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I blame today's date: 6-6-6.

Author: Stoney321 and Chuck Norris, who is my Co-Pilot - when he allows me to pilot at all.
Title: Chuck Norris vs. Spike
Fandom: Chuck Norris (I'd say BtvS, but Chuck Norris is Everything)
POV: Spike. No one gets into Chuck Norris' head, but Chuck Norris.
Rating/Pairing: NC-Human - can anyone stomach this much pain and bloodshed? Aside from Chuck Norris? Pairing is Chuck Norris and whoever the hell he wants it to be.
Summary: Fighting. Quips. Facts. Roundhouse kicks. All you need to know is Chuck Norris.
A/N: Chuck Norris is currently holding me hostage. May he have mercy on my soul. Also: time frame is AtS, S5, post "Damage." In the Year of Our Norris, 66. Chuck Norris doesn't accept "A.D." It's "C.N." And any missing letters or commas are there because they were scared of Chuck Norris and left the story.

X_X     #_X     X_-

Spike stood on the gangway of the puddle jumper at McKinney International Airport. There were four planes at the airport, two of them were bi-planes, the other was a crop-duster. He supposed the Wolfram and Hart plane was responsible for the "International" part of the title. Hot and muggy, even at 10 pm - it would make the pig's blood curdle. Better remember to ask for ice cubes.

A Chevy Suburban with blacked-out windows pulled up, and a guy in a suit and cowboy boots climbed out, opened the door, and addressed him.

"Mr. Spike? We've located the target. They're filming on the other side of the field behind me."

"Field? Cow or oil?"



"Most likely. We have means to clean your boots afterward, sir."

Spike sighed, rubbed the phantom itch from the stitches that weren't on his wrist any longer. Fred reckoned the shamans didn't take into account the deep itch of healing when they removed the mystical stitches that reattached his hands. He climbed into the SUV and took the file the employee held out to him. He flipped through the pages to the back and studied the picture of his target.

"Who the hell wears goatees? Pedophiles and guys who soup up sports cars, that's who. What's with the cowboy hat? You sure this fella's name isn't 'Bad Bart?'"

"Sir, if I may? You are in Texas. Cowboy hats are regular dress. Also, do not underestimate the target. Wolfram and Hart have attempted to acquire him for many years, but he has always eluded capture."

"What's the big yen for this clown? Demon? Part-demon? Hell-god? Don't try and tell me you knew he was her-"

"Sir, it pains me to say that we did not have his full history. I have been newly assigned to him, as the person that preceded me has been... reassigned."

"I bet he was."

"Sir, we do not know that the target is anything other than human, although studies show he is no ordinary human. Our psychics are unable to penetrate his mind and discern any further information not obtained though visuals."

"Is that right? Well. This should be interesting."

X_X     #_X     X_-

The SUV pulled onto the dusty two-lane and headed towards the stadium lights in the distance where filming was underway. The big truck skidded to a stop and Spike jumped out, ignoring the small-boned man with headphones around his neck yelling that it was a closed set. Spike strode with purpose to the man juuuust a hair taller than him with the cheesy goatee and bright shiny badge - wanker. Probably wears that at home, too. - and nodded once he got the target's attention.

"Right. Mr. Cowboy Wanna-Be? You need to come with me."

The target cocked his head and smiled.

"See," Spike said, smirking, "I invented that move. Tried to patent it a few times, but apparently you can't do that. 'S not gonna work on me, so-"

Spike reeled back from the force of the blow to his solar plexus. Apparently this was going to be a bit more difficult than he hoped.

"Nice punch. Now, I don't want to hurt you, but you-"

Spike's head rocked back when the left-hook he hadn't anticipated in time connected with his jaw.

"Quit it!" Spike said. "I don't want to have to resort to-"

Spike ducked low and drove his fist into the human's belly. That should be enough to drop most de... Man. Was Wolfram and Hart sure this was a man? The target straightened his spine, cracked his neck, and pointed a finger at Spike.

