Title: Sun and Shadow
Section: Los Angeles I
Part: Five -- One. Good. Day.
Author: Arsahi
Disclaimer: Buffy the Vampire Slayer is property of Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy. Angel the Series belongs to Joss Whedon, David Greenwalt, and Mutant Enemy. "Cling and Clatter" belongs to Lifehouse.
Distribution: Eh...gonna be stingy this time and say ask first. You can find my email address on my author profile.
Dedication: The normal people, you know who you are.
Rated: This part is rated PG-13.
Pairings: Ugh! Too many to name!
Notes: This is my first crossover, folks. Be warned.
Timeframe: Post-Gone for BtVS and post-Dad for Angel.
~*~ One. Good. Day. ~*~
Spike awoke on the couch in the lobby of the Hyperion a week after he match-made everyone together. The sun had just risen, and he could feel a strange
tingling sensation on his arm and forehead. A gust of wind ruffled his hair, and the tingling sensation began to sting, and then to singe and he could smell
smoke. "Bloody hell," he muttered, ducking under a blanket and running to the safety of the office located on the other side of the lobby. He saw an empty
bottle of something potent enough to knock him out sitting on the desk and narrowed his eyes at it. "You," he growled. He picked up the empty bottle and
tried to read the label, but his eyes still had yet to unblur. Instead, he lugged the glass bottle into the kitchen and dropped it in the recycling. He
couldn't remember anything from last night, except he had gone to Y Seres, the club run by Landokmar of the Deathwok Clan, or, simply, Landok to Lorne and the
others. Spike's head felt different too. He chalked it up to too many different alcohols in his system and trudged up the stairs to his room.
And as soon as he fell asleep again, the memories that had been shrouded when he first awoke decided to reveal themselves.
The Night Before
Spike entered Y Seres, and the crowds parted like the seas for Moses. Nearly every time he came to Y Seres, he got into a fight with one of the customers
outside the club. Tonight wasn't any different; he'd just come back in from beating the stuffing out of frog-like demon. And he had a crowd of faithful
admirers. They were all vampires, the same group of vampires that had come to gawk at him the first night he'd beaten and staked a vampire outside the club
after being inside it for a total of three or four minutes.
"Hello Amber," he said, taking a seat on one of the barstools. Amber was the one girl who'd chatted him up right before Cordelia had had her vision. She
had short black hair and bright green eyes. Her nose was slightly hooked and her hips were slightly wider than her shoulders. She had long, thin arms and
cottage cheese thighs. She wasn't the most attractive thing in the world, by far.
"Heya Spike," she smacked loudly on some gum.
"The usual?" asked Andy, the half-demon, half-human bartender.
Spike nodded, "The usual, Andy." Spike looked down at the counter. "Anyone got a piece of paper and a pen?"
A piece of paper slid in front of him followed by a pen.
"Thanks mate," he said to whoever had given the paper and pen to him. Spike had arrived on the evening of January 24. Angel had confronted him on his
purpose of being in Los Angeles on February 2. February 4 had brought Cordelia and Angel together, and it also had brought Fred and Gunn together. Now,
seven days later, February 11, found Spike getting drunk in Y Seres for god only knows how many times. He'd been in Los Angeles for officially nineteen
nights now, eighteen days. And still no one from Sunnydale had tried to contact him. Not even Dawn.
There really was nothing left for Spike in Sunnydale. He'd have to get used to Los Angeles as his home.
"Damn," he muttered, resting his head in his arms on the counter. Andy set his usual drink in front of him.
"Somethin' the mattah, Spike?" Amber asked. Amber was from New York, and had a heavy New York accent.
"I've been gone from the Hellmouth nineteen bloody days and nobody bloody cares," he grumbled. He grabbed the mug in front of him and downed it
in one gulp. "I'll have 'nother one, Andy."
Andy set another one in front of him. Spike gulped it down, ordered another. Andy refilled it, Spike drank it, Spike ordered another. It went on like
this for five rounds.
