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Violently Happy	By : marksandspence Category: BtVS Crossovers > Misc - Het - Male/Female Views: 3216 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Buffy, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Part1a
- 2-Part1b
- 3-Part1c
- 4-Part1d
- 5-Part1e
- 6-Part2a
- 7-Part2b
- 8-Part3a
- 9-Part3b
- 10-Part3c
- 11-Part4a
- 12-Part4b
- 13-Part4c
- 14-Part4d
- 15-Part5a
- 16-Part5b
- 17-Part5c
- 18-Part5d
- 19-Part5e
- 20-Part5f
- 21-Part5g
- 22-Part5h
- 23-Part6a
- 24-Part6b
- 25-Part6c
- 26-Part6d
- 27-Part6e
- 28-p.s. Flight of Fancy
- 15
- 16
- 17
Scene 2
Flashback: Glasgow, six week’s ago. Spike and Miranda are walking down a dark city street. Miranda is practically bouncing with enthusiasm/excitement.
Miranda: “I can’t believe we found Gerald here of all places. Seems a fitting way to begin our European tour.”
Spike: “You’ve got a specific beef with this one, right? Not just your average Immortal bristling.”
Miranda: “He’s one of the three who together gave me a lot of grief when I was in LA with Cal. It was Gerald, Victor, who you saw me kill, and Thomas—Gerald was the oldest and the leader. Wouldn’t’ve considered taking him on before now.” [She’s buzzing with energy at the prospect.]
Spike: “So what’s the plan? He ducked into that church pretty quick last night when he first sensed you.”
Miranda: “I did a bit of research this afternoon and I came across a rather useful tidbit of information. It would appear that lucky Gerald has found himself a lovely Scottish girl—a mortal. Got married five years ago in that very church.”
Spike: “We use the girl to bring him out. You got an address?”
Miranda: “No, but I know where we can find her. Seems he’d rather have kept her hidden and out of harms way on their secluded estate, but like a true modern woman, she refused to give up her career. So she comes into the city three days a week.”
Spike: “Go feminism.”
Miranda: “He’ll probably have bodyguards with her now that he knows there’s an Immortal about. And there will be a ton of security at her office. Lucky for us, he didn’t actually see me, so he may not be so cautious—Most others probably wouldn’t take the time.”
Spike: “So we grab the girl—what then?”
Miranda: “The usual Immortal jig. Threaten to kill her unless he comes out to face me.”
Spike: “Seems an awful lot of trouble. You sure it’s worth it? Plenty of other fish in the sea and all that.”
Miranda: “It’ll send a message. That’s mainly what this trip is about—let the old ones know I’m here and not afraid.”
Spike: [Accepts this. Thinking ahead] “But we don’t, right?”
Miranda: “Don’t what?”
Spike: “Kill the girl.”
Miranda: “Heavens no. She’s obviously not right in the head to marry a fool like Gerald, poor girl. So we use her as bait, kill Gerald and leave her to his money. Probably for the best anyway—seems the type to drop her once she starts to wrinkle. This way everyone wins.”
Spike: “Except Gerald”
Miranda: “Well, yeah.”
Spike: “If he knows you, what makes you think he won’t call your bluff?”
Miranda: “I’m a wonderful actress—I think I can convince him that I’ve gone a bit mad. And of course I’ll need your help to put on a good show.”
Spike: “I could probably flash a bit of fang—put on a good menacing scowl.”
Miranda: [smiles] “hmm, can’t wait to see that. [planning the moment] Yes, you’ll have her—he won’t know you can’t do her any real harm. He’s sure to play, regardless if he knows what a vampire is or not.”
Spike: “It’s still a gamble.”
Miranda: [shrugs] “So we take our chances—I’ll find another way if necessary. [Thinking for a moment] We don’t hurt the girl, whatever. [Spike nods. After a moment] He’ll play—He’ll know I’m serious. [She adds, casually] After all he did kill Isabella.”
[Spike stops in his tracks.]
Spike: “Your daughter.”
Miranda: [Noticing he’s stopped while she marched on, she turns to face him. Her tone is still oddly lighthearted] “Yes. [beat] ADOPTED daughter. [she turns to keep walking] I think we should try to get her as soon as possible—he might try to leave town or get others involved.”
Spike: [Still not budging and lightly grabbing hold of her arm.] “Gerald killed your daughter.”
Miranda: “Yes, while I was at the hospital with Cal in those final days. Didn’t I mention it?”
Spike: “Uh, no. Seems an odd detail to leave out. So this is a vengeance deal.”
