It has been brought to my attention that Spike cannot, in fact, appear in a photograph, therefore half of my story is based in crap... heh. As it turns out, I'm kind of the Anne Ricean vampire obsessive fan, and I didn't even consider BtVS vamps don't project an image. So, here's my idea. Let's pretend they do, for the sake of my sanity, yes? Thanks your lot! Specially the ones who send praises and/or good good criticism that makes me see how green I still am, and how to try and fix that. : )
Chapter IV
"You may want to hide from the hurricane Angel..." Cordelia warns me as I enter the hotel in the morning, dragging me unceremoniously towards the kitchen and pushing me on a chair; from the lobby, I can hear the poof effectively passing on his way out, complaining about something like an old woman while Wesley's softer voice tries in vane to placate him
"Still mad at me, is he?" I ask, once I'm certain he's gone for good
"Oh, mad is a gross understatement..." she sighs as she pulls a blood bag from the fridge "Ate yet?"
"Not really" I reply; Xander was in a hurry in the morning, some kind of previous commitment he wouldn't tell me about, and I didn't feel like hanging around by myself at his place "Is Faith up yet?"
"That would be a big no; she barely made it back here an hour ago" she grins, rolling her eyes when I raise an eyebrow questioningly "I think Angel might be mad at her after last night... he kind of hoped she would bring you in by the hair, make you see reason... you were supposed to come to your senses and realize how absurd it is that you're trying to have a life and, God forbid, be happy..." she says in mock outrage "Maybe you should bring your Gavin over sometime, let Mr. OCD see that you're not doing anything so terrible, and then at least you'll have something to say for yourself when he stops making sense..."
"Right... was thinking more in the lines of pointy wooden objects, but can you blame the bloke?" I sigh, taking the mug she offers with a sympathetic smile
"Amusing coincidence" Wesley's tired voice comments from behind me as he enters the kitchen "I must confess I am finding that line of thought strangely appealing myself. But then again, I must remind myself there are times I actually like Angel..." he explains, planting a soft kiss on his wife's lips before he starts fixing himself some coffee
"Men!" Cordelia chuckles, shaking her head in disbelief "It's male mentality at its best to think solutions reside in deadly phallic objects..."
"Interesting interpretation, dear" Wes laughs softly, taking a seat next to her "I do believe, however, that Spike here hasn't been cooperating either; you could, for one, at least try to translate that prophesy Angel has taken such a liking to"
"I suck at Akkadian" I sigh in defeat "Told him that a couple times, but bloody stubborn ponce won't listen; what I can decipher, I told him, and the rest... it's just old wives tales anyway"
"Well, I happen to have an acquaintance who can translate Akkadian..." he offers, scribbling an address in a paper napkin "You can drop it by this evening, and he will most likely have it done in the morning... at least that will be one less thing for Angel to fret about"
"Thanks, mate" I tell him, taking the napkin and slipping it into a pocket "I think I'll go try to catch up on my sleep now, take advantage of the funny occurrence of the sire not being breathing on my neck"
"Sure thing, Spike" Cordelia laughs "For someone who doesn't actually breathe, he's quite good at that..."
"Took him centuries to perfect it; the brooding came later..." I wink at her before I head upstairs to my room, and I don't really want a giant octopus to dismember him, but wouldn't that be just wonderful?
--o--
I wake up right after sunset, when the pillow is unceremoniously snatched from under my head and used as a weapon to strike me across the face. I growl and open one eye to find an innocent-looking slayer towering over my bed, grinning like a bloody fool.
"You do that again and I'll snap your neck" I groan, rolling around to hide my face against the mattress, hoping she will just go away and let me sleep in peace
"Touchy, are we?" she chuckles, dropping on the bed next to me and forcing my face away from the sheets "Come on Spike, wake up!" she insists, lifting my eyelids forcefully with her fingers "I wanna go to Dawn's... Oz is playing tonight, and I promised we'd pick her up and drive her to the concert"
"She's not going to some concert, she's pregnant" I mumble, slapping her hands away from my face and trying to figure out a way of blocking her voice so I can go back to dream about Xander
"She's pregnant, not disabled!" she snorts, now jumping on the bed like an overactive kid "Come on, Spike, snap out of it! Don't make me throw a glass of holy water on your face..."
"Your bark is worse than your bite" I sigh in defeat, rolling to my back so I can look at her; yep, still grinning like a fool "You're not going away, are you?"
"Fat chance, Spike" she snorts "Come on, get dressed... we're gonna be late. I'll even fix your make-up for you"
"Fine! I'll get dressed" I snap, rolling out of bed "Just shut a up and get me some coffee"
"I have blood and, ew, Fuit Loops...?" she says uncertainly, pointing at the bowl resting on the bedside table next to a couple of papers "Cordy says she's out of Choco-crispies... she also sent those, she says to remember taking them to translate"
"I hate Fruit Loops, Angel's always monopolizing the good stuff..." I sigh resignedly, barely glancing at the offending cereal as I grab my pants and start getting dressed "Get me coffee"
"We'll get it on the way, come on!"
