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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
- 21
- 22
- 23
Summary: Time passes. Angel and the others search for Miranda, but she’s disappeared. Angel has gone into full sulk mode. He still has no idea what the priest was talking about—everything seems the same. They have some evidence that she is still in L.A.. At one point, Duncan bursts into the hotel and rather violently demands to know what Angel did (in a protective, big brotherly kind of way). He’d accidentally bumped into Miranda somewhere and she was behaving very oddly. She said she’d been having trouble sleeping and he could smell the alcohol on her, though she didn’t seem drunk. She wouldn’t tell him what happened and then quickly disappeared. Kate (the police detective) shows up a few days after that.
Kate: “Looks like your girlfriend’s been moonlighting.”
Angel: “What?”
Kate: [handing him something] “Surveillance cameras took these—none of them got a direct shot, but there’s a decent image of her left arm—tattoo clearly visible. Two robberies in the past week at local museums.”
Angel: “It’s not Miranda—her tattoo is only on her wrist, not all the way up her arm. And she’s not my girlfriend [beat] anymore.”
Kate: [surprised] “Oh. Whoever it was took some fairly pricey artifacts. And managed to put two security guards and a cop in the hospital.”
Angel: “It’s not her.”
Kate: [handing him another picture] “Yeah, well, we’ve got a better picture from hospital security in a kidnapping case. A young woman abducted from the cancer ward last night. No ransom, no body has turned up—doctors said she’s unlikely to have survived the trauma in her condition.”
Angel: “I’m sure there’s some sort of explanation.”
Kate: “That’s why I figured I’d give you a heads up. I haven’t let on that I know who she is yet. But I’ll have to soon.”
Angel: “Thanks, Kate.” [deep, concerned frown]
**
Sometime later in a phone booth, late at night in a rather deserted part of town. Miranda is leaning against the back glass, with her hand on the receiver, though she hasn’t picked it up yet. She looks awful. She takes a swig from a bottle and pulls a piece of paper from the pocket of her pants. She unfolds it, takes a deep breath and then dials. It rings and then an answering machine picks up—it’s Angel’s voice saying no one is there to take the call.
Miranda: “It’s me. I’m calling to say that I don’t think I’m going to be able to see you before I go. [She’s reading from the paper.] I thought that I’d be able to and I know I told Gunn that I would, but...things haven’t been going all that well and I just don’t think it would be a good idea. So. Uh, I wanted to say that I’m sorry. I don’t blame you for the way things turned out. I shouldn’t have taken out my anger on you—I’m sorry for breaking your nose. [sniff] And, uh, I think I should warn you that if I do see you at some point in the future, I’m likely to be very cruel and you shouldn’t take it too personally. That’s just the way it has to be. Okay. I think that’s it. [putting down the piece of paper] Phew, that wasn’t so hard now, w...” [Just then Angel picks up the phone.]
Angel: “Miranda?” [silence] “Miranda, are you there? Don’t hang up.”
Miranda: [starting to freak out a bit] “You’re not supposed to be there. I don’t...I’m not ready...I put my notes away.”
Angel: “Please. Miranda, I’ve been so worried.”
Miranda: [a bit teary] “Hi.”
Angel: [relief] “Hi. [beat] Are you OK?”
Miranda: “Um. I feel a little dizzy.”
Angel: “Maybe you should sit down.”
Miranda: “Okay.” [She slides down the glass and sits at the floor of the booth.]
Angel: “Where are you?”
Miranda: [looking around nervously] “Uh, I’m not sure. I think I may be lost.”
Angel: “Do you still have your motorcycle?”
Miranda: “No. I sold it to some guy. [beat] I think.”
Angel: “Is there a street sign nearby? I could come get you. Just help me figure out where you are.”
Miranda: “The thing is, I don’t have my sword. I fell asleep on a bench and some kids took it. I haven’t been sleeping. Everything started out fine—I was feeling all right and then I fell asleep and I had this awful dream. And then every time I fell asleep, I had the same awful dreams and so I decided that I didn’t want to go to sleep anymore but after a few days, I couldn’t help it and then those stupid kids came...[she’s crying]...and now I can’t fight and what if they find me?”
Angel: “I’ll bring you a sword; Or you can come get one.”
Miranda: [whispering] “I see myself do things and I think I’m dreaming, but I’m not. And sometimes I am, but I don’t know it. Maybe I should talk to Wesley.”
Angel: “Come back to the hotel and we’ll figure it out. When was the last time you slept?”
Miranda: “The bench, I told you—must’ve been out for a couple of hours. Before that, it’d been three days, maybe.”
Angel: “You need to get some rest—sleep deprivation will make you insane.”
Miranda: “But I don’t want to sleep—I don’t want to dream. I do terrible things—horrible, horrible, horrible.”
Angel: “What do you see when you look out of the phone booth?”
Miranda: “You’re not listening to me. I should go.”
Angel: “No, don’t hang up. Please. It’s been so quiet here.”
Silence for a bit (with breathing/sniffling noises)
Miranda: “I miss...it’s nice hearing your voice.”
Angel: “Yeah.”
Miranda: [pause] “Maybe I could come by and pick up my things.”
Angel: “I’ll pack them up for you. You can get some rest and talk to Wesley and...”
Miranda: “Where would I...?...I guess I could sleep in the lobby. Maybe that would be best.”
Angel: “Whatever you want. Just come home. Do you have money?”
Miranda: “A little.”
Angel: “Just find a cab and tell them to take you here.”
Miranda: [looking a little cheerier] “Yes, I could find a taxi. I have a card with the address of the hotel on it. I’ll give it to him.”
Angel: “Do that. Just keep walking until you find one—or stop in a market or a bar and ask them to call you one.”
Miranda: “Ok. So, uh, I’ll see you later.”
Angel: [big smile of relief] “Soon.”
[Writer’s note: Gentle reader, I don’t know if you’ve ever been through a tough break-up. I sure have (a couple!), including one time with my now husband early on. If you have, do you remember that feeling when you’re really down in the dumps—you’ve been crying and your upset and everything has been so HARD and then, suddenly, you have the opportunity to spend time with your ex and even though rationally, you know it’s a bad idea, you jump at it. And for that short period of time, once you’ve decided to give in to it and you’re on your way to see him, you feel calm again and almost happy. I can’t describe it very well, but I’m thinking this is what Miranda is feeling. Everything has gone to crap in her mind and even though she’s still mad and upset, the idea of going back to the hotel has such a strong appeal, merely because there’s some comfort in it. You do crazy, irrational things sometimes if you’re upset enough and tired enough. More on that later….]
She hangs up the phone and staggers out of the phone booth. She’s still very out-of-it. Eventually, we see her find a taxi. She drags herself in the backseat, explains that she only has $20 and gives him the card with the address on it. She quickly passes out. The cabbie wakes her, hands her $5 and the card with the address. She climbs out—he drives off before she has a chance to get her bearings. When she does, she realizes she’s not at the hotel. She looks at the card and notices that written on the back is Lindsey’s home address—CRAP. She turns around to see a high-rise apartment building. She decides to go up. She rings the bell. He answers. She asks to borrow $20. He asks her to come in for a drink. She reluctantly agrees. They discuss the situation—he manages to talk her out of going back to the Hotel. He’ll get her a sword and she can stay with him for as long as she needs to. He ends up getting some of her things from the hotel as well, much to the chagrin of Angel. [Writer’s note: Again, this was a cute little scene with Lindsey, but I just can’t be bothered to write it out. NOT ENOUGH TIME, DAMMIT!] So basically, she never appears at the hotel and Angel is disheartened, and continues to use the gang to try to track her. A few days later, they find out that she’s bought a one-way ticket to Edinburgh, Scotland leaving in two days from Sunnydale airport (ahem). Angel contemplates going to the airport to see her.
Scene 15
Sunnydale. Outside of Miranda’s house. A car pulls up and parks badly, partially knocking over the mailbox. Miranda stumbles out. She’s got a bottle in one hand and a bag thrown over her shoulder. She staggers up to the house, fumbles for her keys and goes in. The place is a mess—the electricity is out (no one to pay the bills), so Miranda finds some candles and lights them. Once there is light, she looks around and sighs. She goes upstairs and starts rummaging around in one of the rooms. Suddenly a rock is thrown through one of the windows. Then another. She glances outside from the second floor, to find Spike standing on the lawn, hurling whatever he can find at the house. Luckily, his aim is a bit off because he’s drunk too (big surprise).
[Quick flashback to just a few moments before—Spike is strolling along the sidewalk towards the house. Looks like this is something he’s been doing on a regular basis. He stops at the front gate where the car is and notices the candle-lights appearing in the windows. He takes a few steps into the lawn and then stops for a moment. He turns to look for something to throw. He spots an orange tabby cat sitting next to a nearby tree.
Spike: “Get out of here. Stop following me, you stupid hairball.” [He takes a step towards it as if to chase it away.]
Spike: “I mean it. Go on home. Dawn’s your mum now.”
