Hello all! Okay, first of all, the title Friends of NIMH doesn't really have anything (like music, poetry, or a wonderful book) that it ties to. It is just a joke between a friend and me. NIMH stands for the National Institute of Mental Health, and me and mi amigo sometimes talk about being 'friends of NIMH'. Hehe... Now you are in on the joke. Doesn't that make you feel special? Okay...

I don't own BTVS or AtS and if I did, more likely than not, I would be out trying to take advantage of my position over James Marsters, David Boreanaz, Andy Hallet, J. August Richards, and every other actor of the male persuasion, on the show. Okay, Joss is the king and I am that weird troll guy, hiding behind his throne, trying to figure out how to take over his kingdom. So, I guess that would make you guys the lords and ladies of the court? Hmm... Anyway, I am babbling on, when we should be getting...

(If I didn't mention it before and you don't already know. Dru is dead in my series. You would have to read Dalliance of the Eagles to find out why, but all in all, it's not that important.)

On with the show.

::Friends of NIMH- Que Sera Sera::

So, I have decided to never speak to my sire again. Yes, he has sunk to a new low that I never thought he could sink to and I have lost all respect for him. He is now standing outside my door, pleading with me. He says that if I open the door he will try to explain his last inexplicable outburst, which happens to be the reason I am avoiding him, in the first place.

I'll tell you... It was a bizarre day in LA, when Angel started yelling at me, in the middle of the dental hygiene aisle, of Wal-Mart. The old woman, at the end of the aisle, squeaked and gripped her tube of Fixodent, until it squirted all over the shelves. I'm pretty sure that was her first time seeing a pair of two-inch eyeteeth, in the mouth of a man. Hey, I tried to hold them in, but instinct is thicker than willpower... or something like that.

If Angel hadn't have been acting like such an ass, I wouldn't have vamped out and scared the lady so bad. Technically, it's not my fault that she fell out into the floor. First of all, she was ninety-four years old. A grown man sprouting canines and golden eyes would surprise and shock anybody... especially someone old enough to have changed Pope John Paul's nappies. Secondly, it can't be my fault, if it was Angel's fault and, if you remember correctly, I'm busy blaming Angel for all of my problems.

Now, Angel has never been one to yell or emit any emotion, except angst and deeply seated sorrow, but, on this certain occasion, he really let me have it. Some of the things he said, he will never be able to take back. Up until that point, the two of us had been carrying on a decent conversation. Neither of us had flashed our teeth or raised our voices for any reason, other than to yell at those blasted rednecks, who just wouldn't stop commenting on my duster. Now, I had anticipated Angel getting upset, when I brought up the whole shan shu thingy-ma-bob. It was to be expected, after all, but when I told him how I was feeling about the whole feeding thing, he decided to lose it and started saying things that I'm sure can't be translated over into English.

Yes, that's right. He was spitting Gaelic curses in my face, faster than you could quick search 'em on Google. Now, I know that it sounds crazy, but if I am remembering me sire's old Gaelic lessons, correctly, I think he told me that he wanted the cat to eat me and the devil to eat the cat. I understand all of his built up hostility for me, mind you, but what in blessed Buddha's name did the cat ever do to him?

Anyway, after we escaped from the scene of the crime... no, I don't believe we actually killed the old bird, but she did pass right out, there... we made our purchases, hopped on out to the car, and zoomed out of the parking lot, straight onto the freeway. There was thirty seconds of complete and utter silence before me sire decided to open up his big gob and ruin the comfortable mood that had started to settle. He started saying how I was changing and becoming less vampiric and some shit like that. This all raises one important question, class. Well, what in the bloody hell does it take to make that man happy?

I mean, really! When he was Angelus... my good ol' sane sire Angelus... I was almost too human for him. Then, in Sunnyhell, when I first saw Angel, I was too evil for him. I threatened his soul and his woman and all that dandy fine crap! Now, when Angel lost his soul and came back to me and Dru, he took one look at me and swore up and down that I was the most humanistic vampire he had ever seen. I made him sick, which made me pissed. Now, when he has his soul back and I have a soul... Do you see where I'm going with this? Don't you think he should be happy that we are now on the same page? Finally, his wayward childe is getting tired of running amuck and killing women and small children. Okay, so I was never much for killing small children, but you know what I mean.

Angel is acting like he thinks I'm going to throw out my Doc's and start spouting poetry out of me ass. He has to be smarter than that! I cannot comfortably call the man sire, if he does not know me somewhat better than that! I *was* William, I failed at *being* William, and I will *not* go back to being that froofy haired poofter William! I became Spike and I like Spike! If Angel doesn't like me, then that is his own problem.

