Rating: PG 16 so far.
Couple: Willow / Spike
Disclaimer: Joss owns all - I don't pretend that any of this is mine (how I wish....) Cheers.
Summary : An attack on the chipped one has far reaching consequences for Willow and Spike.
Status: Incomplete
Feedback: Uh huh.
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~Part: 1~
She doesn’t sleep much anymore. She suspects it’s largely due to what she KNOWS goes ‘bump’ in the night. And the witchcraft. It fills her with a constant hum; it’s a comfort, and an infinite source of pure white, hot, energy.
She doesn’t sleep much anymore. She doesn’t really need to.
But right now she’s curled securely around her pillow, burrowed deep beneath the covers of her childhood bed in the home to which she was born. Alone, but secure and at an easy rest.
Like the rest of them – she can never really be caught off guard anymore, because even at this pre dawn hour her instincts are set to ‘high alert’. So she doesn’t struggle slowly to the surface of her slumber confused and vulnerable. She snaps immediately awake and in the blink of an eye is aware someone (something) is scratching at her balcony doors. Springing from the bed and into a defensive crouch she is already in possession of her trusty stake.
She has the reflexes and the resolve of a battle-hardened soldier on his third tour of duty. Like the rest of them. Willow knows that when her time comes she will not die an easy death – no soldier ever does. She doesn’t expect to die in her bed at the age of 85 with healthy grandchildren to see her off.
The scratching has become ….frenzied. Whatever’s out there wants in. Badly. Sparing a quick glance at the clock she is immediately aware of two things, dawn is mere minutes away and she has not invited a vampire into her home. She’s safe from the undead threat at least.
Suddenly the scratching stops and for a bare moment the silence holds sway only to be fractured by a….giggle?
Someone (something) is giggling at her balcony doors just as the sun was set to rise? Not Xander, he doesn’t do early morning giggling and besides he has a key. So does Buffy. So does Giles. Not one of her friends then. So who (what) is out there?
The giggling ceases abruptly as a dull thud signals her pre dawn visitor has just taken quite a tumble, a hypothesis that is confirmed by a low moan and muffled cursing, from which Willow thinks she catches the colorful use of the term ‘bloody’ and at least one ‘bullocks’.
The only being she knows who peppers his daily conversations with those expletives is Spike. If that’s him out there on her balcony she’s about 30 seconds away from sweeping up a dust pile.
Sometimes good personality traits and not so good traits cancel each other out. For example Willow’s impressive intellect is often of very little use to her when her trusting and compassionate nature overrides the voice of well informed reason and convinces her to take unnecessary risks, like now, when she finds herself wrenching the doors open to save the unlife of a demon (who had tried to kill her more than once, and promised to try again. Consistently.) who might or might not be her early morning visitor.
Luckily for Willow, God, or the Powers, protects fools and children.
Her early morning interloper is indeed William the Bloody. And as he lay unconscious on her balcony - the soft pink fingers of the dawn creeping steadily across the horizon is already causing the aesthetically pleasing form of the vampire, to smoke and smolder warningly.
Not even taking a moment to spare a further glance at the vampire, she bends quickly, grabbing a fist full of leather and with every ounce of strength she possesses she heaves the deadweight inside her bedroom kicking the door shut firmly behind them.
She lies stunned and panting for a moment next to Spike’s inert form and in the silence of her empty home she offers up a quick thanks for adrenaline without which she knows she would never have managed to drag the much larger male inside and away from the sun’s fatal kiss.
An alien smell permeates the air and Willow realizes with a start it is the smell of scorched vampire flesh. The knowledge spurs her into action once again and she scrambles urgently to her knees and begins divesting the vampire of his jacket and shirt in order to assess the damage.
Luckily for Spike his vain insistence on wearing his leather duster 24/7 has protected his torso from damage, the same can’t be said for his face and hands which are red raw and covered in painful looking blisters. In addition to the burns, he is sporting an extremely nasty gash in his head and with a groan Willow notices he’s bleeding steadily all over her carpet.
