(no subject)
Lusties
By Lizzie-Lou
Pairing: Spike/Potential & Spike/Buffy.
Timeline: Season 7, between Potential and Dirty Girls, following the series pretty much but adapting here and there to fit around my story. Cheeky.
Rating: NC17 for swearing with sexual content
(All characters owned by Joss Whedon)
Summary: With a house full of Potentials, not all of them are as gung-ho as Buffy would like. And one of them has her eye on the vampire in the basement. Having been shipped over suddenly from her life in England Vic has developed a bit of an attitude. Together with Andrew chaos ensues… (POV)
Parts One to Ten here:
Part One
I became completely transfixed by him when I first entered the Summers' house. A frightened little girl, unaware of Demons and Vampires until I found myself in a world where nothing made any sense and everything was dark and deadly.
Nightmares come true here and you are likely to bump into one of them in the kitchen over breakfast.
I first saw him on the second night after I came to the house. Giles had told us all that there was a man living in the basement, a warrior, who was to be left alone and not to be approached unless Buffy was there. He had spoken with a gravity that indicated that there was obviously more to this ‘man’ than Giles was willing to go into at this point.
I was intrigued.
After the first night I felt a little more settled and comfortable moving about the house. It was early, around 2:30am, I couldn’t rest, so I went to get a cup of tea to further scare off any possibility of sleep.
I immediately saw a figure sitting at the table, nursing a dark drink with his porcelain white hand. He was staring at nothing, and he looked so...lost. I stopped and wondered what to do. Remembering Giles’s instructions not to engage with this man, my eyes darted around to see the best way to remove myself before he saw me. Too late.
Whoh.
His eyes were nearly black, shadowed further by the poor light, and full of a darkness I had never seen before. In contrast his hair was blonde, from a bottle, punky and dishevelled as though he had just got out of bed. A cigarette hung from his bottom lip, unlit, sexy. He wore a plain black T-Shirt clearly displaying a body fit from use and not bought at a California gym.
He saw me but his face did not move. I held my breath. He was the most exquisite thing I had ever seen.
This was the warrior from the basement. He held my gaze until I broke it off, face hot.
“Oh! Er..sorry, not meant to be in here, obviously, er… meant to be in bed. With the other girls. Well…not with the other girls cos that would be a bit gay and I’m not - not that there is anything wrong with the whole gay thing, I mean Willow is gay, Dawn said, and she seems really nice and...oh bollocks.”
At this point I realised that the pained expression on the man’s face was as a result of my Bridget Jones style rambling and it finally hit me that maybe I should SHUT THE FUCK UP.
He still said nothing, but was staring right at me with a look of total disdain on his gorgeous face. Then, when I though I would implode with embarrassment, he said “You’re English.”
It was said as a statement of fact rather than a question. He lowered his head to light the cigarette and breathed in the smoke whilst resuming his glare. I knew that if I answered I would say something ridiculous and sound even more of a spaz than I already did, so I just nodded.
“You will understand ‘sod off’ without too much explanation then?” He blew out a stream of thick white smoke at me as he continued to hold my gaze.
I coughed.
It took a moment for his words to sink in. He too was English, north London possibly, although hard to be exact. A bit of a nerd when it comes to accents.
“Sod off. Right, yes… I understand that loud and clear.” I went to move away. But then, for some unknown reason, decided to ask whether or not he minded if I grabbed a quick brew before sodding off as I couldn’t sleep and was used to having tea before bed as it tended to help me when I felt a bit out of sorts.
Mistake.
For a moment he appeared to look surprised, the scare on his left eyebrow rising slowly. Then his face changed dramatically and I felt a bit of wee escaping in sudden terror. This was no man.
“If you don’t fuck off right now, little girl, I’m going to pin you up against that wall over there and drain every drop of blood from your lanky little teenage body until you die. Clear enough for you?”
I can’t remember how I got out of the kitchen but as I lay in my makeshift bunk next to the other sleeping Potentials I fought to catch my breath. I had just met my first Vampire. And fuck me, was he fine!
For the next few days he was all I could think about. A deadly killer living in the basement.
A dangerous animal that I had managed to mightily piss off AND who could now single me out from the others after my ludicrous encounter with him.
He could have killed me there and then. Over a stupid cup of tea, for Gods sake. But this was not really why I couldn’t stop thinking about him.
The prospect of this volatile Vampire pinning me up against the kitchen wall became a recurring fantasy, which would not leave my head. Any fear for my life seemed secondary to the image of the demon pressing his tight, athletic body against mine in an act of passionate violence the likes of which I had no prior knowledge or fancy. What the hell was going on? I wasn’t some geeky thirteen-year old who had just been asked out down the pub!
But he was now fixed in my mind as the best bit of crumpet I had seen, EVER, and what with the whole scary Vamp thing to boot - Gah!
I asked Dawn about him. It appeared they had some serious history. His name was Spike. He was old. Very old. He was smarter than he would like people to think, grumpy, not to be trusted, ultra violent, did not suffer fools gladly and would rip you to shreds both physically and emotionally given the slightest opportunity. He has a soul. Not sure what the significance of this was, and Dawn wasn’t very forthcoming, saying only that it meant he wasn’t evil any more. Except he had recently murdered a whole load of people in some old lady’s basement.
And he was in totally in love with the Slayer.
Great. Really moody, older than my Dad, and a vampire-serial-killer. With a massive crush on the boss. Nicely done, Vic.
Over the next few days, I pondered on pieces of the Vampire’s tale that Dawn had told us.
I hadn’t seen him again until just now when Buffy informed me that I was to be one of eight Potentials to be taken to the Cemetery for some on the spot training. I didn’t know Spike would be here until I see him leaning up against a gravestone, cigarette in mouth. It is totally outrageous how utterly delicious he looks, all swagger and attitude. He is also staring at Buffy in a way that most girls only ever dream about. Guess the whole ‘in love with Buffy’ thing was true then. Shit.
But I can’t help staring at his crotch.
So, Buffy asks that we gather round and gets all serious about how Vampires are deadly and cunning and lethal blah blah blah. Unfortunately my attention appears to have wondered a little to what I was going to add to the noodles that I asked Andrew to buy for dinner tonight, and whether or not I had lost any weight since becoming Bringer-Meat…
Suddenly, Spike is at my back, my arm is being wrenched behind me and squashed down hard in between us.
And I can feel every inch of him against my body. Oh yeah.
His mouth is touching my neck.
The pain in my arm is excruciating.
My heart is pounding like a tractor on red diesel and I think I might come in my knickers.
“Victoria!” Buffy moves towards me and motions to Spike to let me go. Damn. “Do you think I like standing in the middle of a cemetery with a bunch of teenage wannabe’s teaching vamp tactical awareness?”
I pull a face, dead cheeky, but say nothing.
“Have you any idea what a Vampire will do to you out there in the field?” Buffy stands right in front of me, arms crossed.
“There are fields in Sunnydale?” I was so going to get in shit for this.
I look at Spike and watched in amazement as he moves his tongue over his top teeth. I thought I saw a slight smirk on his face, but couldn’t be sure. Was he laughing at me?
Buffy sighs heavily. “Look you guys, I know we are covering a lot of ground here, and it is a lot to take in all at once. But you have to understand this is about saving lives, people! This is serious! If I let you go out there without the basics you are all going to die.”
It is suddenly so silent you could have heard an earthworm burp.
For once, I get it right and stay quiet.
Buffy decides that we should go back to the house for more theory lessons instead. This causes some serious bad feeling to be directed towards me from the other girls.
So, I have major lusties for a previously owned vampire and am now slowly alienating myself from my fellow Potentials. Go me!
As we get closer to the house I realise that it is no coincidence that everyone is walking ahead. I had really been a twat, considering this had been the first time we had been allowed to train outside of the house. From nowhere, Spike is suddenly at my side.
My nipples tingle which makes me giggle.
He doesn’t look amused.
“Lesson number one, Tinkerbell. Don’t piss off the Slayer, right? Lesson number two, Vampires have heightened senses, love. I’d get over that little thing you have real quick if I were you.”
Spike holds my gaze just a second too long, his head turned to the side slightly. Then walks off leaving me wondering what the hell he was talking about.
What senses? What thing? I had a thing?
Part Two
I later decide, in my infinite wisdom, that I need to clarify with Spike what he had meant after several days of driving myself round the bend with possibilities.
Most of these had, of course, involved Spike wanting to do me very hard up against the inside of the basement door.
The more rational, less pervey me of course realised this was highly unlikely, but still considered that there may be a snog implied in there somewhere for good measure. Ever the optimist. I wait till well after I think everyone is asleep, and then take a look to see if he is in the kitchen. No luck. Damn. Really don’t want to go down to the basement.
A bit scared of the dark.
And of basements.
Especially dark basement with Vampire in residence. Got to love the irony of this.
As I get closer to the door however, I hear raised voices coming from upstairs. Buffy. And Spike.
Oookaay.
Definite opportunity to get the juice on these two and their whatevers. I move up several steps and crouch as low as I could so as not to be visible. This is fantastic! I am such a gossip whore.
“I didn’t mean it like that, Spike and you know it! You can feel this thing, you know what’s coming. It’s bigger than anything we’ve had to face before. And I need you to be the Spike who kicks serious ass, not moping around like a puppy with a thorn in his….”
“Balls!”
“Well, I was going to go with foot, but if you think that is a better description…”
“Fuck it Slayer, you know what I mean! Don’t play games with me. This doesn’t exactly feel like a time to be jokin’ around. I’m here aren’t I? At your side? Helping you train up this bunch of sodding half wits?”
Charming!
“But you’re not here, Spike” Buffy’s voice was lower now, less angry. “You’ve changed.”
I hear him sigh. Imagine that sigh, post coital? Stop it.
“Yeah, and I thought that was the whole bloody point, love. I did this for you, remember? And now what, you’re telling me you want the monster back?”
No response from Buffy.
“Is it? Is that what you’re saying? Is that what we’re even talkin’ about here, Slayer?”
I can hear Spike move across the room.
“What the fuck does that mean?” Angry Buffy was back in play.
“You don’t want this soul-baring, grieving idiot around you any more than I do! You want the monster back because it’s the evil bastard that makes you hot, not the gentleman.”
Slap.
That had to hurt. “Fuck you Spike. Don’t analyse me. Get the hell out of here, I’m done talking to you.”
I hear movement coming towards me. Time to split.
I just make it into the kitchen as he walks by. Our eyes meet but he carries on out the door, slamming it behind him. I think there is a good chance he is off to make something very dead.
Then Buffy walks in, stopping in her tracks as she sees me.
“I thought you were all asleep.” She goes to the fridge to get a Snapple and with her back still to me, asks, “Did you hear any of that?”
“Well, you were shouting a bit. Sorry.” She turns to look at me.
“Victoria, right?”
I nod.
“My relationship with Spike is…complicated. I’d really appreciate it if you’d be discreet with what you did hear, okay? Amongst the others, I mean.”
“Oh, don’t worry. Dawn filled us all in on the whole Buffy and Spike situation when we first got here. I completely understand. You two are shagging and he’s totally out of bounds.”
There, that should improve my relations with the boss, show how clued in I am, and how understanding and mature I can be when dealing with matters of the heart and other peoples’ property.
Wrong. So, so wrong.
“Dawn told you…? I don’t fucking believe this! What did Dawn tell you exactly?” Buffy is now standing over me, looking thunderous.
How did that happen?
“She…said that you two were an item, then not an item but are now probably an item again.”
I start eating a Pop Tart in an attempt to lessen the impact.
Buffy sighs and looks down at her boots. By the way, they are really REALLY nice boots.
“Whatever. Look, just keep it to yourself, okay? Can you do that? Please?” I nod as sincerely as possible and watch her go back upstairs.
I sit alone for a while considering my next move. I still needed to find out what Spike had meant before, but after this little incident it was highly unlikely he had any such hot, filthy intentions headed in my direction.
Gutted.
So I go back to bed. And imagine Spike sucking my toes whilst I cover his naked body in sherbet lemon.
