Chapter Text
Vaughn woke up in a coffin.
Woke up?, he thought. I'm dead! (which was very true; Sark had killed him on some mission once somewhere).
He broke through the coffin and dug his way up. Couldn't very well lie there the rest of his apparent life and contemplate that one. He was in a very dark graveyard in somewhere that didn't look like LA.
"Need a hand there, mate?" a British voice asked, and Vaughn caught a glimpse of blond hair in the moonlight.
"Sark?" he asked, all confused. Was Sark coming to kill him again? But Sark already killed him!
Now the other guy looked confused. "No, I'm Spike." He grabbed Vaughn's hand and pulled him up. "New to the neighbourhood?"
"I'm dead," Vaughn said (it's taking him a while).
"Yes yes," the weird British dude in black leather that looked like sex but wasn't Sark said impatiently. "That's obvious. Wait, did you say 'Sark'?"
"Um, yeah. He killed me," Vaughn said, still wondering why he wasn't dead and why this not-Sark was talking to him.
"Oh bloody hell," the not-Sark said. "I'm getting out of here."
"Wait! You have to help me! I need to tell Sydney I'm not dead." Because this is/was the most important thing on Vaughn's mind, you know.
The not-Sark named Spike (Vaughn had just realised this) scoffed. "First off, you are dead."
"But I'm not," Vaughn interrupted (denial, people. anger is next). "See, I'm walking and talking and all that stuff that not-dead people do!"
"You're undead, you fool, so that's why you can walk and talk, although I'm not sure you could do it at the same time." (Spike isn't really patient with idiots, you see. Especially idiot vampires that don't realise they're vampires).
"What about Sydney?" Vaughn yelled.
"Who is Sydney?" Spike asked.
"She's my soulmate, the love of my life," Vaughn said with no change in emotions (not because he's undead, he's just like that).
"Oh," Spike said. "That's probably why you're dead."
"What?" Vaughn screamed.
"If Sark killed you, it was over a woman. He wanted your woman. So bye bye soulmate."
"Oh no. What do I do now?" Vaughn asked miserably.
"Well, first we get you a nice person to eat; that'll bring those spirits up. Second, we'll find some place to hide before she gets here."
"She?" Vaughn asked. But then he couldn't say any more because a wooden stake went through his chest and he turned into dust.
"Idiot wanker," Spike muttered. Then he turned to the blonde girl who had dusted Vaughn. "Slayer," he said.
"Spike," she said back.
Then they made out all night long.