Title: Giles' Angels - You two make a great team {Yes we do.}
Recapper: watty
Additional snark: GayNow {in bold pink}
Rating: R
Disclaimers: BtVS characters belong to Mutant Enemy, Fox, The WB, UPN and others. Charlie's Angels characters and concepts belong to Spelling-Goldberg Productions, ABC and others.
Summary: Don't know what a recap is? Read up on televisionwithoutpity.
Notes: Thanks to RKTers for another successful collaboration. Cam for the angelic laughs and desires. Hermitfish Media Inc for the commercials. And finally, to Carleen for unleashing the sap in me and getting me addicted to fluffy romance novels.

It's the end of another series. I'm getting teary. {HA!} And I pride myself on never getting teary. Not even watching Terms of Endearment, or Bambi or even "Love means never having to say you're sorry." And I notice all the wrong things in movies, like how nice the flooring is, or whether they're using a mac, or I obsess about the laundry bill for people with blood splattered all over their clothes. I'm not cold-hearted, I'm just too well insulated. Yes, I need to take an emotional risk, but I don't have the necessary emotional muscles. Okay, I’m getting too tear-jerky and obscure {Getting?}, this is supposed to be a comedy. Get the laugh track out.

We're in the House of Angelic Desires. {**Looks around** We are?} No, it's not a candy store. Nor a affiliate of www.XXXPressToys.com (warning: link is NSFW, small children and Alex). Hmm, I wonder why Good Vibrations doesn't franchise? If Subway and 7-Eleven can be franchised, why not an adult store? Oh, talking about adult stores, the first time I came across the term "Jiffy-Lube" I did a double-take and thought it was a competitor for K-Y Jelly. Hee, I'm twelve. Talking more about adult stores, I'm so excited that I visited GayMart and bought a rainbow keyring. It was a hoot! {But note she didn't talk about her excursion in Batteries Not Included.} (watty: perhaps I'm waiting for the more extensive second round visit? You *are* taking me there again aren't you )

Okay, you know that when you play peek-a-boo with kids and have to pretend that you can't see them even if they're right in front of your eyes? {Yeah...that's annoying.} You also know those people who work in the FBI or CIA or something and take care to never have their photo taken? Even at occasions like weddings and baptisms? Well Giles is trying to be all cool invisible spy guy but ends up looking like the silly kid. He hides behind furniture on the pretext of looking for his tea cozy, how lame. {So is his tea cozy...or should that be "limp"?}

And who is he hiding from? {The peek-a-boo kids?} The Trio of Babes, that's who. Not to be konfused with the Three Witches from Macbeth, not hard to do since they don't say "double double toil and trouble." { ? } The House of Angelic Desires is a cauldron-free zone! There's a perky blonde, a rude blonde and a redhead. Hmmm, no fair. We're missing the representative from the Kingdom of Brunette. Not to mention Spiky Green and Sinéad O'Connor's shiny bald head. {You've suddenly turned into Equality-girl?} How can two out of three babes be blonde? {Genetics?} Something unequal is going on. Quick! We must get the Hair Rights Campaign on the clip right away, mustn't brush the time away. {Would anyone like to join me in a groan?}

But something more serious is afoot. The trio is about to be broken up. There is a collective sigh of disappointment that permeates to even this side of the screen. Somewhere in Darkest Peru, a cuddly bear is getting ready to slip into his wellies. He adjusts his HRC hat (can't wait to get my hands on mine LOL), hides his HRC Field Inspector badge in a secret compartment in his duffle coat and silently utters his "hair equality is a reality" chant before setting off to ensure the new babe is a brunette. [*I don't know what to say. I should be used to you going off on tangents, but ... Darkest Peru? Hair Rights Campaign? That's not a tangent, we're talking parsecs here. what am I supposed to do with you, watty? -- Sars*] {Felt more like a cosine than a tangent.}

Anya, the rude blonde, tells the despondent group not to worry. Because she, Anya, has secured the services of a new babe. And she, Anya, must be worshipped beyond eternity. For that alone, she, Anya, will be remembered as the one who brought in Tara, the newest babe. {Well, I guess there are worse things to be remembered for...like passing on genital warts or something.}

Ha! Looks like Inspector Paddington from the HRC is too late. {Is he pregnant?} Xandersley ushers in the new babe and my jaws drop at the sight of ... another blonde. Anya introduces Tara and I silently wish that Inspector Paddington never completes his righteous journey from Darkest Peru to Sunny California. Even though I'm so gonna be kicked out of the HRC for saying this ... I want Tara. {Who doesn't?} *pause* Um, I mean I want Tara ... to stay.

