Title: Again?
Author: Spiffy Da WonderSheep
Disclaimer: Spoilers up to The Gift. Joss owns it, I just warp it to my own means for fun and no profit. I've read so many angsty-post-Gift fics, you people have infected me. I hate you all! Okay, maybe I don't really, but look at what you made me write!!! *runs away crying *. It's going to be irreverent and some other word that also means irreverent, so if you don't approve, well, better look somewhere else then. Many thanks to JAIT and Idoru for much-needed feedback and plot questions, and to JodithGrace for much needed spelling help!
Part III
Giles awakened to familiar sensations. Fuzzy mouth, pounding head, full body aches, light stabbing painfully through the eyelids, directly to his cerebrum... Yes, he had survived to another day. Dammitall.
His hand reached out and blindly began searching the bedside table for the emergency bottle he'd taken to stashing there. A high pitch whine added new dimensions of pain to his usual hangover, and he actually opened one eye to aid in the search. What he saw made him close his eyes and groan in protest.
The whine stopped, and Spike said, "Oh, you're awake. Good. Hurry up, we've got to be down at the shop in an hour. Want any food?"
The mere mention of food made Giles' stomach heave. He put forth a Herculean effort and rolled over in bed, simultaneously pulling a pillow over his head.
"Oh no you don't." Spike pulled the pillow off of his head and ripped all the blankets away. "Phew! These things reek. I'll be back in a minute with some broth and coffee, after I put these to wash. If you're not up then, I'm bringing the vacuum cleaner." The high-pitched whine Giles could now identify as Spike's whistling retreated down the stairs. He groaned again, and started trying to remember where he'd left his stakes and holy water.
"And don't bother looking for either a weapon or more liquor, mate, I've thrown them all out." Spike's unbearably cheerful voice floated up the stairs, and Giles wondered if he could hang himself with a bed sheet. Then he remembered Spike took all the bed sheets, so he rolled out of bed and began crawling towards the bathroom, to vomit.
Spike surveyed the group gathered around the table with something that felt suspiciously like pride. That is, until he looked at them closer. Giles was obviously the worst, bleary eyed and his hands were wrapped around a half full cup of coffee. It was half full because the shaking of his hands had caused him to spill the other half. His hair was uncombed and he had a week's worth of beard, but at least he'd bathed. After Spike came in and threw him in the tub with all his clothes on, and then turned the faucet on him.
Xander looked like he was thirty years old. Spike had to hand it to him, since everything had happened, the guy had come through like a trooper. A trooper who didn't know what the hell he was doing, but still went bravely forward. The Witches were sitting next to each other, as always. Red looked blank, like she hadn't been sleeping well. Or like she was hiding something. As for Tara, well, she was always hard to get a read on. Dawn was sitting next to Tara, with her foot up on the chair next to her. She was picking at her shoe absentmindedly, a nervous habit Spike had noticed lately.
Anya had been forced to sit down next only when Spike ripped the "open" sign into pieces and tacked up in its place a handwritten notice: "Closed for Family Emergency". He'd had to enforce this edict with a growl and a hint of vamp face, which had caused him slight pain in the forebrain, but had made her stop fiddling around.
"Okay, guys, I called this meeting for a reason," Spike started, then stalled. He'd been trying to figure out how to go about telling them what had happened the previous night, but as he stood there with all their eyes on him, all his plans flew out the window. "Um, okay. Here's the deal. I had a visitation last night."
"A what?" Anya asked.
"A visitation. A spiritual event. A revelation, erm... something happened." Spike paused. "I saw Buffy."
"Oh, great. Spike's gone crazy," Anya said, then corrected herself. "Crazy-er."
"I am not going crazy, and Buffy told me so!" he retorted.
"And you're going to believe your delusions?"
"Anya, he might be telling the truth," Willow said. "I was reading some fascinating stuff on spiritual manifestations of departed persons the other day..."
"But that only happens in extreme circumstances," Giles butted in, talking to his coffee.
