Spin- off city
Disclaimer: I do not own these characters, much to my chagrin. (Oh well. Life's tough) They all belong to Joss Whedon, and Mutant Enemy Productions. And no, I'm not doing this for any financial compensation; I just do this for fun.
Summary; This occurs after both Angel and BTVS have finished their respective runs. This is a Spike series, with new characters, the occasional cameo of BTVS crew and a completely different tone to it. (Assuming, of course, that they don't give him the big old kybosh… Damn them all if they do.)
Episode 1; This is Your Unlife
Well, there it was.
It wasn't exactly as Spike had pictured it in his imagination, but close enough so that he could identify as soon as he arrived on their street. White picket fence, SUV and a minivan in the driveway, Fisher Price toys scattered on the lawn and neatly trimmed lawn hedges. The very epitome of suburban domesticity; it made his stomach churn.
He had arrived an hour earlier, but still he couldn't bring himself to take the steps up to the house and ring the doorbell. So he sat there, smoking endless cigarettes and working up the nerve for this confrontation, without resorting to the flask of bourbon he kept in his glove compartment.
He passed the time reassuring himself that they were just going to waste their lives like this; an endless and monotonous existence which consisted of going to the supermarket, filling out report cards, shopping at the mall and buying Volvos, and wasn't he the lucky one to un-live his dashing and debonair lifestyle, unhindered by responsibilities and the dreariness of Everyday Life? Excitement and adventure were awaiting him at every turn, not K-mart and dirty nappies.
'My my, the grapes are sour today', he thought, rolling his eyes at himself. He wasn't one to back down from a challenge; no no, not he, slayer of Slayers, William the Bloody, the bleedin original Big Bad. He looked down from the window of his parked car to the pavement, where a growing pile of cigarette butts almost looked back at him reproachfully. 'Look at me, I litter', he thought wistfully… 'Littering, petty theft and unpaid parking tickets; you're on your way back my man… Long live the King of Minor Misdemeanors'.
With a shaking hand, he unlocked the door of his classic De Soto and he marched right over to the door. The thought of sitting in the car for the entire night and brooding was just not his style. Better to get this over and done with.
He began to swagger towards the house, trademark black leather duster flaring out behind him and he almost felt restored to all former glory. With each step he felt his confidence returning and he couldn't help but be aware of what a dashing figure he made, all platinum blonde hair and sleek, pantherine movements and if any girls were watching now they'd all be swooning, knickers at their ankles and… and... Oh crap, there was dog shit on his boot.
As he began to unceremoniously scrape the shit off on a garden gnome, he heard the door open behind him and a very loud and pointed "*ahem*". Ceasing his defilement of the lawn ornament, he froze, regained his composure, straightened his jacket, smoothed his hair and turned around with pearly whites showing in an uncharacteristically innocent smile.
"Hi Buffy."
"Spike, stop wiping your boot on Mr. Took and get your ass in here.", she said, leaning on the doorframe with her arms crossed and one eyebrow raised. For a moment he just looked at her standing there, looking gorgeous in a t-shirt, sweatpants and a ponytail. She looked a little bit older, but had rounded quite nicely and looked positively glowing. Their eyes met and they just stared at each other for a moment, each appraising the other and wondering at the strange turn of fate that had led them to become mortal enemies, reluctant friends, passionate lovers and finally… Well, finally this.
The silence grew quite awkward, until finally Spike decided to break it for the benefit of his own un-dead and fragile heart. "Mr. Took? Well, it was definitely the lesser of two evils since I didn't want to get crap all over your tidy little home.", he said while stepping into the hallway and removing his coat, but not until he had thoroughly wiped his boots on the welcome mat. Handing his coat to Buffy, he continued to state his case just babbling as was customary when he was nervous. "The intentions were quite noble really; and if anyone's finer sentiments were to be stamped on it was better Mr. Took than you."
"I don't know if I should feel flattered at that, you giving priority to me over Mr. Took"
"Don't flatter yourself; it was merely self-preservation Slayer."
