Two Souled Vampires -The Panty Wars

By Nimue

"So, Spike, we meet again," Angel snarled, circling the blond Vampire as a jungle cat circles his prey. Spike stood, unaffected by his grandsire's peacock-like display of aggression. Besides, Spike though, I know the what's what.

"Sod off, Poof," Spike snarked, folding his hand and inspecting his

fingernails. Glad Buffy made me stop wearing that bloody awful nail polish. What was Dru thinking?

"I've come back to see her, you know. We need to talk, Buffy and me. She needs to know how... hard it's been.. with Connor, then Cordy, and being in a cube at the bottom of the Pacific. Things have changed," Angel brooded, sulking around Spike.

"Bullocks," Spike snapped, "Not letting you *near* her. Can't go round

mucking up her life whenever you get a floppy moment."

"But I have a *soul*!" Angel whined, his dark, sad, eyes looking like those of a Newfoundland puppy.

"Seems the Powers were running a two-fer on that, mate," Spike replied.

"Hunh?"

Spike shook his head in frustration. "Do I need to spell Every.Bloody.Thing out when I speak to you? Thought at least your vocabulary would have improved over a century of yammering. I.Have.A.Soul."

"What?" Angel said, a look of surprise spreading from the tips of his

gelled head to his oddly feminine shoes.

"A.Soul. And it *doesn't* come with some stupid, sodding Happiness Clause." Spike's turn to circle Angel, smiling smugly.

"No Happiness Clause?" Angel muttered like a child who got a regular old bike with a regular old seat when Billy, the kid next door, got a brand new BMX with the banana seat - cushioned for your comfort.

"Nope," Spike chirped contentedly.

"H..how?"

"Stupid, sodding, Poof," Spike said, slyly smiling. "Gotta *ask* for one."

"Ask?"

"Yep."

"And no Happiness Clause?" Angel asked again, his eyes pleading with Spike to tell him he had heard wrong.

"Nope," Spike answered simply.

"So you can....?"

"Anytime I want," Spike said, winking at his grandsire.

"And you don't turn evil?"

"Nope," Spike said. "Unless, of course, it is at my lady's request. She likes a little rough and tumble now and again."

"She, who?" Angel said, his body becoming tense. Spike responded in kind, assuming fighting position.

"Oh. You haven't heard?" Spike snarked, raising his eyebrows.

"Oh, I haven't heard *what*?" Angel asked, his voice lowering.

"You really are an oblivious sot."

"Spike, stop loving hearing yourself talk and say it," Angel remarked,

frustrated.

"Buffy," Spike answered, flatly.

"B...Buffy?" Angel stuttered. "B...But we're.. soulmates."

"There's a new soul in town," Spike retorted, channeling John Wayne quite effectively for just a moment. "Seems that mine might be a *little* shinier being that I asked for it like a good little love sick Vampire," Spike continued, gesturing with his thumb and forefinger.

"But...we're meant to be!"

"Bugger that," Spike responded. "You've been off impregnating other

Vampires. By the way, good on ya, mate. Thinking about giving it a go

myself. Well, except with Buffy. Congrats and all that rubbish. Oh, and you've been spending your time falling for the completely reformed and newly blonde saint-in-training. When you get back, and if she decides to descend from the heavens, please tell her that black is a *much* better colour for her."

"She was trying to look...," Angel stuttered.

"I know. More like Buffy," Spike babbled. "Didn't work. Yet another

failed foray into the bottled blonde. Now me, on the other hand..." Spike commented, his hands patting the sides of his platinum blond head.

"Spike?" Angel snarled.

"Right, sorry," Spike said, stiffening and returning to his baddest persona. "Buffy," he sighed again, visions of the love of his life spinning slowly in his mind.

"Soulmate," Angel countered, catching up on the argument.

"Not anymore," Spike answered.

"You can't just.. stop being someone's soulmate!" Angel yelled, his eyes

glimmering in the dim light.

"Can. Did. No Happiness Clause," Spike said simply. "Happy all the time."

"It doesn't... it shouldn't... matter..."

"Oh, *Please*," Spike exploded. "The girl is the Slayer, *not* Mother

Theresa."

"But she... I was her first..."

"I'll give you credit for that, mate. But I think I've got about 6 through around 257 covered thus far. Think you're being left in your own dust." Spike said proudly. Only because he knew. He knew he loved Buffy more than the Nancy Boy could ever dream of loving her.

"But things have changed.. I... l..."

"Don't say it, Poof," Spike snarled, now fully on the defensive.

"But I do. I lov..."

"You don't know the first bloody thing about love. Particularly about

loving Buffy. You did what you *had* to. I did what I *wanted* to. I'd die for the Slayer. I'd even die for her sodding friends. Risking my life every day for puppies and Christmas with nothing to gain. Least you'll be human one day. Redeemed! At least if your little Watcher friend got the prophesy right this go round. I went to Africa go get a soul and all I got with this stupid sodding T-Shirt," Spike exclaimed, ripping open his blue button down to expose a white T-shirt which did, indeed, say the above. "Oh, that and I won back the love of my life. So, all in all, a worthwhile trip."

Angel looked at Spike, inspecting his T-shirt, his eyes, his bulging pants. God, what I wouldn't do for no Happiness Clause, he thought. "You have changed, Spike," Angel said. "But jaunting off to Africa is nothing like spending a summer at the bottom of the deep blue sea. I had a lot of time to think. To learn about *me*," he continued, tapping his chest melodramatically.

