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| *****PreBuffy***** The swingin' twenties roared into existence with a blowing trumpet and a hopping dance. No one even remotely cared about responsibility and country anymore. The end of the war had marked the beginning of a whole new era. Women had proved they were as good at everything men could do. Marriage was stale and way too permanent. Dancing and drinking and smoking were all there was to be had. If you didn't boogie in the underground bootleg clubs as soon as the sun fell into the sea, you were obviously not the bees knees, coolie. The rush of the young and the restless into the night for ribaldry and hedonism was the new sound of the city. The same breath of wind that whisked the funseekers into the quarry of clubs on the westside carried the laughter and chattering to the ears of the two men standing in the opening of an alleyway behind a club, regretfully named "Tooth & Nail.� All the owners had meant was that they would fight tooth and nail to maintain their business, after the stench of the prohibition law had emanated from the mouths of the lawmakers. Spike and Angelus took it as a sign that it was meant to be their own personal lair, a perfect flytrap for gorgeous women in short dresses flanked with sequins and beaded fringes. They lured them in with promises of bourbon, cigars, and great jazz music. They kept them there with smashing good looks, perfectly coiffed hair, well-cut expensive suits with alligator shoes, and seductive whispers in their ears. Great bait, large hook. The prettiest and most innocent of the partygoers never came out of the club. The stodgy old folks blamed it on loose morals and free drugs. The younger set blamed it on lack of coolness and too many principles. No one thought to look in the locked underground shed in the back and unearth the booty of stolen jewelry and finery. There were no bodies, of course, as the boys pawned them off on demons who couldn't show their faces to the world. Profit on all levels. A successful club, willing free meals, demon protection, and the best of everything. Al Capone, eat your heart out. Who needs guns and an entourage to rule the night, when you have gleaming yellow eyes, and sharp pointy fangs? And when you had taken out the slayer without even breaking a sweat. The lower west half of Chicago solidly belonged to them. The young and the restless. The quick and the dead. Life (or unlife as it may be) don' get much bedda dan dis. Spike turned to Angelus, grinning, and flicked the ashes of his half smoked stogie to the side. It was no secret that although Angelus was the handsomer of the two, he lost his temper quickly and lost those angelic features in favor of a sound meal. Spike, on the other hand, preferred to smooth talk his way into things, and surprise the victims with a roar and the odd noise of his facial bones reconstructing themselves into the features of a demon from behind. Tonight, he was trying to convince Angelus to do the same. There were two obviously underage girls roaming the outskirts of the club, too scared to join the festivities, but ready to grow up way too fast. Angelus was listening to Spike with only half an ear. As usual, he managed to look charming and annoyed at the same time, as he shot a glare at Spike, and smiled at a group of giggling girls in passing, who had come outside for a smoke. "They're food, Spike, not dignitaries. I don't see why I have to coddle them when I want to EAT!" he grumbled, still looking at the girls. He had been extra-cranky ever since Darla and Drusilla had taken off for Spain. They were not in fashion here, with their long hair, porcelain skin, and flouncing petticoats. So they had gone off to play in the land of pepper and spice for a while, until they were bored of the flamenco lifestyle. Not knowing when they would return had left him more than a bit flustered. Although he had no doubt they could fend for themselves, he preferred to have them within his sights for optimum advantage. Like making sure he wasn't on the receiving end of one of their harried schemes. Spike flashed him a lopsided grin around the butt of his cigar. As love-hate relationships went, he and his sire were the mold to break. They never really liked each other, and had fought madly over Drusilla at times (which in turn pissed Darla off and she favored Spike for a while), but deep down, they were a perfectly suited match. Tall, dark, and handsome met blond, lean, and sexy. Together they ruled the night with an iron fist and a magnanimous grin. And considering they had centuries of friendly ribaldry to go, why not have a little fun with it? "Now listen �ere, Peaches," he drawled in his gutterly British accent, "We can draw just as much blood with sugar as we can with vinegar. Or something like that. We want to keep up appearances, we've got to make nice.� Angelus's glower grew deeper. "I don't want to make nice. And stop calling me that.� Spike laughed and effortlessly summoned a pretty blond over to his side with a flick of his head and a lick of his luscious bottom lip. "Hullo gorgeous," he whispered in her hair. "Will you tell my friend here his frowny-face is driving away the ladies.