Author: Meltha
Rating: PG for disturbing childhood images
Feedback: Yes, thank you. Meltha
Spoilers: For extremely vauge parts of BtVS season 4 and 5
Distribution: Fanfiction.net and the Bunny Warren. If you're interested, please let me know.
Summary: Written for the prompt “My drug induced (Chocolate and German Food) ramblings... Xander, Buffy, Teletubbies, good old fashioned Riley bashing, Papa Smurf and of course, the Pilsbery doughboy”
Disclaimer: All BtVS characters are owned by Mutant Enemy (Joss Whedon), a wonderfully creative company whose characters I have borrowed for a completely profit-free flight of fancy. Kindly do not sue me, please, as I am terrified of you. The Teletubbies, the Smurfs, and all other weirdness appearing herein are also used without profit and without copyright infringement intended. I am also terrified of all of you as well, so again, lack of a lawsuit would be appreciated. Thank you.
Author's Note: Thie was written for the Gud Summaries ficathon, which involved taking an odd summary from ff.net and writing a fic around it. I’ve never read the original work this summary summarized. It could be extremely good. This is my insane take on it.
Dedication: To PBS. Why? Why not?

Childhood Memories Gone Very, Very Wrong

It seemed like an average Tuesday night in Sunnydale, which means that massive evil lurked around every corner and was being fought by one lone teenage girl with a destiny and a killer collection of shoes. Sadly, though, this was not really an average night, for things Buffy had never before dealt with would confront her this eve. Before the dawn would rise, reality itself would be bent in two and leave her sanity twisted upon the blasted surface of her mind.

Or something.

It was barely ten o’clock when Xander came racing towards Buffy as she rounded the eastern edge of Sunnydale U’s campus. From the look of terror on his face, she immediately concluded that the apocalypse was happening again.

“Okay,” she said bracing herself. “What’s up this time?”

“It’s terrible. I mean… it’s just not right,” Xander said, his eyes nearly brimming with tears. “We’ve got a massive problem on our hands.”

Buffy hadn’t seen Xander this terrified since the rumor that the X-Men comics were being discontinued. He took a deep breath, glanced around suspiciously, then pulled her closer to whisper in her ear.

“The Initiative’s completely lost it,” he hissed urgently. “Riley’s buddies have gone too far.”

“Why? What’d they do?” she asked, getting nervous.

“We both know I have no problem with them sticking chips in vampires. I mean, not a big fan of the fangy persuasion here,” he said, “but they’ve started experimenting on other things.”

“What other things?” Buffy asked, but before she could get an answer out of Xander, a creature suddenly rushed towards her.

On a scooter.

Wearing a tutu.

“Eh-oh!” yelled the yellow blur as it bore down on the two of them, its eyes gleaming wickedly gold in the moonlight.

“Like that!” Xander yelled as the two of them dove into the bushes.

“The hell?” asked Buffy, deeply confused as the thing performed a U-turn, did a back flip, then came back at them at full tilt, its weirdly pale face a contorted mass of bumps and a pair of elongated fangs glinting savagely.

“Let’s get out of here before the rest of them show up!” Xander hollered, and the two took off towards Giles’s home, managing to escape the demonic thing by going over bumpy ground that made the scooter blow a flat.

When they arrived at Giles’s home, Willow, Tara, Anya, and somehow even Spike had convened already. There was a sense of desperate activity hanging in the air. Books cluttered every surface in haphazard piles, Willow was typing so quickly it seemed her life depended on it, and Giles had actually paced a hole in the carpet. Hey, it had to happen eventually.

“Giles, what was the yellow thing out there, and please don’t tell me it’s what I think it was,” Buffy said.

“What do you think it was?” Giles said.

“A vamped Teletubby,” Buffy replied, barely able to form the words, “but that’s not possible.”

“Oh, Buffy,” Giles said with a sigh, sitting down on the couch, “I’m afraid it’s entirely possible.”

“See!” Xander said, nearly hysterical. “I told you this was bad!”

“You’re telling me Xander and I were almost run over by Tinky Winky?” Buffy asked, her lip curling into shocked disbelief.

“No. The yellow one is Laa Laa,” Giles said, rubbing his forehead. “We believe Tinky Winky is actually the evil mastermind behind the current rampage of violence, crime, and vandalism involving Tubby custard being thrown at public buildings.”

