A black car pulled into an empty parking lot in a seedy neighborhood. It was the middle of the night and the only mortals about were too drunk to take notice of the car. The heavy door swung open and a pair of black leather boots hit the ground. The driver of the car stood and stretched, taking in his surroundings. He was tall and painfully thin, with bleached blonde hair and pale skin. He was clad in a blue silk shirt and black slacks, around his ankles swirled a black duster. His name was Spike, and he was hungry.
Spike locked the car door and slammed it shut, not concerned with it being stolen or vandalized while he was away. The intense tightness in his stomach gave him a sort of tunnel vision, and he took off walking down the dark streets of this foreign city, to find mortals, and blood. Spike was on vacation. After the recent events surrounding his girlfriend and the slayer and his enemy, his sire, Spike needed a change of scenery, a change of pace, and most importantly, to be alone. He had unceremoniously dumped Drucilla at a friend's place just south of L.A. She had been inconsolable ever since she regained consciousness. She didn't even care that Spike had knocked her out, her only concern was for Angelus. Spike of course had fled the warehouse before the fight between Buffy and Angelus had finished playing itself out, but it had soon become clear that Angelus' grand plans had been foiled. Obviously the world hadn't been sucked into hell. Spike wasn't entirely sure where that left things, he assumed that the Slayer had dusted his sire after he and Dru took off. But lately Dru had been having these terrible fits, like she was being tormented, and she was insistent that Angel was rotting in hell. But no matter, as long as he was out of the way. Meanwhile Dru needed some time locked up to forget about Angelus, and Spike needed some time alone to fully complete his recovery... and have a touch of fun. That's why he left Dru on the west coast and headed down south to the jazz capitol of the States, New Orleans. He'd heard there was some spicy young blood to be had there.
And here he was, walking briskly down the streets of New Orleans, letting his vampire instincts lead him, unknowingly heading straight for the French Quarter. He wiped a stream of sweat from his forehead. The air was so thick with humidity he could've cut it with a knife. Spike shrugged out of his duster and folded it neatly over his arm. It was too bloody hot.
It wasn't hard to get into a night club in the French Quarter. It was almost Mardi Gras, and the city was gearing up by partying all night. Spike picked the loudest, most raucous joint he could find, and headed inside. The band was rocking, and the crowd was rolling, full of liquor and pot. A thick haze rested below the ceiling. Spike inhaled deeply. His head swam. For some reason his demon person had an awfully low tolerance for narcotics... alcohol too. He had learned long ago that he had a 3 pint limit. But as far as blood went... he could drink all night. And so he intended as he scoured the room for his first victim.
There was a girl standing by the bar, being ignored by the bartender. Spike could see why. She was timid, and afraid. She wasn't the prettiest girl in the club, but her soft white skin called to Spike. She looked innocent. Not the type he'd ever date, but the type he loved to feed on. Spike swaggered up to where she was standing and leaned on the bar.
"A pint of Guiness, mate?" He called to the busy bartender. He was given a look, but soon held a mug full of poorly poured Guiness. Spike took a sip and looked at the girl over the rim of the mug. She was still trying to get a drink, and the bartender was still busy with better looking, more outgoing people. Spike decided to make his move. "Would you like a drink, love?" He asked, leaning in to her. She looked at him, startled, and blushed as she nodded yes. "You've just got to be more assertive. Here... what would you like?" "A... a Bud Light," she stuttered softly, her eyes darting to the floor. Spike stifled a laugh. A Bud Light? She was obviously new at this. He turned to the bartender.
"Hey! Gimme a Bud Light!" The bartender slid a bottle down the bar and Spike caught it. He deposited $3 in the bartenders hand and held the bottle out to the girl. She fumbled around in her pocket and produced three wadded up dollar bills. "No, no. Put your money away, ducks. I've got this round," he said to her as she took the beer.
"Thanks...." she breathed. Now Spike moved in for the kill... literally.
"This joint's a little to loud for my tastes. Would you care to take a stroll with me?" He asked. The girl looked doubtful. He held up his hands and told her, "I'm harmless, love. A real gentleman. We won't walk far. I just want some fresh air and a lovely lady to share it with. How 'bout it?" He flashed her the most charming smile he could muster. After a moments pause, she nodded enthusiastically.
Spike led her out the door of the night club and down the block. He then pulled her into an alley. He almost felt sorry for the poor girl when he saw that her eyes were closed and a look of bliss had come across her face... she was expecting a kiss from this dashing young Brit. The sympathy passed almost before it even registered, and Spike quickly sucked her dry. Just as he was licking up the last drops, he heard a noise. It was a squeal... as if from a tormented pig.
"Ohhhhhh! Jeezus! Callie, look!" Spike dropped the lifeless body and turned to face his guests, quickly removing his game face. This could be trouble. This could be the Slayer. Would she have followed him to Louisiana? He stepped out of the alley and found two teenage girls staring at him.
"Holy crap! Jenna! You know who that is?" One of the girls, the shorter one, cried. Spike sighed. He'd have to kill them before they attracted any attention with their squealing. What was wrong with them any ways? Suddenly it hit Spike.
"Oh, girls... terribly sorry, but you've got the wrong bloke. I'm not Billy Idol," he apologized. Expecting groans of disappointment, Spike was surprised when the girls giggled.
