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This story is No. 5 in the series "JCA Crossovers, Oneshots, Prompts". You may wish to read the series introduction and the preceeding stories first.

Summary: AU. Oneshot. Jade writes a poem and asks Spike for feedback on it. R&R, please.

Categories Author Rating Chapters Words Recs Reviews Hits Published Updated Complete
Cartoons > Jackie Chan AdventuresBuffyKaibaHuntFR719290117220 Nov 1120 Nov 11Yes
Hey there! Here’s a new Buffy/JCA crossover oneshot I cooked up one day. I was reading the Scholastic Pocket Thesaurus and I found some really good words to use, especially for prompts and poems I want to write sometime. Poetry is such a good thing to write, as well as study in school also.

Feedback is appreciated, of course. :)

Disclaimer: Genius Joss Whedon owns Buffy the Vampire Slayer. John Rogers (also a genius) owns Jackie Chan Adventures. I own the songfics, oneshots, crossovers, stories and poems I cook up from time to time.


I’m a hard workin’ man
I wear a steel hard hat
I can ride, rope, hammer and paint
Do things with my hands that most men can’t
I can’t get ahead no matter how hard I try
I’m gettin’ really good at barely gettin’ by

Got everything I own
By the sweat of my brow
From my four-wheel drive to my cowboy boots
I owe it all to my blue collar roots
I feel like I’m workin’ overtime on a runaway train
I’ve got to bust loose from this ball and chain

I’m a hard, hard workin man
I got it all on the line
For a peace of the promised land
I’m burnin’ my candle at both ends
’Bout the only way to keep the fire goin’
Is to outrun the wind

--Brooks & Dunn, Hard Workin’ Man

Her golden-hazel eyes narrowed in concentration, Jade Chan, eleven, thought for a moment about the poem she wanted to write. It wasn’t for school, though – it was just for fun. She had always wanted to do that. And now, at the Magic Box (which she thought was a great name for the place she was at), she had gotten the chance to do just that.

“Hmm. What are the right words I can use to write this literary masterpiece?” she asked herself quietly.

Then her eyes lit up, and she gripped her Paper Mate Erasermate ballpoint pen. Soon the ink began to flow in words separated by spaces and commas. From time to time, she would put down her pen and consult a thesaurus if she wanted to write a word that meant the same as another word (such as “costume” and “attire” meaning the same as “dress”). To her, the thesaurus was a great thing to have around.

“Hello, Jade. Working on a poem, I take it?” a voice then took the opportunity to ask, while also breaking into Jade’s thoughts (something she was secretly grateful for, as the silence was a bit... too hard, especially on her ears).

She looked up, and there he was – blonde, spiky hair, red shirt and the black duster (which she preferred to call a “trenchcoat”). She nodded.

It was Spike, aka William the Bloody. She had long since heard the story of how he had gotten those names. He was leaning up against the doorframe. A grin was plastered on a face many girls and women who had fallen for him had called “handsome” and “good-looking”. Which he was, in a Ted Bundy kind of way.

However, that was where the similarities ended. Jade had read about Ted Bundy, and also watched the A&E Biography about him as well. She knew that unlike Spike, Ted wasn’t a vampire, nor was he a poet. He was a serial killer, and it was said that only he knew the real number of his victims (which was supposedly thirty-five).

“Of course, Spike,” Jade said as she pulled herself out of the lake of thoughts she had unknowingly followed her mind into and back to the poem she was working on.

“Well, what have you got so far?” he asked as he walked over to where Jade was sitting at the table and sat down.

Jade thought for a moment, and then replied,
“Well, you see, so far all I’ve got is... this. Could you please take a look at it and tell me what you think?”

“Sure,” Spike replied, smiling encouragingly. “After all, I like to help a poet such as yourself, and I know poems, too.”

“Thanks,” said Jade, and her smile was one of relief.

She then pushed her notebook over to him, and, after putting on his wire-rimmed glasses, Spike looked over it.
The poem read,

Spike is a great guy I know.
He is so very cool.
Often I wonder what he was like
when he went to school.

Often whenever I see Spike
and he’s standing right beside me by a moat,
I imagine him helping me across it
by using his black trenchcoat.

Spike has a really neat mind.
I think he will definitely show ‛em.
He sure is very brilliant
and also knows how to write a poem.

Spike smiled as he came to the end of the poem. He had to admit, it was very nice, as well as very well-written. After all, he knew a well-written and great poem when he read or saw one. And right now, he was definitely seeing one.

“Very awesome and neat, Jade,” he said, grinning. He then passed the notebook back to her.

Jade smiled back in reply and said,
“Thanks, Spike. That means a lot to me. Besides, I figured it would be best if I got some feedback from you, since you’re a poet yourself.”

“And a darn good one, too, Jade. Thanks for asking me to give you some feedback. After all, anyone who appreciates poetry as much as I do has got to be pretty neat. I can tell, of course, that you’re a great poet – like me.”

Jade smiled at those words. They were not only encouraging, but also very inspiring. She knew that for sure.


The End

You have reached the end of "Poetry". This story is complete.

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