- Fic – Nocturnal Emissions – First of several chapters
- Fic – Nocturnal Emissions – Chapter Two
- Fic – Nocturnal Emissions – Chapter Three
- Fic – Nocturnal Emissions – Chapter Four
- Fic – Nocturnal Emissions – Chapter Five
- Fic – Nocturnal Emissions – Chapter Six
- Fic – Nocturnal Emissions – Chapter Seven
- Fic – Nocturnal Emissions – Chapter Eight
- Fic – Nocturnal Emissions – Chapter Nine
- Fic – Nocturnal Emissions – Chapter Ten
- Fic – Nocturnal Emissions – Chapter Eleven
Fic: Nocturnal Emissions
Author: Miss Murchison
Summary: Buffy thinks Spike has a problem. Spike thinks Buffy is jealous and needs a nap. As you can tell from the title, I have not been guilty of good taste.
This is an alternative Season 6 where there is no angst. Assume Buffy didn’t die at the end of Season 5, or, if she did, she was glad to get back. Don’t go looking for any huge problems among the canon characters. They’re not there, although all is not sweetness and light. Which is good, because we all know how bad light is for Spike.
Length of completed story: About 9,000 words
Thanks: To my wonderful betas, keswindhover and revdorothyl, to enigmaticblues for the comm, and to my family for leaving me alone long enough to finish this story. Maybe they’ll repeat the favor so I can finally enjoy the other entries from this round.
Disclaimer: All characters are the property of Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, etc. Only the lame plots and dialogue herein are mine.
The story starts here
And you think this barroom gossip may be accurate?” Giles asked Buffy.
She nodded. She and Spike had returned to the house to find the Scoobies researching in the living room with the aid of pizza and Conan O’Brien.
Buffy nodded. “We checked out the empty mausoleums and there were no signs of a fight, and all the vamps’ stuff was still there. Vamps are just going ‘poof!’ in their sleep.”
Spike was pacing between the hallway and the living room, fingering a cigarette he knew he wouldn’t be allowed to smoke in the house. “All blokes too.”
Anya picked olives off her slice of pizza, her expression thoughtful. “I never heard of a vamp-killing succuba before, but, hey, you learn something new every day. Why just yesterday I found out this great trick you can pull at the end of the year to save on taxes by increasing your investment losses on paper when you really…”
“Uh, not relevant, Ahn,” said Xander almost reflexively. “But, Spike, what’s the big deal? Now that you know the consequences, can’t you just practice abstinence in dreamland? Just say ‘no’ to nocturnal emissions.”
Buffy seconded this. “Are you sure you can’t just push her away or something?”
“For the last time, Slayer, I can’t bloody move in the dream.” Spike’s tone was weary. “I try, but I can barely twitch a finger! The only thing that moves is…”
“Yes, Spike, we know what the thing is,” Giles interrupted. “It appears you fall into a state of muscle paralysis. It’s very common, especially during deep sleep.”
“Is that why it’s so hard to move in nightmares sometimes?” Dawn looked like she was recalling some terrifying dreams of her own.
“Most likely. In any case, it isn’t as if Spike can say, ‘No, thanks,’ and stroll away.”
Spike threw himself into a chair. “How do I fight this thing, then?”
“The only defense mentioned in the literature is unlikely to be efficacious in your case.”
“What is it?”
Spike winced away as if he’d been presented with a goblet of holy water. “Well, bugger that.”
“I don’t advise buggery,” Giles began to pace. “In fact, I advise no shagging of any kind just at the moment,” he added absently.
Buffy turned to Willow. “Are you sure this isn’t something you did?” Her voice was almost hopeful.
Willow was indignant. “Why would I do something like that?”
Buffy waved her arms. “I don’t know! Why would you do a spell that made Spike and I get engaged? Why would you help Anya conjure up your evil twin? Why would you set a troll loose in Sunnydale? Why would you do a spell that took Spike’s voice away? Why…”
“Okay, okay.” Willow interrupted before the litany of her past sins could go on any longer. “But I definitely did not call up a succuba. It’s the kind of thing I’d remember.”
Buffy plopped down on the couch and looked pleadingly at Giles. She seemed near exhaustion. “Please tell me you’ve found something.”
Giles put his glasses on, took them off, then put them back on and stared down at his pizza. “It’s incomprehensible, really. Succubae were reputed, according to the Malleus Maleficarum, to gather the semen of sleeping human males in order to inseminate women. Of course, the Malleus Maleficarum is notoriously inaccurate. More accurate texts suggest they may use the semen to inseminate themselves.”
“What, you mean this thing is after my vital fluids?” asked Spike incredulously.
“Possibly. But frankly, Spike, your vital fluids aren’t very vital.”
“Really. I can’t see what a succuba would want with his cold, dead seed.” Having successfully denuded her pizza of olives, Anya bit into the slice.
Buffy objected. “It’s not that cold. Because that would be ick.” At this bit of TMI, everyone turned to stare at her, but she didn’t notice, her eyes widening as another thought struck. “It is dead, though. At least I hope so. Because if not…”
Anya waved a hand, chewed, and swallowed. “I wouldn’t worry about that. There haven’t been any verified cases of successful human-vampire interbreeding for, oh, centuries.”
