God Hates Me
Disclaimer: Oh, please. If I owned them I could afford car repairs.
Summary: Spike has a bad day. Takes place sometime season sixish.
Reviews: Yes please. Readers Rock but Reviews Rule!
A/N: Had a very, very bad day the other day. My car engine crapped out (I need a new engine, don't ask), my daughter spent twice what she should have for her car repairs, my son's bedroom doorknob jammed and he had to break out of his own room and then to top it all off, the front door was open when we finally got home from the auto shop and my cats were out. So after coming to the conclusion that it was my brother's fault because it was his birthday and I didn't call him, I just had to share some of my bad luck with Spike, just cause I'm evil that way. Was going for humor but WayWard Childe says it's depressing. I'll let you decide.
Hey! Just realized this is my thirtieth fic. (throws confetti) Yay me!
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Some days it just didn't pay to get out of bed. That's the conclusion Spike had arrived at by the time he stumbled into the Magic Box.
It had been the day from Hell as far as he was concerned beginning in the wee hours of the morning when he'd had to walk back to his crypt. The motorcycle that was his pride and joy had died just outside of Sunnydale. He'd been returning from a trip to the beach. The stresses of his unlife demanded that he get out of town once in a while so he had taken to going to the beach occasionally to escape the Slayer and her Scoobies.
He'd stashed it in the brush along the road and walked back to his crypt, cursing the entire way and dusting more than one hapless fledgling unfortunate enough to cross his path. The violence level had been barely enough to ease his frustration. He was so exhausted when he got home that he didn't notice how quiet it was.
His days sleep had been restless because he couldn't shrug off the feeling of impending doom that plagued him. He crawled up the ladder into the upper floor of his crypt and groaned as the silence finally registered. With a vicious curse, he jerked open the door of the inert refrigerator. He snatched the topmost bag of pig blood from the ominously warm depths and wanted to cry when he realized it had gone bad.
"Bloody Hell." He muttered. "They catch the splice?" He moved over to his ancient television and hit the power button; it flickered to life telling the blond vampire that his equally ancient refrigerator had finally died. His irritation rising, he turned the set back off.
Spike silently fumed as he glared at the malfunctioning cooler. He'd just stocked up on blood the day before and knew it had to have conked out almost immediately after he'd filled it. He'd spent everything he'd had on the supplies and now it was all spoiled.
He grabbed his duster from the sofa he'd dropped it on and wrenched open the crypt door, just as Buffy was about to kick it in. Her foot landed in his stomach, propelling him backwards into the room against the wall. The duster flew out of his hand and landed in the dirt several feet way from him. He bounced up in full game-face to yell at the petite blonde intruder.
"What the Hell do you want?" He roared.
The Slayer propped her fists on her hips and faced Spike, unperturbed by his foul humor. "I wanted to know if you'd heard of a new demon in town. It's about six and a half feet tall with green scales and a horn on each side of its head. It attacked me last night. You could have helped me with it but naturally I couldn't find you." She told him tartly.
"Was out of town. Don't spend all my time panting around waiting for you to decide if I'm useful or not. You want my help, ask in advance. I'm not hanging around just in case you might need me. As for your demon just pop off the horns, he'll dissolve. Now if you'll excuse me." He picked up his duster and shook it out before sliding it down his arms.
Buffy's jaw dropped as she watched him shove past her and disappear into the night.
Spike made his way to Willy's and bullied his way into the poker game in the back room. Later he wished he hadn't bothered. Not even his clever cheating could win him a hand. His luck was beyond bad but he couldn't prove that any of the other demons were cheating. He gave up in disgust and left.
He didn't get two blocks from the bar before running into the demon the Slayer had invaded his space to ask about. The battle raged for nearly twenty minutes before Spike was able to land on the massive back and wrap a hand around each horn. With all his muscles straining, he finally managed to pull off the horns. He landed hard when the demon dissolved underneath him.
Tired, hungry, sore and in debt, Spike lay on the pavement of the alley and cursed the day he'd come to the Hell Mouth. "Could this day get any worse?" He mumbled and then groaned when he realized what he'd just done.
He rolled over and slowly climbed to his feet. "Stupid sod, tempting fate that way. Might as well go to the Watcher's and tell the bint her demon is dead." Spike continued to rail at himself as he shuffled into the street toward the Magic Box.
The bell jangled annoyingly as he stumbled through the door. The Scoobies all looked up from their tasks as he entered. Willow and Tara were searching the computer data bases for the demon Buffy had encountered while Dawn sat on the other side of the table doing homework. Anya was counting the day's money while Giles perused the bookshelves for more books to look in for the demon. The vampire didn't see the Slayer and figured she wasn't back from patrol yet.
Giles pulled his glasses off and peered at the disheveled intruder. "Spike. And to what do we owe the displeasure of your company tonight?"
"Killed the demon her highness was hunting for." Spike stated. "Figure that earns me some dosh or some blood." He pulled his aching body up straight and glared at the older Brit.
The Watcher set the books back on the shelf and pulled his handkerchief out of his pocket. Thoughtfully he polished his glasses. "Okay." He finally nodded. "Willow, would you please go in the back and heat up some blood for Spike?"
Spike didn't show his disappointment. He'd been hoping for some cash. If hard pressed enough, he could survive on demon blood and save the cash for smokes and poker debts. "Thanks ever so, Rupes." He sauntered over and sat next to Dawn. She smiled as he settled into the chair and waited impatiently for his first meal of the day.
"Hey, Spike." She murmured before she turned back to her studies.
"Hey, Bit." He smiled at the teenager. He had a soft spot for the Slayer's sister, much to Buffy's dismay. "Whatcha studying?" He flipped the cover of the book for a peek.
Dawn grimaced. "Biology." She told him. The tone of her voice indicating the subject was not one of her favorites.
The vampire smirked. "I'd help you with that but I don't think Big Sis would appreciate where I got my knowledge." He smiled when Willow handed him a brimming mug. "Thanks, Red."
The teenager grinned. She truly liked Spike. He treated her like an adult instead of the little kid the others tried to make her into. "It's okay, I'm almost done." She assured him.
He nodded as he finished his blood. He could feel the cuts and bruises beginning to heal and wondered if the doors of the YMCA were locked. Sometimes they forgot to secure the back door and he was able to sneak in and get a hot shower. That happened more often than not so he was happy he could maintain a certain level of cleanliness.
Everyone looked up as the bell tinkled again. Buffy and Xander entered the shop laughing. Xander had run into the blonde slayer on the way over to the shop and they had finished the trip together.
"Do we have an ID on big, green and scaly?" Buffy asked.
Giles smiled at his charge. "It's no longer necessary." He told her. "Spike says he killed it."
Buffy gazed at the vampire. "He looks like he was in a fight. He wasn't that dirty earlier." She observed.
"Hey! Sitting right here!" Spike protested them talking around him.
Xander moved over to the counter to give Anya a kiss. "Hey, Fangless, Did you sell your bike?"
Spike felt a sinking feeling deep in his stomach. "No." He answered slowly. "Why?"
"Oh, just wondered. I saw a Fyarl demon pushing it along the street earlier. Couldn't figure why he'd have it if you didn't sell it." Xander wandered over and sat at the table next to Willow, he grinned at the expression on Spike's face.
That did it. That was the last straw. He figured out why the day had been so rotten. The Scoobies watched in shock as he bent his head down and thumped it on the table. Once, twice and then a third time the bleached head met the surface. He let his forehead rest on the table for long moments. His eyes were closed in denial. Silence reigned in the shop as everyone waited for him to tell them what was going on.
When he finally spoke, they had to strain to hear the words. "God hates me."
Finis