(no subject)
Honest
Part Two
Spike walked into the bar and found a seat at the far corner and ordered a drink.
He felt sick and full of self-pity.
Bloody great poof.
Seeing Angel standing there next to Buffy, all smug and knowing, just like he’d been with Dru.
Just like he’d always bloody been.
Spike took a shot of bourbon and signalled the waiter for another. “Keep em comin’ mate.” He barked, already feeling the liquor warming his cold veins. He remembered that he’d not eaten for several days, what with the flying and travelling and what all.
Now however, he just needed to get very very pissed.
“Here mate? Can I ask you a question?” The waiter smiled. He didn’t speak any English but thought he better humour the strange blonde man.
“If a moody geezer with a Trump Tower forehead came on to your bird, would you a) kill the bastard there and then with a spoon, b) shove a breadstick up his arse and feed him to the sharks or c) tie horse hair round his cock, order pizza an’ a movie and wait for it to drop off?” Spike looked at him expectantly. “If you’re a bettin’ man we could even put a little money on how long it took?” The waiter nodded vigorously, still with a beaming smile as he walked over to another table.
“Yeah, I’d go for c) too. Drag it out a bit. Make the wanker suffer.” Spike slung another shot of bourbon down and flicked a pistachio nut across the room.
“And her! What do you make of that? Hardly the grieving bloody girlfriend is she? You know, I always thought she was a bit fickle. Bloody woman. Always wants something else.” Spike continued to chat to himself whilst getting more and more intoxicated.
-x-
Buffy had been into what felt like every bar in Italy looking for a lost vampire with a heavy heart. Where the hell had he gone? He wouldn’t have got straight back onto a plane for California surely? Even with the mood he was in when he left her apartment, he must have stopped for a drink at least.
This was Spike after all.
All she needed to do was find him.
She walked into a gloomy, run down looking hotel and spotted a familiar figure hunched over the end of the bar, unlit cigarette in mouth, nursing a glass of brown liquor humming 'God Save The Queen'.
He was clearly very much worse for wear.
Great.
Pissed up Spike was never a picnic. She watched him for a moment. Scruffy blonde hair, slightly longer than she remembered. Big frown on face. Kinda sexy.
God, he’s alive. He really is alive.
Spike stopped humming and looked straight at her, Cobalt blue eyes narrowing.
Buffy took a deep breath in. Here we go.
The waiter followed Spike's gaze, as did the other three men sitting at the bar. Buffy felt as though all eyes were on her.
Well, they were.
A sneer moved across Spike's face. She remembered that look not so fondly.
“Slayer! Come meet my friends!” Spike indicated to the others in the room. “None of these buggers speak a sodding word of English, but they’re all jolly good listeners. Friends - THIS is the woman I was telling you 'bout.” He pointed at her.
Jesus Spike. Embarrassing much?
The men looked at her blankly and Buffy quickly moved to Spike's side in an attempt to reduce the floor show a little.
“Where’re you staying? Can we go back to your place?”
“Back to my place, eh? Hear that lads?” Spike said loudly, “She wants to go back to my place. Told ya that git wouldn’t last long didn’t I? What happened love? He finally brood so much his arse caved in?”
Buffy’s hands went on hip and she sighed impatiently.
He looked down at his drink again and said more quietly, “I don't know where I'm staying, actually. Didn't really think about it. Just got on a bloody plane. Wanted to see you so bad.”
Buffy reached out to touch his face.
But then suddenly he was angry, pulling away from her. “But you! You already shacked up with him! Didn't bloody hang around did you? I've only been dead nineteen bleedin' days!”
The bar tender suddenly looked a little nervous. It appeared he did understand that part.
Spike stood up from his chair and moved closer to her. He swayed slightly. “I always knew he was the one, Buffy. The one who would have you in the end. You’re his girl. So it doesn't really matter does it?” His eyes were sad and his voice thick with emotion.
Or alcohol.
“Spike? Can we not do this here? Please, it’s late. We can get a room somewhere and talk this out.” She moved to grip his arm but he pulled away.
“Not bleedin’ likely!” Spike turned from her moodily and started for the door. “We're done talking. I need to get out of this sodding city. I can smell that stupid git on you and it's making me sick to my stomach”.
"Jesus, will you stop with the dramatics already?” Buffy walked over to him and looked straight into his eyes. “ I am not WITH Angel. I am not WITH anyone. And I don’t want to have this conversation in the middle of a fucking bar surrounded by complete strangers so will you come with me and we can find somewhere to talk?”
She had said most of this sentence through her teeth. Spike huffed and sighed theatrically.
“S’pose. If you put it like that.” He followed her to the door pulling faces. “By the way? You shouldn't refer to my new buddies here as strangers. That's really quite rude”.
