All About Spike

By Valerie X

This is rated NC-17, but only for language. Thanks to ozfan, Alexandra Lyman, little-bit, and many others for writing such kick-ass parody that I felt I just had to join in. Sorry if it sucks; I wrote it within an hour, and edited it while drunk. Set after "Normal Again".

It was early in the morning when Buffy woke up. Since Dawn was still asleep, and Willow was locked in the bathroom crying, Buffy went downstairs and turned on the TV. She could still hear Willow's hysterical sobs, so she turned it up louder.

But what she saw there on the television chilled her to the bone.

Of course, thinking about bones made her think of Spike's enormous dick. But then she remembered that she was supposed to be chilled, so she did that thing where she opens her eyes really wide and doesn't blink for a few minutes so that it makes her cry, and she went back upstairs.

She ran into Willow, who was coming out of the bathroom with her eyes wet too. For a moment Buffy was pissed that Willow had stolen her not-blinking trick. But then she remembered that she was chilled.

"Willow, something terrible is about to happen!"

"I know!" Willow said. "Buffy, I need help!"

"No, I'm the one who needs help," Buffy replied, annoyed. "We did your 'I need help' bit already."

"No, this is something else."

"Oh." Buffy switched into supportive-best-friend mode and put her arm on Willow's shoulder. "You know I'm always here for you when you're in trouble, Will," she said. "Except for that one time when I was so stunned from getting banged for six hours by Spike's gigantic cock that I totally missed the foreshadowing."

"You know, if I wasn't such a crackwhore idiot, I might think that something was going on between you and Spike," Willow said. But then she shrugged and went back to whining. "You see, Buffy, I've been doing something. Something bad. I've been doing it every day for years now, sometimes as much as three times a day. I feel like I have to do it every morning when I wake up, and every night before I go to bed. And if I don't do it, I feel all dirty. I have a problem, Buffy." She didn't blink for a moment and a tear rolled out of the middle of one of her eyes. "I'm addicted to toothpaste."

"Aww, I'm so sorry, Will. And I'd totally be there for you, except I have more important stuff to do." And with that Buffy left the house.

Since Willow was of no damn use at all anymore, she went to Spike's crypt. She knew it wasn't a good idea, because she'd just broken's Spike's tiny girly heart and any interaction between them would be awkward. But she still had to go there, because without Spike's gratuitous nudity, people would realize the show was getting all crappy and stop watching.

She kicked open the crypt door and found Spike sitting on his couch writing in a notebook. And, you know, he had no shirt on.

"I hate you, you disgusting, evil, disgusting pig who is beneath me!" Buffy screeched. "Wow, you have some nice abs, especially considering that I read on the internet that you're like, 40."

"Sod off, little red riding hood," Spike said. "I'm busy here."

Buffy glanced at the notebook. "Whatcha doing? Writing bad poetry?"

Spike looked up, shocked. "How did you know about that?"

"Duh, you had your flashbacks like, right in front of me."

"Bugger off, sleeping beauty," Spike said with a snarl. "Besides, it's not my fault I used to write bad poetry. It's a law in England you know. It's called the Sid-Vicious-Oscar-Wilde Act of 1919. Everyone in all of England has to be either a bad-ass punk-rocker or a mild-mannered homosexual poet."

"Really?" Damn, Buffy thought. She shouldn't have dropped out of school. It made her all stupid and stuff.

"Bloody hell yes, Rapunzel," Spike said. "That's how come we got our asses kicked in World War II. The bombs were falling and we were all buggering each other while singing 'Anarchy in the UK'. But I'm not writing bad poetry now. I'm making a list of new nicknames." He stood up and began reading from the notebook. "For Willow I have: Red, Maroon, and Mauve. For Dawn I have: Tiny Nugget, Miniscule Bump, and Microscopic Malignant Tumor. For you I have: Sleeping Beauty, Alice in Wonderland, Goldilocks - Bloody hell!" He crossed the last nickname off the list. "I used Goldilocks already, in that episode where you had the really bad wig on."

"Don't make fun of my wig!" Buffy said, opening her eyes wide and not blinking. Boy, that Spike could really hurt her feelings a lot. And he could also hurt her genitals a lot, but in a good way. "And your Fool For Love wig was way worse than my Gone wig."

"Sodding shut up, Dorothy from the Wizard of Oz," Spike said, his own eyes filling with tears, because ever since Season 4 all he did was cry like a big girl.

