A.N: Who doesn't love fairy tales? Seriously, who?
Disclaimer: I do NOT own Cowboy Bebop or any of its characters, ideas, yadda yadda yadda..
~~On the Bebop~~
Docking peacefully at a fueling station on Mars, the Bebop, with its slightly rusted hull and splotchy paint job, rocked to and fro with each gentle lap of the harbor's waves. Gulls cried out as they circled above the blue-green water and the air smelled of salt and fish. It wasn't exactly a bed of roses, which was why Spike remained inside the ship.
A green tuft of hair poked out from around the corner as mismatched brown eyes peered hesitantly into the lounge room. After scrutinizing the kitchen doorway, the hallway entrance, and the table that sat in the room's center, Spike stepped calmly in the empty room and plopped down on the faded orange sofa. ..::Peace at last::.. he thought as he snatched up the pack of cigarettes on the table.
Jet had mentioned taking a break for a day or two; so of course, Faye was gone with her money. Or so Spike hopefully prayed. He hadn't seen or heard from her in two hours, and he was glad to keep it that way. Jet was out getting more supplies and had apparently taken Ed with him. ..::No objections here::.. Spike leaned back with one arm behind his head had he took a long drag from his cigarette. Letting out a long breath his eyes drifted to the ceiling fan as it twirled around and around. The smoke swirling apart like paint strokes on a canvas as it floated up to the spinning blades.
..::So quiet, you could hear a pin drop::.. Spike lay there for another moment before sighing and sitting up.
..::Too damn quiet::..
He sighed again and smothered his cigarette in the ash tray and gazed about the still room.
..::Damn::.. he thought ..::Boredom always hides best in silence. I knew I wasn't alone in here::..
He leaned back again and stretched his long legs out propping them up the table. A thunk from the other side brought him from his relaxed position. Peering over the table top, Spike found a book, now open, lying on the floor. He leaned over the table and plucked the book from its resting place and studied the picture that it had fallen to. The picture was of a man holding a long stick over his shoulder with a light hung and burning dimly on the end. A title was over the paragraphs on the left side with the words "Jack O'Lantern."
Spike's brow furrowed as he flipped the book to its cover keeping that page with his thumb. The cover read "An Illustrated Treasury of Fairy and Folk Tales." Opening the book back to the "Jack O'Lantern page, Spike settled himself back down on the worn and faded sofa and began reading.
...::There once was a tinker of Ballingary down in County Limerick in Ireland...::..
Spike's eyes roamed over the words and pictures as he turned to each new page of the story. As he came closer and closer to the end, his eyes began to droop..
..::He was to have no rest, but wander over bogs, swamps, moors, and lonely places, leading folks astray..Folk know him now as Jack O'Lantern::..
The last lines of the story floated away from Spike's mind as he lay back resting his head on the sofa's plush arm. The book fell across his chest and his eyes closed to welcome sleep brought on by the stealthy control of silence.
~*~*~Upon waking, Spike found himself on a thinly padded cot in a small room. Gazing about lazily, he found a undersized fireplace in the wall were his feet pointed, a tattered rug lay in the middle of the floor, and a wooden clock hung on the wall opposite the bed. Next to the head of the bed was a worn and chipped rocking chair. Spike slowly brought his feet to the floor as he sat up and scratched the hank of green fluff on his head.
As foreign as his settings were to him, Spike didn't feel afraid or uncomfortable. He felt at home in a sense. He rose up from the bed and strode over to the petite, circular window next to the door and peered out. A field of lush green flowed out before him, mountains of an emerald hue rolled in the distance, and a tall leafy tree grew in the front yard ripe with apples.
Spike scratched his head again, rubbed his eyes, and took another look outside. Nope, lush field still there. He shrugged inwardly and took hold of the knob and opened the door stepping out into the cleanest, coolest air he'd ever had the privilege of breathing. It took his smoker's lungs by surprise and he almost gasped. Passing by the apple tree, a wood pile, and an old cart missing a wheel, Spike headed down the front path to a chopping block next to which and axe was propped.
Having seen the nearly depleted firewood stock next to the house, Spike took it upon himself to replenish it. He picked up one wood block, set it on the stump and brought the axe down onto its middle splitting it cleanly in two. Pleased with himself, he tried another. The sun passed over head as Spike continued with his work until he suddenly heard a dry, wobbly voice call from his side:
"Do you think you could spare us a cup of water and a seat to rest our weary bones?"