“Did you just call Tinky Winky an evil mastermind?” Buffy said, an expression of mixed disbelief and disgust on her face. “How did this happen?”

“It appears that in an effort to replace the rogue Adam, the Initiative in its utter foolishness attempted to build another demonic servant that could subdue him and bring order back to the city,” Giles explained as he tossed another useless book into the reject pile.

“So they chose a Teletubby?” Buffy asked. “Why?”

“According to Riley, the Initiative thought they were adorable,” Giles said with a roll of his eyes. “They believed what had made Adam so grumpy was his ugliness.”

“And things didn’t exactly go to plan, I take it?” Buffy said, and Willow nodded sadly.

“Po and Dipsy just knocked over a 7-11 on Oak Street. They drank a whole machine-worth of Slurpees between the two of them and they’re now on a murderous sugar rush,” she said. “And Tinky Winky is running amok at the Bronze. Last we heard, he had a whole slew of people trapped in there and was forcing them to listen to Raffi.”

“That’s inhumane,” Buffy said. “Okay, so, does the usual staking method work?”

“No,” Giles said. “Their hearts are behind those blasted television screens, which appear to be quite impenetrable.”

“We’re looking for a weakness,” Tara said. “But there’s really not all that much information in the Watcher’s Diaries about PBS based demons.”

“Not only that,” Anya piped up, “but I’m getting a crazy craving to sing ‘Old McDonald Had a Farm’ from reading all this stuff. This never would have happened with the Muppets.”

“Agreed,” Giles said. “But that still doesn’t solve the problem. We need to figure out a way to undo their reign of terror before Sunnydale becomes, well, a perpetually sunny pastureland under blue skies with an inordinate number of bunnies.”

“Bunnies!” Anya shrieked. “There are bunnies involved in this?! Why did no one tell me there were bunnies! Oh my God, Xander, we’ve got to evacuate immediately!”

“Actually, that doesn’t sound like a bad idea,” Spike said, glancing up from his book. “What do you say, Rupert? Running away sound like an option?”

“Spike, shut up,” Giles replied, cleaning his glasses rapidly. “Also, when you’re done with that volume, check the train and bus schedules.”

“I still don’t really get this,” Buffy said. “I mean, the Teletubbies are a kiddie TV show, aren’t they? How did the Initiative make them real, and, more importantly, evil?”

“It appears that we have Riley to thank for that development,” Giles said. “When the Initiative decided to multiply their losses by trying to defeat Adam using yet another scientifically mutilated lifeform, they tried to think of the least threatening lifeform they could find, and Riley suggested that the Teletubbies were an excellent choice. What’s out there aren’t really Teletubbies, you see. The Initiative only had the demons they were trying to control take on the physical form of Teletubbies in order to make them more docile. It apparently didn’t work.”

“That is the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard,” Buffy said slowly.

“Quite,” Giles agreed. “Sadly, it gets worse. After their initial attempt proved unsuccessful, they tried again.”

“Don’t tell me,” Buffy said. “Let me guess. They brought back Mr. Rogers as a demon?”

“Please, Buffy,” Giles said, looking offended. “He was actually a very nice man. And yes, they did, but the demon inside him was allergic to wool and the cardigan killed him almost immediately.”

Willow glanced up from her book long enough to answer Buffy’s unspoken question. “Smurfs, Buffy. There are 99 demonic Smurfs in Sunnydale. Granted, they’re still only three apples high, but you’d be surprised how much trouble those things can cause, Papa Smurf in particular. He’s already contaminated the water supply with Smurfberry juice.”

“What’s that do?” Xander asked.

“Turns you blue and makes you say ‘smurf’every few words,” Anya said. “Also, it’ll stunt your growth.”

“I’ve turned off the city water supply,” Willow said. “But I was too late to save, well…”

Riley walked out of the kitchen, looking miserable. He was also a shockingly bright shade of sapphire.

“How’s it Smurfin’?” he said sadly.

“Not terribly well,” Giles replied. “How are you?”

“Not too Smurfy,” Riley said. “I tried to Smurf the Smurf like you Smurfed me too, but the Smurfing thing Smurfed me in the Smurf. I’m still Smurfing, though. Give me a Smurf and I’ll have it Smurfed out.”

“You do that,” Giles said kindly as Riley went back into the kitchen.

