Chapter 3 - It's a Sucky Life
~*~
"They shouldn't call it It's A Wonderful Life. It should be It's A Sucky Life and Just When You Think It Can't Suck Anymore, It Does."
-Phoebe, Friends
Her victims were spread out before her in a rumpled heap, their appendages tangled and carelessly strewn about. Another victim went flying over her shoulder and joined the growing pile on the floor. She had fully massacred her closet in an attempt to find an outfit but to no avail. It was becoming clear that she was not going to win this war with fashion. She sighed heavily and ventured back into the battlefield.
"Kay, are you almost ready? We have to go in fifteen minutes!"
Jessica could hear a few muffled curse words coming from the bowels of her sister's closet. She stood in the doorway, impatiently tapping her wristwatch.
"Kay, you are going to be late for your own funeral," she finally muttered exasperrated and skipped downstairs.
Kay poked her head around the corner of the closet door, a pair of pajama bottoms drooped over her forehead. "No sister dear, I am sure for that special occasion I would be quite prompt..."
She crawled out on all fours and collapsed amidst the piles of discarded clothing. Almost half of it could be considered part of the 'Miguel Collection' ; outfits bought in an attempt to win his favour. Kay could streak naked through the living room and the boy still wouldn't bat an eye. Grumbling to herself, she pulled a pink, silk blouse from underneath her and let the silky material flow through her hands. They still bore obvious scars, which she had quickly blamed on a rogue toaster. Her naive mother had given her a cheery smile and flitted back into the kitchen for more Martha Stewart madness.
The soft drone of voices reached her room as the bustling bees downstairs buzzed about getting ready to leave.
"Maybe they'll forget me..." Kay thought to herself. It was a very pleasant thought.
Unfortunately, it wasn't a realistic one.
"Kay come on! It's going to be so fun," she heard Charity's sugar coated voice chirp
from the bottom of the stairs. "Won't it be fun Miguel? I can't wait to snuggle up next to you on the dance floor."
The pillow smothered Kay's face quickly and effectively, and welcomed her soft groan. She was being forced against her will to go to a dance club to be the fifth, no, seventh wheel in a chortling wagon of teenage debauchery. Simone had even managed to snag a date, and so the ever isolated Kay sensed a feeling of impending wallflower doom.
Plus, she was now starting to sound like Charity.
If she was going to be forced into a dimly lit, badly decorated nightspot filled with half naked teenagers, she might as well be miserable in style. She plucked an extremely tight, extremely short, extremely white dress from her ravaged closet and tossed it over her head, allowing the wall of slick hair to brush past the thin straps that nuzzled her shoulders.
"Good job Kay, you look perfectly slutty," she nodded to her reflection before sweeping out of the room.
~*~
The throbbing glow of multi-coloured lights splashed across his pale features as the all to familiar whisp of smoke slithered up from the end of his cigarette and danced to the jungle beat. Once or twice, a scantily clad feline would sneak up and slide her paws over the soft leather that covered his shoulders and purr seductively in his ear.
"Wanna dance?"
Each time he had shrugged off her claws and watched her slip sulkily back to the dance floor to join the pack of beautiful young creatures wearing clothing that barely covered their forms as they gyrated to the music.
Spike slugged back yet another beer, thinking of the beaten car that sat waiting for him wearily in the parking lot. The the neon sign that screamed "Tantric" perched above an open door had drawn him in. He gladly entered the building, its gaudy style making it appear like a painted lady standing amidst a group of prudish nuns. She beckoned him with promises of the numbing pleasure of alcohol.
His world was becoming fuzzy once more, like the soft skin of a peach. He swiveled around in his chair to take in the scene. The club in which he found himself sitting was obviously new, jammed in between cute craft stores in the city's attempt to be hip. The tiled floor, where hundreds of feet clad in strappy sandles and slick leather boots shuffled to the constant bass, was still shining with a thin coat of polish. The glass from which he slurped his liquor was also spotless, which was a nice change from the shitty dives he'd visited lately.
Watching the masses of young people staggered in clumps and dancing to the tireless techno rhythm, Spike felt a tinge of longing for The Bronze with its red pool tables and flowering onions. This place only had glass bowls lining the bar filled with piles of salty peanuts. He took one in and rolled it in his mouth, feeling the granules of salt with his tongue. He almost choked on it when he saw a sudden flash of blonde hair.
