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Language:
English
Series:
Part 63 of Spooky 2
Stats:
Published:
2026-05-20
Words:
773
Chapters:
1/1
Kudos:
2
Hits:
11

Trying to Keep This PG-13 (1998)

Summary:

September 1998, Stewart Street, Santa Monica, California

Sarah breaks character on the soundstage with Eliza's face so close to hers

Notes:

Sarah Michelle Gellar (21) and Eliza Dushku (17) have been dating for two months.

Work Text:

The air inside the Bronze is thick with the scent of stage fog, clove cigarettes, and the heavy humidity of a Southern California night. The mood on set is high-voltage. Neon lights buzz overhead, casting sharp magentas and deep blues across the faces of the cast. Sarah Michelle Gellar stands in the center of the fray, her hair perfectly coiffed in that signature late-nineties "homecoming queen" style, looking every bit the weary hero trying to navigate high school politics.

 

"I am going out with someone," Sarah says, her voice carrying that classic Buffy cadence—earnest but layered with a hint of defiance. She stands before her gathered Scoobies, her hands gesturing vaguely toward the dance posters plastered on the walls. "Tonight, as a matter of fact."

 

Alyson Hannigan, draped in a fuzzy, oversized sweater that screams Willow Rosenberg, tilts her head. Her eyes wide and inquisitive, she leans in, perfectly capturing that mix of supportive best friend and slightly nosy sidekick. "Really?" she asks, her voice pitching up in genuine curiosity. "Who?"

 

The tension in the scene is palpable, a scripted drama meant to highlight Buffy’s burgeoning secrets. Nicholas Brendon stands by, shifting his weight with a classic Xander-esque awkwardness, waiting for the reveal. Then, the energy shifts. Eliza Dushku strides into the shot, radiating that raw, untamed Faith Lehane energy. She’s wearing a leather jacket that looks like it’s seen a dozen bar fights and a pair of hip-hugging pants that defy the laws of physics. She doesn't just walk; she prowls. Eliza barely acknowledges the rest of the group, her focus narrowing entirely on Sarah with a magnetic, heavy-lidded intensity.

 

"Hey," Eliza says, her voice a low, gravelly rasp that cuts through the ambient noise of the background extras. "Time to motorate."

 

She gives Nicholas a dismissive, cool-kid glance that would wither a lesser man. According to the script sitting on the craft services table, this is the moment where Buffy is supposed to look at her friends, offer a sheepish, "it’s complicated" expression, and insist, "Really, we're just good friends."

 

But there is a spark in Sarah’s eyes that isn't in the teleplay. She and Eliza have been a "thing" for two months now—secret smiles behind trailers, shared lattes between takes, and the kind of New Year-style sparks that don't just disappear when the cameras roll. Sarah feels the weight of Eliza’s hand ghosting near her waist. Instead of the scripted line, a cheeky, sharp-witted grin spreads across her face. She looks Alyson right in the eye, leans back slightly toward Eliza, and delivers a line that definitely wasn't in the blue revisions.

 

"She's really great in bed."

 

The silence that follows lasts for exactly half a heartbeat before the reality of the words hits the room. Alyson’s jaw drops, her "Willow" persona evaporating instantly into a fit of high-pitched giggles.

 

"Oh my god!" she shrieks, doubling over.

 

Nicholas lets out a loud, barking laugh, clapping his hands together as he breaks character, shaking his head at Sarah’s audacity. Eliza doesn't miss a beat. She doesn't look shocked; she looks triumphant. She wiggles her eyebrows with a devastatingly smug grin, leaning into Sarah’s space.

 

"Damn right," she mutters, loud enough for the boom mic to catch it.

 

Before Sarah can even finish her mischievous grin, Eliza cups Sarah's face and pulls her into a lingering, very un-Buffy-like kiss. Sarah lets out a bright, melodic laugh against Eliza’s lips, her hands instinctively finding the lapels of that worn leather jacket. For a few seconds, the supernatural drama transforms into a very modern romance, the two of them lost in a private joke that the whole crew is now witnessing.

 

"And... cut! Cut! For the love of—" David Greenwalt’s voice booms from the monitors, sounding somewhere between exasperated and deeply amused. He rubs the bridge of his nose, looking at the two young women who are still wrapped in each other's arms, completely ignoring the "End of Scene" cues. "Sarah, Eliza," Greenwalt sighs, though there’s a definite ghost of a smile on his face. "As much as I'm sure the WB would love the ratings boost, we are trying to keep this PG-13. Can we please stick to the script and save the 'good friends' talk for the tabloids?"

 

Sarah pulls back, her face flushed and glowing under the studio lights, her laugh echoing through the rafters of the soundstage. "Sorry, David! It just felt more honest!"

 

Eliza just winks at the camera operator, looking entirely unrepentant. The set begins to buzz again, but the air feels lighter, charged with the vibrant, messy energy of two people very much in love.

 

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