AN: So sorry for the delay, this week has been hell :(

As always, title by Marilyn Manson and quote by Avenged Sevenfold. Thanks to my beta Slaymesoftly and to everyone who left a review. Thank you!!

Enjoy and review!


 

CHAPTER 8:"Para-noir"

 

"He who makes a beast out of himself, gets rid of the pain of being a man"

(...)

So sorry you're not here,

I've been sane too long, my vision's so unclear.

Now take a trip with me,

but don't be surprised when things aren't what they seem.

~Bat Country, Avenged Sevenfold~

 

 

She stared at the vampire huddled in the corner of the dark room. He looked as if he hadn't moved from that position since the last time she was here. This time, however, he seemed to know who she was, for as soon as she was past the threshold, he raised his head and seemed to lean in her direction. Buffy noticed he didn't look as bad as he had only the night before; he wasn't so pale, the dark circles under his eyes were gone and, while he was still too thin, his clothes didn't look as if they were hanging over his frame anymore. She already knew the healing effect her blood apparently had on vampires, but she was astounded by how fast it worked. Spike's wounds and bruises were almost completely gone, only faint marks remained marring his chest as a reminder of the deep scratches that had been made on the flesh over his heart.

 It was pretty clear that Spike's condition had nothing to do with physical injuries, for his body was practically back to normal while his mind seemed stuck on vampire-mode.

Soon she was sitting next to him, just out of his reach because she was still unsure of how he would react to her presence.

She began to think about what Giles had said, that slayer blood could cure almost any injury a vampire could suffer.

Could my blood heal his mind too? And if that were the case, am I going to let him feed from me?

As far as she could see it, she had two options:  she could coax him into biting her (although she guessed coaxing wouldn't be necessary; she only had to get near him and the vampire would have his fangs in her throat in no time) or she could bleed into a mug or something, which sounded like a better idea. She wasn't going to let a vampire bite her on purpose, after what she'd made Angel do when she needed to save his life she'd sworn she'd never do anything like that again. This vampire wasn't going to get anywhere near her neck; twice was more than enough, thank you.

She still wasn't sure if Spike's chip was completely fried or if, in his feral state, he didn't notice the pain. In any case, she decided that trying to help him wasn't worth the risk of Spike biting her and A: killing her if the chip wasn't really working; or B: finally melting his brain when trying to ignore the pain.

No, letting him near her neck wasn't the smartest idea.

There was a third option where she refused to help him at all and he wasted away to dust but, for some reason, that idea didn't hold the same appeal it used to.

Having reached a decision, the Slayer looked around the room, trying to find something that could help her feed the vampire. She guessed there wouldn't be any mugs just lying around in a former vampire lair where they could drink blood straight from the source, so to speak.

Remembering the wooden chest where she got the chains and manacles from the other day, she ran to the adjacent room and began searching for something of use. Sure enough, inside the very same chest, she found some wicked looking knives among many other implements of torture, some of which she couldn't even recognize or imagine how they would be used. Wrinkling her nose, she reached for a small but sharp knife, quickly returning to the room Spike was in.

Buffy sat again at the vampire's side, knife tightly gripped in her right hand, the sharp blade glinting in the moonlight.

"You better thank me for this as soon as you're back to normal."

She tried to gauge how deep she should cut to make the blood flow; the wrist was probably a good spot, but there were tendons to avoid and things like that. Finally locating a promising vein, she made a shallow cut on the inside of her elbow.

Blood started to trickle from the cut, causing Spike to lean in her direction, almost salivating at the sight and smell of the potent liquid.

Raising her arm, she offered it to the vampire, almost expecting him to refuse the proffered arm and bite her neck instead.

Surprisingly, Spike slowly lowered his head to the wound, and languidly began to lick the blood that was pooling in the hollow of her elbow.

The slow strokes of his tongue were quickly affecting the Slayer, the sensation of a vampire licking her freely given blood oddly erotic.

Wow, this is nice...almost as good as the biting.

Any further thoughts were interrupted when Spike fixed his mouth around the cut and started to gently suck. Even being in game face, he seemed to be trying not to hurt her with his fangs.

Every pull on her blood sent a shock of pleasure through her body, and she idly wondered if it was possible to climax just from this.

Apparently, it was.

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                          

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Spike was barely aware of everything happening around him.

The last few days seemed like a dream to him, a collection of feelings and memories that made little sense.

He remembered going to Africa, the deal with the demon, the trials, and the unbearable pain; he wasn't going to forget that anytime soon, but after that everything was fuzzy. There was a distant memory of sitting in a dark room that was gently rocking (a boat, maybe?) trying to deal with the pain, the confusion and the voices screaming at him. The worst part was when visions of everyone he'd known over the years started to taunt him. Drusilla babbling about sunshine and ruined tea parties, the laughter of the high-society people he knew as a human, his mother after he turned her into a monster...

He distinctly remembered a gloating Angelus being hit in the face by a flying boot and, though that was a memory that pleased him to no end, he doubted it was something that actually happened. In the state he was in those first few days it was almost impossible to separate reality from fiction.

After his demon had taken over, everything that wasn't based on instinct became blurry, unimportant. Now, after who knows how long, there was clarity again; he felt different and yet the same. Sure, the spark was still there and the voices weren't leaving him anytime soon, but now it was bearable.

As the haze he was in began to fade, he became once again aware of his surroundings. With his eyes closed, he decided to relay on his other senses. Sniffing, he noticed the different scents filling the air. He smelt Dawn and fear, though it was a day old or so, Buffy and slayer blood. Actually, it was Buffy's blood, and he wasn't just scenting it. He was tasting it. Though he wasn't biting her, he was definitely drinking her blood.

With a cry of anguish he flung himself away from the Slayer's warm body and pressed his back as far into the wall as he could. For the first time in weeks, his horrified blue eyes met hers.

"Buffy?"

 

TBC...

 

End Notes: So he's back! please, let me know what you think.

I'll try to post next chapter as soon as I can, but I'm not sure when I'd be able to update. I was supposed to go to Marilyn Manson's concert this upcoming thursday, but it was cancelled so now I have to go to the capital to get my money back. Also, I have finals next week. 

Anyway, I'm going to be really busy and probably won't be able to update as often as I would like to, but please keep in mind that I'm not leaving this story unfinished