To Battle
By Fyre
TITLE: To Battle
AUTHOR: Fyre
EMAIL: Fyredansa@hotmail.com
SUMMARY: Spike and Darla do battle...
FEEDBACK: I neeeeeeeeeeeeed it!
DISTRIBUTION: Just here at the mo...but anyone can have it :-) Just ask nicely ;-)
SPOILERS: None really.
COUPLE: Not exactly a couple
RATING: PG
DISCLAIMER: I want. I don't have. I pout much.
CLASSIFICATION: Another segment of the Generation Games
NOTES: This was actually yet another improv from Having a Thought - Improv: Sepia, wish, memory, revenge - Written : 12/12/2000
DEDICATED: The improv group for letting my insanity loose!
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Exchanging murderous glances, the two vampires glared at one another, allowing a little of their demon to glow in matching, pale blue eyes.
“It’s mine, childe.” Darla growled, her hand on the cool brass of the elaborately decorated door handles, the seething crowd surrounding them as the doors swung open and they surged in.
Spike laughed derisively. “It’s a free hunt, mam.” He whispered in her ear, pulling her foot out from beneath her by snagging her ankle with his calf. “You should know that by now.” He added, as he sprinted off.
“Son of a bitch!” Scrambling to her feet, the vampiress regained her balance and took off after her grandchilde, determined to beat him to the prize they had been waiting for, her two-inch heels clacking on the polished floor with every step.
Ducking behind a set of shelves, he watched as she raced passed, following the rest of the stampede towards the prey, a smirk on his face, as he doubled back, pausing to turn the sign around to point in the right direction.
Sauntering away, he ran lightly up a flight of stairs, his hands on the railing, an exhilarated smile on his face as he jumped from landing to landing. Swinging his legs over the top railing, he landed on the floor with a flourish, only to hear the familiar tapping of stilettos behind him.
“Nice try, childe.” A punch in the face sent him reeling backwards, shattering a mirror that stood behind him, the glass shards falling over his prone body, glinting in his hair. “That was revenge for tripping me!”
Shaking his head to clear the dancing stars, he heard the stampede of feet before he saw them, staggering upright, his eyes flicking this way and that, searching for his grandsire once again.
“Bitch!” He grunted, rubbing his jaw. He should have known he couldn’t escape from her. After all, she had won the annual hunts every year for the last eight years, always beating him to their chosen prize.
Her familiar blonde head bobbed beyond one of the racks, leaving him in no doubt as to the direction she was taking, the clicking of her heels getting gradually fainter and fainter as she headed to her next stop.
Pushing his way to the head of the seething mass of hunters, he felt his jaw tighten, watching his grandsire plunge through the crowd, battling and forcing her way to the front with all the power and attitude of a veteran of war.
His undead heart sank as he realized that – yet again – she was going to beat him at the one thing he had wanted to do for years. It just was so bloody unfair! It was his only wish – to beat her at this, just once.
With a yell of absolute triumph, he saw her leap onto the surface of the desk, her face radiant, one hand raising her prize above her head, the blood-red mass streaming down her slim, pale arms.
Crowing with delight, she met his gaze, a wickedly mocking smile on her perfect pink lips. Waving her prize at him, she mouthed the word. “Loser!”
~~~~~
Walking out of the store, arm-in-arm, the two vampires exchanged wry grins at one another. Yet another crazy night to be commited to their joint memory bank, but never to be shared with any other demon.
“I don’t know why we bother with this every year.” She remarked, her once-sepia, now-blonde hair floating around her face in the light winter breeze. “It’s not as if we need to go in there and do it that way.”
Spike chuckled softly, inhaling a drag of his cigarette. “It’s bloody good fun, that’s why.” He replied, offering her the glowing smoke with a grin. “Even if you do always beat me.”
Pouting prettily, Darla grinned. “It still surprises me how much those mortals put into the hunt.” She remarked. “The January sales...they’re as violent as any demon battle I’ve heard of.” She paused, peering into the bag with a smile. “But I do have to ask you something...”
“What’s that?”
Drawing the crimson lace-and-silk knickers, garter belt and brassiere out of the large, brown bag, she looked at him suspiciously. “Why did you want these?”
Halting, he pivoted to face her, his expression set. “This is one of those ‘Rubber Duck’ moments.” He growled softly. “You tell anyone...” He trailed off, leaving her in no doubt as to what he would do.
“Okay.” With a smirk at him, she nodded. “You don’t mention my choice of bath time companions to any of the boys...or anyone for that matter, I don’t mention your choice of underwear – deal?”
Looking somewhat relieved, the younger vampire nodded.
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