Miranda: “Only a touch—an added bonus, if you like. Of course that’s what I’ll be selling it as to Gerald—vengeance pure and simple. Tends to make people mad, that.” [makes a ‘crazy’ face with hand motions as she says this]
Spike: “Don’t you think it a bit odd that you failed to let me in on this little detail?”
Miranda: “It’s the past, darling. I didn’t think you were interested in the past.”
Spike: “I am if it’s relevant to what’s going on now.”
Miranda: [smiling] “But that’s everything, love. [He frowns] It means nothing to me now—It’s simply Immortal fighting Immortal as it was meant to be, with a touch of politics thrown in for good measure.”
His frown deepens. She’s seriously covering something—from him? From herself? Why? She’s never been bashful about her vengeful motives before. Spike contemplates these things, but decides not to pursue it. They stop for a drink in a pub and plan out their next move.
Flash forward to the confrontation between Miranda and Gerald. In a darkened alley, Spike is standing menacingly over a women tied to a chair and gagged. Miranda is facing off with Gerald, standing between him and the woman. Miranda has drawn her sword and is ready to fight. Gerald has not drawn his sword. He looks sad/concerned.
Gerald: “Okay. I’m here. What do you want?”
Miranda: “Funny, I thought it was rather obvious. What do you think, William?”
Spike: “Dark alley, swords, [smirking down at the girl in the chair] damsel in distress—I’d bet on a fight.”
Miranda: “Exactly.”
Gerald: “You’ve been busy, Miranda. I can feel it. And though it might actually be worth my while to kill you now, I do not wish to.”
Miranda: “Isn’t that too bad. You see, I’ve got my little heart set on taking your head tonight and I simply won’t take no for an answer.”
Gerald: “What do you want? Money, weapons? An alliance? I’m prepared to talk.”
Miranda: “Again with the talking. [shaking her head] What is it about me that makes people bang on and on...”
Gerald: “I know you’re angry. I didn’t understand then. [He looks over to the woman in the chair, who has tears streaming down her face] I do now.”
Miranda: [softens for a moment, but quickly shakes it off] “Oh right. Here we go then. You fell in love...blah blah blah...you’ve changed...blah blah blah...forgive me...don’t kill me...boring boring BORING. What you don’t seem to understand is that it’s completely irrelevant to me. All of it. You’re an Immortal, I’m an Immortal; I don’t like you, so we fight. Just because you’re shagging a mortal doesn’t change any of that. Draw your sword.”
Gerald: “It doesn’t have to be that way. You said so yourself all those years ago.”
Miranda: [indignant laugh] “Bastard. Bringing up the past at a time like this is a very dangerous move. I’d watch it. What were your exact words? “You can’t fight your nature, Miranda. You can mix with mortals as you wish, but just because you hide doesn’t mean we’ll go away.”
Gerald: [Coming to terms with the fact that he can’t talk himself out of this—perhaps starting to accept some responsibility for the past] “Do I have your word that she’ll be safe, regardless of the outcome? Either way, that monster won’t touch her?” [You can hear the love and concern in his voice when he says ‘her’. The woman is shaking her head, as if to plead with him; her tears coming in deeper sobs.]
Miranda: [nods in agreement] “I have no quarrel with her. You’re the mur...Immortal”
Gerald: “You can walk away from this, still. We can live our separate lives. I was wrong and I’m sorry.” [He IS sincere, but isn’t very convincing—he is capable only of telling the truth plainly, without added emotion.]
Miranda: [voice starting to seethe with anger] “Well then! Your sympathy card must’ve got lost in the mail—you know, the one apologizing for killing my only daughter in cold blood once you’d realized your mistake. So sorry about the misunderstanding. Let’s call the whole thing off and live happily-fucking-ever-after.”
Gerald: “It was wrong what I did. I won’t argue that. But you did have a choice. Just like you have now.”
Miranda: [the whites of her eyes flash as the anger wells up inside her] “A choice? You call that a choice?”
Gerald: “She needn’t have died. We may have come to an agreement—an arrangement of some sort. It was your decision not to negotiate.”
Miranda: [almost too angry to speak—she manages to hiss through clenched teeth:] “He was dying.”
Gerald: “A fact that would not have changed whether or not you were by his side. And yet, you chose to let her die. Killing me won’t take away your guilt.”
Spike: “Don’t listen to him, M. He’s playing you.”
But it’s too late. His words have had their effect and a rage surges inside her, the likes of which she has never known. Watching her intently, Spike sees the rage build and take control. The look in her eyes is like nothing he’s ever seen—not when she killed Dru, not when she fought Glory. This was an altogether other kind of darkness—wild and uncontrolled. He can't help thinking that he’d never met this Miranda.
