Typos fixed, but SA? I'm not getting those weird question marks you're showing on my screen. Weird.

Hope people enjoy!

Those are probably because you're using Smart Quotes in your word processor, and in plain text they read as weird characters.

But what I really mean was it seems like "What am I incapable of understanding" deserved a question mark, as it was a question and had a period.

“What is this source of power I’m incapable of understanding.”

Victor, looks like this needs a question mark still, on my screen anyway.

Very nice. I think I shall point amyth to this.

The First never did *get* love, did it? Even in "Touched," when it expressed a desire for physical contact, it only wanted to kill. It didn't understand that the touching going on was an expression of love in some of its many forms. Eeeeenteresting...

eta x-post w/ SA. hi, SA!

The question mark has been fixed! Thanks!

For you and that kind of fic, I would fix innumerable typos. Mwah!! Not that you have innumerable typos. You know what I mean. I hope.

Okay, so that LJ challenge (from dreamtree, I think?) got me started. I'm a bad girl who starts more fics than she has time to write. Anyway. Post-Chosen.

- - -

Heat. There had been heat; unbearable, scorching heat.

He'd been dust. He knew for a fact that he'd been dust, and it had hurt.

The pain was still there, a distant memory intruding under his skin—and there was heat, too, but that didn't seem to be internal.

Spike opened his eyes, and found that he was staring at the sun. He shut them again quickly.

Pain. Pain was good, it was something he could hold on to, fight with, revel in.

There was a stone digging into his lower back. Footsteps sounded around him. Voices spoke ("poor guy… drink? drugs?… sunstroke, at least") and moved on past—he could practically see people trying to look at him without showing their curiosity.

No reason to move presented itself, and so he lay there, sun-bathing, pain-bathing, sure that this was hallucination or purgatory. He was, after all, dead.

The sun went down. The people went. Demons moved past—only some were walking—and they ignored him, too. Until… "Spike?" said a voice, a knowing, cheerful voice.

He opened his eyes again, trying to identify the newcomer.

Skin—lots of skin, folded and creased enough to hide playing cards or kittens or possibly a small Eiffel Tower in—a smile, wide and cheerful and always optimistic; and breath, real, living-person breath than smelled of Kentucky Fried Chicken and cooked onions.

Carefully, Spike put the jigsaw pieces together, and enquired, "Clem? What the…"

"I, err, hear you saved the world," Clem said, conversationally. "Shall we—have a drink? I don't really want to be hanging around here for long."

"Yeah," Spike said. There didn't seem to be a lot of choice.

"Are you—you know, *okay*? I mean, lying there isn't getting us out of here, actually."

In a spirit of scientific experimentation, Spike sat up. His head swam for a moment, and his heart thudded.

He did a swift double take.

One hand on his chest, he looked up into Clem's face—though he couldn't exactly tell if the lines were a frown or just Clem's normal look. "Weird," he said.

"Right, man. Weird. Can we just get out of this place?"

"Why?" Spike asked, and then took the time to look around. Demonsville, the bad side of town—whatever town this was—and things that had ignored him earlier were starting to pay more attention. "Okay."

Carefully, he stood up, and Clem began to lead the way out of the alley, walking at first, but then starting to run, as the things behind them took more notice.

They ran in silence for a while, until the bigger, nastier demons seemed to have been left behind, and those that were around ignored them. Then, breath catching in his throat, heart pounding in his chest, Spike stopped, and gasped, "Where are we, anyway?"

Clem shrugged. "No idea. Well…" he looked around in the darkness, looking for any sort of clue, "we're only a hundred yards from this town's zoo."

Spike raised an eyebrow. "The *zoo*?"

"That's what it says," Clem replied, pointing at the sign. "One Hundred Yards To The Most Biggest Collection of Animals Since The Ark!"

"That doesn't exactly help us," Spike said. "We might as well go on and look for…"

"Why?" Clem asked. "Let's go to the zoo."

Spike didn't have to voice the thought. 'You must be crazy' said his face, his newly-human body, in fact everything about him, up to and including the leather duster.

Clem had only just noticed the duster. He wondered briefly how it had survived, and then put it down to some sort of after-death Darwinism. Survival of the fittest, and all that.

"Suit yourself," Clem said. "I'm going. I like to see the big cats." He turned and started walking down the road, not looking back.

For a moment, Spike simply stood there, undecided; then he followed Clem. Nothing wrong with being crazy, after all. He'd heard it was in fashion this year.

eta x-post w/ SA. hi, SA!

Hey smonster. :)

Oh, Victor, that was lovely.

Am, I like that too. I hope there's more of it.

I can't wait for the rest of Deb's story. It's too funny.

the rest of Deb's story

Yes!! I forgot to comment on this, silly me. Nifty as all get-out, Deb, can't wait to hear more about the pornalicious shopping baubles.

I like to see the big cats.

Snerk!