"So, you finally sussed out that you are a brooding, shallow, arrogant,

Nancy Boy?" Spike asked.

"No, but I did figure out this..." With a flourish, Angel opened his duster. Beneath, he was wearing a black lace bustier, little black panties, garters and stockings.

Spike's eyes flew open in shock. He tried to utter a sound, but nothing but choking gasps could escape his lips. "Uh...uh...uh..."

"It's so *freeing* to know who you are," Angel said, coming closer to Spike.

"Step.Away.From.The.Straight.Vampire," Spike choked out.

"I'm not gay, moron. Most cross dressers aren't," Angel retorted, cocking one Sheer Energy leg out to the side.

"Don't.Care.," Spike muttered, backing away.

"Much more freedom of movement in battle."

"Not to mentioned the shock factor," Spike finally said, recovering his

ability to string together a coherent thought. He cocked his head and

grimaced, looking at his once broody and straight forwardly evil grandsire. Even the Poof wasn't this... Poof-y. "Really should think about shaving," Spike commented.

"I plan to win Buffy back," Angel said, his hands firmly planted on his

hips, his duster framing him in all his glory.

With that, Spike dissolved into paroxysms of laughter. "So, what then? You can raid her panty drawer?"

"Does she have nice stuff?" Angel asked.

"None of your business," Spike said sharply. "Besides," he continued,

chuckling again, "Doubt you'd fit."

"Ah, but you might," Angel said. "We could fight the good fight, side by side."

"What *I've* got wouldn't fit in her knickers," Spike said, offended by the remark. "Well, not literally, at least." Spike took a deep breath, trying to compose himself. "Angel, have you been round Dru? Did she drive old Angelus round the bend?"

"What?" Angel asked, eyes flying open.

"You seem to have gone a bit mad," Spike pointed out, gesturing at the once broody evil Vampire turned champion of good Vampire with a soul turned ... something.

"That's it," Angel huffed, angrily, reaching into his deep duster pockets. "I've had enough of this insolence." Spike resumed fighting stance, waiting, ready for the throwing star or dagger or rock to be hurled at him in mere seconds. Instead, a pair of pink lace panties plunked him between the eyes.

"What in bloody hell?" The blonde Vampire exclaimed. "Did you just throw kickers at me?" Angel just nodded in response, hurling another pair, striking Spike in the cheek.

"This is your *brilliant* attack?" Spike asked. Another pair plunked into Spike's chest. He caught them, unfolding the ball. Little red lace number. "Not bad," Spike said, admiring them and then hurling them back. "Still aren't going near Buffy, but at least you aren't brooding anymore."

Angel relentlessly pelted Spike with panties, chasing him around the

darkened room. A door creaked open in the rear of the warehouse and Buffy strode in. All she could make out from her perspective was Spike pinned against the wall, waving his arms in front of his face wildly and a taller creature in a black leather duster, tossing what looked to be venomous snowballs at him.

"Spike!" Buffy cried out, running across the room in record time, lifting herself into the air with one leg extended and planting one airbourne foot in the creature's back. He stumbled forward and she fell on top of his back, one leg on either side of his waist.

"Hello, Love," Spike said, lending her a hand to help her out. "Thanks for the rescue and all that, but I think I was holding my own."

"But... I saw you... and the demon was throwing.." Buffy reached down,

picking up one of the arsenal of poisonous balls from the ground,

"Panties... at you?" she said, looking oddly at Spike, then at the crumpled form on the ground. "Who would throw.. panties? Whos' panties? Oooh, these are cute!" She chirped, picking up a little hot pink thong. Spike whipped it out of her hand and shoved it in her pocket.

"We'll keep these, Pet. For evidence."

The crumpled form on the ground groaned. "B...buffy?"

Buffy walked over to it, looking oddly at his shape, suddenly realizing

something. She knew this demon. Spike watched her with a mixture of

jealousy, amusement and anticipation. "A..Angel?" she said, as he lifted his head from the floor and looked at her with those big, large puppy eyes.

"I've come back for you, Buffy," he whispered, kneeling before her. Buffy's eyes flew open in shock, noticing his black bustier, his pretty panties.

"W...what?" Buffy stuttered. Spike chuckled from the background.

"It's alright, Love. Shock wears off in a bit."

"Wh...what are you doing?" Buffy asked, as Angel stood before her.

"I've had a revelation. This is the real *me*, Buffy," Angel said, grabbing Buffy's hands. "It's so much more clear now. We're meant to be together. We're *soulmates*."

Buffy looked at him closely. Then at Spike. Back to Angel. Back to the blonde Vampire with washboard abs. Back to the puffy Vampire with women's lingerie.

"Not on your life!" Buffy said, stepping out of his clutches. "We may have once been *soulmates*, but no longer."

"Is it... is it.. the panties?" Angel asked, looking as if he might cry.

"Well, can't say that brazil back does well for you," Buffy quipped, "But no. It's the soul."

"But Spike has a soul too. He told me."

Buffy stood next to Spike, grabbing his hand, winding her fingers though

his. "His loves me," She said, tugging him from the wall. He wrapped his arms around her waist, smiling down at her. "He did this for me." She whispered, coming closer to Spike's face. "No Happiness Clause," She finished, pushing Spike up against the wall and diving at him, kissing Spike passionately.

"But Buffy, that shouldn't matter," Angel pleaded.

Buffy pulled away from Spike and craned her head back at Angel. "I'm the Slayer. Not Mother Theresa."

 

~Fin~

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