All About Spike

Chapter: 1  2  3  4  5  6  7  8  9  10  11  12  13  14  15  16  17  18  19  20  21  22  23  24  25  26

Serious Moonlight
By MustangSally and RivkaT

Sequel to The Heart's Filthy Lesson; part of The Bowiehabarata

Rating: Remember the last story? Like that.
Summary: Nah. But bad things happen to chairs.

Authors' note: It's possible we've invented a new genre: SpikeTorture. Didn't mean to do it; it just happened that way.

Part 1

"I don't have plans and schemes /And I don't have hopes and dreams /Baby, I just don't have anything, anything/Since I don't have you /I don't have you."

The jazz swirled through the bar like the haze of cigarette smoke.

It was Tuesday night at Lovecraft's and the usual congregation of male losers of the undead, dead, demon, and assorted supernatural worlds were lurking in the shadows, drinking, playing cards and generally being uninspiring. It looked like a cross between the Cantina scene in the original Star Wars and the movie poster for The Usual Suspects, even down to crap fashion sense. Spike was perched on his favorite barstool, drinking Stoli and A positive, indulging in a bout of self-pity. There had to be some way that he could get out of the funk that surrounded him like an eight-week wet afternoon.

"I don't have fond desires /And I don't have happy hours /Baby, I don't have anything, anything /Since I don't have you /I don't have you."

He wondered if Prozac worked on vampires.

"I don't have Happiness and I guess /I never will ever again /When you walked out on me /In walked old misery /And he's been here since then," the jukebox continued, despite the fact that the Chaos demon was growling at the aged Wurlitzer.

Small chance that the Chaos demon was going to be able to get the latest Britney Spears any time soon. Spike had shoveled ten dollars in quarters into it and told it to keep playing his song. Sometimes the only thing a vampire could do was drink a lot of booze, listen to depressing music and then stagger back to his hiding place at the crack of dawn. What no one appreciated was that vampires had hearts, too -- undead, unbeating hearts, right enough, but they could be macerated by a woman's meat-grinder treatment as easily as a human's.

"I don't have love to share /And I don't have one who cares /Baby I don't just have anything /Since I don't have you /I don't have you."

He was starting to think that women were just placed in the Universe to make men miserable. He lit another cigarette and chased the olives around in his drink. Blood and alcohol swirled like a barber's pole. Women existed only to shag and play games with men's hearts and minds, regardless of the life signs connected to those organs. Dru had played him for a fool and dropped him like a crucifix, and the Slayer had done the same. Maybe a spot of celibacy was in order.

A spot of being dragged through boiling lead while wearing an aluminum thong might be slightly more enjoyable. Was there something in the bar that he could shag, or kill, or shag than kill?

He smelled perfume and looked up.

She was stacked, she was familiar, and she was a pain in the ass.

"Hullo Anya," Spike said as the former vengeance demon sidled up to the bar next to him.

"Bourbon, straight, no ice," she told the barman.

"Havin' a bad hair day?" he asked.

"Why would you think that? Just because I'm going to a demon bar to kill as many brain cells as possible, why would you think that I was having a bad day?" She paused and caught a breath. "What's wrong with my hair?"


"I asked him if he liked the dress and he failed to look up from the television." Her voice had become even higher and more machinegun than usual. "Survivor was obviously more important to him than I was. So I left. I took his car and I left. And he still failed to look up from the television."

"You took his car?" Spike echoed, horror- struck.

The barman slapped a glass in front of her, and the twenty-(centuries)-something pretty girl threw a shot back like John Wayne, wiped the back of her hand across her mouth and nodded for another.

"I borrowed it. I told him and he continued to stare at the bikini bimbos on television. I didn't steal it."

"A fine point there," he agreed and took a deep gulp of his Bloody Charlie. "But you shouldn't be here, since you aren't actually a demon anymore."


Girl-logic. If he lived to be a thousand, he would never understand girl-logic. The problem was that it wasn't logic as such, it was moving from point X to point A by way of the shoe store and a couple dozen make-up counters. Anya wiggled on the barstool, fluffed her hair and gave Spike one of her more frighteningly intense looks, one that crawled around the back of his skull and looked for change under the cushions.

