to write this.
DATE ARCHIVED: 6 November 2000

The stuffed duck did it. It spelled my ruin and I curse that adorable, cuddly, smiling little face every time I see it. Down with Donald! Well, it wasn't really so much Donald as a yellow duck with purple spots (I don't get the whole spot thing either). It doesn't matter, it still means that I've got yet another reason to be miserable and geeky around him every time he's there. And now, of course, it sits on my shelf. Staring at me. Laughing at me. And wouldn't you know, idiot that I am, I went and named the thing. Norbert. Don't ask.

We went to the fair, and I'd curse that too, but it's too nice a thing to curse.

Yes, as a matter of fact I am a little wiggy about this whole thing, but I've got a right to be.

He played that stupid game where you toss the stupid balls and they go in the stupid basket to get it. And obviously I was a fool to think that he'd just win me a teeny little thing. Noooooo. He went and won the WHOPPER! The one just big enough to be huge and cuddly, but not cumbersome. Well, when you're trained in battle and knife throwing and the like, you'd be pretty good at carnival games, huh? (That, and if the game runner had cheated him, he probably would have gotten his ass kicked or a severe reprimanding with very large and surprising words). And then he went and gave it to me. Perfect.

Somehow I didn't picture him as the cotton candy ferris wheel type, I guess I was wrong. He actually seemed to really be enjoying himself. As a matter of fact, his favorite ride was the one where you sit in the little car and that spins, while the bar it's on is swinging around. He got off with his hair all messy and a huge grin spread across his face. Lucky Willow got to ride in the car with him. Yes, a little jealous. Riley couldn't have just come, could he? It would have distracted me, I mean, I so would not have noticed Him at all. Of course THAT'S a big fat lie, but I can imagine a simpler solution, can't I? Of course not. (Well, yeah, I'm a little edgy) He was there...all day; not that I didn't enjoy it, though.

Especially when I got to go on the ferris wheel with him. God bless Xander's little head, I think he knew and snagged Will right away...it was a big wheel...four were allowed on.

God only knows how Willow and Xander got him to say yes to coming with us in the first place. *I* like to think that it was because I'd entranced him with my winning smile, feminine wiles, rapier wit and childish pleading (well, maybe the childish pleading). Then again, I *AM* the one lamenting over a stuffed animal and a forty year old man.

I could just throw it out. It would be the simple solution. Then again, that's not *EVEN* going in the 'Consider' pile because *HE* gave it to me. The OTHER simple solution would be to tell him how I feel. Of course...how do you calmly explain to someone that they doomed you with a water foul?


It's there. That damn yellow duck is sitting right up on a shelf above her bed. Well, I didn't expect her to throw it away, I suppose. However, it was still a shock, albeit, not an unpleasant one.

I won it for her when we all went to the fair. She seemed rather surprised that I had managed to win. I, who could throw a knife backwards over my shoulder and hit a target dead on (I never fail to win at darts. I could take that up as a business. Dart hustler, an interesting thought. I think all Watchers can do that, perhaps that is why we're well off apart from the Council's support --dart winnings). The duck was won, and so it was given to Buffy (middle aged men can't very well have large and brightly colored stuffed animals hanging about their places). A lovely smile spread across her face as she took it and gave it an experimental squeeze.

Of course, now, I'll have that image of her sweet, innocent smile, her hair in braids, running through my mind. She seemed so happy that day, screaming on the rides as she never screamed in fear, in battle. She got a butterfly painted on her cheek, shimmering purples and blues, catching the sunlight and my eye. Running across the beach with Xander and Willow at sunset after we'd left the fair, but hadn't wanted to go home. She threw sand at me. Obviously I had to chase her down in retaliation. We ended up in the surf, I tried to tackle her, she ended up being the tackler and we ended up in the water. Willow and Xander standing on the shore, shaking their heads in mature self-righteousness....right before he gave her a shove and she ended up dragging him down with her, tumbling them both in the ocean. Her hair swinging in pale, wet ropes around her face...whipping her head around, her aim with those tresses is about as deadly as her precision with a sword. Not that I minded.

One can only hope that her memories of that day are as wonderful as mine.


Damnit. It's looking at me again. Yes! The duck! No need to look so smug, I already told you that this is wigging me out. I'd swear, if that thing could talk it would just be hissing -- quacking? -- "tell him....TEEEEELLLLLLLLL HIIIIIIIIIM." My memories of us playing in the ocean, his glasses forgotten on the beach, shirt sticking to him, hair damp and wild with that beautiful smile, so full of life, spreading across his features.

I can't tell him.

Then why am I hoisting this duck under my arm and leaving for his home?


Giles started at the pounding on his door and moved downstairs. Buffy stood at the door, The Duck in tow. She stepped past him through the door.

"Would you like to come in?" he asked drolly.

"Jokes! Always with the jokes and the humor that's so British with the funny that's not funny and the ha with the.....Ah!" She broke off her rambling. Giles was a bit taken aback with her outburst at the same time he was trying to conceal laughter, pressing his lips together. "And yet he smiles!"

"Buffy, is something wrong?"

"No. Yes! Well, yes."

"And what might that be?"

"As if you didn't know." She looked at his completely confused expression. She whipped The Duck up and shook it in front of his face. Suddenly feeling foolish, she lowered it. She stumbled a bit over the next words, trying to keep her momentum, failing horribly. "Well, I mean, I guess you don't know. Seeing as how I've gone crazy!" She shook her head. "Okay, Buffy, just walk out that door before you embarrass yourself anymore. Maybe you just haven't done anything in a while and the boredom has driven you NUTS!" She was walking towards the door when Giles grabbed at her, managing to catch the duck.

"Buffy, after you burst in here and shake a duck at me, I think I deserve to know what's going on with you, hm?" He looked at her expectantly. He hadn't forgotten the duck either, but he certainly didn't think there was anything wrong with it.

She looked at him a little sheepishly. "Sorry about the duck," she said, giving a little deomonstrotory shake. "I'm just a little...wigged."

"As I see," Giles replied with a smile. She rolled her eyes.

"It's just that it's kinda started my....insanity. Why did you give it to me?"

"Well, it's not as if it goes with my decor. Do you not like it? I think that it's rather a nice duck," he said, taking it in his hands.

"That's the problem," Buffy answered. "Pardon me for this," then she leaned up and kissed him. His mouth and eyes opened wide in shock....then spread into a foolish grin. Buffy glared. "You screwed me over with that stupid duck."

The End