“What did he say?” Buffy asked.

“I’ve no idea,” Giles said. “He’s either cleaning out the refrigerator or trying to split an atom with the blender. Either way, it keeps him out of the way so we don’t have to deal with his other symptom so much.”

From the kitchen came a muffled chorus of “La la la lalala, la lala la la! La la la lalala, la lala la la!”

“Dear heavens, is there any song more annoying than that?” Giles muttered.

“Actually, the chorus of ‘Tom’s Diner’ beats it in the torture scale by half a point, but some vengeance demons think the results were rigged. I’ve found playing the ‘dit dit dit dit’ part simultaneously with the Smurf theme song causing maximum suffering, though,” Anya said with a smile. “Those were good times.”

“You frighten me,” Spike said slowly. “Very much.”

“Aw, pshaw,” Anya said, blushing delightedly.

“So, essentially, my boyfriend is a six foot tall Smurf?” Buffy said, staring at the kitchen.

“Yup,” Anya said cheerfully. “Kind of an improvement, don’t you think?”

Buffy shook her head quickly to clear it. “Okay, so how do I kill the Smurfs? Geez, I don’t believe I just said that.”

“A toothpick through the heart should do it,” Willow said. “Kind of like a whole lot of really unappetizing appetizers. That or setting fire to the mushroom village in the middle of Wilkins Memorial Park. There’s a lot of them, but most of them are really, well, kind of dumb.”

“Oh, hey!” Tara suddenly called out. “I think I’ve got the answer to our Teletubby troubles. They’re probably still vulnerable to beheading, and possibly Jerry Fallwell, but we can also kill them using negative energy. You know, like, depressing things.”

Willow beamed at her proudly.

“Okay,” Buffy said. “Depressing stuff...”

“I Smurfed the Smurfing Smurfinator with the Smurfy Smurfer and Smurfingly Smurfed the Smurf, but the Smurf of Smurfing is still Smurfed to the Smurf,” Riley called, throwing something against the wall.

“I think that rhymed,” Anya said offhandedly.

“Oh, Smurf it!” Riley yelled.

“Hey, that gives me an idea,” Buffy said, smiling.

“Wait, you’re not planning on… Smurfing them?” Xander said, looking ill.

“I don’t even want to know what that means,” Buffy said, glaring at him. “Giles, I need a book, and I’ll bet you’ve got just the one.”

When the Scoobies hit the street a few minutes later, they were heavily armed with most of Giles’s armory and from the local Greek restaurant. Spike was noticeably absent, however, claiming that he was getting out of Sunnydale before it turned into a Tubby custard filled crater, but it’s possible he was hovering just out of sight protectively, waiting to rush to the rescue if needed. On the other hand, it’s also possible that there is a limit to what even Spike’s doomed romanticism can take, and he may well have hopped a bus to Fresno. The gentle reader may decide.

It wasn’t hard to follow the path of destruction that led to the four terrifying figures silhouette against the moon, their antennae casting weird shapes on the surrounding brick as they watched reruns of the Twilight Zone on their tummies. On closer inspection, the ground was a moving mass of dark blue in the moonlight, swarming with evil little beings, all intent upon causing mayhem and getting that damn song stuck in everybody’s brain.

“Alright, guys,” Buffy said, taking in the scene with a sense of horror. “Let’s do it.”

With a blood-curdling battle cry, they ran forward, bent nearly double, wielding wooden shish kabob sticks.

“They’re Smurfing us!” yelled a high-pitched voice. “Smurf them! Smurf them! SMURF THEM!”

It was a battle of epic proportions, of massive slaughter, of, well, frankly, incredible silliness. Xander began to gleefully see how many Smurfs he could get on a stick at one time until they started biting his ankles in retaliation. Buffy stood in the middle of a field of Delft blue dust, raining a swift and Smurfy death on all within her reach. However, as the numbers of teensy terrors dwindled, the Teletubbies began to rouse themselves from their self-induced TV torpor and realize they were under attack.

“Nooo,” they said in unison as they stood up as one. Tinky Winky produced an AK47 from his magic bag (not a purse), and Po began blithering in Cantonese that no one, even the other Teletubbies, could understand, but a crazed vacuum cleaner came charging to her side. Dipsy donned his black and white hat, obviously set for a fight, while Laa Laa grabbed an orange ball and threw it down the alleyway, calling forth a herd of frighteningly fake sheep on pull carts, each looking murder at the Scoobies through red eyes.

