11. Thanks for the Memories


After they were finished, the Slayer fell asleep in his arms. Spike could scarcely believe it. His arms were full of warm, satisfied, sleeping slayer, and all he could do was look at her while she breathed. She was exquisite. From the tip of her toe to the top of her head, she was perfect. If only he was hale and whole, life would be complete. He determined that he was not going to fall prey to the urge to sleep that was starting to creep over him. He didn’t want to miss one minute of the time that they had together.

Just as he was beginning to drift off, the door slammed open with a bang. Stomping in, Angelus barely stopped for a moment to survey the scene before hauling Buffy out of Spike’s arms and settling her in his own embrace. Looking her over critically he finally brought his mouth to hers and kissed her.

“Good girl. I knew you could do it. Now get your clothes on and go home, Buffy.” Carelessly he swatted her rump and pushed her towards the pile of discarded clothes on the floor. She couldn’t even remember having taken them off. “Maybe you’ll think next time before you decide to defy me.”

Angelus then turned his attention over to Spike. The vampire was looking far too smug for his own good. “Hope you enjoyed your little taste, boy, because that’s all you’re likely to see for a long, long time.”

Angelus reached to throw Buffy’s panties to her when suddenly he stopped and breathed in deeply. He’d expected to smell sex, and he had. Nothing had seemed unusual to him at first, except of course it was Spike’s scent on her, and not his own. But now that he thought about it, that wasn’t right. The scent of sex permeated the room. But it wasn’t just sex. Now that he’d noticed it, the smell was obvious; it was Buffy’s blood and cum. Neither of which Spike was entitled to. He’d known Spike would take full advantage of his gift, but he really hadn’t expected Buffy to like it. Her blood and cum belonged exclusively to him.

Narrowing his eyes and growling deep in his throat, Angelus’s true face came forth all on its own. His voice was full of menace.

“Thought I said not to hurt the girl, Spike.” He could hardly complain out loud about the other. He remembered taunting Buffy, telling her that she might enjoy it. He didn’t want to lose face in front of her by admitting that he was jealous that Spike had been in fact been able to make her enjoy it. The girl was simply addicted to sex. That had to be it. It didn’t matter who was doing to honors.

Angelus had made it clear that he was not happy about something, but Spike wasn’t sure what it was. Buffy was fine – she was still hunting out the rest of her clothes.

“I didn’t hurt her.” Spike smiled. “I did just what you told me to do.” He crossed his arms behind his head and relaxed back into the cushions. “If you’re not happy that the chit actually liked it, well, that’s not my fault. Oh, wait, that’s not right. It is my fault that she enjoyed it. But you’ve got no one to blame but yourself, you ponce. Didn’t quite work out the way you wanted it to? Well that’s just too bloody bad. It’s not my fault that you’re too bloody stupid and self-centered to think about what you’re doing.”

Angelus’s eyes narrowed and gleamed golden. Spike always had been insufferably cocky. He needed to be taken down a peg or two. Reaching with one arm, he pulled the crippled, insolent childe up by his hair and whispered in his ear.

“I told you not to hurt her – didn’t I? That includes no biting you worthless excuse for a vampire. Don’t think you’re going to get away with this.”

Never one to back down easily, Spike still couldn’t resist needling him. It seemed intolerably long since he had been able to strike back at Angelus in any real way. And he seemed quite put out about him and the Slayer, even if Angelus had instigated it. “Well, I wouldn’t say it actually hurt her when I fed from her. She seemed to quite like it actually.”

That just made Angelus madder and he threw a helpless Spike against the headboard then made to grab for him again. Buffy’s hand stopped him.

“No. Spike and I both did what you asked. Leave him alone.”

Spike’s smug smile annoyed him. Buffy was defending this piece of slime? Angelus’s eyes flashed bright red for moment, then calmed down as he turned to his girl.

“You’re all right, Buffy? You don’t want me to stake this piece of trash for you?”

