Vices of My Blood

Author's Note: Warnings: Torture, Extreme Language, Sexual Situations, Violence Buffy/Spike; Drusilla/Angelus Pairing
Chapter 5



Buffy fought to stay asleep since she was so nice and cozy lying in the nice warm bed curled into a nice lukewarm body. She mumbled in her sleep and snuggled against the hard muscle that was cushioned against her softness. Without opening her eyes she let her hands touch the object that she was pressed against. Jeans. Three inch wide belt buckle. Hard abdominal muscles. Oh, God! She was curled up next to Spike! How the hell did that happen?



Her head shot up and the sleep cleared from her eyes in an instant. She looked over the expanse of the king size bed and saw that she had somehow shifted from her side of the bed and against Spike. “Oh, God!” She said under her breath.




“Something wrong, pet?” Spike’s asked in a wary tone. His head shot up and he looked around for the intruder. Seeing none he gave her a questioning look. Why was her warm body up against me? He moaned softly. Her body was so warm that it nearly burned him through the layers of clothing and bed linen.



“Yes! There is! I was cuddled with you! How the hell did I get over here?” Buffy was indignant. It was comfortable to be there in his arms. Wait . . . comfortable? Snuggling with a vampire is not comforting! Well, with Angel it was, but this . . . ? This was Spike!



Spike smirked at her. “Well, this building does get drafty at night, not that I would notice.” Ah, Slayer, you know you want my tight body. That’s why you found your way across the bed last night.



Buffy huffed her agitation as if she read his thoughts and scrambled out of the bed and across the room, putting as much distance between her and the blond menace as the room afforded her. She glared at Spike which only made him want to tease her more. “Uh, Slayer? How are you supposed to service me from over there?”




“I, uh –“ Buffy started to explain her actions, but then she say his tongue roll against his teeth and ground her teeth. Servicing Spike . . . seeing to his every need, his every desire . . . No, bad Buffy! “There will be no, absolutely NO servicing you of any kind, Spike.”



“Ah, Slayer, you wound me so,” he teased, putting his hand over his dead heart. “Whoever will feed and bathe me in my weakened state?” You want me, I can smell the arousal from here.



Buffy furrowed her brow in confusion when Spike’s voice had taken on William’s proper English tone. She had never heard the accent from the blond Vampire before and here he was mocking her with it.




“I’ll ask – no, beg – Dalton to bathe you. It’ll be a cold day in Hell before I touch any part of your body willingly,” her face became read with how she just awoke in his arms, “or knowingly.”



“Dalton isn’t one for Vampire fantasies, love. Not like a sweet young morsel like yourself would be,” Spike said as he winked at her.



Just then the door opened and Dalton brought in a tray of solid food. He set it on the crate of blood and turned to leave. When he saw Buffy’s questioning look, he answered, “Master Angelus wishes for you to keep your strength up,” before leaving again, locking the door behind him.



Buffy stared at the closed door dumbfounded and then gave Spike a dirty look. Knowing he was right about taking care of necessities she went over to the crate and lifted the tray to take out a bag. Setting the tray back down, she went over to him and this time handed him the bag of blood; he gave her a genuine smile and took it.



She returned to the tray and sat at the end of the large bed. She picked at the food lost in thought. She was stuck in a room with Spike, who had a never-ending litany of taunts for her, and now Angelus is feeding her to keep her strength up. For what? It’s not like my Slayer-strength is of any consequence now.




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It went on like this for a week. She’d start out sleeping on her side of the bed but wake up in his arms; as soon as she realized where she was she’d leave the bed abruptly and reluctantly give him his bag of blood. Dalton brought her a tray of food each day, even if it was gruel.



Buffy wondered about her mother and Giles and her friends. She knew they’d be looking for her, but she wondered if they knew where to look. Hadn’t they spoken to Angel – Angelus? She wondered what lie he had concocted for them. She supposed with Spike as her only company with Dalton making delivery appearances only to lock the door behind him each day; she had better make do with her surroundings.



Buffy became comfortable enough to be on the same bed with Spike, even if it was as far on the other side of the bed as she could get from him. At first she didn’t know what to say to him. How do you hold an intelligent discussion with a smart ass Master Vampire healing from injuries you inflicted on him?



