Something Bollocksed
By Sersi & Cylla
Chapter 2
Buffy insisted on going with Xander and Spike, hoping to get a look at the bridal dresses in the shops downtown on the way. They were walking arm in arm on the sidewalk with Xander trailing behind and flipping through Giles' book. He wasn't having much trouble reading as the half moon and the occasional street lamp gave him all the illumination he needed.
"We could have it at the Bronze," Spike said, "where we first met."
Buffy looked pleased and surprised at the same time. "Spike, that is so thoughtful."
She leaned up and kissed him.
"Hey, this thing has a troubleshooting guide," Xander said, in astonishment.
"What?" Buffy asked, pulling away from Spike.
Xander repeated himself.
"Really?" Buffy asked, turning to Xander. She frowned when she could only see the book hovering. "Not seeing you is so giving me a wiggins, Xander," she said.
"Yeah, well, at least you're still acknowledging my presence," he mumbled.
She moved to stand next to him and hesitantly reached for his shoulder. She found it and leaned in to look at the book. "So, does it say anything about distance runners? 'Cause I had this vamp last week that -."
"Buff," Xander said, interrupting, "this is a magic troubleshooting guide. It's not for slayers."
She scowled in disappointment.
"You don't need none o' that, luv," Spike said, wrapping an arm around her waist. "You're the best slayer there's ever been."
She looked at him with wide, eager eyes. "Really?"
He shrugged. "Why do you think I could never beat you?"
She smiled and poked him playfully. "Well, maybe deep down you didn't really want to."
He beamed and winked at her. "You could be right, pet." He leaned down and whispered into her ear. "I always did think of you as MY slayer. I'd never let anyone hurt you, pet."
Tears streamed from her eyes. "That is so . . . so. . . ." She gave up and hugged him.
"Sappy?" Xander offered.
"Hey," Spike said, pulling away from Buffy, "you and demon girl give the rest of us nightmares every time she opens her mouth to share your frolics."
"Frolics? I never thought I'd hear the big bad use the word frolic."
"Yeah, well, I think frolic when I think of you."
"Don't fight," Buffy said, pouting. "I hate it when you two fight."
Spike squeezed her waist. "Okay, pet. No more fighting."
Buffy stared at the space just above the floating book.
Xander sighed. "Okay, okay. No fighting."
Buffy smiled and turned, pulling Spike along with her. "Let's get back, then. Everyone's probably worried."
"Okay," Larry said. "It's time to draw straws."
"Why do we gotta' do that?" Carl asked.
"It's a contingency plan." He looked around. "Hey, sponge head - you got those straws?"
"That ain't my name."
"Well, it's not like you told us," Larry said, perturbed.
"My name's none of your business."
Larry looked uninterested. "Fine. You have the straws or what?"
The sponge demon patted himself briefly, then looked at his companion.
The second sponge demon frowned and began patting himself.
"I thought you guys weren't supposed to lose things?" Carl said, disgusted.
All three sponge demons started searching themselves in earnest, pressing bits of their bodies, producing various objects which oozed out their pores.
"Oh, now that's disgusting," a demon said.
"We don't lose things," Sponge one replied, hotly. "Just sometimes . . . misplace 'em."
"Hey," Sponge Three said, "my watch!" He jerked it free from his side and proceeded to wipe it off.
Larry rolled his eyes. "We don't got all night."
"Hey! My ham and cheese!" Sponge Two said, pulling the sandwich from his stomach. "Thought I'd lost that. . . ."
"I'm gonna' be sick," Carl said.
Larry stared at him, stunned. "Like that sludge you got drippin' all over everything isn't revolting?"
"Hey," Xander said, "this thing has a number for technical support."
They were on Buffy's street but she and Spike were having trouble moving as they were wrapped around each other, laughing and kissing.
Xander looked up. "Can you stop that!"
Spike pulled away from Buffy long enough to give Xander an irritated look. "What is it gonna' take for you and the others to accept that me and Buffy are gettin' married?"
"Frosty the snowman taking a job as the doorman in hell," Xander replied.
Buffy pouted. "You two said you'd stop fighting."
"He started it," Spike said.