Bleeding quite a lot actually. Bleed at an alarming rate.
Clamping down forcefully on the panic threatening to engulf her Willow comes to a quick decision. Spike is clearly bleeding out and if his wound doesn’t heal he’s gonna die. He needs to feed immediately. Willow has not had Spike in her home before and kept no blood handy. If she was gong to save him she was going to have bleed herself. It was the only option.
While her brain and her conscience argued about he pros and cons of donating to the ‘Save Spike’ blood drive, Willow races down stairs to the kitchen to select the sharpest knife she can find.
Sticking with tradition she ignores the warning her brain is shouting not to ‘run with sharp objects’ and she bounds up the stairs towards the rapidly fading vampire.
Willow is no Slayer. She’s scared of being hurt, scared of needles, scared of guns, scared of cross bows, and even got queasy when her ears were pierced. But there’s something that terrifies Willow much more than this; and that’s letting her friends down. In his own odd and twisted way, she counts Spike among that rank. So she’s gonna cut herself for Spike to feed and she’s gonna do it where she can hide the wound later so as not to worry the Scooby Gang who she knows would never understand and would never approve.
‘Everyone’s a winner’ she mumbles quietly as she rolls up a sleeve and quickly slashes the inside of her forearm. Bright vermilion blood explodes quickly from the wound and with it comes the inevitable pain, bad enough that her vision swims alarmingly and the blood pounds and throbs inside her skull loud enough to roar in her ears. Sinking to the floor she forces herself to breathe deeply and slowly. Clutching Spike’s blond head she cradles him gently in her lap and leans against the wall in case she faints (which she has a sneaking suspicion she is about to do) she places her bleeding arm firmly against his pale lips and waits for the demon’s instinct to kick in.
She doesn’t have to wait long. Spike is nothing if not a survivor – despite his one time dabble with suicide. Willow winces as Spike’s demon face comes to the fore and his icy lips latch of their own accord securely over her wounded arm.
The feeling of her blood being steadily and even forcefully drawn from her body is an alien one and should have had her own survival instincts screaming at her. Oddly enough none of the emotions she would associate with the instinctive fight or flight reaction is present. Instead the pain the demon’s sucking should be causing her is easily overwhelmed by a feeling she can only describe as rapture.
She wonders at that – finds a fault in the internal alarm system – finds a chink in the armor. This is the proof. Humans are NOT the top of the food chain. Not by a long shot. Not if dying has the potential to feel this GOOD.
And sucking. What kind of word is that for what he’s doing to her? Not one that she would ever use again in relation to what it was a vampire did with their fangs in human flesh. She is suddenly ashamed to have ever referred to this act in such base and simplistic terms. Oh God, I’ve got a new religion…….
She probably could have happily sat with her vein open to him as calm as a Hindu cow till he’d had the very last drop of her life giving blood – but suddenly his usually blue eyes flash open and burn with a golden intensity into her. Just as effective as the veritable slap in the face, the predatory glare snaps her from her stupor and she jerks her arm away from him almost guiltily. Won’t be joining that convent just yet then…
The room’s two inhabitants spend a long silent moment warily regarding each other – Willow with her arm pulled defensively against her heaving chest and Spike lying deathly still and silent in her lap. A knowledge lies heavy between them, unspoken but deafening in its silence. This has been something beyond intimate, beyond significant and beyond her mortal grasp, but she knows that things can never be the same between them again.
It’s with a guilty kind of relief that she allows herself to relax a minute later when Spike slips once more into unconsciousness. This time, however, he is flushed with her blood and his head wound is already beginning to knit together once again – vampiric healing kick started with her own life. I die so that you may live…….