--o--
It figures, I still don't like Starbucks' coffee, but it's always better than the one Faith makes anyway. Dawnie still has that herbal tea obsession, and the word coffee is taken as a personal offence in her household, so I have to make do with the abhorrent beverage in a disposable cup. I have insisted vehemently in the past that a successful business doesn't necessarily derive from an actually good product, but I decided to stop using that argument that one time Angel agreed with me about it. These days, pissing the ponce off has quite lost its luster.
As expected, the concert is pretty good, and Oz's band is really becoming popular of late so the place is quite crowded; it's still little leagues, but they are pretty much as far up as it gets in the underground scene, and every member of the band insists that they don't want to sell out and become commercial anyway. As it is, they feel happy and fulfilled, and with Oz's part-time job at the pet-store and Dawn's own job as a small-time designer for a punk clothing store they live quite elatedly.
After the concert the band members decide to go to a nearby bar they frequent to celebrate the impeccable performance, and of course every attempt on my part to convince Dawn to go back home and rest is futile, so we follow suit as expected. Faith is acting like she's high on amphetamines, talking nonstop and saying whatever comes to her mind, and she and Dawn have already spent most of the short walk to the bar cooing me for being so cute, so it doesn't really come as a surprise when she brings up the inevitable;
"He's just moody because Angel has being giving him hell for the last couple of weeks" Faith comments offhandedly as I hold the door of the bar open for them "He's just dying to know who Spike's new mystery lover is"
"Oh? Spike, are you seeing someone?" Dawn's eyes widen in curious anticipation "How comes you never told me! Shame on you!" she slaps my arm playfully "Who is she?" she inquires, waving for the waitress before she even sits at the chosen table
"Actually, it's a him" Faith smiles triumphant, sitting down next to me and sliding her hand into my coat pocket to fish for a cigarette "A hot him, long dark hair, nice tight body... looks pretty good in leather"
"Oh, I didn't know you liked guys..." Dawn says, just as the waitress comes over to take our order "I would have set you up with Oz's cousin, Marty..." she comments in what appears to be a casual way, although I for one can see the wheels turning in the back of her head
"Dawn, Oz's cousin Marty is four feet tall and still holds on to his old Britney Spears CD's..." I mock-glare at her while Faith orders two beers and an orange soda
"Yeah, he's the short one of the family" Oz remarks in his usual monotone as he joins the three of us, taking the spare chair next to his girl "So Spike, you are seeing someone?"
"Yeah, name's Gavin" I concede, judging it mostly harmless if I stick to only mentioning him; as stupid as it makes me feel, I really want to tell them about him "I'm meeting him later tonight, actually"
"Really?" Dawn asks enthusiastically, leaning closer to me conspiratorially "So come on, don't make me beg, what is he like...? Is he good in bed?"
"Bloody hell, bint!" I exclaim in pretend-outrage "I'm over a century your senior, what kind of question is that?"
"I don't know about the fuck..." Faith's chuckle interrupts my rightful indignation "But he's got an ass that just screams to be groped , and drives a Mercedes convertible that can't be more than a year old..." she informs succinctly; when I give her a questioning look, she just shrugs "You know Spike, I am a girl; I may be tough, but I still like gossip..."
--o--
What with answering to dozens of obtrusive girly questions in between companionable drinks, and then driving the bint and Oz back home, I make it to Joe's quite near closing time. As usual at this late hour, there isn't many people left in there other than Amanda, Mac, Adam, Xander and, of course, the man the place itself is named after. Even before I walk through the door, vampire acute senses and all, I can hear Amanda's not-quite-sober voice rising above the soft murmur of the small crowd;
"I am not drunk, I tell you" she is saying as I enter the bar "I haven't been drunk in centuries" she insists emphatically, glaring at Xander, who is in turn trying to hide his grin behind his beer mug
"He's not implying anything, Amanda" Mac assures her, a smile playing on his lips "But you are a little less than sober, so I'm driving you home..." he decides, standing up and grabbing both his coat and hers
"Good idea" Adam agrees, pressing a quick kiss on his husband's lips while Amanda struggles to her feet "Don't take long, I'm kind of sleepy..." he calls after Mac, who rolls his eyes jovially as he walks past me, patting my shoulder in a friendly manner as he leads a pouting Amanda out of the bar
"Did I miss something?" I ask as I reach their table, pecking Xander on the lips before I occupy the chair Amanda just vacated
"Just Amanda being generally gleeful" he assures me with one of those blinding boyish smiles he still manages to pull off masterly
"It's a good thing Mac is driving her back to her hotel" Joe chuckles "She usually gets the strangest ideas when she's a little tipsy..."
"Don't we all?" Adam says from his boneless sprawl in his chair, one of those positions that would probably be unmanageable for somebody else but the bloke seems to find most comfortable "Last time I got drunk, I think my exact words were 'alright, bring my horse over, we should ride, the three of us'. Talk about bad drunkard ideas..." he snorts, probably a private joke that escapes me "I haven't gotten drunk since"
"Yeah, you may want to stick to that" Joe shakes his head, as Adam lifts his mug in a symbolic toast "I'll go close the cash register now..." the elderly man says, leaning heavily on his cane as he stands up
"Okay Joe, we'll drive you home when you close" Xander offers, waiting for the nod of agreement from the bar owner before turning to me "Do you have a cigarette, Spike? I ran out about an hour ago..."
