SHERLITON'S ARMY
Sherliton's Army 4/? By Len (lendolyny...) Spoilers: Gone' – it pretty much branches off into AU at that point. Teaser: Willow and Spike deal with the side-effects of their run-in with Bub (Big Ugly Bug), and Sid has a brief cameo in which he tosses our heroine around a little. But never fear - no Willows (or Spikes!) were harmed in the making of this fic. Rating: R – Spike and his dirty mouth! Note: I can't write drama or angst to save my life. This is the result of me attempting to keep my head from exploding in the pre-finals season. Clichés abound, Evil Critters are borrowed from Sigourney Weaver movies, plot weaves like a drunken man, names are silly…you know, the usual. Have fun. Archive: My site – Blood Magic: ( /voodoobloodmagic/enter.html ), Breathe, NHA, WLS - and anyone else who wants it. Just let me know so I can visit. Or gloat. Same diff. More Notes: Not one of my better chapters, granted, but hopefully it will be fun to read. Just don't read too carefully. (: Also: WILL FIC FOR FEEDBACK!! For: sinecure. You asked for it. ;) Chapter 4 Willow gingerly removed her shirt and walked to the bathroom in her jeans and bra, almost dreading what she would see in the mirror. She looked at her reflection and cringed. The creature that looked like those things that lived…well, you know – had really done a number on her ribs. They didn't appear to be broken, but the red footprint was rapidly transforming into a rather startling shade of purple. She sighed. If this had happened a couple months ago, she would have simply spelled away the damage. Now it looked like she would just have to heal the old-fashioned way. "This sucks," she decided, grumbling and prodding the area with a careful finger. Her head wasn't feeling to hot either – there was a trickle of dried blood running down one side of her forehead from her abrupt nose-dive into the street, and a lump from where that Big Ugly Bug had cracked her and Spike together like they were a couple of eggs and it was the Iron Chef. Willow dug around in her well-equipped medicine cabinet and swallowed a couple of Aspirin dry. She hoped she didn't have a concussion of some sort – the ringing in her head hadn't gone away and was showing no signs of lessening. She sighed, and stripped off her blood-soaked jeans to climb in the shower. The near-scalding water ran down her body and washed away the crusted blood, creating pink rivulets of liquid. Willow watched it in fascination before realizing that Spike must've lost a heck of a lot more blood than she'd thought – because none of that blood running down the drain was hers. She hoped he was all right. He'd seemed a little dazed when they'd left the shop, like his chip was acting up. Except there hadn't been anything to set it off… She squirted out a measure of shampoo into her palm. Wash that Big Ugly Bug right out of your hair!' she thought irreverently, scrubbing hard. Big ugly bug, big ugly bug… Willow knew she had seen that Creature before, but she couldn't remember where. It was really starting to bother her. Maybe that rack on the noggin had knocked a few brain cells loose. It was so familiar, practically on the tip of her tongue… She rinsed that last of the soap from her hair and body before stepping out onto the shower mat and drying off. Maybe she would stop by Spike's new place and find out what his impressions of that Thing had been. After all, he'd gotten a few good knocks in on it, too. Her nightshirt hung on a hook on the bathroom door, and she slipped gratefully into the soft, worn cotton. And out of nowhere came the memory of his touch. Just the faintest whisper of fingers across her face, so soft it made her ache. Moving across her lips, leaving them tingling in the cool wake of his caress. The air between them seemed to hum with energy, and she leaned towards him, closing her eyes… Blinking, Willow snapped out of her daydream at about the same time she over-balanced and fell over. Definitely a few loose brain cells rattling around,' she decided, and climbed into bed. Like that ever has or ever will happen…' All the same, she couldn't stop a wistful smile from crossing her lips as she drifted off to sleep. Across town, Spike was in Hell. It wasn't the traditional Victorian version of Hell – all flames and brimstone, but one that was sufficiently tortuous to satisfy all the basic requirements. For one thing, he felt like he'd been thrown off a tall tower, several times. And he was in a position to know exactly what that felt like. There wasn't a part of him that didn't hurt. If anything, the ringing in his head had gotten worse since he'd parted company with the rest of the gang, and the gash on his side was showing no signs of healing. But he figured that both could have quite a bit to do with the fact that he couldn't get to the fridge and his blood. Or to a phone. Just the