The Examined Life of Mr. Gordo

AUTHOR: Zandra_x

DISCLAIMER:  Joss Whedon owns everything, I borrowed the pig. I'll give it back, please don't call the FBI.
RATING:  G
LOCATION:  Summer before S4.
SUMMARY:  Story written for bookishwench's Mr. Gordo ficathon. Written for redeem147 who wanted romance for the piggy and didn't want Buffy as a bitch or B/A loving. I don't think this is the romance she had in mind, but you have to play the cards your Muse deals you.

“..conjure thee to withdraw”

That’s the first thing I remember. That and sailing through the air and landing between the bed and wall behind it. I was wedged in tight, which was a good thing. Gave me time to assess the situation. One moment, utter unconsciousness and now I had a situation, and I was aware of it.

I won’t kid you that I figured it out from the get-go. The two days I spent suspended upside down in the furniture, pressed like cream cheese in a bagel, until Buffy found me and hauled me out by a leg, were essential in sorting things out.

It was the witch’s fault. That’s one thing I learned. Willow, witch-in-training. She was learning the craft, and what happened when she cast the spell seemed to surprise her as much as it did me.

Willow, caught by the same force that had me flying, had been knocked to the ground. She was making small yipping sounds and I could hear her scrambling to get up.

Somebody came into the room, fast.

“Willow, what happened?”

“Nothing, well, something. I’m just not sure what. Oh, Buffy, there were colored lights, and a sort of a whoosh. And maybe, more magic than I planned for.”

“What were you trying to do?”

“I’m looking for spells to change Amy back from a rat.”

“But why are you doing this stuff in my bedroom?

“I got bored waiting for you to finish doing your hair. And I got this idea. You see, it’s all a matter of proportion. I’m trying to find the right ratio of earth power to mind power, and I thought I’d try and see if I could get something to move, something like a doll or ….something.”

“And?”

“Well, I guess the mix isn’t right yet.”

So that’s how I learned how I got here. And why I could see and hear. Willow got it wrong, and here I was.

All I had at first was a close look at the carpet, so I didn’t see the people until later. Which was good, because they’re big, and they move so fast, they can loom over you before you even know it. It was kind of scary til I got used to it. The next two days were quiet and I found a certain, you know, perspective. The voices that I heard seemed to be attached to bodies that could move around. I couldn’t. Okay, I didn’t feel any great need to. I hung suspended, my short pink legs dangling in front of me while an iron bedpost gouged me in the side. It wasn’t that big a deal.

Later, Buffy rescued me from the squashing I was getting, and she put me on her bed. I could hear a lot of activity going on. Voices, thumpings, doors slamming. All in other parts of the house. Atop a stack of pillows I got to see everybody who came into the room. Mostly Buffy, of course. She came and went at all hours. Sometimes when I thought she was in for the night, she'd suddenly fling on some clothes, run out and I’d see her again at dawn. Then there was the other one that came in the room so much that I finally got it that she lived in the house, too. Buffy’s Mom. I just have to figure things out on my own.

I remembered Willow’s voice when I heard it again and then I got a look at her. I thought she’d be bigger, considering the life-giving magic and all. She stopped by all the time, and usually had one or two others with her. Buffy and Willow were girls, I learned the others were boys. It took me a while to make the distinction.

They watched a lot of television together in Buffy’s room, huddled up on the bed and sometimes one of them would casually grab me, so I would get a good gander at the screen, too. They’d get so involved in the movie, they’d squeeze me hard, the boys’ hands bigger but not stronger than Buffy’s. I liked the movies nights. There was a lot of laughing and talking. Something to think about during the quiet hours I spent in the bedroom.

The pictures on the television were confusing at first. I thought that people came in a small version, too. Just a silly pig. But I looked at the photos Buffy had of her Mom in frames in her room, and I got the connection. Big human, little picture. Then I realized that a lot of things existed outside this room and outside this house. And I started to think about that.

The boys, who were called Oz and Xander, didn’t come over as often as Willow. And after a while Xander didn’t come at all. He’d “gone away”, the others said. I missed him because he talked a lot and made the girls laugh. But I wondered about this “away”. Would Xander have adventures like the stories on television? Is that what life was like out there? It sounded good to me.

But I should explain that life where I was wasn’t bad. When Buffy was getting ready for bed every night, she’d fling all the extra pillows on the floor, but never me. Either she’d make a point of setting me down on the chair, or, and I can’t say I minded this, she’d settle down in the bed, one arm wrapped around me. Often she’d whisper to me. I learned about her being a Slayer that way. And about other people who’d gone away, and how much she missed them. And, then, she’d sleep. I didn’t seem to, but I’d drift off to a place that wasn’t like being awake. I’m just a plush pig; I really don’t know how to describe it better.

