PART 3 - Blood on the Streets
Oh, yes. Get laid he did. Xander giggled. "Yup. There's wake up
sex. Lunchtime quickies when I can get away from work. Dessert nookie after
dinner..." Which didn't mean that she wasn't ever ready for a bit of
spontaneous sex on top of the schedule. *Hang on! What was it Spike had
said? Press rewind, play: 'Can I have some, too?' What--*
BANG!
Darkness. The rumbling sound of thunder. Pain.
*...ouch...*
"Xander!" An insistent shake at his shoulder. He was lying on
something very hard. "Hey, wake up, you
idiot! You can't go to sleep here."
Xander opened his eyes. His head hurt as if he had been hit by a...
"Hey, how did that lamppost jump out in front of me like
that?"
He struggled to sit up and leaned against the pole. There was a slight
buzzing sound and a spark, but the streetlamp remained dark. It was obviously
not working.
"Guess it didn't see you coming," the vampire said with an
obnoxious grin. He squatted next to
Xander, elbows resting on his knees, trying to appear relaxed, but his nostrils
flared and there was a golden flicker in his eyes. He was swaying considerably,
but managed to keep his balance.
"Very funny, Spike," Xander scowled. *Why's he staring at
me like that?* he wondered. The vampire gave off strange vibes.
"In case you haven't noticed, you're bleeding."
"Huh? Xander gingerly touched his head where it hurt the most, just
over his eyebrow, near his right temple, and flinched. There was sticky wetness
there. Spike was right, he WAS bleeding. Quite profusely. He fumbled in his
pockets for a tissue to dab the wound with.
"Come here, Xan, let's have a look," the vampire said. He
tilted Xander's head firmly and used the tissue to wipe some blood off his
brow.
"Ow! Careful!" Xander exclaimed, wincing at the pain in his
head.
"Ow! Fuckin' hell!" Spike exclaimed, wincing at the pain in
his head. "What is it with this bloody chip? Can't it see I'm just tryin'
to help?"
Forcing himself to ignore his chip induced headache Spike examined the
injury. "Looks like you might need a few stitches," he observed.
"Otherwise you'll get a scar, like mine. Mind you, a scar like that works
a treat with the ladies..."
He watched as fresh blood welled out of the cut and swallowed. His empty
stomach made him feel slightly queasy.
Xander snatched the bloodstained tissue out of Spike's hand.
"No stitches. No needles. No way," Xander blurted. He hated
getting poked and prodded and having needles stuck into him. He hated having to
answer questions and filling in forms. He hated hospitals. Period.
He struggled to get up.
"Hey, wait," the vampire said. "I wouldn't if I were
you."
Xander realized that getting up wasn't as easy as he had thought. The
world was spinning when he tried, and the exertion lead to a painful pounding
in his head. He gave up. He was dimly aware of a hand on his arm that was
trying to steady him.
"I think I better sit here for a moment."
"Told you so."
There it was again, that strange noise. Which had sounded a bit like
faraway thunder.
"Stop that Spike!"
"What?"
"Your stomach, it's rumbling."
"So what? Nothing personal."
"Stop it, anyway."
"Why? Am I makin' you nervous?" the vampire asked softly.
"Well, don't worry, I'm not going to jump you." *Not, unless you
want me to.* And no, thoughts about jumping Xander's bones didn't mean he
was a poof. Since when did vampires care about gender? Vampires were the great
equalizers. *Yeah, all meals are equal, and all that...*
Spike cocked his scarred eyebrow and gave the human boy his sexiest
grin. "Sad to see a perfectly good meal go to waste, though." There
was still some of Xander's blood clinging to his fingers. Real blood out of a
live human being! After almost two years of stale, microwaved pig's blood, or
the odd bag of plasma pinched at the hospital... Irresistible. Spike raised his
fingers to his mouth and very slowly began to lick them clean, savouring the
taste, trying to make those few drops last.
"Finger lickin' good!" he proclaimed.
"Yuk!" Xander exclaimed, his eyes inexorably drawn to that
amazingly agile pink tongue. Not to mention those lips. He was mesmerized by
Spike's action. And it wasn't just disgust he felt. *No, Spike is NOT sexy!
Good looking? Yes. But... but he's a MAN. And undead.* And when neither of
these sensible observations were having a cooling effect: *He's a killer.*
But even that didn't help. That just sent an extra tingle to his slowly
hardening manhood. *Note to self: never ever get drunk enough to start
fantasizing about good-looking-but-not-sexy peroxided vampires.*
Spike noticed Xander's stare. Noticed his blush, too. But then he took
another look at the cut bleeding swiftly down the side of the man's face and
his amusement withered. "Got any more tissues?" he asked him.
