Title: As in a (Really Bad) Dream
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Fairy Spike, Language, Violence, H/C
Pairings: None. But feel free to see implication until your head spins.
Disclaimer: They're Joss's, not mine. No money made.
Summary: Spike runs into the wrong demon, and wakes up to find that he's shrunk to 6 inches tall...and has wings.
Author's Note: Title comes from a children's poem about fairies called "Fairyland,"from a book entitled Enchanted Tulips and Other Verses for Children by A., R., and M. Keary. The line it is used in is as follows:
Go hand in hand through flower-lit woods
Where living trees embrace--
And suddenly, as in a dream,
Behold a fairy's face!
Part 1
Spike crouched low behind a dumpster in an alley, his sights on a short, purple demon sprouting a horn from its forehead and fussing with something in the corner. A Blogsh'kul. They tended to be harmless for the most part, but he had caught this one running off with puppies more than one night the past couple of weeks. Puppies that it stole from the human residents, that it probably took to consume in the dark of night. And hell if Spike's soul didn't nag him about it for days.
He used to be able to gamble kittens without so much as a second thought to their wellbeing. Seemed that wasn't the case now. He could put it down to the thought that the Blogsh'kul could move onto larger prey, like small children. But then he'd be lying to himself.
Oh well. At least the soul hadn't dampened his ability to do that, so much.
Deciding to go for the gentler approach for his first try, Spike straightened out his legs and stepped out from behind the dumpster, making sure his footsteps were loud enough to be heard by the creature he had been stalking all night.
The Blogsh'kul whirled around, luminous bug-like eyes staring at him in the darkness as it emitted little burbling, hissing noises. It held a ceramic white cup between its hands, clutched possessively to its chest. Light glinted off the tip of its horn, which he now realized was jeweled.
Right. Probably didn't want that particular part of the demon's anatomy coming in contact with him.
Spike waved in mock cheeriness at the demon. "Hey, Purple." he greeted. "Got a minute?"
The gurgling got louder after he spoke, the Blogsh'kul shifting and folding over, either trying to protect his little cup or aiming the horn at Spike. Or both. But the fact that the horn was now in perfect position to stab into his more sensitive parts was enough to convince Spike to get on the defensive. At least inwardly.
"Yeah, see," he continued, "I've gotta talk to you 'bout this whole puppy-stealin' gig you've had goin'."
The demon charged.
Spike leapt out of the way easily, turning so his back was to the alley wall. "Oh, thank God," he said. "Thought I was actually gonna have to talk my way through this one."
Side-stepping the demon's second charge, Spike grabbed the thing by the scruff of the neck and tossed it against the wall like a rag doll. The cup it had been holding in its hands fell to the ground and shattered just before the Blogsh'kul's body came flopping down on top of the shards.
Oh, yeah. This was going to be like swatting a fly.
He watched as the demon groaned and pulled itself back to its feet, glaring, shaking with rage.
The vampire smirked as he stepped towards the beaten demon. "Don't worry, Shorty. This'll be over right quick."
The Blogsh'kul's eyes suddenly swirled with red, and the jeweled part of the horn began to glow. "Indeed." it growled.
Spike only had time to have his eyes widen in surprise before the world erupted in a painful flash of red, followed by black as he lost consciousness.
Spike blearily opened his eyes from his position flat on his back. And was immediately struck by dizzying confusion as he realized he was under a very large, very heavy fabric thing. ...the bloody hell...? Still too groggy to focus completely, Spike tried to throw the blanket off of him, only to be surprised and irritated when it didn't work. What he did get from the movement was the discovery that he was completely starkers. No clothes. Great.
He was laying on something, kind of uncomfortably, but whenever he shifted to try and get off of it, it pulled at his skin. Something must have been glued on him.
Feeling increasingly worried and pissed, and wondering if this was all just some stupid joke being played on him by Angel -- and the poof had better be ready for some extremely violent retribution if that was the case, -- Spike squirmed and tried again to get the fabric off once more.
A blast of cold air greeted his struggles, and he twisted his head in the direction it had come from to see that there was a large hole that he could definitely fit through. Turning himself over onto his stomach, Spike quickly made his way towards and through the hole, ignoring the cold wind that whipped about his nude body.
And felt something much colder filter through his innards.
It hadn't been a blanket he had gotten stuck under -- it was his bloody shirt and duster. They were there, and they were unbelievably huge, lying before him like some eighth wonder of the world, the kind of thing that idiot humans put up as attractions to draw in the even more idiotic tourists.
Quickly turning, taking stock of his surroundings as much as he could, Spike felt his eyes widen in fear.
Everything else had grown to mammoth proportions as well. The buildings, the dumpster...hell, even a discarded burger wrapper. It was bigger than him. They all were.
"This is not happening, this is not --"
A loud crash behind him made Spike take up a defensive position, immediately in game face as he turned towards the source.
It was a cat.
A scruffy tabby, which might as well have been a monstrous bigger-than-life lion, was sniffing through the debris for a snack. It occurred to Spike not a second later that he just might fit the bill. Frantically, the vampire searched for a place he could hide before Fluffy decided to make a meal of him.
Luckily, the cat only crept down to the alley exit, peeked around the corner, and then trotted off. It hadn't noticed him once.
Spike breathed a sigh of relief as it went. He had been seriously contemplating darting under the dumpster, no matter what unseemly things were under there.
Now that his survival instinct was quelled, Spike tried to figure out what was happening to him. Well, okay, he knew what was happening to him -- somehow he had been turned into a leprechaun look-alike. Without the funny clothes or pot of gold. Why and how it had happened, those were the better questions.
The answer to at least one of them came to him in an instant. "That fucking Blogsh'kul!" he growled, slapping a hand to his forehead. The purple demon must have been skilled in magic, and done some mojo on Spike after he crashed its little tea party. He could still feel a slight tingling sensation running through him.
Magic wasn't Spike's favorite thing in the world, for obvious reasons. Red had tried to convince him of the good of it once. They'd had a list going at one point, putting the pros and cons on paper. Willow had listed as many good things as she could, while he listed the bad, and tried not to smirk or roll his eyes when the witch found herself listing most of the bad as well. Safe to say this counts as another tally on my side, Red, he thought as he let out a giant shudder in an attempt to relieve his tension.
As the muscles in his back quivered with his actions, he caught something move out of the corner of his eye. Brow furrowing, belatedly remembering that there was something stuck on his back, Spike craned his neck to see what it was.
His mouth opened in surprise and horror as he found himself staring down at a pair of clear, sparkling wings jutting from his shoulder blades. And no glue to be seen.
Tentatively, he flexed his back again, and watched the wings stretch out and quiver. He could feel them, knew they were a part of him. His to control. He opened and closed them a few more times, disbelieving.
"Oh, balls." he groaned, raising his head heavenward. "I'm a fucking fairy."