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katleeptTitle: Spike's Trick or Treat Game
Author: Kat Lee
Fandom: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Character/Pairing: Spike
Rating: PG/K+
Warning(s): None
Word Count: 1,357
Summary:
Disclaimer: All characters within belong to Whedon, not the author, and are used without permission.
He stalks the streets, fuming and chewing on his cigarette as the shadows of the evening grow longer. The tails of his long, black trench coat flap around his legs. The sensation used to make him feel dark, mysterious, and powerful. Now he's only vaguely aware of it, and it does nothing to help his personality or his mood.
He's always hated this night. When he was younger and still mortal, it meant parties to which he was never invited unless some one either took pity on him, wanted to wriggle into his mother's good graces, or was scheming to make him the butt of their joke for the night. Those evenings never ended well, but lately even as the Big Bad he's become, or was admittedly, he's another rash of bad evenings.
He curses the Initiative yet again. One night, he's going to find a way to get this bloody chip out of his head, and when he does, all those sniffling school boys are going to pay and pay dearly. But right now, he still doesn't have a way to get it out of him. One night, he can still barely feed, and he can't harm a single hair on the bloody Happy Meals walking all around him.
But he doesn't have to harm somebody in order to feed tonight. He's got a plan. As usual, the humans are being idiots. Only a truly stupid wanker would try to drive a blood van through the streets of the Hellmouth, especially on Halloween night. Only a wanker would do a blood drive at all on Halloween night or any night in the Hellmouth, but that's exactly what these Happy Meals with legs have done.
He's got the plan, and he's go their plan as well. He knows where every stop is and the exact path they're taking through the Hellmouth. They're going to be turning the corner onto this mostly deserted street any second now. Spike grins, knowing he's going to be waiting for the van load of blood to come straight at him.
It's not the same as being able to bury his fangs into the nice, fleshy throat of a human. The blood will be cold, not warm, and every Vampire in existence prefers warm, freshly flowing blood. But he'll take what fun, and what blood, he can get, especially when it's so hard for him to come by these days.
He pauses in his pacing as he hears a squeal. He dismisses it a second later, recognizing the wail of kids running door to door on their little, trick or treat errands. He fancies messing with the buggers, but he'll leave them be tonight. No need for make his chip rear up before he even gets close to his blood.
He hears squealing again, but this time, it's mechanical. He looks up just in time to see the van for which he's been waiting come around the corner on two wheels. He leaps into the street in a blur of black and leather and turns his best snarl on the van. Yet, all the while, he remembers to focus on the fact that he doesn't want to harm the humans driving the van. He only wants to take the blood that's already in bags, not theirs. It's a sad state of affairs that he has to train his mind to think in such a manner, but it's the only thing that's going to make the chip let him do what he wants -- or even part of what he wants -- to do tonight.
He'd much rather rip the wankers straight out of that van and tear into their throats himself. He'd prefer by far to have fresh blood from screaming lungs squirting into his mouth. But beggars can't be chooses, and if he's going to feed tonight, this is the only way he's going to succeed. This or simply walk into the hospital after visitation hours and steal another blood, but that's not even as much fun as this is.
The driver slams on the brakes as Spike comes into view. "What the Hell is that?!" Spike chuckles to himself and snarls again, letting his full Vampire face come out to play.
"I -- I think that's another run of them!" the passenger gasps fearfully. But Spike isn't the full reason for her fear and he isn't intending to hurt her, so once again, the chip doesn't go off. "Don't just stop the van! You're going to make us sitting ducks!"
You already are, pet, Spike snarls.
"Run him over!"
"But . . . But what if he's not -- "
"Shit! You've waited too long, idiot! Now we've got kids in the street!"
Oh, yeah. Just as he'd planned, the trick or treaters are filling the road now. The van can't move fast for fear of hitting the children. "Nice, little buggers," he smirks, looking at the children wearing masks and pretending to be beasts in which most of them don't even believe. Beings start looking for an easy way to get what they want at an early age. Once, he could have snatched any one of them and had a nice, easy, and delicious meal, but the chip won't let him.
