TTR/TDF [CF] Rock the Casbah 3/3
by Mags L Halliday


"Oh my Gods," Willow whispered, "You killed Spike."

Buffy sat on the settle with a thump, the broken broom handle falling to the
floor with a clatter. She barely heard it: her sight and hearing focussed
only on the few centimetres next to her.

"I didn't mean to...he was just being all leery and irritating and...and he
is-*was* a vampire. I'm supposed to kill him."

She played with the cord that held the tiny velvet pouch closed. The
material was cold, not radiating the warmth it would have had it been in a
human's pocket seconds before. She'd killed Spike. Well, alright, not
technically. Angelus had killed him, technically, way back in the frock coat
days. But he'd never annoy her again. Never show up at the wrong moment. Or
the right one. Never point out any ugly truths to her. Never aggravate her.

"I kinda thought it'd be more, you know, epic?" she said, half to Willow and
half to herself. There should have been a raging storm, a reality
threatening catastrophe, a sword fight maybe. A grand battle. He was her
worst enemy after all. It shouldn't have consisted of one drunken fumble and
a quick slay.

She was aware, peripherally, of someone picking up the fallen stake. Full
hearing returned and she realised the pub was still silent. Looking up, the
kid Spike had been drinking with was staring past her, frozen to his seat.

"Interesting technique," a refined voice said from next to Willow. Buffy
looked around and saw a petite girl in dark red velvet inspecting the broken
broom handle. "I assume the blow has to be directly into the heart. You must
be strong to be able to push it through the breastbone, or do you prefer an
angled strike up through the ribs?"


"Nyssa...I..." The boy had stuttered into speech, his eyes following the
girl's slim hand as it judged the weight of the wood.

"Adric. I was talking." Nyssa glared at him and hurled the stake. She was a
lot stronger than she looked, Buffy realised, as there was a crack of bone.


"Hey, Francois just got bar clean after last fight. Now dead boy bleed on
floor and undead boy is dust." The creature from behind the bar glared at
Buffy. "And minuscule blonde girl break Francois' best broom. How going to
clean up undead boy now?"

Buffy looked down where the barman was pointing and saw the dirty ashes she
was sat in.

"Urgh! I sat in Spike!" She jumped back out of the settle.

"I don't think he'll have noticed, Buff, what with being dust." Willow said
quietly. She was looking nervously around. The boy who had just been staked
slumped over with a groan. Nyssa shrugged, pulling the stake back out of his
chest, wiping it clean and handing it back to Francois.

"Interesting, but too drawn out for me." With that, she walked back to the
table by the door. Willow looked around apprehensively. The bar has suddenly
lost interest in the back booth and conversations were restarting. The
jukebox was plugged back in. Willow stared at the passed out and profusely
bleeding boy sat opposite them. She glanced at the barman who was still next
to them.

"Shouldn't we get an ambulance or something?" Buffy heard her ask. His shrug
made the floor tremble slightly.

"No need. Dead boy and undead boy will be back in hour or so."



"Bloody hell! You staked me!"

Furious, Spike smashed a fist into Buffy's ribs. And over-balanced as his
hand passed straight through her.

"What the...?"


"What the...?"

Spike tried to push himself off the floor, only to find it too insubstantial
to resist him. He settled for rolling over and looking up at the owner of
the voice.

"What the...?"


Spike stared up at the seven foot skeleton that was standing over him. He
was somewhat relieved to see that, although the embodiment of mortal
expiration has modernised slightly - he was carrying a clipboard - he still
went into for the full-length body concealing robe of midnight black.

"Er, yes. Yes, I am. See, there's this girl..."


Spike risked getting to his feet. He was quite impressed with the faux
solidity of the floor now he was concentrating on it being there. Good
mental projection, he thought as he bounced up and down a bit. And Angel
claimed he had no imagination, ha. All around him there was the ghost of the
pub, the customers could still be seen talking but he couldn't hear what was
being said. To one side of the two solid forms a faint light glowed. Spike
looked at the personification of pre-destiny.

"So I suppose we'll be off then? Always wondered what happened after getting

Death looked at his clipboard.


Spike was already wandering about, pulling out a cigarette and rummaging in
his pockets for his lighter. He bumped into the ethereal Willow, then
grinned as he realised he could walk through her. Looking about he saw a
young girl talking to Buffy.


