The Bite Whore - part one
This starts just before the episode "As You Were". As always, bits from episodes are used from memory with mangling (and editing to fit my own personal worldview!) This first installment is more PG-15 than anything, but next will get a tad more... yeah.
(I know you said 'early season 6' but I am constitutionally incapable of writing season six before "Wrecked".)
PAIRING: Spuffy
GENRE: Het
RATING: Not specified
DETAILS: Early Season Six, Buffy is having money troubles...Spike comes to her and offers to help...She doesn't want him to steal or do anything illegal to help provide money, but she remembers the vampire bite-whores Riley went to see, and comes up with an idea. (For the purposes of this challenge, Spike's chip doesn't fire if the person wants to be bitten, due to it being pleasure for them more than pain) Buffy begins to act as Spike's "pimp" so to speak, and he is not actively, vehemently against the idea, but he's not exactly thrilled with it either -- but he'll do anything for her.Their relationship should have very dom/sub overtones, without being too dark...but it should be clear that Buffy is the one in control of the situation...Spike does what he does to please and help her, but he doesn't really like it...She may use some forms of emotional blackmail/manipulation, etc., to get him to keep going along with it, but not outright physical abuse...
Anyways (this is a kinda long challenge, huh?) one of Spike's customers realizes he can't fight back, and Spike is brutally attacked, beaten and sexually assaulted (customer may be male or female).
Buffy finds him and takes him home, takes care of him -- I want to see lots of hurt/comfort sort of bonding, she feels bad for taking advantage of him the way she has, and does her best to make it up to him, eventually claiming him as her own, not to be used by anyone else anymore -- and then, she goes and finds the evil customer and avenges her vampire. Anyone up for this challenge? ;P
Requested by dreamsofspike on February 8, 2007.
Claimed by xheartrockx on July 16, 2007.
“I can get you money!” Spike leaned forward as though he could push his reasoning into her.
Buffy shook her head. The manager stepped into her peripheral vision. Oh great, let’s have the undead pseudo-boyfriend kicked out. Buffy clenched her jaw. “Order something.”
Spike’s shoulders fell and he smiled. “Haven’t got any money.” He turned on one boot heel and strode out the side door.
Buffy wasn’t surprised to find him waiting by the employees entrance when her break came. Without a word he picked her up and pressed her against the brick wall, lips working on her neck. “How long do you have for your Spike-break?” His lips curled against her skin.
“Twenty minutes,” Buffy said. It felt good, not being on her feet, having her back supported. How was that for fast food killing the soul? She’s getting macked on and all she can think is how wonderful it was to sit.
He massaged her legs - that felt heavenly - and his lips were moving to the other side of her neck, which was good because her right side was all goose-bumpy and it didn’t do to be lopsided…
Buffy groaned. “Wait… wait… serious talk.”
Spike pulled away with a scowl. “Eighteen minutes, Buffy.”
“Two seconds. Question and answer. Well,” She bit her lip. “Demand and answer. You are NOT going to go do something stupid, illegal, immoral, or… or, well, stupid to get me money.”
Spike couldn’t help but smile as she raised her eyebrows expectantly. The little pink tip of his tongue came out to touch his teeth in that sexy way of his. “If I do you gonna punish me?”
“Serious talk, Spike!”
He rolled his eyes. “’M only agreeing because we have fifteen precious minutes ticking by. Yes, Slayer, I will not do anything stupid et cetera et cetera.”
“No gambling. Fencing. Or… or… god I don’t even want to think of what you’d come up with.”
Spike tilted his head, his eyes narrowed.
“What?” Buffy frowned.
“You just tacitly agreed to allow me to provide for you.”
“What?”
Spike smiled broadly. “That makes this… a relationship!”
“Ew! No! Let me down.”
Instead he leaned in and nuzzled her cheek. “You’re telling me how NOT to get money means there are ways TO get you money. You’re going to let me provide for you.” He nipped at her ear teasingly.
Buffy pushed him away. She winced as her feet impacted the ground, feeling every moment of the past four hours of standing on a linoleum-coated concrete floor. Still, she straightened and glared at the vampire who was just regaining his feet. “What is all this ‘provider’ business? It’s so last century.”
“I’m ‘so last century’,” Spike replied, flicking his duster to lie properly on his shoulders.
“You want to help out? Get a job.”
“Done,” Spike said.
“Really?” Buffy crossed her arms. “I say ‘get a job’ and you say ‘done’?”
Spike dug his hands into his pockets and sauntered back to her. “Done. I’ll take the first job I find that’ll hire a vampire… oops, foreign vampire with no identification, previous work history or home address. That isn’t immoral. And seeing as how I have a very useful hundred-year-out-of-date degree in classics, I’m sure they’ll be beating down my door.”
Buffy raised one eyebrow. “You have a degree? Great. I am officially the most pathetic person on the planet.”
“Hey,” he ran his hands over her arms. “You’re not. You’re strong.” He leaned in and she twisted away.
“Break’s over,” she said.
***
Spike tackled looking for a job with all the verve of a grail-quest. He applied everywhere in town that was open at night - not a long list on a hellmouth. He even enjoyed making up fictional work histories and educational credentials. Not surprisingly, he was not asked to any interviews. At least if Dawn could be believed, seeing as how he had to give the Summers’ as his phone number.
He almost considered applying at the Doublemeat Palace. Almost. He didn’t love Buffy that much. Didn’t love EXISTANCE that much. He’d sooner get himself a soul, gel his hair up and start listening to Manilow.
Willy did not respond well to his suggestion of working as a bouncer.
“No. No. I can’t say enough ‘no’s! The regulars hate you!”
“Because I beat them up. But that’s the brilliant part! Paid to be menacing! It’s what I do best.”
“And what about my human customers?” Willy threw down his wash-cloth. “Witches, wizards, warlocks? No thanks. Besides, you wanna tell Tony I’m giving his job to you?”
Spike looked over at the troll that stood by the door, obviously listening in and obviously not pleased. Spike groaned. “You paranoid git, I really need a job. You gotta know something a demon can do for money in this town.”
Willy glanced aside, “Well there’s always suck…”
Willy’s next words resulted in a splitting chip-fire headache, Tony the bouncer feeling more secure in his job, and Willy discovering he could fly - not in that order.
***
Spike walked to Buffy’s work. The Doublemeat Palace shone like a stage at night and so he was just at the edge of the parking lot when he noticed a strange customer - tall, dressed like a bloody special ops character… talking to Buffy… oh soddin’ hell it’s Captain Cardboard! And Buffy was taking off her hat and stepping around the counter to talk to him! She never broke early to talk to Spike!
Like ruddy bleedin’ soccer moms in hell he was letting G.I. Git hone in on his girl. Spike hurried to step into their path. “Well if it isn’t the vamp-whore-snack back from Belize.”
Riley grimaced. “Spike,” he said, half greeting, half expletive.
“Spike, we don’t have time for macho posturing,” Buffy said. “We’re tracking a dangerous demon.”
“I can do that,” Spike said.
“No, you really can’t,” Riley said, pushing past him.
“Oh, I’m sorry, are you still super soldier? Because last time I checked, preternatural strength here!”
