Wrong Place, Wrong Time - Just Plain Wrong
by Spikesdeb
He asked
himself the same bloody question night after night.
How? How had he gotten
himself into this mess? And why
didn’t he just off her and have done with it?
Wouldn’t be a great loss – in fact, the average IQ of America would
probably go up if she were out of the equation.
But the thing was, it would be like shooting fish in a barrel; no fun at
all.
He
needed the challenge, Spike did. In
everything he did, he tried to be the best.
When he hunted he gave the prey a head start so that he could stalk them
and get his blood pumping with the chase. He
only killed quickly when the hunger got the better of him or if he was in
danger. And he rarely was; he was a
master vampire – strong, cunning, and crafty.
And right now he had the beginnings of a headache.
“Spikey!
Blondie Bear….where are you? No
hiding from Harmony now, you know what night it is.”
Spike
shuddered. Yes, he knew.
He
closed his eyes to guard against the sight of her as she clattered down the
ladders. There was only so much pink
spandex a man could stand.
“There
you are! Did you miss me?”
‘Yeah,
like you miss toothache.’ “You know I did, pet. What
you got?”
“Oh!
I just couldn’t resist! There
was this adorable top with a kitten on it? So
I asked the sales girl did she have it in my size and they didn’t but she was
wearing one and I saw that she was my size so I asked her for hers and she was
all ‘no way’ so I ate her.” Spike blinked at the long run-on sentence that
tumbled past her overly glossy lips.
Seeing
the glazed look in his eyes, she added, “Well she was rude!” as if that
explained everything. The top came out of her bag; it was pink.
“Nice.”
“I
knew you’d like it!” she gushed excitedly, having completely missed his
snort and the patent eye roll that proved how much he really didn’t.
“I thought I’d wear it tonight. You
all ready?”
‘Ready
to dust myself, yeah’ “I’ll
get there, just give me a minute, alright?”
Harmony
leant over and placed a sloppy kiss on his forehead.
Spike felt the gooey lip-gloss squash against his skin; it wasn’t
pleasant. As she drew back from him and bounced away, he noted that the
lip-gloss was pink. Who would have
guessed?
He
couldn’t do this. He’d dreaded
it all day, gagged at the thought. He
was a master vampire and he was – not scared, because anybody who
suggested he was would lose their limbs – perturbed then.
Anxious.
He did
the only thing he could; he slipped out the back of the crypt and into the sewer
system.
+++++++++
A half
hour later he was at Willy’s bar, cradling a JD and contemplating the joke
that was his unlife. He’d made one
tiny mistake and now look at him. All
but toothless, what with the government chip messing up his synapses, no family
who wanted to speak to him, lots of family who wanted to kill him and, the worst
thing of all, Harmony. He was so fed
up of her and her pink clothes and hankering for all things French.
Add that to the fact that he’d even started dreaming of the Slayer, and
he was buggered! And not the
Slayer’s dead and drained body either; no, exactly the opposite.
His sleepy meanderings were filled with visions of sun-kissed flesh
pressed against his skin, blonde hair wrapped around his fist and her eager and
willing mouth sucking at his. Woke
up every day with a raging hard-on and buried himself in the twit Harmony’s
cold snatch to try and get rid of the memories.
It wasn’t working. The
dreams were getting more intense; last night he’d almost told her……..no,
he couldn’t finish the thought. He
didn’t know what it meant but he didn’t suppose it boded well for him.
A vampire craving the touch of a Slayer?
Not right at all.
So,
where had it all gone wrong? When
had one of the scourges of
It was
all Drusilla’s fault. Right after
he’d left Angel and Buffy making doe-eyes at each other and sitting on their
hands to avoid naughty touching, he’d tracked Dru down in
There’d
been a fight. Dru loved a bit of
pointless violence as a makeup technique. She’d
screamed like a harpie, made him strip and virtually flayed him as she scrubbed
at his skin, twittering on the whole time about seeing him covered in the
Slayer. Sounded like her usual
twaddle, and as she was never going to win the award for most sane vampire,
he’d let her get on with it. For a
little while, all was well. He did
what he’d told Buffy and Angel he’d do last time he was in Sunnyhell – he
tied her up and tortured her, brought her lush young virgins to feast on, gifts
of jewels, and all manner of fine dresses. For
a time, things had been good. They
weren’t back to normal, but they’d been progressing.
