Buffy kicked in the door of Spike's crypt and broke the heel of her new stylish yet affordable boots, which had cost her a week's wages. It didn't matter that there was no food in the house, the gas, electricity and water had been cut off and Dawn couldn't afford to get her hair polished any more. She HAD to buy the boots. Just last week she had found a shade of nail polish that almost exactly nearly kind of matched the colour of the laces.
She quickly snapped off the other heel and, 4 and a half inches shorter, strutted towards Spike in her new flat shoes.
Spike had his back to her, and was holding one side of his long black coat out, as if to shield something (or someone) from her vision.
Buffy ran like a big spaz towards him, shouting "you're beneath me!" for no apparent reason as she pushed him against the wall. Never one to miss an opportunity, she quickly hitched up her skirt and loudly unzipped his fly, just as Spike let out a loud "OWWW" and yelled "you've got me by the short hairs! And this time I mean it literally!"
Buffy let go and took a step back, admiring his washboard abs but not so much the flat butt, all the while marvelling at how they could ever have had sex that first time in the derelict house, when his pants were so tight that there was no way Spike Jnr could ever have been prised out of there without a tub of vaseline and a crowbar. Amazing what passion and poor script writing could achieve.
She quickly recovered, just in time to see the person Spike had been hiding, a grubby 19th century cockney urchin, trying to disappear up the chimney, which appeared to be his natural habitat. Unfortunately Spike's crypt had no chimney, so the urchin reluctantly turned to face the pissed off slayer.
"What the hell is going on here, you evil disgusting thing?" Buffy yelled at Spike.
"Look pet, I was going to tell you, but I wanted to surprise you. Seems that, ever since Giles left, my English accent's been all over the bloody shop. I keep saying "ass" instead of "arse" and pronouncing the "r" in "Xander" instead of saying "Xanda" like I should. I tried getting help from Dru, but she was useless. There's only so many times you can practise saying "the royn in Spoyn stoys moynly in the ploy-un" before you just get jack of it.
"So I've gone an' enlisted the tortured spirit of one of me old victims, a cockney pickpocket called Fingers Wigglesby to 'elp. See? Blimey, it's workin' already. Orright then, luv? Are you still me old china plate, or is ya about ready to give me another boot in me knackeries then?"
Buffy harrumphed, Nomi Malone-style, and sauntered out, in much the same way she had sauntered in, only shorter. She was confused, and needed to confide in someone. She headed for home.
Spike turned back to Fingers, ready to continue the lesson. "So, from the top: Hello Cutie, Hello Cutie..."
Fingers looked disgusted. "Cor guv'nor, you're one right barmy cove then. Gerrit right - it's 'ello kew-ee, 'ello kew-ee, innit..."
Bursting into the kitchen of her house, not even noticing while Dawn slipped all the rings off her fingers, Buffy ran, arms pumping for dear life, up the stairs and kicked in the door of Willow's bedroom. Hmm, flat shoes really were the way to go. Willow sat on the bed, surrounded by candles - not magic candles, just the-electricity's been shut off because I'm a lazy freeloader who's too thirsty to lift a finger to support myself and the only breadwinner around here is a self centred shopaholic-type candles.
"Will, I need your help! Spike is taking cockney lessons, and I don't know what to do. He's sounding like.. I don't know, Fran Drescher trying to impersonate the Crocodile Hunter. I was really hoping for something a bit more Hugh Grant..."
Willow's eyes filled with tears. "You know I'd love to help, but - Buffy, you might need to sit down for this - I'm gay."
"Oh Will, I'm so sorry, how could I be so insensitive? I know you mentioned it once or twice at breakfast, and when we were shopping, and at lunch, and while I was taking out the garbage, and you might have called me a couple of times at work, and the half dozen emails, not to mention when you whispered through the keyhole when I was in the crapper, but I totally forgot. Tell me straight Will, am I too self-involved?"
"Buffy, you know I can't tell you ANYTHING straight. I'm... I'm gay."
Suddenly, a cold creeping fear slowly dawned, key-like, on Buffy. Was she gay as well? It made perfect sense. Willow was addicted to magic, although she had managed to keep it a secret - therefore, she, Buffy had to be addicted to something as well. Better make it sex - with Spike, to be specific. Xander and Anya had broken up - therefore, she, Buffy, could never have a normal relationship. Was she gay as well? And was she about to get a stutter? And grow puffy?