~Part: 2~
For reasons known only to herself, Cordelia Chase made it easy for anyone who didn’t know her to assume she was an above average looking piece of tail with below average intelligence. Cordelia Chase was therefore consistently underestimated – even by those who she would call her friends, her family. But never by Angel.
So he shouldn’t have been surprised when she confronted him in the kitchen that morning, but he had been alone for almost 85 of his last 80 years and it was sometimes difficult for him to remember that he had a family now and despite his best efforts at covering and their lack of blood ties, the AI team had the same uncanny ability all families had – they knew when something was wrong with one of their own.
Granted there was no blood bond forged in death and rebirth to signal trouble, but Cordy knew something was bothering the Broody One. Little did she realize it was the aforementioned blood bond currently causing her vampire angst – the warning hummed across the metaphysical ether and set up a burning itch right at the base of his skull. Despite siring numerous Childer, there was only one with whom he shared such a strong connection. His favored Childe, William.
Spike was in trouble. The kind of trouble you should pronounce with a capital T.
"So"
Angel raised one eyebrow in question unconsciously mirroring his inquisitor. "Sooooo…..what?"
Exhaling sharply she rolled her eyes "So, what’s up? And don’t you tell me nothing, because I’ve been watching you do your very best inanimate object routine for the last two hours and even at your broodiest you actually remember to turn the page once every half hour or so!"
He sighed gently knowing he would have to give her an explanation. But he wasn’t sure he could cope with the ‘Wrath of Cordelia Chase’ when he confessed he was filled with an overwhelming sense of fear for the unlife of William the Bloody. She loved him to distraction, he knew, but even that did not mean she would choose to understand his feelings for his murderous Childe. He was so distracted by the unrelenting and ever increasing pain he was being fed through the bond that he was effectively unable to focus on justifying his concerns to his best friend – and he was pretty sure that was exactly what she would be demanding – a justification.
"It’s complicated."
As soon as the softly spoken words left his mouth he knew it had been the wrong thing to say, he didn’t need to watch with dawning dismay the look of hurt his poor choice of words elicited to know it.
"Cordy –"
The gentle endearment was not going to smooth this one over. Incredulous expression #1 was firmly back in place and if he didn’t know her he might almost have believed he had imagined the fleeting vulnerability in her dark eyes. But he did know her.
"So, what…..I wouldn’t understand, is that what you think?"
"It’s not that, I just-"
"So what am I supposed to do Angel, Huh? Do I sit here and pretend you’re not scaring the shit out of me or do I pretend to be as stupid as you obviously think I am and act like I never noticed you’re in pain? You better give me a clue here dead boy."
Each sharply spoken word cut him and the combination of her pounding heartbeat, the buzzing in his skull, the nervous clenching in his gut and his own deep seated knowledge that something was WRONG caused a minor slip in his usual iron clad control.
Sliding unknowingly into game face Angel responded to the demon’s instinctive drive to lash out and before he was even consciously aware of his actions he had sent his winged back mahogany chair whistling across the room to smash spectacularly against the wall where it exploded and splintered on impact.
As quickly as he came, Angelus was gone again leaving Angel standing shamefaced in the center of the room begging Cordelia with his soulful chocolate eyes to forgive him for his transgression.
The silence stretched on neither brunette speaking or breaking eye contact. Until Angel’s shoulders slumped in defeat and he sighed again jamming his large fists deeply into his pockets. "I…I think it’s Spike, he’s in pain. I can feel it."
When she spoke her voice was uncharacteristically gentle "Then you better go to him."
~Part: 3~
He was coming. Wasn’t far away now. Spike could feel him. His Sire.
Spike’s survival instinct was particularly strong, even for a demon. Probably how he’d ended up here when he should have died hours ago. But he was too tired to worry about the implications of his Sire’s impending arrival.
He couldn’t decipher intent through the bond, but he was pretty sure the moment Peaches saw that the witch had allowed him to feed from her he would be kissing his first sunrise in 127 years.
He should probably get the hell out of Dodge.
