Who Punched the Spike?
"Go to earth and conquer it," they said. "It'll be fun," they said.
Well that was proving to be rather more tricky than Loki had anticipated. Doubts were creeping in that his 'brother' and that annoying band of miscreants Thor had allied himself with might just manage to scupper his plans.
He'd left a copy of himself in the glass cell in which he'd allowed the humans to contain him and escaped to a local tavern for a short reprieve. For some of their liquid that burned the throat, drove away the chill in his bones and chased off the fingers of dread that skittered up and down his spine.
'Who controls the would-be king?' his brother had demanded.
'If you fail,' echoed the threat, 'if the Tesseract is kept from us, there will be no realm, no barren moon, no crevice where we can't find you!'
Loki swallowed another soothing mouthful and forced away his unease. He'd hit the odd snag to be sure, but things were progressing as planned. Bumps along the path to glory were to be expected. All would be well.
The dive in which he currently sat was dingy and ripe with the stale stench of unwashed bodies and beer. But it was largely unoccupied and thus perfect for enjoying a quiet drink unobserved by curious onlookers. What other patrons there were seemed as keen as he to keep to themselves.
He emptied his glass and signalled the tattooed buffoon behind the bar, "Another."
This drink - absinthe was its name - he liked it. It was pretty and potent, and all he'd found on this wretched rock that had even the remotest effect upon him. Little wonder it had once driven the mortals to madness.
"Hey, is that the green fairy?" slurred a voice beside him. A finger encroaching on his field of vision was pointed in Loki's direction. He fought the urge to snap it.
The barman nodded and Loki's mind stuttered.
He could hardly be called green by human standards, aside perhaps from his clothes and his eyes, and a fairy he most certainly was not! The mortals no longer revered their deities as they once had, but surely this couldn't be the God of Mischief's current reputation on Midgard?!
Ignore it, he reasoned. The interloper would leave soon enough if he paid him no mind. He was here for a bit of peace, he had no desire to start anything.
"I'll have one too," continued the owner of the finger as he occupied the seat beside Loki.
What sort of person sat down right beside another when the entire bar save his own stool was available?
"And another for the la-. Oh, sorry mate," the man slapped him hard on the back, sending the Asgardian lurching forward. "That hair from the back, I thought you were a bird!"
"Have I wings, you ridiculous creature?"
"Funny," he was grinning inanely. " I came over here to hit on you. One too many and all that."
"Indeed," Loki replied coolly. Now leave me be before I hit on you. He turned away, straightening his disarranged clothing and studied the greasy smear the barman had left on the counter with the last swipe of his dirty rag.
"Next round's on me," said the other man slinging an over-friendly arm around Loki's shoulders. "It's the least I can do after mistaking you for a woman."
A woman? His mind ground to a halt. A woman?! Such an accusation could not be overlooked, regardless of what nonsense mythology taught the humans. Loki turned slowly and drew himself up to his full height, cold green eyes boring down on the shorter man menacingly.
"Relax mate. I didn't mean any harm by it." He patted the seat next to him for Loki to sit back down. "Stop scowling and take a load off. The name's Spike by the way." He held out his hand which was roundly ignored.
"No doubt because you are a prick," Loki muttered, pleased he'd picked up some of the lingo on this most recent visit to earth. He retrieved his drink and moved several seats down the bar.
Spike followed. "Clever. Don't think I've heard that one before."
"I have no desire for your company. Be gone with you."
Undeterred the other man deposited himself on the neighbouring stool. "I haven't seen you in here before."
Loki resisted the urge to retort that's because I haven't been here before.
"Not much of a talker, huh."
"You're doing a good enough job for the both of us."
Spike took loud slurp from his glass. "So what's your deal? That outfit's got to symbolise something. The regular folks don't dress like that and Halloween it ain't. " So much for not attracting unwanted attention. Loki cursed himself for neglecting to conjure an illusion of ordinary earth clothes. "So unless you're in here drinking up courage for some sort of costume party, I'd say you're a man on a mission." Spike eyed him up and down critically once more, "Leather. Metal. Sharp stick. My best guess is evil's afoot."
Loki answered simply, hoping he might chase him away with the blatant truth. "I intend to subjugate the humans and rule the earth."
The result was not what he desired. Spike simply laughed. "Good luck with that."
