"Stupid Slayer!" Spike yelled as he crushed the can in his hand and threw it angrily at the wall where it hit with an unsatisfying *clink* and dropped to the hard floor below to be forgotten. He opened up a new can and chugged half of it before pulling away and looking at it in distaste.
"Stupid Red Bull," he added to the unassuming piece of metal in his hand. He looked around his crypt at the many crushed Red Bull cans on the floor as well as the unopened ones on the table in front of him.
"Why the hell do I have so much Red Bull anyway?" he shouted to no one in particular, his voice echoing around the silent room. "I'm a bloody vampire for crying out loud! I should have blood and bourbon, not this shit!" Spike had run out of both a couple hours before, but it was day time so he couldn't leave to get more until nightfall, unless he felt like bursting into flame on the way. Sadly, this left him with merely a industrial size box of Red Bull he had found in the fridge.
Spike stared at the can in his hand, scrutinizing the tiny bull picture on the label. " 'Give you wings,' my ass," he said and threw the half-full can over his shoulder. Regretting that decision, he opened another can and took a long draught off of it, wincing in distaste and longing for the beer he now found himself without. It turns out, Spike realized, Red Bull really doesn't help you drown your in-love-with-the-Slayer blues much, just makes you really shaky.
"Bullocks," he mumbled, and lay down on the stone coffin amongst the Red Bull cans to attempt to sleep until he could leave to get something stronger than crappy "energy" drinks to muffle his sorrows.
A few hours of fitful sleep later and the moon was high in the sky over Sunnydale, casting its' erie glow about the town. Spike groaned as he sat up, rolling his neck and shoulders to attempt to ease the kink they had gotten from sleeping on stone. Human or not, sleeping on top of a stone coffin just isn't comfortable. It was Spike's back that hurt more than anything, he noticed, most strongly from two parallel spots on his shoulder blades. He reached his arm back to rub the offending area, but something soft and feathery impeded, keeping him from his back.
"What the-" He felt along the offending object for a moment before quickly twisting around so he could look, hoping it wasn't true.
"You have got to be kidding me." He rolled his eyes and slammed his forehead into his hands. Wings! Of all the bloody things that could happen to an evil demon from hell, why did this have to happen to him. What could be more humiliating for a vampire than waking up and finding yourself looking like an angel!
Spike was just beginning to consider how much it would hurt to rip these things out of his back when the wings decided to show what they could do. Through no control of his own, the fluffy white wings began to flap hard until Spike was hanging three feet above the ground.
"Hey now, you stupid things! Let me down!" Trying as he might to get down, turning thrashing, trying anything he could think of to get down, the wings prevailed.
"Oh god, where's someone to stake you when you actually want them to," he lamented. How ridiculous he must look hanging in the air by some stupid, girly-ass wings! It's humiliating! At least he was alone, he thought, but the wings had other plans apparently. With a slight change in angle and a little more flapping, the wings were pushing Spike through the air, despite his flailing and screamed protests. Soon he was floating out of the graveyard and into town. Spike found he had no choice but to let the wings do as they wish, because he sure as hell wasn't able to control them. And so he hung their limply, arms dangling at his sides, eyes shooting daggers in every direction, hoping no one would see him.
As Spike drifted closer to town, the chances of him being seen increased by the second. And, of course, even despite the late hour of the night, a tiny little girl in pigtails skipped around the corner ahead of him and saw him. Spike tried to look scary but the girl ran up to him anyway. Deciding it pointless, he hung there and waited for the girl to go away.
The girl just stood in front of Spike for a long moment, the wings stopping their forward motion for the girl, and she stared. Finally, a wide grin spreads across her face and she hopped up and down in front of Spike.
"Are you an angel?" she asks him gleefully.
"Angel's in LA. Now can you leave me alone?"
"I didn't ask if your name was Angel," she asks with a comedic roll of the eyes, "I asked if you arean angel! So are you?"
"I'm not an angel! I'm a bloody vampire! You know, suck your blood, kill your loved ones, beat you to a pulp and suck you dry."
"Then why do you have wings, Mr. Angel?"
"I'm not a fucking angel! And don't call me that! I told you, the idiot Angel is in LA."
The girl just stared at him impatiently, crossing her little arms and tapping her foot waiting for Spike to answer her question.
Spike rolled his eyes and replied, "I suppose I drank too much Red Bull, and now it has given me wings. Happy?"
"Red Bull?" she asked, with a tilt of the head. "You mean if I drink a bunch of Red Bull then I'll grow wings too?" She was literally bouncing with excitement at the thought, no matter how many brainwaves Spike sent out telling her to leave.
"Yes," he said impatiently, "so you should go home to mommy now and get her to buy you some before I drink your blood and use your bones to make my bread."
BOOM!
Everybody died.
The end.