As the show progressed in the following weeks, Spike and Darla had to go through many, many mind numbing interviews. Sometimes they had to travel for hours, just for interviews. After each, they'd joke about how the hosts were as exciting as doorknobs and knew nothing about the show.
At the interview they were at that night, they surprisingly got a chance to be interviewed together, in a room full of media. Darla was touched at the fact that they even had glasses of water for them. "No, I've never been married." Darla answered, "Not even to that tennis player from Switzerland I've been hearing about. That's just a rumour. I don't even know his name!" Fake laughter went around and the next reporter stood up. "My question is for Mr. Gellar."
"Please, everyone call me Spike, I never use my last name."
"And why is that?" Spike hesitated. He knew he had to answer this one carefully, or else the media would spin a tale that he hated his heritage and had some sort of family secret or something along those lines.
"I'm a friendly person. I find that knowing someone on a last name basis is too stiff. Sure it signifies respect, but can't you go that extra step as to show respect by saying their first name. It shows you know the person." He and Darla held back a laugh, it was complete bull shit. But hey, isn't that what all celebrities do?
"Darla! Do you have a boyfriend?" Darla smiled politely. She was asked this question every interview. "No, I do not."
"Are you looking?"
"Well, with my lifestyle, it's very difficult to find time for a boyfriend. I work all day. And when I'm not working, I'm rehearsing my lines or relaxing by watching TV or reading."
"What about you Spike? Do you have a girlfriend?" Spike chuckled, "Nah. I have to agree with Darla. I'm too busy. All I do is work." A sly reporter stood up with a sneer, "Have you considered a romantic relationship with one of your work colleagues?" Bitch, Spike thought, I hope she's not suggesting what I think she is.
"No. I don't think right now is a good time to date. I just got this job, I want to focus on that one thing for a while. Maybe in the future, I might look for someone but not at the moment." Miss Quoil stepped up with a fake smile and announced that it had been many hours and the interview was over. They thanked everyone for coming and left cheerily.
Miss Quoil directed them out of the building and into their awaiting limo. "I've gone to the trouble of leaving all your fan mail from this week in the limo. You can go through it then. You have a long trip before getting to the hotel rooms we have reserved."
"Thanks Becky." Spike sighed. Miss Quoil walked away. She had to stay a little longer and do...stuff. Spike and Darla didn't know what.
Darla sat uncomfortably close to Spike in the limo- it was packed with fan mail. "How will we ever sort through this?" She asked taking out at least 18 letters from underneath her. "Easy! There's a trick to it. I've managed to come up with an ingenious way to organize my letters. All you have to do is open your own letters, read it briefly, and place it in a certain pile. There are 5 piles. The first is the harmless, 'I love your show, keep up the good work' pile. You send those people a thank you for watching and an autographed picture."
"Autographed picture? I get hand cramps after doing that for 3 hours."
"I know, that's why they invented stamps. Second is 'I love you, marry me' pile. You send a thanks, I'm flattered, but I'm devoted to my work letter, with autographed picture and you can add in a personal comment like, but I think Andrew Cane is single."
"But he isn't. He's straight and married."
"They don't know that. Third pile is for the 'I hate your show and I think you should die horribly'. Send a-I'm sorry you feel that way, here's my autographed picture-letter. Forth pile is for the scammers. They say they're related or knew you in highschool. For that you say, No I don't know you, get a life."
"Autographed picture?"
"No. Fifth pile are for 'I'm desperately in love with you, I'd die for you' letters. For those ones you say -Get help- and an autographed picture. Oh yeah, you might get the odd letter like that with a vile of their blood with it, but it's rare."
"Do you drink it?"
"Eww, no! I thought you knew me better than that."
"Sorry, I was curious."
"Anyway it's that simple."
Darla blinked, "Wow, that's impressive." Spike smile devilishly, "I know." They immediately started opening their letters and putting them in the correct piles neatly. Spike showed her one of his letters, "Here's a good example for pile number 4; 'Spike, didn't we play football together 15 years ago?'" Darla laughed, "I have a good one for pile 2 'Darla I love you, will you have my baby?" They spent a good 2 hours laughing at their letters until Darla came to one that was really odd. It read; 'Darla, be mine.' That's it. "That's it?" She asked out loud. "Hmm?" Spike questioned, distracted by his own letters. "Nothing." Darla tossed that note out the window. He saw her and laughed, "Didn't like that one?"
"It said 'be mine' and that's all." Spike nodded and looked through his letters, "Yeah you'll get those from time to time. Don't worry though. It's not like they'll find out where you are, stalk you, and kill you."
