Disclaimer: Buffy the Vampire Slayer and all associated characters are property of Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy Productions, and Warner Brothers. How I Met Your Mother is property of Craig Thomas, Carter Bays, and 20th Century Fox Television. This work is not for profit and no ownership of aforementioned copyrighted material is implied, nor any infringement intended.
Note: Set during season 1 of HIMYM and post NFA for AtS.
* * *
“Alright, Blue, let’s see what’s on the telly.”
Spike flipped the channels so rapidly that only an ADHD vampire or a deposed god-king would be able to determine the topic of the shows. Spike paused in his orgy of button-pushing.
“Oi, you’ll like this bloke; reads the paper out loud so your worshipness don’t have to. Then he makes stupid comments—way better that Regis and Kelly.”
Illyria sat bolt upright on the couch. “My Wesley!”
“Pet, that ain’t Wesley,” scoffed the vampire.
“My Qwa’Ha Xahn lives,” declared Illyria. “I will go there now.” And so they went. Spike knew from long experience that it was best to give in to Her Bossiness on the small things, so that he had some wiggle room on the important stuff.
When they arrived at LaGuardia it was early evening. Only by relating every violent act he’d performed last time he was in New York City was the vampire able to keep Illyria from ripping apart both the smelly cab and the smellier cabby during the ride from the airport.
The deodorant-deprived driver dropped them off at the front door of Metro News 1 studio. A few short minutes later, Spike had nearly managed to charm the panties off the receptionist and also learned that the newscaster they sought was at a banquet. Illyria looked on in disgust but held her tongue.
As they exited the building to hail another cab Spike grunted, “Eh, what’s with you?”
Illyria drew herself up as tall as her Fred-guise was able, and stated, “that primate wished to copulate with you.”
“Yup, still got it,” said Spike as he waggled his eyebrows. Illyria tried to growl but Fred’s vocal cords weren’t up to the task.
A short trip in a slightly less-smelly cab brought the pair to the hotel they sought. As they followed the signs to the ballroom Spike was pleased at Illyria’s self restraint. Until she cracked the button for their floor in the elevator.
In the ballroom, Illyria spotted her intended prey at once. She strode up to him, where he sat at alone. “Wesley, I thought you slain in battle against the vermin Vale!”
“Pardon me; have we met?”
“Has your mind become feeble? You are my Wesley, my Qwa’Ha Xahn, my guide in this realm ruled by muck.”
Spike stepped closer to not-Wesley. “You’ve got to excuse my friend, she gets outta sorts sometimes.”
“Well, I’m charmed, nonetheless. Would you care to get a drink over at the bar?”
“‘lyria, I don’t think—,” Spike started.
Illyria fixed her eye upon him. “Silence, half-breed.”
“I’m Sandy,” the man said as he extended his hand to Spike. “My friends will be back momentarily; would you hold the table while we get drinks?”
Spike shook hands with the newscaster, then watched the pair walk towards the bar and muttered to himself, “Okay, can’t say I didn’t warn them.”
Spike amused himself by melting the centerpiece with his lighter until two women approached the table: Sandy’s friends back from the restroom. Spike considered the pair; one a bit fuller figured than he normally went for, the other had nice hips, good rack...Spike squinted; there was something familiar about her. “Red?”
The woman stared. “Excuse me, do I know you?”
“No, sorry,” Spike said. “You just look like a bird I knew.”
“Um, why are you sitting here?”
Spike grinned. “I'm Spike. Sandy asked me to hold the table until you returned.”
The women seated themselves. “Sorry, where are my manners? I’m Lily,” said the woman Spike had mistaken for Willow.
“And I’m Robin,” said her friend.
“How do you know Sandy,” asked Lily.
“Don’t, really. My friend was just looking to hook up with a celebrity.” Spike nodded towards the bar where ‘Fred’ and Sandy were hitting it off famously.
Lily choked on her drink. “He’s no celebrity.”
Spike grinned. “Well, my friend’s no prize, herself. Bossy little git runs around in a leather costume half the time.”
Robin laughed. “So, Spike, tell us about yourself.”