"No." Xander snapped out or his reverie. Luckily, he
remembered not to shake his aching head.
"Well, that one won't do you much good. And it doesn't look like
that cut is gonna stop bleedin' any time soon. So, we're either gonna tear up
that blindingly horrible shirt of yours for some bandages or..."
"Hey I LOVE that shirt. Anya gave it to me for our first
anniversary."
"Or..." Spike hesitated.
"Or what?"
"Do you trust me?"
"Of course not! You're a vampire," Xander said automatically,
without real conviction. "I'd be certifiably insane to trust someone who'd
gladly have me for his main course."
"Dessert." Spike corrected. "'moist and delicious' - your
words, not mine - spells dessert."
*He remembers I said that? But that was, like, ages ago…* Xander felt
himself blushing again. "Okay, let's just pretend I didn't hear that,
Spike, shall we? But seriously? Yes, I guess I DO trust you. There, I said it.
Soon, they'll be coming to take me away, haha..."
"Well, a straightjacket would be a definite improvement. Did I
mention it? Your shirts suck."
"Why Spike, I just had an epiphany. You know what you should do for
a living? Stand-up comedy."
"No thanks, don't want to muscle in on your territory. Look, do you
want to go on bleeding like this, or do you want me do something about
it?"
Xander felt the blood trickling past the useless tissue down the side of
his face into his collar.
"Like what? Tear up my favorite shirt?."
"Like lick that cut."
"Huh?"
"Vampire spit. Comes in two different kinds, anti-coa-something,
um, anti-coagulating... and uh...
hemostatic." Difficult words, for someone pretty sloshed. "Whatever.
One makes your blood clot. A few licks should do the trick," the vampire
said, as matter-of-factly as he could.
"Eew!" Xander said emphatically. "No way! I am so not
going to have some undead guy lick my face!"
"Why not?"
Xander paused. The mere thought made his stomach knot and his heart
race. Was it the fear that the taste of his blood might unleash the vampire's
bloodlust? If Xander consented, would the chip still protect him? What if Spike
lost control? Or was it the mental image of Spike's mouth to his skin? He
swallowed. His mouth was suddenly dry.
"A friend of my dad's had this huge Labrador. Whenever that dog saw
me he tried to lick my face. I always hated that," Xander babbled. Even to
him it sounded feeble.
"I'm not a dog," Spike stated. "I just lead a dog's
life." He shrugged and clumsily grabbed the hem of Xander's shirt. It was
a colorful affair, with parrots and tropical fruit, positively scary in its
Hawaiian cheerfulness. Tearing it would be like doing the world a big favor.
"Hey, no! Take your hands off my shirt! Stop!" Xander shouted.
"Alright. Plan B, then." Spike let go of the shirt and reached
for Xander's head instead.
"No! Get away from me!" Xander exclaimed, flailing his arms
wildly and knocking the vampire backwards. Sober Spike would have gracefully
dodged Xander's ineffectual resistance, inebriated Spike ended up with his
bottom on the pavement, rubbing his nose, where Xander had punched him.
"Ow! Come on, you moron, make up your bloody mind! We haven't got all
night! Or do you want me to drag you to the hospital?"
*Stitches!* "No!" Xander exclaimed..
"Look, what seems to be the problem? That I am a vampire or that I
am a bloke?" Spike asked.
"It's just that... I dunno." It didn't happen very often, but
for once Xander couldn't come up with a witty remark. He felt like a trapped
animal, his eyes involuntarily darting here and there as if looking for an
escape route. Why was it so hard to think and make up his mind? Too much to
drink, that's why. Absolutely. Also, his head hurt and he was beginning to feel
slightly dizzy.
"Hey?" Spike gave him a slight shake. "You're not going
to pass out, are you?"
"Perhaps I should. Just to save me from a something that will
undoubtedly end up in my top ten of traumatic moments."
"Well there's a thought. Go on! The sooner you faint, the sooner I
can have my wicked ways with you." Spike said, his voice dripping with
sarcasm. He threw up his hands in exasperation. "For God's sake, Xander,
don't be such a wuss! Just let me help!"
Xander swallowed but then he gestured resignedly towards his wound.
"Bon appetit. Would you like bread with your blood, Monsieur?" he
said with a fake French accent.
Spike took Xander's head firmly between his hands, one cool hand holding
the young man's chin, the other touching the top of his head.
"Shut up, Harris," the vampire said.