A Year's Supply of Cocoa Puffs Cereal

by: Highlander II

Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: Season 6, at least, maybe others
Summary: Spike's throwing a Halloween party - but, is it really Halloween?
Disclaimer: Characters belong to Joss Whedon and are property of Kuzui/Kuzui Entertainment, Mutant Enemy Productions, WB, UPN, FOX etc. etc.
Feedback: Highlander II

"Damn, Spike, I didn't think you were serious about the knitting needles." Buffy snatched the pair of long, tapered, metallic red knitting needles from the small wooden table by Spike's armchair.

The blond vampire frowned and snatched the needles back from the slayer. "Making a sweater sleeve for a friend."

"Just a sleeve?" Buffy asked perplexed.

"Something wrong with that? Guy's got a prosthetic arm. Wants a sleeve for it. And he can't just walk into a store and buy one, now can he?" Spike lit a cigarette and took a long drag.

"Arm? Plastic arm? On a demon?" Buffy sounded unconvinced.

Spike rolled his eyes. "Who said anything about demons? One track mind you got there, love."

"So it's a human?"


"And he wears a prosthetic arm?"

"No," Spike stated plainly.

Buffy frowned and crossed her arms over her chest. "Explain," she snarled.

"Oh, are you talking about Crazy George?" Clem asked as he entered the crypt, a large bag of something under his arm and a strange outfit on his person (or demon, as the case may be).

"Um, Clem, sorry to burst your bubble, but it's not Halloween," Buffy pointed out, eyeing the long red cape and shiny white shoes the wrinkly demon was wearing. "What the hell are you supposed to be anyway?"

Clem looked horrified, like someone had just stolen his last cookie. "No, no. Spike told me he was having a Halloween party and I was supposed to meet him here, then we'd be going." He looked expectantly at Spike, then Buffy, then back to Spike.

"Yes. We'll be going in a minute," Spike confirmed and gave Buffy a conspiratorial look that told her to just play along.

"Oh, good. I'll just sit over here until we're ready to go. You two putting on costumes?" Clem asked excitedly, shuffling over to a place to sit, still toting the odd bag.

"Hey, watch it," Spike snarled as he was hauled across the crypt.

"Shut up. What the hell is going on?" she began in a harsh whisper. "It is not Halloween. And what the hell does he have in that bag?"

Spike frowned and glared at the slayer. Then he smirked. "No. It's not Halloween. Far from it. But you don't know what today is? Damn, Slayer, I could've gotten you good, had I known that."

Buffy sighed. "April Fool's Day. Vampires play on April Fool's Day? They actually care?"

Spike looked wounded - or tried to anyway. "Slayer, I'm hurt. Vampires will use any excuse to 'play' - holidays, mealtime, angry, hurt, in love. That's not why I'm doing this though. This is just to get him," he pointed at Clem. "He tried to get me on some demon holiday for pranksters - didn't do too bad, but now, my turn."

"You are a sick man," she spat.

Spike grinned. "Sun's down. Let's play."

"What? Where are we going? And why am I saying 'we' like I'm going with you to some skanky vampire party?"

"Because you are going. And it's not a 'skanky vampire party.' It's your friends and a few harmless demons."

"And where are you holding this party?" she asked.

Spike stepped around her and gathered some items and put the knitting needles down on a table. "Old high school library."

"You can't have a party there, the place is - not there anymore," Buffy snapped, hands on hips.

Spike shrugged. "Not a problem. It's just for a party. Everything's all set. You comin'?" he asked her and watched her fume. "C'mon, Clem," he called to the wrinkled demon as he set out through the doors and into the cemetery.

Buffy followed, still grumbling about Spike's poor choice of party location. Through he cemetery, down the street, around the corner, over the rubble and through the junk, they finally made it to what was formerly known as the Sunnydale High School library - or Scooby Central.

"Whoa! Looks like the party's already started!" Clem exclaimed at the sight of crepe paper and streamers, a strobe light and a bar - placed exactly where Giles' counter had been. Giles, however, was not the bartender, a strange-looking demon was manning that post, another was working the music.

