Disclaimer-Spike is Joss's; the Feagles are Terry's. Me, I've got nothing.

A Wee Dram

By RhiannonAmaris

Spike and the tiny Celts had migrated to his crypt after the first bottle (and a detour to the local off license). Whatever the hell they were, they were good company. Most of them had stayed behind and maybe a dozen had come. They introduced themselves as Big Hamish, Long Billy, Medium Sized Jock, Wee Jock, Mad Stevens, Loud Wullie, Angus, Daft Angus, Quiet Willie, Sean and Jamie. If they weren't talking they were drinking, if they weren't drinking they were fighting and if they weren't fighting they were singing (in most cases off-key, but all in a different one). Big Hamish, who seemed to be in charge, went quiet for a moment then spoke. "Ye're an odd fang-beastie, to be sure. We've seen ye aboot some. Ye ain't attacked none o the human bigjobs an' ye go fightin' other fang-beasties til they go whoosh."

Spike took a moment to consider this. In part to puzzle through the burr, but mostly dealing with the fact they'd been watching him. "The goverme--"

The little blue men had started a ruckus about the evils of the government, with much cries of 'Wally, wally me' and Spike cleared his throat and glared til they silenced. "Put something in my head that won't let me hurt humans. I can still fight demons and such, so I get a spot of violence in where I can is all."

"Aye, but why guard the wee bigjob girl then?" All the others turned to stare at the one who had spoken up.

"I made a promise to a lady. Nothing will harm her while I exist." Spike growled and had vamped out.

"Wullie." Big Hamish said.

"Aye?"

"Ye ken how ye said there wuz times ye ought to have kept yer loud mouth shut? Weel, that was one of em."

"Crivens!"

Hamish and Long Billy exchanged a look and nodded in satisfaction. "That's a powerful pair of geases Spike-beastie."

It took him a second to realize they didn't mean birds.