She pursed her lips and decided to change the subject. "So, Xand, is this technical support overseas? At the Watcher headquarters maybe?"
He glanced at the page again. "Uh . . . looks like." He read some more.
"I wonder if we can get Giles to call?" Buffy said, then looked horrified. "What if they don't take his call?"
"Why wouldn't they, luv?"
"He's not a watcher anymore," she said, angrily. "They fired him because of me."
"Wankers."
"Well, if we do get him to call, we gotta' have some facts ready," Xander said, looking up and waving the book at them.
"Like what?" Buffy asked.
Xander read from the book. "'If calling technical support, be prepared to answer the following questions:'"
"How hard can they be?" Buffy asked, snuggling closer to Spike.
"'Number 1: Is your spell likely to endanger the public?'" Xander glanced up. "That's probably a given if you're calling technical support, don't you think?"
Buffy and Spike didn't answer as they'd returned to their whispering and kissing.
Xander rolled his eyes, but went back to the book. "'Number 2: Has the National Guard been called? If not, will they be needed eventually?'" He stopped, waiting for the comment that seemed to require. When none was forthcoming, he went on. "'Number 3: Has anyone/thing gone missing? Will anyone notice?'" Xander tilted his head, considering.
Spike stopped and lifted his head to survey the neighborhood. Buffy frowned and looked also.
Xander continued reading. "Number 4: Have you altered your/our reality? Does anyone else know? Are they upset/angry about it?'" He stopped. "How would you know?" He looked around. "Hey, what's goin' on?"
"Somethin's out there," Spike said.
"Are you sure, sweety?" Buffy asked.
"I can feel it."
He whirled around and stared.
Across the street several demons were hiding in the shadows of a house. Spike examined the other houses and noticed more skulkers.
"What are they doing?" Buffy asked.
"Spying on me," Xander answered.
"They're not attacking."
"Smell's too much for 'em," Spike said. "Go on, you wankers!" He waved an arm at them. "Nothin' to eat here!"
"They eat people?" Xander said, appalled.
Spike shrugged. "Some of 'em do. Can't tell which ones these are."
"Oh, great. I thought being stoned to death was a bad way to go and now you're telling me I might end up in someone's stew?"
"Relax," Spike said. "You stink so bad, they'd never be able to choke you down."
"Well, thanks, Spike. I can always count on you to show me the silver lining."
"No problem."
They started walking again, keeping a wary eye out for any demons that wanted to put an end to their misery by hurling something dangerous their way.
"So, Xand," Buffy said, trying to lighten the mood. "What else does the book say?"
"Huh? Oh . . . uh. . . ." He hesitantly brought the book up again. "Okay, 'Number 5: Have you maimed/killed anyone? Do their relatives know. . . ?'"
"Why don't you go find Anya?" Giles suggested. "We could use her help."
"You can't be serious, Giles." Willow gawked at him. "How can she possibly help?"
"Willow, you're being very irrational."
"Am not."
Giles sighed, and was about to retort when Joyce entered with a tray.
"I thought you'd like some more coffee," she said, setting it on the table.
"Uh . . . thank you," Giles said.
She proceeded to pour coffee for each of them.
"Do you think Buffy will want to stay in Sunnydale after she's married, Rupert?" she asked. "After all, Spike has been all over the world. . . ."
Giles groaned and closed his eyes. He didn't get more than two minutes of relaxation before the opening of the front door alerted him to Xander's return, hopefully bearing the deliverance they needed.
"Giles!" Xander called, stepping into the dining room. "Got your book."
"Good. Excellent," Giles said. "Bring it in here."
Giles rested his elbow on the table. He put his head in his hand and prepared himself to be read to. He particularly hated that, especially when Xander would be the one doing the reading. He mispronounced unfamiliar words with a wanton abandon that left Giles with the relentless feeling that his brain was being squeezed by a giant nutcracker.
Xander stood and flipped through the book. "So, I guess you'll be wanting the handy troubleshooting guide in the back, then?"
"If you please."
"How come we haven't used this before?"
"I haven't really had cause before now. I ordered it after your disastrous love potion spell."
Xander looked sheepish but didn't reply. He found the page he wanted. "They have a technical support hotline. Did you know that?"
"We are not calling technical support," Giles said, firmly.
