A/N: usual disclaimers apply - oh and B/T/W, in this fic, Dru is almost sane due to some therapy Spike has been sending her to. It is Part 2 in the "Drunken Spike" series.
Drusilla was sat by the fire as always, only this time she wasn't giving her doll, Miss.Edith a full makeover. Well, not quite. since spike had sent her to what could only be called a "shrink for demons", she could almost pass for sane. She sat there, dismembering the doll and carelessly throwing the limbs into the fire as they were removed. She glanced up as she heard Spike outside. Singing.
She reverted her eyes back to the doll as he stumbled through the door. Still singing,
"You'sh wonsh, twicsh, three timesh a ladaaaaay."
It wouldn't have been so bad if he'd sung the rest of the song, but nooo, he was singing the same line over and over again. Dru rolled her eyes,
"Spike, Pet, are you drunk again?"
"Tha' dependsh on if you'sh da coppers or no'. Cosh if you'sh a copper I'm perfe'ly shober."
"I'm not a police man, Spike."
"Den I'm comple'ely trolleyed!"
She watched with a motherly disapproval as he staggered towards her and sat beside the fire, a bottle of Jack Daniels in his hand. It was empty except for the piece of rolled up paper that had been shoved through the bottle-neck. She indicated the paper,
"What's that, Pet?"
He blinked and looked at the bottle, then at her, putting a finger to his lips,
"Shhhhh....it'sh a shecre'.[hic] You'sh not sh'poshed to know!"
He looked at her very matter-of-factly and sighed,
"Didncha know you'sh no' sh'poshed ta know 'bou' the shecre' meshage in der bottle? [hic]."
Removing the bottle from his hand, Drusilla took out the paper and read it....well, *attempted* to read it. It was just a scribble he'd made with a blue biro. He looked at it over her shoulder,
"Like i'? It'sh a pikcha of you'sh an' how bootiful I think you'sh ish."
He lazily draped and arm over her shoulder,
"'Ere, fanshy a sha'?[hic]"
The thoungt of jumping into bed with a drunk vampire who smelt totally of Jack Daniels and un-seasoned tequila was not Dru's idea of a good time. She tried to decline from his offer politey.
"No thankyou, Spike. You need your rest, go to bed."
At once the legless demon was on his feet and approaching the door,
"I knew i'! No' even me ma lovesh me! She'sh throwin' me ou'! [hic] Nevermin' I ca' fin' my own frien'sh. I'll go [hic] to Gilesh. He *alwaysh* knowsh wha' to do!"
Giles was tired, he needed a hot bath and his bed. A full night's patrol was too much. Buffy had had the night off and he was covering for her. Patrol over for one night. Dressed in his favourite dressing gown, he made his way to the bathroom and hearly fainted at the sight that met his eyes. Buffy. Buffy and .....Spike.
"Spike! Quit squirming!"
"Bu' i' ticklesh!"
The blonde vampire was in the bath, fully clothed and completely pissed. Completely. Buffy was not impressed and was in the process of trying to sober him up with the burst of freezing water that shot from the shower-head.
"Oh you are in so much trouble when you sober up!"
"Twouble?" He burst into song - for the fifteenth time in an hour,
"Uh-oh, we'sh in twouble, shomeone'sh cum alon' and busht our bubble!"
Giles was completely baffled,
"What are you two doing in *my* bathroom? Infact why are you in my *house*?"
Buffy left the drunken vampire for a moment and explained how she had found Spike in the graveyard singing, "It's a Hard Knock Life" over and over again with a bottle of Bacardi in his hand and a small Bacardi Breezer in his pocket. Both of which she'd confiscated. The Ripper looked apprehensively over her shoulder and tried not to laugh a he saw Spike holding a very civilised conversation with his bottle of shampoo. And the shower-head, which was now dowsing hs face with water as he tried to talk to it. They both turned to face him just in time to see him refrain from talking to inanimate objects and begin to talk to himself,
"Why'sh the wallsh all wet an' shoggy? [hic] I'sh knowsh. I'sh goesh an' ashksh Gilesh, he *alwaysh* knowsh wha' to do. [hic hic hic]"
Pulling the plug in the bath, Buffy and Giles locked the vampire in the room on his own to dry off. They came back a few hours later and knocked on the door. Giles peered anxiously through the keyhole,
"Spike? Are you dry yet?"