Miranda: [venomous] “My choice. My fault. My guilt. Guess I’ll save you the trouble.”
Gerald, expecting her to lunge at him, finally raises his sword in preparation. But instead, she turns around, covering the ground between her and the woman in an instant. She lifts her sword and plunges the blade through the woman’s heart, killing her instantly. Miranda jerks out the blade and looks up to see Spike, whose face has an expression of complete and utter shock (and lack of recognition). In the background Gerald cries out and drops to his knees in despair. Still looking at Spike, Miranda suddenly appears to snap out of it, as if coming out of a trance, and a look of horror crosses her face as she brings her left hand up to her mouth and gasps at the realization of what she’s done. Spike looks at her sympathetically and then looks past her towards Gerald, knowing what’s coming next. Miranda follows his gaze and turns to see Gerald, still on his knees, head in his hands. She clutches her stomach in sympathy to his pain—but she can’t bear to see it/him—a reminder of her atrocious act. She lunges toward him and in one quick, broad stroke ends it. Watching his body go limp, she whispers “No more pain”. She drops her sword and starts to run off. Before she gets very far, the Quickening catches up with her and knocks her down. She stays down afterwards and Spike catches up with her. Not knowing what to say, he kneels down with her and gently strokes her hair.
Spike: “It’s Ok.”
Miranda: [looking at him, with tears in her eyes, shaking her head] “No. Not OK.”
She gets up and starts to run again. After a distance she stops and is sick. When she’s finished, she staggers off again. It’s obvious she’s heading in the direction of their hotel. Once they arrive, Miranda quickly locks herself in the bathroom. Spike can hear her sobs through the door. He paces outside the door, but decides to let her cry herself out for a bit. An hour passes.
Spike: [talking to the bathroom door] “M, we should pack our things and get out of here tonight. They’ll find the bodies soon enough and might be able to trace you back here. We shouldn’t take any chances” [No response. He tries again a bit later.] “Come on, love. Let’s grab a train somewhere—we can talk about things once we’re on the road.”
Just then, the sound of sirens nearby. Spike decides to force his way into the bathroom (it isn’t difficult). He finds Miranda sitting in the tub, hugging her knees to her chest. She’s stopped crying, but has a faraway look. He grabs hold of her arm and lifts her up. Surprisingly (?) she doesn’t fight it, but lets him lead her. They grab their things and leave. Spike leads them to a place where they can hop a freight train. They find an empty car and clamber in. Miranda resumes the position she had in the bathtub. Spike sits down, facing her. They sit in silence. Spike doesn’t know what to say—he hadn’t seen it coming, not really. He’s not used to misreading people so completely. After a time, Miranda is the first to speak.
Miranda: [calm, pensive] “Do you understand guilt?
Spike: [Here we go. M and her questions.] “What, as a concept?”
Miranda: “The feel of it.”
Spike: “Vaguely. Guess I just do what I do and that’s that. Seems a waste of time to dwell on things you can’t change.”
Miranda: “If something were to happen—to Dawn, say, that you could have prevented, but didn’t. Would you feel bad?”
Spike: “Yeah. Suppose I would. If I could’ve done something.”
Miranda: “What if it was a girl like Dawn—a friend of hers, say, who was killed. Would you feel anything then?”
Spike: [thinks about this for a moment] “If it would make her [Dawn] sad.”
Miranda: “But you don’t feel guilt for all the girls like Dawn you killed before the chip; girls who had sisters and friends who would feel pain at their loss?”
She isn’t asking in a judgmental way—she’s just trying to find the limits of his understanding.
Spike: “Guess I don’t think about it.” [He had never thought about it quite like that.]
Miranda: “But you can at least understand why it hurts me. That girl back there did nothing wrong but love an Immortal. It could’ve been Cal, or you. She had a family, friends. I can feel their loss. He loved her and I killed her in front of him—I remember that pain; I feel it now. What I did was worse than what he did to me. He’s right. I did have a choice. Then and now. [tears start to flow] Can you understand?”
Spike: “I think so. I’ll try. [frowning; confused] But why, then?”
Miranda: [getting more upset again] “I never meant to kill her. I said so, remember? We’d find another way if we had to. I...I felt this force inside me..and then it was as if I stepped outside of myself for a moment and watched it happen. [pause; in a whisper] I try to remember how to be me, but sometimes I forget.”