Tara comes into the room and smiles sweetly at everyone. She reserves her sweetest smile for Willow, causing the redhead to almost drop her drink. Luckily for the vodka, she recovers enough to greet what is obviously her newest object of desire. They exchange some talk about science, smartness and siblings. {Smart chicks are hot!} (watty: Yes they are!) Heh, I made an alliteration. Go, me. {You're so easily amused.}

While Willow and Tara are establishing first contact, Anya and Buffy are establishing another type of contact ... that of fisticuffs to settle an altercation of who is the prettiest Angel. Sigh. Does it really matter? Who bloody cares? When they get older and they're selling their last pearl earring to finance one more botox injection, does it matter who is prettier? You can't eat beauty you know. {Um...did you leave that comment hanging there just hoping I would jump on it? Cuz I certainly can think of a few beauties I could eat...or would like to, at least.}

Anya finally disengages with Buffy, just as Willow and Tara are about to become more engaged. She throws a set of car keys at Tara, and we just know that she's passing ownership of a very cool vehicle to Tara. How? By the way the keys sail through the air of course. There's a study, by an organization whose name I've forgotten [*Thank god -- Sars*] that the way that keys spin and move through air is directly proportional to the degree of desirability of the make of the car it belongs to. {Yes, the study was commonly known as D.O.R.K. -- Dynamics of Rotating Keys. } [*I need a drink, make that an even dozen -- Sars*]

So Anya leaves and two new people come into the House of Angelic Desires. A gaunt man with permanent sneer walks in with a pretty young lady with brown eyes, brown hair and brown skin. Oh phew, we have our brunette quota. What's more, it's the Everpresent Cecile of Many Talents!!!! Smooch! Tara goes ga-ga at the sight of Cecile. {Wouldn't you? } I quickly think I need to revise my opinion of her, just one moment ago she's bonding with Willow and now she's fawning over Cecile. This will not do. Tara expositions {**rolls eyes**} that Cecile is the champion of some golf tournament held in Palm Springs. Must be important and prestigious, because hey, Palm Springs not Idaho Springs. She and Tara bond over golf. Willow pouts. {But she's so cute when she pouts!}

Gaunt Man with Permanent Sneer is Ethan Rayne, Cecile's manager. As far as sneers go, his is quite nasty, though nothing like Severus Snape's sneer. Boo to Snape! (But yay Alan Rickman!) I know he's supposed to be a good guy but every time I see him I want to wipe his face with sandpaper. How people can write Harry/Snape slash is completely beyond my ken. Eeeep, that is OT to the extremis. {Um...yeah...it is. On watty's behalf, I would just like to say, "Sorry Cam!"} NotQuiteSnape says that they are at the House of Angelic Desires because they desire protection for Ms Cecile. They have been receiving nasty death threats but don't want to go to the police, which is why they're at the House of Angel. Oooops, they have the wrong Angel(s). {How could they have wanted broody over beautiful? I mean, REALLY!} It's a case of mistaken identity and abject embarrassment. NotQuiteSnape turns to leave but Cecile stops him. See how smart she is? She sees it right away. Why would they want the Irish Poofter's ministers of grace when they have three yummilicious babes. {Um, yeah...my point exactly.}

Oh my. Remember how Willow did her pouty mcpout act when Cecil was bonding with Tara? Now Cecile is flirting with her and it's Tara's turn to pout. It's Pout City all round. {Pouting is precious. Now I'm the one with the alliterations!}

It's one hour later. {**looks at watch** It is?} They've been busy. {Too bad they weren't getting busy!} And this is where I think this program has more in common with cartoons, in the "as if by magic" aspect. {Are they doing spells yet?} During that one hour, they gather all sorts of information about Cecile (rich philanthropic amateur), the tournament (miniature golf! snerk), possible suspects (a hottie called Faith and a "has-been before she has ever been" called Amy) and put together a snappy slideshow. Man, don't tell my boss they can do all that in an hour. {I'd be happy to figure out how activate a schedule host for 7-11 in under 3 days! And, no, you're not supposed to know what that means. Obviously, I don't know what it means either...but they're still paying me.}