After the first few hours of stillness, Spike gave a huge sigh to relieve some of the strain that Buffy’s silent emotions poured into the room, and pulled out an old crossword book, pitching it at her. She was throwing off vibes with her emotions and it was distracting him to no end like a pesky fly. He had to do something or he would really kill her from the agitation she caused him.



Buffy looked at Spike in surprise. “Where did you get this?” she asked as she flipped through pages, noticing some of the puzzles were worked in an elegant print. Spike has great penmanship.




“When I first became wounded and found out you had paralyzed me for the time being, Dalton snuck a couple of those in to keep from losing my mind in solitary confinement,” Spike explained as he watched her flip through the book. Yes, Slayer. I can read, write and do arithmetic, and tie my shoes and . . .



“I never knew you were this intelligent as to work these. I just thought that you were a Big Bad Vampire with killing on your mind,” Buffy’s eyes widened when she realized she had spoken her thoughts aloud. She gave him an apologetic look. Good going, Buffy, just when you make a truce with the guy, insult his intelligence. He’s your only company as it is.



“When a vampire is fully turned, such as Angelus, Dru and myself; he keeps his human mind, pet. I was quite intelligent in my human life. You had to be in the era I grew up in. For one thing, learning proper English ; it’s a bloody shame how the English language has been bastardized over the century. The way you talk now, it’s any wonder how you came to be descendants of English ancestry and not Neanderthals,” Spike said derisively as he thought back to her use of the English language over the short time he’d known her.



Buffy’s jaw dropped at the lecture Spike was giving. It floored her that this was Spike giving her a speech on the proper use of the English language. “Who are you? You can’t be Spike, Master Vampire,” Buffy’s brow creased trying to figure Spike out.




Spike gave her a Cheshire smile. “Wouldn’t you like to know? All I’ll tell you is that when I was turned by Dru, I kept my aristocratic ways. It was Angelus who sculpted me into the man I am now.”



Spike’s thoughts drifted back to when he had met Angelus . . .



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ENGLAND, 1880



Two days after he had crawled out of his grave, Drusilla took him on a week-long binge of bloodlust and sexual excess. In those few days, his sire had taught him how to feed. When she had shown him that he had his choice of victims from any class or race from the lowly street urchin to the snottiest politician, Spike – then William – had taken to being a vampire like a duck to water. He loved it. He relished the power it had given him, the freedom it afforded him.



That was also the same week he had come up with the idea to turn his dear, dying mother. Boy was that a mistake. Drusilla had been a vampire twenty years when had chosen William to be her playmate, her childe, so a fledgling turning another so close to their “awakening” was unheard of in the vampire world. After the disaster that was his mother’s demon was dusted and only a painful memory, Drusilla took him back into her sire arms and they cut a small swath through the countryside.




Drusilla had felt the pull of her sire calling her back to London and she heeded it dragging William behind her. In all the time they had spent together that week, she had not once mentioned who her sire was. If he had known his grandsire was Angelus, he would have been more terrified then he was when he had first met the hulking man that encased the deadliest vampire in known history.



It was just dawning on a new day when William and Drusilla had entered the hotel through the cellar. They had made out in the lift before he had chased her down the hall catching her just as she had opened the door to her room.



“Oh. Such a hungry little kitty,” Drusilla purred as she gently pushed him away from her. “Meow.”



Drusilla got three steps into the room before William playfully attacked her again, wrapping his arms around her waist and kicked the door shut with his foot.



“You’ve been a starved one, haven’t you, my sweet Willy?” Drusilla smiled coyly as she leaned against him.



“I’ve got you to feast on now, pet,” he said as he looked around. “Is this your home?”




“Their home,” Drusilla corrected nodding to a pair of middle-aged corpses slumped on the sofa, posed as if they were sitting. “Ambassador to . . . something and his plump, lovely wife. Till their spirits flew away on fairy wings.” She turned to William and whispered, “Psst. When Angelus took them for dinner.”



