Happy Halloween 2009!
October 30, 1998
Lunchtime on a glorious Friday afternoon found Buffy, Willow, Oz, and Xander making their way to the school cafeteria.
“So what are the big plans for Halloween this year?” Xander asked. “Costume party at the Bronze? Or I heard that the college is having a Haunted House, perhaps we can sneak in there.”
“I don’t know, Buffy said doubtfully. “After last year’s fiasco, maybe I’m going to take a page out of Spike’s book and stay in.”
“Oh, come on!” Xander couldn’t believe his ears. “Just because one warlock casts a spell, which has everyone turning into their costumes, is no reason to turn your back on a time-honored tradition of dressing-up and gorging oneself on candy.”
“Easy for you to say,” Buffy quipped back, as she spotted Spike and Sam already seated at a table. “You got be soldier guy, not some lame English noblewoman.”
“So once a year, I get to be a hero not the useless sidekick, is that so much to ask?”
Passing the group at that moment, the still-steaming-over-her-nasty-break-up-with Xander, Cordelia overheard their conversation. “You’re not even the useless sidekick,” she addressed Xander. “That privilege goes to him.” She looked over at Spike, who had been wearing a sullen expression, and with her comment his face became even more sullen.
“Bugger off, Queen bint” Spike snarled at her, while Buffy, Willow, and Oz quickly dropped their books on the cafeteria table and scurried off to the food line. None of them, not even the Slayer, wanted to get in the middle of a spat between Cordelia and a surly Spike.
“Boy,” Willow whispered. “Guess Cordy doesn’t remember how touchy Spike is during the Halloween season.”
“Well, if she didn’t remember now, she’ll remember for the future.” Buffy resolutely kept herself facing forward; she didn’t want to have even a glimpse of what was or was not happening between Cordelia and Spike.
“It’s going to be okay.” Oz didn’t have the same reservations as Buffy, as his head had been turned in the direction of the feuding duo the whole time. “Cordy’s leaving.”
Both Buffy and Willow heaved sighs of relief.
“I’d hate to see Spike punished again,” Willow said, as she reached for a bowl of fruit and set it on her tray. “Since he just spent more than a month being grounded, I was kind of hoping that the rest of this year would be discipline-free for him.”
“That’s wishful thinking.” Oz let out a snort of laughter, as he helped himself to a chocolate pudding. “Spike is a magnet for trouble.”
“You would think that Angel, who is so anti-Halloween, would have kept him home today because sending him to school is just asking for trouble,” Buffy commented wistfully, wondering if she would have another long stretch of solo patrols because Spike was not allowed out.
“He probably didn’t want to have to listen to moaning and groaning the whole day.” Xander pulled out money to give to the cashier. “Listening to it tonight is probably the Scourge of Europe’s limit.”
“I don’t know about that,” Willow said doubtfully, as the gang finished paying and made their way back to their table. “I’m sure he’s been listening to it all this time, and it didn’t make him relent and give Spike an early release.”
“I’m getting an early release from what?” Spike asked, overhearing the last part of their conversation.
“You didn’t get an early release,” Willow said with emphasis on the didn’t, as she sat down. “From your recent grounding.”
“Not with my Sire.” Spike shook his head. “He’s a demon, who delighted in causing physical and emotional torment, so there’s a part of him that likes to see me suffer.”
Sam nodded his head in agreement, as he chewed his sandwich. He could so relate.
“Well, can you try and control yourself to today?” Buffy asked, staring over at Spike. “Patrolling is just not the same without you.”
“Of course,” Spike snapped back. “Because we all live to make you happy.”
Outraged, Buffy opened her mouth, but an elbow poke from Willow reminded her that Spike was just being crotchety because he was going to miss out on all the Halloween festivities.
The tension puzzled Sam, who had no idea what the problem was. “What’s up with you two?” he asked, looking first at Buffy and then Spike.
“Spike’s just grumpy cause he’s not allowed out on Halloween, ”Xander explained between mouthfuls of macaroni and cheese.
“Not allowed out on Halloween,” Sam repeated baffled. He had never heard of such a thing. “How come?”