A girl with hair the color of honey was swaying softly to the music. Her movements were far more graceful than those of her mechanical companions. She was partially blocked by a dark haired boy as she rolled her shoulders and back against his chest. Those unwanted memories came flooding back as he remembered his first glimpse of Buffy at the Bronze, her blonde head leaning against Xander. He had stalked around the club, watching her.
Hunting her.
It was not just primal force that drove him, but a certain amount of lust. The seed of love, however twisted, had been planted then.
He shook his head furiously and cursed the memories, and his attentions were brought back to the girl. His first impressions of her proved to be quite false. Now that she was in plain view, he could see her hair was thin and stringy, not at all like the golden hair of his slayer. She wrapped her toothpick arms around her partner's neck and scrunched her face into a sort of half smile.
"Beer goggles can turn any harpie into a goddess," he muttered before sliding off his chair and taking a last swig of his beer.
He was about to turn and slide his glass across the bar when another flash of hair caught his eye.
A lenghty curtain of brown-gold lying straight down her back.
Spike arched his scarred eyebrow quizzically and murmered, "Nibblet?"
The girl turned to reveal the face of a sullen teenage girl. A sullen teenage girl that wasn't Dawn. Of course it couldn't have possibly been, Spike knew that. He needed to push his memories of Sunnydale, of everything to do with ... her out of his mind. His eyes remained transfixed on the girl with Dawn-like hair and a face pinched like a sour lemon. She kept her arms crossed across her chest, pulling them tight against her diaphonous white dress. She was pretty, he thought. But whatever small beauty she had was marred by the increasingly dour expression on her face.
The frenetic lights streaming through the club were beginning to hurt his eyes. Taking a final look at the girl in white, he pulled his leather duster tight around him and stumbled out of the club.
~*~
"Is that a mirror in your pocket, because I can see myself in your pants."
Kay's legs tensed as she clenched her thighs together and glared at the stranger. His colorful patterned shirt hung open to reveal a thick gold chain, and his tight leather pants squeaked as he edged closer to her. He had obviously bathed in cologne before coming.
"I'm not wearing pants you half wit," she spat.
He ran his lecherous eyes up her legs before lifting a hand to brush her hair and whispering something that made Kay's pale face become flushed with fury.
Slipping from his grasp, Kay tripped onto the dance floor and slid through clumps of sweat covered bodies. She spotted Charity and Miguel with their limbs entangled, swaying gently to the furious beat while everyone else around them swirled in a rhythmic haze. Kay massaged her temples and hoisted her dress up. It felt like being wrapped in cellophane, and she constantly felt the presence of roving eyes unwrapping the plastic that held her in. She felt increasingly stupid acting like the shy nymph when the look she had been going for was the smoldering vixen. The swirl of music, light and people began to envelope her and she felt herself give into the beat. Throwing her hands up in the air she began to dance wildly, throwing herself against any male who'd take her. She didn't care anymore. The faces of the guys in front of her blurred and meshed together and joined the kinetic swirl around her. It was freeing, feeling the mind numbing beat of the music pound in her skull. Nothing but the steady drone of the bass.
Suddenly, she felt her head slam against the floor. She lay sprawled on the ground, and looked up to see a group of young women staring down at her. One appeared to be gloating, her ample chest barely contained in a stich of reptile skin. They all hissed and slithered away into the crowd, which soon closed the gap around where she fell. Pushing herself up and out of the crowd, Kay stumbled and limped when she discovered one of the heels of her platforms was broken. She hobbled towards the bar, absent mindedly wondering if she could rub off the stamp on her hand that branded her a non-consumer of alcohol.
Another sudden jolt startled her when the poorly dressed stranger from earlier slammed into her, carrying two glasses of bright red punch. The liquid splattered down the front of her white dress leaving a bubbling trail. The stranger stammered and apologized, but he found himself talking to Kay's back as she stormed away from him. Not bothering to tell her friends she was leaving, she carried her broken shoe in one hand and slipped into the alleyway.