"Oh, yeah," Willow said, dejectedly.
"And only to humans."
"There's that too," Willow agreed.
"Listen, I didn't get a size-6 boot print on my jacket last night from any delusion. She came and kicked my ass, and then sent me here to kick your asses into gear."
"Why?" Dawn was the first one to ask.
"Because. We've been neglecting our duties and now Sunnydale's about to become the hole into which the universe disappears."
Everyone exchanged glances, and then the chorus began.
"AGAIN?"
"What, you think that just because one Slayer dies, the evil's going to stop? Come on guys, you know it doesn't work that way. The Powers That Be are counting on us to keep it from falling into the toilet. We're parts of the Big Plan, and we've got our sacred duties to perform. So I throw it out onto the table: Navek. What is it, and how do we stop it?"
Spike held his breath. Metaphorically, of course. It sounded good inside his head, but would they believe it had come direct from the Powers...
"Sounds Portuguese. Anya, do we still have a copy of the Livro De Cosias Malas Grandes?" Giles asked.
"12.99, Arcane Knowledge section." Anya disappeared into the store and returned, reading, "A criatura grande de Navek pode somente ser derrotada com uma espada muito grande através do spleen."
" 'The large Navek creature can only be killed with a very large sword through the spleen'," Willow translated.
"I didn't know you spoke Portuguese," Tara said, and Willow blushed.
"I--- picked it up here and there."
"Okay, so we have pointy swords aplenty," Xander said. "But we need to know where to find it."
"That's all this book says about them," Anya said.
"Someone could always go pummel Willy the Snitch," Dawn added helpfully.
"Yeah! I haven't had a good pummel in a long time... And how did you know about him?" Xander asked.
"Really, Xander," Dawn said, turning away from the dangerous area of reference it back on him, "We don't need to hear about your love life."
Spike let out the metaphorical breath and allowed himself a small grin as the banter flowed around him. It was a start.
Once again, TBC (I know, I'm just evil).
Author: Spiffy Da WonderSheep
Disclaimer: Spoilers up to The Gift. Joss owns it, I just warp it to my own means for fun and no profit. I've read so many angsty-post-Gift fics, you people have infected me. I hate you all! Okay, maybe I don't really, but look at what you made me write!!! *runs away crying *. It's going to be irreverent and some other word that also means irreverent, so if you don't approve, well, better look somewhere else then. Many thanks to JAIT and Idoru for much-needed feedback and plot questions, and to JodithGrace for much needed spelling help!
Part III
Giles awakened to familiar sensations. Fuzzy mouth, pounding head, full body aches, light stabbing painfully through the eyelids, directly to his cerebrum... Yes, he had survived to another day. Dammitall.
His hand reached out and blindly began searching the bedside table for the emergency bottle he'd taken to stashing there. A high pitch whine added new dimensions of pain to his usual hangover, and he actually opened one eye to aid in the search. What he saw made him close his eyes and groan in protest.
The whine stopped, and Spike said, "Oh, you're awake. Good. Hurry up, we've got to be down at the shop in an hour. Want any food?"
The mere mention of food made Giles' stomach heave. He put forth a Herculean effort and rolled over in bed, simultaneously pulling a pillow over his head.
"Oh no you don't." Spike pulled the pillow off of his head and ripped all the blankets away. "Phew! These things reek. I'll be back in a minute with some broth and coffee, after I put these to wash. If you're not up then, I'm bringing the vacuum cleaner." The high-pitched whine Giles could now identify as Spike's whistling retreated down the stairs. He groaned again, and started trying to remember where he'd left his stakes and holy water.
"And don't bother looking for either a weapon or more liquor, mate, I've thrown them all out." Spike's unbearably cheerful voice floated up the stairs, and Giles wondered if he could hang himself with a bed sheet. Then he remembered Spike took all the bed sheets, so he rolled out of bed and began crawling towards the bathroom, to vomit.
