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 A/N: This was my first
BtVS Fic, and it really shocked me with its popularity.
It is still up at its original site, FFN. Disclaimer: Buffy
the Vampire Slayer and associated characters are the property of
Fox, The Wonderful Joss Whedon, and Mutant Enemy (Grrr…Argh…). No money is being made and no copyright
infringement is intended. In other words,
I own nothing but my occasional fantasy of
The vampire dropped the
boy and turned to run as soon as he saw the other step into the alley. Caught
in the act, Naughty, Naughty. The kill wasn’t even difficult;
the surprised vamp hardly had time to react before he was staked. Spike
just shook his head, chuckling, as he brushed the dust from his
clothes. It was too easy when they were feeding. He looked about for the
body that he knew to be there, the vampire hadn’t run far from where
he’d dropped his meal. A stake lay in the middle of the alley,
catching his attention. A stake? Not mine, must have been
dropped. He saw the sneakers first, peaking out from beside a
dumpster. Ah, the body. No, the victim. There’s a
heartbeat. The moon moved from
beneath a cloud just as he stepped around the dumpster. Spike
bent to check the boy’s pulse, turning him over to look into his face. “Bloody ‘ell.” Knew
it would happen, Spike thought as he quickly bundled the boy in his
coat and pulled him into his lap, knowing that it was probably too late
to worry about getting him warm anyway. He would never make it to
the hospital in time. His heartbeat was too faint, and getting
fainter. The whelp’s gonna die, there’s nothing for it,
unless…Spike ran a hand over his face. In another time he
wouldn’t have cared, he would have left the boy to die. Now, he
was losing a friend. Friend? Can’t be right. He hates
me, will hate me worse if I… The boy took a last
shallow breath and then stopped breathing all together. Well, if I get staked, I’ll just have to get staked. He won’t die on my watch. He pierced his jugular with his pocketknife, pulling Xander’s face to his neck. Almost automatically the boy began to drink. Spike held the boy close, his fingers tangled in his dark, shaggy hair, willing himself not to get lost in the sensations which the act had triggered. Soon the boy fell away, back into unconsciousness. His heart stopped.He deposited Xander on
his bed, pulling the rumpled sheets up to his chin, and proceeded to
pace. Every so often he would look over at the boy lying there,
to all appearances dead. His skin was already beginning to
pale. Spike would glance at him, disturbed by what he had just
done, and pace again. One side of the crypt to the other.
After a few rounds he fell down onto the couch, but immediately stood
again and went back to pacing. He glanced at the clock. He
walked over to the bed to push an errant strand of hair out of Xander’s
face. He looked at the clock again. He looked at the boy,
wondering what their relationship would be now. Minion? No. Childe?
Yes. He
studied the boy’s face, tempted to once again run fingers through that
baby-soft hair. He frowned. Lover? In your
dreams, you bloody ponce. To remove the temptation, he once
again looked at the clock. The boy would awake soon. Spike walked over to his
ancient refrigerator. The new vampire would be hungry.
There was only one bag of human vintage left, courtesy of the local
blood bank. He emptied it into a mug and proceeded to warm
it. Almost as if it were an alarm clock, Xander sat up when the
buzzer on the microwave went off. “Spike?” In response Spike thrust
the mug into the boy’s hands, watching him study the contents. The boy
shrugged and drained the mug. “You turned me.” He
said. It wasn’t a question. It was an accusation. |
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