"Alright, up!" Spike felt the foot to his head and woke up.
"Ouch - you don't have to kick so hard." He looked up and saw a dim blur in a leather jacket, silhouetted by the glow of a lamp.
"I felt like it. On your feet." The accent seemed damned familiar
Sitting up, he reached for a cigarette. "I'll be on my feet when I'm damn good and ready."
A booted foot kicked the cigarettes away. "And?" There was a lot of menace in the and.
"I'm ready now." Spike stood up. "You know, if you're going to crash a bloke's pad, you ought to have at least the bloody manners to introduce yourself."
Sneering, the other said, "My gosh. Heaven forgive me. I don't know what came over me." Then he picked Spike up - ignoring his protests - and threw him across the room. Then he stepped out of the lamp's glow, and if you ignored the harshness in the gaze he could have been Spike's identical twin.
"What the hell is going on here?" Spike asked.
"Exactly the question I was going to ask, you pathetic git," the other Spike said. "Get up so I can knock you down again."
Spike scrambled to his feet, and the other Spike, true to his word, came over and slugged him. After a couple of more punches, Spike screamed, "That's enough!" and knocked his antagonist across the room.
Whereupon the other Spike smiled, lit a cigarette, and tossed Spike the lighter and the pack. "About damn time you showed some backbone." He smiled, evilly. "Look at the poor, legendary Spike. Reduced to this. Spike I used to be would've been mopping the floor with me by now. Or at least trying to."
"Well, you caught me in a good mood," Spike tossed the cigarettes aside for the moment. "So who are you? Last time I checked I was fairly sure I was me."
"So am I, dimwit." The other Spike puffed and blew out. "Only I'm you like you used to be. Before you went all Uncle Tom on the rest of us demons." Before Spike could say anything, the other Spike said, "You remember last time you used THAT phrase? Let me remind you."
"Don't bother," Spike said. "First time I hit Sunnydale, when I ran into Angel."
"In the middle of what, Spike?" Spike didn't answer his counterpart. "In. The. Middle. Of. What. Answer me."
Spike sighed. "In the middle of trying to kill Buffy."
The other Spike shook his head in disgust. "Can't even call them by their right names, can you? SunnyHELL. And since when do you call the bitch by her first name? Never mind, I know, I know. When you fell in love with her. If Angel could see you now he'd be laughing his ass off. That is, if he didn't try to kill you. Hell, even HE'D have the guts to do that."
"People change," Spike said, cursing himself as soon as he said it.
"Not us," the other Spike said. "Not demons." He tossed the cigarette down on the crypt floor and ground it out. "You - you, man, you were something good. You were better than Yoda. You were Darth-Friggin' Vader, only you didn't have to answer to any damned Emperor. Or Master. You could have been somebody."
"Instead of a bum, which is what I am?"
"You were better than a contender, you whiny piece of shit. You were a legend. A master of torture. Two Slayers killed. One on the ropes. And now this." He lit another cigarette and flipped off the light. "Sod this. I'm getting out of here. There's no damn point in trying to make you see the error of your ways. You were a legend. And now -"
"Now," Spike said. "The legend's changing."
"No," his counterpart said, turning to leave. "The legend's dead. I only wish you had the stones to go along with it."
And then there was nothing but darkness.
"Ouch - you don't have to kick so hard." He looked up and saw a dim blur in a leather jacket, silhouetted by the glow of a lamp.
"I felt like it. On your feet." The accent seemed damned familiar
Sitting up, he reached for a cigarette. "I'll be on my feet when I'm damn good and ready."
A booted foot kicked the cigarettes away. "And?" There was a lot of menace in the and.
"I'm ready now." Spike stood up. "You know, if you're going to crash a bloke's pad, you ought to have at least the bloody manners to introduce yourself."
Sneering, the other said, "My gosh. Heaven forgive me. I don't know what came over me." Then he picked Spike up - ignoring his protests - and threw him across the room. Then he stepped out of the lamp's glow, and if you ignored the harshness in the gaze he could have been Spike's identical twin.
"What the hell is going on here?" Spike asked.
"Exactly the question I was going to ask, you pathetic git," the other Spike said. "Get up so I can knock you down again."
Spike scrambled to his feet, and the other Spike, true to his word, came over and slugged him. After a couple of more punches, Spike screamed, "That's enough!" and knocked his antagonist across the room.
Whereupon the other Spike smiled, lit a cigarette, and tossed Spike the lighter and the pack. "About damn time you showed some backbone." He smiled, evilly. "Look at the poor, legendary Spike. Reduced to this. Spike I used to be would've been mopping the floor with me by now. Or at least trying to."
"Well, you caught me in a good mood," Spike tossed the cigarettes aside for the moment. "So who are you? Last time I checked I was fairly sure I was me."
"So am I, dimwit." The other Spike puffed and blew out. "Only I'm you like you used to be. Before you went all Uncle Tom on the rest of us demons." Before Spike could say anything, the other Spike said, "You remember last time you used THAT phrase? Let me remind you."
"Don't bother," Spike said. "First time I hit Sunnydale, when I ran into Angel."
"In the middle of what, Spike?" Spike didn't answer his counterpart. "In. The. Middle. Of. What. Answer me."
Spike sighed. "In the middle of trying to kill Buffy."
The other Spike shook his head in disgust. "Can't even call them by their right names, can you? SunnyHELL. And since when do you call the bitch by her first name? Never mind, I know, I know. When you fell in love with her. If Angel could see you now he'd be laughing his ass off. That is, if he didn't try to kill you. Hell, even HE'D have the guts to do that."
"People change," Spike said, cursing himself as soon as he said it.
"Not us," the other Spike said. "Not demons." He tossed the cigarette down on the crypt floor and ground it out. "You - you, man, you were something good. You were better than Yoda. You were Darth-Friggin' Vader, only you didn't have to answer to any damned Emperor. Or Master. You could have been somebody."
"Instead of a bum, which is what I am?"
"You were better than a contender, you whiny piece of shit. You were a legend. A master of torture. Two Slayers killed. One on the ropes. And now this." He lit another cigarette and flipped off the light. "Sod this. I'm getting out of here. There's no damn point in trying to make you see the error of your ways. You were a legend. And now -"
"Now," Spike said. "The legend's changing."
"No," his counterpart said, turning to leave. "The legend's dead. I only wish you had the stones to go along with it."
And then there was nothing but darkness.