Here a fic, there a fic, everywhere a fic fic

All I seem to be posting lately is fic, even though I haven't felt much like writing it. But this fic was a lot of fun to write. It's an early Valentine's gift to my bestest bud sdwolfpup. A while back, she requested a story about Spike and Andrew going to a sci-fi convention together. Gotta say, though, it was tricky figuring out where this could fit into the S7 timeline! But hopefully this works (and you like it, SDW!!). They're returning to Sunnydale after their mission to the Mission when Andrew suddenly remembers something...

ETA: I forget that not everyone knows that I kid because I love. Nothing in this story is a slam at anyone or anything. I went to a con last fall and had *the best* time. Okay, I feel better having said that. I suddenly got really nervous that someone might think I wasn't doing this all in fun. :)

As always, thanks go out to my wonderful beta danceswithwords.



A Side Trip Con

"You're sure Giles said to come here?" Spike asked, looking around the intensely crowded hotel lobby. A woman wearing a scrap of a silver bikini and blue body paint brushed up against him. He lifted an eyebrow at her as she blew a kiss in his direction.

Andrew shifted anxiously from foot to foot. "Yes, Spike. A thousand times yes. Mr. Giles said there was, um, someone here who could tell us more about, you know, Beljoxa's Eye."

Spike looked at him skeptically. "Right. So, information boy, where to now?"

Andrew read from the schedule in his hand. "'MysticCon is California's largest science fiction and fantasy fan convention.' Writer workshops, wide variety of programming tracks, exhibitors, guests... Oh! Scott Bakula's got a panel tonight! Ah, Captain Archer. You know, I think Enterprise will be the longest running Star Trek spin-off." He shrugged. "Just a feeling."

"So that's the bloke we came here for?" Spike asked impatiently.

Andrew jerked his head up from the pamphlet and looked at Spike out of the corner of his eye. "Yes. He's the one. Well, he's not Number One because no matter what his current assignment is, the great William T. Riker will always be that in my heart, but..."

"Let's get on with it, then," Spike said. "Got other important information for the Slayer. 'Sides, there's all these strange-looking people lurking about. Like it's bloody Halloween or something. And you know we vampires go to ground on Halloween. It's a rule."

"You do?" Andrew asked. "I've never read about that rule."

"It's one of those unwritten ones." Spike grabbed Andrew by the back of his windbreaker and propelled him forward. "Like never swimming right after eating children. Let's find this blighter and be on our way." Spike swung Andrew to the right, heading for the escalators that led down to the main floor.

"But he's not scheduled until eight o'clock!" Andrew said. He barely missed getting skewered by a too-real looking sword some elf was swinging around and turned his head to glare at Spike, who still had him by the scruff of the neck. Once they were on the escalator, though, Spike let him go. Andrew deliberately smoothed his windbreaker and took a deep breath to compose himself. It wouldn't do him any good to piss off the already cranky vampire, not if he wanted a chance to really look around.

At the bottom of the escalator, a large man put a hand on their shoulders. "Where do you think you boys are going?" he asked. "You can't just walk through here without your badges."

"Who you calling a boy?" Spike snarled.

Andrew put a hand on Spike's chest. "I'll handle this," he told him. "Sir," he said to the guard, "we were just on our way to procure said badges, if you would so kindly point us in the right direction."

Spike rolled his eyes and slapped Andrew's hand away. "Ponce," he grumbled under his breath.

"Down another floor and through the big double doors where it says 'Registration'," the guard said. He crossed his arms. "Don't think I won't be watching for you. If I catch you again without badges, you're both out of here."

"Yes, right, we're on our way," Andrew said.

Spike just stared at the man. "That's it?" he finally said. "That's you being scary and intimidating? You've got a lot to learn--'boy'." Andrew's eyes opened wide as Spike's face began to change. He stomped on Spike's foot and grabbed his arm, pulling him onto the escalator.

"Amazing makeup, huh?" Andrew called to the astonished guard as they descended to the lower floor. "Don't do that!" he told Spike. "We're supposed to be low profile."

