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Cicirossi
Joss Whedon is God and owns all. It's still his world, although we like to sneak in the side door and cover Xander with chocolate sauce and whipped cream when no one's looking.
"Well, if that's all, I have a business to get back to."
"No. You can't do that. You have to stop. If you want to send out chocolate, fine, but no more spells. I can't see how people are happy when they die. And it sure isn't giving their friends and family what they want is it?"
Frowning, Halfrek considered Buffy's words. "Well, you do have a point. Are you satisfied with the results of your wish as is? If I terminate the contract now, everything that has happened stands, but no one else is affected."
"Yes. That's fine. Just make it all stop."
Heaving a sigh, Halfrek made a dramatic, I Dream of Genie motion, and Xander's ears popped from a palpable change in the air pressure. Magic leaving the room, he figured. "There. I'll leave the last shipment for dear Clem to send out. It's perfectly harmless now. I'll just be off, then."
She started to make another snappy finger gesture, but Xander stopped her when he yelled, "Wait. What am I supposed to do? I still feel like crap."
"Yeah. The boy here's not the only one who's hooked on this stuff. The others never ate any, but what about us?" Spike didn't really sound panicked, but Xander was. Panicked. If the chocolate was impotent now, what was he going to do when his last bar wore off?
"As I said, you'll just have to admit that you have what you want. Otherwise, the fever will become progressively worse, until eventually you die. Ta ta, now."
Poof. Gone. Xander stared at the spot Halfrek had vacated, absolutely flustered. Clobbered. Maybe even flobbered. Admit that he was happy? Fucking Spike? Wanting to fuck Spike? Wanting to be bitten by Spike? Of course, maybe the idea wasn't so off. They did say insane people were happier than sane ones because they didn't know they were nuts.
"Xand? You okay?" Buffy crouched down in front of him, putting a hand on his shoulder. "I'm so sorry, Xander. I should never, ever make wishes. I know better. We'll figure out a way to fix you."
You know, Spike growling over his prone body was getting to be a habit, albiet an extremely odd one. But there it was, a possesive grrr sort of sound. "What if he doesn't need to be fixed? Make him sound like a spraying cat or a naughty puppy. Not that I mind the naughty puppy part, but that's beside the point. What if the demon bitch is right? What if he just has to admit he's okay with it all?"
Wide-eyed and open-mouthed, Buffy hit the side of her head with the flat of her hand. "What? Did I hear that right? How could he possibly be happy with you, Spike? He hates you! Blood sucking, evil fiend, remember? The only reason he did anything with you was the chocolate. And then you probably pushed it, so he didn't really have a choice."
Xander opened his mouth to say something, anything, he wasn't sure what. Spike moved before he could, lifting Xander up so he could slide out from under him and setting him gently back on the floor. "Right. Always willing to jump in and accuse me," he said. "Always bashing me over the head with my mistakes. Bugger it. You're right. I'll leave him alone. Just make him right, whatever it takes." With a swirl of smoke and leather filled air, Spike left almost as quickly as Halfrek had. All Xander could do was flop back on the floor and stare at the door, wondering why the heck this stuff always happened to him. And feeling sick as a dog.
"It'll be okay, Xand," Willow said. "You'll see." It would be nice to believe that, Xander thought, but he wasn't sure anything would ever be all right again.
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