[fic] Cleveland, 2007 (Faith, Spike) R
Title: Cleveland, 2007
Author: Ersatz Fiction
Characters: Faith, Spike, Baby Slayers
Rating: R for swearing.
Word Count: 751
Disclaimer: Not mine 'cause I'm not Joss.
Summery: November 5th: Faith. Spike. Explosions. Snark. Featuring the the inadequacy of the US education system.
AN: Written especially for the whedonland "gunpowder treason and plot" challenge and contains no nutritional value. The song Faith hums at the end? School's out by Alice Cooper, of course.
Spike is humming loud as fuck, loud enough for Faith to hear him over the beeps and taps of the electronics and the murmurs of the girls.
“Can you stop it?”
“Stop what.”
“That humming! I’m about to knock your fangs out in a minutes, Blondy.”
“Buffy would kick your ass.”
“Oh? Hiding behind your girlfriends skirt again? Real manly.”
“Your just jealous that I’m the one under the skirt.”
Faith’s raises her fist, not caring what Buffy would do if she maims her pet vamp. Another equally strong hand grabs her elbow.
“Can you two argue later? This whole place is about to go up in about five minutes and we still have charges to lay,” Dorothy says. The glare Faith gives her could melt glass, but Dorothy is a second wave slayer, second only to Rona and Faith and not intimidated by her like the younger ones are.
“Let go of me and maybe I can do my job.”
“Is your playground tiff over?” Dorothy asks. Spike grins and pounds his gob of plastic explosives deeper into the sewer wall. Faith shakes the younger girl off.
“For now. Get back to work.” Dorthy salutes and Faith responds by flipping her off. Spike is quiet now, sticking the plastic tips in the C4 one by one until the detonator looks like electronic spider sitting on a fat gray rock.
Or maybe a tuffet, like from that rhyme with the girl and the spider. She would ask Spike, seeing as he's old and shit, but Rona’s group arrives from the other tunnel and its time to go.
She jams the detonator in her pile of C4 and grabs the box.
“We all ready?” she calls out.
“Team B is set,” Rona says.
“Team A is set,” Dorothy says.
“Ok ladies, lets roll.” The girls move in a fury of activity, setting up the few remaining charges, gathering up the blueprints to stuff into black duffel bags. Faith watches them all, making sure all the girls make it out before she and Spike crawl up the ladder back to the street. The back of her jacket is damp from the narrow walls of the tunnel, and the hem of Spike’s coat keeps hitting her in the face.
Then he starts fucking humming again.
“Spike.”
“Wot?” she doesn't need to face him to know he has that stupid grin on his face.
When she hits the street, she ignores his hand , pulling herself out and kicking the manhole cover. One of the van’s idles for them.
“Lynn, how much time?” Faith asks, sliding into the back seat with Lynn ,Dorothy and Spike. The tires screech as Rona hits it.
“One minute and counting,” Lynn doesn't look up from tapping on her phone, curly black hair falling into her face.
“And the other girls?”
“Already at the rendezvous point,” Rona says.
“Those blood cult bastards won’t know what hit ‘em.” Spike keeps turning to look at the old paper mill, waiting for the show.
“Ten…nine…eight…seven…six…five…” Rona pulls into the driveway of an abandoned gas station so they face the building. “Three…two…one.”
The factory explodes: fingers of fire curl around the windows as the first and second set of charges go off. Faith smiles at the look of awe on everyone's faces when the interior of van lights up in the firelight. A cloud of smoke whooshes upwards as the third and forth charges set; the factory folding in on itself as if it was crushed by a giant hand. The rubble burns, the smell of burnt rubber and wood drifting in through Rona’s window. Take that miss-I-blew-up-two-schools.
Somewhere in the distance, the sirens start up.
“Wicked awesome,” Lynn whispers. The other girls nod.
“Shoulda brought marshmallows.” Faith says.
“Best Guy Fawkes night yet.” Spike says.
“Who what night?” Rona asks.
“Guy Fawkes? The Gun powder plot? Remember remember the fifth of November, the gunpowder treason and plot?”
The girls share Rona’s look of confusion. Faith answers Spike, “That’s from a movie, right?”
“Yeah, but the graphic novel was way better,” Lynn says.
“What in the sodden hell do they teach you in slayer school? It sure as hell isn’t history.”
“Mostly,” Faith says as a fire engine rushes past, “how to kill demons and blow shit up. What else would we need to know?”
Spike gives her his 'are you a idiot?' look. She smiles, humming loud enough for everyone to hear as drive away.
