Attack of the Crones
Long ago, in a little California town far far away that somehow managed to support a university although not a Starbucks, a vampire lurked in the shadows. Well, two vampires lurked in the shadows, but – no, three vampires lurked in the shadows. Actually lots of vampires lurked in the shadows, but only three of them had speaking parts. Strictly speaking that would be a grunting part for one. And a ditzy babbling part for another. And the third – “Oi! Get a sodding move on, mate. Dozy bugger, you’re as bad as that bleeding Willow bint!” – had his own ideas about what his part would be.
Confused? You will be, after this episode of ‘Sunnydale Passions’. Now read on …
- - - - -
Spike dashed from the alley to the hedge, from the hedge to behind the tree, and from the tree to the porch. He checked his blanket for flames, found one, dashed off a quick insulting reply to the Bangel devotee in Portland Oregon who was insisting that he was a rappist, and then entered the house.
“Hullo, Joyce,” he greeted. “Be a doll and brew us a cuppa, luv, unless you’ve got any jellied eels and whelks.”
Joyce Summers jumped and hastily hid her copy of ‘Playgirl’ under a cushion. “Oh, Spike, you scared me,” she complained.
Spike beamed delightedly. “That’s what I like to hear. Slayer in?”
“I’m afraid not,” Joyce told him. “Riley’s in, doing something strange with flies – some Initiative experiment I presume – but Buffy’s out on the trail of this new monster Adam. She seems quite obsessed with him these days.”
- - - - -
“Yes! Yes!” Buffy cried ecstatically. “That’s it! So good!”
Adam cried out in pleasure as he ejaculated. “Affirmative! Affirmative! Objective achieved! My pleasure parameters have been exceeded!” He shuddered and then lay still. “Strange,” he remarked. “I feel an irrational desire to inhale the toxic by-products of the combustion of shredded vegetable matter.”
“We must stop meeting like this,” Buffy pouted. “Why can’t I take you home to meet my mother?”
“What about your husband?” Adam pointed out. “My data on contemporary American society indicates that he would strongly disapprove of your extramarital sexual activities being brought to his attention.”
“Oh, don’t worry about Riley.” Buffy tossed her head contemptuously. “Humiliating him is about the only fun I get out of our marriage. God, what was I thinking? It must have been something to do with that stupid spell of Willow’s.”
“Willow?” Adam came to full alert status. “This is the name of the evil mastermind behind the whole Initiative project. Who is this ‘Willow’?”
“Oh, that must be some other Willow. This one is my best friend from school. She’s a witch, yes, but she’s cute and sweet and innocent and would never do anything bad.”
- - - - -
“Are you s-sure that this is the only w-w-way w-we can g-g-g-get enough m-money together to g-g-et through college?” Tara stammered uncertainly. She blushed crimson as she fastened up the straps of her crotchless PVC outfit and looked doubtfully at the strap-on.
Willow checked the light levels and adjusted the video camera. “Don’t worry about it, Tara, sweetie,” she said soothingly. “Lesbian porn on the Internet is an accepted part of educational funding these days. Everybody does it. You’ll get enough to see you through college, I’ll be able to keep up the payments on my Porsche, and nobody will ever find out. Anyway, I’ll wipe your memory afterwards and you won’t even know that you’ve done it.”
“W-w-what?” Tara gasped in horror. “You’ll w-wipe m-m-my m-memory? How could you?”
“Oops!” Willow frowned. She pulled out her trusty Lethe’s Bramble. “Forget!”
“Are you s-sure that this is the only w-w-way w-we can g-g-g-get enough m-money together to g-g-et through college?” Tara stammered uncertainly. She blushed crimson as she fumbled at the straps of her crotchless PVC outfit, wondering vaguely how come they were already fastened, and looked doubtfully at the strap-on.
- - - - -
“Wotcher, squire,” Spike greeted Riley. “Any luck yet with those sodding spiders?”
