Suki Blue Fiction

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Chapter 25

 
Xander was more than a little twitchy.

“Will you bloody well sit still?” Spike hissed. “You’ll scare him away.”

Xander puffed out a single laugh. “You’re joking, right? Me? Scare that?” He pointed through the tree trunk they were hiding behind as if he could actually see the creature on the other side.

“Shh,” Spike reminded. He stood and laid a hand on Xander’s shoulder to indicate that he should stay.

“Mind the horns,” Xander whispered.

It was good advice. Spike eyed the horns as he crept around the tree. The last thing he needed was to be gutted. Maybe all his black t-shirts looked the same to the untrained eye, but there were subtle differences and he was wearing his favourite.

Spike’s target for the evening was a seven foot Roulade demon. With tough, leathery skin and natural armour plates covering its chest, back and neck, it was a hardy adversary. They were slow creatures, however; seeing as Spike considered himself to be the fastest vamp in the north, east, south and west, he wasn’t worried.

He was, though, slightly concerned by the horns. Seven adorning the head and numerous more attached at the knees, elbows, thighs and shoulders, they protruded from the Roulade’s skin like pointy little volcanoes. At three to twelve inches, each horn was razor sharp.

Drusilla had been ‘nicked’ by a Roulade horn back in Romania, Spike remembered. She’d giggled and cried at the same time while Spike had held her. She never did get the stains out of her dress. Grandmama had been most displeased.

The demon’s eyes widened and it cocked its head to listen to the sounds of the night.

Spike stood stock still and waited. Roulade demons had wandering minds and it would soon forget it had ever heard something strange and unusual, something that was out of place, something like the vampire who was stalking it.

As predicted, the demon went back to its business. It ducked under a low and leafy branch and continued on. Spike waited for the demon to get far enough out of earshot and turned back to Xander’s hiding place. “Xan, clear.”

Xander’s dark head warily appeared from behind the tree. “Is it safe?”

Spike grinned and shook his head. “No. But don’t worry; I’ll take care of you.”

“You’d better, because if I go home dead, my mom is going to be so mad.” Spike held out his hand and Xander took it once he was within range. “I’ll be grounded right into my next life.”

“Parents still freaking, eh?” Spike asked as he led the way further into the woods.

“Yep. Well, my mom is. One little purple bruise and suddenly I’m a danger to myself.” Xander’s foot came down on a twig and he cursed quietly at the snapping noise it produced.

“Aw, pet. Sweet, it is. You’re lucky you’ve got someone to worry about you like that.”

“I guess. It just feels weird. It always does.”

Spike looked back at him and frowned. He’d already studied at least the next ten steps ahead and knew exactly where the broken branches and patches of squelchy mud were. “Weird?”

“You know, there are days when they barely notice me and that’s kind of okay, because I’m completely used to it. It’s weird when they do pay attention to me.”

“And they are?”

“Mostly. It’s freaky. Hellmouth-parents.” Xander shuddered and Spike turned back to catch the Roulade’s scent and plan his next few steps. It was all very well being a deathly silent creature of the night, but it took planning; he wasn’t psychic.

Xander crunched another twig under his feet and Spike wondered how on earth he’d managed that when he’d been sure no twigs had been near. Xander seemed to naturally produce them.

“Damn,” Xander muttered. “I really need to get Buffy to teach me the stealth thing.”

“I’ll teach you,” Spike said. He stopped suddenly and held up his hand to make sure Xander stayed still and quiet.

“What?”

“Got the fucker.” Spike pointed into the darkness as a sly and evil smile crossed his face.

“Is that the, uh, nest?”

Spike nodded. “More like a warren, but yeah, that’s it.”

“Okay. Are there more like him? Please don’t tell me he’s baby bear.”

“No one else at home just yet. Wait here.” Spike dropped Xander’s hand and reached
into his coat. The blade he pulled out was shiny and new and as he turned the handle in his palm he grinned at the high-gloss reflections of Xander, the moon and the dark trees around them.

“Be careful,” Xander whispered at Spike’s retreating back.

When he turned back, Spike’s face morphed, fangs dropping and forehead creasing. His eyes turned to a murderous yellow and his mischievous grin twisted into something far more deadly. “Not me that needs to be careful.”