Lifting his head from its resting place was suddenly impossible and he slid bonelessly back to the bed panting unnecessarily with the effort. Apparently he wouldn’t be going anywhere. He only hoped he could rely on the witch to keep old Angel from ending his miserable unlife.
Spike’s demon railed in disgust at the very thought of relying on a mortal to protect him from Soul Boy. Flashing back to the incident that had brought him here in the first place he suddenly began to wonder if Peaches wouldn’t be doing him a favor if he killed him. Put him out of his misery.
A single rose-colored tear escaped the demon’s icy blue eyes and slid silently down a bruised cheek. "yeah, put me out of my misery, Sire."
Willow watched quietly form where she stood undetected in the doorway. Worry turned her stomach and a deep frown marred her usually serene countenance. Whatever had happened to him…whoever had done this….
Her eyes darkened to black and electricity crackled dangerously about the young witch as she pondered just what she would like to do to whatever had damaged him in this way.
Willow jumped guiltily as the shrill sound of the front door bell pulled her from her macabre revere.
Pulling her sleeve down carefully over her wounded arm she hurried down stairs to the door. Her visitor had given up on the bell and was now pounding on the door instead and the last thing she wanted was for Spike to be disturbed.
Because that would mean she would have to speak to him. And he just might call her on the whole ‘getting off on the vampire suck job’ thing. He would know that she did, dead guys could tell about that stuff, or so the Watchers’ diaries said.
Throwing the front door open she didn’t have time to release her startled scream before being tackled to the floor by something huge, black and smoking, winding her as the full weight of her assailant’s large body fell heavily on top of her.
Willow felt panic engulf her as she struggled uselessly against the larger body pining her to the floor. Without being able to move her hands she was completely helpless.
The flurry of physical activity ended as abruptly as it had begun when the large black body atop her became rigid and still. A low and rumbling growl was suddenly the only other noise in the house aside from her panting. Snapping her eyes open for the first time since she’d hit the floor, Willow felt her heart lurch in sudden panic at the vampiric visage staring down at her, before recognition kicked in and she allowed herself to relax slightly.
"Angel?"
She felt her muscles tense once again when the only response she received was a warning growl and flash of glinting fang. It suddenly occurred to her that perhaps this was not Angel and that maybe the demon here with her now was responsible for the condition of the demon upstairs. Spike’s injuries were certainly grievous enough to have been inflicted by…"A…Angelus?"
Willow watched in wonder and in no small measure of relief as recognition and awareness slowly slid across the brunettes face. His ridges melted away and his killer’s fangs retracted to their human form and although is eyes remained a fiery gold when he spoke she knew that she was in no immediate danger.
"My Childe. Where?"
She smiled gently in understanding. Angel was worried, panicking even – his demon close to the surface. "he’s out of danger, Angel. Upstairs in my room."
The sentence was not even finished before Angel had disappeared up the stairs to seek out his Childe. "Damn vampire speed." Willow muttered with envy, before pulling her aching body from the floor.
"So that’s what it feels like to be body slammed by a 215 pound dead guy. Note to self; do not allow large vampires to body slam you again."
She moaned quietly and rubbed the small of her back wondering just how much this little incident would end up costing her in chiropractic bills.
The insistent bell of the telephone effectively distracted her from her momentary bout of self-pity and she limped gingerly across the room to answer it.
"Hello?"
"Willow! Thank God. Angel’s on his way over, something’s wrong with junior and Daddy’s gone slightly postal –"
"Cordy, he’s already here he-"
"What! He only left an hour ago! Stupid vampire, he’ll get himself killed and where will that leave me, huh?"
Willow had to assume that was a rhetorical question because Cordy continued on before she could answer.
