Taming the Muse Prompt 34, BoaS Part 19, The undead poets' society, BtVS, PG

[thismaz]

*waves madly* Thank you to the really lovely someone who nominated Blood on a Sundial
in round #6 of the forbiddenawards I am really flattered, and surprised, since I feel like this story has hardly started yet.

Title: The undead poets' society
Part 19 of the Blood on a Sundial series. Previous parts, in reverse order, are here or in my memories.
Fandom: BtVS
Prompt: #34 - Trollop. Defined as: A woman regarded as slovenly or untidy; a slattern
At: tamingthemuse
Disclaimer: here.
Rating: Pg
Word Count: 3,564





19. The undead poets' society

Spike glanced at Xander, asleep in the passenger seat, as he exited the GW Bridge. After eight days and nights, the boy seemed to have finally settled into acceptance of his status as prisoner. It had been a mostly uneventful trip and for once Spike was happy to have it so. He'd been laying low, driving every night, finding inconspicuous motels for the days and feeding only once, just before they drove out of town. Being careful like this was usually second nature, but he'd got lazy on the Hellmouth, where the most blatant behaviour didn't raise more than an eyebrow. Getting here had been his immediate goal and it was not a bad thing to have a reason for re-establishing well learnt habits of discretion.

So why had he taken the boy? At the time, it had been expedient, but there was no doubt, if it had not been Xander, his kidnapee would probably have been a snack on the road, eaten and forgotten by now. He shook his head, faintly puzzled by his own behaviour. It was true that the boy had captured his imagination from his first encounter, when Angelus offered him up as a peace offering, but looking back, that didn't seem enough of a reason. Circumstance may have brought them together, but why was he still here, unharmed, after more than 3,000 miles?

Tired of trying to figure it out, Spike shelved such thoughts and concentrated on the road. Even in the middle of the night this city was never still and where he was heading was right at its heart.

One of the many advantages of living for a hundred years, was the convenience of accumulated interest and property - especially when the pounds and dollars accumulating were just left-overs from past meals. Spike had learnt a lot from Angelus in the first twenty years of his unlife, but he'd learnt even more from Darla in the next - before he took Dru and left the Old Master's Court.

He turned a last corner and there it was - the building had been empty when he'd 'acquired' it in 1933, on one of his periodic visits to the US, before the lure of the rising power of Nazi Germany had drawn him back to Europe again. Through all the years he'd maintained this place. It had been his base of operations in the seventies, when Nikki had tried to close him down, and it was still his.

Spike pulled the car into the ground floor garage. The first task was to locate Azumar, who should have got a few leads for him by now. It was only 4am, plenty of time to get unloaded and back out on the streets. In fact, he paused and considered Xander again. Yes, the boy could do that in the daylight. He nudged Xander. "Come on, you. We're here and we're going out." Xander mumbled something incomprehensible. "Oi! Wake up ya lazy slattern." Spike nudged him again.

Xander raised his head and lifted bleary eyes to Spike's face. "Huh?"

"Not a morning person, are you, Pet?"

"It's not morning. It's the middle of the night. Where are we?" He rubbed his face. "And what do you mean, 'slattern'? What's a slattern?"

Spike just grinned and ignored the last question, in favour of answering the first. "My place," he said. "One of my places. New York." He opened the door, climbed out and walked around to the passenger side, opening that door too. "Come on. There's stuff to do. People to see. Questions to ask." Reaching a hand in, he grabbed Xander's arm and hauled him to his feet. "Come on. We're going out"

Xander came reluctantly, but soon he was standing, leaning against the door, shaking his head to clear it, as he gazed around the space. "So this is home?" he asked, unenthusiastically.

"No, you ninny. This is the garage. Home is upstairs. But that can wait. We're going out. I have a date with a demon - if we can find him. He has information I need. So move your lazy arse." He grabbed the collar of Xander's jacket and dragged him towards the door. "We'll unpack when we get back. Or do you want me to leave without you?"

Xander shook his head once more. "I'm coming. I'm coming. You don't need to get nasty about it." He pulled himself free of Spike's grasp, but he kept walking and Spike smiled to himself. Xander had learnt through uncomfortable experience that the spell interpreted a direct refusal to accompany Spike, when told to do so, as an attempt to run away. Spike had no fear that the boy would allow more than the maximum one hundred yards to separate them. In fact he stuck to about fifty, as he trailed Spike down the street.