"I think I have a couple left... Faith has the habit of helping herself to them" I explain as I search the pockets of my coat, and why do I carry so much shit in them anyway? I have to take out a couple of randomly folded papers, my cell-phone, a few stray breath-mints and a black waterproof marker out before I even find them
"Thanks baby" Xander smiles, taking a cigarette and lighting it for me before taking one for himself and repeating the process "Is it healthy for the slayer to be smoking, anyway?" he asks with a raised eyebrow.
"Slayer metabolism or something" I come back, mimicking his expression "Is it healthy for you to be doing it?"
"There's no pertinent answer to that one..." he chuckles, glancing at the contents of my pockets spread on top of the table with faint amusement and the obvious intent to change the subject "You should get a handbag. How do you carry all that stuff in your pockets?"
"It's a talent" I conclude, deciding against mentioning the fact that he carries a sword around under it; can't blame a bloke for wanting protection, what with all the things that go bump in the night, but it still seems like there is something else there. Not the moment to think about that, though, since Adam is shamelessly browsing through my things in what seems like scholarly interest.
"Where did you get this?" he eventually asks while he contemplates the pages in his hands; that damn prophesy I should have taken to translate. Angel is definitely going to bitch about all day tomorrow, for that--
"Just some prophesy I need translated..." I shrug, not really sure how I should explain it; it is weird enough that they all seemed to know from the start that I was a vampire, and were okay with it.
"This is not a prophesy" Adam looks up at me, his voice modulated as is he were talking to a particularly slow child "It is just some old middle-eastern myth, I don't see how this could hold any interest for you..." he says casually, throwing the small pile of crumpled papers back to me
"You can read Akkadian?" I ask in disbelief, although I can't say I should be surprised; Adam was probably born inside a library, with all the things he knows as if by first-hand experience. Sometimes, he can even discuss with me times I actually lived through, and come up the victor nonetheless.
"No big deal, although I'm probably a bit rusty, since you don't seem to come across Akkadian interlocutors all that often in this day and age" he jokes "But I could translate it for you, if you want, that is..."
"Yeah, okay" I agree, giving him back the papers "Will save me some trouble... when can you have it ready?"
"We'll see" he shrugs casually "I don't suppose you have a pen?"
--o--
"Spike!" Angel's voice yells at me as I hurry through the threshold of the hotel around noon; it is funny how I am developing some sort of conditioned reflex to his voice, because suddenly I feel like running away, burning blanket over me seeming like a good idea after all "Enjoyed your all-night outing?"
"It was fine" I reply as nonchalantly as I can manage, trying to keep myself from bolting "Here, I had your little obsession translated for you..." I comment, passing it over; I still am shocked to remember Adam, just scribbling away at the same time as he read, and all the while complaining on how clay is much more readable than transcriptions thereof, and how it would be cheaper to go back to mud and clay instead of paper and ink
"Spike" the sire looks at me with a perplexed look on his face; he doesn't even sound angry "This is written on paper napkins..." he observes
"Well yeah, paper doesn't come cheap ponce, and it's not like you're paying me any..." I explain, leaving him alone before he actually catches up on the fact that I am making fun of him; in the kitchen, I find Faith and Cordelia, animatedly conversing over coffee--
"...and so we're going holiday-shopping this afternoon" the slayer is saying, glancing back at me with a big grin as I enter the room
"That's great" Cordelia tells her, smiling at me as she pulls a bowl from under the kitchen island "Choco-crispies. I hid the box from Angel, but with him being a vampire and all I suggest you to eat quickly..." she advises, pulling a blood bag from the fridge and handing it over to me as I sit on the stool next to Faith
"Thanks prom queen, good luck I have preternatural speed..." I say "So, is the slayer going to sit on Santa's lap today?"
"I just might" she chuckles "We're going shopping with Amanda"
"What?!" I all but shout, spilling some of the blood out of the bowl I wan pouring it into "What the hell do you mean, you're going shopping with Amanda?" Amanda, who shows around pictures of me and Xander getting it on like they were pictures of her children.
"Hey, Spike, chill" she laughs "She's really nice, and she offered to show me around L.A's trendiest shopping spots..."
"Cordelia could do that" I interrupt, hoping against hope to convince her not to go with Amanda, because, well, she is Amanda
"I could, but Angel is working me to an inch of my life, and I can't take a day off... he can't even turn a computer on by himself, let alone operate it" she sighs, shaking her head in disapproval "And don't go around spilling blood in my kitchen; I hate blood in the kitchen"
I'm about to say something about blood in the kitchen, and that time with the Xelc demon and the serving spoon in its huge middle eye, when the door is all but kicked off its hinges--
"Cordelia!" comes the annoying whine "You told me there were no Choco-cripies left!"