I Can Resist Everything Except Temptation (AtS/BtVS/SPN)
Title: I Can Resist Everything Except Temptation.
Author: SkylarGrace.
Status: Complete.
Rating: PG-13.
Summary: St. Patrick’s Day is full of surprises.
Spoilers: All of ‘Supernatural’, ‘Angel’ and ‘Buffy the Vampire Slayer’.
Disclaimer: ‘Supernatural’ and all related characters are copyright Eric Kripke, Kripke Enterprises & The CW Network. No infringement intended. ‘Angel’ and all related characters are copyright Joss Whedon and ME. No infringement intended. ‘Buffy the Vampire Slayer’ and all related characters are copyright Joss Whedon and ME. No infringement intended.
Notes: My submission for the St. Patrick’s Day Challenge at Paradise Lost. I used all of the prompts. YAY!!!!! Thanks to homentheatre for beta’ing.
A heavy fog wound its way between the trees, casting an eerie glow throughout the glade. The young woman moved cautiously, her footsteps sure as her eyes scanned the area for any potential danger. She stopped between two Willow trees, their leaves trailing listlessly just above the ground. She gave a soft smile before kneeling and producing a black-handled knife, easily cutting into the soft earth.
“Moon, moon, tell unto me; when my true love I shall see?”
She placed the mound of dirt on an embroidered lilac handkerchief and turned her attention back to the earth beneath her.
“What fine clothes am I to wear; how many children will I bear?”
She ignored the biting cold as her fingers became harder to move and instead concentrated on keeping all of the dirt together.
“For if my love comes not to me; dark and dismal my life will be.”
She smiled softly at the three mounds of dirt and carefully folded up the material making sure that it was secure. She stood with her small bundle. A last glance back into the fog with a questioning look before she smiled and walked home, clutching the package to her chest, the moonlight bouncing off of the silver Claddagh ring on her right hand.
A pair of curious eyes followed her home and watched as she filled her stocking with the dirt mounds and tied it up with her garter. She placed it carefully under her pillow alongside the herbs she’d already collected and laid her head down to sleep.
The owner of the eyes moved out from behind the tree and silently made his way to her window. He waited until she was asleep and then softly tapped upon the glass panels. Her eyes opened quickly and she saw a young man standing outside her window, fog swirling around him. He gave a comforting smile before the fog swallowed him up and he disappeared. She walked over to the window but when no trace of him was visible she went back to sleep with a smile lighting up her face.
His comforting smile turned into a sinister one as she fell asleep and he watched her from behind a tree. The rise and fall of her chest, the ever so small flutter of her eyelids - all of these were appealing. He rolled his eyes and without turning spoke, a faint Irish accent filling the silent night.
“What are you doing here Spike?”
The young vampire stopped beside him and looked in her window, his eyes showing appreciation for the prize on the bed.
“I like her.”
Angelus turned to the other man with a raised eyebrow. “She’s not yours.”
“Not yours either mate, not yet anyway. I don’t know why you didn’t just get her back in the glade.”
“It’s not always about the destination Spike, sometimes it’s about the journey.”
Spike rolled his eyes and squashed the feeling of envy rising within him. Angelus was his superior in more ways than one and never failed to let him know. He noticed the shamrock weaving between his Sire’s fingers and he looked up at him.
“It’s a silly tradition Spike, they all are. It’s for those that don’t want to know about the things that rule the night and it will ultimately be their downfall.” He held up the shamrock. “If a man who cannot count finds a four-leaf clover, is he lucky?”
Angelus gave him contemptuous smile and walked away from the house. Spike watched as the shamrock floated to the ground and landed at his feet. He stared at it and then brought his boot down.
~
Angel looked down into the dark liquid. The alcohol did nothing but burn and there were times when he needed to feel that burn. It was better than the pain of remembering the things he had done. The busy crowd shuffled around the room oblivious to the man sitting at the table in the corner almost obscured by the darkness.
Doyle placed two glasses on the table and slid in beside his friend. “Big crowd.”
Angel reluctantly looked up and nodded. He’d begun looking down when he felt a small niggling and he looked up to see Spike entering the bar. Perhaps even more surprising was the presence of the two men behind him. Spike looked over at his Sire and an understanding passed between them. Angel nodded and Spike pushed his way through the crowd.
“Angel, Doyle, good to see you again,” Giles said as he sat beside Spike.
Wesley filled the last available space and looked at the drinks on the table.
“Started without us, I see.”
“Actually, we didn’t know you’d be here,” Doyle said.
Wesley ordered five Guinness from a passing waitress and clapped his hands excitedly.
“Who’d have thought the Irish would have a day to drink?”
“What’s wrong with that?”