She’d occasionally go all glassy-eyed and throw a few cryptic comments
his way, mostly regarding him being wrapped in summer and dazzled by light.
She usually followed that up with a crying fit and hissing; he usually
walked out for a while and left her to it. Never
made any sense to him, so he ignored her. But
eventually he’d returned from the hunt one night to find her in bed with two
demons whose origin he didn’t even bother to check before ripping out their
throats.
It had
been the final straw. He’d packed
up his stuff and left her keening after her deceased bedfellows.
Failed poet he may be, but even the repressed wanker he’d been when
human would have gotten the message by now and hightailed it out of there.
So he’d returned to the nearest thing he could think of as home.
Sunnydale.
TWO
YEARS AGO……………
Spike
had exhausted the entire back catalogue of the Ramones on his way back from
dumping Dru. His black eyeliner had
long since melted under his angry tears. Not
that he cried, not him. Was the air
from the heating vents, was all. Stupid
bitch. He was better off without
her. She’d cramped his style for
over a hundred years. Time for a new
start. Mind made up, he’d motored
hard and headed back to the Hellmouth.
He’d
done the usual and knocked down the “Welcome to Sunnydale” sign on his
arrival which had him chuckling….chuckling!
…him, a master vampire! He needed
to kill something, a vile and nasty slaughter to get the cotton candy taste of
happiness out of his mouth. Seemed like the minute he set foot in his adopted
town he felt all was well with the world. Hardly
the stuff vampire dreams were made of. He’d
crushed out the cigarette he took from his mouth and headed down to the demon
bars hoping for a good slaughter en route. On
the way, he’d passed the old high school, site of some real easy meals in the
past. But it wasn’t serving right
now; in fact, by the looks of it, everything was off the menu – except if you
wanted it well done. Burned out,
trashed. Some demons must have had
one hell of a party!
And that
was where he’d seen her. From the
back he’d thought she was the Slayer. Same
bouncy blonde hair, same kick ass stride. Same
‘look at me’ attitude that had always drawn his eye even when he’d wanted
to look away. Bloody buggering hell!
Why the hell was he thinking about the sodding Slayer AGAIN!
Thing
was, he couldn’t deny that his mind was full of her.
He kept getting flashbacks of her pouting and pretending to ‘just be
friends’ with Peaches the last time he’d been in town, when she so clearly
never would be. Could
smell her, that vanilla scent of her stupid hair.
He was cursed; it was the only answer.
And yet here he was, back in the Chosen One’s back yard and just ripe
for a staking.
He’d
pushed his way through the crowds at Willy’s bar and turfed a fledge out of
his seat, taking his place and his hastily abandoned drink.
Willy had blanched as he spotted the newcomer gracing his establishment.
The last time Spike had been there, almost every glass had ended up
broken and it had taken him an age to get the regulars back in.
Best
keep him happy then.
“Spike!
Long time no see; Dru with you?”
Wrong
thing to say. In a flash, Spike had
vamped out and dragged the hapless barkeep over the counter, his shirt gripped
in one hand and his face inches away from snarling fangs.
“DON’T mention her name, alright?”
Willy nodded frantically, and eventually Spike threw him backwards to
sprawl against the drinks counter. Right.
No Dru. This wasn’t good.
“What
can I get you then, Spike? Got a
nice shipment of spicy wings just in. Could
heat you up a plate, free of charge as a welcome home type of thing.
On the house. What do you
say?”
Spike
nodded. May as well take advantage
of the free grub. While he was
waiting for the food, he turned round to face the room, back resting against the
bar. His intense gaze scanned the
occupants; same old same old. Losers,
every one of them. Getting drunk on
yak’s milk and virgin’s blood and taking the tales of working late at the
cemetery home to the missus. Was
this how he was going to spend his unlife? Warming
a bar stool and letting his Mr Atlas abs sag with the effort of guzzling his
body weight in blood to dull the pain of his boredom?
No.
Not him. Nada.
Then he
saw her again, out of the corner of his eye.
Slayer? No, not the
slayer……. .
“So, Willy – who’s the blond bint in the corner?”
“Bint?”
“Bird.
The blond bird. Over there?”
Willy
had no clue what he meant but followed the azure blue eyes as they swept across
his assorted patrons.
“Oh!
You mean Harmony?”