“Because my Sire doesn’t realize that it’s the 20th century; he still follows the old rules, and one of them is demons and vampires stay in on Halloween. But bloody hell, last year I missed all the sodding fun, but wait a minute.” A thought suddenly occurred to Spike. “Your dad is the King of Demons, and he permits you to be out on Halloween?”
“We-ll, yeah,” Sam answered slowly, still trying to wrap his mind around the concept that someone would be shut-in on Halloween. “But my dad does get all depressed on Halloween. Something about that it’s the commercialization of evil, and the one day that no one on earth fears him or believes in him. He even lets Hell take a holiday for that twenty-four hour period; although then he complains that the paperwork piles up, and he’s set back a hundred years. So every Halloween it’s the same, he comes around to whine and mope. I’ll probably have to keep him company tonight, so I guess, I’ll be stuck indoors too.”
Spike was instantly cheered by Sam’s admission because after all, misery loves company.
“The son of a vampire and the son of Satan have to stay in and keep their dads happy and miss all the fun of Halloween night. There’s something wrong with that picture.” Xander frowned, as he temporarily took a break from shoveling food into his mouth.
The rest of the conversation was halted, as Principal Snyder stopped at their table and began plopping a box of candy in front of each of them.
“Principal Snyder, thank you!” Xander exclaimed with shock and surprise, picking up the box and holding it to his chest. “You weren't visited by the Ghost of Christmas Past, by any chance?
“It's band candy,” Snyder informed them flatly.
“Let's hear it for the band!” Buffy said as they stared first at the candy and then at Principal Snyder with astonishment. “Very generous.”
“You will sell it to raise money for the marching band. They need new uniforms,” he ordered them curtly.
“But of course, cause those tall, fuzzy hats ain't cheap, right.” Xander dropped his box of candy in disgust. He knew it had been too good to be true.
“But they go with everything,” Oz joked, which earned him a smile from Willow.
“Yeah, well.“ Spike shoved his box across the table toward Snyder. “I'm sure we’d love the idea of going all Willy Loman, but we're not in the band.”
“If I'd handed you a trombone, that would've been a problem, Will-iam.” Snyder pushed the box back to Spike. “It's candy. Sell it, and you can also show up for detention today because of your snotty attitude.” Refusing to hear any more arguments, he turned and walked away from them, never seeing the tongue that Willow stuck out at him.”
**
It was a trifecta that graced detention room that day, as Sam and Xander joined Spike for the after school event.
“Oh, guess you blokes didn’t want me to become lonely.” Spike couldn’t help but feel gratified. An hour long detention on a Friday was the worst but having company made it bearable.
“Principal Snyder,” Sam and Xander said in unison.
“The man hates us.” Xander threw himself in a desk next to Spike.
“The man hates everyone,” Spike pronounced wisely, as a few more unfortunates, who had had the bad luck of crossing Principal Snyder’s path, strolled in.
“Well. . ..” Sam took a seat in front of Spike. “It says that Giles is scheduled to monitor this detention, think he’ll give us a break?”
“Perhaps you two.” Spike slouched back into his chair. “But I’m in his black books, so I won’t be receiving any type of reprieve.”
“You’re on Giles’ shit list?” Xander asked with puzzlement. “How can that be? You haven’t even been around at all, so how did you manage to tee Giles off?”
“That’s the point; I haven’t been around. He’s pissed because I haven’t been backing
Buffy up on patrols.”
“But that wasn’t your fault; it was your dad grounding yo-,” Xander broke-off, as he suddenly realized that he was trying to understand the illogic of old people. “Boy, that sucks.”
Spike could only nod his head in agreement, as the three looked-up at the clock. Five minutes and no Giles.
“Hey.“ A thought struck Xander. “Isn’t there some secret rule that if a teacher's more than ten minutes late, we can all leave.”
Spike snorted. “Not ol’ Mr. Dependable Rupert. He’ll be here.”
But it wasn’t Giles, who showed up a few minutes later, but Ms. Barton, one of the few Sunnydale High School teachers, who had managed to put in 20+ years of service. Entering the classroom, she clapped her hands loudly to get everyone’s attention.
“Hey! We're all stuck here, okay? So now let's just sit quietly and. . . .” She pointed to a book on the teacher‘s desk and smiled. “ Pretend we're reading something until we're really sure that old Commandant Snyder's gone. Then we're all outta here!”