The creature was a few feet in front of him now. Spike breathed deeply and scented rich blood flowing beneath its skin. It was just a swipe of his blade away, but Spike forced himself to hold back. These were the crucial few moments that set him apart from any fledge. It would be so easy to strike and stab, to bare his teeth and lunge for his dinner. It would be quick, but sloppy, and he would have a fifty fifty chance of being the one opened up like a wooden door to a big bad wolf.

He bided his time and slipped silently around his prey. The creature was getting to its knees ready crawl into its muddy hole in the ground.

It had been Angelus who had taught him this act of patience. For all Spike bitched and moaned about him, Angel was a bright spark in the tactics department and he’d saved Spike from many a fledgling faux pas in years past, before the soul had softened him. Still, Spike suspected Angel was still on the ball somewhere beneath the fear of the Master.

The Master. Now there was a wanker who was going to feel some serious pain before he died. The vampires who had attacked Xander and Willow had done so under orders from him. He was going to pay for that. Willow, Spike could have cared less about, but Xander, oh, he was a totally different kettle of fish. Spike was growing increasingly fond, obsessively so, in fact.

Xander was his only friend, and while Spike was positive he could make more, he didn’t want to. He wanted Xander’s energy, his light, and his soft lips against his.

Even with Angel constantly trailing his heels and nagging endlessly, Spike felt good. He felt comfortable in Sunnydale, with Xander. He realised it was partly due to the pull of the Hellmouth and its subtle erotic pulses that made him want to either fuck or fight or possibly both, but there was definitely more to it.

Spike was a natural caretaker and a pack leader – which was probably why he had clashed with Angelus so much. He viewed Xander as his pack and someone who needed Spike to care for him, just like Drusilla had done. Oh, Xander was a strong one and Spike wouldn’t want him any other way, but he had a certain vulnerability that drew Spike closer and closer.

Hence what he was doing now. Spike was way beyond hungry; the blood of farm animals was not only tasteless but it was also like trying to live on a single bag of crisps a day.

He was starving.

How Angel had done it for so long, Spike had no idea. No wonder his grandsire didn’t want to face the Master. He was weak and Spike suspected it was that which caused the fear to manifest.

Spike gripped the handle of his blade tighter. He wasn’t weak yet and there was no damn way he was ever going to be afraid. The Roulade demon was the key; its blood was rich and would fill Spike to the brim. The only downside was that it would be like drinking a pint of Lyle’s Golden Syrup – nice at first, but Spike was fully prepared for the gut ache that would follow while his system soaked it up.

The demon ducked its head to enter its home and Spike struck. His body tensed and he leapt towards his prey. A well placed side kick and the creature sprawled and cried out. It swung its powerful arm at Spike’s legs as it tried to stand, but Spike jumped and cleared it easily. He backed away and bounced while he waited for his next opening. It was coming; it was coming; it was just coming…

The demon braced itself with one arm on the ground while it got its thick and heavy legs beneath it. Spike sprang forward again and kicked once, twice, three times to the Roulade’s face. With a snarl of rage, it suddenly surged up, reached out and snagged Spike’s neck, pulling him close and shaking him like a rag doll.

“Bugger.”

Spike didn’t need to breathe but, still, being held up by your neck was very unpleasant. Plus, those horns were all a little too close for comfort. What he needed was a quick way to make the Roulade drop him. There was too much armour for Spike to be able to kick effectively and, really, he didn’t particularly want to impale his foot on a horn either. He was tempted for about two seconds to call Xander over as a useful demon-distracter, but Spike was too concerned. The demon was a strong bastard and, as slow as it was, it had a longer than normal reach and could easily slice a horn into Xander’s skull if he got too close.

There was only one thing for it, and Spike absolutely hated to do it. He wasn’t squeamish about many things but he was bloody well squeamish about this and happy to admit it. Spike scrunched his own eyes closed and sank his thumbs into the demon’s eye sockets.

Spike wasn’t surprised when his feet hit the floor again and he didn’t waste any time in taking advantage of his upper hand. He slashed his dagger across the already bloodied face, and then sank the blade deep into the demon’s bowed head. The creature fell to its knees and Spike listened to its heart splutter and fail. He caught the demon before it could fall forward and, before he had time to think about it, he bit down into the back of its neck and drank.