As he walked, Spike gazed around at the closed up boutiques and the bars and clubs which still showed lights. This place had changed dramatically since his first visit in the early years of the century. Then it had been the Lower East Side, a prime hunting ground, as long as you concentrated on the lost individuals and avoided the tight-knit European immigrant families. By the seventies, when he and Dru were here and Nikki interfered with his plans, it had already been renamed the East Village. Now he was back to pick up those threads Nikki had tried to cut. Somewhere in this city was a clue he had been searching for, intermittently, for sixty years. Somewhere was the information he needed to find the Gem of Amara. And this time the slayer would not get in his way. He glanced back at Xander, grinned to himself and, with renewed determination, headed to Marley's, as a first stop in his search.

*****

For three nights Xander had trailed behind Spike as they roamed the streets of lower Manhattan, searching for God knows what. For three nights Xander had maintained his maximum safe distance and refused to go with Spike into the various dens, clubs and bars he been searching through. Instead he'd hung around outside and generally been bored out of his mind.

Which had left him with far too much time to think and he was still nowhere nearer to understanding why Spike had kidnapped him. Spike, himself, was singularly uncommunicative about what he was doing in New York and Xander was stubborn enough not to ask. They had fallen into a pattern of communicating for essentials and not much else. It was almost comfortable. Xander was having difficulty remembering what his life had been like before Spike.

His determination not to change his sleep patterns to accommodate his captor's preferences had not lasted long. After the second night he'd had to admit that he really did need more than a couple of hours sleep in every 24. The morning after that second night he'd been staggering by the time they got back to Spike's apartment and he'd fallen into the nest of cushions and blankets he'd claimed in the corner of the main living room and slept through most of the day.

Their new home was an old garment factory, well outside the garment district and now stripped of its machines and most of the work tables. Instead the ground floor was an open space, where the car was parked, the next floor was living space and the floors above were unused. The living space was amazing -- a single, huge room, with a fully fitted kitchen at one end and a big bed at the other, polished wood floors with African and oriental rugs, comfortable chairs and a couple of oak dressers. There was a bathroom off to one side, bigger than any he had seen before, with a bath and a shower but no toilet. For that he had to go back down to a room on the ground floor, with stalls and coat hooks and a redundant clock card machine on the wall outside. At least the plumbing still worked. When called on it Spike had shrugged. "Did this place up in the seventies, didn't need a bog, so didn't put one in."

Xander had staked out a space against the wall, under the shuttered windows and near the kitchen, as his, dragging one of the dressers across, to create a partition and to hold his belongings. He appropriated cushions and blankets from the couch to make up a bed on the floor. Spike raised an eyebrow, but made no comment.

The first day, Xander spent exploring the building as Spike slept. The top two floors were a treasure trove of old junk and he poked into cupboards and identified suitable hiding places, for when he had things he wanted to hide. Eventually hunger drove him back down to the kitchen and he produced a meal of sorts from the odd mix of ingredients Spike had picked up before they headed home. That was the one time he didn't trail behind Spike and, looking back, he had to smile about the fiercely whispered argument they'd conducted over fresh vegetables versus packets of chips.

*****

On the fourth night they left the factory as usual, Xander trailing behind, but Spike seemed reluctant to leave. As he locked the door behind them he turned to Xander. "How about we take a night off, pet? How about we go do something... something different? Pretend we're just two blokes out for a night?"

Xander was stunned and nodded, only realising a moment later what he had done. But as they walked down the street he thought at least it wouldn't be another night of leaning against walls, like he was trolling for customers, and being bored out of his head.

The bar was really not what Xander had expected. Dark? Yes. Smoke-filled? Yes. But rowdy? No. Half the occupants seemed to be drinking coffee and there wasn't a single demon in sight, at least not that Xander recognised. A small stage with a spot-lit stool and microphone occupied one corner and the walls were covered in posters advertising books, films, concerts by bands he had never heard of and yoga and meditation classes. Spike pointed at a small table near the door and marched over to the bar. Xander watched him go, briefly considering marching off himself, in the opposite direction, but that would only lead to another night standing around street corners, so he shrugged to himself and slipped into one of the seats.

When Spike came back, he was carrying a whisky and a beer for himself and a large glass of lemonade which he placed in front of Xander. "Just sit still and keep quiet, okay mate? I'm taking the night off and I'm going to have a quiet drink. And I don't want any bitching from you about where I choose to do it."

Xander picked up his glass of lemonade and took a sip. Just then a loud clicking sound indicated that the microphone had been switched on and Xander's attention was grabbed by the guy up on stage. "Welcome all, to tonight's open mic night. And to start us off, here's one of our regulars. Let's have a round of applause for Jimmy."

There was a polite spattering of applause around the room and a tall gangling figure stood up and walked towards the stage.

