(Extra Disclaimer: The lyrics of Pretty Vacant, Did You No Wrong, and God Save the Queen are copyright the Sex Pistols and whoever their record label is now.)
This is nice.
This is actually…nice!
I know, I know, that’s such a weak description! But you know what they say, when a man (or woman) is in love then anything they write or compose or whatever is utter crap. Which is why I just summed up the most intense, explosive, heart-stopping, breath-taking, cock-hardening relationship I have ever been in as…well, nice!
And it’s all thanks to that witch Willow!
I mean who would have thought it! Nine months ago I was ready to tear her little friend Xander into itty bitty pieces just to persuade her to cast one lousy little love spell on Drusilla. And now here I am at the Bronze, surrounded by all these Happy Meals on legs, and instead of feeding like there’s no tomorrow I’m just sitting here calmly as the music cuts through the air like a chainsaw, watching her dance.
Oh we’re so pretty, oh so pretty VACANT!
God, this takes me back! They’re doing some sort of Sex Pistols/Punk revival tonight, or at least, as close to Punk as a small Californian town can get. Which isn’t too bad actually. Anyway, the point is that *last* time I heard this song was back in London when the Sex Pistols were first around. I remember the experience well, moshing away for a few hours in a little club somewhere in Brixton in preparation for indulging in that great English tradition of twelve pints followed by a massive punch-up. With a few modifications here and there, such as pints of *what* exactly. But they were glorious times, and hearing that song almost makes me want to relive the experience and teach a few of these Yank wannabes what made Sid *really* Vicious!
But I don’t. And that’s the other thing I’ve got to thank her for, she gave me my soul back. Yup, all those times I called Angel a wet nonce for giving a fuck, and then one little spell and suddenly I’m seeing the beauty in the way the sun plays across the grass or the tear in the eye of a child after I’ve ripped its Mum’s head off.
‘Course, I wasn’t all that grateful to begin with. But when I went storming round her house and found her there, standing on the porch in the sweetest sundress I’ve ever seen, making those cute puppy-dog eyes of fear and joy at seeing me…well, bugger me with a railroad spike if my heart didn’t start skipping a beat.
Metaphorically speaking.
I don't mind the things that you say
I don't even mind going out of my way
I try and do these things for you
Why should I do it
I'm always untrue
She really is something special though. I can see that now, watching her twist and lurch, stomping and moshing with such grace that it takes my breath away. So pure and sweet, so forever virginal; even dressed up in old bin-bags and safety pins she still looks like the archetypal fresh faced girl next door. It’s amazing how well she is coping given all that’s happened to her. Even on those nights when she isn’t, even when I go round her parents’ place and find her curled up on her bed, sobbing, she’s still compos mentis enough to give me a little smile and wave. And when I go over to her and put my arm around, she cuddles up so warmly, like a loving little kitten, that it makes my heart fill with joy and I think to myself This is it. This is what love should be like.
It was never like this with Drusilla. All she ever wanted was sex, sex, sex, prove your dominance Spike, be a man Spike, rip off that geezer’s head Spike to show me you care! And the moment I choose not to she’s off sucking face with a Chaos demon, and maybe a few other choice parts too! But with Willow it’s different. Oh we’ve shared the same bed a few times, when the nights got too much for her and she didn’t want to wake up alone. But it’s never gone any further. Not for any fear of me losing my soul – she’s managed to deal with that little sub-clause quite nicely – but because of bad experiences in her past, and I respect that totally. After all, if your first time led to your lover living wild and hairy in Sunnydale woods, dropping the occasional mutilated cat on your doorstep as a token of affection, you’d be left with more than a few issues to deal with too? But despite this she still manages to show me affection, waking me with a kiss or nuzzling me gently when I’m not feeling much cop either. And I know from all these signs that little by little she’s dealing with it. And even more I know that this amazing, beautiful, demure young thing has chosen *me* to be her lover, to help her face the darkness and hold her whenever she gets scared.
And it makes me smile.
There is a lull in the music and she comes over to me, smiling in that sweetly uncertain way she has. I pat my knee encouragingly but she just shakes her head and demurely sits in the chair opposite Not that I mind – after all, she’s her own woman and I’d never pressurise her into doing anything she didn’t want to. Besides, she has that look on her face that I’ve come to recognise as meaning that she has something she wants to say but is scared of the outcome.
"Spike…" she begins.
I smile gently at the nervousness in her voice; an encouraging smile that reminds Willow that she has nothing to fear from me; whatever she wants to tell me I’ll listen without reproach or judgement.
"You know how, uh, well, I’ve been having various problems over the past few months about, you know, sex…"
She blushes slightly at the mention of the word and I nod for her to go on; a secret wondering starting to rise in my breast.
"Go on love."
"Well, uh, I’ve been doing some thinking recently and I think…" She swallows slightly. "I think…"
For a second she just looks at me, and if I still had breath then it would surely catch in my throat. Could it be…? After all this time, could she really mean…? The second stretches into a minute and I watch, hardly daring to move, as she takes a deep breath and says those words that will change our relationship forever.
