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August 15, 1963

Title: August 15, 1963
Author: Manchester
Rating: FR15
Crossover: Clifford the Big Red Dog
Disclaimer: I own nothing. All Buffy the Vampire Slayer characters and Clifford the Big Red Dog characters are the property of their original owners.
Summary: They drool, shed, have fleas, and crap wherever they want. Now, visualize all that multiplied a few dozen times. Spike doesn’t have to imagine this; it’s right in front of him and proudly displayed in a bright red color, to boot.

Sometimes, unlife was good.

His handsome face taking on a cruel grin, Spike sniffed at the air again. Yes, according to his keen nose, there were at least four pre-teen girls out there. Those lassies seemed to be camping out on their own at a spot in a vacant lot several hundred feet from the nearest house on Birdwell Island. Judging from everything else the night breeze was bringing straight to the vampire, they seemed to be having a very good time. The sounds of these children’s happy laughter intermingled with the aroma of roasting marshmallows around the camp fire where a quartet of young girls were clustered around after a day filled with fun and games.

Now, it was time for the nightmare known as William the Bloody to turn it all into terror and suffering.

Eagerly smacking his lips, Spike took his first step toward tonight’s latest victims, all ignorant of their approaching doom. However, even before that boot touched the ground, a sudden rush of air directly behind Spike had the vampire quickly spinning on the heel of his other boot to confront whoever was attacking from the rear. Except, it was already much too late for this blood-drinking demon, since Spike’s newest adversary had already leapt in an incredible bound towards what this latest foe had been regarding with growing curiosity from his concealed position at a nearby clump of trees.


An incredible weight smashed upon the ground right in front of Spike, with this resulting shockwave lifting him entirely off his feet and hurling him onto the ground. Landing on his side, the vampire would’ve normally scrambled back up at once, fangs and claws ready for a good fight. Instead, Spike simply stayed there, frozen in disbelief while he stared upwards with absolute incredulity into the whiskered canine features far above, with that thing itself gazing down in panting inquisitiveness.

It was a bloody dog...but it had to be at least twenty-five feet tall! Even odder to Spike, what looked like an enormous Irish setter didn’t have the usual auburn hair covering those normally smaller beasts. Instead, that overgrown quadruped possessed a bright scarlet fur coat never ordinarily seen in real life for those dogs from Ireland.

Things turned even stranger then, all due to the impatient, girlish shout coming from the distant campfire, “Clifford! Stop that! Go home, and go to sleep!”

The dog’s head swung to gaze sheepishly at where his mistress’s beloved voice was calling to him. Opening his mouth, Clifford gave an apologetic bark.

Down on the ground, Spike had clapped his hands against the side of his head just in time. Nevertheless, being so close to that loud “WOOF!” almost ruptured his eardrums. Wincing to himself while he recovered from this, Spike froze again in his present posture when the bloody dog then lowered his head to start vigorously sniffing Spike from head to toe.

Clifford couldn’t understand it. The little man moved around like all the other people, but he smelled bad-stinky. Not good-stinky, when it was truly worth it to roll around in whatever gave off that wonderful smell. That always made up for Emily scolding him about this and then taking Clifford down to the island’s firehouse for a good bath with the fire hoses.

Making another sweep of Spike’s entire body in reverse, the dog still nasally investigating him paused at its thorough inhalations just above his head. An instant later, an explosive sneeze from a damp, black nose nearly the size of a washing machine splattered Spike’s entire visage with doggy snot.

Frantically wiping away at his befouled face, Spike regained his sight right at the exact moment to see an expression of genuine revulsion appear upon the dog’s massive countenance. Next came a swift descend of gaping jaws onto the horrified vampire unable to sufficiently react in time to avoid this.

Picked up entirely without the slightest strain, Spike found himself being carried along in the dog’s mouth firmly clamped onto his torso. The canine teeth holding the blond demon tight in place weren’t hurting him the least little bit, which was the only thing keeping Spike from giving into his panic and uselessly struggling to escape. Rather, if this colossal beast was in truth trained to fetch and deliver game as gently as possible, just like other retriever dogs this vampire had known during his breathing days while visiting the English countryside during hunting season, as long as Spike stayed still and quiet, he might soon get off completely scot-free.

It was either that, or find out just how well his unliving body could repair itself after being bitten in half by this soddin’ mutt!

Craning his head to study the striding dog looking ahead, Spike absently noticed the lips of this animal were raised in an actual grimace of disgust. It was as if it was trying its best not to taste him--

Just when a peeved Spike was beginning to guess the whole absurd truth, the dog stopped after trotting along for a few moments. With his huge legs, this managed to bring Clifford and his nasty find at the proper spot well away and out of earshot from Emily and her friends back at the campsite. In the center of an unused farm pasture, Clifford got to work with his front limbs, busily digging at the ground with these to have enough dirt being shifted in mere seconds which in turn produced a nice, deep hole.

“Oh, no, you bloody don’t...” trailed off Spike in his most aghast tone. Recognizing what was about to happen, he started futilely protesting at the top of his lungs.

Paying no attention to the squeaky sounds being made by the little man, Clifford leaned forward to open his mouth directly over the hole he’d just dug. Falling free, Spike twisted his body to land on his feet, and he immediately started scrambling up the slope of loose dirt before him. All of this was done without noticing the dog had turned around and was facing directly away from Spike. Just when he regained the lip of the large crater, a wheelbarrow-load of dirt went flying through the air to unerringly target Spike, catching him directly in the upper torso (including a wincing face) and knocking him backwards.

Tumbling head over heels in an acrobatic return to the bottom of the crater, Spike tried to scream with rage along the way, only to fail in this through his muting mouthful of soil. Spike landed face-down at the lowest point of the hole, just when Clifford got serious at kicking back with both rear legs the rest of the truckload or so of dirt the dog had already moved. Faster than anyone might’ve thought possible, the hole was soon completely filled in.

Sending a proud look at where he’d gotten rid of that putrid problem, Clifford then wandered back to Emily and her friends at their camp fire. Maybe they had an extra bag of marshmallows there just for him...

Several yards underground, Spike silently fumed, *The bleedin’ dog buried me! Like I was some damned discarded bone!*

Shifting his whole body in the dirt heavily weighing him down, the incensed vampire grudgingly became aware it still wouldn’t be all that difficult to soon dig his way out of this ridiculous pit. Of course, it led to the pressing question of then what?

Try for those girls again? Absolutely not, what with the red monster hanging around them up there. No, wait a while to make sure it wouldn’t be nearby, and then he’d be out and away from the whole damned island. Including that oversized cur!

Sullenly settling himself to wait at the bottom of the hole, Spike then had something else abruptly occur to him. This realization made the demon shudder quietly at a certain gruesome prospect should he change his mind and decide to settle things once and for all with the big red dog. Back when he’d been a day-living Londoner, this blond young man had occasionally seen and experienced a certain example of the canine species’ most discomforting form of behavior.

It had been embarrassing enough then, so much that Spike definitely did not want to ever undergo what a 25-foot tall dog could do to this vampire, should that animal decide to hump not merely Spike’s leg, but his entire body.

*Right, then. Here goes: One thousand and one damn dog. One thousand and two damn dogs. One thousand and three damn dogs. One thousand and four damn dogs...*


( 1 comment — Leave a comment )
Aug. 16th, 2013 12:46 am (UTC)
Day Fifteen - Accepted!

Clifford, One and Spike, Zero. Spike really seems to be taking a beating in this little ficlets of yours. :)
( 1 comment — Leave a comment )


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