Fic info.
Poke At You
Cordelia sighed, sipping her coffee behind her desk. Angel had been unsually broody lately. I knew it, she thought, half-way angry, half-way smug. Seeing Buffy just made everything worse. They should just move to opposite ends of the Earth and forget about each other.

She glanced up as Doyle entered the room. "Will wonders never cease!" she exclaimed in mock amazement. "You're up at this early hour! It's only noon!"

Doyle grinned. "I'll have you know that I'm up every mornin' at the crack of dawn."

"And I wear clothes from Walmart."

He chuckled. "So where's his souliness?"

Cordelia gestured to the somewhat darkened office with her coffee mug. "Where do you think? I hope we get a case soon or else he's going to mope himself to death." She glanced at Doyle appraisingly. "You don't think you could scare up a vision, do you?"

Doyle grimaced. "Thank you for wishing unimaginable pain on me. No, they come when they come, I can't call them."

"Figures," she muttered and went back to her coffee.

Suddenly, there was a yelp from Angel's office. Cordelia and Doyle exchanged glances, then dashed in to see what was wrong.

Angel was standing as close as he could get to the window without taking a sunbath. He was looking around wildly, his hand clutching his side.

"What, what, what?" Cordelia asked worriedly. "What's wrong?"

"I...." He trailed off, still looking around the office. "Nothing, I guess." A split second later, he jumped and turned to his right, now holding that side.

"What is it, man?" Doyle asked.

"I...felt something."

"Felt what?" Cordelia asked, looking around as well.

"Something...poked me." Angel grimaced when he saw their expressions. "Well, that's what it felt like." He jumped and then held his left side again, his mouth twitching just the slightest. "And it...." He mumbled the last part of his sentence.

"It what?" Cordelia snapped, getting impatient. Something was poking at him? Riiiight. Of course, she had had that slight problem with Invisible Chick....

"It tickles," he muttered and then looked away from them both.

"It tickles?" Doyle asked incredulously, then grinned. "You've got a tickling ghost?"

Suddenly, Doyle jumped and gave a startled bark of laughter. "What the hell was that?!"

"I told you," Angel growled.

"What is wrong with you guys?" Cordelia sighed. "Angel, you don't think it's another invisible girl, do you?"

Doyle started again and gave something suspiciously like a giggle. "It does tickle."

Angel jumped and then stalked over to his desk, dropping into his chair gracefully. "Well, maybe it will follow you out if you leave the office."

Doyle caught the hint and obediently left, Cordelia following behind him.

"Maybe the 'Buffy Incident' drove him insane," Cordelia suggested, sitting back down. She watched as Doyle jumped again and shook her head. "And maybe it's catching."

~
Giles sighed as he noticed the title of the book on the shelf. It was out of order. "Didn't that boy learn his alphabet in school?" he grumbled, thinking of Xander.

He felt a poke in his side and jumped. "What the—?!" He glanced around nervously, then sighed and turned to fix the book. Once that was done, he turned and made his way back to his desk.

Since he was no longer the school librarian, he really had nothing much to do until some danger threatened Sunnydale. It was horribly boring, but what could he do?

He felt another poke in his side and let out a muffled bark of laughter. "That tickles!" he yelped and stood. He looked around, but once again found nothing.

Another poke had him moving quickly across the room and to the door. Maybe it's a ghost, he thought. Or an invisible person. But why would it bother me?

One more poke and he was out the door and into his tiny car, attempting to get away.

~
Oz was driving his van. Like he'd been driving his van since leaving Willow. He'd stop to sleep, eat, lock himself away when the moon was full. Then he'd drive some more. He'd drive until he had to stop. That way he didn't have to think.

A sudden poke in his side made him jump. Another one made him laugh. It tickled. Another. And another. And another.

Oz was driving his van off the road.

He swore and pulled off to the side, ignoring the honking he heard as a result of his suddenly reckless driving.

Another poke and he turned to the side to stare at the seemingly empty passenger seat. He sniffed.

"I can smell you, you know," he said calmly. "And that you've been around Angel and Cordelia and Doyle and Giles." He laughed again when he was poked for a sixth time. "That tickles."

He thought he heard a faint giggle and then nothing. He waited for another good five minutes until he was sure he wasn't going to get poked again, then carefully pulled back into traffic and continued on his way.

Maybe he'd take a little nap at the next rest stop. That was it.

Maybe he'd been driving his van too long.

~
"Would you like fries with that?" Xander inwardly groaned, just as he did every time he was forced to say the catch phrase. Why did he have to quit his job at the pub out of principle? Was the owner's turning of Buffy and the frat boys into neanderthals really all that bad?

Poke. "Ahh!!!!" Xander turned quickly to his right and came face-to-face with...the drink machine.

He glowered at it, then went back to the cash register in front of him. Pressing down on the button on the head-gear piece clipped to his belt, he said, "Okay. That will be $4.57 at the second window."

Poke, poke, poke. "Ahh ahh ahhhhh!" Xander looked to his right again and found...the drink machine. "Who's doing that?!" he exclaimed, ignoring the odd looks he was receiving from his co-workers.

Poke, poke, poke, poke, poke, poke. Pokity, pokity, pokity!!!

Xander fell into gigglefits and then pulled the head-gear off him and placed it on the counter. He threw his hat at his manager and walked towards the exit. "Sorry, man," he threw over his shoulder, "but you've got some tickling Hellmouth Demon-ghost-invisible thing in here and I'd rather not be tickled to death."

And with that, he headed off to his parents' basement to be pathetic in an adorable way and wait for Anya.

~
Stupid bloody Slayer. Tying me up like this. And on a holiday of thanks! Spike struggled uselessly with the ropes binding him to the chair. Not that Thanksgiving is a holiday that I celebrate. And not that I'm American. So, technically, it's not a holiday I would celebrate, even if I wasn't a thankless Demon. But still. It's a holiday she celebrates and it's all about being thankful and other sappy emotions. And they just left me here! Didn't even have the decency to feed me before they went outside to argue about Angelus being here.

He grunted as something poked his side. "What the bloody hell was that?!" he growled, looking around. Nothing was there.

Another poke got him and he twitched. "Stop that," he admonished. "I'm ticklish, you know."

A poke was his answer and his mouth twisted, trying to hold back a smile. "I said stop that!" He grimaced when he realized he was talking to thin air. What would the Slayer think? She'd think I'd gone daft. Why the bloody hell did I come here?

One more poke and he began to laugh. "Stop it, stop it, stop it!" he gasped as more pokes assailed him. "Stop, stop, stop! What is this? A new form of torture? Please, please, stop!"

He was poked a few more times for good measure and then it suddenly stopped. He seemed to feel a soft kiss on his cheek and hear a faint giggle and his mind turned to a certain Butterfly who thought he was cute. He grinned.

"I don't suppose I could talk you into untying me, eh, love?" he asked, half hopeful.

He got poked one last time and her answer floated back to him along with a giggle. "And ruin a perfectly good fourth season? I don't think so, Spikey. Play nice!"

And she was gone.