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08 October 2013 @ 09:42 am
Pre and Post NFA  
My apologies for yesterday's entry. I did proofread it, but my typos often save themselves for coding - just to keep me humble. :) (Actually, what I've learned is that the coding can't be put in after the url has been copied - that's what I get for trying to take shortcuts. *sigh*)

We begin with Mirror, Mirror which is one of Spike and Wes's adventures while working for Angel. They have to recover an important book from a nun. She's not the scariest thing in the place. :)

Written for Nekid_Spike - These were my three things: Wesley, Mirror, Convent … and, of course, Spike. It’s lame, but the best I could come up with. Wesley is not someone I write well or often.

Mirror, Mirror, On The Wall…

“Huh! Would you look at that?”

“At what? And would you please be quiet! This is intended to be a secret mission. That would require that the occupants not know we are here.”

“But it’s a mirror!” Spike pulled the framed glass off the wall and held it up in front of himself. He stared around the room, noting a few other anomalies in what should have been a fairly Spartan setting.

“Yes. I am fully aware of what a mirror is. Although why it would interest someone who cannot see himself in it, I have no idea.”

“What’s a mirror doing in a building full of nuns? Women who, if I remember correctly, aren’t supposed to care how they look?”

“I fail to see why that—oh, shit!”

“Is that Watcher-speak for ‘the vampire noticed before I did that we might be in a spot of trouble’?”

“You know you are incredibly annoying when you are proved correct about something.”

“I’m incredibly annoying even when I’m wrong.” Spike grinned. “It’s a gift.”

“I’m sure it is,” Wesley agreed in a whisper, waving Spike to silence. “It really doesn’t change our mission. We still need to locate the Book of Books and get it back to Angel.”

“Yeah, but now we know that these aren’t real nuns guarding it. We can have a whole lot more fun if we get caught.”

Wesley studied the smiling vampire. “So, had they then been real nuns, you wouldn’t have harmed them?”

“Nope. That was always Angelus’ thing. Dumb Mick that he was –he couldn’t resist debauching a building full of nuns. Me? I prefer my women willing and experienced. That’s what the Church of England does for you, I guess.”

“I doubt the Church of England is responsible for your taste in women – although I am sure there are some grateful Catholic nuns somewhere out there.”

“Well, they aren’t in here – look in this wardrobe.”

Peering over Spike’s shoulder, Wesley could see that the closet held, in addition to the expected black habits, several sequined cocktail dresses and matching shoes with stiletto heels.

“Not what you’d expect to find in a nun’s closet is it, Oxford?”

Spike moved to the small dresser and began rooting through the drawers, pulling out the occasional scrap of lace and admiring it, before dropping it back in the drawer and continuing to look for the book.

“The dresses and shoes – no; the book, however, possibly. We’ve been assuming that the thief hid it somewhere in the convent and left it here, but perhaps…” He knelt down and began carefully searching through the heavily perfumed clothing. “Keep a watch while I look through here. It is possible that all the other members of the convent are legitimate and that we have stumbled onto the very room we need.”

“Thanks to yours truly and his eye for detail…”

Wesley’s voice came from within the deep closet, as he pushed aside very un-nun-like shoes and clothing. He eventually came to an ancient looking leather box, carefully concealed by the long black habits so rarely worn by nuns in this modern age.

“I believe I may have found something,” he whispered.

“Well, let’s get it out, then. I hear footsteps comin’ this way – and they don’t sound very—"

The door flew open with a crash and standing in the entrance was a very angry Mother Superior.

“Who are you? And what are doing in Sister Teresa’s room?”

“My apologies,” Wesley said smoothly, sliding the box behind him and edging out into the room. “A friend of ours has misplaced an important item and we had information that it might be here. It didn’t seem wise to disturb the tranquility of your establishment to retrieve it if we could do so unobtrusively.”

“It seemed wiser to break and enter?” The Mother Superior’s lips twitched with a hint of amusement. She stepped closer to the wardrobe and raised one eyebrow. “Sister Teresa appears to have an interesting selection of civilian clothing…”

“We…uh… that is I…” Wesley realized that the woman had yet to notice the immobile vampire blending in with the stone wall. “I do not believe that your Sister Teresa is what she appears.”

