All About Spike - Plain Version
This plain version is for users with very old browers, WebTV, tiny screen resolutions, or very slow internet connections.
All other viewers should use the regular version of the site.
R for a bit
of swearing and mention of Spike's cold seed.
FEEDBACK: Very welcome, to
SPOILERS: This is set pre-Season 6
DISTRIBUTION: Ask me first - but I'm going to say yes.
mine, but I'm just poking fun.
PROPS: Valerie X for beta’ing this story, and for setting out her list of fanfic
hates (which includes songfics) over at Bandofbuggered.com.
STORY NOTES: My aim is to incorporate as many of my pet fanfic hates as possible in one
place, and still make a funny story. I hope you like it.
This is a
songfic inspired by “Brave Gelert”. It’s lengthy, but the gist is that
Prince Llewelyn returns from hunting to find his faithful hound Gelert
covered in blood and his baby son missing. He leaps to conclusions and slays
brave Gelert; then he finds his son unscathed and a dead wolf laid out
beside him. It’s very sad...
And here he hung his horn and spear:
And oft, as evening fell,
In fancy's piercing sounds would hear
Poor Gelert's dying yell.
sat on Dawn’s bed, among crumbs of jammy toast and buttered popcorn, crying
like a little girl.
geez, Spike,” said Dawn disgustedly. She leant over, careful not to smudge
the drying black polish on her fingernails, and pressed the stop button on
Spike’s clunky 1970s tape cassette recorder, which hung from his shoulder on
a little strap. “Could you be more lame? It’s only a dumb song...”
can’t help it,” sobbed Spike, “now I’ve got a soul, every time I hear
something sad, the tears just well up. I can’t even switch on Survivor
without bawling my head off every time the next obnoxious loser gets kicked
off the island, and as for Passions...”
why the hell are you carrying around a tape with a sappy nineteenth century
ballad on it, if playing it makes you so miserable?” Dawn folded her arms
and looked at him suspiciously, “I’m starting to wonder if you aren’t some
kind of closet masochist or something.”
bridled, “It’s beautiful, Nibblet, that’s why I play it. Poor brave Gelert!
And no way am I in the closet. I mean, obviously I may have shagged a few
blokes over the last hundred and something years, and I keep falling in love
with women with flat chests and no hips, but that means absolutely nothing
at all. I’m a cold-blooded heterosexual from Transylvania, (well, Crouch End
actually). The closet poof is my Sire, Peaches. It’s embarrassing being the
Childe of someone as wet as him.”
shrugged, “Whatever. Just please for the love of God, don’t play that
stupid bloody song again. The first time was sad, the second time was
creepy, the third time was just pathetic...”
looked over at Dawn fondly, if a little blurrily: after spending so much
time with him she was starting to sound like his daughter, as well as acting
that way. He’d heard his little Nibblet call Captain Cardboard a wanker
under her breath yesterday, after he’d rung up Red for a situation update -
it had been a proud moment.
looked around at the scatter of remnants on the bed. They’d made toast, and
then popcorn, after they’d eaten all the chips and chocolate in the house,
but somehow he still felt empty...
couldn’t make me a hot chocolate, could you love,” he wheedled, “maybe with
those dinky little marshmallows? I need comfort food, see.”
stamped her foot. “I am not making you hot chocolate, you big girl’s blouse.
You’re a bloody vampire and you can drink blood and like it.”
sighed, and hugged his tape player. He pressed rewind...
fine, fine,” said Dawn. “I’ll put marshmallows in the blood, ok?” She
brightened. “Actually, they should turn a pretty cool color.” She flounced
off the bed and down the stairs to get Spike’s blood from the fridge. She
poured it into his amusing Vampires Never Die, They Just Lose Their Soul
mug, added marshmallows, and popped it in the microwave. As she set off up
the stairs again she heard a plaintive song:
"Oh, where does faithful Gelert roam ?
The flower of all his race!
She was too late. Spike had started the song from the beginning again. She
crashed through the door and stabbed at the stop button. Spike wrenched the
tape recorder away from her grasp, unfortunately banging it into the mug in
Dawn’s other hand in the process. Half an armful of warm blood and four
scarlet tinged marshmallows spilled over the tape recorder.
“No-o-o!” screamed Spike. He leapt to his feet and shook the tape recorder
violently. Blood and marshmallows flew in every direction, making a gory
splatter fest of Dawn, Spike, the bed and the wall. Luckily Dawn had missed
the stop button, and the tape played on.
So true, so brave! - a lamb at home,
A lion in the chase!"
look at the place!” yelled Dawn. “You were supposed to be painting my
toenails black while I settled in to talk about boys and school and stuff -
instead we’re going to spend the evening down in the basement praying we can
get blood out of the bedspread before Buffy gets home... you are such a
burst into tears again.