William gawked at the corpses a moment before finding his voice again. “Angelus? Who the bloody hell’s Ang—“ he started to ask as he turned and saw Angelus lurking in the shadows of a nearby doorway.



Drusilla looked William over right pleased with her creation. “Look what I made, daddy. It’s called Willy.”



“William, pet,” he corrected her.



Drusilla gave William a genuine smile before she turned back to Angelus and asked, “Where’s Darla? I want grandmummy to see William.”



Angelus stepped closer to his childer and looked William over as he answered Drusilla’s query. “Darla and I had a little spat. Her precious master sent for her. You know Darla. Master’s pet.”




Drusilla gave her sire a pout and there was a spark of sympathy in her eyes. “Oh. Poor Angelus.”



Angelus turned his fathomless dark eyes on Drusilla once more. “Ah, don’t worry, my sweet little Dru. We’ll make up; always do.” He touched his bruised brow and winced. “Mmm. Ow. After a little tit for tat. Shouldn’t let that spoil our fun here.” Angelus looked back at William and really scrutinized the younger vampire. His eyes remained on William even though his words for Drusilla. “So, instead of just feeding off of this William . . . you went and turned him into one of us . . . added another rooster to the henhouse.”



Drusilla pouted at her sire. She hated it so whenever her daddy was upset with her. He refused to play with her when he was angry with her. She needed to know he wasn’t mad at her, so she asked, “You’re not cross with me, are you?”



“Cross?” Angelus furrowed his brows at that question. He grabbed William’s arm and held it out into the ray of sunlight that beamed through the closed curtains. His next question was to William. “Do you have any idea what it’s like having nothing but women as travel companions, night in and night out?”



William growled and yanked his sizzling hand away from his grandsire. “Touch me again –“



“Don’t mistake me. I do love my girls. It’s just lately . . . I’ve been wondering . . .” Angelus began explaining his motives as he held his own fist in the beam of sunlight. “. . . what it’d be like . . . “ Angelus watched his own hand sizzle. “. . . to share the slaughter of innocents . . . with another man.” Angelus turned his hand over so his palm was in the light and stared in awe as it smoked. “Don’t . . . don’t you think that makes me some kind of a deviant, hmm?” Angelus pulled his hand back from the sunlight and looked at William again. “Do you?”




William stared at Angelus before his features took on a determined appearance and he stuck his own hand in the shaft of sunlight – voluntarily this time.



Angelus gave a wholehearted laugh and slapped William on the shoulder affectionately. “Au ah! I like him, Dru!” he told his child before addressing William, “You and me, we’re gonna be the best of friends, Willy.”



He and his grandsire laughed together after that, but Spike had never liked the name ‘Willy’, no one ever dared call him that, and after he was turned anyone who did was killed for the small infraction. Under Angelus’ tutelage, he had granted the wishes of those bumbling idiot straitlaced noblemen and women who had made a public spectacle of mocking his poetry and methodically hunted them down, at first eating them, leaving them barely alive enough to drive that railroad spike through their skulls, relishing their agonized cries before they died shortly after, thus gaining him the name of ‘Spike.’



**************************



“Did you want to be a vampire?” Buffy was still mystified and morbidly fascinated by Spike. Giles would love an opportunity such as this to interview a vampire and get into the mind of one.



Spike shook his head to clear his mind of the memory. He furrowed his brow, taking a moment to remember the Slayer’s question. “Dru found me one night and offered to show me the world through her eyes. Since the idea of it was a lot better than what I was living thus far, I took it,” Spike said, lighting a cigarette. “She delivered me from mediocrity and thrust me into a world of debauchery.”




There was a long silence before Buffy spoke up and asked tentatively, “How are you healing with the injuries?” Maybe I should offer to help him. He does seem to be in a lot of pain, and he hasn’t touched me all week as he promised he wouldn’t.



“The bones are slowly knitting themselves back together. Once they are mended I’ll be stiff for a couple of days. Work the kinks out and all,” Spike said. Slayer’s blood would help a lot, but if I asked it of her after the tentative truce I established with her, would she be in the donating mood? I won’t ask until she offers.



