Fic: "Real Evil"
Real Evil
By: caia
Prompt: Epigram For Wall Street
Setting: 2008
Word count: 283
Standard disclaimer: The characters aren't mine, just the story.
Feedback: Of course.
"Are you certain I can't eat them, love?"
"Yes."
"They crashed the global economy. Put people out of their homes. Stole... from... little old ladies... and their kitty-cats."
"Turn off the cable news, Spike."
With reluctance, he punched the power button on the changer and flopped back on the couch. "They're probably out there lighting cigars with hundred dollar bills and laughing 'bout now."
"I don't care."
"That Taibbi bloke calls 'em vampire squid. Gotta be demonic."
"If you mention Matt Taibbi one more time, I'm canceling your Rolling Stone subscription. And giving you one for Cat Fancy."
He muttered something about Rolling Stone being a rag anyway.
"Spike." She gave him her 'I've had enough of this, no really' look.
He sighed. "Sorry for the retro-aggro, love." He dipped his chin and shoved a booted foot against the coffee table.
She observed him for a moment, then plopped down next to him on the couch. "What's up?" This seemed like more than just Spike's normal recreational bitching. There was real discontent somewhere in here, and she didn't think it had to do with credit default swaps.
He sighed. "Been awhile since we went up the Divrigians. I've been itching to take on some -- I dunno -- real evil."
Oh, if that was all. "Real evil, huh. You know, Giles says there's a Big Bad brewing in Iceland. Big nasties. I was going to beg off, since we're still on vacation, but..."
Spike cast an eye up from his sulk. "How big?"
She shrugged carelessly. "Not sure. Five, six stories? You know I'm never sure, 'cause you Brits call the second story the first floor -- "
And his eyes flashed gold. There it was. Guess she'd have to dig up her coldest weather gear.
It was time to feed the vampire id.
By: caia
Prompt: Epigram For Wall Street
Setting: 2008
Word count: 283
Standard disclaimer: The characters aren't mine, just the story.
Feedback: Of course.
"Are you certain I can't eat them, love?"
"Yes."
"They crashed the global economy. Put people out of their homes. Stole... from... little old ladies... and their kitty-cats."
"Turn off the cable news, Spike."
With reluctance, he punched the power button on the changer and flopped back on the couch. "They're probably out there lighting cigars with hundred dollar bills and laughing 'bout now."
"I don't care."
"That Taibbi bloke calls 'em vampire squid. Gotta be demonic."
"If you mention Matt Taibbi one more time, I'm canceling your Rolling Stone subscription. And giving you one for Cat Fancy."
He muttered something about Rolling Stone being a rag anyway.
"Spike." She gave him her 'I've had enough of this, no really' look.
He sighed. "Sorry for the retro-aggro, love." He dipped his chin and shoved a booted foot against the coffee table.
She observed him for a moment, then plopped down next to him on the couch. "What's up?" This seemed like more than just Spike's normal recreational bitching. There was real discontent somewhere in here, and she didn't think it had to do with credit default swaps.
He sighed. "Been awhile since we went up the Divrigians. I've been itching to take on some -- I dunno -- real evil."
Oh, if that was all. "Real evil, huh. You know, Giles says there's a Big Bad brewing in Iceland. Big nasties. I was going to beg off, since we're still on vacation, but..."
Spike cast an eye up from his sulk. "How big?"
She shrugged carelessly. "Not sure. Five, six stories? You know I'm never sure, 'cause you Brits call the second story the first floor -- "
And his eyes flashed gold. There it was. Guess she'd have to dig up her coldest weather gear.
It was time to feed the vampire id.