Part Three
So, new day, new approach.
I am eating my breakfast with Andrew and looking forward to the workout ahead. Completely fine with the whole Spike thing, I can carry on as normal and forget that there is an astonishingly drop dead gorgeous creature in the basement. Apparently with a broken heart.
Feeling all sore, all down trodden and unloved. While I, young, pert and willing, sit upstairs. Wishing I were in the basement.
Maybe Andrew can shed some light on this. “So what’s the deal with Spike then?”
I am so casual, Gap would stock me.
Immediately, Andrew draws up a chair by my side and lays his head down on the table conspiratorially, lowering his voice.
I love Andrew.
“Well, I’m not sure what the current status is, but there’s been some serious heat between those two in the past. And you know, I can kind of see why. Once, when I was all bad and stuff, I saw Spike having sex with Anya at the magic box. My god, he was so commanding! I actually think I was gay just for a second when I saw that. It was a difficult time for me.”
He gets up and goes to the cupboard pulling out some marshmellowy cereal. As he searches for the free Barbie Badge, he adds, “I got over it though. You know. The gay thing. I think it was just the coat anyways.”
“The coat?”
“Yeah. Spike used to wear a really cool black leather duster. It kinda swashed around when he walked and made him look all sexy. He frightened me too, though. A little. Do you want that juice?”
I am stuck with the image of Spike swaggering around in a buff leather coat, going at it with Anya in full view of everyone.
Dirty boy.
So, the Vamp is not entirely exclusive then? Interesting. I push the carton of juice towards him. “He is still quite scary though, isn’t he?” Andrew nods.
“He bit me you know.”
This time I think I actually am coming in my knickers. “You’re kidding! What was it like? Details! Details!”
Andrew laughs and narrows his eyes.
“Hey, you’re not getting a thing for the Vampyre are you? Cos, you know that would be ‘v’ bad. He still loves Buffy, you know. Theirs is a love eternal, a love not to be forsaken…” His pose is pure Greek tragedy, as he raises his voice dramatically. And sounds like a total queen.
Buffy walks in. Oh, the timing is just fabulous. She is glaring at me and then turns to Andrew.
“Andrew, remind me. What exactly are you for?” Her hands are on her hip and she looks really pissed.
Suddenly Andrew looks about eight years old, his hands clasped in front of him, face looking at the floor and he is swaying slightly from side to side. I stifle a giggle, but not well enough.
Her glare turns to me.
“Victoria. Again. Funny how out of all the twenty or so girls here, you and I keep finding ourselves together. Glad to see you’ve the maturity to take on board what we discussed last night.”
I bite my lip- actually not metaphorically, and look at Andrew. It’s like being caught putting a joke poo in the classroom at school and I hope Buffy leaves the kitchen soon or else I am really going to laugh. I can see he is close, too.
“Jesus! It’s like fucking Kindergarden!” Buffy walks away, thank god, and we burst out laughing.
“I am SO her favourite!” Andrew raises his glass and salutes me.
Part Four
My back is leaning against the white painted decking and it feels nice to have something cool touch my skin. It has been crazy-hot today and being from the UK means this is not something I am used to in March. Reflecting on the day, I can’t quite believe how it has actually turned out. They found another Potential - dead in her hotel room, and suddenly things don’t feel quite as much fun. This evil thing had taken over her body and was trying to get us to mutiny. Which, if I’m honest, I was responding to far too readily and I think this may result in a few problems with the gang. Even more good choices, Vic. This is getting to be a real talent of yours.
I lit a fag and drew on it heavily. God, I wish I had some weed. It was all so bloody strait-laced; even my Nan would be happy to spark up a stoogie just to shake it up a little round here.
I sense someone behind me and turn slightly. Oooh, hello.
“Can I bum one?” Spike leans down before I’ve said yes and takes the packet of cigs from my hand. “Bit young to smoke, aren’t we?” he comments as he uses his Zippo to light it then throws the pack down at my side. Rude.
“Yeah, well I think actually I’d rather die of lung cancer than be stabbed in the heart by a bloke in a robe with no eyes.”
His eyes smile. “You’re a cocky little bint aren’t you? Got some balls under that tweety-pie exterior. That’ll get you in to trouble you know.” He looks away across the garden. “Doesn’t go down well here to be different.”
“Sounds like you’re talking from experience.” His head snaps back quickly. He watches me for a moment, and I can feel my cheeks go crimson. Bloody cheeks. No pun intended.
“Just here for a fag, yeah? Don’t need no therapy.” He rises and moves off the decking towards the street. I can’t help myself.
“Spike?” He stops but doesn’t turn. “The other night, you said something to me. About vampires having heightened senses and having to get over something. What did you mean?”
My stomach was knotted and I felt a bit sick. I quickly lit another ciggie, trying to look cool, but dropped the match on my lap burning a hole in my skirt. Pratt. Spike takes a huge breath in through his nose and turns to look at me.
“You have the hots for me, love. Can smell it.”
I stop dancing around and focus on what he is saying. “Can smell what? I still don’t understand.” He is grinning at me now like a Cheshire cat. How can he smell that I fancy him? What is he talking about?
Oh. My. God.
My face changes in horror as it finally sinks in. He laughs openly, all dirty and knowing.
“Like I said before, love. Get over it. Ain’t gonna happen.”
He walks away and I am so embarrassed I run into the house and straight upstairs to the bathroom, locking the door, and sit on the loo, panting. Bloody hell! So gross.
Part Five
Gross or not I am completely and utterly unable to think about anything else.
My under-cartridge is now so smothered in Evelyne and Crabtree products that I could overwhelm the nostrils of even the longest serving lady on the perfume counter.
I can’t believe he said that.
I tell Andrew and he looks positively nauseous. But he does say something rather interesting. “He must be pretty tuned in to you to be quite so aware of…you know...that.” He points to his crotch area with an expression that told a story all of its own “Maybe he likes you?” I tutt loudly.
“Will you behave! I don’t need encouraging, it’s bad enough without you egging me on.”
I look cross for about ten seconds and then put my hand over my mouth to stifle a slightly hysterical and unladylike snort. This makes Andrew laugh too.
“You know Vic? You’re cool. All the other girls really hate you but I think you’re fun. Let’s be best friends.”
All the other girls hate me?
“Okay.” We shake on it, which appears appropriately symbolic, and get our ice pops from the freezer. They are laced with the vodka Andrew had bought with him - top man! We have agreed to sneak out to the Bronze tonight and get really pissed but need to keep our heads down for the rest of the day as further unwanted attention from Buffy might put the kybosh on this. She already has it in for me so it wouldn’t exactly take much.
Dawn walks in and gives me a look. Cow. “What are you guys up to?” She stares at Andrew then back at me suspiciously.
“Nothing.” We say in unison. He grabs my little finger with his. “Victoria don’t we have to go and do that thing? You know, that really important thing that needs doing?”
I let him pull me out of the room, but hear Dawn say under her breath, “Jeeze, what are you two? Mary-Kate and Ashley?”
I actually think that’s quite funny so I laugh but this seems to piss her off even more as I can hear cups and plates being thumped about on the counter. Okay then, so that would be ALL my bridges burned now. No allies at all except for my new best mate. Well done me. Go to the top of the class.
We keep out of trouble and it’s finally after midnight as I creep out the back door. Andrew is here and waves a bottle of clear liquid in front of me. “Can’t we just buy some booze there?” I ask.
“Listen, my little British companion. You may be able to partake of the grog back in ol’ Blighty - I read that phrase in a book today - but here, we’re underage. Unless you have managed to get yourself some fake ID since you got here, I’m thinking this will be the quickest mode to induce stupor.” He takes a swig and pulls a face.
“I’ll chance my arm at the bar if that’s okay.” He nods as we link arms and skip off down the street.
We reach the Bronze. Nice looking club, no bouncers so it’s either really bad or totally empty. Actually it’s quite buzzing inside and we find a table where we can observe the other patrons or ‘check out the bootie’ as Andrew puts it.
I see Spike almost immediately. Hard to miss with that hair, lets face it. I mean, what decade is he living in exactly? Andrew sees him too. “Oh look it’s lover boy. You wanna go say hi?” I give him the best Duh! look I can muster and then skulk behind the stairs out of view. Perfect. Here I can spy as much as I like without any consequences.
The dance floor is a sea of heads and there is a band playing old school Goth which immediately gets my vote. Makes me think of nights in Camden Lock where “The Full Tilt” was the only place to be for social misfits like us. And ironically Spike would fit right in there, all punky and retro.
Andrew hands me a drink. ‘It’s lemonade. With a quadruple voddie in it!’ I smile and down it in one. Lush. “Hey, easy there girlfriend! I only bought one crafty bottle you know. We need to pace ourselves or we’ll dry out.”
What with the extra-ingredient-ice-pops we had consumed all afternoon and the not so short short I’ve just necked, the room suddenly feels a little like someone has spilled jam all over the floor and tied sandbags to my hands. Fantastic! I’m clearly well on my way to a great night out and a Kebab to follow.
Wait; do they have Kebabs in California? Doubtful.
Suddenly I have a great idea. “You wait here. I’m going to go see if Spike will get us some booze.”
Before Andrew can be a true best friend and stop me, I am weaving my way very inelegantly through the crowd to where he sits at the bar. I can see as I get closer that maybe he has had a drink or two as well. Fabulous! Party with a hundred year old vampire and the drinks are on him!
“Hello.”
Sounded better in my head. Spike looks at me but his face remains completely blank. “Vicki? You know, from the house?” Still his face is motionless. Good. This is going well.
“I know you.” He slurs after an uncomfortable silence. “Mouthy Slayerette.” He’s saying this very slowly and with considerable effort. Could have gone with Sexy Little Minx but, hey. Probably chose the former `cos it’s just easier to say.
“Yeah. Er..I’m here with Andrew.”
“Who?”
“Tucker’s brother.”
“Oh. Good for you. Fuck off.” Spike turns away from me and signals to the barman.
Now, I happen to think in situations like this that persistence will almost always result in a favourable outcome, even when dealing with very drunk vampires. I also happen to think that most of the time what I think is a load of bollocks and I should try not to think quite so much. Especially when dealing with very drunk vampires.
“We were wondering whether you’d mind getting us a couple of drinks while your here?” He turns his head back towards me and I am suddenly absolutely frozen with fear. His drunken haze seems to have lifted and is replaced by the Master Vampire standing before me.
And I think he is going to kill me.
Strangely, all I can hear amidst the horror of my life coming to a sudden end is a little song playing gently in the background, like from a music box. As I think to myself how strange it is to hear this traditional British folk tune in an American nightclub, I’m being lifted completely off my feet and we’re somehow moving across the room. He takes me to the door at the back of the Bronze and I’m hoping Andrew has seen what happened so he can tell everyone that I’ve actually been eaten and not just run away back to England because they all hate me.
Spike stands before me, silent, all in black and runs his tongue across the fangs that are now emerging from his jaws. He is still ludicrously handsome but no longer quite so pretty as he moves in towards me. He easily pins my arms above my head with just one of his hands. As he closes the gap between us I smell whisky and cigarettes and it’s intoxicating. Fear has paralysed me but I’ve never been so turned on in the nineteen and a half years I’ve existed. I swallow and see his eyes move to my mouth. I’m wearing a v-neck T-shirt and a push-up bra. Very Ann Rice. Not. He brings his other hand up to gently follow the top curve of my breast and continues on to the nape of my neck and I swear I can hear him purring.
His body is now pushed up hard against me and you couldn’t even fit an After Eight Mint between us. The hard contours of his muscular body mould into my more squashy bits but even this sudden intimacy doesn’t seem close enough, those clothes are now an unnecessary barrier. I have just enough awareness left to look around me as Spike rips my shirt off and I am now completely exposed to him. To the violence. To the blood lust which Buffy has droned on and on about. To the killer behind those sexy navy eyes.
Except those sexy navy eyes are now yellow and all animal. He really is going to kill me. Not good.