“Does anyone else wanna marry Ms. Barton?” Xander asked, a confused but elated grin on his face.
Spike didn’t need to be told twice that he was soon to be a free man, as he slammed his book shut. “Get in line,” he said. His grin was as wide as Xander‘s.
**
Friday was Chinese night, and sure enough, a row of Chinese take-out cartons lined up on the kitchen counter greeted Buffy as she threw her book bag on the table.
“Your bestest daughter is home, the one, who really should be allowed to drive,” she announced to her mother’s back, who was busy setting out glasses and beverages for their dinner. Ever since Buffy has passed Driver’s Ed class, she had been hounding her mother to allow her to drive the Jeep.
Joyce sighed as she turned to her daughter. “Do we have to have this conversation again?” Noticing the box of chocolates Buffy had set next to the Chinese cartons, she frowned, asking. “What’s that?”
“Candy.” Buffy sat down on a kitchen stool. “Band candy. I supposed to sell it.”
Joyce was perplexed. “But Buffy, you’re not in the band.”
**
It was a part grumpy, part cheerful Spike, who slammed through the apartment door. Happy that he had received a reprieve from detention, so another grounding was less likely, but cranky because he was doomed to spend the evening watching something dull on the telly with his father, instead of enjoying the excitement of Halloween night.
“William,” Angelus greeted him. “I had Clem bring you dinner.” He waved a hand at the kitchen counter which held some Chinese take-out cartons. “I was told that Chinese food was healthy for a person, plenty of vegetables and cooked in very little oil.”
“Right,” Spike quickly agreed, not wanting to point out that it depended on the type of Chinese food. Tofu Chow Mein fit that bill, but deep fried Chinese Chicken fritters served on pan fried noodles did not. Diving into the cartons of food, he was disappointed to find that Clem had brought him Chicken Chop Suey, barely a step above Tofu Chow Mein and Chinese Mix Vegetables with tofu, a step below Tofu Chow Mein. No egg rolls, no chicken fritters, not even fried rice.
“Bloody hell!” he muttered softly; He would have to have a serious discussion with Clem. Opening up the last box, he was relieved to see that at least he had some white rice to go with his meal, not brown rice or hard chow mein noodles.
“William!” Angel’s tone had turned to stern. “What is that?” He motioned to the box of chocolate bars, which Spike had carelessly dropped on the counter. “What have I been telling you about eating junk?”
“It’s candy, band candy,” Spike hastily interjected before Angel could continue his tirade. “I’m supposed to sell it.”
“Sell it?” Angel repeated, perplexed. “But Will, you’re not in the band.”
**
“Hey, Sammy.”
Sam was greeted by his father and the smell of something delicious cooking.
“I made a resolution,” Satan told his son. “This Halloween I’m going to try and not be so depressed, so to cheer myself up, I decided to do something nice for you.”
“Really?” Sam was astounded, wondering if Hell had finally froze over because he could have sworn that that would be the only time his dad would do something nice for him.
“Yes, I decided to make you a home-cooked meal.” Satan lifted up the frying pan lid to show-off some golden brown chicken-fried steaks. “And to round out the meal, mashed potatoes and seared asparagus tips.”
“Wow.” Sam couldn’t help but be pleased. Home-cooked meals were few and far between for him, even back in his normal life. “This is great!” He threw his book bag and box of band candy on the counter, which earned a frown from his father.
“Sammy, don’t throw everything here in the kitchen. Go and put it away in your. . .,” Satan broke-off as he noticed the box of candy. “What is that? You know, I’ve been hearing about your terrible dietary habits, kiddo. One of the reasons, I’m making dinner for you, enough of the over-processed, over-salted and sugared food you’ve been living on.”
“Must have been comparing notes with Angel,” Sam muttered to himself, remembering Spike’s complaints about his dad going on a healthy diet kick for him, even going so far as buying books on the subject. “It’s not what you think,” he said, as he picked-up his back-pack to take to his room. “It’s band candy; I’m supposed to sell it.”
“But Sammy.” Satan was perplexed. “You’re not in the band.”
**
It was a hopeful Buffy, along with Willow, who showed up at Sam’s apartment later that day. She already knew that Spike would be a no-show but was praying that Sam could get away for the evening. Knocking on the door, she was surprised to come face-to-face with Spike.