Spike turned to find a feeble, old man bent with age. He had dirty brown hair and a scraggly brown beard and wore a beaten yellow shirt. To the man's right and left were two other men of the same condition.
Done looking them over and seeing no harm in helping, Spike shrugged, "Sure, come on in."
He led them up the front walk and let them inside. Spike brought up the rocking chair and three other wooden stools from the back room. He then went out back to the water pump and filled the pail.
The four sat in a circle around the rug, Spike rocking in his rocking chair, the three old men sipping at their water. When finished, the first man said, "You have been quite kind to us."
"In times like these, with so many unsavory folk, it is hard to find those who care for someone other than themselves," a second murmured; his shaggy gray hair fell over his brow.
"Indeed," agreed the third, "You deserve a reward for you generosity."
Spike quirked an eyebrow, "What kind of reward?"
The three men glanced at each other before the first said, "We each will grant you one wish."
"One wish?"
"Well, three all together."
"Yeah, I can count." Spike paused, "Anything I want?"
The men nodded.
Spike leaned back in his rocking chair and pondered it over. He rocked to and fro to, fro before he got an idea.
"This chair is my favorite. It is the one I am most comfortable sitting in," He looked up at the three men, "I wish that whomever else sits in this chair gets stuck in it and can't get up until I say so."
Three pairs of eyes widened. Two looked at the first man who then became solemn, "As you wish."
The two others returned their gaze to Spike who was currently studying his apple tree swaying gently in the breeze in the front yard. He then leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees with his hands clasped together, "You see that apple tree?"
The men nodded.
"You said so yourselves that these times are full of 'unsavory folk'. I don't want people coming to steal my apples when I am poor enough as it is. I wish that whoever else touches my tree gets stuck to it and won't be able to let go until I say so. In fact, I want the branches to grab hold of them and shake 'em real hard."
The gray haired man sighed, "You're wish is granted."
Spike leaned back and fell into pondering once again; his eyes roamed the ceiling as if inspiration lay in its swirling wood patterns. Finally he said, "I also don't need anyone stealing my tools. I wish that if anyone other than me touches my axe, that it will rise up and chop them until I tell it to stop."
Needless to say, the three men were astonished and appalled by such a request; this coming from a man who had just shown them such kind hospitality. But a promise was a promise, and Spike had made his final wish.
"Granted," the third man muttered.
With that, the three men rose from their stools and mumbled their thanks for the rest and water as they quietly exited the cabin. Spike continued rocking for awhile after that with a glimmer of a smile played on his lips. It was at about dusk; the sun fell behind the rolling, emerald mountains, the field's lush green became a dark violet; Spike eyes had begun to close when there came a sharp knock at the door. He rose slowly and proceeded across the room to answer it. As he peered around the door into the dark, he found a man of similar years standing on the front stoop. His hair was short and gray, his eyes were an icy blue, and he wore all black.
Though his mouth curved in a smiled and held good intent, his eyes told otherwise.
"I have come from far away to see you."
"Have you now?" Spike kept a wary eye on him and his tone guarded.
"Yes, I have heard rumors that there is a man in this land with a more wicked mind than I, and I wish to met such a man; one who feels he has the means to challenge me."
Spike's eyes narrowed, "Oh, really? And who might you be?"
The man's smile broadened as he offered his hand, "Why, the Devil, of course."
Spike could help but raise and eyebrow. But one look at him and he knew he wasn't kidding. Nonetheless, Spike shook his hand and allowed him inside.
While the Devil remained near the door, Spike went over to the fireplace and built up a small fire. Stoking the flames, he asked over his shoulder, "What makes you think I am more evil than you?"
The Devil shrugged nonchalantly as he paced to the other side of the room, "I hear you were given three wishes. And though I do not know what they were, I do know you made them with a more violent purpose in mind than of greed or even selflessness like most would. Rumors have spread. Rumors that your power rivals that of mine."
Spike mumbled, "Word seems to travel fast around here."
He stood and brushed his hands off on his pants. Turning back to the Devil he asked, "So why did you come? Jealous?"
Spike could see him bristle at the accusation. The Devil's eyes narrowed and his aura became as red as hot coals, "I would NEVER acquire such a HUMAN trait!" Realizing his temper, he quickly regained his composure and continued calmly, "I simply come to give you an offer."