He is lapping at my neck, slowly, seductively. Still not a single word has been spoken, like he is in some kind of trance. His hand moves up inside my thin chiffon skirt and I hold my breath. Thank god I had my bikini wax done last week! He cups me and begins to rock his hand back and forth and as this unbelievable sensation reaches my brain, I realise that I am about to be palm-fucked by Spike. Spike! Then I feel his fangs puncture the skin in my neck as he starts to drink from me.
My eyes close. And all I can think is what a way to go.
Then suddenly Spike pulls away, and I see him staggering back from me. He looks confused and horrified, shaking his head from side to side, his hands at his temples.
“That scent?”
Oh for gods sake, not this again!
“Roses. I can smell roses.” It’s almost like he has been taken back in time, like the smell has triggered a memory that has snapped him out of something. Or somewhere.
“It’s…er…Evelyne & Crabtree White Rose, actually.” I stutter, as the realisation of what has just happened hits me. “Hey! You were trying to bloody kill me, you son of a bitch!”
I touch my neck and see blood, wet on my hand. Now I’m mad (which I think is good as it might just save my life). I can maintain it as long as he doesn’t touch me again.
“I asked you to buy me a drink not make me into one, arsehole!” He is looking at me but I don’t see Spike in there at all. The game face is gone and he has completely withdrawn into himself. He is mumbling something but I can’t make it out. Freaky. Time to go.
I run inside and slam straight into Buffy.
“What are you doing here?” She sees my neck, looking concerned. “Victoria, what just happened?” Buffy clutches my arm but I break away and carry on running. I see Andrew under the stairwell, obviously hiding from Buffy, but he is waving frantically and totally drawing attention to himself. Spaz.
“Andrew, let’s get the fuck out of here. Now.” He looks at me, anxious and jumpy.
“Buffy is here! Did you see her? Oh my god we are in so much shit right now. I could seriously die.” I look him and point to my neck.
“I nearly just did.”
His mouth makes a huge ‘O’ and he reminds me of Charles Hawtry from the ‘Carry On’ movies. I grab his arm and we run out leaving Spike, Buffy and a total nightmare evening behind us.
Part Six
“I don’t know why you’re all making such a fuss about it. We already told the other Doctor what happened.” Andrew rolls his eyes.
“So, let me get this straight. Miss Merchant here, fell onto a ‘Kerplunk’ game from a….bunk-bed…and punctured her neck in two places?” The young Doctor taps his pen on the clipboard. Andrew winks at me and I look away so I won’t smile.
“Yep.”
“And lost two pints of blood?”
“Yep.” I can see his fingers cross behind his back. Cute.
The Doctor leans in and takes another look at the marks. Andrew had come up with this idea at the Nurses Station in A&E and I figure if they buy it, I owe him a cheeseburger.
“Perhaps we should issue a local warning about late night board game activities in Sunnydale,” He puts some gauze over the wound. “You’d be amazed how many of these type of injuries I see in a week.”
“Probably not so much, actually. Can we go now? Only I forgot to set the VCR and Murder She Wrote is on.” Andrew says as he helps me off the examination table and we are walking backwards towards the swing doors.
“And I feel fine now, really. Great job. Ready to take on the world again. Thanks ever so. It was just like being in ER on the telly. And you really do look a bit like Dr Green. Well, before he got cancer and died…”
My arm is being pulled and as we break out the room I hear the Doctor shout, “Stay away from any more sharp toys!!” after us.
We’re finally outside and out of breath. I still feel light headed and a bit sick but have had four cups of sugary tea and about twenty Oreo’s so I’m not surprised. We sit for a minute by the hospital sign.
“Murder She Wrote?” I am so not going to let this go. Andrew slaps my hand.
“Don’t lets fall out over Ms. Angela Landsbury, my friend. The woman is like, part of the Constitution. Anyway I happen to like solving the mysteries. It provides me with much needed intellectual stimulation while I’m kept as a hostage.”
“Huh?”
“Oh…long boring story for another day. Come on, it’ll be light soon and we’ve gotta figure out what we’re gong to tell the gang about the whole ‘Spike thing’. Buffy is so going to bust your ass, you know.” We get up and start walking back to the house.
“Why my arse? He was the one who bloody bit me!” This whole thing is totally crazy. I come to Sunnydale needing protection from a bunch of psychotic Friar Tucks, and get a Demon-loving-Vampire Slayer who wears more designer labels than I’ve had Marmite on toast, and all I get is a shit load of attitude, two holes in my neck and the most unbelievable horn for a peroxided-basement-bunny-boiler.
Try saying that when you’ve got a Spike in your mouth. Stop it.
Andrew leans over and takes off the gauze, replacing it with two Big Bird band-aids. “Stole them from the paediatric unit.” I smile. “Look, Spike has what Anya calls a ‘get out of jail free card’. After he bit me, and killed all those other people, he was taken by the First and played with for a while. All Buffy could think about was getting him back. She loves him.”
This didn’t make any sense. How could she put us all at risk like that? I mean I know the guy can seriously wear those black Levi’s with that delicious little bum of his but a cute butt is no excuse for mass murder. Or maybe is here?
“I get that she loves him. I really do. But he is like a lethal weapon.” Andrew stops and looks at me.
“Oh come on! That’s not the thing that pumps your nads?”
Together we both cry; “Breakfast Club!!” and high-five. This boy is my twin, I swear.
“I suppose so. What we gonna say when we get back, then.” I start to get a really nervous tummy as I imagine the Spanish inquisition that’s waiting for us. Buffy actually being quite scary sometimes. And from what I can pick up, Andrew is not meant to even leave the house at all as he is some kind of prisoner-what ever that’s about-so things really couldn’t be worse.
I just wanna go home. A gruesome early death has got to be better than this.
We gingerly come through the front door but are confronted by complete silence. It appears that the waiting party are not waiting after all and we gleefully slip off to our rooms. I step on someone’s foot as I try to get to bed as quietly as possible and am called a stupid bitch for my trouble.
Still, better than a bollocking from Buffy.
Part Seven
I feel like I’ve just shut my eyes when I wake suddenly to see Buffy, Spike and Giles (glasses off, rubbing nose) at the end of my bed. The other girls I’m sharing with are gone and this looks seriously ominous.
I pull myself up and chew my thumbnail nervously.
“Morning!” Lame.
“Look, we need to have a chat with you about what happened last night - and before you go into one of your monologues, you aren’t in any trouble Victoria.” Giles looks at me kindly and I’m grateful.
“There’s something we need to explain about Spike and…well…what he did to you,” Buffy adds. She too looks calm and reasonable.
I look at Spike; Head on a slant, eyes narrow, cheeks sucked in, lips pouty. Oooh, pouty.
I carry on chewing.
Buffy comes round and sits on the bed. She looks at my neck and puts her hand down next to mine.
“Spike is being controlled by The First. We think we know how, and we’re trying to sort it out. There’s some kind of trigger that The First is using to make him do stuff, and we think last night it was trying to make him kill you.”
Okay. So he doesn’t really want to eat me. This is good.
“Giles has found a tool he thinks will release Spike from The First’s control. We’re going to perform the ritual later.” Giles is holding a small box.
Not a very big tool then.
“Victoria, can you remember anything about last night that might help us with the ritual?” Buffy looks desperate. Protect the ones you love. “Spike can’t remember much and you may know something we can use.”
Time for me to talk. If I can get my thumb out my gob.
“It’s all a bit vague, really,” Yeah, right. “I went over to the bar to ask Spike if he’d buy me and…me a drink…”
“It’s okay, we know Andrew was there with you.” Giles smiles. Why is everyone being so nice?
“He didn’t know me at first and then suddenly he was all vamptastic and I was dinner.” Buffy looks at Giles but seems to be avoiding Spike’s gaze.
“If you were a little more specific about the in between bits we might have more to go on?” I can tell Buffy is trying to be patient but the cracks are starting to show. How am I going to tell her that Spike was busy giving me a hand-job whilst making me into his own personal platelet- smoothie?
Truth or no, that would be mean. I take a deep breath.
“As he started to bite me, he mentioned the perfume I was wearing.” I know my cheeks are red but I keep going. “Said it smelt of Roses. Like it reminded him of something. Then he was okay again.”
Giles put his glasses on and nodded, “Good, good, that may be important.”
There, give the dog a bone!
“Did Spike talk to someone or did you hear anything out of the ordinary just before he turned on you?” Buffy looks even more serious than usual so I think this must be really important.
Kind of a leading question though, ‘cos if I wanted to tell them what I know they want to hear then I could just say, yeah, he was talking to someone and there was something strange just before he turned on me and then they would look at each other and nod smugly as if they knew that already and then they would pat my hand and Giles would clean his glasses and Spike would snog me and…..
Focus, Vic.
“Oh! I do remember something! A song, a folk song! I heard it in the club. A bit weird, I mean it wasn’t exactly a good follow on record from Big Mac Fries to Go.”
For a moment nobody moves. Don’t think they are big fans of Pop Will Eat Itself. Some people have no taste.
Buffy looks at Giles. Giles looks at Buffy. I look at Spike. Spike looks at my chest. Huh?
“Okay, that’s really helpful. How are you feeling now?” Wondered when they were going to ask me that. There really is no substitute for your mum, is there?
“Fine.” Nail back in mouth. Buffy gets up and she and Giles walk to the door.
“Just like before, Giles. How is it doing this?” They leave but Spike still stands at the end of my bed. My thumb is now really stinging. Note to self: Must find alternative way to cope with stress.
“I do remember some of what I did last night, and I’m sorry I hurt you.” His voice is like a melted Bouny Bar on a bowl of Vanilla Truffle Ice Cream with sprinkles. And raspberry sauce.
All is SO forgiven.
“It wasn’t you. Apparently. So it’s okay.”
“Yeah, well thanks for keeping it clean anyway, love. Appreciate it. Wouldn’t want anyone else gettin’ hurt over this.” His eyebrow goes up and I understand.
He loves her.
Spike turns to leave. “Oh, by the way. The Nightshirt. Couldn’t agree more.” Wink.
As he leaves I look down in horror. Please tell me I am not wearing my ‘Underneath This My Tits Are Enormous’ Nightie?
Oh the shame.
Part Eight
It’s after ten and we’re eating Barbeque Nachos watching aVoyager DVD. My fingers are stained like Fag Ash Lil and I finally concede to Andrew that yes, if the entire world and all it’s inhabitants were about to die of an awful plague and the only way to cure this was to mix his bodily fluids with those of Seven of Nine and Captain Archer in a three-in-a-bed-shag-fest, then this would not, in fact, make him a sexual deviant.
“Her boobs aren’t real anyway.” I’m a little put out, what can I say.
It’s a quiet night after the earlier events. Dawn has gone to bed with a huge bump on her head from a flying cot-bed, Spike is out with Wood (who knew!) and Buffy and Giles are patrolling. Various heads keep popping in but when they see it’s Andrew and me watching Trek, well, you can imagine.
“So does this mean that Spike isn’t under the control of the ‘Dark Side’ anymore?” Apparently they had done the ritual and Spike no longer needed to be chained up at night.
(Don’t even go there.)
Andrew nods. “That song you heard? That was the trigger.” He burps and I gag.
“You’re disgusting.”
“Bwah! Ha! Haaaa!” He gets up from the couch and slaps his bum cheeks.
Faith walks past.
“You got somethin’ in mind there Andrew? Cos I know a few places where your ass and a handful of Crisco would get you 200 smokes and a month’s pass in the gym.” She smirks at him and heads upstairs. Andrew flops down next to me, sticking his tongue out at her back.
“I’ve decided I’m going to keep a pantry vigil. I swear it’s her stealing my Alphabetti Spaghetti.” He whispers, looking totally serious.
Time for a fag break, I think.
Just as I open the back door, Spike pushes through. His face is bleeding, he looks very pissed off, almost daring me to speak.
Nope. Not a word. Not a murmur. No even the tiniest syllable from me thank you very much. Will only lead to trouble.
He still looks at me. Scowling.
Not. One. Word.
