Los Angeles.
The bar is dimly lit, with blue and red accent lighting. It's the kind of bar where the peanut shells on the floor obscure the other nasty things dropped out of the mouths and pockets of the questionable clientele.
A large, mean-looking vampire, Lenny, stands by the bar with a bloody looking drink in his hand. A cluster of demons and other vampires stand around, listening to him bitch about a little town called "Sunnydale."
"... yeah, it's really going down hill. I'm glad I got out when I did. Couldn't do a decent nights kill without some do-gooder breathing down your neck. There was this vamp, thought he was some kind of somebody. Running around killing his own kind. Allied himself to the SLAYER! Can you believe that? I mean, how far do you gotta sink before you just haul off and stake yourself, right?" Lenny is slurring slightly. The others nod and murmur, all in varying stages of drunkenness.
"Yeah, well it gets worse... he has a soul."
Some of the others look up, curious.
Lenny continues. "The vampire, I mean! I never even believed such a thing is possible. But I know some fellas that can sniff out that kind of stuff. And they were on to him. ...Thinks he's such a bad ass when really he's nothing but a sap. Pathetic. Well, anyway, that's why I moved here. To get away from the vampire with the soul." Lenny exaggerates that last word, mocking it. He is so full of renewed bitterness that he almost doesn't notice that he's being snickered at.
Finally, he realizes. "What?"
"So..." a skinny, pink demon recaps, holding in his mirth, "You came HERE to get away from the souled vampire?"
"Yeah, what's so frigging funny about it?"
The group holds it together a little longer as they look at each other, but when they turn to see the questioning expression deepen on Lenny's face, they all burst into hysterical laughter.
***
Things are fairly quiet around the lobby of the Hyperion when the doors are suddenly blown in. Fred jumps from her desk and Gunn instantly dives for his crossbow.
Lenny is now leading a pack of vampires and demons into the lobby. They are riled up and full of liquor. Not a good combo.
"Where are you, you bastard? I want to see your miserable face!" Lenny is waving a baseball bat that has been sharpened at the tip. "Come on out and play with me, junior. I know you want to. You went and took the trouble to follow me all the way to Los Angeles, least you could do is be hospitable."
Angel shuffles into the lobby, wiping his hands and chewing on the last bit of whatever he had been snacking on previous to the invasion. He seems incongruously calm and cordial.
"Can I help you?"
Lenny sneers at him. "The vampire with the soul... They tell me he's staying here. I'd like to have a word or two with him." Lenny strokes the tip of his bat, not un-sexually.
Gunn and Angel look at each other and then back to the large vamp.
"Okay... Hi." says Angel, cheerfully. "Nice to meet you."
Lenny stares blankly. "What?"
"I'm sorry, did you want to pick the words?"
Lenny is losing patience. "Who the hell are you?"
"I'm... him."
"He's the vampire with a soul you ordered," Gunn says, cocking his crossbow and pointing it at Lenny. "Comes with a side of stake."
Lenny ignores the threat. After looking Angel up and down with a snarl, he shakes his head. "No. That's not him."
Angel can't help but laugh. "Actually... it kinda is."
"We swear." This comes from Fred, who is frightened but trying to be helpful.
Lenny looks around his "gang" who are all nodding and looking a bit confused themselves.
The skinny pink demon chimes in, "They're not lying, man. That's him. I thought you said you knew him."
Lenny drops the bat down to his side. "No. No, this isn't the guy. I'm talking about the vampire with a soul. Smallish guy, about yay high... but strong... and quite lithe actually..."
Blank stares all around.
Lenny thinks a minute. " ...bleaches his hair?"
The rest are still at a total loss, but Angel's face falls noticeably. He tilts his head and squints at Lenny. "I'm sorry... what did you say?"
***
"Hold still."
"Niblet, I'm fine. Would you get off?"
"You're bleeding into your eye."
"So? Makes me look cool."
"Don't be ridiculous."
Dawn is standing over Spike who is sitting on a gravestone. She has a fistful of his hair and is pulling his head back roughly to dab at his eye with a cloth.
"OW! Dammit, that hurts!"
