Confessions of a Ho-Biscuit

By Jody E.

These characters, except for Jillian, belong to ME and not to me, dammit. I just play with them for my own amusement.

Based on some very vague spoilers for Episode 16

Uh..I have no idea where this story came from!

Let's face it, in the nineteen fifties, the only reason a woman ever wanted a career was to kill time until she got married; that is if she didn't get married right out of High School or College. But for me, when I graduated from Hudson Valley Secretarial School in 1955, I wasn't any closer to getting married than I had been in High School, and a career seemed the only way to go. When I think of what I was like in those days, it's downright embarrassing. First there was my name, Dorothy, Dottie to my coworkers, Pfeiffer. Does it get any more ordinary than that? And my looks certainly weren't going to win any beauty pageants. There was nothing wrong with my features; I had the requisite number of eyes and my nose didn't resemble a salami or anything, but I lacked a certain spark, I guess you could say. My hair was mouse brown, and I wore it in a sensible bun. My baby fat had burned off, thank goodness, but I was too shy to show off my body so I wore sensible suits with boxy jackets and skirts well below my knee, though the styles were getting more daring every year. My harlequin glasses were my one bow to fashion, but they did nothing for me, I realize now. Plus I suffered from terrible allergies, so I was always wheezing or snuffling, or using my inhaler, which really added to the whole package. So, like I said, my marriage prospects weren't exactly stellar, and so I went to work for a busy medical practice in my hometown of Peekskill, NY and considered myself lucky. One advantage of working for doctors was that seeing people so much sicker than I, made me feel better about myself. The other was free medical care, which was really useful during hayfever season. One other advantage? The doctors I worked for were really good looking, and I got to admire them from afar, although, of course, they never noticed me.

I probably would have worked there for the next 50 years and retired with a gold watch if not for that fatal night in March of 1962. Doctor Rosenbaum had asked me to stay late that night to go over some case files with him. The other secretary, Phyllis had a date, so she turned him down, but good old Dottie had no other plans. Oh, I know what you're thinking. I've seen those movies too. Ira Rosenbaum suddenly taking off my glasses, and releasing my bun with one single hairpin, and saying, "Dottie, I never realized…."

Well, forget it. We worked late. Nothing happened. I only lived about five blocks from the office, in a small studio apartment, so there was no reason for Dr. R to drive me home, though he did offer. I walked home every evening with no problem at all. Despite being a bedroom community for New York City, Peekskill was safe at night in those days. Or so I thought. Of course, I know so much about the world now that I didn't know then. When that kid sauntered up to me and asked me the time, I thought, juvenile delinquent, and prepared to give him my wallet. It never occurred to me to think, vampire. I mean who would?

Well, I'm not too clear on what happened next. I mean, I know what happened, I just don't recall much about it. I just remember this kid...couldn't have looked more than 17, and the way he stared into my eyes. After that, all was lost in a wash of pain and pleasure. Then, oblivion. When I came to myself again, I was alone, buried beneath a heap of trash in the town dump. Incidentally, James Dean Jr., if you still exist…that was one crappy way to treat a soon to be fellow creature of the night! I would never do that. Sire a person, and then just desert them. A new vampire needs help, lots of it. First of all, you are confused, with no knowledge of what happened to you or of what you've become. And on top of it, you are ravenously hungry. No wonder we are easy pray for the Slayer, or anybody else with a sharp stick. I remember dragging myself back to my apartment, almost sick from hunger. It was early evening, so I knew I had been unconscious for some time. When I got home, I flung open the refrigerator but nothing looked appealing. I tried to drink some milk but spat it out in disgust...it must have gone sour, I thought. Suddenly Little Joe, my cat, came into the room, meowing like crazy. I took one look at him, and grabbed him up and sank my teeth into him, and within a minute, I had drained him of his blood, and he lay limp in my arms. I tell you now, that of all the things I have done as a vampire…that is my one true regret. I loved animals, and that cat had been my best friend. I own three cats now, but I still think about Little Joe.