Spike: [He puts his hand on her face and wipes away some of the tears] “Don’t be so melodramatic, love. He touched a nerve and you lost it. Happens to the best of us. It doesn’t have to mean anything.”
Miranda: [desperation in her eyes] “It wasn’t the first time—nothing this bad before, but...I’m afraid, William. I can’t live like this—I can’t be her [the person who did those things]. Will you help me?”
Spike: “Help you what?”
Miranda: “Help me remember. Help me be who I was. Help me not do things like that.”
Spike: [shaking his head in disbelief. To clarify:] “You’re asking a vampire to be your conscience. Do you realize how bloody ridiculous that is? ”
Miranda: “Is it?”
Spike: [laughing at the prospect—absolute certainty] “Uh, yeah. Think wolves and hen houses; pagans and bible school. I’d of killed the girl as payback and you know it—‘least you should know it, else we may have a problem. She meant nothing to me.” [Thinks to himself: but what about that shop girl? Did she mean something to me?]
Miranda: “But I wouldn’t have. You knew that before I told you just now. The way you looked at me back there—you knew that wasn’t me. [He shrugs in agreement.] Something happened to me back in LA. Don’t ask me to explain just yet. [She’s suddenly more animated.] William, you know me better than anyone ever has. You know where my lines are. You see what happens to me when I cross them. Help me remember.”
Spike: [skeptical] “I don’t know.”
Miranda: [convincing herself] “And you’ve spent enough time with the slayer and her group to know what’s acceptable behavior in their eyes—just take two baby steps into the gray zone and you’ve got what’s acceptable for me. Surely between the two of us, we can figure it out. [Noting his skeptical look] I’m just asking you to keep an eye out, is all.”
Spike: “Seems an awful lot of thinking. [weakening at her pleading eyes] Can’t promise anything—it’s not like I’m known for my forethought. But, eh...I’ll give it a go—so long as you promise to stop blubbering all the time.”
She gives him a quick smile and takes his hand and squeezes it. He pulls a pack of cigarettes out of his coat pocket and lights one for both of them.
Spike: “Thought it was all part of the act back there, until...The way you always talked about her [Isabella], or didn’t, rather, I wouldn’t’ve thought there was a nerve to touch.”
Miranda: “I thought I’d tucked it away rather nicely. What kind of mother chooses the husband over the child? What kind of mother takes a gamble and calls the bluff? Surely not one who loved the child as her own—Surely not one who treasured it above all else in this world. All else. Surely not. [shaking her head quickly] Enough of that rubbish. If we keep on like this, I’ll turn back into that quivering heap of tears and mucous I was just a few hours ago.”
Spike: “Nobody wants that. Tears are for hippies, ankle-biters and ninnies who watch Oprah.”
Miranda: “Fuck the past. After all, tomorrow is another day [She takes a drag from her cigarette and leans back against the wall of the car.] Tell me a story.”
Spike: “What kind of story, Scarlett?”
He thinks for a moment that he’d like to tell her about the girl in Edinburgh—the one who worked in the record shop down the street from their hotel. The one he’d saved from that vamp gang while M was sleeping off the flight. Just like M didn’t know why she killed the Immortal’s wife, he didn’t know why he’d gone to such lengths to make sure the girl in the shop made it back to her flat safely. He’d wanted to mention it before—why hadn’t he? Did he think she’d be jealous? He had been chatting the girl up a bit, but it was just for a laugh. Was he afraid of sounding like a certain brooding help-the-bloody-fucking-helpless, self-righteous poof? Yeah, maybe that was it.
Miranda: “A scary one.”
Spike: “All right, love. Have I told you about the catacombs outside of Odessa?”
…
Scene 3
Present Day
Clips from earlier: Spike: “All this time and I haven’t asked. You asked me not to and I didn’t. The nightmares. The changes. [pause] You’re different.” She closes her eyes more tightly, as if she could block out what’s about to happen by the force of her will.
Spike: [return to a more serious tone] “And then there was that time in Glasgow.”
The mere mention of this causes Miranda to shrink back into herself. Like a little girl, she rolls back over, away from him, pulling the sheet up tight around her, shutting her eyes tightly.
Miranda: [Without moving she whispers softly in as indifferent a voice as she can muster] “Do you not like me this way? Is that why...” [She feels as if a cold hand has wrapped itself around her heart. To lose his love along with everything else...BASTARDS.]
Spike: [He reaches over and gently turns her face towards his.] “It’s not that, love. I don’t mind—in some ways it’s better. But I need to know. Is it all because of him?”
