Day 10 – Parody of another Fandom (Buffy)
A/N: Okay, so I freely admit I'm not happy with this one - especially with the parody aspect. I guess I should have given up and gone for a straight crossover, because I'm not sure this is even remotely funny. *sigh* But at least I tried.
"Bloody hell, I'm going to puke if I have to watch them a moment longer," Spoon muttered under his breath. A bloke could get a toothache just from looking at the two of them, all lovey-dovey and moon-eyed. He lit a fag, careful to shield the light from view with his hand. His sire might have taken leave of most of his senses when he'd got his precious soul back, but Arch still had pretty good eyesight.
Dear old Archie! He mentally rolled his eyes at the name Nate went by nowadays. There had been times when the moniker 'Archdemon' had struck terror into the hearts of mortals, when Arch had been a vicious killer, ruthless and cold, not the brooding, mopey mess he was nowadays. Soulful indeed!
How they had torn through Europe: Arch; Spoon; and their lovely ladies, mad Merrill and Isabella! What a grand time it had been! No virgin had been safe from them, had they been male or female. And the parties they'd had, with rivers of blood, fresh from the throat, mixed with heavy red wine… Spoon sighed wistfully. His own nickname, acquired through his notorious habit of torturing victims by cutting their hearts out with a silver spoon, still carried a certain reputation. But Arch was nothing but a slayer's pet nowadays.
Just then, she laughed out loud, throwing back her head and baring her throat, white and perfect in the moonlight. Spoon growled and instinctively slipped into his game face. To dig his teeth into that smooth, silky skin, to suck her, drain her - he'd had slayers before, and the taste wasn't something he'd ever be able to forget, sweet and heady and... With a flash of disgust, he realized he was more than half hard in his tight black jeans.
Sure, it was more than normal for a vamp to get turned on by a sight like this. The slayer was wearing her usual skimpy top and an extra short skirt. He could practically see her knickers from over here. Hell, he'd bet his sire was just as hot for her right now. Aren't you, mate? How Arch withstood the temptation to bite her or shag her, or both, right up against the wall of the club, was beyond him. Especially since the two of them were supposed to be so much in love.
But really, he couldn't quite fathom his own reaction. Getting aroused by the sight of her? Of Midget Winters? It was embarrassing to be turned on by a boring little do-gooder like her. Besides, he didn't even like red-heads. And what kind of name was Midget anyway? All right, so no one got a say in choosing their name. He certainly wouldn't have picked Carver, but apparently his mom had insisted on it. But why didn't the slayer at least get herself a cool pseud, like he had done?
A few deep breaths filled his lungs with smoke, calming and relaxing him. Really, not needing to breathe was all well and good, but how was a chap supposed to look cool without a fag? And looking cool was vital, or rather lethal, in his line of business. The black leather duster certainly helped, as did the scars and the spiky hair, but the smoking was the final touch. It had taken him months of practice, hidden away down in his crypt until he'd gotten it quite right.
Just then, the door of the club opened and the noise of new arrivals drowned out his exasperated sigh. Her gang! The Slayerettes, as he called them in his head. The geeky computer girl, what was she called… Velanna, Willanna? And the short, red-haired twit with the horrible taste in shirts. It wouldn't do to underestimate them, though. More than once they'd thwarted his cunning plans for world domination. Well, not so much world domination. These days, he'd be happy enough with ruling Sunnykeep, their boring little hometown.
But this time they wouldn't get in his way. A smirk spread across his face. This time, he had a plan that wouldn't fail. Just a few more hours, and he'd be ready to strike.
They were saying their goodbyes now, and Arch and the slayer headed over to the cemetery for a late-night patrol.
"Bugger," Spoon cursed under his breath. He'd hoped they'd head straight home for a cuppa and some chaste cuddling. But no, the daft ponce had to help her save the world again.
He didn't mind her staking other vamps – less competition that way. But tonight, he didn't want her anywhere near his crypt. Tonight was the big night. He had to distract them before-
A quick sprint through a back alley took him straight into their path. "Arch." He mentally congratulated himself on the lazy drawl he'd perfected during his time in Louisiana with Merrill, back in the Nineties. The local vampires had been a crazy bunch, with all their talk of sheriffs and kings, but he'd rather liked the iced tea and the burgers.
"You might want to check out the lower end of the cemetery first, mate." He lit another fag, doing his best to look nonchalant. "Think I saw a fresh grave over there."
The slayer shot him a suspicious glance. "Spoon. What's up with you being all helpful?" She turned to face her companion. "All right. Let's check out the upper end."
Bollocks! He should have known Ginger would see right through him. His mind was racing. "Ah, you might want to avoid the upper end. Might ruin your fancy boots. I'm just sayin'…"
"And why would I ruin my boots up there?" She was looking at him, her green eyes narrowed with distrust, while reaching for her stake.
"Might be 'spawn up there," he mumbled, avoiding Arch's gaze.
"What?" She sounded pissed. Well, he couldn't blame her. Nasty little buggers.
"God, Spoon." Arch rolled his eyes incredulously. "Please don't tell me you've done it again. You really should know better after what happened in Budapest."
"Oh, come on, it was fun!" He grinned up at his sire, unable to resist the temptation to bask in the old memories. "Remember when you and Bella skidded down the stairs and-"
"Shut up." Arch looked clearly embarrassed. Or maybe just more constipated than usual. "Where?"
"My crypt, back entrance," he shouted after them, then settled peacefully on a gravestone, inhaling smoke with relish. Ah, well. World domination postponed again. At least he could enjoy the show.