Hi Elena. Greg and I are watching Season 2, except I'm not watching so much as trying not to fall asleep before he's ready to go to bed.

Have you seen my LJ? I wrote a Spike and Dru story for sj.

I saw, have not read, and you should post it here.

Hi Elena and Deena. How are you both?

I guess Victor didn't listen to us.

Pout.

eta:

you should post it here.

yes, you should.

Perkins, I'm good, thanks. You?

I'm thinking about what to write for my slashfic assignment. Does anyone remember which episode had naked!Angel on top of Wes?

Hi Perkins!

Okay, I don't think sj would mind if I post it here.

Signed,
Obvously too tired for posting in any kind of normal way.

Hee.

Ragtime to Jazz; A Spike and Dru Adventure

"Aoiw! Aioooow! That noise, that noise, make it stop!" Dru covered her ears with her hands and made piteous little mewling noises.

"That's ragtime, gal, that's what that is! The hottest thing in this here country, Mr. Joplin's song, Maple Leaf Rag. Why, it's sold more sheets than any other music in the world!" The man grinned at Spike. "Tell your little lady that's the best darn music ever and we created it, we did, right here in New Orleans!"

Spike nodded at the odd little man jigging to the music as he moved past them on the boardwalk, then grabbed Dru's arm and drug her into the nearest alley.

"Dru, love," he bent lower to look into her face. Nothing. He gripped her shoulders tightly and shook her, her head bouncing on her long neck, her long bony fingers glued in hooks to her ears.. She continued to mew. He backhanded her angrily and then shook his head, running his fingers through his hair in frustration and guilt, as she bounced off the wall in front of him. He shouldn't have done that. Now she'd be wanting some follow-through.

"Love? Am I then? Why am I here in this place hearing that awful, awful noise, then?" Dru snarled at him. "It's dirty here, and it smells funny. The people talk strange and I don't like them. Even the trees are haunted with all those blowsy bits hanging off." She drew herself up, all affronted dignity. "Some of those people carry guns to blow one another to bits. I don't like seeing that, I don't, all the bloody bits and I didn't make them."

Spike sighed and set to soothing her. Thankfully, they were interrupted before it turned into an absolute brawl.

"Here now, you hit that lady?" A beefy guy with a rolling gait walked a few feet into the alley, peering at them in the gloom.

"And what if I did?" Spike muttered, hands on his hips. "You going to make something of it then?"

"Bloody toff." The man spit and then walked further in the alley, carefully holding his hands away from his body. "The missus wants to see you." He reached carefully into his inner jacket pocket and drew out a card. "Away there," the man said, pointing across the street from the mouth of the alley.

Spike eyed the card disdainfully. "and why's that?" he sneered, but Drusilla darted forward and grabbed the bit of pasteboard out of the man's hand. Spike laughed at the man's startled look. The bird was fast when she wanted to be. He deserved the startlement, if not a great bloody lot more, for the insult. Toff, indeed.

She stood in front of Spike, almost dancing in place while she clutched the card to her bony chest. "Can we William, sweet William? I want to go. There's going to lots and lots of very pretty fun to be had there." She crooned to the card and did a little dance step.

"Well, all right then." He smiled down at her but then looked up to scowl at the man. No sense looking like he was all soft now, was there? The man, however, had taken advantage of Spike's distraction and left. "Bloody good thing, too." Spike muttered to himself. Drusilla still danced with the card until Spike, suddenly impatient, grabbed her arm and jerked her back to some awareness. "Well, come on then, won't you? Haven't got all night." He let go of her and straightened his jacket and tie before tilting his hat at a rakish angle. He offered her his arm with a slight bow. "Let's go see what the lady wants shall we?" Dru giggled again and covered her mouth with the hand holding the card as she reached out with the other, almost shyly, and rested her hand on his arm with a slight bobbing curtsy. "That's all right then." He patted her hand and they stepped out of the alley together.

