Title: Moon Memories (Or the Lack Thereof)
Summary: Where were you when they landed on the moon?
A/N: Prompt from cheesygirl: Spike and the Apollo 11 moon landing
“Where were you when they landed on the moon?”
Spike buries his head in his pillow; wanting to dodge an awkward question he knows will end up dredging up the soulless past he’s not proud of. He’d seen Buffy’s question forming before she’d asked it and any answer he’s likely to give just might ruin his chances of a shag any time soon. “Dunno, luv,” he mutters into the downy softness.
But Buffy, never one for taking ‘no’, ‘maybe’ or ‘look at that, it’s the Goodyear blimp!’ for an answer, turns off the TV and presses him. “It was a momentous moment for mankind! When important things happen you’re supposed to remember where you were.”
“I’m not a man,” he mumbles, then draws his brows into a frown. “Are you channelling Anya?”
That got the patented Buffy Summers eyerolltm and he’s suddenly reminded of how young she is, asking him about memories older than she is. “No,” she says. “But you don’t get off on a technicality. You were human once.”
“Yeah, a hundred years ago.” He doesn’t know how to explain to her that none of this crap matters, that the past is the past and it’s irrelevant where he was on a certain time and date. He wishes she wouldn’t ask these sorts of questions, most of the time she hates the answers anyway and he has to sleep on the lumpy couch for a week.
He thinks about lying, but he’s never been very good at it and anyway, Buffy would know all that she didn’t want to hear in the words he didn’t say. So he tries for the surer tactic of evasion instead, but she bats his hand away from her tit before he can even get a good grope in.
“It still counts,” she insists. “So spill.”
Spike doesn’t remember though. He knows where he was when JFK was shot – best not think too much about that one, munching on a bus full of schoolkids is probably not the kind of answer she’s looking for – and he was moping in his Sunnydale crypt when the two towers toppled, but where he’d been at the time men had first walked on the lunar surface, well, he’s just a bit hazy about that one.
The thing is, the Eagle landed in 1969. He pretty much remembers nothing of that year, except for some stuff with a rainbow and some pink fluffy elephants he doesn’t think really happened at all, and July ’69 had probably been part of the long trek across coast to coast from California to Woodstock; free love, free drugs and Dru at his side, hitching lifts from state to state before snacking on the drivers. They’d eaten well on that journey. When they weren’t dining out on truckers they were tucking into hippie. The blood of the flower children came with a lot of interesting chemical additives and he’d eaten a lot of them. They were tasty.
But he doesn’t remember the moon landing. So he decides to be honest. “I wasn’t watching, luv.”