Excuse me. Well, anyway, I felt better after my meal, though I was still ravenous. I went into my bedroom to change out of my filthy clothes, and well you can guess what happened when I looked in the mirror over my bureau. I don't think that any amount of reading Anne Rice, even if she had been writing in 1962, could prepare you for that shock. That frumpy secretary that usually looked back at me in the mirror was gone, and in her place…nothing! Which meant that I could start from scratch. You may not believe it, but there is nothing like dying to give you a whole new lease on life. I looked down at what remained of my sensible suit, and laughed. If you want to reinvent yourself, becoming a vampire is the perfect excuse. Dottie Pfeiffer was about to go the way of the dodo bird. As soon as I had a decent meal, that is. I hurriedly changed into the least frumpy outfit I owned, which was still dowdy beyond belief and went out into the night. I now knew what I was, and I had seen enough horror movies to know what I had to do.

Do you have any idea how hard it is to dye your hair without a mirror? Or to put on makeup, especially when you've never done it before? Or to try on clothes? The only easy thing about my new life was killing. That was something at which I excelled. I didn't really like it though, strange to say. First of all, I am by nature a very neat and organized person. That didn't change. And I hated the mess of killing people and drinking their blood. It isn't neat like they show it on TV, believe me. And secondly, I'd see a good lookin' guy, and he would stare at me with that look in his eyes that meant that he found me attractive. Oh by the way, did I mention that I dyed my hair red, and that I turned out to have a pretty hot figure under those sensible suits? I guess you can see that for yourself. I can tell that you're the observant type. Anyway, some guy would look at me like you're lookin' at me now, and I would have to kill him. I mean what a waste. All my life I'd wanted men to notice me, and now that they were, I just disposed of them like take out Chinese food. But I was a vampire, right? And that's what they do. I had met a few other vampires though there weren't many in Peekskill, and I moved in with them and shared their lifestyle. And their lifestyle wasn't much, let me tell you. We slept all day in rundown deserted buildings, and crept out at night to feast on homeless people or unfortunate late night walkers. By the time the seventies arrived, the town was going downhill, despite efforts at modernization. I guess we didn't help much either. People were afraid to go out at night. Peekskill was no longer the safe place it had been.

Then one night Walter and I went to a late night movie at the Paramount Theater shortly before it closed down. Walter was the vampire I more or less lived with, if you can imagine a vampire named Walter. I begged him to change it to something tough sounding like Butch, but he refused. I was calling myself Ruby in those days, after my red hair. I went through a few more name changes before I finally hit on Jillian, which is how I've been known for many years now. There was no love lost between Walter and me, but it was nice to have somebody to sleep with. I'd been a virgin when I died...I guess that's a big shocker, huh? But I discovered as a vampire that I really liked sex. Maybe it's a vampire thing, though I hear that humans like it too. They just lack our...stamina. Plus they have all those inhibitions.

Anyway, the movie I saw was called Klute, with Jane Fonda. And I fell madly in love. With her, her lifestyle, the whole idea of being a call girl. Sure, Bree was messed up, but she wasn't a vampire. I wouldn't have to deal with all that guilt. The unlife I was living sucked, literally. After that movie, I had a revolutionary idea. What if I gave up killing people and tried passing myself off as human? Could I do it? It would mean giving up human blood as food. Had such a thing ever been done before, a vampire giving up killing? I wasn't afraid to be different. I figure I gave up conformity along with Dottie Pfeiffer's harlequin glasses. But what would I live on? I thought of animals, but the notion of me out in some field biting a cow, was so ludicrous, I knew it would never work. I thought some more. Surely, butchers had blood. I knew from Dr. Rosenbaum that kosher butchers drained the blood from animals when they were slaughtered. The blood was considered unclean, but perhaps they would sell it to a gentile. I had had some savings, a few thousand dollars, but they didn't have 24-Hour ATMs like they do now. The bank was only open during the day, and after Dottie Pfeiffer was declared missing, I was out of luck altogether. Lack of money was no problem for a vampire. After all, what did we need to buy that we couldn't steal, or kill for? But as a human, I would need to pay for things. And I had to get away from Peekskill. So for a while, when I chose my victims, I looked for the ones with the fattest wallets, and pocketed the cash, hiding it carefully from my vamp friends.

