Little Bad

Chapter Six – Evil Mastermind

Spike let loose a fiendish giggle, flipping the succulent green bills with his little thumb. Money smelled even better as a child. He would have been embarrassed to admit that he had had to count his accumulation of cash four whole times. When counting, it was hard for him to get past ten. Every time he got to ten, he forgot what came next. Then he'd start over and realize that it was eleven somewhere around five. Bloody four-year-old mind.

He had this desperate urge to throw the green, rectangular pieces of paper into the air and wave his hands about and cheer as they showered back down around him. He'd seen this act recently on the telly and though it seemed like a good idea, he stopped himself from indulging. Peaches would be out of the shower soon enough, and it wouldn't be good to be found out about the missing wallets this early on.

His grandsire always played music while he was the shower. Today, Spike was being forced to listen to Chopin. At the present moment - as he was delightfully thumbing the paper currency – it was Piano Concerto No. 1 in E minor. It was suspenseful and quiet with grand crescendos that made him feel like a classy evil mastermind. Spike liked that thought…in fact, he liked it so much that he decided he'd like to be an evil mastermind when he grew up.

Er…when he got back to his adult body. Not grew up. He was already an adult. He was just stuck in this ridiculously small body, which came with an increasingly childish mind.

At hearing the shower turn off, he stuffed the collective cash into Wesley's beaten leather wallet, shoved it back into the shoebox he'd uncovered in Angel's closet, and tucked it all safely away beneath Angel's large bed.

"What are you doing, you little monster?"

Spike stifled a scream of terror, and quickly turned around after pasting an innocent grin on his face.

"Playing."

Yes, that's the way. Act cute and he'll forget his suspicions.

Angel raised an eyebrow.

"Playing…what?"

Spike's eyes widened at the further inquiry and he gnawed on his lower lip so hard that he feared he might draw blood.

"Playing…evil mastermind!"

Great answer, nitwit, he mentally berated himself. He waited for Angel to remove him from his spot and look underneath the bed.

…and waited.

…and waited.

…and waited.

Angel chuckled and fondly ruffled his grandchilde's hair. "You'll be a great evil mastermind one day, little one."

"Really?" Spike asked, beaming at the praise.

Angel lifted him from the floor and placed him gently on the bed. "The greatest," he assured, emphasizing each word by tapping Spike's little nose. In a display of juvenile delight, Spike clapped his little hands together.

"Will you be an evil mastermind with me, Sire?" he asked hopefully, though already knowing the answer.

"Well…you know I can't."

"Can we pretend? I'll be a real evil mastermind and you can be a fairytale evil mastermind and together we can cause real and fairytale chaos and all the soddin' children will either cry in distress or bounce about with joy."

Angel, unable to find the sense in that oddly complex sentence, kissed Spike's small forehead.

"Maybe," he murmured noncommittally before gathering Spike back up into his arms. "Whatcha wanna do today?"

"Play evil mastermind," Spike repeated, still not able to get over his ingenuity at the entire 'playing evil mastermind' invention.

Angel smiled. "I'm sure Wes, Fred, and Lorne will love to play evil mastermind with you."

That brought Spike out of his self-congratulation. "Huh?"

"They're babysitting you. Gunn and I have work to do and Cordy's having…Cordy time."

The Littlest Vamp did NOT like the sound of that. "But…but…Wes wears geeky soddin' glasses and Fred goes insane every time she tries to say a word! And Lorne's a green tosser who doesn't know when to stop bloody singin'!"

Angel stopped walking. "I thought you enjoyed their company."

Spike decided it was time to try another tactic.

"I don't need a bleedin' babysitter. I'm a big bad."

"Not a big enough bad," Angel immediately disagreed.

"Am so!" Spike argued. "I'm the biggest bloody bad there ever was!" He wriggled down from Angel's arms and stamped his little foot on the ground. "I don't need any stupid soddin' wankers to babysit me, either." He held out his hands wagging his tiny pale fingers in the air. "There aren't enough of these in this bloody place to count how many I am." He allowed himself another moment of self-congratulation, as that one was also rather clever and advanced considering his current state of mind.

Angel crossed his arms over his chest.

"If I say you need a babysitter, you need a babysitter."

The childish rage boiled over.

"Sod off!" Spike screamed. "I bloody hate you! You're a big Poof with dumb hair and you can't be my fairytale evil mastermind friend anymore!"

With that, Spike tumbled to the ground kicking and screaming into a full-fledged temper tantrum that could easily rival those seen in the first chapter. (This had to be done…)

Angel felt hurt wash over him.

"I have dumb hair?"

Then he was drenched.

"You…you hate me?"

Eventually, he swallowed it back and waited for his miniature William to wear himself out.

"20 minutes of time out," Spike heard Angel tell Wesley. "I'll forewarn you that he's having one of his more difficult days. Just try to keep him occupied and happy and if he wants something, give it to him…unless it's something bad. Then that would probably be a bad idea."

"I'd say so," Wesley muttered. "Anything else?"

"If he gets too hard to handle, put him down for his nap early. He'll hate that. It'll be great. Just call me if it gets out of hand." He heard Angel shuffle towards the door. "Oh, and he has this new thing he likes to play."

"What's that, Muffin?" Lorne asked.

"Evil mastermind." Spike could just imagine the fond smile fleeting over Angel's face. "Cute little fella, my Will is."