"I’m a lesbian."
My encouraging smile freezes on my lips as my world crashes down around my ears.
"You’re a what?" I finally manage.
"A lesbian. You know, I prefer sleeping with women than men."
"I know what a lesbian is." The words sound disturbingly pleasant given the way my heart is currently shattering in my chest. "I just meant…I mean, you’ve not even *been* with another woman!"
"Um, no, that’s not true." Willow sighs. "I guess should have told you about this weeks ago but…well, one night when things were really bad with me and you were out of town, I met up with Cordelia during one of her infrequent visits back here. And she was so different to how I remember her, like she had really got her act together, so we got talking, which led to coffee, which led to a movie and dinner and more talking and…"
"Wait a minute." I say, now letting some of the shock filter through to my voice. "You’re dumping me for *Cordelia*?!"
Willow’s blush deepens.
"Well I wouldn’t call it being *dumped* exactly, uh, except of course that it *is*, but only in the literal sense…" Her voice trails off. "Look, it’s not you OK, it’s me! I prefer women. Fact of life!" The distress is clear in her voice now. "I mean I guess I should have realised that after the sex with Oz was so flat, but it was a really bad time, what with the Ascension and all that, and I just needed the intimacy and Oz was there for me. And afterwards with the whole ‘full time werewolf’ side effect I just got so caught up in the guilt and the blaming myself that I lost sight of what was really going on with me. And Cordelia managed to straighten me out and help me realise a few things. Including the fact that technically I’ve been leading you on for all these months." Another sigh. "I’m sorry."
She lowers her gaze a little sheepishly and smiles at me in that cute little way of hers. Only suddenly I find it isn’t so cute any more, and before I can stop myself I’m leaping at her, hurling myself over the table in a desperate attempt to try and make her hurt as much as I do. She sees it coming though and manages to jump away in time, screaming as she does so. This is enough to attract the attention of the bouncers and the next thing I know my arms are being held behind my back and this big dark voice is telling me
"Easy now buddy, c’mon, easy now."
But it isn’t easy at all, especially when you’ve just had your heart broken., so I jerk my head back into his nose, and whilst he’s distracted I pull one arm free, grab for the guy’s throat, and without so much as a second thought I start to squeeze…
As his body goes limp in my grasp I feel the tiniest, most exquisite moment of joy I have felt in a long time. Then comes the guilt, crashing down on me like a wave, so fierce and strong that my legs give way beneath me and I have to sit down. Christ on a biscuit, what did I just *do*? The love of my life just told me that she prefers women to men and I reply by trying to attack her and then killing an innocent bouncer when she proves to be too quick. Talk about over-bleeding reacting! I may be hurting but to kill a guy just because my heart’s been broken…
The sound of footsteps disturbs my reverie and I look up to see two bouncers standing close in front of me. They both seem very nervous for such big blokes, having clearly seen what just happened to their mate, but also grimly determined, and for a moment I wonder whether I shouldn’t just give in. Let myself go and let them do whatever the hell they want in order to somehow be punished and atone for my crimes.
And then the music begins to play once more…
God save the Queen…
This time there isn’t any loss of control. This time it’s all perfectly deliberate as I hurl myself at them, whooping with joy as the adrenaline kicks in and everything suddenly falls neatly into place. Because the casual murder of innocents is all very well if you’re a soulless monster, but if that’s not the case then harming someone who you’ve never met before just because you’ve given your heart to some callous rug-muncher to grind beneath her Doc Martin’s…well, that’s not very nice.
But I am William the Bloody. I grew up in the poverty and violence of early nineteenth century London. And even with a soul I am *not*
(SNAP)
*Very*
(CRUNCH)
*NICE*!
(GOUGE)
(REND)
(TEAR)
The two bouncers are no match for me the mood I’m in, and the moment their corpses drop I look around, suddenly eager to show my dyke ex bitch of a girlfriend the new lesson I’ve just learnt. But it’s too late; she’s long gone, with not so much as a whiff of perfume lingering on as a reminder. Not that it matters to me right now. I know where she lives and I still have her permission to enter. Even if she works at full speed, I should still have a couple of hours to go before she manages to revoke that. Besides which, I have more pressing problems right now, such as getting out of this dump before either the police or (worse) Buffy appears to try and stake my arse. And since I seem to have disposed of what little muscle this place has I think now would be a good time to depart. So I pull my jacket closer around me and start walking, just as the song reaches its climax.
No future
Again the memories of Brixton return, and this time I find myself singing along, in tune once more with the sentiments that Johnny and Sid and all the others were sharing with us all those years ago.
No future
Fuck nice! Fuck sweet! Fuck poetic and gentle and romantic and understanding! For I am Spike! Torture, psychopath, anarchist and punk extraordinaire! Slayer of Slayers and disposer of Annoying Ones. Just because I’m love’s bitch don’t mean I have to stop doing what I love best, now does it? And now I’m free of all commitments, boy is this town going to *burn*!
No future for you!
But just as a warm up, I think I’m going to kill me a nice little Jewish princess.
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