Next episode: Spike takes lessons from Long John Silver and sets off on a daring midnight raid on the Cornish coast; Dawn finds a new mentor in Fingers and goes on a wild "nicking" spree; Buffy sees "A Beautiful Mind" and worries that she might also be a schizophrenic maths genius; Willow struggles with the secret knowledge that she may, in fact, be gay.
She quickly snapped off the other heel and, 4 and a half inches shorter, strutted towards Spike in her new flat shoes.
Spike had his back to her, and was holding one side of his long black coat out, as if to shield something (or someone) from her vision.
Buffy ran like a big spaz towards him, shouting "you're beneath me!" for no apparent reason as she pushed him against the wall. Never one to miss an opportunity, she quickly hitched up her skirt and loudly unzipped his fly, just as Spike let out a loud "OWWW" and yelled "you've got me by the short hairs! And this time I mean it literally!"
Buffy let go and took a step back, admiring his washboard abs but not so much the flat butt, all the while marvelling at how they could ever have had sex that first time in the derelict house, when his pants were so tight that there was no way Spike Jnr could ever have been prised out of there without a tub of vaseline and a crowbar. Amazing what passion and poor script writing could achieve.
She quickly recovered, just in time to see the person Spike had been hiding, a grubby 19th century cockney urchin, trying to disappear up the chimney, which appeared to be his natural habitat. Unfortunately Spike's crypt had no chimney, so the urchin reluctantly turned to face the pissed off slayer.
"What the hell is going on here, you evil disgusting thing?" Buffy yelled at Spike.
"Look pet, I was going to tell you, but I wanted to surprise you. Seems that, ever since Giles left, my English accent's been all over the bloody shop. I keep saying "ass" instead of "arse" and pronouncing the "r" in "Xander" instead of saying "Xanda" like I should. I tried getting help from Dru, but she was useless. There's only so many times you can practise saying "the royn in Spoyn stoys moynly in the ploy-un" before you just get jack of it.
"So I've gone an' enlisted the tortured spirit of one of me old victims, a cockney pickpocket called Fingers Wigglesby to 'elp. See? Blimey, it's workin' already. Orright then, luv? Are you still me old china plate, or is ya about ready to give me another boot in me knackeries then?"
Buffy harrumphed, Nomi Malone-style, and sauntered out, in much the same way she had sauntered in, only shorter. She was confused, and needed to confide in someone. She headed for home.
Spike turned back to Fingers, ready to continue the lesson. "So, from the top: Hello Cutie, Hello Cutie..."
Fingers looked disgusted. "Cor guv'nor, you're one right barmy cove then. Gerrit right - it's 'ello kew-ee, 'ello kew-ee, innit..."
Bursting into the kitchen of her house, not even noticing while Dawn slipped all the rings off her fingers, Buffy ran, arms pumping for dear life, up the stairs and kicked in the door of Willow's bedroom. Hmm, flat shoes really were the way to go. Willow sat on the bed, surrounded by candles - not magic candles, just the-electricity's been shut off because I'm a lazy freeloader who's too thirsty to lift a finger to support myself and the only breadwinner around here is a self centred shopaholic-type candles.
"Will, I need your help! Spike is taking cockney lessons, and I don't know what to do. He's sounding like.. I don't know, Fran Drescher trying to impersonate the Crocodile Hunter. I was really hoping for something a bit more Hugh Grant..."
Willow's eyes filled with tears. "You know I'd love to help, but - Buffy, you might need to sit down for this - I'm gay."
"Oh Will, I'm so sorry, how could I be so insensitive? I know you mentioned it once or twice at breakfast, and when we were shopping, and at lunch, and while I was taking out the garbage, and you might have called me a couple of times at work, and the half dozen emails, not to mention when you whispered through the keyhole when I was in the crapper, but I totally forgot. Tell me straight Will, am I too self-involved?"
"Buffy, you know I can't tell you ANYTHING straight. I'm... I'm gay."
Suddenly, a cold creeping fear slowly dawned, key-like, on Buffy. Was she gay as well? It made perfect sense. Willow was addicted to magic, although she had managed to keep it a secret - therefore, she, Buffy had to be addicted to something as well. Better make it sex - with Spike, to be specific. Xander and Anya had broken up - therefore, she, Buffy, could never have a normal relationship. Was she gay as well? And was she about to get a stutter? And grow puffy?
Next episode: Spike takes lessons from Long John Silver and sets off on a daring midnight raid on the Cornish coast; Dawn finds a new mentor in Fingers and goes on a wild "nicking" spree; Buffy sees "A Beautiful Mind" and worries that she might also be a schizophrenic maths genius; Willow struggles with the secret knowledge that she may, in fact, be gay.