"Oh, you have got to be kidding me," Buffy drawled, tugging Spike's sleeve again. "What is this?"

"A party," he replied, yanked his arm free and made his way to a table where Dawn and Xander were sitting over a Teflon frying pan holding a brightly colored parrot. "How's it going?"

"Almost there. You have the mummy hand?" Dawn asked, holding out her own non-mummied hand.

"Of course." Spike pulled a cloth-wrapped object from his coat, unwrapped it and handed it to Dawn.

"Perfect, now we just have to chant the key phrases and we'll be set. You're sure Clem knows nothing about this?"

"Not as long as Slayer hasn't spilled the beans."

"Good. Go check on that. We're almost ready."

Spike gave a nod to Dawn and Xander, turned on his heel and left to locate Clem. He found him at the bar, pondering something with the bartending demon. "Something wrong, mate?" Spike asked, leaning against the bar.

"Trying to decide if I should take this challenge," Clem replied.

"What challenge?" Spike eyed the demon behind the bar suspciously.

"I told him," the demon growled, "if he could drink fifteen Long Island Iced Teas without passing out, I'd give him a lifetime supply of Cocoa Puffs cereal."

"Honey of a deal," Spike commented, taking a quick glance to the table where Dawn and Xander were busy working.

"Yeah. I really like Cocoa Puffs. Think I might try it."

"You do that." He turned to leave, then turned back. "Uh, mate, what's with the bag?" Spike pointed to the strange bag still under Clem's arm.

"Oh, this? Crazy George's prosthetic arm. He wanted me to bring it by so you could make sure the sleeve fit." Clem handed the oddly-shaped bag to Spike.

"Right. Thanks. You enjoy your drinks." Spike shook his head and made his way to the DJ-demon. "Hey, pet, look can you do me a favor and hold this here 'til this gig's up?" He held the bag out to the demon. She nodded and tucked the bag behind her equipment.

Two lovely witches approached, giggling and chattering boisterously. "Hi, Spike!" the redhead greeted, still giggling.

"Hi," he responded, a little nervous. "What did you do?"

"Us? Nothing. Why would you think we've done something?" Tara babbled.

"Uh huh.," he replied, unconvinced.

"Well, slap me silly and call me Susan!" a man drawled as he approached. "I didn't know it was Halloween!"

"Bloody hell, Red! What've you done to Rupert?" Spike gave the British librarian/Magic Shop owner/ex-Watcher a quick once-over - just long enough to catch the hula skirt and the hot pink feather boa. "Girls, that is such a frightening site, I dunno if I should commend your efforts or send you to Buffy for punishment."

"Well, I'm thinking neither, since we didn't do it," Willow returned.

"Huh? C'mon. Seriously, it's a great gag, but, put him back. He's hurtin' m'eyes."

"Spike, really, it wasn't us."


"If you drink fifteen Long Island Iced Teas without passing out, you'll win a lifetime supply of Cocoa Puffs cereal," the demon bartender growled the challenge to Clem.

Spike shook his head and looked around. Clem was at the bar, still holding that package; Xander and Dawn were casting their spell; he, himself, was in the middle of the floor of the old library and two witches were entering the party, shortly followed by Giles in a hula skirt and boa. "What the hell?" He walked to the bar and took the package from Clem - like he had before - and walked it to the DJ. "I did just do this, right?" He gave the prosthetic arm in a bag to the demon DJ chit and made his way through the conversation with the two witches again.

"...wasn't us."


"...supply of Cocoa Puffs cereal."

"Bloody hell, not again." He changed course this time and met the two witches at the door. "What? No costumes? You can't fool the guy into thinking it's Halloween if you're not appropriately attired." He waved a hand at the two ladies.

"We're witches. See?" Tara explained and whipped out a bag of magic dust.

"How bloody clever," Spike groaned.

"Well, slap me silly..."