"Bruce Lee hit me once. Once."

"Who the bloody hell are you?"

"I'm Chuck Norris. You're dead."

"Well... duh!"

Chuck Norris whipped off his cowboy hat, which landed neatly on a fence post, and began rolling up his sleeves. "You a stunt double? You one of Segal's?"

"I have no idea what you are talking about, but if it's a fight you want, it's a fight you'll-"

Spike shut up and feinted left, just before a fist connected with his cheekbone. Speedy bastard, that's for sure. Spike crouched, twisted, and back-handed the man across the nose and started walking towards the collapsed body. Except the man hadn't collapsed.

"What the..."

Chuck Norris touched the back of his hand to the drop of blood on his nostril and sucked it away with a grin. "I haven't had my own blood on me in what feels like a lifetime. I'm impressed. You're about to be dead."

Spike rolled his eyes and held his palms up, "I've been trying to tell you, I am dead. Look, I'm here to give you some information, information recently acquired by Wolfram and Hart, an evil law firm. 'Cept they're not always evil. Well, they are, but the new management-"

"They teach you to never shut up in sissy fighting school?"

"Oho! The little boy wants to play, does he? You know, I haven't had a good fight since Angel and the Mountain Dew of Enlightenment. If you want to play, I'll-"

A throat-clearing cough of warning from Spike's assistant shut him up.

"Right. I'm not here to fight," Spike said, sighing. "Here on business, and god, I hate Angel right now."

"I don't do business with evil men. I roundhouse kick them until they die from it."

"Well, see, that's the thing. Not evil anymore. Saved the world. Fight the good fight right now, which doesn't include pummeling you until I can-"

Chuck Norris moved like a cat. He roundhouse kicked Spike in the chest again, sending him flying back ten feet.

A young guy filming this pulled a pair of headphones off his head and nervously asked, "Are we... are we still rolling, sir?"

Chuck Norris turned to the director and stared until the young man's lip wobbled and he sank into his chair. "You film until I tell you to stop filming."

"That is it!" Spike vamped out with a roar and lunged at Chuck Norris. "Stop-" A hard right to the jaw. "-kicking me-" Left uppercut to the ribs. "-and listen to-" Hay-maker to the temple. "-what I have to-" Knee to the groin. "-say!" Head butt.

Spike grabbed Chuck Norris by the wrists, pinned them behind his back and took a mystical rope from his assistant's hand. It had been created for this particular job. A quick wrap twice, a loop perpendicular, then a final loop about the wrists and Chuck Norris was going nowhere.

"All that Asian-style fighting doesn't phase me," Spike said, preening a bit at a job well done. "See, I've killed the best."

"That's impossible," Chuck spat out, "because I'm still alive!"

Spike blinked, ran his tongue over his lower teeth and looked down to hide his smirk. "Right. Son, I killed the best fighter from those parts back before you were even a twinkle in your daddy's eye."

"Chuck Norris doesn't twinkle in anyone's eye. Not unless Chuck Norris is wearing metal-soled shoes. I'll give you a minute to get that one."

"Are you speaking in some foreign language, or something?"

Chuck Norris turned and fixed Spike with a a cold stare, unmoved by the stress position the bindings forced him into. "My fists speak their own language. Braille."

"I just came to tell you that... Oh, great. Little Mister Muffet's caught wind of my little trip. Just what I don't need."

Spike turned towards the Subaru Brat with blazing KC Lights that was tearing up the dirt path towards them. The brakes squealed and Andrew hopped out of the passenger seat dressed like an extra for Crocodile Dundee: The Whimpering. Andrew itched himself under the criss-crossed ammo belts - empty - at his chest.

"Spike!" Andrew huffed, "We made it perfectly clear to Angel that anything to do with Slayer business is OUR business."

"Well, I'm not Angel, am I? Besides, how on earth did you think you were going to bring this bloke in? Knock him unconscious with your constant yammering?"

