Warts and All. Ethan/Andrew, Spike. 15 My Ethan Ficathon Piece
entrenous88 asked for fine scotch and a promise to cure a demon, set after “A New Man”. So, in a hopeless collision of timelines after that point, here’s free!Ethan, soulless!chipped!Spike, and hostage!Andrew, some liquid refreshment and a rather embarrassing affliction, in:
Warts and All
“Well, yes I know it’s a wart, you prat!”
“And you’re showing it to me because..…..?”
“Well, you’re into all this magic rot, aren’t you? I want a spell to cure it!”
“Although that still doesn’t explain why you chose to waft onto my doorstep as opposed to Rupert’s or his Sapphic sorceresses‘.”
“Right, ‘cos I’m going to slap it on the table for Red and Glinda. I’d be turned into a rubber chicken faster than you could say ‘rattled rug-munchers‘. And don’t even get me started on Rupert……”
“Deirdre used to say that all the time. Never stopped us from sitting her on Rupert‘s……..”
“Oh, spare me, for Chrissakes! Look, you gonna leave me standin’ in your doorway with my willy hangin’ out of my kecks, or you gonna invite me in? Come on, mate, you know very well I can’t hurt you.”
“You’re alone? No bumpy-browed accomplice lurking round the corner, ready to wreak the bloody havoc so tragically denied you these days?”
“It’s just me. Scout’s honour.”
“Spike, I know full well you were turned some decades previous to the inception of the Scout movement.”
“I’ve ate a few Scout-masters, though. Must have picked up a bit of Baden-Powell along the way, yeah?”
“I shudder to imagine which bit. Speaking of which, if I invite you in, will you put that away? That’s better. Very well; Spike, I invite you into my humble abode. “
“ ‘Bout bleedin’ time. Bloody freezin’ out there. Don’t suppose you’ve got a drop of somethin’ to warm a dead bloke’s cockles? ‘S alright; this’ll do!”
“Please, don’t wait to be offered a drink. It’s only 13 year old Talisker, after all.”
“Thanks. Spell then, warlock. Fix me knob and I’ll get out of your face.”
“Preferably before you get off yours. Perhaps you could stay sufficiently sober to help me garner a few ingredients?”
“You sayin’ I can’t handle my drink?”
“I’m more concerned about your capacity to handle mine.”
“Tight bastard. Bottle’s finished, anyway. Right, what do you need?”
“Oh, you know, the usual stuff; lark feathers, jellied eye of politician, a male virgin, spot of powdered leech, Status Quo CD. I have most of it in the kitchen, but…….”
“You what?”
“Status Quo? Not to everyone’s taste, I know, but pretty effective when…..”
“Not the Quo! The other thing!”
“Oh! Not to worry; there’s no part of a politician, jellied or alive, I’d ask you to handle without gloves.”
“I mean the bloody virgin! You’re curin’ a wart, not launching one of Dru’s Tupperware parties. Not that I’m one to object to a well-slashed jugular. And if you’ve got any Tupperware handy, it keeps the blood really fresh. I can highly recommend it.“
“Thank you. I’ll bear it in mind. Except that we don’t need to ex-sanguinate the poor fellow; merely deflower him. “
“You mean we shag him?”
“Well, I do. Spell-casters privilege and all that. And at least I won’t traumatise our first-timer with a prodigious penile papilloma. Bit of a let-down from your point of view I suppose; no ritualised ravishment, let alone nice, hearty spurts of hot, virgin blood for your blameless tongue to lap up. …… Oh, dear! Was that your stomach rumbling?”
“Sadistic git! No wonder Rupert hates your guts.”
“Time was he used rather to like them. At least the final few inches…… but I digress. Hadn’t you better be off sniffing me out an unbreached bottom?”
“And I’m gonna find one exactly where, at this time of night? Under the Blue Light at K-Mart?”
“Not unless he’s having his ears boxed by a lady with misspelt tattoos. No, I think we’re looking for something with just a little more maturity. Isn’t there some nice, ripe cherry begging to be picked from amongst the Slayer’s retinue? What about that Harris boy? Surely the glare of his wardrobe has prevented anyone getting close enough to slip him a proverbial crippler?”