“Awww, a wittle wam!” the yellow demon cackled triumphantly.

“God, this is weird,” Anya said as she polished off Vanity Smurf with his own hand mirror. “But at least it wasn’t those bunnies.”

At that moment, Willow reached into her bag and pulled out the book Buffy had asked Giles for. She began to read in a loud, clear voice.

“'You do not do, you do not do any more, black shoe, in which I have lived like a foot for thirty years,'” she yelled at the Teletubbies, who began to quake in terror.

“Sylvia Plath’s ‘Daddy’?” Tara asked Giles quietly.

“Marvelous poet, but she is rather depressing. I was surprised Buffy knew of her,” Giles said, skewering Jokey Smurf before he could open yet another exploding surprise package.

“She likes that poetry class we’re taking,” Tara said as she turned Painter Smurf into a pile of dust. “Do you feel a little, you know, guilty about this?”

“Not really,” Giles said as he managed to decapitate an insensible Po. “Had it been characters from H. R. Pufnstuf, then I would be traumatized. Now that was great television.”

Tara gave him a quizzical look as she managed to cut the hose off the Noo Noo, which busily was attempting to vacuum up the Smurf dust.

After Anya and Xander had done away with Laa Laa, the sheep proved relatively easy to conquer since they could only move forward. Still, their incessant bleating had been truly annoying. Willow continued to read from Plath’s Birthday Poems until Dipsy had turned into lime-colored gelatin and exploded, ruining her newest fuzzy sweater. Finally, only two adversaries remained: Tinky Winky, and Papa Smurf himself.

“Bye bye, bye bye, bye bye, bye bye!” yelled Tinky Winky threateningly.

“You Smurfed it, Tinky Winky!” Papa Smurf agreed from his perch upon the purple Teletubby’s shoulder. “Let’s Smurf them!”

Buffy took a mighty leap, and in one swift movement, she jumped over Tinky Winky’s head, using her sword to cut off its head while plunging her last remaining shish-kabob into Papa Smurf’s bare chest.

“That wasn’t Smurfy at all!” he called as he turned into dust, and Tinky Winky’s TV screen flashed a very rude comment at them all before flickering to black.

“Well, I’m glad that’s over,” Buffy said, cleaning her sword on one of the little white hats that littered the battlefield. “At least there isn’t anything else…”

But before she could finish her sentence, she was hit from behind by a gigantic white figure.

“That can’t be,” Xander said, shocked.

“It is,” Anya told him as she squinted at the creature.

“The Pilsbery Doughboy?” Willow asked, her voice slightly shaky. “But… he’s so nice, with the cinnamon rolls and the cookies and things.”

Buffy managed to pull his chef’s hat over his eyes, and as he was stumbling around blindly, she produced a stake and thunked it into his chest.

“Hmmm-hmmm!” he cried happily, then exploded into a pile of unbaked cookie dough. Buffy filed the imagery away for later reference.

“Now are we done?” she asked the night, but nothing returned her question with a witty quip, so she assumed the answer was yes.

“That was hands down the weirdest thing we have ever faced,” Xander said, gazing at the mess in front of him.

“I’d have to agree with that. Willow, my Plath?” Giles asked, extending his hand.

“Oh, right!” Willow said handing it back to him. “Say, who wound up staking Smurfette?”

“Smurfette?” Giles said, confused.

“Yeah, she’s the only girl Smurf,” Willow said.

“Wow. One girl and 98 boy Smurfs,” Anya said approvingly. “I like those odds. She must have been very busy.”

“She always kind of stood out,” Willow continued as though Anya hadn’t spoken. “Anyone?”

A chorus of “not me,” “nope,” “didn’t see her,” broke out, and Willow shrugged.

“Maybe the Initiative didn’t recreate her,” Buffy suggested. “Oh well. I feel like wiener schnitzel and Godiva for some odd reason. Anyone else?”

“Yeah, now you mention it,” Xander agreed.

After the Scoobies walked off into the night, chatting animatedly about the demise of their foes (pun very much intended), a high-pitched giggle was heard in the empty alley, and a pair of stiletto white shoes click-clacked off into the night as someone said, “Riley is mine! Mine! All mine!”