It runs away from him, but then stops as soon as he stops chasing it.
Miranda rests her forehead on the window frame for just a moment, staring at him, wearily, and then with a look of determination, goes down the stairs and opens the door.
Spike: [seeing her] “Well if it isn’t bloody Ilsa, back from the war. Did we win? Or did our soulful hero throw you out when he discovered what a cold bitch you are?” [Miranda just stands there in the doorway and takes it, trying to look tough and disinterested] “You’re lucky I can’t come inside, ‘cause...”
Miranda: [before he can finish] “Come in.” [She says this and then turns away from the door and heads into the house. Spike looks surprised, but then quickly strolls through the door. He heads straight for her—she’s in the process of pulling a suitcase out of one of the closets. She sees him standing there and says to his face] “Go on then.”
Spike: [Almost too angry to get the words out—he’d thought about what he might say in this very situation, but is having trouble getting started] “You self-righteous, manipulative, lying bitch.”
Miranda: “Is that the best you can do? Give it some wellie, luv—if it’s one thing I thought I could count on you for, it’s a good insult.”
Spike: [infuriated] “Honestly there aren’t enough words to describe how much you disgust me. Bugger if I know why I didn’t let you have it last time in L.A. Must’ve been fucking off my head to think there was any other explanation than your own selfish desire to screw whoever takes your fancy at the moment. Let me guess, the plonker threw you out because you were shagging someone else—most likely his worst enemy, only that would be me and I know you weren’t shagging me, though honestly it would be easy enough to forget so maybe you were.” [He’s on a roll now. She’s taken the suitcase down into the bedroom now and is pulling things out of drawers—he’s following her with a constant stream of insults] Or did you just figure out that you can’t fuck your way into heaven? That is what you were going for right? So you could be with your precious Cal? ‘Cause even though it’s been a long time, I’m pretty sure that isn’t one of the options. ‘Course if it were, I might’ve signed up, along with a few more, I’d bet. Maybe that could be your thing—you could be the Angel of Fucking.”
Miranda: “That’s more like it.”
Spike: “Did you honestly think that screwing a hero was the same thing as being one? That makes you bloody certifiable, that does. I have a touch more of a handle on how these things work and let me be the first to let you in a little secret—doesn't work that way. Don't fool yourself— hell's waiting for you with open arms."
Miranda: "Guess I'd best not die, then."
Spike: "So tell me pet, was it lurve? Or was he just your new bit of ruff? Who’s next—the bloody Terminator? Bet that’d be good for a laugh—certainly a step up in personality. But here you are—back in good ol’ Sunny-D. Decided to give the knife one more twist before you leave for good? There was a time when I found sadism attractive, but...”
Miranda: [defensive] “I thought you were still in Rio with Darla.”
Spike: “How did...? [thinks about it for a moment] The cash card. You gave it to her—you knew I’d know the pin. She said she took it off you, but you wanted to track us.”
Miranda: [Not answering. fishing something out of her bag—an envelope. She tosses it on the bed and some documents come out of the opening—one of them is a passport.] “These are yours. Might as well take them. They’re not of any use to me.”
Spike: “What for?”
Miranda: “I don’t know. [ha] You can to follow me to Europe and then the insults need never stop.”
Spike: “Bugger that. I’ll be as far away from you as I can get. You’ve got some brass to suggest I’d want to be anywhere near you after what you’ve done. Makes me want to hurl just thinking about it.”
Miranda: [Still packing, but now she’s starting to let the words get to her a bit] “So you’re going to stay here and pine for your precious Buffy?”
Spike: [He grins a sadistic grin—now he knows where her sensitive spot is. Time to go in for the kill. Calmly] “No need to pine anymore, luv. I’ve had her. [He’s totally lying—curious if she’ll believe him] Hmmm [He purrs] and she was...everything I’d hoped. [He can see Miranda stiffen at this—she’s totally buying it] Yep, we’ve been going at it like rabbits—she’s tireless. For such a youngster, she’s got some skills. Must be a slayer thing. I suppose it’s the enthusiasm that makes all the difference, really. I mean, I expected Darla to make me forget all about shagging you, but Buffy, well, her superiority was a complete surprise.”
Miranda: [This is too much for her. She stops packing and in a very angry/upset voice replies] “That is such bullshit. Darla, fine—who the hell knows. But there is no way Buffy is better—you may have enjoyed fucking her more than me, but that’s all it was. Or is. She’s a bloody child.”
Spike: [laughs] “What’s wrong, luv. Was Mr. Soulful pining for his little Buffy the whole time? Oooh, tough luck. If I could be bothered to give a rats arse, I’d...nah, I can’t.”
M stomps off into the next room and is rummaging through various drawers, pulling various items out to throw in her suitcase. Spike is right behind her, throwing insults.
Miranda: [beginning to rant—more to herself than to Spike] “It’s all such bullshit, really. We’re just idiots, all of us. Chasing after things we think we want—trying to be who we think we should. I mean, look at you chasing after Buffy. You’re a vampire—and no matter what you do, you won’t be who she needs you to be and you wouldn’t be happy if you were. Before that there was Dru and despite your efforts you weren’t who she wanted either—you couldn’t match her ambitions and again you wouldn’t’ve been happy if you did. So you can’t be evil enough for Dru or good enough for Buffy, so why is it that you try so hard to be either of those things. You and I are the same, really. We don’t accept who we are, so we fight it with all we’ve got only to be miserable in the end. We chase the white and the black, but the truth is, we’re as gray as the Seattle sky. Well I say ‘fuck it’ and you should too.”
Spike: “Hey, you leave me out of your bloody psychobabble.”
She’s now just finished rummaging in a drawer in the livingroom. She throws what she pulled out on the coffee table and stands face to face with Spike, focusing on him directly for the first time (up to now, she’s averted her eyes).
Miranda: “Do you want to hit me? Would that make you feel better?”
Spike: “It’d be a nice step in that direction, yeah.”
Miranda: “Go on, then. Give me your best shot.”
Spike: “Don’t think I need your permission, pet, but since you offered...”
His face is still fired up with rage—teeth clenched, eyes flared. He forms a fist with one of his hands, lifts it, but then hesitates. You can tell that even with all his rage and pain, he’s conflicted—he’d never hit her in anger before. She sees the look on his face and knows that he won’t just strike her down as she stands there. So she punches him hard across the jaw. That’s all he needed—he comes at her with all the pent-up fury in him. They fight—Miranda does her best to defend herself, but it’s far from even—without weapons, she is at a severe disadvantage. That and her heart just isn’t in it—she wants to let him beat the crap out of her. They basically trash the living room as they fight. Finally, Spike hits her square in the face and she goes flying backwards and lands on her back on top of the glass coffee table—it shatters and now she laying on top of the broken glass. He jumps on her and pins her arms to the side as he straddles her—he’s in vamp face now.
Miranda: [Tears coming now—she’s lost all control. Still a hint of bitterness/anger in her voice] “Do it. Just do it. [She turns her head to the side, giving him a direct line to her jugular.] And when you’re done, finish it if you want—my sword’s in the next room.”
She is surprised to hear herself say this. In response, Spike, pushes her hard into the glass beneath—he’s still seething. He looks at her—she’s closed her eyes and tears are streaming down her face. She's sobbing just a little.
Spike: [yelling] “How could you do this? We were happy. You ruined everything. I should rip your heart out. [pause. angry/demanding voice] “Why are you crying? What’s a little pain for someone like you? [beat] Why are you crying? [She doesn’t respond. He pushes her shoulders hard into the broken glass again—she whimpers.] Answer me.” [He shoves her again when she doesn't answer, his eyes viciously scanning her face.]
Miranda: [After another moment, she reluctantly spits out her pain.] “Because you hate me so much. [between sobs] I still love you and you HATE me. Please, just be done with it.”
Spike: [Coming back to human face. Despite himself, he’s calming down. He can feel she's telling the truth, and this throws him off.] “Yeah, you’d like that wouldn’t you? Easy way out. [beat] Fuck it.” [He roughly pushes back from her and sits on the ground a couple feet away, leaning against a wall looking utterly spent. Miranda continues to cry and hold her eyes shut. After she realizes he isn’t going to bite/kill her, she blinks and opens them slightly, but doesn’t move. A few minutes pass.] Make me an offer.”
Miranda: [She’s not quite sure what she just heard. She lifts her head slightly and comes up a bit on her elbows (still on her back)] “What?”
Spike: [Voice full of exhaustion and defeat.] “I’m tired of being angry. Tired of being sad. I'm just...tired. [beat] Make me an offer.”
Miranda: [Still not quite believing what she’s hearing, but she’s sure as hell going to jump at the opportunity. She props herself up more fully on her elbows so she can look at him.] “Come with me to Europe. Give me two weeks—a month, mayb,e to prove myself. I’ll do whatever I can to try and make it up to you.”
Spike: “Such as?”
