Title: The Ballad of Spike and Joyce
Author: Lindsay Ince (chicago_heat@hotmail.com)
Disclaimer: Not mine. Do you really think Joss would allow me to write this crap in the real world.
Rating: R
Spoilers: Up to and including Restless.
Summary: Xander's dream = abnormal.
Authors Notes: Set in between S4 and 5. Rune and Gileswench's fault, inspired by my comment about Kassie's brill work in emancipation, when I said ** Funnier than a tableau of a blow up doll of Spike and Joyce gettin' it on ** Oh God, I can't believe I stretched an off hand smutty comment into an actual fic! The shame! My sick and twisted mind, it must be controlled! Do I get a prize for getting in like nearly every regular?
Feedback: No, I really *don't* want to know what you think of it, I can already imagine.
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He lay on his bed with his hands behind his head. Well, maybe he did have a touch of insomnia but other than that he was pretty content with life. He resisted the urge to hum cheerily in the case the sleeping form beside him was disturbed. How incredibly beautiful she was, he thought. So pure, so gentle, so weak in his arms. Well, he considered reasonably, I suppose I am a very attractive man, a man people lose control over, she wouldn't be the first. He chuckled to himself. I doubt she'll be the last either. Just as he thought that she rolled over to rest against him. Soft hair over his arm, her fist resting gently on his chest. Oh yeah, she was a thing of beauty. He snuggled against her, enjoying a moment of peaceful relaxation. She had incredible grace, even in her sleep. He watched her breathe for a moment, revelling in the silence, until it was broken by another sound. It was outside the room ,but loud enough to penetrate the blissful quiet. He stilled, struggling to catch the indistinct murmur. Still nothing he could decipher. Sighing to himself, he gently tried to escape her warm arms without waking her. With one last look back, he opened the door in his boxers and looked out. The sight before him was unbelievable.
It was Joyce Summers, flat on her back, with a man, having sex. Not quiet, sensual sex either, man, it was noisy! He thought he was going to be sick for a moment, until his moist palms and her moist body had an odd and frankly bizarre effect on him. He said her skin was moist, but it was more shiny than that and on closer inspection he found thick wrinkles at her…seams? How long had she had them, surely she wasn't that old! And the sound that had rudely separated him from his bed was becoming audible. Part his grunts, part hers, and part an odd sound that sounded like plastic rubbing on plastic. He stepped closer still and finally saw the solution. She was plastic! She was a plastic blow up doll! He could even see the tag that you used to blow her up on her hip. Then he stood stock still, recognising her lover.
Blond hair, smooth plastic skin, tag on his behind to blow him up. Oh my God, Joyce is fucking Spike! He was staring at a tableau of Spike and Joyce as blow up dolls getting it on! That had to be the sickest thing he had ever witnessed. Finally, Joyce caught his eye, and smiled. She tapped her…companion on the shoulder and they both turned to look at him.
'Come on big boy,' Spike smirked.
'Yes, do join us,' Joyce smiled, using the voice she used when she offered him cookies. 'We'd like it very much. Please Xander.'
At her pleading Xander gave up all pretence of resisting. He walked toward them, fuck this for a game of soliers, he thought, bending to take off his boxers.
Suddenly the room was filled with a blinding light, and when it had dimmed enough for him to see again he looked around the room. A spotlight seemed to be focussed on them in the middle. His initial reaction was one of embarrassment when he bent to grab his boxers and found they had melted away into thin air. He looked up and around to see Buffy, Willow, Giles, Riley, Tara, Oz, Harmony, Wesley, Drusilla, Angel, Cordelia, Faith and Anya - in fact almost everyone he had ever known - ranged around the outside of the spotlight on chairs, looking at them. Spike and Joyce seemed oblivious, carrying on their energetic lovemaking in front of the others. And in fact, none of the others seemed to notice them, all of them focussed on him, and shot him many disapproving glances. He looked around stuttering uncontrollably, looking for a way to escape when suddenly he sprang up. Panting and sweating, he woke up in his own bed, and knocked Anya to the other side of it in the process. Groggy and irritated at being woken so abruptly, she spat out,
"What the hell is wrong with you?"
"Nothing, nothing. Bad dream," cried out Xander defensively.
Anya rolled her eyes in disgust and flopped back down on the bed, asleep as soon as her head touched the pillow. Xander stayed awake, thinking over what he had dreamed. That had been weirder than any dream the first slayer could have given him.
Oh no, he thought, my dreams are in no way abnormal.