He could've sworn he saw her smile and he relaxed. It was something like their old banter used to be and she could see that he didn't bear her any ill will at all. She led him to the living room and his eyes took in all the details. Little crayon drawings on the floor, stuffed animals on the couch and above the fireplace framed pictures of Buffy, Dawn, Joyce, the Scoobies, and a little boy holding two little baby girls. He looked away; he had seen enough. He looked back at her, sitting across from him on the couch and he realized that he should be happy for her. She achieved the impossible and attained what she wanted. She positively radiated happiness and contentment, and it ate away at him that she didn't find it with him. 'Better make this quick', he thought. Then he could drive back to L.A. and drown his sorrows in 100 proof alcohol. Maybe do some Karaoke or something.
Breaking the silence again, he tried to make small talk. "So, how've you been?"
"Oh. Ok I guess. The kids are doing fine and Dawn's almost done with her second year at college. She's gonna be coming home for Christmas. I just talked to her today and I told her you were coming. She wants to see you."
"How is the little Niblet?"
"She's alright. She's taking some theater or drama class now. Big surprise, huh?"
"Yeah. Next time you see her tell her to give me a ring. What about Willow and Xander and demon girl and Giles?"
"They're still the same. Willow went to go live in Wales; she got some sort of post at a University there, teaching Anthropology. Xander and Anya stayed in Sunnydale and she's expecting their second. And Giles is Giles."
"Hmph. Figures.", he said. Didn't surprise him at all that four eyes was still buried in a bookshop somewhere, up to his ears in 'scholarly doings'. He was almost going to ask about Peaches and then he thought better about it. After all, it might turn out that he was home tonight and he really didn't want to socialize with Granddaddy-dear.
"He's not here tonight.", she said, almost as if she could read his mind. They both winced at the realization of where this topic could lead them and so she instinctively changed the topic. "What about you? What've you been up to?"
"Been alright. Was traveling a bit, cross country. Drove up a couple of places went to New Orleans and New York and all that. Didn't really get to leave the country since some git told me that the implant explodes or something once you leave the continent. I didn't really buy it but I didn't want to risk it. Went to L.A., did some freelance jobs and then sort of bumped into Lorn at his place the Citadel. Been in L.A. ever since, just sort of keeping a low profile."
"Yeah, I heard from him that you were around. That's how I got your number." She said it almost shyly and she looked down at the floor.
Spike thought he would rather die than endure another awkward silence, so he decided to go straight to the point. "Ok Slayer, you wanted me here, now you got me here. What's this about?"
"I need your help."
"Figured as much. What for?"
"Something really important…."
* * * * * *
Spike sat slumped at the booth at Cherry's nursing what must have been his sixteenth shot of tequila with another beer. In the history of all of God's green Earth, he was especially grateful that at one point in time some bloke decided, probably out of immense boredom, to crush a bunch of grapes and ferment the damn juice. In his inebriated condition he couldn't bear to think of how the world would have turned out without alcohol. It was just too much to bear really.
"Where would we be then, eh mate? Where the hell would we be then?", he said to some guy passing him on the way to the bathroom. The man looked at him and nodded sagely in agreement. God, Spike loved L.A.
He had driven back to the city from the little suburb that Buffy was holed up at and by the time he got there, it was much too late to go to the Citadel. Denied karaoke, he decided to hit one of his favorite haunts in the city and get as drunk as possible.
He was relieved to be out of Buffy's home, the one she shared with Angel, their children and a bleeding golden retriever that nearly chewed up his coat. It was just too painful to be reminded of things he could never have and never want, all because he didn't have a damn soul.
It had been five years since they had last seen each other, at the final battle. She fought alongside Angel, he became human again and the big bads were all squashed. Then, of course, he had done the ceremonious thing. The noble thing. The right bloody thing. He didn't want to make it any harder for her, because he knew that she was still in love with Angel. Hell, those two were soulmates. It was written in the stars, in all the prophecies, in all the bloody tomes that Giles insisted on poring over. He was no match for destiny or fate. He gave her up.
