Sherliton's Army, chapter two
Notes: This is dedicated to Woody. Enjoy. I'll just run out and buy some marshmallows.
Thanks to everyone at the fantastic Willow/Spike fanfic list - http://groups.yahoo.com/group/WillSpikeFic/
For their wonderful encouragement and support. And fabulously entertaining fic. You guys rock.
More notes: Just a quick chapter here. Keep in mind that I don't take this seriously. My readers shouldn't either. Trust me – it's more fun that way.
Spike was dreaming. Not his usual Slayage-n-Shaggage dreams, either. Nor nightmarish flashbacks of Dru and Angelus. No. This was something truly terrifying. Something that nearly made his dead heart pound in fear.
Spike was dreaming of frogs.
Big, plump, green frogs on logs, Kermit the frog – even that animated frog from the WB made a brief appearance. Little tiny rainbow-colored tree frogs were swarming all over him; they dangled by a couple of suction- cupped toes from his clothes, sat in his hair, crawled up his face, and croaked in his ears. They were everywhere. It was horrifying. He stood stock still, too petrified to move, and some tiny part of his brain wondered when these small amphibians had become so repulsive to him.
Willow also dreamed. At least, she thought it was a dream, but it seemed so real…and on the Hellmouth, who could be sure what was reality, anyway? All she knew for certain was that this wasn't any dream she'd had before.
The land around her was blackened – singed by fire. The foundations of houses and building still smoked. Bodies of humans and demons alike littered the ground, and there wasn't a single living thing to be seen, or sensed. She was completely and utterly alone.
Even worse was her legs. They wouldn't move, and she wanted so badly to run away from all this distruction. Goddess, it looked like the Hellmouth had been opened, or something.
She found herself looking east towards the horizon, feeling an odd tingly feeling at the base of her neck that she knew meant the sun was about to rise. She couldn't hide from it, and suddenly she didn't want to. Smiling, Willow waited for oblivion.
The sun came up, only to be blocked out by the rising clouds of smoke. She couldn't even see the light, much less turn herself to dust. "No…"she whispered brokenly.
Meanwhile, the Slayer and the Slayerettes were standing around, watching with fascination as the non-breathing Spike continued to snore. "It must be some kind of spell," Xander said. "They're both out cold."
Buffy nodded. "Or poison of some kind. Maybe there's something wiggy about that demon's skin. They both touched him."
"But so did Xander. He's still awake and reasonably alert."
"Thanks, An."
Anya just smiled at him. She was finally getting the hang of humor.
Dawn was worried. The redheaded witch was her role model – and although that status had taken a beating a few weeks ago, the strength with which Willow was dealing with her addiction was inspiring. She was like her big sister and favorite aunt all rolled into one. And it looked like something was after her. "Why would something want to hurt Willow?" she asked. "Willow hasn't done anything. It's not fair!"
"I don't know Dawnie. We'll figure it out, don't worry."
The teen nodded, and went back to trying to clean the two snoozing adults up. She took a damp wash cloth to Spike's face, trying to wash off the dried blood from the corner of his mouth. He stirred. "Don' warn the tadpoles…" he muttered, and then fell silent. Xander gaped at him for a minute, his mouth opening and closing without any sound. Finally he spoke. "I think it's time to hit the books."
Buffy nodded, eyes wide.
Arnold Percival Sherliton was not a person one would normally notice if they passed by him on the street. He was short, wiry, and seemed to possess a rather suspicious lack of identifying features. Most people did pass him by. Many of those people ran into him first. He was just so nondescript he faded into the sidewalk.
This irked Arnold a great deal. He hadn't successfully made a name for himself in the software business only to be overlooked in social settings. He was rich. He was powerful. And damn it – he could have any girl he wanted!
Unfortunately , none of the above statements were *exactly* true. Sherliton *was* wealthy compared to the average Sunnydale citizen, and *did* have the power over his own career – being his own boss had it's perks, of course – and he *could* have almost any girl he wanted, thanks to a little magick he'd been working on.