Riley turned on his heel and popped Spike a clean blow to the nose.
“Riley!” Buffy grabbed his arm as he drew it back.
“Seemed quicker,” Riley said. “You want to do the evil undead banter? Fine. I have a mission to complete.”
***
Twenty minutes after being thoroughly convinced he was NOT wanted, Spike found Buffy bursting into his crypt in a state of obvious need.
Whatever had happened with Captain Cardboard it hadn’t been happy time for his slayer.
“Tell me you love me!” she demanded, pressing in to him.
And he was suddenly glad the poofy boyscout was in town.
Her hands were frantic, ripping his clothes off, throwing him against the wall. She needed him. Captain Cardboard could stay! Spike’d give him a room!
Afterwards, lying on a sarcophagus lid, he held her and tried to keep her soft skin from the hard stone. “He’s not worth it. What sort of idiot would ever let go of a woman like you?”
“Ahem!”
Spike sat up and, to his great delight, was greeted with the sight of that very idiot. Captain Cardboard, catching him and the Slayer in post-coital bliss. Had Fantasy Island decided to do a vampire sequel? Victory! Parade! Bloody Brilliant!
“’Ello Riley. Just so you know, this is EXACTLY what it looks like!” He gave Buffy’s shoulders a proprietary squeeze.
“I came here for information, Spike. The suvolte. It laid its eggs. Someone in town is protecting them.”
“Well, you’re too late. Slayer already pumped me for information.” He dropped his chin and his voice for his best lascivious leer. “And other things.”
Sadly, Buffy was already scrambling off the sarcophagus, pulling the sheet around herself. “Spike, you’re a pig.”
“Maybe I should search your crypt,” Riley said, shoulders squared, all challenging and macho, although the affect was somewhat tempered by his pointedly averting his eyes.
Spike smirked, enjoying the discomfort on Riley’s face as he unabashedly displayed his nude self. “Over my cold, undead body.”
“No, thanks, I’ve seen enough of your undead body to last a lifetime.”
Still, there was no satisfying soldier-boy until he’d stomped his way through every part of the crypt, finding no suvolte eggs.
“Well, now, if some people hadn’t decided that I’m completely useless around here,” Spike slipped into his jeans with unnecessary slowness. “I could tell you the name of a bloke contacted me a while back asking for a place to hide some eggs. Or did you think vampires were only good for cheap thrills?”
He buckled his belt smirking at Riley’s barely-controlled rage. “Do you still like to get bit, Jonny boy? Take your time staking vamps, hoping they’ll get one in on you?”
“What. Do. You. Know.” Riley said with affected calm and clenched teeth.
After Spike told him his contact’s name, Riley left in a stiff march of soldier repression. Spike sauntered up to Buffy, sliding an arm around her waist. “Let’s get back to where we were before soldier-boy barged in, eh?” He’d put on his jeans but that was it.
Bare Spike chest and rough denim were two of Buffy’s favorite things to feel, but Buffy pushed away. “You could have told him you had information first thing. Like, before we left the Doublemeat parking lot. Instead of baiting him and acting like the world’s oldest teen-ager.”
“All’s well that ends, luv. Just bein’ the bad boy you know you want me to be.”
“I want good boy. Boys. Damn it. I just want a normal…”
“Keep singing that song, love. Gets funnier every time.”
“Spike! This is serious. I can’t keep doing this.”
“What, because now you’re remembering how good it was with Captain Cardboard? I’m a million times better than him, and I won’t turn my back on you.”
“He has a soul.”
“Yeah. Thank you for reminding me of my little short-coming there. After all, twice a day just isn’t enough. I keep forgetting. Maybe it’s because it isn’t so bloody important.”
Buffy shook her head. “This isn’t that argument. Will you just listen? I’m using you.”
“So?” His smile was completely devoid of understanding. “No complaints here.”
“I’m sorry… William.”
Buffy turned to exit but Spike stopped her. “Pet. Please. You know I’d do anything for you. I’m trying. Yeah? I coulda had those eggs. Thought about it. Paid more than enough to get you out of flipping burgers. But I didn’t. Because you wouldn’t like it.”
“So I’m supposed to give you credit for NOT doing something incredibly stupid? This is the problem. Don’t you get it? If you had a soul, you would complain. You’d care that I’m using you. And you’d know better than to get involved with demon smugglers, not because I wouldn’t like it but because people could get hurt. Spike… it’s killing me. Because I DO know better.”
Their eyes met, and there was finality in her gaze. “I’m ending this.”
“No. Buffy, please, no.” He caught her arm as she tried again to leave. “I know I haven’t been… well, I’ve been asking too much, haven’t I?”
Buffy’s eyes widened. Evidence, again, that the vampire just didn’t get it. “I use you for sex and push you away. How is that asking too much?”
Spike wrapped his arms around her and kissed her, softly, desperately, on the temple, the cheek, the jaw.
She pushed him gently back. He knew how much she loved to see him bare-chested. He was going to kiss his way out of the argument. Again. “That’s cheating,” she said.
“Please, love, just don’t take the one thing I have away from me. Just tell me what you want from me. I’d even kiss Captain Cardboard if it’d make you happy.”
He smiled at her shocked expression. “Lack of conscience isn’t always a bad thing. Not much I wouldn’t do. I’d go bite him and give you the money.”
“That’s not what this is about.”
“You deserve more.” He stayed as close as her outspread hands would let him. “Using me? Pet, have you ever once been unclear in your intentions? You gave your life for the soddin’ world, love. You deserve a little pleasure. Wherever you can get it.” He leaned in for a kiss and she turned her head quickly away from it. He sighed. “And it’s my choice, innit? You aren’t using, love. I’m giving.”
“Could you give a little less? Or at least less… enthusiastically?” Her scowl faded into tired resignation. It was close enough to acceptance. Spike smiled.
“Want to give more. Said I’d provide for you. Any day now I’ll get a break. Maybe if I threatened someone they’d hire me.”
Buffy rolled her eyes. “Or you’ll go bite Riley.” There was the girl he loved. Back from the brink.
He put his arm around her shoulders and this time, she let him. “It’s sort of an empty promise, considering I can’t. Chip.”
“What if someone really wanted you to bite them? I mean… it can’t hurt that much, if people are paying for it?”
“It hurts. Trust me. Killed by vampire. Sort of know this game inside and out.”
Their eyes met, and Buffy’s showed how she knew damn well how it felt to be bitten and he was editing a bit.
“You haven’t tried. You don’t know.”
He pressed his lips to her ear. “I’ll bite you if you want.”
She pushed him back, a slight panic on her face. “Never.”
“How many times have I had you asleep, relaxed, vulnerable in my arms, and not once tried to bite you? I love you.”
“So if you love me, go try. See if Riley will let you bite him. See if you can.”
Spike drew a sharp breath in. This was precisely what he sent Willy flying across the room for even suggesting. Was he really that whipped?
Yes, yes he was.
***
Spike caught up with Riley at the cemetery parking lot, where the latter was loading all sorts of boring soldier-boy equipment into an equally boring soldier-boy SUV.
Spike thought with a shrug that this was going to be easier than he feared. No way the boy scout was even going to entertain the thought.
“What do you want, Spike?”