“So, what? Maybe we’re due for one?” Horrified, Buffy placed a hand over her stomach.
“I doubt it. Those supposedly verified cases were extremely dubious.” Giles tried to keep his tone reassuring. “Buffy, perhaps we could concentrate on the problem at hand, which is, er, wigging me out quite sufficiently without the added worry of, um… that.”
There was a snicker from Spike, and Buffy whirled. “I’m glad you think this is funny… oh, no!”
Spike’s eyes were closed and a very silly smile was beginning to play over his face. He laughed again. A moment later, Buffy swatted him on the back of the head and he yelped, “Hey!” Then he blinked. “Bloody hell. It was her again. Same one as the other dreams.”
Giles bent to look at him closely. He seemed paler than usual and the smudges around his eyes didn’t appear to be eyeliner. “Spike, when did you last have a good day’s sleep?”
He sat up slowly, rubbing his temple. “Don’t know. Got next to no shut-eye the last day or so, what with that demon Buffy and I were after and then this ruckus. Before that… got caught at Clem’s during the day so we watched telly and he invited some blokes over for poker, and before that…” His shoulders slumped.
“He was with me almost until dawn.” Buffy filled in the gap. “Then he said he was going to stop at Clem’s to borrow a couple of DVDs. He was tired when we met up again at dusk, but I didn’t know he’d gotten no sleep at all.”
“And before that…” Spike’s voice slurred and then trailed off, his head hanging down so he was mumbling to the carpet. Buffy smacked his arm, and he pulled himself upright, shouting, “Bloody fyarls! I told Darla not to trust them!” He slumped again, until Buffy hit him harder, then his whole body jerked and he looked around as if he’d only just noticed where he was. “What?” he snarled when he realized everyone was looking at him.
“Oh, dear.” Giles was cleaning his glasses and tsking emphatically. “It appears he has gone without significant REM sleep for a considerable time.”
“What does that mean?” Dawn moved closer to Spike’s chair and put a hand on his shoulder.
“Humans who don’t sleep for a long time start hallucinating,” said Willow. She was inching away from Spike, pulling Tara with her. Anya, never content with half-measures, “Eeped!” and ducked into the relative safety of the kitchen.
“More properly, humans who go without dreaming hallucinate,” said Giles. “And I find a lucid Spike quite enough trouble, without having to deal with a delusional one.”
Dawn sat down on the arm of the chair and took a firmer grip on Spike’s arm. “Then you have to figure out a way for him to sleep without getting blown…I mean, without that sucky thing getting to him.”
“Dawn’s right.” Buffy sat down on the other arm of Spike’s chair, putting a hand on his shoulder that was both protective and capable of holding him in place in case he showed signs of mistaking anyone in the room for an attacking Polgara. “There has to be a way you can make him dream about hearts and flowers without bringing in the birds and the bees.”
All eyes, including Spike’s very bleary ones, turned to the witches.
Xander stepped forward, offering a suggestion. “Maybe Willow could do that spell transfer thing again. Because I’d be willing to sacrifice some vital fluids if I could save poor Spike from… Ow!” He rubbed his arm, and turned to find out that Anya had reentered the room.
“That won’t work, Xander.” Willow was chewing on her lower lip. “This isn’t a spell, so there’s nothing to move.”
“I think I know of something that might work,” volunteered Tara. “But I’ll need some stuff from the magic shop.”
“We could make him wear a condom while he sleeps.” Everyone turned to look at Dawn, and she added, “Give me a break. All I know about this stuff is what I learned in safe sex lectures at school.”
“Too risky. Besides, we have no way of knowing if it would impede the demon in any way. No, we will have to take more stringent measures.” Giles stood up and went into the hall, taking his jacket off a peg and starting to put it on. “I’ll be back in about an hour.”
“And what do we do in the meantime?” Xander demanded.
Giles considered for a moment. “Willow and Tara can work on the spell. The rest of you, keep an eye on him, and wake him up every time he appears to be enjoying himself excessively.”
Xander looked down at Spike, whose head was nodding again. “Are you sure we really don’t need more pizza? What about donuts? I could go for donuts.”
“No donuts.” Giles opened the door.
“Why can’t we just keep him awake?”
“Because without sleep, or more precisely, without being able to dream, he will become psychotic.” The door shut behind the Watcher.
“And how are we supposed to tell the difference from that and normal, everyday Spike?” Xander called out, but he took up a position next to Spike’s chair in spite of his reluctance.
Buffy followed Giles out of the house. “Where are you going?”
He wouldn’t meet her eyes. “I’d rather not say.”
“Giles, if this is something dangerous, I’m going with you.”
He put his hands on her shoulders. “They need you here to keep Spike under control. Besides, there are some places I won’t ask even a Slayer to go, and this is one of them.”
Originally posted at http://seasonal-spuffy.livejournal.com/258785.html