Uh, I don't even smoke and I want a cigarrette now. Pretty, impulsive, amoral, nominal good guys with a tendency to get some and get gone...what were we talking about? If anyone would read that who doesn't live in my body, I might write it.

Do it, babe. You know I'd read it.

Part Thirty-seven: After the sky falls

The world ended with slack-jawed gazes up at a contracting sky. As one, the monsters surrounding them laid down their weapons as the heavens above them unraveled. Gunn, dying from his wounds but still standing, leaned against a wall, teeth gritted. Spike lit a cigarette, his eyes never leaving the descending sky. Angel stood taciturn, his fists unclenching as the sky fell, and Oz felt the beast within him whimpering in fear, but he held it down.

Oz watched them all, waiting for death, and marveled at their resoluteness. He blinked, and the world had unraveled into nothing.

And when he opened his eyes again, they were standing on the shore of an ocean, the waves gently lolling onto sand, the sun shining. Angel and Spike reflexively tried to hide from the sun, before realizing they weren’t burning.

“Is … is this heaven?” asked Gunn, staring down at his torso, his wounds healed.

“Close enough,” said a tall, dark woman walking slowly toward them down the beach. “It is an aspect of what is to come for all of us, man and monster alike.”

Angel and Gunn stiffened at the sight of the woman. Oz couldn’t understand why. She was beautiful, light refracting through stained glass, she was…

“Jasmine,” said Angel, spitting the words through gritted teeth.

“Angel,” she said. “Charles. It’s good to see you both again. And William, Daniel, welcome.”

“What is this, Jasmine,” said Angel. “Some sort of revenge? Saving us from Wolfram & Hart so you can finish us off yourself?”

The woman didn’t seem the least bit upset by Angel’s vitriol, thought Oz. Her arms remained at her side, and her smile seemed genuine, if slightly sad.

“I’m not here as an enemy, Angel,” she said. “I never was. Mistaken, perhaps, but I honestly came to Earth to help.”

“You didn’t”

“I know that now,” she said, and the aura of sadness surrounding her seemed to grow. “Like I said, I was mistaken. I’m here to help now.” “You expect us to just trust you?” said Gunn. “After everything you did?”

“No,” said Jasmine, “but my assistance has been sought on your behalf, and I am granting it.”

“By who?” asked Gunn, visibly irritated.

“By me,” said a low, lilting tone. They turned as one, and saw Wesley standing behind them, flanked by Buffy, Riley and Sam.

“Wes,” said Angel. “You’re alive.”

“Sorry, Angel,” said Wesley, stepping toward him. “I’m not. I just came back to do this one thing.”

“Buffy,” said Spike, tentatively stepping toward her. “What are you doing here. With him?” Riley glared at the vampire, but said nothing.

“We were on our way to rescue you people,” said Buffy, her arms now folded as she looked from Spike to Angel and back. “The three of us. When we were intercepted by Jasmine.”

“I wasn’t certain I could pull you four out of the singularity,” said Jasmine, “letting them enter may well have cost all of you your lives.”

“But going in to retrieve Angel and crew was your idea,” said Oz, trying to piece it all together. “Why did you…”

“It wasn’t my idea, Daniel,” said Wesley. “I’ve not spoken to you in years. Not since I left Sunnydale.”

“Then who?”

“We’ve all been played, Oz,” said Buffy. “He tried to lead us all to our deaths.”

“Who?”

“The First.”

I have a perverse muse. She's been watching the bad pay-per-view movies, obviously.

Spike gazed off in wonder. "It's every fucking dream come true. Literally."

Xander was still looking for the catch. "It's ridiculous."

"So?"

The two of them had bunked down in the Basement of Doom as usual, Xander in the sofa bed and Spike in the uneasy chair, though Spike had managed to whine his way to an untied rest with a minimum of effort. They'd done their typical "Good night, Spike" "Shut it, whelp, I'm trying to sleep" routine, and all seemed well.

Until they'd found themselves blinking in confusion and staring around at a large, Medieval-style hall filled with women. Lots of women. All sorts of women. All *colors* of women--and that meant colors of the rainbow, not the earth tones of, well, Earth. Nearly naked women. And they were all looking at Spike and Xander. And smiling.

