Spike liked to think he used to be a simple vampire. Just blood and smokes were his game - that was the unlife for him. Of course, there was the occasional boink from Drusilla, and the odd occasion where his instincts took over and he just had to terrorize the little children, but overall there were just the two before-mentioned factors: blood and nicotine. Fabulous.
But then, the bloody Nazi-types took me away and dug a hole in my skull, thought Spike, furiously. And I couldn't even point a sodding toy gun at someone. Poofters.
Of course, love turned Spike soft too, as much as he hated to admit it. It had been fine when his desire had been for Drusilla - who had happily reciprocated, but unrequited love really turned a guy pathetic.
And the dating website had just made everything worse. It hadn't even been Spike's idea in the first place - he would have happily avoided the complications of online romance. But no, his friends had other ideas.
Carrying a paper bag full of all the groceries a vamp could ever need, came Spike, swaggering cheerfully, whistling an old tune (to be specific, "Its a Long Way to Tipperary"). Unrequited love was particularly tiresome, it was true, but the daydreams did make up for it. Daydreams were as close as Spike knew he was ever going to get to Buffy.
He pushed open the door to his homey crypt after a leisurely walk into town. It had been nice just relishing his thoughts (however shallow they were) and smoking as many cigarettes as he liked (he felt impolite when he indulged in front of Buffy and Red).
Expecting a nice quiet, atmosphere, Spike was severely disappointed to find an old friend sitting in his favourite (and only) armchair, scoffing Cheetos, and laughing at the made-for-TV movie blaring from the TV set. Spike recognised that skin condition anywhere. It was Clem.
"Hi!" cried Clem, animatedly. "You know, Spike, I drop in for a nice chat with my old buddy, and what do I find? Nobody. You were out!" He stretched his legs with a yawn, and then curled himself into a ball in the armchair. "The chair's nice, though."
Spike scowled. "Oh yeah," he said sarcastically. "Make yourself at home." Clem grinned.
"I will." The silence that followed haunted Clem, and he felt the need to speak again. "So, er, how are you, Spike?"
Spike grunted half-heartedly, and Clem frowned concernedly. Spike's happy mood seemed to trickle away quite quickly after coming home.
"Girl trouble?" Clem offered cautiously, getting out of the chair, and coming to sniff around the groceries Spike had brought home. "'Coz, my brother-in-law went on this website, and now he's married to my sister." Clem stopped, thoughtfully. "Its called Match . com."
Spike snorted. "Uh, thanks, Clem, but I'll think I'll give Match . com a miss." He emptied his paper bag onto the seat of the armchair. "Bollocks! I forgot the beer!"
"Beer?" asked Clem, hopefully.
Spike shook his head in frustration. "I'll go and get some," he said, and looked at Clem. "And uh... you, you can guard the nest. He threw Clem the remote. "In case you fed up of Goldie Hawn," he said.
So he went plodding through the cemetery again, and grudgingly paid for his beer (gone were the days were he could scare the shopkeepers into giving it to him free) and returned back to his crypt - and to his regret - Clem.
"'Lo, Clem," he muttered, laying the four-pack on the floor beside the TV, before realising Clem was not in the armchair. "Clem?"
"Down here!" called Clem in response, and Spike followed the yelp down to the sub-level of the crypt, where Clem was poured over the computer Spike had found the previous day in the dumpster.
"This is great!" exclaimed Clem, as he blew up an alien excitedly on the video game he had downloaded. "I was just nosing-" Spike noticed there was no shame in his tone. "- and I found your computer! This will definitely make poker night more fun..."
"Clem." Spike tried to speak calmly. "Get off my computer. Now."
"Oh, OK," sniffed Clem, sadly. "But you should know I put email on here for you, and I did a few drawings in Paint... and I made you an account on Match . com. You're "William", 'coz I thought it sounded cooler than Spike - you would have got all sorts of weirdos matched up with you - but I didn't know if you ever had a surname back then, so you are William Disclosed - kinda has a ring to it, doesn't it, I mean-"
"Clem!"
Clem froze. "What?"
"You put me on a dating website? Are you insane? What kind of a nutjob would want to date a bloody vampire, you complete and utter twerp-"
MATCH!
The ping interrupted Spike and Clem's arguement.
Name: BUFFY SUMMERS
Age: 21
Area of Work: Law Enforcement
Likes: Dancing, drinking (safe) beer, cheesy ice-skating movies
Dislikes: James Bond, Spiderman, Jackie Chan - people who like to "fight crime"
It also included her IM address.
"Um, that kind of nutjob?" finished Clem, staring, like Spike, in awe at the computer screen.
YOUR MATCH HAS LOGGED ON!
"Oh, crap," said Spike.
Spike scowled at the memory as he took another swig of his beer. Stupid Clem. It was his fault that "William" had met Buffy, and the internet relationship - if you could call it that - had begun. And now Buffy thought that it had been Angel, and all hope was lost completely.
At that moment, the wooden door - still roughly sellotaped together after Buffy's past intrusion - burst open, and again scattered into tiny pieces. Spike groaned as he heard each piece hit the floor.
"Oh bloody hell," he cried aloud, and he turned to face the intruder. "Do you have any idea how long it took to- Buffy? That you?"
"You bet your lying, undead ass its me," replied Buffy, with a blazing look. "And you have got a whole lot of explaining to do."
"Wait," said Spike, defensively - even holding up both hands. "Before you say anything, it was Clem - you haven't met him yet, but he's a right pain in the -"
"You were William, all along!" accused Buffy, angrily. "And you never told me! You even stood me up!"
"I never stood you up," declared Spike. "I was there, remember?"
Buffy ignored this. "Sit down," she demanded. "Sit down, and tell me everything, right from the very start. Got it?"
Spike sat down obediently.
"Well," he began, but he paused. "I'd think you'd better be the one to sit down. This could take a while."
Ha ha, another cliffie! And I won't continue until I see some reviews!