He moves his head till it’s only an inch away from mine. This is the improved non-evil Spike? Spike without the First in control? You sure?
“You gonna move out the way or what?” He says in my face.
Oh.
I then realise that me and my super-size Garfield slippers are blocking his entry and quickly step aside. He glides past easily but knocks the utensils jar across the room with his fist. Man, is he angry.
I go to the door again as Buffy suddenly pushes in, stumbles over me and curses.
“Oops! Sorry.” Move back again. She glares at me and thumps the door back on its hinges, glass cracking, and storms past.
Blimey.
I move to go through the door for the third time but leap out of the way as Giles runs up the decking. Whatever is going on, me and my slippers are right in the thick of it, and I’ve had enough. I hold the door open for him to pass. “Buffy?” He asks.
“She went upstairs.”
“And Spike?”
“Basement.” He leaves the kitchen and I look tentatively out the back door to see if anyone else is coming.
“Its like Piccadilly bloody Circus around here!” I grumble and light a fag. What the hell is that all about?
I finish the cig and go find Andrew. “Did you see that?” I ask, but he was too absorbed in the TV to see anything. I fill him in on the details and ask whether he has anymore of the band-aids from the hospital. “You can have Kermit and Oscar.” He says pulling them out his pocket, “But not Burt & Ernie. They are special.”
“You’re bloody ‘special’.” Spaz. I take them and chew my thumb. “Spike’s hurt. Wanna come help me fix him up?” Andrew gives me a look. You know the look. The ‘that is the most ridiculous idea I have ever heard in my life’ look.
But he says “Okay.” Bless him.
We get as far as the fifth step down before we hear Spike bark, “Get the fuck out of here!” Andrew squeezes my hand. He is shaking a little and I am too. We can also hear what sounds like flesh hitting something and various objects being thrown around violently.
Andrew whispers, “I put a load of laundry on, d’you think that’s why he’s mad? The machine really wobbles.”
“Don’t be daft, this isn’t cos your washing out your smalls! Something happened tonight between the bigwigs. They’re all really pissed off.” We take another couple of steps down and see Spike crouching beside the cot, his head lowered. His eyes are closed and he appears to be trying to calm himself down.
“This is SO not a good idea.” Andrew motions that we should leave and I agree. It looks like the vamp needs space to work something out. But Spike looks up.
“What are you girls lookin’ at?” He stands and comes towards us. Shit.
“Hey! I’m not a…. I’m totally leaving now.” Andrew pulls at me and adds without moving his mouth; “Come on Vic, time to go!” I hesitate for a moment and Spike is now in front of me. There is a cross shaped burn on his cheek. Kinky.
“You.” He says. Yep. Little old me. “Am I like a fucking zoo attraction to you and your mates? Eh? Come look at Spike go mad in the bloody basement!” He moves an inch closer. “I think I told you to bugger off.” Andrew has now left, but I am-let’s face it-a bit stupid so I stand absolutely still. Kind of like if a bear confronts you. Don’t run or it will bite. (Cos of course coming from Penge I am the worlds leading expert on bear etiquette.)
“You looked hurt so I bought you these,” I very pathetically hold out my hand and show him the band-aids, and prepare to be either yelled at or shot. Well, you never know what to expect in this bloody place.
Spike takes them and walks away. I look at his bum as he moves and have a very naughty thought.
Now, my body will conspire against me at every turn, you can almost guarantee it. Like clockwork. If I am scared I will either fart or wee myself a little. If I am trying to be cool, the skin on my face and neck will decide that fuchsia is absolutely THE most fashionable shade to be and I will suddenly resemble Barbara Cartland’s wardrobe after a fight with Barbie’s dress designer. Today however, we are going to go with hiccups. And why not, indeed.
Hic!
Spike turns and looks at me. He frowns as I hiccup again. And again. And again.
He shakes his head and sighs. “Thanks for the thought, pet. Now go get yourself a glass of water and leave me the hell alone, okay?” He sounds tired.
Mostly, I really hate being me.
Hic!
I turn and go back up the stairs, just as Buffy opens the basement door. She looks startled to see me but I just move past her. Best leave them to sort out whatever they need to sort out.
Andrew is standing in the kitchen waiting for me. “How d’it go?” He looks concerned. I hiccup. “Oh. Want a donut?” I nod.
Donuts rule.
Part Nine
Sometimes the stuff I do is so embarrassing even I want to take a rain check from me.
We are all in the garden training and I have managed to get the axe I’m meant to be wielding tangled up in the Silver Birch. I haven’t shaved my underarms for days either and they’re now on display in all their bristly glory to the world, as I try to free myself from yet another Vic catastrophe.
Why does everything I do have to be such a bloody performance?
All the other Potentials manage to do it right, for God’s sake. I look at one of the girls who is openly staring at me. “What can I say? Calamity Jane is my aunt.” I offer a nerdy laugh. She turns away rolling her eyes.
Of course SHE is really fit, and really pretty. Bet she shaved her pits.
Buffy to the rescue. She manages to get the axe out of the tree without making any reference to it or me whatsoever as she continues to give instructions. In a way this is worse. I’m such a pain in the arse they don’t even notice it anymore.
Is there is ever going to be an end to this torture?
I think about Spike.
Mmmm Spike.
Being Spikalishously-spiked by Spike. Having a Spikey-Spikathon. A Spikalishous-Spikey-Spikathon…..involving sorbet of some sort……..
“Excuse me?” Pretty Girl asks.
Huh? Why is everyone looking at me now?
I go inside and find Andrew trying to open a can of cream soda with oven mitts on whilst humming Life is A Cabaret. Honestly, if I didn’t know better….
“Please kill me.” He looks up. I sit on the counter, head in hands, legs dangling to emphasise my neediness.
“What have you done now?” Even Andrew sounds weary of me. Choke. But he smiles in sympathy and offers me a drink.
“Well I was bored!” He looks non the wiser. “Let’s just say that what I thought I said to myself, I actually said to the crowd.” Andrew says a silent Oh and scrunches his face up compassionately.
“I saw them all look at you kinda funny. Thought maybe you had one of your inadvertent emissions.” He is fanning his nose.
“Hey! Not feelin’ the love right now!” But I giggle and jump down off the worktop. “So, apparently we are off out tonight for our first gig. Buffy reckons this Preacher bloke needs his arse kicking and wants us to go kick it. You coming?”
“Not been asked to the party. But to be honest, I don’t think I have mastered my weapon well enough yet for full blown combat.”
There are SO many possible responses to this, but I let it go. Too easy.
“You scared?”
“A bit.”
“Wanna go look at Spike sleeping?”
Glee!
He is laying on the cot-bed, sheet covering only from that bit on the male body where the pelvic bone starts to curve inward. He is so perfect, it’s almost like he has been posed. Left arm above his head, slightly shielding his face but not so much that you can’t see his eyes, closed, still, sleepy, sexy. His torso, exposed, creamy and flawless. Not a movement, not even a breath. Lying out before us, the underworld Adonis. Our basement babe.
I look at Andrew and we sigh together, our dirty little secret shared.
-x-
It’s late, the sun has gone down and we are putting the finishing touches to my ridiculous battle outfit. Andrew feels that as my fighting resembles a Meer Cat having an epileptic fit, it’s a good idea to maximise my body protection otherwise I will definitely not make it back in one piece.
We agree that my Lacrosse kit is the best way forward along with a leather jerkin that Andrew just ‘happens’ to have about his person. “Well, you can never be sure when you might get stabbed, you know.”
I think he has issues.
He stands back and admires our handy work. We agree that I look so stupid the Bringers will probably leave me alone out of sheer pity. Fine by me. Would quite like not to die tonight if at all possible.
“Vic?”
“Yeah?”
“You won’t let anything happen will you? I mean, this is kind of real now, isn’t it? You might not come back.”
He leans into me and I suddenly feel his anxiety and my own. Guess all this mucking about was actually leading up to something after all. And I hear this Preacher guy is a real nasty son of a bitch.
“Hey Mr! None of that! Do you honestly think I can’t whoop this bloke’s arse? To hell with the rest of them - it’ll be me who saves the day, you’ll see. Put ‘em up, put ‘em uuup! ” I move from foot to foot whilst doing my Wizard of Oz Lion impression.
Neither of us believes this for a second but it breaks us out of what could have been a rather depressing swan song.
Buffy comes into the main hall and asks whether we’re all ready. Her and Faith will be going out first to do some recon and then off we jolly well go. I am part of the backup team to come in if it all turns to shit.
Xander is giving out weapons. He gives me a double take before handing over a sword. Of course I drop it straight away - well it’s bloody heavy - and it’s immediately taken away from me and replaced with a wooden club.
Great. If I come across any baby seals, I’ll be sorted then.
I bash the air a couple of times as a dry run. God, what I must look like. I think about my mates at school, and consider the conversation I’d have to explain my current situation. It’s fucking bonkers :
Me? Oh, I went to California for the summer to shack up with twenty or so girls and learn to fight like Conan the Barbarian.
Tan? Well, no actually I’m still as white as a sheet as I only really go out at night, cos you can’t kill vampires in the day-time, well, except for the one living in the basement but he’s practically married to my boss so best not slay him and anyway he has a soul apparently and this means he is good, except for when he’s trying to kill you but that doesn’t matter because did I mention he was HOT?
This? Oh, I’m just about to go to a brewery to beat the crap out of some knife-wielding blind men and an evil God-botherer who appears to have missed ALL of his Sunday school classes as he was too busy throwing girls out of cars.
Time of my life?
Absolutely.
Wouldn’t change it for the world.
Part Ten
We’re walking through the woods now and I sound like a Bull Frog on Speed as my knee guards’ rub together frantically with each step.
Very stealthy.
Suddenly, Kennedy turns round and stops dead in front of me. “What are you meant to be anyway? Zena fucking Warrior Princess?” She glares at me. Snotty cow. Go play with Buffy up ahead and leave me the fuck alone, hell-bitch!
Of course I say nothing.
I wish Andrew was here.
“Hey, Butch? Why don’t you sod off and go play with the other girls, eh? Stop picking on those who don’t bite back, yeah?” Spike is at my side, all manly and…..manly. If I wasn’t wearing all this bloody padding, I would totally swoon.
Kennedy gives me an absolutely stinking look and then carries on walking. Spike turns to me.
“Your idea?” He lights two cigarettes, handing me one.
“Andrew said my fighting skills aren’t up to much and I’m probably gonna be lunchion meat by dawn.” I look down at my body. A neck plate, breast plate covered over with a leather waistcoat, elbow pads, thigh, knee and shin pads and flaps over my shoes. All in tango orange.
It takes a special skill to look quite this preposterous.
“I’m scared, Spike.”
He looks at me for a moment then playfully brushes his fist across my chin. “ You’ll be fine, love. The Slayer’s got your back. Anyway,” He adds brightly, “You’ll probably fall over and break your bleedin’ neck before we get anywhere near the brewery so I wouldn’t worry too much.” He smiles as he walks away and I am really, truly in love with him. And it hurts a little, in that way which actually feels really nice.
He has given me a crumb. And I am grateful.
-x-
We are told to hold back while Team A goes inside. I flop onto a tree stump and finish my ciggie.
Spike had this in his mouth. I now have it in my mouth. So, technically we have snogged. Yay!
My phone rings. Glares from everyone. “What?” I tutt. “Hello?”
“It’s me.” Andrew. “Your not dead yet then?”
“Well, obviously.”
“No, not obviously. You could be The First pretending to be you.” He is eating something crunchy and I can hear the TV.
“Shut up, idiot. What d’ya want? Everyone is staring at me.” Now they all look away. Ha.
“Probably not a good idea to ring your mobile actually, you being in the thick of combat and all. It’s just I need to ask you what your favourite Star Wars character is.”
I frown. “Why?”
“You never told me.” He sounds funny.
“You ring me up now to ask me this?” Silence. I get a lump in my throat. “Boba-Fett.”
“Don’t die, okay?”
Click.
I hang up too.
I am now so scared I couldn’t even wee for a lifetime subscription to Naked Spike monthly.