Brushing her tangled hair from her eyes, she squinted them tightly to keep the tears from spilling out. It was then she felt a heavy hand on her shoulder and she flipped her head around to view the stranger. He had a suave grin that revealed rows of glinting teeth.
"Sorry about that baby, I was..."
"I don't care what you were doing, leave me the hell alone," Kay snorted pushing the hand off her shoulder and returning to her path. She became increasingly frustrated when she felt the hand on her shoulder again.
"Bite me," she snapped.
A cold rush flowed through her and she felt the hand tighten it's grip.
"I thought you'd never ask."
~*~
The loud scream of the horn woke him with a start as it molested the night air with its high pitched squeal. Spike lifted his head off the steering wheel of the car and blinked his eyes allowing them to adjust to the light. The squeal of the horn quickly faded away as he stepped out of his car for a smoke. He slipped the cigarette between his lips when another scream shattered the silence. Absently, he looked at the steering wheel of his car, but seeing nothing out of the ordinary he fished his lighter from the pocket of his duster. He almost lit himself on fire when he was startled by another scream. His alcohol soaked mind tried to process the direction of the sound as he flicked the unlit cigarette to the ground and trotted towards the noise.
The scream was growing louder and clearer, so he knew he must be getting close. Either that, or the sound of the scream was echoing inside his head. He decided to take a chance and turned around a corner into an alleyway. He was confronted with the sight of a large, badly dressed vampire descending his fangs to the exposed neck of a young woman. She had stopped screaming and was breathing frantically as she struggled to get free. Spike sprung forward just as she managed to free herself from his grasp. Perhaps a spot of violence would sober him up. The badly dressed vampire clawed at the girl, breaking one of the straps of her dress and leaving four vertical lines down her shoulder and collarbone. Spike flung his arms around the other vampire's neck just as the girl collapsed on the ground.
In his foggy mind he heard his muffled voice shout, "Get out of here!" But, he couldn't be sure if he actually said it for the girl was paralyzed on the spot. His fist connected with the other vampire's head, but the creature howled and backed up, sandwiching Spike between it and the wall. He felt himself slide to the ground and he shook his head to rid himself of the dizzying effect. Across the alleyway, he could see the other vampire towering over the girl, trying to snatch her arm. She was groping beside her with her free hand, and as Spike pulled himself to his feet in order to fling himself at the vampire once more, he saw her hand grasp in desperation an abandoned piece of sharp wood. She swung it wildly, aimlessly stabbing at her attacker.
The next moment, the girl was encircled in a cloud of dust that rapidly disintegrated on the ground. Spike cocked an eyebrow at her as he approached, and extended his hand. She looked at it like it was covered in puss-filled warts and got up on her own. Spike shrugged and slid out a cigarette for his missed smoke.
"You're welcome," he snorted around the cigarette. It was then he noticed that she was the girl in the white dress that he had mistaken for Dawn in his drunken stupor.
"You're welcome? Your welcome for what exactly?" she said, scowling.
"Well, usually a lady thanks a gentlemen for saving her life."
"You, a gentlemen? That's a laugh," the girl said scanning Spike up and down. "Besides, you were busy slumping against a wall like a drunken fool. So thanks for getting in my way."
"Getting in your way? I bloody well saved your ungrateful arse!"
"For your information, I didn't need saving thank you very much. I was doing just fine on my own. Some guys just get a little agressive, I know how to handle myself."
"That git wasn't trying to give you a hickey luv. Do you have anything idea what that..."
"I don't care," she interrupted, "I have seen too much weird shit in my lifetime to give a damn, especially tonight. Now do me a favour that I can be sure to thank you for. Fuck off."
"Well Sunshine, aren't you the bright and cheery one. Did kitty drink some sour milk this morning?" He sneered and snatched the cigarette from his lips, letting it dangle between his fingers.
"This little kitty has claws, and unless you want to see some of your drug-store bleached, overly gelled Ken hair end up in clumps under those claws, I suggest get out of my way. Now."
Gone was the sullen look of the girl he had seen in the club. A fire had been lit behind her eyes and she spit sparks like a firecracker. Spike gladly obliged the lady's request and stepped back as the girl huffed past him, wobbling on her one platform with the other clutched in her hand.
He chuckled as he slipped the white tube between his lips again and watched the girl disappear down the alley.