~
She gasped as he pulled her toward him and sunk his teeth into her flesh. Her blood filled his mouth and her struggling died down as he slowly drained her. She had believed he was her true love and he almost felt as if it had been too easy. Almost. As he drank the last drop, he let her body slide lifelessly to the ground and he wiped his mouth.
He felt Darla draw up beside him and she ran her hand along his back. “You ready now?”
Angelus turned to her but he frowned quickly. “Look at you, you’re so green I could lose you in the grass.”
Darla grinned and twirled around, the hem of her dress brushing through the blades of grass and picking up the odd flower.
“I’ve got the perfect outfit for you my love,” she purred as she ran her hands up his chest.
“Forget it, I don’t do green.”
Her eyes twinkled as she drew him close, their lips almost touching as her hands drifted down to his belt. “I’ll make it worth your while.”
Angelus growled before kissing her roughly. They sunk to the ground oblivious to the body beside them.
~
Angel closed his eyes and drank deeply from his mug. He tried to shake the memories from his mind but sometimes the images would not leave. Like today. For over a hundred years he took pleasure in St. Patrick’s Day; it really was the day that he drank. Each year was different but, at the time, special. He never just fed for the sake of eating. No, it was a day for art. He would find someone worthy of his time and effort and a true masterpiece was created. St. Patrick’s Day was the day he finally completed his most accomplished piece of art: Drusilla. Now he regarded those days with horror as he remembered every soul he tortured, every life he destroyed.
As he looked back up at the bickering table, his eyes met a familiar pair and as much as he hated to admit it, Spike was the only one who could understand how he was feeling. Once both truly feared, they now were tormented by their own memories as their souls burned in them, forcing them to understand what they had done. He didn’t need to tell Spike what he was remembering because he would know. He would be remembering too.
“You’re a damn liar!” Doyle yelled and Wesley glared at him.
“I beg your pardon. If anyone is the liar, it is you. I’m basically a saint in comparison! You’ve got one damn day and you suddenly think that makes you experts. Well let me tell you something, it doesn’t! The English have always drunk the Irish under the table and it certainly won’t end with us. You may have been around longer than me my friend but -”
Giles placed his hand on Wesley’s arm and there was a slight twinkle in his eye. “How about a little wager - a bet if you will. I say that long after you’ve passed out, we’ll still be going.”
Doyle regarded them thoughtfully before he grinned. “You’re on. I bet I can take you both!”
Giles looked across at the two silent vampires. “What about you?”
Angel and Spike looked up and whilst a confused expression crossed the former’s face, the latter grinned. “Of course I’m bloody in! Like I’m gonna turn down the opportunity to show you all who the better man is.”
Angel rolled his eyes and after a not so subtle nudge from Doyle he gave a single nod. Doyle grinned at the other men, pleased that he now had aide as Giles explained the bet to the bored bartender. The bartender didn’t even seem phased as he laid down the mugs and filled them with the dark thick liquid. Giles carried them back to the table and with his mind elsewhere, Angel knocked back the glass in a few seconds. Surprise quickly gave way to a triumphant look from Doyle but Wesley held up his mug in the centre of the table.
“Here’s to a wet night and a dry morning!”
Spike grinned and held up his own. “May we always have a clean shirt, a clean conscience and a bob in the pocket.”
The table turned to Giles and he gave a small, thoughtful frown before he held up his own glass. “Here’s to the light heart and the heavy hand."
“Here’s to absent friends and here’s twice to absent enemies,” Doyle said with a grin. His grin faltered slightly as he looked over at his friend and saw the pensive look he wore.
Angel didn’t even look up as his voice came out almost in a whisper. “May you be across Heaven’s threshold before the old boy knows you’re dead.”
The table once more fell silent before Spike rolled his eyes. “Here, here!”
The others cheered and began to drink their Guinness, each man eyeing the others for any signs of weakness. Their attention was drawn by a loud shout from the entrance to the pub and they saw a group of brightly dressed men with green scarves and streamers hanging off of them. Several were holding beer bottles and all were drunk. The leader of the group stepped forward, his large tall frame making the bartender pause before allowing them to continue their fun inside. A very short man pushed his way through the crowd and secured a large table for them.
Spike leaned toward Angel. “If it comes down to it, I’ll take the giant, you take the leprechaun.”
Angel grinned or the first time since they’d arrived and the mood of the table lifted instantly now that all members seemed to be enjoying themselves.
~
“I don’t care what you say; I’m NOT going to wear a Leprechaun costume. No way! I’m not going to look like some bloody poof Dru!”
Angelus grinned as he saw an enraged Spike glaring at the innocent look on Drusilla’s face. She was indeed holding a Leprechaun costume and when she felt him enter the room, her eyes drifted lazily toward him and she pouted.