The blood was thicker than he remembered and as he pulled it into his mouth and down into his body, he felt his cheeks flush. He felt stronger, faster, fiercer and he realised that he had been weak; he’d been less than what he was. Spike’s fingers curled into the fabric at the demon’s shoulders; the liquid burned and as the sweetness hit his stomach he felt it begin to churn. But he kept drinking. It was like a hit and he needed to make it last. More was better so he drank faster and deeper, letting it fill him and change him back into the predator he was.

A hand touched his back and Spike smelled human. Food. Blood. Sex.

Xander.

Spike released the demon and let it fall. “Back away from me for a bit, pet, yeah?” he rasped.

“Okay.” Xander’s voice was quiet and unsure, but Spike heard him move away – not far away, he noted.

Spike squatted down and held his head in his hands. He closed his eyes again and tried to ignore the cramps stinging his stomach. What he needed was human blood and the scent of Xander’s was so enticing.

“Are you alright?” Xander asked after a few moments. He sounded worried and Spike smiled at that and looked up.

“Be alright in a minute, luv. Don’t fret.”

Xander’s brows lowered and seemed to nearly knit together. “Good stuff, huh?”

“Wouldn’t quite say that,” Spike said from the ground. He wasn’t trusting himself to move just yet. He knew now that he wouldn’t try to kill Xander, but he still smelled like food and Spike wasn’t so sure he would be able to resist just one bite. “Try a massive sugar rush and immediate belly ache.”

“Ouch.”

“Exactly.”

“Anything I can do?”

Spike shook his head and slowly stood. His body was shaking and he was gasping for a cigarette, but he knew from experience that the tremors would soon stop and his cigarettes – right there in his pocket – would come soon after.

“You’re not going to eat me, are you?” Xander asked. Spike was pretty sure he was joking but sometimes you couldn’t tell with Xander.

“Do you want me to?”

Xander grinned. “That depends. Which sort of eating are we talking about?”

As expected, the tremors settled and Spike reached into his pocket for his cigarettes. He lit one up and took a deep, long drag. “The sort that’s nice for both of us.”

Spiked leered and Xander blushed and stepped awkwardly closer, like he wasn’t sure he was supposed to. Spike met him halfway and kissed him. “Sorry about that, luv,” Spike said when released Xander’s lips.

“You should be,” Xander said, wiping his mouth. “That tasted like blood syrup, whatever that is.”

Spike petted his arm in apology. “I meant sorry for crazy vampire antics. Didn’t mean to scare you.”

“Oh. That’s okay. I guess that’s what I get for dating the famously brutal undead. Are you okay now?”

Spike nodded and took another deep drag from his cigarette. “Yep. Better than.”

“Does it hurt?” Xander asked. “The hunger, I mean.”

“Probably. Never been that hungry. But even with all the sodding pig and cow blood I’ve been supping, it still doesn’t take the hunger away. It’s always there, but you just sort of forget about it after a while.”

“And now?”

“And now I realise how hungry I was. Feel sick as a dog, though. Reckon I’ll stick with the starvation next time. Still, it wasn’t a total loss. Took out a pesky demon, eh?” Spike smiled to try to encourage Xander to do the same. It didn’t work.

“I don’t want you to suffer,” Xander said solemnly. He touched his fingers to Spike’s neck, where moments before there had been bright red and purple bruising and now there was nothing but pale, cool skin.

Spike caught the fingers and brought them to his lips. “Not suffering, pet. Just got to adjust to the ‘no drinking humans dry’ thing. If it means keeping you, I’ll get over it. No pressure or anything,” Spike chuckled, realising the pressure of commitment that put Xander under.

Luckily, Xander didn’t seem to care. “Isn’t there anything…? What if…?” Xander looked down at his wrists then back up at Spike. “What about…?”

Spike quickly covered Xander’s mouth with his hand. “No, no, no. Don’t offer that, pet. Not yet, at least. That’s too…” Spike’s hand slid from Xander’s mouth and slipped into his hair. His lips touched Xander’s neck and he gently kissed. “Not sure I can trust myself right now.”

There was only a limited number of times Spike knew he could refuse that and if Xander had offered just a few moments before, Spike would have taken him and drunk his fill.

