Title: William the Headless
Ridculousness X angst.
“’It’ll be romantic’, he says. ‘Going cross-country on the bike, just the two of us, wind in our hair, shagging and slaying our way across America’, he says.” Buffy flung the empty helmet across the road where it smashed into a tree, dead on impact. “How is this romantic, huh?”
She had to imagine his sigh, imagine his snarky retort, because with no tongue, no mouth, no vocal cords, no freaking head, none was forthcoming.
The jack-o’-lantern with its gap-toothed, ghoulish grin swiveled away from her, staring as broodily as a giant carved gourd could into the distance.
Buffy sighed for him, pulled out the map and studied it again. “Okay. According to Giles, the mystical, not-really-there bridge, the one we somehow crossed on our way into town Halloween night, should be here.” She pointed to the map, but he didn’t look. Or maybe he did, it was kinda hard to tell.
“We’re hoping this incantation will pull the bridge up again, and if does then, yippee, you get to fight the demon for your head, which I still don’t understand how he can have your head while you can have a pumpkin for a head and you don’t dust, but whatever.”
The pumpkin creaked back to look at her, and she didn’t need to hear the words to know what he was asking. “If the incantation doesn’t work, then we have to wait until next Halloween for the bridge to appear again.” The empty eyes continued to stare at her. “If you fight and don’t win?”
Buffy glanced away, tried to find something positive to say despite fears of her lover’s head rotting away in the California sunshine, or being split open by too hard a blow, and then what?
Of course she would still love him, even though his eyes/mouth/tongue made him Spike, and without the fighty and the snark and the smirk he wasn’t really the same guy, but it wasn’t his fault he’d been hollowed out, was it?
She turned back to him, smile and quip in place. “I guess you’ll need a bigger helmet.”