Scenes from the BtVS/Walking Dead crossover I'm not writing
About 900 words. The subject line says it all:
Daryl had known there was something off about the guy the moment he’d met him. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but there were times when just being around him made the hairs stand up on the back of Daryl’s neck. This Spike guy hadn’t done anything wrong, really. He was a hell of a fighter, and hell, Daryl even kind of liked him, and that didn’t happen often. But that didn’t mean that Spike didn’t set off some alarm bells in his head. Daryl had learned a long time ago to trust his instincts when it came to shit like this, because he was usually right. Some people used to call his Nana a witch. Hillbilly magic, people said. Some thought it was just superstition, but his Nana, she used to know things. See things. Maybe it was in the blood. Maybe it was total bullshit. But better safe than sorry, Daryl always thought.
So Spike and his woman Buffy - and two more ridiculous names Daryl had never heard - had been at the prison almost two weeks when Daryl saw what he saw, and there was no unseeing it. And the puzzle pieces all fell into place, just like that.
“Spike’s a vampire,” Daryl said.
Glenn laughed out loud, but his mouth snapped shut quickly when Daryl glared at him.
“You think I’m makin’ this up? He was drinkin’ blood! I saw it, plain as day. I wondered why Buffy offered to clean my kills. She don’t seem like the domestic type, does she? And she ain’t. Can't skin a squirrel for shit. She was doing it for the blood. Guess we should be glad he’s stickin’ to animals. For now, at least.”
Maggie grimaced. “Maybe it was somethin’ else he was drinkin’, Daryl. Maybe it was…cranberry juice.”
Daryl rolled his eyes. “Yeah. Squirrels bleed cranberry juice. I saw what I saw. Plus, think about it. You ever seen him outside during the day? Ever?”
Rick scratched the back of his neck. “Come to think of it, he does always take the night watch.”
“He’s rather…pale,” Hershel offered.
“You guys…come on! A vampire?” Glenn said.
Carol took a step closer to Daryl and wrapped her sweater around herself a little more tightly. “Right, that’s ridiculous. Because some undead creature walking around who wants to eat us would be weird.” Daryl kind of wanted to kiss her right then.
“Sorry Daryl,” Glenn said. “I'm not saying you're lying. It’s just…this reminds me of your chupacabra story.”
“Yeah,” Daryl said, pissed off now. “And that wasn’t no story either. It was the motherfuckin’ truth/”
“Chupacabra?” said a voice from behind him. A voice with a distinct English accent. Daryl spun around to find Spike standing right behind him. Sneaky bastard. “You run into one of them, mate?” He crossed his arms over his chest and shuddered melodramatically. “Nasty buggers, aren’t they?”
“I seen worse,” Daryl said.
“Bet you have. Lotsa things goin’ bump in the night these days, yeah? And in the daytime, too.” Spike moved closer so that he was now just on the edge of the loosely formed circle the group had made. “Truth is, mate, always have been. Most of you just didn’t know it. Not enough slayers to knock down all the baddies anymore. ‘Course, you all are the lucky ones. You got yourself the original, now.”
“Compliments will get you everywhere, Spike.”
“Countin’ on it, Slayer,” he said, as Buffy moved forward, coming to stand beside him.
“Original what?” Michonne finally spoke. Daryl could see her hands twitching at her sides, ready to grab her katana at a moment’s notice. “What the hell’s a slayer?”
Spike cocked his head and gave her an admiring glance. “Sure she ain’t one of yours, love?” he said to Buffy.
Buffy smiled. “I wish.” Michonne glared at the both of them, and Buffy laughed. “I don’t think she needs superpowers, though. She’s doing fine just the way she is.”
Michonne drew her sword. “I said, original what?”
“Slayer,” Buffy said, ignoring the katana that was a little too close to her face. “As in, Vampire Slayer. Though that’s kind of a misnomer, really. I’m much more versatile than that. But what I wouldn’t give for a few vampires to slay right now,” she said wistfully. Spike cleared his throat. “Uh, present company excluded, honey.” She smiled sweetly at Spike, and he laughed. “Seriously, though. Stake a vamp, poof of dust, Bob’s your uncle. Easy peasy. Walkers, on the other hand? Are icky.”
Daryl bit the inside of his cheek, fighting back a smile.
“Why’s he the exception?” Maggie asked, nodding towards Spike.
She hooked her arm through Spike’s. “Spike has a soul. He doesn’t hurt people anymore.”
Carol frowned. “Did you say, ‘anymore?’”
“Hold on a minute! I’m sorry, but do you really expect me to believe all of this? I mean, you’re just bullshitting us, right?” Glenn said.
Spike gave Buffy a look. When she nodded, he cocked his head and gave it a shake, his handsome features sliding into something monstrous, till he was all bumpy forehead and yellow eyes and toothy grin, and Daryl was pretty sure from the way Glenn staggered backwards, until it was just the prison wall holding him up, that he’d been made a believer.
