SquidgeWorld Archive

The room was nicer than he'd expected. As Lorne had said, there was a deadbolt, and an old fashioned bar, so he felt pretty secure. The room had been painted recently, but not so recently as to have paint fumes. The cot was actually a small roll-away bed, and he'd definitely slept on less comfortable surfaces. It even had sheets, a blanket, and a pillow--all clean. Before he'd gone to bed he'd given them all a sniff, just to be sure, and there'd been no scent of anyone else, demonic or otherwise--just a light, pleasant scent. The table was about the size of a postage stamp, and the dresser was more of a footlocker, but all in all, it was pretty decent compared to some of his other digs.

He'd had two cups of blood before he went to bed, warmed to perfection in the staff break room microwave. It was mostly cow blood, but he'd been astonished to find that it had been laced with human blood. Lorne had told him cheerfully that a few of his more steady customers liked to occasionally pay a tab by donating a pint, and this way he could keep a supply on hand, "For emergencies. Never know when one of you little plasma pirates is going to run into something nastier than your bad self and need a quick infusion." Now Spike was warm, rested, and not starving. Sometimes Unlife could be good.

He'd awakened a little earlier than usual, a couple of hours before the bar was scheduled to open at six. He'd need less than an hour to help Max set up the bar, but he'd found out that Lorne lived upstairs, and Spike hoped to wheedle his way into a shower. Lorne was sitting at one of the tables, eating pizza and making notes in a small catalog. Today he was wearing a lavender suit with a dark purple shirt and a green tie. Spike wondered where the hell he got his outfits. Was there some sort of demonic Men's Warehouse? Lorne looked up as Spike dropped into a seat opposite him, "Shall I sing 'Good Morning to You', or would that get my throat ripped out?"

Spike lit a cigarette and blew out a cloud of smoke. "Maybe just a little maiming. I'm in a good mood today. What ya up to?"

"Ordering supplies, and checking for new and interesting melodies. We're getting low on paper umbrellas and eighties pop tunes."

Spike rolled his eyes. "Don't go to any trouble on MY account. Look, any chance of my borrowing your bathroom for a quick sluice? I don't mind bein' funky, but not from body odor."

"Of course. Slap me silly for not offering last night." Lorne got up. "The laundry just got back, and I haven't put it away. I'll go load the fresh towels in the cabinets, then you can come on up." He started for the stairs that led up to his apartment.

Spike had been eyeing the small box of pizza slices. There were still a few left, and they smelled enticingly of tomatoes and spices. It looked like olive. Spike would have preferred pepperoni or sausage, but he had a hankering for human food, and vegetables on a crust weren't too bad. "Mind if I grab a slice?"

He was already reaching for the box when Lorne said, "Actually, I do. I special ordered that, and they got it just the way I like it. I skipped lunch today, so I want ALL of it." He paused and pointed at Spike. "Thou shalt not steal. Transgressions are punished cosmically if not legally. Won't be a sec." He bustled toward the stairs.

Spike grumbled to himself, taking another drag on the cigarette. His eyes kept going back to the pizza. *Selfish git. He's got plenty. Actually, I'd be doing him a favor if I ate some of it. He'll pork up if he keeps eating so many carbs. He's my employer, so it's good for us all if I keep him healthy. What other rationalization can I use? Oh, hell--I'm evil. I don't NEED an excuse.*

He picked up a slice and took a big bite just as Lorne came back downstairs, saying, "All set. There's shampoo and conditioner, too, but you'll have to get your own styling gel because I don't use..."

He trailed off when he saw Spike, pizza slice in hand, chewing. He put his hands on his hips and glared, but there was a hint of amusement in his expression that made Spike feel smug. Once again he was going to get his way without serious repercussions. Spike sneered, and spoke around his mouthful. "Take it out of my pay."

"That's the least of your worries. You'll be sorry."

"Nah. My conscience..." Spike's eyes flew open suddenly, and he dropped the pizza slice he was holding, then spit the half chewed mouthful on the table.

Lorne wrinkled his nose. "May I just say 'ick'?"

Spike wasn't listening. He'd grabbed the beer bottle sitting before Lorne's seat and tipped it to his mouth. All he got was a few drops, and he tossed it aside. He used his hands to fan frantically at his open mouth, panting, eyes darting around. "I warned you," said Lorne. "I guess you thought those were olives or green peppers. It's amazing how much habaneros look like those when they're cooked."

As Lorne spoke Spike jumped up and headed for the bar, managing to get up to a full run even in that short space. He didn't bother to take the time to go around the end of the bar--he vaulted over it. He snatched up a mug and held it under one of the draft beer taps, turning it. But he couldn't wait for the mug to fill. He jerked it up to drink, moving so violently that he splashed the contents in his face. He cursed and dropped the mug, looking around desperately. Lorne was watching this with great interest, arms folded. Spike grabbed the spray gun used to dispense soda for the drinks, jerked it out on its hose, and spayed a frothy stream right into his mouth. Well, almost right into his mouth. He missed the first time, washing the beer off his face.

He kept spraying into his mouth. Lorne said mildly, "You know, you can drown like that."

Spike finally put down the sprayer. "Bloody fuckin' HELL! Why didn't you tell me?"

"I did. I said transgressions are punished. What did you think I meant--that you'd come back as a telemarketer in your next life?"

"DAMN! I haven't felt anything like that since I got a mouthful of holy water."

"How...?"

"Don't ask." He was still fanning his mouth. "Shit! Isn't this ever going to stop?"

"Actually, I suppose I should have told you that water just makes it worse, but you were so fast..." Spike groaned. "It's your own fault, but I hate to see anything suffer. Move aside." Lorne came back behind the bar and reached into the mini fridge. He pulled out a pint of milk and poured it into a highball glass, the moved to the section where they kept the less used mixing ingredients. He picked up a plastic bottle shaped like a bear, squeezed a thick stream of honey into th milk, and stirred it, then offered it to Spike.

"Are you out of your green skull?"

"Trust me."

"Last time someone said that to me, I had to kill him for lyin' to me about a used car, but I don't have a lot of options right now." He took the milk and started to drink it.

"Good boy. It's been proved that milk is a good way of reducing the heat. There have been science fair projects done on it. It's something about the proteins acting as a neutralizer, I think, and the honey is supposed to help, too. That's one reason why sopapillas are so popular in Mexican restaurants. I've heard that yogurt and sour cream also work, but I don't have either of those." Spike was still chugging. "My, it's a good thing that you don't need to breathe."

When Spike set the empty glass down he sighed, "Better. What the hell were you doin' eatin' that shite?"

"Hello? Demon here, remember? They put jalapenos in the pablum on Pylea. Seriously, Puddin', are you all right?"

"I don't feel like I'm about to spontaneously combust, but I'm still in a bit of pain."

"Aw, poor baby," Lorne crooned. "What you need is someone to kiss it and make it better."

Spike lifted an eyebrow. "It's the tongue that caught the worst of it, mate."

Lorne sighed. "The sacrifices I make for my employees." He kissed Spike--with tongue. It might be noted that he didn't have too press too damn hard, either. Then he pulled back. "Better go take that shower now."

"What's wrong?" asked Spike archly. "You didn't seem too repelled two seconds ago."

"Oh, I'm not--but you need it." Lorne ran a finger across Spike's forehead and showed it to him. It was glistening with sweat. "That's one way to heat up a cold blooded creature."

Spike smirked at him as he headed for the stairs. Just before he went up he called over his shoulder, "But not the most FUN way."