[Devlin explains how he met Spike and got sired.]
"I don't need to hear about that," Fred pleads.
"Can't stand to hear a bad word about Spike, can you?," Devlin responds.
"No. It just doesn't matter. You're a vampire. He turned ya into one. That's all I need to know."
"No it's not," Dev tells her as he leans in and grins. "Not even close." Fred's a tad frightened. She knows can't make him stop talking, and he can make her listen. Besides, it can't be more upsetting than his last story.
Herman walks into the Mud Club with his college friends. Richard Hell and the Voivoids are rocking out on stage. Spike plays as Dru sways to the beat. Herman's molded his hair into about twenty little spikes, each one about an inch high. The bottom quarter-inch is dark, while everything above is dyed blonde. He wears torn jeans, a black Sex Pistols t-shirt and a thin gray thrift store cloth coat. Around his neck is a thick metal chain with a small padlock at the bottom. The five guys and three girls get a table in back. The place is fairly empty, as is evident from the scattered applause when the song ends. Spike and Dru look around. She points out the new arrivals. "College girls," Spike notes with a smile.
"Look at little spikey," she says. Spike laughs at her pun on Herman's hairstyle.
"Bloody poser. Just like all the other Yanks."
"You want to go back to London?"
"London's old news. And Americans taste better. Less greasy."
"Awl those fish and bangers, chips and mash."
"You want the boy?," he asks. She turns around.
"The boy wants you." Spike thinks this over.
"He's a poofer?" Dru giggles.
"He wonts to learn." She walks away. Spike's confused. Learn what? How to be a vampire? How to be a punk? How to be irresistible to the ladies? The kid doesn't look so special. But Dru has a sense when it comes to these things. So Spike decides to eavesdrop from a distance.
"Are you kidding? This is a great time to be in New York City," Herman maintains.
"Fiscal bankruptcy. Whole neighborhoods going up in flames. The Yankees winning the World Series."
"Okay, it's not perfect," Herman concedes. He happens to be an Cleveland Indians fan. "But look what's coming out of the chaos." He gestures to the stage. The others aren't exactly big Richard Hell fans. "Oh, come on! Order and tranquility are just not inspiring. Take New York. What great bands did it produce in the fifties and sixties? Besides the Velvets, of course. That's because life wasn't nearly so lousy. But the moment everything goes to hell, Manhattan becomes the center of the musical universe. Coincidence? I think not."
"Maybe you should explain that to all the poor, unemployed people in this city," one of his female friends suggests.
"Yeah, it sucks to be them. But someone's always going to suffer." Likes chaos. Doesn't mind suffering. This boy sounds promising to Spike. "Let's say you could wave a magic wand, make this city prosperous again. Guess what happens then? Our rents double! You all are benefiting from this chaos as much as I am. Did he say last song?" Herman leaves the table and runs up to the stage as Richard Hell launches into "Blank Generation." Dru grabs Spike from behind.
"You loik?"
"He's more interesting than most. Not as dumb as he looks." Dru spins him around.
"I used to tell Darla the same about you." Spike's mildly offended.
"She called me dumb? Compared to who? That Cro-Magnon Angelus?"
"Wait a second," Fred interrupts. "How do you know this?"
"Spike told me later on."
"If you're gonna make me hear this, and least tell it for your own point of view. Otherwise it just doesn't sound credible."
"Okay. As you wish. I first noticed Spike after Blondie took the stage. During their second song, I went over to the bar to get us some more beers. He was doing the same for himself. While I was waiting for the bartender to get to me, I looked to my left and there he was, a few feet away. He looked back. I thought he thought I was staring, so I got nervous."
"You here for her?," Spike asks.
"Who?," a slightly frightened Herman responds.
"Debbie?"
"Oh." Herman laughs. "No. I came for the opening act. My friends wanted to see Blondie. Their songs are okay. She's really hot and all that. But I like my music a little harder."
"She's not my type," Spike explains. "Flowing blonde locks. Wispy, waifish body. Makes me want to heave."
"You really English?," Herman asks, upsetting Spike. "You sound real. Just that a lotta guys round here have started pretending. They think it makes them sound cool and helps them get girls."
"Mine's very bloody real," Spike whispers, leaning in to frighten Herman. "Londoner born and bred."
"Cool. So do you have the Clash album? I know that's out in the U.K. Record shop in Soho says they'll have the bootleg in two weeks. Right now all I got is their first single. It's awesome."
