Rating: PG, cuz there's just the tiniest possible suggestion of slash…
Feedback: I'd like that very much, thank you.
Spoilers: Hmm. If you've seen season four, you're good to go.
Distribution: Here. If you're interested, please let me know.
Summary: Spike searches for his one true love… over and over and over and over…
Author's Note: I've actually seen Spike believably paired with everyone mentioned in this fic (with one exception), but I just wanted to sort of parody us, the fic writers, who have in fact stuck him with every possible person.
Disclaimer: All characters are owned by Mutant Enemy (Joss Whedon), a wonderfully creative company whose charcters I have borrowed for a completely profit-free flight of fancy. Kindly do not sue me, please, as I am terrified of you. Thank you.
Dedications: To all the wonderful writers out there. This is not meant as an insult to anyone's ship of choice.
Sympathy for Spike
Spike the perfectly gorgeous vampire was walking down the main street of Sunnydale one fine summer evening. He grinned seductively, making all the females in the universe weak at the knees.
Spike was in love. Of course, Spike was always in love. Spike equals lover. With great bliss, he thought of his dark princess Drusilla.
"Ah, Dru, my evil unsouledmate," he murmured to himself though absolutely no one was around to hear. "How I adore her!"
Without warning, he turned a corner and there was Drusilla, sitting on a park bench, waiting for him.
"Spike," she said in that tone of voice that every male dreads, "I have something to tell you."
"What is it, my little fallen angel?"
"I don't love you. I'm leaving you. Goodbye."
All the other females in the universe gasped in disbelief at the insanity of the vampiress for letting the perfect man slip through her fingers.
"But my ripe wicked plum, my queen of the night, my naughty duck!" he cried in dismay. "Why are you leaving me so forsaken?"
"I don't like the way your aura turns different colors in the moonlight," she whispered esoterically, then vanished.
Spike was heartbroken. He sat on the park bench and wept, making all the females in the universe curse his former love. Just as he was about to stake himself in grief, who should walk past but Buffy. His eyes suddenly lit up with tenderness.
"Buffy!" he called out. "I've realized I am head over Doc Martens in love with you. You are perfection, Slayer, from your dyed blonde head down to your stilletoed feet. I shall spontaneously combust if you will not return my affections!"
"Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeewwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww!" uttered the Slayer. In fact, she uttered it for a lot longer than that. The e's and the w's could go on for pages and pages. While she was ewwing, the sun rose and set five times, and Spike was forced to seek protection from its deadly rays under a stray piece of newspaper.
"So, you don't like me, then?" he asked tentatively.
Buffy threw up on his shoes, and then ran away.
"I'll take that as a no."
Spike settled back down on the park bench and a single tear drifted down his perfect cheekbone, causing all the females in the universe to sob hysterically. Just as he had decided to watch the sunrise, who should walk past but Willow. Once more, his blue eyes filled with boundless passion.
"Willow!" he said as he fell down at the hacker's feet. "I am deeply, irrevokably in love with you! Your intelligence, your beauty, your wit, your kindness, your chocolate chip cookie recipe… they have won my devotion forevermore! Make me the happiest vampire in the world and say you will be mine!"
Willow's green eyes lit up briefly, but then she her expression changed to one of deep regret.
"Sorry, Spike, but, well, you know, I'm kind of gay now, so it really wouldn't work out between the two of us. If you ever undergo a sudden sex change, call me, though," she said in a consoling tone, patting him sympathetically on his leather-clad shoulder before walking away.
Once more, a grief stricken Spike plopped back onto the bench and raised his glorious cobalt orbs to the heavens, mourning the death of another deathless love. All the women in the universe stared slack-jawed at the retreating back of the witch. One women named Ellen called out, "Hey, there's a point where even I'd switch!" Spike had decided to decapitiate himself with a nail file when who should walk by but Jenny Calendar. As though the breath of life had just filled his long-dead lungs, his eyes sparkled with passionate feeling.
"Jenny!" he begged as he caught the edge of her long peasant skirt and kissed it fervantly. "Although I know I am too evil to even be considered by the likes of such a goddess as thee, know that my heart, did it beat, would chorus the name Jenny with each pulse, ringing that seraphic sound to the stars above! Dear, sweet Jenny, say that you might one day feel even a small mite of this emotion that sweeps over me like a hurricane!"
The computer teacher stared in disbelief at the hem-smooching vampire. "Do I even know you?"
"I'm Spike. We've met," he said in a hurt tone.
"Well, you're cute and everything, but sorry, nope. I'm dead," she explained as she resolved into mist.
"So am I! Don't you see! We have so much in common," he yelled into the dissipating vapor.
Once more Spike collapsed onto the park bench, his face hidden under his black-polished fingernails as endearing little muffled sniffs escaped from his pouty lips. The women of the universe declared Jenny a fool for not getting herself reborn simply to date the blond vampire. Spike had come to the conclusion to end it all by guzzling a gallon of holy water, when who should walk by but Cordelia. His heart beat with renewed fervor, well, metaphorically at least, and he leapt to his feet and caught her round the shoulders.
"Cordelia!" he whispered into her ear. "I am so enamoured of you that the world could fall away and I would not notice if I could but gaze into your lovely chocolate eyes! I shall perish if I cannot have you!"
"Well, duh, you're already dead," she snarked. "And get your mitts off of me. There is no way I'm dating a guy who's stuck in a 1982 Billy Joel phase."
"That's Billy Idol," he shot defensively.
"Whatever. No way, lame brain." With that, she teetered off into the night on her 5-inch heels.
Yet again Spike retreated to the comfort of his park bench. This time, he threw himself headlong across the seat, burying his face in the pine boards so that all that was visible of him was his blond hair and his long leather duster. The women of the universe declared Cordelia a stuck-up snob who should be forced to wear narrow horizontal stripes for a year. Spike had come to the conclusion the only way to end his pain was to impale himself on a shish kabob when who should walk by but Angel.
"What the hey?" he muttered to himself. "All the females have dumped me. Might as well try the other side. Angel! Hey, broody boy, you fancy a bit of snogging?"
The uppercut Angel dealt to Spike's chin sent him sprawling thirty feet away.
"Is that a no?" he called to the other vampire's retreating form.
Spike had given up hope of ever finding his true love. With a soul shuddering sigh, he returned to the park bench, his head hanging in defeat. And that's exactly what he saw: de feet of someone standing right in front of him.
Slowly he raised his indescribably handsome face upwards to find himself looking into the face of …
"Tara? What you doin' here? Shouldn't you be off with Willow, floating blissfully at the Bronze?"
"Spike, I am completely in love with you," the blonde shyly admitted. "I have been, for weeks and weeks. Your name is written upon the face of my soul, and no amount of tears have been able to expunge it. Could you possibly even consider…"
Spike regarded her critically for a moment, then said, "You know, you're not a bad looking bird. Yeah, all right, I'll give you a whirl."
And all the women in the universe hated Tara forever, because she was the one lucky enough to get Spike….
At least until the next episode, where she was suddenly put out of comission when a grand piano dropped on her head, forcing Spike to once again begin searching for his true love.