Title: Smurfs
Rating:PG-13
Disclaimer: The show or characters ain't mine, ok?
Characters: Spike (with the rest of the cast)
Genre: general
WordCount: 1,224
Summary: Somewhere around the series finale, Spike considers how much Angel and his friends are like the Smurfs, including himself. [And me? I'm Greedy Smurf. Do I look it?]


Ever seen the cartoon with the little blue men?

Right, okay, let me explain myself. I'm not a bloody loony, again. Really I'm not. Nor have I been seeing Dru lately. Believe me.

It's just – The Smurfs. That was the sodding title! I remember watching that thing. Remember sitting in some worn basement in the '80s having Drusilla stare at the TV set in absolute awe. She loved that damn show. Said Miss Edith couldn't get enough of it.

Having heard Head-boy mention it about Illy, it just dawned on me how similar those bleedin' buggers are to our band of not-so-blue individuals – least not, physically, I mean … can't really speak for the inside of us … after Fred's death and all.

Smurfs, though. Right. Angel's Papa Smurf, as much as it pains me to say. It's not that he's wise or anything (because that'll never happen, y'know). But they follow him 'round. All of them see him as their leader – their so called champion, yeah? Even after yesterday's fiasco with killing Drogyn, we still all, one by one, raised our arms in concurrence with Peaches' plan, I being the first, 'shamed to say. (Hey, like I said to Bluebird, Angel's not my leader. Only figured that his idea for bringing down the Senior Partners was probably the best choice we had. Just needed to have that point expressed thoroughly to avoid confusion. Got it? Good.)

Well, getting off the Papa Smurf analogy, he's also Grouchy Smurf, which is a helluva lot more easily distinguishable, innit? Angel is the tall, dark, and broody vampire, remember? And if he shrunk in size, got colored blue, I could just imagine the poof, sinking his eyebrows, and whine, "I hate …" whatever it is. Oh, don't just look at me like that. You know you're with me on it; just won't bloody admit it.

Wes. That's an easy one. Percy's Brainy, without a doubt. Sure, he's missing the black-framed glasses, but Fred told me he used to own a pair. Not hard to believe. Seriously, though, with all the info and trivia stuffed up his noggin, you're gonna tell me he's not one smart cookie. I've seen the git's office, it's got nothing but shelves of books, technology's number one laptop, and a printer. And for God's sake, his mates used to call him Head-boy!

Charlie's definitely Percy's opposite. Hefty Smurf. That's who Gunn is. I know I met him as the attorney – the hot shot, the Mr. Know-it-All, but all that was a soddin' cover-up made of nothing but fancy suits and Italian leather shoes. 'Neath it all, he was the muscle, I could tell. He was always the muscle. He was the rough-ridin' bastard of his city; had his brains comprised only of street smarts. Gunn believed in the brawl and nothing else – much like myself; could be why I tolerate him the most out of the lot that's left. He sought the bone-crushing experiences to solve his problems. His fists got him around and I respect that. He's strong, and sturdy, and Hefty. See?

Even Green Jeans is a smurf – a green one, but one, nonetheless, eh? He's got to be Vanity. I mean, where do I start to explain that? His narcissism. His clothes. The way he was only concerned about himself and ran his own bar before he got sucked into this stupid mess with Angel and his idiot friends. Not to mention the ever-so-ambiguous fact that he may or may not swing a certain way. I always wondered that about Vanity Smurf. Watched each episode and tried to figure out if he was some sort of "in the closet" type. Always wondered if the writers of a cartoon were really trying to say something. Never got the answer, though.

And moving on to Illyria. The bluest of us all. Illy is what got me thinking about all this nonsense. And, Wes was wrong; she's not just a smurf. She's Smurfette. She is the only girl (is Blue really a girl in her original form?) of the lot of us. She was created by the enemy, Gargamel, to infiltrate smurf territory and destroy the azure midgets. Illy came from evil – a part of her probably will always belong there. But she's gonna fight with us tonight. Smurfette was transformed into a good creature by the smurfs, and she remained loyal to them ever since. Was one of the gang after that. With the way she's bonded to Percy is probably proof that Illy'll follow in the cartoon's footsteps.

And me? I'm Greedy Smurf. Do I look it? Am I really that obvious? Well, it's that I want it all, understand? There are parts of me inside that don't all agree on something. My soul wants to do good. My brain – and other parts, actually – says I was better off getting through the nights by drinking and treating folks like the Happy Meals they were. See, I'm always in disagreement with myself. I want to be a thousand different people, live a thousand different lives, all in this one moment.

I want to make love to Dru 'neath the bright stars in Europe like we used. I want us to be the bloody animals we were – chasing the victim through the empty streets, always giving Dru a head start. God, how I yearn to feel that exhilaration again…

I want Buffy. I want to feel her beneath me – or on top of me, as she often was – and know that when she's closing her eyes between muffled moans of ecstasy she's thinking of me. I want to love her and her to love me back. I want the perfect life with her. I just want the perfect life. I want the stupid feeling of the sun on my skin, the warm of it diggin' deep into my blood and bones, heating this one hundred and plus year old corpse that I've been walking about in. And no, in case you were wonderin', these wants – it's not just to spite Angel. At least, it's not the only reason.

I want to forget every evil I've ever done. Want to relive the euphoria inside my gut as my skin sizzled in the Hellmouth's cave that day Buffy looked at me the way she did, big wet eyes and the most beautiful lie I've ever heard her tell me.

I want to remember the thrill in every kill. Want to relish the taste of sweet, luscious, blood as it descends down my throat in gulps.

I want the nice ones back. My mum, Joyce, Tara, Anya, Fred. I want them to live a long and happy life.

I want my vamp family back. Darla, Angelus, Dru, and I wreaking nothing but pandemonium and havoc allover China a million times allover again. I want Darla to bitch at me, I want Angelus to taunt me, I want Dru to talk madness to me.

I'm a bloody whirlpool of contradictions. And, these contradictions, I want them all. Each and every one. Too bad I'll never get 'em, eh? Talk about being Greedy.

I open the door to the bar, expecting to get very, very drunk. And with a final thought, I think that it's pretty bloody amazing the things you learn from little blue men.


Feedback on this crazy fic is greatly appreciated. Hope you enjoyed it!