"Gee, you're great at comforting people."
"What? Oh come on, don't let it bother you. Probably some lonely old man who wrote it." Darla sighed, "You're right."
They soon arrived at their hotel at 2 in the morning. There was a very bad thunderstorm going on and it was extremely loud. Darla settled in large bed under the covers comfortably. She couldn't stop thinking of stalkers. She didn't know why it freaked her out, it shouldn't have. It didn't help that lightning kept lighting up the room suddenly and the thunder was keeping her awake. She turned on her side and noticed a small piece of paper on the desk. She turned on the lamp and read it, 'You will be mine!' Darla gasped and dropped the letter. "I'm getting out of here!"
She ran out of her room and down the hall to Spike's room. She didn't want to stay alone in her room. As she turned the corner she saw a black shadow approach her slowly with their arm outstretched. Darla screamed and ran to Spike's room quickly. The door was unlocked, which was a bad sign. She shut the door and went to his bed, "Spike! The stalker's here! It's stalking me!!!" Darla suddenly realized he wasn't there. She whirled around and remembered she hadn't locked the door. "Shit!" She dashed for it but someone came in. Darla screamed again terrified. The stalker switched on the light. Spike rubbed his eyes, adjusting to the light, "Darla, why are you screaming?" he asked groggily. "What were you doing out of your room!"
"To get a snack, god, relax." Darla exhaled relieved to see him...and his half naked-ness (yum), "I thought you were the stalker. I found another note in my room. Can I sleep in your room with you tonight?" Spike finally woke up and turned on his lamp, "I guess so. But it'll probably be front page in the newspaper tomorrow that we slept together."
"I don't care. I'm too scared to be alone." He shut off the light and the room stayed illuminated by the single lamp by his bed. "Just hand me a blanket and I'll sleep on the floor." He yawned. "No! You sleep in the bed. We can sleep with our backs facing each other. We can handle that can't we?" Spike was too sleepy to care, "Yeah whatever." Darla got in his bed and shut the lamp, "Thanks Spike." Spike crawled back into bed. "I feel a lot safer with you with me Spike. I know you'll protect me. I didn't think I'd ever really like you at all. I mean I only brought you with me because I didn't want to be the only vampire on the lot. I know this isn't the time but I really wanted to-" She turned over to face him but she realized he was already fast asleep...snoring...very loudly. "Good night." She whispered and turned back, shutting her eyes.
At the interview they were at that night, they surprisingly got a chance to be interviewed together, in a room full of media. Darla was touched at the fact that they even had glasses of water for them. "No, I've never been married." Darla answered, "Not even to that tennis player from Switzerland I've been hearing about. That's just a rumour. I don't even know his name!" Fake laughter went around and the next reporter stood up. "My question is for Mr. Gellar."
"Please, everyone call me Spike, I never use my last name."
"And why is that?" Spike hesitated. He knew he had to answer this one carefully, or else the media would spin a tale that he hated his heritage and had some sort of family secret or something along those lines.
"I'm a friendly person. I find that knowing someone on a last name basis is too stiff. Sure it signifies respect, but can't you go that extra step as to show respect by saying their first name. It shows you know the person." He and Darla held back a laugh, it was complete bull shit. But hey, isn't that what all celebrities do?
"Darla! Do you have a boyfriend?" Darla smiled politely. She was asked this question every interview. "No, I do not."
"Are you looking?"
"Well, with my lifestyle, it's very difficult to find time for a boyfriend. I work all day. And when I'm not working, I'm rehearsing my lines or relaxing by watching TV or reading."
"What about you Spike? Do you have a girlfriend?" Spike chuckled, "Nah. I have to agree with Darla. I'm too busy. All I do is work." A sly reporter stood up with a sneer, "Have you considered a romantic relationship with one of your work colleagues?" Bitch, Spike thought, I hope she's not suggesting what I think she is.
"No. I don't think right now is a good time to date. I just got this job, I want to focus on that one thing for a while. Maybe in the future, I might look for someone but not at the moment." Miss Quoil stepped up with a fake smile and announced that it had been many hours and the interview was over. They thanked everyone for coming and left cheerily.
Miss Quoil directed them out of the building and into their awaiting limo. "I've gone to the trouble of leaving all your fan mail from this week in the limo. You can go through it then. You have a long trip before getting to the hotel rooms we have reserved."
"Thanks Becky." Spike sighed. Miss Quoil walked away. She had to stay a little longer and do...stuff. Spike and Darla didn't know what.