"Aww, don't cry like a big girl," Buffy told him. "Besides, the worst wig ever was Angel's Becoming wig."

They both stopped crying and smiled, happy to know that at least they don't suck as much as Angel sucks.

"So what the bleeding sodding buggering hell do you want?" Spike asked. "I'm very busy, you know. Thinking up new nicknames takes a lot of time, and I'm not getting any younger."

"Actually, I think you are," Buffy said. "You look younger now than you did in Season 2, when you kinda had bags under your eyes. And your cheekbones have turned into tunnels. Did you have a facelift?"

"I am not 40!" Spike shouted. "And I plan to have a long career as a sexy leading man after this show ends, so don't go spreading rumors."

Buffy laughed. "Like any of us are going to have a career after this show ends." Then she remembered that she was supposed to be a fictional character, so she went back to looking all chilled. Wow, she thought, acting is really hard and stuff. Thinking of the word 'hard' made her think about Spike's gimungous hard cock and she almost forgot about the prophecy.

"The prophecy!" she said suddenly. "Giles told me there's a prophecy!"

"Giles?" Spike asked. "I thought that sodding bleeding buggering wanker went back to England."

"Yeah, but then I turned on BBC America and I saw him there."

"What the bloody wankering soddering iron did he say?"

"He said, 'I brought you some Taster's Choice'!"

Spike gasped loudly, and then took his pants off.

"What'd ya do that for?" Buffy asked.

"I don't know," Spike said. "But it was in the script, and I'm not going to question Joss and Marti, because I'm really grateful to have a job, since my music sucks."

Buffy nodded in understanding. After seeing Scooby Doo, she was also happy to have a job.

"There's something called the Tasters demon," Spike explained. "It possesses people's bodies and forces them to perform oral sex on each other."

"This is bad," Buffy said. "Everyone knows that enjoying sex is wrong. It leads to boyfriends turning evil and witches mind-raping each other and frat houses becoming possessed and me being whiny and stupid. We have to stop it."

"Stop it your bloody self, Beauty and the Beast," Spike said, returning to his notebook. "I have work to do."

"Fine!" Buffy said. Looking at his impossibly large unit had excited her, but now he didn't want to be around her, and she was hurt. Her only recourse was to hurt him back, so she said, "I don't want your help anyway! I only came by here because we need an excuse to have you in each episode!" And with that she kicked the door open again and left, because she was the star and she was too good to use her hands.

Buffy went back to her house. She stepped over Willow, who was lying in the middle of the living room crying, and walked up to Dawn, who was standing motionless waiting for someone to give her a reason to still exist.

"Dawnie, I need your help," Buffy said. "There's a prophecy about a Tasters demon and we have to stop it."

"But I don't have any super powers," Dawn said. "How can I help?"

"You have to be good for something," Buffy snapped. "You've had no point since last season."

"Fine, I'll help, but you have to do something for me first."


"Give me a storyline!" Dawn fell to her knees and began sobbing. "Please, please give me a storyline! I can be interesting, I promise!"

"Get out get out GET OUT!" Buffy screeched. And she picked up her sister and threw her out the window. The glass shattered, causing Dawn to bleed, and a portal opened that sucked up Dawn, the front yard, and half the living room.

Buffy turned her attention to Willow, who had gotten up off the floor but was still crying.

"Speaking of storylines, is your lame magic one done yet?" Buffy asked. "Because I need your magic powers if I'm going to defeat this Tasters demon."

"Buffy, we have to talk," Willow said. "I need help. Lately I've been taking something. I take it every day, sometimes as much as eight ounces at a time. I've tried to stop, by every time I quit, my throat gets sore and I start coughing. Buffy, I'm addicted to water." She screwed up her face into a frown and tried to cry, but no tears came. "Damn. Not blinking is hard."

As she stood in front of her best friend, who was wasting everyone's time by getting addicted to things that aren't even addictive, Buffy realized that the only person she could trust was her evil sex toy Spike and his massively enormous cock. Spike had been right about Willow ever since Season 3. Buffy picked up a water bottle and shoved it through Willow's face.

She walked out the front door, away from the bleeding body of her friend and the swirling portal that was slowly sucking up the entire house. Outside, she heard a growl, then saw a large monster move around the side of the house. "That must be the Tasters demon," she said to herself, and she began having a wiggens.