“You didn’t answer my question.”
Riley in reply threw a duffle into the back seat and grunted, “Go away, Spike.”
“Do. You. Still. Like. To. Be. Bit.” Spike leaned against the car with a smug grin.
Riley straightened to look down at Spike. “Maybe. Yeah. By a real vampire.”
“Only thing wrong with me ‘s what you lot put in my head.”
“Even if you weren’t toothless, Spike. I’d never want it to be you.”
To Riley’s great shock the vampire visibly relaxed. “Right,” he said. “Well, just thought I’d ask.”
To Spike’s greater shock Riley grabbed his arm as he tried to walk past. “What is this about?”
“Nothin’.” Spike scratched his nose and tried to find something to look at besides the man in front of him. “Buffy and me… we just had a bet, is all. Wondered if the chip would fire or not. But you’re not interested so I’ll be on my merry…”
Riley tightened his grip. “Are you serious? You hate me!”
“No I don’t.” Spike shrugged his arm out of Riley’s grasp. “I think you’re a joyless pillock who probably alphabetizes his sock drawer. Hate would require too strong a feeling between us, yeah?”
Riley squinted. “Yeah,” he said. He looked over his shoulder, at the quiet cemetery behind them.
Spike raised his eyebrows. “Don’t tell me you’re tempted.”
“It probably won’t work,” Riley said. He started rolling up his right sleeve.
“Bollocks. I’m not taking it out of the arm. We gonna do this, I want neck.”
“You couldn’t reach my neck,” Riley said. “Besides, Sam would notice the wound.”
Spike regarded the clustered scars on Riley’s forearm, following the tracks of major blood vessels. “Whereas on your arm she’s not likely to notice a bleedin’ wolf pack’s been at you.” He knit his brows and stared up until Riley met his gaze. “This is an addict’s arm, you realize.”
“Are you going to do it or not?” Under a façade of indifference there was just a sliver of need.
Spike wet his lips. Let himself notice the pulse, the heat. “Yeah,” he said. “All right. Like falling off a bicycle.” He took hold of Riley’s arm, rotated it in his hands, feeling the blood vessels. Hot, warm, blood. And he really could have it. Maybe. If this worked. He chose his spot carefully, a place not marked, above the elbow. Fledges probably didn’t want to deal with the thicker muscle. Spike let his lips ghost the skin, feeling small hairs prickle and raise. Yeah, this was the spot to try.
“Do it,” Riley ground out through clenched teeth. “I’m not your boyfriend.”
Spike favored him with an eye-roll. He could feel the vein, map its heat as it rose closer to the surface and dipped further away. He let his fangs descend. He pressed them to the flesh, not puncturing, yet, just enjoying that sensation, skin on fang. Felt Riley tense, either in anticipation or frustration at his waiting. Spike slowly pressed through the skin, felt its elastic drag, felt it pop and draw up into his mouth, felt the muscle next, different texture, easier going, then the vein wall, then BLOOD! Sweet, hot, pulsing blood, and a shiver from the body beside his.
You don’t get that from a mug.
Spike felt his own hands shaking. Riley was saying something but he couldn’t pay attention enough to know what it was. He swallowed the first mouthful and dared draw another. The flavor! Anger, frustration, post-battle fatigue, a thousand little spices. Beneath it all a clean purity still untainted. The boy tasted of sunshine and corn. No gluey anti-coagulant, no plastic. Want. Hope. Love. Sweat on the skin so thoughtful, like a salted glass-rim. Perfect.
Spike dug deeper, straining into quivering muscle, felt more than heard the man gasp, and then a warning twinge at the back of his skull, no… he pulled back, licking his lips.
They both stood silent; both looking at the twin holes on Riley’s arm.
Spike took another step back and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Fuck,” he said.
Riley looked down, then over his shoulder, then back at his arm. He rolled his sleeve down. “Th… thanks,” he said, shrugging awkwardly he jumped into his SUV and started the engine.
Spike watched the vehicle drive away and repeated to himself, “Fuck.”
***
Buffy was waiting, fully dressed, seated in his comfy chair. She jumped up as soon as Spike walked in. “Oh my god,” she said, “You did it? Right now?”
“Yeah,” Spike said. He ran a hand over his face. “Worked. You were right.”
And for a moment his old Buffy was back. She clapped her hands and did a victory bounce. Spike had to smile. “C’mon, luv, you’re right about things all the time.”
Buffy playfully punched his arm. “I was right. And you could do it again.”
“Pardon?”
“Bite people. You could bite people for money.” She continued on as Spike stared at her with a blank expression. “It makes sense. It’s an actual talent… well, ability, and it wouldn’t hurt anyone, I mean, they’re going to do it anyway so they might as well be safe and you’re safe… AND your grocery bill would go away, which is no small thing. Blood isn’t cheap.”
“Buffy… you… when you were with Riley you didn’t want him to…”
He met her expression. No, of course she didn’t. Because Riley was her boyfriend, not her fuck-buddy. Spike sucked his cheeks in. “Yeah. Whatever. Anything for you, you know that.”
***
After she was gone, he finally came up with words to say. “You see, Slayer,” he said to his turned-off television, “The bite is a sacred thing. It’s death sustaining life. It’s survival and sex and passion all in one act. Riley was one thing because I knew him and I wasn’t… well I wasn’t bleedin’ getting PAID. There are things, pet, you can’t do for money.”
The telly stared stoically back at him, all glass and silence.
“Right,” Spike said. “And that’s what I’ll tell her first thing tomorrow.” He slumped down in his chair.
***
When the time did come, when she came to see him and told him she’d found a client, all he could say is, “Buffy, love, I don’t want to do this.”
“I’m working every double-shift I can. I hardly see Dawn any more and I still can’t meet all the bills,” was her reply.
He took the post-it from her fingers and nodded. “Right. See you when it’s done.”
The address was on the other side of Sunnydale, near the freeway. A dusty, shuttered bungalow with a yard of cacti and dirt. The door was opened by a skinny woman in a red scoop-necked top that showed off her clavicle and the impression of ribs above her pushed-up cleavage. She had thick eyelashes and curled black hair. “You must be Spike,” she said.
He winced, hoping no one was around to actually hear his name. “Yeah.”
She stepped back and waved her hand into the house. Spike shifted his weight. “Have to actually say it, love. Little hand gestures don’t get a vampire past your door.”
“Oh. Is that true, then? Can you… I mean, you can’t just step in here?”
Spike kicked the barrier, let his foot bounce off it a little. “May I come in?”
“Yes, please. You are invited in.”
“Thanks ever so.” Spike stepped over the threshold with a smooth swish of coat and a smirk.
A waft of fear. “I didn’t just let every vampire in town in here, did I?”
“Nah, love, only applies to the vampire what hears it said. And don’t worry, I won’t be coming back here in the night to make off with your kiddies.”
They were in a little brick foyer. Ahead was a kitchen, to the left a living-room. It smelled of stale carpet, cats, and Lysol. Spike hated Lysol. Seemed to be designed purely to make vampire noses itch.
“How… how did you know I have children?”
“Little Tyke’s.” He jerked his thumb at the door. “Toys in the yard.”