“Still nothing,” Riley lamented. “They just won’t bite me no matter what I do. There seems to be one missing now, too. I think it might have been in my clothes when I went in to class. I just hope somebody stepped on it. I’d hate for it to bite anybody else.”
“Wouldn’t worry about it, guv,” Spike soothed. “If they won’t bite you, they’re not likely to do it to any other bugger, are they? Probably has got stood on. Tell you what, squire. Think I can lay my hands on a fly costume for you. Low mileage, only one previous owner, and that was Jeff Goldblum. Or was it Vincent Price, Vincent Price? Anyway, I’ll see what I can do. Cost you another monkey, though.”
“Oh, all right, Spike,” Riley agreed. “I really need those radioactive spider powers. I’m fed up to the teeth of Buffy not even noticing when I hit her. Get me that fly costume and I’ll get you another monkey.”
“Deal, squire,” Spike grinned. “I’ll be off, then, as the Slayer’s not here. Stupid bint’s never around these days. Haven’t had a shag for bloody ages. Harm’s gone missing somewhere, Willow’s gay, Anya’s too hung up on the moronic whelp, and I got bored waiting for the dozy blonde witch to finish stammering at me. Getting sodding desperate.” He pursed his lips as an idea struck him. “Wonder if Joyce’d be up for one? Got to admit I’d class her as a MILF.”
“You’re despicable, Hostile 17,” Riley scolded.
“Yeah, suffering bloody succotash to you too, Captain Cardboard.” Spike flipped Riley the bird as he left the room. “And take more care with those bloody spiders in future.” He set off down the stairs, adopting his most macho swagger, and rubbed his hands together in lustful anticipation. “Hey, Joyce, got any more of those little marshmallows? I’ve got a whole new idea about what we can do with them.”
- - - - -
“Things have been very tough for me, you know,” Parker lamented, playing the pity card for all he was worth with one of the few freshman co-eds he hadn’t boinked yet. “My mother’s long and tragic illness, my father losing his leg, my sister being abducted by aliens, and – ow!” He broke off and yelped in pain as something bit him. He swatted hard at the back of his neck and hit something that squashed under the blow. “Yeuch! Spider or something.”
“Are you all right?” the girl asked, gazing fondly at Parker’s big soulful brown eyes and endearing floppy fringe.
“I feel a bit dizzy,” Parker muttered. He swayed in his chair for a moment and then straightened up. He sat bolt upright as energy coursed through him. He felt invigorated, filled with strength and a new sense of purpose. “I’m okay now. Where was I? Oh, yeah, I was going to tell you about how I took part in a masked wrestling tournament, and I won it, but when I came out I found that my Uncle Ben had been brutally murdered by an armed robber. That broke my Aunt May’s heart; she was never the same after that, became a total invalid. And my best friend Harry Daniel Osborne keeps turning into a werewolf, or possibly a green goblin.”
- - - - -
The beautiful dark-haired girl opened her eyes and sat up in bed. “Where am I? Hey, this looks like a hospital. Sure must have had some kind of bitchin’ time last night.” She realized that there was an IV attached to her arm and pulled it free, wincing as she did so, and glanced around. “Oh, yeah, I remember now. B stabbed me. Bitch needs her ass kicking for that. Well, I’m just the girl to do that thing.” She climbed out of the bed and looked down at the drab hospital gown that she was wearing. “Only, not wearing these threads. Wicked ugly.”
A lost hospital visitor, conveniently the same size as Faith, blundered into the room by mistake at that moment. “Oh, sorry, I was looking for somebody else,” she apologized.
“No problem,” Faith smiled, and knocked the visitor unconscious. She began stripping the girl of her clothes. “Hey, wicked cool! You brought me chocolates.”
- - - - -
Anya folded her arms and glared at Xander. “That’s another job you’ve lost! How are you ever going to afford to buy a nice house with a huge bed in which we can have numerous orgasms and conceive a brood of adorable children called Bart, Lisa, and Maggie, or possibly Jessica?”