“How long will that take?” Buffy asked genuinely interested. Maybe if I helped him, he’d help me escape from here or help me deal with Angelus. No, I could never ask him turn on his own kin like that. If he wants to do that he’ll have to voice it himself.



“At the rate I’m going with the bagged human blood and all, a few more weeks,” Spike replied. An excruciating few more weeks.



“That’s human blood? How did you—“ Buffy started to ask where he got bagged human blood when Spike interrupted her with his answer, “Angelus probably got it from a blood bank most likely.” He shrugged and smoked the last of his cigarette before putting it out.



Over the next few days the two enemies settled into a routine. Buffy enjoyed her talks of Spike’s aristocracy even if she hated history class. To live 120 years with so much knowledge of the changes in the world was mind boggling to her. They even worked a few crosswords together with Buffy reciting the clue and how many letters the word had and Spike rattling the answer off the top of his head. Between the talks and the banter they formed a bond that was tenuous at best. Every so often her mind would drift to her friends and wondering if they were looking for her and knew where she was.



Spike had garnered a new respect for the Slayer. She seemed genuinely interested in the tales he had woven from a hundred years of travel and there were times when she was actually companionable, though they were few and far between. Seeing her in this new light, deep down he started to really like her.



With the factory being a vampire’s lair real food she liked was non-existent which left her to choke down the bread-and-water-type gruel that Dalton showed up with every day. She had quenched her thirst with water from the restroom sink. She had told Spike about all the foods she had missed eating and he had talked Dalton into going behind Drusilla and Angelus’ back and bringing Buffy some food. Spike sent him on the errand with money he had stashed away. His show of concern for her welfare during her captivity surprised Buffy when he had told her what he had sent Dalton out to do for him.



The timeframe shifted for Buffy, the sunlit hours were nights for her and her days were Spike’s moonlit nights. As captivity got easier to bear with Spike’s company, she helped Spike with physical therapy when he let her. The vampire seemed worse for the wear. At night when he knew she was asleep, he would curl himself around her almost like a protective shell and watch her. He could hear the blood running through her veins even as she was in the relaxed state of rest. It was the only time that he got peace and quiet from their day-long snarking. It was also draining to his willpower not to sample her blood.



Her warm, sweet Slayer’s blood sang a siren’s song for him, beckoning him over the cliff at the taste of the ambrosia her body offered but knowing, or for that matter, not knowing, what Angelus had in store for the girl he’d come to respect over the past few days, he refused to taste her. He did however allow his hands to caress her warm body as it pressed against him; after all, he was evil and couldn’t give up all his joys.



Then came the day Angelus decided to check up on them. He opened the door and stuck his head inside to make sure there were no puddles of blood to ruin his boots should he step inside unaware and frowned in surprise when the room was bloodbath-free.



If he had remembered Spike and his grandchilde's impatience correctly, Angelus thought for sure that they’d kill each other by now despite his threats of dusting the blond vampire. He stepped into the room and rocked back on his heels from the barely palpable abhorrence the two enemies had for each other. The blond couple was sitting at opposite ends of the bed in a silent duel of wills from the latest stalemate argument.



Angelus walked over to Buffy and caressed a finger over her cheek, looking at her even as he spoke to Spike. “How has our little Slayer been treating you these days, Spike?”



“About as well as can be expected from a mortal enemy, Angelus. You should know that as well as me, mate.” Spike tried to keep the seething hatred for his grandsire out of his voice. In his incapacitated state it wouldn’t be good to anger Angelus when he couldn’t defend himself, and it wasn’t like the Slayer would protect him if it came to that.



That didn’t stop Angelus from getting his digs into Spike though. “Well, I’d say whenever you’re ready, you can have the Slayer. It seems that after all this time and bloodletting and fucking, I’ve finally pounded your image out of Dru’s system.”



Spike growled at Angelus’ mention of Drusilla. He wouldn’t believe, couldn’t believe that after a hundred years, his Black Goddess had forgotten about him in a week of company with her precious “daddy”. “You’re lying!”



“Maybe I am, maybe I’m not, but you’ll never know will you, roller boy?” Angelus provoked. “Either way, if you aren’t up to playing with the Slayer,” Angelus had a cruel smile on his lips. “Then I can take over in that department as well.”