He wanted him. He wanted to be inside him, cock and fangs sunk to the hilt, joined by blood and come, and if they were to venture back to the mansion now it would happen and maybe that would be bad because Spike was wired and strong and needy for more than Xander could safely give.

“Let’s walk you home, yeah?”

**

Angel lowered his newspaper and sniffed the air as Spike walked through the door. “Tell me you didn’t go after a Roulade demon.”

“Can’t do that,” Spike replied. He made his way to the couch and threw himself on it, curling up into a ball of pain.

“I would have thought you would have learned your lesson from last time.”

Spike grinned wryly. “Well, you know me, sometimes it takes me a while to catch on.”

Angel put the newspaper to one side and studied Spike. “What’s going on?”

“Stomach cramps. What do you bloody think?”

Angel shook his head and walked over to the fire. He pressed his arm on the mantle and rested his forehead against it, staring into the dancing flames. “I know you. You’re not that hungry.”

Spike sat up, his expression suddenly angry. “How do you know how I feel? I’m not used to all this deprivation stuff. It’s all right for you; you’ve been doing it for years. You’re used to it.”

“And will you get used to it?” Angel asked.

Spike heard the unsaid part of that question. Was Spike in this for the long haul? Would he have time to get used to it? “Yes.”

“You say that now-”

“That’s because I mean that now!”

“I know you, Spike. You’ll tire of Xander and then he’ll be the first you feed on.”

“Never.”

“Spike-”

“Did I ever tire of Drusilla?”

“That was different.”

Spike stood and paced as much as he could with his stomach clenching and rebelling. “Why? Because she made me? It makes no difference. I’ve got feelings for Xander, alright? I-”

“You’ll kill again.”

“I won’t!” Spike strode over to the fireplace and swept his arm over the mantle, sending ornaments spilling over the floor and over Angel. “What does it take to make you listen?!”

Angel grabbed his shoulders and slammed him against the wall. “Realism, Spike. Realism will make me listen.” He loosened his grip and stepped back, his arms falling to his sides. “Tell me you mean what you say for now?”

“What do you mean for now?”

“I just can’t see how you can stay clean for the foreseeable future, and that’s not a reflection on you; it’s a reflection on me. There was nothing and no one that could have stopped me killing before the soul came along. I was a demon, and a vicious one at that. You’re no different. So you tell me how you can give it all up. You tell me how you can stop being what you are. I believe that you think you’re telling the truth, but I know William the Bloody better than that. You’ll tire of Xander, or he’ll tire of you and then you’ll rip him to pieces.”

Spike clenched his fists and stared down at the floor. He fought the urge to either throw up or lay Angel out. The truly frustrating thing was that Angel was right. He was Spike, the world renowned William the Bloody. He was an evil, soulless killing machine; he hadn’t earned his name by collecting china hedgehogs. And yes, he did bore easily and he was never satisfied.

But this was different. This was Xander. Spike had stopped killing for him, because he wanted his friendship and his companionship. He’d been lonely; Xander took that away. He was sure he would never tire of Xander, but Xander was young and what if he got bored? What if Xander decided he didn’t like being gay? Where did that leave him? The old Spike would kill Xander before he let him go. Would the new and improved Spike be able to let Xander walk away? Honestly?

Spike took a deep breath. “Alright, fair enough. I can’t make you any promises.”

Angel nodded slowly and held Spike’s gaze.

“Except,” Spike continued, “I won’t hurt Xander. Ever. I couldn’t. As for everyone else, no deal. I can promise you that I’m clean now and I intend to stay that way, but who knows what’ll happen? Xan and I might have a row and I might fall straight off the wagon. But I might not, Angel. Surely I’ve earned at least some trust.”

“That was all I wanted to hear.”

Spike was reasonably sure that Angel was pleased, but it was hard to tell; Angel lacked the changing expressions that had dominated the face of Angelus.

“Right,” said Spike. “And the trust thing?”

“You’ve earned enough for me not to turn you over to the Slayer and enough for me not to forcibly remove you from Xander’s life.”

“Well, thanks a bunch, mate,” Spike said dryly.

“Prove yourself, Spike, and I’ll give you more. And you can start by telling me the real reason you’ve gone out and drunk the blood of a Roulade demon.”

Spike was silent for a moment. He was busted and he knew it. “I’m going after the Master.”


TBC…