In "School Hard", Spike describes Angel as "his Yoda".  So, is Spike a Star Wars fan?  Do you even need to ask?

Erm, spoilers for The Empire Strikes Back.  (Don’t laugh!  I have a friend who saw it for the first time six months ago, and she was *very* peeved when we accidentally gave the ending away.)  And a line stolen from season 5 of Buffy. About the title … sorry.  I just can’t help myself sometimes.

LONDON, 1980

Spike dropped the SoHo prostitute’s body in the gutter and savoured the taste of her blood as the rain smeared her cheap makeup.  She tasted of nicotine and alcohol, but there was the vague aftertaste of cocaine.

Spike shuddered.  Cigarettes and booze, sure, but … well, the humans did like to say that "you are what you eat".  It was particularly true for vampires, and he didn’t particularly want to be one of the pathetic types who hung around addicts as if they were some kind of delicacy.  Of course, beggars couldn’t be choosers…

Spike glared at the woman’s body and gave it a meditative kick. Why’d Darla have to go to America?  They’d had a great thing going, she stripping, he hunting the customers.  Food and money, right at their door.  And then Darla had gotten bored and gone off, leaving Spike in London with Drusilla to feed, no money and increasingly few good meals.

And the rain.  This bloody, constant rain.  Sure, the cloud-cover meant that he could wander out in the early mornings and late afternoons, but even a vampire could get sick of the rain!

Spike checked the dead prostitute’s purse, but she only had five pounds and the phone number of a local charity.  Spike paused a moment, then pocketed the number.  Drusilla hated the stringy old biddies doing charity work, but at least some would come straight to their door.  Meals on wheels.

Spike stepped over the woman’s body and out of the alley.

***

A cinema.  Spike had wandered into a slightly more affluent area, hoping to find a teenager or two.  A rich teenager for preference, with lots of money from her parents and no one but a poncy boyfriend to protect her from punks, muggers and vampires.  Or in Spike’s case, all three.  There were no teenagers here, but a cinema … yes, darkness, the loud soundtrack, money … and a movie.  Dru hated the cinema – she found moving pictures disturbing – although she had enjoyed The Avengers for some reason.

Spike checked his pockets.  He had eleven pounds.

Darla would chastise him – he quivered at the memory of Darla’s discipline – if she knew … but Darla was in America.  And he was his own vamp, wasn’t he?  Not some pansy I’ve-got-a-soul-and-a-brooding-gaze, sire-whipped puppy dog like Angel.

Spike stepped up to the box office and gave the cashier a charming smile.  "One for the new Star Wars movie," he said.

***

He found a seat at the back, tucked away in a dark, secluded little corner.  He’d been hoping for some necking teenagers, but by the time the credits rolled, the only people sitting nearby – right in front, in fact – were a young mother and a small child.  The little boy was asleep before fifteen minutes had elapsed.

Spike grinned.  The combined smell of popcorn and humanity were a heady mixture, and it took all of his self-control to resist the urge to kill the woman and suck her dry immediately.  But he waited, watching …

Thank God for these movie composers who think that their score rivals Beethoven, he thought as he snapped the woman’s neck about half way through the movie.  Any sound was muffled by the soundtrack.  The child’s neck followed soon after.

The woman’s blood was perfect – nicotine, sugar, a hint of quality alcohol – and he savoured it like a fine wine. Her purse was gratifyingly heavy.  No charities needed here.

When the movie ended, Spike pushed the woman’s body down under the seats.  He pocketed her purse, and then picked up the dead child, carrying it over his shoulder as if it were merely asleep.  He wrapped his coat around the boy to disguise the broken neck.  A tasty treat for his Drusilla.

Walking out of the cinema, Spike saw the people queuing for the next session and smiled.  What a surprise someone would get when they stretched out their legs …

Speaking of surprises …

Spike addressed the child’s corpse as he walked passed the queue.  "Damn fine movie, hey son?" he said loudly, "and who would have thought that Darth Vader was Luke’s father…?"

Hearing the angry complaints behind him, Spike stepped out into the night with a smile.

END

Copyright © 2000 Elizabeth M. Barr

Buffy ® is the property of Mutant Enemy (grr, arrgh) and Twentieth Century Fox.  No profit is derived from this fan fiction.