Miranda: [She nods her head gently.] “Yes”
Spike lets out a breath and clenches his teeth. He rolls away slightly and reaches over to turn the light back on. He sits up.
Spike: [forceful now] “I need to know everything. You promised to tell me and now I’m asking.”
Miranda: [slight panic in her voice] “No, not now. Not tonight. Please. I can’t. Not when we have to face them tomorrow.”
Spike: “That’s why it has to be tonight. Everything, love. I need to know every last bloody detail. I need to know more than he does. I’m right that there are things he doesn’t know?”
Miranda: [she nods] “You won’t like it—some of it you’ll hate. [looking at him desperately] Promise you won’t leave me after.”
Spike: [He considers it for just a moment—all the remembered pain comes flooding back. Defiantly.] “No.”
Miranda: [This hits her like a kick to the stomach. She tries hard to steel herself; she rolls these words over in her mind—“I deserve this”. She sits up, resigned.] “Where would you like me to begin?”
Spike: [his voice has a slightly bitter edge] “Let’s start with a question, shall we? That day you left, six months ago. Did you know you wouldn’t be back? Was that your intention? Because I’ve gone over that day and the night before a couple‘a million times in my head and no matter how many times I play it over, I can’t figure it.”
Miranda: “I hadn’t a clue—thought I’d be back within a fortnight at most.”
Spike: [staring straight ahead (they’re now sitting up in bed, side by side) he nods as an indication that he accepts her answer.] “Start from there.”
**
[Autbor's notes: As you remember from before, Miranda is called away to LA by Angel six months ago. I feel the need to spell out the situation there (at Angel Investigations), or at least the situation as I envisioned it at the time. This whole scenario was conceived back before I was disillusioned with Angel—during that brief time in Season 2 when I thought the show rivaled Buffy in its brilliance. This was a time when Wolfram & Hart was still scary (and a bit mysterious) and was the primary thorn in Angel’s side. They had brought back Darla, who was seriously messing with his head. Lindsey (yay!) was in charge of the project and in “love” with Darla. So everything leading up to Angel sleeping with Darla is the same—his intense disillusionment, the rift in the group (his firing of everyone—everyone being only Cordelia, Wesley and Gunn), etc. Only instead of having an epiphany after waking up in bed next to Darla, soul intact, he is as confused as ever. He leaves in disgust, tries to put things right by inviting the ‘gang’ back to work, but can’t seem to shake the ‘Darla’ habit and finds himself seeing her in secret. He thinks he is just being weak, and worries that ultimately it will be his undoing/unsouling, BUT there is likely more to it than that—some sort of manipulation being worked by W&H in conjunction with Darla. C, G & W are suspicious that something is up (Angel hasn’t told them anything about Darla) and so the mood is rather tense.]

**
Miranda: “You already know the first bit—things were exactly as I said on the phone those first few days. He hadn’t told me anything before I left Sunnydale, so I had no idea what to expect. I arrived at the hotel Friday morning.”
**
Scene: Six months ago. The lobby of the Hyperion. 9am. Miranda walks through the front door, carrying an over-the-shoulder overnight bag. She strolls through the lobby and plops her back on the sofa. Just then, Cordelia comes out of the back office to the front desk, carrying a cup of coffee.
Cordelia: [surprised, but sleepy] “oh. Miranda. I would seriously act more surprised and excited to see you, but I haven’t had my coffee. Give me a minute and I’ll see if I can muster something.”
Miranda: “No need to muster—but I will take a cup of coffee if you’ve got some to spare. I parked my rental on the street outside—is that all right, or is there a lot somewhere?”
Cordelia: [waving it off, while she takes a deep drink from her mug] “That’s fine. Traffic cops don’t seem to make it to this neighborhood much.”
She dives into the back room and comes back out with some coffee; she’s looking more awake by the minute. She hands Miranda the mug and they drink in silence for a moment.
Miranda: “So, uh, how’s business? Rather intense at the moment?”
Cordelia: “No, actually. More like eerily quiet.”
Miranda: [confused] “Oh. I was under the impression...”
Cordelia: [suddenly a look like she’s just figured something out; then conspiratorially] “Oh, yeah, right. Things are much too hot to handle ourselves.” [wink, wink]
Miranda: [not quite getting it; confused frown; decides to change the subject] “So is he...”
Cordelia: “Not up yet. [“knowing” look—smiling] You can go on down and surprise him if you want—it’s not like he locks the door or anything.”
Miranda: [huh—decides to ignore the implication] “Do you have a phone book handy? I should look into booking a room somewhere.”
