full 3/4 1/2   skin light dark       
 
Every Time You Show Up by Sigyn
 
Every Time You Show Up
 
 
 


 

   “I asked you a question, Spike.”

   “There’s a raccoon in your attic.”

   “What?

   “A raccoon.”

   “How the hell does that follow from the question I asked you, which, in case you missed it was, what the hell are you doing in my bedroom?

   “And I’m telling you. There’s a raccoon in your attic.”

   “First off, how do you know there’s a raccoon in my attic, and second, why should I care? And thirdly, why does this mean you’re in my bedroom?”

   “Well, I was hunting it, see.”

   “You were what?

   “Hunting the raccoon. And I saw it climb your into your attic, and I figured....”

   “Oh, for Pete’s sake. Get out.”

   “So... you don’t want me to get the raccoon out of your attic, then?”

   “I want you out of my house!”

   “Fine. I see how it is. You’d rather have a nest of raccoons up there, chewing on the insulation, eating into the wiring, have to call in an electrician, fix the roof, get the rotting raccoon carcass out of the floorboards, rather than show me the way into the attic. I get it. I’ll just go on my merry way, then. You can deal with the raccoon yourself, I suppose. Not like you’ll be able to smell it out like I can, I mean, not a vampire, you won’t be able to scent it if it’s hiding. Not until after it dies, anyway. I mean, it’ll be pretty easy to find after it starts to stink up the house. And we all know the smell never really goes away, does it? But that’s okay. I’ll just head on down the road, hunt up some other prey....”

   “Fine! Attic trapdoor is over here. What the hell are you hunting a raccoon for? Aren’t they inedible?”

   “They taste like pork.”

   “Ew.”

   “They eat better than most pigs, to be honest. Nuts, berries, a little human trash. Most commercial pigs are eating their own droppings and spoilt milk. So that’s what you’re putting in your belly, slayer. What are you doing passing judgement on what I’ll put in mine?”

   “Probably because I’ve never included orphan in my diet.”

   “You should try it. They’re slimming.”

   “You’re disgusting, Spike.”

   “Don’t think I haven’t seen you nursing your Diet Coke. Don’t see why you bother. Doesn’t Captain Cardboard like a red blooded woman with meat on her bones?”

   “Most people don’t look at a woman and think blood and meat, Spike!”

   “Oh, don’t kid yourself. If he’s not measuring you out on a slab every time he sees you at the meat market — I mean the Bronze....”

   “You’re a pig.”

   “Nope, I think I was just making the argument that you were.”

   “Riley is a gentleman, Riley thinks of me like a human being, Riley doesn’t see women as cuts of beef, and Riley isn’t— Ahh!”

   “There you are, you little bugger.”

   “There really is a raccoon!”

   “Told you.”

   “Get it off me!”

   “Calm down, Slayer. Sheesh, a polgara demon, you’re just fine, but a ickle bitty raccoon...”

   “Damn thing could have rabies.”

   “Doesn’t smell like it.”

   “I’ll bet it has fleas.”

   “Well, that’s just a given. Here, take it by the throat.”

   “What? Why?”

   “So you can kill it for me.”

   “What?

   “I can’t do it. No living thing and all that.”

   “You are disgusting, Spike, I am not killing your raccoon for you!”

   “Fine. I’ll just let it go, then—”

   “No! No, we’ll let it go outside.”

   “So it can get into your attic again? Sounds like a plan.”

   “Ugh! Take it downstairs, we’ll... think of... something.....”

   “Pillowcase? I’ll just take one off your bed....”

   “I think I have a cat carrier.”

   “Needed something to carry Riley around in?”

   “Huh?”

   “Pussy cat, pussy cat, where have you been....”

   “Did I mention you were disgusting?”

   “Not in the last ten seconds.”

   “I’ve been remiss. Here, stick it in here. I’ll have Riley take it outside the city limits, or down to the Initiative caves or something.”

   “Why don’t you just tell him to kill it, if you’re too squeamish?”

   “He wouldn’t want to kill it either.”

   “Nah, he’d just want to stick electrodes in its head and make it dance.”

   “Get out!”

   “Fine. I’m going.”

   “Good!”

   “Yep.”

   “Riley’s.... Um. You-you know Riley’s not like that, really. That was just the Initiative.”

   “Right. You keep telling yourself that, Slayer. You keep on telling yourself that.”

 

***

 

   “Ahh!

   “Calm down, slayer. It’s only me.”

   “What are you doing in my kitchen?”

   “I was a bit peckish.”

   “You’re stealing again? This is not your private convenience store, Spike!”

   “‘Course it’s not. The convenience store clerk carries holy water, anyroad.”

   “Spike? I’m going to count to five. If you’re not out that door by three, you’re not going to make it to five.”