“What are you doing here?” she asked, as she and Willow stepped into the apartment. “Are you and your dad making a foursome with Sam and the devil?”
“No.” Spike shook his head. “I took a shower, and when I finished the Old Boy was gone, so I need to make an escape quickly before he returns. And Sam’s dad did a disappearing act too.” He suddenly noticed Willow, who was dressed in the costume she had intended to wear last year. “"Wheeeeeeet wheeeeeee,” he let out a wolf whistle. “What’s the occasion?”
“Halloween, silly,” Willow answered, feeling a bit self-conscious. Even after a year, she still wasn’t quite comfortable in her sexy outfit. “This is my costume.”
“Right.” Spike scratched his head. Although he more than admired the black halter top, leather mini-skirt and boots, he had no idea what Willow was supposed to be. “A rock star groupie,” he guessed.
Buffy rolled her eyes and turned to Willow. “Boys, they’re so clueless. Anyway, I‘m costumeless. There were no more Wonder Woman or Xena Princess Warrior, and after last year I’m taking no chances.”
“That makes three of us then,” Sam commented, as he and Spike, both thinking that they would be staying at home this night, hadn’t bothered with a costume. “Anyway, we better go before one or both of our dads comes back,” he suggested, grabbing his house keys. “But we have to go in your car.” He looked at Spike. “Because my dad took mine.”
“Mine’s not here either.” Spike shook his head again. “The Old Man must have taken it.”
“Not to worry.” Buffy held up a set of car keys. “Would you believe my mom let me use the Jeep tonight?”
“And can you even drive, Slayer?” Spike asked doubtfully. He remembered in the not too distant past that Buffy had failed the written test and had not even been permitted to take the road test.
“Like a pro.” Buffy was quick to reassure him. “Right, Willow.”
Willow nodded in agreement, although she did an eye roll at Spike, communicating her disagreement.
“Ah huh,” Spike grunted, as the foursome exited the apartment. “Seat belt, mate,” he whispered softly to Sam. “Seat belt.”
**
The Bronze was hopping as usual, as the gang entered with a still shell-shocked-by-Buffy’s-lack-of-driving-skills Willow, Spike, and Sam.
“Bloody hell, Slayer!” Spike exclaimed, as he swore to himself that he’d never get into a automobile again with Buffy at the wheel. “Perhaps you better retake Driver’s Ed class.”
“And what was wrong with my driving?” Buffy asked defensively, as she turned to confront Spike.
“Well, for starters, you never took the hand brake off,” he informed her. “And that last left turn you made. . . .”
“Hey, guys.” The appearance of Xander, dressed in a Superman costume interrupted the rising spat.
Spike sniggered loudly. “Blue tights suit you, Harris.”
Xander ignored Spike’s implied insult. “I figure if Ethan Rayne shows up again, I’ll be ready. No demon is going to get the best of Superman. But anyway, is there some kind of reunion in town or a Billy Joel tour or something, because what’s with all the grown-ups?”
The gang looked around the Bronze, and what they saw was more than a little disturbing. The Bronze’s patrons were dominated by a group of people, who rarely set foot in the establishment, people, who were over 30. And if that wasn’t disturbing enough, their actions were things nightmares were made of.
“This is not normal.” Willow was on the verge of covering her eyes, as an older, shirtless man jumped on the stage, pushing Devon (the Dingos Ate My Baby’s lead singer) away from the microphone stand and letting out a loud bellow before throwing himself into the crowd. He had expected to be caught, but no one reacted fast enough, so he slammed into the floor.
Sam winced. “He might need a doctor.”
“He is a doctor,” Willow explained. “He’s our family doctor, although he’s usually less. . .topless. What's going on here?”
“Bloody baffling.” Spike wanted to look away, but it was like a car wreck that mesmerized despite it’s horribleness. “But it’s happening to the whole bloody senior population of Sunnydale.”
“Okay, this is not normal,“ Willow observed and as the gang all turned to stare at her, she added, “Maybe that goes without saying.”
“So-o this isn’t just a annual Sunnydale/Hellmouth thing?” Sam asked, just as a group of middle-aged women scurried past them laughing and shrieking with an eager Principal Snyder right behind them.
