Inner Workings

By Ten

"All right, ya ponce, how'd you do it?" Spike glared at his companion suspiciously. He'd been trying to crack the slayer's shell for years. He'd gotten nowhere.

"Do what?" The speech pattern was slow and deliberate, his voice low and heavily accented.

"Get to the Slayer! How'd you do it?" Spike was impatient.

"Oh, that." He raised an eyebrow as one side of his mouth curled up slightly at the edge. Dracula was still a stunningly handsome man, one of the most attractive, and certainly the most famous, in vampire lore, with his penetrating eyes and long, dark hair. "I stepped inside her head."

Spike scoffed, "Yeah, right. No, really, how'd you do it?"

Spike had just about given up on Buffy. Since she had returned from the dead she was different, but not so different that she had changed her opinion about him. She still kept him at arm's length, though she regularly used his super-power strength to help with the Scoobies. Still, he was an outsider, with them and with her. Though he would never admit it, it hurt. He had been so overwhelmed to find she was alive again; there was nothing more he wanted than to hold her protectively close to him and never let anything hurt her again, ever!

However, few humans had been able to reach Buffy Sommers, much less vampires. She had so many walls around her it made Jericho look like an amusement park. Spike was determined to become something more to her than a strong arm when Dawn was in trouble. When he heard Dracula was coming through town, he let him know that it was time to pay up on that century-old gambling debt.

"Use your power, William." Dracula was matter-of-fact about it. "You have it inside you. You know how to use it, just as generations before us knew. Have you lived among humans so long now that you've forgotten?"

There was an accusational, judgmental tone that Spike didn't particularly care for. Still, there was an element of truth to it. He had been among humans for an awfully long time, not treating them as food but as companions, even friends, even would-be lovers. He needed to do some serious re-evaluating of his situation. The chip be damned.

A crease formed between Spike's eyebrows as he looked at his old friend. "I remember most of the time I got my way with brute force." He grinned at that. "I'd say yes, they'd say no, then came the ... fun." His mind was filled with the sweet memory of violence and blood and being sated by sex and feeding. He could almost taste it, almost feel blood and free will pumping into his mouth and down his throat, searing his body with power. It had been a long time since he had felt and enjoyed that.

He lifted his half-lidded eyes to Drac, his intense stare filling Spike and touching that part of him that remembered it so vividly.

"Come with me," Vlad said seductively, standing and moving toward the door. Spike couldn't help himself. He was on his feet, threw some bills at Willie, and followed his old friend out of the bar.

---

Spike felt powerless. It was as if Drac was holding him by the scruff of the neck and dragging him along the street toward the cemetery. He wanted to resist, but he was more intrigued by what was happening than threatened by it. If he had really wanted to, he could have broken free, but curiosity began to overtake him. How was Vlad doing this? He staggered along just to see where they were going.

The caped vampire kicked open the door to Spike's crypt and shoved him inside.

"Now," he said slowly, "it's time for you to remember who you are."

Spike sat on the sarcophagus staring, almost hypnotized, in front of him. Images played before him like a movie, filled with pictures of death and feeding and torture and sex. He was fascinated. He hadn't remembered most of these events until he saw them there before him, spread out like a buffet of pain and death. It was arousing. He remembered the emotion and the feeling of power, the blood, the erotic nature of every touch when you're feeding.

Dracula approached him, capturing his gaze and holding it there. The violent movies vanished and were replaced with a detailed, mental explanation of how to touch someone's mind. It just appeared there, like an instruction book, with the accompanying emotional stimulation for each command. The best way to make someone obey you is to make it feel good. If you suggest to them that they want to sit down and they do it, let them fill a surge of endorphins that rivals an orgasm.

Spike smiled and sent back the message, "Yes, I remember, yes, this is so good, it feels so good."

Vlad uncharacteristically smiled. "You see? I knew you would remember. The slayer and a steady diet of pigs' blood have beaten it out of you. How do you survive on that filth?" The words had actually come from his mouth, but Spike could hardly tell the difference. He was almost drunk on the sensation and the power of what he now remembered how to do.

"There's one more thing," Drac said, this time telepathically. He ran his fingers through Spike's hair around to the back pulling him in closely. His lips hovered dangerously close to Spike, as he breathed in his scent and grinned seductively. Without warning he captured Spike's mouth with his own, sending an electrical shock of emotion and sensation coursing through Spike like a runaway train.

