August 11, 1898
Title: August 11, 1898
Author: Manchester
Rating: FR15
Crossover: Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid
Disclaimer: I own nothing. All Buffy the Vampire Slayer characters and Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid characters/dialogue are the property of their original owners.
Summary: Long ago, Spike was much too closer than he preferred to a classic Western moment.
*Why don’t they just damn well get on with it?* resentfully thought an exasperated Spike stretched out inside his wooden crate. *Honestly, that’s got to be the laziest ever bunch of train robbers out there!*
The vampire taking his rest during a transcontinental railroad journey across the United States during the last years of the nineteenth century had good reason for his growing discontent still a few days before arriving at their destination. While passing the time with continuous napping during daylight hours, he’d been awoken a good quarter hour before by the unexpected lurching halt of Spike’s express train. This standstill included the baggage car in which his crate had been loaded onto earlier without anyone the wiser of its demonic contents. Next had come the explanation for this delay from nearby conversations Spike had eavesdropped upon, how the train had just been captured by a bunch of thieves on horseback.
Ordinarily, Spike wouldn’t have given a single tinker’s damn about someone else’s heist, but he was already completely bored out of his soddin’ mind without having to wait through much more suspension of services by his current means of transportation. Now, of all things, the idiotic mail clerk out there in the baggage car had barricaded himself inside his workplace and he wasn’t handing over the loot like a proper holdup victim should!
Cursing to himself, Spike lying down on his back in the darkness of the nailed-shut crate yanked from under the rear of his skull the heavy coat he’d been using as a handy pillow. With a few quick, angry movements of his hands, Spike wrapped this article of clothing completely around his head. Finally shutting out that nonstop stupid argument going on between the mail clerk and the leader of the robbers, Spike thankfully went back to sleep.
Five minutes later, the vampire was blasted out of his slumber and also nearly from existence by the detonation of a genuinely excessive amount of explosives a mere few yards away.
Dazedly pulling off the coat covering his face to look up in disbelief at the bright blue sky now full of flying debris where both the top of his crate and the baggage car’s roof were still rising upwards, Spike the vampire felt his exposed flesh start to sear in the sunlight. The incredible pain of this quickly cut through Spike’s stupor, so that he reached out with frantic fingers to grab for the nearest loose planks. Managing to wholly cover himself with these fragments right before he would’ve turned into ashes, Spike huddled out of sight under the remains of his crate by the far corner of the baggage car. Hopefully, nobody would discover him there until nightfall, when he’d definitely get off this bloody train and walk all the rest of the way, if necessary!
Still mostly in a state of shock, Spike then heard through the ringing in his ears how some bloke well off to the left of the wrecked baggage car now asked in a supremely deadpan tone, “Think you used enough dynamite there, Butch?”
Author: Manchester
Rating: FR15
Crossover: Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid
Disclaimer: I own nothing. All Buffy the Vampire Slayer characters and Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid characters/dialogue are the property of their original owners.
Summary: Long ago, Spike was much too closer than he preferred to a classic Western moment.
*Why don’t they just damn well get on with it?* resentfully thought an exasperated Spike stretched out inside his wooden crate. *Honestly, that’s got to be the laziest ever bunch of train robbers out there!*
The vampire taking his rest during a transcontinental railroad journey across the United States during the last years of the nineteenth century had good reason for his growing discontent still a few days before arriving at their destination. While passing the time with continuous napping during daylight hours, he’d been awoken a good quarter hour before by the unexpected lurching halt of Spike’s express train. This standstill included the baggage car in which his crate had been loaded onto earlier without anyone the wiser of its demonic contents. Next had come the explanation for this delay from nearby conversations Spike had eavesdropped upon, how the train had just been captured by a bunch of thieves on horseback.
Ordinarily, Spike wouldn’t have given a single tinker’s damn about someone else’s heist, but he was already completely bored out of his soddin’ mind without having to wait through much more suspension of services by his current means of transportation. Now, of all things, the idiotic mail clerk out there in the baggage car had barricaded himself inside his workplace and he wasn’t handing over the loot like a proper holdup victim should!
Cursing to himself, Spike lying down on his back in the darkness of the nailed-shut crate yanked from under the rear of his skull the heavy coat he’d been using as a handy pillow. With a few quick, angry movements of his hands, Spike wrapped this article of clothing completely around his head. Finally shutting out that nonstop stupid argument going on between the mail clerk and the leader of the robbers, Spike thankfully went back to sleep.
Five minutes later, the vampire was blasted out of his slumber and also nearly from existence by the detonation of a genuinely excessive amount of explosives a mere few yards away.
Dazedly pulling off the coat covering his face to look up in disbelief at the bright blue sky now full of flying debris where both the top of his crate and the baggage car’s roof were still rising upwards, Spike the vampire felt his exposed flesh start to sear in the sunlight. The incredible pain of this quickly cut through Spike’s stupor, so that he reached out with frantic fingers to grab for the nearest loose planks. Managing to wholly cover himself with these fragments right before he would’ve turned into ashes, Spike huddled out of sight under the remains of his crate by the far corner of the baggage car. Hopefully, nobody would discover him there until nightfall, when he’d definitely get off this bloody train and walk all the rest of the way, if necessary!
Still mostly in a state of shock, Spike then heard through the ringing in his ears how some bloke well off to the left of the wrecked baggage car now asked in a supremely deadpan tone, “Think you used enough dynamite there, Butch?”