“Oh God!” Buffy put a hand up to her mouth. “If this doesn’t have Hellmouth fingerprints all over it. We’ve got to. . . .“
“Hi guys!” A voice interrupted them, as a grinning Angel flung his arm around Spike. “Fun party!”
“Sire!” Spike was aghast, as Buffy and Willow couldn’t help but notice that a smiling Angel was a sight to behold, a very handsome sight.
“Ooh, karaoke.” Angel’s grin became wider, as an even wilder crowd pushed a karaoke machine on stage, effectively booting Oz and his band off the stage. “I’m up for that. Barry Manilow here I come,” he said, quickly making a beeline for the stage.
“Blo-ody hell,” Spike whispered, closing his eyes. “The man can’t carry one note, and the only bleeding songs he knows are Barry Manilow’s. I’m going to be mocked and insulted at school until graduation.”
“I guess whatever this thing is affects vampires too,” Willow said, her voice a bit squeaky. A spelled Angel was devastatingly sexy, and one glance at Buffy confirmed that she too was not immune.
“Hey.” Despite being more-or-less kicked off stage, Oz was his usual calm and collected self. “Looks like the adults in this town have all turned into teenagers. Sobering mirror to look into, huh?”
At that moment the P.A. system let out a piercing screech, but the sounds that followed were infinitely worse, as Angel began warbling out the words to the song Mandy.”
“Oh My God!” Xander covered his ears, as he looked over at Spike. “You weren’t kidding when you said that your dad couldn’t carry a note.”
“This just gets more upsetting,“ Willow added, just as Angel began singing tra-la-la off-key because he missed the words to the second verse. He didn’t quite have the knack of reading and singing at the same time.
“No demon has ever been that scary,” Buffy said as she stared at the stage. “Something’s changing them.”
“And I just might know who.” Sam had suddenly spied his father in the audience. Pushing his way through the crowd with everyone on his heels, he approached the devil.
“Sammy!” Satan greeted him jovially. “You know, this is the best Halloween I’ve had in centuries. It’s not everyday that you can watch one of the most terrifying, vicious demons in history make a fool of himself.” He waved a hand toward the stage. “Man, I wish I had a video camera. Anyway, you and I have to make a point of spending all our Halloweens here on the Hellmouth.”
“What did you do to him. . .them?” Sam asked in an accusing tone.
“Me?” The devil pointed to himself with both hands. “I didn’t do anything, but whatever it is, it sure brightens a usually gloomy holiday.” He flashed his trademark, brilliant smile at them.
“Okay, if you’re not responsible, then who or what is?” Sam was still suspicious. Just because his father claimed innocence, didn’t mean that he wasn’t still indirectly to blame.
Satan sighed theatrically. “You know, kiddo, you and friends. . . .” He waved a hand indicating all of them. “Are real kill-joys. Where’s your Halloween spirit?”
“It disappeared along with their dignity.” Buffy glanced meaningfully at Angel, who had finished Mandy, and had now started on Copacabana complete with dance moves.
“Fucking Hell!” Spike closed his eyes with a resigned air. He couldn’t watch anymore; his father’s idea of modern dance was clapping his hands and flapping his arms. “Just kill me now.”
“And their sense of responsibility,” She continued, as her stare switched from Angel to a dancing couple, who had stopped dancing and were now making-out. “And, omigod!” she smacked a fist to her forehead. “My mom! And Giles! They’re together!”
“Is that a problem?“ Oz asked. “I mean, even if he's sixteen, he's still Giles. Probably a pretty together guy.”
“Not really.“ Buffy shook her head. “Giles at sixteen, less together-guy, more bad-magic, hates-the-world-ticking-time-bomb guy.”
“Rupert?” Spike was so flabbergasted at that revelation, that for a moment he even forgot about his dad making a spectacle of himself.
“Oh.” If Oz was as flabbergasted as Spike, he didn’t show it. “Well then, I guess your mom is in a lot of trouble.”
“I’ve got to find them!” Buffy had already began making a list of all the places she needed to look for them. “Spike, come with me, and,” she trailed off, as she realized that the root of the problem still needed to found and taken care of. “Who or what is causing this?” she confronted the devil.
