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Spike was having a nice little nap in his new home when the door banged open. Jerking awake, he glowered resentfully at the intruders, a barbed comment halfway to his mouth before he saw Ms. Calendar there. She was with the Watcher, of course, joined at the hip as they were, wearing his bloody sweater and everything. Nauseating. “Ms. Calendar,” he said, giving her a polite nod, and then turned his attention towards the Watcher. “Brought that idiot, did you? You’re always welcome, but he’s not.”
The Watcher, however, was not paying very much attention to Spike. His eyes scanned the crypt, his brow furrowed. “Is this…” he mumbled, half to himself, and then shook his head. “No.”
“Rupert’s here to pay you,” said Ms. Calendar. “And I’m here to say thanks.” She smiled, sweetly, and Spike’s heart swelled. “If you hadn’t turned him over to me, I can’t imagine what he’d have gotten himself into. Did you know that his genius plan was to try and get Ethan to reverse the Fyarl curse?”
“Jenny,” said the Watcher, ducking his head, “I-I did apologize for—”
As though the Watcher hadn’t said a word, Ms. Calendar continued. “Seems like he wanted to get everything un-fucked before I found out he went out drinking with Ethan Rayne. And I do know you only brought him to me to make a point, but he’s safe, now, so thank you.”
“Well, he’s your problem, isn’t he?” said Spike. “Wouldn’t be right to let him get jumped by soldiers and muscled into one of those holding cells.” Ms. Calendar’s smile trembled for just a moment, as though she hadn’t thought of that. Spike wanted to kick himself. “Anyway, all’s well that ends well,” he added hastily, “and—well—I’ll still take the money from him, but you don’t need to pay me a thing. Would’ve done it for free if you asked.”
Now Ms. Calendar’s smile had flattened out into that expression of annoyed indifference. “Not interested,” she said.
“Nor am I,” said Spike, insulted by the presumption. “You’re a proper lady. Watcher’s partner, and you look after the kids. Know how to pay my respects, that’s all.”
“And Rupert doesn’t get any respect?”
“He does not,” said Spike with great satisfaction. “Bastard chained me up in the bathtub and made me miss my soaps.” The Watcher had gone back to staring at the crypt. “Yeah, nice place, innit?” said Spike proudly. “Could do with a bit of tidying, but I’ve only just moved in, so—”
“Oh, Christ,” said the Watcher, and went white.
Ms. Calendar looked towards the Watcher with some surprise. So did Spike. “Rupert, are you okay?” asked Ms. Calendar.
The Watcher had now gone an entertaining shade of puce. “YES!” he said. “YES, JENNY, I AM PERFECTLY FINE, BUT WE REALLY MUST BE GOING, SO WHY DON’T WE—” He rummaged in his pocket, pulling out a wad of bills and shoving it in Spike’s general direction. When Spike didn’t take it, he let the bills fall. “LOVELY. YES. THANK YOU FOR YOUR ASSISTANCE, SPIKE.”
Spike was intrigued. To buy himself some time, he said, “Hang on, let me count before you’ve dashed off!” and made a show of picking up the bills, stooping to rummage in the dust while pretending not to listen in on the whispered conversation.
“Seriously,” Ms. Calendar was saying. “What’s going on?”
“He Can Hear Us,” said the Watcher. “If You Don’t Remember, We Aren’t Talking About It Right Now.”
“If I don’t—?” A strange pause, and then, in a similarly horrified tone of voice. “Oh my God. Rupert, is this where we—?”
“NOT IN FRONT OF THE VAMPIRE,” the Watcher hissed through his teeth.
Spike straightened up, bills in hand. This required further investigation. “What,” he said, grinning lasciviously, “’s this one of the places you two got busy?”
The Watcher’s face was frozen in rictus. Ms. Calendar said, flaming red, “Um!” and started trying to back towards the doorway.
Got it in one. Obviously Spike wasn’t bothered—the thought of the two of them together was stirring, to say the least—but he couldn’t resist the opportunity to twist the knife a bit. “In my home?” he said, loud and exaggeratedly horrified. “How the bloody hell am I supposed to feel homey here when I can smell the two of you all over? As though it wasn’t bad enough, you going down on her in the kitchen when you thought I couldn’t hear—” (the Watcher groaned and buried his face in his hands) “—now I’ve got your sex life haunting me like the Ghost of bloody Christmas Past? I’m a decent, respectable vampire, you know. Never brought anyone over to shag in my bathtub while you two could hear me. What is it about the two of you that has you going at it like rabbits whenever and wherever you—”
“Oh, shut up, Spike,” said the Watcher into his hands.
Ms. Calendar had stopped looking mortified and was now just looking at Spike like she knew he was putting it on, which was the whole reason Spike liked her so much in the first place. “You’re bluffing,” she said. “You can’t possibly still smell us here, or you’d have brought it up the second we showed up. You don’t have any proof of anything, so why don’t you just—”
She stepped back. Her foot caught in something. All eyes went to what, exactly, had tangled around Ms. Calendar’s heel: a pair of dusty, ripped, pomegranate-colored knickers. A pair that exactly matched the underthings that the Watcher had been putting away with the rest of the laundry two weeks ago, elbowing Spike out of the way as he tried to sabotage any and all folding attempts.
“You know what,” said Ms. Calendar in a strangled tone of voice, “I think Rupert and I are due somewhere else.”
“The way you two carry on, I wouldn’t be surprised if you’re due soon enough,” said Spike significantly.
“I will take that money back,” the Watcher warned.
“You will not,” said Spike, drawing himself up as tall as he could. “You’re one of the White Hats, remember? And you said you’d give me the money, and you did give me the money, so now it’s my money, and taking it back would be thievery. Which is evil. Which you can’t be, because it’s not allowed—”
He danced back before the Watcher’s punch could land, grinning wickedly. Ms. Calendar grabbed her beau’s arm and towed him out of the crypt without so much as a by-your-leave.
Always fun, having visitors.