Xander went on, not hearing. "We were reading it on the way over here." He flipped to the page he wanted. "I think we can answer a shaky no to most of these, but number 6 might be a problem."
"Xander. . . ."
He read, "'Are you in immediate danger? Will you be abandoning your current location soon?'"
Giles looked irritated. "I said we're not -."
"You think we're in danger?" Joyce asked, worriedly.
"Well, with the demons doing the peasants and pitchforks routine out there, anything could happen." He looked at the book. "And number 7?" He shook his head. "'Are you hallucinating/ hearing voices? What do you see/hear? Are they trying to get you to do something you don't want to do? Please be sure it isn't actually someone you know.'" He looked at Giles. "If we're gonna' be doing magic around here, maybe we should look into some kind of group insurance plan."
"That might be a good idea," Joyce said.
"But who would do it?" Buffy asked.
"The Watcher Council," Xander said.
"They don't even insure me," Buffy said, "and I'm the Slayer."
"I told you they were a bunch of wankers," Spike said.
"Well, maybe we could talk to someone when we call the hotline."
Giles had had enough. He stood up and said loudly, "We are NOT calling technical support."
Everyone in the room stopped talking. Giles took a few calming breaths. "Now, Xander, if you please. Turn to the beginning and start reading."
Buffy, Spike and Joyce left, wisely surmising that they wouldn't be needed.
Willow sat across from Giles, both elbows on the table and her chin resting on her knuckles. A lethargic _expression soured her appearance.
Xander leaned against a wall, and read aloud. "'For questions 1 through 8, try general reversal spell. See attached copy.'" He frowned and shook the book, trying to dislodge any loose papers. "It's not here," he said.
Giles sighed. "I know that. It's in my desk."
"Should I go get it?"
"No. I know the spell by heart. It's not helpful in this instance."
Xander nodded, forgetting that Giles couldn't see him, and continued reading. "'Number 1: Did you word it right? See list of commonly mispronounced words in back of book.'" He looked at Giles. "Want to go through the word list?"
"No. Please continue."
"'Can you read in the language the spell was in?'" Xander scoffed. "That's kind of a given', isn't it?"
"No. Xander, can you please read without the commentary?"
"Okay. 'Number 2: Did you use the correct ingredients? Did you exchange any ingredients? See substitution list in back of book.'" He looked at Giles, uncertainly. "Do you wanna' -?"
"No."
Willow looked up, interested. "There's a substitution list?"
"Not now, please, Willow."
Xander read, "'Have you performed your spell on one of the following dates. . . .'" He stopped again. "It's a big list, Giles. You want it?"
"No. I'm fairly certain nothing untoward was scheduled or prophesied, and the star alignment wasn't -.""
"Hey!" Xander said, reading. "I remember this one. The Feast of St. Vigious."
"That's coming up next month," Giles said.
Xander looked worried. "Should we be doin' something about that? You know, getting ready. . . ."
"I am fully aware of all the important events that transpire on the Hellmouth, Xander. Now, please, you're prolonging an ordeal that is excruciating already."
Anya entered and gave each of them an inquiring look.
Xander held up the book. "Troubleshooting guide."
She nodded, folded her arms over her chest, and took on a look of anticipation.
Xander returned his attention to the book. "'Um . . . number 4: check power source, i.e. sun, moon, stars, nature, other dimension -.'"
Willow perked up again. "You can use power from another dimension for spells?" She gave Giles an excited look. "That is so cool. Can I -?"
"No. Xander, please."
"'If you were the power source: did you eat today? Did you get enough sleep? Are you pregnant, lactating, or menopausal?'" He stopped and looked disconcerted. "Giles, is this gonna' get worse? 'Cause, I don't wanna' read about girl problems."
"Xander, read," Giles said, rigidly.
Xander groaned and steeled himself. "'Number 5: check your person for magical artifacts or everyday items that may be confounding your spell. Talismans, magic dust, clay/certain types of mud on shoes (see index of porous materials), garish clothing, goat's milk, certain cheeses (see index), liquid crystal display watches, pocket calculators -.'" He broke off because Anya darted across the room and assaulted Willow.
Willow jumped up and tried to fight her off. "Hey!"