The whelp was suddenly looking a lot more solid than he had done and Spike
noticed the stake - the same stake Buffy had dusted him with - sticking out
of the lad's chest. Adric looked up, straight at Spike and Death.

"Be with you in a minute, OK?" he said, then slumped over with a groan.
Spike frowned.

"Hang on a bleeding minute! She's sitting in me! Not content with staking me
the friggin' cow is sitting in my ashes!"

Death didn't have an expression as such, but Spike got the impression
nonetheless that the skull was frowning at him.


"Well, yeah."


"Kinda. It's a long story. Well, you were there the first time. She-" Spike
pointed a shaking finger at Buffy, "she just killed me in a more permanent
way. Off the mortal coil, run up the curtains and all that."

Adric sat back up with a groan. He was now completely solid. He stood up,
leaving the ghost of his body slumped over the table in the bar. Buffy and
Willow were now arguing with Francois. Hope he makes them pay for our booze,
Spike thought with a smirk.


Adric glared at the seven-foot skeleton.

"You're as bad as the rest of them. Just because Nyssa keeps killing me does
not mean she has any feeling other than homicidal ones towards me."

Death shrugged and made a second tick on the clipboard.


As Death and Adric started off, towards the faint light source, Spike
frowned after them.

"Wait a minute! Did you say she *keeps* killing you?"


Nyssa watched the blonde girl finished cleaning up the pile of ashes using
the broken off broom. Francois stood behind the new girl with his arms

"So, let me get this straight," the young redhead that had joined them at
their table said, "because we're in an Outside Dimension, death isn't

"Yeah," Tegan answered.

"So although Buffy killed Spike, he'll come back?"


Willow frowned. "Even though his entire body turned to dust?"


"His clothes too? I mean, they were dusted as well, which I never really
understood but anyway he doesn't come back all naked like in Terminator,
does he?"

Nyssa noticed that Buffy had just come over to their table, with a tray of
drinks for them. Which she had dropped on hearing her friend's question.
Interesting. So this Buffy girl had pursued and killed her enemy but was
disturbed by the thought of him naked. Surely, thinking of the enemy naked
was a way to feel superior to them? If she thought of Adric without his
stupid pyjamas on then she...she didn't want to go down that route. She
realised she was blushing and her companions were staring at her.

"Ahem, yes. The clothes are brought back as well," she said, to distract
them from her burning cheeks.

"Oh." Buffy said. "Good."

"Yeah, cuz we wouldn't want to see a naked Spike, would we?"

Now Buffy was blushing. Turlough shifted in his seat, looking distinctly

"If you'll excuse me, ladies," he said, standing and grabbing the hold-all
bag from beneath the table.

Tegan waited until the front door had swung closed behind him. "Public
school types," she snorted. Buffy wrinkled her nose.

"Urgh," she said.

Nyssa held out her hand, "Nyssa of Traken."

The blonde girl took it and shook with surprising strength, "Buffy Summers."

"So, do you kill Spike often?"


Adric was thumbing disconsolately through his death record. Two in one day.
The receptionist had actually groaned when she's seen his number come up.
He'd been stamped and sent back to the Waiting Room pretty damn sharpish,
as if they didn't want him around. Spike had been escorted into a back
office with much fussing: more than one of the administrators had expressed
surprise at finally seeing him dead. Typical. Even when it came to death,
Adric felt outclassed.

Mind you, if stamps in a death record were like supermarket loyalty points,
he'd be able to buy half a county by now but Spike would - presumably - be
unable to even have the points discounted off his bill. Adric wasn't sure he
should be cheered by this idea but he was anyway. He suspected this said
much about his increasing laisse faire attitude towards death.

He'd spent the journey here explaining the nature of death Outside to the
bewildered Spike. Who'd then got a gleam in his eye and muttered something
about repeatedly killing the Slayer. Of course, being newly dead, Spike had
to go through the full procedure. He had to be registered, issued a death
record and various shown the ropes. It was just as Spike was led off that
the receptionist chose to break the news to Adric that, as the two had been
collected together, they had to return together.

So now he was waiting when he could have been re-embodied hours ago.


"' then I shaid "he'sh not my boyfriend" an' I puncshed her in the

Nyssa nodded, trying to stop her head tilting to one angle.