“You’re not havin’ Xander! That is to say ……. Slayer’d kill both of us.“
“Ah-ha! So this is what all this is about, is it? Want to present your boy with a pristine pecker? Oh, I could become quite dewy with the romance of it all.”
“You’re asking for a thrashin’, warlock.”
“And shaking in my carpet slippers at the very thought of you falling to the floor, clutching your head in pain. Now, can you accost me an abstinent arse or not? If not, young Xander will just have to take you warts and all, as it were. Had you considered painting it gold and telling him it’s a piercing? Use it at the correct angle and it could even be…..”
“No! The bloody thing’s comin’ off! I’ll get you a soddin’ virgin if that’s what it takes. Just not Xander, alright? How about ……. oh, whatsisface? “
“Whatsisface?”
“The hostage. Andrew, that’s it. He’s at the Watcher’s tonight, so I reckon I could….. ”
“Rupert keeps a virgin hostage? Had him down as more of a tropical fish man, myself. There‘s a ransom involved, I take it?“
“Nah. Protective custody ‘smuch as anything. Kid could turn evil in Season Six. Under the right influence. “
“Really? I think I like this boy already. Had I not been written out mid Season Four, with a woeful lack of resolution as to my eventual fate, I suspect we might have had some fun together.”
“You’re welcome to him, mate. Annoys the crap out of everyone. Rupert keeps him gagged and bound half the time.”
“And there’s me thinking the old boy had lost his edge. His little stint as a Fyaral obviously did wonders for him. Andrew it is, then.”
*****
“Ethan? Oi! Where d’go, y’smarmy old git? I got Andrew for you!”
“Spike? You’re back? I’m in the kitchen, chasing this jellied eyeball . Shan’t be a tick. So, how did you liberate our special ingredient from Rupert’s clutches?”
“Sneaked in while he was in the loo and left a trail of leather elbow-patches up to his bedroom. By now he’ll be laid out, stark bollock naked, expectin’ a delegation from the Council of Wankers to leap out of the wardrobe and shag ‘im senseless. Be a good half-hour before he smells a rat and notices runt-boy’s missin‘. “
“Which gives us perhaps an hour before I need anticipate the dulcet tones of my door being kicked in, then. Perhaps you’d be so kind as to de-bag our young friend and take him through to the bedroom. There’s a fresh set of manacles on the dresser. Ah-ha! Caught you! Don’t look at me like that, Senator! You’re not watching secret videotapes of the ladies’ loos now, you know.“
“ You gonna finish talkin’ dirty to that eyeball and get in here anytime before I finish off this bottle? ”
“ I’m coming, I’m coming! It’s hardly my fault that preserved body parts find me attra……..bottle? Spike, please tell me that wasn’t the …….”
“ ….twenty-year-old Bruichladdich you had stuffed in your bookcase, behind Delia Smith’s One is Fun? Didn’t know she wrote books on wankin’, the dirty cow. Lovely drop of scotch though. Extraor….”
“Extraordinarily smooth. Yes, I know. Goes with the £75 price tag.”
“You alright, warlock? Gone a bit of a funny colour. You wanna watch that at your age. Have your blood pressure checked or somethin’ Tell you what; Rupert won a bottle of Clan Dew at some Twits in Tweed coffee mornin’ raffle last week. I can nick that for you if you like.”
“You’re altogether too kind.”
“Yeah, well, don’t go tellin’ anyone. I’ve got a rep to maintain, y’know. Evil and grrrrr! and all that. That me done, then, or do I have to stay and watch you shag the runt?”
“No, Spike, you can go, preferably while you can still stand. Take the Delia Smith, by all means. Yes, I promise; your wart will be gone by morning. As will your invitation into my house. Goodnight!
What’s that, Andrew? Hold on a tick. This gag’s not helping. There! Now, what were you saying? Let you go? No, no, my dear; I promised to magic away Spike’s wart and I shall. Although I didn’t, as I recall, promise not to tinker ever so slightly with the spell. When Spike wakes up as a somewhat hungover tapeworm inside a flatulent horse in Belarus, he might think better of helping himself to my best bottle of scotch. So, shall we begin?”
THE END
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Notes for non-British readers:
*Delia Smith is a tv cook and cookery writer of rather wholesome character. *Clan Dew is a wine/whisky blended drink. No posh bloke worth his salt would be caught dead drinking it. Spike, on the other hand....