“Oh. Right. Um… well…”
For a woman who wanted to be bit by a vampire she wasn’t making it easy.
“Where do you want to do this? Couch?” Spike walked past her and surveyed the dimly-lit interior. Hanging plants. Magazines on a coffee table. A mirror hung with black lace.
He sank into the sagging brown suede sofa. The woman sat next to him, just on the very edge of the seat, knees together, like a virgin at her junior prom. Spike leaned forward. “Just tell me what… well, where you want me to bite you.”
Her hands fluttered in her lap. “I… I mean. You won’t.”
“Me being here pretty much negates that assumption, pet.”
“Well, before, they always said they wouldn’t. It wasn’t allowed. And that’s what it always is in movies, you know?” Her hand fluttered over her collar. “The neck.”
Spike slid closer on the couch, so he was nearly directly behind her. He gently pulled the woman’s hairspray-sticky hair away from her nape. “Brothel vamps are probably worried their little fledgelings won’t be able to control themselves. Blood flows fast up here. Will be over quick.” He brushed the curve of her neck with the backs of his fingernails.
She shivered. “Well, that’s what I want. What your friend said… she said you would.”
Spike smiled tightly and lowered his mouth to her neck. The skin smelled of talc and clay - make-up. The daft bint had put make-up on her very neck. He licked his thumb and rubbed it over the point he wanted to bite. Maybe she’d think it was foreplay.
She pulled away from him. “Wait.”
Spike bit back his irritation. “What?”
She turned around. “Not like that. I want to see you.”
Right. Spike looked forlornly at the newly cleaned patch of her neck. He was a left-biter, damn it. Would feel odd bending his head the other way. Which was worse? Make-up on the fangs or bending the other way?
He was stopped in his consideration by the woman touching his cheek. “You’re very handsome,” she said.
“About to get less so, luv. Just…”
“Would you kiss me? I mean, before? I mean, right now?”
Spike rolled his lips inward. “No, luv. I won’t. I got a girl.”
Her face collapsed. “Oh.”
“This isn’t ‘Dark Shadows’, sweet. Not here to romance you, just to eat you.” He rubbed a tear from her cheek with the pad of his thumb. “Now, don’t look like that. ‘S a fantasy. Right?”
She nodded, shakily.
He tilted his head to the right and let his fangs graze lengthwise on her skin, feeling the blood rushing up to meet them. “Just close your eyes,” he spoke with his lips pressed to her skin. He did kiss her, just a little peck over the artery he’d selected. “Think of Barnabas Collins.” The woman was aroused, he could smell it, and her hands were running up and down his biceps like she was shopping for a pair of her own.
Her breathing was hitched, her shoulders shaking, and when he finally slipped into her skin, her blood tasted of desperation and loneliness.
Spike kept one hand on the envelope in his pocket all the way back to Buffy’s house. He handed it over to her in the kitchen. She was washing dishes. She flicked water from her fingers, wiped her hands on her jeans, and took the envelope. He watched her count the money.
“The price of my dignity.” Spike smiled tightly. “You over-charged.”
She got halfway through her eye-roll when Dawn bounced into the room.
Buffy hurriedly tucked the envelope in her back pocket. Dawn went straight to the fridge. “I’m going to Tara’s,” she said, with her head deep in the crisper.
Dawn came up with a carrot and brandished it disturbingly like a stake. “Hi, Spike.”
“Niblet.”
“Spike’s here to… talk about slaying.” Buffy blurted.
Dawn was already just a sway of hair retreating down the hall.
Spike put his hands on Buffy’s waist, ignoring her light slaps of protest. “So your dirty little secret has a dirty little secret.” He kissed her jaw.
“Spike, my hands are wet.”
“The dirty cunt actually asked me to kiss her. Can you believe that?” He lowered his voice an octave, “Does it make you jealous?”
Buffy twisted out of his grasp, her arms in front of her like a surgeon waiting for gloves. “Someone could walk right in here!”
He took her wet hands and kissed the fingertips. The water made the whorls of her fingerprints more pronounced, more textured. “Told her I’m yours. All yours.”
She twisted away. “Willow is in the house,” she hissed. “Try to behave yourself.”
“Just ate. I’m horny.”
Which was, as usual, the worst thing he could have said, and he realized it only after the words were free from his mouth and Buffy was backing away from him with an outraged glare.
“Buffy…”
“You’re disgusting!”
He sighed. “Pet, I’m sorry. It’s the blood… another reason we shouldn’t do this. What’s it gonna do, getting me all used to the good stuff again when the only way I can get it…”
“Is what? From willing victims? Does that take the ‘spice’ out of it?” Buffy made air quotes with too-quick motions that threatened to continue into violence.
“That’s not what I mean and you know it. Buffy…”
She stormed out of the room. He caught up to her in the hallway and grabbed her bicep. She spun around, her other fist raised to strike.
Spike lifted his chin. “You gonna hit me then, luv?”
She lowered her fist and wrenched her arm loose from his grip. Without a word she stomped up the stairs and out of sight.
Spike stuck his hands in his pockets, shrugged, and let himself out.
***
Buffy sat at her computer - which was actually Willow’s old computer, handed down for “Dawnie’s education” when Willow got the new iBook. Apparently, these days, high school required them. Buffy felt old in computer-years. Hadn’t she been in high school just three years ago?
She had meant to take a shower and go to bed, not letting Spike and his confusing Spike-ness stay on her mind. But instead she was checking her messages, because of him.
Not because of that much-needed money in her pocket, a drop of water in a big empty bucket of dept. But such a drop! She almost felt light-headed. A few minutes online, a post-it, and bam! Spike handed over as much as she’d make in several hours flipping burgers.
It made those burger-flipping hours feel even more meaningless, and Buffy had not thought that possible. Was this all she was worth? All those study sessions, no credit for slaying, attempting to skim through scary old watcher books. She should have a master’s degree in slayage.
It was too much to hope that her post on the vampire fan club website had gotten a second response. But it had. She felt a little thread of relief, clicking on the link to read.
“Do you have a picture?” was all it said.
Buffy bit her lip. She’d just tell them ‘no’…
She clicked reply and stared at the blinking cursor. She stood up and pulled out a cardboard box from under the desk. Unsorted pictures. She remembered, there was at least one with Spike… she remembered complaining about it and tossing it in the ‘never in the album’ pile.
She found two. One she didn’t recognize. It was a party or something, in the dinning room. Everyone was in black. There were flowers. Spike was leaning against the wall, not looking at the camera, behind a wan-looking Dawn. Oh god. This was her wake.
Buffy tried to put the photo down twice. But it was the first she’d found of Spike and… it was also compelling. I was dead when this was taken. It was like cheating god to even see it.
The other photo was the one she remembered. Dawn had taken it, in the middle of a roll of perfectly good pictures of holidays and birthdays. It was washed out, too much flash, but Spike was smiling, his mouth open in what no doubt was some sort of joking threat to the girl with the camera as he stalked toward her from a background completely lost to black.
Buffy wasn’t sure he looked his best smiling. She set the picture down next to the other one, where his turned-away face accentuated his devastating cheekbones.
Sad but sexy vamp, or smiling but washed-out vamp?