"So just make sure you keep little miss likes to fight away from Angel, I mean he’s a little distracted and the last thing he needs is Buffy-"
"It’s ok, Cordy. I understand-"
"Well thanks, Will….So I’ll see you in about 2 hours. Bye now"
Grimacing slightly Willow quietly replaced the receiver and slid into a nearby chair suddenly exhausted. ‘Can we say overwhelmed much?’
Two vampires and Cordelia Chase. She could handle it, sure she could, she was pretty good at the whole multi tasking shtick. "Yeah, keep telling yourself that Rosenberg!"
Opening his eyes was difficult as they were both almost swollen shut now, and the truth of the matter was he didn’t have to open his eyes to know his Sire had entered the room. Because Spike could feel him. It had always been like that between them – even the soul had not affected that aspect of their bond.
Spike almost jumped out of his skin when Angel finally spoke. "Will"
It was only one word. Softly spoken, whispered even. But that one word told Spike all he needed to know and all he had wanted to hear. That one word was his undoing.
"Sire. Please."
His voice had cracked and broken but Angel had understood his request and was by his Childe’s side in a second.
It was no good, he couldn’t stem the bloody tears now coursing down his cheeks. He buried his face into the broad expanse of his Sire’s shoulder nuzzling the smooth skin at the base of his throat in a vampire’s instinctive need for comfort. For his part Angel responded in kind purring deeply to his childe and tilting his neck to expose more of his throat. It was a gesture as old as time for those of his kind – a universal language.
Neither male spoke. There was no need for words. They held each other in silence each taking their own reassurance from the reopening of the bond.
~Part: 4~
Willow was surprised at the worry she saw reflected on Cordelia’s face, she knew the years had marched by but she had honestly never expected to see the day Cordy showed any concern for anyone other than herself. What a revelation.
“So he just showed up on the balcony, did he say what happened to him?”
Willow shook her head wearily and massaged her temples slowly trying to alleviate the pounding that had begun deep in the base of her skull about half an hour ago. “No, he hasn’t really been conscious long enough. I have no idea what happened to him but it was messy Cordy…..”
The brunette watched Willow with concern as she shivered at the memory of Spike’s injuries. If they were really that bad that a battle hardened Slayerette such as Willow got the heebie-jeebies, then it was little wonder Angelus had made a brief appearance – he must have felt his Childe’s pain through that icky bond thingy.
Cordelia hoped for Angel’s sake that Spike would be ok. Not that she cared about Spike, but she loved Angel and she knew that despite his better judgment the broody vampire still felt deeply for his Childe and losing Spike would be another punishment he had to endure. Cordy firmly believed that Angel had suffered quite enough. She hoped Blondie pulled through. ‘I mean, straw, camel.’ She thought bitterly to herself hoping the Powers could hear her musings.
Neither girl let forth a surprised shriek when the dark vampire suddenly appeared unannounced before them – nothing was really quite THAT surprising anymore.
It had taken Cordelia a long time to train Angel to drop the stealth routine around the office saying it just wasn’t good for her sense of calm, he only did it now when he was in full ‘vamp mode’ as she liked to call it and while none of the identifying ridges or fangs were evident the golden flecks bleeding into his normally chocolate eyes was a dead giveaway. Angel was instinct man at the moment – Cordelia knew better than to mess with him when he was like this.
“Willow, could I speak to you for a moment please?”
Willow swallowed over a sudden lump in her throat barely suppressing the shiver his low and dangerous voice wanted to send down her spine. This was Angel, she had to remind herself, and he would never hurt her. Giving herself a mental shake she stood stiffly and followed him into the kitchen, biting her lip to keep her mouth shut and the nervous babble in check – judging by the ‘kill, kill, kill’ vibes she could feel rolling off the vampire, now was not the time for childish defense mechanisms.
The door to the kitchen had only barely shut behind her when Angel had grabbed her forearm in one large and chilly hand and yanked her shirtsleeve up hard enough that it tore.
“Hey!” she spluttered a little weakly in a halfhearted attempt to snatch her arm from his crushing grasp.