*****

Four hours later Xander was wondering if he should take up drinking. One amateur poet after another had taken the stage and read their verse to the thin crowd. Most of them appeared to be college students, a couple of years older than Xander. A few looked older still. Some of them were actually not bad, in Xander's opinion. Some of them were awful. Through it all Spike slouched back in his chair with a faintly supercilious smile on his face (although Xander noticed that he was listening carefully) every now and again lighting another cigarette or signalling for another drink. At least he seemed to be able to hold his liquor, which was more than could be said for the small group of Goths and Punks at the table right in front of the stage, who had been getting gradually louder as the night progressed.

It was close to 1am when a small, scrawny guy, with long blonde hair, got up and hesitantly made his way towards the stage, clutching a notebook tightly. It looked like he'd really had to psych himself up to step forward. The MC introduced him as Robby and explained it was his first time, an introduction that didn't seem to help the guy's nerves at all. He fidgeted, shifting from foot to foot, sat down on the stool, fumbled the adjustment of the microphone, almost dropped his notebook and then spent too long nervously leafing through it. The punks began to jeer softly and Xander felt kind of sorry for the guy. Eventually he seemed to find what he was looking for and looked up, gazing round the room over the tops of everyone's heads. Glancing back at his notebook he took a couple of deep breaths but, just as he opened his mouth again to speak, he was interrupted. "Why are we waiting?" one of the punks called out, singsonging the words in mocking tones.

Robby's eyes went wide with surprise and he gulped. He glanced frantically around, but the MC seemed to have temporarily left the room. He took another breath and blindly reached out, grabbing the microphone stand, and began. His voice was hesitant and he held the mic too close, so every breath rasped loudly, distorting the words.

"I lie in bed and dream of you.
Why do you hurt me so?
We share a space, but not a life.
Why do you haunt me so?
I hear you weep, 'most every night.
But you don't notice me.

I see the wounds she leaves behind,
which I know that I could heal.
If you could only look at me,
I know you'd see my soul.
And if you did, then you would see,
that we were meant to be."

By the time he'd stuttered through the last line, the jeering from the punks was virtually drowning him out. Other members of the audience appeared to be torn between embarrassment and amusement at their antics and, although a couple of people looked at them meaningfully, no one actually told them to be quiet. Then someone did.

Spike surged to his feet and was across the room before Xander could even blink. He grabbed the two loudest young men by their collars and hauled them to their feet. What he whispered to them couldn't be heard by any one, but the crash as their two heads banged together echoed around the suddenly silent room. Spike looked up at the young man on the stage. "You carry on, mate. I'll get rid of the garbage," he announced, and he marched the two young men to the door, which someone quickly held open for him, and tossed them out into the street. Turning back into the room he slapped his hands together, as if wiping them clean, looking pleased with himself. Xander stared at him, open mouthed with surprise, as he calmly reclaimed his seat.

Meanwhile Robby had taken the opportunity to vacate the stage and the MC had returned. He looked around the room, spotted Robby sitting back in his corner and nodded to him, before going on to introduce the next act. The remaining group of punks stayed for another few minutes, as they finished their drinks and those of their departed companions, then they stood up, ostentatiously casual, and swaggered out of the bar.

Xander turned to Spike questioningly. "Why did you do that?" He asked. "You didn't even try to eat them."

Spike's eyes narrowed consideringly, then he shrugged. "Not hungry," he snapped. And that appeared to be it.

The bar closed shortly after two, by which time there were only a few remaining stragglers. Spike and Xander were the last to leave.

Out on the sidewalk Spike stood gazing up at the sky and took a deep breath. He stilled and Xander watched as he swung his head from left to right, apparently searching for something. He nodded. "Come on, mate, this way," he said, as he took off, with Xander hurrying along behind.

They rounded a corner and there in front of them were the jeering group of punks. They stood in a loose circle, with their backs to Spike and Xander, watching something in their midst. The shouts of encouragement, the clapping and the stamping of feet were loud in the confined space. Spike sniffed the air again and stalked forward. When he reached the oblivious group he brought his arms up, sweeping them outwards and two bodies crashed into opposite walls of the alley. Another two fell beneath crashing blows to the sides of their heads, from the edge of Spike's fists, as he swung his arms back together and a fifth flew across the alley, colliding with a dumpster as Spike's left foot caught him squarely in the ass. By the time Xander was within a couple of yards of the action there were five unconscious bodies on the ground and the remaining three were turning away from the object on the floor, finally registering that something else was going on.