   “Gimme a break, slayer. Isn’t this better than trying to eat some poor bugger off the street?”

   “One.”

   “I’m only after a few cold cuts and a gherkin or two!”

   “Two.”

   “You are one cold hearted creature, you know that, slayer? Throwing a bloke into the streets when he’s only trying to keep from starving.”

   “You don’t even need to eat!”

   “But I like to. Besides, how do you know? You ever done a comparative study on vampires who aren’t on human blood? Maybe we do need it, and you and your precious watcher don’t care enough to test it. Maybe I’m missing key nutrients that human food supplies, ever think about that?”

   “I’ll think about it in detail while you get the hell out of my house!”

   “Just let me finish this hotdog first, then.”

   “Spike!”

   “Hey, it’s all cooked up and everything already! It’s not like you’re gonna eat it, now that it’s got all the Spike cooties, right? You keen on wasting food now, slayer? Talk about the guardian of all, just...”

   “Ugh, fine! Hurry it up.”

   “In my own sweet time, slayer.”

   “Uh. Does licking the ketchup off like that make it taste better?”

   “What, you mean getting my tongue all up along the side of the bun? Tasting the sweet, salty juices inside? Reaching deep, deep in with all that warm meat and then maybe nibbling, just a little bit at that sweet little nub at the edge of the slit, then—”

   “That’s enough of that.”

   “What?”

   “You and your god damn meat! Out!”

   “What? Your Whitebread doesn’t show enough love to the bun, then?”

   “I’m just trying not to throw up!”

   “Doesn’t smell like it’s your stomach what’s swelling, slayer.”

   “Get out!”

   “Oi! What about my hotdog! Ow!

   

***

   

   “Spike! You are seriously trying my patience!”

   “What do you want, slayer? I ran out of stakes! Oh, uh... there’s one....”

   “Yeah. And if you keep showing up in my house in the middle of the night, you can have a nice, up-close introduction to it! Pointy end first!”

   “Are those silk?”

   “What?”

   “Your pajamas. Are those silk?”

   “Um... I... think they’re just satin....”

   “They’re... uh... nice.”

   “Spike!”

   “Okay, okay, I get it.”

   “No. No, you don’t get it. If you got it, you wouldn’t keep showing up here!”

   “Oh, come on, you know you love it. Besides, you come busting into my flat all the time without so much as a by-your-leave. Turnabout is fair play, slayer.”

   “You don’t play fair! You’re a vampire!”

   “And?”

   “And you’re evil!

   “Evil is as evil does, slayer.”

   “And breaking into my bedroom while I’m sleeping is evil!”

   “I’m not breaking anything. I just wanted some stakes so I can help you take out more vampires, you know, do your job for you and all, and if you happen to be lying down on the job, how’s that my fault? Not as if I’d be interrupting anything I shouldn’t be seeing. I mean, Lord Wonderbread is out of the picture now, and it’s not as if you’d be doing anything so sordid as taking care of that sort of thing yourself, now would— ow!”

   “Come here, Spike. What do you see?”

   “Mostly just the curtain, and a window you’re about to push my head through.”

   “There! Look out there. Do you see that, Spike? Those are called trees. You can make your own damn stakes! Now out. Out!

   “Oi! What happened to the door, slayer? Even a vampire has civility and all that!”

   “Angel came and went through this window all the time.”

   “And that’s a ringing endorsement for righteousness and honor.”

   “Get your own stakes, Spike. And your own junk, and your own food.”

   “And my own raccoons?”

   “Shut up!”

   “Ask yourself. Are you upset ‘cause I interrupted something? Or are you really upset because I didn’t? Well? Woah! Well, well, you broke your window there, slamming it so….”

   “I could slam something else, Spike, if you don’t shut the hell up.”

   “So could I. Want me to try?”

   “OUT!”    

 

***

 

   “Okay. What the hell are you doing now?”

   “Watching telly.”

   “What are you…? You brought that into my house?

   “I didn’t bring in anything.”

   “We certainly don’t have any of those videos!”

   “It’s cable porn, pet, shows up late at night sometimes. Just part of the basic package. Blame your mum.”

   “Why the hell are you watching cable porn in my house?”

   “Crypt doesn’t have cable.”

   “Get up. Get up, get out, get out of here. There are children in this house!”

   “Niblet’s easily old enough to know what a twat looks like, slayer. This is softcore stuff.”

   “Soft core, hard core, chewy nougat center, you can’t just break into people’s houses at two in the morning and start watching.... Can people even get into that position?”

   “Oh, yeah. Totally.”

   “Seriously, that looks impossible.”

   “No, totally possible. I mean, not real comfortable, but a lot of porn is designed to look good more than feel good.”