I could have gone to New York...it was certainly close enough. But that was the problem. It was too close. I wanted to put as many miles as possible between Dottie Pfeiffer/ Ruby and the new Me. I headed for Los Angeles, determined to find a new way to live. It took me a month to get across country, taking night trains and buses, not daring to go too far in one trip, for fear of being caught in the daylight. I was determined not to kill anybody on the way, but it was tough. At one point, in the middle of Nowhere, Kansas, I was so hungry that I killed and drained a sheep. That was the low point of my trip. In other towns, I was able to find a butcher who would sell to me, or I went hungry. On those endless train and bus rides, I forced myself to talk to the people I sat with, to try to get back into human interaction. I am a quick study, and soon could act as human as the people I met.

When I arrived in LA, I settled into a cheap hotel, and started asking around, cabbies and people like that, for an escort service that catered to men looking for something a little different. I figured that I was a little different. When I finally reached the owner of such a service and told her exactly what I had in mind, she wasn't as surprised as I thought she would be. Turned out she already had a couple of vampires working for her. The deal was, we provide a sexy escort for the evening, sex as required, and, only if they asked for it, a bit of biting. Most guys were just turned on by the idea of being with a vampire and living to tell the tale. Some needed that whole biting thing. Policies regarding biting were very strict, and there was a no extracurricular noshing rule that was very strictly enforced. If we were tied to any killings, or even injuries, we would be turned over to some local enforcer with a stake. I saw him. He was no joke.

Marilyn, my boss, was terrific though. She had a special hairdresser and make up artist for us, since it turns out I wasn't doing that great on my own. And she helped us chose our clothes, everything from flashy to elegant. However, given our specialty, flashy was more usual. Vampires are associated with black leather for some reason, and I wore a lot of it. I started out in a cheap room, but worked my way up to a beautiful apartment with no mirrors and heavy drapes to keep out the sun. It was a great deal. I got to be admired, and petted. I was given the finest of wines and champagnes, and occasionally would nibble on a lobster tail or some caviar. I got all the sex I could possibly want, and enough money to live well, not counting the little tips in the form of blood from some of my regulars. I didn't care if the guys wanted to play rough, and no request was too bizarre. As long as the guy didn't want to play with sharp wooden objects, I was game. So maybe it wasn't the American dream, but for a vampire, it was pretty damn good.

And after a while it got pretty damn boring. I could live as a human. I could read books and go to plays with my human dates, and talk about anything. I had always been quick to pick up things and to improvise and those qualities were important for a call girl. Still, I was denying something very fundamental that was dying to get out. I'm speaking of my vampire nature. It wasn't that I really missed the killing, it was the down and dirty lifestyle I'd had as Ruby that called to me. Hanging out with my fellow call vamps wasn't the same thing. We were all so damned human, that seeing the three of us together in a restaurant, you would never know what we really were unless you looked at us in a mirror. Even then, all you'd see was an empty table.

I'd heard that there was a town called Sunnydale, a couple of hours north of LA where there was a real live Hellmouth. When I had my mandatory 4 days off a month, though I had no need to take the time off, if you know what I mean, I traveled up to Sunnydale. There was a sleazy bar there where the Bloody Marys were made with O neg. and the clientele was mostly vampiric and demonic. It was so much fun throwing off my human guise and being myself again. I could take off the tan makeup, and show my fangs if I wanted to. I could have sex with guys that turned me on, whether they had money or not. The best part was that it was far enough away from LA that a few indiscretions wouldn't be noticed; though I was careful never to kill anyone. I got to know Zach the bartender, and his son Willy, who hung around the bar when I am sure he should have been in school. I tell you, the Hellmouth was great in those days, before the Slayer arrived.

I suppose I should tell you about the Slayer. She came to Sunnydale in 1996. By then I had been at my job for almost 30 years. I had outlived my boss, Marilyn, and a woman named Linda was now running the agency. I myself was virtually unchanged, of course. I had invested my money wisely and could have retired anytime I wanted. But I wasn't interested. As long as I could come to Sunnydale a few times a year and let off some steam, I was happy enough. Willie now owned the bar, and was a pipeline between human and demon, often selling information from one side to the other. I saw the Slayer once, when she came into the bar to question Willie about something. I kept to the sidelines, though, so she wouldn't notice me. I didn't need a Slayer on my ass. She was just a young girl, small and blonde. But tough. She nailed Willie to the wall, I can tell you.