Why wouldn't he like me, though? I help him fight the baddies. Yes, William the Bloody is bloodying up demons, instead of humans. I keep his women occupied. Those girls would be asking *him* to join in on their facials and girly movie parties, if I wasn't here and he abhors those sort of things. I keep the peace between Wes and Gunn. Before I came, they were fighting over something... some little hotsie totsie, no doubt. Probably some little blonde bimbo, with a size two dress size and an IQ to match. Of course, I have no right to judge. I was with Dru for over a century and she was insane. I just don't get where this disdain is coming from.

You know, I actually told Angel that if he hated me so much, he shouldn't have made me. He pointed out that he didn't make me. How could I forget something like that? I was embarrassed, so I covered it up with the whole, 'yeah, but you were there and you could have stopped it' argument. He just shook his head and told me that he never hated me. Stupid man. Like I really ever believed that he hated me. The only time he ever made me believe that he hated me, was when he was trying to suck the whole world into Acathala's big ass mouth. Even then I knew it wasn't *my* Angelus doing the sucking thing. Angelus liked to integrate himself into polite society too much to want to suck them into hell.

Now, there is a point that I don't think I've made enough. I really did like Angelus. Even now that I am all soul having, I think I would like him. He was an evil demon, yes, but all in all, he was a pretty nice fellow. He was intelligent, precise, and he told some of the best stories I have ever heard in my life or unlife. Most of them were about whoring, drinking, bar fights, and such... but what else did you think I would enjoy hearing about? He also told me about his human family and friends. Then, he told me how he meticulously killed them off, one by one. Did I happen to mention how precise he was?

Yes, but to make up for his unblessed OCD-ness, Angelus was very imaginative. He didn't really like repeat performances, whether it was in feeding, torturing, or sex, which for vampires, all fall under recreation.

Now, Angel is a prick. He's not evil by any means, but he is a mean son of a bitch, sometimes. The other day, while we were in our war over the photograph... it's to perfect to call a drawing... he actually tore my shirt off of my back. Then, he laughed about it! He thought it was the funniest thing he had seen in a while and I told him that was all Jim-dandy, but he owed me some new shirts! He just laughed all the harder, as he lunged for the picture that I had stuffed in my back pocket. My back pocket! There is no stretch of the imagination that can make Angel grabbing for my ass an okay thing. Although, I'm not so sure that Lorne or Cordelia wouldn't get a kick out of it.

Sometimes I feel bad for Connor. I mean, talk about dysfunctional families. His dad is a vampire for mercy's sake. He's Irish, at that! I'm about as 'effin British badass as they come, and I'm somewhere between the boy's second dad and his brother. The only non-confusing thing the kid has right now is that bleedin' cat. Who, by the way, is going to have his lil' danglies ripped off, if he doesn't quit using my closet as a litter box. Gah! I just thought about it, again! His mother was Darla. That is perverse in so many ways. I don't care if she felt what it was like to have a soul inside of her; she was a complete and utter bint.

I don't see how Connor could have turned out so well, now that I know his story. I mean, it is bad enough being related to both Darla and Angel, but to be raised in a demon infested dimension by 'ol stake 'em up... what was his name? Ugh! I'm sure it will come to me sometime, when I'm not thinking about it so hard.

I almost think I'm going senile. I know that vampires don't really age like humans: mentally, physically, or emotionally. If we did, we would be the ugliest, wisest, smartest, and weepiest creatures you'd ever saw. Instead we are as immature as we want to be, as smart as we teach ourselves to be, and as emotional as Buffy on the rag or Janet Reno at a puppy farm. Take that however you like.

Anyway, where was I going with this? I'll recap and try to catch up with myself. Angel is stupid, Connor is unlucky, I'm under appreciated, and Cordleia and Lorne want to watch me get groped. Wow, I've been all over the place, haven't I?

There has never been a man or woman who could mix me up like my sire can. Dru could do a pretty good imitation, but when it came to being crazy, I think Angel(us) has her passed up, by a long shot. Okay, I would understand if there were people who did not appreciate my point of view on this one. Like I said, I'm under appreciated and I've gotten used to it. It's just Drusilla talked to the moon. You see? Then, there was Angelus. He stalked his victims for weeks before killing them sometimes and then... cue the daunting music please... he wouldn't kill them. That's right! There were times that he wasted a whole month of his unlife on people he probably never planned on killing, in the first place. Now, I think that is one of the more crazy things I've seen. It doesn't change the fact that he taught me how to stick up for myself and not to be afraid of fire.