“Christ!” said Dawn, “you were way more fun when you were edgy and evil. Oh,
for God’s sake - we need to get this stuff in the washing machine...”
cried even harder, then blew his nose with a loud honking noise on the
sleeve of his shirt - it was going to have to go to the dry cleaners anyway.
there,” said Dawn helplessly, “I’m sorry I shouted at you. Now look, there’s
still some blood left in the mug. You drink that and I’ll start on your
toes, ok? We can do the bedspread later.” She turned away and rolled her
eyes at the ceiling, then reached across the bed for the Midnight Mayhem
hiccupped, then took a halfhearted swig of the remaining blood. He looked
down at his bare feet. He currently had his toenails painted delicate dusty
pink, because Buffy liked it; but Dawn was right - it didn’t really go with
What words the parent's joy can tell
To hear his infant's cry!...
rested her hand on her stomach. She’d suspected for a while, but now after a
visit to the clinic she was certain - Spike had made her pregnant - and it
was the happiest day of her life! Visions of a mobile made up of little
plastic bats and mummy hands, swinging round and round above a coffin shaped
crib floated delightfully through her mind.
a little confused about how he’d managed it, of course. He’d certainly
spilled a lot of his cold seed everywhere, and some of it in the right
place, but she’d assumed...
what the hell. However it had happened she was now officially expecting; and
little bitty Buffy would have a loving mom and a doting dad to raise her. I
can’t wait to tell him the good news, she thought, as she ran lightly
towards the house, playfully rattling Mr Pointy along the white picket
O'erturned his infant's bed he found!
The bloodstained cover rent,
And all around the walls and ground
With recent blood besprent!
straightened up with a sigh. She’d applied the Midnight Mayhem to all
Spike‘s toes, after inserting little bits of cotton wool between them. They
looked pretty cool, but surely this was meant to be her quality time,
when she got pampered? Spike was still sniffing from time to time,
the big baby, and she’d had to listen to Brave Gelert again, all the
way through. This wasn’t turning into the fun evening she’d expected.
tossed the nail polish lightly to Spike.. “Ok it’s my turn.” Spike, deep in
contemplation of the tape recorder, looked up too late and the bottle of
nail polish hit him squarely between the eyes. If Dawn had screwed the lid
on properly, of course, that wouldn’t have mattered... Black polish sprayed
across Spike, Dawn, the tape recorder and the bed.
My. God.” screeched Dawn. “Look what you’ve done now!”
I’ve done?” said Spike indignantly, “Who’s the half pint halfwit who threw a
half closed bottle of nail polish at me?”
a vampire, dickhead!” screeched Dawn, “you should have caught it! You’d have
caught it when you didn’t have a soul.”
“Possibly so,” said Spike with wounded dignity, “but I have more to think
about now. It’s not surprising I was a little distracted.” He looked down,
and gave an exasperated sigh, “and now I’ve got black nail polish on my best
red silk shirt. That’s never coming out is it?”
and Spike looked at each other. Their shirts, faces and hair were streaked
with red and black. The bedspread was starting to resemble a Pollock
pulled his shirt off petulantly, baring his toned white flesh. There was
loud rip! His shirt had caught in his belt.
sighed dramatically and flung herself backward onto the bed.
swore, violently, and threw down the sticky tape recorder, together with his
shirt; unfortunately directly on to the fanned out sweep of Dawn’s hair.
screamed and tried to sit up, then screamed and lay down again, as the hair
stuck to the nail polish on the tape recorder was pulled by the roots.
panic, Nibblet,” said Spike desperately. “I have my pocketknife! I can cut
you free.” He pulled a six-inch switchblade from his pocket and pressed the
“No-o-o!” screamed Dawn, “Not my hair!”
Aghast the chieftain stood;
The hound was smeared with drops of gore,
His lips and fangs ran blood!
heard Dawn’s piercing screams from the hall, and thundered desperately up
the stairs, then threw the bedroom door open with a bang. This is what she
lying on her back in a pool of red, spattered with blood, her hair sprayed
around her and her bare feet dangling pathetically off the side of the bed.
Spike, shirtless, his face blackened and blood spattered, one hand on Dawn’s
shoulder and the other clutching a knife; a dramatic arc of blood on the
wall behind him.
clutched her chest, overwhelmed by the horror of it all.
turned towards her. “Ah, Buffy love,” he said nervously, “I wasn’t expecting
you back so soon. We’ve had a little accident...”
blood sucking fiendish pervert!” yelled Buffy, as she brandished Mr Pointy.
about the bedspread...” said Spike, just as she raised the stake and plunged
it into his chest.
“Ga-ah!” said Spike, and fell backward, a surprised expression on his face.
He crumbled to dust.
room was full of the acrid smell of nail polish and blood. Buffy twirled Mr
Pointy coolly in her hand. “Well, Bitty Buffy,” she said, patting her
stomach, “I guess you’re gonna have to be raised by a one parent family. Too
rose from the bed still screaming. She looked down at the dusty bedspread.
