Orchid: 'Allo, Pet!

Author: Chris Geary-Durrill
Rated: PG
Spoilers: None to my knowledge

I have got.

The best.

Girlfriend.

In the world.

If you don't believe me, come meet her.

How did we meet? That two hundred and fifty pound bundle of self-imposed misery Peaches called me to his office like he owns the bloody place and says to me, "Spike, I have a job for you."

So I says, "Yeah, what is it this time? Helpin' the hopeless get more helpless?"

And he says, "Shut up Spike."

I gives him the double fingered salute, "I'll do it, the job, not the shuttin' up, but it'll cost you."

Old gloom and doom gives me the stinkeye but he says anyway: "Every week I go down to the a certain room in the company infirmary and deliver a bouquet in person. This week I can't and it's none of your business why."

"Yeah," I says back and light up next to the "No Smoking" sign just to wank him off, "I'll do it, but it'll cost you."

"Spike, remember that dent you put in the Toronado last night? When you deliberately rammed it into that Humvee in Laurel Canyon for no real reason when you were supposed to be on stakeout at L.A. International? Instead of beating it out of your rank hide like I should, how about you deliver that bouquet like a good boy and I'll overlook how much it'll cost this firm to have the dents pounded out and the lawsuit dropped."

Fair enough, fair enough - though the hummer was being driven by...never you mind. As I was sayin', I took the job but not without at least two more double fingered salutes and Peaches throwin' a paperweight at my head which dented his nice Executive wall because I've always been a better ducker than he ever was a chucker.

Harmony, the cow, gives me the bouquet and more stinkeye just like what Peaches gave me. What I do now?

Seems nothin'. Ever since me and the blonder of the two Slayers got it on and shagged a house down and Harm heard about it, she's been ridin' my bum ever since.

Sod her, I was wantin' to tell you about my new bint.

'S brilliant! Now why didn't I think of that before? Cordelia - yeah, Peaches still feels responsible for her bein' that way, all coma-ish, but if you ask me, she brought it on herself; should have kept her legs crossed and Connor-me-lad would never have planted somethin' that shoulda been Jasmine but came out like stinkweed, homicidal stinkweed, that puts your's truly to shame in his unchipped and unsouled glory days.

'S too late for that.

So I drop a few floors and deliver the bouquet, not that she's in any condition to notice even if I set the bed on fire with her in it. Waste of money in my opinion, that weekly bouquet. Should spend the money on a lace negligee, arrange her all pretty like one of Dru's dolls...did I mention she's a looker? on that bed.

I'm ready to leave but the nurse, seems Peaches neglected to call ahead to warn them that the Big Bad was comin' in his place and everyone should head for cover no tellin' what he'll do! has the bloody cheek to tell me, me! that I just can't leave that poor girl alone; I need to sit with her and talk to her for at least an hour before I go, Angel's orders.

"Well, sod you Peaches!" I says, but I sit down, and she adds, "You should also hold Cordelia's hand, she's aware enough to notice it.

'Magine that. So I takes one of her pasty hands in mine, needs a manicure, leave it to Peaches to give a girl a bouquet when what she really needs is a bit of a file and polish! And the monitor she's hooked up to, her heart speeds ever so little bit. I drops it, it slows down. I picks it up, it speeds up. The bitch of a nurse says, "Make up your mind, Mr. Spike, and stop teasing the patient!"

I nearly tells Nursie to sod off but she's out before I can. So I sits down in the chair, wondering what to say.

So I tells Cordy about me new niece. And I shows her the pictures Buffy sent me. Sorcha, Hell of a name, sounds like somethin' you scrape off the bottom of a saucepan you forgot and left on the boil too long - says it's Irish, Gawd, those Irish! to please Peaches, not that he's noticed being too busy tryin' to be a plaything of fate and failing miserably... Why couldn't Buffy have given the kid a decent, English name that you can pronounce, like Susan? I mean, something you can at least spell! Can't wait for the poor lit'l girl's first day in Kiddie Garden. I'll bet you four out of five that the teacher gets it wrong every time and the kids call her Scorch!