The fire sparked and Spike glanced at it, "Offer of what?"
"A place in my kingdom," Spike almost choked when he heard this, "As surprising as it may sound, good help IS hard to find these days."
Spike went to get a drink from the water pail. The Devil pressed on, "I believe we would be good comrades. Interested?"
After taking a long gulp of the cool liquid, Spike questioned, "What if I refuse?"
"Then you go to Hell anyway," the Devil said with a clipped tone, "Only, you won't have my partnership."
"Decisions, decisions," Spike muttered.
Glancing around the room, his eyes fell on his rocking chair. Finishing off the water in his cup he said, "Well, all right. I see no harm in going. But I would like to pack some things."
"You won't need any earthly possessions, trust me."
"All the same, I would still like to take one last look around my home as small and pathetic as it is. In fact, why don't you just sit down in my favorite rocking chair while I get my things on order?"
The Devil's eyes lingered on him and for a fleeting moment Spike thought he caught on. But then the Devil replied, "All right, you have five minutes." And he sat down in the chair.
Spike then walked over to the fire and began heating one of the pokers over the flames. The Devil kept a wary eye on him until finally, as the barbed end of iron began to glow red, he called out, "What are you doing?"
A feral grin spread across Spike's mouth as he pulled the poker out and held it before him, "You think I would actually join with the likes of you?" The Devil began to squirm in the chair as Spike pointed the glowing end towards him.
"Stop it! Get that away from me!" The Devil tried desperately to get out of the chair, but he was stuck fast. "Stop! I promise I'll leave! Just keep that away from me!"
Spike inched the poker closer and closer to the Devil's eye until he was only centimeters away. But he stopped and lowered it, "You will leave my property?"
"Yes, I will leave! Make this chair let go!"
Spike placed the poker back against the brick of the fireplace then ordered the chair, "Let him go!"
The Devil sprang up as if he had been burned and shuffled to the door keeping his eye on Spike. Through gritted teeth he growled, "You'll be lucky if I don't burn this whole house down."
He opened the door and began to step out, but Spike wasn't done with him yet. He called after him, "I suppose that WAS a little unfair. I mean, to catch you by surprise like that."
The Devil turned back to him and Spike continued, "How about we make a bet? And this one is so simple it should be too easy for you to win because you're a lot stronger than I am."
The Devil's eyes narrowed and he murmured, "Go on."
Running his fingers through his fluffy hair, Spike said, "You see my apple tree out front?"
The Devil's eyes darted to the tree then back to Spike. He nodded.
"If you can shake more apples out of that tree than me, I will go with you. You can't touch the apples; you can only touch the trunk of the tree."
The Devil pondered the bet over for a moment before agreeing.
Stepping out into the cool night air, the two walked over the tree's base.
"You go first," the Devil murmured.
Spike shrugged and took hold of the trunk, its fairly smooth bark crumbled under his palms. Giving the tree several good shakes, he managed to only bring down one apple.
Stepping back he gave an exasperated sigh, "Well, that shouldn't be hard for you to beat."
The Devil humphed and stepped up to the tree. As he took hold of the trunk, the branches reached down and grabbed him. They pulled him high up and shook him like a maraca. He screamed for help but Spike was so doubled over with laughter that he could barely speak. After a good minute of thrashing, Spike finally ordered the tree to drop the Devil. The prince of darkness not only had a battered and bruised body, his pride wasn't doing so well either. Spike fell into his fits of laughter again and he had to sit down.
The Devil spied the axe leaning against the chopping block. He stormed over and snatched it up, but before he could chop off Spike's head, the axe shot out of his grip and came down hard on his shoulder. The Devil screamed in surprise if not for the pain. Spike stopped laughing long enough to watch the Devil pull the axe out of his shoulder which it then came down on his leg.
Laughter claimed him again and Spike fell onto his back as the Devil torn open a portal to Hell and disappeared sealing the hole after him. Spike eventually regained his composure and wiped the tears from his eyes. As he sat up, the sun began to creep up over the hills and spread its warmth out like a blanket. Spike stood and brushed the dirt and grass off of himself and headed inside.
~~``~~``~
Time passed quickly yet it seemed in slow motion. Spike began to feel his age increasing as he became less and less able to move about. Lying on his deathbed, his breaths became shallower and shallower as his eyes closed. His old wrinkled hands rested on his ribs.
