1: First Call

Title: First Call
Author: Jinni (druscilla@cox.net)
Rated: PG13
Pairing: W/Sam Seaborn
Genre: BtVS/West Wing Crossover.
Disclaimer: All things BtVS belong to Joss Whedon, et al. All things West Wing belong to Aaron Sorkin, et al.
Distribution: Anyone who has permission for “When I Woke Up” can have this one as well.
Author’s Note: Quickie Challenge Response: http://quickie.moonlitpaths.com
Note2: Alternate Sequel #3 to “When I Woke Up”.
Note3: “When I Woke Up” can be found at:
http://groups.yahoo.com/group/WitchsLoveFanfic/message/3869

~*~*~

Waking up in a strange bed is nothing new for me. I mean, we did it all the time on the campaign trail – except then we were lucky if we woke up in a bed and not a couch, the floor, a chair. You get my point, right? Even now, working in the White House, I’m lucky to get home to sleep in my own bed. On the road we sleep in hotels all the time.

So, I’m used to waking up and not remembering for the first few minutes where I am.

It was only when I woke up this morning and couldn’t remember for the first five, then ten minutes, where I was, that I began to get worried for the first time.

And then the movement on the bed next to me, the smell of perfume mingling with alcohol; suddenly I was very much awake, completely hung over, and totally at a loss.

She’s looking at me when I open my eyes, and I can almost taste her fear in the air. Or is that my fear? Because there is definitely some fear on my part right about now.

“Hi.” I manage.

“Hi.” Her voice is soft, almost a whisper. I wonder belatedly if she is feeling as bad as I am at that moment. This is surely a hang over from Hell. I am going to blame this all on Josh, in the end. It was his idea to get out of our hotel room and go drinking – to leave Donna and CJ to fend for themselves for the evening while we went out and had some ‘man time’. I think it was even his idea to have a drinking contest – who can take more shots without passing out.

Of course, I won.

At least, I think I did. Trying to remember last night is like trying to get one of our bills passed through a Republican Congress – nearly impossible. At every hint of a memory I run back into a brick wall and am forced to realize that, yes, I drank far too much last night.

So much so that I don’t even remember the name of the beautiful woman staring at me with wide eyes right now.

“I’m sorry. . . I don’t remember. . .”

“That’s okay,” she cuts me off with a sad sigh. “Neither do I, really. My name is Willow.”

Willow.

It’s a cute name and she seems like a good girl. A sweet woman. That’s why I immediately regret the next thing out of my mouth.

“You’re not a call girl, are you?”

“A ---“ She frowns, and hurt radiates over her face. “How –dare- you!”

“Wait… wait… “ I find myself stammering. “I’m sorry. That was uncalled for. I just . .. there was this time when I. . .” A big sigh from me. “Nevermind. It’s a long story.”

She snorts, and a sad smile is on her lips. “Well, it looks like we’re going to have plenty of time for you to tell me that story.”

We. . .

What?

“Huh?”
“We got married, last night.”

Now that is –not- what I expected to hear her say, and I can tell by the look on her face that she is not pleased with this announcement.

“We – did?”

“Uh huh. Complete with marriage license and everything. It’s on the nightstand next to me. Samuel and Willow Seaborn. Forgive me if I sound bitter. I don’t even know you. . .”

The only thing I can think of at that moment is that CJ is one hundred percent, without a doubt, going to kill me. Willow should feel lucky – if marrying me was her idea of Hell, she’s about to go to Heaven when she becomes a widow.

“Damnit.”

“Yeah, you can say that again.” She sits up, fumbling on the nightstand. “Look – we even have a picture. Do you thik the two of us could look more plastered?”

Actually, when she shows me the picture, I can’t help but think we look, well, happy. Despite the fact that, yes, our eyes are a little glazed over, we look like any other couple tying the knot in a Vegas wedding chapel.

Did I mention yet that CJ is going to kill me?

“We can get a divorce.” She offers, her voice resigned. But I know right away that won’t work, and I’m sure CJ is going to back me up on this the second I talk to her.

