Chapter 3
Spike fell heavily on his ass, the last thing he was aware of before losing consciousness was his head hitting the floor, hard.
Spike came round, blinking rapidly as he slowly adjusted to the brightness, It was impossibly hard to focus or even keep his eyes open. He felt like he'd been drinking heavily for a couple of weeks and was just starting to sober up, plus Tommy Ramone had just started playing the drums inside his head.
What had happened? He remembered something about the room spinning and lots of clothes; most of it was a blur. The floor beneath him felt cold and hard, like concrete, perhaps he had got drunk and passed out in the road… again. It wouldn't have been the first time, but he couldn't smell alcohol. Deciding that the only way he could find out what had happened would be to take a look around; he forced himself forward but instantly regretted the movement. Someone was having a party inside his head and had forgotten to invite him. Either that or he was dying – for the third time. Cradling his head in his hands, he attempted to make out where he was.
The room was bright, very bright, but not sunlight… perhaps some sort of paranormal type thing, which would make sense. The room was blue and golden at the same time but the colors changed, as if with mood, a big moody stone room; stone slabs, stone floor, stone walls not a room intended for informal company.
A soft voice came from his left side; he turned his head to face her, his neck cracked in disagreement with the effort. A female stood before him; she was golden with blue symbols painted all over her, her dark curly hair pinned up by a golden tiara, and clothed in a dark brown sash, she emanated authority.
It unsettled Spike the way they spoke, knowing what the other was going to say; watching him as if he were some sort of lab specimen. "Who did you 'spect me to be then?" He winced with the effort of speaking but ignored the pain, as he knew that he mustn't show weakness. In addition, the thud from the drums was starting to dull - thank god for vampires' quick speedy recoveries.
"So that's it, expected Nancy Boy and got stuck with me! Well I'll re-direct you to 'evil R us' and be on my merry way then."
"Lower beings, Powers that be? What the hell… who or rather what, are you?"
"Oracles?" Spike asked incredulously, the dull pounding in his head wasn't helping his concentration
"Right, whoop-di- do for you, but I'm off, got some unpacking to do, and half a bottle of 'Jack Daniels' with my name on it, cheerio, good luck with your task thing." Spike stood, praying his legs not to fail him now, he turned and started trying to work out a way out of the horrid little room.
Spike whipped around "Slayer? What about the slayer?"
The Oracles ignored him, and continued their own discussion.
The Oracles turned to leave.
"No!" Spike paused to control his outburst of emotion. Taking a few deep un-needed breaths, he started "Which Slayer… Buffy?" He raised an eyebrow as the Oracles stopped walking. "Well I am a warrior. I can fight." He paused again, unsure of the right words to use "I'll protect her with my life. Now what do I need to know?"
The Oracles turned to face him, a small smile playing on the female's face, as if she had always known that Spike would beg them to stop.
"A what? Uh…" Spike quickly searched through his pockets looking through his pockets for something suitable as a gift. He halted a small smile playing on his face, "Well love, looks like you have a choice. You either get a pretty white stick capable of destroying your lungs and heart, or my favorite lighter." He held up the packet of cigarettes in one hand and his silver Zippo in the other. The female smiled and pulled the lighter to her.
"All right love, I get it, 'Humans – bad, don't deserve to crawl the earth-' etc... "
Spike couldn't hide the laughter that drew up from inside him "You've dragged me all the way here, to tell me that the slayer, Buffy, can't fight off a vampire? Bugger this, let me out" Spike turned away from them again looking for an exit.
Spike paled slightly the idea of Buffy in trouble turning his stomach. He turned back to them "Ok, so this big bad vampire's gonna come and fight Buffy, and he's gonna win. Whatcha want me to do?"
Spike raised a quizzical eyebrow.
"Just learnt over the years that nothing really comes for free, especially 'mystical items' from the powers that are," Spike replied wryly.
"I've also tended to find that magic's don't play nicely with Spikey here." The two oracles merely stood perfectly still. "But I guess that doesn't concern you…So what sorta 'items' we talking here, love?" Spike paused as a grin splashed onto his face, "Anything valuable?"
Spike closed his eyes, sure that at any moment he would feel himself slamming through the concrete wall, but instead fell onto something soft. Opening one eye, he found himself back in his room. He slowly sat up; the clothes he'd been throwing around the room were now neatly packed into the duffle bags that were stacked in the opposite corner of the room. He shook his head in attempt to clear it and lay back down, spread out on the bed. He was unsure whether to believe anything that happened to him since he had left the offices. Just as he started to feel the warmth sleep upon him, one important phrase swam forward in his mind, 'the Slayer's in trouble. With a gasp, he quickly sat back up. "The Slayer...my Slayer's in some kinda danger and I'm sitting around like a wanker." In a flash, he was hurtling off the bed and scrambling for the phone.
