Delicious Infatuation

Delicious Infatuation
« Part 13 »

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Dec 30, 2009, 7:03am

Delicious Infatuation :: Other Fan Fiction :: Buffy and Angel Fan Fiction :: Adverse Reaction :: Part 13

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Topic: Part 13 (Read 79 times)

Charlynn
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Part 13
« Thread Started on Nov 5, 2009, 11:11pm »

A/N: So, long time, no posting. I have no excuse. It doesn’t matter what has been happening in my personal life. As a responsible writer, I should post chapters no matter what, especially when I’ve still been writing. I’ll tell you this, though: for me, I’d much rather simply put fingers to keys and pen a new chapter than post said new chapter. I’m weird like that, I guess. Anyway, to update everyone, life has been busy lately. Because school is back in session, I’ve been pulling double duty quite a bit. Today was, in fact, my first day off in several weeks. I’ve been feeling slightly burnt out, but, after three days of subbing for the elementary music teacher, I have so many new story plans that I couldn’t put off posting another day. I’m really excited about what’s coming up. Also, there’s been home buying, home remodeling, swine flu, and a fire in the family. I’ve had computer issues, car inspection, and lazy-itus. ;-) However, some of you will be quite pleased to know that I purchased all seven seasons of Buffy today and all five seasons of Angel, so my ‘education’ will soon be complete. Anyway, thanks for being patient with me, for waiting around. Let’s hope that I don’t go on an unannounced, extended vacation again for a while.

Thanks,
~Charlynn~

Part Thirteen

“Willy, how about another round for me and all my mates?”

As the short, corrupt bartender came into his line of sight, Spike smiled genuinely. While the bastard might have been a cheat, and a liar, and he watered down his drinks, Spike identified with him. They were one in the same… except he was better looking and a lot more vicious, but a demon couldn’t be too fussy when it came to picking his favorite pub in good ol’ Sunnyhell. After all, the damn slayer and her groupies barred him and any of his other fellow monsters from entering the other, more appetizing establishments, so Willy’s it was.

“Uh, Spike,” the brunette across from him laughed. He sounded utterly uncomfortable and nervous. Man, it was good to be him! “There’s no one else here.”

“What,” the peroxide blonde yelled, angrily swiveling around to face the empty bar. The sudden movement made his head spin, and he almost fell off of his stool. “Willy,” he complained, slowly turning back around to rest against the bar top. “You really need to fix this place up. A vampire could get hurt with how crooked these floors are.”

“Of course,” the dive’s owner quickly agreed. “Anything for you, Spike. You know that. However, with the way that business has been going the last few days…”

“Bloody slayer and her bloody poof of a boyfriend,” he grumbled, his brow furrowing in irritation and resentment. “They killed my Dru.”

“You told me, buddy,” Willy sympathized, shaking his head in disappointment. “She was quite the looker, too.”

“Hey, that’s my girl you’re panting after,” William the Bloody shouted, reaching out and grabbing hold of the bartender’s shirtfront. “Show a little respect, mate.”

“Of course, of course, I meant no harm. Honest, I swear.”

The greasy human was sweating bullets. He obviously made him edgy. And, by god, the man ought to be when in his company. Not only was he feared by humans, but he was also feared by demons, too. No one messed with him and got away with it, and no one was more deserving of such a reputation. At least, that’s how things had once been. Now, everything was a mess. Drusilla was gone – dust, struck down by her interfering, no-bad sire. Damn that Angel! And to think that he, Spike, had once looked up to the bloody poof when he was still Angelus? Well, that had certainly been a mistake.

Shaking away his less than pleasant thoughts, the vampire glared at the quivering slime ball before him. “I thought I told you to get me another drink?”

“Yes, yes you did, and I’ll get on that right away,” Willy promised.

“A little less talking and a lot more pouring, and you and me, we’ll get along much, much better,” he promised, punctuating the remark by slapping the bartender’s left cheek twice to emphasize his words. The action caused the bastard to spill some liquor on top of the bar. Well, he sure as hell wasn’t paying for that. In fact, he had half a mind not to pay his tab at all, because what was one, mere human going to do about it? He was William the Fucking Bloody, and not even Buffy and her Loyal Bunnies would lift a finger to prevent the barkeep’s death.

Yes, that’s exactly what he’d do! He’d drink his fill of Willy’s booze, and then he’d drink his fill of Willy. Once the prick was dead, he’d take over the bar. He’d run the joint, and he’d run it far better than its previous owner ever had. He’d set up a back room for gambling… and various other activities, and Saturday night would be Russian roulette night. He damn well enjoyed that game quite a bit.

But, if he was in charge, then he would have to worry about the bar’s upkeep. He’d have to stock the booze, not just drink it. He’d have to cater to his clientele, not kill them. And he’d technically be employed. What an ugly, disgraceful thought! He didn’t work; he had minions who did his work for him. With all of that in mind, maybe owning Willy’s wasn’t such a good idea after all. Maybe what he should do instead was just force the imbecile to serve him without charge and to hand over half his profits as a protection fee, but the only person Spike would protect when at the establishment would be himself.

