Title: Brains on Drugs
Spoilers: Partnership for a Drug Free America, AtS through about 4x11, and perhaps even Dude, Where's My Car
Summary: Harmless?
"Wes, where's the soul?" Fred stood there, pantry doors wide open, and gawked at the sad lack of a certain bottle. Absently, she noticed that there was a hell of a lot of pudding, and giggled.
Wes blinked and struggled to prop himself semi-upright in the beanbag chair. "Where's the soul, Fred?" he said, then blinked again. "I'm sorry, what were we talking about?"
"I forget. Do you think pudding is capable of sexual reproduction? Maybe it's like Tribbles, born pregnant."
Wesley just stared at her blankly, his mind trying to focus on what sort of demon a Tribble might be, then losing its place as it noticed the patterns in the linoleum appeared to be swimming if he squinted just right... or maybe he'd lost a contact or perhaps...
"Wes, where's the soul?"
"Are there any more of those brownies?"
"Seriously, Wes, where's the soul?"
Panicked now, he stood up and looked in the pantry himself. "Fred, where's the soul?"
"Okay. Let's think. If I were Angel's soul, where would I be?" Fred frowned and grabbed another brownie from the plate, chewing thoughtfully. "We had it last night, right?"
Wes thought hard. That didn't work, so he thought harder. "Fred, do you remember anything at all about the events of last evening?"
Fred tossed him a brownie of his own and shook her head. "Not a thing. Wes, we are sucky guardians. I can't believe we lost Angel's soul."
"Perhaps we put it in the refrigerator?"
Of course. That made sense.
They crept over to the fridge and looked anxiously at the door. "Wes, what if it's not in here?"
"It has to be in there. A soul can't just get up and walk off."
"Okay, well, you open it."
"No, you do the honors. Ladies first, after all."
"No, you suggested it. I think you should open it."
"Why don't we both open it?"
They closed their eyes and grabbed hold of the handle, shivering a bit as the rush of cold air hit them.
"Is it there?" Fred asked.
"I'm not certain. I'm afraid to look. Count of three?"
"Okay. One. Two. THREE!"
Two sets of eyes opened, then closed again as two sets of hands slammed the door shut on an icebox sadly lacking in soul, but blissfully full of chocolate pudding in handy individual serving sized containers.
"Wes?"
"Yes, Fred?"
"You want to break it to them, or should I?"
A little bit of V!Giles in the night ...
Sammy headed downstairs to the lower level of the Sunrise Grove recreation center. It had been a long night, and he was anxious to get to bed. He and Fred and Angie and Pamela had been scrounging for nights for this information, and maybe now they could get back to the killing and screwing and lazing around that made vampiric life worth living. Vampires weren't supposed to have causes and quests, they were just supposed to have fun.
Whistling a Cindy Lauper tune, he knocked on the half-open door of Ripper's workroom. "Come in," came the answer.
"Morning, Ripper," he said as he went in. He checked the floor, just to make sure nothing had been drawn on it that he might accidentally step in. "Oh, hey, Spike. Man, you still look like shit."
Spike, laid out on the couch on the other side of the room, lifted a single finger in mute reply. A bandage still covered the hole in his skull, and the bruises on his face were just past the most colorful stage. He lifted a bottle to his lips and took a long drink.
"Good morning, Sammy," Giles said, looking up from the books and papers on his desk. "You have news?"
"We've got the location," Sammy grinned. "Me and Pam scouted it out tonight. There's a bunch of those hooded geeks and crazy guys building a big-assed tower in the junkyard."
"Yes, finally," Giles said in satisfaction.
"About bloody time something goes our way," Spike muttered. "You got that time frame locked down yet, Ripper?"
"Just about. A few more calculations, I should have it pinpointed."
Sammy shifted uncertainly. "Uh, Ripper? About the whole Glory thing ..."
Giles looked up again. "Yes?"
"Well, we stopped at Willie's, and there were a bunch of guys there talking about all this and how it's going to be a demon free-for-all when Glory goes home. Why are you trying to stop it?"
Spike and Giles glanced at each other. "Sammy," Spike said, "what do vampires eat?"
"Blood."
"Whose blood?"
"Human blood. Well, except for Louie the Freak, he likes dogs."
Giles frowned. "How in the world does he survive on dog?"
"Don't ask," Spike said. "Sammy, Glory opens the portal, romps on home, unleashes demon Mardi Gras on earth."
Sammy grinned. "Yeah."
"What happens to the humans?"
He grinned harder. "All sorts of stuff."
"They likely to survive all this stuff?"
"Probably not."
"And what do we eat when all the humans are dead?"
Sammy started to speak, hesitated, started to speak again, then frowned. "Oh."
"I've bitten into some of the demons out there. Let's just say, acquired taste does not begin to describe it."
Giles gave Spike a queasy look. "Do I want to know why you decided to see what demon tasted like? What kind of demon?"
"Chaos. I was drunk. Never mind." He frowned at the knowing look that went across Giles' face.
Sammy was still pouting. "So if we want to keep eating, we have to stop the party. Shit. I was
looking forward to some balls out mayhem."
"Hey, if nothing else, we might go invade Glory's building site, do a bit of smashing up."
"Yeah," Sammy sighed, "but it's not the same as torching the town and chasing people through the streets."
Spike paused in nostalgic thought. "Yeah, that's fun. But sometimes you have to take the long view." A noise from Giles caught his attention. The ex-Watcher was scribbling rapidly and muttering to himself excitedly. "I think he's got it. What's up, Ripper?"
"Leave me alone, Spike," Giles said, waving a hand at him. "I've almost--yes, apply that value to
d'Grevit's Variant of Planck's Constant, divide by the Section of Ka'aarb, carry the six--yes! Dawn, three days from now, that's the time when the Key must be used to open the portal or lose the chance forever." He sat back and rested his chin on his fist. "Dawn. I wonder if that's why she's named--"
"Ripper!" Spike interrupted.
"What? Oh." Giles blinked at Sammy, then shook his head. "Oh, yes, sorry. I've found the time."
"We guessed," Sammy grinned.
Spike pulled out his pocket watch. "Less than 72 hours to go. Glory must know this too, right?"
Giles nodded grimly. "Yes, she must. So she'll be getting desperate." He looked at Sammy again. "Thank you for finding the location, Sammy, that's a great help."
Sammy nodded. "And on that, I'm out of here. We got anything in the larder for a before bed snack?"
"Check with Fred," Spike said. "I think he went shopping."
"Right. Morning, guys."
"Tah."
"Good morning, Sammy." Giles stared at his figures, running recalculations for accuracy. "Three days," he said once the door was closed. "I'm tempted to say we can do this easily, but Glory will be going on the offensive."
"We'd best tell the others."
"Right." He found his cell phone to call Anya at the Magic Box.