And then of course, he had wandered around the past couple of years, getting into odd scrapes every now and then in order to distract him from the relatively new yet bitter taste of regret. It tinged everything about his life until everything served as a reminder of how he should've just challenged Angel to a duel or something equally anachronistic and gotten himself killed in the process, rather than wandering around in a somnambulistic haze, completely indifferent to everything and everyone. Oh well.
Tonight, Buffy had asked him for a favor. He, ever her willing slave, just had to comply. Come running, he did, like a bloody dog. Looking him in the eyes, she had asked him to find a girl. She lived in L.A. and she was in his neighborhood. Spike just looked at her and told her he wasn't some sort of private investigator to investigate missing persons and of course she just had to mention that it was of Great Importance, and she would do it herself if she wasn't…
It hit him; the glowing and the rounded figure and the womanly-ness and the blunt edges to the warrior woman. Another bun in the oven. How could he refuse her then, when he could never refuse her anything? It was a good thing that she was a mortal and was probably gonna die someday or else he was in for eternal slavery.
He busied himself with his shot and almost didn't notice the hot brunette who was sitting in the bar, giving him the eye. Looking her over, he found that he didn't disapprove at all. 'Nice tits, nice ass. Yeah, she'll do', he thought absently. As soon as she noticed that he was looking right back at her, she gave him a smile and proceeded to walk up to the booth. 'Still got it…', he thought to himself, as the girl stood in front of him in a black sheath dress that clung to every curve and high black stilettos.
She smiled at him suggestively, flung her hair back and greeted him.
"Hello William."
He was shocked. He was almost shocked enough to be sober but then he regained his composure. Maybe he'd shagged her before. But then if he had shagged her before he had gotten the chip, then she should be dead. Did he shag her after? Was she the one at that party? No, that one was a blonde. Hmm.. Mexico? No, wasn't in Mexico at all… Getting confused at trying to figure out who she was, he just decided to play it cool and see what he could pick up. Who knows? Maybe he could get lucky.
"Did we shag?"
Or maybe not. He wouldn't remember this is in the morning anyway.
Disclaimer: I do not own these characters, much to my chagrin. (Oh well. Life's tough) They all belong to Joss Whedon, and Mutant Enemy Productions. And no, I'm not doing this for any financial compensation; I just do this for fun.
Summary; This occurs after both Angel and BTVS have finished their respective runs. This is a Spike series, with new characters, the occasional cameo of BTVS crew and a completely different tone to it. (Assuming, of course, that they don't give him the big old kybosh… Damn them all if they do.)
Episode 1; This is Your Unlife
Well, there it was.
It wasn't exactly as Spike had pictured it in his imagination, but close enough so that he could identify as soon as he arrived on their street. White picket fence, SUV and a minivan in the driveway, Fisher Price toys scattered on the lawn and neatly trimmed lawn hedges. The very epitome of suburban domesticity; it made his stomach churn.
He had arrived an hour earlier, but still he couldn't bring himself to take the steps up to the house and ring the doorbell. So he sat there, smoking endless cigarettes and working up the nerve for this confrontation, without resorting to the flask of bourbon he kept in his glove compartment.
He passed the time reassuring himself that they were just going to waste their lives like this; an endless and monotonous existence which consisted of going to the supermarket, filling out report cards, shopping at the mall and buying Volvos, and wasn't he the lucky one to un-live his dashing and debonair lifestyle, unhindered by responsibilities and the dreariness of Everyday Life? Excitement and adventure were awaiting him at every turn, not K-mart and dirty nappies.
'My my, the grapes are sour today', he thought, rolling his eyes at himself. He wasn't one to back down from a challenge; no no, not he, slayer of Slayers, William the Bloody, the bleedin original Big Bad. He looked down from the window of his parked car to the pavement, where a growing pile of cigarette butts almost looked back at him reproachfully. 'Look at me, I litter', he thought wistfully… 'Littering, petty theft and unpaid parking tickets; you're on your way back my man… Long live the King of Minor Misdemeanors'.
