Summary: Video games are fun.
Crossover: NWN, Thief: The Dark Project
Disclaimer: I own... lets see... the remainder of my glass of beer.
Feedback: Shure! Omake also welcome!
If anyone could come up with a better title, I'd really appreciate that.
I suck at naming stuff.
* * *
Xander sat there sharpening his knife as Giles and Cordelia researched
"I wish you'd be of some assistance, Xander," Giles said, frowning as he
looked up from his book.
"I want a million bucks, but it ain't happening," Xander said, drawing a
finger across the knife to test the edge. "What if I want to use it, and
"I found something," Cordelia announced. "This book mentions the Judge,
but nothing useful. Big, scary, no weapon forged can stop him, took an
army to take him down. Blah, blah, blah."
Xander exhaled deeply, thinking. "We need some insight, a weak spot."
"Well, we're not gonna find it here," Cordelia sighed, getting up to put
the book back.
"Hey, G-man, can I borrow that Poisoned Blade I found?," Xander asked.
"I think I've got the edges of an idea."
"I hope you didn't hurt yourself," Cordelia said acidly, returning with
a fresh book.
"Ha, ha, ha," Xander said slowly. "G-man, has anyone tried to poison
this Judge? I'm thinking Hamlet, but without the tragedy."
Giles took off his glasses, cleaning them. "I've found nothing to say he
has unusual resistance to poison, so it may work. The Poisoned Blade is
said to be able to lay low anything short of the heavenly hosts."
Willow returned from her phone call to Buffy, holding yet another book.
"Poison? Uh, I think that that is of the bad and we shouldn't, uh,
poison anyone since what if we hurt someone innocent by accident?"
"Well, I'll try and organise an incursion once we find Spike and
Drusilla's base of operations," Giles said, thinking.
"Organise shmorganise," Xander snorted. "Gimme the blade. I'll find out,
and do it."
"You?," Cordelia sniffed. "You couldn't organise a picnic."
Giles looked thoughtful. Slowly, he pulled out the box he had stored the
blade in and handed the case to Xander, who slipped the slim knife from
"Well, see you later," Xander said quietly, staring at the green glow of
* * *
Xander looked down as Angelus slipped out of the warehouse. Willy had
been pathetic when he had visited the bar, pleading for him not to stake
him like a vamp. Not that Xander would have, but Willy the snitch hardly
He pulled his black hood further, hiding his face in shadow as he pulled
a strip of black cloth over his mouth. Having hidden himself, he opened
a window in the skylight slowly and quietly, looking down below where
Spike paced, er, wheeled around the room nervously. Drusilla was
giggling to herself, and a giant blue smurf stood stolidly at the edge.
The thief slipped through, climbing down the decaying and grey wood with
"I still say that you're just sitting on your arse," Spike growled at
"Kitten, kitty, pussy cat's back," Drusilla laughed, clapping her hands.
"He's come, and death follows behind him!"
Funny, Xander thought to himself. Almost like she's talking about me.
He mentally shrugged, and continued to slowly climb down, then slinked
around the shadows to the Judge.
"Bad pussy cat!," Drusilla scolded, waving her finger at the door to the
warehouse. "Bad cat!"
"What's wrong, Dru?," Spike asked, head turned.
Xander silently thanked her for drawing Spike's attention, as he drew
the Poisoned Blade from the folds of his clothing. He dragged the edge
along the Judge's blue skin on the torso of the demon, where the
breastplate met the waist armour. Where it touched the skin, the flesh
withered, turning grey. As Xander stowed the blade away, moving
backwards, he could visibly see the corruption spreading.
"He's gone to dust!," Drusilla wept. "He's gone to dust, Spikey! That
bad cat is to blame! I want a fur coat!"
"I'll find you your cat," Spike promised, eyes moving again. "I'll skin
'im alive, I will, I'll fix 'im proper before he gets a chance."
"Something... is wrong," the Judge said, standing up unsteadily.
"Oh, somethin' always bloody goes wrong around 'ere," Spike muttered.
The Judge fell onto his face, breathing shallowly.
"Oh bloody bleeding HELL!," Spike screamed. "Stupid bastard! Where the
fuck is Angelus when you want 'im?"
Okay, this officially ruled in Xander's book. Although it made it easier
for him to slip out with Spike so distracted, it did mean that he
couldn't try and take care of the bleached Brit.
* * *
Sorry it's so short.
By the way, please don't flood me with so many comments on that ot
essay. I can't cope with that many.