Spike next found himself facing a long stairway with a bright light glowing at the top. He had begun his ascent when a croaky voice called out to him, "Hey, you know this is the stairway to heaven, right?"
Spike turned his eyes to the stair in front of him where there sat a little green toad. His brow wrinkled as he responded, "Yeah, so?"
"You can't come here! You were evil in life! You wasted your wishes on things that could only hurt others."
Spike stood there with his hands in his pockets. The two stared at each other for a moment before Spike turned around, "Fine," he mumbled, and headed down the stairs, adding under his breath, "Lousy, obnoxious frog."
And he continued down the stairs whistling an easy tune until he came to a fiery red door. Seeing no other place for him to go, Spike shrugged and knocked on the hot iron. From the other side he heard a familiar voice yell, "Go away! You can't come in here! I can't have someone getting the better of me in my own domain!"
Spike breathed a frustrated sigh as he threw up his hands, "Then just where am I supposed to go then?!"
The door opened a crack and icy blue eyes peered out at him. They scrutinized him for a moment before a chunk of flaming coal was tossed out and landed at his feet.
"Take that. At least then you'll have SOME heat, though I doubt it will warm that cold heart of yours."
Spike rolled his eyes, but picked up the coal nonetheless and found it only mildly warm to the touch. He eventually made it back to his cabin, though he was too restless to stay. He put the coal into a lantern and attached that to a stick which he carried over his shoulder to light his way as he traveled endlessly through limbo for eternity.~*~*~*
Spike woke from his dream with a start. The book of fairy tales still rested on his chest. Lifting it up to his eyes, Spike studied the picture of 'Jack O'Lantern'. It was a man cloaked in black, his eyes hidden and his posture sullen. The drawing made Spike shiver so he slammed the book shut and tossed it back onto the table.
Pulling out and lighting another cigarette, he stood and left the room.
..::Leave it to Ed to leave her stuff lying around::.. he thought, though he had to admit to never seeing Ed actually reading a physical book before...
A.N.: Eh, weird. Anyway, that was just Spike. I have much more in store for that little book and the other characters. (By the way, it IS an actual book I've had since as far back as I can remember. Try and find it if you can.. If they still make it.. Probably not.)
:P
Disclaimer: I do NOT own Cowboy Bebop or any of its characters, ideas, yadda yadda yadda..
~~On the Bebop~~
Docking peacefully at a fueling station on Mars, the Bebop, with its slightly rusted hull and splotchy paint job, rocked to and fro with each gentle lap of the harbor's waves. Gulls cried out as they circled above the blue-green water and the air smelled of salt and fish. It wasn't exactly a bed of roses, which was why Spike remained inside the ship.
A green tuft of hair poked out from around the corner as mismatched brown eyes peered hesitantly into the lounge room. After scrutinizing the kitchen doorway, the hallway entrance, and the table that sat in the room's center, Spike stepped calmly in the empty room and plopped down on the faded orange sofa. ..::Peace at last::.. he thought as he snatched up the pack of cigarettes on the table.
Jet had mentioned taking a break for a day or two; so of course, Faye was gone with her money. Or so Spike hopefully prayed. He hadn't seen or heard from her in two hours, and he was glad to keep it that way. Jet was out getting more supplies and had apparently taken Ed with him. ..::No objections here::.. Spike leaned back with one arm behind his head had he took a long drag from his cigarette. Letting out a long breath his eyes drifted to the ceiling fan as it twirled around and around. The smoke swirling apart like paint strokes on a canvas as it floated up to the spinning blades.
..::So quiet, you could hear a pin drop::.. Spike lay there for another moment before sighing and sitting up.
..::Too damn quiet::..
He sighed again and smothered his cigarette in the ash tray and gazed about the still room.
..::Damn::.. he thought ..::Boredom always hides best in silence. I knew I wasn't alone in here::..
He leaned back again and stretched his long legs out propping them up the table. A thunk from the other side brought him from his relaxed position. Peering over the table top, Spike found a book, now open, lying on the floor. He leaned over the table and plucked the book from its resting place and studied the picture that it had fallen to. The picture was of a man holding a long stick over his shoulder with a light hung and burning dimly on the end. A title was over the paragraphs on the left side with the words "Jack O'Lantern."
