author: devylish        

title: UMMM, ON THE OTHER LEFT HAND

rating: PG-13

relationships: B/S

notes: This tale was inspired by a Regertz fic called "On the Left
Hand", which deals with Buffy doing her version of what Spike does
here. [Get your mind out of the gutter!!!] the Regertz fic is very
cute and can be found at www.geocities.com/buffyrebecca

spoilers: General season 6

distribution: Take it... it's yours... use it in good health, but
please let me know where you're putting it.

disclaimer: Don't own BTVS characters They are owned by JW and crew...
Please don't sue me... I'm already poor.

feedback: devylish@hotmail.com

UMMMM, ON THE OTHER LEFT HAND

"I don't know why I'm helping you!"

A blurry eyed Spike looked up from the scrap of paper he'd been
scribbling on -- "Cause you bloody well want me to keep coming to your
rat hole of a bar! An' cause I'm one o' your best bleedin' customers
-- for years! Then there's the fact that you don't want me to kick
your bloody arse and... all I'm doing is asking a bloke for a bit o'
help!" His words were slurred from the bottle of whiskey he'd already
consumed. "and, and... what the hell do I do next?"

The bartender shook his head and mumbled under his breath about
'Vampires and whiskey not going together."

Spike heard the comment, but couldn't get a retort out of his liquor
numbed lips.

Picking up a wet glass and a not so clean "white" towel, Willie
responded, "You've made two columns? One for Pros, and one for Cons?"
Spike nodded his head vigourously then stopped and grabbed hold of the
edge of the bar. He made a mental note: Sudden head movements - bad
idea.

"Okay, let 'er rip." The bartender looked at Spike.

And Spike looked back at him.

Sighing, the bartender picked up another glass and proceeded to dry
it. "You put down the reasons you like the Sla --," he paused under
the glare he got from the drunken vampire. "I mean, you put down the
reasons you like, and should spend time with the 'Mystery Woman'," he
looked at Spike and got a slow nod of approval, "you put those reasons
under Pros. And then you list the reasons you should dump her sorry
ass under Cons."

At Spike's growl, Willie took a step back from the bar and added,
"Sorry! Just tryin' to explain the rules." He grabbed another glass.
"Anyway, whichever side is longer - Pros or Cons - that's the one you
go with. Works like a charm! Every time the Missus wants me to do
something, she makes one of those lists for me, and... well it all
stsrts to make sense. Clears the air, and your mind, of the emotional
side of the issue. It's just the facts..." he trailed off sheepishly.

Spike looked at the borrowed pencil nubbin and then down at the torn
piece of paper.

"Right then! Starting off with a Con: She can beat the livin' crap
outta me. Definitely a Con!"

Spike only spared one, quick, menacing leer in response to Willie's
short guffaw, before moving on. "'Course, the fact that she CAN beat
the livin' crap outta me's not so bad, I mean... I like my women
dangerous. And tough. It could be a Pro then too!" He looked at
Willie and asked "Can I list somethin' twice?"

Willie shrugged his shoulders and began to put away his clean and dry,
well, make that -- dry glasses. "It's your list, whatever you like
and whatever you don't like goes on it."

"Well alright then, 'Tough'll' go on both sides." He paused and
fuzzily tried to think. "She's not all tough though." A sappy
drunken smile spread across his face. "She's a softie too. That damn
Mr. Gordo. Who woulda thought..." Spike mused hazily for a minute
and then he scribbled 'Mr. Gordo' under the Pros.
Biting his lip in concentration Spike stared at his list: Pros...
Cons... Pros... Cons. "Got one!" he roared.

"She's got a bloody cute nose! Kinda funny looking and all, but
bloody well cute! Definitely a Pro." He paused again, "and she's got
great eyes... all big and bright on her little face. Hazel. Hazel
eyes... big Pro."

Looking up at Willie, Spike spoke with an intensity born of whiskey
and desire... "Willie, mate, have you ever seen the hands of a Sla--."
he stopped himself just in time. "The hands of a Mystery Woman?
They're... they're almost magical. Small. They don't look big enough
to hold a baby chick. But they're strong and powerful... and they
feel like silk." He chuckled lasciviously, "she's definitely a Pro
with her hands... Hands are going on the Pro list! Matter o' fact,
she's got two of 'em so maybe I should list hands twice."

"'Course if I count both of her hands, I have to count both of her
legs. She's short mind you, but her legs are phenomenal! Toned and
strong, and she's got these muscles that she can do the most amaz--"

Willie thought it prudent to stop Spike before he got any more
detailed about his appreciation of the slayer's physique. "Here, now
Spike! You just might want to put her whole body under the Pros.
Maybe make it worth like, five points." At Spike's growl, Willie
adjusted his estimation, "Or you could make it worth 10 points! 10
points would be fair." Willie relaxed when he saw Spike calm down and
scribble 'Slayer body - 10pts.' He dared a small suggestion and
pointed out, "the Pro list is getting a little heavy there. Can't
think of any other Cons?"

Spike took the bait. "'Course I can. Ummmm...Hmmmm... GOT ANOTHER
ONE! She kills my friends! Matter o' fact, she kills lots of my
friends...." He looked up at Willie, "Gonna put that under Cons."
Willie nodded supportively, then groaned as he read Spike's sloppy
hand writing from upside down: 'doesn't much like my friends.'

"What?" Spike looked at Willie and furtively covered up his list.

Willie shook his head and gave up. "Nothing Spike. Nothing at all.
Finish your list."

As Spike pushed up the sleeves of his leather duster, Willie poured
himself a consolation drink... which he decided to place on Spike's
tab.
"'Kay then. She's smart. Wit like a leather whip. Pro. 'Course she
tends to use that wit to beat me black and blue with so... Con. On
the other hand, half of the time she's attacking me, it's because
she's tryin' to protect herself. Afraid to get hurt. Afraid I'll be
like the others... Damn Poof!" He growled and Willie jumped further
back into the corner of the bar as Spike's game face slipped down.
"Bloody buggers never realized just how vulnerable she was!" Spike
drunkenly attempted to calm down. "Vulnerability 'atsa Pro!"

"Cons... she doesn't believe that I really love her...said I was 'dead
inside!' That I 'can't feel anything real!' Those words are not so
inspiring of emotional attachment. Ummm, okay, to be fair... I'll
give the Cons two points for those little issues." He scrawled some
more.

"I like her sister. Nibblet's a sweetheart... Pro." He sighed. Then
covering up the edge of the paper in an attempt to hide the next bit
from Willie, Spike added under the Pros, and under 'Nibblet', 'damn
Scoobies'. He looked up at Willie surreptitiously, then silently and
hurriedly added two more Pros to the list... 'doesn't mind that I
snore,' and 'the way her voice catches when she calls out my name'.

"Willie? Got anymore paper? And another pencil?"

Willie shook his head in frustration. "Spike, here! Go home to your
crypt" he handed Spike two small pads of paper and a pen. "Take two
of these, and call me in the morning."


end.


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