Miranda: [Thinking as she wipes some blood and tears from her face with the back of her hand.] “We’ll do whatever you want to do—go where you want to go. I’ve still got enough money to keep us traveling in style. I’ll promise however you want me to promise—we could get married, if that’s what you want. [He lets out a short, bitter laugh as if to say that time has past. She notes his reaction and adds] I’ll hunt for you—I don’t care. Give me a month to do this—to try; and if at the end, it isn’t enough, you can just leave and break my heart and get your revenge. Or take my head and send me to hell. I won't ever fight you again. [She’s getting more animated as she speaks—could he honestly be considering it? Raising an eyebrow] I'll do whatever you want. What’ve you got to lose?”
He watches her closely as she talks. When she’s done, he turns his face to the side as he considers it. A few moments pass. She’s holding her breath and scanning his face. He stands up and takes a step towards her and then stops, towering over her menacingly.
Spike: “Plenty. [beat] But okay.”
He holds out his hand. She closes her eyes briefly—she can’t believe it. She takes hold of his hand and he pulls her up to her feet. Some glass falls from her clothes. Neither of them speak for a moment—it’s a bit awkward as they stand there in silence. Miranda is the first to speak.
Miranda: “I’ll need to make some calls. [He nods. She walks over to her bag on the counter and pulls out her cell phone. She pulls a small notebook out and dials.] “Yes, I have a ticket on flight 478 to Edinburgh. Sumner, Miranda. Yes, that’s it. I have a traveling companion and was wondering if there are any seats left on that flight. I’ll wait. Oh, I see. What about if we leave straight from LAX instead of coming from Sunnydale? Right then, we’ll do that. Can I upgrade to business class as well? Thank you. [She gives them the rest of the details and then dials another number.] “I have a reservation beginning tomorrow night and I’d like to see about getting a bigger room. Miranda Sumner. Tell me, is the basement suite available? [pause as she listens] I do realize there aren’t any windows. Yes, that would be perfect.” [She hangs up and puts the phone down.] “That’s it then.”
Spike: “When do we leave?”
Miranda: “Since we have to drive to L.A., I’m afraid we need to leave in the next half hour or so. Is that Okay? I can change the flight again if you need to...”
Spike: “Nah, it’s fine. Last I checked, they had clothes in Scotland.”
Still very awkward—neither of them are quite sure what to do. After a moment, Miranda walks toward Spike and slowly and cautiously moves close enough to touch him. She puts her hands on his chest and looks into his eyes. A tear streaks down her cheek.
Miranda: [almost a whisper] “I’m so sorry, William.”
Up to this point, he hadn’t moved a muscle. Now he softly wraps his arms around her and pulls her close into a hug—he presses his face into her hair. They stay like that for a long time, not moving or saying a word. You can feel them both relax after a few minutes. He moves his hands down her back and notices the bits of glass still stuck to her shirt and skin.
Spike: “We should get you cleaned up a bit.” [As he says this, he pushes away slightly and turns to go get a cloth. You can see he’s got tears in his eyes and is all sniffly—he tries to hide it and quickly wipes his nose on his arm. When he gets back with the cloth, he gently turns her around and pulls off her shirt. She winces. There is a lot of glass and a lot of blood.] “Think, maybe we should do this in the bath, luv.”
She turns and nods, flashing a small smile. Next they’re in the bathroom. She’s sitting on the edge of the tub—he’s behind her, gently pulling out pieces of glass and wiping up the blood with a wet towel. You can tell it must be painful for her, but she’s smiling. If you saw her from the front, you’d think she was getting a massage or something else fun from the look on her face.
Scene 16
Angel Investigations. Cordelia is on a computer near the front desk. Angel comes downstairs, carrying his coat.
Angel: “You about ready to go?”
Cordelia: “Yep, just confirming that she hasn’t swapped flights on us or anything. This security access thingy Gunn’s hacker friend hooked us up with sure comes in handy. You sure you want to do this?”
Angel: “I need to see her—make sure she’s okay.”
Cordelia: “And that’s all? [He shrugs. She looks back to the computer screen.] That’s odd.”
Angel: “What?”
Cordelia: “Now it says she’s checking in to LAX, not Sunnydale and...”
Angel: “And what?”
Cordelia: [look of concern] “She’s not flying alone—she bought another ticket.”
Angel: “Can you get a name?”
Cordelia: “Let’s see.” [She presses a few buttons. She lets out a little laugh.]
**
The same time, in the car with Miranda and Spike on their way to the airport. Miranda is driving. Spike is looking at the documents in the folder that Miranda had made by W&H. He pulls out the passport and opens it.
Spike: “Ugh, stop the car.”
Miranda: “What for?”
Spike: [snarky] “William S. Heathcliff?”
Miranda: [defensive] “I had maybe two minutes to come up with a name AND I had a whole host of other things on my mind at the time. I was in an evil law firm, for goodness sake.”
Spike: “Aw, but Heathcliff? That’s bloody awful. Here’s a thought—maybe you could’ve used my real pre-vamp name—wouldn’t have taken much time to come up with that.”
Miranda: “I couldn’t remember it.”
Spike: “Bollocks. Besides, you sure as hell could’ve come up with something that doesn’t make me sound like such a poofter.”
Miranda: “Like what?”
Spike: “I don’t know. Like ‘Vicious’ or ‘Rotten’ or..."
Miranda: “You’re not a Sex Pistol, Spike.”
Spike: “I’m just saying, you could’ve put a bit more thought into it.”
Miranda: “Come on, it’s funny. I’m dying to hear someone call you ‘Mr. Heathcliff’. [She starts giggling.]
Spike: “You did it on purpose. [playfully] You really are evil.”
Miranda: [Can’t stop herself from laughing] “It’s a lovely name. Besides, you’d like the real Heathcliff from the Bronte novel—he was a right cruel bastard; in the best possible way, of course.”
Spike: [skeptical] “Yeah?”
Miranda: “I’ll tell you the story sometime—maybe I’ll even read it to you.” [He just shakes his head.]
Spike: [changing the subject] “So how does this whole flying business work anyway?”
Miranda: “Have you never been on a plane?”
Spike: “Oh, I’ve been on one—just not in the passenger cabin.”
Miranda: “Well, we get there, check in—they’ll check your passport and we’ll have to hope no one at W&H decided to take the time to mess with the records. Best to let me do the talking. Then we sit in the airport for a couple of hours before they let us on the plane—we can have drinks; heaven forbid we sober up. Once we get on the plane, you’re going to have to be on your best behavior. I mean it, now. Just act like a normal passenger and be nice to the cabin crew. People tend to panic easily when they’re in a confined space 30,000 feet above the ground. And we certainly don’t want to get arrested on arrival or anything. Oh, and there’s no smoking.”
Spike: “Stop the car.”
Miranda: “Surely you can make it 9 hours without a fag.”
Spike: [shock] “Nine hours? Stop the car.”
Miranda: “You’ll be fine. If you’re any bit as exhausted as I am, you’ll sleep the whole way there. And they’ve got films and such to watch. And music. Oh, and complimentary drinks.”
Spike: “What about beds?”
Miranda: [smiling at the implication] “No beds, I’m afraid. Not in business class, anyway.”
Spike: [jokingly/with a smile this time] “Stop the car.”
She just rolls her eyes slightly, smirking, and keeps driving.
**
Sometime later at the airport. Angel and Cordelia arrive at LAX. They walk up to the airline counter and pretend to be police detectives—they ask to know if Miranda and her companion have checked in. The woman is a bit dubious (middle-aged; stern looking), but checks the computer and confirms that they have checked in.
Angel: “Did you notice anything unusual about them? Any suspicious behavior?”
Cordelia: “What my partner here is trying to get at is that we have reason to suspect that Ms. Sumner may not be traveling willingly—that this may be a kind of kidnapping situation.”
[Sidebar: Angel had called Buffy to have a look around Miranda’s house after they’d found out about the change of plans. Buffy reported back that the first floor had been trashed and that there was blood and broken glass in the livingroom.]
Check-in Person #1: “I honestly don’t recall them at all.”
Angel: “She’s about this tall, medium-length reddish brown hair, English accent, pretty—she’s got a tattoo on her left wrist.”
CIP#1: “We’ve been very busy this afternoon and I’ve checked in 50 or more people in the last hour and a half. I just don’t remember. Now if you wouldn’t mind, I’ve got customers waiting.”
Angel: [frustrated frown] “Thanks for your time” [They turn to go]
CIP#2: [next counter over; she’s young and hip looking]: “I remember them. Sorry, couldn’t help but overhear. English accent, tattoo—checked in about 20 minutes ago. Cute couple.” [CIP#1 flashes her an annoyed look—she’s frustrated at the delay.]
Cordelia: “Can you describe the guy she was with?”
CIP#2: [She laughs a bit and smiles broadly] “Actually, I remember him more than her—s’why I took notice. Slender, blonde, blue eyes—a serious hottie with a bit of an attitude and a wicked cool accent.”