Anya didn't bother replying as she thrust a hand into Willow's pocket. They struggled for a few seconds before they ended up on the floor with some of Willow's belongings scattered around their feet.
"What is going on?" Giles asked, standing.
More huffing and groaning issued from the two women as they rolled around on the carpet. Their feet hit the chairs, toppling some and banging the others into the table loudly.
"Xander! What's going on?" Giles asked, both hands on the table.
Xander, mesmerized by the sight of the wrestling match on the floor, could only gape.
"Xander," Giles said, firmly.
"Oh . . . um . . . just Anya trying to do a full body search on Wil." He couldn't pull his eyes from the scene. "She's not taking it too well." He stared at the spectacle with unabashed fascination. "Never any mud when you need it. . . ." he mumbled.
Giles fumed for a few seconds, and eventually said, "Maybe you'd better help her."
Xander looked up, startled. "Uh . . . which one?"
Giles hesitated, then said, "Anya."
"Honey, I picked these out earlier. . . ." Buffy said, sitting and turning to the page she wanted.
Spike brightened as he watched her. She was so happy, plotting her wedding and not thinking about killing demons. If he had anything to say about their impending ever after, he'd do the slaying for her and she could go to school or get a job . . . whatever she wanted and couldn't have now.
"Here!" Buffy said, holding the catalog up so Spike could see it. "I want to go with burgundy and cream -."
"I'm not wearin' those nancy boy colors."
"Not for you, silly. For the bridesmaids."
"Oh, okay. Whatever you want, luv."
Xander stepped into the kitchen, a hand over his right eye.
"What happened to you?" Spike asked.
Xander told them.
Joyce stood and went to the freezer. She opened it and began putting ice cubes in a dishcloth.
"Find anything?" Spike asked.
"No."
"Here," Joyce said, handing Xander the homemade ice pack.
He held it to his eye. "Need I ask how things are going in here?"
"I was just about to ask where Buffy and Spike are going to live after they're married," Joyce said.
Xander groaned and poured himself a cup of coffee. A hell dimension had nothing on their situation. Of course, he'd never been in a hell dimension, but it couldn't possibly compare to this torture.
"Now, Xander," Joyce said, sternly, "it's something that really needs to be discussed,"
"They're not getting married!" Xander said, throwing his arms in the air and spilling coffee on the counter.
"Xander, I thought you were my friend," Buffy said, frustrated. "I love Spike and he loves me and we're getting married and we'll be very happy and you'll just have to accept it!"
"That's right, pet," Spike said, kissing her cheek.
"Making the rest of us nauseous isn't gonna' help," Xander said, "so can you stop with the making out . . . and in front of your mom!" he said, gesturing at Joyce.
Joyce smiled, ignoring Xander's outburst. "Now, I don't want to be pushy, Buffy, but I think the best thing is for you two to live here while you finish college."
"You don't mind?" Buffy asked, surprised.
"Of course not."
The phone rang again and Joyce answered it.
"Spike, it's for you, honey."
"Thanks, mum."
Xander shook his head and sat on the floor. He put his head in his hands.
"Yeah?" Spike said. He listened for a minute, then covered the receiver. "You want us to collect the mojo stuff? Seems to me you're askin' a lot."
Buffy looked worried.
"What is it, Buffy?" Joyce asked.
"I was just wondering how we're gonna' pay for all this."
"Don't worry about that, honey. I'll take care of it."
"But, I don't want you to have to do that."
"Chicken feet?" Spike said into the phone. "Don't think so."
Buffy pushed her catalog aside and took on a serious look. "Spike doesn't have a job - nocturnal predator doesn't really count - so, how. . . .?"
"I've been thinking about that, Buffy," Joyce said. "I could give him a job at the gallery."
Spike heard and said, "I don't want some poofy job dustin' paintings."
"Honey!" Buffy said.
Spike looked abashed and said, "Sorry, mum. It's just - you know - evil vampire here." He gestured at himself. "Got a reputation to uphold." He listened into the phone for a second. "What was that?" He looked at Xander. "They want us to meet them at the old factory outside of town."