"I have to press on it to stop the bleeding. Just suck it up. Quit being such a baby."
Spike is about to whine some more, but stops himself. He sighs. "Not that I don't appreciate the effort, luv, but I'm a vampire. I don't think this little scratch will mean the end of me."
"If you lose too much blood you'll need to feed sooner and you always get cranky when you haven't fed. And plus you already have a scar over this eye. Another one and it will just look like you're trying too hard.
Spike can't help but laugh. "You're twisted, bit."
Dawn smirks, but doesn't let Spike see it. Soul or no soul she's still, technically, mad at him for what he did to Buffy. He never did apologize, but that's probably best. There are no words after something like that. But ever since he's been back he's been helping them. It took them a while to trust that there were no strings attached, no ulterior motives, even after they found out about the soul. But Spike seems to expect nothing at all in return. Not even kindness. He's just always ready with a little extra muscle or some old school knowledge when it's needed. Dawn suspects that this is Spike's idea of penance.
Works for her.
Buffy trots up to them, winded. "I lost him. He's a slippery little sucker."
"Maybe you're just getting slower. OW! Dawn! You did that on purpose."
"Maybe," Dawn chirps. "Do you feel like being nicer now?"
"Never."
Buffy is mildly annoyed. "Dawn, Spike can take care of himself. It's nothing, it'll heal on it's own."
"That's what I've been trying to tell her."
Dawn lifts the cloth to reveal a hideous tear above Spike's eye. "Look at this."
Buffy can't help but grimace.
"Demon nearly tore his face off and you two are like... oh blah, blah, just a scratch, blah, blah. Stop trying to out-tough each other. It's getting boring." Dawn resumes dabbing with a scowl on her face.
Spike and Buffy barely glance at each other.
Suddenly, Spike is all business. "So you think we should search the sewers, then?"
"Not tonight." Buffy is more than happy (relieved, even) to talk shop. "We gave him a run. He'll probably lay low till tomorrow night. So meet me in the tunnels at noon tomorrow. We'll surprise him."
Spike takes hold of the bloody cloth covering his eye and Dawn lets go. "Thanks, luv. Feels much better. Really."
"You should come back to the house. I'll sew you up."
Buffy's mouth drops open. "Dawn! Gross!"
Spike stands, looking appalled, and little woozy. "That's it, I'm getting out of here. You're starting to give me the willies, you are."
Dawn almost laughs. "What's the big? You're afraid of a little needle and thread after taking a slash like that?"
Spike turns his attention to Buffy. "This is your influence, you know. She wasn't this Rambo before I left."
"Oh and I guess your dark tales of little girls stashed in coal bins had nothing to do with this fascination with gore of hers."
"Hey! What am I, three? I can hear you! And I don't appreciate you guys discussing me like concerned parents. This is Sunnydale. A girl needs to toughen up if she's gonna survive. Especially if she's going to hang around the two of you."
Buffy and Spike look at each other and can't help but break into smiles. It is only a brief exchange, as they realize things are getting too friendly. It doesn't seem right. They're not friends. It's all about business now. The smiles disappear and Buffy looks away first.
Spike clears his throat. "You're right, bit. Sorry. But I think I can take it from here."
"Suit yourself." Dawn says quietly, feeling the tension.
"So... noon, then? Under the magic box?" Spike barely looks at Buffy.
"Yeah. Bring an axe."
Spike nods and they part ways. Spike goes off in one direction. The girls in another.
Buffy stops. Turns. "Spike?"
He turns, still dabbing at his wound.
"You sure you're gonna be okay?" She winces at his gaping wound as he lowers the cloth. "It is kinda... oozy."
"I've had worse." He giggles nervously at the reference he's certain she won't get.
"Okay." Nope. Doesn't get it. "Well... goodnight."
"Night."
Almost reluctantly, Buffy turns and starts walking away. Spike doesn't move. Watching them go, he takes a deep breath, reeling from the genuine concern in her voice. When they're out of sight, he turns and walks away slowly, still tending to his bloody eye.
From out of the shadows, Angel appears. Having witnessed the whole exchange, his face is a mask of worry and confusion.