“If there are any vamps to be staked, Angelus, I’ll do it.” Was that a threat in her voice? “I’m just fine, so leave off with torturing vamps who can’t fight back.”

“Are you actually defending him, Buffy? That seems… uncharacteristic, to say the least. Weren’t you two at each other’s throats the last time you met?”

“Yeah, well, things change.”

That answer didn’t seem to sit well with the self appointed Master of Sunnydale. He turned back to his errant childe. “So tell me, was that little taste worth it? Was it worth the pain that I’m going to put you through?” His sire had never actually said that he couldn’t feed from the girl. Spike felt that he was totally in the right. What was not expressly forbidden was always permitted. But Angelus didn’t seem to think so. What game was he playing?

For the first time since this little drama began, Spike began to be concerned for his safety. He knew that Angelus was pissed, but he wasn’t killing angry, or Spike knew he’d already be dust. It wasn’t like he could really defend himself against the lummox. Again, he figured that this little scene was being played out for the Slayer’s benefit, he just didn’t know why, or what his part was to be.

Best case scenario, if Angelus beat him now, or made him bleed out the Slayer’s powerful blood that was already in his system, it might set this accelerated healing back by months. The little bit of blood he’d had already drunk had already started to work on healing his back. He didn’t want any further injuries to dilute its potency. He didn’t care about a few bruises; he wanted to be able to walk again. It didn’t matter what it cost him; he wasn’t about to waste this opportunity.

“I had to, Angelus,” he finally admitted, anxious to avoid a sound pummeling. “You told me and the bint in no uncertain terms that you wanted us to screw.”

Angelus waited, “So? Screw is not the same as bite, Spike.”

“But,” he really didn’t want to say this with Buffy in the room. She might get the wrong idea. “I was just doing what you said.” He looked at Angelus and tried to convey his thoughts without actually having to say the words. He wasn’t sure if Angelus was just being his usual dense self or he really didn’t understand the mechanics.

Finally in frustration, Spike whispered so he hoped that only Angelus could hear. “Did it never occur to you that there might have been a bit of a problem?” He gestured towards the hated chair tossed to one side next to the bed. “Paralyzed. Can’t feel anything from the waist down.” He hoped that was enough to give Angelus the general gist. It wasn’t. Or else he really was a sadistic bastard and was forcing Spike to say it just because he wanted him humiliated.

“The blood’s an aphrodisiac, Angelus. You know that.” He wasn’t about to admit to its restorative powers as well. What the poof didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him. Angelus still just stood there, glowering at him.

Spike was right angry now himself. Angelus was going to make him spell it out.

“I needed it, alright? To do what you said we had to…I bloody well needed it. It was a serious injury, you know. More than just my legs were affected.”

Finally the great Poofter caught on, and burst into laughter. “Oh, this is too funny! The great William the Bloody, literally laid low by a church organ.” Spike knew he was never going to live this one down. “Oh, how he’s fallen, and can’t get up!” Angelus snorted at his own joke. Bloody brilliant it was too. “William the Bloody Impotent. William the Flaccid. It’s too funny.” He kept shaking his head and laughing. “And to think, I had no idea. No idea at all. Who knows, without that little bit of a jump start you might never have gotten it going again.”

Still giggling, Angelus headed out into the corridor.

Blushing with shame and fury, Spike reached out and put a hand on Buffy’s arm as she made to follow the git down the hallway. She wasn’t laughing at him, or he didn’t know what he might have done.

“For what it’s worth, Slayer, I don’t think the Poof’s likely to turn you anytime soon. There’s no telling what would happen to your blood if he vamped you. As long as you’re willing to give him access, he’ll be willing to keep you on tap. It’s like the bloody goose and the golden egg. That’s my opinion, anyway. You’ve got some time to decide your plan of action. And if you want my help, let me know.” He was tired of being the butt of everyone’s joke. Tired of not getting the respect he bloody well deserved. As soon as he could, things were going to change.