It took every bit of strength he had, but Spike shoved him back and jumped off the sarcophagus, "Bloody Hell, Vlad! What are you …." He stopped abruptly, he eyes unfocused for a moment and then a deliciously evil smile crossed his lips. "Ohhhhh, yes." He met his friend's almost smug grin. "I remember now, I remember everything!" Spike was overwhelmed with excitement, starting to dance around the crypt, throwing his arms in the air in celebration. "Yes! YES!!!!"

Dracula stood back. This wasn't exactly the reaction he was expecting; still, it was gratifying that the light bulb had gone on in Spike's head, the cacophony of remembrance, the delicious thoughts of planning the Slayer's downfall. Drac licked his lips. This would be fun to watch, Spike bagging and shagging the Slayer.

Spike turned on him, his eyes flashing yellow but his face not changing. He stalked over to his old friend and slammed him by the shoulders into the wall. "Yeah, I remember a lot, now." He pressed his lips to Drac's forcefully, his tongue plundering the other's mouth almost viciously. He felt his friend's body temporarily go weak against his firm grasp. Inside Spike gloated that he'd had that affect on him, but Drac caught it in his mind and shoved him away both mentally and physically, pushing his way past Spike into the room.

"Oh really?" Said the Dark Prince. "You think I am so easily conquered?"

Spike burst out laughing. "Like I said, I remember a lot now." He walked around the other vampire in a small circle, stalking him. "One of the little details I seem to recall is that you are a damned easy bugger. You like the top, but you'll take the bottom. And …, " Spike stood in front of him, their eyes boring into one another and yet teasing at the same time, and ran his thumb lightly over Drac's lower lip, "… and I remember what a lovely and talented mouth you have."

Drac's face lit up, parting his lips slightly with a flash of fangs and bit into Spike's thumb, immediately sucking on it greedily. Spike's eyes closed and his balance wavered for a moment. Dracula released his thumb and began to lick the wound closed, working his hands up Spike's wrists and arms and drawing him in, whispering across Spike's ear, "There are a few more things we might try before you try this out on the Slayer."

Spike wavered a bit more, forcing air into his lungs just to give himself something to focus on so he could stay conscious. His voice was hazy and far away, he was floating on that shared euphoria he promised himself he'd never forget again.

"Before I try it on … who?"

Dracula smiled again. Spike joined him. Clothes began to shed, though neither touched the other. They gazed intently at each other, having entire conversations on what the other was to do next without saying a word, until they were both naked, except for Drac's cape.

"Ponce, lose the cape," Spike teased.

"No," he replied flatly.

Spike raised a threatening eyebrow and strutted toward him.

Vlad unexpectedly looked down at the floor like a little boy ashamed of himself. His voice was quiet and embarrassed, his already full lower lip protruding just a little. "It's in a knot. I haven't had it off in about three weeks." Spike started to laugh, Drac joined him. "I didn't want to ask for help and I couldn't get my hands in there to tear it open." The laughter increased, both of them hardly able to stand. "So, I've been trapped in my own cape," they were roaring with laughter now, "damned good craftsmanship." Spike collapsed onto the floor, rolling around and holding his sides. The caped vampire fell to his knees, joining him, laughing so hard that tears were running down his face.

When they begin to settle down, Spike reached over and ripped the neckline of the cape, freeing his friend.

Drac looked at it sadly. "My mother made that cape for me."

They both burst into fits of laughter again. Anyone who came into the crypt would have been more than baffled. Here were two master vampires, naked, rolling around the floor in fits of laughter. It was surreal. It was very strange. It was hysterical.

When he could finally talk, Spike said, "Come on, my friend, I have a bottle in the lower crypt." He helped Vlad to his feet, threw their clothes down the hole, and then they made their way down the ladder to the more private area.

The lighting was subdued candlelight, Spike's favorite after the sunlight he no longer got to enjoy. Dracula took an admiring look around while Spike poured a couple of glasses of fine Kentucky Bourbon he kept hidden away.

"Quite a nice place for a hole in the ground," Drac commented while taking his glass.

Spike smirked a little, "So I've heard."

He plopped onto the bed and sent a thought to Drac to do the same. He gladly complied, leaning into Spike's shoulder and nursing the drink. They sat in silence for awhile, passing a few thoughts back and forth, occasionally overwhelming the other with the emotion of things which had happened to them in the last year or so.

Vlad commented verbally that there was an awful lot of the Slayer in Spike's mind, a constant mixture of love and hatred.

"She's food, Spike, how can you see her as any but a pet or a meal?"