By Lizzie-Lou
Pairing: Spike/Potential & Spike/Buffy.
Timeline: Season 7, between Potential and Dirty Girls, following the series pretty much but adapting here and there to fit around my story. Cheeky.
Rating: NC17 for swearing with sexual content
(All characters owned by Joss Whedon)
Summary: With a house full of Potentials, not all of them are as gung-ho as Buffy would like. And one of them has her eye on the vampire in the basement. Having been shipped over suddenly from her life in England Vic has developed a bit of an attitude. Together with Andrew chaos ensues… (POV)
Parts One to Ten here:
Part One
I became completely transfixed by him when I first entered the Summers' house. A frightened little girl, unaware of Demons and Vampires until I found myself in a world where nothing made any sense and everything was dark and deadly.
Nightmares come true here and you are likely to bump into one of them in the kitchen over breakfast.
I first saw him on the second night after I came to the house. Giles had told us all that there was a man living in the basement, a warrior, who was to be left alone and not to be approached unless Buffy was there. He had spoken with a gravity that indicated that there was obviously more to this ‘man’ than Giles was willing to go into at this point.
I was intrigued.
After the first night I felt a little more settled and comfortable moving about the house. It was early, around 2:30am, I couldn’t rest, so I went to get a cup of tea to further scare off any possibility of sleep.
I immediately saw a figure sitting at the table, nursing a dark drink with his porcelain white hand. He was staring at nothing, and he looked so...lost. I stopped and wondered what to do. Remembering Giles’s instructions not to engage with this man, my eyes darted around to see the best way to remove myself before he saw me. Too late.
Whoh.
His eyes were nearly black, shadowed further by the poor light, and full of a darkness I had never seen before. In contrast his hair was blonde, from a bottle, punky and dishevelled as though he had just got out of bed. A cigarette hung from his bottom lip, unlit, sexy. He wore a plain black T-Shirt clearly displaying a body fit from use and not bought at a California gym.
He saw me but his face did not move. I held my breath. He was the most exquisite thing I had ever seen.
This was the warrior from the basement. He held my gaze until I broke it off, face hot.
“Oh! Er..sorry, not meant to be in here, obviously, er… meant to be in bed. With the other girls. Well…not with the other girls cos that would be a bit gay and I’m not - not that there is anything wrong with the whole gay thing, I mean Willow is gay, Dawn said, and she seems really nice and...oh bollocks.”
At this point I realised that the pained expression on the man’s face was as a result of my Bridget Jones style rambling and it finally hit me that maybe I should SHUT THE FUCK UP.
He still said nothing, but was staring right at me with a look of total disdain on his gorgeous face. Then, when I though I would implode with embarrassment, he said “You’re English.”
It was said as a statement of fact rather than a question. He lowered his head to light the cigarette and breathed in the smoke whilst resuming his glare. I knew that if I answered I would say something ridiculous and sound even more of a spaz than I already did, so I just nodded.
“You will understand ‘sod off’ without too much explanation then?” He blew out a stream of thick white smoke at me as he continued to hold my gaze.
I coughed.
It took a moment for his words to sink in. He too was English, north London possibly, although hard to be exact. A bit of a nerd when it comes to accents.
“Sod off. Right, yes… I understand that loud and clear.” I went to move away. But then, for some unknown reason, decided to ask whether or not he minded if I grabbed a quick brew before sodding off as I couldn’t sleep and was used to having tea before bed as it tended to help me when I felt a bit out of sorts.
Mistake.
For a moment he appeared to look surprised, the scare on his left eyebrow rising slowly. Then his face changed dramatically and I felt a bit of wee escaping in sudden terror. This was no man.
“If you don’t fuck off right now, little girl, I’m going to pin you up against that wall over there and drain every drop of blood from your lanky little teenage body until you die. Clear enough for you?”
I can’t remember how I got out of the kitchen but as I lay in my makeshift bunk next to the other sleeping Potentials I fought to catch my breath. I had just met my first Vampire. And fuck me, was he fine!
For the next few days he was all I could think about. A deadly killer living in the basement.
A dangerous animal that I had managed to mightily piss off AND who could now single me out from the others after my ludicrous encounter with him.
He could have killed me there and then. Over a stupid cup of tea, for Gods sake. But this was not really why I couldn’t stop thinking about him.
The prospect of this volatile Vampire pinning me up against the kitchen wall became a recurring fantasy, which would not leave my head. Any fear for my life seemed secondary to the image of the demon pressing his tight, athletic body against mine in an act of passionate violence the likes of which I had no prior knowledge or fancy. What the hell was going on? I wasn’t some geeky thirteen-year old who had just been asked out down the pub!
But he was now fixed in my mind as the best bit of crumpet I had seen, EVER, and what with the whole scary Vamp thing to boot - Gah!
I asked Dawn about him. It appeared they had some serious history. His name was Spike. He was old. Very old. He was smarter than he would like people to think, grumpy, not to be trusted, ultra violent, did not suffer fools gladly and would rip you to shreds both physically and emotionally given the slightest opportunity. He has a soul. Not sure what the significance of this was, and Dawn wasn’t very forthcoming, saying only that it meant he wasn’t evil any more. Except he had recently murdered a whole load of people in some old lady’s basement.
And he was in totally in love with the Slayer.
Great. Really moody, older than my Dad, and a vampire-serial-killer. With a massive crush on the boss. Nicely done, Vic.
Over the next few days, I pondered on pieces of the Vampire’s tale that Dawn had told us.
I hadn’t seen him again until just now when Buffy informed me that I was to be one of eight Potentials to be taken to the Cemetery for some on the spot training. I didn’t know Spike would be here until I see him leaning up against a gravestone, cigarette in mouth. It is totally outrageous how utterly delicious he looks, all swagger and attitude. He is also staring at Buffy in a way that most girls only ever dream about. Guess the whole ‘in love with Buffy’ thing was true then. Shit.
But I can’t help staring at his crotch.
So, Buffy asks that we gather round and gets all serious about how Vampires are deadly and cunning and lethal blah blah blah. Unfortunately my attention appears to have wondered a little to what I was going to add to the noodles that I asked Andrew to buy for dinner tonight, and whether or not I had lost any weight since becoming Bringer-Meat…
Suddenly, Spike is at my back, my arm is being wrenched behind me and squashed down hard in between us.
And I can feel every inch of him against my body. Oh yeah.
His mouth is touching my neck.
The pain in my arm is excruciating.
My heart is pounding like a tractor on red diesel and I think I might come in my knickers.
“Victoria!” Buffy moves towards me and motions to Spike to let me go. Damn. “Do you think I like standing in the middle of a cemetery with a bunch of teenage wannabe’s teaching vamp tactical awareness?”
I pull a face, dead cheeky, but say nothing.
“Have you any idea what a Vampire will do to you out there in the field?” Buffy stands right in front of me, arms crossed.
“There are fields in Sunnydale?” I was so going to get in shit for this.
I look at Spike and watched in amazement as he moves his tongue over his top teeth. I thought I saw a slight smirk on his face, but couldn’t be sure. Was he laughing at me?
Buffy sighs heavily. “Look you guys, I know we are covering a lot of ground here, and it is a lot to take in all at once. But you have to understand this is about saving lives, people! This is serious! If I let you go out there without the basics you are all going to die.”
It is suddenly so silent you could have heard an earthworm burp.
For once, I get it right and stay quiet.
Buffy decides that we should go back to the house for more theory lessons instead. This causes some serious bad feeling to be directed towards me from the other girls.
So, I have major lusties for a previously owned vampire and am now slowly alienating myself from my fellow Potentials. Go me!
As we get closer to the house I realise that it is no coincidence that everyone is walking ahead. I had really been a twat, considering this had been the first time we had been allowed to train outside of the house. From nowhere, Spike is suddenly at my side.
My nipples tingle which makes me giggle.
He doesn’t look amused.
“Lesson number one, Tinkerbell. Don’t piss off the Slayer, right? Lesson number two, Vampires have heightened senses, love. I’d get over that little thing you have real quick if I were you.”
Spike holds my gaze just a second too long, his head turned to the side slightly. Then walks off leaving me wondering what the hell he was talking about.
What senses? What thing? I had a thing?
Part Two
I later decide, in my infinite wisdom, that I need to clarify with Spike what he had meant after several days of driving myself round the bend with possibilities.
Most of these had, of course, involved Spike wanting to do me very hard up against the inside of the basement door.
The more rational, less pervey me of course realised this was highly unlikely, but still considered that there may be a snog implied in there somewhere for good measure. Ever the optimist. I wait till well after I think everyone is asleep, and then take a look to see if he is in the kitchen. No luck. Damn. Really don’t want to go down to the basement.
A bit scared of the dark.
And of basements.
Especially dark basement with Vampire in residence. Got to love the irony of this.
As I get closer to the door however, I hear raised voices coming from upstairs. Buffy. And Spike.
Oookaay.
Definite opportunity to get the juice on these two and their whatevers. I move up several steps and crouch as low as I could so as not to be visible. This is fantastic! I am such a gossip whore.
“I didn’t mean it like that, Spike and you know it! You can feel this thing, you know what’s coming. It’s bigger than anything we’ve had to face before. And I need you to be the Spike who kicks serious ass, not moping around like a puppy with a thorn in his….”
“Balls!”
“Well, I was going to go with foot, but if you think that is a better description…”
“Fuck it Slayer, you know what I mean! Don’t play games with me. This doesn’t exactly feel like a time to be jokin’ around. I’m here aren’t I? At your side? Helping you train up this bunch of sodding half wits?”
Charming!
“But you’re not here, Spike” Buffy’s voice was lower now, less angry. “You’ve changed.”
I hear him sigh. Imagine that sigh, post coital? Stop it.
“Yeah, and I thought that was the whole bloody point, love. I did this for you, remember? And now what, you’re telling me you want the monster back?”
No response from Buffy.
“Is it? Is that what you’re saying? Is that what we’re even talkin’ about here, Slayer?”
I can hear Spike move across the room.
“What the fuck does that mean?” Angry Buffy was back in play.
“You don’t want this soul-baring, grieving idiot around you any more than I do! You want the monster back because it’s the evil bastard that makes you hot, not the gentleman.”
Slap.
That had to hurt. “Fuck you Spike. Don’t analyse me. Get the hell out of here, I’m done talking to you.”
I hear movement coming towards me. Time to split.
I just make it into the kitchen as he walks by. Our eyes meet but he carries on out the door, slamming it behind him. I think there is a good chance he is off to make something very dead.
Then Buffy walks in, stopping in her tracks as she sees me.
“I thought you were all asleep.” She goes to the fridge to get a Snapple and with her back still to me, asks, “Did you hear any of that?”
“Well, you were shouting a bit. Sorry.” She turns to look at me.
“Victoria, right?”
I nod.
“My relationship with Spike is…complicated. I’d really appreciate it if you’d be discreet with what you did hear, okay? Amongst the others, I mean.”
“Oh, don’t worry. Dawn filled us all in on the whole Buffy and Spike situation when we first got here. I completely understand. You two are shagging and he’s totally out of bounds.”
There, that should improve my relations with the boss, show how clued in I am, and how understanding and mature I can be when dealing with matters of the heart and other peoples’ property.
Wrong. So, so wrong.
“Dawn told you…? I don’t fucking believe this! What did Dawn tell you exactly?” Buffy is now standing over me, looking thunderous.
How did that happen?
“She…said that you two were an item, then not an item but are now probably an item again.”
I start eating a Pop Tart in an attempt to lessen the impact.
Buffy sighs and looks down at her boots. By the way, they are really REALLY nice boots.
“Whatever. Look, just keep it to yourself, okay? Can you do that? Please?” I nod as sincerely as possible and watch her go back upstairs.
I sit alone for a while considering my next move. I still needed to find out what Spike had meant before, but after this little incident it was highly unlikely he had any such hot, filthy intentions headed in my direction.
Gutted.
So I go back to bed. And imagine Spike sucking my toes whilst I cover his naked body in sherbet lemon.