"Bastard bothered me."

"Let's get our badges."

"Stinkin' badges," Spike said.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Twenty minutes later, they had day passes clipped to their coats. Spike's read only 'Spike', but Andrew decided to call himself 'Gandalf'.

"Like there won't be forty other Gandalfs here," Spike said.

"Anonymity in numbers, my blood-sucking friend."

"Where to now?" Spike asked.

"Though I do wish I had a costume to go with the name... Maybe I should have called myself 'Former Evil Super Villain' instead."

"Do shut your gob and head us in the right direction," Spike said. "There's a pack of girls over 'cross the room giving me strange looks."

"They're probably not used to seeing someone so pasty white," Andrew said. "So, Mr. Scott Bakula will be in Ballroom Four," he checked his watch, "in less than two hours. I think we should go get seats now."

"Now?" Spike asked. "Bloody hell! Don't want to sit in some room for two hours."

"But Spike," Andrew whined, "if we don't get seats now, we won't be able to see him well."

Spike looked away from the whispering girls and glared at Andrew. "Didn't think we were here to listen to this guy talk to a room full of costumed groupies, right? Need some one on one time with him."

"That comes after his talk. We leave just a little early and catch him as he's coming out the back." He gave Spike his best pleading puppy dog look.

"No," Spike said simply.

Andrew sighed. "Fine. I guess we could wander around for an hour and then go find seats. Or, I know, food court?"

"They have a food court here?" Spike asked, suddenly interested.

"According to the brochure, they even have an Outback. We could get one of those blooming onions you like so much."

"Thought I told you we never had that conversation," Spike hissed at him.

Andrew put his hands up. "Right. No. I don't even know if you like those onions. I was just guessing!"

"Damn right," Spike said. "Good guessing though. Let's go find that and then--"

"Excuse me," a female voice said from behind Spike. "We were just wondering something."

Andrew jumped at the sound and Spike turned to see the group of girls he'd noticed earlier. They were still huddled together, but were now staring up at Spike with looks of wonder on their faces.

"What's that?" Spike asked.

"We, my friends and I, we're really big fans of yours, Mr. Marsters. I know it's kinda rude of us to come up and ask you like this, but could you sign my bra?"

"Sign your-- Who the hell do you think I am now?"

"James Marsters!" one of the girls in the back squealed. All the girls started removing their shirts so Spike could sign their underwear.

"Whoa," Spike said, putting his hands up and stepping back. "Got no idea who this Marsers guy is. But I do know you've got the wrong bloke."

"How cute is he, pretending not to know how to say his own name!" another sighed.

"Can I mess up your hair so you'll have that bedhead look we love?" the first girl asked. "After you sign right here, of course." She held out a sharpie and pointed to her chest.

"Are you all mad?" Spike asked. He looked at Andrew helplessly. "Are they mad?"

"I'm thinking really, really horny," Andrew said, folding his hands and nodding thoughtfully.

"Listen. Ladies. Not who you think I am here. 'Sides that, I'm a one-woman vamp and I don't think the Slayer would think too kindly on me signing a bunch of underage brassieres."

"I love it when he does the accent," a redhead said to the girl standing next to her. "Think he'd let me get a picture with him?"

"Pictures!" the other girl said. She pulled out her camera and starting taking shots of Spike standing there.

Andrew saw spots and Spike put his hand up to shield himself from the flash. "Hey! Quit that!" he said.

The girls started pressing in, all talking at once. Andrew could smell the sharpie as the first girl uncapped it and tried to force it into Spike's hand. The picture-taker kept snapping away. Another took off her bra altogether and asked Spike if he'd take off his duster and shirt too.

"We are getting the hell out of here. Now," Spike said to Andrew.

"But Scott Bakula! Beljoxa's Eye!" Andrew cried.

"No touching!" Spike told the girls as they swarmed over him. He turned to run and they grabbed his duster, pulling him back.