"Later Sunshine."
~*~
~*~
"They shouldn't call it It's A Wonderful Life. It should be It's A Sucky Life and Just When You Think It Can't Suck Anymore, It Does."
-Phoebe, Friends
Her victims were spread out before her in a rumpled heap, their appendages tangled and carelessly strewn about. Another victim went flying over her shoulder and joined the growing pile on the floor. She had fully massacred her closet in an attempt to find an outfit but to no avail. It was becoming clear that she was not going to win this war with fashion. She sighed heavily and ventured back into the battlefield.
"Kay, are you almost ready? We have to go in fifteen minutes!"
Jessica could hear a few muffled curse words coming from the bowels of her sister's closet. She stood in the doorway, impatiently tapping her wristwatch.
"Kay, you are going to be late for your own funeral," she finally muttered exasperrated and skipped downstairs.
Kay poked her head around the corner of the closet door, a pair of pajama bottoms drooped over her forehead. "No sister dear, I am sure for that special occasion I would be quite prompt..."
She crawled out on all fours and collapsed amidst the piles of discarded clothing. Almost half of it could be considered part of the 'Miguel Collection' ; outfits bought in an attempt to win his favour. Kay could streak naked through the living room and the boy still wouldn't bat an eye. Grumbling to herself, she pulled a pink, silk blouse from underneath her and let the silky material flow through her hands. They still bore obvious scars, which she had quickly blamed on a rogue toaster. Her naive mother had given her a cheery smile and flitted back into the kitchen for more Martha Stewart madness.
The soft drone of voices reached her room as the bustling bees downstairs buzzed about getting ready to leave.
"Maybe they'll forget me..." Kay thought to herself. It was a very pleasant thought.
Unfortunately, it wasn't a realistic one.
"Kay come on! It's going to be so fun," she heard Charity's sugar coated voice chirp
from the bottom of the stairs. "Won't it be fun Miguel? I can't wait to snuggle up next to you on the dance floor."
The pillow smothered Kay's face quickly and effectively, and welcomed her soft groan. She was being forced against her will to go to a dance club to be the fifth, no, seventh wheel in a chortling wagon of teenage debauchery. Simone had even managed to snag a date, and so the ever isolated Kay sensed a feeling of impending wallflower doom.
Plus, she was now starting to sound like Charity.
If she was going to be forced into a dimly lit, badly decorated nightspot filled with half naked teenagers, she might as well be miserable in style. She plucked an extremely tight, extremely short, extremely white dress from her ravaged closet and tossed it over her head, allowing the wall of slick hair to brush past the thin straps that nuzzled her shoulders.
"Good job Kay, you look perfectly slutty," she nodded to her reflection before sweeping out of the room.
~*~
The throbbing glow of multi-coloured lights splashed across his pale features as the all to familiar whisp of smoke slithered up from the end of his cigarette and danced to the jungle beat. Once or twice, a scantily clad feline would sneak up and slide her paws over the soft leather that covered his shoulders and purr seductively in his ear.
"Wanna dance?"
Each time he had shrugged off her claws and watched her slip sulkily back to the dance floor to join the pack of beautiful young creatures wearing clothing that barely covered their forms as they gyrated to the music.
Spike slugged back yet another beer, thinking of the beaten car that sat waiting for him wearily in the parking lot. The the neon sign that screamed "Tantric" perched above an open door had drawn him in. He gladly entered the building, its gaudy style making it appear like a painted lady standing amidst a group of prudish nuns. She beckoned him with promises of the numbing pleasure of alcohol.
His world was becoming fuzzy once more, like the soft skin of a peach. He swiveled around in his chair to take in the scene. The club in which he found himself sitting was obviously new, jammed in between cute craft stores in the city's attempt to be hip. The tiled floor, where hundreds of feet clad in strappy sandles and slick leather boots shuffled to the constant bass, was still shining with a thin coat of polish. The glass from which he slurped his liquor was also spotless, which was a nice change from the shitty dives he'd visited lately.
Watching the masses of young people staggered in clumps and dancing to the tireless techno rhythm, Spike felt a tinge of longing for The Bronze with its red pool tables and flowering onions. This place only had glass bowls lining the bar filled with piles of salty peanuts. He took one in and rolled it in his mouth, feeling the granules of salt with his tongue. He almost choked on it when he saw a sudden flash of blonde hair.