Her hand hesitated over both. She picked up the smiling picture and set it on the scanner. She couldn’t share the funeral picture, she just couldn’t.
Continued in Part Two
(I know you said 'early season 6' but I am constitutionally incapable of writing season six before "Wrecked".)
PAIRING: Spuffy
GENRE: Het
RATING: Not specified
DETAILS: Early Season Six, Buffy is having money troubles...Spike comes to her and offers to help...She doesn't want him to steal or do anything illegal to help provide money, but she remembers the vampire bite-whores Riley went to see, and comes up with an idea. (For the purposes of this challenge, Spike's chip doesn't fire if the person wants to be bitten, due to it being pleasure for them more than pain) Buffy begins to act as Spike's "pimp" so to speak, and he is not actively, vehemently against the idea, but he's not exactly thrilled with it either -- but he'll do anything for her.Their relationship should have very dom/sub overtones, without being too dark...but it should be clear that Buffy is the one in control of the situation...Spike does what he does to please and help her, but he doesn't really like it...She may use some forms of emotional blackmail/manipulation, etc., to get him to keep going along with it, but not outright physical abuse...
Anyways (this is a kinda long challenge, huh?) one of Spike's customers realizes he can't fight back, and Spike is brutally attacked, beaten and sexually assaulted (customer may be male or female).
Buffy finds him and takes him home, takes care of him -- I want to see lots of hurt/comfort sort of bonding, she feels bad for taking advantage of him the way she has, and does her best to make it up to him, eventually claiming him as her own, not to be used by anyone else anymore -- and then, she goes and finds the evil customer and avenges her vampire. Anyone up for this challenge? ;P
Requested by dreamsofspike on February 8, 2007.
Claimed by xheartrockx on July 16, 2007.
“I can get you money!” Spike leaned forward as though he could push his reasoning into her.
Buffy shook her head. The manager stepped into her peripheral vision. Oh great, let’s have the undead pseudo-boyfriend kicked out. Buffy clenched her jaw. “Order something.”
Spike’s shoulders fell and he smiled. “Haven’t got any money.” He turned on one boot heel and strode out the side door.
Buffy wasn’t surprised to find him waiting by the employees entrance when her break came. Without a word he picked her up and pressed her against the brick wall, lips working on her neck. “How long do you have for your Spike-break?” His lips curled against her skin.
“Twenty minutes,” Buffy said. It felt good, not being on her feet, having her back supported. How was that for fast food killing the soul? She’s getting macked on and all she can think is how wonderful it was to sit.
He massaged her legs - that felt heavenly - and his lips were moving to the other side of her neck, which was good because her right side was all goose-bumpy and it didn’t do to be lopsided…
Buffy groaned. “Wait… wait… serious talk.”
Spike pulled away with a scowl. “Eighteen minutes, Buffy.”
“Two seconds. Question and answer. Well,” She bit her lip. “Demand and answer. You are NOT going to go do something stupid, illegal, immoral, or… or, well, stupid to get me money.”
Spike couldn’t help but smile as she raised her eyebrows expectantly. The little pink tip of his tongue came out to touch his teeth in that sexy way of his. “If I do you gonna punish me?”
“Serious talk, Spike!”
He rolled his eyes. “’M only agreeing because we have fifteen precious minutes ticking by. Yes, Slayer, I will not do anything stupid et cetera et cetera.”
“No gambling. Fencing. Or… or… god I don’t even want to think of what you’d come up with.”
Spike tilted his head, his eyes narrowed.
“What?” Buffy frowned.
“You just tacitly agreed to allow me to provide for you.”
“What?”
Spike smiled broadly. “That makes this… a relationship!”
“Ew! No! Let me down.”
Instead he leaned in and nuzzled her cheek. “You’re telling me how NOT to get money means there are ways TO get you money. You’re going to let me provide for you.” He nipped at her ear teasingly.
Buffy pushed him away. She winced as her feet impacted the ground, feeling every moment of the past four hours of standing on a linoleum-coated concrete floor. Still, she straightened and glared at the vampire who was just regaining his feet. “What is all this ‘provider’ business? It’s so last century.”
“I’m ‘so last century’,” Spike replied, flicking his duster to lie properly on his shoulders.
“You want to help out? Get a job.”
“Done,” Spike said.
“Really?” Buffy crossed her arms. “I say ‘get a job’ and you say ‘done’?”
Spike dug his hands into his pockets and sauntered back to her. “Done. I’ll take the first job I find that’ll hire a vampire… oops, foreign vampire with no identification, previous work history or home address. That isn’t immoral. And seeing as how I have a very useful hundred-year-out-of-date degree in classics, I’m sure they’ll be beating down my door.”
Buffy raised one eyebrow. “You have a degree? Great. I am officially the most pathetic person on the planet.”
“Hey,” he ran his hands over her arms. “You’re not. You’re strong.” He leaned in and she twisted away.
“Break’s over,” she said.
***
Spike tackled looking for a job with all the verve of a grail-quest. He applied everywhere in town that was open at night - not a long list on a hellmouth. He even enjoyed making up fictional work histories and educational credentials. Not surprisingly, he was not asked to any interviews. At least if Dawn could be believed, seeing as how he had to give the Summers’ as his phone number.
He almost considered applying at the Doublemeat Palace. Almost. He didn’t love Buffy that much. Didn’t love EXISTANCE that much. He’d sooner get himself a soul, gel his hair up and start listening to Manilow.
Willy did not respond well to his suggestion of working as a bouncer.
“No. No. I can’t say enough ‘no’s! The regulars hate you!”
“Because I beat them up. But that’s the brilliant part! Paid to be menacing! It’s what I do best.”
“And what about my human customers?” Willy threw down his wash-cloth. “Witches, wizards, warlocks? No thanks. Besides, you wanna tell Tony I’m giving his job to you?”
Spike looked over at the troll that stood by the door, obviously listening in and obviously not pleased. Spike groaned. “You paranoid git, I really need a job. You gotta know something a demon can do for money in this town.”
Willy glanced aside, “Well there’s always suck…”
Willy’s next words resulted in a splitting chip-fire headache, Tony the bouncer feeling more secure in his job, and Willy discovering he could fly - not in that order.
***
Spike walked to Buffy’s work. The Doublemeat Palace shone like a stage at night and so he was just at the edge of the parking lot when he noticed a strange customer - tall, dressed like a bloody special ops character… talking to Buffy… oh soddin’ hell it’s Captain Cardboard! And Buffy was taking off her hat and stepping around the counter to talk to him! She never broke early to talk to Spike!
Like ruddy bleedin’ soccer moms in hell he was letting G.I. Git hone in on his girl. Spike hurried to step into their path. “Well if it isn’t the vamp-whore-snack back from Belize.”
Riley grimaced. “Spike,” he said, half greeting, half expletive.
“Spike, we don’t have time for macho posturing,” Buffy said. “We’re tracking a dangerous demon.”
“I can do that,” Spike said.
“No, you really can’t,” Riley said, pushing past him.
“Oh, I’m sorry, are you still super soldier? Because last time I checked, preternatural strength here!”
Riley turned on his heel and popped Spike a clean blow to the nose.
“Riley!” Buffy grabbed his arm as he drew it back.