Fin
Author: Ersatz Fiction
Characters: Faith, Spike, Baby Slayers
Rating: R for swearing.
Word Count: 751
Disclaimer: Not mine 'cause I'm not Joss.
Summery: November 5th: Faith. Spike. Explosions. Snark. Featuring the the inadequacy of the US education system.
AN: Written especially for the whedonland "gunpowder treason and plot" challenge and contains no nutritional value. The song Faith hums at the end? School's out by Alice Cooper, of course.
Spike is humming loud as fuck, loud enough for Faith to hear him over the beeps and taps of the electronics and the murmurs of the girls.
“Can you stop it?”
“Stop what.”
“That humming! I’m about to knock your fangs out in a minutes, Blondy.”
“Buffy would kick your ass.”
“Oh? Hiding behind your girlfriends skirt again? Real manly.”
“Your just jealous that I’m the one under the skirt.”
Faith’s raises her fist, not caring what Buffy would do if she maims her pet vamp. Another equally strong hand grabs her elbow.
“Can you two argue later? This whole place is about to go up in about five minutes and we still have charges to lay,” Dorothy says. The glare Faith gives her could melt glass, but Dorothy is a second wave slayer, second only to Rona and Faith and not intimidated by her like the younger ones are.
“Let go of me and maybe I can do my job.”
“Is your playground tiff over?” Dorothy asks. Spike grins and pounds his gob of plastic explosives deeper into the sewer wall. Faith shakes the younger girl off.
“For now. Get back to work.” Dorthy salutes and Faith responds by flipping her off. Spike is quiet now, sticking the plastic tips in the C4 one by one until the detonator looks like electronic spider sitting on a fat gray rock.
Or maybe a tuffet, like from that rhyme with the girl and the spider. She would ask Spike, seeing as he's old and shit, but Rona’s group arrives from the other tunnel and its time to go.
She jams the detonator in her pile of C4 and grabs the box.
“We all ready?” she calls out.
“Team B is set,” Rona says.
“Team A is set,” Dorothy says.
“Ok ladies, lets roll.” The girls move in a fury of activity, setting up the few remaining charges, gathering up the blueprints to stuff into black duffel bags. Faith watches them all, making sure all the girls make it out before she and Spike crawl up the ladder back to the street. The back of her jacket is damp from the narrow walls of the tunnel, and the hem of Spike’s coat keeps hitting her in the face.
Then he starts fucking humming again.
“Spike.”
“Wot?” she doesn't need to face him to know he has that stupid grin on his face.
When she hits the street, she ignores his hand , pulling herself out and kicking the manhole cover. One of the van’s idles for them.
“Lynn, how much time?” Faith asks, sliding into the back seat with Lynn ,Dorothy and Spike. The tires screech as Rona hits it.
“One minute and counting,” Lynn doesn't look up from tapping on her phone, curly black hair falling into her face.
“And the other girls?”
“Already at the rendezvous point,” Rona says.
“Those blood cult bastards won’t know what hit ‘em.” Spike keeps turning to look at the old paper mill, waiting for the show.
“Ten…nine…eight…seven…six…five…” Rona pulls into the driveway of an abandoned gas station so they face the building. “Three…two…one.”
The factory explodes: fingers of fire curl around the windows as the first and second set of charges go off. Faith smiles at the look of awe on everyone's faces when the interior of van lights up in the firelight. A cloud of smoke whooshes upwards as the third and forth charges set; the factory folding in on itself as if it was crushed by a giant hand. The rubble burns, the smell of burnt rubber and wood drifting in through Rona’s window. Take that miss-I-blew-up-two-schools.
Somewhere in the distance, the sirens start up.
“Wicked awesome,” Lynn whispers. The other girls nod.
“Shoulda brought marshmallows.” Faith says.
“Best Guy Fawkes night yet.” Spike says.
“Who what night?” Rona asks.
“Guy Fawkes? The Gun powder plot? Remember remember the fifth of November, the gunpowder treason and plot?”
The girls share Rona’s look of confusion. Faith answers Spike, “That’s from a movie, right?”
“Yeah, but the graphic novel was way better,” Lynn says.
“What in the sodden hell do they teach you in slayer school? It sure as hell isn’t history.”
“Mostly,” Faith says as a fire engine rushes past, “how to kill demons and blow shit up. What else would we need to know?”
Spike gives her his 'are you a idiot?' look. She smiles, humming loud enough for everyone to hear as drive away.
Fin