Part Three
So, new day, new approach.
I am eating my breakfast with Andrew and looking forward to the workout ahead. Completely fine with the whole Spike thing, I can carry on as normal and forget that there is an astonishingly drop dead gorgeous creature in the basement. Apparently with a broken heart.
Feeling all sore, all down trodden and unloved. While I, young, pert and willing, sit upstairs. Wishing I were in the basement.
Maybe Andrew can shed some light on this. “So what’s the deal with Spike then?”
I am so casual, Gap would stock me.
Immediately, Andrew draws up a chair by my side and lays his head down on the table conspiratorially, lowering his voice.
I love Andrew.
“Well, I’m not sure what the current status is, but there’s been some serious heat between those two in the past. And you know, I can kind of see why. Once, when I was all bad and stuff, I saw Spike having sex with Anya at the magic box. My god, he was so commanding! I actually think I was gay just for a second when I saw that. It was a difficult time for me.”
He gets up and goes to the cupboard pulling out some marshmellowy cereal. As he searches for the free Barbie Badge, he adds, “I got over it though. You know. The gay thing. I think it was just the coat anyways.”
“The coat?”
“Yeah. Spike used to wear a really cool black leather duster. It kinda swashed around when he walked and made him look all sexy. He frightened me too, though. A little. Do you want that juice?”
I am stuck with the image of Spike swaggering around in a buff leather coat, going at it with Anya in full view of everyone.
Dirty boy.
So, the Vamp is not entirely exclusive then? Interesting. I push the carton of juice towards him. “He is still quite scary though, isn’t he?” Andrew nods.
“He bit me you know.”
This time I think I actually am coming in my knickers. “You’re kidding! What was it like? Details! Details!”
Andrew laughs and narrows his eyes.
“Hey, you’re not getting a thing for the Vampyre are you? Cos, you know that would be ‘v’ bad. He still loves Buffy, you know. Theirs is a love eternal, a love not to be forsaken…” His pose is pure Greek tragedy, as he raises his voice dramatically. And sounds like a total queen.
Buffy walks in. Oh, the timing is just fabulous. She is glaring at me and then turns to Andrew.
“Andrew, remind me. What exactly are you for?” Her hands are on her hip and she looks really pissed.
Suddenly Andrew looks about eight years old, his hands clasped in front of him, face looking at the floor and he is swaying slightly from side to side. I stifle a giggle, but not well enough.
Her glare turns to me.
“Victoria. Again. Funny how out of all the twenty or so girls here, you and I keep finding ourselves together. Glad to see you’ve the maturity to take on board what we discussed last night.”
I bite my lip- actually not metaphorically, and look at Andrew. It’s like being caught putting a joke poo in the classroom at school and I hope Buffy leaves the kitchen soon or else I am really going to laugh. I can see he is close, too.
“Jesus! It’s like fucking Kindergarden!” Buffy walks away, thank god, and we burst out laughing.
“I am SO her favourite!” Andrew raises his glass and salutes me.
Part Four
My back is leaning against the white painted decking and it feels nice to have something cool touch my skin. It has been crazy-hot today and being from the UK means this is not something I am used to in March. Reflecting on the day, I can’t quite believe how it has actually turned out. They found another Potential - dead in her hotel room, and suddenly things don’t feel quite as much fun. This evil thing had taken over her body and was trying to get us to mutiny. Which, if I’m honest, I was responding to far too readily and I think this may result in a few problems with the gang. Even more good choices, Vic. This is getting to be a real talent of yours.
I lit a fag and drew on it heavily. God, I wish I had some weed. It was all so bloody strait-laced; even my Nan would be happy to spark up a stoogie just to shake it up a little round here.
I sense someone behind me and turn slightly. Oooh, hello.
“Can I bum one?” Spike leans down before I’ve said yes and takes the packet of cigs from my hand. “Bit young to smoke, aren’t we?” he comments as he uses his Zippo to light it then throws the pack down at my side. Rude.
“Yeah, well I think actually I’d rather die of lung cancer than be stabbed in the heart by a bloke in a robe with no eyes.”
His eyes smile. “You’re a cocky little bint aren’t you? Got some balls under that tweety-pie exterior. That’ll get you in to trouble you know.” He looks away across the garden. “Doesn’t go down well here to be different.”
“Sounds like you’re talking from experience.” His head snaps back quickly. He watches me for a moment, and I can feel my cheeks go crimson. Bloody cheeks. No pun intended.
“Just here for a fag, yeah? Don’t need no therapy.” He rises and moves off the decking towards the street. I can’t help myself.
“Spike?” He stops but doesn’t turn. “The other night, you said something to me. About vampires having heightened senses and having to get over something. What did you mean?”
My stomach was knotted and I felt a bit sick. I quickly lit another ciggie, trying to look cool, but dropped the match on my lap burning a hole in my skirt. Pratt. Spike takes a huge breath in through his nose and turns to look at me.
“You have the hots for me, love. Can smell it.”
I stop dancing around and focus on what he is saying. “Can smell what? I still don’t understand.” He is grinning at me now like a Cheshire cat. How can he smell that I fancy him? What is he talking about?
Oh. My. God.
My face changes in horror as it finally sinks in. He laughs openly, all dirty and knowing.
“Like I said before, love. Get over it. Ain’t gonna happen.”
He walks away and I am so embarrassed I run into the house and straight upstairs to the bathroom, locking the door, and sit on the loo, panting. Bloody hell! So gross.
Part Five
Gross or not I am completely and utterly unable to think about anything else.
My under-cartridge is now so smothered in Evelyne and Crabtree products that I could overwhelm the nostrils of even the longest serving lady on the perfume counter.
I can’t believe he said that.
I tell Andrew and he looks positively nauseous. But he does say something rather interesting. “He must be pretty tuned in to you to be quite so aware of…you know...that.” He points to his crotch area with an expression that told a story all of its own “Maybe he likes you?” I tutt loudly.
“Will you behave! I don’t need encouraging, it’s bad enough without you egging me on.”
I look cross for about ten seconds and then put my hand over my mouth to stifle a slightly hysterical and unladylike snort. This makes Andrew laugh too.
“You know Vic? You’re cool. All the other girls really hate you but I think you’re fun. Let’s be best friends.”
All the other girls hate me?
“Okay.” We shake on it, which appears appropriately symbolic, and get our ice pops from the freezer. They are laced with the vodka Andrew had bought with him - top man! We have agreed to sneak out to the Bronze tonight and get really pissed but need to keep our heads down for the rest of the day as further unwanted attention from Buffy might put the kybosh on this. She already has it in for me so it wouldn’t exactly take much.
Dawn walks in and gives me a look. Cow. “What are you guys up to?” She stares at Andrew then back at me suspiciously.
“Nothing.” We say in unison. He grabs my little finger with his. “Victoria don’t we have to go and do that thing? You know, that really important thing that needs doing?”
I let him pull me out of the room, but hear Dawn say under her breath, “Jeeze, what are you two? Mary-Kate and Ashley?”
I actually think that’s quite funny so I laugh but this seems to piss her off even more as I can hear cups and plates being thumped about on the counter. Okay then, so that would be ALL my bridges burned now. No allies at all except for my new best mate. Well done me. Go to the top of the class.
We keep out of trouble and it’s finally after midnight as I creep out the back door. Andrew is here and waves a bottle of clear liquid in front of me. “Can’t we just buy some booze there?” I ask.
“Listen, my little British companion. You may be able to partake of the grog back in ol’ Blighty - I read that phrase in a book today - but here, we’re underage. Unless you have managed to get yourself some fake ID since you got here, I’m thinking this will be the quickest mode to induce stupor.” He takes a swig and pulls a face.
“I’ll chance my arm at the bar if that’s okay.” He nods as we link arms and skip off down the street.
We reach the Bronze. Nice looking club, no bouncers so it’s either really bad or totally empty. Actually it’s quite buzzing inside and we find a table where we can observe the other patrons or ‘check out the bootie’ as Andrew puts it.
I see Spike almost immediately. Hard to miss with that hair, lets face it. I mean, what decade is he living in exactly? Andrew sees him too. “Oh look it’s lover boy. You wanna go say hi?” I give him the best Duh! look I can muster and then skulk behind the stairs out of view. Perfect. Here I can spy as much as I like without any consequences.
The dance floor is a sea of heads and there is a band playing old school Goth which immediately gets my vote. Makes me think of nights in Camden Lock where “The Full Tilt” was the only place to be for social misfits like us. And ironically Spike would fit right in there, all punky and retro.
Andrew hands me a drink. ‘It’s lemonade. With a quadruple voddie in it!’ I smile and down it in one. Lush. “Hey, easy there girlfriend! I only bought one crafty bottle you know. We need to pace ourselves or we’ll dry out.”
What with the extra-ingredient-ice-pops we had consumed all afternoon and the not so short short I’ve just necked, the room suddenly feels a little like someone has spilled jam all over the floor and tied sandbags to my hands. Fantastic! I’m clearly well on my way to a great night out and a Kebab to follow.
Wait; do they have Kebabs in California? Doubtful.
Suddenly I have a great idea. “You wait here. I’m going to go see if Spike will get us some booze.”
Before Andrew can be a true best friend and stop me, I am weaving my way very inelegantly through the crowd to where he sits at the bar. I can see as I get closer that maybe he has had a drink or two as well. Fabulous! Party with a hundred year old vampire and the drinks are on him!
“Hello.”
Sounded better in my head. Spike looks at me but his face remains completely blank. “Vicki? You know, from the house?” Still his face is motionless. Good. This is going well.
“I know you.” He slurs after an uncomfortable silence. “Mouthy Slayerette.” He’s saying this very slowly and with considerable effort. Could have gone with Sexy Little Minx but, hey. Probably chose the former `cos it’s just easier to say.
“Yeah. Er..I’m here with Andrew.”
“Who?”
“Tucker’s brother.”
“Oh. Good for you. Fuck off.” Spike turns away from me and signals to the barman.
Now, I happen to think in situations like this that persistence will almost always result in a favourable outcome, even when dealing with very drunk vampires. I also happen to think that most of the time what I think is a load of bollocks and I should try not to think quite so much. Especially when dealing with very drunk vampires.
“We were wondering whether you’d mind getting us a couple of drinks while your here?” He turns his head back towards me and I am suddenly absolutely frozen with fear. His drunken haze seems to have lifted and is replaced by the Master Vampire standing before me.
And I think he is going to kill me.
Strangely, all I can hear amidst the horror of my life coming to a sudden end is a little song playing gently in the background, like from a music box. As I think to myself how strange it is to hear this traditional British folk tune in an American nightclub, I’m being lifted completely off my feet and we’re somehow moving across the room. He takes me to the door at the back of the Bronze and I’m hoping Andrew has seen what happened so he can tell everyone that I’ve actually been eaten and not just run away back to England because they all hate me.
Spike stands before me, silent, all in black and runs his tongue across the fangs that are now emerging from his jaws. He is still ludicrously handsome but no longer quite so pretty as he moves in towards me. He easily pins my arms above my head with just one of his hands. As he closes the gap between us I smell whisky and cigarettes and it’s intoxicating. Fear has paralysed me but I’ve never been so turned on in the nineteen and a half years I’ve existed. I swallow and see his eyes move to my mouth. I’m wearing a v-neck T-shirt and a push-up bra. Very Ann Rice. Not. He brings his other hand up to gently follow the top curve of my breast and continues on to the nape of my neck and I swear I can hear him purring.
His body is now pushed up hard against me and you couldn’t even fit an After Eight Mint between us. The hard contours of his muscular body mould into my more squashy bits but even this sudden intimacy doesn’t seem close enough, those clothes are now an unnecessary barrier. I have just enough awareness left to look around me as Spike rips my shirt off and I am now completely exposed to him. To the violence. To the blood lust which Buffy has droned on and on about. To the killer behind those sexy navy eyes.
Except those sexy navy eyes are now yellow and all animal. He really is going to kill me. Not good.
