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Part
1: Blood
Section
1.6: Empty
NOTES: This
section takes place shortly
before Hell's Bells.
so
how was the party?
i heard everyone was there
my
blood is laced with garlic
don’t it make you feel romantic?
my blood is laced with garlic
you bloodsuckers can’t touch me
my blood is all mine…
-ribbed
Mousetrap, 1994
“Hey guy. How’s it going?”
He blinks. Doesn’t respond.
“Come on… you’re not still mad about the chip thing, are ya?”
Spike flinches. He turns his head away. Looks at the wall. He begins breathing.
Concentrates on filling his lungs and slowly letting the air back out. Doesn’t
need to, but he finds it comforting somehow.
“You hungry?”
Squeezes his eyes shut. Inhale, exhale. Focus on that. Hears the crinkle of plastic–
–BLOOD!–
The smell hits his brain screaming. His stomach twists painfully. He opens his
eyes. Inhales deep, deep…
“Got a present for ya. Come and get it!”
A better man would ignore it. Would be strong and resolute. A better man would
have enough pride to look the sick bastard right in the eye and tell him “fuck
off, I don’t want your blood, you stupid git.” His stomach spasms again.
Times like these, he’s grateful he’s not a man at all.
Sighing, he rolls to his side and clumsily pushes himself to his haunches. He
wraps his arms around his knees and rests his head on them for a bit until the
dizziness passes.
“There ya go. That wasn’t so tough, now was it?”
He pulls his head up to see Warren sitting cross-legged just outside the barrier.
There’s a ring of dark bruises encircling his throat like a necklace. He’s
grinning at Spike, holding a plastic bag of blood. Hospital blood. Human. If
he still could, Spike would be salivating right now. He scents the air like a
hungry dog. Unable to stop himself.
“So… are you hungry? Because, if not…” The man holding
the blood makes as if he’s
about to rise, walk away. Take the blood away.
Spike hisses before he can catch himself. Warren pauses, looking at him expectantly.
Right. So that’s the game now. Make him beg for it. At this moment he’s
thankful for the dehydration. If he had tears he’d be blubbing in frustration
right now. He tries to hold out. He tries to be a man. Bites his lower lip. Would
draw blood had there been any left to draw.
The voice is low and taunting, “Not hungry, huh? Too bad–”
“yes–” It’s a whisper, barely audible.
“I’m sorry what was that?”
Spike’s face crumples. He lowers his head again, shaking with dry agonized
sobs. What had he bloody done to deserve this? Oh… right… Hah! Don’t
answer that! The sobs turn into bitter laughter then die away entirely.
He brings his head up to meet his captor’s gaze.
His voice is a croak. “Yes… I’m – I am hungry. Very.” For
good measure he adds, “I would like some blood. …Please.” At that,
the laughter returns and he has to catch himself to keep from tipping over.
“Need anything?”
“Huh? What?” Buffy looks up, startled.
“Do you need anything?” the waitress asks again, indicating the empty
glass in front of Buffy.
“Oh. No. Nothing right now. Thanks.”
Without another word the waitress is gone. Buffy looks around her, not sure just
how long she had been spacing off. It feels unnatural, being at the Bronze by
herself. The place feels… different. What had she been thinking about? Was
it something about the wedding? That’s it. Anya had pulled her aside yesterday
and asked her if she would want to deliver a last-minute invitation to Spike.
“Xander doesn’t want him to come,” she’d explained, “But
I thought perhaps it would be a good idea to have as many preternaturally strong
friends and acquaintances there as possible. You know, in case one of my guests
tries to kill the groom. Oh, and tell him to bring a gift. Here’s a list
of where we’re
registered.”
Guess she hadn’t been told about the whole disappearing act. Dawn knew,
because she had asked. And now keeps asking if she’s seen any sign
of him, if she thinks he’s okay. “Of course he’s okay, Dawnie.
He’s Spike.” Willow knows. She had started to offer to do a locator
spell before catching herself and looking down at her hands rubbing together.
Rub, rub, rub. Nervous energy. “No, it’s okay Will. It’s not a
big deal or anything,” Buffy had said, forcing a smile. She thought she
had told Xander about it, but, come to think of it, they hadn’t really seen
much of each other. What, with Buffy working double shifts and Xander and Anya
going increasingly insane over wedding plans. She should tell him. It would make
him happy.
She looks up at the balcony and quickly looks away. She lifts the glass to her
lips and tips it back before remembering that it is empty. |
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