“I’m a politician.”

She raises an eyebrow at me and it is, at once, both very attractive and very condescending.

“And here I thought my day couldn’t get worse.” She laughs bitterly. “And what does you being a scumbag have anything to do with our impending divorce.”

Hey! Scumbag.

“I resent that. You don’t even know me and you’re calling me a scumbag.”

“Aren’t all politicians scumbags? I bet you were a lawyer first, right?”

Well, she’s got me there. I can tell that this isn’t going to go well.

“That’s beside the point.”

“What was the point, then? We get dressed, find a divorce lawyer, and get the paperwork started. I have to be back in California tomorrow.”

Well, at least she’s from my home state.

“I work for the President. I can’t get a divorce – that’s going to call even more attention to the fact that last night I royally screwed up.”

“So – you could get fired?”

I nod.

“And, worse than that, we’re only three months from the election. A scandal like this could ---“

“Ruin the President.” Willow sighs. “And I like him, too. I mean – I didn’t vote for him. Or for the other guy. I don’t vote at all, for that matter. . . but he seems like a nice guy.”

She doesn’t vote? I find it hard to believe she even knows who I am or what I do, then. God, why me?

“He is.” I assure her, trying to push aside the awful thoughts plaguing my mind on how in the world we’re going to be able to make this work out for the best. “He’s a great guy. Very nice man. Very deserving. He –“

“Doesn’t deserve to get caught up in a scandal just because you and I couldn’t control ourselves after drinking last night?” She prompts with a wry grin.

“No.” I admit firmly. “He doesn’t.”

“Well . . . Since this is as much my fault as it is yours. . . and its not his fault at all . . . I guess we need to figure out what we’re going to do. . . I mean – are you a Congressman or an Aide or . . . “

Right – just as I thought. She has no clue.

“I’m the Deputy Communications Director for the White House.”

And a blank look from her.

“I’m a part of the White House senior staff? I help write the President’s speeches and policy?”

Ah. Comprehension.

“So – you’re someone pretty famous, I take it? Sorry – poli-sci was one of my least favorite classes. I think I read the book, skipped all the classes, and showed up for the final, actually. Definitely not something I want to repeat.”

It’s sort of cute when she shudders.

“I don’t know if I’d say I’m famous.” I grin, sitting up and taking her hand in mine. “But – just to let you know. If we’re going to make this work – you’re about to get a crash course in everything you ever hated about poli-sci. I hope you’re a quick learner.”

“Top of my class.” She nodded.

“So you’re a college graduate?”

“Uh huh. Computer science. I do consulting work.”

Well – she’s a college graduate, professional, and intelligent. Not to mention beautiful and quick to grasp the situation we’re in. I could definitely have done worse.

“I’m sorry about this. . . whole thing.” I sigh, looking into her eyes. “But I promise to try to make it as easy on you as possible if you’ll just stick with me. We can do the divorce a few months after the election.”

She nods, and I feel one of the weights in my chest lift. While I deserve to go down for this, the President does not. And the last thing his election needs is a drunken scandal on the part of one of his senior staff.

“So – what do we do now? I have friends with me that I need to find. . .”

So do I. Donna and Josh and CJ. We’re supposed to be driving today to meet up with the others in California, our two day break from all things politics over and done with as the President makes an appearance in front of the local agriculture and dairy workers.

“I have to make a call.” I tell her, standing up. I blush, grabbing for a sheet. We’re both quite naked, it seems. And I can’t even remember if my wedding night consummation was something for the record books.

She doesn’t say anything, just watches me through those sad eyes. We’re going to get through the next six or seven months and then she can be free again. She doesn’t deserve this anymore than the President does. We’re all innocent except for some bad choices. Now we just have to make the best of the situation we’re in.

I dial CJ’s cell phone, holding my breath anxiously until she picks up. I meet my new wife’s eyes, trying to give her a reassuring smile as I prepare to be slaughtered over the phone.

“CJ – you’re my first call.”

~*~The End~*~