"Clash are bloody rubbish," Spike declares before taking a swig from his bottle of beer. "The Sex Pistols. That's punk rock." He pulls back Herman's jacket to look at the Sid Vicious image on his shirt. Spike smiles. "Are you a fan?"
"They rock." Spike laughs at Herman's lame, suburban compliment.
"They ARE rock."
"And rock is dead. I know their whole party line."
"Nothing wrong with loving something that's dead," Spike says cryptically.
"I got their first two singles: Anarchy,' God Save the Queen.' Great stuff. I hear they've finished their first LP, but they got record company troubles. Gone through three of them in the last six months." Herman chuckles. "Or maybe that's just cause Malcolm MacLauren likes taking the advance and running out the door. That's the problem. I wish they'd take themselves seriously."
"That would be dull," Spike responds with sneer. "Ruin the whole bloody point."
"The point being that it's all a scam. They're a scam. This t-shirt I'm wearing's a scam. And I'm a sucker for buying because it because all they care about is exploiting chumps like me who believe the music still matters."
"You really are Clash fan," Spike spits out scornfully.
Herman pays for his eight beers. Spike finishes the one he just received and orders another. Herman notices the bartender skips the people who've been waiting longer and instantly gets Spike was he wants. "Hey. He didn't charge you."
"VIP," Spike responds. Herman looks at him and smiles. The (mostly) Platonic seduction continues. Herman remembers what he was just talking about.
"Everyone says rock and roll is dead. Fine. I'll bite. The question is, what happens next? The Clash, The Ramones, Television, The Jam — they want to bring it back from the dead. But the Sex Pistols, they're just conducting a funeral. If the hippies murdered rock and roll, then it's our job to resurrect it." Spike's beginning to wonder who's seducing whom. He holds his bottle out towards Herman in order to give a toast.
"To coming back from the dead."
"I'll drink to that." Spike's knees almost get wobbly when he hears this. Herman's friends wonder what's taking so long. He tries to pick up all eight beers. Spike helps him, taking four over to the table. As he sets them down, he flirts with Emily, a tall, slim freshman with short, slightly curly black hair who wears a black t-shirt with the sleeves cut off.
"Care to introduce us to your new friend," Emily says to Herman while still staring up at Spike.
"The name's Spike."
She giggles. "That's a funny name." Herman sits down to Emily's right. "Like Herman's hair." She puts her right hand on top of his head, smushing his spikes. He swats it away and tries to fix her hair. They both laugh. "How did you get it?"
"Long story," Spike responds with a smirk. "Maybe I'll get the chance to tell you sometime. Nice meeting you." He looks at her. Then he looks at Herman and winks before returning to Drusilla. Herman watches. She looks like the most glamorous woman he's ever seen.
"Too bad Emily. Looks like your guy's already got someone." He points to Spike and Dru.
"Too bad yourself, Herman. You're the one who picked him up," she jokes.
"You pick up a lot of guys at bars?," Reggie asks mockingly.
"Nope. He was my first," Herman responds wistfully, playing along with the gag.
"Looks a little older," Cathy observes, glancing over her shoulder at Spike.
"Not that much older," Emily responds.
"Someone's been hooked," Nancy says to Emily. "Waiting for him to reel you in?"
"Grow up. He's cute. I noticed. How could I not? That means I can see. It doesn't mean I want him."
"He sounded English," Eric observes, stating the bloody obvious.
"From London," Herman responds.
"What's he doing here?," Len asks.
"How should I know? We just talked music. It's not like I actually know the guy."
"Do you want you?," Nancy asks.
"Wrong question," Emily interjects, gazing at Spike in the distance. "With a man like that, the question is, does he want to know you?"
"The show ended around one in the morning," Devlin tells Fred. "The girls wanted to go dancing, so we took the subway to midtown and hit a few clubs. Not exactly my scene, but I was looking to score. No luck, though. Let's just say that when it came to the Sexual Revolution, I was a conscientious objector." This gets a few chuckles from Fred. She finds Devlin's inner geek a lot less repulsive than the rest of him. "I got back downtown a little after three, and was walking past Washington Square Park on the way to my apartment. That's when I spotted them standing under the arch."
Herman walks over to Spike. A little ways behind Spike, Dru is dancing and singing all by her lonesome. "What exactly is your girlfriend on?," Herman casually asks Spike.
