The Wrong Town
Disclaimer: Buffy the Vampire Slayer, and Angel the Series, along with the characters from their respective shows are owned by Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy.
Description: During Spike's return from Africa, the next ship heading to the west coast is hours from leaving. Spike walks into the wrong bar to grab a drink, and watch the game.·|·|·
Spike stalked down the dark street in a foul mood. The trip from Africa to the east coast had been long, and now this. It was bad enough he was stuck with a soul, and all the guilt that came along with it. Now though, he had to wait hours before the freighter he needed to stow away on, The Northlander
, was going to leave.
Desperate to watch the Manchester United game, he looked for a bar he could catch the match, and grab a beer in. He finally found one, several blocks from the port the ship was moored in. It looked like a dive, just how he liked it.
As he walked in, he noticed a lot of people that were wearing jerseys of some kind, but they weren't colors he recognized. Most of them were staring right back, but he didn't care, he was used to it.
He made his way to the bar, eying several of the bar maids as he passed. All were cute, but he'd promised himself he'd wait for Buffy, no matter what happened when he finally got back to Sunnydale.
After sitting at the bar, and ordering a beer, he tried to see which of the screens had the match. Looking around at all the telly's, he could see all
of them were playing the same American
The bartender brought his beer up, some American brand with a strange name. Spike was about to get the man's attention, when a loud cheer erupted from the crowd around him. Looking up at one of the screens, he could see a group of men in green uniforms and helmets, celebrating something or other.
He'd had enough. Grabbing the bartender by the wrist, he made his plea. "Look mate, I'm trying to catch the Man-U game, you got plenty of telly's up for this," He waved his hand around at the different games. "Can you change one?"
"Man who?" The man asked, confused.
Spike felt like tearing the man's throat out, bloody American's. "Manchester United you cocker! The best football team on the face of this God-forsaken earth! That's who
The bar went silent for several seconds, before the sound of chairs screeching across the floor got his attention. Looking around, he saw nearly everyone in the place had gotten to their feet.
Seeing this, it reminded him of the seventies in England, just before he and Dru had gone to New York. You walked into another team's pub, and the hooligans would beat you bloody.
A hulking brute walked up to him, a green number twenty displayed prominently across his black jersey. "I never heard of a football team called Manchester United
, you're in the wrong fucking bar. Shit, make that city."·|·|·
"I don't know," The bleached-blond replied smugly, taking a sip of beer, before placing the bottle back on the bar. "This place has grown on me, maybe it's the atmosphere..." He was cut off, when the man punched him in the stomach, doubling him over.
"Okay-okay," Still leaned over, he looked up at the growing crowd, several were now armed with pool cues.
"Maybe it's the nice people." He told them with a grin.
"You know what happened to the last wise ass that came in here?" One of the waitresses asked.
He guessed she was going to tell him anyway, but he decided to play along. No need to make extra enemies and all that. "What's that sweets?" He asked, as he straightened back up.
"Take a look." The brunette replied, throwing a thumb over her shoulder at a nearby wall.
The vampire could see a silver and blue jersey with a large star on it. It was heavily stained with blood, and appeared to be hanging from a nail. He grabbed up his bottle and took another long swig.
don't want to have to clean up the mess when they're through beating you up, so do me a favor, and run for your life now." She told him, entirely serious.
"Well luv, I'd really like to help you with that, but I haven't even finished my beer." Spike held it up, sloshing it around to show a half-inch of beer at the bottom.
"Mister, that little bit of beer ain't worth a trip to the hospital." She warned.
He seemed to think it over for a second. "Ah, what the hell." He tossed the bottle over his shoulder. As it shattered, he grabbed the waitress with both hands, giving her a deep kiss.
Before she could even think of breaking free, he let her go, and punched the lead man in the jaw, knocking him back into the crowd.
"Come on you bloody yanks!" Spike screamed, staring down the whole bar. "I'll take on every one of ya right now!"
The crowd started in, eager to get a piece of him. The vampire knew this was going to hurt, just because he was undead, didn't mean he couldn't be overwhelmed. But before a single blow was landed, a voice cried out in his defense.
"Ya know what boys?!" The big man screamed to the bar, as the crowd helped him back to his feet, rubbing his sore jaw. "For a limey prick, this guy ain't so bad!"·|·|·
The blond soon found himself arm in arm with the bunch of unruly louts. Singing their fight song, and continuing in the drunken debauchery.Fly, Eagles Fly, on The Road to Victory!
Fight, Eagles, Fight, Score a Touchdown 1-2-3!
Hit 'em low, hit 'em high,
And watch our Eagles fly!
Fly, Eagles fly, On The Road to Victory!
After the song, one of the men pulled him aside. "Steve's right, you're not so bad man. The last guy that came through here, we dragged him out back, and threw him in the dumpster." He stopped to belch loudly. "Then we took turns pissing on 'em!"
Several of the guys had heard what was said, and laughed loudly at the recounted story.
Spike couldn't help but laugh along with them, it looked like he'd found an American football team that was actually worth cheering for when he got back to Sunnydale.·|·|·Disclaimer 2: The Philadelphia Eagles are owned by Jeffrey Lurie.
Win or lose, I love my Eagles.·|·|·END