Chelle (altyronsmaker) wrote,

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100moods fic: Bouncy S/X

Title: Bouncy
Fandom: Buffy The Vampire Slayer
Characters: Xander/Spike
Prompt: Bouncy
Word Count: 1049
Rating: PG
Warning/Spoilers: Umm, S4 roughly, but no real spoilers and definitely no warnings.
Summary: Just some Scoobie interaction.

Unbeta'd, so heck yeah, concrit welcome!! Totally.

Previous parts here

Previously:“Right then. This is what we’ll do. You keep the army gits from stormin’ the castle, and I’ll find a place to make myself scarce when you say I need to. Mean time, I stay here. Got a warm bed, good company - and I’ll bite you if you ever tell anyone I said so - and a steady supply of blood. Got no reason to leave.”

“Deal.” Xander said. “And you can help us find the sick freak that’s going around slicing and dicing little kids.”

“Right.” Spike rolled his eyes and chuckled. “Anything for a friend.”

The sun sank low in the sky as Xander made his way toward the magic shop. He kept an eye out, scanning down alleys as he passed by them, checking out the shadows of the taller buildings, but nothing was out. Nothing accosted him. He felt a little cheated.

Absently, he kicked a can out of his way as he opened the shop door, frowning up at the bell that announced his arrival to the group sitting at the table. Willow had her nose buried in some dusty tome - no, wait, that was a Psychology text - while Buffy and Giles were both bent over some dusty old parchment papers. He flopped down next to Willow, who glanced up and gave him a distracted smile. He smiled back, then sighed.

“Two weeks and nothing. I hate to say it, but I kinda miss the violence and spine tingling terror. And of course, the spontaneous bladder releases in the face of extreme evil. You know, used to be, I could just walk down the street and five demons would be attacking, but now? With this thing on the loose?” Xander shrugged. “I just don’t know. It’s like he’s organizing them or something, for some big Demon Revolution crap.”

Giles nodded, closing his eyes briefly. “Yes. I have noticed the decided lack of demonic activity, but how do you arrive at the conclusion that he is organizing the forces of darkness? And do you suppose, Xander, perhaps, that you will ever be able to couch your commentary in proper English?”

Xander glared at him. “That was proper.”

Giles simply grinned. “Quite.”

“And, Mr. Stuffypants, lack of demonic activity suggests change. As this thing was created by the military, I’m guessing that it has at least some command of strategic planning. And that, my good and British friend, tells me Organized Demonic Revolution.” He paused. “Or ODR, as I like to call it.”

“ODR?” Giles frowned in confusion.

“O for organized, D for demonic, R for revolution? Ya know, acronym?”

“Yes, Xander, I know acronym.”

“Well, I’m just sayin’, seemed pretty self explanatory to me.”

“Nothing out of your mouth is self explanatory, dear boy.” Giles laughed.

“Hey!” Xander shouted, almost offended.

“Whatever, boys,” Buffy said. “Language issues aside, Giles, Xander’s right. Riley and I’ve been on patrol every night this week waiting for stuff to happen but nada. I’ve not seen the Hellmouth this inactive since before the Master. I don’t want to call down the apocalypse, but I’ve got a bad feeling about this.”

“Um, guys?” Willow looked up from the text she was reading. “I’d have to agree with Xander on this as well. Going through my notes and some research I’ve been doing on the methodology of the killing, I’d say whatever this thing is, is studying us - humans I mean. Trying to learn about us, understand us, so it, um, can understand itself? It was created in a lab, raised there, so to speak, and has escaped. It’s learning. I don’t think Xander’s idea of ‘strategic planning’ is far off the mark.”

“See, Giles? Bookgirl agrees with me,” Xander said, curling an arm around Willow and leaning over to give her a kiss on the cheek. “You get me, don’t ya, Wills?”

“Uh, yeah.” She hugged him back, then eyed him warily. “Why the kissage?”

“As I was merely asking for clarification-” Giles began.

“And commenting on my deplorable abuse of the language,” Xander stated.

“‘S ‘cause your language is atrocious, pet,” Spike commented from the door to the training room.
Xander smiled as the others, startled, turned to face Spike.

“So sorry. Came in through the back. Can’t stand that poncy doorbell.” He pulled up a chair next to Xander, turned it backwards toward the table and sprawled on it.

Giles recovered quickly. “Yes. Well, as I was saying, I wasn’t disagreeing with Xander’s assessment. I was merely questioning his reasons, which are actually quite lucid and convincing.”

“Knew you could do it, Giles. I don’t butcher it that bad.”

“Badly, pet. And yes, you do.” Spike punched him in the arm.

“Shut up, blood breath, or I’m cuttin’ off soccer tonight.”



“Football, and if you say soccer again, I pull your guts out and donate them to the nearest demon jeweler.” Spike hefted the scarred eyebrow.

“Hmph. No need to be nasty. Football it is.”

Buffy, Willow and Giles stared at the two of them with horrified wonder.

Spike frowned. “What’re you lot starin’ at?”

Xander grinned. “I think we freaked em out.”

Buffy blinked. “Well duh. You,” she pointed at Xander, “hate him,” she flicked her thumb over to Spike, “And vice versa the last time I checked. And now you’re what? Buds?”

“Well, Buffy. That’s what happens when two people are forced to live together in the nastiness that is my parents’ basement. We bonded over killin’ mold and air freshener.”

“What he said,” Spike stated. “Which reminds me, pet. You need dryer sheets.”

“What? There was half a box left!”

“Well, don’t look at me, they smell nice!”

Xander gaped at his vampire roommate. He blinked a couple of times, shook his head and started chuckling. He heard snickering from Willow who was, once again, face down in her text book. Glancing up at Giles and Buffy, he saw the older man pursing his lips tightly together and rubbing furiously at the lenses of his very clean glasses, and Buffy had tears pooling in her eyes from holding back her own laughter.

Feeling much better, now that he’d had a good laugh at someone else’s expense, Xander bounced up and said, “Come on, Spike. Now that I’ve had my fun, let’s go see if we can find you some of yours. Feel like killin’ something?”

“OH, hell yes.” Spike stood and shoved his chair back under the table, glaring at the three who continued to snicker at him. “Please, gods, let there be some berk what needs killin’ out there.” He and Xander turned to leave, only to be stopped by Giles.

“Xander? If you find anything, please inform either myself or Buffy. We need to be aware of what, if any, demonic activity is still happening.”

“Will do, big guy,” Xander said as he and Spike left together.
Tags: 2006, fic, spander table

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