Title: A Tornado With Sharp Things

Series: Vicious Strays

Author: Kiara (Kiara_Rogue@hotmail.com)

Pairing: S/X

Rating: overall NC-17, but its pretty tame most chapters. There'll be a warning before the nookie.

Summary: Necrophiliac monks with a necronomicon help our boys perform necromancy to save the world? Huh?

Disclaimer: I'm not nearly insane enough to be considered even remotely Josslike, so, not mine.

Distribution: Take it, I don' need it.

Feedback: um...yes please? I'm a sad lonely bum so I like it

A/N: Okay so I started this story a zillion years ago and ran out of inspiration and then the other day I was sitting on the bus wondering why the lady in front of me hadn't discovered deodorant yet and my muse attacked. I went home and sat typing from 6 p.m. to 3:30 a.m. when migraine induced blindness forced me to take an unpleasant break. And now I have it. Its unbetaed so all mistakes are mine, but here it is.

This takes place in a Buffy quasi mid-season four kind of place. Anya never came back after prom and so the Scoobies are all in a flirty kind of place. Buffy with Riley, Willow with Tara, and Xander with...um. guess! *snort* And yes. my version of Buffy is insane. Why do you ask?

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Spike had actually managed to doze off in the car during the short silent trip to the Watcher's flat. He hadn't realized just how much his earlier ass-kicking had taken out of him until he'd collapsed on Harris's sad excuse for a bed. He was glad that the moron'd been too tired for an interrogation just then. He was humiliated enough, having been kicked out of his crypt by a bunch of migrating homeless kids. He didn't need his chip rubbed in his face anymore that night.

When the car pulled to a stop he woke enough to raise his head from the window to take in the Slayer and her watcher's state. The Slayer was standing, leaning on the old man, her left leg showing bloody gashes through the rips in her sweatpants. She looked tired and a little pale, Spike felt infinitely better about his crappy night. The Watcher looked a little bit better than his Slayer, he was dressed normally and had only a little cut and bruise on his forehead. He was supporting Buffy with his right arm and clutching a stack of books in the left. When the car stopped, both gave a relieved look and the old man helped Buffy limp closer to the car.

Spike stayed put, lighting a cigarette when Xander jumped from the car and scrambled around to help the pair. Spike listened lazily as they loaded the wounded Slayer into the back seat and took a few frantic drags at his cigarette, hoping to drown out the tempting smell of her blood with tobacco. It wasn't entirely effective, but he was too sleepy to get too worked up about it. He ignored her complaint about the smoke and kept staring straight ahead, feet propped lazily on the dashboard.

Giles got in next to the slayer with his precious bundle of books and started fussing over his Slayer's injury while she repeatedly told him that she was fine. Xander got back in the car and cracked Spike's window so the smoke would escape. Soon they were headed down the street.

"So what was it?" The boy asked after a minute. Spike recognized the route as one that ended at the Slayer's house.

"I believe it may be a poltergeist of some sort. A very powerful one. It resisted all attempts I made to expel it from my home." Giles answered. Buffy's answer was shorter and made Xander smile from what Spike could see of the boy.

"It was like a tornado with sharp things." She supplied. "Maybe we should keep the weapons chest locked, Giles. It makes me sad when my own weapons feel the need to hurt me." Giles just hmmed at that. "So what's with Spike? I thought he was all crypt-guy now." Buffy asked, changing the subject while Giles tried to read one of his books in the dark car. Spike chose not to acknowledge her question. If she was going to talk like he wasn't there, the he might as well ignore her. He settled his cheek back against the cold window and closed his eyes.

"Hmm, well, remember when I told you about that big mean tomcat that prowls around my neighborhood beating up all the escaped house cats?" Spike opened an eye to peer at the idiot driver. %What does a cat have to do with me?% "I was letting Spike hide in my basement until he decided to beat on something else." Buffy snickered at that and Spike snorted. The little yarn wasn't exactly flattering to Spike but it distracted everyone from the truth so he didn't call the boy on it.

They pulled up then and Xander rushed around the car to help Buffy out. Spike considered going back to sleep in the car while they all putted about inside, but didn't like the idea of sleeping out in the open. He climbed out of the car and yawned his way up the walk behind the others. Inside he found himself slumped tiredly in a chair while Queen Buffy got to lay on the couch. Xander rushed around getting a first aid kit and Giles used a pair of scissors to cut the slayer's pant-leg to knee-length.

Spike ignored his growling stomach's reaction to the smell of her blood and leaned his head back on the chair's cushion with his eyes closed. He hardly registered Joyce's concerned voice until he heard her ask if he was alright. He opened his eyes and flashed her a reassuring smile. She smiled warmly back and turned her attention back to her daughter.

"Perhaps we should all retire for the evening and all get together for research in the morning after we've had a chance to recover?" Giles suggested after Buffy's wound was bandaged.

"If you change that 'morning' to afternoon, then that might just be a wonderful idea." Xander offered up. "Research party at noon? Here?" Giles looked to Joyce for permission and at her nod he nodded to Xander. "Great, I'll call Willow and tell her when the sun comes up." Spike watched tiredly as Xander helped Buffy, asleep on her feet, up the stairs to put her to bed.

"I'll make up the couch for you, Mr. Giles." Joyce offered. Giles gave her a tiredly grateful smile. "Will you be staying, Spike?" She asked him politely. Spike roused himself enough to shake his head. He needed to get away from the smell of Slayer blood. He hauled himself out of the chair.

"No thanks, love, I'll be going with Harris." He said through a yawn and stumbled to the door as Xander came down the stairs. Xander didn't even acknowledge him as he said his goodbyes, looking ridiculous in his jeans and bathrobe, but he waited until Spike was in the car before pulling out. Spike dozed again until they reached Xander's house and then followed Xander inside on autopilot. Xander didn't even bitch when he crawled back onto the bed in the same place he'd slept earlier. The boy'd simply crawled into his own spot and they were both asleep in no time.