"I don' need tha' bloody bitch!" Spike stood on the rungs of his barstool, leaning with one hand on the counter and a half-full mug in the other. "I don'
even care anymore! She doesn' wan' me, tha's fine! See if I bloody care!" He took another gulp from the mug. "I'll ge' this bloody chip ou' of my bloody
head and I'll go an' bloody ea' 'er and 'er li'l sis! And I'll ea' 'er li'l friends too!"
Y Seres's patrons clapped for him.
"Do any o' you lo' 'appen t' know anyone 'oo could ge' this bloody chip outta my head?" Spike asked.
"I do," piped up one of his followers, a girl named Tiffany.
"Lead the way, pet," he nodded.
Spike's muddled mind allowed him to be calm while the demon doctor picked through his cerebrum. He finally felt a slight tug as the demon doctor pulled
something out.
"Wow," the doctor commented. "This is quite a piece of work," he showed the chip to Spike. "Who do you say put this in your head?"
"Buncha lameass blokes called the Inishative," Spike answered, looking at the chip. "You gonna sew up the back o' my head enee time soon?"
"On my way," the doctor quickly stitched up his head. "Would you like to keep this?"
"Givit here," Spike snatched the chip and threw it on the ground. It took him three attempts to stomp on it, but when he finally did, hundreds of dollars
of expensive wiring went scattering. Spike sneered at it. "G'bye ol' world."
Spike and Tiffany wandered the streets of L.A., looking for some tasty-looking Happy Meal on legs to snatch. Spike tried to focus on the passing Happy
Meals, but he couldn't seem to find an appealing one. "Eh, Tiff," he slurred. "I dun think I'm gonna fin' anyone t' ea'..."
"Sure you are," Tiffay clapped him on the back, making the cement beneath his feet lurch. Evil cement.
"Bu' I can' fin' anyone who looks tastyyyy," he whined. The wall next to him reached out and smacked him. "Ow."
"Spike, man, you're gonna get yourself killed," Tiffany laughed, pulling him away from the wall he'd veered into.
"Am no'," he argued. He must've done something to offend the pole marking the bus stop, because it felt the need to bop him on the head. "Where'd Li'l
Bunny Froo Froo go?"
Tiffany stared at him and started to crack up. "Little Bunny Foo Foo, Spike?"
"Yeah...he'sh goin' 'round boppin' me on the head," Spike took a wild swing at the pole and missed it by about two feet, spinning and hitting his back on
the plastic window pane of the bus stop.
Tiffany grabbed him again and pulled him back into the flow of pedestrian traffic. "Here we go," Tiffany said, smiling. "There's the ticket. See those
two?"
Spike looked where she was pointing. "No..."
She rolled her eyes. "Goodness, Spike. Maybe I should you take you on home."
"Fbtttt," Spike retorted, inadvertantly spitting on Tiffany. "I dun ne'ta go home. I dun ne'ta go t'Sunnyhell!" Suddenly he stopped. "Bu' I ne'ta
see Buffy," his eyes filled with tears. "My Buffy..." he started to cry. "Buffy..."
Tiffany muttered about drunk vampires. "Dude, do you have a soul?"
"Buffy's my soul," Spike wailed.
"God, quiet down!" Tiffany clamped a hand over his mouth. Some of the people walking by them looked at them oddly, but then nodded in understanding as
they realized that he must be getting over breaking up with his girlfriend or something. "Spike, I think I'd better get you back to the Hyperion."
"I dun wanna stay with the poof. I wanna go see my Buffy!" he clung to Tiffany as she dragged him slowly back to Y Seres.
Too many voices, it won't take long
Which one's right and which one's wrong
And yours is most likely to be misunderstood
Spike stumbled drunkenly into Y Seres with Tiffany, sniffling from his little weeping bout. He stumbled over to the bar and looked at Andy, bleary eyed.
"Ca' I," he hiccuped, "ca' I have 'nother o' my ushul?"
Andy looked to Tiffany for a translation.
