And now, a fight I'm sure many are anticipating, between Spike, the peroxided king of mayhem from Buffy the Vampire Slayer and Angel, and Edward Cullen, the brooding sparkly guy from the Twilight series.
Edward won the coin toss, so the fight will take place in an old-growth forest in the Pacific Northwest.
HOW I THINK THE FIGHT WILL GO:
It is late afternoon, the dusk light fading into ... well, twilight. Spike lounges against one of the massive redwoods, smoking a cigarette and peering up into the gloom. Constantly overcast, he thinks. No direct sunlight during the day. Bloke could get used to this. He wipes moisture off his face with the sleeve of his leather coat. Except for the bloody wet.
He looks down from the leaden sky to see his appointed adversary enter the clearing, a mousy brown-haired girl trailing apprehensively behind him. Spike looks his opponent over with mounting disgust. "'Kin' hell," he mutters, pitching away his fag-end. "Brooding pretty boy who went tragic with the hair gel. What, do these twats follow me?" Peering more closely, he exclaims to himself, "Is he sparkling?" He raises his voice. "Hey, nancy. Who's the bird?" When Edward looks skyward in confusion, Spike clarifies, "The girl, nimrod. Who is she, and what's she doing here?"
"She is my great love," Edward intones sententiously, and Bella favours him with a look so slavish Spike feels the whiskey he downed an hour ago fighting to come up.
"Oh, lovely. Let me guess: you're a hundred-and-something year old vampire with a tortured soul and a thing for jailbait. And it's all very agonizing and poetic and chaste because you're afraid if you actually go in for the rumpy-pumpy you'll go all savage and bestial on her?"
Startled, Edward nods. "Yes. How did you know?"
"Old story, mate. Chap I know had the same problem. Except, his girl at least had some spunk." He winks. "I know. Did her myself."
Edward steps in closer. "Well ... she's kind of got a thing for werewolves," he says conspiratorially.
Spike laughs. "Oh, you don't want a piece of that, mate. Last bird I knew dallied with a werewolf, totally lost the taste for the meat-and-veg. If you follow me."
Edward furrows his sparkly brow. "I don't, actually."
"Colour me shocked," Spike sighs. "All right. Shall we do this?"
Without hesitation, Edward launches himself backward, kicking himself off a redwood and flying over Spike's head to land immediately behind him. Almost casually, Spike turns, driving the stake he had under his coat into Edward's chest.
"Sorry, mate," Spike says conversationally. "Trick a friend taught me. This is Mr. Pointy."
Edward explodes into a cloud of sparkly dust.
Projected Winner: SPIKE