“So it seems…” The formidable old nun pushed Wesley out of the way and peered into the wardrobe. She picked up one of a pair of four-inch stiletto heels in bright red and brushed a sequin off the toe. She turned and gave Wesley a stern glare. “However, Sister Teresa’s possible inappropriate activities outside this convent do not make her a thief or a possessor of stolen property.”

“This does,” Wesley said simply, holding out the box and opening the lid.

The woman drew back with a hiss as a malevolent stream of smoke emerged and raced around the room. Lying in the box, now visible, was the Book of Books.

“What is this evil thing?” She waved her rosary at the smoke still wafting around the room, in the process spotting Spike. She immediately held her cross out toward him.



She narrowed her eyes, then glanced at Wesley.

“You brought a vampire into my convent?” Her lowering brow did not bode well for the cowed ex-watcher.

“He…he’s here for a reason,” he stuttered, moving toward the door with the box under his arm and gesturing for Spike to follow.

“Which is?” Completely unfooled by Wesley’s attempt to get closer to the exit, she stepped in front of him, still keeping her crucifix pointed at Spike.

Before he could answer, Wesley was knocked to the floor as the owner of the room burst into it, tearing off her nun’s habit . The demon, no longer making an attempt to resemble poor missing Sister Teresa, reached for the box containing the book. She batted away the Mother Superior’s rosary and cross, snarling, “If those would bother me, do you think I could have stayed here all this time?”

She reached again for the box that Wesley was attempting to shield with his body, picking up the man as though he was a child and baring pointed teeth in his face.

“Do you really want to know what these feel like?” she growled, expecting him to drop the box.

“Bit like mine do, I expect.” Spike brought the mirror down on the demon’s head, allowing Wesley to break free and move the Mother Superior to the open doorway. Spike grappled with the stunned demon, burying his own fangs in its neck. He let go almost immediately and began spitting sickly green blood onto the floor.

“Bloody hell, that’s disgusting!” he growled, opting instead to twist the demon’s head until he heard a satisfying crack. He dropped the body and watched with satisfaction as it began to dissolve into a foul smelling puddle.

“That’s why he’s here,” Wesley said shortly. “We’ll just be going now. My apologies for the inconvenience.”

“Inconvenience?” She gestured at the disgusting mess on the floor. “Who’s going to clean this up? And where is Sister Teresa?”

“I suspect,” Wesley said as he shoved Spike out the door ahead of him, “that Sister Teresa is busy explaining to St. Peter why her choice of clothing should not impact her well-deserved reward. Assuming that those things do belong to your Sister Teresa and not to the demon who has obviously been impersonating her for some time.”

Spike nodded to the broken mirror. “If that’s new to the room, then I would say Sister Teresa now sings with the heavenly choir. That ugly bugger probably needed the mirror to double check the glamour every day.”

As Spike and Wesley left the room with their prize, Mother Superior could hear them talking.

“So, the nun was saved by a vampire. Surely a first.”

“Not a first,” Spike responded quietly. “But it’s been a while…”

The End

Moving right along - I'm giving the list of other AtS season 5 and shortly thereafter fics another try. I've taken out all the links to the fics on my LJ (except maybe one that is an actual link), as I think those (plus my coding error in the very first entry) were responsible for most of the link issues. I'm hoping that's a correct assumption - but at least now I'll have time to check each link before I finally post this entry. So, here we go...

Fics set within the season, but not episode-specific:

Who Needs Five Gold Rings?– Dawn finds the perfect Christmas present for Buffy, but she gets into an eBay bidding war for it. Five Gold Rings

Busted – Andrew couldn’t keep his mouth shut....

Good Times – Spike and Wesley are sent on a mission to recover a client’s statue.
Good Times

Monster Go Boom - Illyria needs a little help with an old enemy. Spike is there to help.
No link - so here's the text:

Monster Go Boom

Spike walked into Illyria's room and came face to face with what looked like a large, tooth-filled, blue mouth encircled with waving tentacles dotted with vicious looking hooks. "Whoa! Blue? Where are you? What have you done with her, you ugly—"

Illyria's voice rasped out of the gaping mouth.