Spike turned and stalked across the charred remains of the library, away from Hula-Giles and into the din of the music - anywhere so he wouldn't hear the same conversation happening again. It didn't work. He heard the two witches talking to the slayer...

"...wasn't us."

"Oh bollocks!"


"...Cocoa Puffs cereal."

"Enough with the sodding..." He looked up at the sky after something small and pebble-like beaned him on the head. "You have got to be kidding me." He held his hand out to catch several of the small, rounded, cocoa-flavored cereal balls.

"Uh, Spike, we... um... we...," Dawn stuttered.

He glanced at Dawn, who was tugging at his duster. He blinked twice in quick succession. "Can I help you?" he asked with mocked high-brow sincerity.

"Uh, we have a little problem," she told him sheepishly.

"Ya think?" He held out a handful of Cocoa Puffs.

She cringed. "Yeah. And that's not all. See, that spell we were doing, Xander and I..."

"Let me guess, it went all wonky?"

"You could say that," she responded with a wince.

"Go, bloody figure."

"Can you help?"

"No. Ask the witches."

She winced again. "Can't. They're not caught in the time loop. They don't remember any of the changes. Each loop to them is how it's supposed to be."

"You know you watch too much TV."

"Yeah, maybe, the point is, only you and I know we're in a loop."

"What about Harris?"

She shook her head.

"Great. How'm I supposed to figure this out?"

"I don't know. I don't even know what we did wrong."

Spike lowered his head, stared at the ground, thinking. "Ow. Sodding Cocoa Puffs." He looked up at Dawn. "What was your spell supposed to do anyway?"

"Make it rain Cocoa Puffs and Long Island Iced Tea for about two minutes."

"So why's it still raining? And why's Rupert an ugly hula girl?"

"Huh?" Dawn turned around and saw Giles in his 'outfit'. "Oh, God. We didn't do that!"

"Bloody hell."


"...lifetime supply..."

"Nibblet, go try to keep Xander from working the spell. Lemme go talk to the DJ."

"Music's gonna help?"

"Magic, 'Bit. She's a demon witch." Spike headed toward the DJ.

"You didn't bring me the arm this time," the DJ demon commented as Spike drew near.

"No. Why would I?"

"You did every time before."

"No. Not last time."

"Sure you did. When you were talking to the girl."

Spike frowned. He didn't remember carrying the arm over last time. He looked toward the bar and saw Clem talking to Buffy and handing her the package. He looked at the DJ demon, then back to Buffy, then took off at a run, grabbed the package from the slayer as he passed and hurled it at Dawn and Xander's spell as they tossed in the last ingredient. They frying pan exploded, parrot feathers flew everywhere and the prosthetic arm soared into the sky, spun around and burst into a thousand pieces that all came raining down with the Cocoa Puffs shower.

"What the bloody hell was that?" a dry British voice asked from over his shoulder.

Spike turned around and found a very stuffy, tweedy-dressed Giles cleaning his glasses. "Please tell me it worked."

"What worked? Something was wrong?" Giles asked.

"Bugger off you hula skirt wearing git."

"I beg your pardon?"

Spike shook his head and walked away. To his left he heard a loud belch followed by a hiccough and a thud. Turning his head, he saw Clem, passed out beside the bar. He took two more steps then stopped, growled low in his throat and turned around, finding himself faced-off with the Scooby Gang. "Oh bloody hell," he groaned as they yelled 'April Fool's' at him.

"What gave it away?" Buffy asked with a pout.

Spike pointed at Clem. "Him. Passed out. Real time loop, he would've had just the one drink over and over."

"We'll have to remember that for next time," Willow mock-whispered to Xander.

Spike grunted. "Like you'll have the chance next time." He turned and stalked away.

"Think he'll be really pissed when he finds out we April Fooled him a day early?" Tara asked.

"Nah. Today's Tuesday. He'd feel bad if we didn't pick on him on Tuesday," Buffy responded. "Plus, we got rid of that stupid arm."