Notes: S4 during "Something Blue"
Disclaimer: Joss is God. The characters are his. I'm merely having fun with them.
What?! "Hey!" Spike protested.
"Sorry, poor choice of words," Giles continued. "Until we're sure you're, you're..."
"Flaccid?" Buffy chimed in.
Spike's eyes went hard. "You are one step away, missy."
"Giles, help! He's going to scold me."
Growl. Grr. Bitch.
"A look at my poor neck? All bare and tender and exposed...all that blood just...pumping away..." Buffy teased.
Okay, Spike thought. Little girl wants to play? Little girl gets to play...
Spike cleared his mind, trying to focus.
"Like rain, Spike. Think of the blood like rain," Dru had instructed. They had spent the day in complete and utter boredom, holed up from the murderous mob in Prague, desperate to find some suitable distraction. It was Dru's idea to teach him thrall, which had replaced boredom with frustration. Hour upon hour of imagining bloody rain had done nothing but knot Spike's stomach in hunger.
"Dru, I'm just not gett'n it!" Spike said, smashing his fist in the wall of the crumbling, burned out church. Spike had figured it was the last place the mob would look for them. He'd been right.
"Don't concern yourself, my William. Not even Angelus could master it." She was pushing buttons, and he knew it. And yet, he couldn't help but return to her side and try once more.
"Blood calls, my sweet. It's not here," Dru said, touching a cool finger to his temple. "It's here." Her hand moved over his dead heart.
"But how, luv? How do you call it..."
"You can't. It calls you. Listen for it, falling inside...like rain. Hear the rain, Spike? Can you hear it?"
"Yeah," Spike murmured, his eyes closed.
"What?" That wasn't the reaction Buffy was hoping for. Why wasn't he going nuts with the blood lust? She felt oddly irritated by that.
Spike's eyes opened slowly, a cold smile on his lips. He fixed his languid gaze on Buffy. She looked upset. Can't have that, now can we?
"Come here," Spike said softly.
"What? No," Buffy replied, even as she moved closer. She wondered briefly why she had complied, but shrugged it off. I am the Slayer after all, she thought. I can handle one chained-up vampire.
Spike noticed her confused look and his smile broadened.
"Buffy, luv, weren't you offering me something just now?"
"Huh? Oh..." She brought the cup of pig's blood to his lips. Spike didn't drink.
"Not that, luv," Spike whispered. "Nothing so common as that." Buffy blushed prettily.
*Can you hear the rain, Spike?*
God, yes...a torrent, a flash flood, a monsoon...
"Come closer," Spike implored. Buffy looked into eyes, his blue- how come I never noticed how blue they were?--eyes, and did as he asked. She was now mere inches from his face, and her heart accelerated, fluttering as if trying to escape the proximity of the blonde vampire. Her breath shortened to hot, quick gasps.
"Show me the rain, luv," Spike said, licking his lips. Instinctively she turned her head, baring her neck. He bent forward, chains jangling, and flicked his tongue over her jugular, tasting the salty skin there.
"Yes, luv?" he murmured, lightly kissing where his tongue had been.
"I..I.." she started, hesitantly.
"Don't worry, luv. It won't hurt a bit." He smiled into her neck when heard her sigh.
His face shifted and now he could smell as well as hear the blood pumping beneath him. He raised his top fangs, placing them on her skin, letting her feel the sharp points. She shuddered in response, but didn't pull away. Good girl.
Slowly, ever so slowly, he bit down. The chip in his head sputtered, unsure, then quieted at Buffy's moan of pleasure.
The blood was exquisite. Spike didn't swallow, allowing the blood to make its own course down his throat like a waterfall. This blood was succulent, rare, and so delicious. His whole body warmed with the feast. He was drowning in the blood, drowning in her--a dead man drifting face down in the river flowing between his lips.
A small whimper brought Spike back to reality. It was Buffy. She was crying. He could feel her hot tears on his shoulder. He instantly released his grip on her neck, the blood forgotten. He pulled back to look at her, letting his vamp face fall away.
"What's wrong, luv?" Spike asked concerned. He watched as her tears transformed to white-hot anger. Uh oh...
Spike tried to roll with the punch, but her aim and reflexes defeated his efforts. His head snapped back from the blow and cracked against the edge of the tub. Dark swirls filled his eyes for a moment before his vision returned to normal. And then he wished it hadn't, seeing the Slayer standing over him, her fists clenched, her face full of fury.
Well, at least I got a last meal, Spike thought, then chuckled at that thought, even as Buffy pulled a stake from God-only-knows where. She saw his amusement and pressed her lips into a thin smile.
"Is your impending death amusing, Spike?" she asked sweetly, her eyes as hard as agates. For some reason he found that rather amusing too, and laughed.
"No, luv. But you should really consider thanking me." Hell, Spike thought. If I'm dust anyway...
"And why would I do that?" Buffy ground out beneath her clenched teeth.
"It's a worthwhile lesson, luv. Never tease a vampire," Spike replied, grinning, his eyes full of mirth.
Buffy opened her mouth to retort, but said nothing. She could tell he was afraid, even behind that cocksure smile, she could feel it. But she found her anger dissipating, and a thoughtful frown replacing her scowl. Why hadn't he killed her?
Spike noticed the change of mood as it played over her features. He knew what she was thinking--why had he stopped? Why the sudden show of mercy from the Big Bad? Unfortunately, he found himself just as puzzled as she was, and it unnerved him.
"Won't happen again, luv," Spike muttered, distracted, an identical frown appearing on his face.
She stared at him, bewildered, taking in his strange behavior for a moment before abruptly storming out of the bathroom, yelling to Giles that she was late for class.
Spike barely noticed her departure. A single, niggling idea was worming its way into his brain; past the chip, past the demon--inching down into the deepest recesses of what could be mistaken for a soul. There it stopped and began to fester, just beyond the reach of conscious thought. And it left Spike with such an odd sense of disquiet, that even the lingering taste of Slayer's blood did nothing to soothe him.
His frown only deepened when he began to wonder if the lesson wasn't meant for him instead.