Cordelia: [to Angel] “Definitely Spike.”
Angel: [pouty] “Hottie? I don’t know if I’d...”
Cordelia: [to the girl] “How did they act?”
CIP#2: “They were pretty cute—seemed happy enough; relaxed. They were both a bit beat up—she more than him. Had a few cuts on her face and she looked kind of stiff, like she had more bandages under her clothes.”
Angel: “What gate?”
CIP#2: “57”
Cordelia: “Thanks for your help.”
Angel leads the way, looking very grumpy.
**
Miranda and Spike are sitting at a bar table having a drink in one of the bars near their departure gate. Despite what the check-in girl said, there’s still a feeling of hesitancy between them. They haven’t spoken about anything but the flight details—small talk, basically. Its partly because they’re both completely exhausted/spent; partly because being together is the last thing either of them expected and neither quite know how to act. In some ways, Miranda worries that it’s all just a dream and that if she asks too many questions it might all evaporate—everything is still pretty hazy. So they sip their drinks and make pleasant chit-chat. There’s a page over the PA system for Miranda, telling her to go to the nearest white courtesy phone. She’s a bit dubious, but it could have something to do with their flight or more likely, their paperwork, so she tells Spike to wait there and she goes to find the phone. She slowly makes her way in the right direction with her drink in hand and eventually sees the line of phones around a corner to the side of the terminal. She heads towards them, but just as she’s close enough to pick up the receiver, Angel appears from around the corner. She doesn’t actually look terribly shocked to see him—or maybe she’s too tired to be shocked by anything at this point. He stops dead when he sees her. She stands facing him, about 6 feet away with an almost bored look of “well?”—She casually takes a sip from her drink. You can tell he wants to come closer, but something about her demeanor stops him. He doesn’t say anything for a moment.
Miranda: “Angel. [figuring it out] Ah, another ruse. What a surprise. [Pause—he is still not actually forming words] Are we going to stand here all day, or did you want something? I’ve got a plane to catch.”
Angel: [a bit thrown by her casual attitude] “I wanted to make sure you were Ok. You didn’t sound so good on the phone last time.”
Miranda: [frowning, as if trying to remember] “Oh that. Yeah, I suppose I was a bit out-of-sorts. I’m fine now, so you can run along.”
Angel: “Are you still having the dreams?”
Miranda: “Lindsey found me some wonderful pills that prevent dreaming. Don’t know whether sleep without dreaming can be considered sleep, but a couple of nights of that and I felt better. Haven’t slept since then, though, so I guess I’ll find out on the plane.” [She takes another sip of her drink.]
Angel: “You should know that the L.A. police may be looking for you soon—Kate showed me some pictures from surveillance cameras at the LA Museum of Art.”
Miranda: [laugh] “Those pieces are funding this trip. Lindsey was a peach and took care of that for me as well.”
Angel: “Men got hurt—don’t you care?”
Miranda: “Please. Security guards and cops—they know what they’re signing up for. And it’s not like I caused any permanent damage.”
Angel: “And the girl?”
Miranda: “An Immortal. She was just moments away from death and that would’ve been it, so I made her. Granted, I could have been more discrete with that one—a bit impulsive on my part. Lately I just can’t seem to censor myself. [beat] Anything else, dad?”
Angel: [looking hurt] “You don’t have to leave.”
Miranda: “And what’s the alternative?”
Angel: “You’re a part of the team. You could stay—we’d work something out.”
Miranda: [Actually bursts out laughing—v. hurtful] “That’s really funny. Oh, it wasn’t meant to be a joke? I see. Honestly, I can think of nothing worse than spending my days moping around that bloody monastery you call a hotel, doing my best to make sure that nobody has too much fun. And let me guess, we could be best friends and share in the eternal misery of it all. No thank you. I am SO over that phase.”
Angel: [floored by her callousness] “Phase? Why are you acting like this? I’m just trying to make things better.”
Miranda: “For me, or for you, because it’s not entirely clear.”
Angel: “For both of us.”
At this point, he takes a few steps forward. She turns to walk away, and he grabs her arm. She abruptly pulls away, but doesn’t move any further. There’s a look of surprise on her face, as if she’s suddenly realized something. She starts laughing again, almost manically, and is shaking her head.
Angel: “You’re drunk.”
Miranda: [Light-hearted, almost pitying him for not getting it] “Oh, Angel. I’ve been drunk for weeks. You know, I’m suddenly a bit warm.”
She takes off one of her shirts (she’s wearing a cotton blouse over a tank top; she takes off the blouse). This reveals the whole of her left arm. The chain-link tattoo that used to just wrap around her wrist a couple of times, now loosely winds up her arm, past her elbow and at her upper arm, wraps around three or four times and now the links are much bigger (they seem to get bigger as they go up her arm).
Angel: [Seeing the tattoo, he gets a look of horror on his face] “What have you done?”
Miranda: “What, these old things? They’re not mine, luv. Even at my worst, I couldn’t rack up that kind of carnage in a fortnight. No, these are all yours.”
Angel: [horror/confusion] “What?”
Miranda: [Looking at her own arm. Flippant.] “Good lord, you must’ve been busy. My question is, are the big ones worth more? Guess we’ll have to see.”
Angel: “I...I don’t understand.”
Miranda: [still very light-hearted in tone] “Oh, right. Exposition time, is it? I didn’t know until just now, when you touched me. Then it all came flooding in. I’ll tell you what, They’ve got a sense of humor. I can picture them up there now, laughing their bloody arses off. Let’s see. You remember talking to a priest? Something about a debt? Yes, well it seems that in order for you to ever be able to repay it enough for them to do you a favor, such as removing the ‘happiness’ clause, it had to be lightened a bit. So they decided we’d split the difference and I got half, or thereabouts. Apparently it’s a thing I do. One thing I will say is thank goodness I’m immortal, cause it will take some time to get rid of these (referring to the links on the tattoo). Who knew they’d be so literal and go with my little recording scheme. Hm, I wonder if they’ll disappear on their own now—I’ll be happy to do away with the acid bit. Always seemed so very self flagellation-y. Anyway, what this all means is that you’re within striking distance of having your soul for good. Apparently when the time comes, you’ll need something from me to seal the deal. On the off chance that I don’t make it that far, they decided to hedge their bets and go ahead and take it from me now. Don’t know quite how that all works—I was under the impression that you either had a soul or you didn’t, but they seem to have taken just a piece of mine. Doesn’t make much sense, but these things rarely do—mysterious ways and all that. In any event, I’d hang on to the pendant I gave you, that’s for sure. [figuring something else out] Ah...and the dreams. They’re not dreams at all—they’re your memories, corresponding to these (pointing to the links). [Looking upwards, as if speaking to TPTB] Nice touch. Oh, but the kicker is that they’ve banished me—or maybe it was just an unavoidable consequence—Still, I can’t go into churches anymore. It’s like I’m a bloody vampire or something—invisible walls and such. Guess I’ll have to find other places to hide when I’m not up for a fight. Hm. Maybe it’s only catholic churches—I did do a bit of damage to St. Michaels afterall. I’ll have to look into it. Anyway, it’s all very ‘Greek tragedy’, don’t you think? Very Mount Olympus. Is it the Fates or the Furies who came up with this sort of thing back in the day?”
Up to this point, she’s been just talking and not really paying attention to Angel’s reaction—it’s like she’s talking to herself, since she’s just figured out what’s going on as well. Now that she’s finished, she looks at Angel. He looks beaten down—all kinds of angst and horror and guilt on his face.
Angel: [pulling something out of his pocket—it’s a handkerchief containing the cross pendant] “Take it back. I don’t deserve it.”
Miranda: [sigh and eye roll] “Ech, here we go. You deserve it because I say you deserve it and that’s all there is to it. Now just go and be good and you can keep your sodding soul.”
Angel: “No. It’s too much—you shouldn’t have to pay for what I’ve done.”
Miranda: [waving it off] “Oh, it’s what I do. Apparently. And it was probably all part of the “big plan” or some such. You’re the hero—they need you. Beside, this gives you a whole new reason to mope and wallow in guilt and play the angst ridden dark avenger.” [She laughs.]
Angel: “No. I won’t accept it. Stay here and we’ll figure out a way to reverse it.”
Miranda: [Looking very annoyed, she takes a deep breath and mutters under her breath “bloody hell”. She sets her drink down, pauses for a moment as if she has to concentrate very hard on something. She takes another deep breath and then steps closer to him. She looks him in the eye—now without ‘tude. In a soft, caring voice.] “Angel. This was my choice. My gift. It’s what they hoped would happen. Take it. Please. Else it was all for nothing. [She kisses him on the cheek and then whispers in his ear] Despite everything, I’d do it again. [quick smile] I think. No, I would.”
She steps away and grabs her drink, downing the rest of it. She puts her shirt back on and is quickly back in ‘tude mode.
Angel: [still looking utterly miserable] “What will you do?”
