palabravampiress
Bidet of Evil
Disclaimers:
* BUFFY THE VAMPIRE SLAYER trademark (TM) and copyright (©) Fox and its related entities. All rights reserved.
This web site, its operators and any content on this site relating to "Buffy the Vampire Slayer" are not authorized by Fox. Buffy the Vampire Slayer and its characters are the property of Twentieth Century Fox, Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, and/or the WB Television Network, UPN. The webmasters are not affiliated in any way with the aforementioned entities. The fiction on this, and adjoining pages is provided solely as an entertaining resource. No copyright infringement is intended nor implied.
* ANGEL trademark (TM) and copyright (©) Fox and its related entities. All rights reserved.
This web site, its operators and any content on this site relating to "Angel" are not authorized by Fox. Angel and its characters are the property of Twentieth Century Fox, Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, and/or the WB Television Network. The webmasters are not affiliated in any way with the aforementioned entities. The fiction on this, and adjoining pages is provided solely as an entertaining resource. No copyright infringement is intended nor implied.
* Credit for the first Gordo-centric fanfic goes to Colleen Hillerup. You can find other Gordo fics at The Adventures of Mr. Gordo and at the following yahoo group: MrGordo : Mr. Gordo .
Blurb:
Mr. Gordo is Buffy's stuffed pig. I found Colleen Hillerup's Adventures of Mr. Gordo website and the affiliated yahoo group and fell in love. They are my favorite Buffy fanfics. So, of course, I decided to write one of my own. So this is my idea, but it is written in the style of Colleen Hillerup and based on her interpretation of Mr. Gordo. If you haven't read these stories, I highly recommend them. They are just too cute.
My story takes place two days after the Angel series finale. It's my cute little Gordo answer to the question of who survived the final battle. It's not great but, hey, it's fanfic. 🙂 Enjoy!
Pinocchio
by Palabra
Girl kept the duff fell bag and all of Yellow’s things. In it, she took me to a lot of moat hell rooms with Broken One and the others. Eventually, Girl took me out and put me on a shelf in a new world with walls. I sat high up on the TV and looked out over the couch, through the kitch hen world, and through the window to the big world without walls. This world was not like the one I remembered. There was a found-hen outside and the streets were made of rocks. Big ones were always walking and driving in cars and riding on by-sickles out there. They talked funny and waved their hands around a lot. There was plenty to see, not just the tree like in the old world, but I missed my world with Big One, Shy One, and all the others. My Girl missed them, too. She always took me down off the TV and cuddled me extra hard when she missed home.
“Why don’t we go back, Girl?” I asked, but Girl never heard me.
One day, while Girl watched TV and I watched Girl, the door made the ding ding sound that meant that Broken One or Girl’s Watch-her or even the little Squeaky Voice One wanted to visit. Sometimes another big one, one Girl called “the in-moat-hell,” came to visit, too, but he never made the door ring anymore. Girl gave him his own key which, apparently, is the thing that lets big ones go back and forth between worlds.
Girl rolled her eyes, wiped her lips, and hid a ginormous bag of chocolates behind the couch cushion.
“Coming!” she shouted.
Just in case, she took Mr. Pointy off the table and hid him behind her back before she opened the door. But Mr. Pointy fell to the floor as soon as she saw who wanted in.
There, just outside our world with walls, was my old friend Yellow. He looked different. His skin was black in some places, blue in others, and puffy all over. His seams were all ripped open. And his Big One stuffing – that red stuff that vamp hires drink – was crusty on some rips and oozing out from others. But it was Yellow, all the same. I could tell. No one else had yellow fur like that. Or a dust-her.
“Yellow!” I cried, wagging my curly little tail so hard that I toppled off the TV.
Girl was too surprised to notice my fall. She stood still – perfectly still, still like a good SAs who doesn’t get too excited and wag his curly little tail.
“Hi honey, I’m home,” Yellow said, his voice all raspy and quiet-sounding.
“Spike. You’re….”
“Yeah. Not a crispy critter. Lookit, can we do the backstory bit later, then? I got a passel of news to impart,” Yellow said as he sagged against the wall.
Girl didn’t say anything.
“Invite him in, Girl! He needs fixing!” I yelled as I climbed back up on top of the TV. It didn’t matter. Neither of them were looking at me, anyway. They just stared at each other. SAs are allowed to stretch our stuffing a little bit just so long as no Big Ones can see.
“Not being dust doesn’t qualify as news?” Girl asked.