Canal Street was booming. Deals were being made with the nod of a head or the wink of an eye. Prosperous looking men with hard eyes and tough hands walked along, alone, with a group of men, or, once, with a woman on each arm. People of every color dashed down, strolled along or sauntered the boardwalks. The strange music rolled out the open doors and splashed the street. Very few of the people out and about this late at night seemed to be just walking, getting from one place to the other. It seemed more a place to see and be seen. There were no unescorted women, and fewer ladies.

Spike could, when he listened, make out some Mandarin, which made him flinch and feel a deep sense of satisfaction at the same time. He stretched and grinned. Yeah, bloody Chinese had been fun, even though he had lost track of Angel and Darla after that bit of a dust up. Of course, losing Angel could only be a good thing, the bloody git. He heard a smattering of Greek next. That had been a bit of all right, too. There was more Spanish, bloody prosing lot, and quite a lot of French in various dialects, a bit of fun, a bit of trouble, and a wide array of American accents. He abhorred American accents. They certainly didn't lend themselves to poetic speaking. He snorted. Not that he cared a fig about poetry anymore. He'd dropped that lot of rubbish a long time ago. Still, he didn't intend to start talking like an American just because he was here now. He didn't plan on staying long, just until he decided where to next.

As he listened to the voices around him, Spike and Drusilla sauntered across the street and up the steps of the imposing mansion on the opposite side. He stole a glance at Dru, but he never could tell what she was thinking, well, not unless she was torturing something, or being tortured. A Negro stood at the door of the mansion. He wore a white silk suit with a red turban, sash and red gloves. He bowed and took the card from Drusilla's hand. She pouted, but let him take it without even a flash of her eyes. He bowed to them both and opened the door, allowing them to enter.

"My dears," An older, but well-preserved woman swept toward them as they entered. Spike had an impression of dazzling chandeliers and beautiful paintings under a ceiling of gilt, before she was upon them, the smell of patchouli almost strong enough to make him sneeze. "Welcome to Storyville." She reached out and clasped Spike's hand, ignoring Dru. "I hope you didn't mind my asking you to come visit me."

"Ooooh, what a lot of pretty death has been riding hard through here, lathering all the horses and the girls. Such a lovely lot of deadly girls." Dru was ignoring the woman as well, staring through the entry and into the ballroom-sized lounge beyond with narrowly-slitted eyes.

"Dru…" Spike barely had the word out before she was gone, waltzing to some music only she could hear. She pulled Miss Edith out of her pocket and, holding her by each china hand, waltzed through the entry and on into the larger room.

He looked down at the woman clinging to him. She was a nice armful, large melon-breasts overflowing her bodice, her dress clinging to her rounded limbs quite nicely. He could see her nipples very clearly through the cloth of her gown and admired them. Too bad it was Dru he was hot for. Of course, he didn't really go for women this long in the tooth. Dru wouldn't like it and he didn't like being bossed. He smiled at her, realizing that his cataloguing of her charms hadn't phased her a bit. "And why did you ask us to drop round, then?" he asked.

"Oh, well, because I saw your," she paused delicately, "your work." She simpered at him, and then at Dru. He raised an eyebrow at her. "In the alley, I mean," she hastened to clarify.

"Which alley? What work?" His muscles tensed.

"Oh, just now, I meant…" She trailed off with a nervous titter. He just looked at her until she went on. "I thought, she's your girl, right?" The cultured accents fell away as the woman spoke, gaining confidence. "I need a man who can do that comfortably, you know, keep the girls in line, without wanting to break them, and that's always a problem," she shook her head regretfully. "I thought perhaps you wouldn't mind doing it for me as well as yourself. Give you both a little place to rest your heads awhile." She'd reached her stride by the time she'd finished and was looking meaningfully out at the house as if he should recognize her offer as being welcome, even desireable.

He was just about to tell her to sod off when Dru spoke up from the entrance to the other room. "Oh, do take her up on it darling Spike, darling Spike. I want to watch the horses riding through once or twice. Perhaps we can even call them? I want to dance with the little girls. She has very pretty little girls, don't you?"

The woman smiled stiffly. "Is she, quite.. quite?" She looked to Spike for help.

"Dru and me are just fine on our own. thanks."