“Alright, alright.” The devil held up his hands as if surrendering. “It seems that a spell was cast, either a witch or sorcerer, and I would guess that it was cast on something that people are ingesting.” He emphasized the last word, as he stared meaningfully at the candy bars sticking out of pockets and purses. It seemed that everyone in the Bronze was eating the band’s candy.
“The candy bars!” Buffy, Willow, and Oz sang out at the same time.
“The candy bars? They’re what’s causing everyone to act all immature?” Xander asked. “Because I ate a ton of them, and I don’t feel any dif. . .,” he paused, as Spike shot him a scornful glare. “Never mind.”
“Can’t be,” Spike argued. “Because my Sire doesn’t eat candy, so how come he’s. . .,” he broke off, as he suddenly spied a candy bar sticking out of Angel’s shirt pocket. “That bloody hypocrite! Tells me I have to eat proper, feeding me seaweed and tofu, while he stuffs his gob with chocolates.”
“A magical spell that causes all the adults to act like teenagers, boy, if that doesn’t sound like the return of Ethan Rayne.” Buffy’s face was thoughtful.
“If he’s messing with candy, then he has to be holed up at one of the warehouses by the dock,” Oz suggested helpfully.
“Okay, Oz, can you take Willow, Sam, and Xander and go check out the warehouses, and Spike and I will go. . . .”
“I’ll go to the warehouses,” Spike interrupted. The last thing he wanted was to step into an automobile with Buffy again. “If Rayne is there, muscle will probably be needed to take him down.”
“O-kay,” Buffy said, a bit hurt. Usually she could always count on Spike to back her up. “Then. . . .”
“Oh, by the way.” This time it was the devil, who interrupted. “The buzz on the demon grapevine is that Lurconis is being paid his tribute tonight. So, if you superheroes are going to save the World, you better check on this tribute deal too.”
The teenagers could only gape at Satan for a moment, while Sam rolled his eyes in exasperation. “Who’s Lurconis, and what’s the tribute?”
“Filthy beast.” The devil made a slight face. As fastidious as he was, anything or anyone dirty disgusted him. “Resides in the sewers, and every thirty years he has a ritual feeding, and his food of choice is human babies. So, you kids better hustle over to the hospital and check on those tasty newborns.”
Buffy groaned, as her mind whirled, prioritizing what needed to be done first. Sadly, searching for her mother came in last on her list. Fortunately, Sam came to the rescue.
“Give me the car keys.” He held a hand out to his father. “You don’t need them anyway,” he continued, as the devil heaved a reluctant sigh. “You can just transport yourself to wherever you choose. I’ll go check out the warehouses,” he assured Buffy. “And Oz can go to the hospital, while you look for your mom.”
“I’ll go with you, mate because like I said, muscle might be need for this Rayne,” Spike hastily reserved his spot with Sam.
“Fine.” Buffy pretended she didn’t care. “Then Willow can accompany Oz, and Xander can come with me, and as soon as I track my mom down, I‘ll head for the hospital.”
Everyone gave a nod of agreement, and then quickly turned and headed for the exit.
Xander was trailing right behind Buffy, unaware of the ride of a lifetime he was about to experience. “Drat! Ethan Rayne makes an encore appearance here in Sunnydale, but instead of turning people into their costumes, he comes up with cursed candy. And here I was hoping to be able to fly and have x-ray vision.”
“All I can say,” Spike whispered to Sam. “Is that Harris will be wishing he is the Man of Steel when Buffy make her first turn and swerves into on-coming traffic.”
**
November 2, 1998
Stumbling out of the apartment on Monday morning, Spike dreaded the beginning of this school week. Normally, he looked forward to school. He was interested in his studies, enjoyed the companionship of the slayer and her merry band of slayerrettes, and generally liked the idea of just trying to be normal, even though deep down he knew he was anything but. Life as a High School student was so much better than his life had been in England, where he had to endure an abusive, loony mother, and a Watcher’s Council, which was basically made up of more raving loons.
“Hey.” Sam came out of the apartment, which was just opposite Spike’s. No coincidence; the devil had rented it by design. If Sam were to have kind of trouble, Angelus, the man he had chosen to protect his son in 1998, would be close by. “Let’s ride together today,” he suggested.
“I’m going to be serving detention tonight; you may not want to wait.”