Darla sat uncomfortably close to Spike in the limo- it was packed with fan mail. "How will we ever sort through this?" She asked taking out at least 18 letters from underneath her. "Easy! There's a trick to it. I've managed to come up with an ingenious way to organize my letters. All you have to do is open your own letters, read it briefly, and place it in a certain pile. There are 5 piles. The first is the harmless, 'I love your show, keep up the good work' pile. You send those people a thank you for watching and an autographed picture."
"Autographed picture? I get hand cramps after doing that for 3 hours."
"I know, that's why they invented stamps. Second is 'I love you, marry me' pile. You send a thanks, I'm flattered, but I'm devoted to my work letter, with autographed picture and you can add in a personal comment like, but I think Andrew Cane is single."
"But he isn't. He's straight and married."
"They don't know that. Third pile is for the 'I hate your show and I think you should die horribly'. Send a-I'm sorry you feel that way, here's my autographed picture-letter. Forth pile is for the scammers. They say they're related or knew you in highschool. For that you say, No I don't know you, get a life."
"Autographed picture?"
"No. Fifth pile are for 'I'm desperately in love with you, I'd die for you' letters. For those ones you say -Get help- and an autographed picture. Oh yeah, you might get the odd letter like that with a vile of their blood with it, but it's rare."
"Do you drink it?"
"Eww, no! I thought you knew me better than that."
"Sorry, I was curious."
"Anyway it's that simple."
Darla blinked, "Wow, that's impressive." Spike smile devilishly, "I know." They immediately started opening their letters and putting them in the correct piles neatly. Spike showed her one of his letters, "Here's a good example for pile number 4; 'Spike, didn't we play football together 15 years ago?'" Darla laughed, "I have a good one for pile 2 'Darla I love you, will you have my baby?" They spent a good 2 hours laughing at their letters until Darla came to one that was really odd. It read; 'Darla, be mine.' That's it. "That's it?" She asked out loud. "Hmm?" Spike questioned, distracted by his own letters. "Nothing." Darla tossed that note out the window. He saw her and laughed, "Didn't like that one?"
"It said 'be mine' and that's all." Spike nodded and looked through his letters, "Yeah you'll get those from time to time. Don't worry though. It's not like they'll find out where you are, stalk you, and kill you."
"Gee, you're great at comforting people."
"What? Oh come on, don't let it bother you. Probably some lonely old man who wrote it." Darla sighed, "You're right."
They soon arrived at their hotel at 2 in the morning. There was a very bad thunderstorm going on and it was extremely loud. Darla settled in large bed under the covers comfortably. She couldn't stop thinking of stalkers. She didn't know why it freaked her out, it shouldn't have. It didn't help that lightning kept lighting up the room suddenly and the thunder was keeping her awake. She turned on her side and noticed a small piece of paper on the desk. She turned on the lamp and read it, 'You will be mine!' Darla gasped and dropped the letter. "I'm getting out of here!"
She ran out of her room and down the hall to Spike's room. She didn't want to stay alone in her room. As she turned the corner she saw a black shadow approach her slowly with their arm outstretched. Darla screamed and ran to Spike's room quickly. The door was unlocked, which was a bad sign. She shut the door and went to his bed, "Spike! The stalker's here! It's stalking me!!!" Darla suddenly realized he wasn't there. She whirled around and remembered she hadn't locked the door. "Shit!" She dashed for it but someone came in. Darla screamed again terrified. The stalker switched on the light. Spike rubbed his eyes, adjusting to the light, "Darla, why are you screaming?" he asked groggily. "What were you doing out of your room!"
"To get a snack, god, relax." Darla exhaled relieved to see him...and his half naked-ness (yum), "I thought you were the stalker. I found another note in my room. Can I sleep in your room with you tonight?" Spike finally woke up and turned on his lamp, "I guess so. But it'll probably be front page in the newspaper tomorrow that we slept together."
"I don't care. I'm too scared to be alone." He shut off the light and the room stayed illuminated by the single lamp by his bed. "Just hand me a blanket and I'll sleep on the floor." He yawned. "No! You sleep in the bed. We can sleep with our backs facing each other. We can handle that can't we?" Spike was too sleepy to care, "Yeah whatever." Darla got in his bed and shut the lamp, "Thanks Spike." Spike crawled back into bed. "I feel a lot safer with you with me Spike. I know you'll protect me. I didn't think I'd ever really like you at all. I mean I only brought you with me because I didn't want to be the only vampire on the lot. I know this isn't the time but I really wanted to-" She turned over to face him but she realized he was already fast asleep...snoring...very loudly. "Good night." She whispered and turned back, shutting her eyes.