“Ancient history, pet. And just the tip of the iceberg, to boot.”
Girl still didn’t move. She stared. Blinked. Stared again. Like the big AF who used to pretend to be my girl.
“Can I come in, or not?” Yellow asked, sighing and tapping his foot impatiently. “I’m kind of in a bit of hurry.”
He frowned big, then, and added with as much of a smirk as his broken face could make, “Got someplace to be.”
That’s when Girl did something bad. She threw a temp-her-tant-drum. Well, really, she threw Yellow. She swatted at him – weakly – with her fist. My girl is strong. She’s the strongest big one I’ve ever seen. She’s stronger than vamp hires, even. But when she hit Yellow, she only hit him like Brown Fur or Broken One hit. So it was a surprise when Yellow, who is almost as strong as my girl, tumbled onto the floor with a thud. Even worse, he didn’t get back up. He stayed on the floor and made scary watery breathing noises.
“Ah! Christ!” he yelled – or tried to yell – when he could talk. “That any way to (gasp) treat a fella (wheeze) back from the dead (rasp) and bleedin’ (gasp, gasp) on your front stoop?”
Girl stomped her foot.
“You let me think you were dead!” she yelled, making her hands into fists.
“That’s rich! (Rasp, wheeze, gasp) I’ve been dead since eighteen bloody eighty. (Pause) Not exactly a revelation.”
“He can’t talk, Girl! Help him!” I told her.
Of course, Girl didn’t listen. She just yelled some more, saying, “You know what I mean!”
“Yeah? And what of it? S’not like you wanted me around anyway, especially not with that Immortal bugger puttin’ the moves on you.”
Yellow got the whole sentence out this time, but afterward, he coughed so that his whole body shook.
Finally, Girl reached out to help. She took his hand and hauled him up so he was standing. Underneath him, the carpet was stained red with not-so-little bits of Big One Stuffing.
“I’m glad you’re not dust,” she told him. When she talked, she kept hold of his hand and looked him in the eye.
Yellow frowned big. He squeezed Girl’s hand back. Then, he looked her in the eye with his most serious expression. It was the expression big ones get when they have to tell you someone isn’t coming back. That happens a lot in my world.
Girl didn’t seem to notice. Or, of she did, she didn’t want to notice. She ignored it.
“You look like hell. Wait – is that where you’ve been? In a hell dimension? Why do all of my boyfriends have to go to Hell?”
Yellow raised his eyebrow – the one with the scar on it.
“Boyfriend?” he asked, trying again to smirk.
Girl rolled her eyes.
“So what about this iceberg thingie?”
The bad news look came back. I was scared. Yellow wasn’t back just because he loved us. Yellow was back because something bad was happening. Probably another A-pocket-lyspe. Those happen every spring, but the big ones are always sad and surprised by them.
“The news, Buffy. (Pause) I – It’s not of the good, love. You’re gonna (wheeze) gonna wanna sit and not just stand in the doorway (rasp) with your jaw all agape.”
“Come in, Spike. Sit down.”
Girl finally did something nice. She threw Yellow’s arm around her shoulder and helped him to the couch. When she let him go, she sat down next to him. He didn’t notice, but I saw that she was careful not to let their arms or hips or legs touch.
“Just tell me. You’re giving me the wiggins, looking at me like that – and, well, being not fried to a crisp. And try not to bleed on my couch. What’s with that, anyway? Aren’t you all super-healy?”
This time, Yellow tried the look that means “Shut Up.” That one came through loud and clear even with the bruises in the way.
“It’s Angel.”
Girl’s breath caught so that she wheezed a little bit like Yellow.
“When?”
“Two days ago.”
More rasping, this time from both of them.
“Oh, God,” Girl said.
Her eyes flew to me, then, and I knew Girl was going to need extra cuddles sometime very soon. Wat-her started to come out of her eyes, but she didn’t sob or really seem to notice the tears at all. Her body was all humming and on full alert, slay-her senses tingly and ready. I knew what that meant. My Girl was preparing for war – which meant she was going to take some big ones out into the big world and come back with not as many big ones and more scars.
“Right. Great poofter gets gasps and tears, as usual.”
Yellow coughed some more.
“Are you all right, Yellow?” I asked. I was starting to get worried.
But Yellow didn’t answer me. Instead, he answered Girl, who talked over me to ask, “How?”
“Savin’ the world. How else? All your boyfriends do that, too.”