Xander was waiting for the feeding frenzy to begin when one of them stepped forward. Her skin was a lovely orange sherbet color, and her hair was fire engine red. A Willow-voice in the back of Xander's head commented on the obvious mammalian heritage and humanoid characteristics. Those characteristics were ornamented by several long, delicate chains draped here and there, and nothing else.

She held her arms open wide, displaying her heritage to great effect. "Welcome, Earthmen!"

"Huh?" Xander said. Spike was too busy wiping drool off his chin.

"We brought you from your world to ours so that you can help us save our race from extinction."

Xander held up a hand. "You're not going to tell me that all your men are sterile and you shipped us two in to help repopulate your world, are you?"

She blinked cherry-orange ripple eyes at him. "Oh, you heard?"

Xander cocked his head in disbelief, then looked around again, looking for the cameras. "Rod Serling *is* dead, isn't he?"

Spike finally stepped up, grinning that "I could make Mother Teresa, Melissa Etheridge, and Pat Robertson, too, if I wanted to, change their minds" grin. Xander glared at him.

"Oh, like you're going to be a lot of help at repopulating a world, fangless."

Spike quickly put a hand over Xander's mouth. "Ignore him, ma'am," he told the lady. "We're both deeply honored."

"Oh, wonderful!" She turned back to the assembled women and began speaking in a language that wasn't English. The women cheered and clapped delightedly.

"This is so wrong," Xander said, shaking his head. "It's some sort of trick."

Spike was gazing at the rear view of the woman who had greeted them. "That's not make-up, whelp. That's all her, from her apricot toenails to her tiny, little tangerine nipples."

"If you make one remark about peaches--"

"Xander, there are two hundred women out there who want to fuck us! Why are you arguing?"

"Even if you assume for one milli-second that this is in any way real, it's the Twilight Zone! This cannot end well!"

"It's not the Twilight Zone, it's 'Hell Comes to Frogtown.' It's Castle Anthrax, with the eight score young blondes and brunettes, all between sixteen and nineteen-and-a-half, cut off in this castle with no one to protect them." Spike was definitely on a roll. "Oooh, it is a lonely life: bathing, dressing, undressing, making exciting underwear--"

"Spike! Or, it's that episode of Futurama!"

"The one with the planet of women?"

"Yes! And the skeletons of men with smashed pelvises!"

Spike grinned. "And the smiles on their skulls, yeah."

"They were still dead!"

"Well, that was supposed to be punishment. Death by Snoo-Snoo." He bounced on his toes. "Might be too much for a fragile human like you, but I don't think I'll have any problem. I'll think of you fondly when you're gone."

Xander leaned closer. "And after I've had my heart attack and they find out nobody's getting pregnant off of you?"

"It could work," Spike protested. "They're not human."

"Yeah, right. (continued...)

( continues...) Or maybe you want to join me in my panic on how we're getting out of here?" The orange lady turned back to them, and the crowd of women moved forward, smiling. "In a little bit," he added as a pretty, sky-blue-skinned blonde girl came up to him, looking bashful.

The orange lady in charge frowned at Spike and plucked at the t-shirt he wore. "Does this come off?"

"Huh? Oh! Right, yes, it definitely comes off." It came off in shreds, is what it did, and vampire speed had the belt unbuckled in a blur. "For heaven's sake, Xander, just dive right in!" The lady in charge and another girl were helping Spike get rid of his jeans.

There were two girls on him figuring out how his clothes worked, too. The blue girl and her aquamarine friend were very sweet, but implacable. Xander didn't know what to do with his hands, and he was starting to feel overwhelmed. His boxers dropped, his t-shirt disappeared, and warm little multi-colored hands were starting to explore his no-second-thoughts-having body. His mind, though, was well into third and fourth thoughts.

On the other side of the room, Spike had a more than willing partner tugging him to some very convenient cushions on the floor. He actually paused in his leering cooperation to look over one more time. "Harris, if you have any intention of driving, you'd better get your hands on the wheel. Or just lay back, close your eyes and think of England." With that, he turned all his attention to more interesting things.