Around this time a new bar opened up in LA. Called Caritas, it was much nicer than Willy's place and closer to home. With the added plus of no Slayer in town. Caritas had this new fangled concept called karoake, where people, and I use that term very loosely, sing to prerecorded music. It had been very popular in Japan for years, or so I heard. Anyway, the host, whose name was Lorne, listened to the singers and read their auras. It was fun, and I could relax there, though I never got up to sing. I had no need, really. At any rate, I seldom made it down to Sunnydale anymore. The Slayer was making it way too hot for our kind. She even killed The Master, whoever he was. It was the talk of the town at Caritas, I tell you.

One night, a few years later, I ventured up to Willy's as it was called now, because Letetia, one of my vamp friends had decide to retire up there in Sunnydale. I thought she was crazy, but who am I to give out life lessons? It was late November, and pretty chilly for California. The big talk at Willy's that night was about this vampire named Spike. He had been the Big Bad in Sunnydale…had killed the Chosen one after The Master died, and had ruled the town for a while, even surviving a crippling attack by the Slayer, but had left under mysterious circumstances a couple of years before. I remembered hearing about him at the time of course, but I had never seen the guy. The big talk this evening was that Spike was back in Sunnydale, but had somehow switched sides, and had taken to hanging out with the Slayer and her friends. This I could not believe.

As luck would have it, Spike himself came into the bar that night, as my friend and I were comparing notes on retirement. I was astounded. This pathetic creature was the Big Bad? He had that waxy starved look that vampires get when they haven't been feeding. I had probably looked like that on my trip across country. He had a desperate look on his face as he asked Willie for some O neg. Willie looked at him with contempt, but before he could even respond, a couple of big ugly bouncer-type demons came over and picked Spike up by the scruff of his neck and threw him right out the door. I felt almost sorry for the guy. I was tempted to invite him back to my hotel room, but by the time I left Willy's he was gone. I hoped he found someplace to go. I couldn't stick around Sunnydale long myself, because it was almost Thanksgiving and Caritas was throwing a big shindig.

I saw him again a few months later. He was looking much better, and had set up housekeeping in a crypt in one of Sunnydale's many cemeteries. He avoided most demon hangouts because I heard that he was now actively killing demons and vampires. I must admit he intrigued me. I wanted to find out what made him tick. I was probably just bored with my usual clientele, and looking for something a bit different. He never came into Willy's anymore, but I heard he often hung out at The Bronze, which was the only club in town. So I decided to check him out.

Sure enough, he was there at the bar drinking what I later discovered to be bourbon. He appeared to be alone, which seemed odd, considering how good-looking he was. I guess I never mentioned that part, but he was totally gorgeous, all cheekbones and this platinum hair...the whole package wrapped in a black leather duster. He's not wearing it tonight, of course. I'd point him out for you so you can see for yourself, but…

Well, anyway, I must admit I fell hard. Until that moment if anyone had asked me if it were possible for vampires to love, I would have said, of course not. How can we love without a soul? The closest I'd ever come was the feeling I had for my cats. I liked them because they were warm and fuzzy, but I never felt the same way for them that I had about Little Joe, back when I was human. You see? But that night something changed. I actually felt shy as I walked up to him, and I recalled how poor Dottie would have felt in such a situation, all awkward and stumbling. But I didn't have to say anything. He turned around and saw me, and smiled this very hot smile. "Well, hello Scarlet. An' what brings you to this neck o the woods? We don't often see somethin' like you out here in the sticks."

The way he emphasized neck, I knew he knew I was a vampire like him. I also realized he was English. Very interesting. Some of my favorite clients were British. Royalty, actually, but I am forbidden to kiss and tell. But, Spike was no royalty…he had wrong side of the tracks written all over him. But that's the side I had come to Sunnydale to visit.

"I came to see a friend."

"I could be a friend." Spike answered, "Buy you a drink?"

"Sure, I'll have what you're having." Which is how I discovered he was drinking bourbon.

