Title: As in a (Really Bad) Dream

Rating: PG-13

Warnings: Fairy!Spike (still naked), Language, Violence, H/C

Pairings: None. But feel free to see implication until your head spins.

Disclaimer: They're Joss's, not mine. No money made.

Summary: Spike runs into the wrong demon, and wakes up to find that he's shrunk to 6 inches tall...and has wings.

Author's Note: Another short post. Nothing really happens in this part, but I promise Spike'll get to Wolfram and Hart in the next one!


Part 2

Giving into his growing hysteria, Spike felt himself give a crazed giggle before he dropped into a crouch on the concrete, burying his face in his hands. He laughed again, shaking his head. Oh, this was bloody hilarious. A fairy. He'd been turned into a fairy.

But what the hell did that mean?

Was the condition permanent? Was he still really a vampire? His vamp face worked all right. Did that mean he would still burn up if caught in sunlight?

Shit.

Spike looked upwards again, trying to detect the position of the moon in the night sky. He had to step several feet -- well, several of his feet -- to the side before he caught sight of it. Still high in the sky. Higher, it looked, than the last time he was awake. And it had been making its way back down at that time. Had he been out all night and day?

Glancing at the monstrosity that was his clothes, he knew that as small as he was now, they would have provided ample cover from the sun. Approaching the garments -- bugger, even his boots were huge -- Spike grabbed onto them and attempted to pull. They barely budged.

Okay, nothing he could do there. Vampire strength was apparently useless when wielded by a downsized demon.

He forced himself to take several deep, shuddering breaths until the edge was taken off his fear. He had time, and it probably wouldn't be too hard for someone of his stature to find reasonable cover. He could get back to Wolfram and Hart and then worry and agonize over his condition all he wanted, and hopefully get back to the alley to collect his clothes.

"All right, wings," he said, glancing over his shoulder at them. "You'd better get me up in the air, 'cause I sure as hell am not going to walk the whole sodding way."

Spike tested the wings out again, flexing them slowly.

He had no idea how this was supposed to work.

Turning to face forward again, Spike began beating his wings in what he hoped was the appropriate way to get off the ground. And then he gradually began to increase the speed with which he did it. It felt bloody weird, but he kept on flapping the things faster and faster until he felt them begin to pull him up.

Looking down at his feet, which were now entirely off the ground, he felt a little rush. Sure, he'd had dreams where he could fly, and had taken or been forced into more than a few hasty high exits from various buildings, but to be able to control it and for it to be real was another matter entirely. Feeling a bit of his confidence returning, he attempted some horizontal flying.

Unfortunately, his wings propelled him just a little too fast, and he crashed right into the dumpster, dropping like a fly.

Shaking his head to try and clear it of the residual fog from the impact, Spike winced as he clambered up from his ungraceful landing on top of the empty burger wrapper.

At least he still had a vampire's capability to take a beating without too much hurt. Still, he was probably going to have a few bruises from that.

Sighing, he worked his wings until he was gently lifted into the air again. A second tentative attempt at horizontal flight had his stomach flipping from the quickness with which the wings carried him. He tried another short burst. And another, the whole flying thing bothering him more than he'd like to admit.

Too much focus on moving forward had him forgetting to keep his wings beating to keep him in the air at the same time, and he fell onto the concrete.

This was fucking ridiculous.

Not a happy vampire fairy in any way, shape or form, Spike pushed himself back up and folded his wings with a muttered curse. "I guess I am walking." he grumbled.

At that moment, voices filtered into the alley. Wary, Spike scurried over and pushed himself against the wall behind the dumpster as two men stepped into the alley moments later. They were chatting and laughing about some chit they'd met earlier that night. Their shoes scraped against the concrete as they came closer, but Spike didn't dare to try and peek around to see them. He really didn't need noticing.

It was a moment later that he noticed the footsteps had stopped.

"Shit." one of them breathed. "Not this again."

Oh, bugger, Spike thought. His clothes!

"I tell ya, man, there's some funky shit goin' on in this city." The second one sounded extremely agitated.

"At least there's no blood, this time."

"I don't care. I ain't touchin' 'em. Let's hurry up and get out of here before we miss the bus."

The two blokes began walking, quickly exiting the alley. Spike braced his hands against the wall, letting his head lean back against the cold surface as he closed his eyes in relief. He really hadn't fancied the thought of having to track his beloved duster down.

Two idiots knew the dangers of being out at night, and they still walked in the dark and dank, alone? They could get themselves eaten, for all he cared. People like that just made his job unnecessarily harder. They probably came down this same way every time they had to...

Spike's eyes popped open. A second later he was bolting around the corner after the two humans.

The bus! If he could sneak onto the right one, it'd get him close enough to the law firm so he wouldn't have to make the entire journey on foot and then hide when the sun eventually came out.

Spike kept himself blended in with the shadows as he hurried along behind the men approaching the nearby bus stop, careful to ensure that he was kept hidden from the lights of passing cars.

The men sat themselves down on the bus stop bench, silent now after the shock from the alley. Spike waited behind them, wishing that he'd had the foresight to check the bus routes. Or keep a cell phone. Sure, it'd have to get replaced at least once a week, but at least he'd have instant access to help if he needed any.

Plus, it'd be fun to direct the charges to Angel. Thin his wallet a bit. That always made Spike feel better.

His gleeful contemplation of all the bothersome things he could do to Angel with a cell phone was put to an end as the bus came driving up. The destination written on it told him that it wouldn't get him to Wolfram and Hart, but it could get him part of the way there. And then he could transfer buses.

The first of the men got onto the bus and paid his fare. Taking a deep breath, Spike darted across the sidewalk as fast as he could and dived under the bus. He pulled himself up onto one of the pipes, wrapping his arms and legs around it and trying to ignore the discomfort of lying prone across a piece of hard metal without the benefit of protective covering. Or any covering.

The bus hissed as it rose, and then groaned as it started off again.

Spike rode out the rumbling of the pipe, glancing around. It was dark and dirty under the bus, and he couldn't see anything outside. Thankfully, the offices of Wolfram and Hart had always had some kind of pull that Spike as an "employee" could sense if he concentrated hard enough.

Squeezing his arms and legs tighter around the pipe, his wings laying limply across his back, Spike huddled against the cold hard metal as he settled in to wait.


Note: This would be a good time to mention I know nothing about the mechanics of buses and apologize if this is an impossible situation.