“My Angel.”
“Dru, what’s going on?”
Spike turned toward him and his face got even redder. “I’ll tell you what’s going on! Dru’s trying to dress me up like a pansy!”
Angelus turned toward a pouting Drusilla. She wound her fingers through the frills on the green jacket and looked back toward her dolls.
“Miss Edith says we need to hide ourselves. The parade is going to be ever so much fun. There’s going to be dancin’ and laughter and death and tears.”
Angelus let a grin creep along his face as he pulled her flush against him.
“What’s going to happen at the parade Dru?” he asked seductively.
Drusilla pressed her body into his and laid her head on his chest.
“We are,” she murmured.
~
The four vampires stalked toward the crowd of party-goers purposefully. Several people moved out of their way as the two women led. They had exchanged their dark clothing for the more traditional green but it had not altered their predatory nature in the slightest. The two men behind them were scowling as they followed, daring anyone to even grin in their direction. Angelus glanced over at Spike and couldn’t help his own grin breaking out.
Spike scowled. “I don’t know why you’re so bloody happy. You’re wearing more green than the entire St. Patrick’s Day Parade!”
As the women reached the centre of the crowd they stopped and waited as Angelus and Spike approached. Drusilla spun around in a circle, her hands splaying out as her head titled slightly back. Spike grinned and moved toward her, encircling her waist with his arms. Her bright eyes looked toward Angelus and a small grin tugged at the ends of her lips.
“They were whispering. Tiny, little whispers fillin’ my ears and ringin’ in my head and they’re sayin’ the swee’est things. If you hold a four-leaf shamrock in your left hand at dawn on St. Patrick’s Day you will get what you want very much but haven’t wished for. If the palm of your hand itches, you will be getting money; if the elbow, you will be changing beds. But none of that will help them tonight. Tonigh’ is our night and it will be remembered by the stars themselves.”
Angelus grinned and looked at the buildings surrounding them. People walked in and out of doors, snippets of conversation getting snatched by the wind and his eyes fell upon and old stone building tucked away in the corner of the town square. He turned back to Drusilla and she tilted her head towards it with a soft smile. Angelus growled and pulled Darla flush against him. He turned to the other two.
“Tonight we feast.”
The St. Patrick’s Day parade marched through the town square playing for the onlookers with delight. Drums banged, flutes were played and a small group of men sang loudly at the top of their voices to entertain the applauding audience. Small shrieks were heard as a few children chased each other around the feet of the adults and a dog barked after them, playfully pouncing on whomever he caught.
But not a soul noticed the stifled screams from within the monastery and the four vampires emerged hours later unnoticed, knowing that when the monks were checked on in the morning there would be more than enough entertainment from the townspeople to make up for the lost festivities from the night before.
~
“Dean!” Wesley called out.
Dean and Sam turned to face the table and eyed them apprehensively. They could tell immediately that not all of them were human but weren’t sure whether they were friend or foe. Dean glanced at Sam and gave him a small nod. If nothing else, it was a good way to find out their weaknesses. The other men watched as Dean and Sam approached them with a very distinct Hunter’s walk and both Angel and Spike stiffened as they reached the table. An almost inaudible growl escaped Angel’s lips and Spike glanced over at his Sire. He turned back to the new arrivals with an almost feral look. Both vampires recognised the lingering scent of the woman they loved and they watched him, ignoring his brother completely.
“What’s your poison?” Wesley asked.
“What have you got to drink?” Sam asked as his eyes wandered over the empty glasses on the table.
“Beer, Beer or Beer!”
“Guess I’ll have a beer then,” Sam said drily.
Doyle laughed and stood. “I like you!” He slapped Sam on the back and turned to Dean. “Same?”
Dean nodded. “Two for me actually. Tonight is about celebration after all.”
Doyle regarded the cheeky smirk. “Are you Irish?”
“No.”
“Well, you drink like one and that my friend makes you a welcome member of our party!”
Dean noticed that he was not wholly welcomed by the entire party but he chose to ignore the two glaring demons and focus on the new friends to be made. Wesley threw his hands in the air.
“Come on with the drinks already, I’m thirsty!”
“A small wager on a drinking contest between the English and the Irish,” Giles informed the newcomers, “It’s been riveting.”
Dean nodded. “Thirst is a shameless disease so here’s to a shameful cure!”
“Here, here!” Wesley said with a slight slur. Doyle laughed.
“I’ll get the next round then!”
Neither Spike nor Angel acknowledged Doyle’s departure and Dean felt their heavy gazes.
“So, where are you from Dean?” Spike asked.
“Here and there.”