"Look!" Andrew shouted, thinking fast, "Keanu Reeves just walked in! Oh, and he's wearing the coat!"

The girls froze. "Keanu Reeves?" the leader asked.

"Keanu!" her friends squealed. As one, they all turned to look where Andrew was pointing. Spike took the opportunity to grab Andrew and hurry him in the opposite direction.

"We could still go back and see--" Andrew started.

"Shut up before I bite you," Spike said. "And what's that about 'he's wearing the coat'? I have the coat, I'll have you know. Bloody bugger ripped me off."

"Of course, Spike. You have the coat and all others are pale imitations. Can you not hold my shoulder so tight now?"

"Oh. Sorry about that," Spike said, relaxing his grip. They walked for a minute, trying to find another way up to the lobby. "Threw me off, those girls heaving themselves at me like that. Mean, it's been a while, and usually group like that's just trying to kill me."

"You're rather irresistible, you know, Spike," Andrew said shyly. "I mean, you've got the Slayer wrapped around your little finger." He opened the door to a stairwell.

"What are you on about?" Spike asked. "Do not."

"I've seen the way you two look at each other," Andrew said as he started up the stairs.

"No secret how I feel about her, but she'll never feel that way about me. Shouldn't. Can't."

Andrew looked over his shoulder at him. "If you say so, Spike." He checked his watch. "It's six thirty-seven. Maybe we could catch Captain Archer--um, Mr. Bakula--before his talk?"

Spike reached past him and pushed open the door to the lobby. "What's this fascination you've got with this Bakula bloke? Does he actually have any information on Beljoxa's Eye?"

"Um."

Spike glared at him. "Andrew," he said, his voice a warning.

Andrew broke. "Okay, don't bite me? No. No there's no information here. I just thought since we were on the road anyway and the convention was nearby and I haven't gone to one in so long, not since Warren and Jonathan... And I just really wanted you to come with me."

Spike put his hands on his hips. "Why the bloody hell didn't you just ask?"

"Uh, because you would have said no?"

"Well, yeah, there is that," Spike said. "Damn stupid of you to pull us away when the Slayer needs the real information we've got."

Andrew looked down, ashamed. "You're right. I'll have to fulfill my dream of meeting Mr. Bakula another day."

Spike sucked in his cheeks and rolled his eyes. "I swear, you say that name one more time--"

"Excuse us, fellas," Andrew heard behind him. "We were hoping to use the stairs. Could we get past you?"

Andrew turned and caught his breath. "Mr. Bakula!" he squeaked.

"That's right," Scott Bakula said with a smile. He glanced at the three people he had with him and then looked at Andrew again. "Do I know you?"

Andrew opened his mouth but no sound came out.

"Boy here's your number one fan, or some such rot," Spike said.

"Is that right?" Scott Bakula asked. He put out his hand and Andrew grasped it limply. "Nice to meet you," he said. Andrew made unintelligible noises.

"Says he's glad to meet you too," Spike said. "But we need to be running along now."

"James Marsters, right?" Scott Bakula said to Spike. "I really enjoy your work." He peeled Andrew's fingers off his hand and gently moved him aside so he and his people could go through the stairwell door. "Maybe we'll bump into each other again," he said before the door closed behind them.

Andrew stared at the space where Scott Bakula had been.

"Got to find out who this Marsters fellow is," Spike grumbled. "Well? Happy now?"

"Yessss," Andrew sighed.

"Then we're out of here. Who knows what's happened back in Sunnydale while we've been gone."

"I'm never washing this hand again," Andrew said. "Unless, of course, it gets something really gross on it like demon guts."

"Be your guts on your hand if we don't find the bike and get going." Spike said as he started walking.

"Spike," Andrew said. Spike stopped and looked at him. "Thanks."

"You're off your nut, you know that?" Spike asked. "Time to go home."

END



Mexico on Tuesday! Though right now my chest feels like someone's sitting on it. *hack*

ETAA: molly_may? I couldn't wait. I read all of Undead and Unwed in two days. It was great fun!! Thank you again. *squish*