| Date: 18 January 2008
Characters: Spike, Rowan Tyler Location: hotel bar Link to IJ: thread #39442 |
 Spike was feeling distinctly better. HeÕd found a first aid kit in the hotel kitchen and patched himself up, and the (internal) application of some alcohol from a bottle of vodka heÕd found nearby had made the bullet wound in his side more or less ignorable. Now he just needed a drink.Preferably O-Positive. Spike eyed the sign pointing to the bar and sniffed thoughtfully. In a world where trapdoors disappeared into thin air and demon hunters from 2007 turned up at inconvenient moments, and where the kitchens were staffed by androids, it was quite conceivable that the bar would serve blood. He swaggered into the bar, noted that it was almost empty Š not unexpected for the middle of the afternoon Š and leant on the bar, automatically giving the serving android the eye. ŅDonÕt suppose you serve blood, mate?Ó he asked, in a low voice. No point in shouting out that he was a vampire, not when he wasnÕt sure he could fight off anyone who took exception to the fact. It appeared they did serve blood, and not just blood but human blood at that. Spike grinned. Maybe this place wasnÕt going to be so bad after all. |
 "Tell me that's...weirdly colored tomato juice. Lie to me," Rowan asked, peering at Spike across the bar. |
| Spike leered. Cute kid. "Bloody Mary," he lied obediently. Well, he'd had vodka already. It wasn't actually much of a lie. |
| "Cool." Rowan played with his glass of soda, apparently missing the leer and holding his hand out, "Rowan Tyler." |
| "Spike." He ignored Rowan's hand, raising his glass to him instead and downing its contents. He put the glass down on the bar, gestured to the barman for another one, and grinned at Rowan. "Mmm. That's better!" |
| "Yay, bloody mary?" Rowan offered, taking his hand back and staring a bit. |
| "I really needed that," Spike nodded, starting the next glass, a bit more slowly. |
| "Why not try it straight?" |
| "Why?" |
| "Get the alcohol faster." |
| "Oh. Thought you meant the blood. It is straight, actually, just straight blood. I had the vodka part earlier. But you can carry on pretending I didn't say that, if it bothers you." |
| "...Why are you drinking blood?" |
| Spike cocked an eyebrow. "Do you really want to know?" He drained the second glass and gestured for another one. |
| "I'm the curious sort." |
| Spike shrugged. "I was just asking because you said you wanted me to lie to you about the blood. Bit of an about-face." He took a sip of the third glass, feeling a lot better now. He could feel new life and strength running into him. Well, metaphorical life, since he was undead. He glanced up at Rowan with hooded blue eyes. "'M a vampire." |
| "No, I mean really," Rowan shook his head, waving off what he thought was teasing. |
| Spike just looked at him. Waiting it out. |
| "...What planet?" |
| Spike continued to just look at him. "...Earth," he said, in the sort of voice one uses to explain things to very stupid people. |
| "No, I mean, where are you from," Rowan said with a slight eyeroll. |
| "Earth," Spike said again, in exactly the same tone, unblinking. He took another drink. This looked like being a long afternoon. |
| "There's no vampires on earth." |
| "Really," Spike said disbelievingly. |
| "...That I know of?" Rowan tilted his head at Spike. |
| "Good boy. Get there in end." |
| "Seriously? Do you have zepplins?" |
| Spike blinked. Took another drink. "No. Do you?" |
| "Yeah." |
| Spike gave a little snort, and raised his glass in a celebratory toast. "Looks like you're safe, then." |
| "But I'm from a world- what do you know about aliens?" |
| "Don't exist. Demons, now, they exist. Aliens? Nope." |
| "...Alternate reality?" |
| "What, like Star Trek or something? Evil bearded Captain Kirks?" |
| "More like zepplins." |
| "Oh. Right." Spike quirked an eyebrow. "Evil bearded Kirk sounds like more fun." |
| "Isn't it Spock that's bearded?" |
| Spike squinted, thinking. "Actually, you could be right there. 'S been a long time since I saw it." |
| "Original run?" he snorted, not. Quite believing it. |
| "Not that long. They show repeats, you know! But it's been a few years." |
| "How old are you?" |
| Spike raised a languid eyebrow, sipping again at his blood. "120. Plus my human years, 'fore I was turned." He looked Rowan up and down. "How old're you?" |
| "...Twenty-two." |
| Spike grinned. The kid was pretty gutsy for twenty-two, the way he was just staying here talking to a vampire, with no apparent fear. Reminded him of a bunch of kids he knew back home. "So what's with the Zeppelins?" he asked, curious. "What's that all about?" |
| "Alternate reality." Rowan said simply. |
| "Right. You said that. Why Zeppelins, though? Seems a bit of an odd thing to have, 'less World War Two lasted a hell of a lot longer in your reality." |
| He shrugged, "Not my original reality." |
| Spike blinked for a moment while he took this in. "So you've already switched realities once, and then you ended up here?" |
| "Sounds like a joke, doesn't it?" |
| "Certainly does." Spike frowned. "How did you get here? And do you know how to get back?" |
| "No idea and...no idea.' |
| "Well, that's jolly helpful," Spike said sarcastically. |
| "Like you know," Rowan scoffed |
| Spike rolled his eyes. "If I knew, I wouldn't be asking you, would I? Anyway, I've only just got here. And the welcoming committe wasn't exactly very welcoming, and definitely not very forthcoming with information." |
| "Who'd you get for the welcoming committee?" |
| "What, you mean there's a rota? Not everyone gets the paranoid Demon Hunter from Dakota?" |
| "...Must have missed that one." |
| "Lucky you," Spike said sourly. "Bet you got someone really nice, didn't you?" |
| "I got one of my best friends." Pause. "Who remembered me as a girl." |
| "Really?" Spike chortled, sucking his cheeks in to stop himself from laughing outright. "That must have been embarrassing!" |
| "It was something," Rowan grumbled. |
| "I'll bet it was! So your friend's from, like, an alternate reality of your alternate reality?" |
| "Seems like, yeah." |
| "Wow. That's confusin'." |
| "You're not kiding." |
| Spike smiled briefly, picked up his glass and drained the contents. Thought about getting another one, then had a different thought. He leaned back against the bar, folded his arms and looked Rowan up and down. "So, Rowan. You've been here talking to me for a while now. Are you normally so friendly with creatures who might, you know, want to kill you?" |
| "Are you usually so friendly with your food?" |
| Spike smirked. "Only when it's cute." And when he expected to get a bloody great headache if he tried to eat it, but he wasn't going to let that one out of the bag till he'd at least tried it on someone other than Dean. |
| "I rely on my cuteness to survive." |
| "I bet it works, too," Spike leered, head tilted to one side. "Well, obviously it works, 'cos you're still here." It wasn't the cuteness that was keeping Rowan alive right now, though. It was the fact that Spike didn't see any possibility of getting the kid to come with him somewhere more private. Because there was no way he was trying anything in public till he knew he could fight back if he needed to. Probably should have thought of that before telling Rowan he was a vampire. Might have been able to get the kid alone than. Ah well. He came away from the bar. "Well, Rowan, you get to live another day. I'm off. Maybe I'll see you around." |
| "Okay, Dread Pirate," he saluted vaguely, drinking still. "Bye." |
| Spike grinned, patted him lightly on the cheek (wincing very slightly as he got a corresponding spark of pain shooting through his skull), and walked off to find some fun. And maybe someone to eat. |