Spike and Cordy's Revenge Tour - Part 1
Okay, so I got this bug in my brain about Spike and Cordy going around and confronting all the creators of the comics in some very metacritical crack fic, and I actually wrote it.
I'm a little drunk right now, and so in love with the idea of Spike and Cordy being BFFs, that I may just make this a series of ficlets.
Totally unbeta'd and written after a few Coronas. You've been warned.
And I totally ignore the whole "need a an invite for a vamp to get in a house" thing.
Title: Doorbell Distress
Rating: PG-13
Characters: Spike, Cordy, and a suprise victim guest.
Cordelia Chase was not a happy girl.
Angel was being a dumbass.
Hell, Buffy was being a dumbass.
Everyone else was acting like an idiot, except for that Andrew guy, but he was Team Spike and also apparently critically injured, so he didn’t count. Xander was actually conducting himself surprisingly well, but hello! this is her ex we’re talking about, so giving Xander Harris that much credit didn’t sit very well with Queen C.
Cordy looked up from the well-thumbed comic book to her companion.
“So, you sure this is where the bloke lives?”
Spike stood on the doorstep to the simple suburban house, black duster pulled over his head to protect him from the sun, and shook her head. She didn’t know how she had hooked up with the Bleached Wonder, but this roiling rampage of revenge tour of hers wouldn’t have been possible without him.
“Yep. Google maps is rarely wrong.”
“Unless you’re trying to find a record store that has a rare Ramones recording at night. Personal experience, love. Don’t trust computers much.”
“Yeah, you and your technology issues are fascinating conversation topics,” she replied with a classic Cordelia roll of the eyes. “This is the place. I’m knocking. We’re doing this.”
She knocked on the door.
Brad Meltzer, who had probably been doing something sweet like reading inspiring stories to his young son because he likely was a nice guy in real life, came to the door.
“Hello?”
“You Brad Meltzer, mate?” Spike asked, eyeing the bespectacled man hard.
“Um, yes . . . And you are?”
“Very, very pissed off!” Cordy answered, flinging the comic book at him. “What the hell do you mean that Angel couldn’t be happy with anyone but Buffy? I’ve seen the guy genuinely happy and not Lolita complex-feeding happy. The big guy was happy when his kid was a baby, was happy just to have a kid, but you dumbasses probably forgot all about that, didn’t you?!”
“Well, Connor was a licensed character at IDW . . .” Brad was still boggling at the idea of fictional characters on his doorstep.
“And Buffy jumping the bloody poofter’s bones five minutes after trying to kill him? When has she ever done something like . . . oh, wait . . .” Spike’s anger deflated slightly as he thought about his first time with the Slayer.
Once again, Spike received an eye rolling from Cordelia. “Great follow-through, lame brain!” She always had to hook up with vampires who were idiots, didn’t she? She turned back to Meltzer. “Look, you made Angel some kind of Lucha Libre masked bad guy then had him boink the heroine. That’s really poor taste, from both the ‘Angel is a Champion’ point of view and the ‘Buffy is a Hero’ schtick she’s always so big on. You do know you totally mangled them don’t you?”
“Yeah, why the bloody hell would you do something like that . . . And in space, for Christ’s sake?!” Spike had to get his two cents in, as always. Cordelia reminded herself she had to tolerate him, because he was her ride.
“The space thing? Really, really tacky. I gotta friend who could recite how bad the science of that was, but she’s currently inhabited by some ancient being and couldn’t be here to chew your ass out on that one.”
“And really, does the earth need to be more fucked up than it already is? I mean, did you have to make them take down a whole bloody mountain to make your point? I coulda told you Buffy doing the poof was a bad idea, and I wouldn’t have to go all BP to do it!”
“I’m still pissed you and your cronies decided Angel was the perfect bad guy -- shut up, Spike! --” Cordy made a preemptive shut down before Spike could get another disparaging remark in. “Was that your idea, buddy?”
“Um, well . . . Joss said . . .”
“Joss Whedon? Bloke’s next on our list, never fear.” Spike gave Meltzer a feral grin.
“Look, we just want to say you’re an idiot for writing this crap. I mean, only happy with Buffy? Really? Really?” Cordy was incredulous.
“Yeah, just wanted to say that, and do this,” Spike’s feral grin turned deadly as he looked at Meltzer. “Look ma, no chip,” he snarked, as he pulled his left hand back and popped Meltzer good on the nose.
“Happy now?” Cordy turned to Spike as the two left the doorstep, leaving Meltzer with a bloody nose.
“Very, love. Very, very happy.”
“So, who’s next on the list?”
“Some bloke named Scott Allie - likes taking digs at me, doesn’t know you’re alive . . . That Whedon bloke . . . And some guy named Jeanty. Draws people like midgets. Too much shadow, makes Buffy look like a goblin.”
“Since when do you know so much about art?” Cordy asked, as they walked down the drive to the old Desoto, finally liberated from storage.
“Slayer’s mum and I talked art when we weren’t talking Passions,” Spike said, smiling fondly from under his still raised duster.
“Oh, my god, you watched Passions? How big of a bitch is Gwen?” Cordelia was pleasantly surprised to discover she and the bleached wonder had more than their revenge scheme in common. “An how much do you miss Timmy? It never was the same after Timmy died.”