Cordelia: [genuinely surprised] “Oh, I just assumed you’d be staying downstairs...[suspicious] or upstairs—we’ve got plenty of rooms, if you can handle the 70’s-must-clash décor.”
Miranda: [decides she should say something] “I’m thinking there must be some sort of misunderstanding...” [Cordy interrupts]
Cordelia: “Sure. I get it. It’s a “business trip”” [acts out the quotation marks]
Miranda is about to say something when Angel appears—he must have heard them talking.
Angel: [sounding relieved] “Miranda—you made it.”
He comes over and actually hugs her—she’s a bit taken aback, but doesn’t resist. Is that perfume she smells? Hm. Cordelia is watching them and beaming.
Miranda: [friendly, warm] “Hello, Angel”
Angel: [forgetting about Cordy for a minute] “You look—it’s good to see you looking so...uh...not like you looked the last time I saw you.”
Miranda: “I think there is a compliment in there somewhere.” [Thinks to herself: wish I could say the same—he looks downright haggard and more than usual. What has he told them?]
Cordelia: [giving Angel a ‘try harder—you’re SUCH a loser’ look] “Let me translate for Mcfly here: you look lovely. Ooh, is that a Gucci belt?—it totally sets off those shoes.”
Angel: “That’s pretty much what I meant. Well, except that last part. About the shoes. Not that they aren’t nice, but I’m not one to...I mean, fashion’s not exactly my thing.”
Cordelia: [under her breath] “Yeah, good thing you cleared that up.”
Angel: [to Cordy] “What was that?”
Cordelia: “Nothing. [suddenly thinking about something] So, what happened the last time that she looks so much better now?”
Angel: “uh...right...last time she was...um...[desperately trying to make something up—they’re obviously under the impression that he’s seen her more recently than the whole Glory incident]...not wearing any make-up.”
Miranda and Cordy both give him a disbelieving look, like I can’t BELIEVE he said that.
Cordelia: [to Angel] “Oh my god, you are SO bad at this. [under her breath] Guess we’ve got nothing to worry about.”
Miranda: [she decides to lie to see his reaction] “To be fair, I did have a touch of the flu.”
Angel: “Yeah, she was kind of pale and pasty.”
M thinks: Ok, what sort of game are we playing here?
Cordelia: “Ok, Angel, enough talking. Just stand there and look...tall. I’ll grab you some tea.”
As Cordy leaves the room, Miranda shoots Angel a ‘what’s going on look’, but before he has a chance to answer it, Cordy is back with the tea. He is able to whisper “Play along, I’ll explain later. Please.” Miranda gives him a slight frown and then a nod.
Cordelia: “So does this mean we’re doing the ball thingy tonight? [to Angel] You are such a sly one, with your “we’re not going to waste our time on another security gig”, when all along, you were just importing a date. Oh, but you didn’t leave me any time to shop.”
Miranda: “Ball?”
Angel: “uh”
Wesley comes in.
Wesley: “So you decided to take my advice after all. Really, it’s a bit of income and it’ll be good for morale—things we all could use more of. Miranda, so glad you could come down.”
Miranda: “Nice to see you again, Wesley. It would seem that Angel neglected to mention the ‘ball’ aspect of the job—I didn’t bring anything formal.”
Angel: “Oops, I guess we can’t do it then. I’ll just call them up and...”
Miranda: “Don’t be ridiculous. I did bring a credit card and this is LA. Cordelia, let’s go shopping, shall we? Don’t bother with a purse—my treat. [to Angel] And I think you should go back to bed for a bit—you look dreadful.”
Angel: [shrugs] “Didn’t get much sleep last night.”
He and Miranda exchange a look. She looks concerned, but snaps out of it quickly and goes into ‘chirpy shopping mode’. She and Cordelia head out the door. Just before she reaches the exit, she turns back.
Miranda: [to Angel] “Should I get you something to wear?”
Angel: “I can probably piece something together.”
Cordelia: [turning to Miranda] “Yeah, not so much. He tends to be off by a decade or so.”