We exchanged small talk for a while. He told me about his new crypt, and how it had two levels for possible expansion, and hookups for electricity and running water, and I had to smile. If he could only see my place in LA. Still, for most vampires an actual home was rare. I told him it seemed like he had really settled down in Sunnydale, which was odd because of the Slayer. I had to throw her into the mix to find out if the rumors were true.

" The Slayer and her little pals have been the thorn in my side since I first hit this town!" He said with surprising bitterness, "I would give anything to get away from here. But I'm stuck, like a bloody rat in a trap!"

He then told me this incredible story about a government chip imbedded in his brain, which kept him from killing or even hurting humans, though he could still bash demons pretty well. He told me about having to turn to his worst enemies for help. Right now the Slayer and her gang paid him for information and assistance. It was how he survived, living on butcher's blood. He told me how close he had come to staking himself, before discovering that he could at least kill something.

He was astounded to discover that I also lived mostly on butcher's blood having given up killing many decades ago. He couldn't imagine doing such a thing voluntarily. It just wasn't possible. He told me about Angel, who was the only other vampire he knew who didn't kill people and that was because he had a soul. I told him it was all a matter of deciding what you really want out of unlife and going for it. If it meant sacrifices, such as my giving up killing, well then I did it gladly because my goal had been more important.

"But," he asked me with great seriousness, "You are what you are. A vampire. And vampires kill. How is it possible to just decide not to do it anymore?"

"Spike," I answered," Who ever told you that you had no choice? Nobody told me, so I chose for myself. Since when have we ever followed rules?"

Spike said his only goal was to get rid of this "soddin' chip" and get the hell out of Sunnydale and back to his old life. He told me about Drusilla and about the merry mayhem the two of them had raised over the last century. But Dru had left him, and Harmony had left him, and he was as free as a bloody bird, now wasn't he? Sorry, I always find myself imitating his accent. Silly of me, isn't it?

Needless to say I brought him back with me to my hotel room, and we spent the night together. Now this is where it gets weird. Don't look at me like that...that's not what I meant. Spike was great in bed, no question about that, but I somehow sensed that his heart wasn't in it, if you know what I mean. Now I know what you're thinking. We are vampires, since when are our hearts ever in it? Well, I confess that mine was. Pretty ironic too. I finally find a guy to love and his mind is somewhere else, kind of the way I've been all these years. And I finally found out why. He started telling me about the Slayer. And it was like somebody opened the floodgates. I couldn't shut him up. He told me how he first met her, and how her mother creamed him with an axe, and how she crippled him for months with a church organ. I could go on and on. He certainly did. And he was so angry and frustrated, and so full of dire predictions about what he would do as soon as he got rid of the chip, that I realized that he was in love with her. And that I didn't have a chance in the world.

Now I'm not the type of girl to let some guy break her heart. I went back to LA, sadder but wiser, and refused to sit around pining for some neutered blonde vampire with sexy cheekbones. Cheekbones are a dime a dozen where I come from. I did quit my job. I lost interest in it, really. Spent my days sleeping and reading, and my nights at Caritas...damn I miss that place. Oh, it got blown up recently. A real pity.

The next time I went to Sunnydale, things had changed again. I saw Spike, of course, I always look him up when I 'm in town, though I never slept with him again. I have my pride, you know. We were friends though. He needs friends. He had finally confessed his love to the slayer, and she had rejected him in no uncertain terms and even uninvited him from her house. He was one miserable vampire. Sure, I could have used that to my advantage, and moved in, but I didn't want him that way….like I said, pride. Pretty stupid, huh?

For a while I avoided Sunnydale. Mostly because I heard that there was something big going down, some big apocalypse and I didn't want to be involved. I heard that Spike was right in the center of it though, fighting on the side of the Slayer. Even after she broke his heart. I couldn't believe it. My friend, Letetia, the one who moved up here, always kept me up to date with what was going on. I think she suspected that my interest in Sunnydale was more than idle curiosity, but she never said. Anyway, the world didn't end. But I still stayed away from Sunnydale. I stopped hearing from Letetia, suddenly. Knowing her, she got herself in the middle of something and got herself dusted. Never could stay out of mischief, even in LA. And with Letetia gone, I really had no excuse to come back here.