Angel’s scowl deepened and Wesley began speaking with a slight slur, his hand waving around. “Dean and Sam are some of the best Hunters out there. Met them down south when they were taking down a Banshee. Or was it a lake monster? Either way, I stumbled upon them taking it down. Amazing! John would have been proud.”
“John?” Giles asked.
Wesley turned to him with bright eyes. “These are John Winchester’s boys. Didn’t I mention that?”
“Wow, I heard he was the best Hunter out there,” Doyle said as he placed the mugs on the table. Angel and Spike’s glances shifted ever so slightly and Dean turned to them with a frustrated look. Doyle sat down and nudged his friend.
“You met John once, didn’t you?”
Angel didn’t answer and his glare suddenly became common knowledge. “What brings you into town?” he asked tightly.
“I’m not here on business if that’s what you’re asking.”
His answer seemed to only agitate the two vampires further and Sam’s frown deepened. “Do we know you?”
Angel didn’t even take his eyes off of Dean. “No but I believe we have a mutual friend.”
Dean raised an eyebrow and Sam turned when Giles let out a soft groan. “I don’t have many friends.”
Spike stood suddenly, his chair falling back and Angel slowly raised himself from his seat. Not liking the sudden shift in power, Dean stood as well and Wesley’s slightly hazy eyes bounced from one man to the next like a tennis match. Sam’s hand slowly reached toward his gun but Dean signalled him to stop. If things were gonna get ugly, he didn’t want his brother caught in it. The standoff was broken as a familiar brunette walked up to the table and shook her head.
“Figures you’d run into them. Buffy’s on her way and if you don’t want you asses kicked I suggest you lower the testosterone.”
Sam stood, effectively hiding Dawn from the two threats in front of him and Spike growled. A soft laugh came from Dean and he pulled out his chair for Dawn. Sam sat cautiously beside her and when Dean looked back at the two vampires there was nothing but merriment there.
“Angel and Spike.”
He turned to a passing waitress and ordered a whisky, the move signalling that he was no longer threatened by them and it only made them more angry. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”
Spike watched as the Hunter sat down casually and he leaned forward on the table with his weight balanced on his knuckles. “We’ve heard nothing about you.”
Dawn sighed and glanced back at the door. Buffy had stopped to take out a vamp in the alley but she would be in soon and seeing Angel and Spike were going to make her uncomfortable enough without the added frustration of their response to Dean. She watched Dean smirk at them and rolled her eyes. He was not helping the situation.
“Spike!”
The bleached blonde vampire turned to Dawn with softened eyes. “You shouldn’t even be in here Nibblet.”
“You shouldn’t even be drinking,” Angel threw in as she took a mouthful of Sam’s beer.
“I’m old enough to drink, vote and have sex.”
Giles began polishing his glasses and she could have sworn she heard an ‘Oh Dear!’. Spike and Angel both glared at Sam and Wesley continued to grin at the entertainment. Only Doyle sat quietly observing his table and only Doyle saw the tiny blonde Slayer enter the bar. Her eyes glanced around the room before landing on their table and she seemed stunned. Her falter only lasted a moment before she squared her shoulders and walked over to them.
Both Angel and Spike slowly sat down as she approached and Dean didn’t even have to turn around to know who it was; his smirk just widened. Buffy pulled a chair from the next table, the drunken man falling to the floor as his chair mysteriously vanished from underneath him and she pulled it up. Seated, she turned to Dean and gave him a chaste kiss before acknowledging her ex’s with a nod.
Angel glanced between Buffy and Dean before he stood. “I’m gonna head off.”
Spike followed him out the door to the pub and Giles patted his pocket before looking over at the door. He sighed and walked out muttering something about his keys.
Buffy turned to Dean. “Of all the tables…”
“Not my fault, baby, I swear! Besides, I had no idea who they were.” Buffy leaned in and when she spoke her lips lightly brushed against his.
“Dawn and I ran into a leprechaun outside who gave us a map to the pot of gold at the end of his rainbow. Wanna come find it?”
Dean gave her a surprised glance. “You believe in leprechauns? Guess you believe in pots of gold at the end of rainbows too?”
Buffy laughed and her green eyes sparkled up at him. “He was dressed as a leprechaun. It’s a treasure hunt but we can split into teams and you could help me look?”
Dean took only a moment to glance at the seductive look she wore before his mouth crushed down on hers. “I’ll take that as a ‘yes’ then, shall I?”
Dean pulled her from his seat and almost dragged her out of the pub, her giggling causing a few patrons to glance over at the couple leaving. Sam and Dawn followed as they griped about their older siblings good-naturedly. Doyle smiled at the passed-out Wesley beside him.