Angel ignored her outraged squeak – studying the pink tinged bandage for a moment he curled his lip back in a silent snarl, fangs elongating as he did so and eyes now completely yellow as he was assaulted by the scent of fresh human blood and fear. Fear. Willow was afraid. Of him. He shook his head and his human mask fell immediately back into place, he dropped her arm and stepped slowly away from her.
“Thank you, Willow. For what you did for my Childe.”
“You’re not mad?”
“How could I possibly be mad? You saved my boy.”
He didn’t sound grateful. He certainly didn’t sound reassuring.
The witch and the vampire regarded each other silently for a long moment. There was a connection, an acknowledgement hung between them – the boy, all for the boy. She fought down an unexpected surge of white-hot jealousy as she gazed into the obsidian depths of Angel’s ageless eyes. It was her blood that saved him and Angel’s name he called as she gave it.
Her heart hammered in her chest as Angel reached for her, his movements slow and smooth like some kind of underwater dance. Was that death she saw in his eyes to be delivered in spite of his gratitude, had she unwittingly intruded or trespassed against the Sire?
She fell obediently into his arms and met his full and icy lips without flinching. His tongue pressing demandingly against her mouth was granted immediate entry. Compliant. He tastes…..clean, a slight hint of cinnamon and she remembers briefly as they melt into each other that Cordelia puts it in his blood – motherly concern. She wonders if his questing tongue is seeking to discover her essence so that he can know what it is that saved his Childe. This is no thank you kiss.
He pulls away with infinite slowness, all underwater moves again and says one thing she doesn’t understand, “yes.”
And suddenly they are in real time once again and he is gone before she feels the coolness of his hands leave her skin.
It occurs to Willow that she has just spent the best part of ten minutes locked in what could only honestly be termed a carnal kiss with the love of Buffy’s young life and she should be ashamed of her response and angry with Angel for instigating it in the first instance. But she isn’t.
The kiss was about possession and control not love or even tenderness – there was no betrayal behind it for her to agonize over. Willow suddenly experiences new kind of clarity. She had just been initiated, claimed, tested and accepted, adopted. He doesn’t have to say the word ‘mine’ she is left in no doubt as to the fact.
Understanding dawns. The demon is repaying her the only way it knows how, placing her firmly under his protection and reaffirming his ownership rights of his Childe at the same time. Well done little girl, I promise Angelus will reward for your loyalty – how does eternity in my court sound, hmmmm?
~~~*~~~
“Cordy!”
“You bellowed, boss?”
Cordelia bites back a wince when he doesn’t even pause to raise one sardonic eyebrow at her.
“Hurling axe is in the trunk right?”
Oh this is not good. “Ah, yeah. So what dead demon walking are we gonna go pound on?”
He’s stalking across the living room towards the front door and the little trickle of unease that has been dogging her has now fully established itself as panic. “Angel! You know it’s a sun shiny day out there right now?”
This time he stops with his hand on the doorknob and she allows herself to exhale slowly in relief, but only for a fraction of a second because….
“Then, I guess I’ll have to run Cor.”
With that he is out the door and across Willow’s front yard in less than thirty seconds but many years as a cheerleader and demon bait have gifted Cordelia with her own impressive speed and she sprints across the yard after him and flings herself into the front seat of the car just as he guns the motor to life.
“Out”
“No way.”
“Get. Out.”
The metallic taste of blood floods her mouth and with a slight start she realizes she has bitten the inside of her cheek a little too hard in an attempt to stop the frightened screaming she wants to unleash. Flashes of locked doors and screaming lawyers comes to mind.
“I can’t let you go alone……Don’t ask me to, Angel.”
He turns his golden eyes to the road staring off at something only he can see, because the street is empty. “You won’t want to see this…..I don’t want you to see this.”