Girl nodded and looked at Yellow. She used her eyes to ask for details without asking with her voice.
Yellow sighed. He got sort of sniffly when he answered, but that might have been the raspy, hard-time-talking thingie that was already wrong with him.
“We stopped the a-pocket-lypse (rasp). Not just an a-pocket-lypse, mind you, (wheeze) but the real (gasp) bloody (gasp) thing. You know the big baddies that everyone always suspects secretly run this show? (Wheeze, wheeze, cough) Well, not anymore.”
“Stop trying to breathe, Spike. It’s not like you need to. Are there any survivors?”
Yellow didn’t listen. He kept trying – not very successfully – to breathe. He did answer, though, saying, “You’re lookin’ at him. (cough) And Illyria. (wheeze) Not sure she could die if she tried (rasp, rasp).”
Girl crinkled up her nose.
“Illyri-who?”
“Blue girl, about yea high,” Yellow said, wincing as he moved his arm to indicate a big one about Girl’s height.
“Blue?”
“Like Smurfette, but with a really bad attitude. Hard like stone. Eh – nevermind. You don’t know her,” he replied. Then he tried to smile. His face lit up for a minute. After he hacked and coughed some more, he added with what sounded like pride, “Heck of a fighter, though (cough, cough). Nothing like ten rounds with her to make a fella feel alive! (wheeze) And the things she says! (cough)Wants to (cough, rasp) wantsta make me her pet, (wheeze) can you believe it? You two’d (rasp) get along great. Like (wheeze) peas in a pod.”
Girl stood up and started to pace. Pacing was bad. It was another sign of an a-pocket-lypse… that, or a sign that one of the big ones went away again.
“Fallout? Anything I can get my slayers on? Anyone whose ass I can kick? I need some ass – I mean of the kicky variety. Not the other kind.”
“Hear you get plenty of that.”
Girl glared at him.
Yellow grew serious.
“Wish to God there was (rasp). I was growing right fond – (cough) well, tolerant, leastwise (cough) – of me old grandsire. He slayed a dragon, though, before he kicked it (cough, wheeze, rasp). No lie. A real honest to goodness dragon (cough, cough). White knight to the end, eh?”
Buffy’s pacing led her to the kitch-hen world. She punched the count-her, breaking the grant-ted top. Then, she calmed herself.
“You want a drink? I don’t have any blood handy.”
“Don’t suppose you keep it on tap anymore, as it were. Nah – water or cola or whatever you have will do.”
Calmly, Girl made the drinks – lemonade – while Yellow coughed and fidgeted. Then, she came back over. She handed Yellow a glass. For just a second, their fingers touched. Yellow’s hand shook, but then he took the drink and gulped it down between coughs.
Girl stared at him. Hard.
“What’s with the wounded soldier routine? You slay a dragon, too?”
“Yeah, actually, among other things (wheeze). Faced the multitudinous hordes.”
“Need me to patch you up?”
Yellow frowned big.
“Ain’t no patchin’ this up, pet.”
Slowly, he pulled aside his dust-her and pulled up his T-shirt. Underneath, there was a rip that would do in most SAs – and most big ones, too. There were a lot of those rips, actually. And something hard and white was poking out in one spot.
Girl stared.
“Melodramatic much? You used to be able to take a beating.”
Yellow tried to chuckle, but he ended up coughing some more, instead.
“Don’t you get it, Slayer?” he asked when he could talk again.
“Get what?”
“I’m a real boy again. (rasp) Among hell’s hordes, there is apparently a demon with a (cough, cough) with a peculiar sort of blood. (rasp) Get some of that in your bloodstream, and (rasp, wheeze) voila – the old ticker starts (cough) tockin’.”
On that last cough, some big one stuffing came out of his mouth. He wiped it, looked down, and chucked. Without being told it was okay, Yellow laid down on the couch. Girl got up to give him room.
“Of course, Sanshu prophecy didn’t say for how long (wheeze, rasp). There’s the rub (cough). Mind if I rest awhile? (Cough, wheeze) Won’t take up much of your valuable time, I promise.”
Yellow’s eyes scanned the room. They were blue, just like I remembered, and they fell on me.
“I’m sorry you’re hurt, Yellow. Thanks for saving me,” I said solemnly.
“Nice place you (cough) got here. And hey, (rasp) don’t that just beat all? I see you (cough) got my present (wheeze, rasp). You cuddlin’ our girl good, Gordo, old boy?”
Cautiously, Girl leaned over. She touched Yellow’s forehead.
