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?"
"Yeah."
"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."
End
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