Alternative to a Soul, a Spike-centric ficlet
Title: Alternative to a Soul
Author: Mel (btvslover82)
Pairing: err, none? Spuffy?
Rating: let’s say R, to be safe.
Summary: sometimes I have a sick sense of humor when I’m stressed. Yes, that is my summary for this. 300 words.
Warnings: you’ve been warned, that I’m not putting a warning.
Disclaimer: not mine, obviously.
At first, Buffy could hardly believe that Spike was showing his face at her door. He wasn’t exactly Mr. Popularity, after the stunt he had pulled in the bathroom last month, and she figured he knew he’d be more likely to get staked than fed, if he ever came around again begging for blood money. His invitation into her life had been revoked. Literally.
And then she realized he had a heartbeat. A pulse.
“What…how?” She’d heard talk of shanshu from LA, but how would Spike….
He gave her that same shy smile that he wore sometimes, after sex. “Did it just for you, pet.”
She still couldn’t comprehend it. But when he opened his arms to her, bathed in the warm glow coming from the porch light, she only hesitated a second before she stepped into them, and wrapped herself around him, let herself be wrapped up in him, his nose buried in her neck.
Buffy barely had time to register the familiar cracking noise before the razor-pricks dug into the soft flesh of her throat and latched on. Struggle only ripped her artery further.
She was drained too quickly, for his taste. Could have dragged that out all night, he could, but he’d been greedy and now it was over. She hung limp in his arms, this little slip of a thing that had lorded over his life for 3 years.
He was free now, to do as he liked.
He dropped her to the ground, a present for Harris to find in the morning when he came to drive Dawnie to school. Toed her cooling body with his boot as he lit a cigarette, licking the last of the rich slayer blood from his lips.
Neat invention, these pacemakers.
eta A/N: I had my computer all turned off and then I felt compelled to add that in reality, a pacemaker wouldn't work on a dead man. the electrolyte balance inside and outside the cells of his heart wouldn't be right, because dead men don't make ATP necessary to run the ion pumps. unless vampires make ATP from ingesting blood...which they must, in order for their muscles to work. *is getting a headache* ok. nobody cares. someday, I'm going to write a compendium on vampire physiology that no one will read because I'm a big nerd. lmao.
Author: Mel (btvslover82)
Pairing: err, none? Spuffy?
Rating: let’s say R, to be safe.
Summary: sometimes I have a sick sense of humor when I’m stressed. Yes, that is my summary for this. 300 words.
Warnings: you’ve been warned, that I’m not putting a warning.
Disclaimer: not mine, obviously.
At first, Buffy could hardly believe that Spike was showing his face at her door. He wasn’t exactly Mr. Popularity, after the stunt he had pulled in the bathroom last month, and she figured he knew he’d be more likely to get staked than fed, if he ever came around again begging for blood money. His invitation into her life had been revoked. Literally.
And then she realized he had a heartbeat. A pulse.
“What…how?” She’d heard talk of shanshu from LA, but how would Spike….
He gave her that same shy smile that he wore sometimes, after sex. “Did it just for you, pet.”
She still couldn’t comprehend it. But when he opened his arms to her, bathed in the warm glow coming from the porch light, she only hesitated a second before she stepped into them, and wrapped herself around him, let herself be wrapped up in him, his nose buried in her neck.
Buffy barely had time to register the familiar cracking noise before the razor-pricks dug into the soft flesh of her throat and latched on. Struggle only ripped her artery further.
She was drained too quickly, for his taste. Could have dragged that out all night, he could, but he’d been greedy and now it was over. She hung limp in his arms, this little slip of a thing that had lorded over his life for 3 years.
He was free now, to do as he liked.
He dropped her to the ground, a present for Harris to find in the morning when he came to drive Dawnie to school. Toed her cooling body with his boot as he lit a cigarette, licking the last of the rich slayer blood from his lips.
Neat invention, these pacemakers.
eta A/N: I had my computer all turned off and then I felt compelled to add that in reality, a pacemaker wouldn't work on a dead man. the electrolyte balance inside and outside the cells of his heart wouldn't be right, because dead men don't make ATP necessary to run the ion pumps. unless vampires make ATP from ingesting blood...which they must, in order for their muscles to work. *is getting a headache* ok. nobody cares. someday, I'm going to write a compendium on vampire physiology that no one will read because I'm a big nerd. lmao.