The Blame Game
Response to the Mommy Anita challenge. Just a series of long and short scenes that may or may not become an actual story at some point. It doesn't meet all of the challenge requirements, but it's close.
Disclaimer: Yes, it all belongs to me! Just kidding, please don't sue me *gives puppy dog eyes*
'Anything could have happened to him, to us... You just don't mess around with the nest egg!' -Frolo 'Smile Time'
"This is all your fault, Spike," Angel grumbled.
"My fault? How the bloody hell is this my fault!" the blond demanded.
The dark vampire was silent for a moment, glowering at his annoying grand-childe.
"I'm not really sure how just yet but something is telling me that it is."
"Oh, really?" Spike asked, hands on his hips. "And would that be the same 'something' that told you to barge into that room, too?"
Angel gave his best 'You don't know anything, Spike, now shut up' look, which usually meant that Spike was right and Angel just didn't want to admit it, before continuing his trudge through the woods. It was turning into the night from hell with the rain, the having no idea where they were, and the fact that both vampires were only about three feet tall all being key contributing factors. Angel crawled over a log that was almost as tall as he was then landed in a mud puddle when his too-short legs got tangled in his coat. Spike hopped over the fallen tree with feline grace to land beside the cursing, game-faced, five-year-old and snorted with amusement.
" 'S a good look for ya, Peaches."
"This is all your fault, Spike," Angel growled again.
"Bollocks, I'm the one that told you ta leave the bloody coat behind but no, can't listen to old Spike, now, can you?"
"You kept your coat," Angel pointed out as he stood and tried to wipe the muck out of his hair. God, he'd kill for a shower.
"You're out of your bleeding mind if you think I'm leaving this behind!"
The miniature blond lovingly stroked the worn leather he'd wrapped around himself, toga-style, to keep it from dragging in the mud.
"This is my second skin, a part of who I am."
"You stripped it off the body of a dead Slayer, Spike," Angel reminded him as they once again started walking.
"Gives it sentimental value then."
Angel only growled. Suddenly, the trees ended, opening up into someone's large back yard. A big house stood in front of them, lights shining through opened sliding glass doors and reveling a man and a woman sitting at a table, talking and drinking out of coffee mugs, as a second man moved about the kitchen. The scent of lasagna drifted to the two mini vamps from inside the house.
"There," Angel said. "Maybe they'll let us use their phone. We can call Fred or Wes to come get us."
Spike shrugged indifferently.
"Lead on, O Fearless One."
Somewhere, somebody was laughing at me. I didn't know who they were, but I would have gladly shot them.
It was a quiet night, which, for me, means no zombies, no vampire politics, and no cops calling me to a grizzly murder scene in the middle of the night. It was just supposed to be me, Micah, and Nathaniel, a lazy night at home, and Nathaniel's home-made lasagna, with no emergencies of any kind! Which was probably why I had two little boys, who couldn't be older than four or five, both dirty, soaking wet and wrapped in adult sized leather coats, standing on my back porch and tapping on the half-open sliding glass doors, asking if they could use my phone.
Oh, yeah. Someone was laughing real hard.
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