Spike
looked back over his shoulder. He
didn’t speak, just raised his scarred eyebrow.
“That’s
her name, the blonde vamp in the corner.”
“She’s
a vamp?”
“Yeah;
she’s recently turned. High school
girl. But quite the hottie, don’t
you think?”
Spike
considered. She was young, firm body. Pretty
face if a little vacant. But the
hair…….it reminded him of Buffy Summers……
“Yeah,
she’s hot.”
“Shall
I introduce you, call her over?”
Spike
snarled. “Listen, mate.
I don’t need a chaperone. Can talk to the bird myself if I want to.”
“Of
course, of course. Just trying to
help.”
Spike
felt that his vamphood was being threatened.
He slammed his empty glass down on the counter and pushed back on the
stool so that he stood up free of the bar. Eyes
turned to the scraping of the stool but hastily turned away again as he
swaggered through the room. He was a
menacing figure and he knew it, his duster flaring in his wake, the heavy soles
of his Docs thudding on the stone floor. Despite
desperate efforts to not look, every demon in the bar watched his progress.
Every demon that is except for the chattering Harmony.
Spike
drew to a halt in front of the corner booth.
Harmony was giggling and continually laying her hands on her chest and
then the arms of her companions with whom she was having an animated
conversation. Spike stood for almost
a minute before she turned to him.
“Hi
there! Can we get an order of fries,
four….no make that five….glasses of bloody mary, but with real blood.
Two beers, and one lemonade for the lame brain at the end.”
Spike
was stunned. She thought he was a
waiter? Did he look like a waiter?
He
vocalised his thoughts. “Do I look
like a soddin’ waiter?”
Harmony
turned back to him and actually looked him over.
“Well……..not really, but you know Willy doesn’t go in much for
uniforms so I thought with you standing there you were waiting for an order.”
“Well,
I’m not.”
“No, I
guess not. So…….what do
you want?”
Good
question. Why had he come over?
It wasn’t like he usually stood in line waiting for a nod, not his
style at all. If he wanted something
he usually just took it. Did he even
want her? He looked straight at her.
She was good looking, he could see that, but as he’d noted, not much
going on behind the eyes. Nice smile
though, good teeth. Voice…….well,
a bit too happy for his tastes but at least she wasn’t likely to set off
howling and crying at the stars and some such.
Maybe she was just what he needed, a little bit of uncomplicated and
angst free shagging. He had sod all
else to do after all.
“Look,
I’m new in town and I thought we could……you
know……..”
“Oh.
You want to have sex? Why
didn’t you say! Ok little ones,
Mistress Harmony is going to do the nice vampire so amuse yourselves kiddies.
And don’t forget to bring me home someone to eat.”
Spike
was swept away in the bubbling and inane sounds coming from the blonde clutching
at his arm. Before he knew it they
were outside Willy’s and Harmony was looking expectantly at him.
“So where to?”
“Huh?”
“Where
do you want to do it? Cos I’m not
doing it here against the wall; fell for that one thirteen times but not again.
I am a strong woman, I’m worth more than that.”
“Yeah,
whatever. Look love let’s just get
to the shagging, right? And while
we’re at it, could you not…..talk.”
Harmony
just smiled, the daft bint couldn’t even tell when she was being insulted.
In the end, Spike broke into a room at the Sunnydale Motel dragging the
giggling vampire with him. She was
getting on his nerves already, the constant twittering and fluttery voice
playing havoc with his ears. She’d
better have something good inside those painted-on jeans.
He was going to give it to her hard and dirty and if she was lucky and
got him off he may even leave her without a stake through her heart.
But
she’d have to be very, very good.
He
picked her up and threw her towards the bed, not really bothered whether she hit
the mattress or not. She was
about to pay dearly for making him look like a toothless fledgling in front of
Willy’s patrons. This wouldn’t
be pretty.
Harmony
broke the menace building in the squalid room by giggling.
Spike stretched his neck, snapping the muscles as he tried to rein in his
demon. What the fuck was he doing
here? His eyes snapped open when he
heard the sound of a zipper being lowered. Harmony
was now topless and shimmying out of her jeans.
No panties he noticed; good – because he didn’t plan on waiting any
longer. He didn’t want to spend
any more time in her company than he had to.
He shrugged out of his duster and pulled his tee over his head.
The jeans followed, sticking at his boots until he toed them off.
