It Came From The Kitchen

It had been biding its time. Lurking there all innocent and helpful. Gurgling pleasantly as it worked. All he'd done was pick it up, and really, was that so much to ask?

Who knew such innocence could hold such... such EVIL.

Xander stared mournfully at the remnants of the coffee pot scattered artfully across the kitchen floor; nursing his thumb and doing his best to ignore the small tsunami of scalding java that was creeping towards his feet. It wasn't his fault really, no depth perception and all that. Wes couldn't really blame him, right? He eyed the bedroom door thoughtfully, so far so goo--

"Oi! Harris! Give it a rest, yeah?!"

And it really wasn't his fault that an angry vampire yelling at him made him stumble backwards into the counter behind him... and the cups he'd gotten out for the coffee. Although breaking ceramic was a much more pleasant sound; more of a chime than a crunch. But again. So not his fault. Judging from the annoyed sounds coming from the bedroom, neither Spike nor Wes seemed in a particularly agreeable mood...

He wondered how much plane tickets to Aruba cost this time of year.