Work Text:
“So, wanna watch a movie?” asked Dawn. “How about Clueless? I bet you haven’t seen Clueless.”
“Didn’t Willow just say to do your homework?” said Spike. Willow and Tara were going out that night, and Spike was watching Dawn for them.
Dawn rolled her eyes. “Not only do I have to have a babysitter, you’re making me do homework? I thought you were supposed to be fun.”
“Fine. As long as no one blames me when you fail school.”
“I’ll do it later.” Dawn crossed her arms. “Hey, aren’t you, like, a hundred years old or something? Maybe you can help me with my history report.”
Spike raised his eyebrows. “What do you wanna know?”
“What can you tell me about the civil war?”
“You mean the American one? Nothing. I was across the pond and barely knew how to read.”
“Oh.” Dawn frowned. “How old are you, anyway?”
“Ah… A hundred and forty-something.”
“When’d you become a vampire?”
“1880.”
“Did you ever meet Queen Victoria?”
Spike scoffed. “No, I didn’t meet Queen Victoria. Have you met your president? You think I got an audience with the queen?”
“Oh. What about Winston Churchill?”
“No.”
“Darwin?”
“No.”
“Marie Curie?”
“No.”
“Have you met anyone cool?”
“Of course.” Spike scowled, offended. “You know, I saw Elvis. Saw him perform live in the fifties.”
“Mm.” Dawn didn’t look sufficiently impressed.
“Yeah. Actually…” He leaned in conspiratorially. “I killed Elvis.”
“Really?” Dawn’s eyes widened.
Spike grinned. “Yeah. Broke into his room, sucked him dry, and left him on the bathroom floor. You know how people still say they see him? They’re not crazy. It’s thanks to me. I sired him, and now he’s wandering around as a vampire.”
“Oh my god.”
Spike nodded. “Impressive, innit? See, I have gotten around.”
Dawn frowned. “But if you killed him, why’d everyone say it was drugs? I mean, wouldn’t the police have said something if all the blood was drained out of him? Why wasn’t there an investigation?”
Spike shrugged, glancing around the living room. “Dunno why they covered it up. Maybe they didn’t want to admit when his body disappeared on them. Anyway, don’t you have homework?”
“Forget about homework. How’d you get into his mansion?”
“You think I’m going to spill all my secrets?”
“Ugh, no fair.” Dawn pouted. “Fine. Did you meet anyone else cool?”
“I met Kurt Cobain once, after a show.”
“Did you kill him too?”
Spike looked appalled. “What? No. Why would I do that?”
“Um, because you’re a vampire? And you killed Elvis?”
Spike shook his head. “No, I wouldn’t. Bright young artist like him? No. Tragic, his death was.” He sighed. “I remember when I heard about it. I remember telling Dru—I had to remind her who he was. I remember she said—first she said some nonsense, that’s how she was” —he smiled fondly— “and then, ‘Poor bird won’t sing anymore.’”
“Mm.” Dawn was silent for a moment. “We have some Nirvana records around here somewhere. Buffy used to listen to them. I bet I could find them.”
Buffy. She’d been dead for months now. Dawn’s voice still caught in her throat when she mentioned her.
Spike just said softly, “If you like.”
After another moment of silence, Dawn said, “So if you wouldn’t kill Kurt Cobain, why Elvis? Didn’t you mind that he wouldn’t sing any more songs then?”
Spike shrugged. “He’d been at it for twenty years. It was getting old.”
“Huh.” Another pause. “So, who else have you met? And don’t just list more concerts.”
“You sure? ’Cause I could tell you some stories. You know, I was at Altamont—”
“I get it, you used to be a cool punk who went to all the cool concerts. But what about—”
“Used to?”
“Whatever. What about Amelia Earhart?”
“No. But what do you mean I used to be a cool punk?”
“Okay, I guess you’re still cool. But what about Emmeline Pankhurst?”
“Who was she again?”
“You know, the suffragette? Jeez, and you’re the one who was alive back then.”
“Oh right, her. She’s not the one who got herself run over by a horse, is she?”
“What? No. What are you talking about?”
“Some suffragette jumped in the way of a horserace, got trampled to make a statement. It didn’t work. Just made women look more hysterical and irrational.”
Dawn frowned. “I didn’t know about her. No, Emmeline Pankhurst was the head of the WSPU. She got arrested a lot.”
“Right. Her. I remember. They were entertaining, those suffragettes. Chaining themselves to fences and whatnot.”
“I wish I could do a report on them instead.”
“I could be more help with that one. Seeing as I was actually alive for it.”
“Mm-hmm. So, did you meet, um… Edgar Allan Poe?”
“No, he died before I was born.”
“What about Oscar Wilde?”
“Yeah, actually. I met him at a party once.”
“Really? Cool.”
“Yeah. We didn’t get to talk long. The others were hungry, and Angelus got impatient.”
“What happened?”
Spike smirked. “I don’t think Willow and Tara would like me telling you the rest.”
Dawn groaned. “Oh, come on. It’s probably not worse than what I’ve already seen.”
“Alright. If you’re sure you want to hear it…”