� He turned to his enemy-cum-ally with a raised eyebrow and waited for a reply. "Damn English inbreeding," Angelus muttered. He turned on his heel and started towards the club, grabbing the waist of a pixie redhead as he went. He smiled in all his glory and said, "Care to join me for a drink?" She let go of the friend she had been holding on to and allowed him to lead her into temptation. He turned to Spike, already whispering sweet nothings in the blonde�s ear. "See, playing nice.� They walked through the club door into the smoke and haze and disappeared. Spike smirked to himself before turning back to his conquest. "We'll see about that...� *****Mazzy***** Angelus�s red-headed floozy was already quite giddy from the bootlegged gin that was the house specialty. She tripped on a step as the devil-may care vampire led her around a corner, bringing her not far from the shed of death. "C�mon, darling, more booze this way," he cooed as he grabbed her arm and led her in the direction where the faux drinks awaited. "Woo hoo!" she sang doing a few knobby-kneed dance steps as she leaned on his taut, muscular limb. "But first, a smoke.� He moved forward and she pulled out a long cigarette holder from a small, beaded bag with a silk-gloved hand, waiting for him to step in and offer a light. She stood there expectantly. As if on cue, the duplicitous demon spoke. "So you want me to light you up?" She giggled furiously at his innuendo. "Come over this way," he beckoned with an outstretched finger, as he hovered near the wooden door of the underground lair. She couldn�t resist his handsome and charming demeanor. It was dark. It was black. It was as if someone had wiped away the sun, moon and stars, replacing it with an enormous piece of lacquer. Yet one single light remained shining to frame the silhouette of the mysterious man. It was seductive and she walked forward, anxious for booze, sticks and a wallop of more trouble. She could see the outline of his head, slicked back hair and the strong lines of his ridged forehead. He beckoned yet again. "That�s it baby, come to Daddy.� He grabbed her arm and swooped her into a fatal embrace. Inside the club, flappers bounced to the brassy horns of the Charleston, while the others stood in a sophisticated portrait against the art deco stylings of the club�s jade and ivory columns. Most were oblivious to the piercing, but brief scream that came through the back haze. One creature was not. A blue-eyed blonde in a green-laced dress leaned in close and stroked the label of his sharp white suit. "Sweets, take me to dance.� He held a finger to his lips. "Shh, sugar-buns.� The club was screaming with reckless abandon, but Spike knew that Angelus had already had his appetizer for the night. "Stupid git, never could hold out for long," he muttered. He turned his attention to the feather-banded chicken at his side. "What�s your name?" She batted her long eyelashes at him seductively. "Katie.� He smiled down at her, his cheekbones a valley of depth. "So �Katie�, you wanna dance? Alright then, I�ll take you dancing.� She smiled. "But not here.� She frowned. "No, you�re special. I�m gonna show some real dance music.� She remained pouty, so he rolled his eyes and conceded, "We can come back here later, for a special �after-party�.� He reached down and gave a flirty little punch to her sharp, soft chin. "C�mon darlin�.� He held out a stiff, white-draped elbow and she put her arm in it. They began to stroll out the club when Angelus returned, not so subtly wiping the corners of his mouth. There was a funny thing about people--if they didn�t know to look for something, they usually didn�t notice it. Spike smoothly leaned toward the bar and picked up a �Tooth & Nail� cocktail napkin, handing it to his male companion. "Spilled some wine on your face again?" he snickered. Angelus dismissed the other man�s offer and licked the outside of his mouth with a red tongue before he noticed the precious beauty on Spike�s arm. "Well, well...what have we here?" He came around to her and grabbed her free arm, bringing her frail hand up to his lips and pressing sweetly against it. "We taking this party elsewhere? Let�s roll.� She abandoned Spike�s arm and grasped eagerly onto the dark man�s. The new twosome walked forward, leaving Spike standing with the napkin in his clutches where the feminine sweetie had just been. Angelus looked back at him. "C�mon, Daddio. The party�s just getting started.� Spike caught up and grabbed the lady�s other arm. The gesture regained her attention. "Ever hear of Louis Armstrong?" he inquired before the three strolled out of the lady-trap, into the seedy streets of the city and towards whatever fate would soon await them. |
| TOOTH & NAIL BY PREBUFFY & MAZZY |
| PART I |
| above manip not made by QM. |
| DISCLAIMER: Prebuffy and Mazzy realize that Angelus was already re-souled in the 1920's, but we are taking creative license for storyline purposes. So put aside your disbelief and have fun! |
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