“Jesus, Spike! You’re hot!”
“Too easy, Slay-her,” he said, raising his scarred brow just a bit.
Girl blushed and said, “I mean you’ve got a fever.”
Yellow didn’t answer. He just closed his eyes.
Suddenly, Girl was in what she called “Christ-ass mode.” At full slay-her speed, which is lots faster than normal big one speed, she rushed to the bathroom world and came back with the first-hate kit.
“Shirt. Off. Now.”
“Same old Buffy,” Yellow whispered without opening his eyes.
“Do you want me to save your life or not?”
Yellow tried to move his arms to the bottom of his shirt, but he didn’t get very far.
“No use, Slay-her, but don’t think I (cough) I don’t appreciate the sentiment.”
Girl paid no attention. With one hand, she grabbed the scissors from the kit and cut away the fabric. With the other, she took up her self-fone.
“Giles! Emergency. I need you and Will-hoe and Sand-her at my apartment. Now. I’ll explain when you get here.”
Yellow stirred.
“What’s the whelp gonna do?” he asked between ragged breaths.
“Shut up, Spike; don’t talk,” Girl said and then, into the self-fone, she added, “Yes, Spike! I don’t know. I can’t explain. Just get here!”
Girl closed the self-fone and then patched up Yellow as best she could. That was a good thing, too, because my girl was always better at patching big ones than she was at patching SAs.
“Stay with me, Spike. Open your eyes. Look at me. God, I am sooo tired of watching you die. Umm… let’s try questions. Stay awake. Answer a question. Why did you come here?”
Girl had to ask the question twice.
“Seemed like the thing to do (wheeze). Wanted you (rasp) to know the truth, is all – (wheeze, rasp) about all of it. Me, Angel, the a-poca (rasp) lypse… the whole bloody thing.”
Girl looked sad.
“Full disclosure? Is that the only reason?”
Yellow opened his eyes enough to roll them.
“Of course not, you daft cow! (Wheeeeeze) Never is with you, is it?”
“Then why? And hey! Cow? I’ve gained some weight since the last a-pocket-lypse, sure, but cow?”
“My toes – toes – are (rasp) to the fire, love. Pin-oc-chio routine won’t change that. (Wheeze, rasp) Getting toasty already, I am (rasp, rasp).”
“That’s the fever, Spike. If you really got the Sanshu, then that means – ”
Yellow interrupted Girl, wheezing out the words, “I just -- just want-ed to pre-tend for a minute, that’s all.”
Yellow groaned as Girl bandaged another wound. She looked down. I looked down, too, and noticed that one of the bandages had already started to spill stuffing.
Girl got really serious, then, and tried to push down harder on the rip that was losing the most stuffing. Quietly, she asked, “What did you want to pretend? Keep talking. What did you want to pretend?”
“Pretend I got the girl, of course,” Yellow replied, shaking back and forth and up and down a lot, like he didn’t have control of his arms and legs.
Girl reached out to steady him. She cuddled his hand and met his eyes.
“You did,” she said, her voice small.
Yellow shivered all over, like he was really, really cold and there was no heat-her.
“Yeah. Right (rasp). No need to lie (rasp, rasp) to lie to me, Slayer. (Wheeeeeze) I can pretend just fine on my – ”
Girl leaned over and kissed him. He stopped shaking, then, and looked at her all scared and surprised – like Girl had looked the time she saw me move just that once – right before she shrugged it off and didn’t believe it.
“You did,” Girl insisted.
Yellow looked up at her. His expression was happy, but not altogether sure.
“Yeah?”
Girl smiled and brushed Yellow’s fur back from his face even though it wasn’t long enough to really be a bother.
“Yeah.”
Yellow breathed harder and faster. He made those gurgling, scary noises some more. More stuffing came out from his mouth.
“Well, I’ll try not to (wheeze) bollocks it up this time by sayin’ (wheeze) it ain’t so.”
“Good. Cuz I’m really not big on being contradicted.”
“Bloody presumptuous of me, (wheeze) tellin’ you how you felt, (rasp) wasn’t it?”
“A little bit, yeah.”
Yellow shivered all over again.
“Not to ruin a tender moment, love, (rasp, wheeze, rasp) but you got blank-it?”
With one hand, Girl kept leaning on the biggest rip, trying to keep the stuffing inside. With the other, she pulled a blank-it from the back of the couch and spread it gently over Yellow.
(To Be Continued…)
What do you think? Is it worth continuing?