TBC
The bar is dimly lit, with blue and red accent lighting. It's the kind of bar where the peanut shells on the floor obscure the other nasty things dropped out of the mouths and pockets of the questionable clientele.
A large, mean-looking vampire, Lenny, stands by the bar with a bloody looking drink in his hand. A cluster of demons and other vampires stand around, listening to him bitch about a little town called "Sunnydale."
"... yeah, it's really going down hill. I'm glad I got out when I did. Couldn't do a decent nights kill without some do-gooder breathing down your neck. There was this vamp, thought he was some kind of somebody. Running around killing his own kind. Allied himself to the SLAYER! Can you believe that? I mean, how far do you gotta sink before you just haul off and stake yourself, right?" Lenny is slurring slightly. The others nod and murmur, all in varying stages of drunkenness.
"Yeah, well it gets worse... he has a soul."
Some of the others look up, curious.
Lenny continues. "The vampire, I mean! I never even believed such a thing is possible. But I know some fellas that can sniff out that kind of stuff. And they were on to him. ...Thinks he's such a bad ass when really he's nothing but a sap. Pathetic. Well, anyway, that's why I moved here. To get away from the vampire with the soul." Lenny exaggerates that last word, mocking it. He is so full of renewed bitterness that he almost doesn't notice that he's being snickered at.
Finally, he realizes. "What?"
"So..." a skinny, pink demon recaps, holding in his mirth, "You came HERE to get away from the souled vampire?"
"Yeah, what's so frigging funny about it?"
The group holds it together a little longer as they look at each other, but when they turn to see the questioning expression deepen on Lenny's face, they all burst into hysterical laughter.
***
Things are fairly quiet around the lobby of the Hyperion when the doors are suddenly blown in. Fred jumps from her desk and Gunn instantly dives for his crossbow.
Lenny is now leading a pack of vampires and demons into the lobby. They are riled up and full of liquor. Not a good combo.
"Where are you, you bastard? I want to see your miserable face!" Lenny is waving a baseball bat that has been sharpened at the tip. "Come on out and play with me, junior. I know you want to. You went and took the trouble to follow me all the way to Los Angeles, least you could do is be hospitable."
Angel shuffles into the lobby, wiping his hands and chewing on the last bit of whatever he had been snacking on previous to the invasion. He seems incongruously calm and cordial.
"Can I help you?"
Lenny sneers at him. "The vampire with the soul... They tell me he's staying here. I'd like to have a word or two with him." Lenny strokes the tip of his bat, not un-sexually.
Gunn and Angel look at each other and then back to the large vamp.
"Okay... Hi." says Angel, cheerfully. "Nice to meet you."
Lenny stares blankly. "What?"
"I'm sorry, did you want to pick the words?"
Lenny is losing patience. "Who the hell are you?"
"I'm... him."
"He's the vampire with a soul you ordered," Gunn says, cocking his crossbow and pointing it at Lenny. "Comes with a side of stake."
Lenny ignores the threat. After looking Angel up and down with a snarl, he shakes his head. "No. That's not him."
Angel can't help but laugh. "Actually... it kinda is."
"We swear." This comes from Fred, who is frightened but trying to be helpful.
Lenny looks around his "gang" who are all nodding and looking a bit confused themselves.
The skinny pink demon chimes in, "They're not lying, man. That's him. I thought you said you knew him."
Lenny drops the bat down to his side. "No. No, this isn't the guy. I'm talking about the vampire with a soul. Smallish guy, about yay high... but strong... and quite lithe actually..."
Blank stares all around.
Lenny thinks a minute. " ...bleaches his hair?"
The rest are still at a total loss, but Angel's face falls noticeably. He tilts his head and squints at Lenny. "I'm sorry... what did you say?"
***
"Hold still."
"Niblet, I'm fine. Would you get off?"
"You're bleeding into your eye."
"So? Makes me look cool."
"Don't be ridiculous."
Dawn is standing over Spike who is sitting on a gravestone. She has a fistful of his hair and is pulling his head back roughly to dab at his eye with a cloth.
"OW! Dammit, that hurts!"