"I don't have love to share /And I don't have one who cares /Baby I don't just have anything /Since I don't have you," the singer ambled off into a sad coda. A moment later, the music started again and the Chaos demon kicked the jukebox.

"Giles is gone," she said after the third shot. "In England having sex with his girlfriend. He said it was 'for a variety of business reasons' but I heard him on the phone with her and this is definitely sex tourism. So I have to run the shop all alone, and all I do is smile at customers and take their money, and at night it's all scary and Xander won't come to pick me up because he says he's too tired from hauling bricks around all day -" she stopped to hiccup - "and all I want is someone to pay attention to *me*."

She was doing fine without him, but he nodded anyway.

"I mean it's all changed, its not the way that it used to be. He comes home and we eat dinner and then he gets in front of the television and turns into a couch radish."

"Potato. Couch potato."

"Well, some kind of starchy food. And we don't talk and we never have sex anymore."

Anya's voice was loud enough to make the Calansis demons look up from their eternal poker game near the jukebox. Spike gave them a good glower and turned his attention back to Anya. The former demon was red around the face and nose and Spike wondered if she was going to explode or just break down and cry. Either one was an ugly proposition.

"Because he's too tired from hauling bricks all day- And I want to have sex, sex is good and I really like having sex with him and I always -"

"I get the picture," Spike cut her off.

"This long-term relationship stuff really sucks."

"And you're just figurin' this out now?"

Which was just enough to push Anya over the edge. Her eyes filled up with tears and she began shredding the cocktail napkin between her shaking fingers. "But I just love him so much-"

"Right, that was your last call. C'mon, let's get you home." He took Anya's arm and began to propel her towards the door.

"But I don't want to go. I want to stay here with the demons. I belong here, not with Xander," she whined, and balked.

"No, no more demons," he ordered.


"Dude," a surprisingly un-supernatural voice demanded from right behind Spike, "she doesn't want to go."

"Yes she does, she just hasn't realized it yet," Spike said and dragged Anya a foot or two closer to the door.

Chaos demons, fucking Chaos demons, the horniest thing in the Malleus Malleficarum, why was he pursued by Chaos demons? And this one's horns were oozing with lust as he looked at the tidbit that was Anya. It was tempting to leave Anya to the devices of the Chaos demon, and she'd probably had more than one when she was a demon herself, but they tended to leave marks on humans and this would doubtless end with him being banned from the Magic Shop, which would be a Bad Thing.

"I don't have love to share /And I don't have one who cares /Baby I don't just have anything /Since I don't have you /I don't have you."

"Dude," the Hawaiian-shirt-sporting demon repeated, "she doesn't want to go."

Since he really wasn't in the mood for a fight, Spike caught up a barstool and brought it down on the Chaos demon's head with the full force of his vampire strength. The demon snarled and grabbed at him with hands the size of Christmas geese. Spike ducked behind another vampire, who ended up on the wrong side of the Chaos demon. The vampire fang-faced at the demon and snarled.

Anya let out a very humanly girlish scream and skittered away, knocking over the Calansis poker table. Four fucked-off Calansis demons advanced into the fight, where the Chaos demon and the extra vampire were alternately pounding on one another and trying to pound Spike. For his part, Spike made a beeline over the assorted tables, leaping from one to the other, breaking glasses and spilling drinks as he went. He dodged around the Calansis demons and headed for Anya near the jukebox. This, he thought as he kicked the nearest Calansis in the head, was more trouble than it was worth. Anya gaped at him with her eyes round as manhole covers. Spike grabbed her arm just as the Chaos demon went down in a puddle of slime underneath a dog pile of Calansis.

"Spike," the bartender shouted from where he was hiding beneath the bar, "Don't come back here!"

"Put the stool on my tab," Spike instructed and hauled Anya out the back door, just as chairs began to fly through the air and Lovecraft's degenerated into a supernatural bar brawl.

"When you walked out on me /In walked old misery /And he's been here since then," the jukebox continued over the mayhem.

"I hope you don't think that this is going to mean I'll have sex with you-" Anya stated as he pulled her into the night.

Continued in Part 2

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