VoyForums
[ Show ]
Support VoyForums
[ Shrink ]
VoyForums Announcement: Programming and providing support for this service has been a labor of love since 1997. We are one of the few services online who values our users' privacy, and have never sold your information. We have even fought hard to defend your privacy in legal cases; however, we've done it with almost no financial support -- paying out of pocket to continue providing the service. Due to the issues imposed on us by advertisers, we also stopped hosting most ads on the forums many years ago. We hope you appreciate our efforts.

Show your support by donating any amount. (Note: We are still technically a for-profit company, so your contribution is not tax-deductible.) PayPal Acct: Feedback:

Donate to VoyForums (PayPal):

[ Login ] [ Contact Forum Admin ] [ Main index ] [ Post a new message ] [ Search | Check update time | Archives: 1 ]

[ Next Thread | Previous Thread | Next Message | Previous Message ]

Date Posted: 19:44:47 04/18/03 Fri
Author: Farquarson
Subject: LW Post: Sanctuary (Rated PG-13 for strong language)

DISCLAIMER: I don’t own any of the characters mentioned in this story. Unfortunately. They are all the property of Joss Whedon and/or Mutant Enemy Productions. Oh, and it ran a little over the four-page limit. Sorry about that.

Thanks to Sherry for the lyrics.

SUMMARY: Spike without the woman he loves, and trying desperately to cope.

This story takes place in between “Lovers Walk” and “The Harsh Light of Day.”


SANCTUARY

By Farquarson

So here I am playing craps at the most expensive table at the Talisman Tower Casino in Vegas, double Scotch in one hand and a half-smoked Marlboro Red in the other. The croupier is looking at me impatiently, and no wonder—everyone else in the room has already placed their bets. I’m not sure how much is riding on this bet, and frankly, I don’t care. The minimum bet for this table is five hundred thousand dollars, so there’s got to be several million in the kitty anyway, not to mention a couple of Bloodmobiles worth of the vital stuff. I think I saw a lich toss in a pledge of ten spells earlier, but I’m not sure.

The croupier, who looks deceptively human but smells like an Avo Morvic demon, coughs. Loudly. Sounds like he’s about to cough up a lung, and enchanting as that sounds for a late night snack, I’d rather he didn’t expire just yet. If he drops dead in front of this crowd, he’ll be instant smorgasbord. I’ll be lucky to get enough to make a finger sandwich.

“Mr. Domingo?”

I start, because I forgot for a minute that tonight I’m supposed to be Jose Alvarez Domingo from Cheesequake, New Jersey. Actually, I killed him earlier tonight. He had a few thousand on him, which I naturally appropriated. He tasted damned good, too. Kind of sweet and spicy at the same time.

Kinda like…

“Mr. Domingo. Thirty seconds.”

The Avo Morvic croupier is looking a tad annoyed, and it’s everything I can do not to slip into game face, reach out and tear his idiot head off. I really don’t need his attitude right at the moment. The only thing that holds me back—and it’s cobweb-fragile—is the knowledge that the Talisman Tower is a casino for nonhumans. Vampires. Zombies. Demons. The occasional lich. And they’ve got a security force that would make a fucking army of master vampires grovel for mercy. Legend has it that they even beat the Scourge once. I don’t believe that. Still, it’s a good story. I smile for a minute, thinking of what the Talisman security guards would do to Goldilocks of Sunnydale.

“Fifteen sec—”

“Yeah, yeah, let it ride,” I say, taking a drag off my cigarette. The croupier stares at my face for a moment, then rolls dem bones. The dice really are bones. They look like they’ve been shaped from skeletal fingers. Some demons think that’s lucky, dicing with the bones of the dead. Pleasing the customers is all part of the Talisman’s service, which includes no windows or mirrors in the entire hotel; your choice of room, crypt or sarcophagus, all renewable by the month, the day or the hour; a wet bar with warm, adrenaline-filled blood and plasma of every type and both Rh factors; and a perpetual curse on the land and the building that prevents anything holy from ever being brought in the vicinity of the hotel or casino.

Great place, really. Wonder why I never took Dru here?

The croupier calls out some number—damned if I know which one, because I’m still thinking about Dru. Her dark hair against the pillow. Her happy mad laughter as she chanted nursery rhymes about lambs and blackberry patches. The smile that lit up her face as she decapitated her dolls. Wondering if I should’ve brought her here instead of Brazil.

Hell, forget Brazil, I should have taken her to the Talisman rather than Prague. Prague was a mistake. If not for that frigging mob in Prague, Dru wouldn’t have been half-killed. We wouldn’t have needed the Magnificent Pouf to restore her to health. And I wouldn’t have been crippled when the soulless version of Hairboy decided he wanted to be leader of the pack again. I could have taken Angelus out before Dru started agreeing with him.

**If** we hadn’t gone to Prague.

Someone nudges me, and for a split second I go into game face before I realize that I’m being nudged to pay attention because I won. Huh. How about that. The croupier is looking bloody annoyed with me, and at this point it’s taking as much control as I’ve got not to rip the little sod’s hearts out. I take a few last puffs of my fag, grind the cigarette out on the craps table, and tell him that I want my chips because I’m going to cash out. He looks relieved. I want to tell him to go bugger himself, but I decide that he’s not worth the effort.