Spike stood in the centre of the alley arms lose by his sides, feet braced squarely a foot apart. He considered the three young men in front of him, tilting his head to one side, as if in considering them, he found them wanting. Xander backed up to the wall and began to edge towards the lump they had been playing with, but his eyes were fixed firmly on the four figures standing in a loose circle a few yards away.

The three punks exchanged a look, each one of them was bigger than Spike and they obviously hadn't registered that five of their company were already unconscious. With a yell they charged. Spike fell back half a step shifting his weight for balance and let them come. At the last minute he bent double and the leader did a spectacular somersault over his back, crashing to the floor behind him. Spike was upright again in moments and blocked a clumsy punch from the one on his right, grabbing his fist mid blow. The other one bent over and charged, as if to head-butt Spike. But Spike danced out of the way and the punk went stumbling past him, only just saving his head from crashing into the wall by bracing his hands in front of him.

Spike looked like he was just holding the other guy's hand, but his victim, his attacker, moaned in pain and slowly collapsed to his knees. Spike brought his other fist down on the young man's wrist and Xander heard a sickening crack as the bones in his arm snapped. A follow-up blow to the temple and another body lay unmoving on the ground. Spike spun around, as his last conscious opponent grappled him from behind and this time they both went over.

Xander tore his eyes away and looked at the object of their earlier attentions. As he had suspected, it was the poet. He crouched down unsure about whether to touch, afraid of doing more harm. Thankfully, Robby chose that moment to groan and open his eyes. He rolled onto his back clutching his ribs. Even in the dim light of the alley Xander could see that he would have a livid bruise to his cheek shortly. But it didn't look as if his neck was broken. "Can you get up?" He asked. "If I help you, do you think you could stand?" Robby nodded, so Xander got his hands under Robby's arms and hauled him up. Getting one of Robby's arms around his own shoulders to help him, they staggered together back towards the Street. Once there Xander glanced around searching for help of any sort. "Do you live near here?" he asked.

"At the University," Robby gasped. "It's not far, but I think I'll take a cab. Please, can you help me find one?"

Xander nodded. "Sure. Come on. If we go that way, it's busier. There's sure to be one there." He glanced quickly back down the alley. He could make out two figures on the ground, but no detail. It was more than a hundred yards to the main road, but since he was planning to come back he silently prayed that the spell wouldn't misunderstand him and kick in.

It didn't and he managed to find a cab and assist Robby into it. By the time he got back to the alley, Spike was waiting for him, a satisfied smirk on his face. Xander looked at him. "Are they all dead?" He asked wearily.

"No, pet, not all of them." He tilted his head to one side, considering Xander. "I have to eat. But I know how much I need to live. You get the young poet away safe?" Xander nodded. "Right then. Let's be getting home. That was fun, but I'm thinking the telly will have been delivered by now. Come on." And he turned and walked away, leaving Xander confused, horrified and relieved in his wake.

Next Part

Comments

[shakatany.livejournal.com]

This is an interesting twist of canon. Love that Spike still has a yen for poetry, interrupting his hunt for the Gem of Amara (I believe it's spelled with one r) to indulge and that he has a soft spot for aspiring poets (and eventually Xander I trust *g*).

Shakatany

[thismaz.livejournal.com]

*grin* Thank you, Shakatany. I'm glad you love this Spike. I find him a lot of fun too. I don't know if he has a soft spot for poets, or just a hatred of people who bully poets, and I'm pretty sure he doesn't know what he feels about Xander. But I guess he'll have to work it out eventually.

[thismaz.livejournal.com]

Oh, and I meant to say - thank you for the catch on the typo, I've mended it now.

[lilithbint.livejournal.com]

Oh sweet.
I certainly explains how Spike found the bar in NFA, he obviously spends his nights out there.

[thismaz.livejournal.com]

*laughs* I guess we all have our secret vices, eh. Thanks for commenting.

[http://users.livejournal.com/_sharvie_/]

Ahhh! Spike's such a big softie. *bg* Of course Xander doesn't understand but I really like how you show us Spike's soft side, even if Xander doesn't see it. I wonder if we'll see Robbie again.

[thismaz.livejournal.com]

I'm really glad you enjoyed it. Robby? I don't know. I doubt it, somehow.

[hari-kari.livejournal.com]

Great chapter! This fic is lovely and I can't wait for the next part. ^_^

[thismaz.livejournal.com]

*big grin* Thank you for the lovely words. I'm so glad you like it. Next part will be posted next Saturday.

[smwright.livejournal.com]

He considered the three young men in front of him, tilting his head to one side, as if in considering them, he found them wanting.

