Author's note: Thanks for the reviews. Anybody else feelin' an urge to
slap the original Scoobies? As for the final line, I figure Spike for a
"Red Dwarf" fan. If you don't, write your own damn fic.
Part Five:
Buffy, Willow and Xander gaped at one another, doing an excellent impression of landed trout.
"They wouldn't-" began Buffy.
"No, no. Of course not…" responded Willow, her eyes wide.
"Whoa." Xander appeared to be channeling Keanu Reeves.
"Bedtime!" said Dawn brightly, trying to slide toward the hallway. "Goodnight, all!"
"Stop. Right. There." All three had turned to glare at her. They now looked less like suffocating fish and more like the Three Stooges on a bad acid trip.
Dawn gulped. "Yeah, guys?"
"Where. Are. They?"
Dawn pondered her options: play dumb, or play psychotically moody teenager? Hmm. Or better yet… both! "How would I know?" she wailed, dissolving into theatrical tears. "No one tells me anything! You all act like I'm just a stupid little kid! No one listens, no one cares-"
Buffy cut her off. "Knock it off."
Damn. A month ago, Buffy would have fallen for that. Dawn sighed in defeat. "They're sharing an apartment downtown."
*My god,* thought Buffy, Xander, and Willow in unison, *he/she/she has left me to become part of a kinky witch/ex-demon/vampire sex sandwich! * Each felt a tremendous surge of jealousy, although Buffy wrongly attributed hers to indigestion.
"You three were being awful, and they were tired of being second-string Scoobies, so they decided to split the rent on a really cool townhouse and get on with their lives." Dawn assumed her most dignified expression. "I, for one, am proud of them. I just hope you guys can be adult enough to let them go." Feeling that this could not be improved upon as an exit, she held her head high and marched out of the room, leaving three dazed and confused young adults behind her.
The second she was safely out of sight, Dawn tossed her dignity out the window and bolted hell-for-leather for the nearest phone. Spike, Anya, and Tara needed to know that the cat was out of the bag.
****
"I'm home," announced Spike, tossing his keys into the blue pottery bowl Tara had placed on Anya's spindly-legged table. The apartment smelled pleasantly of baking brownies and blood warming on the stove. He could hear music murmuring from the stereo in the girls' room. "Got groceries."
"Great." Tara smiled at him, walking in from the kitchen and handing him a gently steaming mug of Type O. Spike was momentarily reminded of those TV shows in the fifties where the man of the house was always greeted at the door with a cocktail. "We were running low on some essentials."
"Heh. Anya drivin' you up the wall?"
"No, no. But I'm glad you're back. I just didn't realize that ex-demons had such… extreme PMS. She said that if she didn't get nail polish remover by midnight, she was going to try to summon some skin-stripping demon she used to hang out with and try to convince him to pull off her nails with his teeth."
"Got it right here," Spike said, digging in the paper bag for the small pink bottle.
Tara looked relieved. "Thanks. Ooh, and you got mangoes! Why don't you run the remover up to Anya? She's in our room. I'll put away the groceries while I'm waiting for the brownies to finish. I'm hoping chocolate will help…."
"Okay." Spike surrendered the bags and bounded up the narrow stairwell, pausing to tap on the half-open door to Tara and Anya's room. Downstairs, he heard the phone ring.
"I swear to God, Tara, I cannot take this nail polish ONE MORE MINUTE," wailed Anya.
"It's me. Brought you a present." Spike tossed her the remover. Anya caught it, stared at the label for a split second, and then ripped at the plastic seal with her teeth.
"Thanksh, Shpike." She spat the seal over the side of the bed.
Spike took a look at the offending polish as Anya began to hunt for cotton balls. "What's the matter with it?"
Anya glowered at him. "That's what Tara said! Can't you see how wrong it is? It's so… pink! So glossy!" She dumped a tablespoon of remover onto a cotton ball and began to rub.
Spike, remembering Drusilla in similar moods, wisely held his tongue and assumed what he hoped was a supportive expression. Anya was busily scrubbing away at the ring finger of her right hand when Tara, who was looking strangely upset, slipped into the room. She was balancing an enormous plate of brownies, three cups, napkins, and a half-gallon of milk.
A brownie and a half later, Anya was looking much better, but Tara was still tense. After taking a thoughtful look at Anya's once-again-sweet face and Spike's cheerfully chewing one, she decided that it was probably safe to share her news. "Um, Dawnie called. She said that th-the other three, uh, figured out that we're li-living together. They were upset."