Xander shook his head. "I'm not leaving and they're not getting in." He lunged for Spike and covered the receiver with his hand. "Look," he said, "just stall 'em. We don't have to do any spell."
"They can hear you, you know," Spike said.
"Xander," Buffy said, "this sounds serious."
"Just noticing that, are you?"
"Maybe I should go slay them."
"There are a lot, Buff, and they're a little off their rockers by now."
"We can't have you endangered like this. Demons on the lawn of the church throwing rocks at my wedding is not how I envisioned my perfect day."
Spike said, "Hey, I thought we'd settled that. No church."
Buffy pouted. "We did not settle it. Besides, you never said where you wanted."
"What's wrong with the cemetery?"
"What?" she asked, appalled.
Xander cleared his throat. "Hey . . . phone . . . demons?"
"Wedding by moonlight," Spike said, patiently. "You wanted an outdoor wedding anyway. It'd be like gettin' married at the park."
"No. It would be like getting married at the office," Buffy said. "And, besides . . . the cemetery? How creepy is that? I can't have my relatives gather in a graveyard to witness my nuptial bliss."
"Why not? And you never said anything about relatives."
"I have to have my family there."
Spike frowned. "Just how many are there?"
"Oh for cryin' -!" Xander grabbed the phone from Spike and said, "Hey, you still there?"
Joyce waved a hand in the air. "It's not that many, Spike." She studied him. "Don't you want to have your family and friends there?"
"Got no family," he said.
Buffy got up and crossed to him. She hugged him and kissed his cheek. "You have family now, honey."
Spike looked in danger of going teary-eyed, so Xander punched him in the arm.
"Ow! Soddin' hell, Harris! Was that necessary?"
"Yes. It's bad enough I have to listen to this mushy, gushy romantic yammering, but if you're gonna' go all misty-eyed on me I'm gonna' drive a wooden spoon through your chest."
Spike snorted and glared at the ceiling. "I am not mushy."
"Believe me, you'll thank me when this is over." He pressed the phone to his ear. "What? Hey, we haven't committed to anything yet." He listened for a few seconds, then handed the phone to Spike.
"What now?"
"He doesn't want to talk to me. Says he can smell me through the phone."
"I'll take it in the livin' room."
Spike exited the kitchen and after a few seconds, Xander hung up and turned to face Buffy and Joyce.
"I gotta' talk to Giles," he said, abruptly, and left.
Anya held the book, frowning at it. She read a sentence, "'Number 6: were you angry, upset, distracted, intoxicated, depressed, etc.?'" She stopped and let out a relieved sigh. She continued. "'If so, a friend or someone you know should read the following helpful hints:'" She scanned the next entries and looked disturbed. "I think Willow should be here for this."
"She is," Giles said, then looked perturbed. "Isn't she? Willow -?"
"Still here," she mumbled.
"Well, I really, really don't see how her being here is not going to benefit us in any way," Anya said, clearly becoming agitated.
Xander stalked into the dining room. "Giles, they're gonna' do a spell on me to quench the stench."
"Who?"
"It's a bad idea, don't you think?" Xander asked.
"What's a bad idea?"
"The smell-spell."
"Who's watching Spike?" Giles asked.
"He's watching himself."
"I don't like the idea of him roaming around alone."
"He's not roaming further than he can smell Buffy," Xander said. "And, back to this smell thing -."
"You'll just have to live with it for now, Xander," Giles said, wearily.
Anya thrust the book at Xander and pointed to the page.
Xander ignored her, but held onto the book. "So, the reversal spell isn't coming along, then?" he asked.
"Not so you would notice," Giles replied.
"Is there a spell that can kind of . . . well . . . cover up another one?"
"What?"
"Can you . . . like leave a spell in place and just . . . you know . . . alter the effect of it?"
"I have no idea what you're rambling about, Xander."
"If I just cover it up is that the same as reversing it? Because, it's the smell that's keeping them at bay. Is it . . . like . . . still there?"
"I have a headache, Xander, and you're making it worse. Please stop talking."
"Yeah," Willow said, "because, you talking and me not seeing you is really freaking me out."
"Oh, well let me just apologize for being so unbearable that you had to WISH me away."
"I didn't -."
"Next time why don't you just wish that you can't hear me, too."
"Xander. . . ."