The woman's voice hardened. "I can have a dozen bully boys from three different gangs show you just how wrong you are if you cross me." She looked him up and down with disgust. "It shouldn't be too hard for them to find you, a crazy woman and an Englishman in an ill-fitting coat with, if I'm not mistaken, blood on the collar."

Spike looked down. She was right. There was a bit of blood. Damn, and he'd been so careful last time. Still, he looked fondly at Dru, she never was and never got it on her so much as on him, and the walls, and anything else near where she happened to be at the time. He shrugged, small price to pay.

The woman's eyes widened with alarm when he shrugged. "Really, though, there's no reason for me to resort to threats. Please, come in. I've been terribly remiss. She released his arm and swept forward into the next room, taking Dru's hand and tucking it into the crook of her arm as she went. "We'll have some Madeira and you can tell me all about yourselves. Are you already working with someone?"

She didn't pause for an answer, pulling a bell in a corner and speaking in a quiet voice to the pretty girl who showed up immediately after, before swinging her skirts to the settee in the middle of the room and sitting down near the middle of it, pulling Dru down beside her. Spike, perforce, followed, eyeing the girl as she swayed back out the invisible door through which she'd entered. Invisible when closed, anyway. He admired that. She was a pretty coffee and cream coloured creature. He admired that too.

"Spike!" Dru was looking distinctly peeved at the direction of his thoughts, casting meaningful looks at the front of his trousers. He grinned at her and sauntered over to them.

"So, what's on?" The woman looked confused.

"You're a pretty duck, for such an old one." Drusilla leaned in and sniffed at the woman's neck. "What's your name, duck?"

"I, my name, Lulu, Lulu White," The woman looked flustered, unsure whether to respond to the implied insult of old age or the fact that Drusilla was suddenly licking her neck. She settled for wriggling a little away from Dru who suddenly lost interest and leaned back, talking to Miss Edith in a high-pitched baby-voice babble.

"So, Lulu." Spike smirked. "What's the deal then?"

She leaned toward him, casting a fearful glance at Dru. "Really, is she quite safe?"

Spike leaned toward Lulu and when he had her full attention, smiled at her. She smiled back. "No."

"No." She leaned back, thrown by the whole thing, and fanned herself with one plump hand. "I see." She took a moment to gather herself. "Mr…." She waited for a response.

"Spike'll do."

"Right. Mr. Spike." He waited, arms crossed across his chest, feet spread. Didn't matter. He'd hear her out while Dru was having fun and then they'd go find someplace she liked better.

"She is a silly old quacker, isn't she Miss Edith? All flouncing about with her breasts out and her butt covered in a big pillow."

"I want to hire your services to keep my girls in line."

"Oh, Miss Edith. Yes, you're quite right. We wouldn't like her near so much if she didn't like the horsies. Do you think she's gone quite round the bend?"

"And that means, exactly?"

Lulu looked flustered again, trying to ignore Dru's singsong commentary and the oddity of the whole interview.

"Well, I'm sure you're aware sometimes the girls don't like the men they have to partner, or they may malinger to avoid work."

"Do you suppose the horses work the girls every night, bringing armies of all the ugly bugs to eat them inside out?"

Spike motioned for the woman to continue.

"And, I'm sure you're aware there are men who could do the job who would mark the girls up for their own pleasure, or render them unfit to work. I noticed, well, when you were disciplining this young lady," the woman cast a nervous glance at Dru again, "that you didn't mark her at all, and she didn't…break."

"And what would I get for this service?"

"Room, board and your own use of the girls as you like and there aren't any clients for them." The woman sat up straighter, pleased she'd gotten him to talking price.

"Singing little girl songs and screaming them to mummy but mummy isn't here anymore, is she Miss Edith, unless, that is, mummy is the baddest girl?"

"Don't want your board, might like use of the girls." He threw his own glance at Dru. "Does that include her?"

Dru giggled.

"Well, of course, she's welcome. She's your girl." Lulu looked affronted. "Though if you'd like her to be of use to some of our clients, I think I have one or two who would find her, her kind, that is, a lovely girl like her attractive." She hurried on at the speculative look Spike gave her. "I'd have to approve any of your regular clients coming in my house."

"Oh, she's a lovely fowling piece to bring the horses in."