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sevendeadlyfunCharacters: Spike, Buffy, Angel
Rating: R
Summary: A small shop holds the secret to stopping the Apocalypse and Spike knows evil when he sees it...
A/N: Written for thedarker_spike Twelve Apocalypses of Christmas ficathon Day Three prompt-Three French Hens
Spike stared up at the sign, thunderstruck. He rounded on the two standing behind him, blue eyes blazing. Buffy bit her lip, shoulders raised in a half-shrug of apology. Angel smirked, full lips quivering in an effort to hold back what Spike knew was an uproarious laugh.
“This is it?” Spike demanded loudly. “We’ve traipsed our collective arses from here to the beyond and the secret to stopping her is here?”
“Yeah,” Buffy nodded. “Who knew?”
“Come on, Spike,” Angel sighed, the mirth vanishing from his face. “Can’t we just go in, get the information and stop Illyria before it’s too late. Instead of, oh, I don’t know, waiting until she has Dawn bleeding open a portal to Hell?”
Spike shot Angel a withering glare, but he turned around. Staring up at the sign, he shook his head. The old-fashioned wooden sign was dark with age, the grooves and curlicues of the carving weathered and faded. Still, he could see the three beribboned animals prancing around the edges of the flowing script and he growled in disgust.
“Drie Franse Hennen,”Spike snorted. “Bloody ridiculous name for a magic shop!”
“Come here, Spike,” Buffy teased, beckoning him with a crooked finger.
He cursed under his breath, but strolled over to the Slayer. Still her bloody lapdog, despite a stint in Hell-A and the years away from her. She smiled up at him, that brilliant happy smile that he’d have died to be able to give her. Come to that, he had died to please her and here he was, risking his unlife again. Not just for her, though. His Niblet snatched by the obscene blue god, once more a pawn to be used. He growled again, low in his throat.
“Spike,” Buffy sang under her breath. “Time to pay attention. We’re going to go in there and I promise, you can do all the beating.”
Her words penetrated his anger and he grinned cruelly. Of all the gifts she could have given him, this was the nicest. Somewhere in that shop was a follower of Illyria’s, one who knew where exactly the ritual was to take place. Beating the answer out of them would make this his best Christmas ever.
“Slayer,” he murmured, glancing over at Angel. “Didn’t know you cared so much.”
She nodded up at him gravely, but her eyes were sparkling with glee. “It’s cheaper than a gift card,” she said. ”Now let’s go, hurt people and find Dawn.”
“Finally,” Angel muttered darkly. “Who cares about the name of the shop?”
“I do,” Spike said firmly. “Anyone who names their shop after a bloody carol is obviously evil beyond redeeming.”
“He’s got a point,” Buffy mused. “And not even the cool part of the song, either.”
Spike snorted, reaching for the door. A chorus of sleigh bells began to tinkle merrily, overlaying the whisper of silenced bullets. Spike jerked twice as the bullets hit him, falling to the pavement.
“Fuck!” Spike yelled angrily. “Told you that song was evil!”
Rating: R
Summary: A small shop holds the secret to stopping the Apocalypse and Spike knows evil when he sees it...
A/N: Written for the
darker_spike Twelve Apocalypses of Christmas ficathon Day Three prompt-Three French HensSpike stared up at the sign, thunderstruck. He rounded on the two standing behind him, blue eyes blazing. Buffy bit her lip, shoulders raised in a half-shrug of apology. Angel smirked, full lips quivering in an effort to hold back what Spike knew was an uproarious laugh.
“This is it?” Spike demanded loudly. “We’ve traipsed our collective arses from here to the beyond and the secret to stopping her is here?”
“Yeah,” Buffy nodded. “Who knew?”
“Come on, Spike,” Angel sighed, the mirth vanishing from his face. “Can’t we just go in, get the information and stop Illyria before it’s too late. Instead of, oh, I don’t know, waiting until she has Dawn bleeding open a portal to Hell?”
Spike shot Angel a withering glare, but he turned around. Staring up at the sign, he shook his head. The old-fashioned wooden sign was dark with age, the grooves and curlicues of the carving weathered and faded. Still, he could see the three beribboned animals prancing around the edges of the flowing script and he growled in disgust.
“Drie Franse Hennen,”Spike snorted. “Bloody ridiculous name for a magic shop!”
“Come here, Spike,” Buffy teased, beckoning him with a crooked finger.
He cursed under his breath, but strolled over to the Slayer. Still her bloody lapdog, despite a stint in Hell-A and the years away from her. She smiled up at him, that brilliant happy smile that he’d have died to be able to give her. Come to that, he had died to please her and here he was, risking his unlife again. Not just for her, though. His Niblet snatched by the obscene blue god, once more a pawn to be used. He growled again, low in his throat.
“Spike,” Buffy sang under her breath. “Time to pay attention. We’re going to go in there and I promise, you can do all the beating.”
Her words penetrated his anger and he grinned cruelly. Of all the gifts she could have given him, this was the nicest. Somewhere in that shop was a follower of Illyria’s, one who knew where exactly the ritual was to take place. Beating the answer out of them would make this his best Christmas ever.
“Slayer,” he murmured, glancing over at Angel. “Didn’t know you cared so much.”
She nodded up at him gravely, but her eyes were sparkling with glee. “It’s cheaper than a gift card,” she said. ”Now let’s go, hurt people and find Dawn.”
“Finally,” Angel muttered darkly. “Who cares about the name of the shop?”
“I do,” Spike said firmly. “Anyone who names their shop after a bloody carol is obviously evil beyond redeeming.”
“He’s got a point,” Buffy mused. “And not even the cool part of the song, either.”
Spike snorted, reaching for the door. A chorus of sleigh bells began to tinkle merrily, overlaying the whisper of silenced bullets. Spike jerked twice as the bullets hit him, falling to the pavement.
“Fuck!” Spike yelled angrily. “Told you that song was evil!”
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on 2007-12-15 05:51 am (UTC)no subject
on 2007-12-17 05:04 am (UTC)no subject
on 2007-12-15 12:12 pm (UTC)Very nice hun! Thank you!
kisses
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on 2007-12-17 05:05 am (UTC)no subject
on 2007-12-16 08:59 pm (UTC)no subject
on 2007-12-17 05:05 am (UTC)no subject
on 2008-01-08 06:28 am (UTC)no subject
on 2008-01-09 05:46 am (UTC)It was a darn good gimmick...