Pairing: W/S
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: I do not own the Buffy the Vampire Slayer Franchise. My name is Lady, not Joss. The Monty Python reference is just that, a reference. I don’t own them, but they would be fun to have around the house.
Author’s Note:
*Angel steps up to a microphone, taps it, wincing at the squeal*
“Ah-hem? Hello? Is this thing on? Uh, I guess so. Attention readers, this fanfic is pure silliness. Its effect upon you is in no way brought to you by Joss n Co, but rather, Lady. So please, any problems there-of, please see her. No bunnies were harmed in the writing process, unless you count the one that attacked the writer. That was self-defense. Again, this is pure fluff. I now return you to your regularly scheduled fiction. Thank you.”
*Angel turns to escape the spotlight, trips upon the microphone cord, goes down in a tangle of squeals and curses*
****
Spike pulled at the pockets of his leather duster, trudging, but wanting to bounce up to Willow’s bedroom. In his elation though, he neglected to notice the rhythmic thumping occurring in said bedroom.
Spike grinned, turning the knob and throwing open the door, intent on ravishing his redhead.
“SPIKE NO!!”
The vampire stumbled, his mouth agape at the scene on the bed. He clenched his jaw, drawing his fists into tight balls.
“There better be an explanation for this, luv,” he stated in a pained, even expression.
“I uh, there is! Believe me, I mean, Goddess. This isn’t how I wanted you to find out!” Willow stuttered, clutching the sheets to her chest. She fumbled for the remote, shutting off the pounding stereo.
“And how exactly should a bloke find out about something like this?” he ground out, advancing on her.
“I mean, I know how much you hate,” Willow began.
“Hate? Hate? Despise! Detest! Loathe!”
“I didn’t know Deadboy Junior had so many descriptive words in him,” Xander commented from his position next to Willow.
“Xander!” Willow squealed, elbowing him at Spike’s further glare.
“I think Xand has a point, doesn’t he Will, I mean, he’s using words, not just, luv, ducks, or bloody hell,” Buffy quipped, popping up from the foot of bed, pulling the sheet down.
“Hey! The Slayer was in on this too? What the bloody hell is wrong with you, luv? I thought we had a understanding, ducks!”
“I stand corrected,” Buffy mumbled to Willow, who stifled her giggle.
“I would like to inform you that many, many of the British culture are a lot more phonetically, and conversationally versed. Spike is not a brilliant example of the English,” Giles pushed Xander aside, wiggling into a more comfortable position from beneath the crimson bedding.
“ARGH!” Spike roared, turning and stomping back down the stairs.
Willow winced as the front door slammed with an emphatic shattering of glass. “Well that could’ve gone better,” she commented.
Xander climbed out of bed, adjusting his clothing. “I don’t understand his problem.”
Giles pulled his boots on, standing up, pulling his red leather jacket on. “Quite. He should face his fears. See, that is why Spike is stuck in the Eighties. The Billy Idol, punk-rock era has cemented itself on his demonic persona.”
“Yeah, well its just not fair for him to wig like that,” Buffy pouted, adjusting her barely there outfit.
“He was horrified when he found out the first time. He made me promise that I would never go this far. But I couldn’t resist. Its just so sinfully fun,” Willow sighed, still clutching the sheet to her chin.
Buffy smiled softly, extending her hand to her best friend. “Willow, you have nothing to be ashamed of. Spike should understand your desires, and be willing to fulfill them, though it makes him uncomfortable.”
“That was remarkably sensitive of you Buffy,” Giles nodded in approval.
The Slayer shrugged. “Hey, I don’t always have the bitchy, blonde lines,” she turned back to her friend, “come on Will, you’ve come this far, come the rest of the way. With us.”
Willow nodded, sliding her palm into Buffy’s, allowing herself to be pulled from the bed.
Giles and Xander smiled in approval at her choice in costume: Brittney Spear’s ‘Slave for You’ MTV Awards outfit.
“Wills, you are just going to knock ‘em dead!” Xander whistled, elbowing Giles, who was cleaning his glasses.
Willow blushed. “I just wish that Spike wasn’t so adamant about us not going. I mean its not like the Bronze will ever hold a Pop Costume Ball ever again. Someone must’ve been casting major mojo for this to happen.”
She paused, realizing her friends were staring hard at her. “But it wasn’t Willow, no sireee!”
The group laughed, adjusting their various costumes.
Giles had decided to go as Michael Jackson, complete with red leather jacket, black, too-tight pants, and some god-awful silver glove on his hand.
Xander had chosen to go as Sisqo, a thong dangling from about his neck. Not to mention the abundance of white and silver.
Buffy, being inspired by the one and only Christina Aguilera, was going as the singer in the ‘Dirty’ video. The Slayer had been happily surprised when she had very many of the elements needed in her own closet! (Insert writer: snerk, snerk)
Willow sighed, adjusting the shiny sarong and midriff top, conjured an Albino Python to hang from her shoulders. Spike would be upset at the effrontery to ‘real music’, but she was content on having fun, for the night. She flung open her bedroom door, her jaw dropping in complete horror.
“S’matter pet?” Spike asked.
Willow almost felt her eyes tear up, but they couldn’t with all the layers of carefully sculpted make-up she had to put on to achieve the ‘Brittney’ effect.
“Oh Spike, you look, so,” Willow stumbled.
“Gay!” Xander chortled, twirling the thong around his neck.
“Erhem, what Xander meant to say was that your outfit is remarkably,” Giles began.
“Absolutely awesome! Spike, how did you come up with that in such a short time??” Buffy grinned, admiring the vampire.
Spike smirked, and twirled for their viewing pleasure. He had dressed as none other than, Justin Timberlake. Tight leather pants, an obscenely tight white button down shirt, and a short brown calfskin leather jacket. He spiked his blonde hair, and even had…
“An earring!” Willow swooned.
“Its fake pet,” Spike almost grumbled, but couldn’t because of his redhead’s happy expression.
“Oh Spike!” the redhead clutched his arm, giggling like a teenybopper.
“Just for tonight, and if anyone says a bloody thing,” Spike fixed the Scooby gang with a hostile look, “ I’ll tear their soddin’ head from their shoulders.”
“Oh don’t worry, nothing will go wrong, nope, nope!” Willow chortled, dragging the vampire down the steps, just in case this fairy tale ended before midnight.
The remaining Scoobies grinned at each other, and filed out, shutting the door behind them. None of them had noticed a man hanging from the hook behind the door.
He cleared his throat, folded his hands, and fixed the audience with a solid look. “And now…for something completely different.”
The End