He is lapping at my neck, slowly, seductively. Still not a single word has been spoken, like he is in some kind of trance. His hand moves up inside my thin chiffon skirt and I hold my breath. Thank god I had my bikini wax done last week! He cups me and begins to rock his hand back and forth and as this unbelievable sensation reaches my brain, I realise that I am about to be palm-fucked by Spike. Spike! Then I feel his fangs puncture the skin in my neck as he starts to drink from me.
My eyes close. And all I can think is what a way to go.
Then suddenly Spike pulls away, and I see him staggering back from me. He looks confused and horrified, shaking his head from side to side, his hands at his temples.
“That scent?”
Oh for gods sake, not this again!
“Roses. I can smell roses.” It’s almost like he has been taken back in time, like the smell has triggered a memory that has snapped him out of something. Or somewhere.
“It’s…er…Evelyne & Crabtree White Rose, actually.” I stutter, as the realisation of what has just happened hits me. “Hey! You were trying to bloody kill me, you son of a bitch!”
I touch my neck and see blood, wet on my hand. Now I’m mad (which I think is good as it might just save my life). I can maintain it as long as he doesn’t touch me again.
“I asked you to buy me a drink not make me into one, arsehole!” He is looking at me but I don’t see Spike in there at all. The game face is gone and he has completely withdrawn into himself. He is mumbling something but I can’t make it out. Freaky. Time to go.
I run inside and slam straight into Buffy.
“What are you doing here?” She sees my neck, looking concerned. “Victoria, what just happened?” Buffy clutches my arm but I break away and carry on running. I see Andrew under the stairwell, obviously hiding from Buffy, but he is waving frantically and totally drawing attention to himself. Spaz.
“Andrew, let’s get the fuck out of here. Now.” He looks at me, anxious and jumpy.
“Buffy is here! Did you see her? Oh my god we are in so much shit right now. I could seriously die.” I look him and point to my neck.
“I nearly just did.”
His mouth makes a huge ‘O’ and he reminds me of Charles Hawtry from the ‘Carry On’ movies. I grab his arm and we run out leaving Spike, Buffy and a total nightmare evening behind us.
Part Six
“I don’t know why you’re all making such a fuss about it. We already told the other Doctor what happened.” Andrew rolls his eyes.
“So, let me get this straight. Miss Merchant here, fell onto a ‘Kerplunk’ game from a….bunk-bed…and punctured her neck in two places?” The young Doctor taps his pen on the clipboard. Andrew winks at me and I look away so I won’t smile.
“Yep.”
“And lost two pints of blood?”
“Yep.” I can see his fingers cross behind his back. Cute.
The Doctor leans in and takes another look at the marks. Andrew had come up with this idea at the Nurses Station in A&E and I figure if they buy it, I owe him a cheeseburger.
“Perhaps we should issue a local warning about late night board game activities in Sunnydale,” He puts some gauze over the wound. “You’d be amazed how many of these type of injuries I see in a week.”
“Probably not so much, actually. Can we go now? Only I forgot to set the VCR and Murder She Wrote is on.” Andrew says as he helps me off the examination table and we are walking backwards towards the swing doors.
“And I feel fine now, really. Great job. Ready to take on the world again. Thanks ever so. It was just like being in ER on the telly. And you really do look a bit like Dr Green. Well, before he got cancer and died…”
My arm is being pulled and as we break out the room I hear the Doctor shout, “Stay away from any more sharp toys!!” after us.
We’re finally outside and out of breath. I still feel light headed and a bit sick but have had four cups of sugary tea and about twenty Oreo’s so I’m not surprised. We sit for a minute by the hospital sign.
“Murder She Wrote?” I am so not going to let this go. Andrew slaps my hand.
“Don’t lets fall out over Ms. Angela Landsbury, my friend. The woman is like, part of the Constitution. Anyway I happen to like solving the mysteries. It provides me with much needed intellectual stimulation while I’m kept as a hostage.”
“Huh?”
“Oh…long boring story for another day. Come on, it’ll be light soon and we’ve gotta figure out what we’re gong to tell the gang about the whole ‘Spike thing’. Buffy is so going to bust your ass, you know.” We get up and start walking back to the house.
“Why my arse? He was the one who bloody bit me!” This whole thing is totally crazy. I come to Sunnydale needing protection from a bunch of psychotic Friar Tucks, and get a Demon-loving-Vampire Slayer who wears more designer labels than I’ve had Marmite on toast, and all I get is a shit load of attitude, two holes in my neck and the most unbelievable horn for a peroxided-basement-bunny-boiler.
Try saying that when you’ve got a Spike in your mouth. Stop it.
Andrew leans over and takes off the gauze, replacing it with two Big Bird band-aids. “Stole them from the paediatric unit.” I smile. “Look, Spike has what Anya calls a ‘get out of jail free card’. After he bit me, and killed all those other people, he was taken by the First and played with for a while. All Buffy could think about was getting him back. She loves him.”
This didn’t make any sense. How could she put us all at risk like that? I mean I know the guy can seriously wear those black Levi’s with that delicious little bum of his but a cute butt is no excuse for mass murder. Or maybe is here?
“I get that she loves him. I really do. But he is like a lethal weapon.” Andrew stops and looks at me.
“Oh come on! That’s not the thing that pumps your nads?”
Together we both cry; “Breakfast Club!!” and high-five. This boy is my twin, I swear.
“I suppose so. What we gonna say when we get back, then.” I start to get a really nervous tummy as I imagine the Spanish inquisition that’s waiting for us. Buffy actually being quite scary sometimes. And from what I can pick up, Andrew is not meant to even leave the house at all as he is some kind of prisoner-what ever that’s about-so things really couldn’t be worse.
I just wanna go home. A gruesome early death has got to be better than this.
We gingerly come through the front door but are confronted by complete silence. It appears that the waiting party are not waiting after all and we gleefully slip off to our rooms. I step on someone’s foot as I try to get to bed as quietly as possible and am called a stupid bitch for my trouble.
Still, better than a bollocking from Buffy.
Part Seven
I feel like I’ve just shut my eyes when I wake suddenly to see Buffy, Spike and Giles (glasses off, rubbing nose) at the end of my bed. The other girls I’m sharing with are gone and this looks seriously ominous.
I pull myself up and chew my thumbnail nervously.
“Morning!” Lame.
“Look, we need to have a chat with you about what happened last night - and before you go into one of your monologues, you aren’t in any trouble Victoria.” Giles looks at me kindly and I’m grateful.
“There’s something we need to explain about Spike and…well…what he did to you,” Buffy adds. She too looks calm and reasonable.
I look at Spike; Head on a slant, eyes narrow, cheeks sucked in, lips pouty. Oooh, pouty.
I carry on chewing.
Buffy comes round and sits on the bed. She looks at my neck and puts her hand down next to mine.
“Spike is being controlled by The First. We think we know how, and we’re trying to sort it out. There’s some kind of trigger that The First is using to make him do stuff, and we think last night it was trying to make him kill you.”
Okay. So he doesn’t really want to eat me. This is good.
“Giles has found a tool he thinks will release Spike from The First’s control. We’re going to perform the ritual later.” Giles is holding a small box.
Not a very big tool then.
“Victoria, can you remember anything about last night that might help us with the ritual?” Buffy looks desperate. Protect the ones you love. “Spike can’t remember much and you may know something we can use.”
Time for me to talk. If I can get my thumb out my gob.
“It’s all a bit vague, really,” Yeah, right. “I went over to the bar to ask Spike if he’d buy me and…me a drink…”
“It’s okay, we know Andrew was there with you.” Giles smiles. Why is everyone being so nice?
“He didn’t know me at first and then suddenly he was all vamptastic and I was dinner.” Buffy looks at Giles but seems to be avoiding Spike’s gaze.
“If you were a little more specific about the in between bits we might have more to go on?” I can tell Buffy is trying to be patient but the cracks are starting to show. How am I going to tell her that Spike was busy giving me a hand-job whilst making me into his own personal platelet- smoothie?
Truth or no, that would be mean. I take a deep breath.
“As he started to bite me, he mentioned the perfume I was wearing.” I know my cheeks are red but I keep going. “Said it smelt of Roses. Like it reminded him of something. Then he was okay again.”
Giles put his glasses on and nodded, “Good, good, that may be important.”
There, give the dog a bone!
“Did Spike talk to someone or did you hear anything out of the ordinary just before he turned on you?” Buffy looks even more serious than usual so I think this must be really important.
Kind of a leading question though, ‘cos if I wanted to tell them what I know they want to hear then I could just say, yeah, he was talking to someone and there was something strange just before he turned on me and then they would look at each other and nod smugly as if they knew that already and then they would pat my hand and Giles would clean his glasses and Spike would snog me and…..
Focus, Vic.
“Oh! I do remember something! A song, a folk song! I heard it in the club. A bit weird, I mean it wasn’t exactly a good follow on record from Big Mac Fries to Go.”
For a moment nobody moves. Don’t think they are big fans of Pop Will Eat Itself. Some people have no taste.
Buffy looks at Giles. Giles looks at Buffy. I look at Spike. Spike looks at my chest. Huh?
“Okay, that’s really helpful. How are you feeling now?” Wondered when they were going to ask me that. There really is no substitute for your mum, is there?
“Fine.” Nail back in mouth. Buffy gets up and she and Giles walk to the door.
“Just like before, Giles. How is it doing this?” They leave but Spike still stands at the end of my bed. My thumb is now really stinging. Note to self: Must find alternative way to cope with stress.
“I do remember some of what I did last night, and I’m sorry I hurt you.” His voice is like a melted Bouny Bar on a bowl of Vanilla Truffle Ice Cream with sprinkles. And raspberry sauce.
All is SO forgiven.
“It wasn’t you. Apparently. So it’s okay.”
“Yeah, well thanks for keeping it clean anyway, love. Appreciate it. Wouldn’t want anyone else gettin’ hurt over this.” His eyebrow goes up and I understand.
He loves her.
Spike turns to leave. “Oh, by the way. The Nightshirt. Couldn’t agree more.” Wink.
As he leaves I look down in horror. Please tell me I am not wearing my ‘Underneath This My Tits Are Enormous’ Nightie?
Oh the shame.
Part Eight
It’s after ten and we’re eating Barbeque Nachos watching aVoyager DVD. My fingers are stained like Fag Ash Lil and I finally concede to Andrew that yes, if the entire world and all it’s inhabitants were about to die of an awful plague and the only way to cure this was to mix his bodily fluids with those of Seven of Nine and Captain Archer in a three-in-a-bed-shag-fest, then this would not, in fact, make him a sexual deviant.
“Her boobs aren’t real anyway.” I’m a little put out, what can I say.
It’s a quiet night after the earlier events. Dawn has gone to bed with a huge bump on her head from a flying cot-bed, Spike is out with Wood (who knew!) and Buffy and Giles are patrolling. Various heads keep popping in but when they see it’s Andrew and me watching Trek, well, you can imagine.
“So does this mean that Spike isn’t under the control of the ‘Dark Side’ anymore?” Apparently they had done the ritual and Spike no longer needed to be chained up at night.
(Don’t even go there.)
Andrew nods. “That song you heard? That was the trigger.” He burps and I gag.
“You’re disgusting.”
“Bwah! Ha! Haaaa!” He gets up from the couch and slaps his bum cheeks.
Faith walks past.
“You got somethin’ in mind there Andrew? Cos I know a few places where your ass and a handful of Crisco would get you 200 smokes and a month’s pass in the gym.” She smirks at him and heads upstairs. Andrew flops down next to me, sticking his tongue out at her back.
“I’ve decided I’m going to keep a pantry vigil. I swear it’s her stealing my Alphabetti Spaghetti.” He whispers, looking totally serious.
Time for a fag break, I think.
Just as I open the back door, Spike pushes through. His face is bleeding, he looks very pissed off, almost daring me to speak.
Nope. Not a word. Not a murmur. No even the tiniest syllable from me thank you very much. Will only lead to trouble.
He still looks at me. Scowling.
Not. One. Word.