Well, not literally. I've always been fascinated with fire. It's shiny and hot, and if you blow on it just right, it can jump up in the air like an acrobat. It can also flicker out of existence, just as quick. It's just that Angelus taught me that no matter how hot a situation, you can overcome it, if you have your wits about you. He also added, 'and if you quit acting like such a chomh and start acting like a vampire'. I'm not sure, but I think being a 'chomh' might be considered a bad thing.

That's one thing I never did miss about Angelus. He used to call me all sorts of things in Gaelic, cause he was to proud or to afraid... yes, I said afraid... to say them in English. Angel just comes out and blurts whatever he's feeling at the moment, if he's going to say anything, at all. He calls me an ass and he calls me childe. He tells Cordelia that he loves her and Connor that he's proud of his fighting skills. He calls Gunn an insubordinate jerk and Wesley... Well, they don't talk much. That's where I come in.

I'm more open about my feelings, than many vampires usually chooses to be. I tell Cordelia she has nice legs, I tell Fred she is the sweetest creature under the sun and/or moon, I call Gunn 'muscles', and Wesley is 'slut'. He gets a kick out of that. I'm pretty sure he has been celibate for a long time. Gunn on the other hand, has been getting some from somewhere. He always smells like pheremones and electricity. It kinda' freaks me out, a little. Fred and Cordy are starting up a group called The Old Maid's Club and Lorne is so ultra relaxed all of the time that I can't believe that he hasn't been making the rounds, a bit. Now, Connor... He's been getting out more, but that's only cause I force him to go to bars with me, every now and again.

I know that he's not legal, but the bartenders here don't really care. Connor is a good kid and he doesn't start any problems for them, so they let it slide. I, myself, met a cute lil' red head the other day, who offered me more than I'm willing to talk about. I was all up for it, but then I realized I had the kid with me. I told her I had a friend along and she Invited him to come with. Hmm... That's where I draw the line. The Aurelius bloodline has been pretty incestuous, in the past, but you know, it's all relative. Ha! Sorry, I just had to say it. Ahem... Where was I? Oh, yes. I was talking about how being offered a romp with a gorgeous red head can turn sour, when lil' bro is invited along. LA woman are strange animals.

So, that's everybody's sex life, I suppose. Oh, except Angel, of course. He's just lucky that he's not obsessing over anybody, at the moment. You know what? That man has an obsession over his passions and a passion for his obsessions. It's sad really. From what I have observed, he can go from lover to stalker in two seconds flat. The most obvious case being Buffy, of course. In some cases, he just skipped lover and stalked. He did it with Penn and Dru... They're both dead. Chah... Ain't life grand?

"Would you shut the hell up, Angelus!?" He's still skulking at the door. He isn't actually talking, anymore, but he is breathing and it's getting on my last nerve. I mean, really. I've been ignoring him for a good twenty minutes; you would think that he would get the hint. I think he still thinks I'm stealing his Shan-shu. I'm positive that it is total crap, of course. Not that I might be stealing it. I think the whole shan-shu thing is a ruse. I believe that the Powers That Suck are just using this 'promise' as a carrot to dangle in front of my ass of a sire. It kind of makes me feel sorry for him. Ugh!

It sounds like he just slumped against the door, outside. Well, he's never listened to me before; why would he now? I guess it's only right that I let him off the hook. I mean... he's stooped far enough to actually sit on my doorstep. I guess I'll let the pouf in, now. I've just realized that I'm not really mad at him, anymore. For some reason, every time I think about what a eunuch he is, I just feel all warm and cuddly inside. Hehe... What's that they say about silver linings? Well, I have something to add to it. If you can't find a silver lining, make one.

The End of Spike's Pouting

-So, that is it for Spike's side of things. If you weren't able to tell, this was just another view inside the boy's heads. Kind of like my story Admittance, but more brooding. Hey, they needed a good brood. This was set after Carpe Diem and I'm sorry, Lindsey won't be paying a visit. Maybe, he'll call in my next story. Please, review and tell me if I characterized Spike, well enough. I've had a rough day and I need the reviews. (I locked my keys in my car earlier today. Ugh!) Anyway, 'nuf about me.-

-The subtitle was Que Sera Sera, which is a song by Mary Hopkin. She is so good. (Those Were The Days is an awesome song, but Que Sera Sera fits the chapter better.)-