RATING: PG13. I'm English - so is the spelling.
SPOILERS: to end of BTVS S6 and ATS S3
DISTRIBUTION: Just ask. I'll say yes. I just want to know where's it's living.
The series, and my other fic, is archived at http://www.myarseisnotpansy.co.uk/lesley/
on the wonderful Magpie's superb London Calling site.
FEEDBACK: Gratefully received, much appreciated, and given a loving home.
DISCLAIMER: Not mine the characters belong to Joss. Chapter titles belong to
numerous people more talented than me.
DEDICATION: To everyone who wanted more, thanks for all the kind words, but
especially for Magpie, Lori and IsabelleC.
ANGST WARNING - I mean it.
The World Cup is a feature for the first
few chapters, but this story has been greatly enjoyed by non-lovers of the
beautiful game. Lack of political correctness - which reflects England football supporting attitudes, and
the age of some of the characters.
CHARACTER DEATH WARNING.
Part 1. It's Coming Home
Willow drifted down the stairs
of the small Chelsea Mews house, which currently was home to a detached watcher
and his charges - a re-souled vampire, and a witch recovering from attempted
shouted from the kitchen. "Willow? Have you taken your Prozac? It's time. And Spike your
deep in the old sofa, came the sound of, "Yes Dad," from a vampire
almost unrecognisable but for the bleached tips to his hair.
Willow slumped into the
armchair, by the covered window. Her neck was bound with a choker, which
stopped her from accessing her magic, or removing it. She idly considered
opening the curtains, and frying the vampire sitting opposite them, but decided
it would be too much like hard work.
was curled up over a notepad, and was chewing on his pen in thought.
Unfortunately since he happened to be in game face chewing was the apposite
phrase, and yet another of Rupert's pens met a tragic fate.
came out of the kitchen, with a couple of cold beers and a de-caff coke for Willow. He gave her the coke.
There had been an unfortunate incident, shortly after she arrived in London, and drank 3 cans of
full-caff, full sugar coke. It hadn't been pretty. His Aunt's collection of
Staffordshire dogs was no more. Not that it had been much of a loss. He'd
always hated them, which of course was why the bitch left them to him in the
will. He just hoped she wouldn't come back to haunt him, after their tragic
demise. Well, if she did, there were some great exorcism spells around.
turned to Spike, and wondered for a minute why the vampire was in game face.
He'd mostly been crying, manic, or writing his autobiography - 'Things I have
to Feel Guilty About' since arriving two weeks ago. Considering the tears
blotting many of the pages the writing was surprisingly legible, though the
language tended towards the overblown.
looked at the telly. He saw why Spike was so riled. The football pundits were
showing Maradona's 1986 'hand of god' cheat against England, and following it
up with Beckham's sending off in the 98 World Cup. Spike growled at that
insult. Giles could identify with that. He threw Spike the twin to the beer he
came back to himself, caught the beer, put down the paper and the mangled pen
and said, "Thanks". Then continued with, "Sure you don't want
to go watch the match down the local? Me and Red here promise not to play with
matches, or top ourselves for the next two hours."
Willow snorted. Giles looked
sadly at her. Despite everything he, the coven, and his cousin the
psychiatrist, tried she remained deep in denial, and wallowing in her
depression, and misplaced aggression.
all his histrionics the newer possessor of a soul among the pair was doing by
far the best. He'd even taken an interest in this World Cup, though the Sweden match had admittedly
been a bit of a setback. Giles had wondered if he should put Spike on Prozac as
well as Willow following that one.
Bugger it, he'd been tempted to hit the pills himself after the second half.
But at least when talking about the footy Spike appeared, well, Spike like. So,
while going down the pub was tempting after being cooped up for weeks with this
pair of miscreants, he decided to stay and get the vampire talking.
sure, Spike, beer present and correct, telly sorted, got company, who needs
more. How are you doing with the bio?"
to 1923 Giles. God so much…"
wanted to watch the match not have to have to keep Spike away from the wooden
spoons again, and Willow was too wrapped up in herself to bother. So footy. "We're gonna
get hammered aren't we?"
cheating tossers. Bleeding hand of god, fat git more like. Was there you know?
Couldn't be in the stadium…too bleeding sunny. Found a nice bar though with
some big tellys, and some fellow Brits. Dru wouldn't come, told me the blue and
white pixies wanted to hurt us. Should have listened, the pixies usually told
her the scores."
looked at Spike and said, "I worry about you."
snorted with laughter. "'S not catching, over 100 years still just about
sane. Poor princess… Should have listened though. Got some good bets from the
pixies over the years. Look it's starting!"
'im! Send the git off!"
Bugger! Hit the post."
came from Willow.
on my son!!!!!! He shoots, he misses."
on Michael!!!!!! Foul! Penalty!!!!!"
on, come on my son, You can do it!"
blows. Two Englishmen look at each other, from where they are standing arms in
the air shouting 1 nil, and say at the same time, "We're doomed, 2 - 1
second half," and, "Yeah". So they retrieved more beer from the
fridge and sat down.
wanting to keep Spike in an up phase, asked, "So what about 98? That would
have been when you actually left us in peace, right?"
Watched it in Brazil. Great though. The Brazilians
hate the Argies almost as much as we do. Watched it in a demon bar in Rio. Went out Argy hunting
with some great Brazilian vamps afterwards. They'd been buying me drinks to
make me feel better all night. Nice guys! Couldn't find any though. The locals
had already munched their way through any Argies they could find. Nice of them
to try though! Had worked beautifully as a coping thing in 86." Spike
stopped, his face fell and he put his head in his hands. "God, listen to
me, enjoyed it then, having problems feeling guilty now. Maybe I got a faulty
deal? Oh…hell! Still Evil!"
Spike just English!" Giles said - who did after all want to watch the
here, drink beer, watch match, it's starting again."
gonna score, they're gonna score, phew."
you Man U were the biz!"
Ok I confess the pony-tail rocks!"
can't watch, can't watch, yessssssss."
no, please no!!!!"
Butt, Nicky Butt, Nicky Butt. Man U rule!"
a pillock, and an Argy pillock at that!"
the whistle! Blow the Whistle!"
no, no Millsyyyyyyy!!!!!!!"
the final whistle blew Spike and Giles were up, arms round each other, jumping
up and down singing, "It's Coming Home, it's coming home, football's
coming home" and to the telly a rousing chorus of, "You're not
singing anymore, you're not singing any more!"
said, "You know I feel better now!"
Willow continued to sleep
Continued in Part 2. Three Lions.