thought of calling one of the Scoobies to tell them that he had fallen and couldn't get up was enough to make him shiver in horror. The only one of the whole lot he could imagine himself asking for help was Will, and after their run-in with that black, scaly demon, she wasn't in top shape either. She'd come, but she needed her rest now. He could call the slayer – and she would help. But he knew how that scenario would end. She'd haul him to his feet, grimacing at how repulsive his physical proximity to her was, and then watch him drink his blood, keeping a long, angsty silence. Then one of them would start and argument and she'd storm out of this apartment with some cutting final remark… Nah. He wasn't disillusioned at all, was he? Spike smirked self-depreciatingly to himself from his position on the floor of the living room. That's all he and Buffy had ever been – tragic, pointless, full of pain. Well, he was fed up with brooding and stalking and hurting. He wanted to have a bit of fun – like before the days of the chip. Laughter was good for anyone – even demons – and he intended to find some. Just as soon as he got off the floor. Buffy didn't know where his new apartment was, anyway. The thought cheered him somewhat. Bloody Hell…he was so tired… But he had nice carpet – that had to be worth something. It was nice and squishy. Spike gave up trying to get up and just laid his head down on it. It was too much. Just too much. Why couldn't the Powers That Be just give him a couple days of rest? He was sick to death…well, really tired, anyway, of being constantly bruised or fighting…. Was it too much to ask for just a few minutes to recover? Or even better, someone to fuss over him a little bit? Not long, just an hour or so… And somehow, in the midst of his pain-induced fog, he wasn't terribly surprised when Willow fell from the ceiling and landed on the lovely carpet next to him. Thud. "Whaa…?" The half-asleep and startled redhead muttered, rolling over and into Spike's prostrate form. He flinched in pain, but couldn't get his mouth to form the trite but useful, Ow'. Willow blinked against the lamplight in the apartment, completely disoriented. She quickly replayed the evening's events in her mind. Shower…yup. Teeth…whoops. Bed….yup. Sleep…check. Wake up in strange room…huh. Maybe the side-effects of her run in with the Big Ugly Bug (henceforth referred to as BUB due to time restraints) were more numerous than she had originally believed. She laid there pondering the idea as gradually the smell of cigarette smoke and leather filled her senses. She knew that combination. "Spike?" she croaked. "What the hell am I doing here?" He rolled his eyes towards her, trying to convey a suitably sarcastic remark. It took most of his remaining energy to tilt an eyebrow. Willow sat up slowly. The ringing in her head had lessened, but falling from…wherever it was…hadn't helped her poor ribs any. She opened her mouth to ask her blond, fangy friend what was going on but stopped as she got a good look at his appearance. Her eyes widened. "Eep!" she squeaked. "Blood! Lots of blood. And you look bad! Let me just get—" and she dashed out of the living room. Spike listened to her putter around in the kitchen and relaxed for the first time in a week. Willow was there now. Things would be fine because she wasn't the type to settle for anything less. And his last conscious thought before he passed out was that people didn't have nearly enough appreciation for wool-blend carpeting. Meanwhile, back at the corporate offices of The Powers That Be, the Almighty Sid was very pleased. All the two Beings had required to get things back on track was a tiny push. For Pk&6's sake, Sid hadn't even needed to send them any provocative images – they were doing it all on their own. He had to commend Willow the witch's imagination – even he couldn't have dreamed up something so subtle. He rubbed his hands together in glee and watched the scene presently playing out before him. Willow the witch had returned from the kitchen with a mug of blood and some rags. She trotted back to the vampire, looking worried. Sid smiled. "Ah yes, I'm back in the saddle again," he sang, congratulating himself. Spike the vampire wanted some babying, did he? Well, fortunately for him, that fit into Sid's plans very nicely. After a few more minutes of Willow/Spike TV he changed the channel, curious about what his second-in-command was up to in regards to that annoying little gnat, Sherliton. A dark warehouse came into view, and Sid rolled his eyes. "Thousands of years of Evil Masterminds, and the best they ever seem to do for a Secret Lair is a warehouse. Idiots!" His annoyed expression softened as he watched No. 2 skip her little Girl Scout-ish way in through the door. Oh, this would be good. TBC... Review! Please!
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