Chapter One
Point Of View
A slight clink as a bottle is set down in front of me. I ignore the cup that‘s being offered. The intoxicating smell as I bring the bottle to my lips brings back so many memories, good and bad. I eagerly welcome the burning sensation that fills my mouth, slides down my throat, enters my ‘system’. I smirk.
Whiskey. Gotta love it.
I glance to my right, watching a girl slide onto the bar stool next to me. She looks about 13 or so.
“Pina colada. Virgin.”
She sounds older than she looks. More mature, more sophisticated. But still too young to be in a bar. I quirk an eyebrow.
“Aren’t you a little young to be in a bar?” I ask, shoulders hunched up slightly.
The girl snorts, glaring at me.
“Aren’t you a little old to be talking to girls you think are too young to be in a bar?”
She’s smart. But her snappish reply still surprises me, and I gently tilt my head.
“What’re you, a vampire?” she continues.
“Yeah,” I growl, leaning towards her threateningly. “So watch your step, missy.”
But instead of cowering away in fear or whimpering as I expected, she merely grimaces, making a noise of utter disgust.
“Ever heard of breath mints, buddy?”
I straighten up, studying the child with interest. She’s either bloody brave or soddin’ stupid.
“What’s your name?” I inquire, nodding to her slightly.
“Why should I tell you, dog-breath?!”
I shake my head slightly as her drink arrives. She shoots a nasty look at the bartender, snatching the drink up and gulping a large amount of it. The whiskey calls to me once again, and I answer, swigging the burning alcohol again. I can feel the girl staring at me.
“Casey.”
So she speaks again. Confused, I look at her. Her expression is blank, but there’s something in her eyes. A message I can’t quite decode…
“Come again?”
“You asked me what my name was. It’s Casey.”
Duh.
“Right, yeah. I’m--”
And she’s cutting me off!
“Lemme guess,” she starts, bored. “You must be either a James…or a David.”
I scowl at her. James? David? God, I’m pleased not.
I answer sharply, “Spike.”
She turns away, rolling her eyes. Uncouth little brat. But there’s something else in her sardonic tone as she mutters, “Nice name.”
Who the bloody hell does she think she is, anyways, eh? Bargin’ in here, where she doesn’t belong, insulting me. It’s not her place. She should learn her place. Besides, her name’s not so great.
But I don’t say it. I’m not gonna stoop to her level.
Oh, what the hell.
“Because ‘Casey’ has so much charm.”
Eyes wide, her head snaps in my direction.
“Uh, excuse me?”
The shock and astonishment on her face almost makes me want to laugh. Didn’t see that one comin’, did she? Good, then.
I don’t answer her question, smirking and shaking my head again. Instead, I give her some advice. After all, it’s only decent.
“You really should change your name.”
No retort. No glare. Just…blank. She’s just staring at me, without expression. I frown, the sudden silence on her part making me uneasy.
“Wha’s the matter?” I ask, frowning.
She shakes her head, recollecting herself.
“Nothing, Billy Idol,” she tries, sliding off the stool. “Gotta go now. Bye.”
I watch her leave, her eyes seeming distant…or something like that. All I know is that I’m glad to be rid of her. For now…
----
Oh. My. God.
I’m freaking out. I can’t breathe, I can’t move.
I’m standing outside of Spiral, the new karaoke bar in L.A. And who did I run into when I was in there?
Spike! William the Bloody!
Yeah, that’s right.
And we had a conversation. Not good.
“Shit,” I curse under my breath. “Shit, shit, shit.”
He’s seen me. He knows my scent, he knows my voice. This is going to make things a load harder.
I think I’m gonna be sick…
----
It’s almost dawn by the time Spike stumbles into the hotel suite, smelling of blood alcohol. I’m sitting in the darkness, but I would have expected him to at least sense my presence. After all, vampire…
But he’s too drunk. He doesn’t even flip on the lights as he staggers further into the room, the door swinging closed behind him. I sigh.
“William…” I say slowly.
The slender blonde vampire stops in his tracks, turning towards me.
“What’re you doin’? Lurkin’…” he mutters.
“It’s almost dawn. Where have you been?” I continue, sounding like a mother who’s been up all night, worried. In a way, I was.
“None of your business, ya soddin’ poofter,” he growls, then sarcastically adds, “Not like we made plans.”
“You’re never out this late,” I remind him. “Where have you been?”
Now I sound like his wife.
“It’s still none of your business, Angel.” And he stomps away to his bedroom like a rebellious teenager.
You’d think being his Grand-Sire would earn me some respect. But, no. All I get is insults and lies. Ungrateful little monster. ‘Course that’s how I taught him.
I taught him to be a monster, just like I am. Was. Freudian slip? I think not. I didn’t get the Shanshu, because I signed it away. So wouldn’t Spike have gotten it?
Apparently not.
A sigh. I miss Buffy. Her scent. Her warmth. I miss Cordy, too. What have I done to deserve this? To lose everyone I love?
Oh, right. All my sins. Damn, they’d fill books… Lists and lists of wrongful, evil deeds… My head hurts.
“You’re brooding too loudly!” Spike suddenly yells from his bedroom. I scowl.
Yet another punishment.
----
Beep! Beep! Beep! Beep!
The alarm’s going off. Why is the alarm going off already? Groaning, I turn over and slap the snooze button. My eyes open groggily and I gaze at the glaring red numbers on the digital alarm clock/radio.
It’s about noon. I should really get up now. But the bed is so warm and comfy and I just wanna sleep all day and I’m awake! Dammit!
I sit up, wondering why I have the feeling I was recently sick. Then I remember my encounter with Spike and feel nauseous all over again.
----
“We’re out of Wheetabix. I have a horrible hang-over. Everyone better stay the bloody hell off my toes today. Starting with you.”
“What did I do?”
We’re in the suite’s kitchen, it‘s mid-afternoon. I’m bent over a mug of blood, at the counter while my Grand-Sire reads the paper. Well, he was reading the paper, until he casually asked me where I was last night.
It’s really none of his business, you know…
So now Angel’s staring at me as if I were a madman. Well, actually, I am a madman. But you get the point.
“I told you last night that it was none of your business! I think...” I growl threateningly, eyes narrowed. “The fact that I’m not exceptionally drunk this mor--afternoon--doesn’t change anything. Okay?”
Angel rolls his eyes, turning back to the newspaper, barely making a mock, “Mm-hmm,” sound.
Sometimes I could just stake him.
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