“Oh my God, Buffy,” she cried, “what have you done?”
said Buffy, “you’re still alive!” She rushed forward to embrace her sister,
then frowned. “Hey, when did I say you could paint your nails black?” she
said disapprovingly. “You look like some Goth skank or something.”
His suppliant, as to earth he fell,
No pity could impart;
But still his Gelert's dying yell
Passed heavy o'er his heart.
soul rose up through the ether toward heaven - then was sucked abruptly
sideways, and disgorged into a mysterious cave.
in the cave was another soul, appearing as a glowing white ball of energy.
S-Spike, or should that be W-W-W-illiam?” said the glowing white ball shyly.
O’Reilly!” Spike’s soul exclaimed, “if it ain’t our Glinda. So what brings
you to these parts, darlin’?”
said Tara’s soul, “w-well it’s kinda a long story, but in s-summary I’m your
s-spirit guide, here to s-show you the way to the next d-dimension. Only we
have one s-stop first - you get to meet the P-Powers That Be - it’s very
powers that be what?” said Spike’s soul suspiciously, “The powers that be a
bunch of bloody pains in the arse?”
soul bobbed around a little agitatedly. “S-sh! she said, “you’ll only anger
them - although,” Tara’s soul bobbed up against Spike’s soul confidingly,
“a-actually, they are k-kinda annoying...”
are here, little mortal souls,”
Voice, “and yet not-here. We are here and not-here
in many, many places and not-places, most of them well beyond your feeble
why bring it up then?” said Spike’s soul tetchily, “Bleedin’ show-offs.
Look, make it snappy, eh?”
Voice disapprovingly, “but that attitude’s not going to get you far in
the spirit world, I can tell you, sonny.” The Voice cleared its throat,
not-throat, “Hrm, anyway, we bear you good tidings.
In accordance with the Forebodings of Sarssepace, your lover the Slayer will
bear you a daughter - and she will be the Chosen One.”
though Buffy was the Chosen One, or Faith - or possibly Angel - or
con-conceivably Connor?” said Tara’s soul, confused.
Voice firmly. “Trust us on this one.”
having a baby!” cried Spike’s soul. “I’m having a little girl. Oh - I’m the
happiest soul in the universe right now. I need to buy cigars, and kiss
everyone I know, and get disgustingly drunk...”
soul bounced over to Tara’s soul and attempted to embrace her. Failing, he
set off on a tour of the cavern, bouncing off the walls enthusiastically,
and throwing out a shower of little blue sparks.
you, thank you, thank you,” he said to the Voice. “I can go to the spirit
world happy now - lead me to it!”
Voice materialised a hand, and waved it dismissively. Spike’s soul
disappeared into another dimension.
c-can’t help feeling,” said Tara’s soul cautiously, “that there were an
awful lot of questions S-Spike’s soul should probably have asked you...”
wouldn’t have answered them anyhow,”
Voice dismissively, “it’s no fun that way.” He pointed his
materialised hand at Tara’s soul. “Well now, how do you fancy being this
kid’s fairy godmother?”
that a g-gay joke?” said Tara’s soul suspiciously.
Voice sighed, “We are the Powers That Be. We are
above stupid gay jokes, believe me. Look you get to stay in this dimension,
read lots of prophetic books, and show up at critical moments in the kid’s
life to spout obscure advice - do you want the job or not?”
s-sounds cool,” said Tara’s soul. “I’ll do it on one condition - that you
f-fix the s-stuttering.”
Voice. Effulgence filled the cave.
said Tara, “did you have to make it that bright? My eyes hurt... Oh, hey,
I’ve got eyes... and everything else.” She conjured a mirror into her hand
and gazed admiringly at her reflection. She frowned, “but I think the tiara,
and the ballet outfit, and the wings are a bit much!”
Voice, “it’s traditional.”
book of prophecy materialised in the cave and thudded to the ground,
narrowly missing Tara’s foot, and raising a cloud of dust.
picked up the volume, absently straightened her tiara, and read the title
aloud, “The Forebodings of Sarssepace, described by Barone Giovanni Di
Londra.” Tara looked up, “Sarssepace,” she said again. “Hee - no
stutter!” She ran her finger across the gold lettering, “I wonder if that’s
Sars, as in scares, or Sars as in scars? Oh well, I expect I’ll find out
eventually.” She opened the book and was soon engrossed.
And now a galant tomb they raise,
With costly sculpture decked;
And marbles storied with his praise,
Poor Gelert's bones protect.
backyard of the Summers house there is a weeping willow tree, whose branches
rustle mournfully in the breeze. At the tree’s foot is a stake driven into
the ground, its handle worn shiny with use, and nailed to it is a little
plaque that reads ‘Here Lies Spike ?-2002 - A Good Companion and a
Read Reviews / Post a Review
Send feedback to Keswindhover | Visit Keswindhover's site | All stories by Keswindhover
Print Version | Formatted Version
Main Site | Plain Text Title Listing | Site Map | Contact