A girl with hair the color of honey was swaying softly to the music. Her movements were far more graceful than those of her mechanical companions. She was partially blocked by a dark haired boy as she rolled her shoulders and back against his chest. Those unwanted memories came flooding back as he remembered his first glimpse of Buffy at the Bronze, her blonde head leaning against Xander. He had stalked around the club, watching her.
Hunting her.
It was not just primal force that drove him, but a certain amount of lust. The seed of love, however twisted, had been planted then.
He shook his head furiously and cursed the memories, and his attentions were brought back to the girl. His first impressions of her proved to be quite false. Now that she was in plain view, he could see her hair was thin and stringy, not at all like the golden hair of his slayer. She wrapped her toothpick arms around her partner's neck and scrunched her face into a sort of half smile.
"Beer goggles can turn any harpie into a goddess," he muttered before sliding off his chair and taking a last swig of his beer.
He was about to turn and slide his glass across the bar when another flash of hair caught his eye.
A lenghty curtain of brown-gold lying straight down her back.
Spike arched his scarred eyebrow quizzically and murmered, "Nibblet?"
The girl turned to reveal the face of a sullen teenage girl. A sullen teenage girl that wasn't Dawn. Of course it couldn't have possibly been, Spike knew that. He needed to push his memories of Sunnydale, of everything to do with ... her out of his mind. His eyes remained transfixed on the girl with Dawn-like hair and a face pinched like a sour lemon. She kept her arms crossed across her chest, pulling them tight against her diaphonous white dress. She was pretty, he thought. But whatever small beauty she had was marred by the increasingly dour expression on her face.
The frenetic lights streaming through the club were beginning to hurt his eyes. Taking a final look at the girl in white, he pulled his leather duster tight around him and stumbled out of the club.
~*~
"Is that a mirror in your pocket, because I can see myself in your pants."
Kay's legs tensed as she clenched her thighs together and glared at the stranger. His colorful patterned shirt hung open to reveal a thick gold chain, and his tight leather pants squeaked as he edged closer to her. He had obviously bathed in cologne before coming.
"I'm not wearing pants you half wit," she spat.
He ran his lecherous eyes up her legs before lifting a hand to brush her hair and whispering something that made Kay's pale face become flushed with fury.
Slipping from his grasp, Kay tripped onto the dance floor and slid through clumps of sweat covered bodies. She spotted Charity and Miguel with their limbs entangled, swaying gently to the furious beat while everyone else around them swirled in a rhythmic haze. Kay massaged her temples and hoisted her dress up. It felt like being wrapped in cellophane, and she constantly felt the presence of roving eyes unwrapping the plastic that held her in. She felt increasingly stupid acting like the shy nymph when the look she had been going for was the smoldering vixen. The swirl of music, light and people began to envelope her and she felt herself give into the beat. Throwing her hands up in the air she began to dance wildly, throwing herself against any male who'd take her. She didn't care anymore. The faces of the guys in front of her blurred and meshed together and joined the kinetic swirl around her. It was freeing, feeling the mind numbing beat of the music pound in her skull. Nothing but the steady drone of the bass.
Suddenly, she felt her head slam against the floor. She lay sprawled on the ground, and looked up to see a group of young women staring down at her. One appeared to be gloating, her ample chest barely contained in a stich of reptile skin. They all hissed and slithered away into the crowd, which soon closed the gap around where she fell. Pushing herself up and out of the crowd, Kay stumbled and limped when she discovered one of the heels of her platforms was broken. She hobbled towards the bar, absent mindedly wondering if she could rub off the stamp on her hand that branded her a non-consumer of alcohol.
Another sudden jolt startled her when the poorly dressed stranger from earlier slammed into her, carrying two glasses of bright red punch. The liquid splattered down the front of her white dress leaving a bubbling trail. The stranger stammered and apologized, but he found himself talking to Kay's back as she stormed away from him. Not bothering to tell her friends she was leaving, she carried her broken shoe in one hand and slipped into the alleyway.
Brushing her tangled hair from her eyes, she squinted them tightly to keep the tears from spilling out. It was then she felt a heavy hand on her shoulder and she flipped her head around to view the stranger. He had a suave grin that revealed rows of glinting teeth.