Miranda: “The plan was to go to Europe and show those old Immortal bastards that I’m not afraid of them. Why wait for them to come to me, right? I’ve been hiding my whole life. Maybe it’s about time to jump directly into the fray and see what happens. [shrugs] We’ve all got to go sometime. Maybe sooner’s better than later.”
Angel: [Not what he wanted to hear] “And Spike?” [Said with palpable distaste.]
Miranda: “Now THAT was completely unexpected. Never thought in a million years he’d take me back. The man is a fucking saint to give me another chance.”
Angel: “So what’s with all the cuts and bruises—Buffy said your place was trashed.”
Miranda: [She winces at the mention of Buffy’s name.] “He needed to work through some of his anger—thought it would do him a bit of good to have the opportunity to throw a few punches.”
Angel: [Shaking his head in disgust] “Don’t go.”
Miranda: “I thought we’d covered this. Even you have to admit that it’s better that he’s with me. [thinking] Yes, it changes my outlook considerably. [beat] Goodbye, Angel. Thanks for stopping by. [laughing] It was enlightening.”
She turns and starts walking away. Angel calls after her, but she just lifts her arm to wave him off. He looks miserable.
**
She comes back to the bar. Spike stands when she gets close to the table.
Spike: “I think they’re calling our flight. Guess it’s time to climb on board the bloody smoke-less flying machine.”
She doesn’t say anything, but steps up to him and leans in to kiss him on the lips. It’s a gentle, but tasty kiss.
Spike: [honestly surprised] “What was that for?”
Miranda: “Just wanted to see if you’d let me.” [He smiles, but then fakes stern.]
Spike: “Don’t get cocky—I could still say no at any time. I still hate you, remember?”
She just nods—with small smile. She grabs her bag from the chair and they head towards the gate. Next view is of them actually getting on the plane, walking down the rows of seats.
Spike: “So what was the call about?”
Miranda: “No call. It was Angel.”
Spike: [looking visibly surprised/tense] “What did he want?”
They’ve now found their seats and are putting their things away.
Miranda: “He wanted me to stay in L.A. [beat] With him.”
Spike: [Confused frown—he’d pretty much resigned himself to the idea that Angel had broken up with Miranda and that’s why she was back] “What did you say?”
Miranda: “Do you want the long version or the short version?”
Spike: “Short.”
Miranda: “No, no and no. He asked three times.”
Spike: [seriously confused] “Then why...??”
Miranda: “Let’s not talk about that now, alright? Someday I’ll tell you everything. Just not now.” [He nods.]
They spend a few minutes settling in for the flight.
Miranda: “I haven’t had anything to eat in quite some time. They’ll have food on the flight—I’ll take yours and mine and by the time we get there, I’ll be strong enough for you to feed. [anticipating] I know, I know, it’s not supposed to be about food, but we don’t have any blood with us and I’m going to need some serious rest before I’m ready to go out and track some down.”
Spike: [frowning] “No.”
Miranda: [surprised/incredulous] “No?”
Spike: “I’ll be fine.”
Miranda: “Your stomach is growling already, I don’t think you’ll be fine for another two days.”
Spike: [shrugging] “I just don’t want to do it, is all.”
Miranda: [Figuring it out—he’s dwelling on what happened in L.A., when she made such a big deal about his wanting her only for her blood and its affects.] “Oh, Spike, it was never about the biting. Honestly.”
Spike: “I don’t need it. I’m fine without it. I just don’t want you to think...”
Miranda: “I don’t. Trust me. It wasn’t about that. Besides, I’ll probably recover [from the biting] much more quickly now—I managed to kill a very powerful Immortal when I was away.”
Spike: “Probably? How is it you don’t know?” [He’d thought Angel would have bit her.]
Miranda: “Oh. Uh, that’s not something we [she and Angel] ever regularly...did.”
Spike: [Looking downright cheery at this bit of news. The idea of it had really bothered him.] “Oh. Well then. So were there, uh, other things you didn’t do?”
Miranda: [understanding the implication] “Well, we did THAT.”
Spike: [disappointed, but not surprised] “Oh.”
Miranda: “But it wasn’t the same. I mean, with Angel it was all rather...perfunctory. You know—get in, get out, have the minimal amount of fun possible. I mean, heaven forbid you enjoy it too much and want to do it again—‘cause that would be wrong.”
Spike: [He smiles a bit. Then decides to come clean.] “I didn’t shag Buffy. I mean, maybe I coulda done with a bit more time and effort, but...”
Miranda: [big smile/relief] “Oh, thank God. [beat] Darla?”
Spike: “ooh. Yeah, we fooled around a bit. But she was all about directing every little detail: Do this, do that. To the right, to the left; foot here, hand there—much too controlling for my taste. [beat] And I guess I sorta shagged half of Rio trying to get you out of my mind, but honestly, most people are just crap in the sack. If there’s no chemistry, it’s all pretty much mechanical.”
Miranda: [Trying not to think too much about the ‘half of Rio’ comment] “That’s something we did very well.”
Spike: “Oh yeah. We were bloody brilliant—it was an art.”
Miranda: “Could’ve sold tickets.”
Spike: “Damn straight—bloody porn stars look like amateurs compared to us.”
Miranda: “I know I’VE never seen a video that measured...up.”
Spike: “We’d keep it going for days, no worries.”
Miranda: “We could teach a bloody class—Fucking 101.”
They’re both suddenly very horny. Spike grabs a passing flight attendant.
Spike: [to the FA] “How long is this flight?”
FA: “Nine hours, sir.”
Spike: “Aw, bugger that.”
Miranda: “I think we’re going to need a drink...or ten.”
Scene 17
Scotland. Flashes of them getting their bags and then making their way to the hotel in a taxi—they barely speak. They both look utterly exhausted and bleary eyed. Next shot is of them coming into their room and throwing Miranda’s bags in a corner.
Miranda: “I don’t think I’ve ever been so knackered—I might actually have been asleep standing up for a moment when we were checking in.”
Spike: [agreeing] “I quite fancy a fag, but it seems too much work.”
Miranda: “I suppose we should get some rest—figure things out later.”
Spike: “Yeah, guess so.”
They’re standing a couple of feet from the bed and they both look over at it wearily as if even taking the two steps to get to it is too much to ask. They don’t move. They glance back over at each other and then shift awkwardly—eyes darting around. They haven’t quite set the rules—it’s not entirely clear at this point whether they’re back to normal or not, despite their banter on the plane. Miranda thinks about reaching for her bag to find something to sleep in, but then hesitates. She’s wondering if she should get undressed right there or if she should go into the bathroom. Spike, of course, doesn’t actually have anything to sleep in and even he finds himself wondering if he should just get naked as usual. He frowns. Because they’re so tired, neither can make a decision and they’re simply stalled there in the middle of the room. After what seems like hours of awkward glances and shifting, Spike is the first to speak.
Spike: “This is kind of new, innit?”
They’ve never actually been awkward/uncomfortable with each other before—ever.
Miranda: [nervous laugh] “Completely and utterly unlike us. I feel like I’m on a first date or something, only our first date was much easier.”
Spike: [pensive/serious] “I think we should do it.”
Miranda: “And by ‘it’, you mean...”
Spike: [still very serious] “Fuck. I think we should fuck.”
Miranda: “Yeah?” [Genuinely surprised—she didn’t think it was an option in their current state.]
Spike: [trying to be logical] “The thing is, if we don’t then there’s all this awkward confusion about sleeping and clothes and touching and lord knows we’re not in a state to talk about all that nonsense. But if we shag, it’s all pretty straightforward—clothes off, fucking, then sleeping—touching before and after pretty much part of the package.”
Miranda: “Makes sense. [frowning slightly] I suppose I should get in the shower.”
Spike: [discouraging her] “I wasn’t thinking anything fancy. Quick and dirty. Just the basics to, uh, seal the deal.”