Andrew stifled a squeal of delight in the face of a real, actual celebrity, raced back to his truck, and pulled a piece of paper from a folder then raced back. "Mr. Walker Norris Ranger, sir? Spike, untie him! Get him to his feet! Mr. Norris? I would be honored to have your autograph, sir."

Chuck Norris stood as Andrew pulled a pen from one of his many cargo pockets. Chuck Norris took a firm step in a mud-puddle and kicked at Andrew's paper, driving the flat of his sole directly into Andrew's chest. A month later when Andrew would wake from his coma, he would delicately touched the one-inch, boot-shaped depression in his chest - the doctors said it would never heal - and smile at the framed muddy bootprint his nurse would thoughtfully place by his bedside. "This'll be worth hundreds. No one has ever survived getting his autograph before," he will eventually say.

Spike stepped over Andrew's unconscious body and gave his own roundhouse kick to Chuck Norris's chest. "He's a wanker, but the lad's got his heart in the right place. Most of the time."

Chuck dropped to his knees, coughed and looked up. "You can torture me. You can drive bamboo shoots under my nails, hang me on hooks in the blazing jungle sun, or shackle giant Vietnamese water rats to my face. But they're not going to stop me. I'll get out of this, and when I do-"

"You'll swear vengeance on me, come after me with all you got, and there'll probably be a working out montage set to an emotionally-charged lousy rock song. And water rats? Kinky. Me and Dru - oh, that's a crazy bint I moved heaven and earth for back in the day - we had a thing about puppies for a while. Trained 'em to like the taste of baby -. Sorry. Don't have time for memory lane. Look. You have a kid you didn't know about."

"I have lots of kids I don't know about. Lots of kids people wish were mine. Women want Chuck Norris and-"

"Third person gets a bit boring, sorry. I talk, you listen. You've got a kid. Turns out she's a slayer. Did this to me," Spike pulled up the sleeves of his duster and showed the healing scars on his wrists. "Cut off my hands. Eh, I got better."

Chuck Norris slowly began to smile. A lesser man - I'm not a man, but get on with it - would be chilled by that smile. "Maybe this kid is Chuck Norris'."

"Yeah... Didn't I tell you that already? Oh, I forgot the fun part. She's a homicidal maniac."

"Of course she is. No one can take Chuck Norris DNA and handle it, except Chuck Norris. She'll need to be trained."

"She's being trained. Turns out, her mum lied and said that some other bloke was the pop, both killed horribly, girl went insane. Long story only slightly shorter, she's living with the other slayers and they think it would be helpful for her to reconnect with actual family."

"You mean they need me to train them."

Spike smirked, "No. They're being trained, and haven't I said that, like, twice now? Are you daft? I don't think there's anything you can teach them that Buffy and the others can't teach them, and far better than you, I'd wager."

"Oh, so it's to be mental torture, is it?" Chuck looked off in the middle distance. "Well that doesn't work on Chuck Norris. I am one of the greatest martial artists of all time. I even have my own style of martial arts training, called Chun Kuk Do."

"And what's that mean?"

"Roughly translated: My foot through your face."

"Sorry, heard worse, and from scarier... things than you. Whatever you are, more than human I bet," Spike turned to his assistant, and pointed at Andrew. "Dump him in his car - it looks like his driver's not up for confrontation. Tell the driver to get him to the nearest hospital. And you," he turned back to Chuck Norris, "you coming or not? Not like you have much of a choice, really, I'm just being polite."

"You'll never be able to hold me for long."

"I don't want to hold you at all, you ponce! Come on," he grabbed Chuck Norris' bound wrists and led him to the car, and climbed into the backseat next to him. His assistant walked around the back of the car, nodded to the director who quickly blinked to hide his solid red eyes, and pulled out his cell phone.

"We have acquired him. He's under our control for the time being. I'll be sure to collect a sample of his tears after meeting his daughter, Dana. I personally oversaw the cancer project, you think I want an antidote out there for anyone to get their hands on? I'll send it via DHL as soon as I obtain it." He climbed into the vehicle and started the engine, pulling back onto the dirt road to the airport.

