Spike in the City
Disclaimer: Spider Jerusalem and Transmet belong to Warren Ellis and BtVS belongs to Joss Whedon et al.
"Even the quiet places are loud."
Spike loved the City. It had so much death. He was almost accepted - considered running for election. That would shake up the world! Rights for Vampires. Ignore the fact that they're bloodsucking fiends. The idea has potential.
Spike puffed at his smoke, wondering who he should prey on tonight. He knew that Buffy didn't like him feeding off the weak and helpless. But what the fuck - he did. So he didn't turn them, didn't kill them, and fucked Buffy's brains out to compensate. All in all, it was working out.
Except now Buffy was feeling guilty. She was as bad as "oh-I've-got-a-soul" Angel. Just as well Angel has returned to his former glory. And Buffy had dusted him. That was the good part... Spike dramatically stood up, noting the adoring glances from the women in the corner and strolled to the bar. "Double Scotch mate. No ice." Barman obliged. Spike knocked it back. Still burned.
There was a bit of life in the old boy yet.
Spider Jerusalem was feeling high. His drugs were definitely working, as he'd gone a whole hour without thinking about politics or having an irate Royce demanding a column. Life was good. And had just got better. The perky blonde Vampire - Buffy (stupid name) his addled brain remembered - was sitting looking miserable in the corner. And she was alone.
Spider stumbled on over, looking glum too. "Care to share a tub of iced powdered baby and talk about it?"
"Sounds good." Spider took a second to work out what she was saying. He sat down.
"I think - that I don't need to think at this moment." He lowered his hands to the table. So far, they hadn't moved too much. He felt something solid beneath him and decided that was enough. Their order came.
"So talk. What's eating your gut?"
"The worst of the worst."
"I was thinking about what happened in my past."
"A very dangerous and scary thing. I'm still trying to escape mine. Although there are some good stories..."
"I'm sure." Even miserable Buffy could only take Spider at full pelt for so long.
"So. How did you become a vampire?" Spider actually found himself curious. He should write a column about this...
"I was twenty-three. I had survived as a Slayer for longer than almost anyone else. They couldn't let me live much longer, or else, another Slayer wouldn't be called. They couldn't retire me. Legends don't work that way.
"Too fucking true."
"My mentor - he was called a Watcher - Giles. He came up with the idea."
"Of you becoming a Vampire."
"I didn't want to die. And not see them. At least that way I'd be able to party and stuff. And then there was Angel."
"Angel? Like fluttery wings?"
"Six foot of pure dark-haired hunk, wrapped in the best and coolest clothes out. He was so gorgeous." Buffy sighed in remembrance. And started to cry. Red tears.
"He was my honey. And my first..."
"Snugglemuffin?" Spider was definitely getting into the whimsical retro mood.
"That'll do. So he turned me. Six years to the day when we'd first - you know."
"What is it with you folk. You fucked his brains out." The mood had evaporated. "But it was love, not just lust, and he decided to make it eternal."
"Except for the sex thing. We couldn't, or else he'd become this ravening monster."
"Cool. And you?"
"Some Slayer thing was protecting me. Giles got it figured. So I am good Vampire, I'm with Angel snuggling, and one night it gets too much."
"Ravening monster him."
"So I dusted him." Buffy made a staking movement. "That's where Spike came in. And we've been together ever since."
Spike had decided that Buffy was too much for him. It was time to move on. At least the doll wasn't as nuts as Dru, but sometimes she got close. He could only take so much. He went on a Buffy hunt.
Spider. Drugged out of his skull. Crying at some lovelorn tale of Vampires and sex. It was a bit too much. He and Buffy adjourned to his flat for some good old whisky and comfort. She liked the cat.
Spike found them there. Staked Buffy. Out of the ashes rose an enraged Spider who twitched the curtains. All's well that ends.
Vampires are too fucking much. They like to pretend they're people, but they 're not. We're people. We are alive now - not undead for some hundred or thousand years. Even fucking foglets. The shit-for-brains Vampire stakes the angsting be-souled Vampire and they both crumble into dust. I'm thinking about having some cigarette made and marketing them as Genuine Death.
I've added an old fashioned pointy wooden thing to my arsenal of disease and bowel disruption. It doesn't show up on any scans. I've become rather attached to Mr Pointy.