Prompt: #6, Puzzles
Summary: Something has gone very, very wrong.
A/N: Written for a prompt at Goldenlake, cross-posted to there and LJ. This is what happens when all you watch for over a week straight is Buffy the Vampire Slayer.
He looked around the room- bare walls, pigeon feathers scattered all over the windowsill, a table, chairs, a clothes-press, and an athletic blonde girl with icy eyes in a black uniform holding a baton over him threateningly.
It wasn't the room he'd gone to sleep in.
He felt his face with a cautious hand. Nose still in place, no demonic horns or slime, same scar through his eyebrow, and he didn't feel like he was going to break out into song.
Spike looked up at the girl, who was most definitely not the Slayer.
"Where the bleedin' hell am I?"
Somewhere in Sunnydale, California, Rosto the Piper, King of the Rogues, awoke to find the business end of a sharp, pointy stake hovering directly over his heart. Holding the stake was the Slayer, and she didn't look happy.
"Who are you," Buffy said, "and what the hell have you done with Spike?"
Heh, heh, heh.