"Just like his Daddy," Lorne agreed.

"Be good, Will!" Angel called. Spike heard the door shut.

"I wouldn't say that," Wesley said to Lorne.

"Say what?"

"You said 'Just like his Daddy'. I wouldn't say that Angel's an evil mastermind. I wouldn't even say that Angel has the potential of being an evil mastermind. Not even Angelus-"

"Hold the phone there, sweetheart," Lorne interrupted. "I assure you I was referring to the 'cute little fella' remark."

"Oh." Wesley was quiet for a moment. "Well, yes…I suppose I could see that."

"Even though Angel's quite big," Fred interjected as she entered the room. "A big, handsome man."

"Too true, Freddikins," Lorne assented. "Too true."

Spike felt like heaving.

"Has it been twenty minutes, yet?" Fred asked. "Poor little guy."

"It hasn't even been five." Wesley replied.

"Well, my little lemon drops, let's break the rules, then," Lorne said decisively. "Override Angelcakes. Take over the throne. It'll make for a more pleasant evening. What say you?"

"Here, here!" Fred agreed, smiling brightly.

"Are you suggesting we simply disregard Angel's authority?" Wesley asked, aghast. He considered it a moment. "Well…alright then!"

They turned, to stare at the little boy's waiting back.

"C'mon, my little caged dove!" Lorne called over. "We're breaking you out of this joint."

Spike decided that he liked being babysat by this particular trio. It was much more fun than Angel's constant coddling/scolding routine.

"Wes, inform the troops…we have a situation on our hands!" Lorne barked. "It's time to take down all the small-town shops so our gargantuan corporation can rule the world."

"Evil masterminds have troops?" Fred asked. "Don't we just have lawyers and things? Like a contract with the devil?"

"What are we? Wolfram and Hart?" Lorne asked, disgusted. "Puh-leez."

"I don't think we should have troops, Lorne," Wesley said. "I don't think troops are a good influence on Sp-"

"Hush, Pumpkin!" Lorne hissed, putting a green finger to his friend's lips. "You can't use the name of his Great Evilness in vain."

"Oh for God's sake," Wesley muttered, rolling his eyes to the ceiling. "Monsieur Mastermind, do you think troops to be a good idea?"

Spike shook his little head. "No. Troops are a bad idea."

"Then how do we demolish the hard-working lives of the working class?" Fred asked in all seriousness.

"Don't we need to enlist the help of inner-city gangs and high-class assassins?" Wesley asked. "Isn't that the claim to fame for evil masterminds?"

"I still think it all has to do with giant corporations," Lorne disagreed. "Like Wal-Mart."

"You're all wrong," Spike pouted. "Stop having ideas. None of you wankers have any right to free thinking."

"Yes, Your Most Magnificent Evilness," Wesley, Lorne, and Fred droned in unison.

"This is what we do," Spike began with an authoritative air, pacing about in front of the line of adults. "We go into their ridiculously small and impoverished houses. Then we steal what little they have. And THEN…" he trailed off, looking at each of his evil mastermind-worshipping minions in the eye. "You wankers leave and I drain them all dry." Silence. "What say you, minions? Speak up!"

"Erm…Your Most Eminent Being of Malicious Intent, I'm afraid I must question your-"

Before Wesley could speak anymore, Spike unleashed the toy handgun Fred had managed to find and pulled the trigger.

"Bang bang!" the boy declared. Wesley immediately clutched his make-believe wound and fell to the ground in a valiant attempt at a dramatic death.

Spike favored Fred and Lorne with an inquiring look. "Would either of YOU like to question the plan?" Both shook their heads vigorously. "That's what I thought. Now watch and laugh as I look down upon his corpse and smile." Spike walked over to Wesley's still body and, looking down at his face, grinned lopsidedly. "Hiya, Wes."

Wesley's eyes popped open. "Hello, Spike."

They waited a beat. Nothing.

Spike sighed, and looked at his remaining minions. "You're not laughing!"

"Ha!" Fred weakly attempted as Lorne gave a heartfelt chuckle.

"So…is this the end of evil mastermind?" Wesley asked. Spike nodded glumly.

"What do you wanna do now?"

"I'd take us out to get ice cream…" Lorne said.

Spike's face lit up…

"…But I seem to have misplaced my wallet."

…and then dimmed considerably.

"There seems to be a lot of that going around," Wesley nodded. "Perhaps a demon came…an evil, wallet-snatching demon. Or maybe it was one of the clients."

"That's awful," Fred said. "That someone would just take money like that. Without even asking first…"

Spike attempted to sidle inconspicuously out of the room.

"Hold it right there, Cakes Jr.!" Lorne shouted suddenly. "I know just what you're trying to do."

Spike felt an ice cube drop to the bottom of his stomach as he froze mid step.

"You're not getting out of naptime that easily, honeybun."

Bloody Hell, these people really were daft.

Spike awoke as a cold hand ran through his baby soft hair.

"Da?"

"Mmm?"

"You're back."

"I am."

The little vampire edged closer and rested his small head in his grandsire's lap.

"Don't hate you."

Angel's hand stopped stroking for a moment.

"I'm glad."

"I really don't, you know," Spike told him, closing his blue eyes as Angel continued. "I love you even if you do have really dumb hair."

TBC…