never enough spike

Spike, the blonde Sex God

(rp journal for Spike)

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On a Quest for Peace of Mind
never enough spike
'S pissing and lashing a mother outside. Sound woke me, and that ache deep in my bones that seems to stay with me since I burnt up.

Bloody uncomfortable crypt. Shoulda gone to see Red t'night, instead of where I went. At least then I'd be resting in a comfy bed wrapped in warm arms instead of alone.

I heat up a mug of blood, spicing it, sipping it, and walking around the crypt. No good. The cold cuts right the fuck through me, and m'feelin' good'n'sorry for myself. There's only one thing left to do, and I know it.

I head over to the hidden stash of CD's I keep for just such an emergency. My secret shame, the things that can save me from self-pity and despair. I put it on and push the button, letting the sounds wash over me. One of the most perfect collections of purely indulgent new-wave ever made. The Knack, Get the Knack. I let my voice raise and sing and scream along with every memorized word. From the screamers of sexual drives thwarted to the almost sickly-sweet ballads. Heading towards that end I want, I need. The howler Frustrated. I let my body move with that one, thumping my fists and my body against the walls, screaming out everything. I slump against the wall as the last notes fade away, knuckles split from pounding them against the stone. I savor the hot pain for a few minutes before licking them clean and closed. I have to chuckle ruefully at myself. The ridiculous irony of The Big Bad yowling out his soul to The Knack. Well, it worked anyway. Not feeling like a self-pitying wanker, and the exercise has worked out the ache. I tuck it away again, and lay myself back down to rest.

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The Knack? Really?

You *have* to come visit, darling, and sing for me.

*I* wouldn't kick you out of bed on a rainy night, or any other night, and that's for certain.

Really William. Such ungentlemanly behavior. Didn't Angelus *teach* you any better?

I was alone, Darla, and no one else 'ad to watch. Besides, Angelus din't train me t'be a gentleman, 'e trained me t'be a needy sex-crazed whore and brat.

I seem to remember a few lectures about gentlemanly conduct.
Then again may be you passed out before the lecture part.

And you didn't need all that much training for the sex-crazed part. That started as soon as you were turned.

Yeah, you're most likely right about the lectures. As I remember, Angelus' lectures tended to be preceded by a lengthy bout of fucking, torture, and beating. M'pretty sure the lectures were just an excuse for the rest.

Not that I so much objected to the rest. *grins* On the contrary.


Do you remember that lovely suede cat I bought him in Paris?

*fond sigh* Ohhh yeah. You wouldn't 'ave 'appened t'keep that, would you?

I kept it. *smile*

It was in my rooms in the Master's lair beneath Sunnydale.
Whatever happened to everything that was down there?

*thinking* They should still be there, if the rooms weren't looted.

*grinning* M'betting you kept a lot of interesting things in your rooms then, eh?

Oh yesss *purrs,wriggles*

Including a very nice set of impression-molds that we had cast in Amsterdam. Along with the matching moldings. Bring back any memories?

(I'm getting very strange looks from the person on the next computer)

*blush* Oh bloody 'ell you still have those things?

Awright, grandsire, tell you wot. You set a time, and we c'n meet at the Master's place. Go see if your rooms are still unlooted.

Tell Drusilla to expect me when you see her.

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