Spike surveyed the group gathered around the table with something that felt suspiciously like pride. That is, until he looked at them closer. Giles was obviously the worst, bleary eyed and his hands were wrapped around a half full cup of coffee. It was half full because the shaking of his hands had caused him to spill the other half. His hair was uncombed and he had a week's worth of beard, but at least he'd bathed. After Spike came in and threw him in the tub with all his clothes on, and then turned the faucet on him.
Xander looked like he was thirty years old. Spike had to hand it to him, since everything had happened, the guy had come through like a trooper. A trooper who didn't know what the hell he was doing, but still went bravely forward. The Witches were sitting next to each other, as always. Red looked blank, like she hadn't been sleeping well. Or like she was hiding something. As for Tara, well, she was always hard to get a read on. Dawn was sitting next to Tara, with her foot up on the chair next to her. She was picking at her shoe absentmindedly, a nervous habit Spike had noticed lately.
Anya had been forced to sit down next only when Spike ripped the "open" sign into pieces and tacked up in its place a handwritten notice: "Closed for Family Emergency". He'd had to enforce this edict with a growl and a hint of vamp face, which had caused him slight pain in the forebrain, but had made her stop fiddling around.
"Okay, guys, I called this meeting for a reason," Spike started, then stalled. He'd been trying to figure out how to go about telling them what had happened the previous night, but as he stood there with all their eyes on him, all his plans flew out the window. "Um, okay. Here's the deal. I had a visitation last night."
"A what?" Anya asked.
"A visitation. A spiritual event. A revelation, erm... something happened." Spike paused. "I saw Buffy."
"Oh, great. Spike's gone crazy," Anya said, then corrected herself. "Crazy-er."
"I am not going crazy, and Buffy told me so!" he retorted.
"And you're going to believe your delusions?"
"Anya, he might be telling the truth," Willow said. "I was reading some fascinating stuff on spiritual manifestations of departed persons the other day..."
"But that only happens in extreme circumstances," Giles butted in, talking to his coffee.
"Oh, yeah," Willow said, dejectedly.
"And only to humans."
"There's that too," Willow agreed.
"Listen, I didn't get a size-6 boot print on my jacket last night from any delusion. She came and kicked my ass, and then sent me here to kick your asses into gear."
"Why?" Dawn was the first one to ask.
"Because. We've been neglecting our duties and now Sunnydale's about to become the hole into which the universe disappears."
Everyone exchanged glances, and then the chorus began.
"AGAIN?"
"What, you think that just because one Slayer dies, the evil's going to stop? Come on guys, you know it doesn't work that way. The Powers That Be are counting on us to keep it from falling into the toilet. We're parts of the Big Plan, and we've got our sacred duties to perform. So I throw it out onto the table: Navek. What is it, and how do we stop it?"
Spike held his breath. Metaphorically, of course. It sounded good inside his head, but would they believe it had come direct from the Powers...
"Sounds Portuguese. Anya, do we still have a copy of the Livro De Cosias Malas Grandes?" Giles asked.
"12.99, Arcane Knowledge section." Anya disappeared into the store and returned, reading, "A criatura grande de Navek pode somente ser derrotada com uma espada muito grande através do spleen."
" 'The large Navek creature can only be killed with a very large sword through the spleen'," Willow translated.
"I didn't know you spoke Portuguese," Tara said, and Willow blushed.
"I--- picked it up here and there."
"Okay, so we have pointy swords aplenty," Xander said. "But we need to know where to find it."
"That's all this book says about them," Anya said.
"Someone could always go pummel Willy the Snitch," Dawn added helpfully.
"Yeah! I haven't had a good pummel in a long time... And how did you know about him?" Xander asked.
"Really, Xander," Dawn said, turning away from the dangerous area of reference it back on him, "We don't need to hear about your love life."
Spike let out the metaphorical breath and allowed himself a small grin as the banter flowed around him. It was a start.
Once again, TBC (I know, I'm just evil).