X_X     #_X     X_-


( 81 comments — Leave a comment )
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Jun. 6th, 2006 06:25 pm (UTC)
Lol, that was a hoot, :D Thanks. My favorite line is:

"My fists speak their own language. Braille."

Thats just great.
Jun. 6th, 2006 07:34 pm (UTC)
Hooray! Haha - glad that line worked. :)

Chuck Norris once killed a man for snoring too loud.
Jun. 6th, 2006 06:28 pm (UTC)
2. I want some of whatever you're smoking.
3. Fuckin' Chuck Norris!
Jun. 6th, 2006 07:33 pm (UTC)
Hahahaha!! I've never denied that things are a bit strange upstairs...

Chuck Norris doesn't do drugs to alter his percieved reality. He roundhouse kicks reality to bend to his will.
(Deleted comment)
Jun. 6th, 2006 07:32 pm (UTC)
Chuck Norris doesn't NEED to make sense. He just needs to be a Force of One. A Force of One that kicks ass.

(how can I write about a celebrity and not have Andrew show up?)
Jun. 6th, 2006 06:36 pm (UTC)
*giggles my ass off*

LOVED IT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Jun. 6th, 2006 07:31 pm (UTC)
Chuck Norris will roundhouse kick your ass back on.

Jun. 6th, 2006 06:36 pm (UTC)
You are too funny! Stop it at once! ♥

I need to know what the Mountain Dew of Enlightenment is, because right now my mind is making a thousand scary things out of that. :D

Jun. 6th, 2006 07:30 pm (UTC)

I'll just be doing tax preparations for the rest of the day, okay? :)

(Angel and Spike battled and raced to a cup filled with a liquid that would make one of them human, but turns out, it was only Mountain Dew and was a test.)

...you gonna be around to play in an hour-ish?
... - pernickety - Jun. 6th, 2006 08:12 pm (UTC) - Expand
(Deleted comment)
Jun. 6th, 2006 07:29 pm (UTC)
Okay, the metal-soled shoes was what I came up with on my run and was doubled over laughing on the sidewalk while cars wondered what the hell was wrong with me.

Chuck Norris beat those italics so badly, they couldn't form properly. He roundhouse kicked the bold tags into oblivion.
... - lynnenne - Jun. 7th, 2006 12:42 am (UTC) - Expand
... - stoney321 - Jun. 7th, 2006 12:12 pm (UTC) - Expand
Jun. 6th, 2006 06:38 pm (UTC)
This may be the ultimate Chuck Norris fic ever!
Jun. 6th, 2006 07:28 pm (UTC)
Ha! it may be the ONLY Chuck Norris fic ever! :D

Chuck Norris says this is a terrible fic, because he would never be defeated. Chuck Norris is now roundhouse kicking me until I set the story straight.
Jun. 6th, 2006 06:44 pm (UTC)
<-- My icon is date specific today!!!!
Ooooh. I'll have to read this later. (I'm at work and my break is over so they want me to work! Can you believe that?)
Jun. 6th, 2006 07:07 pm (UTC)
Didn't I tell you that already? Oh, I forgot the fun part. She's a homicidal maniac."
"Of course she is. No one can take Chuck Norris DNA and handle it, except Chuck Norris. She'll need to be trained."

Crocodile Dundee: The Whimpering?
I believe I laughed up a kidney over this one. As soon as I get back from the hospital I'm pimping this.

Jun. 6th, 2006 07:26 pm (UTC)
Chuck Norris was told his kidneys needed treatment after drinkin an entire bottle of anti-freeze to prove his immortality. Chuck Norris beat his kidneys with his fists until they shaped up.
(Deleted comment)
Jun. 6th, 2006 08:00 pm (UTC)
Heeee! I still laugh at the "Chuck Norris Fact:" Chuck Norris' tears cure cancer. Too bad Chuck Norris has never cried.