“Guess we are the better drinkers after all,” he said to no one in particular as he swallowed the last of his beer.
~Fin.
Author: SkylarGrace.
Status: Complete.
Rating: PG-13.
Summary: St. Patrick’s Day is full of surprises.
Spoilers: All of ‘Supernatural’, ‘Angel’ and ‘Buffy the Vampire Slayer’.
Disclaimer: ‘Supernatural’ and all related characters are copyright Eric Kripke, Kripke Enterprises & The CW Network. No infringement intended. ‘Angel’ and all related characters are copyright Joss Whedon and ME. No infringement intended. ‘Buffy the Vampire Slayer’ and all related characters are copyright Joss Whedon and ME. No infringement intended.
Notes: My submission for the St. Patrick’s Day Challenge at Paradise Lost. I used all of the prompts. YAY!!!!! Thanks to homentheatre for beta’ing.
A heavy fog wound its way between the trees, casting an eerie glow throughout the glade. The young woman moved cautiously, her footsteps sure as her eyes scanned the area for any potential danger. She stopped between two Willow trees, their leaves trailing listlessly just above the ground. She gave a soft smile before kneeling and producing a black-handled knife, easily cutting into the soft earth.
“Moon, moon, tell unto me; when my true love I shall see?”
She placed the mound of dirt on an embroidered lilac handkerchief and turned her attention back to the earth beneath her.
“What fine clothes am I to wear; how many children will I bear?”
She ignored the biting cold as her fingers became harder to move and instead concentrated on keeping all of the dirt together.
“For if my love comes not to me; dark and dismal my life will be.”
She smiled softly at the three mounds of dirt and carefully folded up the material making sure that it was secure. She stood with her small bundle. A last glance back into the fog with a questioning look before she smiled and walked home, clutching the package to her chest, the moonlight bouncing off of the silver Claddagh ring on her right hand.
A pair of curious eyes followed her home and watched as she filled her stocking with the dirt mounds and tied it up with her garter. She placed it carefully under her pillow alongside the herbs she’d already collected and laid her head down to sleep.
The owner of the eyes moved out from behind the tree and silently made his way to her window. He waited until she was asleep and then softly tapped upon the glass panels. Her eyes opened quickly and she saw a young man standing outside her window, fog swirling around him. He gave a comforting smile before the fog swallowed him up and he disappeared. She walked over to the window but when no trace of him was visible she went back to sleep with a smile lighting up her face.
His comforting smile turned into a sinister one as she fell asleep and he watched her from behind a tree. The rise and fall of her chest, the ever so small flutter of her eyelids - all of these were appealing. He rolled his eyes and without turning spoke, a faint Irish accent filling the silent night.
“What are you doing here Spike?”
The young vampire stopped beside him and looked in her window, his eyes showing appreciation for the prize on the bed.
“I like her.”
Angelus turned to the other man with a raised eyebrow. “She’s not yours.”
“Not yours either mate, not yet anyway. I don’t know why you didn’t just get her back in the glade.”
“It’s not always about the destination Spike, sometimes it’s about the journey.”
Spike rolled his eyes and squashed the feeling of envy rising within him. Angelus was his superior in more ways than one and never failed to let him know. He noticed the shamrock weaving between his Sire’s fingers and he looked up at him.
“It’s a silly tradition Spike, they all are. It’s for those that don’t want to know about the things that rule the night and it will ultimately be their downfall.” He held up the shamrock. “If a man who cannot count finds a four-leaf clover, is he lucky?”
Angelus gave him contemptuous smile and walked away from the house. Spike watched as the shamrock floated to the ground and landed at his feet. He stared at it and then brought his boot down.
~
Angel looked down into the dark liquid. The alcohol did nothing but burn and there were times when he needed to feel that burn. It was better than the pain of remembering the things he had done. The busy crowd shuffled around the room oblivious to the man sitting at the table in the corner almost obscured by the darkness.
Doyle placed two glasses on the table and slid in beside his friend. “Big crowd.”
Angel reluctantly looked up and nodded. He’d begun looking down when he felt a small niggling and he looked up to see Spike entering the bar. Perhaps even more surprising was the presence of the two men behind him. Spike looked over at his Sire and an understanding passed between them. Angel nodded and Spike pushed his way through the crowd.
“Angel, Doyle, good to see you again,” Giles said as he sat beside Spike.
Wesley filled the last available space and looked at the drinks on the table.
“Started without us, I see.”
“Actually, we didn’t know you’d be here,” Doyle said.
Wesley ordered five Guinness from a passing waitress and clapped his hands excitedly.
“Who’d have thought the Irish would have a day to drink?”
“What’s wrong with that?”