"Yesh. Me'sh dry ash a bone."
The Watcher looked at his slayer,
"but he's still as drunk as ever."
Then Buffy looked guilty,
"Oops....I left his confiscated alcohol in there with him. Big oops."
Both humans stood in the kitchen watching the vampire as he wriggled with glee whilst watching the telly. They'd tied him to a chair so he couldn't do anything stupid but he was still drunk. Buffy rolled her eyes,
"If I remember correctly, last time this happened we were at your house and he was tied to that same chair.....woah deja-vu!"
They glanced back to Spike.
"Ooh! Lookit dat! dere'sh people in der telly! An' dey'sh movin' abou' like....like...like people!"
Giles sighed,
"And again I believe the best solution to this is to leave him here. He'll be sober enough in the morning."
Spike woke up - keeping his eyes closed. He could feel little demons in his head with hammers, and they weren't playing croquet.
"Oh bugger."
"Good morning, Spike"
He recognised the voice instantly. Giles.
"No it is *not* a good morning, and why am I in your house tied to a chair?!"
"So..you don't remember?"
"Would I be asking if I did?"
"You got drunk....again."
"Woah, deja-vu!"
"They were Buffy's exact words, in fact."
"The Slayer? What's she got to do with it?"
He kept his eyes firmly closed, knowing that if he opened them, the demons in his head would not only be playing with their hammers, but clog-dancing too.
"So you don't remember the bath?And your conversation with my shampoo and the shower-head?"
"No."
"Hey guys!"
At the sound of Buffy's voice, the vampire dared to open his eyes - and the demons began their clog-dance.
"Fuck! My head!"
He looked around, he was tied to a chair but it had fallen and he was now lying on his back, still attached to the chair. He looked up at the Slayer,
"Oh bugger. Not again!"
Giles smurked,
"Y'know I could really do with a brandy, anyone else?"
The words "deja-vu" echoed throughout Spike's head but he ignored it. Alcohol good - hangover bad.
"Yes please, mate.....bugger."
Drusilla was sat by the fire as always, only this time she wasn't giving her doll, Miss.Edith a full makeover. Well, not quite. since spike had sent her to what could only be called a "shrink for demons", she could almost pass for sane. She sat there, dismembering the doll and carelessly throwing the limbs into the fire as they were removed. She glanced up as she heard Spike outside. Singing.
She reverted her eyes back to the doll as he stumbled through the door. Still singing,
"You'sh wonsh, twicsh, three timesh a ladaaaaay."
It wouldn't have been so bad if he'd sung the rest of the song, but nooo, he was singing the same line over and over again. Dru rolled her eyes,
"Spike, Pet, are you drunk again?"
"Tha' dependsh on if you'sh da coppers or no'. Cosh if you'sh a copper I'm perfe'ly shober."
"I'm not a police man, Spike."
"Den I'm comple'ely trolleyed!"
She watched with a motherly disapproval as he staggered towards her and sat beside the fire, a bottle of Jack Daniels in his hand. It was empty except for the piece of rolled up paper that had been shoved through the bottle-neck. She indicated the paper,
"What's that, Pet?"
He blinked and looked at the bottle, then at her, putting a finger to his lips,
"Shhhhh....it'sh a shecre'.[hic] You'sh not sh'poshed to know!"
He looked at her very matter-of-factly and sighed,
"Didncha know you'sh no' sh'poshed ta know 'bou' the shecre' meshage in der bottle? [hic]."
Removing the bottle from his hand, Drusilla took out the paper and read it....well, *attempted* to read it. It was just a scribble he'd made with a blue biro. He looked at it over her shoulder,
"Like i'? It'sh a pikcha of you'sh an' how bootiful I think you'sh ish."
He lazily draped and arm over her shoulder,
"'Ere, fanshy a sha'?[hic]"
The thoungt of jumping into bed with a drunk vampire who smelt totally of Jack Daniels and un-seasoned tequila was not Dru's idea of a good time. She tried to decline from his offer politey.
