(no subject)
Oct. 8th, 2011 12:24 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ellerkayTitle: Catharsis
Rating: R for language and some violent imagery played for laughs
Wordcount: 928
Disclaimer: All for fun, none for profit.
Summary: For![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
metahacker, who requested “Spike (evil bad-ass from season two) / Spike (whiny house-pet from later seasons)” (When I wrote this I completely forgot that you included the bit about “Always On My Mind” by Pet Shop Boys, so it doesn’t, er, quite fit that. Apologies and I hope you enjoy it anyway.)
***
Spike1 smoked glumly outside Willy’s, longing for the days when you could have a pint and fag in a pub at the same bloody time. He wondered what Buffy was doing, and sighed.
There was a series of sharp cracks and he looked down the street in the direction of the sound. After more cracks and a spectacular light show, one of those ugly cars he remembered from the 1980s appeared out of nowhere, screeching down the road at high speed. The car slowed down and skidded in a wide arc, coming to a stop half on a sidewalk facing back the way it had come.
The door opened, up instead of out, and Spike1 was surprised (to say the least) to see himself step out, game face on.
“Home sweet home,” Spike2 said, grinning wide and flicking his cigarette away.
Spike1 vamped and advanced on his doppelganger. “Who the fuck are you?” he shouted.
Spike2 frowned. “I think I should ask what the fuck you’re still doing here,” he said. “It’s been, what – ” He glanced into the car. “Five years? Why are you still in Sunnyhell?”
Spike1 grabbed Spike2 by the lapels, aware that the leather beneath his fingers was entirely too familiar. “Who are you?” he repeated.
Spike2 snickered and his game face melted away. “I’m you, mate,” he said. “Five years back.”
“Prove it,” Spike1 snarled.
“When we were a little thing, Mother used to call us her little sugarcake,” Spike2 said.
Spike1 let him go, still suspicious. Not even Drusilla knew about that horrifying nickname, but you could never be sure. This wanker could be a psychic shape-shifter who had stolen his face. Still, that memory was buried pretty deep.
“How did you get here?” he demanded.
“Stole this car,” Spike2 said, gesturing behind him.
“That shitbox?”
“I was in a hurry! Anyway, I didn’t pay much attention to the dashboard till I hit eighty-eight miles per hour and everything went crazy. Then I saw the dates and after seeing you over there smoking, I put two and two together.”
“If you’re my past, shouldn’t I remember this happening?”
Spike2 shrugged. “Like I have any bloody clue how it works.” He rubbed his hands together. “So! How’s things with us? How’s Dru?”
Spike1 began to feel uncomfortable and annoyed. “We’ve split up,” he said shortly. Spike2 stared at him.
“The hell are you on about? She’s the one! She’s forever!”
“Yeah, well, tell her that,” Spike1 said. “She dumped us – see, there was this deal I made with Buffy – ”
“The Slayer?” Spike2 goggled. “You mean she’s not dead?”
“No,” Spike1 snapped. “Look, a lot has happened in five years. Buffy’s not your average Slayer, she’s smart and strong and –”
“Oh my god,” Spike2 groaned. “You’re in love with her! I ought to stake myself right now and put us both out of our misery.”
“Stupid git,” Spike1 muttered. “You have no idea –”
“Well now I do!” Spike2 said. “Next you’re going to tell me I kill some Gypsy bint and they curse me with a soul.”
“I fought for my soul!” Spike1 shouted. Spike2 stumbled back a step like he’d been hit. When he recovered himself he shook his head, eyes wide.
“This is a sobering bloody look in the mirror, I’ll tell you that much,” he said. “Don’t worry, mate. I can fix this.”
Spike1 felt a little worried. Sure, loads about the past five years had been fucking misery, but without it, he wouldn’t be himself, right?
“Hang on,” he said, grabbing Spike2 has he started to get into the car. Spike2 punched him in the face and then kicked his legs out from under him. Spike1 hit the ground with his whole body, and even with the decreased sensitivity to pain that came with being a vampire, it hurt.
“This is never going to be,” Spike2 said, looming over him. He got into the DeLorean, shut the door, and zoomed off. Spike1 got to his feet and watched the light show as the car disappeared.
He wondered if his past self could actually…he wondered…
Spike had completely lost his train of thought. He lit another cigarette and made his way back to the factory. When he got there, he flicked the butt at Buffy Summers’ head, which was mounted over the couch. He grinned when it bounced off her nose (ten points!), but thought better of leaving the butt on the floor. Dru did fret so when her nice home got dirty. He picked it up and stubbed it out in his favorite ashtray, which was filled with the dust that used to be Angel. It was getting low and he refilled it from the coffee can that held the excess, frowning when he saw how little was left. But he shrugged it off. It had been five years, after all. The bastard had to run out sometime.
Drusilla wandered in and came over to kiss him sweetly. “Did my Spike have a lovely evening, with messes and screams?”
“Just a few beers, luv. You know, tonight was the night I came and saw myself, outside Willy’s. I had to see if anything’d happen.”
“Did you meet yourself?” She giggled. “Two Spikes, how fun! I wish I had been there.”
“Sorry, but there was nothing. Just one me.” He nipped playfully at her neck. “Think you can content yourself with that?”
“Yes, but I’m so hungry.” She pouted. He grinned.
“Well, why didn’t you say so? Let’s go kill something.”
They walked out, hand in hand, smiling.
***
A/N: The title is because I always hated how Spike became wangsty and Buffy’s bitch in later seasons. This was like ten years’ worth of annoyed working itself out. Ahhh.
Rating: R for language and some violent imagery played for laughs
Wordcount: 928
Disclaimer: All for fun, none for profit.
