CHANGE OF PACE
Part 1 FIGHTING JOSE
By Annie
Rated: R Disclaimer: Don't own any of them and will never make a cent. Summary: Post Crush, Spike reflects on which road to stumble down next. Warning: AU; Buffy/Smallville crossover; possible slash in future chapters. Feedback: crehnert@ptd.net
FIGHTING JOSE
"You're like a serial killer in prison!"
The words echoed round and round in my head, punctuated on painful occasion by the sight and sound of the front door closing in my face. The two most realistic choices I faced now were, a) hit the road and leave Sunnydale, as had been so nicely suggested by Her Slayerness, or b) keep drinking till I didn't care anymore. Willy probably didn't stock that much alcohol, but I was on my way to being truly apathetic. I slammed my once-again empty shooter down onto the sticky surface of the bar and glared at the bartender.
"Okay, okay, it's coming," Willy rushed to assure me nervously, shaking just the slightest bit as he poured yet another tequila for me. He had at first questioned my choice of the Jose Cuervo over my usual bourbon, but I thought a change of pace might be good for tonight. Especially after the slap-Spike-down-like-a-demented-dog treatment I had endured lately. Well, today for sure.
I had just growled at him, I never liked him anyway, and told him to mind his own bloody business, I could souse myself in whatever I chose. I was thinking I should head for a little vacation in Mexico. Maybe fuck a few senoritas and forget about the two of them. Dru was nuts anyway, and I couldn't trust her, not after Angel and the fungus and chaos demons. As for Buffy, well, she was obviously not entertaining the idea of a tryst with an unwillingly reformed Big Bad now, was she?
Serial killer. She had to say it, I suppose, to remind me that she wouldn't ever forget who - what - I was.
I downed the shot with a grimace. Didn't like tequila particularly, but as a change of pace it was okay. I was betting with myself that I could drink the whole bottle and still walk out of the bar in a straight line. I had been here quite a while already, and I wasn't near the bottom of the fifth yet.
I pushed the glass across the bar again. It was me against Jose, and I thought I might actually lose. That feeling of whatever it was in my gut - humiliation, hurt, anger, betrayal, I couldn't even put a name to it, but it wasn't going away.
I had to get that sodding chip out.
First I had to drink the tequila, though, and Willy wasn't being fast enough. I reached down the bar to grab the ashtray of a recently-departed fellow drunk, meaning to hurl the thing at Willy's head. The newspaper was right there beside it. I thought I'd glance at the travel ads, pick a somewhere else to be, and flung the heavy piece of glass full of ashes and butts in the proprietor's general direction. I missed him, but he got the idea.
He left the whole bottle for me. "Look, Spike, just help yourself, okay? We'll settle up later. I trust you." He was still nervous, and it was getting on my nerves.
"Well, you bloody well shouldn't!" I glared at him. "I'm the Big Bad! I'll have your entrails for an appetizer if I get the munchies! Now get away from me."
Now that I had the bottle I sure as hell didn't need him anymore.
I pulled the newspaper over and skimmed blearily over the headlines. Been a while since I read a newspaper, not much caring what went on in the world outside of my own little, ever-decreasing circle. A phrase caught my eye. 'latest technology'. Of course, that just reminded me of the damn chip, but I noticed a few more phrases and decided to read the whole thing. Who knew where the Initiative might have started up shop again?
It was about LuthorCorp. Of course, even though I lived in a crypt and thrived on soap operas, I did occasionally see real life things. I knew who Lionel Luthor was, and now I was reading about how his far-reaching conglomerate was into all the latest, state-of-the-art technology, investigating everything from brain transplants to mind-control for rapists and serial killers.
Whoa. I was sober in a heartbeat. My heart wasn't beating of course, but it was a really fast turn-around. Seemed from the article like this stuff was being handled by the elder Luthor's infamous son, Lex, who was currently running some big plant of theirs in Kansas. Kansas? Was he in exile? Allergic to bright lights and big cities?
I could feel the slow smile spreading unbidden across my face. I picked up the bottle and downed the rest of the tequila, chewing on the gross little morsel I got for beating Jose.
Turn on the porch light, Auntie Em. Spike was on his way.