"This is me, half-breed. One of my many forms."

"Can I just go on record as saying I much prefer the sexy blue girl-shaped form? Feel free to go back to that any second now." He edged his way past the dangerous-looking tentacles and sat on the couch, trying his best to appear undisturbed by the beast filling up the rest of the room.

"You fear me in this body," she said, rolling one large eye at him.

"I'm not sure I'd call it 'fear' exactly... Bloody hell!" he exploded when he was suddenly snatched up and bashed into the ceiling. "Fine, your ugliness, I fear you. Can I get down now?"

She unceremoniously let go, allowing him to fall to the floor and crawl back to the couch.

"I have received word that an old enemy is trying to surface. It is necessary that I be in a form that can deal with this intrusion."

"You have enemies? I'm shocked."

"You make a joke. I do not find it amusing."

"Big surprise there," he grumbled, avoided the tentacle she'd waved in his direction. "So, where to we find this old enemy that requires you to look like a bloated octopus ... with teeth?"

"We?" Her voice dripped contempt. "This is far beyond your meager capabilities. I will be dealing with my old enemy myself. It is time to show him that hatred is by far the longer pleasure. When I have made it clear that I have not forgotten his transgressions, and have reduced him to a mewling pile of flesh, it is possible that I will permit you to practice your feeble skills."

"Fine, your royal blueness. Do I get to watch, then?"

"You may watch. From a distance."

Several hours later, when Illyria was still being tossed around by an even uglier and larger bright orange creature having more tentacles and an open, tooth-filled maw from which came fetid breath, Spike shook his head and jumped in the Viper to drive back to Wolfram and Hart. He ignored the sputtering threats to eviscerate him coming from the bloodied blue monster fighting for her life, racing to the Wolfram and Hart armory and emerging with what he'd been seeking.

He returned to find Illyria crouched behind a rock, mourning the loss of one of her tentacles. When she saw Spike, she straightened up and pretended to be plotting her strategy.

"How's it goin', Blue?" Spike asked innocently, as he opened the trunk of the car.

"You would not understand," she sniffed, moving back to where the other demi-god was jumping up and down as it waited for her to resume the battle. "This is a dispute between gods; it has been going on longer than your puny species can imagine. This time, I will destroy my enemy for all time."

"Uh huh," he agreed, narrowing his eyes as she walked out only to be grabbed and dragged toward the gaping mouth of her opponent. "You sure you don't want any help?"

"I've told you," she gasped, struggling to remain out of the creature's mouth, "this is beyond your feeble skills. You will only be seriously damaged should you try to fight the O'gracken. It is an ancient evil, much older humans or the half-breeds that prey upon them. It requires something equally—" She paused to bite off one of her opponent's tentacles, gaining a few precious seconds of freedom. During which Spike raised his new acquisition to his shoulder and fired it, blowing the other monster into small orange pieces of flesh that began to dissolve one at a time.

There was an ominous silence after the loud explosion. Spike did not look at Illyria as he put the giant gun back in the trunk of the viper; he just shrugged.

"Guess you didn't have rocket launchers back in the day," he said, closing the trunk and leaning against the door. "Now, are you going to change into something that will fit into the front seat, or are you going to slither home on your own?"

He watched out of the corner of his eye as she pulsed from blue to purple to deep red and back to blue again. He let out a sigh of relief when she stopped pulsing and shimmied back into her human "shell". She limped to the car and got in, still not speaking to Spike as he drove them back to the Wolfram and Hart office building.

When she allowed herself to accept his offer of an arm to lean on while she made her way back to her room, he got his first sense of how seriously injured she was and how close she might have come to losing the battle. They paused at the entrance to her room and she took a deep breath. "You did well," she said grudgingly. "You were useful today." Before he could compose his sarcastic reply, she faded into Fred's sweet face and leaned in to kiss his cheek. "Thank you, Spike."

The End

There May Be Complications - Angel knows just what they need to do to rescue the client’s daughter from a slave sale. Spike isn’t so sure....