Summary: For
metahacker, who requested “Spike (evil bad-ass from season two) / Spike (whiny house-pet from later seasons)” (When I wrote this I completely forgot that you included the bit about “Always On My Mind” by Pet Shop Boys, so it doesn’t, er, quite fit that. Apologies and I hope you enjoy it anyway.)***
Spike1 smoked glumly outside Willy’s, longing for the days when you could have a pint and fag in a pub at the same bloody time. He wondered what Buffy was doing, and sighed.
There was a series of sharp cracks and he looked down the street in the direction of the sound. After more cracks and a spectacular light show, one of those ugly cars he remembered from the 1980s appeared out of nowhere, screeching down the road at high speed. The car slowed down and skidded in a wide arc, coming to a stop half on a sidewalk facing back the way it had come.
The door opened, up instead of out, and Spike1 was surprised (to say the least) to see himself step out, game face on.
“Home sweet home,” Spike2 said, grinning wide and flicking his cigarette away.
Spike1 vamped and advanced on his doppelganger. “Who the fuck are you?” he shouted.
Spike2 frowned. “I think I should ask what the fuck you’re still doing here,” he said. “It’s been, what – ” He glanced into the car. “Five years? Why are you still in Sunnyhell?”
Spike1 grabbed Spike2 by the lapels, aware that the leather beneath his fingers was entirely too familiar. “Who are you?” he repeated.
Spike2 snickered and his game face melted away. “I’m you, mate,” he said. “Five years back.”
“Prove it,” Spike1 snarled.
“When we were a little thing, Mother used to call us her little sugarcake,” Spike2 said.
Spike1 let him go, still suspicious. Not even Drusilla knew about that horrifying nickname, but you could never be sure. This wanker could be a psychic shape-shifter who had stolen his face. Still, that memory was buried pretty deep.
“How did you get here?” he demanded.
“Stole this car,” Spike2 said, gesturing behind him.
“That shitbox?”
“I was in a hurry! Anyway, I didn’t pay much attention to the dashboard till I hit eighty-eight miles per hour and everything went crazy. Then I saw the dates and after seeing you over there smoking, I put two and two together.”
“If you’re my past, shouldn’t I remember this happening?”
Spike2 shrugged. “Like I have any bloody clue how it works.” He rubbed his hands together. “So! How’s things with us? How’s Dru?”
Spike1 began to feel uncomfortable and annoyed. “We’ve split up,” he said shortly. Spike2 stared at him.
“The hell are you on about? She’s the one! She’s forever!”
“Yeah, well, tell her that,” Spike1 said. “She dumped us – see, there was this deal I made with Buffy – ”
“The Slayer?” Spike2 goggled. “You mean she’s not dead?”
“No,” Spike1 snapped. “Look, a lot has happened in five years. Buffy’s not your average Slayer, she’s smart and strong and –”
“Oh my god,” Spike2 groaned. “You’re in love with her! I ought to stake myself right now and put us both out of our misery.”
“Stupid git,” Spike1 muttered. “You have no idea –”
“Well now I do!” Spike2 said. “Next you’re going to tell me I kill some Gypsy bint and they curse me with a soul.”
“I fought for my soul!” Spike1 shouted. Spike2 stumbled back a step like he’d been hit. When he recovered himself he shook his head, eyes wide.
“This is a sobering bloody look in the mirror, I’ll tell you that much,” he said. “Don’t worry, mate. I can fix this.”
Spike1 felt a little worried. Sure, loads about the past five years had been fucking misery, but without it, he wouldn’t be himself, right?
“Hang on,” he said, grabbing Spike2 has he started to get into the car. Spike2 punched him in the face and then kicked his legs out from under him. Spike1 hit the ground with his whole body, and even with the decreased sensitivity to pain that came with being a vampire, it hurt.
“This is never going to be,” Spike2 said, looming over him. He got into the DeLorean, shut the door, and zoomed off. Spike1 got to his feet and watched the light show as the car disappeared.
He wondered if his past self could actually…he wondered…
Spike had completely lost his train of thought. He lit another cigarette and made his way back to the factory. When he got there, he flicked the butt at Buffy Summers’ head, which was mounted over the couch. He grinned when it bounced off her nose (ten points!), but thought better of leaving the butt on the floor. Dru did fret so when her nice home got dirty. He picked it up and stubbed it out in his favorite ashtray, which was filled with the dust that used to be Angel. It was getting low and he refilled it from the coffee can that held the excess, frowning when he saw how little was left. But he shrugged it off. It had been five years, after all. The bastard had to run out sometime.
Drusilla wandered in and came over to kiss him sweetly. “Did my Spike have a lovely evening, with messes and screams?”
“Just a few beers, luv. You know, tonight was the night I came and saw myself, outside Willy’s. I had to see if anything’d happen.”
“Did you meet yourself?” She giggled. “Two Spikes, how fun! I wish I had been there.”
“Sorry, but there was nothing. Just one me.” He nipped playfully at her neck. “Think you can content yourself with that?”
“Yes, but I’m so hungry.” She pouted. He grinned.
“Well, why didn’t you say so? Let’s go kill something.”
They walked out, hand in hand, smiling.
***
A/N: The title is because I always hated how Spike became wangsty and Buffy’s bitch in later seasons. This was like ten years’ worth of annoyed working itself out. Ahhh.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2011-10-08 11:08 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-10-09 12:52 am (UTC)This wanker could be a psychic shape-shifter who had stolen his face.
Welcome to Sunnydale...
And the final scene with Drusilla was hilarious and very, very them.
no subject
Date: 2011-10-23 03:38 pm (UTC)