“It’s not my fault, Ahn,” Xander protested. “I met this vampire with a bag of magic donuts, and I couldn’t resist his sinister attraction. He was kinda strong and mysterious and sorta compact yet well muscled,”
“Yes, I know, I’ve met Spike.” Anya rolled her eyes. “You should have known that anything he wanted you to do wouldn’t end well, it never does. Now, get out there and find another job.”
“I’ve tried, but failed,” Xander said, “and, Ahn, failure is nature’s way of telling you to give up.”
“If you want orgasms any time soon you will get another job right away,” Anya said sternly. “I’m going out. When I get back you’d better be employed or you’ll be sleeping by yourself tonight.” She stormed up the stairs and out of the house. “Unlike me,” she snickered to herself as she paused to check her make-up. “That is, as long as Giles is sober enough.”
- - - - -
Giles unlocked his apartment door and stepped inside. He was so startled to see the three figures sitting at his table that he almost dropped his crate of whisky bottles. “Dear Lord,” he exclaimed. “What are you doing here?”
“Hello, Rupert,” one of the men greeted him, and blew out a cloud of smoke from a cigarette. “I’ve got bad news, I’m afraid. Serious Watchers’ Council business.”
“Yes, well, they made it very clear that they didn’t want me any more,” Giles grumbled. “Still, where are my manners? Do have a drink.” He gestured at the half-empty bottle that stood on the table. “I’ll just be unpacking these new, um, medicinal supplies.” He scurried to the kitchen, brought the men four tumblers, and then busied himself putting away the new whisky bottles.
Collins, the Watchers’ Council wet-work operative, poured out drinks for himself, his colleagues, and Giles. When the former Watcher returned they raised their glasses together. “Cheers,” Collins said, and they all drank. Two seconds later the three special operatives spat out their drinks in disgust. “Bloody hell, that’s fierce stuff,” Collins exclaimed. “Tastes like vampire piss.”
“Oh,” Giles frowned. “I should have guessed that there was something wrong when all he wanted in exchange was a few spiders. I must be losing my palate.”
“What?” Collins asked blankly, and then shook is head. “Forget it. I have a more important matter to worry about. Faith has recovered consciousness, escaped, and is on the loose. We suspect she plans to kill your Slayer.”
“Oh, not my Slayer,” Giles said glumly. “She’s made it very clear that I’m useless, washed up, on the scrap heap, redundant, an old fuddy-duddy, no longer important to her …”
“Yes, yes, Rupert, that’s enough. Anyway, we don’t want her dead.”
“I suppose not,” Giles agreed. “So, we’ll have to catch Faith, then? I shall recruit Spike, the former Slayer of Slayers, whose tracking powers are legendary. We shall find her, never fear. We can start tomorrow.”
“Might as well leave it until then,” Collins agreed. “We’re a bit too jet-lagged to tangle with a Slayer right now. So, what should we do now? I’ve got a pretty big bundle of expense money, if you can suggest any suitable local entertainment.”
Anya walked in at that point, unfastening her raincoat to reveal that beneath it she wore only bra, panties, stockings and high heels. “Here I am, Rupert – oh! You’ve got company.” She started to clutch her coat together and then hesitated. “What was that about a big bundle of money?”
- - - - -
“Angel bring new clothes for Harmony,” Angel grunted, handing the blonde vampire a furry bundle.
“What’s this? Doesn’t look like Versace to me,” Harmony grumbled. She unfolded the garments. “A fur bikini? That is just so last year. Even so one million years BC. You’ve got to be kidding me.”
Angel lifted his club menacingly. “Harmony do what Angel say. Put on fur bikini.”
“Oh, all right,” Harmony whined. She donned the fur garment and preened herself. “Hey, I guess it doesn’t look too bad on me. Although, does my ass look big in this?”
- - - - -
Continued in Episode Three: Revenge of the Faith
Off to work in twenty minutes.