My New Favourite Day


“What’s that?” Xander asked, looking at the bottle of whiskey Spike had deposited unceremoniously on the table in the Magic Box.

“It’s a chicken. What’s it look like, you moron?”

“Why are you bringing alcohol to research meetings?”

Buffy, Willow, Tara, Giles and Dawn lowered their books, waiting for an answer that would probably only make sense to the bleach blonde vampire.

“It’s Saint Patrick’s day!” Yes, there it was. Like that answer explained everything.

Giles put his book down with a watcherly sigh and started cleaning his glasses. “And as none of us are Irish, you can take your, oh! Single malt! Shall I get some glasses?” That answer made Spike grin wildly and bounce slightly on the balls of his feet.

“Yeah! And if the poof calls, I’m not here, got it?” The others exchanged glances while Giles busied himself with locating the shot glasses he kept behind the counter. Strictly for after hours drinking, of course. When he got back to the table, Spike uncapped the bottle and poured the golden brown liquid out. After a brief look at Buffy’s scowl, he shrugged and poured one for Dawn anyway, loving the way her face lit up at the prospect of drinking with the grown ups.

Willow sniffed at the contents of her glass and pulled a face. “We could play a drinking game. ‘I have never’ is a classic?” With her relative innocence, there was a good chance she’d never have to drink a drop.

Buffy vetoed that idea. “No. I do not want to know anything my little sister has done. I prefer to live under the knowledge that she is pure and sweet and innocent. How about truth or dare?”

“Yeah, whatever. Just get to the part where we get to drink.”

“Geez, Spike. Impatient much?”

“It’s pretty much the only day of the year when we can drink without guilt all day. I’ve been awake for,” Spike glanced at the clock above the training room door, “half an hour, and I’ve not drank anything yet. And if playing teeny-bopper games is the only way I can drink with company, start the bleeding game!”

“I’ll go first,” said Tara, surprising them all. “Willow, truth or dare?”


“Have you ever had a crush on a celebrity?” Willow blushed and nodded before downing her drink.

Spike rolled his eyes, refilling Willow’s empty glass. “That was too easy, Glinda. Next round has to be harder. Or at least more embarrassing.”

“Okay, Buffy. Truth or dare?” asked the red-headed witch.


“I dare you to flash the next person that walks by the shop door. Is that an okay dare, Spike?”

“Yeah, that’s acceptable. Go wait by the door, slayer.” Buffy stood up and walked to the door, taking her drink with her. “While we’re waiting, start the next one.”

“Spike, truth or-“ she started, only to be interrupted by Spike’s answer.


“Why is drinking today so important to you? PERSON!” Buffy lifted her shirt, giving the balding man on the other side of the street an eyeful of her perky breasts. The others at the table laughed and cheered as she returned to her seat, cheeks a stunning shade of tomato and the empty glass in her hand

Spike looked her in the eyes. “Forfeit.”

“Ah! No chickening out! You brought the drink, you play the game,” Xander insisted, ignoring the look Spike was giving him. It was a look that promised death.

“Fine,” Spike growled after a moment’s silence. “I like to drink today because it’s the anniversary of losing my virginity. Happy now?” Spike ignored the full shot glass in front of him and reached for the bottle, pouring a generous amount down his throat while the assembled Scoobies shared looks of shock. “Harris. Truth or dare?”

“Erm… truth?”

“Don’t sound so sure about that, whelp. But you’ve picked now, so tough. Ever fantasised about being with a bloke?” Xander’s squeak and the bottle being snatched from Spike’s hand was the only reply.

That was when things had started getting fuzzy. The game deteriorated into ‘who can drink the most before we die of embarrassment’, occasionally punctuated by one of them asking a question. As it turned out, Spike had brought more than one bottle, which served to get all of them plastered.

Xander woke up in the training room. The first thing he noticed was the marching band that had taken up residence in his skull. The second was the sock that had crawled into his mouth to die while he was asleep. The third was the need to pee, and moving to so do made the fourth and fifth things obvious. Number four, he was naked. Number five, he was pressed up against a firm body that also happened to be  naked. Point four had to be dealt with quickly, as did point three. Locating a pair of boxers, he pulled them on and staggered to the staff bathroom.

After emptying his over-full bladder, washing his hands, discovering the dead sock was really just his tongue and splashing cold water on his face, he stumbled back to the training room to get dressed. What he saw instantly sobered him up, although he wished it hadn’t.

Spike was naked. He was stretched out on the training mats that Xander had woken up on, and he was bare ass naked. Xander’s memories of the night before came flooding back. Well, that was a lie. They came crashing back over him like a tidal wave. Some time during the second or third bottle, Dawn had dared Xander to prove he was comfortable with his sexuality by making out with a guy. Xander had looked between Giles and Spike before climbing into the vampire’s lap and playing an intense game of tonsil hockey.

He remembered a very drunk Buffy laughing so hard she fell off her chair when the balding man she had flashed walked by the shop a fifth time. She had passed out there on the floor, much to Dawn’s amusement. “So much for slayer strength and stamina and all that,” she had commented, taking another swig from the bottle.

Around the time the third bottle had been finished, he remembered Spike making a phone call to Los Angeles, telling Angel that he was very grateful for something and that he would never forget it. He remembered seeing tears in Spike’s eyes as he hung up the phone. He remembered wiping away those tears and kissing the pretty pink lips. He remembered Spike begging him to go harder and faster and to call him William. He remembered Spike falling asleep after the third round, which at the time had been good, because Xander had been fairly sure his dick was dead; it had been killed with fantastic sex, the best sex he had ever had (not that he had much to compare it to, and definitely nothing of the guy on guy variety).

The phone started to ring just as Xander had wriggled into his t-shirt. He rushed to answer it- partly to save his hangover from exploding his head, and partly so that the others wouldn’t be woken up if they were still around.




“Yeah, it’s me. Listen, I got a call from Spike last night. I think he’s been drinking. Can you make sure he hasn’t done anything stupid?”

“Oh, like you even care.”

“I care. If he hurts anyone…”

“So it’s not him you care about? That makes sense. The world has returned to normal.”

Angel growled down the phone line. Xander rolled his eyes. “I do care about him. He’s family. He’s just the annoying, pain in my ass part of the family.”

Xander couldn’t suppress a smirk. “Actually, from what he was saying last night, I think you were the pain in his ass.”

“He told you about that?” Score one for the Xan-man. Making the great Angelus squeak like a teenage boy.

“Yeah. And he said to tell you that if you called, he wasn’t here. So, and I’m quoting here, “sod off”. Goodbye Angel.”

Xander hung up the phone. Giving one last glance to the training room door, he wondered whether Saint Patrick’s Day was his new favourite day of the year.

The End