"Sorry about that baby, I was..."
"I don't care what you were doing, leave me the hell alone," Kay snorted pushing the hand off her shoulder and returning to her path. She became increasingly frustrated when she felt the hand on her shoulder again.
"Bite me," she snapped.
A cold rush flowed through her and she felt the hand tighten it's grip.
"I thought you'd never ask."
~*~
The loud scream of the horn woke him with a start as it molested the night air with its high pitched squeal. Spike lifted his head off the steering wheel of the car and blinked his eyes allowing them to adjust to the light. The squeal of the horn quickly faded away as he stepped out of his car for a smoke. He slipped the cigarette between his lips when another scream shattered the silence. Absently, he looked at the steering wheel of his car, but seeing nothing out of the ordinary he fished his lighter from the pocket of his duster. He almost lit himself on fire when he was startled by another scream. His alcohol soaked mind tried to process the direction of the sound as he flicked the unlit cigarette to the ground and trotted towards the noise.
The scream was growing louder and clearer, so he knew he must be getting close. Either that, or the sound of the scream was echoing inside his head. He decided to take a chance and turned around a corner into an alleyway. He was confronted with the sight of a large, badly dressed vampire descending his fangs to the exposed neck of a young woman. She had stopped screaming and was breathing frantically as she struggled to get free. Spike sprung forward just as she managed to free herself from his grasp. Perhaps a spot of violence would sober him up. The badly dressed vampire clawed at the girl, breaking one of the straps of her dress and leaving four vertical lines down her shoulder and collarbone. Spike flung his arms around the other vampire's neck just as the girl collapsed on the ground.
In his foggy mind he heard his muffled voice shout, "Get out of here!" But, he couldn't be sure if he actually said it for the girl was paralyzed on the spot. His fist connected with the other vampire's head, but the creature howled and backed up, sandwiching Spike between it and the wall. He felt himself slide to the ground and he shook his head to rid himself of the dizzying effect. Across the alleyway, he could see the other vampire towering over the girl, trying to snatch her arm. She was groping beside her with her free hand, and as Spike pulled himself to his feet in order to fling himself at the vampire once more, he saw her hand grasp in desperation an abandoned piece of sharp wood. She swung it wildly, aimlessly stabbing at her attacker.
The next moment, the girl was encircled in a cloud of dust that rapidly disintegrated on the ground. Spike cocked an eyebrow at her as he approached, and extended his hand. She looked at it like it was covered in puss-filled warts and got up on her own. Spike shrugged and slid out a cigarette for his missed smoke.
"You're welcome," he snorted around the cigarette. It was then he noticed that she was the girl in the white dress that he had mistaken for Dawn in his drunken stupor.
"You're welcome? Your welcome for what exactly?" she said, scowling.
"Well, usually a lady thanks a gentlemen for saving her life."
"You, a gentlemen? That's a laugh," the girl said scanning Spike up and down. "Besides, you were busy slumping against a wall like a drunken fool. So thanks for getting in my way."
"Getting in your way? I bloody well saved your ungrateful arse!"
"For your information, I didn't need saving thank you very much. I was doing just fine on my own. Some guys just get a little agressive, I know how to handle myself."
"That git wasn't trying to give you a hickey luv. Do you have anything idea what that..."
"I don't care," she interrupted, "I have seen too much weird shit in my lifetime to give a damn, especially tonight. Now do me a favour that I can be sure to thank you for. Fuck off."
"Well Sunshine, aren't you the bright and cheery one. Did kitty drink some sour milk this morning?" He sneered and snatched the cigarette from his lips, letting it dangle between his fingers.
"This little kitty has claws, and unless you want to see some of your drug-store bleached, overly gelled Ken hair end up in clumps under those claws, I suggest get out of my way. Now."
Gone was the sullen look of the girl he had seen in the club. A fire had been lit behind her eyes and she spit sparks like a firecracker. Spike gladly obliged the lady's request and stepped back as the girl huffed past him, wobbling on her one platform with the other clutched in her hand.
He chuckled as he slipped the white tube between his lips again and watched the girl disappear down the alley.
"Later Sunshine."
~*~