Spike turns away from the scrambling kids and eyes the two humans sitting up in the van again. Between the driver's fear and the children milling all about, it's stopped entirely. Spike takes his time ambling down toward the van. Reaching the cab, he raps his knocks on the driver's door. The driver screams even as he calls out in a teasing, sing-song voice, "Trick or treat!"
A mild pain buzzes in his head, the only warning he ever receives to the chip beginning to fire. He quickly reminds himself again that he's not after the humans, only the bags of blood they're carrying. Still, hurting the van won't tick off his chip. He digs his black fingernails into the van's white paint and drags them all the way down its side.
He can hear the driver inside muttering at the kids to hurry up and clear his pathway. Only one boy remains. Spike smirks at the driver's horrified face reflected in the van's side mirror before calling out, "Hey, kids! You're missing the best candy! These nice Red Cross people are giving out real treats -- and money, too!" It works like a charm as the children swarm the van.
Spike chuckles, his dark mood finally lifting entirely. He busts the lock on the van's back doors with a single blow and is full out laughing by the time he climbs inside. He grabs one bag after the next while the children beat on the cab's doors, screaming out, "Trick or Treat" and "Give me a treat or smell my feet", and shake the van.
He quickly satisfies his hunger, then lifts several coolers of blood and jumps back out of the van. There's an older boy dressed in leather hanging not too far from him and watching the proceedings. He grins at Spike. "Cool."
The old William the Bloody would have had fun destroying that kid, but once more, Spike remembers his chip and reins in his impulses. He still grins at the lad, however, and snarls. The kid drops the cigarette he wasn't old enough to be smoking and runs screaming for his mummy. Laughing, his arms loaded with blood, and finally successful again, Spike starts to head off into the nightmare.
But then he pauses and looks back once more at the van whose cab is practically covered with children wearing their various costumes and beating at the doors and windows. "Hey, kids," he calls with a devilish grin, "you can get to 'em easier by going through the back." He watches for a moment as the children take his suggestion to heart and start climbing into the back of the van. He listens to the driver screaming and yelling and his passenger cussing. Then he turns with a laugh and walks away, the tails of his trench coat swirling around him like a big, black cape once more.
The End
Author: Kat Lee
Fandom: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Character/Pairing: Spike
Rating: PG/K+
Warning(s): None
Word Count: 1,357
Summary:
Disclaimer: All characters within belong to Whedon, not the author, and are used without permission.
He stalks the streets, fuming and chewing on his cigarette as the shadows of the evening grow longer. The tails of his long, black trench coat flap around his legs. The sensation used to make him feel dark, mysterious, and powerful. Now he's only vaguely aware of it, and it does nothing to help his personality or his mood.
He's always hated this night. When he was younger and still mortal, it meant parties to which he was never invited unless some one either took pity on him, wanted to wriggle into his mother's good graces, or was scheming to make him the butt of their joke for the night. Those evenings never ended well, but lately even as the Big Bad he's become, or was admittedly, he's another rash of bad evenings.
He curses the Initiative yet again. One night, he's going to find a way to get this bloody chip out of his head, and when he does, all those sniffling school boys are going to pay and pay dearly. But right now, he still doesn't have a way to get it out of him. One night, he can still barely feed, and he can't harm a single hair on the bloody Happy Meals walking all around him.
But he doesn't have to harm somebody in order to feed tonight. He's got a plan. As usual, the humans are being idiots. Only a truly stupid wanker would try to drive a blood van through the streets of the Hellmouth, especially on Halloween night. Only a wanker would do a blood drive at all on Halloween night or any night in the Hellmouth, but that's exactly what these Happy Meals with legs have done.
He's got the plan, and he's go their plan as well. He knows where every stop is and the exact path they're taking through the Hellmouth. They're going to be turning the corner onto this mostly deserted street any second now. Spike grins, knowing he's going to be waiting for the van load of blood to come straight at him.
It's not the same as being able to bury his fangs into the nice, fleshy throat of a human. The blood will be cold, not warm, and every Vampire in existence prefers warm, freshly flowing blood. But he'll take what fun, and what blood, he can get, especially when it's so hard for him to come by these days.
