Sherliton's Army 4/?
By Len (lendolyn@y...)
Spoilers: `Gone' – it pretty
much branches off into AU at that point.
Teaser: Willow and Spike deal with
the side-effects of their run-in
with Bub (Big Ugly Bug), and Sid
has a brief cameo in which he tosses
our heroine around a little. But
never fear - no Willows (or
Spikes!) were harmed in the making
of this fic.
Rating: R – Spike and his
dirty mouth!
Note: I can't write drama or angst
to save my life. This is the
result of me attempting to keep my
head from exploding in the pre-
finals season. Clichés
abound, Evil Critters are borrowed from
Sigourney Weaver movies, plot
weaves like a drunken man, names are
silly…you know, the usual.
Have fun.
Archive: My site – Blood
Magic:
( http://www.geocities.com/voodoo_bloodmagic/enter.html
), Breathe,
FF.net, NHA, WLS - and anyone else
who wants it. Just let me know so
I can visit. Or gloat. Same diff.
More Notes: Not one of my better
chapters, granted, but hopefully it
will be fun to read. Just don't
read too carefully. (:
Also: WILL FIC FOR FEEDBACK!!!
For: sinecure. You asked for it.
;)
Chapter 4
~*~
Willow gingerly removed her shirt
and walked to the bathroom in
her jeans and bra, almost dreading
what she would see in the mirror.
She looked at her reflection and
cringed. The creature that looked
like those things that
lived…well, you know – had really done a
number on her ribs. They didn't
appear to be broken, but the red
footprint was rapidly transforming
into a rather startling shade of
purple.
She sighed. If this had happened a
couple months ago, she would
have simply spelled away the
damage. Now it looked like she would
just have to heal the
old-fashioned way.
"This sucks," she
decided, grumbling and prodding the area with a
careful finger. Her head wasn't
feeling to hot either – there was a
trickle of dried blood running
down one side of her forehead from her
abrupt nose-dive into the street,
and a lump from where that Big Ugly
Bug had cracked her and Spike
together like they were a couple of
eggs and it was the Iron Chef.
Willow dug around in her
well-equipped medicine cabinet and
swallowed a couple of Aspirin dry.
She hoped she didn't have a
concussion of some sort –
the ringing in her head hadn't gone away
and was showing no signs of
lessening. She sighed, and stripped off
her blood-soaked jeans to climb in
the shower. The near-scalding
water ran down her body and washed
away the crusted blood, creating
pink rivulets of liquid. Willow
watched it in fascination before
realizing that Spike must've lost
a heck of a lot more blood than
she'd thought – because none
of that blood running down the drain was
hers. She hoped he was all right.
He'd seemed a little dazed when
they'd left the shop, like his
chip was acting up. Except there
hadn't been anything to set it
off…
She squirted out a measure of
shampoo into her palm. `Wash that
Big Ugly Bug right out of your
hair!' she thought irreverently,
scrubbing hard. Big ugly bug, big
ugly bug…
Willow knew she had seen that
Creature before, but she couldn't
remember where. It was really
starting to bother her. Maybe that
crack on the noggin had knocked a
few brain cells loose. It was so
familiar, practically on the tip
of her tongue…
She rinsed that last of the soap
from her hair and body before
stepping out onto the shower mat
and drying off. Maybe she would
stop by Spike's new place and find
out what his impressions of that
Thing had been. After all, he'd
gotten a few good knocks in on it,
too.
Her nightshirt hung on a hook on
the bathroom door, and she
slipped gratefully into the soft,
worn cotton.
And out of nowhere came the memory
of his touch. Just the
faintest whisper of fingers across
her face, so soft it made her
ache. Moving across her lips,
leaving them tingling in the cool wake
of his caress. The air between
them seemed to hum with energy, and
she leaned towards him, closing
her eyes…
Blinking, Willow snapped out of
her daydream at about the same
time she over-balanced and fell
over. `Definitely a few loose brain
cells rattling around,' she
decided, and climbed into bed. `Like
that ever has or ever *will*
happen…'
All the same, she couldn't stop a
wistful smile from crossing her
lips as she drifted off to sleep.
~*~
Across town, Spike was in Hell. It
wasn't the traditional
Victorian version of Hell –
all flames and brimstone, but one that
was sufficiently tortuous to
satisfy all the basic requirements.
For one thing, he felt like he'd
been thrown off a tall tower,
several times. And he was in a
position to know exactly what *that*
felt like. There wasn't a part of
him that didn't hurt. If
anything, the ringing in his head
had gotten worse since he'd parted
company with the rest of the gang,
and the gash on his side was
showing no signs of healing. But
he figured that both could have
quite a bit to do with the fact
that he couldn't get to the fridge
and his blood. Or to a phone.