Anya slapped him on the shoulder.
"Hey!"
She pointed to the page again.
Xander frowned and looked at the book. He read a few lines, then looked up. "Oh."
"What's wrong?" Giles asked.
"Nothing, just . . . uh. . . ." He looked at Willow. "Hey, Wil, you . . . uh . . . look a little . . . dehydrated there."
"What?" she asked, wearily.
"There's coffee in the kitchen."
"I'd love a cup," she said.
Xander didn't move.
"So, uh . . . why don't you take a break then?" Xander said.
She groaned. "Chivalry IS dead," she muttered, and left the room.
"Xander, you're wasting time," Giles said, irritated.
"Yeah, well . . . uh . . . moving on then. . . ." He squinted unnecessarily over the book. "'Number 6: were you angry, upset, distracted -.'"
"I didn't just read that," Anya interrupted.
"Well, if you let me, I'll take care of that," Xander said. He was beginning to feel harassed. He picked up where he left off. "'Intoxicated, depressed. . . .'"
"Xander, Anya just read that."
"Oh, well, why didn't you say so?" He said, annoyed. He skipped down to the helpful hints. "'A. Try to calm him/her. Tranquilizers are ill-advised, but a nice hot cup of tea can be very beneficial.'" Xander looked at Giles. "I think it's very obvious a bunch of stuffy old English guys wrote this manual."
"Xander. . . ."
"Okay, okay. 'B. Get him/her to focus and read the reversal spell again. Do not be critical of initial failures. C. If intoxicated, black coffee and time are your only hope. Be patient. D. If depressed or feeling unappreciated and/or useless, make him/her feel good about themselves. Focus on positives and refrain from negative statements, particularly if any or all of your lives are in danger.'"
Anya nodded vigorously.
"'Make him/her feel loved and appreciated. Sincerity is crucial.'" Xander finished and looked up. "That's probably it, don't you think, Giles?"
Giles massaged his forehead. "Possibly."
"I mean, she was drunk for awhile, but probably not when she cast the spell. And, besides, she's sober now."
"Yes." Giles thought about it. "If she is feeling unappreciated and discouraged we have to make her feel -."
"Good about herself. Loved and appreciated," Xander quoted the book.
"Yes."
"Okay." He closed the book. "I'll go get her."
Xander left and Giles spoke. "Anya, I know that you and Willow are not seeing eye to eye on anything tonight, but we really have to try and make her feel appreciated."
"I can't wait," Anya said.
Xander stalked through the living room with Willow in tow. He had coffee on his shirt and a red splotch on his chest as a stinging reminder never to sneak up on someone to whom you were invisible.
Spike was on the couch, a notepad on his knee and a pencil in his hand. He looked up as they passed.
"Where you goin'?" Spike asked.
"Just stay here," Xander said.
"What? You don't think I can help?"
"Pretty sure," Xander said.
Giles' hand towel from earlier was laying on the coffee table, now dry. Spike picked it up and tossed it to Willow.
"What's this for?" she asked, catching it awkwardly.
"All that self-pitying blubbering," he said, shrugging. "I figured you'd want a hankie."
Willow turned red and threw the towel at him.
"Maybe once we fix this demon problem, me and Harris can go scrounge you up a date. Might be hard to find someone that pitiful, though."
"Spike . . . you . . . I. . . ." Willow spluttered.
"Lay off, Spike," Xander said. He tried to pull Willow out of the room.
"Might help if you perked up your wardrobe," Spike said, gesturing at her.
Willow, rapidly turning purple, said, "I am so going to . . . to . . . turn you into . . . something . . . really . . . really . . .ugly!"
"This gothic, flower-child getup might do it for some," Spike said, indicating her clothes, "but you gotta' eventually wake up and smell the rejection."
In a rapid move that startled Xander, Willow lunged at the end table, picked up the telephone, and smashed Spike on the head.
"Ow! Hey, that was. . . ." He toppled over and fell on the floor, unconscious.
Willow, still breathing hard, picked up the receiver and clanged it down on the carriage.
"Well," Xander said, eyeing Spike's recumbent form, "that was really satisfying."
The phone rang.
Willow looked at it suspiciously, then answered it.