I think a powerful, superhero daughter with fists of fury could take care of that. :)

I am SUCH a dork.
Jun. 6th, 2006 07:53 pm (UTC)
They teach you to never shut up in sissy fighting school?"

OMFG, that was hilarious! I almost spilled my drink on my keyboard!

Well DONE!!
Jun. 6th, 2006 08:01 pm (UTC)
Chuck Norris has his own fighting school. There are no words, only sound kicks to the throat.

(heh, thanks.)
... - adriana_is - Jun. 6th, 2006 08:38 pm (UTC) - Expand
... - stoney321 - Jun. 7th, 2006 12:13 pm (UTC) - Expand
Jun. 6th, 2006 08:21 pm (UTC)
Heee! My God, you wrote Chuck Norris fic.

This must elevate you to a hitherto unexplored stratum of human enlightenment. Possibly where Mountain Dew is found.
Jun. 7th, 2006 12:14 pm (UTC)
Hithertofore Sixeight, whom do we appreciate?

(I thought about creating a Chuck Norris for the comm for a split seond. Like I NEED another crazy person?)
Jun. 6th, 2006 08:47 pm (UTC)
SO AWESOME!!! You and Chuck Norris kick my ass! And Spike does too, of course!! It makes such wonderful sense that Chuck Norrris is Dana's father and that he can cure cancer!

So much funny, like this:
"Field? Cow or oil?"
"Most likely. We have means to clean your boots afterward, sir."

And this:
"My fists speak their own language. Braille."

And also this:
"Of course she is. No one can take Chuck Norris DNA and handle it, except Chck Norris. She'll need to be trained."

Thanks! This was just what I needed today: a Spike vs. Chuck Norris showdown with an Andrew cameo!!
Jun. 7th, 2006 12:16 pm (UTC)
Heeee! I'm glad the jokes worked - I swear, this is one of the more cracked out ideas I've had. Erm, lately. :)

*tai chis*
Jun. 6th, 2006 09:10 pm (UTC)
Everytime I came to a part I liked best you went ahead and bettered it!

"Most likely. We have means to clean your boots afterward, sir."
Then a Chuck Norris/Spike Fight!

Then Andrew!

Then Andrew in a coma!

Shall I continue?
Jun. 7th, 2006 12:16 pm (UTC)
You don't continue unless Chuck Norris SAYS you can continue.

Chuck Norris: Continue. (haha! thanks.)
... - drusplace - Jun. 7th, 2006 01:24 pm (UTC) - Expand
Jun. 6th, 2006 09:47 pm (UTC)
LOL. Oh man. I love the third person. And Spike's kind words about Andrew, so sweet.

My favorite bit:
Spike turned towards the Subaru Brat with blazing KC Lights that was tearing up the dirt path towards them. The brakes squealed and Andrew hopped out of the passenger seat dressed like an extra for Crocodile Dundee: The Whimpering. He itched himself under the criss-crossed ammo belt - empty - at his chest.

Dude. CD: The Whimpering?? Bwahahaha!

BTW - My high school Civics teacher had a life-size cutout poster of Chuck in her classroom and two action figures on her desk. *g*
Jun. 7th, 2006 12:17 pm (UTC)
Ahahaha!!! Your Civics teacher is hilarious. Chuck Norris says he made those posters by staring down sheets of carboard, then giving a nod for approval.

His image appeared shortly after.
... - moosesal - Jun. 7th, 2006 03:21 pm (UTC) - Expand
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( 81 comments — Leave a comment )


Are You Actually

Reading this? I'm just curious. Because that's really detail-oriented of you. Feel free to stop reading. But you can see that there's more here, so are you going to keep reading? Really? That's pretty dedicated. I'm impressed. No, really. I'm not being sarcastic, why do you get like that? See, this is the problem I have with your mother - yes. YES. I'm going there. It's time we put all of our cards on the table.

I love you, why are you doing this? After all we've been through? You don't have to be like this. You know, still reading. You could be baking a pie. And then sharing it with me.

Time Wot It Is

April 2017
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