To Be A Snake
Tuesday, August 29, 2000
Spike faced off with his prey, cold blue eyes staring into cold yellow ones. Both of them were coiled
tight, poised to attack, yet their bodies were perfectly still. Around them, everything was silent in
anticipation. Nothing even dared to breathe.
Without warning, Spike struck. A flash of fang, a loud hiss, followed by the triumphant cry of
victory.
"Got you, you dirty bugger!"
Spike held his prey by the neck, brining it face-to-face with him. A forked tongue flicked angrily at
him. He grinned. "You're a pretty one, aren't you?"
The snake simply stared coldly at him in return.
The late afternoon sun beat down on Spike and was hot across his shoulders. Shirtless and bootless,
he stood on the rocky bluffs over-looking the Pacific Ocean a hundred miles from Sunnydale.
Behind him, cars and trucks rushed by on the Pacific Coast Highway, but the noise of the traffic was
drowned out by the sound of the ocean's waves crashing against the rocks.
The snake coiled around Spike's wrist, dust blurring its markings. Spike loved snakes.
He loved the way they moved fluidly over any surface, effortlessly gliding along without the
clumsiness of legs and feet to hamper them. He loved how they devoured their prey while it was still
alive, eating it whole. He loved the way snakes looked, sleek and streamlined.
He wouldn't mind being a snake, if he had a choice. He could sit around basking in the sun all day,
with nothing on his snakey mind except choosing between rabbit or rat for dinner. He'd have no
worries about bad sex, or lack of interest in killing when it came down to it, or grumpy children with
the power to end his unlife with a look. He wouldn't be concerned about why the child in his care
seemed angry with him, or why that bothered him at all.
Spike crouched, set the snake back on the rock and watched it quickly slither away. He clapped his
hands on his dusty thighs, straightened, and headed to where he parked the bike. It was getting late
and he didn't feel comfortable being so far away from Xander for long. There was no telling when a
lightning storm would strike, and it was his job to ensure Xander's safety and well-being when they
did occur. He couldn't do that from a hundred miles away.
Of course, if he was a snake, it wouldn't matter how far away he was. However, with his luck, he'd
end up being the snake that slithered onto the highway and was flattened by the semi-truck.
End