Xander took a deep breath and caught Blue Girl's hands. She looked at him nervously. "It's OK," he said, wondering if by another impossibility she spoke English, too. Or maybe there was a Babelfish in his ear. "Have you ever done this before?"

She gave him a bright, eager smile. "Oh, yes! No babies," she frowned, then the smile came back. "But lots of fun!"

"Really? Oh, well then." He looked around one more time for the cameras, then shrugged. He put his arms around her and pulled her in for a long kiss. The aquamarine girl behind him giggled and snuggled in close.

"We can lay down over here," she whispered in his ear. His interested noise encouraged her to guide them all to more convenient cushions, then down. Blue Girl ended up under him, and she wriggled happily while Aquamarine began running her hands along Xander's shoulders. He grinned at both of them, then began exploring. The blueberry nipples tasted like girl, and she was warm and wet and tight, just like a regular girl. She did hit a higher note when coming than any other girl Xander had known, but he was too busy trying not to yell in her ear himself when he let go.

Aquamarine barely let Xander catch his breath before trying to wiggle in between him and Blue Girl. "My turn," she said happily.

"Your turn," he nodded. "Just let me breathe a little, or I won't be good for anything." He returned Blue Girl's kiss and smile as she moved away to settle happily amid the cushions. He grinned at Aquamarine. "Hi, there."

"Come on, Harris, get a move on" Spike yelled happily as a tiger-striped woman wrapped her arms and legs around him. "There's a line!"

"Well, when the kids say "Mom, tell me about Daddy,' I want her able to say something more than, 'I don't know, honey, it was all over so fast.'"

"Oh, you son of a bitch!"

Xander's laugh was cut off by a pair of eager lips. Just before all his attention was taken up by happier things, he thought he heard Spike singing. Something about a blacksmith and his hammer? Things rapidly became a blur.

. . . Xander slowly opened his eyes to the bottom of his parents' kitchen floor. He blinked in exhaustion and amazement. "Oh. My. God."

There was a rustle from the "Comfy" Chair. "Yeah."

"Wow."

"That too." Spike tried to lift his head but didn't quite manage. "That little blonde didn't half fancy you, did she, mate? How many times did she cut in line, four, five?

"All those shades of blue . . . Well, what was (continued...)

( continues...) up with that set of triplets, huh? They were triplets, weren't they?"

"All the parts matched that I got a look at. And I looked at most of them."

Xander frowned as more of his brain came on line. "Why are you remembering my dream? My fourteen-years-old, watched-too-much-cheesy-scifi dream? Why the fuck were you even *in* my dream? And why am I really sore and exhausted and feeling really damned smug?"

"Xander? Xander! Are you there?"

"And why is Giles at my door? Spike, go answer the door."

"No. Why?"

"Because I can't move, that's why."

"Toldja a human wouldn't be able to keep up." With a groan, Spike got to his feet and headed for the steps.

"Spike, you're naked!"

"Oh, well done, Holmes."

Xander was distracted by the fact that he was naked, as well. His boxers and t-shirt were laying on top of him instead of clothing him, and he was laying on top of his covers.

He heard the door open. "Oh, damn," Giles said. "You're here."

"Lovely day to you, too, ducks." Spike thumped back down the stairs and headed back to the chair. He took a sudden detour and collapsed face down on the sofa bed next to Xander.

"Hey!" Xander protested. "Off the bed!"

Spike did his most inspired impression of a corpse and said nothing.

Giles came down the stairs cautiously. "Xander? Oh, thank god. Are you all right?"

He clutched his clothes to him and stared. "What the hell are you doing here, Giles? Why wouldn't I be all right?"

The glasses were off and polished in record time. "Yes, well, hm. Well--"

"Spit it out, Watcher," came from the dead man in the covers.

"Yes." Giles took a deep breath. "The day before yesterday, I had a visitor. A very--odd visitor. I would have thought it was a prank of some sort, but I could tell she was using a very sophisticated translation spell."

"She?" Xander repeated. "Did this lady visitor of yours happen to be . . . orange?"