"He wants another one of his usual," Tiffany rolled her eyes, patting Spike on the back.
Screaming in tongues
At the top of my lungs
Till I find you, till you found me
Somehow I always knew that you would
Andy reluctantly handed the mug of Spike's usual to him. Spike stared at it forlornly and finally picked it up, taking a gulp. It scalded the back of his
throat, burning as it dripped down into his stomach to be absorbed in his defunct liver.
"What's wrong with him?" Andy whispered to Tiffany a littler farther down the bar.
"Buffy, as usual," Tiffany shrugged.
And I am contemplating matters
All this cling and clatter
In my head, what you said
Is ringing, ringing faster
And it's all good if you would
Stop the world from making sense
And if I could just realize
It doesn't really matter
Spike took another drink out of his mug, finishing it off. "Andy," he called. He planned on getting so drunk he wouldn't have to feel anything anymore.
Because right then, his heart hurt more than anything. "Andy, I needa 'nother..."
It doesn't really matter
"Spike, I don't think--" Andy started.
Spike snarled, going game face and grabbed the front of Andy's shirt. "I needa 'nother, Andy."
It doesn't really matter
Andy nodded, "Right, Spike. Another one. Coming up."
Spike released Andy.
If I could touch the sound of silence now
You know I would if I knew how
To make these intentions come around
I'm hearing without listening
And believing every word that you are not saying
Speaking without a sound
Andy walked over to the phone behind on the wall between the shelves of liquor and dialed the Hyperion's phone number.
:Hello, Angel Investigations,: said Cordelia.
"Hi Miss Cordelia," Andy replied. "Guess who."
Cordelia made a snorting noise. :I'll send Wes or someone down to pick him up.:
"It'd be wise to hurry," Andy advised. "He looks like he's going to pass out any minute. And I should warn you--one of my customers took him away to go
find a doctor that would take the chip out of his head."
Silence. :Okay. I'll send Angel down. Thanks for the heads up, Andy.:
"No problem, Miss Cordelia. Sorry to bother you," and he hung up the phone.
That's when he heard the barstool clatter to the ground, followed by a loud thump.
February 12
Spike dragged himself out of bed. His head felt like it was being beaten from the inside out, and the back of his head throbbed. He gingerly touched the
stitches there, and a tingling sensation fizzed through his veins. He hadn't been dreaming when he dreamt that he got the chip out of his head. If he wanted
to, he could go out into the lobby and eat any one of them except for Angel. He smiled crookedly. He felt rejuvenated. No restraints, no boundaries, no one
or nothing to hold him back. No pesky Buffy preaching to him about the wrongness of eating innocent human beings, no chip zapping him whenever he attempted
to give into his inner demon...in short, Spike felt free.
So he rose and walked over to the door, trying to open it. For some reason, the door was locked. He jiggled the handle in vain. Then he started pounding
on the door. "Lemme out! C'mon! This isn't funny!"
He heard footsteps approach the door and he stopped banging. "Spike," said Angel.
"Lemme outta here, you bloody poofter," Spike kicked the door.
"Do you remember what happened last night?" Angel asked guardedly.
"Yes, I remember. But I'm not gonna go Big Bad and eat alla you!" Spike yelled. The words were out of his mouth before he could think about them,
and he didn't really care at this point. He felt caged.
"How can I trust you?" Angel wanted to know.
"Dammit Angel!" Spike banged his fist on the door so hard the entire door vibrated and he heard Angel jump back a little. "Why can't you jus' friggin'
trust me?! I haven' done a damn thing t' you or anyone here except the bloody demons!"
Angel unlocked the door and allowed Spike access to the hallway. "Sorry."
Spike brushed past Angel, throwing a dirty look at him, and going down the stairs. "I'll be back later. I'm not going to Y Seres," he announced to the
occupants of the lobby. He checked the clock sitting next to the weapons case that Cordelia had put up the day before, then looked outside. It had gone from
twilight to night an hour ago, giving him the freedom of the city. "Don' wait up for me." He grabbed his duster out of the closet and shoved his cigarettes
in one of the pockets. He nodded to them and took off.