“Seemed quicker,” Riley said. “You want to do the evil undead banter? Fine. I have a mission to complete.”
***
Twenty minutes after being thoroughly convinced he was NOT wanted, Spike found Buffy bursting into his crypt in a state of obvious need.
Whatever had happened with Captain Cardboard it hadn’t been happy time for his slayer.
“Tell me you love me!” she demanded, pressing in to him.
And he was suddenly glad the poofy boyscout was in town.
Her hands were frantic, ripping his clothes off, throwing him against the wall. She needed him. Captain Cardboard could stay! Spike’d give him a room!
Afterwards, lying on a sarcophagus lid, he held her and tried to keep her soft skin from the hard stone. “He’s not worth it. What sort of idiot would ever let go of a woman like you?”
“Ahem!”
Spike sat up and, to his great delight, was greeted with the sight of that very idiot. Captain Cardboard, catching him and the Slayer in post-coital bliss. Had Fantasy Island decided to do a vampire sequel? Victory! Parade! Bloody Brilliant!
“’Ello Riley. Just so you know, this is EXACTLY what it looks like!” He gave Buffy’s shoulders a proprietary squeeze.
“I came here for information, Spike. The suvolte. It laid its eggs. Someone in town is protecting them.”
“Well, you’re too late. Slayer already pumped me for information.” He dropped his chin and his voice for his best lascivious leer. “And other things.”
Sadly, Buffy was already scrambling off the sarcophagus, pulling the sheet around herself. “Spike, you’re a pig.”
“Maybe I should search your crypt,” Riley said, shoulders squared, all challenging and macho, although the affect was somewhat tempered by his pointedly averting his eyes.
Spike smirked, enjoying the discomfort on Riley’s face as he unabashedly displayed his nude self. “Over my cold, undead body.”
“No, thanks, I’ve seen enough of your undead body to last a lifetime.”
Still, there was no satisfying soldier-boy until he’d stomped his way through every part of the crypt, finding no suvolte eggs.
“Well, now, if some people hadn’t decided that I’m completely useless around here,” Spike slipped into his jeans with unnecessary slowness. “I could tell you the name of a bloke contacted me a while back asking for a place to hide some eggs. Or did you think vampires were only good for cheap thrills?”
He buckled his belt smirking at Riley’s barely-controlled rage. “Do you still like to get bit, Jonny boy? Take your time staking vamps, hoping they’ll get one in on you?”
“What. Do. You. Know.” Riley said with affected calm and clenched teeth.
After Spike told him his contact’s name, Riley left in a stiff march of soldier repression. Spike sauntered up to Buffy, sliding an arm around her waist. “Let’s get back to where we were before soldier-boy barged in, eh?” He’d put on his jeans but that was it.
Bare Spike chest and rough denim were two of Buffy’s favorite things to feel, but Buffy pushed away. “You could have told him you had information first thing. Like, before we left the Doublemeat parking lot. Instead of baiting him and acting like the world’s oldest teen-ager.”
“All’s well that ends, luv. Just bein’ the bad boy you know you want me to be.”
“I want good boy. Boys. Damn it. I just want a normal…”
“Keep singing that song, love. Gets funnier every time.”
“Spike! This is serious. I can’t keep doing this.”
“What, because now you’re remembering how good it was with Captain Cardboard? I’m a million times better than him, and I won’t turn my back on you.”
“He has a soul.”
“Yeah. Thank you for reminding me of my little short-coming there. After all, twice a day just isn’t enough. I keep forgetting. Maybe it’s because it isn’t so bloody important.”
Buffy shook her head. “This isn’t that argument. Will you just listen? I’m using you.”
“So?” His smile was completely devoid of understanding. “No complaints here.”
“I’m sorry… William.”
Buffy turned to exit but Spike stopped her. “Pet. Please. You know I’d do anything for you. I’m trying. Yeah? I coulda had those eggs. Thought about it. Paid more than enough to get you out of flipping burgers. But I didn’t. Because you wouldn’t like it.”
“So I’m supposed to give you credit for NOT doing something incredibly stupid? This is the problem. Don’t you get it? If you had a soul, you would complain. You’d care that I’m using you. And you’d know better than to get involved with demon smugglers, not because I wouldn’t like it but because people could get hurt. Spike… it’s killing me. Because I DO know better.”
Their eyes met, and there was finality in her gaze. “I’m ending this.”
“No. Buffy, please, no.” He caught her arm as she tried again to leave. “I know I haven’t been… well, I’ve been asking too much, haven’t I?”
Buffy’s eyes widened. Evidence, again, that the vampire just didn’t get it. “I use you for sex and push you away. How is that asking too much?”
Spike wrapped his arms around her and kissed her, softly, desperately, on the temple, the cheek, the jaw.
She pushed him gently back. He knew how much she loved to see him bare-chested. He was going to kiss his way out of the argument. Again. “That’s cheating,” she said.
“Please, love, just don’t take the one thing I have away from me. Just tell me what you want from me. I’d even kiss Captain Cardboard if it’d make you happy.”
He smiled at her shocked expression. “Lack of conscience isn’t always a bad thing. Not much I wouldn’t do. I’d go bite him and give you the money.”
“That’s not what this is about.”
“You deserve more.” He stayed as close as her outspread hands would let him. “Using me? Pet, have you ever once been unclear in your intentions? You gave your life for the soddin’ world, love. You deserve a little pleasure. Wherever you can get it.” He leaned in for a kiss and she turned her head quickly away from it. He sighed. “And it’s my choice, innit? You aren’t using, love. I’m giving.”
“Could you give a little less? Or at least less… enthusiastically?” Her scowl faded into tired resignation. It was close enough to acceptance. Spike smiled.
“Want to give more. Said I’d provide for you. Any day now I’ll get a break. Maybe if I threatened someone they’d hire me.”
Buffy rolled her eyes. “Or you’ll go bite Riley.” There was the girl he loved. Back from the brink.
He put his arm around her shoulders and this time, she let him. “It’s sort of an empty promise, considering I can’t. Chip.”
“What if someone really wanted you to bite them? I mean… it can’t hurt that much, if people are paying for it?”
“It hurts. Trust me. Killed by vampire. Sort of know this game inside and out.”
Their eyes met, and Buffy’s showed how she knew damn well how it felt to be bitten and he was editing a bit.
“You haven’t tried. You don’t know.”
He pressed his lips to her ear. “I’ll bite you if you want.”
She pushed him back, a slight panic on her face. “Never.”
“How many times have I had you asleep, relaxed, vulnerable in my arms, and not once tried to bite you? I love you.”
“So if you love me, go try. See if Riley will let you bite him. See if you can.”
Spike drew a sharp breath in. This was precisely what he sent Willy flying across the room for even suggesting. Was he really that whipped?
Yes, yes he was.
***
Spike caught up with Riley at the cemetery parking lot, where the latter was loading all sorts of boring soldier-boy equipment into an equally boring soldier-boy SUV.
Spike thought with a shrug that this was going to be easier than he feared. No way the boy scout was even going to entertain the thought.
“What do you want, Spike?”
“You didn’t answer my question.”
Riley in reply threw a duffle into the back seat and grunted, “Go away, Spike.”
