This is another strange little idea I had. I don’t expect this to expand very much, and other people have written much better why / how / wherefores than I would. This is a small gag that I’m writing after a long day of college… sigh… college is fun, really. But only if you can manage to avoid the heaps of work they pile on you. Of course, if you’re sensible and get it done instead of writing fan fiction then you don’t have that problem…
Disclaimer: Not mine, never will be and I'm only borrowing for a little bit!
Spike walked into the Hogwarts great hall, with a happy sigh. It had been a long time since the scourge of Europe had come and gone in the night, Dru had told them it would be a great idea anyway. They ate a couple of kids and teachers and wreaked havoc for a few hours before high tailing it out of there once the tossers got organised. It had been a close enough call that the great poof almost lost his head. Much to his great amusement.
But who were they to argue with an insane vampire prophetess? Wizard blood, unlike Wicca (too “good feeling” and earthy) was like alcohol to the demon population, addictive and good at making them giddy. He sighed again. There had been some good times with Dru.
Spike thought it was too bad was a good guy now as his gaze passed over the surprised students stinking of fear and magic, although the bleach blond Slytherin sneering at him might make a good appetiser… hmm…
Ok, ok, keep his mind on the job. Willow wanted some magical gizmo artifact for some supposedly useful summoning spell and he’d been nominated a) because he knew where Hogwarts was b) He already knew his way round and c) he was British. That kind of reasoning just made him feel all fluffy on the inside. Especially considering the way this lot were looking at him like his hair was on fire. Which Spike then admitted to himself it had felt like when he first tipped the bottle of peroxide on his head. Thankfully he managed to heal and get a hairdresser to fix it for him (eating her afterwards, of course) before he went back to Dru. But that was not the point. He was still striding along the rows of students, a complete silence surrounding him. He started grumbling incoherently to himself. How long was this bloody hall anyway?
He paused as he spotted a familiar face frowning at him.
Then he paled.
Granted, he was the walking dead already and his dear old mother had always called him a delicate thing when he was alive but he somehow managed to look whiter than if he’d been living underground in an igloo for the last century.
"Bloody hell, I killed you!" Spike cringed as the rest of the hall fell silent in astonishment and confusion.
The Bloody Baron was staring at Spike in a mixture of fear, horror and wonder. "William the bloody?"
"Just Spike nowadays, mate." Spike replied eyeing the ghost wryly.
"You’re not feeding?" the Baron asked suspiciously.
"Nope. Got a soul like Peaches- uh, Angelus – now." Spike explained, reluctantly using Angel’s name. He barely acknowledged the students behind him breathing out in relief with more than an eye roll. "Look I’m sorry I spilt your blood all over you, but you gave a hell of a fight" He apologised sincerely, then shrugged and added nonchalantly "I suppose the torture didn’t help either." He smirked as he sensed the student body and teachers edged away from him in their seats.
"Quite alright, and I'm glad you think so" The baron nodded politely, before giving an evil smile "It scares the students."
"Nasty little buggers deserve it," Spike agreed. He flashed them his game face as he received shouts of protest. They unsurprisingly fell silent. "Look mate, can I make it up to you? Want to get a whisky?"
"Ghost." The baron reminded him.
"Damn. How about poker?"