| Summer Series 2002: The Journey of the Fool Story the 18th ~ The Moon 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. ******************* ~ Las Vegas Spike stopped dead just inside the door of the strangely-named bar, not knowing whether to laugh or cry. He'd run in purely by chance, but chance took funny turns here, and his quick jump for somewhere well-lit and crowded brought him into a demon bar. The evening hadn't started off this way. He'd gotten off the train in Las Vegas because, through various unexplained delays crossing the country, it had ended up that they would arrive in Los Angeles just past dawn instead of at night, as originally scheduled, and not knowing the train station in LA, Spike couldn't be sure it was under shelter like in New York. So, just past midnight, he'd entered Sin City. He�d headed straight for downtown and quickly gotten a room. Dirt cheap, too, seeing as it was Tuesday. Then he�d headed for the nearest bar for some �sleeping juice.� What he�d found was a group of conventioneers who�d had a disastrous time at their expo, which was itself a last-ditch effort to save their embryonic business. Faced with financial ruin in a town without pity, they�d spent the last of their pocket change on cheap liquor and were just waiting for someone to look at them funny. Spike had been the lucky looker. Overwhelmed and unable to fight back, he was literally tossed out the front door by the bar�s bouncer, and the five drunks were tossed out after him. And then he�d run. Attracted by the raucous, off-key strains of �New York, New York,� he�d ducked into the next lounge he�d come to, only to find it filled with demons. Demons singing karaoke. On the plus side, most demon bars sported a glamour that made them practically invisible to most humans. Spike hoped this was no exception. A bright green demon dressed in a natty white suit minced over and extended one perfectly manicured hand. �Welcome to Amnis,� he said. �Come on in. What can we get you tonight, liebchen?� Spike allowed the demon to lead him to a small table. �Bourbon,� he said. �Bring the bottle.� The demon took hold of Spike�s wrist and turned it back and forth. �You sure you don�t want something a little more nourishing, tiger? We just got in a nice AB negative.� �No,� Spike said tightly. �Just the bourbon, then,� the demon said, and he moved off towards the bar. Spike�s bourbon was delivered by a three-eyed cocktail waitress, and he knocked back three shots in quick succession. He noted that the green demon who�d greeted him was more entertainer than waiter, and was organizing the karaoke singers. There must be a lot of regulars he was friendly with, Spike supposed, as he often took the singers aside afterward for quiet conversation. After a while, the green demon joined Spike again. �Alright, bucko, let�s have it,� he said. �You�ve been jamming my frequencies all night.� �What are you on about?� Spike slurred. I read auras. Vibes, if you will,� the demon explained. �And you, sport, have been one big bundle of �put-me-out-of-my-misery� since you dashed in here.� Spike set down his glass. �I�ll be on my way, then,� he said, starting to rise. The demon caught his wrist in a surprisingly strong grasp. �Doesn�t work that way, sweet-pea. You walk into my club, you take what I can give you.� He gave a charming smile. �Now tell me all about it, precious.� Spike glared at this nosy stranger, then gave a resigned sigh. �What do you want to know?� �Just give me a few bars, bambino.� �Bars of what?� �Music, kiddo. I read you when you sing.� �You�re joking.� In spite of himself, Spike had to laugh. �Not at all, sparky. Just give me a line or two. Anything at all.� Spike glanced around uncomfortably, then, satisfied there was no one within earshot, cleared his throat. �She went away for the holidays, Said she's going to LA. But she never got there, she never got there, She never got there, they say.� �That�s plenty, rosebud,� the demon said with real sympathy in his voice, then he sighed and folded his hands. �The vampire with a soul joke wasn�t funny the first time,� he said. �You�d think the PTB would realize it doesn�t get funnier if you tell it again.� �So you know about Angel,� Spike said. �No, of course you do. Everybody knows him.� �But you�re not him,� the demon said. �You�ve got your own tortured psyche to pick apart. But first things first. Who�s Buffy?� Spike squeezed his eye shut at the name. �If you know Angel, you know who she is.� �I want to know who she is to you.� �What I did to her�� Spike balled his hands into fists in frustration. �I did such horrible things to her.� �But you�re going back to her. Why?� �I have to help her,� Spike said earnestly. �She needs someone strong, like she is�� �Listen to yourself, teddy bear,� the demon interrupted. �You�ve got the whole approach-avoid thing down. You�re ready to take it on the road. But why are you going back to her?� �I�� Spike hesitated. �Let me ask you this, then,� the demon went on. �If she walked in here, what would she tell me about you?� Spike dropped his gaze, ashamed. �She�d tell you I�m an evil thing. That I disgust her. That I�m bad for her. That I�ll hurt her.� �So, let me understand,� the demon said. �You care about her, but your presence is a danger to her. Tell me again why you�re going back there, pumpkin?� �Stop calling me those names,� Spike snapped. �I�m not a child.� �No, you�re not,� the demon said calmly. �But you�re avoiding the question. Why Sunnydale?� Spike turned up his palms, defeated. �I don�t know where else to go,� he said. �You feel that?� the demon said. �That�s you being honest with yourself. That�s you asking yourself important questions. Remember that feeling. It may hurt, but it�s what your soul needs.� He pointed to Spike�s chest. �It�s in you, now. You�re stuck with it. And it�s up to you to take care of it.� Spike shook his head slowly, fighting the anguish that was clear on his face. �What about� him? Angel.� �What about him?� �Could he help me?� �What do you think?� Some of the old Spike snuck back. �You�re the fortune teller. You tell me.� Let�s just say� Angel cakes may not be as you remember him,� the demon said, and Spike smiled at the nickname. �But then, that might be good for you both.� �Thanks,� Spike said. �One more thing, William,� the demon said, ignoring Spike�s surprise at the use of his given name. �You need to lay off the sauce. You can�t drink your soul into submission, you�ll only numb the part of you that keeps you from doing anything else you regret.� �I know,� Spike said miserably. �It�s just� I need to sleep.� �Sleep will come,� the demon said. �When the soul feels safe, you�ll sleep.� �And I�ve got to make it safe, I guess.� �I knew you�d get it,� the demon said. �Now, let me get you some hemo.� Spike nodded. �Okay,� he said. Go on to the next part - The Sun Main Menu ~ Return to Summer Series 2002 Menu |