Spike's brow furrowed as he flipped the book to its cover keeping that page with his thumb. The cover read "An Illustrated Treasury of Fairy and Folk Tales." Opening the book back to the "Jack O'Lantern page, Spike settled himself back down on the worn and faded sofa and began reading.
...::There once was a tinker of Ballingary down in County Limerick in Ireland...::..
Spike's eyes roamed over the words and pictures as he turned to each new page of the story. As he came closer and closer to the end, his eyes began to droop..
..::He was to have no rest, but wander over bogs, swamps, moors, and lonely places, leading folks astray..Folk know him now as Jack O'Lantern::..
The last lines of the story floated away from Spike's mind as he lay back resting his head on the sofa's plush arm. The book fell across his chest and his eyes closed to welcome sleep brought on by the stealthy control of silence.
~*~*~Upon waking, Spike found himself on a thinly padded cot in a small room. Gazing about lazily, he found a undersized fireplace in the wall were his feet pointed, a tattered rug lay in the middle of the floor, and a wooden clock hung on the wall opposite the bed. Next to the head of the bed was a worn and chipped rocking chair. Spike slowly brought his feet to the floor as he sat up and scratched the hank of green fluff on his head.
As foreign as his settings were to him, Spike didn't feel afraid or uncomfortable. He felt at home in a sense. He rose up from the bed and strode over to the petite, circular window next to the door and peered out. A field of lush green flowed out before him, mountains of an emerald hue rolled in the distance, and a tall leafy tree grew in the front yard ripe with apples.
Spike scratched his head again, rubbed his eyes, and took another look outside. Nope, lush field still there. He shrugged inwardly and took hold of the knob and opened the door stepping out into the cleanest, coolest air he'd ever had the privilege of breathing. It took his smoker's lungs by surprise and he almost gasped. Passing by the apple tree, a wood pile, and an old cart missing a wheel, Spike headed down the front path to a chopping block next to which and axe was propped.
Having seen the nearly depleted firewood stock next to the house, Spike took it upon himself to replenish it. He picked up one wood block, set it on the stump and brought the axe down onto its middle splitting it cleanly in two. Pleased with himself, he tried another. The sun passed over head as Spike continued with his work until he suddenly heard a dry, wobbly voice call from his side:
"Do you think you could spare us a cup of water and a seat to rest our weary bones?"
Spike turned to find a feeble, old man bent with age. He had dirty brown hair and a scraggly brown beard and wore a beaten yellow shirt. To the man's right and left were two other men of the same condition.
Done looking them over and seeing no harm in helping, Spike shrugged, "Sure, come on in."
He led them up the front walk and let them inside. Spike brought up the rocking chair and three other wooden stools from the back room. He then went out back to the water pump and filled the pail.
The four sat in a circle around the rug, Spike rocking in his rocking chair, the three old men sipping at their water. When finished, the first man said, "You have been quite kind to us."
"In times like these, with so many unsavory folk, it is hard to find those who care for someone other than themselves," a second murmured; his shaggy gray hair fell over his brow.
"Indeed," agreed the third, "You deserve a reward for you generosity."
Spike quirked an eyebrow, "What kind of reward?"
The three men glanced at each other before the first said, "We each will grant you one wish."
"One wish?"
"Well, three all together."
"Yeah, I can count." Spike paused, "Anything I want?"
The men nodded.
Spike leaned back in his rocking chair and pondered it over. He rocked to and fro to, fro before he got an idea.
"This chair is my favorite. It is the one I am most comfortable sitting in," He looked up at the three men, "I wish that whomever else sits in this chair gets stuck in it and can't get up until I say so."
Three pairs of eyes widened. Two looked at the first man who then became solemn, "As you wish."
The two others returned their gaze to Spike who was currently studying his apple tree swaying gently in the breeze in the front yard. He then leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees with his hands clasped together, "You see that apple tree?"
The men nodded.
"You said so yourselves that these times are full of 'unsavory folk'. I don't want people coming to steal my apples when I am poor enough as it is. I wish that whoever else touches my tree gets stuck to it and won't be able to let go until I say so. In fact, I want the branches to grab hold of them and shake 'em real hard."
The gray haired man sighed, "You're wish is granted."
Spike leaned back and fell into pondering once again; his eyes roamed the ceiling as if inspiration lay in its swirling wood patterns. Finally he said, "I also don't need anyone stealing my tools. I wish that if anyone other than me touches my axe, that it will rise up and chop them until I tell it to stop."