She’s not sure whether it was the ‘dirty’ or the ‘seal the deal’ that made her knees get all wobbly, but whichever, her body was now aching in familiar places. Suddenly she can’t conceive of how she considered letting a trifle such as complete physical and mental exhaustion get in the way of a little ‘quick and dirty’ with Spike. Surely there’s a reserve of energy somewhere. Yep, there it is. Won’t last long, so lets skip the foreplay. She finds herself calculating exactly how long it will take for them to strip off their clothes and then realizes that neither of them has actually moved yet and why is she wasting her time thinking at a time like this?!! Over these same few seconds, Spike sees the flush in her cheeks, senses her heart beating faster and more erratically and knows she likes his plan. If he had the mental energy, he’d probably be thinking about how he never thought he’d have her again—never see that wonderful flush in her cheeks, never feel her warmth underneath him. How he’d convinced himself that he could go on without her—find a replacement. But here they are. Seeing her, knowing that she’s his again, he can’t imagine what a fool he'd been to believe any of that bullshit. But his mind isn’t that articulate at the moment—he just sees her and wants her and hopes to God that the gallons of liquor he’s consumed over the past couple of days along with the lack of blood and sleep won’t interfere with his ability to seal the deal. He smiles, feeling his body respond to the sight of her arousal. No worries. They move together into a kiss. He’s pushing her backwards toward the bed as they both peel off their clothes. Though in their minds, it’s a mad frenzy, they’re actually moving somewhat slowly—as fast as their tired limbs will allow. She’d forgotten what it felt like to be this frantic with desire. It’s like she’s just woken up from a dream. The one thing she wouldn’t let herself do once she decided to stay in L.A. was fantasize about Spike—that was entirely off limits and she closed her mind to it. She did her best to banish him—it was far easier to bury the physical memories than the rest of it. She had felt desire for Angel at times—heck, he was an attractive man—she’d even convinced herself that their relationship wasn’t entirely devoid of passion after all. Heh. Maybe it wasn’t, but what she is feeling right now is incomparable—this is sharp and clear and raw. She’s awake now. The aching between her legs is almost unbearable. They’re now horizontal on the bed. She guides his hand down the front of her trousers, under the front of her lace thong and pushes his fingers between her lips. They both gasp—the touch of his cool hand makes her clit throb. She’s ready and he feels his erection twitch in anticipation. He pulls away from her, grabs hold of her pants, rips them in two and tosses them aside. She reaches for his pants, but he’s already out of them, freeing his now rock hard penis, the tip already moist with pre-cum. He wants to look at her for a moment—to enjoy the anticipation, but his body is unstoppable and he just spreads her legs and slides inside with one motion. She lets out a sharp squeal of pleasure. OH MY GOD. This is IT. This is EVERYTHING.
Spike moans; “Aw fuck, you feel like you’re on fire. Jesus Christ.”
After pausing for a moment, he starts thrusting—pushing himself in as deep as he can and pulling out almost his entire length before pushing back in. She keeps forgetting to breathe and then periodically gasps for air. He looks down at her, kisses her and grasps at her breasts as he pulls in and out.
Spike: “So beautiful. I missed you so much.”
She closes her eyes in ecstasy. He picks up the pace a bit, pushing himself up taller.
Miranda: [breathless] “Spike, I love you.”
He stops for a moment and you can tell he’s trying desperately not to come.
Miranda: “It’s Ok—don’t wait for me. I’m probably too tired anyway.”
He just smirks.
Spike: “We’ll see about that.” He pulls her left leg up and rests it on his chest—he then shifts her pelvis slightly beneath him and resumes thrusting. Within seconds, Miranda is squealing—her body covered in a fine sweat. He starts pounding harder in response to her shrieks.
Miranda: “Ok, maybe you can wait.”
He smiles broadly. It doesn’t take long. When she comes, she screams his name so loud, you could probably hear it three floors up. She’s still writhing in pleasure when he pauses briefly to feel her orgasm take hold of and squeeze his cock inside her—that’s it—he rams into her one more time as he releases everything he’s got with a low moan and growl. It feels like buckets and goes on and on. By the time he’s finished and his brain begins to function again, he notices she’s started giggling. She laughs so hard, tears streak down her cheek.
Spike: “Giggles on the first time—I think that’s a record.”
Miranda: [in between laughs] “Guess I needed that”.
Spike: [looking into her eyes] “I told you so”.
Miranda: “You’re pretty smart, you know that?”
Spike: "I'm fucking brilliant."
He leans in for a gentle kiss and her giggles slow to a stop. He rolls to the side and they’re asleep within minutes.
**
A few hours later, Miranda wakes up and quietly sneaks out of bed. She rummages in her bag to pull out a t-shirt and looks at her watch, which is sitting on the bedside table. She finds her wallet and counts the cash she has in it, putting the bills on the table. She crawls back into bed and gently tries to wake Spike. He rolls over and smiles wearily.
Spike: “It can’t possibly be time to get up yet.”
Miranda: “Listen, I’ve got a plan and I don’t want you to make a fuss. It’s just dark now and the shops won’t be open much later and I’m too spent to go out. I want you to bite me and then take some money and get us some supplies. [She’s leaning on her elbow and he does the same, facing her. She takes a breath and in a softer, but serious tone, adds] I want you to take it all. You need the energy and I don’t know how long it will take me to get my bearings here. [He starts to protest] I’ll be fine. Take it all and I’ll wake up in four or five hours—you can whoop it up in town or come back here and sleep some more.”
Spike: “You’re being silly—I’m not that close to wasting away.”
Miranda: “Do it, love. I want to give you everything. I want a fresh start.”
He just gives her his confused frown look and then nods.
Spike: “Now?”
She nods. He moves closer to her and pushes her onto her back. He kisses her on the lips and then down her cheek and slowly moves his lips to her neck. Involuntarily, she tenses up. He lifts her up off the pillow, changes and gently sinks his teeth into her neck. She can’t stop herself from gasping. We hear the sound of him drinking and her eyes flutter and she’s out. After a few moments, he pulls back. He licks the excess blood from her neck and then lays her back down on the pillow.
Spike: [Pushing the hair back from her face] “Sorry, love. Had enough silence and dead things.” [You can see that she’s still breathing.]
He gets up and puts on his clothes, not taking his eyes off her for more than is absolutely necessary. He grabs the money on the table and the room key and heads out the door.
Sometime later. Spike is walking down a city street, smoking a cigarette. It’s dark. He doesn’t seem particularly purposeful—more like a leisurely stroll. He peers in some of the shop windows, but most everything is closed. After walking down a couple of streets, he starts to look a bit irritated and dives into a phone booth. He flips through the yellow pages until he finds what he’s looking for and rips the page out. He finishes his cigarette, drops and steps on the butt and heads off, after glancing again at the page. We see him arrive at the corner he’s looking for only to find the shop closed. Just as he is lighting up again, he notices a lit doorway up the street—he heads towards it. As he gets closer he sees that it’s a record shop.
Spike: [to himself] “Got a bit of time to kill.”
He strolls inside. It’s small, but packed full of CD’s. The room is long and thin, with a booth at the front with the cash register. There’s no one in the shop, except a sales girl behind the counter who is flipping the pages of a magazine. She’s cute—young, maybe 19. She looks the sort who would work in a record shop—she has a ‘modern goth’ look to her. Her hair is brown, but she’s dyed some of the tips blue—her ears are pierced multiple times and she’s wearing a diversity of rings and jewelry. Spike doesn’t look at the girl, but heads straight back for the record stacks. Without noticeably looking up from her magazine, she watches him. He browses for a while, casually. After a few minutes, the girl steps out from behind the counter and walks towards him.
Shop Girl: [in a Scottish accent (no, I’m not going to try to write it that way)] “Can I help you find something?”
Spike: [He gives her a quick once-over before responding.] “Yeah, maybe. There’s this song I’m trying to find. Don’t know the name. Don’t know who sings it. Don’t know how old it is.”
Shop Girl: “You English?”
Spike: “That a problem?”
Shop Girl: [shaking her head] “My boyfriend’s English.”
Spike: “Good for him.”
Shop Girl: “Makes my dad crazy—lots a people ‘round here get pissy about the English. All seems a bit silly to me.”
Spike: “Uh, you think you can help me with the song, or do you just work here?’
Shop Girl: “Right. I know most of what we got here in the shop. You gonna sing it for me, or what?”
Spike: [smiles] “Sorry, I’m much too sober to sing. The bird who sings it s’got a very distinctive voice—loud and wailing, sort of. The chorus is something about “violently happy”."
Shop Girl: [Thinks about it for a moment and then, finishing the chorus] “...because I love you. Yeah, I know it. Bjork. [she starts to walk over to look for the CD] Wouldn’t’ve thought you’d be shy about singing—thought maybe you were in a band or something from the look of you.”
Spike: “I like to listen.”
Shop Girl: [handing him the CD] “It’s a good song.”
Spike: “Don’t really remember it much—heard it once in a club. My girlfriend liked it. We just got back together, so thought I’d pick up a copy.” [Thinks to himself: Why did I just say that?]
Shop Girl: “That’s brilliant. S’good to be romantic—get more action that way, dontcha?”
Spike: [smiles] “I do OK.”
Shop Girl: “No doubt.”
Spike: “So does it work for you?”
Shop Girl: “Hm, I don’t need a reason. He’s pretty sweet, though—my Jim. Got him a present when I was on holiday.”
Spike: “Did he give you a good seeing to after?”
Shop Girl: “Haven’t given ‘him yet. Just got back last night. Think he’ll like it?” [She flashes her new tongue piercing, suggestively.]
Spike: “Depends on what you plan on doing with it.”
Shop Girl: “Supposed to be good for certain things. [She lets her eyes flash downwards] Ever tried it?”
Spike: “Not yet. [Then, deciding to scale back the flirtation a bit.] Do I have to buy the whole CD, or do you have the single?”
Shop Girl: “Don’t have the single—you can listen to the rest if you like back in the corner there. You might like it.”