* BUFFY THE VAMPIRE SLAYER trademark (TM) and copyright (©) Fox and its related entities. All rights reserved.
This web site, its operators and any content on this site relating to "Buffy the Vampire Slayer" are not authorized by Fox. Buffy the Vampire Slayer and its characters are the property of Twentieth Century Fox, Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, and/or the WB Television Network, UPN. The webmasters are not affiliated in any way with the aforementioned entities. The fiction on this, and adjoining pages is provided solely as an entertaining resource. No copyright infringement is intended nor implied.
* ANGEL trademark (TM) and copyright (©) Fox and its related entities. All rights reserved.
This web site, its operators and any content on this site relating to "Angel" are not authorized by Fox. Angel and its characters are the property of Twentieth Century Fox, Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, and/or the WB Television Network. The webmasters are not affiliated in any way with the aforementioned entities. The fiction on this, and adjoining pages is provided solely as an entertaining resource. No copyright infringement is intended nor implied.
* Credit for the first Gordo-centric fanfic goes to Colleen Hillerup. You can find other Gordo fics at The Adventures of Mr. Gordo and at the following yahoo group: MrGordo : Mr. Gordo .
Blurb:
Mr. Gordo is Buffy's stuffed pig. I found Colleen Hillerup's Adventures of Mr. Gordo website and the affiliated yahoo group and fell in love. They are my favorite Buffy fanfics. So, of course, I decided to write one of my own. So this is my idea, but it is written in the style of Colleen Hillerup and based on her interpretation of Mr. Gordo. If you haven't read these stories, I highly recommend them. They are just too cute.
My story takes place two days after the Angel series finale. It's my cute little Gordo answer to the question of who survived the final battle. It's not great but, hey, it's fanfic. 🙂 Enjoy!
Pinocchio
by Palabra
Girl kept the duff fell bag and all of Yellow’s things. In it, she took me to a lot of moat hell rooms with Broken One and the others. Eventually, Girl took me out and put me on a shelf in a new world with walls. I sat high up on the TV and looked out over the couch, through the kitch hen world, and through the window to the big world without walls. This world was not like the one I remembered. There was a found-hen outside and the streets were made of rocks. Big ones were always walking and driving in cars and riding on by-sickles out there. They talked funny and waved their hands around a lot. There was plenty to see, not just the tree like in the old world, but I missed my world with Big One, Shy One, and all the others. My Girl missed them, too. She always took me down off the TV and cuddled me extra hard when she missed home.
“Why don’t we go back, Girl?” I asked, but Girl never heard me.
One day, while Girl watched TV and I watched Girl, the door made the ding ding sound that meant that Broken One or Girl’s Watch-her or even the little Squeaky Voice One wanted to visit. Sometimes another big one, one Girl called “the in-moat-hell,” came to visit, too, but he never made the door ring anymore. Girl gave him his own key which, apparently, is the thing that lets big ones go back and forth between worlds.
Girl rolled her eyes, wiped her lips, and hid a ginormous bag of chocolates behind the couch cushion.
“Coming!” she shouted.
Just in case, she took Mr. Pointy off the table and hid him behind her back before she opened the door. But Mr. Pointy fell to the floor as soon as she saw who wanted in.
There, just outside our world with walls, was my old friend Yellow. He looked different. His skin was black in some places, blue in others, and puffy all over. His seams were all ripped open. And his Big One stuffing – that red stuff that vamp hires drink – was crusty on some rips and oozing out from others. But it was Yellow, all the same. I could tell. No one else had yellow fur like that. Or a dust-her.
“Yellow!” I cried, wagging my curly little tail so hard that I toppled off the TV.
Girl was too surprised to notice my fall. She stood still – perfectly still, still like a good SAs who doesn’t get too excited and wag his curly little tail.
“Hi honey, I’m home,” Yellow said, his voice all raspy and quiet-sounding.
“Spike. You’re….”
“Yeah. Not a crispy critter. Lookit, can we do the backstory bit later, then? I got a passel of news to impart,” Yellow said as he sagged against the wall.
Girl didn’t say anything.
“Invite him in, Girl! He needs fixing!” I yelled as I climbed back up on top of the TV. It didn’t matter. Neither of them were looking at me, anyway. They just stared at each other. SAs are allowed to stretch our stuffing a little bit just so long as no Big Ones can see.
“Not being dust doesn’t qualify as news?” Girl asked.