I go to one of the windows, get my money and leave the casino. Right now, I need a drink. Preferably alcoholic. Blood may be savory and rich, but it’s damned hard to get drunk on it.

I enter the hotel bar. Not many people around. Either they’re all gambling or all sleeping. Fine by me. I collapse into a booth. Someone or something comes over and takes my order for a very large quantity of alcohol to be served in the largest available glasses. Immediately, if not sooner. I glance at the NO SMOKING sign on the wall and deliberately light another cigarette.

I tell myself not to think about Dru, but that’s as impossible as telling myself **not** to think of pink elephants for the next ten minutes. Stupid. Cruel. Heartless. Insane. BITCH. I mean, dumping me for a chaos demon! A CHAOS demon! They’re all slime and antlers! Antlers, for God’s sake! Look like a bunch of walking coatracks!

This is not helping.

Fortunately, my booze arrives and I spend the next ten minutes or so chugging glasses of Scotch and shots of vodka, trying to obliterate the memories of Dru and me. After a while, I do start to feel a bit of a pleasant buzz.

But the images in my mind don’t leave. I close my eyes to blot them out, but they intensify. I see myself after that disaster in Sunnydale when I tried to get Willow to cast a love spell on Dru for me. God, that’s desperation, trying to make your enemies help you resolve a crisis in your love life.

I see myself doing everything I could to win her back. Getting money. Jewels. Spells to create yet another bloody apocalypse. Torturing and killing humans in truly spectacular style. And, finally, the phone call. No, I didn’t call her. She called me.

Aaah, who am I kidding? Of course I called her, once I found out where she and the Deerly Beloved were staying. I threatened. I bargained. I begged. I screamed. And I groveled. Give you anything you want, luv. Give you the world. Only come back.

I still hear her voice fluting over the wires. “Poor Spikey. Poor lost boy. Promise not to mind if you go your way and I go mine? Promise?”

Everybody wants charm and a smile and a promise. Everyone. Even when there’s no reason to smile and no one to charm and no damned reason to keep any promises. Especially not promises that hurt as much as that one did.

Because I had to promise, didn’t I? I said I’d give her anything she wanted. She wanted me to promise a lie.

And I always give Dru whatever she asks for.

I leave the bar and stagger up to my room. I check my winnings. Looks like I won sixty million dollars. Maybe I’d better count it again tomorrow when I’m not seeing quadruple. I put it away very carefully and stretch out on the bed, trying blearily to think of what to do next. My plans haven’t gone well lately. Planning big could be a gamble.

If I leave Vegas, I’ll just make it a point to find out where Dru and her Baby Deer are staying again. I know it. Dru’s made it clear that she doesn’t want me searching for them. And much as I’d like to have it out with Mr. Mousse, I don’t think now is the time. Revenge is a dish best served cold, they say.

What the hell. I’ve already rolled the dice.

I roll over, and close my eyes to blot out the fact that my room is spinning like a crazy whirlpool. Dizzying as the spinning room is, it still seems like a refuge from Dru. Angelus. Everything, really.

Think I’ll stay. For a while.

THE END


PROMISE
Eve 6

Sleeping through the evening, singing dreams inside my head
I'm heading out, I've got some ins who say they care and they just might
I run away with you if things don't go as planned
Planning big could be a gamble, I've already rolled the dice
I spit and stutter stuff and clutter worries in my worried corner
Maladjusted just untrusted rusted sometimes brilliant busted thoughts
Think I'll stay for a while, I'm intrigued and I'm red as a newborn, white as a corpse

I promise not to try not to fuck with your mind
Promise not to mind if you go your way and I go mine
Promise not to lie if I'm looking you straight in the eye
Promise not to try not to let you down

I am elated, I am all smiles and dated in my man-bites-dog town with a Spanish name
I am all bone, I am two-tone, red as a newborn, white as a corpse

I promise not to try not to fuck with your mind
Promise not to mind if you go your way and I go mine
Promise not to lie if I'm looking you straight in the eye
Promise not to try not to let you down

Why you gotta keep the fan on high when it's cold outside?
Just want to let you know that I'm still a fan, get it?
Everybody wants charm and a smile and a promise
I promise not to try

I promise not to try not to fuck with your mind
Promise not to mind if you go your way and I go mine
Promise not to lie if I'm looking you straight in the eye
I promise not to try not to not to not to leave

[ Next Thread | Previous Thread | Next Message | Previous Message ]

Replies:

Post a message:
This forum requires an account to post.
[ Create Account ]
[ Login ]
[ Contact Forum Admin ]

Forum timezone: GMT-8
VF Version: 3.00b, ConfDB:
Before posting please read our privacy policy.
VoyForums(tm) is a Free Service from Voyager Info-Systems.
Copyright © 1998-2019 Voyager Info-Systems. All Rights Reserved.