Part 1 FIGHTING JOSE
By Annie
Rated: R Disclaimer: Don't own any of them and will never make a cent. Summary: Post Crush, Spike reflects on which road to stumble down next. Warning: AU; Buffy/Smallville crossover; possible slash in future chapters. Feedback: crehnert@ptd.net
FIGHTING JOSE
"You're like a serial killer in prison!"
The words echoed round and round in my head, punctuated on painful occasion by the sight and sound of the front door closing in my face. The two most realistic choices I faced now were, a) hit the road and leave Sunnydale, as had been so nicely suggested by Her Slayerness, or b) keep drinking till I didn't care anymore. Willy probably didn't stock that much alcohol, but I was on my way to being truly apathetic. I slammed my once-again empty shooter down onto the sticky surface of the bar and glared at the bartender.
"Okay, okay, it's coming," Willy rushed to assure me nervously, shaking just the slightest bit as he poured yet another tequila for me. He had at first questioned my choice of the Jose Cuervo over my usual bourbon, but I thought a change of pace might be good for tonight. Especially after the slap-Spike-down-like-a-demented-dog treatment I had endured lately. Well, today for sure.
I had just growled at him, I never liked him anyway, and told him to mind his own bloody business, I could souse myself in whatever I chose. I was thinking I should head for a little vacation in Mexico. Maybe fuck a few senoritas and forget about the two of them. Dru was nuts anyway, and I couldn't trust her, not after Angel and the fungus and chaos demons. As for Buffy, well, she was obviously not entertaining the idea of a tryst with an unwillingly reformed Big Bad now, was she?
Serial killer. She had to say it, I suppose, to remind me that she wouldn't ever forget who - what - I was.
I downed the shot with a grimace. Didn't like tequila particularly, but as a change of pace it was okay. I was betting with myself that I could drink the whole bottle and still walk out of the bar in a straight line. I had been here quite a while already, and I wasn't near the bottom of the fifth yet.
I pushed the glass across the bar again. It was me against Jose, and I thought I might actually lose. That feeling of whatever it was in my gut - humiliation, hurt, anger, betrayal, I couldn't even put a name to it, but it wasn't going away.
I had to get that sodding chip out.
First I had to drink the tequila, though, and Willy wasn't being fast enough. I reached down the bar to grab the ashtray of a recently-departed fellow drunk, meaning to hurl the thing at Willy's head. The newspaper was right there beside it. I thought I'd glance at the travel ads, pick a somewhere else to be, and flung the heavy piece of glass full of ashes and butts in the proprietor's general direction. I missed him, but he got the idea.
He left the whole bottle for me. "Look, Spike, just help yourself, okay? We'll settle up later. I trust you." He was still nervous, and it was getting on my nerves.
"Well, you bloody well shouldn't!" I glared at him. "I'm the Big Bad! I'll have your entrails for an appetizer if I get the munchies! Now get away from me."
Now that I had the bottle I sure as hell didn't need him anymore.
I pulled the newspaper over and skimmed blearily over the headlines. Been a while since I read a newspaper, not much caring what went on in the world outside of my own little, ever-decreasing circle. A phrase caught my eye. 'latest technology'. Of course, that just reminded me of the damn chip, but I noticed a few more phrases and decided to read the whole thing. Who knew where the Initiative might have started up shop again?
It was about LuthorCorp. Of course, even though I lived in a crypt and thrived on soap operas, I did occasionally see real life things. I knew who Lionel Luthor was, and now I was reading about how his far-reaching conglomerate was into all the latest, state-of-the-art technology, investigating everything from brain transplants to mind-control for rapists and serial killers.
Whoa. I was sober in a heartbeat. My heart wasn't beating of course, but it was a really fast turn-around. Seemed from the article like this stuff was being handled by the elder Luthor's infamous son, Lex, who was currently running some big plant of theirs in Kansas. Kansas? Was he in exile? Allergic to bright lights and big cities?
I could feel the slow smile spreading unbidden across my face. I picked up the bottle and downed the rest of the tequila, chewing on the gross little morsel I got for beating Jose.
Turn on the porch light, Auntie Em. Spike was on his way.