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I dream of Spike
by Lilithangel
As gigs went it wasn’t too bad. He might not have asked for it but at least he had a nice place and he’d done it up to suit. Lots of red velvet drapes to replace the stupid gauzy shit that had been there. He’d kept the pillows and added a big screen telly, fridge and microwave. The fridge was always full of beer and blood, and if he concentrated he could get Blooming Onions and Buffalo wings.
There’d been a bit of an issue with the uniform but he’d put his foot down and got to keep his jeans. If he wasn’t watching his shirts tended to turn see-through but it was a small price to pay really. He still got to help set things right and occasionally get into a decent fight. So being tied to a flea market reject glass bottle wasn’t too bad a compromise.
If he sometimes spent too much time alone waiting for the next idiot to rub the bottle well that was what unlimited satellite television was for. He’d learned at least to bolt everything down except the pillows in case one of the idiots just had to shake it.
* * * * *
Angel stared at the bottle Wesley was holding. “And they gave us that?”
“Apparently it’s very valuable,” Wesley said dubiously, “they seemed quite eager to give it to us.”
“You checked it for spells and traps?” Angel said taking it carefully.
“Of course I did,” Wesley said with some irritation. “It seems completely harmless. Some magical energy but quite benign.”
“Then why did they want us to have it so badly?” Angel put his ear to the side of it and shook it gently. “I could have sworn I heard someone swearing,” he said pulling back in surprise. Picking up the cloth he’d been using to polish his sword Angel gave the bottle a rub to try and see inside.
The bottle started to shake and jumped out of his hand to lift into the air and spin around. The stopper flew up and a smoke streamed out of the bottle coalescing into a human shape.
Angel grabbed his sword and Wesley reached for his phone.
“Why is there always so much bloody smoke,” a voice could be heard, “I told Ramon there was too much bloody smoke. Alright here’s the gist of it. Yes I’m a genie. No I can’t make you ruler of the world. Anything you ask for will backfire with epic results so let’s get started… oh bloody hell.”
The smoke cleared to reveal Spike staring in disbelief at Angel and Wesley.
“Spike?” Wesley said in amazement.
“Spike?” Angel growled.
“Spike?” said Harmony with delight.
* * * * *
“So you’re a genie?” Angel asked again.
“Yes,” Spike said with annoyance, “I still had things to atone for, no thanks to you, you bastard. You could have warned me. My own bloody guilt trapped me in purgatory. This was the only gig going.”
“This is fascinating,” Wesley said staring at Spike intently.
“Oi,” Spike said, “stop looking like you want to dissect me. And you can stop sniggering,” he added glaring at Angel.
“So you’re magic?” Angel stopped sniggering long enough to ask.
“For my sins,” Spike replied and he wasn’t joking.
“You must hate that,” Angel said, “I remember your many rants about magic.”
“Do you really grant wishes?” Fred asked. Wesley had called the whole team in when they discovered Angel couldn’t kill Spike.
“Kind of,” Spike said, “they mixed things up millennia ago as the wish thing was causing havoc. I can help with things and when someone really wants something I can sometimes do something, but like I said earlier normally the universe reacts and the backfire can be epic.”
“What do you mean?” Gunn said.
“It’s all about balance,” Spike said, “stop looking at my chest ponce,” he added to Angel, “if anything swings too far the universe swings back. Good and Evil are part of that balance. If you wished for world peace or some such rot the universe would likely make it happen by destroying all life on earth.”
“Ouch,” Fred said.
“So you’re saying you’re of no real use at all,” Angel said.
“For you nope,” Spike said with a snarl.
“But Angel’s the one that rubbed the bottle,” Wesley said, “or has that changed too?”
“No that hasn’t changed,” Spike said with a scowl, “doesn’t mean I have to make it easy for him.”
“You’ve never made anything easy for me,” Angel replied with a matching scowl. “And I wasn’t looking at your chest.”
“Seems to me you’re the one living easy with the fancy office and the expensive suits,” Spike said, “and I’m the one living in a bottle.”
“Your natural habitat isn’t it?” Angel sneered. Spike flicked a finger and Angel’s coffee cup spilled over him. “Son of a bitch,” Angel jumped up.
“What are you going to do?” Spike sneered.
“Stopper you in that bottle and drop it in the ocean,” Angel said with a snarl reaching for the bottle.
“I don’t think so,” Spike said, levitating the bottle out of Angel’s reach.