"Tangerine," came from the covers. Xander smacked the corpse's head. "Ow."

"Yes," Giles sighed. "She was, indeed, orange in color. I, um, gather you . . . met her?"

The corpse started chuckling, and Xander fought a grin. "Met is a good word. And yes, I--we did. So the very vivid and amazing dream I had last night wasn't a dream."

"No. The lady had a, well, proposition. Stop snickering, Spike. She's from another dimension, similar enough to our own. I didn't believe her, at first, but she told me that they planned to, well, borrow one or two, um, donors for, well, long-term use."

Spike sat up fast. "Long-term? You mean, there could have been more!? Damn you, Watcher! What did you do?"

"Really, Spike, you can't imagine I'd leave Xander in such a degrading predicament. As soon as I realized what had happened, I began work on a spell to bring him back. Unfortunately, I didn't take the time to exclude you in the retrieval."

"Tissues are on the other side of the bed, mate, if you want to have a good cry." Spike gave Giles a narrow look. "So why didn't they grab you? Or do I need to ask?"

"I'll have you know their primary consideration was whether we'd consider said donors a loss, not any considerations regarding ability or--and I refuse to finish that sentence. I don't remember the entire conversation, but I'm sure I mentioned your name. They must have taken Xander due to his proximity to you."

Xander was shaking his head slowly. "You mean--for the last two days, I was in another dimension . . ."

Spike patted his shoulder. "Sowing the seeds of love, mate."

"That is so incredibly gross, Spike."

"You're welcome."

"But it makes no sense! I watch Star Trek! There's no genetic diversity. They didn't even make sure it would work. They grabbed a vampire who shoots blanks and me. If they'd grabbed you, Giles, at least they'd be getting kids with brains."

"Piss poor fashion sense," Spike commented as Giles preened modestly, "but brains, (continued...)

( continues...) granted."

Giles glared at Spike, then looked back at Xander. "When you've, um, recuperated, I'd be very grateful if you could give me a report of what happened."

"Excuse me?" Xander blinked.

Spike snickered. "This would be for the NC-17 version of the Watchers' diaries, then, would it?"

"It's for scientific purposes purely."

"Right."

"In any case, Xander, whatever you want to tell me, I'd be very grateful. And, Spike, if you can keep it from sounding like a letter to Penthouse, I'd like your observations as well."

"Penthouse, eh? I had you pegged as purely a Playboy man."

Giles glowered and let himself out.

Xander was still staring off as Spike settled in next to him. "All those girls . . ."

"Yep. All those girls. Lovely girls. I wonder what the baby the little blue girl pops out'll look like. She was certainly determined, that one."

"Yeah." Xander shook himself and glared at Spike. "Why are you sitting on my bed? Why are we talking about this?"

"Reminiscing's half the fun, pet." He put one arm behind his head and began fondling his cock with the other hand. "Sometime's re-enacting's fun, too."

Xander let his eyes close. "Vampires. Get off of my bed." The last was half-hearted, and he let himself slip towards sleep. Then he woke up again. "When you say re-enacting, you do mean, just in your head, right?" All he got was a lewd chuckle. "You like girls, Spike. I *know* you like girls."

"Oh, I love girls. Wonderful, soft, wiggly girls." He pulled his hand from behind his head and patted Xander's hair.

"*I* like girls."

"I could tell, pet. And the girls liked you. I had a couple of minutes free time once in a bit, and I could tell you were having a very good time." The hair patting had turned to hair stroking. "Very pleasant to watch."

"If I could move, I'd throw you out of here."

Another chuckle. "You just catch up on your sleep, whelp. I'll keep an eye on you."

Reluctantly, inevitably, Xander felt his eyes close. He pried one open to peer up at Spike.

"What?" Spike asked.

"I'm picturing you painted blue."

"Pleasant dreams, mate."

The above has no artistic pretensions whatsoever, and no dreams of higher purpose. But at least it's out of my head.

Bwahahahahaha! And Connie brings the porn to match any décor.

All that sex appeal could make my head burst, Karl. Have you no compassion? That could be a force to bring Osama out of the mountains, but did they try that? No, just right for the missiles.