Softly, “Humans.” He doesn’t answer but his hands tighten visibly on the steering wheel and she wonders how much more the plastic in his grasp can take before it simply snaps. “Humans did this to Spike and now you’re gonna hunt em down and….and what, Angel? What are you gonna do?”
“What I have to. Whatever it takes.”
So barely six months on and here we have it folks, Beige Period Mach II. “We can call Kate, right? I mean she must know someone who can take care of this, right?” She knows she sounds desperate. And she is. She doesn’t know if Angel can go through this again and the very thought of who might make a guest appearance into a permanent role is terrifying to her, because he is all she has and she never wants to lose him. “Angel?”
He revs the motor again and snarls and ignores the scent of his best friend’s tears as they begin a silent journey down her pale cheeks.
“So you’re gonna go all medieval? Cut them into bits? Tear out some throats? Angel?”
“Get out Cordy. Don’t make me move you.”
And she’s heard that tone once before, standing in front of a book shelf eyes clashing, a stand off. She backed down then because and she was gonna have to do it again, but not without one last try. “So you haven’t learned anything about this twisted vengeance thing that got you so screwed up last time? That’s what this is you know, revenge……”
This time he turns his head to look at her when he answers and his eyes are a beautiful shade of coffee and his face is smooth and expressionless “No Cordelia. This is about family.”
And if he was willing to cut off Lindsay’s hand for her, she shudders at the thought of the fate that awaits the humans who left his favored Childe for dead in some dirty Sunnydale street or alleyway.
She climbs out of the car without looking at him and returns to Willow’s house to wait. And Grieve. He is Angelus, Scourge of Europe, this shouldn’t take too long.
~~~*~~~
Spike limped slowly down the stairs. He could hear two heartbeats and since his Sire had made an appearance earlier he could only assume the second one belonged to the Cheerleader. He didn’t really want to go down and face the chits, but he couldn’t quite bring himself to cower in Red’s fluffy bedroom waiting for his ‘daddy’ to come back from dealing with the human bullies. Now all he needed to do to really put the icing on the proverbial cake was to start sobbing like a poof the minute Red laid her comforting hands on him. I know she’s gonna do it, Chit’s got no common sense for someone so bloody smart.
The blonde paused to gather himself before entering the living room and actually managed to almost saunter in through the door. All sauntering ceased immediately when his eyes fell on the figure of the witch curled in a large overstuffed chair sipping orange juice through a straw.
The very sight of her was almost like a physical blow as memories of her youthful blood filled his being causing his mouth to water and his demon to surge forth urging him to take her again, and again – bleed her dry …….turn her and taste her forever.
He shook his head to clear it and scowled angrily at the momentary loss of control. He was angry with her for making him lose it, angry with her for being so kind, angry with her for risking her life for him, angry with her for making him feel loved…….same reasons he was always so bloody angry with Paingel.
“Spike?”
Oh no you don’t witch, don’t you dare come over here and touch me, don’t you dare look at me with those confused eyes. Don’t. You. Dare.
He doesn’t quite trust his voice just yet so instead of answering he pulls a cigarette from his duster and lights up, knowing she hates it, knowing it’s rude – particularly since she saved his life. But he can’t stand the idea that she might think this changed anything between them. Right, just keep telling yourself that and you’re bound to believe it eventually.
“C..can I get you anything?”
She means blood. He knows that, after everything it amuses him she still can’t seem to say the word. Time to rectify matters. “Just a quick nip at your delicious neck, pet.” He smirks hoping she doesn’t notice the slight quiver in his voice. She’ll refuse of course, and blush maddeningly but that’s ok cause he’s not hungry. He has not long fed from his Sire. He just likes to remind her what he is, he likes to remind himself, especially since…..
The response, when it comes after an agonizingly long five seconds of silence, is unexpected.
“Fuck you, Spike”
And then she is disappearing up the stairs and a heartbeat later he hears her bedroom door shut quietly.
He is left with a surprising sense of loss and the accusing glare of the cheerleader.
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