"Life. Other people's," Spike responds with a sly grin. He exhales and tosses off the cigarette he just finished.
"You live around here?"
"I suppose I could. If I wanted to." Herman's beginning to find Spike's caginess a bit worrisome. "You live round here, Herman?" He's glad Spike remembered his name. But it also raises questions.
"That would explain why I'm here."
"Don't you get it?," Spike asks him as Dru slowly walks over to them. "I came for you."
Herman laughs weakly to mask his confusion and nervousness. "That's flattering. Not in the usual way, though. If you really wanted to get together, you could have just asked for my number. Would have saved you a lot of time waiting around in the dark."
"See that," Spike says, pointing at the cigarette he just dropped to the ground. "I lit it up the moment I got here. Haven't been waiting very long. Haven't had to. I knew when you'd be here. My pet told me. Isn't that right, doves?" Dru hugs and kisses Spike, then looks at Herman, who's really creeped out by now.
"I loik this one," she says, pinching his left cheek with her right hand. Then she moves the hand over the top of Herman's skull, about an inch above his hair. "His moind's like a choo-choo, spinning and churning, steaming and burning. Such delightful sizzle." She makes a hissing sound.
"Careful love. Wouldn't want to scare off the boy."
"What's going on?," Herman asks, rapidly losing his patience.
"The nine-to-five, pencil-pushing, grey flannel suit life isn't for you, now is it, Herman?"
"Find me a college kid who answers in the affirmative and I'll, well, do nothing, because you won't. It's a rhetorical question, wrapped around at least three cliches. Maybe it's because I'm tired, but you're a lot less interesting now than you were at the show." Herman starts to walk away. Drusilla steps in front of him, grabs his hands and starts spinning him around. For a second, he's excited because he thinks she's really hot. But then he goes back to feeling nervous because he strongly suspects she's a taco short of a combination plate. Spike laughs at Herman's last comment.
"I think it's safe to say this is the last time you'll ever call us boring." Dru stops spinning. She leans in so that her face is a foot from Herman's. He can't help but stare into her eyes as Spike bites the right side of his neck from behind.
"Ow. Ow!!! You son of a -." Spike's done drinking. Herman collapses into Drusilla's arms. She goes bumpy and smiles at Spike. They kiss, then Dru bites the right side of Spike's neck. She puts Herman's mouth to the wound. He raises his arms and grabs the top of Spike's head with both hands to hold himself up. Herman drinks in big gulps until he falls to the ground.
"Boy's a natural," Spike says to Dru. He looks at his right shoulder. Herman dripped a little on the collar. "Does blood come out of this thing?"
"That was the last thing I heard before I fell asleep and started dreaming. You know those falling dreams where you never hit the ground? It was like that, except I was chasing a girl. I could hear her heart pounding. I could sense her fear. But I could never catch her. I got closer and closer, but just when I was about to grab her, I'd trip. Then I'd stand up and resume the chase. I wanted to kill her, tear into her flesh, suck the life out of her. And it felt completely natural. Of course, waking up felt completely unnatural."
"Must be weird clawin' your way out of the ground."
"Buried in a coffin? I wish! Spike had a motorboat. Dru liked to go out on night cruises around the island. She dressed me up in a dark suit, and he dumped me in the middle of the Hudson River."
"Ah thought he liked you?"
"It was less work than digging a hole. Also, he wanted to see if I had what it took. I was a test of sorts. And possibly a metaphor for human birth. Emerging out of the water would be something Dru would think of. I open my eyes, and I'm completely disoriented. I'm not just underwater. I'm under the layer of muck at the bottom of the river. I try to swim up out of the sludge, but quickly realize my right legs's tied to a rock. I don't know if it was a rock, since I couldn't see anything. But whatever it was, it was heavy enough to hold me down. I felt for the knot, and tried to untie it. That didn't work. Then I felt my face. It seemed to be swollen in strange places. Plus, my teeth were bigger and sharper. Then it occurred to me: why don't I try to gnaw the rope off? Sure enough, that worked. I floated to the surface and looked around. The Statue of Liberty on one side, skyscrapers on the other. I was downtown. Which was a relief. For all I knew, my attackers could have dumped me way out at sea. I swam towards Battery Park. Spike was waiting. He laughed as I pulled myself up onto a pier and crawled ashore.
