bmblbee (bmblbee) wrote in bloodclaim,

A Consort's Holiday

TITLE: A Consort's Holiday 11/26
RATING : Very Adult
Disclaimer: I own none of the characters in
this story and make no money
off anything including
any products named.
SUMMARY: This story is a follow-up to
"What Happens In Vegas"

The newly mated couple decide
to take a little holiday.

Genre: Comedy.

Although he hadn't been here in years, Spike prided himself
on the fact that his memory was infallible.
He knew this was the right street.
He knew this was the right club, yet somehow it was not the
same at all.

Back in the sixties it was called The Hullabaloo.
A cartoony little dance hall full of drugs, drinks, and virgins
in miniskirts. All trusting and easily drained.

Walking the length of the line Spike inhaled deeply.
Well, some things didn't change. Still plenty of drugs, drinks,
and miniskirts.
Unfortunately there wasn't a virgin in the bunch.

Not that he cared.
Wouldn't dream of slipping off from his cuddly consort for
a quick nip.

"Forget it Spike. The only ass you will be biting tonight is mine."

'Damn! How the fuck does he do that?'
Spike stopped and slapped his and to his chest.
"PET! You wound me. Would never dream of..."

Xander who was clearly not buying the faux sincerity had
other things on his mind.

" Yea, yea, Vampire with morals. Hey, Spike, go get us a
spot in line. I'm going to go back and lock the car.
Wouldn't due to have all that blood stolen.
Not after what we went through to get it."

Not waiting for an answer, Xander trotted back in the
direction of the bloodmobile in the crippled people's park.
Spike shrugged and found a spot at the end of the line.

He hated waiting. In the old days he would have simply
ripped, shredded, and eaten his way to the front.
Now, well, he sighed, he was obviously whelp whipped.
Besides, when in Phoenix...

Spike stepped to the last place on the sidewalk.
Immediately all conversation stopped as every eye turned in his

A murmur began low and grew in intensity as everyone
pointed and stared. Then, like the red sea, the massive
mob of pseudo-humanity parted allowing Spike access to
the front of the club.

Cautiously Spike proceeded through the center of the now
silent crowd.
Approaching the velvet rope he now faced off with an eight
foot doorman that clearly had to have been the prototype for
the original Frankenstein.

Frank was huge from his size 22 shoes to the top of his - ?
That was the first clue to the theme change in the nonhullabaloo
Frank's square massive head was topped with a several
sizes too small cowboy hat.

The hat teetered precariously, constantly threatening to tumble
off. Surprisingly, it didn't.
Frank reared back, hands folded across his giant chest, as he
blocked the entrance from Spike's advance.

Scanning Spike from top to bottom, Frank was quickly getting
He hated it when someone fucked with his line organization.

"Who the fuck do you think........? SHIT! Master Spike?"

The gasp and look of astonishment on Frank's face caught
Spike off guard. He at first assumed Frank remembered him
from 40 years ago, but truth was Frank was probably still
on a metal slab waiting on the next lightning strike back then,
so confusion kept him waiting.

Grabbing Spike's hand and pumping it briskly,
Franks hat bobbed and wiggled. Spike now noted that it
only stayed in place due to the fact that it had been stapled
to his head. Ingenious really.

"Oh Master Spike, we are thrilled to have you here.
We are such big fans of your internet movie, The Starfish
It played a continuous loop on the club big screen for a week.
If there is anything I can do for you, you just let me know.
Please sir, we are dying to know. Will there be a sequel?"

Spike puffed up like a peacock under all the praise and
He had to admit it was true.
He had thrown out all the stops and was thrilled that his
performance had been captured for posterity.

"Possibly may be. We're reviewing scripts. Just haven't
found anything yet with some real meat to it. If you know
what I mean."
Spike and Frank shared a raucous laugh.

Returning to the end of line, Xander scanned frantically for
his vampire.
All eyes turned his way and the group gasp that followed
threatened to suck all the oxygen from the air.

Xander froze.

The lines again separated allowing Xander to see Spike
standing at the head talking to... Herman Munster?
Anyone else would have thought all this strange.

Xander grew up in Sunnydale.

He simply smiled, whistled, and walked confidently down
the center of the parted pack of patrons.

"So what's up, Spike? We allowed in or what?"
Frank clutched his borrowed heart and staggered back.
"Consort Xander?"

Before Xander could ask, Spike grabbed his arm and
tugged him quickly inside the thrumming, booming, building,
waving back at the doorman a friendly thumbs up.

"What the hell was that all about?"
Xander allowed himself to be led to the bar at the side
of the room.
"You underestimate my importance, Pet. Everybody
knows the reputation of William the Bloody."
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