~
She gasped as he pulled her toward him and sunk his teeth into her flesh. Her blood filled his mouth and her struggling died down as he slowly drained her. She had believed he was her true love and he almost felt as if it had been too easy. Almost. As he drank the last drop, he let her body slide lifelessly to the ground and he wiped his mouth.
He felt Darla draw up beside him and she ran her hand along his back. “You ready now?”
Angelus turned to her but he frowned quickly. “Look at you, you’re so green I could lose you in the grass.”
Darla grinned and twirled around, the hem of her dress brushing through the blades of grass and picking up the odd flower.
“I’ve got the perfect outfit for you my love,” she purred as she ran her hands up his chest.
“Forget it, I don’t do green.”
Her eyes twinkled as she drew him close, their lips almost touching as her hands drifted down to his belt. “I’ll make it worth your while.”
Angelus growled before kissing her roughly. They sunk to the ground oblivious to the body beside them.
~
Angel closed his eyes and drank deeply from his mug. He tried to shake the memories from his mind but sometimes the images would not leave. Like today. For over a hundred years he took pleasure in St. Patrick’s Day; it really was the day that he drank. Each year was different but, at the time, special. He never just fed for the sake of eating. No, it was a day for art. He would find someone worthy of his time and effort and a true masterpiece was created. St. Patrick’s Day was the day he finally completed his most accomplished piece of art: Drusilla. Now he regarded those days with horror as he remembered every soul he tortured, every life he destroyed.
As he looked back up at the bickering table, his eyes met a familiar pair and as much as he hated to admit it, Spike was the only one who could understand how he was feeling. Once both truly feared, they now were tormented by their own memories as their souls burned in them, forcing them to understand what they had done. He didn’t need to tell Spike what he was remembering because he would know. He would be remembering too.
“You’re a damn liar!” Doyle yelled and Wesley glared at him.
“I beg your pardon. If anyone is the liar, it is you. I’m basically a saint in comparison! You’ve got one damn day and you suddenly think that makes you experts. Well let me tell you something, it doesn’t! The English have always drunk the Irish under the table and it certainly won’t end with us. You may have been around longer than me my friend but -”
Giles placed his hand on Wesley’s arm and there was a slight twinkle in his eye. “How about a little wager - a bet if you will. I say that long after you’ve passed out, we’ll still be going.”
Doyle regarded them thoughtfully before he grinned. “You’re on. I bet I can take you both!”
Giles looked across at the two silent vampires. “What about you?”
Angel and Spike looked up and whilst a confused expression crossed the former’s face, the latter grinned. “Of course I’m bloody in! Like I’m gonna turn down the opportunity to show you all who the better man is.”
Angel rolled his eyes and after a not so subtle nudge from Doyle he gave a single nod. Doyle grinned at the other men, pleased that he now had aide as Giles explained the bet to the bored bartender. The bartender didn’t even seem phased as he laid down the mugs and filled them with the dark thick liquid. Giles carried them back to the table and with his mind elsewhere, Angel knocked back the glass in a few seconds. Surprise quickly gave way to a triumphant look from Doyle but Wesley held up his mug in the centre of the table.
“Here’s to a wet night and a dry morning!”
Spike grinned and held up his own. “May we always have a clean shirt, a clean conscience and a bob in the pocket.”
The table turned to Giles and he gave a small, thoughtful frown before he held up his own glass. “Here’s to the light heart and the heavy hand."
“Here’s to absent friends and here’s twice to absent enemies,” Doyle said with a grin. His grin faltered slightly as he looked over at his friend and saw the pensive look he wore.
Angel didn’t even look up as his voice came out almost in a whisper. “May you be across Heaven’s threshold before the old boy knows you’re dead.”
The table once more fell silent before Spike rolled his eyes. “Here, here!”
The others cheered and began to drink their Guinness, each man eyeing the others for any signs of weakness. Their attention was drawn by a loud shout from the entrance to the pub and they saw a group of brightly dressed men with green scarves and streamers hanging off of them. Several were holding beer bottles and all were drunk. The leader of the group stepped forward, his large tall frame making the bartender pause before allowing them to continue their fun inside. A very short man pushed his way through the crowd and secured a large table for them.
Spike leaned toward Angel. “If it comes down to it, I’ll take the giant, you take the leprechaun.”
Angel grinned or the first time since they’d arrived and the mood of the table lifted instantly now that all members seemed to be enjoying themselves.
~
“I don’t care what you say; I’m NOT going to wear a Leprechaun costume. No way! I’m not going to look like some bloody poof Dru!”
Angelus grinned as he saw an enraged Spike glaring at the innocent look on Drusilla’s face. She was indeed holding a Leprechaun costume and when she felt him enter the room, her eyes drifted lazily toward him and she pouted.