"You dare to ridicule me?"
"Not at all. I admire your ambition. Just saying that as a general rule quests for world domination don't go down especially well. I've tried it myself a time or three. The good guys tend to get in the way." Spike shrugged. " Still, if you're looking for a partner in crime-"
"To fail once may be unfortunate. To do it twice just looks like carelessness."
"What can I say, I'm persistent. And also, bored."
"I have no need of aid from inferior beings.
"Inferior, huh. Sounds like u got a bit of a god complex, mate."
"I am a god, you cretin!" he thumped his palm loudly on the counter making it sting. "I am Loki of Asgard and I am burdened with glorious purpose!" Never mind he'd used that line before, he rather liked it.
"You might want to see a doctor about that."
"I beg your pardon?"
"No need to beg, pet." Loki just blinked at him. He felt as if he'd just been likened to a furry lapdog.
"A whisky, barkeep," Spike called, pushing his empty glass away. "And another for my friend over here as well." It appeared irrelevant that Loki had yet to touch the first.
"I am not your friend," he ground out. He was nobody's friend. He was a villain intent on making this wretched planet kneel before him. Glory would be his and never mind what his unwanted company thought about it.
"Just trying to be affable."
"I do wish you wouldn't."
Spike remained beside him regardless, withdrew a packet of cigarettes from his coat pocket and lit one. He inhaled deeply then blew the plume of smoke in Loki's direction.
"Fag?"
He found himself face-planted within seconds of the word leaving his mouth, one strong hand squeezing his throat and the other pressing his skull down hard on the bar. A silken voice whispered menacingly in his ear.
"I should slay you where you lie, you filthy creature, for making obscene overtures to a stranger!" He had pulled a dagger out of nowhere and was now pressing the tip into the flesh below Spike's jaw.
"Wrong end of the stick mate," he managed to choke out. The arm not pinned awkwardly beneath him held out a carton of Marlboros. "I wasn't calling you a fag, I was just offering you a smoke! You sound English, I figured you'd know what I meant."
The grip held fast a moment longer before loosening, then releasing its grasp. Spike righted himself, coughing as he rubbed his neck gingerly. "So, cigarette?"
"Away with you." Loki sat down and turned back to his drink.
"I'm fine by the way," volunteered Spike reoccupying his seat as well. "Thanks for asking."
The man simply wouldn't get the message. Loki was almost looking forward to returning to his glass display cabinet on the helicarrier.
"So, care to share your evil masterplan to take over the world?"
"No."
"Oh c'mon!"
"You're whining."
"Please? I won't tell anyone. Scout's honour." He held up his hand in the three-fingered salute.
"Has anyone ever told you you are profoundly annoying?" He was on a par with Stark, at least.
"Once or twice." The irritating grin was back. "It's a bit of a hobby of mine. Some might even call it a gift."
"I wouldn't go that far." Loki eyed him for a moment. "Nothing I can say will make you leave, will it."
"Nope. You intrigue me." Spike added quickly, "But not in a gay way."
Loki closed his eyes and breathed slowly - in, 2, 3, 4, out, 2, 3, 4 - considering his options. He could kill him. Or maybe just poke the man's eyes out with a swizzle stick and shove one of those jaunty little paper umbrellas up his nose. Some force would clearly be required to get rid of him.
When he lifted his lids moments later, having decided a good hard punch to the nose would probably suffice, he found his reflection alone in the mirror behind the bar. Thank Odin, the little moron had deigned to leave him alone!
Then a hand reached across him to steal a fistful of the once crunchy snack food going stale on the bar. Loki looked up from the hand and back into the half empty mirror, then turned slowly to his left.
"Strange, huh." Spike grinned tossing the food into his mouth, then munching loudly.
Peculiar indeed! "What magic is this?!" He demanded.
"No magic really, just a little supernatural weirdness. We children of the night don't reflect."
Loki narrowed eyes, intrigued as much as he was annoyed. "What are you?"
"Vampire," came the reply.
"Never heard of it."
"Wha'? Oh c'mon! Bloodsucker? Devil spawn? Foul fiend spat forth from the bowels of hell?" Loki looked unimpressed. "Scourge of Europe, prince of darkness." He was stealing others' titles but he didn't care. "Demon, villain. Face of an angel (that wasn't his either), soul of a poet, beast in the bedroom."