Spike looked over at Buffy. He really did feel sorry for her, knowing what Angelus was capable of. He saw her stiffen at Angelus’ words and heard her blood rush through her veins. He gave her credit for finding her voice enough to ask, “Have my friends and watcher been looking for me?”



Angelus sneered at her, “Yes, a few times, but a few well-placed excuses and ideas of where else to look sent them on their way. I have plans for you that don’t concern them.”



Angelus looked over at Spike and continued on like she never interrupted. “If you don’t take care of her, William , I will.” He dropped his hand and strolled out of the room, slamming and locking the door.



Buffy didn’t move from the spot where Angelus left her. She was actually too confused and frightened to move. She sat as still as a statue sighing out the breath she had been holding after what he had said to her.



“You can relax now, Buffy. He’s gone,” Spike said calmly. Better soothe her somehow or I’ll get a never-ending barrage of snarking.



Buffy visible relaxed but still sat there in a daze. She couldn’t believe Angel – Angelus – told her he had lied to her Watcher and that he had threatened to . . . to … oh, God, she couldn’t even say it.



“Slayer, come here,” Spike used her calling to get her attention. He had never seen her like this before, dejected. He’d seen her angry, frustrated, confused, all with a fiery passion, but never depressed or lost and unhappy like this. Maybe the knowledge that it is Angelus and not Angel was finally seeping through that hard head of hers. That it was the callousness that was Angelus telling her Watcher and friends lies about her whereabouts and the vengeful hatred of Angelus that promised retribution on what he declared a sin: she made Angel, Angelus’ soulful counterpart, feel human again, something Angelus himself never cared for when he was human.



Buffy crawled onto the bed and snuggled beside him. She finally welcomed Spike’s touch after a week of trying to fight it. Being in the guise of comfort, she allowed herself to snuggle against Spike this one time. She couldn’t believe Angel would be so spiteful and insensitive. But then it wasn’t Angel – it was Angelus.



Spike held the tiny Slayer in his arms, feeling her tense and relax as the emotions ran through her body. He knew that as Angel his grandsire was nothing for her to fear, but Angelus was torture personified. He had seen the older vampire’s handiwork on Drusilla. His grandsire had driven his sire insane for over a year before turning her. For some odd reason, now that they were roommates, he hated for that to happen to Buffy. He preferred to have the lively spitfire he knew her to be with all the sass and banter she threw his way.



“I wish I could prepare you for what’s to come, pet,” Spike said remorsefully as he smoothed her hair out of her eyes. Not even I was prepared for Angelus’ torture in the early days. Now, I just don’t care, I take his moods as they come and give it right back to him.



“I’m the slayer. He’ll kill me,” Buffy said tonelessly. She felt as if she wasn’t even there. It had seemed as though she were disembodied and watching all this happening through a kaleidoscope. She was seeking comfort from Spike, a master vampire, and her enemy.



All of a sudden the door slammed open again and Angelus stormed into the room. He was across the room and over to the bed in just a few strides of his long legs. “I changed my mind, Will,” he said as he grabbed Buffy away from Spike.



She cried out in surprise at being ripped away from the bed so violent and haphazardly. She stumbled off the bed and fell into Angelus’ chest. She stared at Spike with a touch of fear in her eyes as she remembered what Spike had told her of Angelus’ methods of torture.



“I think I wanna play with the Slayer now, you can have her later,” Angelus gave an evil laugh as he hauled Buffy out the door with him.



“Let go of me, you bastard!” Buffy cried out as Angelus dragged her out of the room and locked the door behind him.



Spike could only grind his teeth in anger at his grandsire. The Slayer didn’t deserve this. From what Spike knew of the Slayer she loved a good down and dirty fair hand at fists and fangs and a trusty stake. She loved the brawl as much as Spike did. But this wasn’t a fair fight.



Spike slid off the bed and gripped the arms of his wheelchair, lifting himself on shaky legs and sat back in the seat. He wheeled the chair over to the window and looked out at the night sky. When Dalton came later he would ask his servant to help him to wherever Angelus had taken the slayer.