He walks to the back of the store where there is a listening station. He fumbles with it for a bit, but can’t get it to work. He waves her over and she pushes in a code to get it working.
Shop Girl: [handing him a couple of other CDs] “I brought a couple of others—new stuff you might like if you want to take a listen.”
Spike: “Quiet night?”
Shop Girl: [laughs] “You’re the first customer I’ve had. No one’s out.”
Spike: “Yeah, it seemed sort of deserted.”
Shop Girl: “Heard something about gangs come up from London causing trouble—thrown the city into a bit of a tizzy. Most of the shops close after dark—I need the money, so I came in anyway. Slowest work day of my life—Jim’s comin’ to pick me up at 11.”
Spike: [taking the CDs] “I’ve got no place to be—I’ll give ‘em a listen.”
She hangs in the back with him for a bit—giving him some trivia on various bands and things. They chat and laugh a bit. In a few minutes, just as she starts to wander up to the front of the store, a group of four guys come in the front—they have the look of gang members. They start throwing stuff around and making a mess. She comes tearing up to the front, yelling at them. She threatens to call the police. They continue to grab what they want, ignoring her for the moment. One of them pushes her roughly into one of the display cases, causing it to fall over with a big crash.
Shop Girl: [suddenly afraid] “Go ahead and take what’s in the till and then sod off.”
Gang guy (GG#1): “Money’s not what we’re after, ya’ silly bint.” [He walks towards her, menacingly.]
Hearing the crash, Spike shuts off his headphones and notices what’s happening at the front of the shop. He hesitates for a moment—he could just pocket the CDs and push off. It’s not his business anyway. Then he shrugs, takes off the headphones, shoves the CD in his pocket and strolls up to the front of the store just as the GG is cornering the shop girl.
Spike: “Dibs.”
They all turn to look at him.
GG#1: “What?”
Spike: “Dibs. I was here first, I got dibs on ‘er”
GG#1: “You can’t just call ‘dibs’ like that. [turning to the others] Can he?”
GG#2: “Nah, man. She’s ours.”
GG#3: “Yeah, you left her alone at the front of the shop—finder’s keepers.”
Spike: “I was just taking my time. Don’t you newbie nitwits know how to savor a kill?” [Thinking to himself—god, I sound like bloody Angelus.]
At this, SG looks over at S in shock and then darts behind the counter to hide.
GG#1: “And who the hell do you think you are, mate, talking to us like that?”
Spike: “Someone who’s quite ready to dust the lot of you if you don’t run along home to your nancy-boy sire, whoever he or she may be. It’s rather obvious that none of you lot are heading up the local “gang”. [He makes the quotation marks with his hands in a particularly condescending way] And while your at it, be sure to tell him or her that William the Bloody’s in town and they’d better take care to stay out of my way.”
GG#2: [mocking] “oooh, I’m pissin’ my pants in fear, William.”
Spike: “Geez, you leave Europe for a few years and suddenly you’re a nobody again. Lucky for me, this is the part I like best.”
With that, he punches the one closest to him hard enough to send him flying across the room. Soon, he’s beating the crap out of the four of them (they’re all in vamp face now). They get a few punches in and it’s not easy, but he manages to dust three out of the four and then pummels the last one a while before kicking him out the door. As he does so he adds...
Spike: “And for future reference, I tend to get cranky when idiots like you use my given name, so if you want your head to continue to be attached to your body, call me Spike.”
The vamp practically crawls out the door and then limps away. Spike wipes the blood from his mouth and changes back to his human face. He looks around and the trashed shop and can’t help but smile a bit. Then he sees the shop girl peek up from behind the counter, timidly.
Spike: “It’s Ok, they’re gone.”
She stands up slowly, looking terrified. She’s starting to cry and her black mascara is running down her cheek. She wipes it off with her hand and tries to get a hold of herself. He’s walked over to where she’s standing.
Shop Girl: [voice shaking] “Listen, I’ll do anything you want. The thing is, my boyfriend needs me. He’s a bit of a mess and he’d go off his head if anything happened to me. Please, can you just take what you want without killing me? [trying to look seductive] I’d make it worth your while. Promise.”
Spike: [Perplexed for a moment. Then tempted—I wonder what that little bob on her tongue would feel like. Shaking it off—Nah.] “Oh, right—that was all show. Tried to get the wankers to just shove off without trashing the place. Suppose you’ll be out of a job for a bit ‘till they fix the place up again—hope your boss has insurance.”
Shop Girl: “You’re not going to kill me, then?”
Spike: “Nah—not my thing anymore.”
She is so relieved that she flops back down on the floor (sitting) and catches her breath a moment.
Spike: “You Ok? Think you might be bleeding a bit somewhere.”
She looks up at him and then gets to her knees and moves toward him, reaching her hand out for his belt buckle.
Spike: [a bit surprised, steps back] “No need for that, love. Tempting, I’ll admit, but uh, save it for your boyfriend. I’m not going to kill you, full stop—never was.”
Sitting back on her ankles, she takes a deep breath and smiles.
Shop Girl: “You saved me, then.”
Spike: “Yeah, well, don’t make a big thing about it—didn’t have anything better to do.”
She gets to her feet and hugs him—he’s a bit taken aback.
Shop Girl: “Thank you, thank you, thank you.” [She kisses him on the cheek repeatedly.]
Spike: “Ok, this would be making a big thing.” [He gently pushes her back.] “I think it’s probably time to close up shop for the night. You live nearby?”
Shop Girl: [sniffling] “I stay with my gran when I’m working. It’s just about a mile across town.”
Spike: “I’d better walk you home—those four weren’t the end of it.”
Shop Girl: “What about Jim?”
Spike: “Leave ‘im a note.”
She nods and gathers her things. They leave and she locks the door behind her and leaves a little note taped to the door.
Shop Girl: “So are you...uh...they, vampires?”
Spike: “Good guess for a first try—spot on.”
Shop Girl: “There’ve been stories floating about—everyone says it’s bollocks—just kids dressing up, trying to be scary. A gang initiation thing.”
Spike: “They aren’t just kids. Best to stay inside after dark ‘til things calm down.”
Shop Girl: “But if you’re a vampire, why did you fight them?”
Spike: [shrugs—a bit defensive] “It’s not a club—we’re not all pals and best friends.”
Shop Girl: “Oh.”
You can tell she wants to ask more questions, but his demeanor convinces her not to push it. They walk in silence for a while. They get to her apartment building—he walks her to her door. Just as she’s opening it, he says.
Spike: “One more thing. This is very important. Don’t invite any strangers in to your flat. Ever.”
Shop Girl: “Hey Gran, I’m home—I’ve brought a friend with me.”
Gran: “Come in, come in.”
Spike: [shaking his head] “No, that’s what I mean. Don’t do that. Even if you think you know them.” [to himself: it’s amazing there’s any of ‘em left.]
Shop Girl: [dismissive] “Alright, alright. The only one we’ll be expecting is Jim anyway tonight. No one else comes in.” [He nods.]
Spike: “I’m off, then.”
Shop Girl: “No, wait. Gran, this man saved my life tonight.”
Gran: “Oh, bless. [suddenly animated, waving him in] Break out the sherry—we must drink to that.”
Spike: [to SG, annoyed] “I thought we’d covered this.” [But he’s kind of liking the attention—that bothers him more than anything.]
30 minutes or so later, we see Spike leave—he’s got a shopping bag. Once she found out he was headed to the shops (he’d tried using that as an excuse to leave), the old lady made sure he took every bit of food she had in the house. Whatever—will save him futzing about looking for a convenience store. About half way back the hotel, he realizes that he’s missing his lighter. Must have fallen out during the fight. He goes back to the shop, breaks open the door and quickly finds it. He gets a few steps away and he sees someone step up to the shop and pull off the note attached to the door. He stops—he can sense it’s another vampire. He sighs, puts the bag down and walks toward the vamp—he grabs the hand holding the note.
Spike: “I don’t think that belongs to you. What’re you, five minutes old?”
Vamp: “Back off, blondie. It is for me, see?” [with that, he pulls out an ID card.] “Yep, me and Shelly are gonna have ourselves a good time tonight—‘least I know I will.” [manic laugh]
Spike looks a little sad as he watches the vamp/Jim walk away. He reaches into the rubble of the shop and pulls out a piece of wood.
Spike: “Sorry, mate. Not gonna let that happen.”
He comes up behind and dusts him. He tosses the piece of wood to the side and then lights a cigarette.
Spike: “Waste of a perfectly good tongue piercing.”
He strolls over and picks up the bag of goodies and heads back down the street towards the hotel.
**
Back at the hotel (Scotland)
Miranda is up and pacing the room. She managed to order some room service and so has a bit more energy. She looks worried. She hears the key in the lock and lights up. It’s Spike. As soon as he appears in the door, she runs up to him and jumps on him, wrapping her legs and arms around him.