"No thankyou, Spike. You need your rest, go to bed."
At once the legless demon was on his feet and approaching the door,
"I knew i'! No' even me ma lovesh me! She'sh throwin' me ou'! [hic] Nevermin' I ca' fin' my own frien'sh. I'll go [hic] to Gilesh. He *alwaysh* knowsh wha' to do!"
Giles was tired, he needed a hot bath and his bed. A full night's patrol was too much. Buffy had had the night off and he was covering for her. Patrol over for one night. Dressed in his favourite dressing gown, he made his way to the bathroom and hearly fainted at the sight that met his eyes. Buffy. Buffy and .....Spike.
"Spike! Quit squirming!"
"Bu' i' ticklesh!"
The blonde vampire was in the bath, fully clothed and completely pissed. Completely. Buffy was not impressed and was in the process of trying to sober him up with the burst of freezing water that shot from the shower-head.
"Oh you are in so much trouble when you sober up!"
"Twouble?" He burst into song - for the fifteenth time in an hour,
"Uh-oh, we'sh in twouble, shomeone'sh cum alon' and busht our bubble!"
Giles was completely baffled,
"What are you two doing in *my* bathroom? Infact why are you in my *house*?"
Buffy left the drunken vampire for a moment and explained how she had found Spike in the graveyard singing, "It's a Hard Knock Life" over and over again with a bottle of Bacardi in his hand and a small Bacardi Breezer in his pocket. Both of which she'd confiscated. The Ripper looked apprehensively over her shoulder and tried not to laugh a he saw Spike holding a very civilised conversation with his bottle of shampoo. And the shower-head, which was now dowsing hs face with water as he tried to talk to it. They both turned to face him just in time to see him refrain from talking to inanimate objects and begin to talk to himself,
"Why'sh the wallsh all wet an' shoggy? [hic] I'sh knowsh. I'sh goesh an' ashksh Gilesh, he *alwaysh* knowsh wha' to do. [hic hic hic]"
Pulling the plug in the bath, Buffy and Giles locked the vampire in the room on his own to dry off. They came back a few hours later and knocked on the door. Giles peered anxiously through the keyhole,
"Spike? Are you dry yet?"
"Yesh. Me'sh dry ash a bone."
The Watcher looked at his slayer,
"but he's still as drunk as ever."
Then Buffy looked guilty,
"Oops....I left his confiscated alcohol in there with him. Big oops."
Both humans stood in the kitchen watching the vampire as he wriggled with glee whilst watching the telly. They'd tied him to a chair so he couldn't do anything stupid but he was still drunk. Buffy rolled her eyes,
"If I remember correctly, last time this happened we were at your house and he was tied to that same chair.....woah deja-vu!"
They glanced back to Spike.
"Ooh! Lookit dat! dere'sh people in der telly! An' dey'sh movin' abou' like....like...like people!"
Giles sighed,
"And again I believe the best solution to this is to leave him here. He'll be sober enough in the morning."
Spike woke up - keeping his eyes closed. He could feel little demons in his head with hammers, and they weren't playing croquet.
"Oh bugger."
"Good morning, Spike"
He recognised the voice instantly. Giles.
"No it is *not* a good morning, and why am I in your house tied to a chair?!"
"So..you don't remember?"
"Would I be asking if I did?"
"You got drunk....again."
"Woah, deja-vu!"
"They were Buffy's exact words, in fact."
"The Slayer? What's she got to do with it?"
He kept his eyes firmly closed, knowing that if he opened them, the demons in his head would not only be playing with their hammers, but clog-dancing too.
"So you don't remember the bath?And your conversation with my shampoo and the shower-head?"
"No."
"Hey guys!"
At the sound of Buffy's voice, the vampire dared to open his eyes - and the demons began their clog-dance.
"Fuck! My head!"
He looked around, he was tied to a chair but it had fallen and he was now lying on his back, still attached to the chair. He looked up at the Slayer,
"Oh bugger. Not again!"
Giles smurked,
"Y'know I could really do with a brandy, anyone else?"
The words "deja-vu" echoed throughout Spike's head but he ignored it. Alcohol good - hangover bad.
"Yes please, mate.....bugger."