But he didn't want any girl. He wanted _her_. She was gorgeous, with all that brilliant red hair and creamy skin and big hazel eyes. Arnold was completely and utterly smitten with the woman. And she, for some reason, had never given him the time of day.
Arnold frowned, mixing a variety of smelly herbs into a large crystal bowl. A pentangle of black candles surrounded him, and a large red one sat next to his workstation. *This* would get her attention. He knew it would. The girl had the biggest heart in the world – you could see it in her eyes. All he'd have to do was gain complete control of everything in this creepy little town, bring it to it's knees, and then offer it all to his sweetheart. Arnie watched the talk shows – he knew what women wanted, and he'd give it to her. In fact, he'd better start practicing now – he could just imagine the loving tear slipping down her face as he spoke, the way she'd touch his face…. What was his line, again? Oh. Right. "My darling. My one true love. Your beauty outshines the sun. Your purity blinds me. I'm helpless before you. Only you can take this hardened heart and change it. Only with your love can I divert from my life of crime to a future of good…"
A group of newly called demons congregated in one corner of the warehouse, chatting in their native language about the outcome of the previous night's Game. The game in question was one similar to American football, but happens to be utterly unpronounceable in English. When their new boss' voice rang out, they paused, hoping they were about to get some action. They'd been waiting for friggin' *ever*.
Instead, he was just rehearsing that speech again. The demons didn't have the firmest grasp of the Human languages yet, but that didn't mean they lacked some degree of taste. They snickered.
This shook Arnold out of his dreamy recitation and the bowl in front of him shattered. Several candles also went out. "Damn it!" he hollered. "I thought I told you – no noise! You guys are throwing me out of my groove! Now I've got to start this crap all over again!"
The demons quieted immediately, foreseeing the beginning of a loooong night. Arnie smirked at the command he held over them, and then turned to the creature on his right. "Dave – you wanna give me a hand cleaning this up? I just don't believe those guys – I pay them well, but do they listen to me? Noooo…" the short man trailed off, mumbling curses. His black scaly companion wriggled its mandibles and started sweeping up glass with its claws.
TBC
(to everyone's dread! Evil laugh, cackle, cackle, etc…)
Notes: This is dedicated to Woody. Enjoy. I'll just run out and buy some marshmallows.
Thanks to everyone at the fantastic Willow/Spike fanfic list - http://groups.yahoo.com/group/WillSpikeFic/
For their wonderful encouragement and support. And fabulously entertaining fic. You guys rock.
More notes: Just a quick chapter here. Keep in mind that I don't take this seriously. My readers shouldn't either. Trust me – it's more fun that way.
Spike was dreaming. Not his usual Slayage-n-Shaggage dreams, either. Nor nightmarish flashbacks of Dru and Angelus. No. This was something truly terrifying. Something that nearly made his dead heart pound in fear.
Spike was dreaming of frogs.
Big, plump, green frogs on logs, Kermit the frog – even that animated frog from the WB made a brief appearance. Little tiny rainbow-colored tree frogs were swarming all over him; they dangled by a couple of suction- cupped toes from his clothes, sat in his hair, crawled up his face, and croaked in his ears. They were everywhere. It was horrifying. He stood stock still, too petrified to move, and some tiny part of his brain wondered when these small amphibians had become so repulsive to him.
Willow also dreamed. At least, she thought it was a dream, but it seemed so real…and on the Hellmouth, who could be sure what was reality, anyway? All she knew for certain was that this wasn't any dream she'd had before.
The land around her was blackened – singed by fire. The foundations of houses and building still smoked. Bodies of humans and demons alike littered the ground, and there wasn't a single living thing to be seen, or sensed. She was completely and utterly alone.
Even worse was her legs. They wouldn't move, and she wanted so badly to run away from all this distruction. Goddess, it looked like the Hellmouth had been opened, or something.
She found herself looking east towards the horizon, feeling an odd tingly feeling at the base of her neck that she knew meant the sun was about to rise. She couldn't hide from it, and suddenly she didn't want to. Smiling, Willow waited for oblivion.
The sun came up, only to be blocked out by the rising clouds of smoke. She couldn't even see the light, much less turn herself to dust. "No…"she whispered brokenly.
