Summary: Set after AtS's 'Time Bomb', Spike finds a way to cheer Illyria up. A random Spike/Illyria friendship ficlet. *COMPLETED, April 2004* PG13

Author's Note: Just a random little scene I felt like writing. Because, alas, I fear my new pairing is going to be as completely uncanonical as all my other pairings, save only Spuffy. *sigh* This situation must be remedied. ~_^ And there are major spoilers for AtS 5.19, 'Time Bomb', in this. So, shoo, if you haven't seen. Shall we continue? Let us shall. ^_^

"You gonna just, what, live out the rest of your days on that floor?" Spike inquired, his tone perfectly neutral. "'Cause some of us rather enjoy usin' the training room, you know."

Illyria shut her eyes and clenched her fists. "Leave me alone," she demanded, voice breaking on even those simple words.

"Love to, princess," he said disinterestedly, "but you're right in the middle of my floor. So scoot."

That got a rise out of her. Intense blue eyes glaring daggers at him, she lifted her head. "You dare to mock me?" she spat angrily. "You are nothing but a pathetic, feeble half-breed. You cannot imagine what has been done to me. How it feels to be reduced to this limited plane, powerless, helpless to the whims of those I could once destroy with the flick of a wrist." She shuddered, as if the loss was too much to bear in that moment. "You cannot imagine..." She repeated in a whisper.

"Well, seein' as 've never been a god, guess you're partially right there," he commented, standing right before her now. "But," his tone turned deadly serious, angry, "maybe Her Royal Blueness 'd do best not to presume what others 've gone through?" He crouched down before her, eyes glinting yellow. "You think I can't imagine? You don't know the first soddin' thing about me."

She cocked her head to one side for a second before turning away. "I weary of your presence. Go."

He gave her a wicked smile. "First rule of no longer bein' the big cheese, luv," he tisked her lightly. "You don't give the orders anymore." He sat down with a sigh, resigned to have this out. "That's a rough one at first," he informed her. "One day you've got minions crawlin' at your feet, and the next you're the prisoner of a bunch of do-gooders, subject to numerous debates about whether they should just bloody kill you already and be done with it. Right humiliatin', it is."

Illyria looked up at him in surprise, as if seeing him for the first time. "How can you know...?" she began, perplexed.

He grinned and settled himself down comfortably on the mats, head propped up with one elbow and positioned so that she could look right at his face from where she'd rather stubbornly collapsed on the floor. "You may find it difficult to believe," he began, "but without you god-types around, we half-breeds have quite the power in this world. Yours truly used to be quite the menace. A bitta violence, some necks snapped, quick bite to eat. Nice, simple carnage without a care in the world."

Illyria nodded slowly. "The universe was once at my fingertips..."

"Right," he agreed. "Good times, and all that."

"What happened?" she asked curiously, looking him up and down. "What made you weak?"

He shook his head. "Not weak, pet. Just got myself a bit of perspective."

She frowned. "Clarify."

Spike sighed and took a deep breath. "Not so different from you, actually. Human's made this little device, shoved it in my noggin, and suddenly I can't touch a one of 'em without getting a splittin' headache. Right horrified I was, bein' muzzled like that."

"This human technology is...more insidious than I would have imagined," she agreed, fascinated by his story.

"Would say 's downright cheating," he nodded, "'cept what other chance to the humans have, really? No claws, no fangs, 'bout as strong as a mosquito and no speed whatsoever."

Illyria perked up at that. "I could still squash the humans like bugs," she realized, sitting up in excitement and anticipation.

Spike flinched. "Er, that wasn't a suggestion. And, hey!" His voice took on a mildly offended tone. "Haven't finished my tale yet, so sit down, kiddies."

"'Kiddies'?" Illyria repeated in disbelief.

"Right, where was I?" he proceeded to ignore her objection. "So 'm stuck with this chip shoved up my brain, chained to the bathtub and drinkin' cow's blood through a straw."

She gave him a blank look of disbelief, obviously not understanding half of his bizarre references. She opened her mouth to request further details, and he cut her off before all the really embarrassing stuff came out.

"But that's all beside the point," he said hastily. "Point is, I didn't spend all my time mopin' about and bemoanin' my..." He trailed off, frowning. "Well, actually...uh..."

She gave him an expectant look.

"Maybe you should get someone else to try the li'l pep talk," he backtracked like crazy.

She couldn't help but grin wickedly at that. "And after you 'moped about' and 'bemoaned'?" she inquired with a pointed cock of her head.

Spike groaned inwardly, confident that some part of this little confession would come back to haunt him. "I got off my ass and reassessed things," he insisted confidently. "Found out I could still have my fun, so long as I played by the good-guys' rules. Demons are just as fun to hit, luv, and twice as challenging."

"I enjoy hitting you," she agreed with a small smile.

If he hadn't known better, he would've sworn she was teasing him. Hell, he still wasn't sure she wasn't. Not what I was looking for, but... "More than mutual," he retorted with a smirk.

She sighed softly then, rose to her feet, although her gaze was still turned downward. "It is...humbling," she admitted reluctantly, "never to escape this flesh, never again to transcend space and time..."

He snorted sarcastically and stood up in a graceful motion as well. "Suspect you're about as humbled as I was," he retorted. "And as for the rest..." His tongue rolled up under his teeth in a suggestive leer. "'d wager I could do a thing or two to help you 'transcend' that lovely flesh of yours."

She looked up at him with suddenly angry eyes, lashed out.

"That's it," he chuckled, dancing back out of her reach.

She looked at him in surprise, head titled far to one side as if the image she was seeing would make more sense to her from that angle. "You are attempting to cheer me up," she accused. "Why?"

He shrugged. "Can't stand to see a tough bird down, is all," he assured her. "'S nothing personal."

"Nothing personal," she repeated slowly, as if these words were most satisfactory. She held one hand out before her, studied it for a minute. "Perhaps the idea of testing this body's limits is not so irrelevant, after all," she speculated.

"A good brawl's usually all I need to cheer myself up," he agreed.

A small, wicked smile curved her lips. "Will you require your clipboard?" she inquired innocently.

"Oi!" he protested. "Hands off the clipboard!"

"You are welcome to try to keep it from me," she retorted, striking out with her fist as soon as his guard was down.

Spike clutched his cheek and swallowed the blood in his mouth. "Not the face," he complained, striking back.

She dodged and shot her fist out again. He blocked this time, and his knuckles grazed her jaw. With an enraged gasp, she caught his chin with a high-kick and sent him sprawling back onto the mats.

"But I so enjoy the satisfying crunching feeling beneath my fist," Illyria retorted smugly, slight smile on her face and eyes sparkling blue with merriment.

And Spike couldn't help but smirk that he's so easily accomplished Angel's supposedly 'impossible' assignment of getting the moping demon off the training room floor. "That's my girl," he grinned with delight. And lunged.

Just like old times, after all...

Just because I belatedly realized why the sadness I felt when Illyria lost her powers felt familiar to me. I felt just the same way when the Initiative reigned in Spike. Kinda like it was necessary to the plot, but sad because my pretty demons could no longer roam free. ~_^