Spike raised an eyebrow at him. "You know better. I didn't see you snacking on her. You did the whole seduction scene, blood tasting, 'let me show you my dark world' mumbo-jumbo. You're lucky she didn't stake you then and there."

"She did," Dracula said matter-of-factly.

Spike looked at him a little surprised.

"I teleported before it was too late. She's fast, that Slayer."

"Mm, that she is." Spike clinked his glass to his old friend's. "To the Slayer." And they both drank.

Vlad set down his glass and touched Spike's chin, turning it toward him. "She has replaced your soul, you know. She lurks inside you, like a virus, wanting to burn away every dark morsel and purge you of what you are." He paused, looking at Spike with earnest eyes. "Is that what you want?"

Spike suddenly had no idea what he wanted. The flashes of his past that had been shown to him were seductive and enticing, almost as much as she was.

"Ahh, you're not certain, then." Drac smiled a little. "I will show you what to do to get inside of her head as well as her body. Then when you make up your mind, you can do with her as you will." He tilted his head to the side, his dark hair tumbling over his shoulder and dangling down the front of his pale, white chest. Spike found his fingers entangled in ebony locks, tugging and twirling, like a high school girl deep in thought.

He nodded, "Yeah, I'd like that. Then when I decide ….. "

Before he could finish his sentence, Dracula covered Spike's mouth with his own, drawing Spike's tongue deeply inside, letting his own dance with it and then projecting his thoughts into that. Spike was momentarily powerless, then felt his own strength return. He took control, pushing Vlad onto his back and straddling his hips, their lips remaining in constant, urgent contact. He felt Drac's unspoken sigh of contentment. This was exactly what he had wanted, and he even belied himself by letting Spike see that part of his mind that told him this was why he stopped by Sunnydale in the first place.

Spike was delighted as well as excited at the prospect of reliving some of his misspent vampire youth. He and Drac had torn up more than a few towns, shared more than a few girls, and he always lived in style with his old friend. But the highlight of their time together had always been the way they could sexually tease one another until they were on the brink of spontaneously combusting, then walk away from each other with a smirk. Then there were the times when they DIDN'T walk away, and that could result in several days and nights behind a locked door, with the accompanying broken furniture. In fact, there wasn't much more he enjoyed than a really intense few days of naked wrestling, especially with someone as intuitive as Drac.

He pulled back a little, looking down into his friend's black eyes and tried the telepathic images sending him a detailed image of just what he was planning to do to him in the next three to four hours. Drac squealed delightedly. Message received. Spike smiled.

Slowly he slid down Vlad's porcelain chest, planting butterfly light kisses in undecipherable little patterns. Vlad shivered beneath him, tangling his fingers into Spike's short, curly-ish hair.

Four hands began a thorough exploration of skin and flesh, cool fingers stroked and caressed, cool lips kissed and nipped, all of it a tangle of testosterone and anticipated passion. Vlad's mind reached out, Spike's gratefully accepted it, mingling their thoughts and wants, amplifying their physical connection. No more words were spoken, the only sounds being the rustle of bedding and the steady background music of moans and sighs. When they could stand it no longer, earnest adjustments were made, each man resting his head on the other's soft inner thigh while their mouths taunted and gratified each other to a simultaneous explosion that joined their minds and sent their bodies into spasms of mutual pleasure.

When they were completely spent, they remained silent in their final position, Spike trailing his index finger around Drac's bellybutton, dipping into it occasionally with his tongue. Their unnecessary panting decreased, dissolving into more sighs and moans of approval and satisfaction.

"So," Drac finally said, somewhat breathlessly, "now you see how this works."

"Uh-huh," Spike replied with a devilish grin as he began the slow crawl back up his friend's body, touching and caressing as he moved.

"And if … oh, that feels good … if you forget, you'll be sure to … mmmmmm … let me know, right?"

"Right," Spike whispered as he captured the other vampire's mouth in hungry kiss. When he pulled away, he murmured one simple word against the quivering flesh of Drac's neck. "Ding."

"Ding?" Dracula was a bit foggy, Spike's overwhelming presence and efficient mental touch returned to every ounce the potency Vlad remembered from the old days. He was intoxicating and inviting and irresistible.

"Mmmm," Spike smiled. "Round two." Spike smiled and shifted into game face, slowly and torturously sinking his fangs into the soft flesh of his friend's neck.

A thought appeared in Spike's mind as he drew in another mouthful, a thought not his own, helpless and surrendering, "Cor … the Slayer is going to be in so much trouble."

~Fin~