“Ancient history, pet. And just the tip of the iceberg, to boot.”
Girl still didn’t move. She stared. Blinked. Stared again. Like the big AF who used to pretend to be my girl.
“Can I come in, or not?” Yellow asked, sighing and tapping his foot impatiently. “I’m kind of in a bit of hurry.”
He frowned big, then, and added with as much of a smirk as his broken face could make, “Got someplace to be.”
That’s when Girl did something bad. She threw a temp-her-tant-drum. Well, really, she threw Yellow. She swatted at him – weakly – with her fist. My girl is strong. She’s the strongest big one I’ve ever seen. She’s stronger than vamp hires, even. But when she hit Yellow, she only hit him like Brown Fur or Broken One hit. So it was a surprise when Yellow, who is almost as strong as my girl, tumbled onto the floor with a thud. Even worse, he didn’t get back up. He stayed on the floor and made scary watery breathing noises.
“Ah! Christ!” he yelled – or tried to yell – when he could talk. “That any way to (gasp) treat a fella (wheeze) back from the dead (rasp) and bleedin’ (gasp, gasp) on your front stoop?”
Girl stomped her foot.
“You let me think you were dead!” she yelled, making her hands into fists.
“That’s rich! (Rasp, wheeze, gasp) I’ve been dead since eighteen bloody eighty. (Pause) Not exactly a revelation.”
“He can’t talk, Girl! Help him!” I told her.
Of course, Girl didn’t listen. She just yelled some more, saying, “You know what I mean!”
“Yeah? And what of it? S’not like you wanted me around anyway, especially not with that Immortal bugger puttin’ the moves on you.”
Yellow got the whole sentence out this time, but afterward, he coughed so that his whole body shook.
Finally, Girl reached out to help. She took his hand and hauled him up so he was standing. Underneath him, the carpet was stained red with not-so-little bits of Big One Stuffing.
“I’m glad you’re not dust,” she told him. When she talked, she kept hold of his hand and looked him in the eye.
Yellow frowned big. He squeezed Girl’s hand back. Then, he looked her in the eye with his most serious expression. It was the expression big ones get when they have to tell you someone isn’t coming back. That happens a lot in my world.
Girl didn’t seem to notice. Or, of she did, she didn’t want to notice. She ignored it.
“You look like hell. Wait – is that where you’ve been? In a hell dimension? Why do all of my boyfriends have to go to Hell?”
Yellow raised his eyebrow – the one with the scar on it.
“Boyfriend?” he asked, trying again to smirk.
Girl rolled her eyes.
“So what about this iceberg thingie?”
The bad news look came back. I was scared. Yellow wasn’t back just because he loved us. Yellow was back because something bad was happening. Probably another A-pocket-lyspe. Those happen every spring, but the big ones are always sad and surprised by them.
“The news, Buffy. (Pause) I – It’s not of the good, love. You’re gonna (wheeze) gonna wanna sit and not just stand in the doorway (rasp) with your jaw all agape.”
“Come in, Spike. Sit down.”
Girl finally did something nice. She threw Yellow’s arm around her shoulder and helped him to the couch. When she let him go, she sat down next to him. He didn’t notice, but I saw that she was careful not to let their arms or hips or legs touch.
“Just tell me. You’re giving me the wiggins, looking at me like that – and, well, being not fried to a crisp. And try not to bleed on my couch. What’s with that, anyway? Aren’t you all super-healy?”
This time, Yellow tried the look that means “Shut Up.” That one came through loud and clear even with the bruises in the way.
“It’s Angel.”
Girl’s breath caught so that she wheezed a little bit like Yellow.
“When?”
“Two days ago.”
More rasping, this time from both of them.
“Oh, God,” Girl said.
Her eyes flew to me, then, and I knew Girl was going to need extra cuddles sometime very soon. Wat-her started to come out of her eyes, but she didn’t sob or really seem to notice the tears at all. Her body was all humming and on full alert, slay-her senses tingly and ready. I knew what that meant. My Girl was preparing for war – which meant she was going to take some big ones out into the big world and come back with not as many big ones and more scars.
“Right. Great poofter gets gasps and tears, as usual.”
Yellow coughed some more.
“Are you all right, Yellow?” I asked. I was starting to get worried.
But Yellow didn’t answer me. Instead, he answered Girl, who talked over me to ask, “How?”
“Savin’ the world. How else? All your boyfriends do that, too.”
Girl nodded and looked at Yellow. She used her eyes to ask for details without asking with her voice.