“My Angel.”
“Dru, what’s going on?”
Spike turned toward him and his face got even redder. “I’ll tell you what’s going on! Dru’s trying to dress me up like a pansy!”
Angelus turned toward a pouting Drusilla. She wound her fingers through the frills on the green jacket and looked back toward her dolls.
“Miss Edith says we need to hide ourselves. The parade is going to be ever so much fun. There’s going to be dancin’ and laughter and death and tears.”
Angelus let a grin creep along his face as he pulled her flush against him.
“What’s going to happen at the parade Dru?” he asked seductively.
Drusilla pressed her body into his and laid her head on his chest.
“We are,” she murmured.
~
The four vampires stalked toward the crowd of party-goers purposefully. Several people moved out of their way as the two women led. They had exchanged their dark clothing for the more traditional green but it had not altered their predatory nature in the slightest. The two men behind them were scowling as they followed, daring anyone to even grin in their direction. Angelus glanced over at Spike and couldn’t help his own grin breaking out.
Spike scowled. “I don’t know why you’re so bloody happy. You’re wearing more green than the entire St. Patrick’s Day Parade!”
As the women reached the centre of the crowd they stopped and waited as Angelus and Spike approached. Drusilla spun around in a circle, her hands splaying out as her head titled slightly back. Spike grinned and moved toward her, encircling her waist with his arms. Her bright eyes looked toward Angelus and a small grin tugged at the ends of her lips.
“They were whispering. Tiny, little whispers fillin’ my ears and ringin’ in my head and they’re sayin’ the swee’est things. If you hold a four-leaf shamrock in your left hand at dawn on St. Patrick’s Day you will get what you want very much but haven’t wished for. If the palm of your hand itches, you will be getting money; if the elbow, you will be changing beds. But none of that will help them tonight. Tonigh’ is our night and it will be remembered by the stars themselves.”
Angelus grinned and looked at the buildings surrounding them. People walked in and out of doors, snippets of conversation getting snatched by the wind and his eyes fell upon and old stone building tucked away in the corner of the town square. He turned back to Drusilla and she tilted her head towards it with a soft smile. Angelus growled and pulled Darla flush against him. He turned to the other two.
“Tonight we feast.”
The St. Patrick’s Day parade marched through the town square playing for the onlookers with delight. Drums banged, flutes were played and a small group of men sang loudly at the top of their voices to entertain the applauding audience. Small shrieks were heard as a few children chased each other around the feet of the adults and a dog barked after them, playfully pouncing on whomever he caught.
But not a soul noticed the stifled screams from within the monastery and the four vampires emerged hours later unnoticed, knowing that when the monks were checked on in the morning there would be more than enough entertainment from the townspeople to make up for the lost festivities from the night before.
~
“Dean!” Wesley called out.
Dean and Sam turned to face the table and eyed them apprehensively. They could tell immediately that not all of them were human but weren’t sure whether they were friend or foe. Dean glanced at Sam and gave him a small nod. If nothing else, it was a good way to find out their weaknesses. The other men watched as Dean and Sam approached them with a very distinct Hunter’s walk and both Angel and Spike stiffened as they reached the table. An almost inaudible growl escaped Angel’s lips and Spike glanced over at his Sire. He turned back to the new arrivals with an almost feral look. Both vampires recognised the lingering scent of the woman they loved and they watched him, ignoring his brother completely.
“What’s your poison?” Wesley asked.
“What have you got to drink?” Sam asked as his eyes wandered over the empty glasses on the table.
“Beer, Beer or Beer!”
“Guess I’ll have a beer then,” Sam said drily.
Doyle laughed and stood. “I like you!” He slapped Sam on the back and turned to Dean. “Same?”
Dean nodded. “Two for me actually. Tonight is about celebration after all.”
Doyle regarded the cheeky smirk. “Are you Irish?”
“No.”
“Well, you drink like one and that my friend makes you a welcome member of our party!”
Dean noticed that he was not wholly welcomed by the entire party but he chose to ignore the two glaring demons and focus on the new friends to be made. Wesley threw his hands in the air.
“Come on with the drinks already, I’m thirsty!”
“A small wager on a drinking contest between the English and the Irish,” Giles informed the newcomers, “It’s been riveting.”
Dean nodded. “Thirst is a shameless disease so here’s to a shameful cure!”
“Here, here!” Wesley said with a slight slur. Doyle laughed.
“I’ll get the next round then!”
Neither Spike nor Angel acknowledged Doyle’s departure and Dean felt their heavy gazes.
“So, where are you from Dean?” Spike asked.
“Here and there.”