“Do. You. Still. Like. To. Be. Bit.” Spike leaned against the car with a smug grin.
Riley straightened to look down at Spike. “Maybe. Yeah. By a real vampire.”
“Only thing wrong with me ‘s what you lot put in my head.”
“Even if you weren’t toothless, Spike. I’d never want it to be you.”
To Riley’s great shock the vampire visibly relaxed. “Right,” he said. “Well, just thought I’d ask.”
To Spike’s greater shock Riley grabbed his arm as he tried to walk past. “What is this about?”
“Nothin’.” Spike scratched his nose and tried to find something to look at besides the man in front of him. “Buffy and me… we just had a bet, is all. Wondered if the chip would fire or not. But you’re not interested so I’ll be on my merry…”
Riley tightened his grip. “Are you serious? You hate me!”
“No I don’t.” Spike shrugged his arm out of Riley’s grasp. “I think you’re a joyless pillock who probably alphabetizes his sock drawer. Hate would require too strong a feeling between us, yeah?”
Riley squinted. “Yeah,” he said. He looked over his shoulder, at the quiet cemetery behind them.
Spike raised his eyebrows. “Don’t tell me you’re tempted.”
“It probably won’t work,” Riley said. He started rolling up his right sleeve.
“Bollocks. I’m not taking it out of the arm. We gonna do this, I want neck.”
“You couldn’t reach my neck,” Riley said. “Besides, Sam would notice the wound.”
Spike regarded the clustered scars on Riley’s forearm, following the tracks of major blood vessels. “Whereas on your arm she’s not likely to notice a bleedin’ wolf pack’s been at you.” He knit his brows and stared up until Riley met his gaze. “This is an addict’s arm, you realize.”
“Are you going to do it or not?” Under a façade of indifference there was just a sliver of need.
Spike wet his lips. Let himself notice the pulse, the heat. “Yeah,” he said. “All right. Like falling off a bicycle.” He took hold of Riley’s arm, rotated it in his hands, feeling the blood vessels. Hot, warm, blood. And he really could have it. Maybe. If this worked. He chose his spot carefully, a place not marked, above the elbow. Fledges probably didn’t want to deal with the thicker muscle. Spike let his lips ghost the skin, feeling small hairs prickle and raise. Yeah, this was the spot to try.
“Do it,” Riley ground out through clenched teeth. “I’m not your boyfriend.”
Spike favored him with an eye-roll. He could feel the vein, map its heat as it rose closer to the surface and dipped further away. He let his fangs descend. He pressed them to the flesh, not puncturing, yet, just enjoying that sensation, skin on fang. Felt Riley tense, either in anticipation or frustration at his waiting. Spike slowly pressed through the skin, felt its elastic drag, felt it pop and draw up into his mouth, felt the muscle next, different texture, easier going, then the vein wall, then BLOOD! Sweet, hot, pulsing blood, and a shiver from the body beside his.
You don’t get that from a mug.
Spike felt his own hands shaking. Riley was saying something but he couldn’t pay attention enough to know what it was. He swallowed the first mouthful and dared draw another. The flavor! Anger, frustration, post-battle fatigue, a thousand little spices. Beneath it all a clean purity still untainted. The boy tasted of sunshine and corn. No gluey anti-coagulant, no plastic. Want. Hope. Love. Sweat on the skin so thoughtful, like a salted glass-rim. Perfect.
Spike dug deeper, straining into quivering muscle, felt more than heard the man gasp, and then a warning twinge at the back of his skull, no… he pulled back, licking his lips.
They both stood silent; both looking at the twin holes on Riley’s arm.
Spike took another step back and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Fuck,” he said.
Riley looked down, then over his shoulder, then back at his arm. He rolled his sleeve down. “Th… thanks,” he said, shrugging awkwardly he jumped into his SUV and started the engine.
Spike watched the vehicle drive away and repeated to himself, “Fuck.”
***
Buffy was waiting, fully dressed, seated in his comfy chair. She jumped up as soon as Spike walked in. “Oh my god,” she said, “You did it? Right now?”
“Yeah,” Spike said. He ran a hand over his face. “Worked. You were right.”
And for a moment his old Buffy was back. She clapped her hands and did a victory bounce. Spike had to smile. “C’mon, luv, you’re right about things all the time.”
Buffy playfully punched his arm. “I was right. And you could do it again.”
“Pardon?”
“Bite people. You could bite people for money.” She continued on as Spike stared at her with a blank expression. “It makes sense. It’s an actual talent… well, ability, and it wouldn’t hurt anyone, I mean, they’re going to do it anyway so they might as well be safe and you’re safe… AND your grocery bill would go away, which is no small thing. Blood isn’t cheap.”
“Buffy… you… when you were with Riley you didn’t want him to…”
He met her expression. No, of course she didn’t. Because Riley was her boyfriend, not her fuck-buddy. Spike sucked his cheeks in. “Yeah. Whatever. Anything for you, you know that.”
***
After she was gone, he finally came up with words to say. “You see, Slayer,” he said to his turned-off television, “The bite is a sacred thing. It’s death sustaining life. It’s survival and sex and passion all in one act. Riley was one thing because I knew him and I wasn’t… well I wasn’t bleedin’ getting PAID. There are things, pet, you can’t do for money.”
The telly stared stoically back at him, all glass and silence.
“Right,” Spike said. “And that’s what I’ll tell her first thing tomorrow.” He slumped down in his chair.
***
When the time did come, when she came to see him and told him she’d found a client, all he could say is, “Buffy, love, I don’t want to do this.”
“I’m working every double-shift I can. I hardly see Dawn any more and I still can’t meet all the bills,” was her reply.
He took the post-it from her fingers and nodded. “Right. See you when it’s done.”
The address was on the other side of Sunnydale, near the freeway. A dusty, shuttered bungalow with a yard of cacti and dirt. The door was opened by a skinny woman in a red scoop-necked top that showed off her clavicle and the impression of ribs above her pushed-up cleavage. She had thick eyelashes and curled black hair. “You must be Spike,” she said.
He winced, hoping no one was around to actually hear his name. “Yeah.”
She stepped back and waved her hand into the house. Spike shifted his weight. “Have to actually say it, love. Little hand gestures don’t get a vampire past your door.”
“Oh. Is that true, then? Can you… I mean, you can’t just step in here?”
Spike kicked the barrier, let his foot bounce off it a little. “May I come in?”
“Yes, please. You are invited in.”
“Thanks ever so.” Spike stepped over the threshold with a smooth swish of coat and a smirk.
A waft of fear. “I didn’t just let every vampire in town in here, did I?”
“Nah, love, only applies to the vampire what hears it said. And don’t worry, I won’t be coming back here in the night to make off with your kiddies.”
They were in a little brick foyer. Ahead was a kitchen, to the left a living-room. It smelled of stale carpet, cats, and Lysol. Spike hated Lysol. Seemed to be designed purely to make vampire noses itch.
“How… how did you know I have children?”
“Little Tyke’s.” He jerked his thumb at the door. “Toys in the yard.”
“Oh. Right. Um… well…”
For a woman who wanted to be bit by a vampire she wasn’t making it easy.