With a shaking hand, he unlocked the door of his classic De Soto and he marched right over to the door. The thought of sitting in the car for the entire night and brooding was just not his style. Better to get this over and done with.
He began to swagger towards the house, trademark black leather duster flaring out behind him and he almost felt restored to all former glory. With each step he felt his confidence returning and he couldn't help but be aware of what a dashing figure he made, all platinum blonde hair and sleek, pantherine movements and if any girls were watching now they'd all be swooning, knickers at their ankles and… and... Oh crap, there was dog shit on his boot.
As he began to unceremoniously scrape the shit off on a garden gnome, he heard the door open behind him and a very loud and pointed "*ahem*". Ceasing his defilement of the lawn ornament, he froze, regained his composure, straightened his jacket, smoothed his hair and turned around with pearly whites showing in an uncharacteristically innocent smile.
"Hi Buffy."
"Spike, stop wiping your boot on Mr. Took and get your ass in here.", she said, leaning on the doorframe with her arms crossed and one eyebrow raised. For a moment he just looked at her standing there, looking gorgeous in a t-shirt, sweatpants and a ponytail. She looked a little bit older, but had rounded quite nicely and looked positively glowing. Their eyes met and they just stared at each other for a moment, each appraising the other and wondering at the strange turn of fate that had led them to become mortal enemies, reluctant friends, passionate lovers and finally… Well, finally this.
The silence grew quite awkward, until finally Spike decided to break it for the benefit of his own un-dead and fragile heart. "Mr. Took? Well, it was definitely the lesser of two evils since I didn't want to get crap all over your tidy little home.", he said while stepping into the hallway and removing his coat, but not until he had thoroughly wiped his boots on the welcome mat. Handing his coat to Buffy, he continued to state his case just babbling as was customary when he was nervous. "The intentions were quite noble really; and if anyone's finer sentiments were to be stamped on it was better Mr. Took than you."
"I don't know if I should feel flattered at that, you giving priority to me over Mr. Took"
"Don't flatter yourself; it was merely self-preservation Slayer."
He could've sworn he saw her smile and he relaxed. It was something like their old banter used to be and she could see that he didn't bear her any ill will at all. She led him to the living room and his eyes took in all the details. Little crayon drawings on the floor, stuffed animals on the couch and above the fireplace framed pictures of Buffy, Dawn, Joyce, the Scoobies, and a little boy holding two little baby girls. He looked away; he had seen enough. He looked back at her, sitting across from him on the couch and he realized that he should be happy for her. She achieved the impossible and attained what she wanted. She positively radiated happiness and contentment, and it ate away at him that she didn't find it with him. 'Better make this quick', he thought. Then he could drive back to L.A. and drown his sorrows in 100 proof alcohol. Maybe do some Karaoke or something.
Breaking the silence again, he tried to make small talk. "So, how've you been?"
"Oh. Ok I guess. The kids are doing fine and Dawn's almost done with her second year at college. She's gonna be coming home for Christmas. I just talked to her today and I told her you were coming. She wants to see you."
"How is the little Niblet?"
"She's alright. She's taking some theater or drama class now. Big surprise, huh?"
"Yeah. Next time you see her tell her to give me a ring. What about Willow and Xander and demon girl and Giles?"
"They're still the same. Willow went to go live in Wales; she got some sort of post at a University there, teaching Anthropology. Xander and Anya stayed in Sunnydale and she's expecting their second. And Giles is Giles."
"Hmph. Figures.", he said. Didn't surprise him at all that four eyes was still buried in a bookshop somewhere, up to his ears in 'scholarly doings'. He was almost going to ask about Peaches and then he thought better about it. After all, it might turn out that he was home tonight and he really didn't want to socialize with Granddaddy-dear.
"He's not here tonight.", she said, almost as if she could read his mind. They both winced at the realization of where this topic could lead them and so she instinctively changed the topic. "What about you? What've you been up to?"