"Debatable, I'm sure," Loki sneered.
"Oi!"
"Whatever you are, you are beneath my notice. I have tired of you, mortal. Be gone."
"Mortal? Not so much." The quirk of an eyebrow was enough encouragement for Spike to continue. "The clue was in 'undead' in case you missed it. Or maybe I forgot to mention that one. Anyway, it's part the package. I haven't been alive for over a hundred and 30 years."
"A drop in the ocean," Loki scoffed. In spite of himself he grabbed Spike's wrist and felt for evidence of a heartbeat. He found none. The skin was as cold as his. Mildly interesting. He released the arm back to its owner.
"You paint your nails as if you were a woman."
"Says the bloke with too much poncy product in his hair. Or is that grease is natural," Spike asked studying it critically, "in which case you should really invest in a better shampoo."
Loki did his best to ignore the jibe.
"That's it? I'm dead and you're not bothered?"
"Your presence bothers me, your lack of a pulse does not." He looked at Spike questioningly, a hint of a smile on his lips. "You wish me to be intimidated?"
"It wouldn't hurt for you to give it a shot."
If that's the way he wanted to play it… "Not likely, when I kill," he enunciated slowly, "for my own amusement."
"So you're a dyed-in-the-wool moustache-twirling baddie. I've racked up a pretty high body count over the years myself. What else you got?"
"I murdered my own father. You think I would even think twice about killing the likes of you?"
"Give it a go if think you know how." Spike was clearly unperturbed. "You killed your father, I killed my mother. She tried to shag me. Next we'll be arguing over who has the better cheekbones. Clearly it's me," he added lightly.
Loki stood up to his full height and glared down at the smaller man. Annoyingly, he made no move to cower.
"I'm used to tall, dark-haired broody blokes trying to browbeat me so you're wasting your time with that."
Loki had had enough. His eyes flashed red.
Spike's turned golden in return.
Lines formed on his forehead as his skin took on the blue of his Frost Giant heritage. Moments later ridges began to form on the face of the man opposite him.
Damn it!
Loki grabbed him by the throat and snarled.
Spike growled back. Louder, and frankly better.
"My my, grandma, what big teeth you have." The vampire placed his hand on Loki's chest and pushed him away. "Not as big as mine though."
Loki recoiled slightly as the other man smiled. That - long, razor sharp fangs - was not something he'd been expecting.
"The red eyes are probably scarier than the yellow, I'll give you that, but the fangs? No contest!" Spike grinned.
"The teeth are impressive I grant you. But not as impressive as this." He picked up his sceptre, blue jewel glowing into life and touched its tip to the vampire's heart.
Nothing happened.
"Do that again mate, I've got a little itch."
Oh Hel! Loki pressed forward again, this time hard enough to pierce skin.
"Ok, yeah that's got it," Spike winced slightly, managing to force the point away and rubbing his palm across his chest. "Can we call this pissing contest quits now? You're never going to convince me you're the bigger bad, so you may as well just stop trying."
Damn it and blast it! He could just leave, disappear in the blink of an eye and be rid of Spike forever, but Loki couldn't let the twerp win. He was like a red rag to a bull.
If he couldn't control him, Loki decided, he may as well revert to plan A and just hurt him instead. He conjured the Casket of Ancient Winters out of nothingness and, unleashing its frigid powers, covered Spike in a frozen blanket.
"And the moral of the lesson is," Loki leaned in close, tapping the ice with the tip of his weapon and causing small cracks to radiate from the spot, "heed every good mother's advice and do not talk to strangers."
He turned and walked away, feeling reinvigorated and more positive now than ever, an evil smile curling his lips and marring his face.
"No fair!" managed the vampire, his voice muffled by his frozen prison. "Hey! I know people! Slayers. And witches and, and …Xanders. They'll fix you!"
But Loki was out of his field of vision before he had half the words out, seeming to have simply melted away in the ether.
"Hello? Somebody? A little help here?"
There was no response. The place must have emptied of what few patrons there were when they'd started 'talking'.
"Anyone?!"
Nothing. What was he supposed to do now, just wait for the thaw to set in?
It certainly looked that way.
"Oh bloody hell!"
Fin.