“Where do you want to do this? Couch?” Spike walked past her and surveyed the dimly-lit interior. Hanging plants. Magazines on a coffee table. A mirror hung with black lace.
He sank into the sagging brown suede sofa. The woman sat next to him, just on the very edge of the seat, knees together, like a virgin at her junior prom. Spike leaned forward. “Just tell me what… well, where you want me to bite you.”
Her hands fluttered in her lap. “I… I mean. You won’t.”
“Me being here pretty much negates that assumption, pet.”
“Well, before, they always said they wouldn’t. It wasn’t allowed. And that’s what it always is in movies, you know?” Her hand fluttered over her collar. “The neck.”
Spike slid closer on the couch, so he was nearly directly behind her. He gently pulled the woman’s hairspray-sticky hair away from her nape. “Brothel vamps are probably worried their little fledgelings won’t be able to control themselves. Blood flows fast up here. Will be over quick.” He brushed the curve of her neck with the backs of his fingernails.
She shivered. “Well, that’s what I want. What your friend said… she said you would.”
Spike smiled tightly and lowered his mouth to her neck. The skin smelled of talc and clay - make-up. The daft bint had put make-up on her very neck. He licked his thumb and rubbed it over the point he wanted to bite. Maybe she’d think it was foreplay.
She pulled away from him. “Wait.”
Spike bit back his irritation. “What?”
She turned around. “Not like that. I want to see you.”
Right. Spike looked forlornly at the newly cleaned patch of her neck. He was a left-biter, damn it. Would feel odd bending his head the other way. Which was worse? Make-up on the fangs or bending the other way?
He was stopped in his consideration by the woman touching his cheek. “You’re very handsome,” she said.
“About to get less so, luv. Just…”
“Would you kiss me? I mean, before? I mean, right now?”
Spike rolled his lips inward. “No, luv. I won’t. I got a girl.”
Her face collapsed. “Oh.”
“This isn’t ‘Dark Shadows’, sweet. Not here to romance you, just to eat you.” He rubbed a tear from her cheek with the pad of his thumb. “Now, don’t look like that. ‘S a fantasy. Right?”
She nodded, shakily.
He tilted his head to the right and let his fangs graze lengthwise on her skin, feeling the blood rushing up to meet them. “Just close your eyes,” he spoke with his lips pressed to her skin. He did kiss her, just a little peck over the artery he’d selected. “Think of Barnabas Collins.” The woman was aroused, he could smell it, and her hands were running up and down his biceps like she was shopping for a pair of her own.
Her breathing was hitched, her shoulders shaking, and when he finally slipped into her skin, her blood tasted of desperation and loneliness.
Spike kept one hand on the envelope in his pocket all the way back to Buffy’s house. He handed it over to her in the kitchen. She was washing dishes. She flicked water from her fingers, wiped her hands on her jeans, and took the envelope. He watched her count the money.
“The price of my dignity.” Spike smiled tightly. “You over-charged.”
She got halfway through her eye-roll when Dawn bounced into the room.
Buffy hurriedly tucked the envelope in her back pocket. Dawn went straight to the fridge. “I’m going to Tara’s,” she said, with her head deep in the crisper.
Dawn came up with a carrot and brandished it disturbingly like a stake. “Hi, Spike.”
“Niblet.”
“Spike’s here to… talk about slaying.” Buffy blurted.
Dawn was already just a sway of hair retreating down the hall.
Spike put his hands on Buffy’s waist, ignoring her light slaps of protest. “So your dirty little secret has a dirty little secret.” He kissed her jaw.
“Spike, my hands are wet.”
“The dirty cunt actually asked me to kiss her. Can you believe that?” He lowered his voice an octave, “Does it make you jealous?”
Buffy twisted out of his grasp, her arms in front of her like a surgeon waiting for gloves. “Someone could walk right in here!”
He took her wet hands and kissed the fingertips. The water made the whorls of her fingerprints more pronounced, more textured. “Told her I’m yours. All yours.”
She twisted away. “Willow is in the house,” she hissed. “Try to behave yourself.”
“Just ate. I’m horny.”
Which was, as usual, the worst thing he could have said, and he realized it only after the words were free from his mouth and Buffy was backing away from him with an outraged glare.
“Buffy…”
“You’re disgusting!”
He sighed. “Pet, I’m sorry. It’s the blood… another reason we shouldn’t do this. What’s it gonna do, getting me all used to the good stuff again when the only way I can get it…”
“Is what? From willing victims? Does that take the ‘spice’ out of it?” Buffy made air quotes with too-quick motions that threatened to continue into violence.
“That’s not what I mean and you know it. Buffy…”
She stormed out of the room. He caught up to her in the hallway and grabbed her bicep. She spun around, her other fist raised to strike.
Spike lifted his chin. “You gonna hit me then, luv?”
She lowered her fist and wrenched her arm loose from his grip. Without a word she stomped up the stairs and out of sight.
Spike stuck his hands in his pockets, shrugged, and let himself out.
***
Buffy sat at her computer - which was actually Willow’s old computer, handed down for “Dawnie’s education” when Willow got the new iBook. Apparently, these days, high school required them. Buffy felt old in computer-years. Hadn’t she been in high school just three years ago?
She had meant to take a shower and go to bed, not letting Spike and his confusing Spike-ness stay on her mind. But instead she was checking her messages, because of him.
Not because of that much-needed money in her pocket, a drop of water in a big empty bucket of dept. But such a drop! She almost felt light-headed. A few minutes online, a post-it, and bam! Spike handed over as much as she’d make in several hours flipping burgers.
It made those burger-flipping hours feel even more meaningless, and Buffy had not thought that possible. Was this all she was worth? All those study sessions, no credit for slaying, attempting to skim through scary old watcher books. She should have a master’s degree in slayage.
It was too much to hope that her post on the vampire fan club website had gotten a second response. But it had. She felt a little thread of relief, clicking on the link to read.
“Do you have a picture?” was all it said.
Buffy bit her lip. She’d just tell them ‘no’…
She clicked reply and stared at the blinking cursor. She stood up and pulled out a cardboard box from under the desk. Unsorted pictures. She remembered, there was at least one with Spike… she remembered complaining about it and tossing it in the ‘never in the album’ pile.
She found two. One she didn’t recognize. It was a party or something, in the dinning room. Everyone was in black. There were flowers. Spike was leaning against the wall, not looking at the camera, behind a wan-looking Dawn. Oh god. This was her wake.
Buffy tried to put the photo down twice. But it was the first she’d found of Spike and… it was also compelling. I was dead when this was taken. It was like cheating god to even see it.
The other photo was the one she remembered. Dawn had taken it, in the middle of a roll of perfectly good pictures of holidays and birthdays. It was washed out, too much flash, but Spike was smiling, his mouth open in what no doubt was some sort of joking threat to the girl with the camera as he stalked toward her from a background completely lost to black.
Buffy wasn’t sure he looked his best smiling. She set the picture down next to the other one, where his turned-away face accentuated his devastating cheekbones.
Sad but sexy vamp, or smiling but washed-out vamp?
Her hand hesitated over both. She picked up the smiling picture and set it on the scanner. She couldn’t share the funeral picture, she just couldn’t.
Continued in Part Two