After a while, things got busier. Willow and Buffy were together every day, talking, dragging things in and out of the closet, looking at books. Mom (she’s really nice, I don’t think she’d mind me calling her that), was always popping in to ask Buffy something. Then it dawned on me. Buffy was going away, too. Like Xander. She wouldn’t be coming back to this room anymore. I really didn’t like that idea.

Buffy brought in empty boxes and started filling them. Once when Buffy was out, Mom came in, sat on the bed and started to cry. My back legs were under her and she shifted and grabbed me. She just held on and said, “Oh, Mr. Gordo”. But then the downstairs door slammed, and she used me to wipe her tears. She put me down, perked up my ears, and left. I wasn’t the only one who thought this was going to be a big, empty room without Buffy.

Well, the day came when Buffy started to move all the boxes out, so I knew she’d be gone soon. And I was thinking, So go. And she grabbed the last box and went out. I was just settling in for the quiet life, when she comes bursting backing the room, grabs me, and says, “Mr. Gordo, you’re going to college”.

We went bounding down the steps, I saw the rooms on the first floor in a blur, and she put me on the top of a box in the back of a car. I was going on a trip.

As Oz says, “Cool”.

I’d seen cars on television, and now I was in one. Perched where I could get a good look, I watched stuff stream past us so fast I couldn’t take it all in. First thing I remember thinking was, it’s all so big.

When we got where we were going, everybody grabbed a box and, soon, I was sitting on another bed in another room. All the people who helped Buffy move milled around for a while and then left. Willow stayed. I gathered from the conversation, she had a room in this college, too. There was another bed in our room and somebody else would be sleeping there. It was a lot for a pig to take in. Buffy, too, I guess, because when Willow left she went right to sleep and stayed in all night.

The roommate arrived the next day. Kathy was her name. She talked a lot like Xander did, but she didn’t make Buffy laugh. She was there sometimes when Buffy wasn’t, so she was something new to watch. But too much of the time they were both gone.

This whole story is pretty much leading up to what happened next.

It was dark in the room, and I was alone. I was snapped out of my daydreaming by the door being flung open, and a stream of people coming in. They were quiet and everybody carried an empty carton.

I was flung into a carton and had stuff piled on top me, so I didn’t get to see anything that was happening. We moved fast. We got where we were going and the boxes got dumped out. Hands reached down and one of them grabbed me.

I’d never seen anything like this place. Where Buffy lived, her clothes were in closets and cabinets. Here, everything was on the floor, being stepped on. And the people weren’t like the ones I was used to. Some of them were asleep on the ground. The ones moving around pushed and grabbed at each other. I got knocked out of the hands of one of them and landed in the corner. I’m thinking, this may be too much adventure.

And then I saw her. She was blonde like Buffy, but different. I guess if I had to use a word to describe her now, after thinking about it, I’d say she was glamorous. You know, something I’d never seen before and exotic.

She was in charge, I saw that right away. When the others got too excited or annoyed her, she’d make them quiet down with just a look. They called her Sunday. Her people were throwing around Buffy’s stuff and maybe I should have been mad, but there was so much going on and so much to see, I really didn’t think about that.

A couple of them started playing catch with me, flinging me back and forth and I went over Sunday’s head and I hoped she’d snatch me and hold me like Buffy did. But she didn’t. She only growled and the game was over and I was left on the ground.

That’s when the excitement really started. At first I thought Buffy was flying into the room, but really she just dropped from the ceiling. And landed at Sunday’s feet. Even Buffy acts different around Sunday, I thought.

But I guess Buffy was really mad about Sunday having her clothes and things. Because they started to fight. Like in those movies we used to watch sitting on the bed in Buffy’s room. If I ever wished I could close my eyes, it was then. Buffy and Sunday threw each other across the room, and everything moved so fast. Was this what it meant when Buffy said she was the Slayer?, I wondered. I was scared for both of them.

Then it was over. Sunday had disappeared. Just gone.

There were other people in the room, but I didn’t pay much attention. Then all the fighting stopped; Sunday’s gang members were gone, they disappeared like she did, or ran away. Xander was there, though, so I knew people could come back from being “away”. And for a time afterwards, I hoped Sunday would come back. But I’m pretty sure now she won’t.

Buffy and her friends gathered up her stuff and we went back to her room in the college. She clucked over how dirty I was and sent me to Mom to be washed. But now I’m back in her college room.

My eyes are always open, but I can go to a dreamy place that shuts out everything. That’s how I spend a lot of my time, when there’s nothing worth seeing. Sunday was bad Buffy said, and she must know. But it was lively at her place and when I do my daydreaming time, I think about being her plush pig and the adventures we’d have.

But, I’m Buffy’s Mr. Gordo, and she’ll probably cart me around wherever she goes, because I remind of, what? Home? Simpler times? Mom? She goes out and has adventures and I stay here and give comfort. She’s a nice enough girl, not what I’d call exciting though.

I’ve had my glimpse of the outside world. And everything since then has just been…Dullsville.

Mr. Gordo Home