"Tha's right," she told her new friend, "they all thinks that because you
spend all your time fighting each other that there is some form attraction. S'obviously no' true."

"No, no," Buffy slurred, "they all think I've got shome short of bad boy
thing. S'true. My last boyfriend, my last boyfriend was a vampire sho they
all think I've got thish thing for 'em. Vampires."

Buffy put down the tequila shot glass and tried to refill it from the bottle
that she had taken from Spike and Adric's table. Willow was looking at her
in a slightly reproving way from her perch over by the bar where she had
been fending off the twin approaches of Fitz and Chris whilst talking to
Tegan. Nyssa waved at the young redhead and tried to gesture for more
alcohol to be brought over but they all ignored her. Buffy was still

"...actually, it'sh not true. My lasht boyfriend wasn't a vampire. No. But
he thinks I have 'transhfurance'. That jusht because Angel wash a vampire
Dracula wash...well, a vampire..." Buffy frowned over that sentence, then
shrugged and continued, "...that I have thish thing for them."

"...and they all try to make you work out this 'thing'? They say 'ooh, you
have issues you need to resolve' when all you want to do is kill him because
he's so irritating," Nyssa remarked.

"S'right! 'isshoes'. I don't have isshoes. 'm a Slayer. I slay vampires so I
have to get close to them to kill 'em, see?"

Nyssa nodded. "Uh-huh. But do people believe that?"

Buffy shook her head. "No. Ow. I think I drank too much. Beer bad."

There was a thunderous explosion outside, rocking the building on its
foundations. Everyone in the pub automatically ducked and then looked at
Nyssa. Except the returned Turlough, who just smirked to himself and took
another sip of his drink.


It has already been noted that the Mortality Deferment Office has little
care for timing. Or location. Or appropriateness. People should generally be
glad that they do have a care to restore people in the apparel they died in.
Think of the consequences otherwise. However, the Office's preference that
evening was to restore both Adric and Spike back in the scout hut where the
UA met. The meeting had clearly broken up for the evening although a sodden
handkerchief in the middle of the circle of chairs suggested that there had
been tears before bedtime.

The only other thing in the circle was a hold-all bag. Which was ticking.
Adric looked at Spike. Spike looked at Adric. "Oh sh-" they both said as a
huge fireball engulfed the hut.


Buffy watched way in which the large troll- no, Ogrons they were called
here - held the ginger haired boy in a neck-lock. She had to admit she was
impressed at the speed and skill with which it had been applied. Although
she was still unclear on why David (one of Francois's many cousins - an' why
did they all have French names, anyway?) had a repairing lease on a scout
hut. Nyssa had attempted to explain that the Ogrons were rapidly embracing
the notion of aggressive capitalism. With the emphasis on aggressive. She
returned her attention to the girl next to her.

"Where was I? Oh yesh, Riley. He left me. Shaid I wash too cold to him...
Washn't... Jush couln't star' cryin' 'round him as he'd get all mushy an'
fussh an' wanna wrap me in cotton wool... An' then, then I'd feel all guilty
fer cryin' and..."

Nyssa waved her tequila glass at Buffy. "Mustn't be guilty."

"Only time I cried in fron' o' anyone when my mom got sick was in fron'

The door to the pub slammed open, making her look up. To see two very grumpy
young men in very tattered clothing. Clothing that looked as though it had
been shredded by, for example, a scout hut blowing up just milliseconds
before the two youths had died and had then been reinstated in exactly the
same state. Exactly the same revealing state.

"Spike??" Buffy stared. Then she hiccuped. Trailing a much more embarrassed
friend, who was trying to hide from her drinking companion, the vampire
stormed over to their table and grabbed the tequila bottle.

"Never. Mention. This." He told her with a glare. She hiccuped again,
holding one hand in front of her mouth to hide the giggle that followed. He
frowned at her. "Are you *drunk*?"

"No. No sirree. No me. Never Drinksh on duty. 'm the Shlayer."

Spike sighed and smiled at her. "I know you are, pet." He looked about and
spotted Willow coming over. "Do you two want a lift home or what?"

The vampire turned on his heel and headed back out, leaving a very
embarrassed Adric in front of the two women. "I'll just go and.I think I
left some spare clothes in the back room." He blushed and ran off.

He got most of the way there before a throwing star got him in the back.

Part One - Part Two

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