madimpossibledreamer

         Whelp walks out of the warehouse, covered in blood, dragging a metal chair and bat behind him. Not a single one of the demons behind Spike moves. He’d attack, but he’s curious about where this is going. Then the boy sits, legs splayed, casually rolling the baseball bat (blood still actually dripping) in one gloved hand. “Can’t wait ta see what happens now,” he announces, voice carrying, and then before Spike can even be on him he’s taking a bat to the ribs with enough force to crack every single one of them and the boy’s dancing out of reach.

( care about your well-being )

        Honestly, this is starting to get pathetic, and a jewel like the ‘Slayer’s Mad Whelp’ ain’t allowed to get pathetic, so Spike just walks up, emphasizing his footsteps so as not to startle.  The human gives no indication that he’s noticed, but Spike can tell all the same.  “You’ve been lookin’ for a prezzie for the witch, yeah?”
        Xander’s head darts up, cautiously hopeful.  “Yeah?”
        “Well, she’s been talkin’ about little fuzzy furballs recently, ‘n I happen ta have a standin’ invitation ta a weekly poker for kittens game.”
        On one hand, judging by that smile, Spike will lose money.  On the other hand, he won’t regret the chaos that ensues.
        And he doesn’t, even the all-too-innocent way the boy suggests mahjong instead, produces a set from goodness-knows-where, does his absolute best to teach them in a few ‘practice rounds’, and manages to spank them rather soundly when they ‘play for real’ anyway.  He refuses to take the whole pot rather good-naturedly (“I only needed the one, thanks”) and is generally just so damn polite and charming that they don’t even mind that he obviously hustled them all for a single kitten.  Spike’s been bored, and this is downright entertaining.

( finally some light )

        The first therapist had been…not of the good.  Xander doesn’t remember all that much, just raised voices.  The next thing he remembered was Giles finding him and apologizing, coaxing him out from under one of the waiting room chairs he doesn’t remember having hidden under, explaining that he hadn’t meant to scare him, but they are Definitely Finding Another Therapist.  Giles doesn’t break out the capital letters much.
        This new one is much better.  She asks him to talk, but doesn’t get mad or tell him it’s all in his head when he usually doesn’t.  Which is absurd, really, of course it’s in his head, they’re trying to fix his brain from the outside.  He doesn’t know why it bothered him so much last time.

        A few weeks ago, some customers from Wolfram & Hart had come in, speculating about the origins of the New Council’s black ops team.  If this had happened a little sooner, Willy probably could’ve told them everything.
        “X-Xander, do you really want the girls learning you’ve killed me?”
        There’s still no sympathy in the lone eye, and the man leans just a little bit more on the foot he’s got pinning Willy’s chest to the floor.  “After what you did, don’t think they’d blame me.”  He leans back, idly playing with the nigh-legendary dagger.  “Hadn’t really thought of you as a competitor.  Would’ve left you alone, but it was you, wasn’t it, puttin’ the thought of following poor Jiayi-chan in the heads of those demons for hire.”  He tenses his jaw, nodding at the women lurking behind him.  “Yer lucky my peeps convinced me I didn’t need ta beat yer skull in m’self, ‘cause I probably wouldn’t know where to stop.”
        Willy’s heart leaps, but as if he’s reading his mind the Slayer’s Mad Whelp smiles coldly, something…inhuman about the expression.  “Don’t count your blessings just yet.  Laura-chan and Tsuya-chan are more than happy to step in, here.”
        He moves back, and the other two move in, and Willy swallows.

( under cut because warning )

( a full roster )