He pauses in his pacing as he hears a squeal. He dismisses it a second later, recognizing the wail of kids running door to door on their little, trick or treat errands. He fancies messing with the buggers, but he'll leave them be tonight. No need for make his chip rear up before he even gets close to his blood.
He hears squealing again, but this time, it's mechanical. He looks up just in time to see the van for which he's been waiting come around the corner on two wheels. He leaps into the street in a blur of black and leather and turns his best snarl on the van. Yet, all the while, he remembers to focus on the fact that he doesn't want to harm the humans driving the van. He only wants to take the blood that's already in bags, not theirs. It's a sad state of affairs that he has to train his mind to think in such a manner, but it's the only thing that's going to make the chip let him do what he wants -- or even part of what he wants -- to do tonight.
He'd much rather rip the wankers straight out of that van and tear into their throats himself. He'd prefer by far to have fresh blood from screaming lungs squirting into his mouth. But beggars can't be chooses, and if he's going to feed tonight, this is the only way he's going to succeed. This or simply walk into the hospital after visitation hours and steal another blood, but that's not even as much fun as this is.
The driver slams on the brakes as Spike comes into view. "What the Hell is that?!" Spike chuckles to himself and snarls again, letting his full Vampire face come out to play.
"I -- I think that's another run of them!" the passenger gasps fearfully. But Spike isn't the full reason for her fear and he isn't intending to hurt her, so once again, the chip doesn't go off. "Don't just stop the van! You're going to make us sitting ducks!"
You already are, pet, Spike snarls.
"Run him over!"
"But . . . But what if he's not -- "
"Shit! You've waited too long, idiot! Now we've got kids in the street!"
Oh, yeah. Just as he'd planned, the trick or treaters are filling the road now. The van can't move fast for fear of hitting the children. "Nice, little buggers," he smirks, looking at the children wearing masks and pretending to be beasts in which most of them don't even believe. Beings start looking for an easy way to get what they want at an early age. Once, he could have snatched any one of them and had a nice, easy, and delicious meal, but the chip won't let him.
Spike turns away from the scrambling kids and eyes the two humans sitting up in the van again. Between the driver's fear and the children milling all about, it's stopped entirely. Spike takes his time ambling down toward the van. Reaching the cab, he raps his knocks on the driver's door. The driver screams even as he calls out in a teasing, sing-song voice, "Trick or treat!"
A mild pain buzzes in his head, the only warning he ever receives to the chip beginning to fire. He quickly reminds himself again that he's not after the humans, only the bags of blood they're carrying. Still, hurting the van won't tick off his chip. He digs his black fingernails into the van's white paint and drags them all the way down its side.
He can hear the driver inside muttering at the kids to hurry up and clear his pathway. Only one boy remains. Spike smirks at the driver's horrified face reflected in the van's side mirror before calling out, "Hey, kids! You're missing the best candy! These nice Red Cross people are giving out real treats -- and money, too!" It works like a charm as the children swarm the van.
Spike chuckles, his dark mood finally lifting entirely. He busts the lock on the van's back doors with a single blow and is full out laughing by the time he climbs inside. He grabs one bag after the next while the children beat on the cab's doors, screaming out, "Trick or Treat" and "Give me a treat or smell my feet", and shake the van.
He quickly satisfies his hunger, then lifts several coolers of blood and jumps back out of the van. There's an older boy dressed in leather hanging not too far from him and watching the proceedings. He grins at Spike. "Cool."
The old William the Bloody would have had fun destroying that kid, but once more, Spike remembers his chip and reins in his impulses. He still grins at the lad, however, and snarls. The kid drops the cigarette he wasn't old enough to be smoking and runs screaming for his mummy. Laughing, his arms loaded with blood, and finally successful again, Spike starts to head off into the nightmare.
But then he pauses and looks back once more at the van whose cab is practically covered with children wearing their various costumes and beating at the doors and windows. "Hey, kids," he calls with a devilish grin, "you can get to 'em easier by going through the back." He watches for a moment as the children take his suggestion to heart and start climbing into the back of the van. He listens to the driver screaming and yelling and his passenger cussing. Then he turns with a laugh and walks away, the tails of his trench coat swirling around him like a big, black cape once more.
The End