Bringing him back from his thoughts, he heard the short brunette timidly ask, “so, what do you think of all this news about Buffy becoming part vamp… but like Angel, you know, with a soul?”

“I think it’s pretty bloody inconvenient, that’s what I think,” Spike answered. Despite the fact that he didn’t particularly like the bartender, there was no one else around to talk to, and the gossip about the slayer had been weighing pretty heavily upon his mind since that night at the mall. “One vampire with a conscious was bad enough. That poof was giving my kind quite the appalling reputation, but, now, supposedly, there’s two of them. First Dru dies, and now this? I’m fucking beside myself, Willy, and, to make matters worse, she’s the damn slayer, too.”

“Do you… do you have any idea how this happened?”

“If I knew, don’t you think I would have done something to prevent it?”

Screwing up his face, the slippery human made it quite obvious that he didn’t believe Spike would have been capable of such a thing. Two days ago, he would have killed the son of a bitch for showing him such disrespect, but now… Now, he just didn’t care that much. Plus, he was quite drunk, and, if it was one thing he hated doing, it was ruining a good buzz.

“Well, all I know is that it’s done terrible things for my business. All the demons have fled town to protect their hide.”

“Cowards,” the blonde vampire complained. “They’re all fucking cowards, the whole lot of them.”

“So, does that mean that you’re going to stay here in Sunnydale,” Willy wanted to know.

“You know, mate, I haven’t really thought about my next move yet, but what I do know is that William the Bloody does not run off scared with his tail tucked between his legs. He stands, and he fights, by devil.” Lowering his voice, he added quietly to himself, “I’m just not sure which side I’ll be fighting on now.”

“What’s that,” the pesky bartender apparently heard his whispered comment. “You’re thinking of joining up with the slayer and her friends?”

“Well, we’ll sure as hell never be the best of buds, but a demon has to consider his skin, Willy,” Spike explained, “and, right now, if I want to stay alive, I’m going to have to reevaluate my stance on some things.” Draining the tumbler of whisky before him, he nodded for the glass to be refilled once again. “Like you pointed out, I could skip town.”

“But you’re not afraid of no little girl, right,” the human cheered him on, obviously kissing his ass. And he hated suck ups.

“Of course I’m not scared of the bloody slayer,” he exploded, shoving the slimeball before him away. “What did I tell you about getting me my drinks?”

“Less talk, more pouring.”

“Right, now will you fucking follow my bleeding orders,” Spike growled. Of all the insubordination! Why, back in the good ol’ days, nobody would have thought twice about crossing him. “Anyway, if I can’t run, I have to stay, and I don’t bloody fancy fighting against the pep squad everyday for the rest of my undead life. It’s not that I couldn’t beat them all with one hand tied behind my back…”

“Of course not,” Willy was quick to agree with him.

“It’s just that, well, it’d get lonely.”

Appearing confused, the barkeep said, “I don’t understand, Spike. You lonely? Pswh! You’re the life of the party. Everybody likes you.”

“Yeah, but not everyone can fight like I can, and, eventually, all my mates would fall, and I’d be the only one left standing. There’s be no one left to appreciate me.”

“Oh, I’ll always appreciate you, buddy.”

“Of course you will.” Sighing, the vampire continued to explain his current frame of mind. “It’s the fun of fight that’s always been important to me, the fact that someone is spilling blood. At this point, I really don’t care what color the blood is. Hell, I’d even settle for dust, just as long as someone is dead and I’m left standing at the end of the battle.”

“Well, you’re a survivor,” the bartender stated. “You’ll always win.”

Spike just rolled his eyes. Downing his shot in one gulp, he hit the mahogany of the bar top to signal that he wanted another drink. Things were pretty damn wretched at the moment, but, at least, he still had his good friends, whisky, gin, and vodka, to keep him company, to keep him warm. Without them, he didn’t know what he would do. He lost Dru, the love of his undead life, and now, all hell was breaking loose around town. The bad guys were leaving, and the good were rallying. It was all rather disgusting. If his dinner – a petite blonde – hadn’t of been so tasty, he might have tossed his cookies.

The idea of joining ranks with the very people he despised most in the world really burned his biscuits, and he sure as hell wasn’t going to drink pig blood like that damn poof Angel, but what other option did he have? The real reason why he didn’t want to run, despite what he had told his good friend Willy, was that there was nowhere he could hide. The slayer and her hanger-ons would always manage to find him. There really was no rest for the weary. Where was the damn justice in that?

Eventually, Buffy would lose, and, when she did, the world would right itself again. Evil would be on top, sucking the life out of the good, and he’d be free once more to truly be William the Bloody, but, until that night, he’d bide his time and pretend that he had some bloody revelation, pretending to be on some quest to seek redemption. However, his enemies would eventually get theirs, and, when they did, Spike would dance on their graves, throw the biggest fucking party Willy had ever seen, and get so drunk he forgot all about his upcoming Oscar-worthy performance.

After all, he always did things his way… one way or another.

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