Title: What’s on the Telly?
Setting: BtVS S4; AtS S1, In The Dark.
Word count: 371
Prompt: Lights! Camera! Haunting!
A/N: Okay, so I’m actually going for some stupid camping thing in like nine hours, first thing in the morning, no more fics for me. D: This has been very fun. Thank you, mods!
“Oh, Seraph, take me now!”
“But what of my curse, Betty? I must keep away from you, the noble creature of the night that I am.”
On the television screen, a blonde, busty girl leaned into the muscular arms of a tall dark-haired man, both their expressions wrought with pain.
“I don’t care; I can’t stay away from you any longer!”
And so with a growl, the man bent to kiss her—or perhaps bite her—
“What the bloody hell is goin’ on here?” Another figure stomped his way onscreen, fuming. His features could not be seen clearly (he was not wearing any makeup for television), but he did have two distinctive features: a long, sweeping leather coat, and a shock of platinum hair. “Lorne!”
Off-screen, a panicked voice whispered urgently, “Spike, wait—”
“I’m not waitin’ till I get an explanation! There I was, just ghostin’ around, when I float into this room and hear this tripe being waved about. Does Angel know about this? Oh wait, must’ve been his idea.”
“Spike!” A little louder now, but still hushed. “Don’t—”
“Don’t tell me to do anything.” He glared somewhere off the set, and then at the two stricken actors.
“Is this what passes for entertainment nowadays? Dark and broody,” he pointed at the man, then turned to the girl, “Poutin’ and whinin’.”
“No, listen, this is import—”
“Do I look like I give a bloody damn?” He threw his arms into the air. “Nothin’ thrillin’ ‘bout… theatrics and… stupid so-called forever love… an’ I’d wager he leaves at the end for her own good, when he’s just runnin’ scared, ‘cept it won’t be really over and she’ll just keep havin’ this thing with him and sodding amulets and Angel-breath!”
He paused to take breath for another rant, and the one off-screen took the moment to interject, “You’re on air!”
The blonde man froze, then turned to stare straight at the camera in disbelief.
A sharp click and the television fizzled to black. Remote in hand, a grim-faced blonde woman walked from the couch to the door.
“Where are you going?” a brown-haired girl still on the couch asked, but it didn’t sound very much like a question.