   “People think that looks good?”

   “Well, it does get the camera right up in the space and all. Remember, they’re not alone in there. There’s three camera guys, a director, the electrician, the sound guy, whoever’s holding the boom mike, the makeup lady, the fellow with the lube bucket, and probably their coke dealer, all looking on off camera.”

   “That... all sounds really uncomfortable. How are they even doing... that one now?”

   “Well, they’re porn stars. It’s like being an athlete, you really have to practice at it.”

   “I can’t imagine that ever getting easy.”

   “Oh, just takes some flexibility and good muscles. I’ll bet you could do it.”

   “And I’ll bet you…. Whoa. That’s... that’s... how does that work?”

   “Well, it seems to be working, don’t it?”

   “Sort of. Why is she holding her hand like that?”

   “To cover her twat. They’re making it look like she’s working it herself, but that’s the real reason.”

   “Why? I mean, it’s pretty clear they’re, you know. There. I mean, he’s right in there. Why try to cover it?”

   “Bad cable porn, pet. They can show the tits, but all else has gotta be obscured, or it won’t get on the telly.”

   “That seems really arbitrary. It’s obviously porn, who are they kidding?”

   “The TV censor checklist from the late eighties.”

   “Okay, that one just looks stupid.”

   “Actually, that’s one of the better positions.”

   “How would you know?”

   “How come you don’t? Admiral Flimsydick not so adventurous unless he’s with his army pals?”

   “No, that’s... I mean he.... None of your business, Spike! I just mean it looks like he’d pull something.”

   “Oh, it’s not that bad. Here, it’s like this.”

   “Oh, ew! No!”

   “Oh, hide your blushing eyes. I’m fully clothed, slayer. Unless your imagination is undressing me as we speak....”

   “We’re done. Get out of here, Spike. Now!”

   “I know where the door is, slayer, you don’t need to — ow!”

   “Yes, I need to ow. Show up again like this, and I will ow you a lot. Good riddance.”

   “Slayer! Open up!”

   “Now what?”

   “Forgot my ciggies.... So... you didn’t turn that off, then?”

   “Get... gone....”

   “You know, you got quite the demonic snarl going there, slayer. Bad cable porn bring up the beast in you?”

   “Out!”

   “Gonna wake the niblet with that kind of shouting, slayer. You really should be more careful.”

 

***

 

   “All right. That’s it. This has gone far enough.”

   “What are you...? Ow!

   “What the hell is this, now? Some kind of satanic ritual? A demonic summoning? Maybe you’re just trying to light the house on fire!”

   “I’m just lighting some candles!”

   “And the great big penis statue? You’re done, Spike, this is so done, I want you out of this house, off of this planet! Why are you infesting my house!”

   “Oh, Spike, thank you so much. This should really do the trick.”

   “Mom? What are you doing up?”

   “Oh, Spike here came in while you were on patrol. The drugs they gave me are keeping me awake, so he went and fetched some aromatherapy candles from his crypt, wasn’t that nice of him? I was just making some herbal tea. I was going to put on some music and try and rest on the couch.”

   “Oh. And, uh... that?”

   “Oh, that’s a Honen Matsuri phallic idol. It came in with a shipment to the gallery, but I can’t show it, of course. I was going to send it to an antiquities dealer who specializes in erotic artwork. Isn’t it beautiful, though? Look at the detail on the carving, it’s so artistic.”

   “Yeah, it’s... really nice, Mom.”

   “Oi. Can I have my ear back, slayer?”

   “Huh? Oh. Yeah.”

   “Thanks for being so generous, Spike, it’s a real comfort to know Buffy doesn’t have to shoulder all of this alone.”

   “Yeah. He’s a saint. And he’s leaving. Now.”

   “Oh, well, good night, Spike!”

   “Get your rest, Joyce. You’ve earned it.”

   “Okay, you were here on Mom’s say-so. That doesn’t mean I want you coming at all hours!”

   “Just during choice moments?”

   “Spike!”

   “I’ll leave you to your righteous indignation, slayer. I know it’s your best friend.”

   “Ugh. One of these days I’m gonna shake him so hard his head pops off....”

   “Is Spike gone?”

   “Dawn! Get back to bed.”

   “How can I, with you and Spike so damn loud. Could you keep your dates a little quieter?”

   “They are not dates!”

   “Sure sound like them to me. And lots more fun than the ones you used to go on with Riley.”

   “Dawn? You have no idea what you’re talking about. Spike and I are not, have not, and never will go on a date. And under no stretch of the imagination could anyone, ever, consider such a thing.”

   “Yeah, right. Just keep it down, will you?”

   “They weren’t dates! They weren’t. Humph. They weren’t, dammit. Not any of them. They just… they weren’t.