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Giles also has arranged for the babes to become Babes in Short Skirts Wielding Sexy Clubs. {Try saying that 5 times really fast.} Buffy takes on the disguise of a non-English speaking player so she is almost invisible and can observe people make fools of themselves. Willow and Tara, on the other hand, get to share a suite while Xandersley gets to keep an eye on NotQuiteSnape. I know who comes out of this arrangement with the best assignment. {As long as they come, it's all good. Though, Cam didn't quite provide us with that much detail, did she? }

We at the Sunnydale Resort Hotel. {**Looks around** We are?} Palm Springs it is not. Down there in the underground carpark, the Lovely Love-Angels duo of Willow and Tara have verbal sex over hot cars. Which is the next best thing to having physical touching sex over hot cars. Hot cars are hot. {Especially when it's 98 degrees outside and the car isn't parked in the shade and the seats are leather and...oh, wait...that's not the kind of hot you're talking about, huh?} The talk of fast and curves gets heavy and they head up to their suite to continue.

Buffy, now firmly non-English speaking {Has she ever spoken English?}, enters her room and meets her room mate Faith. She keeps saying "Ja, Ja." to the extent that Faith starts calling her Yaya. Snigger. Faith gets pissy and calls a Dick to complain that she don't want no roomie. During the convo, I'm sure she calls Dick a dick, but I'm too busy trying to be like Buffy and not laugh my ass off.

Meanwhile, the Lovely Love-Angels discover they have the honeymoon suite. {Does it have a cheesy heart-shaped bed...that vibrates?} They decide very wisely and to the delight of the entire viewing public, that they may as well do the honeymooners thing. Like, couple-y stuff. Like kissing. Like having physical touching sex. I'm glued to my seat. I wonder if Alex is squriming in his seat.

But they are interrupted by the Goddess of Bad Timing, aka Everpresent Cecile. Jeez!!!!! {I thought Buffy was the Patron Saint of Bad Timing.} I'm so ready to whack Cecile with her sand wedge right now. {Don't use the sand wedge! Use the driver...it's heavier.} Oblivious to the evil stares that the entire viewing public is shooting at her, she skips into the suite and helps herself to the complimentary fruit basket. I feel the need to rant on something to distract myself from the coitus interruptus. Why do hotels think that flowers, chocolate on the bedstand and fruit are things that make me feel welcome when I stay at their establishment? {Cuz they think you're sweet and fruity? Maybe they think you're a gay man.} The flowers are always sad and wilting; the chocolate is one measly Ferrero Rocher and the fruit never gets changed. What I want in a hotel room -- free wifi, bouncy bed and a desk that faces the TV instead of the wall next to it. {Free wifi...okay, I can see that. TV that can be seen from the desk...yep, good idea. But why would you be missing a bouncy bed? [/snerk]} (watty: ) They have their guests' priorities all wrong. All wrong, I say.

In the honeymoon suite there's a lot of suggestive eating going on. { } Tara is sucking on a bunch of grapes and Willow has ripe peach juice running down her chin. They're enjoying their fruit a tad too much. Hee. Cecile too, she's enjoying the spectacle a tad to much, judging by the wide smirk on her face.

Back at the no-English spoken corner, Faith has dragged Buffy to the sauna. Buffy is holding onto the towel wrapped around her tiny body, no doubt cursing all deities in heaven how unfair it is that it is Faith who has the bod that turns heads. {Yes, yes she does.} Her face is twisted in a grimace that falls somewhere between constipation and outrage, as she continues to try to pretend that she doesn't understand Faith's suggestive remarks. {Between constipation and a grimace, huh? I know some people who look like that all the time.}

Cut to the Lovely Love-Angels playing with metal implements and hard knobbly balls. {Okay, that's just wrong on so many levels. **uses a brillo pad to remove the mental image**} Or rather, Tara and Cecile are playing while Willow sulks and paces just outside the playing area. Turns out that she's being childish and refusing to play, all because she can't get over a silly mechanical-horse arm-biting experience when she was four. The things you remember when you're four. Tara of course doesn't think it's silly and banishes all nasty horse biting thoughts out of Willow's mind by showing her how to play using the always successful Full Body Contact tuition method. She may as well have walked up to Willow, took her clothes off and made with the grinding, such is the ecstatic look that is on Willow's face when her fellow Lovely Love-Angel spoons her from behind. {I'd have that look on my face too! Of course, I would have taken off my own clothes and done a little grinding.} She hits a hole-in-one and yes, I got the "hole" innuendo tyvm.