“Losing Timmy was like losing a limb, love. Nothing hurt as much, ‘cept that year when the Slayer died.”
It was the start of a beautiful friendship.
I'm a little drunk right now, and so in love with the idea of Spike and Cordy being BFFs, that I may just make this a series of ficlets.
Totally unbeta'd and written after a few Coronas. You've been warned.
And I totally ignore the whole "need a an invite for a vamp to get in a house" thing.
Title: Doorbell Distress
Rating: PG-13
Characters: Spike, Cordy, and a suprise victim guest.
Cordelia Chase was not a happy girl.
Angel was being a dumbass.
Hell, Buffy was being a dumbass.
Everyone else was acting like an idiot, except for that Andrew guy, but he was Team Spike and also apparently critically injured, so he didn’t count. Xander was actually conducting himself surprisingly well, but hello! this is her ex we’re talking about, so giving Xander Harris that much credit didn’t sit very well with Queen C.
Cordy looked up from the well-thumbed comic book to her companion.
“So, you sure this is where the bloke lives?”
Spike stood on the doorstep to the simple suburban house, black duster pulled over his head to protect him from the sun, and shook her head. She didn’t know how she had hooked up with the Bleached Wonder, but this roiling rampage of revenge tour of hers wouldn’t have been possible without him.
“Yep. Google maps is rarely wrong.”
“Unless you’re trying to find a record store that has a rare Ramones recording at night. Personal experience, love. Don’t trust computers much.”
“Yeah, you and your technology issues are fascinating conversation topics,” she replied with a classic Cordelia roll of the eyes. “This is the place. I’m knocking. We’re doing this.”
She knocked on the door.
Brad Meltzer, who had probably been doing something sweet like reading inspiring stories to his young son because he likely was a nice guy in real life, came to the door.
“Hello?”
“You Brad Meltzer, mate?” Spike asked, eyeing the bespectacled man hard.
“Um, yes . . . And you are?”
“Very, very pissed off!” Cordy answered, flinging the comic book at him. “What the hell do you mean that Angel couldn’t be happy with anyone but Buffy? I’ve seen the guy genuinely happy and not Lolita complex-feeding happy. The big guy was happy when his kid was a baby, was happy just to have a kid, but you dumbasses probably forgot all about that, didn’t you?!”
“Well, Connor was a licensed character at IDW . . .” Brad was still boggling at the idea of fictional characters on his doorstep.
“And Buffy jumping the bloody poofter’s bones five minutes after trying to kill him? When has she ever done something like . . . oh, wait . . .” Spike’s anger deflated slightly as he thought about his first time with the Slayer.
Once again, Spike received an eye rolling from Cordelia. “Great follow-through, lame brain!” She always had to hook up with vampires who were idiots, didn’t she? She turned back to Meltzer. “Look, you made Angel some kind of Lucha Libre masked bad guy then had him boink the heroine. That’s really poor taste, from both the ‘Angel is a Champion’ point of view and the ‘Buffy is a Hero’ schtick she’s always so big on. You do know you totally mangled them don’t you?”
“Yeah, why the bloody hell would you do something like that . . . And in space, for Christ’s sake?!” Spike had to get his two cents in, as always. Cordelia reminded herself she had to tolerate him, because he was her ride.
“The space thing? Really, really tacky. I gotta friend who could recite how bad the science of that was, but she’s currently inhabited by some ancient being and couldn’t be here to chew your ass out on that one.”
“And really, does the earth need to be more fucked up than it already is? I mean, did you have to make them take down a whole bloody mountain to make your point? I coulda told you Buffy doing the poof was a bad idea, and I wouldn’t have to go all BP to do it!”
“I’m still pissed you and your cronies decided Angel was the perfect bad guy -- shut up, Spike! --” Cordy made a preemptive shut down before Spike could get another disparaging remark in. “Was that your idea, buddy?”
“Um, well . . . Joss said . . .”
“Joss Whedon? Bloke’s next on our list, never fear.” Spike gave Meltzer a feral grin.
“Look, we just want to say you’re an idiot for writing this crap. I mean, only happy with Buffy? Really? Really?” Cordy was incredulous.
“Yeah, just wanted to say that, and do this,” Spike’s feral grin turned deadly as he looked at Meltzer. “Look ma, no chip,” he snarked, as he pulled his left hand back and popped Meltzer good on the nose.
“Happy now?” Cordy turned to Spike as the two left the doorstep, leaving Meltzer with a bloody nose.
“Very, love. Very, very happy.”
“So, who’s next on the list?”
“Some bloke named Scott Allie - likes taking digs at me, doesn’t know you’re alive . . . That Whedon bloke . . . And some guy named Jeanty. Draws people like midgets. Too much shadow, makes Buffy look like a goblin.”
“Since when do you know so much about art?” Cordy asked, as they walked down the drive to the old Desoto, finally liberated from storage.
“Slayer’s mum and I talked art when we weren’t talking Passions,” Spike said, smiling fondly from under his still raised duster.
“Oh, my god, you watched Passions? How big of a bitch is Gwen?” Cordelia was pleasantly surprised to discover she and the bleached wonder had more than their revenge scheme in common. “An how much do you miss Timmy? It never was the same after Timmy died.”
“Losing Timmy was like losing a limb, love. Nothing hurt as much, ‘cept that year when the Slayer died.”
It was the start of a beautiful friendship.