I just love this line (and may have to appropriate bits of it). And the head tilt again! You know I love it when you have him do that.

This was a lovely read on a variety of levels: the change in pace, the insight into a Spike who does have some forethought *g*, continued ties with Xander's attempts to claim whatever control he can in his situation (albeit minor control)... lots of good, solid integration with the overall story but a wholly complete story within itself. I really enjoyed reading it.

As for the story, it was very nicely done and kept well in character for Spike. For a moment, I worried we would actually see Spike delivering a verse or possibly Robby would deliver William's poem from the night he was turned. So glad you didn't take the easy route! Just enough parallels to make it readily identifiable but distinct enough to be authentic. A quiet haunting for Spike.

Hmm... *considers* I would have to go back (and probably shall when time permits), but barring very early chapters with lovely insights into Angelus, I believe this may be my favorite complete chapter.

[thismaz.livejournal.com]

*grin* Appropriate away. I'm glad you liked it. It is one of my favourite lines too.
You always leave such detailed comments. It is such a pleasure to read them.
I must go back and read William's poem again. I can't remember anything about it. I was just trying to write really bad poetry. It's easier than I expected *g*
Thank you, as always, for your lovely words, they make my afternoon.
Have a good week.

[sparrow2000.livejournal.com]

I like that Spike is self aware enough to question his motivation about keeping Xander alive instead of just having a between meals snack.

"No, you ninny. This is the garage." Hee, I can just hear him saying that.

The spell just gets nastier and nastier - interpreting a refusal from Xander as him trying to run away is just so twisted. Shiver.

I like Xander almost building himself a little fort. It might be purely psychological, but he's marking his territory.

Lovely scenes at the poetry club - Xander must have been surprised to see this side of Spike - although the bloodshed and the nice spot of violence are more expected. And again the spell lets him help Robby even though he's outside the 100 yards, but if Spike is okay about it, then so is the spell. I wonder if Xander can ever use these quirks to his advantage.

Another lovely chapter, honey. You really are quite the poet *g*

[thismaz.livejournal.com]

Well, I was wondering why Spike had kept him around, so I figured he would begin to wonder too. *g*
But there is a logic to the spell, don't you think? It works on intention, so if Xander refused to go with Spike, that is the same as him walking away intending not to come back.
Poor Xander, yes, he is doing his best to maintain control of part of his world.
As for the poetry.... Hey, I didn't realise writing *really* bad poetry would be so easy. It was actually quite fun.
Have a great week. Speak soon.

[texanfan.livejournal.com]

This is Spike cutting loose like we almost never got to see him. I love that the punks think they can take him as they get handed their asses. Such a situation is probably particularly satisfying to Spike as he turns old tables.

He's being very revealing to Xander! Letting him see him go to open mic poetry, taking up for the gawky poet that no doubt reminds him of his former self.

I love that you fill in that Spike has been looking for the gem for 60 years, off and on.

[thismaz.livejournal.com]

*laughs* I think poor old Spike was getting a bit frustrated and needed a spot of violence. As for him revealing himself to Xander... well logically, there could be two reasons for that - either he wants Xander to know him better, or he doesn't care what Xander knows.... Hmm. *thinks*
Thank you for leaving a comment and for your continued support.

[shanyah.livejournal.com]

I'm loving this! Can't wait for more:-)

[thismaz.livejournal.com]

*grins happily* Thank you. I take that as a high compliment.

[i-luv-trees.livejournal.com]

Ah-ha! So Spike's on the trail of the Gem of Amara? Wonder how annoyed he's gonna be when he finds out it's in Sunnydale?

Spike still likes his poetry, huh? Kinda sweet of him to save the poor guy from the bullies, and sorta *yah* for him eating some of them.

Xan just can't figure him out, can he? I mean, he expects him to do something and then Spike surprises him by doing a 180. Really loving this story.

Thanks for the lovely words, C

[thismaz.livejournal.com]

Yes, for the first time, we get a hint of Spike's ultimate plan. Or at least what he thinks he needs to carry it out.
And I wanted to play with a Spike who still loves his poetry. There will be other hints of that in the future.
I'm so glad you are enjoying this.
Thanks for reading and commenting.

[brunettepet.livejournal.com]

The new digs and a Spike with a plan are both vivid and entertaining, and I enjoyed the quiet evening listening to poetry. Xander's getting to see a lot of sides to Spike, but Spike as savior must be extremely confusing.

[thismaz.livejournal.com]

Xander is slowly learning that there is far more to Spike than a simple, ruthless killer. *g* I'm glad you enjoyed the descriptions. Thanks for commenting.