Needless to say, the three men were astonished and appalled by such a request; this coming from a man who had just shown them such kind hospitality. But a promise was a promise, and Spike had made his final wish.
"Granted," the third man muttered.
With that, the three men rose from their stools and mumbled their thanks for the rest and water as they quietly exited the cabin. Spike continued rocking for awhile after that with a glimmer of a smile played on his lips. It was at about dusk; the sun fell behind the rolling, emerald mountains, the field's lush green became a dark violet; Spike eyes had begun to close when there came a sharp knock at the door. He rose slowly and proceeded across the room to answer it. As he peered around the door into the dark, he found a man of similar years standing on the front stoop. His hair was short and gray, his eyes were an icy blue, and he wore all black.
Though his mouth curved in a smiled and held good intent, his eyes told otherwise.
"I have come from far away to see you."
"Have you now?" Spike kept a wary eye on him and his tone guarded.
"Yes, I have heard rumors that there is a man in this land with a more wicked mind than I, and I wish to met such a man; one who feels he has the means to challenge me."
Spike's eyes narrowed, "Oh, really? And who might you be?"
The man's smile broadened as he offered his hand, "Why, the Devil, of course."
Spike could help but raise and eyebrow. But one look at him and he knew he wasn't kidding. Nonetheless, Spike shook his hand and allowed him inside.
While the Devil remained near the door, Spike went over to the fireplace and built up a small fire. Stoking the flames, he asked over his shoulder, "What makes you think I am more evil than you?"
The Devil shrugged nonchalantly as he paced to the other side of the room, "I hear you were given three wishes. And though I do not know what they were, I do know you made them with a more violent purpose in mind than of greed or even selflessness like most would. Rumors have spread. Rumors that your power rivals that of mine."
Spike mumbled, "Word seems to travel fast around here."
He stood and brushed his hands off on his pants. Turning back to the Devil he asked, "So why did you come? Jealous?"
Spike could see him bristle at the accusation. The Devil's eyes narrowed and his aura became as red as hot coals, "I would NEVER acquire such a HUMAN trait!" Realizing his temper, he quickly regained his composure and continued calmly, "I simply come to give you an offer."
The fire sparked and Spike glanced at it, "Offer of what?"
"A place in my kingdom," Spike almost choked when he heard this, "As surprising as it may sound, good help IS hard to find these days."
Spike went to get a drink from the water pail. The Devil pressed on, "I believe we would be good comrades. Interested?"
After taking a long gulp of the cool liquid, Spike questioned, "What if I refuse?"
"Then you go to Hell anyway," the Devil said with a clipped tone, "Only, you won't have my partnership."
"Decisions, decisions," Spike muttered.
Glancing around the room, his eyes fell on his rocking chair. Finishing off the water in his cup he said, "Well, all right. I see no harm in going. But I would like to pack some things."
"You won't need any earthly possessions, trust me."
"All the same, I would still like to take one last look around my home as small and pathetic as it is. In fact, why don't you just sit down in my favorite rocking chair while I get my things on order?"
The Devil's eyes lingered on him and for a fleeting moment Spike thought he caught on. But then the Devil replied, "All right, you have five minutes." And he sat down in the chair.
Spike then walked over to the fire and began heating one of the pokers over the flames. The Devil kept a wary eye on him until finally, as the barbed end of iron began to glow red, he called out, "What are you doing?"
A feral grin spread across Spike's mouth as he pulled the poker out and held it before him, "You think I would actually join with the likes of you?" The Devil began to squirm in the chair as Spike pointed the glowing end towards him.
"Stop it! Get that away from me!" The Devil tried desperately to get out of the chair, but he was stuck fast. "Stop! I promise I'll leave! Just keep that away from me!"
Spike inched the poker closer and closer to the Devil's eye until he was only centimeters away. But he stopped and lowered it, "You will leave my property?"
"Yes, I will leave! Make this chair let go!"
Spike placed the poker back against the brick of the fireplace then ordered the chair, "Let him go!"
The Devil sprang up as if he had been burned and shuffled to the door keeping his eye on Spike. Through gritted teeth he growled, "You'll be lucky if I don't burn this whole house down."
He opened the door and began to step out, but Spike wasn't done with him yet. He called after him, "I suppose that WAS a little unfair. I mean, to catch you by surprise like that."