Anya and Spike froze in mid-chew.
After a moment, Spike swallowed. "Well… smeg."
TBC
Part Five:
Buffy, Willow and Xander gaped at one another, doing an excellent impression of landed trout.
"They wouldn't-" began Buffy.
"No, no. Of course not…" responded Willow, her eyes wide.
"Whoa." Xander appeared to be channeling Keanu Reeves.
"Bedtime!" said Dawn brightly, trying to slide toward the hallway. "Goodnight, all!"
"Stop. Right. There." All three had turned to glare at her. They now looked less like suffocating fish and more like the Three Stooges on a bad acid trip.
Dawn gulped. "Yeah, guys?"
"Where. Are. They?"
Dawn pondered her options: play dumb, or play psychotically moody teenager? Hmm. Or better yet… both! "How would I know?" she wailed, dissolving into theatrical tears. "No one tells me anything! You all act like I'm just a stupid little kid! No one listens, no one cares-"
Buffy cut her off. "Knock it off."
Damn. A month ago, Buffy would have fallen for that. Dawn sighed in defeat. "They're sharing an apartment downtown."
*My god,* thought Buffy, Xander, and Willow in unison, *he/she/she has left me to become part of a kinky witch/ex-demon/vampire sex sandwich! * Each felt a tremendous surge of jealousy, although Buffy wrongly attributed hers to indigestion.
"You three were being awful, and they were tired of being second-string Scoobies, so they decided to split the rent on a really cool townhouse and get on with their lives." Dawn assumed her most dignified expression. "I, for one, am proud of them. I just hope you guys can be adult enough to let them go." Feeling that this could not be improved upon as an exit, she held her head high and marched out of the room, leaving three dazed and confused young adults behind her.
The second she was safely out of sight, Dawn tossed her dignity out the window and bolted hell-for-leather for the nearest phone. Spike, Anya, and Tara needed to know that the cat was out of the bag.
****
"I'm home," announced Spike, tossing his keys into the blue pottery bowl Tara had placed on Anya's spindly-legged table. The apartment smelled pleasantly of baking brownies and blood warming on the stove. He could hear music murmuring from the stereo in the girls' room. "Got groceries."
"Great." Tara smiled at him, walking in from the kitchen and handing him a gently steaming mug of Type O. Spike was momentarily reminded of those TV shows in the fifties where the man of the house was always greeted at the door with a cocktail. "We were running low on some essentials."
"Heh. Anya drivin' you up the wall?"
"No, no. But I'm glad you're back. I just didn't realize that ex-demons had such… extreme PMS. She said that if she didn't get nail polish remover by midnight, she was going to try to summon some skin-stripping demon she used to hang out with and try to convince him to pull off her nails with his teeth."
"Got it right here," Spike said, digging in the paper bag for the small pink bottle.
Tara looked relieved. "Thanks. Ooh, and you got mangoes! Why don't you run the remover up to Anya? She's in our room. I'll put away the groceries while I'm waiting for the brownies to finish. I'm hoping chocolate will help…."
"Okay." Spike surrendered the bags and bounded up the narrow stairwell, pausing to tap on the half-open door to Tara and Anya's room. Downstairs, he heard the phone ring.
"I swear to God, Tara, I cannot take this nail polish ONE MORE MINUTE," wailed Anya.
"It's me. Brought you a present." Spike tossed her the remover. Anya caught it, stared at the label for a split second, and then ripped at the plastic seal with her teeth.
"Thanksh, Shpike." She spat the seal over the side of the bed.
Spike took a look at the offending polish as Anya began to hunt for cotton balls. "What's the matter with it?"
Anya glowered at him. "That's what Tara said! Can't you see how wrong it is? It's so… pink! So glossy!" She dumped a tablespoon of remover onto a cotton ball and began to rub.
Spike, remembering Drusilla in similar moods, wisely held his tongue and assumed what he hoped was a supportive expression. Anya was busily scrubbing away at the ring finger of her right hand when Tara, who was looking strangely upset, slipped into the room. She was balancing an enormous plate of brownies, three cups, napkins, and a half-gallon of milk.
A brownie and a half later, Anya was looking much better, but Tara was still tense. After taking a thoughtful look at Anya's once-again-sweet face and Spike's cheerfully chewing one, she decided that it was probably safe to share her news. "Um, Dawnie called. She said that th-the other three, uh, figured out that we're li-living together. They were upset."
Anya and Spike froze in mid-chew.
After a moment, Spike swallowed. "Well… smeg."
TBC