Meanwhile, the Slayer and the Slayerettes were standing around, watching with fascination as the non-breathing Spike continued to snore. "It must be some kind of spell," Xander said. "They're both out cold."
Buffy nodded. "Or poison of some kind. Maybe there's something wiggy about that demon's skin. They both touched him."
"But so did Xander. He's still awake and reasonably alert."
"Thanks, An."
Anya just smiled at him. She was finally getting the hang of humor.
Dawn was worried. The redheaded witch was her role model – and although that status had taken a beating a few weeks ago, the strength with which Willow was dealing with her addiction was inspiring. She was like her big sister and favorite aunt all rolled into one. And it looked like something was after her. "Why would something want to hurt Willow?" she asked. "Willow hasn't done anything. It's not fair!"
"I don't know Dawnie. We'll figure it out, don't worry."
The teen nodded, and went back to trying to clean the two snoozing adults up. She took a damp wash cloth to Spike's face, trying to wash off the dried blood from the corner of his mouth. He stirred. "Don' warn the tadpoles…" he muttered, and then fell silent. Xander gaped at him for a minute, his mouth opening and closing without any sound. Finally he spoke. "I think it's time to hit the books."
Buffy nodded, eyes wide.
Arnold Percival Sherliton was not a person one would normally notice if they passed by him on the street. He was short, wiry, and seemed to possess a rather suspicious lack of identifying features. Most people did pass him by. Many of those people ran into him first. He was just so nondescript he faded into the sidewalk.
This irked Arnold a great deal. He hadn't successfully made a name for himself in the software business only to be overlooked in social settings. He was rich. He was powerful. And damn it – he could have any girl he wanted!
Unfortunately , none of the above statements were *exactly* true. Sherliton *was* wealthy compared to the average Sunnydale citizen, and *did* have the power over his own career – being his own boss had it's perks, of course – and he *could* have almost any girl he wanted, thanks to a little magick he'd been working on.
But he didn't want any girl. He wanted _her_. She was gorgeous, with all that brilliant red hair and creamy skin and big hazel eyes. Arnold was completely and utterly smitten with the woman. And she, for some reason, had never given him the time of day.
Arnold frowned, mixing a variety of smelly herbs into a large crystal bowl. A pentangle of black candles surrounded him, and a large red one sat next to his workstation. *This* would get her attention. He knew it would. The girl had the biggest heart in the world – you could see it in her eyes. All he'd have to do was gain complete control of everything in this creepy little town, bring it to it's knees, and then offer it all to his sweetheart. Arnie watched the talk shows – he knew what women wanted, and he'd give it to her. In fact, he'd better start practicing now – he could just imagine the loving tear slipping down her face as he spoke, the way she'd touch his face…. What was his line, again? Oh. Right. "My darling. My one true love. Your beauty outshines the sun. Your purity blinds me. I'm helpless before you. Only you can take this hardened heart and change it. Only with your love can I divert from my life of crime to a future of good…"
A group of newly called demons congregated in one corner of the warehouse, chatting in their native language about the outcome of the previous night's Game. The game in question was one similar to American football, but happens to be utterly unpronounceable in English. When their new boss' voice rang out, they paused, hoping they were about to get some action. They'd been waiting for friggin' *ever*.
Instead, he was just rehearsing that speech again. The demons didn't have the firmest grasp of the Human languages yet, but that didn't mean they lacked some degree of taste. They snickered.
This shook Arnold out of his dreamy recitation and the bowl in front of him shattered. Several candles also went out. "Damn it!" he hollered. "I thought I told you – no noise! You guys are throwing me out of my groove! Now I've got to start this crap all over again!"
The demons quieted immediately, foreseeing the beginning of a loooong night. Arnie smirked at the command he held over them, and then turned to the creature on his right. "Dave – you wanna give me a hand cleaning this up? I just don't believe those guys – I pay them well, but do they listen to me? Noooo…" the short man trailed off, mumbling curses. His black scaly companion wriggled its mandibles and started sweeping up glass with its claws.
TBC
(to everyone's dread! Evil laugh, cackle, cackle, etc…)