Miranda: [manic stream of consciousness] “You came back! I was so sure you were going to leave me. I woke up and you hadn’t done what I’d asked—naughty boy—and then I waited and waited and saw the money was gone and I started to think that you’d decided to leave me and get your revenge, which would be totally justified, of course. But then I talked myself out of it and couldn’t decide whether to shower in preparation for the make-up sex or if I should wait so we could shower together and then I decided to wait, but then I kept thinking you might not come back and I’d be waiting and waiting and I’d be like Miss Havisham, except instead of a rotting wedding dress, I’d just get smellier and smellier until they threw me out of the hotel and...I’m just so glad you came back.” [She’s kissing his face.]
Spike: [laughing] “You been drinking coffee again? Watch the champagne bottles.” [In one of the bags he’s holding.]
Miranda: [getting down] “Right. Sorry. [eyes brighten] You got champagne?”
Spike: [duh] “Now how would we have a sexathon without champagne?”
Miranda: “What’ve you been doing? Besides buying me goodies.”
Spike: [Pause while he considers whether or not to tell her about the shop girl. Shrugs.] “Whooping it up, just like you said.”
She smiles broadly and hugs him again.
**
Many hours later. Empty bottles and half-filled glasses everywhere, along with food of various kinds scattered about. Some chairs are knocked over. Pan to the bed, where Miranda is naked under a sheet. She’s got the remote control for the TV in one hand and is sleepily flipping through the channels—she’s looking very satisfied. Spike comes in from the bathroom, naked, holding a piece of fabric.
Spike: “I think I got most of the blood out of the curtain—don’t see why it matters.”
Miranda: “I’d like to be able to stay in this hotel again someday.”
Spike slips under the sheet next to her and spoons her from behind. He runs his hands over her shoulder and down her arm, nibbling on her neck. She laughs.
Miranda: “That tickles.”
Spike: “Do we still have ice?”
Miranda: “Yeah, in the champagne bucket. Why?”
Spike: “Just like to be familiar with all my options.”
Miranda: “OH MY GOD.”
Spike: “What?”
Miranda: “That can’t possibly be what I think it is. [Spike just nestles up tighter and smiles a very naughty little smile] Tell me you’ve brought a banana into the bed.”
Spike: [he purrs] “Just pleased to see you, love”
Miranda: “It’s not possible. I simply do not understand vampire circulation. Where does it all come from?”
Spike: “I’ve been saving it up”
Miranda: “I seem to remember your mentioning something about leaving quite a lot of it in Rio.”
Spike: “Maybe I exaggerated just a tad.”
Miranda: “Well, the answer is no. Absolutely not. I thought we were going to watch the Vicar of Dibley.”
Spike: “Come on, pet. Just once more.”
Miranda: “Spike, my parts are about ready to pack up and leave town—they have been pummeled from every conceivable angle. The room smells like a brothel. [Flash to her remembering all their naughty deeds in the room—in the chair, over the couch, in the closet, on the coffee table. Ooh, and lets not forget the shower.] It’s going to take a couple of hours before I can even take a wee without having to have a drink first to ease the pain. No, I’m sorry but my bits are done for the night.”
Spike: “I’m sore too, love, but we’re just so close to the record.”
Miranda: “There’s a record?”
Spike: “Well, I’m sure there must be and we’ve got to be near it. [She rolls her eyes.] And there are certain bits that have yet to be explored.” [As he says this, he runs his index finger down the center of her back, stopping just short of her butt cheeks.]
Miranda: [Weakening. She lets out a slight moan/sigh] “I suppose it’s not beyond the realm of possibility. For the record. Just take it easy, alright?”
Spike: [he smiles] “I won’t twist your arm too hard. [he whispers] Close your eyes.”
He pulls the sheet back, revealing her naked body. He runs his fingers over her birthmarks, tracing the outside edge. He leans in closer and does the same with his tongue—flicking it lightly across the bottom edge and out to the tip. He pulls back an inch or two.]
Spike: “Ever consider getting a tattoo there? They could make ‘em look more like real wings. Hang on a minute. [He reaches on the table for a black marker, which he then uses to draw on her back—she giggles at the touch of it. He draws two wings extending out from her birthmarks, complete with squiggles made to look like feathers] That’s better. ‘Course we’ll have to find a place for the ‘SPIKE’—maybe right here in the middle” [He writes his name between her shoulder blades—she laughs.]
He traces the rest of her spine with his fingers like before and again, follows his fingers with his tongue, occasionally stopping to plant kisses here and there. She lets out a pleased sigh. He stops just at her top of her ass. He reaches for something and then is back giving her his full attention. He pulls apart her butt cheeks slightly—just enough to allow the passage of his tongue. She inhales noticeably when he glides over her puckered entrance. He goes past and then works his tongue back in that direction. He puts one of his hands between her thighs, which she lifts slightly to accommodate. [They’re still spooning with her on the inside] He moves his hand up to her swollen lips and touches them softly—she lets out a concerned whimper.
Spike: “poor parts”
He shifts his hands and she gasps sharply as he pushes a piece of ice up against her inner lips. She tenses up and squirms.
Miranda: “too cold”
Spike: “Shhhh. Relax. It’s good”
She relaxes and he moves the quickly melting ice up towards her clit and back down to her opening, letting his fingers gently touch the sides. Soon the ice is gone, leaving his fingers to gently stroke her. His tongue is stroking her ass in time with his fingers. She starts to moan and breath more erratically. He lets his tongue move a bit further down to near where his fingers are and then pulls back a moment to speak.
Spike: “See, just takes the right touch. God I love the taste of your pussy when it’s wet. But its job is done.”
He moves back to her cheeks and pulls them apart again—this time he probes the entrance with his tongue, just pushing the tip in slightly. He pulls back again.
Spike: “That all right, love?”
Miranda: “Yeah—it feels good.”
He moves his fingers back to her now drenched pussy and once he’s coated them with her juices, brings them up to replace his tongue. He works just the tip of one finger into her hole and she whimpers slightly.
Spike: [he coos] “Just relax, love.”
She does and in a few moments, she starts moving against his finger—pushing it in deeper. This makes him moan, as he feels himself get even harder—he looks down to see his cock jerk—desperate for friction. Not yet—she has to be ready. He pulls his finger out of her and moves his hand back towards her clit to get more moisture—this makes her gasp. She quickly reaches down to stop his hands from retreating and presses his fingers to her as she grinds into them—it’s almost enough to make her come.
Spike: “Not too sore, then? Patience, love”
He pulls his hand from beneath her and still delicately pushes just the tips of both fingers into her ass. Same as before—she lets out and soft, muffled shriek, tensing slightly, but then relaxes and accepts them. After a few moments,
Miranda: “hmmmm...deeper.”
He obliges, pushing them in as far as they’ll go and then slowly pulling them out. Before he starts to slide them back in, she arches her back and pushes back against him, driving them deep inside. That is too much for him. He pulls his fingers out and kneels on the bed, pulling her hips up so she’s now on her hands and knees before him. He moves up behind her, sliding his aching dick between her legs, just sliding over the top of her wet center. She’s panting now. He reaches around with one hand and takes hold of her breast. With the other, he presses his cock against her lips and starts thrusting across the length of her. Each time his tip brushes past her clit, she moans with delight. He lets go of her breast and stands more up upright behind her as he continues to slide across the outside of her pussy, coating himself with her juices.
Miranda: “Oh, god Spike. You’re gonna make me come—you feel so good. Oh, fuck.”
She shrieks as she jerks beneath him, clenching the pillow tightly as her orgasm washes over her. When he’s sure she’s finished, he pulls back and with his hand laps up even more moisture from her and uses it to coat his tip.
Spike: “You ready?”
Miranda: “Yes, please baby.”
He snarls and puts one hand on her shoulder and uses the other to grip himself as pushes gently at the entrance to her ass. It takes every ounce of self-control he has to not slam into her, cause that’s what his body wants more than anything. Instead, he pushes in an inch at time, letting her relax in between and get used to his size (a bit bigger than two fingers. Ahem). Once he’s deep inside her ass, he checks with her again—he can tell from her breathing that it must hurt her a bit.
Spike: [now he’s breathless] “You alright?”
She takes a deep breath and in a somewhat hoarse voice responds “Uh-huh.” He slowly thrusts into her, feeling her relax a bit more with every stroke.
Spike: “It’s fucking fantastic. Uuhghhg.”
Soon she’s moaning with him, coaxing him on. He picks up the pace slightly, until he feels her start to tense. But the tightness is too much for him and he feels himself about to come. He can’t stop himself from ramming deep into her one time as he’s coming—she screams in pain (and pleasure). He echoes with is own loud wail. He pulls out slowly.
Spike: “Baby, every bit of you is more fuckable than the last. Christ.”
He flops down on his back and she moves over to rest her head on his chest.
Spike: “Sorry about that last bit—hope I didn’t hurt you too much.”
Miranda: “It’s like being a bloody virgin again—but in a good way.”
Spike: “And I’m spent.”
End smut.
End Part V
- 21
- 22
- 23
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Violently Happy