Daryl had known there was something off about the guy the moment he’d met him. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but there were times when just being around him made the hairs stand up on the back of Daryl’s neck. This Spike guy hadn’t done anything wrong, really. He was a hell of a fighter, and hell, Daryl even kind of liked him, and that didn’t happen often. But that didn’t mean that Spike didn’t set off some alarm bells in his head. Daryl had learned a long time ago to trust his instincts when it came to shit like this, because he was usually right. Some people used to call his Nana a witch. Hillbilly magic, people said. Some thought it was just superstition, but his Nana, she used to know things. See things. Maybe it was in the blood. Maybe it was total bullshit. But better safe than sorry, Daryl always thought.
So Spike and his woman Buffy - and two more ridiculous names Daryl had never heard - had been at the prison almost two weeks when Daryl saw what he saw, and there was no unseeing it. And the puzzle pieces all fell into place, just like that.
“Spike’s a vampire,” Daryl said.
Glenn laughed out loud, but his mouth snapped shut quickly when Daryl glared at him.
“You think I’m makin’ this up? He was drinkin’ blood! I saw it, plain as day. I wondered why Buffy offered to clean my kills. She don’t seem like the domestic type, does she? And she ain’t. Can't skin a squirrel for shit. She was doing it for the blood. Guess we should be glad he’s stickin’ to animals. For now, at least.”
Maggie grimaced. “Maybe it was somethin’ else he was drinkin’, Daryl. Maybe it was…cranberry juice.”
Daryl rolled his eyes. “Yeah. Squirrels bleed cranberry juice. I saw what I saw. Plus, think about it. You ever seen him outside during the day? Ever?”
Rick scratched the back of his neck. “Come to think of it, he does always take the night watch.”
“He’s rather…pale,” Hershel offered.
“You guys…come on! A vampire?” Glenn said.
Carol took a step closer to Daryl and wrapped her sweater around herself a little more tightly. “Right, that’s ridiculous. Because some undead creature walking around who wants to eat us would be weird.” Daryl kind of wanted to kiss her right then.
“Sorry Daryl,” Glenn said. “I'm not saying you're lying. It’s just…this reminds me of your chupacabra story.”
“Yeah,” Daryl said, pissed off now. “And that wasn’t no story either. It was the motherfuckin’ truth/”
“Chupacabra?” said a voice from behind him. A voice with a distinct English accent. Daryl spun around to find Spike standing right behind him. Sneaky bastard. “You run into one of them, mate?” He crossed his arms over his chest and shuddered melodramatically. “Nasty buggers, aren’t they?”
“I seen worse,” Daryl said.
“Bet you have. Lotsa things goin’ bump in the night these days, yeah? And in the daytime, too.” Spike moved closer so that he was now just on the edge of the loosely formed circle the group had made. “Truth is, mate, always have been. Most of you just didn’t know it. Not enough slayers to knock down all the baddies anymore. ‘Course, you all are the lucky ones. You got yourself the original, now.”
“Compliments will get you everywhere, Spike.”
“Countin’ on it, Slayer,” he said, as Buffy moved forward, coming to stand beside him.
“Original what?” Michonne finally spoke. Daryl could see her hands twitching at her sides, ready to grab her katana at a moment’s notice. “What the hell’s a slayer?”
Spike cocked his head and gave her an admiring glance. “Sure she ain’t one of yours, love?” he said to Buffy.
Buffy smiled. “I wish.” Michonne glared at the both of them, and Buffy laughed. “I don’t think she needs superpowers, though. She’s doing fine just the way she is.”
Michonne drew her sword. “I said, original what?”
“Slayer,” Buffy said, ignoring the katana that was a little too close to her face. “As in, Vampire Slayer. Though that’s kind of a misnomer, really. I’m much more versatile than that. But what I wouldn’t give for a few vampires to slay right now,” she said wistfully. Spike cleared his throat. “Uh, present company excluded, honey.” She smiled sweetly at Spike, and he laughed. “Seriously, though. Stake a vamp, poof of dust, Bob’s your uncle. Easy peasy. Walkers, on the other hand? Are icky.”
Daryl bit the inside of his cheek, fighting back a smile.
“Why’s he the exception?” Maggie asked, nodding towards Spike.
She hooked her arm through Spike’s. “Spike has a soul. He doesn’t hurt people anymore.”
Carol frowned. “Did you say, ‘anymore?’”
“Hold on a minute! I’m sorry, but do you really expect me to believe all of this? I mean, you’re just bullshitting us, right?” Glenn said.
Spike gave Buffy a look. When she nodded, he cocked his head and gave it a shake, his handsome features sliding into something monstrous, till he was all bumpy forehead and yellow eyes and toothy grin, and Daryl was pretty sure from the way Glenn staggered backwards, until it was just the prison wall holding him up, that he’d been made a believer.