Yellow sighed. He got sort of sniffly when he answered, but that might have been the raspy, hard-time-talking thingie that was already wrong with him.
“We stopped the a-pocket-lypse (rasp). Not just an a-pocket-lypse, mind you, (wheeze) but the real (gasp) bloody (gasp) thing. You know the big baddies that everyone always suspects secretly run this show? (Wheeze, wheeze, cough) Well, not anymore.”
“Stop trying to breathe, Spike. It’s not like you need to. Are there any survivors?”
Yellow didn’t listen. He kept trying – not very successfully – to breathe. He did answer, though, saying, “You’re lookin’ at him. (cough) And Illyria. (wheeze) Not sure she could die if she tried (rasp, rasp).”
Girl crinkled up her nose.
“Illyri-who?”
“Blue girl, about yea high,” Yellow said, wincing as he moved his arm to indicate a big one about Girl’s height.
“Blue?”
“Like Smurfette, but with a really bad attitude. Hard like stone. Eh – nevermind. You don’t know her,” he replied. Then he tried to smile. His face lit up for a minute. After he hacked and coughed some more, he added with what sounded like pride, “Heck of a fighter, though (cough, cough). Nothing like ten rounds with her to make a fella feel alive! (wheeze) And the things she says! (cough)Wants to (cough, rasp) wantsta make me her pet, (wheeze) can you believe it? You two’d (rasp) get along great. Like (wheeze) peas in a pod.”
Girl stood up and started to pace. Pacing was bad. It was another sign of an a-pocket-lypse… that, or a sign that one of the big ones went away again.
“Fallout? Anything I can get my slayers on? Anyone whose ass I can kick? I need some ass – I mean of the kicky variety. Not the other kind.”
“Hear you get plenty of that.”
Girl glared at him.
Yellow grew serious.
“Wish to God there was (rasp). I was growing right fond – (cough) well, tolerant, leastwise (cough) – of me old grandsire. He slayed a dragon, though, before he kicked it (cough, wheeze, rasp). No lie. A real honest to goodness dragon (cough, cough). White knight to the end, eh?”
Buffy’s pacing led her to the kitch-hen world. She punched the count-her, breaking the grant-ted top. Then, she calmed herself.
“You want a drink? I don’t have any blood handy.”
“Don’t suppose you keep it on tap anymore, as it were. Nah – water or cola or whatever you have will do.”
Calmly, Girl made the drinks – lemonade – while Yellow coughed and fidgeted. Then, she came back over. She handed Yellow a glass. For just a second, their fingers touched. Yellow’s hand shook, but then he took the drink and gulped it down between coughs.
Girl stared at him. Hard.
“What’s with the wounded soldier routine? You slay a dragon, too?”
“Yeah, actually, among other things (wheeze). Faced the multitudinous hordes.”
“Need me to patch you up?”
Yellow frowned big.
“Ain’t no patchin’ this up, pet.”
Slowly, he pulled aside his dust-her and pulled up his T-shirt. Underneath, there was a rip that would do in most SAs – and most big ones, too. There were a lot of those rips, actually. And something hard and white was poking out in one spot.
Girl stared.
“Melodramatic much? You used to be able to take a beating.”
Yellow tried to chuckle, but he ended up coughing some more, instead.
“Don’t you get it, Slayer?” he asked when he could talk again.
“Get what?”
“I’m a real boy again. (rasp) Among hell’s hordes, there is apparently a demon with a (cough, cough) with a peculiar sort of blood. (rasp) Get some of that in your bloodstream, and (rasp, wheeze) voila – the old ticker starts (cough) tockin’.”
On that last cough, some big one stuffing came out of his mouth. He wiped it, looked down, and chucked. Without being told it was okay, Yellow laid down on the couch. Girl got up to give him room.
“Of course, Sanshu prophecy didn’t say for how long (wheeze, rasp). There’s the rub (cough). Mind if I rest awhile? (Cough, wheeze) Won’t take up much of your valuable time, I promise.”
Yellow’s eyes scanned the room. They were blue, just like I remembered, and they fell on me.
“I’m sorry you’re hurt, Yellow. Thanks for saving me,” I said solemnly.
“Nice place you (cough) got here. And hey, (rasp) don’t that just beat all? I see you (cough) got my present (wheeze, rasp). You cuddlin’ our girl good, Gordo, old boy?”
Cautiously, Girl leaned over. She touched Yellow’s forehead.