What? Since when did Cordelia become my girl? That day.

I says to me, "Spike lad, you've had bugger all luck with women. Dru was crazy as a bedbug, but aside from that particular delicious charm she was fickle and used your heart like a dartboard every chance she got. Darla told you you were dirt and that she didn't "do" dirt when you made her an offer after Angelus got his soul back and did a runner. Harmony drives you spare, and Buffy took what Dru left behind and used it as a doormat even after you tried to give her everything. Now here's a bird what can't do that.

I mean, what have you got to lose?

It's not like she's going to get up and run off with some sticky-boogery Chaos demon, she's in a fuckin' coma!

She can't whine that you never take her anywhere, except for that one time, she hasn't said a word since you got here, she's in a fuckin' coma!

She can't drink up all your bourbon or steal your smokes; she's in a fuckin' coma!

She'll listen to everything you say without interruptin' half a dozen times: she's in a fuckin' coma!

You bring her a prezzie? It's always the right shape, size, style, color or blood type - how would she know of it's not? She's in a fuckin' coma!

You'll always know where she is, she can't run off on you because she's in a...yeah, where was I goin' with this?

So I sits there, and she's a looker, even with that tube stickin' out of her stomach ruinin' the lines of her hospital gown. Smells like hell though. So I goes through her nightstand and hey, someone gave her perfume, Dolche and Gabana or summat like that. Ain't Chanel #5 by a long shot, but it cut the smell in half.

Her hair needs combin' so I improve the view.

Face looks kind of bare, so I slap a fresh coat of paint on that too.

Nowwwww don't you start sayin' "Why Spikey, we didn't know you was some sort of poofter? How many pretty frocks do you own?"

Well sod off! Your bird can't see herself in the mirror but wants to look good and you got to look at her anyway? You learn the tricks, mate, you learn the tricks - or she winds up a fright even out of vamp face. I took good care of my Drusilla for over a hundred years, from beestung lips to beehive hair-dos (God, now there was a real hair don't!) and she never had any complaints. Dru did likewise for me, so bugger off!

Anyway, she's looking pretty good there, almost like one of us, so I does her nails - somebody had given her a couple of bottles of nail varnish. I does her toes, too. Nothin' fancy, just tasteful.

Soon the hour's up and the nurse chases me out. But she thanks me for staying and for "interactin" with my Cordy.

Already decided she was mine 'bout the time I started curlin' her hair with the curling iron. Right? Right!

So I slips Nursie a couple hundred dead presidents and tells her to see to it that my Cordy gets her face washed and moisturized and her clothes changed so she's not in those gowns all the time. The ones with the open back and no shape whatsoever.

And I comes back the next mornin' and gives her a dress, a long one that covers up those soddin' pressure bandages. But they won't let me put it on her, "It's not allowed, We'll do it for you."

I'm a bit pissed, but I let 'em. I was right, it fit. Then I does her hair and makeup.

After a few weeks of this they let me help feed her - ugly business with tubes, don't like to think about it, and massage her legs after I read that physical therapy manual I nicked from the nurse's station (Bloody hell that was boring - the things we do for love!)... and other things... nothin' nasty mind you, our Cordy is a lady, remember?

On the days Peaches comes, I just lay low in my suite. He's got his head so far up his own arsehole that he doesn't notice how good my girl been lookin' lately, right pet? And it's nothing but the best for my girl. Even had a hair dresser come in from Rodeo. He owed me a favor, or it would have cost a bundle; it was worth it. I think I can do what that ponce did, didn't like him touchin' my girl even if he is queer as a purple elephant at the North Pole. Sometimes they get curious and "cross the line" if you catch my drift.

Soooooo, what does Spike get out of it? A girlfriend who listens to him and won't run off when he disappoints her.

And a right looker too. Wish I could show my dark beauty off, but they won't let me take her out of the building. The two of us would look right smart on the street, lookin' at the shops, me buyin' her prezzies...god, I hope she never wakes up.

Because when she does, she'll hate me like all the others, even the ones that don't count.

And Spike will be all alone again.