Well about a week ago, I found myself back in Sunnydale again. Caritas was closed down, and I was restless for a little action. Spike wasn't at Willy's or the Bronze. I'd heard about this place called Dave's out on Highway 1, which was a demon bar like Willy's with a room in back for card games and such. So I trekked out there, and sure enough Spike was there drinking Tequila for a change. I asked him if he was hiding out for some reason, and he told me an incredible story. When I heard that his precious Slayer had actually been dead for almost five months, I was literally speechless. If only I had known, I would have been here like a shot, just to help Spike deal with his grief, you know? Well, why the hell not? I don't have that much pride. But now Buffy was back thanks to her friends who apparently messed with some powerful magic. And not only back but with Spike! Well, not quite with him, apparently, which is why he was alone and miserable at Dave's out there in the boonies. She was keeping him like some big ugly secret. Slayers did not have sex with vampires, and they certainly didn't fall in love with them. Another one of those rules, you know? Hah! He told me he'd been invited to a wedding…one of the slayer's friends, and he wanted Buffy to go with him, finally get their relationship out in the open. But she refused. She was just like my former clients, you know…they never though of me as a real person, I knew that. And for 30 years, I pretended I didn't care. Poor Spike...my heart bled for him. I wished there was something I could do.

"Spike…listen. Does your invitation say, 'and date'?"

"Sure. Buffy's a bleedin' bridesmaid, but she coulda gone with me anyway."

"Would you like me to go with you? Maybe it will make her think twice, seeing you with another woman."

Spike perked up a bit, "Would you do that? It won't be much, compared with what you're used to."

"Listen, from your description of the bride and groom, it sounds like a total blast. I'd like to come."

"Great. At least then I won't show up alone like a bloody wanker."

"Good. It's settled. Now, here's the important question. How do you want me to look?"

"Well, you look fine, Scarlet. You always do. I'm sure you'll be the sexiest woman there."

"Ah...but is that what you really want? Think about it, Spike. Role-playing is what I did for 30 years. I am very good at it. I can show up looking so human it will fool 99% of the guests. I can be the girl next door. Or anything else you want."

"I dunno, love. Girl next door, I guess. Want everybody to see what good taste I have, right?"

And this is where I made my big mistake. I thought about it. Sure I could have shown up as the girl next door. Hell, I could have out Buffy'd Buffy. But I knew. There are some things a woman can't forgive. Going to a whore is bad, but getting involved with a nice girl is unforgivable. Buffy would take one look at me, and write Spike off forever. Which, of course is why I suggested it in the first place. I'm not stupid, you know. Then I looked at his face, all hopeful at the thought of getting Buffy jealous and admitting how she feels. And I opened my big mouth.

"Or, I could just be some ho-biscuit you picked up somewhere."

"A what?"

"Oh, that's a term my friend Letetia made up for women like us. I guess you Brits would call her a tart or a crumpet."

Spike looked doubtful at this, "And this would help me, how?"

"It will make Buffy jealous, but she won't be threatened so much that she runs away again. I'm afraid a nice girl might do that. " There, I was screwed, totally.

Well, anyway, that's how I came to be sitting here at a demon wedding, dressed in my best ho-biscuit wear, calling myself Ruby. And I guess it worked too, Mr….D'Hoffryn, did you say your name was? Former boss of the bride, right? Yes, she's lovely. Can't say I've really gotten to meet anyone, since they're all looking at me like I showed up naked, dragging a dead body. But, that was the point wasn't it? Buffy read Spike the riot act for bringing me, and they've been over there dancing for the last hour, so I guess they worked it out. Her friends are so shocked about that they've forgotten all about me. As has Spike, apparently. But I have had your delightful company all evening, so how can I complain? You know, I don't usually talk about myself like this. I feel like the wedding guest from the Rime of the Ancient Mariner. You have been amazingly patient. So what is it that you do, a fine looking demon like yourself? Vengeance, you say? Interesting. Well that's very sweet of you, but I don't think I'm interested. It's not Spike's fault he never loved me. Besides, just between you and me, I'm not sure that getting Buffy and Spike together isn't actually the best vengeance I could wish on both of them. So, I think my job is done, here. No need to come back to Sunnydale. But, yes, I would appreciate a ride home. You are most kind. So tell me, is there a lot of money in the vengeance business?

The end