On the floor, Spike moaned and slowly pushed himself to his knees, a hand each on the coffee table and sofa.
Xander watched him with casual disinterest.
"Soddin' hell," he said, putting a hand on top of his head. "No wonder you drive men away."
Willow threw the phone at him. "It's for you."
Spike managed to catch it, with the receiver landing on the floor.
Willow stomped away, heading for the dining room.
Spike pulled the receiver up by the cord and held it to his ear. "Yeah?"
Xander headed for the kitchen. He stopped when Spike said, "They're threatening us now. If we don't help 'em fix this they say they're gonna' set the house on fire."
Xander stopped at the door. "I thought they couldn't get that close to me without gagging."
Spike shrugged. "The stench is drivin' 'em batty. Some of 'em figure they'd be dyin' in a noble cause."
Spike and Xander stared at each other for a minute. "Let me call you back," Spike said, then, "Yeah, okay."
"Well?"
"He was given' me his cell phone number."
"What?"
"They're leaving Willie's cause the smell's makin' 'em dopey."
"So, where are they going? The factory?"
"Yeah." Spike leaned back and put his feet on the coffee table. "So, what'd Rupert have to say?"
"Not a help."
"I think we should do what they want. Otherwise, there's gonna' be a mob of pissed off demons on the lawn, pukin' and throwin' rocks."
Xander sighed. "All right. Call 'em back and make a deal. They can't attack us though!"
"Relax, I know 'em. They'd rather be home watchin' the telly right now."
Carl's cell phone rang. He and Larry were in the lead with a large procession of demons following. They were marching to the factory.
"Yeah?" he said. He listened, then handed it to Larry. "Spike."
The group stopped, eager to see how the negotiations were coming along.
"Says they'll deal, but they're not comin' out here," Larry said.
"Then, we gotta' find a neutral place," Carl said.
"I can't breathe! I can't breathe!" Demons were running around, gasping and periodically leaning over and clutching their sides.
"Hey, shut up!" Larry yelled over his shoulder.
"Easy for you to say, man!" one of them gasped. "You can stop breathin'. We can't."
"Just shut up while I'm on the phone." He spoke into the phone. "Okay, we'll find someplace else."
Larry listened while the others hopped around in various stages of discomfort.
As Xander, Buffy and Joyce entered the dining room, Giles was saying, ". . . and your ability to decipher the glut of information on the internet is remarkable, to say the least."
"Uh . . . thanks, Giles," Willow said. She dropped into the closest chair, a puzzled frown on her face. She glanced at Anya. She and Giles seemed to be taking turns.
Anya worked her face into an approximation of affability and curled her lips into a thin smile. "I think you're a very agreeable person and you'll probably have lots of men clambering for your affections."
Willow nodded, not sure how to take Anya's sudden amicableness.
"Hey, Wil," Xander said, brightly. His face betrayed his internal struggle as he tried to think of something to say. Fortunately, Willow couldn't see him. He eventually made a decision and said, "You know I never thanked you for those class notes."
"What?" She shook her head. "Xander, you don't go to college."
"I know that. I meant back in high school. You know, biology? I was terrible at it and you let me copy your notes all the time. I probably didn't thank you."
"You did."
"Oh, well . . . then, how 'bout that time -."
Buffy interrupted. "Wil, did I tell you I love your new hair cut?" She walked across the room , bumping into Xander on the way.
"Sorry, Xand."
"It's okay. I'm gonna' be getting that cow bell pretty soon. . . ."
Buffy ignored him as she picked up a strand of Willow's hair. "The color, the bounce. It's so . . . perky. I was thinking about doing mine the same."
"You're not gonna' dye it red, are you?" Willow asked, disturbed. "I don't think that would look good on you."
Buffy looked at her mother as an uncomfortable silence settled in the room.
"Willow, honey," Joyce said, seeing the awkward turning of the situation, "we're just really concerned about this spell you've done and I know Rupert would like you to fix it. We all would. Nobody here is blaming you for anything. We all make mistakes."
"Yes, that's right," Giles said, pleased to have another adult voicing a little reason. "I'm sorry if I ever made you feel unappreciated. I actually rely on your talents more than you know."