The Devil turned back to him and Spike continued, "How about we make a bet? And this one is so simple it should be too easy for you to win because you're a lot stronger than I am."
The Devil's eyes narrowed and he murmured, "Go on."
Running his fingers through his fluffy hair, Spike said, "You see my apple tree out front?"
The Devil's eyes darted to the tree then back to Spike. He nodded.
"If you can shake more apples out of that tree than me, I will go with you. You can't touch the apples; you can only touch the trunk of the tree."
The Devil pondered the bet over for a moment before agreeing.
Stepping out into the cool night air, the two walked over the tree's base.
"You go first," the Devil murmured.
Spike shrugged and took hold of the trunk, its fairly smooth bark crumbled under his palms. Giving the tree several good shakes, he managed to only bring down one apple.
Stepping back he gave an exasperated sigh, "Well, that shouldn't be hard for you to beat."
The Devil humphed and stepped up to the tree. As he took hold of the trunk, the branches reached down and grabbed him. They pulled him high up and shook him like a maraca. He screamed for help but Spike was so doubled over with laughter that he could barely speak. After a good minute of thrashing, Spike finally ordered the tree to drop the Devil. The prince of darkness not only had a battered and bruised body, his pride wasn't doing so well either. Spike fell into his fits of laughter again and he had to sit down.
The Devil spied the axe leaning against the chopping block. He stormed over and snatched it up, but before he could chop off Spike's head, the axe shot out of his grip and came down hard on his shoulder. The Devil screamed in surprise if not for the pain. Spike stopped laughing long enough to watch the Devil pull the axe out of his shoulder which it then came down on his leg.
Laughter claimed him again and Spike fell onto his back as the Devil torn open a portal to Hell and disappeared sealing the hole after him. Spike eventually regained his composure and wiped the tears from his eyes. As he sat up, the sun began to creep up over the hills and spread its warmth out like a blanket. Spike stood and brushed the dirt and grass off of himself and headed inside.
~~``~~``~
Time passed quickly yet it seemed in slow motion. Spike began to feel his age increasing as he became less and less able to move about. Lying on his deathbed, his breaths became shallower and shallower as his eyes closed. His old wrinkled hands rested on his ribs.
Spike next found himself facing a long stairway with a bright light glowing at the top. He had begun his ascent when a croaky voice called out to him, "Hey, you know this is the stairway to heaven, right?"
Spike turned his eyes to the stair in front of him where there sat a little green toad. His brow wrinkled as he responded, "Yeah, so?"
"You can't come here! You were evil in life! You wasted your wishes on things that could only hurt others."
Spike stood there with his hands in his pockets. The two stared at each other for a moment before Spike turned around, "Fine," he mumbled, and headed down the stairs, adding under his breath, "Lousy, obnoxious frog."
And he continued down the stairs whistling an easy tune until he came to a fiery red door. Seeing no other place for him to go, Spike shrugged and knocked on the hot iron. From the other side he heard a familiar voice yell, "Go away! You can't come in here! I can't have someone getting the better of me in my own domain!"
Spike breathed a frustrated sigh as he threw up his hands, "Then just where am I supposed to go then?!"
The door opened a crack and icy blue eyes peered out at him. They scrutinized him for a moment before a chunk of flaming coal was tossed out and landed at his feet.
"Take that. At least then you'll have SOME heat, though I doubt it will warm that cold heart of yours."
Spike rolled his eyes, but picked up the coal nonetheless and found it only mildly warm to the touch. He eventually made it back to his cabin, though he was too restless to stay. He put the coal into a lantern and attached that to a stick which he carried over his shoulder to light his way as he traveled endlessly through limbo for eternity.~*~*~*
Spike woke from his dream with a start. The book of fairy tales still rested on his chest. Lifting it up to his eyes, Spike studied the picture of 'Jack O'Lantern'. It was a man cloaked in black, his eyes hidden and his posture sullen. The drawing made Spike shiver so he slammed the book shut and tossed it back onto the table.
Pulling out and lighting another cigarette, he stood and left the room.
..::Leave it to Ed to leave her stuff lying around::.. he thought, though he had to admit to never seeing Ed actually reading a physical book before...
A.N.: Eh, weird. Anyway, that was just Spike. I have much more in store for that little book and the other characters. (By the way, it IS an actual book I've had since as far back as I can remember. Try and find it if you can.. If they still make it.. Probably not.)
:P