"Duh, he's like... 40. We know who you are. You're Spike! Oh my god, we love you so much," the taller girl proclaimed. Spike stumbled back, aghast.
"You... you know my name? Are you demons?" he asked. The girls laughed again.
"No silly, we're cheerleaders!"
Spike nearly fell over. Cheerleaders? What was going on?
"All right, that's enough now. Suppose one of you tell me what the bloody hell is going on before I rip the both of you limb from limb," Spike threatened, his vamp face taking over. Again, the girls giggled. "I swear, if that infuriating sound passes your lips one more time... you'll suffer a fate worse than death!" Spike cried, exasperated.
"Callie, he's just like on TV. He is so cute. I'm gonna faint!" The taller girl, Jenna, said, turning to her friend.
"I know, this is like a dream come true!" Callie replied. Then she turned to Spike. "You are like, my favorite character. You are so... bad. Can I have your autograph?" Spike's mouth dropped open.
"Character? TV? Autograph? Enlighten me //please//," he growled, nearly at his patience's end. If one of these girls didn't start making sense he was going to have to eat them both and try to forget this whole crazy experience.
"Where's Drucilla?" Jenna asked abruptly.
"She's with some friends in L.A.-- Hey! How do you know about Dru? That's it, you two are dinner. You," Spike pointed to Callie, "stay put while I eat your friend. I'll have you for desert." With that, Spike grabbed the taller girl and pushed her hair back to expose her neck. Her friend was still giggling, but Jenna had grown quiet. As Spike moved in to bite her young skin, she finally spoke.
"Um, Callie! I think he's serious!" She squealed, tears beginning to stream down her face. Callie stopped laughing and seized Spike's arm.
"Stop it! Stop it or I'll get Buffy!" Spike pulled back, but held on to Jenna for insurance.
"Tell me exactly what's going on or your friend gets drained of every pint of blood in her young body... got that? Let me make it a little clearer. //No prom.//"
"Okay! Okay! I don't know what you wanna know, but just let go of Jenna and I'll tell you anything!" Callie begged. Spike tightened his grip on Jenna and placed her in a headlock.
"Talk. How do you know all about me and Dru... and the Slayer?"
"Well, we watch 'Buffy the Vampire Slayer' every Tuesday night just like all of our friends," Callie replied.
"And what the hell is that?" Spike asked. How could these girls watch the Slayer... she was all the way back in Sunnyhell. And they said they weren't demons... what powers did they hold?
"Its a TV show, duh," explained the girl under Spike's arm. He pulled his elbow up and choked her momentarily.
"Cut the attitude missy or you won't be around to help your friend explain, got it?" He threatened through clenched teeth. Jenna started sobbing again and nodded. "Now, you, continue."
"Uh," Callie stuttered, not sure what else he wanted. "We watch the show. Buffy stakes vampires and she was dating Angel until he lost his soul, and then Angel killed Miss Calendar, and Giles got all upset, and Xander and Cordellia started dating, and Willow and Oz started dating, and Angel got that awful rock thing that was going to suck the world into hell, but Buffy stopped him by stabbing him with a sword--"
"Hold on," Spike interupted the ramble. "You know what happened to Angelus and the Slayer?"
"Well, yeah. Angel pulled the sword out of the demon and it started to suck, and just then Angel got his soul back--"
"He got //what// back?" Spike exclaimed.
"Stop interupting me! Willow found Miss Calander's computer thingy with the curse for restoring Angel's soul on it, and was doing the ritual while Buffy and Angel were fighting. So Angel got his soul back after he pulled the sword, and the only way to keep the demon from sucking up the world was to stab him with the sword, so Buffy had to do it... it was so sad," Callie stopped, her lower lip starting to quiver.
"So what happened to Angelus?" Spike asked. "Did she dust him?"
"No, he's in hell. Until next season, when he'll be back, thank goodness. We've been suffering all summer waiting for the new season to start. Buffy left Sunnydale, you know."
"No, I didn't know. This is all very interesting. And you say you saw all this... on the telly?" Spike was still having a hard time believing what he was hearing. She seemed to be telling the truth, and it would explain Dru's visions... but how could it be?
"Yeah. Like I said... every Tuesday. Now will you let go of Jenna?" Callie gave him puppy eyes. Spike grinned and released Jenna from his hold. He ran a hand through his hair and cocked his head to one side.
"Heh... I've always wanted to be on TV. I'm a superstar. Yeah, baby." The two girls giggled.
"Well, not really. You're more of a... supporting character. In fact, you're not coming back next season until the 6th episode or after. Sorry," Jenna told him. The smile faded from Spike's face.
"What do you mean?" He said slowly, his eyebrows furrowing and the vamp face threatening to show.
"That's what the director said... Joss Whedon. He controls the whole thing. He said there's gonna be a new bad guy in Sunnydale. That you and Dru will take some time off and maybe show up later, that he doesn't want you guys to get over exposed. He's afraid people will get sick of you," Callie stopped when she saw Spike had his game face on and was literally fuming. "Not that //we'd// ever get sick of you... no way! You're hot! I mean... yeah," she trailed off, and the two girls backed off, afraid of the wrath they might incur. Spike walked back into the alley and growled, picking his duster up off the ground and putting it on. He pulled the collar up and spun around. "A new villian in Sunnyhell? We'll see about that. Watch your back, Mr. Whedon."
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