Miranda: “We’ll find something”
Scene 4
Present. In the hotel room. She’s continuing the story…
Miranda: “A few minutes alone with Cordelia and it became quite apparent that he had intentionally led them all to believe that he and I had been...well....let’s just say, sneaking around. How they figured this would work with my living in Sunnydale and him in L.A. was not clear, but obviously he was using me as a cover for something. The way Cordelia went on about it—how it was just the perfect thing for him—she was downright giddy in her acceptance of us as a potential ‘couple’—I gathered he had been acting odd for quite some time and they were worried about him. I was able to discern quite a lot from Cordelia—his behavior must have fit quite neatly with someone who was sneaking around with the girlfriend of someone who he despised. They probably thought it quite right for him to be acting strange—him being drawn to someone who was willing to see him, but not break the ties to his enemy whom she was still sleeping with. Whatever it was he was covering had caused him to be guilty, conflicted, inexplicably absent and more broody than usual—and there must have been a hint of a woman, else why would they be so willing to accept his explanation? I’ll admit that I was rather naughty during that day of shopping—making up all sorts of things to tell Cordelia. He asked me to play along and boy did I—figured it served him right for using me in that way. It was hilarious, really—poor girl believed every word. Anyway, the shopping took all day and by dusk, I still hadn’t been able to speak with Angel alone to hear his side of things—for reasons I can’t remember, we ended up having to meet him at the party hall and so I had an hour to kill before the party. That’s when I called you the first time.”
**
Past. Hotel room at the Hyperion. Miranda is sitting on the bed in a bra and slip, making a call on her cell phone. We hear both sides of the conversation:
Ring ring ring.
Spike: [Spike’s voice on the other end, sounding annoyed] “Yeah”
Miranda: [playful] “Is that the way you always answer my phone? S’no wonder no one ever leaves a message.”
Spike: [now pleased, because it’s Miranda] “So it’s your phone now, is it? Bloody thing’s been ringing off the hook since you left—birds just dying to get a piece of me now that you’re out of the picture for a few days.”
Miranda: “Hm, is that so? Well, then I’m glad you answer it the way you do—don’t want to give them any ideas.”
Spike: [confessing] “eh, telemarketers mostly. Too bad you can’t project evil over the phone. I’ve tried roaring at them but they just keep on talking. Only reason I answer the thing is in case it’s you.”
Miranda: “And here I am. [hearing a straw sucking noise] What are you doing?”
Spike: “Having a Miranda slushy”
Miranda: “a what?”
Spike: “Had a bit of an incident with the microwave this morning, so I had to get creative. Bit of ice, couple’a strawberries, bag of your finest, blender and bob’s yer uncle, a Miranda slushy.”
Miranda: “How very California of you. Hm.” [She leans her head back against the headboard and moves her hand across the side of her neck.]
Spike: [guessing what she’s thinking by the sound of her ‘hm’] “Yeah, wish you were here to heat it for me.”
Miranda: [trying to not think about it] “So what have you been up to without me? Been strutting around the house naked, watching porn all day?”
Spike: [laughs] “But that’s what I do when you’re here, love. Shockingly, I’m fully clothed—socks and everything.”
Miranda: [frowning] “That’s rather disappointing. [getting an idea] Since I can’t actually see you, I’ve decided to go on picturing you naked on the couch, if that’s alright.”
Spike: “S’your imagination, pet. Maybe you should include yourself, while you’re at it. If I close my eyes, I can definitely think of some naughty things we could be getting up to right about now. Oh, and for future reference, I always picture you naked.”
Miranda: “God, I’d love to continue that line of thinking, but I’m afraid we’ll have to postpone ‘till a bit later—I’m not exactly in an entirely private space at the moment. You going out?”
Spike: “Thought I’d try to find a poker game or something later.”
Miranda: “ooh, don’t forget to keep an eye out for an orange tabby”
Spike: [rolling his eyes a bit] “I never said I’d share a house with a cat—don’t get along well, cats and vampires.”
Miranda: [pouty voice] “But all creepy old houses have to have at least one cat—I’m sure it’s written in stone somewhere. Besides, cats love me and I want one to keep my feet warm at night.”
Spike: “I’ll mull it over.”
Miranda: [smiling; then a bit more serious] “How are you feeling?”
Spike: “I’m OK. Still not quite up for kicking the slayer’s ass, but uh..."
Miranda: “Spike, you c...”
Spike: “Don’t say it.”
Miranda: [smirking] “Well, whose ass could you kick?”
Spike: “Uh, I’m pretty sure I could kick Xander’s ass.”
Miranda: “Good lord, you really aren’t feeling great, are you? Take care of yourself. Don’t be picking any fights at the club.”
Spike: “I may still be weak, but I’m not stupid, which puts me ahead of 99% of the demons in this town. Don’t worry so much.”
Miranda: [changing the subject] “So what are you going to do until later?”
Spike: “eh. Watch TV—there’s a Xena marathon that’s just started. You ever watch that?”
