RATING: PG - 13
SUMMARY: Spike goes to a bar.
DISCLAIMER: I do not own the characters of Spike or Druscilla. They belong to other people I hope won't sue me.
He had come into O'Malley's every night for a month. One drink was all he ever ordered. He spoke to no one but the barkeep and no one spoke to him. The seats on either side of him were empty. His apparent dark mood and apparel frightened the natives. Tonight the barkeep was going to find out why.
A second drink slid on to the bar. The man glanced up, his piercing blue eyes meeting the barkeep's mud brown ones. "I," The man drawled, "Did not order a second drink."
"I thought maybe you didn't like your other one. You hardly touched it."
The man placed a hand on top of his almost white, blonde hair. "There is nothing wrong with the drink, mate. I just don't want to drink it. Now go away."
The barkeep tried again. "You're not from around here, I mean, the accent."
"Yes I'm British. No I am not from around here." The man lit a ciguerette, blew a puff a carcinagenic smoke the barkeep's way. "Now get to the point. Why are you here attempting to make small talk with me?"
"Well, you seem to have a problem. I thought I could help."
Annoyance flashed in those icy blue orbs. "The whole bartender slash shrink thing?"
"Something like that. I'm Harry."
"Well Harry, I am Spike." Annoyance seemingly converted into amusement, the man placed a hand over his heart. "And I do have a problem."
The barkeep leaned against the bar. "Well I am here to listen."
"Indeed. Then get comfortable Harry. I am going to tell you a story." Spike stood. His leather trenchcoat swirled out around him. Standing before the barkeep in his all black ensemble with a red shirt standing out brightly in contrast. Spike smashed the ciguerette into the ashtray.
"Have you ever -this is assuming anyone could like a man as repulsive as yourself- lost a girl to someone you hated?"
Harry nodded. "I think just about everyone has."
"Yes, but have you ever lost your girl to your father?"
"No." Harry raised his eyebrows in surprise.
"Harry, do stop answering. These questions are merely retorical. You are breaking my concentration. Now, imagine you are me - Grant it, this is a stretch.- and you have loved this girl for decades. She in turn loves you. Everything is wonderful. The two of you slaughter the innocent together and spend your nights painting the town red. Then her father, who's been out of the picture for nearly a hundred years, comes back into the picture. . ."
"I thought you said it was your father?"
Spike slammed a fist into the bar. "Do you want to hear this story or not?"
Harry nodds, nervously.
Spike climbs back onto his stool. "Suddenly, dear old dad is showering her with gifts. Hearts, midnight gardens, and the like. And you have recently been injured badly by a tiny blond with a really bad attitude and no sense of fair play at all. Two Slayers? I ask you, is that fair? Nevermind. So you are temporarily out of the game, so to speak.
"Now your girl is cosying up to this nancy-boy, and you have to watch it happening. Would this make you angry?" Spike paused. "You may answer."
Harry was still sorting through the details. "Yes?"
"Exactly right. So what do you do? You team up with the small blond. You agree to help stop the end of the world in return for her killing daddy. Everything turns out the way you planned it. You even get a few good hits on dear old dad, when your girl turns on you. Now you have to kidnap your girl and run off to another town, this town."
Harry smiled. "Oh, I get you. Your girl's upset with you now."
Spike collapsed onto his barstool. "Yeah. Now you got the picture Harry. She won't speak to me. Everytime I get too close she cuts me." Spike downed the drink. "So, what would you do?"
"To win her back? I'd do what I always do.Get her a gift. Something nice. Always melts a girl to see something warm and touching like that."
"Something warm?" Spike met Harry's eyes.
Harry backed away. There was something dark and horrible in those icy blue eyes. Then a smile, wicked and leering crossed Spike's face. His hand shot out and caught Harry by the collar. He pulled him close and kissed his forhead.
"Harry!! You are a genius! Something warm. I'll do it."
Before Harry could smile in relief, Spike's other hand shot forward. Harry screamed as the hand tore into his chest. The last thing he ever saw was Spike holding his still beating heart. Then his body dropped to the floor behind the bar.
"Thanks Harry." Spike addressed the corpse. "You've been a lot of help." Spike saluted the corpse with its own heart. Then Spike left money on the bar and walked out into the night in search of his lady love.
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