crossover fic: Who You Gonna Call? BSG/Ghostbusters, PG

[lyssie]

disclaimer: not mine
fandoms: BSG, Ghostbusters
rating: G/PG
length: 800 words?
genre: humor, crossover
characters: Gaius Baltar, Raymond Stantz, Winston Zeddemore, head!Six
spoilers: er... Daybreak? I suppose?
notes: written for the twelvecolonies crossover challenge. Slightly too long for a comment.

Who You Gonna Call?
by ALC Punk!

Another day, another call. Dr. Raymond Stantz was used to the proton pack on his back now, swinging it on with practiced ease while his colleague Winston Zeddemore slammed the door to the converted hearse, his pack already slung on his back. "You sure this is the place?"

The high-rise was in one of the ritziest neighborhoods in Manhattan. Ray was pretty sure Venkman would complain about not getting to see the decor and chat up the hot women in residence. "Yep. Guy's got the penthouse. Said he's got a ghost that won't go away."

Winston grunted and headed into the building, flashing the doorman an annoyed look when he didn't open the door immediately.

"Stantz and Zeddemore," Ray called through the glass. "We're expected."

The interior was undestated and elegant, the sort of place that made Ray want to check under his fingernails and wash behind his ears. He contemplated lighting up, but decided getting kicked out before getting paid would be pointless.

Even the elevator was like a work of art, and he and Winston exchanged a Look as they watched the doors slide closed.

"So, what's this ghost?"

Ray watched the floor indicator. "Some sort of ancestral spirit, the guy thinks. Janine said he was incoherent, at times, like he was talking to it."

"Great. We gonna need chicken blood this time?"

"You promised me we would never speak of that again." Ray replied, restraining himself from glaring sideways at Winston. He could hear the smirk in Winston's voice when he answered.

"Can't help it if you turn such fun colors when it's mentioned."

The doors opened on a plushly-carpeted hallway, saving Ray from saying something he might regret.

"Dr. Baltar?" Ray called through the door as he knocked. "It's the Ghostbusters."

The rich red of the door was inlaid with gold and looked as though it made more in a year than Venkman did in a decade. Ray decided to tell him that, later. The door was yanked open by a slim man, his eyes a little wild, his slightly too-long hair disarranged. "Oh, good. You're here."

"Where's the ghost?"

"Don't you have equipment--of course this is a good idea," the good doctor snarled to the air, then he stepped back shoved both hands through his hair. "You've got to get rid of her. I don't care how--she's driving me insane!"

Ray pulled out the PK Meter, figuring that humoring the crazy man was a good idea if they wanted to get paid. He swept the room with it, getting nothing. "Where is the ghost, Doctor?"

Gesturing wildly, Baltar pointed to his right, "She's right here, you idiot."

Pointing the meter at the air, Ray fiddled with it, then shook his head. "I'm not picking anything up. Are you sure she's there? Maybe she went out for coffee."

Winston shot him a look, then tried a nice smile on. "Look, Dr. Baltar, unless we can detect your ghost, we have no way of containing it."

"Her. She's a her!" For a moment, it looked as though the man would dissolve into some sort of dementia state. Then he pulled himself up and leveled a glare at both of them. "I'm afraid I cannot help the fact that neither of you have the brain-power given a snail, but there is a ghost to my left. She claims she's an angel. Now, will you do your jobs, or should I do them for you?"

Ray snapped him a salute, then pointed the meter again. This time there was a faint trace of ectoplasmic activity; not enough to indicate much, but enough for him to pull out a containment trap and point it at the space. "Here, little angel of love--"

"No, dear, they're here to help--"

Two things happened at once. A woman in a red dress appeared (she was drop-dead gorgeous enough to make Venkman drool, not that the man had standards, but if she were dead, Venkman would bend his own rules about dating dead people). And then Ray triggered the trap; she shrieked before being sucked into the vortex while Baltar yelped in surprise.

"One fine lady in the bag," Winston announced into the sudden silence.

Ray slapped his hand, then jiggled the trap. "Guess there was a ghost after all."

"Thank you." Looking more sad than relieved, the good doctor began hustling them towards the door, his thanks were effusive, his manner dismissive.

Before Ray realized it, he and Winston were standing in the expensive hallway, a still-smoking trap in hand. Winston looked at him. Ray looked at the trap, then shrugged, "We've got his billing address. Janine's gettin' good with those."

"Yeah." Winston slapped his shoulder, "Beer?"

"Beer."

-epilogue-

"That was pointless, Gaius."

He jumped, the glass in his hand shattering against the tiles at his feet. "B-but--"

Leaning against his counter, looking far too provocative for his sanity, she smiled. "You can't rid of messengers from God quite that easily." Her tongue darted out, moistening her lips. "But it was a nice try."

While he tried to form a coherent thought, she drifted back out into the living room. Her voice drifted back to him. "I really like this New York of yours."

Gaius closed his eyes. He was going insane, bonkers, cracked--really, he should have known it wouldn't work when she kept appearing at the wrong moments. He refused to bow his shoulders in defeat, determined. "You're simply a figment of my imagination."

"Of course I am, Gaius," she called back, lounging on the couch and kicking off a shoe. "But you and I both know that all of this is happening again."

"All of what?"

She smiled, her eyes sad, echoing millenia at him for a moment. "That would be telling."

-f-