He moves his head till it’s only an inch away from mine. This is the improved non-evil Spike? Spike without the First in control? You sure?
“You gonna move out the way or what?” He says in my face.
Oh.
I then realise that me and my super-size Garfield slippers are blocking his entry and quickly step aside. He glides past easily but knocks the utensils jar across the room with his fist. Man, is he angry.
I go to the door again as Buffy suddenly pushes in, stumbles over me and curses.
“Oops! Sorry.” Move back again. She glares at me and thumps the door back on its hinges, glass cracking, and storms past.
Blimey.
I move to go through the door for the third time but leap out of the way as Giles runs up the decking. Whatever is going on, me and my slippers are right in the thick of it, and I’ve had enough. I hold the door open for him to pass. “Buffy?” He asks.
“She went upstairs.”
“And Spike?”
“Basement.” He leaves the kitchen and I look tentatively out the back door to see if anyone else is coming.
“Its like Piccadilly bloody Circus around here!” I grumble and light a fag. What the hell is that all about?
I finish the cig and go find Andrew. “Did you see that?” I ask, but he was too absorbed in the TV to see anything. I fill him in on the details and ask whether he has anymore of the band-aids from the hospital. “You can have Kermit and Oscar.” He says pulling them out his pocket, “But not Burt & Ernie. They are special.”
“You’re bloody ‘special’.” Spaz. I take them and chew my thumb. “Spike’s hurt. Wanna come help me fix him up?” Andrew gives me a look. You know the look. The ‘that is the most ridiculous idea I have ever heard in my life’ look.
But he says “Okay.” Bless him.
We get as far as the fifth step down before we hear Spike bark, “Get the fuck out of here!” Andrew squeezes my hand. He is shaking a little and I am too. We can also hear what sounds like flesh hitting something and various objects being thrown around violently.
Andrew whispers, “I put a load of laundry on, d’you think that’s why he’s mad? The machine really wobbles.”
“Don’t be daft, this isn’t cos your washing out your smalls! Something happened tonight between the bigwigs. They’re all really pissed off.” We take another couple of steps down and see Spike crouching beside the cot, his head lowered. His eyes are closed and he appears to be trying to calm himself down.
“This is SO not a good idea.” Andrew motions that we should leave and I agree. It looks like the vamp needs space to work something out. But Spike looks up.
“What are you girls lookin’ at?” He stands and comes towards us. Shit.
“Hey! I’m not a…. I’m totally leaving now.” Andrew pulls at me and adds without moving his mouth; “Come on Vic, time to go!” I hesitate for a moment and Spike is now in front of me. There is a cross shaped burn on his cheek. Kinky.
“You.” He says. Yep. Little old me. “Am I like a fucking zoo attraction to you and your mates? Eh? Come look at Spike go mad in the bloody basement!” He moves an inch closer. “I think I told you to bugger off.” Andrew has now left, but I am-let’s face it-a bit stupid so I stand absolutely still. Kind of like if a bear confronts you. Don’t run or it will bite. (Cos of course coming from Penge I am the worlds leading expert on bear etiquette.)
“You looked hurt so I bought you these,” I very pathetically hold out my hand and show him the band-aids, and prepare to be either yelled at or shot. Well, you never know what to expect in this bloody place.
Spike takes them and walks away. I look at his bum as he moves and have a very naughty thought.
Now, my body will conspire against me at every turn, you can almost guarantee it. Like clockwork. If I am scared I will either fart or wee myself a little. If I am trying to be cool, the skin on my face and neck will decide that fuchsia is absolutely THE most fashionable shade to be and I will suddenly resemble Barbara Cartland’s wardrobe after a fight with Barbie’s dress designer. Today however, we are going to go with hiccups. And why not, indeed.
Hic!
Spike turns and looks at me. He frowns as I hiccup again. And again. And again.
He shakes his head and sighs. “Thanks for the thought, pet. Now go get yourself a glass of water and leave me the hell alone, okay?” He sounds tired.
Mostly, I really hate being me.
Hic!
I turn and go back up the stairs, just as Buffy opens the basement door. She looks startled to see me but I just move past her. Best leave them to sort out whatever they need to sort out.
Andrew is standing in the kitchen waiting for me. “How d’it go?” He looks concerned. I hiccup. “Oh. Want a donut?” I nod.
Donuts rule.
Part Nine
Sometimes the stuff I do is so embarrassing even I want to take a rain check from me.
We are all in the garden training and I have managed to get the axe I’m meant to be wielding tangled up in the Silver Birch. I haven’t shaved my underarms for days either and they’re now on display in all their bristly glory to the world, as I try to free myself from yet another Vic catastrophe.
Why does everything I do have to be such a bloody performance?
All the other Potentials manage to do it right, for God’s sake. I look at one of the girls who is openly staring at me. “What can I say? Calamity Jane is my aunt.” I offer a nerdy laugh. She turns away rolling her eyes.
Of course SHE is really fit, and really pretty. Bet she shaved her pits.
Buffy to the rescue. She manages to get the axe out of the tree without making any reference to it or me whatsoever as she continues to give instructions. In a way this is worse. I’m such a pain in the arse they don’t even notice it anymore.
Is there is ever going to be an end to this torture?
I think about Spike.
Mmmm Spike.
Being Spikalishously-spiked by Spike. Having a Spikey-Spikathon. A Spikalishous-Spikey-Spikathon…..involving sorbet of some sort……..
“Excuse me?” Pretty Girl asks.
Huh? Why is everyone looking at me now?
I go inside and find Andrew trying to open a can of cream soda with oven mitts on whilst humming Life is A Cabaret. Honestly, if I didn’t know better….
“Please kill me.” He looks up. I sit on the counter, head in hands, legs dangling to emphasise my neediness.
“What have you done now?” Even Andrew sounds weary of me. Choke. But he smiles in sympathy and offers me a drink.
“Well I was bored!” He looks non the wiser. “Let’s just say that what I thought I said to myself, I actually said to the crowd.” Andrew says a silent Oh and scrunches his face up compassionately.
“I saw them all look at you kinda funny. Thought maybe you had one of your inadvertent emissions.” He is fanning his nose.
“Hey! Not feelin’ the love right now!” But I giggle and jump down off the worktop. “So, apparently we are off out tonight for our first gig. Buffy reckons this Preacher bloke needs his arse kicking and wants us to go kick it. You coming?”
“Not been asked to the party. But to be honest, I don’t think I have mastered my weapon well enough yet for full blown combat.”
There are SO many possible responses to this, but I let it go. Too easy.
“You scared?”
“A bit.”
“Wanna go look at Spike sleeping?”
Glee!
He is laying on the cot-bed, sheet covering only from that bit on the male body where the pelvic bone starts to curve inward. He is so perfect, it’s almost like he has been posed. Left arm above his head, slightly shielding his face but not so much that you can’t see his eyes, closed, still, sleepy, sexy. His torso, exposed, creamy and flawless. Not a movement, not even a breath. Lying out before us, the underworld Adonis. Our basement babe.
I look at Andrew and we sigh together, our dirty little secret shared.
-x-
It’s late, the sun has gone down and we are putting the finishing touches to my ridiculous battle outfit. Andrew feels that as my fighting resembles a Meer Cat having an epileptic fit, it’s a good idea to maximise my body protection otherwise I will definitely not make it back in one piece.
We agree that my Lacrosse kit is the best way forward along with a leather jerkin that Andrew just ‘happens’ to have about his person. “Well, you can never be sure when you might get stabbed, you know.”
I think he has issues.
He stands back and admires our handy work. We agree that I look so stupid the Bringers will probably leave me alone out of sheer pity. Fine by me. Would quite like not to die tonight if at all possible.
“Vic?”
“Yeah?”
“You won’t let anything happen will you? I mean, this is kind of real now, isn’t it? You might not come back.”
He leans into me and I suddenly feel his anxiety and my own. Guess all this mucking about was actually leading up to something after all. And I hear this Preacher guy is a real nasty son of a bitch.
“Hey Mr! None of that! Do you honestly think I can’t whoop this bloke’s arse? To hell with the rest of them - it’ll be me who saves the day, you’ll see. Put ‘em up, put ‘em uuup! ” I move from foot to foot whilst doing my Wizard of Oz Lion impression.
Neither of us believes this for a second but it breaks us out of what could have been a rather depressing swan song.
Buffy comes into the main hall and asks whether we’re all ready. Her and Faith will be going out first to do some recon and then off we jolly well go. I am part of the backup team to come in if it all turns to shit.
Xander is giving out weapons. He gives me a double take before handing over a sword. Of course I drop it straight away - well it’s bloody heavy - and it’s immediately taken away from me and replaced with a wooden club.
Great. If I come across any baby seals, I’ll be sorted then.
I bash the air a couple of times as a dry run. God, what I must look like. I think about my mates at school, and consider the conversation I’d have to explain my current situation. It’s fucking bonkers :
Me? Oh, I went to California for the summer to shack up with twenty or so girls and learn to fight like Conan the Barbarian.
Tan? Well, no actually I’m still as white as a sheet as I only really go out at night, cos you can’t kill vampires in the day-time, well, except for the one living in the basement but he’s practically married to my boss so best not slay him and anyway he has a soul apparently and this means he is good, except for when he’s trying to kill you but that doesn’t matter because did I mention he was HOT?
This? Oh, I’m just about to go to a brewery to beat the crap out of some knife-wielding blind men and an evil God-botherer who appears to have missed ALL of his Sunday school classes as he was too busy throwing girls out of cars.
Time of my life?
Absolutely.
Wouldn’t change it for the world.
Part Ten
We’re walking through the woods now and I sound like a Bull Frog on Speed as my knee guards’ rub together frantically with each step.
Very stealthy.
Suddenly, Kennedy turns round and stops dead in front of me. “What are you meant to be anyway? Zena fucking Warrior Princess?” She glares at me. Snotty cow. Go play with Buffy up ahead and leave me the fuck alone, hell-bitch!
Of course I say nothing.
I wish Andrew was here.
“Hey, Butch? Why don’t you sod off and go play with the other girls, eh? Stop picking on those who don’t bite back, yeah?” Spike is at my side, all manly and…..manly. If I wasn’t wearing all this bloody padding, I would totally swoon.
Kennedy gives me an absolutely stinking look and then carries on walking. Spike turns to me.
“Your idea?” He lights two cigarettes, handing me one.
“Andrew said my fighting skills aren’t up to much and I’m probably gonna be lunchion meat by dawn.” I look down at my body. A neck plate, breast plate covered over with a leather waistcoat, elbow pads, thigh, knee and shin pads and flaps over my shoes. All in tango orange.
It takes a special skill to look quite this preposterous.
“I’m scared, Spike.”
He looks at me for a moment then playfully brushes his fist across my chin. “ You’ll be fine, love. The Slayer’s got your back. Anyway,” He adds brightly, “You’ll probably fall over and break your bleedin’ neck before we get anywhere near the brewery so I wouldn’t worry too much.” He smiles as he walks away and I am really, truly in love with him. And it hurts a little, in that way which actually feels really nice.
He has given me a crumb. And I am grateful.
-x-
We are told to hold back while Team A goes inside. I flop onto a tree stump and finish my ciggie.
Spike had this in his mouth. I now have it in my mouth. So, technically we have snogged. Yay!
My phone rings. Glares from everyone. “What?” I tutt. “Hello?”
“It’s me.” Andrew. “Your not dead yet then?”
“Well, obviously.”
“No, not obviously. You could be The First pretending to be you.” He is eating something crunchy and I can hear the TV.
“Shut up, idiot. What d’ya want? Everyone is staring at me.” Now they all look away. Ha.
“Probably not a good idea to ring your mobile actually, you being in the thick of combat and all. It’s just I need to ask you what your favourite Star Wars character is.”
I frown. “Why?”
“You never told me.” He sounds funny.
“You ring me up now to ask me this?” Silence. I get a lump in my throat. “Boba-Fett.”
“Don’t die, okay?”
Click.
I hang up too.
I am now so scared I couldn’t even wee for a lifetime subscription to Naked Spike monthly.