Spike is coming back to Angel! But for those of us who have not read the spoilers (unlike spoiled me), it's a mystery just *how* he's going to be returning. This is one possibility that came to mind. A possibility that will never be on the real show, but... wouldn't it be cool?!
A/N: Stupid crossovers rule! Woo!
SPIKE WHO
"So, what do we do, now that we're in charge?" asked Angel, not really expecting an answer from his friends. It was a tricky business enough as usual, and now that Angel and the rest of Angel Investigations had been put in charge of the evil law firm Wolfram and Hart, who knew just how complicated things were going to get?
"I suppose we move in the books," said Wesley, "and the weapons, and all the rest of our things."
"And try to do some good with the power we have now," Fred added, more to the point. Gunn nodded his agreement.
"It's not going to be easy," Angel warned them. None of them looked surprised. After all, when was it ever easy? "We're going to have to clear out a *lot* of these guys' old clients. Not all of them, obviously, but a lot."
"Yeah," said Gunn, "if there's one place you're going to come across evil badasses, it's here."
"Got that right," said a familiar voice from the doorway. Angel looked up in shock. There, at the door of the main offices of Wolfram and Hart stood Spike, dressed as always in his leather coat, black jeans and shirt, and... what in the name of the Gods was he wearing that ridiculous scarf for?
"Spike," Angel glared darkly at his childe. The others looked at him in alarm, wondering what was going to happen. Spike lit a cigarette, casually, and strode over to the table. "Why are you here?"
"Is he still safe?" Wesley asked. "Does he still have the chip?"
"I thought he died," Angel told him, mystified. He looked up again at Spike, his eyes demanding an explanation.
"I did," Spike said. "And, in answer to your other question - no I don't have a chip in my head anymore." Angel reached for a stake in his back pocket. "Oh, don't fret yourself Peaches, I'm not going to bite. Is your sense of smell really that bad?"
"You're not a vampire," Angel stated bluntly, smelling the unusual scent. "But you don't smell human."
"What kind of demon are you, and how do I kill it?" Gunn asked, stepping forward fearlessly. Spike gave him a smirk.
"I'm not a demon," Spike said, "at least not in the traditional sense. More of an alien now, actually."
"Aliens don't speak with English accents," Fred said. "Or at least, they shouldn't."
"What about the scarf?" Angel asked, changing the subject.
"What about it?" Spike asked, twirling the end of it around in his hand.
"Why are you wearing it?" he asked. "It's stupid! It's not even cold!"
"Don't mock the scarf, Angel." Spike frowned at him. "Just be glad I'm not wearing a velvet coat."
"Huh?" said Gunn. "What are you talking about?"
"I've been away for a while," Spike said. "About 100 years or so on this planet you've never heard of. I was brought back as a sort of reward for the sacrifice I made in Sunnydale way back when. Not long ago for you lot I suppose."
"Time moves differently there?" Wesley asked, intrigued.
"Nope," Spike said. "*I* move differently. Through time. I'm a Timelord."
//dadadadum dadadadum dadadadum DO DEE DOOO.... etc//
Ok. I'm sad. And bored. But it's good for a laugh anyway, isn't it?
A/N: Stupid crossovers rule! Woo!
SPIKE WHO
"So, what do we do, now that we're in charge?" asked Angel, not really expecting an answer from his friends. It was a tricky business enough as usual, and now that Angel and the rest of Angel Investigations had been put in charge of the evil law firm Wolfram and Hart, who knew just how complicated things were going to get?
"I suppose we move in the books," said Wesley, "and the weapons, and all the rest of our things."
"And try to do some good with the power we have now," Fred added, more to the point. Gunn nodded his agreement.
"It's not going to be easy," Angel warned them. None of them looked surprised. After all, when was it ever easy? "We're going to have to clear out a *lot* of these guys' old clients. Not all of them, obviously, but a lot."
"Yeah," said Gunn, "if there's one place you're going to come across evil badasses, it's here."
"Got that right," said a familiar voice from the doorway. Angel looked up in shock. There, at the door of the main offices of Wolfram and Hart stood Spike, dressed as always in his leather coat, black jeans and shirt, and... what in the name of the Gods was he wearing that ridiculous scarf for?
"Spike," Angel glared darkly at his childe. The others looked at him in alarm, wondering what was going to happen. Spike lit a cigarette, casually, and strode over to the table. "Why are you here?"
"Is he still safe?" Wesley asked. "Does he still have the chip?"
"I thought he died," Angel told him, mystified. He looked up again at Spike, his eyes demanding an explanation.
"I did," Spike said. "And, in answer to your other question - no I don't have a chip in my head anymore." Angel reached for a stake in his back pocket. "Oh, don't fret yourself Peaches, I'm not going to bite. Is your sense of smell really that bad?"
"You're not a vampire," Angel stated bluntly, smelling the unusual scent. "But you don't smell human."
"What kind of demon are you, and how do I kill it?" Gunn asked, stepping forward fearlessly. Spike gave him a smirk.
"I'm not a demon," Spike said, "at least not in the traditional sense. More of an alien now, actually."
"Aliens don't speak with English accents," Fred said. "Or at least, they shouldn't."
"What about the scarf?" Angel asked, changing the subject.
"What about it?" Spike asked, twirling the end of it around in his hand.
"Why are you wearing it?" he asked. "It's stupid! It's not even cold!"
"Don't mock the scarf, Angel." Spike frowned at him. "Just be glad I'm not wearing a velvet coat."
"Huh?" said Gunn. "What are you talking about?"
"I've been away for a while," Spike said. "About 100 years or so on this planet you've never heard of. I was brought back as a sort of reward for the sacrifice I made in Sunnydale way back when. Not long ago for you lot I suppose."
"Time moves differently there?" Wesley asked, intrigued.
"Nope," Spike said. "*I* move differently. Through time. I'm a Timelord."
//dadadadum dadadadum dadadadum DO DEE DOOO.... etc//
Ok. I'm sad. And bored. But it's good for a laugh anyway, isn't it?