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Caritas and the hedgehog song

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Summary: It started out as a normal night, until two witches from Lancre popped by

Categories Author Rating Chapters Words Recs Reviews Hits Published Updated Complete
Literature > Sir Terry PratchettBleiddynFR151803151,2853 Apr 093 Apr 09Yes
In memory of Andy Hallet, we'll miss you.

I don't own any of Whedon's or Pratchett's people or places. They have, on occasion owned me.

“Well, cupcake, it's a scary old world out there, and for you, it's just about to get scarier. Nothing fatal, though so plan on paying up that tab, will you?” Lorne watched the vampire walk out the door with a pensive look. The vamp was going to have a bad night, which usually wouldn't worry him, but this one's bad night was going to start before he even left Caritas.

The vampire seemed to make it up the steps alright, so he shrugged and reached for his freshly topped sea breeze. That's when he saw the vampire run back through the bar, and out the back way.

Sighing and rubbing his head with the ache behind the eyes forming already he looked up to see what was coming, and how big it must have been.

What he saw really wasn't that big. What he saw next was a little bigger, but hardly enough to scare a creature of the night. Then he started to get an inkling what it was running from.

Coming down the stairs was a pair of old, arguing ladies, who, given the hats and the broom, you'd have to call witches.

“I told you Gytha, don't trust them forn dwarves! Don't even trust the local ones. Fix yer broom up right! Hmph! Now we're off in forn parts!” The witch in front was talking and punctuating every ' forn', 'broom', and 'dwarf' with a stab of the broom in the air. Little multi-colored sparks were coming off it when she did, in what, if you could bring yourself to think it, was an apologetic sort of way. She was a witch, as you could tell, of course, from the hat, and the clothing color. You'd be forgiven for overlooking that she was fair-skinned and even-toothed. The scowling made up for a lot of the otherwise non-standard witchy looks.

The larger, and more traditionally skinned and toothed witch was holding up her hands trying to talk quicker, “Now Granny, he came recommended! Casanunda! He even brought us some spirits from abroad! I don't know who she was, but she sure had a sweet tooth.”

“Probably only one left, too, lucky bint.” sighed Granny.

Lorne started walking over to the pair, just as Granny's head swiveled toward him. With a gulp he realized why the vampire had beat a hasty retreat. It wasn't that she looked violent, she just seemed like violent things could happen nearby her, but not to her, and sometimes the violent things happened a lot.

“Welcome to Caritas, my lovely ladies! Here for a drink, or a song?” He couldn't bring himself to suggest they were headed to a costume party. Demons of his clan, while usually not careful, had a well-developed self-preservation instinct to warn them of dangerous things. His brother would usually then hit the dangerous thing with a stick.

“Coo-ee! Who says it has t' be one or t'other! Such a nice demon! People just sing up there, then? Have you heard about the hedgehog?”

It all seemed like it was going to be ok, the big one had some drinks, the mean one sat and glared. Really not terribly unusual for his establishment.

Then she started to sing. It wasn't terribly on-tune, and it was probably not going to win any music awards. But for an anagogic demon, hearing the old woman who he'd eventually found out was called 'Nanny' sing a song about buggering hedgehogs, well, reading her was an education. It's hard for a Deathwok clan demon to blush. He did it for half an hour, and seven sea breezes.

He remembered Granny disapproving of most everything, and the giraffe, if you have a ladder. He shook his head, but slowly. His trains of thought were derailing a lot this morning.

Nanny'd paid for the booze with some rather warm money from somewhere under her skirts with much twanging, flirted with him, and they'd left, but not before Nanny'd invited him to some place called Lancre for something called scumble. He'd had a taste. If there were apples in it, he couldn't tell, but it had left him with this headache, and a few blank spots from the night.

He'd been many places, and seen many things. He was as open-minded a demon as any you'd care to meet.

He just didn't know why he woke up with a hedgehog on his pillow.

A/N First fic, review if you like, I got the idea of the hedgehog song being sung in Caritas, and it seemed a good fit. The link to the whole song is Hedgehog Song

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