So she went to the hospital.

"Help!" Buffy cried as she rushed into the emergency room, pushing over men with stab wounds and old people having strokes in her hurry to reach the nurse at the front desk. "Help me, please," she said. "I'm having a wiggens!"

"Oh my god!" The nurse screamed. She hit the button for the intercom and her voice echoed throughout the hospital: "We have a code green in the ER. Code green in the ER."

Almost immediately a team of doctors appeared with a gurney and Buffy found herself staring up at Ben as she was wheeled down the hallway.

"We have a girl with a severe case of wiggens here," Ben explained hurriedly to the other doctors. "Get me ten CCs of stricobarbopheneline."

"Ben?" Buffy asked, surprised. "Aren't you dead?"

"Oh, hi, Buffy," Ben said. "Didn't you hear? No one ever stays dead. As a matter of fact, everyone's contract states that we get to be in at least two episodes after we die."

"That's right," the large man at Ben's side added as he filled the hypodermic needle. "I got killed off, and here I am."

"Larry?" Buffy asked. "But you're not a doctor."

Larry put his hand on Ben's arm and gazed at him adoringly. "No, of course I'm not. But it's Take Your Gay Lover to Work Day." He leaned over the gurney and kissed Ben.

"Ben's gay?"

"Not exactly," Ben explained as soon as he was able to pry himself away from Larry's demanding lips. "I'm a woman trapped in a man's body." He gestured to the needle. "Why don't you inject her now, Larry honey?"

The idea of something long and solid being inserted into her body reminded Buffy of Spike, and she decided that she didn't need to be in the hospital anymore; she just needed to get laid. She pushed Larry away and climbed off the gurney.

When she arrived at Spike's crypt and kicked the door down, again, she found him standing around taking Polaroids of himself.

"You repulsive evil thing who is dead inside!" she shouted as a greeting. "Whatcha doing now?"

"What the bleeding hell does it look like I'm doing, Gretel?" Spike gestured to the many pictures scattered around. "I'm practicing new facial expressions. Do you know how difficult this all is? Between the nicknames, the crazy naked sex, and repairing the hinges on my door every day, I barely have enough time for to come up with new deep and meaningful facial expressions!"

"Wow, Spike," Buffy said. "I guess I never realized how stressful your life can be."

"Bloody right, Snow White." He held a handful of the pictures out towards her. "You see, I've got the one where I tilt my head and squint my eyes like I'm deep in thought, and then I've got the one where I tilt my head and open my eyes wide like I'm shocked, and then there's the one where I tilt my head and -"

"Uh-huh whatever," Buffy said. "I think I figured out how to defeat this Tasters demon."

Spike was so happy to hear this that he took off all his clothes. "How the bloody bleeding hemmoraging hell, Pocahantas?"

"Your British slang is getting worse by the minute," Buffy said angrily. "It's gotten so bad, that I don't think I can stand hearing you talk anymore."

"Bloody spurting open wound of a hemophiliac, Cinderella!" Spike shouted. "Is it really necessary for you to break up with me in every single episode? I get dumped, then we act all cuddly, then I get dumped again, then you come around like we're friends, and then I get dumped again! I feel like you, with Angel, in Season 3!" He advanced on her, pointing a finger on her threateningly. "And let's face it, Bambi, you in Season 3 had to be the worst hair ever! There's no way in hell I'm letting my hair get that bad!"

Buffy only smiled seductively. "You misunderstood me. I still want to be around you, but only when your mouth is otherwise occupied. That's the secret to defeating the Tasters demon. He can't force us to perform oral sex on each other if we're already performing oral sex on each other."

"Bleeding infected puss-filled sores, Little Mermaid!" Spike cried out in happiness. Then he remembered that his tongue was more useful rubbing Buffy's genitals than it was forming ridiculous exclamations that no one understood, so he fell to his knees and got to work.

As Spike ravaged her crotch, Buffy had an epiphany. She'd been moping around all season, when the secret to happiness had been so close...right between her legs, in fact.

The secret is that, no matter how bad things get, even when every man you touch dumps you brutally and then moves out of town, even when your friends are all idiots, even when your mother dies and your father abandons you, even when you're forced to take care of your klepto fake little sister, and even when you have to claw your way out of your own grave, oral sex can solve any problem.

The End

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