All About Spike - Plain Version

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By Estepheia

Set between S6 and S7
Rating: G

Love’s a funny thing. Spike is right about that. It makes people - and I mean people in the widest sense, namely humans, demons and Slayers, because demons can love as well, you know, and why shouldn’t we – um… where was I? Oh yes, love. It makes people do the strangest things. Silly things, dangerous things, even desperate things.

Sometimes, when you’re a few centuries old, you think you’ve seen it all. And then you come across a pair who make the story of Romeo and Juliet look plain and simple. Talk about star-crossed and stuff.

Come, take the comfy chair. I’ll just sit over here. Would you like some Cheetos? Have some, I’ve got plenty. Or would you prefer a kitten? No? Okay okay, I get it, you’re all business, aren’t you?

How I met him? Oh, Spike and I played cards a few times. Kitten poker. I changed his winnings into cash for him a few times. I always wondered why he didn’t want the kittens. How could I know that he couldn’t eat them because of that chip? But one night he got more drunk than usual and it turned out he’d been messed with by the Initiative, just like me.

What, you thought they only incarcerated vampires and nasties? They caught every demon they could put their hands on. They called us subterraneans or something. I mean what kind of euphemism is that supposed to be? Oh, you don’t want to hear about the Soldier boys. Well, to be honest, I don’t really like talking about them. Weren’t they just the creepiest?

Anyway, Spike and I were talking about how I got out when then the whole Initiative went kablooey. That’s when he mentioned the Slayer for the first time. The way he said her name, you know, all sad and mopey. Uh-oh, I thought. There’s something you don’t meet every day, a vampire who pines for a mortal, and a Slayer at that. “Spike,” I told him. “Nothing good can come of that. Only heartache and a possible dusty ending for you. It’s not meant to be.”

That’s when, for a moment, I thought he was gonna start to cry. Oh no! I shouldn’t have said that. Of course, he wouldn’t. Rubbish. Spike would never cry. Would you like a soda? Look, I’ve even got straws. Pink or blue? No? Okay. But is it alright with you if I…? Thanks.

Sorry, I tend to get sidetracked easily. When? Oh last summer. I didn’t know it then. That she was dead, I mean. No wonder he was so sad. He got really drunk too, which meant I had to get him back to his place. I mean, I couldn’t leave him to, I don’t know, maybe fall down and go up in flames in the morning, right?

So, from then on we started hanging out. What? Oh the usual. Watching MacGyver or Dawson’s Creek, playing Rummy, that kind of thing. Every now and then I had to make sure he got home alright.

And then, one night, when I walked into his crypt he made me drop all my snacks cause he hugged me so fiercely I thought my ribs would crack. Yes, I have ribs. “She’s back,” he said again and again. And then he… um… well, no. A little while later, he told me her friends had resurrected her. Uh-oh, I thought. Resurrections are usually bad news. Things tend to go wrong, what with those spells being so complicated. And it being the nature of necromancy to taint anything it touches. And what do you know! I was right. As it turned out, the Slayer was unhappy to be back - who could blame the poor thing - plus the young witch who’d brought her back was slowly but surely corrupted by the power she had invoked.

But, as you know, all that came to light much later. She was alive again, and Spike was a lot happier and a lot less drunk. He even brought her to one of our poker nights. But I could tell it wasn’t a proper date. She seemed like a nice enough girl for a human whose calling it is to rid mankind of demonkind, but she and us demons didn’t exactly get on like a house on fire. I guess they don’t teach Slayers about shades of Grey, do they?

When you’re young, everything’s just black and white and there’s always a worthy crusade waiting just round the corner. But you and me? We both know that things are never quite that simple.

Oh, sure I know who you are. He talks. I listen. That’s what friends are for, right?

Sorry, I can’t really tell you what he said. That wouldn’t be right. Oh, excuse me! I’m afraid I can’t let you go down there, either. No, it’s not what you think. It’s just, downstairs is kind of his private place, you know. Even I don’t go there. Besides, the whole basement got trashed when Buffy and her ex-boyfriend blew it up. Not a pleasant sight, I’m afraid.

Oh, they had good reason. If any of those demon babies had made it out of the crypt, Sunnydale would have been in a lot of trouble. It really wasn’t one of Spike’s smarter plans to get into that line of business, but then it’s not like there’s a pension fund for retired evildoers. And do you know how much a bucket of chicken wings costs these days?

No, I didn’t know. I mean, one day he was still okay with the money we made scavenging at the city dump or cheat--- um, playing cards, and the next day he’s all entrepreneur-y. If I’d known what Spike was up to, I’d have tried to talk some sense into him. Not that he would have listened. Vampires are not good at taking advice. Oh you noticed that too, did you? What about Slayers? Ah, I thought as much. Are you sure you don’t want a drink? There might be a bottle of JDs left. I’m sure Spike wouldn’t mind…

Me? Oh you know, nothing much. Scavenging or doing day-time errands for some of the nocturnals. Sometimes I take on the odd job, like baby-sitting, nothing fancy or fang-y. Like this gig. Although I don’t know what I’ll do if a bunch of vampires seriously try to take over. I’m not much of a fighter, you know.

Unlike the girl. Man she’s good. I saw her fighting against that sword-infesting demon who kinda gate crashed the birthday party-that-wouldn’t-end. Strong, fast and resourceful. Every inch a warrior. She’s also pretty, I guess, for a tight-skinned human anyway, and she’s funny, for someone so righteous. But boy, she really has to work on her decision-making skills! Because, like one minute she looks at him like he’s the holy grail or something and a minute later she glares at him like he’s something slimy that crawled out from underneath a stone.

I can see why he fell in love with her, though, incurable romantic that he is. I mean she’s like the Yin to his Yang. Or was it the Yang to his Ying? Sorry, I always get those mixed up. Anyway, on the Richter scale for mutual attraction they were way up there with Vivian Leigh and Clarke Gable - all “Gone with the Wind”. It was during that party that I saw for myself that at least part of her was drawn to him, no matter how often she broke up with him.

Here, let me refill your glass.

Isn’t it odd that all the great lovers in literature are unhappy? Or is it that nobody writes about the happy ones? Would we still know Romeo and Juliet’s names if everything had worked as planned and they’d gotten married and made little Montagues and Capulets?

Do I think it’s over? Like “too rash, too unadvised, too sudden?” Well, it looks that way, I guess. The whole thing was too much like the lightning, wasn’t it: one moment a primeval discharge of energy and poof, the next moment all that’s left are smoking ashes. Maybe it’s over. But wouldn’t that be kind of sad?

Like I told Buffy: I’m looking after the crypt until Spike returns. I don’t know when, but I’m sure he’ll be back. I guess he wouldn’t have asked me to move in, otherwise. Besides, why would he leave for good? When the girl he loves is still here…

What do you think, Mr. Watcher? Do you believe everything is written in the stars? Wouldn’t that make everything we do around here pretty pointless? So who is to say a vampire and a Slayer can’t live happily ever after, for however long that may be? I don’t know about you, Mr. Giles, but I love a good happy ending…

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