Wake Up, I Love You- Spike goes into a coma after his hands are reattached. Turns out there’s only one person who can reach into his mind and give him a reason to come out.
Wake Up, I Love You

A Push in the Right Direction – Lorne listens to Angel’s singing and decides his boss isn’t doing the right thing.
A Push in the Right Direction

Here comes Peter Cottontail Smutish, schmoopy Spfred. – an Easter ficlet
Peter Cottontail

Are Immortals Immortal? – more or less a “The Girl in Question” fic. Doesn’t go well for either Angel or the Immortal...

Say You Will – a short, pwp, Spangel ficlet. It is not my fault!
Say You Will

Post NFA ficlets:

Bloody Awful Poet – several months after NFA, Buffy gets a surprise Valentine.
Summary: Spike has a unique way of letting Buffy know he survived NFA... the prompt was greeting card. I have no link for this and it's short, so here you go.

The Bloody Awful Poet

Sword in hand, although concealed behind her back – no sense in spooking the neighbors – Buffy opened the door and stared at the empty space. Too wary to step outside into the darkness, she reached for the porch light and illuminated the small cement stoop in front of the narrow house. Something fluttered in the open door, landing at her feet. She used the point of the sword to pull it closer, then bent her knees and picked it up, never taking her eyes off the empty space outside.

Huh, a card? Buffy stepped back and turned the envelope over in her hand. The handwriting was eerily familiar, although old fashioned and not from anybody she could imagine knew where she was. She tore open the thick, lined envelope and gasped when the beautiful card fell out. Although the lovely drawing on the front of the heavy card, and the delicate lace decorations were clearly manufactured, the inside was blank except for a hand written message. She smiled when she realized it was a poem, and began to read, fully expecting something sweet and sugary to go with the beautiful handwriting and card.

"Roses are red, violets are blue,
You're lovely covered in demon goo.
You won't believe me, I've been a wanker
But for your touch, I'll always hanker.

My dead heart your beauty long since slew,
And now your favor, I needs must woo.
I'll be bearing gifts and bottled wine,
If you say you'll be my Valentine."

Buffy gaped at the card, her brain refusing to believe what she'd just seen.

"That has got to be the worst poem I have ever seen!"

"Not one of my best efforts, I'll admit. But I mean it all the same."

She whirled, the familiar voice floating in the open door making her gasp in disbelief.

"Spi... Spike?"

He stepped into view, a bottle in one hand and flowers in the other. His eyes were sunken in his head, his blade-like cheekbones in sharper relief than she'd ever seen them. Although his voice was strong, he swayed on his feet as he waited for her to recognize him.

"Buffy? Love? Much as I'd like to sweep you off your feet right now, I think I'm goin' to need to sit down first...."

He toppled forward, the flowers and wine dropping to the carpet in front him while the invisible barrier prevented him from following them to the floor. Shaking herself out of her shock, Buffy rushed to grab him under the arms, saying, "Come in, Spike."

His full weight fell onto her shoulder as the unconscious vampire tumbled through the door. Buffy dragged him to the couch and laid him down, putting a pillow under his head before going back to close the door and pick up the flowers and wine. She set them on a table, adding the card before going back to sit beside the man she'd thought had died again trying to save the world.

The reports from LA had been grim. Wesley dead. Fred long gone. Gunn dead, Angel and Spike missing and presumed dust. Only the Old One that had taken over Fred's body was unaccounted for, although stories from eye witnesses said she had opened a portal and pulled all the demons in, closing it behind her.

Buffy had searched the burned and battered alley for days, but finally had to admit that there was no way to tell if any of the dust coating the floor belonged to either of her vampires. She'd shed her tears, then gone back to her life and the small house she'd bought in Rome.

She sank down beside the still body and ghosted her hand over his thin and battered face. At her light touch to his cheek, his eyes fluttered open.

"Hello, cutie."

"Hello, yourself," she whispered back. "You're here."

"Where else would I go?"

She shook her head, unable to speak as he put his arms around her and she curled up beside him, her head on his chest.

"Where else would I go?" he repeated before lapsing into unconsciousness again. The last thing he heard was Buffy's muffled, "I love you, you stupid vampire."

