More X-Files/BtVS crossover lunacy...
This thing really does want to write itself in bits and pieces.
so here's the next piece.
"Seeds?!" Angel says, his tone of voice wavering from irritation to incredulity. Alex decides that it's probably time to step in. If Angel gets as homicidal when annoyed as Spike does, Mulder really ought to be in a corner somewhere with a gag over his mouth.
"All right, Mulder," Alex says. "Go... check out the bookshelves or something, and leave the nice vampire alone." This earns him a dagger-sharp glare from Mulder and a pathetically grateful look from Angel that makes it clear that the vampire meant it when he'd said he didn't eat people.
"Now that's taken care of," Spike says, "I need your copy of the Malefarcium Codex."
"Absolutely not," says an unfamiliar voice.
***
"Absolutely not," Wesley says, and how the hell did he get down here without being noticed? He's got a crossbow pointed at Spike; Spike's pet assassin has a gun pointed at Angel, and Spike himself is raising that damned eyebrow of his.
"Shall I shoot him, Angel?" Wesley asks. His voice is shaking a little, but his hands are rock-steady.
"You shoot him, I shoot Angel," Alex promises.
"Go ahead," Wesley says, with a tight little smile. His eyes never leave Spike; Spike, who is close enough to rip the crossbow from his hands and feed it to him before he gets a shot off; Spike, whose blue eyes are narrowed in amusement rather than in threat.
"Nobody shoot anybody," Angel says. "Wesley, he's packing explosive rounds, and Spike's close enough to you that your crossbow won't do any good."
Wesley's eyes widen. Spike gives him a nasty grin.
"Put it down, Watcher," he suggests. Wesley looks to Angel for reassurance. When he nods, Wesley lowers the crossbow, but does not discard it.
"Angel?" he asks.
"It's all right, Wes," Angel tells him. "Amazingly enough, Spike's intentions are good."
He's not sure how 'good' it is to save the world so that you can go on killing people, but it's certainly less objectionable than organizing an alien takeover, so he's willing to give the moron the benefit of the doubt.
"Though I'm not sure you need the Malefarcium Codex," he adds, frowning at Spike.
The book in question is full of all sorts of dark spells. Spike isn't magically inclined, but he does have enough ability to be dangerous. It would be uncharacteristic for him to begin raining impersonal death and destruction down upon the planet, but it wouldn't be unbelievable. Spike is capable of all sorts of mayhem when he's bored, most of them severely destructive to life, limb, and property. Spike's boredom has, at various times, ended with Angel fleeing from angry British peasants, fleeing from angry Chinese peasants, fleeing from angry French peasants, and fleeing from angry Watchers. There was also an incident with some whores in Vienna that he still doesn't like to talk about. Rouge-pots leave awful stains on velvet. That Spike's latest scheme to keep himself entertained is aimed at saving the world is actually less surprising than some of the other things his idiot spawn has done over the years.
"Why do you need the book, Spike?" he asks, with what he feels is a credible attempt at patience.
"To curse the aliens," Spike explains, in a talking-to-a-child tone that raises Angel's hackles even further. The look on Mulder's face suggests that the idea of using dark magic to combat evil aliens is either a bit much for him or the most fascinating idea he's ever heard. Spike's assassin, of course, is unreadable.
***
this is the fic that is drabbling its way into lengthiness, apparently.
as always, feedback is appreciated.
so here's the next piece.
"Seeds?!" Angel says, his tone of voice wavering from irritation to incredulity. Alex decides that it's probably time to step in. If Angel gets as homicidal when annoyed as Spike does, Mulder really ought to be in a corner somewhere with a gag over his mouth.
"All right, Mulder," Alex says. "Go... check out the bookshelves or something, and leave the nice vampire alone." This earns him a dagger-sharp glare from Mulder and a pathetically grateful look from Angel that makes it clear that the vampire meant it when he'd said he didn't eat people.
"Now that's taken care of," Spike says, "I need your copy of the Malefarcium Codex."
"Absolutely not," says an unfamiliar voice.
***
"Absolutely not," Wesley says, and how the hell did he get down here without being noticed? He's got a crossbow pointed at Spike; Spike's pet assassin has a gun pointed at Angel, and Spike himself is raising that damned eyebrow of his.
"Shall I shoot him, Angel?" Wesley asks. His voice is shaking a little, but his hands are rock-steady.
"You shoot him, I shoot Angel," Alex promises.
"Go ahead," Wesley says, with a tight little smile. His eyes never leave Spike; Spike, who is close enough to rip the crossbow from his hands and feed it to him before he gets a shot off; Spike, whose blue eyes are narrowed in amusement rather than in threat.
"Nobody shoot anybody," Angel says. "Wesley, he's packing explosive rounds, and Spike's close enough to you that your crossbow won't do any good."
Wesley's eyes widen. Spike gives him a nasty grin.
"Put it down, Watcher," he suggests. Wesley looks to Angel for reassurance. When he nods, Wesley lowers the crossbow, but does not discard it.
"Angel?" he asks.
"It's all right, Wes," Angel tells him. "Amazingly enough, Spike's intentions are good."
He's not sure how 'good' it is to save the world so that you can go on killing people, but it's certainly less objectionable than organizing an alien takeover, so he's willing to give the moron the benefit of the doubt.
"Though I'm not sure you need the Malefarcium Codex," he adds, frowning at Spike.
The book in question is full of all sorts of dark spells. Spike isn't magically inclined, but he does have enough ability to be dangerous. It would be uncharacteristic for him to begin raining impersonal death and destruction down upon the planet, but it wouldn't be unbelievable. Spike is capable of all sorts of mayhem when he's bored, most of them severely destructive to life, limb, and property. Spike's boredom has, at various times, ended with Angel fleeing from angry British peasants, fleeing from angry Chinese peasants, fleeing from angry French peasants, and fleeing from angry Watchers. There was also an incident with some whores in Vienna that he still doesn't like to talk about. Rouge-pots leave awful stains on velvet. That Spike's latest scheme to keep himself entertained is aimed at saving the world is actually less surprising than some of the other things his idiot spawn has done over the years.
"Why do you need the book, Spike?" he asks, with what he feels is a credible attempt at patience.
"To curse the aliens," Spike explains, in a talking-to-a-child tone that raises Angel's hackles even further. The look on Mulder's face suggests that the idea of using dark magic to combat evil aliens is either a bit much for him or the most fascinating idea he's ever heard. Spike's assassin, of course, is unreadable.
***
this is the fic that is drabbling its way into lengthiness, apparently.
as always, feedback is appreciated.