Willow looked stunned, but nonetheless pleased by his words. "Thanks, Giles."
He reached out and she put her hand in his. "Will you please try your spell one more time?" he asked, gently.
"Okay," she said, with a slight nod. She tried again.
Everyone in the room stood still, fearing any movement might cause side effects they wouldn't like. After a few seconds, Giles said, quietly, "I still don't see anything."
Willow looked upset. "I'm sorry, Giles."
"It's all right," he said, hoping he sounded sincere.
"Hey, Wil," Xander said, persevering, "I know we're just friends and we've known each other for a really long time, but I don't think I ever told you how pretty you are."
"Thanks," she said, smiling wanly in his direction.
A snort sounded from the hall and a second later, Spike was in the room. "You ask me," he said, gesturing at Willow, "the bloom's off the rose and no amount of makeup is gonna' make anyone wanna' pick that flower."
The factory was ill-lit with only a handful of candles situated around the room. The more hardy demons were pacing while their less stolid companions were supine on the floor, breathing through anything they could find to bunch up over their noses.
Larry was reading from the magic book. "We need a vat."
"How big?" Sponge One asked.
"The kid has to fit in it."
"How 'bout a bathtub?" his chameleon buddy suggested. Several of the demon girls had joined in the trek to the factory and he was vacillating between pink and green.
Larry sighed, his patience ebbing away. "Where are you going to get a bathtub?"
"I got one," a demon in the back piped up.
"How are you gonna' get it here?"
"I'll just carry it."
"Why can't we just do this at your place?" Carl asked.
"No way man! Can't have that stench in my house. My wife would kill me."
"Okay, bring the tub," Larry said. "Now, how about the chicken feet?"
Spike was lying on the couch, an ice pack on his forehead. Xander was slumped in a chair.
"Didn't think she had it in her," Spike mumbled.
"I told you to stay in here, didn't I?" Xander said. His gaze traveled listlessly around the room. They were in hell. He wondered why there hadn't been any signposts. It seemed only fair to warn a person. Of course, being hell, that would only add to the torture. . . .
". . . didn't think a slip of a thing like her could throw a chair that far," Spike was saying.
"Huh?" Xander said. "Oh, well, you should see her throw a Big Wheel."
Spike lifted his head from the couch and looked at Xander.
Xander shrugged. "We were eight at the time. I broke the head off her favorite Barbie doll."
Spike snorted. "Always figured you played with dolls."
"I did not play with dolls!"
The telephone rang and Spike sat up and answered it.
"Yeah?" He listened for a few seconds, then looked at Xander. "It's for your girlfriend."
Xander looked surprised. "Who is it?"
"Says his names D'Hoffran."
"My wife won't let me take the tub," the demon said, handing Larry's cell phone to him.
Larry looked annoyed. "Now what? We need something big, something he'll fit in."
"How 'bout a trash bag?"
"It wouldn't hold."
"They make some heavy duty ones, you know."
"We can't risk it," Larry said.
"How 'bout a beer keg?"
"That's kinda' small. . . ."
Anya had taken her call in the kitchen, but had been put on hold. She was tapping her foot impatiently when a voice came on the line.
"Anyanka, I'm really sorry for not showing up in person, but the stench that boy is putting off is torturous."
"I don't need any help," Anya replied.
"Then why did you call?"
"I didn't."
Silence.
"I see."
Anya took a deep breath and said, "We didn't do any imprudent spells around here, and everything's going just fine, and I don't need any help from you." She paused and glared at the ceiling. "Oh, and you weren't like the father I never had and I don't miss you at all."
D'Hoffran was quiet a moment, then, "You could have just sent a card."
The doorbell rang and Xander got up and answered it.
He opened the door and stared.
Willow came up behind him, took one look, and said, "Oh, great. Time for our yearly Angsters Anonymous meeting."
She trudged back to the dining room, not wanting to get involved.
"Um . . . come in," Xander said, stepping back.
"Who is it?" Spike called from the couch.
Xander stepped aside.
"Oh, bloody hell!" Spike yelled, jumping to his feet.
Xander looked uneasily from one to the other and said, "I think I'll go help Giles."
"Spike, you and I need to have a little talk," Angel said, stepping into the room.