I'm checking out the amazing Fuzzy Zoeller hole in one video when we hear a sickening crack and the blades on the windmill (why must there always be a windmill hole on a miniature golf course?) {Maybe Putt-Putt was invented by the Dutch? If the Italians had invented it, there would have been a giant canoli.} go on hyperdrive, the whole structure starts to topple and fall towards Cecile. Our Lovely Love-Angels come to the rescue and Tara tackles Cecile to the ground. She ends up on top of the brunette in a rather compromising position. {Much to Cecile's infinite joy.} I can't see Willow's expression but I'm thinking it's not very friendly.

Cut to minor distraction as we now see Xandersley-in-drag encountering NotQuiteSnape. I'm having a love/hate relationship with the fast cutting of this episode. The Sneery one takes one look at the bosom of Xandersley and tries the most oily pick up line ever -- it's not the words, it's the tone. {Is that anything like "it's not the heat, it's the humidity"?} He really must be blind or desperate to be picking up Xandersley, who looks nothing like a broad. [*You used "broad" again! -- Sars*] When asked, he stammers that his drag-queen name is Alexa Xanadu. {**sings** "You have to believe we are magic / Nothin' can stand in our way"} I can't believe he forgot to think of a disguise name before trying to bait NotQuiteSnape. Disguise names are so easy, just open up the phone book and point randomly. Or use any of the plethora of online random name generators. I tried out "Alex Xandersley" on the Drag Queen Name Generator and I got "Pussy Golitely". *giggles*

Ahem.

From pussy galore action to hot steamy ... lack of action. We're with Faith and Buffy. {**Looks around** We are?} Faith's non-stop litany of lewd comments finally gets to Buffy. She drops her "ja, ja" sisterhood act and shouts at Faith. Faith's first reaction is that Buffy is with a gossip mag. As if, Faithy. What a big head you have, Faithy. {Faithy has big...other things too. } Buffy tells Faithy that she is no longer prime suspect on the account that she is too much of a deluxe cleavage-y slut bomb to be prime anything. {Um...did Buffy really say that? What story was I reading?} Well except being primed and ready to take part in the next friendly neighborhood orgy. {Oh! Can I come? Erm...go...uh...be there? Oh hell!}

When they take a break from yelling at each other, they discover that the handle of the sauna door has come off and they're stuck inside. Shit, they're going to be roasted! steamed! par-boiled! You can roast, steam or par-boil potatoes but not humans. Gives new meaning to the Finnish saying, if vodka, tar and sauna don't help, the disease leads to death. Time to start panicking, ladies. {The Queen of Hyperbole has returned. All Hail!}

Quick cut to the Lovely Love-Angels, who finally caught on that Buffy is missing. They change out of golfing gear into snooping gear. Do they give each other a quick grope? I want to know. {Who doesn't?} Damn those producers. Willow does a MacGyver impression and picks a lock using a foil gum wrapper and Tara's hair pin, stopping to caress Tara's hair of course. They find themselves in the swimming pool and ... c'mon producers, you're soooo predictable! Hot babes, imminent danger, wet swimsuits, you couldn't resist, could you? {Are you complaining?}

And thus, with the lamest of excuses, the Lovely Love-Angels find themselves wet all over. {There's never a lame excuse for getting wet.} Meanwhile, we're treated to some very convenient villain expositioning. {Why do villians always get caught monologuing? I mean, really...does every bad guy have to be that stupid?} But of course the villain is NotQuiteSnape; he's in collusion [*not in bed? -- Sars*] with none other than Amy Madison, the disposable has-been. They reveal that their objective is to get rid of Cecile and Faith so Amy can win the tournament. They were behind the attack of the twirling windmill; and had poisoned the bananas in the fruit basket. Snerk, how little they know about their target -- Cecile is most certainly not a banana girl. {**whew** Glad of that!}