The Book

'What's this?'

'Put that down, now!'

'But what is it?'

'Spike, don't touch it; put it down.'

'Spike!'

'OK, OK, jees! Look. Putting precious stack of, (what is this?), scribbles down. See, not touching stack of torn out note paper!'

'So...'

'So what?'

'What is it?'

'It's nothing to do with you. Mind your own business!'

'Uh huh. Well, I've only been able to read for one hundred and twenty six years, and I know that's not long, but I swear I saw a W in that scribble, and then, let me see, what was that? Oh yes! A pesky little I and then definitely two Ls so, as I say, I'm not the world's great literate, but I think that spells WILL. So it fucking is to do with me.'

'I'll tell you, shall I? What it is? It's defunct, Spike. Since you got here; it's defunct.'

'Hey, I have never defuncted you, ever.'

'It's defunct because you NEVER let me have any peace. All day, all night, no peace. All night you're prancing around trying to decimate the demon population of LA. During the day, when I'm at my desk, you're sitting on it. Being bored. When I try to sleep you... Ahhh...'

'What? Do this? And maybe this, just here?'

'Ahhh!'

'And what? This is bad, is it? This is being defunct, is it... when I lick here?'

'Oh God, Spike, just shut up, and suck it!'

'OK, but by the way, mate. I have NEVER pranced!'

Pillock. He thinks by getting me to suck him for a couple of hours I'm gonna forget about the stash of papers under the bed. So I pick my moment. I wait till his long day is over. I wait till he spreads his heavy limbs on the bed. I wait till he puts his head on my chest, waiting for my arms to wrap him up, so this dark defender, this Master Vampire can sleep feelin' safe and loved. I wait till he's on the brink of that great divide and stroking his soft hair, hiss in his ear.

'So? What is it!'

I knew it. I've been waiting all day. He's been quite restrained for Spike. But he knows how to pick his moment. All I want now is to tip over into sleep with the feel of his slim body beneath me, to be at peace knowing his strong arms are around me, but I know I'll never get any of this if I don't answer him.

'Alright, you win. It's a book. I'm writing a book. Was writing a book.'

'Stop it, Spike, you're jiggling me off. Stop laughing. Spike, I am two hundred and fifty years old. I am a Master Vampire. I am the only vampire in the world to have a soul. Ever. And I've been to hell and come back. I thought I might have some interesting stuff for a book.'

And I guess I had to agree with him there. Oh, but this is priceless.

'Yeah, in a min', mate, this is good.'

This is absolute crap. I've read some crap in my time. Well, okay I don't read. But I know crap when I see it:

I mean, what the fucking hell is that all about? This needs some revision. Where's the sodding pen?

'You've got a Beta pet, that's all. I'm gonna be your Beta.'

'My what and YOU? You're illiterate, and what's this supposed to be?'

'The first time I saw him i was mesmorised by his eyes and his body. I stalked him for days. Following his every move. I hunted him like the great predater I am. And when the moment was right. I took him. Like a jungle beast I consummed him. I pushed him roughly against the alley wall and ripped his clothes off his back. He didn't murmour at all he knew what was coming and wanted it. With no preparation I thrust into him and I screamed from the sheer pleasure of his tight arse round my cock ...'

'Spike, you can't put this sort of stuff into a book. This is going to be a scholarly, academic book for Watchers and other students of the occult. It is not going to detail a pile of obscene fantasies of yours. No one is going to want to read that. Beside the fact it's completely untrue and miss spelt!'

'Errr, think you're wrong there, mate.'

'No, you don't spell mes...'

'Not the soddin' spelling, mate, who gives a fuck about spelling? No, about people wantin' to read it. You're wrong. They will.'

'Are you trying to tell me that people would pay to read this sort of stuff?'

'Well, I wouldn't go so far as 'pay', pet. But if it was free, then they would. Oh yeah!'

'It's a sick world!'

'Sure is.'

'And Spike...'

'What?'

'I'd NEVER use the word arse.'

'Vampire Childer can often be unpredictable and have a tendency to lose control of their own power in the early months. They need careful monitoring by their sires, preferably if said sire is much older and wiser than the childe in question. This was exactly the case with, Will, who at this time, preferred to be called William the Bloody. He became restless and unpredictable in his feeding habits and often had to be restrained and guided into more appropriate behaviour.'

Fuckin' lies. Total shitting lies. The pillock. That's just gotta be improved...

'My beloved Will played on every senseual part of my body. I could deny him nothing. Whatever he wanted, I gave him. He fed vorassiously, vorashiously, all the fuckin' time and I encouraged him. Shit, I brought him virgins, children, fuckin' village football teams, whatever he wanted. And I fucked him in their blood...'

'SPIKE!'

'SPIKE! Where are you? You little toe rag. I'm warning you, if you touch my book again, I'll...'

'You'll what, Angel? Tell me. I'm dying to know what you think you could do to me that might frighten me?'

'I'll tell the real truth'

'Oh'

'It's French', I say with a smirk.

'Well I can't soddin' read it now!'

'Err... duh! And just how long did we live in France together?'

'I was eatin' 'em, not fuckin' learning their language, ponce. So what does this bit say then?'

'Spike, the whole point of putting it into French was so you couldn't read it.'

'Stop being a poofter, Angel. You know you love my revisions. You know you want it. You want it like this, don't you? And revised a little bit like this, hey?'

'Spike, you are not going to suck your way to a translation... oh god, mind your teeth, no don't... ahhh... OK!'

'By this time, William the Bloody was calling himself Spike. He seemed to find some sort of psychological escape from his own imperfections in the constant changing of his name.'

'There, happy now? That's what that bit says.'

'Spike?'

'Spike! What?'

'Spike, why won't you talk to me?'

'Dunno Mate, must be me fuckin' psychological imperfections.'

'Look, if you disagree with my version of our history, why don't you write your own book? You can say what you like then. It can sort of juxtapose my version. Be the antithesis of this one.'

'You are so fuckin' transparent, mate. If you think by using big soddin' words, that you probably couldn't even spell, you're gonna put me off doing just that, then you are a sad, sad tosser. Cus I fuckin' will. I'm gonna write a book, and I'm gonna call it "Spike's Story"!'

'Where's what?' What a sad wanker. He's been looking everywhere. He looked in all the places he was sure I'd never go like the washing machine and the closet. Then he looked in all the places he knows I do go, the couch, the TV, me PS2... Shit, I've gotta get out more! But he can't find it. Won't either. Not just yet anyway!