Part Two
Spike walked into the bar and found a seat at the far corner and ordered a drink.
He felt sick and full of self-pity.
Bloody great poof.
Seeing Angel standing there next to Buffy, all smug and knowing, just like he’d been with Dru.
Just like he’d always bloody been.
Spike took a shot of bourbon and signalled the waiter for another. “Keep em comin’ mate.” He barked, already feeling the liquor warming his cold veins. He remembered that he’d not eaten for several days, what with the flying and travelling and what all.
Now however, he just needed to get very very pissed.
“Here mate? Can I ask you a question?” The waiter smiled. He didn’t speak any English but thought he better humour the strange blonde man.
“If a moody geezer with a Trump Tower forehead came on to your bird, would you a) kill the bastard there and then with a spoon, b) shove a breadstick up his arse and feed him to the sharks or c) tie horse hair round his cock, order pizza an’ a movie and wait for it to drop off?” Spike looked at him expectantly. “If you’re a bettin’ man we could even put a little money on how long it took?” The waiter nodded vigorously, still with a beaming smile as he walked over to another table.
“Yeah, I’d go for c) too. Drag it out a bit. Make the wanker suffer.” Spike slung another shot of bourbon down and flicked a pistachio nut across the room.
“And her! What do you make of that? Hardly the grieving bloody girlfriend is she? You know, I always thought she was a bit fickle. Bloody woman. Always wants something else.” Spike continued to chat to himself whilst getting more and more intoxicated.
-x-
Buffy had been into what felt like every bar in Italy looking for a lost vampire with a heavy heart. Where the hell had he gone? He wouldn’t have got straight back onto a plane for California surely? Even with the mood he was in when he left her apartment, he must have stopped for a drink at least.
This was Spike after all.
All she needed to do was find him.
She walked into a gloomy, run down looking hotel and spotted a familiar figure hunched over the end of the bar, unlit cigarette in mouth, nursing a glass of brown liquor humming 'God Save The Queen'.
He was clearly very much worse for wear.
Great.
Pissed up Spike was never a picnic. She watched him for a moment. Scruffy blonde hair, slightly longer than she remembered. Big frown on face. Kinda sexy.
God, he’s alive. He really is alive.
Spike stopped humming and looked straight at her, Cobalt blue eyes narrowing.
Buffy took a deep breath in. Here we go.
The waiter followed Spike's gaze, as did the other three men sitting at the bar. Buffy felt as though all eyes were on her.
Well, they were.
A sneer moved across Spike's face. She remembered that look not so fondly.
“Slayer! Come meet my friends!” Spike indicated to the others in the room. “None of these buggers speak a sodding word of English, but they’re all jolly good listeners. Friends - THIS is the woman I was telling you 'bout.” He pointed at her.
Jesus Spike. Embarrassing much?
The men looked at her blankly and Buffy quickly moved to Spike's side in an attempt to reduce the floor show a little.
“Where’re you staying? Can we go back to your place?”
“Back to my place, eh? Hear that lads?” Spike said loudly, “She wants to go back to my place. Told ya that git wouldn’t last long didn’t I? What happened love? He finally brood so much his arse caved in?”
Buffy’s hands went on hip and she sighed impatiently.
He looked down at his drink again and said more quietly, “I don't know where I'm staying, actually. Didn't really think about it. Just got on a bloody plane. Wanted to see you so bad.”
Buffy reached out to touch his face.
But then suddenly he was angry, pulling away from her. “But you! You already shacked up with him! Didn't bloody hang around did you? I've only been dead nineteen bleedin' days!”
The bar tender suddenly looked a little nervous. It appeared he did understand that part.
Spike stood up from his chair and moved closer to her. He swayed slightly. “I always knew he was the one, Buffy. The one who would have you in the end. You’re his girl. So it doesn't really matter does it?” His eyes were sad and his voice thick with emotion.
Or alcohol.
“Spike? Can we not do this here? Please, it’s late. We can get a room somewhere and talk this out.” She moved to grip his arm but he pulled away.
“Not bleedin’ likely!” Spike turned from her moodily and started for the door. “We're done talking. I need to get out of this sodding city. I can smell that stupid git on you and it's making me sick to my stomach”.
"Jesus, will you stop with the dramatics already?” Buffy walked over to him and looked straight into his eyes. “ I am not WITH Angel. I am not WITH anyone. And I don’t want to have this conversation in the middle of a fucking bar surrounded by complete strangers so will you come with me and we can find somewhere to talk?”
She had said most of this sentence through her teeth. Spike huffed and sighed theatrically.
“S’pose. If you put it like that.” He followed her to the door pulling faces. “By the way? You shouldn't refer to my new buddies here as strangers. That's really quite rude”.