Angel thundered down the stairs then. "Where is he?"
Cordelia shrugged. "He just said he's going out and he's not going to Y Seres. Maybe we should call and see if Landok or Andy has seen him in a half-
hour or so."
Angel nodded. "Maybe we should."
Spike stalked down the street, ending up somewhere near Oak Street. He stormed past several angry Hispanic residents, following a beautiful woman with mud
brown eyes, lighter tan skin, and long black hair accompanied by a tiny waist. When he finally caught up with her, he glanced around for any onlookers and
grabbed her mouth from behind and dragged her into an alley. "Don't scream," he whispered, his face morphing.
Fear filled her big brown eyes and she tried to scream against Spike's hand.
"Shut up," he growled threateningly. "Come on now, at leas' you're afraid of me, right? Tha's somethin'. So...now tha' I have tha' chip out, I'm goin'
t' have myself one. Good. Day. Okay?"
She stared at him, no longer very afraid.
Spike roared. Or tried to intimidate her somehow, now that she wasn't afraid of him anymore. "C'mon, you bint! I'm about to eat you!"
The girl started laughing.
"Bloody hell," Spike's game face melted back into his human visage. "I can't even strike terror into the hearts of innocents anymore. You know, this is
all her fault."
"Whose fault?" the girl asked as he released her mouth.
"Drusilla! Tha's who," Spike grumbled.
"Drusilla's an old girlfriend, I assume?" she tilted her head to the side.
"Yes. If she hadn't a left me, I never woulda fallen in love with Buffy," Spike snorted.
"I'm Isobel," she offered.
"Spike," he replied distractedly. "You know, I never woulda even come to Los Angeles if he hadn't a been for Drusilla. Bloody hell, if we hadn't been
mobbed in Prague I wouldn't have even bloody met Buffy!"
"I'm sorry," Isobel offered, perching on the edge of the Dumpster with him and rubbing his back.
Spike shook his head. "Bloody hell. You're s'posta be my dinner, know tha', Isobel? Instead I'm sittin' here tellin' you about my troubles."
Isobel smiled sympathetically. "I don't mind."
Spike proceeded to tell her the whole sordid tale.
After his run in with Isobel, Spike tried two more times to eat a human. The third time he managed to work up the nerve to bite his prey, only to find the
human blood tasted sour on his tongue. He'd immediately spit it out and told the wanker he'd bit to run away.
By then it was almost midnight, so he crawled back to the Hyperion. Then he sought out the pig's blood in the refrigerator, warmed it up, and thought
nothing ever tasted so good.
Section: Los Angeles I
Part: Five -- One. Good. Day.
Author: Arsahi
Disclaimer: Buffy the Vampire Slayer is property of Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy. Angel the Series belongs to Joss Whedon, David Greenwalt, and Mutant Enemy. "Cling and Clatter" belongs to Lifehouse.
Distribution: Eh...gonna be stingy this time and say ask first. You can find my email address on my author profile.
Dedication: The normal people, you know who you are.
Rated: This part is rated PG-13.
Pairings: Ugh! Too many to name!
Notes: This is my first crossover, folks. Be warned.
Timeframe: Post-Gone for BtVS and post-Dad for Angel.
~*~ One. Good. Day. ~*~
The Night Before
Too many voices, it won't take long
Which one's right and which one's wrong
And yours is most likely to be misunderstood
Screaming in tongues
At the top of my lungs
Till I find you, till you found me
Somehow I always knew that you would
And I am contemplating matters
All this cling and clatter
In my head, what you said
Is ringing, ringing faster
And it's all good if you would
Stop the world from making sense
And if I could just realize
It doesn't really matter
It doesn't really matter
It doesn't really matter
If I could touch the sound of silence now
You know I would if I knew how
To make these intentions come around
I'm hearing without listening
And believing every word that you are not saying
Speaking without a sound
February 12