Angel’s scowl deepened and Wesley began speaking with a slight slur, his hand waving around. “Dean and Sam are some of the best Hunters out there. Met them down south when they were taking down a Banshee. Or was it a lake monster? Either way, I stumbled upon them taking it down. Amazing! John would have been proud.”
“John?” Giles asked.
Wesley turned to him with bright eyes. “These are John Winchester’s boys. Didn’t I mention that?”
“Wow, I heard he was the best Hunter out there,” Doyle said as he placed the mugs on the table. Angel and Spike’s glances shifted ever so slightly and Dean turned to them with a frustrated look. Doyle sat down and nudged his friend.
“You met John once, didn’t you?”
Angel didn’t answer and his glare suddenly became common knowledge. “What brings you into town?” he asked tightly.
“I’m not here on business if that’s what you’re asking.”
His answer seemed to only agitate the two vampires further and Sam’s frown deepened. “Do we know you?”
Angel didn’t even take his eyes off of Dean. “No but I believe we have a mutual friend.”
Dean raised an eyebrow and Sam turned when Giles let out a soft groan. “I don’t have many friends.”
Spike stood suddenly, his chair falling back and Angel slowly raised himself from his seat. Not liking the sudden shift in power, Dean stood as well and Wesley’s slightly hazy eyes bounced from one man to the next like a tennis match. Sam’s hand slowly reached toward his gun but Dean signalled him to stop. If things were gonna get ugly, he didn’t want his brother caught in it. The standoff was broken as a familiar brunette walked up to the table and shook her head.
“Figures you’d run into them. Buffy’s on her way and if you don’t want you asses kicked I suggest you lower the testosterone.”
Sam stood, effectively hiding Dawn from the two threats in front of him and Spike growled. A soft laugh came from Dean and he pulled out his chair for Dawn. Sam sat cautiously beside her and when Dean looked back at the two vampires there was nothing but merriment there.
“Angel and Spike.”
He turned to a passing waitress and ordered a whisky, the move signalling that he was no longer threatened by them and it only made them more angry. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”
Spike watched as the Hunter sat down casually and he leaned forward on the table with his weight balanced on his knuckles. “We’ve heard nothing about you.”
Dawn sighed and glanced back at the door. Buffy had stopped to take out a vamp in the alley but she would be in soon and seeing Angel and Spike were going to make her uncomfortable enough without the added frustration of their response to Dean. She watched Dean smirk at them and rolled her eyes. He was not helping the situation.
“Spike!”
The bleached blonde vampire turned to Dawn with softened eyes. “You shouldn’t even be in here Nibblet.”
“You shouldn’t even be drinking,” Angel threw in as she took a mouthful of Sam’s beer.
“I’m old enough to drink, vote and have sex.”
Giles began polishing his glasses and she could have sworn she heard an ‘Oh Dear!’. Spike and Angel both glared at Sam and Wesley continued to grin at the entertainment. Only Doyle sat quietly observing his table and only Doyle saw the tiny blonde Slayer enter the bar. Her eyes glanced around the room before landing on their table and she seemed stunned. Her falter only lasted a moment before she squared her shoulders and walked over to them.
Both Angel and Spike slowly sat down as she approached and Dean didn’t even have to turn around to know who it was; his smirk just widened. Buffy pulled a chair from the next table, the drunken man falling to the floor as his chair mysteriously vanished from underneath him and she pulled it up. Seated, she turned to Dean and gave him a chaste kiss before acknowledging her ex’s with a nod.
Angel glanced between Buffy and Dean before he stood. “I’m gonna head off.”
Spike followed him out the door to the pub and Giles patted his pocket before looking over at the door. He sighed and walked out muttering something about his keys.
Buffy turned to Dean. “Of all the tables…”
“Not my fault, baby, I swear! Besides, I had no idea who they were.” Buffy leaned in and when she spoke her lips lightly brushed against his.
“Dawn and I ran into a leprechaun outside who gave us a map to the pot of gold at the end of his rainbow. Wanna come find it?”
Dean gave her a surprised glance. “You believe in leprechauns? Guess you believe in pots of gold at the end of rainbows too?”
Buffy laughed and her green eyes sparkled up at him. “He was dressed as a leprechaun. It’s a treasure hunt but we can split into teams and you could help me look?”
Dean took only a moment to glance at the seductive look she wore before his mouth crushed down on hers. “I’ll take that as a ‘yes’ then, shall I?”
Dean pulled her from his seat and almost dragged her out of the pub, her giggling causing a few patrons to glance over at the couple leaving. Sam and Dawn followed as they griped about their older siblings good-naturedly. Doyle smiled at the passed-out Wesley beside him.
“Guess we are the better drinkers after all,” he said to no one in particular as he swallowed the last of his beer.
~Fin.