Prompt: Mystery Mask Mix-Up (fluff)
Prompt: Mystery Mask Mix-Up
Setting: sometime in the future
Words: 560
Rating: PG
A/N: Yessss. Snuck one in before I had to leave!
Buffy looked around the dimly lit underground cavern filled with masked revelers of every shape and size. “I thought Halloween was supposed a no-go for demons?”
“Seems these Cleveland upstarts didn’t get the memo.” He shifted into game face. “Get your mask on, Slayer.”
“Just because you come with a built in Halloween costume,” Buffy grumbled. She slipped on her Mardi Gras mask. Simple, pretty, effective. And, from the glint in Spike’s eyes, as filled with memories for him as it was for her. “Okay, Richard Nixon, here we come.”
Spike took her arm, and guided her through the jostling crowd, growling when the crowd grew too jostle-y for his tastes.
“Do you see any Nixons?” Buffy said, trying to see above - or below, for some of them - the partygoers.
“Not yet.”
“I still don’t understand why anybody would want to wear a Nixon mask. Those things are creepy.”
“Think you just answered your own question, love. Hold on - got him,” Spike said, guiding her to the left. “By the punch.”
Buffy craned her neck, and caught sight of the Nixon. “Perfect. Because I’m feeling the need for some serious punch.”
“Oh, that’s terrible, Slayer.”
She smiled sweetly up at him. “Do you really want to get on my bad side tonight? I’m already in the mood for a world of hurt thanks to this guy.”
Spike motioned her forward with a gallant wave of his hand. “By all means, love. Go get your punch.”
Buffy tapped Nixon on the shoulder, and when he turned, planted a right hook on his jaw. Nixon went down. And stayed down. “That seem a little too easy to you?”
“Maybe the fellow has a glass jaw.” Spike squatted, and lifted the mask. “Oh.”
“Oh?” Buffy’s eyes went wide. “Oh! Oh no!” She dropped to her knees, and started shaking Xander. Which probably wasn’t the mostly helpful thing, but gentle and soothing had never been a big part of her repertoire. “Xander? Wake up!”
Xander groaned, and peered up at her. “Buffy?”
“Xander! What the hell are you doing here?” So, maybe anger wasn’t the best response, but dammit, he’d scared her. Or she’d scared herself. Or something. Either way, humans weren’t meant to take the full force of a Slayer punch.
“Came... with... date,” he said, blinking muzzily. He sat up with another groan. “The demon magnet strikes again.”
Buffy looked at Spike, dismayed. They still had to find the demon, who might or might not realize they were on his tail now, as well as babysit Xander. And possibly rescue him from a later sacrifice attempt, knowing how his dates tended to end. “Spike...”
“Don’t worry, Slayer. On it.” He climbed to his feet.
She shook her head. “Nuh uh. You stay. I punch.”
Spike looked like he was going to argue for a moment, but then he grinned at her and dropped back down to the ground. Taking Xander less-than-gently from her, he said, “At least try to bring him over here before you get fist-happy. You know how I love a good show.”
“Freak,” Buffy said fondly. But she did know. And, truth be told, she sort of loved giving him one. She supposed it was why they worked so well.
Adjusting her mask, she stood up to look for the evil - or at least eviler and also not her friend - Nixon.
Setting: sometime in the future
Words: 560
Rating: PG
A/N: Yessss. Snuck one in before I had to leave!
Buffy looked around the dimly lit underground cavern filled with masked revelers of every shape and size. “I thought Halloween was supposed a no-go for demons?”
“Seems these Cleveland upstarts didn’t get the memo.” He shifted into game face. “Get your mask on, Slayer.”
“Just because you come with a built in Halloween costume,” Buffy grumbled. She slipped on her Mardi Gras mask. Simple, pretty, effective. And, from the glint in Spike’s eyes, as filled with memories for him as it was for her. “Okay, Richard Nixon, here we come.”
Spike took her arm, and guided her through the jostling crowd, growling when the crowd grew too jostle-y for his tastes.
“Do you see any Nixons?” Buffy said, trying to see above - or below, for some of them - the partygoers.
“Not yet.”
“I still don’t understand why anybody would want to wear a Nixon mask. Those things are creepy.”
“Think you just answered your own question, love. Hold on - got him,” Spike said, guiding her to the left. “By the punch.”
Buffy craned her neck, and caught sight of the Nixon. “Perfect. Because I’m feeling the need for some serious punch.”
“Oh, that’s terrible, Slayer.”
She smiled sweetly up at him. “Do you really want to get on my bad side tonight? I’m already in the mood for a world of hurt thanks to this guy.”
Spike motioned her forward with a gallant wave of his hand. “By all means, love. Go get your punch.”
Buffy tapped Nixon on the shoulder, and when he turned, planted a right hook on his jaw. Nixon went down. And stayed down. “That seem a little too easy to you?”
“Maybe the fellow has a glass jaw.” Spike squatted, and lifted the mask. “Oh.”
“Oh?” Buffy’s eyes went wide. “Oh! Oh no!” She dropped to her knees, and started shaking Xander. Which probably wasn’t the mostly helpful thing, but gentle and soothing had never been a big part of her repertoire. “Xander? Wake up!”
Xander groaned, and peered up at her. “Buffy?”
“Xander! What the hell are you doing here?” So, maybe anger wasn’t the best response, but dammit, he’d scared her. Or she’d scared herself. Or something. Either way, humans weren’t meant to take the full force of a Slayer punch.
“Came... with... date,” he said, blinking muzzily. He sat up with another groan. “The demon magnet strikes again.”
Buffy looked at Spike, dismayed. They still had to find the demon, who might or might not realize they were on his tail now, as well as babysit Xander. And possibly rescue him from a later sacrifice attempt, knowing how his dates tended to end. “Spike...”
“Don’t worry, Slayer. On it.” He climbed to his feet.
She shook her head. “Nuh uh. You stay. I punch.”
Spike looked like he was going to argue for a moment, but then he grinned at her and dropped back down to the ground. Taking Xander less-than-gently from her, he said, “At least try to bring him over here before you get fist-happy. You know how I love a good show.”
“Freak,” Buffy said fondly. But she did know. And, truth be told, she sort of loved giving him one. She supposed it was why they worked so well.
Adjusting her mask, she stood up to look for the evil - or at least eviler and also not her friend - Nixon.