Harmony lay panting on the bed, watching him as he prowled towards her.
He took his erection in his hand and stroked himself a few times, eyes
never leaving hers, noting with pleasure the lust he saw reflected back.
Yeah, he was still the big bad. If
Dru didn’t want it, he’d give it to somebody who obviously did.
Spike
knelt on the bed, the movement making Harmony’s breasts jiggle enticingly.
He rested between her legs, nudging her knees apart and covering her body
with his. Closing his eyes in pleasure – and gagging momentarily as an
entirely different blonde filled his mind’s eye – he placed himself at her
entrance and pushed forward.
“Ewwww!
You haven’t washed Mr Pointy……..he’s not meeting Miss Cherry
until he’s all spruced up and tidy! Go!”
“What
the fuck? Harmony!
I don’t know who you think you are, but I’m the master vampire here,
and I say spread those legs and do it now!”
The
sound of sniffles and sobs broke through his anger.
The daft cow was mewling like a baby.
He shook his head; ‘Mr Pointy’ had left the building and suddenly the
bloody awful poet that, despite his best efforts still ran his emotional
responses, was shushing and hugging the bawling woman in his arms.
When she’d stopped crying, she’d asked him in a little girl voice to
hold her and could they watch the TV. He
nodded, helplessly.
And so
the nightmare had begun…………..
PRESENT
DAY………….
The
glass of JD had long since turned into a bottle.
Willy was hovering near, no doubt trying to assess his mood. Every time
the glass had emptied, magically it had filled again, the barkeep anxious to
keep him sweet. Spike signalled to
him when he seemed slow to draw near.
“Willy!
More liquid refreshment needed here, mate!”
Willy
uncorked another bottle, mentally trying to work out the cost of refurbishing
the place when Spike had finally had enough bourbon and decided to trash the
bar. And no insurance in the world
would cover him against acts of Spike; funny that.
“Sure
thing, Spike. Coming right up.”
“Thanks.
Appreciate it. Bottoms up!”
Willy
turned to go, but something stopped him. He’d
never seen Spike so forlorn. The
barkeep soul inside of him pushed to the fore and he found himself snagging a
ragged cloth and picking up a filthy glass, polishing it over and over like a
demented librarian. Without
conscious thought he stood in front of the vampire and uttered the fateful
words: “Bad day? Care to talk
about it?”
Spike
surrendered to the age-old magic and started to pour out his troubles.
Any minute now the atmosphere would turn smoky and a piano would start
playing the blues in the corner. “Thing
is...” he started, “I never meant to stay but one night with her; not even
that really. Just figured I’d get
some and get gone, you know?”
Willy
nodded sagely, spitting on the cloth and smearing the glass with his saliva.
“Tell me about it, pal.”
“Didn’t
even get some that first night; just watched the soddin’ romance channel –
one lame ass film after another. Held
the stupid bint until she cried herself to sleep.”
He shook his head in wonderment, holding out his glass for a refill.
Willy supplied the drink.
“She
was tied to me after that night, like an extra body part she was.
Followed me everywhere, even after I knocked her out cold.
When she came to, she found me and started twittering on as if nothing
had happened. Seems like she saw me
as her ideal unlife partner.” He
shuddered at the thought of waking up next to her happy, bouncy face every day
for the rest of his existence.
Willy
noted his drained glass and filled it again.
“Course,
I got between her lily white thighs eventually.
Not bad. Not great, but not
bad. She’s a tendency to wax
lyrical about love and fluffy pink clouds when she comes; does nothing for me
but she got the job done, mostly. Was
better than the spit and polish I’d be condemned to otherwise.
But I yearned for the dark and dangerous.
I wanted Dru.”
Willy
wisely didn’t add to the discussion, just supplying the drink to oil the voice
box and the ears to absorb the result.
“This
one night, I’d had enough. She was
doing the whole France thing, drove me barmy.
I’d come home to find the room was like a bordello – and there were
unicorns. Would you believe it?
Enough was enough. I’d
spent the night dodging the slayer; really didn’t want her to know I was back
in town.” Spike drank the contents
of his glass, puzzled look on his face. “Strange
now I come to think about it; didn’t want her to know I was back yet still I
shadowed her on patrol.”
Willy
shrugged; more bourbon would help.
“Ta,
mate. So, I vamped out.
She thought it was one of our games and clapped her hands.