Miranda: [shaking her head] “I’m surprised you haven’t figured out by now that I pretty much watch anything that has sword play of any kind—movies, television—if there’s someone wielding a sword at some point, I’ve seen it. In fact, I was so blown away the first time I saw an episode of Xena, that I nearly packed my bags and headed to New Zealand—I mean, a woman sword fighter. ON TELEVISION. God, I’ve never even seen another Immortal woman fight. I seriously considered just showing up on the set to help choreograph the fight scenes. But, then I decided to move to Sunnydale and do the antiques thing [sigh].”
Spike: “So the short answer would be ‘yes’, then”
Miranda: “ooh, but why don’t you tape it for me—I’ve missed most of it.”
Spike: [obviously watching it on TV right now] “Please tell me the sidekick is temporary—god, I’ve watched 10 minutes and I want to run her through.”
Miranda: “She gets better. At least her outfit gets skimpier.”
Spike: “I think you should fight in a leather miniskirt and metal bra—THAT I would like to see.”
Miranda: “Tell you what. You make the effort to tape the marathon and I’ll have a little outfit made up.”
Spike: [pictures it for a moment] “Where are the tapes?”
Miranda: “On the shelves in the cabinet. So, who’s Darla?”
Spike: [you can hear him searching for the tapes] “What?”
Miranda: “Darla. Cordelia let something slip when we were shopping today, but then quickly covered.”
Spike: “Shopping? Thought you went to LA to rescue dumbass-in-distress, not to cavort with his mouseketeers.”
Miranda: “That was the plan, but as it happens, things are a little less straightforward than I was expecting—he’s keeping things from them and so far, ‘them’ is my only source of information. So do you know who this Darla is?”
Spike: “Uh, yeah. Spent more time than I’d care to admit with her over the past century. She sired Angel, Angel sired Dru, Dru sired me—so I suppose you could call her my great gran. Quite a piece of work, that one.”
Miranda: “What, so you all hung ‘round together?”
Spike: “For a bit, yeah. Up until Angelus became a big pansy and took off—then we went our separate ways. Well, ‘cept for me ‘n Dru.”
Miranda: “Huh. So were Darla and Angel...like you and Dru?”
Spike: “More or less—but they had an odd sort of relationship. Very much a love-hate thing, if you could even use a word like ‘love’ to describe their sort. But they were always together—long before I arrived on the scene and before Dru, too and then after ‘till he got cursed.”
Miranda: [smiling & crinkling her nose] “Hm. So, did the four of you have like orgies and stuff, when you weren’t off terrorizing Europe?”
Spike: “Bite your tongue, naughty girl. Is your mind always in the gutter? Hated the bastard almost as much back then as I do now. But, you know, we were family.”
Miranda: “What happened to her?”
Spike: “Rumor has it, Angel staked her himself—so much for eternal love and all that.”
Miranda: “But she’s not dead—I’m quite sure Cordelia used the present tense.”
Spike: “News to me—that would be quite a trick”
Miranda: “Well, regardless, she would certainly have the power to mess with his head if she is around.”
Spike: [a bit whiney] “Whatever. Just figure it out and come home. I’m bored.”
Miranda: “I’ll do my best. I have to go now, love, but there is one more thing. On the off chance that one of the, uh, mouseketeers, as you called them, happens to chat with one of the scoobies, you should know that they are under the impression that I’m having an affair with Angel. [to herself] What a ridiculous sounding sentence—how old are we?”
Spike: “WHAT? Why the hell would the bastards think that?”
Miranda: “I’m pretty sure that’s what Angel told them—or at least led them to believe.”
Spike: “I’m gonna kill him. Seriously. I’m hanging up the phone, getting in the car and coming down there to kick his ass.”
Miranda: “Keep your pants on. It’s not that big a deal—once I’ve figured this out, I’ll set everything straight. And besides, as you’ve already admitted you’re not exactly up for kicking anyone’s ass.”
Spike: “Fine. Just get it done—fight whoever you have to fight and take off. You don’t owe him more than that.”
Miranda: “If it were as simple as fighting someone, he probably would’ve just called Buffy. There’s something deeper gong on.”
Spike: “Okay, then play mental games with whoever you need to play mental games with and be done with it.”
Miranda: “Don’t worry—I’ll only do what I have to and that’ll be that. I’ll be home before you know it.”
Spike: [bitter/grumpy] “I already know it.”
Miranda: “I’ll call you later, alright? I love you.”
Spike: [softening] “Yeah, me too.”
They hang up.
[Author's note: I just realized the continuity error here—I forgot that in Crush, Dru told Spike about Darla. Oops. Um, yeah.]
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