“Detention?” Sam was puzzled. “You served detention Friday, so you have nothing outs. . .oh.” He suddenly understood. “You planning to give Principal Synder some grief over the band candy?”
“No, although that’s not a bad idea.” The two exited the apartment building and headed for the parking lot. “I’m planning to bust a couple of wankers’ heads open today; the wankers singing Barry Manilow songs at me.”
“Oh, that.” Sam couldn’t help but grin. The image of the notorious Angelus singing off-key and dancing was still hilarious. “Come on.” He waved Spike over to his car. “I’ll be working-out with Wesley today, so there’s no problem waiting for you.”
“Right.” Spike blew out a breath, as he opened the passenger door. “The Old Sire is hiding his head in shame and brooding. Although he did say right before I left, that he planned an excursion tonight to many of the demon haunts. If anyone says anything, because you know, word of his performance has already spread to the demon community, or snickers, he’ll be busting some heads. So he and I are on the same mission today.”
“Great.” Sam swung himself in the driver’s seat. “Like father, like son. Nothing wrong with that.”
“And your father? Is he still here?”
“Nope.” Sam started the car up, not looking at Spike. “Left at 12:01 a.m. on Saturday night, or technically Sunday morning. Halloween was over, so he had to get back to business.”
“Busy chap, isn’t he.” Spike rolled the window down, so he could rest his arm on the door frame. He peered over at Sam, who still refused to look at him. “You, okay, mate?” He sensed Sam’s sadness.
“Yes. . .No!” Sam heaved a sigh. “Since he brought me here in this time and place, I feel, feel,” he broke-off, shame rising in him. Since when did one guy whine to another about his feelings? “Ah.” He waved a dismissive hand. “It’s nothing.”
“You miss him, don’t you?” Spike could be extremely perceptive when it suited him. “Nothing wrong with that; he’s your father.”
“He’s the devil.” Sam finally turned his head to face Spike. “He’s evil; he’s. . . .”
“Your fa-ther,” Spike interrupted. “Evil or not, you can’t deny that.”
“Okay.” Sam stared in front of him, saying nothing more, until they reached Sunnydale High. “There’s Buffy.” He saw Buffy climb out of a dented Jeep in front of the school. “Her mother doesn’t look too pleased with her.”
“Probably blames her for smashing up the car, but in reality it was the cursed candy‘s fault.” Spike craned his neck to check out the damage on Mrs. Summer’s Jeep. “Bloody Ethan Rayne,” he mumbled.
Pulling into the school parking lot, Sam deftly swung into a open space. “He made me dinner, you know,” he said referring back to his dad. “Friday, when I got home from school, he was there with a home-cooked meal.”
“Really?” Spike was intrigued. It was hard to imagine, the God of the Underworld making an evening meal for his son. “What did he cook for you?”
“Country fried steaks, mashed potatoes, and asparagus tips. I guess, he and your dad have been comparing notes on our eating habits.” Sam got out of the car and walked around to where Spike was standing. “And their goal is to make us eat better.”
“Well, they better have another talk because I was served tofu and tofu for my evening meal,” Spike said with some annoyance.
“Guess your dad finds people food to be somewhat of a mystery.” Sam smiled, as the two began walking toward the main entrance.
“Doesn’t eat it, doesn’t understand a bloody thing about it, but if there’s cursed candy around, that he’ll eat,” Spike grumbled, as he saw Larry Blaisdell ahead, giving him the evil eye.
“Just ign. . .,” Sam began, as they approached Larry. But he wasn’t able to complete his thought, as Spike threw one punch hitting Larry square in the nose, before the young man had had a chance to say anything, let alone jeer or mock. “Ignore him,” Sam finished, as he hesitated, trying to judge if Larry would need help or not. Spike never broke stride, as he continued on his way into the school.
“You there!” Principal Snyder appeared, seeing Sam standing in front of a bleeding Larry. “Belvedere, detention tonight, and I want your father here for a conference no later than tomorrow.”
Sam started to protest and then stopped. “Yes, sir,” he addressed Principal Snyder. But you’ll have to call him and let him know because he’s out-of-town on business.” And in that moment Sam’s spirits lifted, and he found himself holding back the grin that was threatening to burst out on his face. Life was suddenly very good.
***