It wasn’t. I knocked her
unconscious, intended to off her there and then.
But I couldn’t do it. Did
the next best thing; packed up my bag and walked away.
Headed back to South America intent on fixing things with Dru.
I was dying from sugar overload, couldn’t wait for the potent juice of
my dark wicked princess.”
“How’d
that work out?”
“Didn’t.
Couldn’t even find her. So
I came back………..again. Can’t
seem to shake the soddin’ dust of this town off my feet.
No matter how hard I try, I always end up back here.
And Harmony; can’t seem to shake her either.”
Spike reached out a hand and grabbed the bottle out of Willy’s grasp,
upending it into his mouth and draining it almost dry.
“And
that’s when the soldier boys got you?”
“Nah.
That comes later. I’d heard
a little snippet when I was tracking Dru that had me obsessed.
The Gem of Amara, mate. You
know, walk in the sun, no flames, impervious to harm?”
“Thought
that was a myth?”
“Nope,
the real deal and it had been right here in good old Sunnyhell for centuries.
Planned a whole search routine, and for once in my sorry life things went
right. I found it, got my stroll in
the sun………but the fucking Slayer mucked it all up as usual.
Dragged the ring off my hand and sent it to her honey in LA.
Bloody Peaches, the poncey git! Course,
I tracked him down, took a good buddy with me and tortured him something
vicious.” Spike smiled at the
memory, swishing the amber liquid round in the glass before swigging it down.
“Ah well, I’ll always have the image of Angel bruised and beaten to
keep me warm.” A beat.
More supping. “Well, that
and staking Harmony in the chest.”
“Huh?”
“She
was wearing the ring; just my luck but at least I knew it did what it was
supposed to. At least she got the
message she was ditched.”
“And
the ring? You didn’t get it
back?”
“Do I
look like I’m the proud owner of a mystical gem that imparts unknown powers to
vampires?” Willy shook his head,
slowly. “No; heard the ponce
smashed it. Can you believe it?
Tosser.”
“What
did you do?”
“Do?
Nothing. Got double-crossed
by my torture man, trapped while the sun was up.
By the time I got out, Angel and the gem were long gone.”
“So
then you come back and get zapped?”
Spike
nodded. “Wait……..What do you
know about that? Who told you?”
“Hey
man! It’s just what’s on the
grapevine…..don’t shoot the messenger. More
bourbon?”
What the
hell; he nodded at the barkeep who scurried away to grab another bottle.
By the time he’d returned, the empty one he’d left with Spike was
smashed against the wall behind the bar. Willy
stepped gingerly over the shards of glass and handed the full bottle to the
vampire.
“Ok.
The soldier boys got me, I got a chip in my noggin and………is this common
knowledge?”
Willy
nodded. Mostly due to his own zeal
in spreading the news if he was honest………
“This
is so embarrassing. Ended up going
to the Slayer for help. Bad
memories.” Spike flashed back to
the feel of the Slayer’s body curling into his as she sat on his lap while
they planned their wedding. Despite
the brain telling him it wasn’t something he’d want to do again, his dick
hadn’t gotten the message and was stirring to life as he recalled the snogging
sessions they’d indulged in while Giles had been blind.
He really was going to have to get himself a mind-wipe.
“And then, to top it all – who do I bump into but Harmony?
And she’s all puffed up ‘cause she’s got her own gang of lowlifes
and wanting to take me in hand again. Now,
I’m all for the handjobs but look at me. Two
weeks, two bloody weeks and I’m her soddin’ houseboy again.”
Spike
and Willy shared a companionable silence broken only by the sound of glugging
from the vampire and cloth squeaking on glass from the human.
“So, I get that Harmony’s an acquired taste.
Had grown vampires fleeing at the mere mention of her name when you were
gone. But……why this, why
tonight?”
Spike
gulped down three glasses of bourbon considering his answer.
Tonight. God, he was
terrified! Taking a deep breath he
fixed his steely gaze on the dark eyes of the man behind the bar.
“Willy,
my friend. Tonight is the most
horrible and evil thing ever. I just
can’t face it. I’d sooner battle
five slayers than go back to that crypt tonight.”
“You’re
killing me here; why? What’s she
got going on that’s so dreadful?”
Spike
swallowed nervously.
“Tonight
is the “Weepy Movies” marathon on TV.”
Willy
handed him another bottle.
FINIS