Just the thought of calling one of
the Scoobies to tell them that
he had fallen and couldn't get up
was enough to make him shiver in
horror. The only one of the whole
lot he could imagine himself
asking for help was Will, and
after their run-in with that black,
scaly demon, she wasn't in top
shape either. She'd come, but she
needed her rest now.
He could call the slayer –
and she would help. But he knew how
that scenario would end. She'd
haul him to his feet, grimacing at
how repulsive his physical
proximity to her was, and then watch him
drink his blood, keeping a long,
angsty silence. Then one of them
would start and argument and she'd
storm out of this apartment with
some cutting final remark…
Nah. He wasn't disillusioned at
all, was he? Spike smirked self-
depreciatingly to himself from his
position on the floor of the
living room. That's all he and
Buffy had ever been – tragic,
pointless, full of pain. Well, he
was fed up with brooding and
stalking and hurting. He wanted to
have a bit of fun – like before
the days of the chip. Laughter was
good for anyone – even demons –
and he intended to find some.
Just as soon as he got off the
floor.
Buffy didn't know where his new
apartment was, anyway. The
thought cheered him somewhat.
Bloody Hell…he was so
tired… But he had nice carpet – that had to
be worth something. It was nice
and squishy. Spike gave up trying
to get up and just laid his head
down on it. It was too much. Just
too much. Why couldn't the Powers
That Be just give him a couple
days of rest? He was sick to
death…well, really tired, anyway, of
being constantly bruised or
fighting…. Was it too much to ask for
just a few minutes to recover? Or
even better, someone to fuss over
him a little bit? Not long, just
an hour or so…
And somehow, in the midst of his
pain-induced fog, he wasn't
terribly surprised when Willow
fell from the ceiling and landed on
the lovely carpet next to him.
Thud.
"Whaa…?" The
half-asleep and startled redhead muttered, rolling
over and into Spike's prostrate
form. He flinched in pain, but
couldn't get his mouth to form the
trite but useful, `Ow'.
Willow blinked against the
lamplight in the apartment, completely
disoriented. She quickly replayed
the evening's events in her mind.
Shower…yup.
Teeth…whoops. Bed….yup. Sleep…check. Wake up in
strange room…huh. Maybe the
side-effects of her run in with the Big
Ugly Bug (henceforth referred to
as BUB due to time restraints) were
more numerous than she had
originally believed. She laid there
pondering the idea as gradually
the smell of cigarette smoke and
leather filled her senses. She
knew that combination. "Spike?" she
croaked. "What the hell am I
doing here?"
He rolled his eyes towards her,
trying to convey a suitably
sarcastic remark. It took most of
his remaining energy to tilt an
eyebrow.
Willow sat up slowly. The ringing
in her head had lessened, but
falling from…wherever it
was…hadn't helped her poor ribs any. She
opened her mouth to ask her blond,
fangy friend what was going on but
stopped as she got a good look at
his appearance. Her eyes
widened. "Eep!" she
squeaked. "Blood! Lots of blood. And you look
bad! Let me just get—"
and she dashed out of the living room.
Spike listened to her putter
around in the kitchen and relaxed
for the first time in a week.
Willow was there now. Things would be
fine because she wasn't the type
to settle for anything less.
And his last conscious thought
before he passed out was that
people didn't have nearly enough
appreciation for wool-blend
carpeting.
~*~
Meanwhile, back at the corporate
offices of The Powers That Be,
the Almighty Sid was very pleased.
All the two Beings had required
to get things back on track was a
tiny push. For P%k&6's sake, Sid
hadn't even needed to send them
any provocative images – they were
doing it all on their own. He had
to commend Willow the witch's
imagination – even he
couldn't have dreamed up something so subtle.
He rubbed his hands together in
glee and watched the scene
presently playing out before him.
Willow the witch had returned from
the kitchen with a mug of blood
and some rags. She trotted back to
the vampire, looking worried. Sid
smiled. "Ah yes, I'm back in the
saddle again," he sang,
congratulating himself. Spike the vampire
wanted some babying, did he? Well,
fortunately for him, that fit
into Sid's plans very nicely.
After a few more minutes of
Willow/Spike TV he changed the
channel, curious about what his
second-in-command was up to in
regards to that annoying little
gnat, Sherliton.
A dark warehouse came into view,
and Sid rolled his
eyes. "Thousands of years of
Evil Masterminds, and the best they
ever seem to do for a Secret Lair
is a warehouse. Idiots!"
His annoyed expression softened as
he watched No. 2 skip her
little Girl Scout-ish way in
through the door. Oh, this would be
*good*.
TBC...