“Jesus, Spike! You’re hot!”
“Too easy, Slay-her,” he said, raising his scarred brow just a bit.
Girl blushed and said, “I mean you’ve got a fever.”
Yellow didn’t answer. He just closed his eyes.
Suddenly, Girl was in what she called “Christ-ass mode.” At full slay-her speed, which is lots faster than normal big one speed, she rushed to the bathroom world and came back with the first-hate kit.
“Shirt. Off. Now.”
“Same old Buffy,” Yellow whispered without opening his eyes.
“Do you want me to save your life or not?”
Yellow tried to move his arms to the bottom of his shirt, but he didn’t get very far.
“No use, Slay-her, but don’t think I (cough) I don’t appreciate the sentiment.”
Girl paid no attention. With one hand, she grabbed the scissors from the kit and cut away the fabric. With the other, she took up her self-fone.
“Giles! Emergency. I need you and Will-hoe and Sand-her at my apartment. Now. I’ll explain when you get here.”
Yellow stirred.
“What’s the whelp gonna do?” he asked between ragged breaths.
“Shut up, Spike; don’t talk,” Girl said and then, into the self-fone, she added, “Yes, Spike! I don’t know. I can’t explain. Just get here!”
Girl closed the self-fone and then patched up Yellow as best she could. That was a good thing, too, because my girl was always better at patching big ones than she was at patching SAs.
“Stay with me, Spike. Open your eyes. Look at me. God, I am sooo tired of watching you die. Umm… let’s try questions. Stay awake. Answer a question. Why did you come here?”
Girl had to ask the question twice.
“Seemed like the thing to do (wheeze). Wanted you (rasp) to know the truth, is all – (wheeze, rasp) about all of it. Me, Angel, the a-poca (rasp) lypse… the whole bloody thing.”
Girl looked sad.
“Full disclosure? Is that the only reason?”
Yellow opened his eyes enough to roll them.
“Of course not, you daft cow! (Wheeeeeze) Never is with you, is it?”
“Then why? And hey! Cow? I’ve gained some weight since the last a-pocket-lypse, sure, but cow?”
“My toes – toes – are (rasp) to the fire, love. Pin-oc-chio routine won’t change that. (Wheeze, rasp) Getting toasty already, I am (rasp, rasp).”
“That’s the fever, Spike. If you really got the Sanshu, then that means – ”
Yellow interrupted Girl, wheezing out the words, “I just -- just want-ed to pre-tend for a minute, that’s all.”
Yellow groaned as Girl bandaged another wound. She looked down. I looked down, too, and noticed that one of the bandages had already started to spill stuffing.
Girl got really serious, then, and tried to push down harder on the rip that was losing the most stuffing. Quietly, she asked, “What did you want to pretend? Keep talking. What did you want to pretend?”
“Pretend I got the girl, of course,” Yellow replied, shaking back and forth and up and down a lot, like he didn’t have control of his arms and legs.
Girl reached out to steady him. She cuddled his hand and met his eyes.
“You did,” she said, her voice small.
Yellow shivered all over, like he was really, really cold and there was no heat-her.
“Yeah. Right (rasp). No need to lie (rasp, rasp) to lie to me, Slayer. (Wheeeeeze) I can pretend just fine on my – ”
Girl leaned over and kissed him. He stopped shaking, then, and looked at her all scared and surprised – like Girl had looked the time she saw me move just that once – right before she shrugged it off and didn’t believe it.
“You did,” Girl insisted.
Yellow looked up at her. His expression was happy, but not altogether sure.
“Yeah?”
Girl smiled and brushed Yellow’s fur back from his face even though it wasn’t long enough to really be a bother.
“Yeah.”
Yellow breathed harder and faster. He made those gurgling, scary noises some more. More stuffing came out from his mouth.
“Well, I’ll try not to (wheeze) bollocks it up this time by sayin’ (wheeze) it ain’t so.”
“Good. Cuz I’m really not big on being contradicted.”
“Bloody presumptuous of me, (wheeze) tellin’ you how you felt, (rasp) wasn’t it?”
“A little bit, yeah.”
Yellow shivered all over again.
“Not to ruin a tender moment, love, (rasp, wheeze, rasp) but you got blank-it?”
With one hand, Girl kept leaning on the biggest rip, trying to keep the stuffing inside. With the other, she pulled a blank-it from the back of the couch and spread it gently over Yellow.
(To Be Continued…)
What do you think? Is it worth continuing?