"Been alright. Was traveling a bit, cross country. Drove up a couple of places went to New Orleans and New York and all that. Didn't really get to leave the country since some git told me that the implant explodes or something once you leave the continent. I didn't really buy it but I didn't want to risk it. Went to L.A., did some freelance jobs and then sort of bumped into Lorn at his place the Citadel. Been in L.A. ever since, just sort of keeping a low profile."
"Yeah, I heard from him that you were around. That's how I got your number." She said it almost shyly and she looked down at the floor.
Spike thought he would rather die than endure another awkward silence, so he decided to go straight to the point. "Ok Slayer, you wanted me here, now you got me here. What's this about?"
"I need your help."
"Figured as much. What for?"
"Something really important…."
* * * * * *
Spike sat slumped at the booth at Cherry's nursing what must have been his sixteenth shot of tequila with another beer. In the history of all of God's green Earth, he was especially grateful that at one point in time some bloke decided, probably out of immense boredom, to crush a bunch of grapes and ferment the damn juice. In his inebriated condition he couldn't bear to think of how the world would have turned out without alcohol. It was just too much to bear really.
"Where would we be then, eh mate? Where the hell would we be then?", he said to some guy passing him on the way to the bathroom. The man looked at him and nodded sagely in agreement. God, Spike loved L.A.
He had driven back to the city from the little suburb that Buffy was holed up at and by the time he got there, it was much too late to go to the Citadel. Denied karaoke, he decided to hit one of his favorite haunts in the city and get as drunk as possible.
He was relieved to be out of Buffy's home, the one she shared with Angel, their children and a bleeding golden retriever that nearly chewed up his coat. It was just too painful to be reminded of things he could never have and never want, all because he didn't have a damn soul.
It had been five years since they had last seen each other, at the final battle. She fought alongside Angel, he became human again and the big bads were all squashed. Then, of course, he had done the ceremonious thing. The noble thing. The right bloody thing. He didn't want to make it any harder for her, because he knew that she was still in love with Angel. Hell, those two were soulmates. It was written in the stars, in all the prophecies, in all the bloody tomes that Giles insisted on poring over. He was no match for destiny or fate. He gave her up.
And then of course, he had wandered around the past couple of years, getting into odd scrapes every now and then in order to distract him from the relatively new yet bitter taste of regret. It tinged everything about his life until everything served as a reminder of how he should've just challenged Angel to a duel or something equally anachronistic and gotten himself killed in the process, rather than wandering around in a somnambulistic haze, completely indifferent to everything and everyone. Oh well.
Tonight, Buffy had asked him for a favor. He, ever her willing slave, just had to comply. Come running, he did, like a bloody dog. Looking him in the eyes, she had asked him to find a girl. She lived in L.A. and she was in his neighborhood. Spike just looked at her and told her he wasn't some sort of private investigator to investigate missing persons and of course she just had to mention that it was of Great Importance, and she would do it herself if she wasn't…
It hit him; the glowing and the rounded figure and the womanly-ness and the blunt edges to the warrior woman. Another bun in the oven. How could he refuse her then, when he could never refuse her anything? It was a good thing that she was a mortal and was probably gonna die someday or else he was in for eternal slavery.
He busied himself with his shot and almost didn't notice the hot brunette who was sitting in the bar, giving him the eye. Looking her over, he found that he didn't disapprove at all. 'Nice tits, nice ass. Yeah, she'll do', he thought absently. As soon as she noticed that he was looking right back at her, she gave him a smile and proceeded to walk up to the booth. 'Still got it…', he thought to himself, as the girl stood in front of him in a black sheath dress that clung to every curve and high black stilettos.
She smiled at him suggestively, flung her hair back and greeted him.
"Hello William."
He was shocked. He was almost shocked enough to be sober but then he regained his composure. Maybe he'd shagged her before. But then if he had shagged her before he had gotten the chip, then she should be dead. Did he shag her after? Was she the one at that party? No, that one was a blonde. Hmm.. Mexico? No, wasn't in Mexico at all… Getting confused at trying to figure out who she was, he just decided to play it cool and see what he could pick up. Who knows? Maybe he could get lucky.
"Did we shag?"
Or maybe not. He wouldn't remember this is in the morning anyway.