| Summer Series 2002: The Journey of the Fool Story the 20th ~ Judgment By Kuzibah |
| Disclaimer: Spike is not mine, more's the pity. Spoilers for �Grave� and season 3 of �Angel.� Archive- Please email request. Feedback- Absolutely. ******************* -Los Angeles �The Lion and the Lamb� read the hand-painted and artificially distressed sign above the street, with the description, �A Bit of Britain in the Golden State.� Spike could smell the aroma of sawdust and ale and fried fish drifting through the open door. Close enough, he thought, and went in. Inside it was smoky and dim, and from the accents around him it was clear the bulk of the clientele were displaced Britons, with a few Scots, Welshmen, and Australians thrown in for variety. But he could smell good English beer, and right now, he needed some. Not too much, he cautioned himself, mindful of the green demon�s words in LA, but some. He headed for the bar. Near the bar a man sat alone at a table. He was pouring a shot of whiskey into his beer, and the circle of empties on the table in front of his showed it was far from his first. He looked drawn and haggard, with a few days growth of beard and unkempt black hair that badly needed trimming. He looked up as Spike approached and they met one another�s eyes. Spike watched as a series of emotions played out quickly on the man�s face: a slight widening of the eyes and parting of the lips as he recognized Spike, then the brow furrowed in confusion as he tried to place exactly where from, and finally the eyes narrowed and the mouth closed and set in a hard line before he returned his attention to his drink. Spike got his beer and stepped over to the man�s table. �Do I know you?� he said. �No,� the man told him without looking up. �We�ve never met. But I know who you are.� Spike said nothing, aware instinctually that this man could be very dangerous. �Did Angelus summon you here, William?� Spike�s own eyes narrowed. �Not that it�s any of your business,� he said, �but I came here on my own.� �And have you seen him?� �No.� Spike did not elaborate. The human glanced up. �Abandoned again,� he said with mock sympathy. �Shouldn�t surprise you. He�s like that.� �You don�t know anything about it,� Spike said hotly. �Who the hell are you, anyway?� �I used to be one of Angel�s business associates,� the man said conversationally. �Thought I was really making a difference, fighting the good fight, even saving the world on occasion.� Spike allowed himself an amused smile. �What a bastard,� he said. �How dare he allow you to save other people�s lives.� Now it was the human�s turn to be angry. �Smug little prick,� he snarled. �What do you know about trust?� Spike laughed. �Seeing as how I�ve had to trust complete strangers for the bulk of the past few weeks, I�d say I know rather a lot.� �You�re an idiot,� the man said. �I can see what you�re up to.� Spike was beginning to think he had this drunken human�s number, as well. �Can you?� he said, all innocence now. �Tell me. What am I up to?� �You�re having some sort of vampire identity crisis,� the man said, �like Cordelia�s friend last year. You�re a miserable failure as a vampire, so you think you�ll just switch teams, work with the white hats for awhile.� Spike laughed again. �Yes,� he agreed sarcastically. �You�ve got it exactly right.� The man ignored the sarcasm. �Not that it matters,� he said. �It�s all pointless, anyway.� �What is?� �Fighting the good fight,� the human slurred. �You fight, and you try, and you use your best judgment, and then you get tricked and betrayed anyway, and all your loyalty counts for nothing.� Strangely, Spike was beginning to feel sympathy for this man; there was a story here, a story where he�d been hurt very badly. �Take my advice,� the man said, winding down, �don�t waste your time on other people. You�re better off being a vampire.� Spike looked down at this pale-skinned human with his red-rimmed eyes and sullen demeanor, and then considered himself, so many weeks out of Africa, and despite all that had happened feeling a spark of hope inside himself, hope that he could be more, and he realized an outside observer would be hard-pressed to identify which of them was the undead. And Maybe he was headed for a fall. Maybe, when he returned to Sunnydale, returned Home, life and circumstance would beat him down and hold him down, and leave him hurt and angry and bitter, as this man was. But he was willing to take that chance, willing to risk contentment to satisfy his newly-returned soul�s demands that he dedicate his life to something greater than himself. Spike put his untouched beer on the table. �Thanks for the advice,� he said, hoping his tone wasn�t lost on the human, and he walked away, and out into the night. Go on to the final part - The World Main Menu ~ Return to Summer Series 2002 Menu |