A/N 3: Please don't forget to review! Thanks to my Beta's Bloodshedbaby & Kitty's mum!
Chapter 3
Spike fell heavily on his ass, the last thing he was aware of before losing consciousness was his head hitting the floor, hard.
Spike came round, blinking rapidly as he slowly adjusted to the brightness, It was impossibly hard to focus or even keep his eyes open. He felt like he'd been drinking heavily for a couple of weeks and was just starting to sober up, plus Tommy Ramone had just started playing the drums inside his head.
What had happened? He remembered something about the room spinning and lots of clothes; most of it was a blur. The floor beneath him felt cold and hard, like concrete, perhaps he had got drunk and passed out in the road… again. It wouldn't have been the first time, but he couldn't smell alcohol. Deciding that the only way he could find out what had happened would be to take a look around; he forced himself forward but instantly regretted the movement. Someone was having a party inside his head and had forgotten to invite him. Either that or he was dying – for the third time. Cradling his head in his hands, he attempted to make out where he was.
The room was bright, very bright, but not sunlight… perhaps some sort of paranormal type thing, which would make sense. The room was blue and golden at the same time but the colors changed, as if with mood, a big moody stone room; stone slabs, stone floor, stone walls not a room intended for informal company.
A soft voice came from his left side; he turned his head to face her, his neck cracked in disagreement with the effort. A female stood before him; she was golden with blue symbols painted all over her, her dark curly hair pinned up by a golden tiara, and clothed in a dark brown sash, she emanated authority.
It unsettled Spike the way they spoke, knowing what the other was going to say; watching him as if he were some sort of lab specimen. "Who did you 'spect me to be then?" He winced with the effort of speaking but ignored the pain, as he knew that he mustn't show weakness. In addition, the thud from the drums was starting to dull - thank god for vampires' quick speedy recoveries.
"So that's it, expected Nancy Boy and got stuck with me! Well I'll re-direct you to 'evil R us' and be on my merry way then."
"Lower beings, Powers that be? What the hell… who or rather what, are you?"
"Oracles?" Spike asked incredulously, the dull pounding in his head wasn't helping his concentration
"Right, whoop-di- do for you, but I'm off, got some unpacking to do, and half a bottle of 'Jack Daniels' with my name on it, cheerio, good luck with your task thing." Spike stood, praying his legs not to fail him now, he turned and started trying to work out a way out of the horrid little room.
Spike whipped around "Slayer? What about the slayer?"
The Oracles ignored him, and continued their own discussion.
The Oracles turned to leave.
"No!" Spike paused to control his outburst of emotion. Taking a few deep un-needed breaths, he started "Which Slayer… Buffy?" He raised an eyebrow as the Oracles stopped walking. "Well I am a warrior. I can fight." He paused again, unsure of the right words to use "I'll protect her with my life. Now what do I need to know?"
The Oracles turned to face him, a small smile playing on the female's face, as if she had always known that Spike would beg them to stop.
"A what? Uh…" Spike quickly searched through his pockets looking through his pockets for something suitable as a gift. He halted a small smile playing on his face, "Well love, looks like you have a choice. You either get a pretty white stick capable of destroying your lungs and heart, or my favorite lighter." He held up the packet of cigarettes in one hand and his silver Zippo in the other. The female smiled and pulled the lighter to her.
"I've also tended to find that magic's don't play nicely with Spikey here." The two oracles merely stood perfectly still. "But I guess that doesn't concern you…So what sorta 'items' we talking here, love?" Spike paused as a grin splashed onto his face, "Anything valuable?"
Spike closed his eyes, sure that at any moment he would feel himself slamming through the concrete wall, but instead fell onto something soft. Opening one eye, he found himself back in his room. He slowly sat up; the clothes he'd been throwing around the room were now neatly packed into the duffle bags that were stacked in the opposite corner of the room. He shook his head in attempt to clear it and lay back down, spread out on the bed. He was unsure whether to believe anything that happened to him since he had left the offices. Just as he started to feel the warmth sleep upon him, one important phrase swam forward in his mind, 'the Slayer's in trouble. With a gasp, he quickly sat back up. "The Slayer...my Slayer's in some kinda danger and I'm sitting around like a wanker." In a flash, he was hurtling off the bed and scrambling for the phone.
A/N 3: Please don't forget to review! Thanks to my Beta's Bloodshedbaby & Kitty's mum!
A/N 4: If you see any mistakes, whether it be in spacing or spellings, please let me know ASAP! It took me hrs. to get it this far on here! (Now I remeber why I "forgot" I still posted on here!)