Title: The British

Author: turquoisetumult/CriesofCapricorn/PsychoCynic = me
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 462
Characters/Pairings: LaGuerta, Dexter
Genre: Humor
Disclaimer: I don't own Buffy or its characters.
Warning: This is unbeta-ed. But it should be a-okay to read considering English is my first language and all... Nevertheless, even though I reread it, if someone notices a mistake (typo or other), let me know and I'll fix it.

Summary: Harmony doesn't understand any of Spike's Britishisms. Spike isn't amused.

"What do people use to pay for stuff in England?" Harmony initially inquires, as she quizzically taps her fingernail against her lip, pensive in thought.

"What the bloody hell do you mean? Oh," Spike sighs, realizing her question, "pounds."

"Eww…" her facial features contort at the answer.


"So people pay with their pounds. Like fat and stuff," she thinks and shudders at the thought, "Yuck. Though, on the other hand, it's a great way to lose weight."

"No, you idiotic bint," Spike stares at his most recent sex toy in shock, "pounds are England's currency. It's money!"

"Oh! Okay, well, you could've just said that in the first place, Spikey."

Rolling his eyes, Spike mumbles, "Bloody hell…"

"Oh, yeah! That's another thing, mister! How come you Brits always say 'bloody' whatever? Is everything – like – covered in blood there? Does it rain blood instead of water or something? Oh! Oh! If it does rain blood there, can we pretty, pretty please go there, because I'm sure that would be like really delicious!"

Strained, Spike grinds his teeth and says as nicely as possible, "No, it doesn't rain blood there. That's physically impossible unless there's some bleedin' apocalypse comin' in some damned part of the world, stu – pet," he quickly catches himself in the act, and kisses her hard on the lips, hoping he'll get a good shag in and at the same time get her to shut her mouth.

"Wait!" she pushes him off her, "What about biscuits! Why the hell do you call cookies 'biscuits.' That sounds totally dumb. Okay, Blondie Bear, I'm gonna give you a lesson in English. Repeat after me: Cookies. Cu-kees," she now says it phonetically, as if talking to a child.

"Harmony!" he screams, "I – oh God…" Spike brings his hand up to his temple.

"What's wrong?"

"I think I've got a headache. I didn't know it was possible for vamps to get headaches, and yet … ow!" he wraps his fingers around his head.

"Aww, my poor Spikey. Do you want me to go get some aspirin for you? Maybe you can swallow it down with virgin blood or something instead of water."

"No! No, Harm. Best if I get back to work. You know, do some drilling."

"Drilling? Well, I'm no Doctor Doogie, but won't the noise like hurt your head even more?"

"Nah, I'll be soddin' fine after awhile of that drillin.' Trust me. Well, got to go. See you soon. Uhhh, toodles and what-not," Spike waves his hand, desperate to leave Harmony's presence.

All alone, Harmony comes to one conclusion, "Wow, he is so weird! Must be because he's British. Him and his 'bloody hells.'" Shaking her head, Harmony starts to give herself a manicure, never giving the British thing another thought.