"I have to press on it to stop the bleeding. Just suck it up. Quit being such a baby."
Spike is about to whine some more, but stops himself. He sighs. "Not that I don't appreciate the effort, luv, but I'm a vampire. I don't think this little scratch will mean the end of me."
"If you lose too much blood you'll need to feed sooner and you always get cranky when you haven't fed. And plus you already have a scar over this eye. Another one and it will just look like you're trying too hard.
Spike can't help but laugh. "You're twisted, bit."
Dawn smirks, but doesn't let Spike see it. Soul or no soul she's still, technically, mad at him for what he did to Buffy. He never did apologize, but that's probably best. There are no words after something like that. But ever since he's been back he's been helping them. It took them a while to trust that there were no strings attached, no ulterior motives, even after they found out about the soul. But Spike seems to expect nothing at all in return. Not even kindness. He's just always ready with a little extra muscle or some old school knowledge when it's needed. Dawn suspects that this is Spike's idea of penance.
Works for her.
Buffy trots up to them, winded. "I lost him. He's a slippery little sucker."
"Maybe you're just getting slower. OW! Dawn! You did that on purpose."
"Maybe," Dawn chirps. "Do you feel like being nicer now?"
"Never."
Buffy is mildly annoyed. "Dawn, Spike can take care of himself. It's nothing, it'll heal on it's own."
"That's what I've been trying to tell her."
Dawn lifts the cloth to reveal a hideous tear above Spike's eye. "Look at this."
Buffy can't help but grimace.
"Demon nearly tore his face off and you two are like... oh blah, blah, just a scratch, blah, blah. Stop trying to out-tough each other. It's getting boring." Dawn resumes dabbing with a scowl on her face.
Spike and Buffy barely glance at each other.
Suddenly, Spike is all business. "So you think we should search the sewers, then?"
"Not tonight." Buffy is more than happy (relieved, even) to talk shop. "We gave him a run. He'll probably lay low till tomorrow night. So meet me in the tunnels at noon tomorrow. We'll surprise him."
Spike takes hold of the bloody cloth covering his eye and Dawn lets go. "Thanks, luv. Feels much better. Really."
"You should come back to the house. I'll sew you up."
Buffy's mouth drops open. "Dawn! Gross!"
Spike stands, looking appalled, and little woozy. "That's it, I'm getting out of here. You're starting to give me the willies, you are."
Dawn almost laughs. "What's the big? You're afraid of a little needle and thread after taking a slash like that?"
Spike turns his attention to Buffy. "This is your influence, you know. She wasn't this Rambo before I left."
"Oh and I guess your dark tales of little girls stashed in coal bins had nothing to do with this fascination with gore of hers."
"Hey! What am I, three? I can hear you! And I don't appreciate you guys discussing me like concerned parents. This is Sunnydale. A girl needs to toughen up if she's gonna survive. Especially if she's going to hang around the two of you."
Buffy and Spike look at each other and can't help but break into smiles. It is only a brief exchange, as they realize things are getting too friendly. It doesn't seem right. They're not friends. It's all about business now. The smiles disappear and Buffy looks away first.
Spike clears his throat. "You're right, bit. Sorry. But I think I can take it from here."
"Suit yourself." Dawn says quietly, feeling the tension.
"So... noon, then? Under the magic box?" Spike barely looks at Buffy.
"Yeah. Bring an axe."
Spike nods and they part ways. Spike goes off in one direction. The girls in another.
Buffy stops. Turns. "Spike?"
He turns, still dabbing at his wound.
"You sure you're gonna be okay?" She winces at his gaping wound as he lowers the cloth. "It is kinda... oozy."
"I've had worse." He giggles nervously at the reference he's certain she won't get.
"Okay." Nope. Doesn't get it. "Well... goodnight."
"Night."
Almost reluctantly, Buffy turns and starts walking away. Spike doesn't move. Watching them go, he takes a deep breath, reeling from the genuine concern in her voice. When they're out of sight, he turns and walks away slowly, still tending to his bloody eye.
From out of the shadows, Angel appears. Having witnessed the whole exchange, his face is a mask of worry and confusion.
TBC