Alley of Absolute Badness A thick, yellowish fog curls around the narrow, brick alleyway behind The Bronze. A SINGLE streetlamp buzzes, throwing a sickly halo over wet cobblestones. BUFFY (20s, stylish yet battle-ready) has a vampire pinned against the wall. She's got her signature wooden stake ready. It’s DRACO MALFOY (20s, pale, impeccably dressed, a little panicky), who has inexplicably been turned into a very confused, new vampire He’s trying for a sneer, but it’s mostly a terrified whine. DRACO You don't understand the lineage you're messing with, you… you commoner! My father will hear about this! He's a very influential, Ministry-level— BUFFY (Pressing the stake harder) Yeah, yeah, I've heard the whole 'my dad's cooler than your dad' routine. It really loses its menace when your fangs are all pointy and you haven't even mastered the smoky-exit-into-a-bat thing. Seriously, where's the slayage in this? Draco struggles, his silver-blond hair falling over his panicked eyes. He shrinks from the stake's tip. DRACO A-a Ministry-level official! You're breaking at least three international statutes! This is beyond detention. This is a scandal! A sarcastic, gravelly voice cuts through the fog. SPIKE Well, look who finally found their way out of the bloody petting zoo. Thought you were supposed to be all ancient evils, you ponce. SPIKE (100s, impossibly cool, soul-weary vampire) saunters into the light, flicking a cigarette butt into a puddle. His movements are a lazy, lethal ballet. BUFFY (Without looking at Spike) Oh, perfect. My ex-boyfriend and my newest, most whiny homework assignment. You know, I was having a really good hair day, but I'm thinking a double-dusting might ruin my whole aesthetic. SPIKE No one asked for your fashion commentary, pet. And this one? He's all yours. Looks like he couldn't charm a house-elf out of a dust rag. Bit of a weak-tea vampire, innit? Almost a tragedy. Draco glares, momentarily forgetting the stake at his chest. DRACO MALFOY: I am not weak tea! I am pure-blood! My family funded half of this miserable town's— BUFFY SUMMERS: (A quick, bored shush motion with her hand) Shh. Don't care. Here's your problem, Blondie: Being a vampire means you're supposed to be all dark, brooding, and occasionally apocalyptic. You're giving me aspoiled, entitled brat who lost his way to the private yacht club." She pulls back the stake, considering the scene with a tired tilt of her head. BUFFY SUMMERS (CONT'D) Look, I'm out of time for this. New deal: you go back to wherever they brew the blood tea and figure out your vamp-mojo. Spike, you keep him from, I don't know, joining a glee club or something. Just keep the slayable from the slayer. My patience is officially having a missage. She kicks a loose brick towards Spike's feet.
SPIKE: (A low chuckle, taking a drag of his cigarette) A baby vamp and a bird who’s got her knickers in a twist. That sounds like my bloody Tuesday. Don’t worry, Slayer. I’ll make sure the little prince learns a thing or two about being evil. Starting with a proper leather jacket. Spike gives Buffy a devastating, wolfish grin. She just rolls her eyes, tucks the stake into her boot, and walks out of the alley's yellow glow, leaving the two vampires staring at each other.
DRACO MALFOY: (Hissing at Spike) I don't need a jacket, you low-class degenerate! I need a competent Potions Master and an international portkey back to Wiltshire! And what in Merlin’s name is a “missage”?
Spike grins, showing his fangs in the dark.
SPIKE: You've got a lot to learn, mate. A bloody lot.