The End

From the Fires of Hell – Some time after NFA, Illyria needs Buffy’s help to rescue Angel from the hell he was sent to. Surprise, she forgot to mention the other vampire there....
From the Fires of Hell

He Needs Me – Begins during the final battle where Buffy has come to help. Not Spuffy! This is ultimately a Spander fic and a good bit longer than most of the others.
He Needs Me

Not Your Mother’s Reunion – Post NFA , Angel and Spike survive the battle and go looking for Buffy. A Trope Bingo Fic that I can't find a link to so:

Not Your Mother’s Reunion

“Go away. I’m not in the mood.”

“Just wanted to say hello, love. Didn’ t mean to be interrupting anything.” He sent a hard look at the man just now standing up, righteous indignation on his face.

“She told you to go away,” her date said, placing himself between Buffy and the rough-looking man trying to talk to her. “I suggest you follow that advice.”

“That what you want, Buffy?” Spike ignored the man’s obviously growing anger. “Know you’re probably right brassed off at me right now, but I thought you might want to—Never mind. I guess I was wrong. Have a nice life, Slayer.” Throwing off the hand Buffy’s date had used to grab his shoulder with enough force to cause the man to stagger backwards, Spike turned to leave. He stopped when a much smaller and stronger hand fell on his arm. He heard Buffy’s heart rate go up as he turned to meet her wide-eyed gaze.

Spike studied her bewildered face and the growing disbelief in her eyes as she grabbed his other arm and held him in place. Her hands squeezed his arms as she absorbed his solidity.

“I don’t know how you’re doing this, but if you’re solid enough for me to touch, you’re solid enough for me to send back to hell!”

Spike frowned in confusion. “Wasn’t in hell, Buffy. Just another dimension for a while. Came to find you as soon as I could. Seems there wasn’t as much need to rush as I’d hoped....”

The genuine sadness of his expression, and the gentle way he twisted away from her rough grip, broke through Buffy’s defenses against believing the impossible.

“Sp-Spike? Are you real? Not the First?”

“Is that what you thought? That I wasn’t me?”

“Well, what did you expect me to think? You never told me you came back.... before.... And then, as far as we could tell, you and Angel....” She glared at him. “Where the hell have you been?”

“Tried to tell you. Blue sucked us into another dimension with her. Took a while to get ourselves oriented... and even longer to convince her we needed to come back here.”

“We? Us? And what’s a ‘Blue’?”

"Calls herself Illyria. It’s the god-thing that replaced sweet little Fred. The one your watcher couldn’t be bothered to send us any help to stop it from happening. If you’re going to be getting all huffy, chew on that for a bit.”

“We? Us?”

He sighed and shrugged. “Right. Forgot what would be the most important information there. Yes, the big poof made it back too. Bit surprised he didn’t beat me here, as a matter of fact....” His voice trailed off. “And just to complete the happy reunion....”


Angel ran up and without paying any attention to Spike or Buffy’s confused and angry date, he picked her up and hugged her tightly. When she didn’t respond except to squirm out of his embrace, he released her and stepped back.

“So, Spike told you, then? How Illyria whisked us away and we had to fight our way back so I—we—could come to you?”

“Spike has been busy NOT doing the groveling he owes me for not letting me know he was alive... or that you guys needed help.” She shifted her gaze from Angel to glare at Spike briefly, then brought her attention back to the older vampire. “And you! You knew how I was... that I... You let me mourn for months for somebody you knew wasn’t gone? How could you do that to me, Angel?”

Angel cleared his throat and shuffled his feet. “Well, we—I— You deserve better, Buffy. You needed time to get over—and then it seemed like you had, so....”

"Buffy? What the hell is going on here?"

Both vampires turned to stare at Buffy’s bewildered date. Tall, muscular, clean-cut, he bore a strong resemblance to Riley.

“Has a type, doesn’t she?” Spike muttered as the man glared at them, clearly not sure which of the strangers he disliked most.