“Stop it the pair of you,” Wesley said. “Angel, Spike could be very useful. Spike, the clan that gave us your bottle seemed very eager to give you away, do you care to explain?”
“No I don’t care to do anything,” Spike replied, “anyway it was their fault I warned them about the wishes but they wouldn’t listen. S’not my problem that they ended up sterile,” he sniggered.
“Well that does explain their sudden agreement to our treaty,” Wesley said, his eyes widened as Spike’s tee shirt suddenly became transparent.
“Oi, Harmony,” Spike said with irritation.
“Sorry that was me,” Fred said with a little wave.
“You naughty minx you,” Spike said as his shirt darkened again, “you’ll get me in trouble. My magic likes you though.” He smiled at her.
“So what happens now?” Gunn said, stepping closer to Fred with a frown.
“We carefully research the ramifications of a genie, interview Spike so we can understand how he works and make good use of him,” Wesley said.
“Just tuck the bottle on a shelf somewhere safe and call me when you sort it out,” Spike said.
“I really think you need to be somewhere safer than a shelf,” Wesley said.
“The secure archives?” Angel suggested hopefully.
“I could keep him in my lab,” Fred suggested, “run some tests on the bottle at the same time.”
“No,” Angel and Gunn said at the same time.
“Thanks all the same pet,” Spike said, “but not too fond of labs to tell the truth. The bottle’s pretty indestructible and until you give it away we’ll just keep coming back.”
Angel brightened at the words but subsided at a glare from Wesley. He wouldn’t admit it but he could see the value of a genie, if it had been anyone but Spike anyway.
“That’s settled then,” Angel said, “it can stay in my office out of the way.”
Angel was to regret those words.
His sword wasn’t on the wall and he yelled at Spike until it was returned. Unfortunately it now sang every time he picked it up, but it was very shiny.
When he was trying to concentrate he could hear, just on the edge of his awareness, the raucous sounds of the Sex Pistols or other badly singing guitar bands. When he wished for silence Spike made him deaf for two days only relenting when a disgruntled client tried to cut his head off.
He got his revenge by wishing Spike back into traditional genie garb but ended up regretting that when the entire typing pool made up excuses to visit Harmony to whisper and giggle while Spike gave them a show (and because certain bits of him also wanted in on the show).
When he complained about Spike lounging around all day he found himself inside the bottle (which was far too nice for someone as obnoxious as Spike) but he did finally catch up with the Canadian Hockey League matches he’d missed and Spike didn’t tell anyone where he’d gone either. So sometimes it was alright and the magic could be useful, sometimes.
Spike began to regret Angel’s words too.
As he hung around the office, either in his bottle or perched on the edge of Angel’s desk to annoy the brooding wonder, he started to see the mess Angel had gotten into. Despite all his best efforts he started to feel sorry for Angel who really thought he could do some good in the belly of the beast.
He was much happier disliking the prat but they actually made a quite formidable team and fight back to back with someone for long enough and you had to trust them with some things at least. It didn’t help that his clothes kept trying to revert when he wasn’t looking. It was bloody difficult to fight in harem pants and he really would prefer not to advertise his tackle to the bad guys (or Angel).
He was also worried about the rest of Angel’s team, not that he’d let them know that. They were good people slowly being sucked into the unrelenting low grade evil of Wolfram & Hart. It wasn’t the big stuff that would take them down, Spike knew, it was the little decisions built up over time (Those Pratchett and Gaiman guys had got it right, little smudges on the soul built up and by the time you realised it was too late).
Gunn was falling fastest with his fancy lawyer upgrades. He really should have learned from MacDonald. The bloke was okay but had really let a lust for power get the better of him. Spike visited Lindsey occasionally to play poker and argue about music. Wesley had been halfway dark already from what Spike could see but now his ruthless streak went unchecked. Sweet little Fred was like scientists everywhere, so caught up in the wonder of invention that she failed to notice what others could do with her discoveries.
And his clothes wouldn’t stay solid which was rather embarrassing at times, especially the times he did it to himself.
But in the end arguing with Angel and making his life just that little bit more awkward? That was worth every single death. And the magic? That was turning out to be pretty damn brilliant really.
“You really are a gigantic tit.”
“Did you call me a tit?”
“Yes I did. What are you going to do about it, tit?”
“Spike put me down right now. You wouldn’t be so cocky without your magic. Come on; fight me like the man you claim to be. Stop… stop spinning me… stop it Spike… I’m going to be sick.”
Oh yeah, the magic was brilliant.
END