As Herman coughs up mud and water and adjusts to not having to breathe, Spike looks at his right ankle. The knot's still tied. He can see where the boy gnawed it off. "I think this one has brains," Spike says to Dru. Herman stands up. He's soaking wet, and he stinks. He can hear the cars whizzing by a quarter mile away as if he were standing next to the road. He rapidly turns his head side to side, trying to get a sense of his surroundings, and of his enhanced abilities to comprehend them. Everything inside him feels different. "Welcome, mate!," Spike announces. Herman looks at Spike and punches him in the nose with a right cross.
"You did this to me! You son of a bitch!"
"Let's not bring my mum into this," Spike quips. Herman lands a right hook. Spike laughs some more.
"How bout a little thanks?"
"Thanks? Thanks!" Herman hits Spike in the mouth with a right jab. "Thanks to you, I just crawled out of industrial waste!" He throws a right hook. Spike blocks it.
"You'll have to learn to fight with both hands." Herman grabs Spike's throat with his left hand and tries to choke him. Spike pushes him to the ground. "You'll also have to learn that our kind doesn't breathe. Choking's not very bloody useful." Herman gets up, charges Spike while yelling, tackles him and drives Spike onto his back. He tries to land more punches, but Spike blocks them and tosses Herman off of him. They both get up. Herman charges again. Spike casually sticks out his left palm and nails him in the nose. Herman backs up. "Okay. So you're an ungrateful little bugger. I get that. But why waste your time on me? Listen to your body. What's it telling you? What does it want?" Herman looks at Dru and growls with lust. Then he looks at Spike and growls with anger. Spike groans and rolls his eyes. "Oh bloody hell. Not this again."
"I'm hungry," Herman announces.
"Now you're gettin' it!," Spike replies with relief.
"Gotta kill that girl," Herman adds as he walks past Spike and Dru and heads north.
"Which one?," Spike asks, unaware that Herman's speaking metaphorically.
"Did you kill your friends?," Fred asks Devlin.
"Of course not. A college kid disappears when all his friends are murdered, and the missing college kid gets his picture in the papers. The City would be ruined for me. Spike wanted to have some fun with Emily. But I convinced him that would draw too much attention to me. For a vampire to operate, he requires a certain amount of anonymity."
"When did you stop practicing what you're preaching?"
"You need anonymity to hunt and kill. I'm not doing that around here."
"What if you wanted to?"
"I'd have a lot of trouble. Just like Angel would in LA. Though he'd have it a lot worse. Cops could put out an APB, get his picture on the five o'clock news." Devlin laughs. "He'd be a regular celebrity, with all the scrutiny that entail."
"That's sorta comforting," Fred responds. Something occurs to Devlin.
"Maybe that's part of your employer's plan. Give Angel power, put him in the public eye, and he becomes to control. Dru told me they wanted him bad. But, as she taught them, demons can be very disobedient. If the firm can make life for a maverick Angelus miserable, he has no choice by to seek their protection and do their bidding. Sorry to bore you. I'm sure this occurred to all of you a long time ago." Actually, it hadn't. Fred and her friends didn't like to consider scenarios involving the return of Angelus. To them, it was like planning for life after a nuclear war. "Anyway, downtown New York is deserted after dark. I had to schlepp a couple miles up the west side before finding my first meal: two security guards in the lobby of Chase-Manhattan. Then I headed back to Spike's place, got out of my clothes, took a shower and hit the sack. You get tired after your first feeding."
Herman gets into bed. Drusilla walks over to him. She's wearing a sheer red silk nightgown. "Enjoy your tea and crumpets before nap time?"
"Are you always this . . . allegorical?," Herman asks, struggling to find a euphemism for nuts.
"You're fresh," Dru says, climbing onto the bed. "Untouched."
"No. I've been touched." She runs her right hand all the way up his left leg. "Maybe not like that," he concedes. Suddenly, Herman is no longer tired.
"William wus the same way."
"Who?," Herman asks. Dru, who's now straddling Herman, takes off her nightgown. "Never mind."
"William . . . Do you mean Spike?," Fred asks Devlin. "Spike was a virgin!" She laughs.
"Maybe I shouldn't have mentioned that part. Now he'll have a reason to kill me."
"Other than you being a soulless vampire who could return to murdering at any moment."
"Yes. But he wouldn't take that so personally."
NEXT: Vampire saves Slayer, then tries to gain her trust.