Buffy sighed and waved her hands between them. “Taylor – this is Angel and this is Spike—William. They are old... friends. Friends that I thought were dead. Guys, this is Taylor. He’s....” Her voice trailed off as she realized she had no idea what to call the man who, up until just a few minutes ago, she’d be thinking she might be willing to call her boyfriend. “Oh shit,” she murmured as all three men stared at her, waiting for her to identify Taylor’s position in her life.

Angel stuck out his hand, which Taylor automatically took, resulting in what had immediately turned into the time honored male contest. Only Buffy’s warning, “Angel....” prevented him from crushing the human man’s hand.

“Sorry,” he said with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Sometimes I don’t know my own strength.” He gave a soft growl as Spike muttered something rude in a voice too low for human ears,

When Taylor seemed reluctant to repeat the handshake with Spike, who had kept his hands firmly in his pockets anyway, there was an uncomfortable silence for several minutes. Buffy broke the silence by returning to her chair and sitting down.

“Why don’t you join us and fill me in on what went down? All we know is what we could glean from the news and a few reports from witnesses who knew who to call.”

Both vampires glanced at Taylor and raised questioning eyebrows.

“It’s okay. Taylor is... he works for the new Council. He survived the blow up and got in touch with Giles eventually.”

“Funny, he doesn’t look like a watcher,” Angel said, baring his teeth again.

“Wet team,” Spike said flatly. “That’s what you were or are, isn’t it? Council’s pet killers, paid to take care of unruly slayers and/or vamps that get out of line.”

The other man’s face had blanched as he realized that the two men sitting down on opposite sides of the table were the very creatures he’d spent much of his adult life stalking.

“Buffy, they’re—"

“Yep. They are. Old ones, too, in case you’re thinking of doing anything dumb. But it’s okay. They have souls. They’re on our side.” She gave them searching looks while Spike and Angel tried to look innocent. “At least, they used to be. I’ve got no idea what working for an evil law firm did to them.”

“Damn near got us dusted,” Spike growled. “That’s what it did for us. You can thank your ex here for that.”

“Ex? Ex what?” Taylor appeared to be choking on the water he’d just brought to his lips.

Glaring at Spike, Buffy said, “Long story, ancient history. Not a big deal.”

It was Angel’s turn to choke as he stared at her in shock.

“And me,” Spike asked quietly. “Am I ancient history too?”

Their eyes met and held, his saying everything he was keeping off his abnormally inexpressive face, hers searching for some sign that in spite of his not contacting her when he emerged from the amulet, he might still love her. After long minutes of speaking only with their eyes, they both relaxed and slumped back in their chairs, small smiles twitching their lips.

Angel stood up and nudged Taylor’s chair. “Come on, Councilman, let’s go get a drink and talk about what it’s like to be thrown over for somebody half our size.” When the man didn’t stand up, Angel grabbed his arm and pulled him to his feet. “We’ll be in the bar,” he said to Spike.

“Well, that was... unexpected.” Spike frowned in the direction Angel had dragged Buffy’s date.

“It was kinda odd, wasn’t it? Here I was, thinking there was going to be a three-way testosterone contest going on, and....” She smiled. “Seems like Angel might have gotten the message finally.”

“What message is that, pet?”

“That there’s only room in my life for one souled vampire – and it isn’t him,” she said, meeting his astonished and delighted gaze. He leaned toward her, taking her hand and kissing her palm.


“That’s all you get... for now,” she said, taking her hand back. “I wasn’t kidding about the groveling. You owe me, Spike. You owe me for months of grieving when you were walking around LA all alive and... and not with me!”

“One round of abject groveling, coming up,” he agreed. “Maybe two or three rounds,” he added when her eyebrows went up. “Definitely at least five or six...”

“There could be chocolates and flowers involved. Maybe even jewelry....”

“Whatever it takes, Slayer. Just point me at it.”

“I’ll make you a list,” she said, smiling as she spoke. “Let’s go somewhere that I can write it down for you.” She stood up and held out her hand.

The End

Whew! I think I've got it all fixed. Totally not promising that the links are working, but at least the coding isn't screwing up the entry. Need breakfast right now- then I'll check the links to make sure they go to the right fics.
waddiwasiwitchwaddiwasiwitch on October 8th, 2013 08:29 pm (UTC)
Thanks for these.