Spike sat drunk and brooding outside his crypt in the wee small hours of a Saturday. Wild Turkey Rare Breed dampened the senses, eased the heartache, the melancholy uselessness of his half existence but not the raging hunger threatening to overpower lesser imperatives. As he fumbled for a cigarette, dropping a couple before success she appeared again. He tried to recall how many nights he had seen her?
To her own wild beat she danced like someone possessed. Mesmerising him. Sometimes he thought he caught snatches of otherworldly animalistic music, gone before he could comprehend them.
'
Shit,' his cigarette had gone out. As he relit it the flash of gas took her eye. She came to a stop and smiled wryly at him.
In less than a blink she was standing before him. A wild ethereal thing she was, hair like spun ice falling past her knees. His whiskey-drowned brain could not quite accept her. The pain on his thigh slowly gained his attention and from there he realised his jaw was hanging open allowing the cigarette to drop. He reinstated it between his lips.
"Do you have one of those to spare?" her voice like crystal.
Spike was ready to give her his last one, give her anything. His hands were steadier in her service as he took a cylinder and lit it for her. As she took it her long thin fingers brushed his and he felt a touch both bitterly colder than his own dead flesh and possessed of a tingling spark.
'There you go angel.' He sat back and watched her as she positioned herself beside him and dragged down the smoke with deep deep pleasure.
'Why do you watch me dance?'
'Why do you dance outside my home?'
'Another one please kind gentle?'
'That was quick.' He passed her packet.
'It has been a long time, I think since I tasted such simple earthly pleasures.' Her momentary wistfulness struck Spike but he deflected it with his shield of bitterness. No more bloody women.
'You are not quite human are you? Though you are warm to the touch.'
Spike chuckled. 'No one's thought me warm since...' Not going there either. He tried to take a long swig but the bottle gave out early. It clanked with the others. Self-pity rose.
'Not quite human, not quite dead, not quite anything.'
'When I was human...was it only yesterday?' She rubbed nervously at the inside of her elbows and Spike clearly saw needle tracks in her ivory flesh. Then they were gone. Shit, a bloody junky ghost. Really know how to pick 'em. She smiled ruefully and forced herself to stop rubbing.
'I'd love some heads!' she burst out, reaching for another cigarette.
'Wot?!' Spiked was taken aback by the flash of lust through his alcohol sodden libido.
'Heads. You know, grass, pot.'
'Oh. ... I... I could get you some. Tomorrow night you know.'
The radiance of her grateful smile filled him. Everything would be all right.
Spike paced and smoked and swigged furious with himself. Sucked in by another bloody pretty face. No beautiful, She was the most goddamned beautiful woman he could imagine. Beyond beautiful. Beyond this world or any other dimension it had been his misfortune to visit. He was desperate to see her again. She certainly made that bitch the Slayer pale in to insignificance.
The door swung open and he spun instantly sober, aware that his crossbow was in reach. He sneered.
'Get out before I kill you.' His immortal hunger surged. The pain would be worth it to taste Slayer blood, drink her all until she was no more. He took a step forward morphing, and was gratified to see a flash of fear on her face, and then he laughed, calming down. Just good old Spike again.
'Spike I ....'
'You what? Need help? Information? I'm not telling you again Slayer, you've used me for the last time. If you come into my home again you won't be leaving.'
She stood there stubborn. Then behind her, out in the midnight cemetery he saw a blue-white flash. The traitor in his breast came to life. He snarled feeling used and abused. Screw them all. The Slayer backed out, perhaps mistaking his frustration. Good riddance. But he was caught, mesmerised in the cold heartless brilliance of the dancer.
As he took the reefer from her freezing fingers a spark jumped from them. It smarted.
'Man that's good,' she purred.
Her eyes though stoned were haunted. Why was he such a sucker for twisted hearts? Echoes of what he once had?
'You are a vampire.'
'Only half a one these days. Haven't tasted human blood for so long.' He wondered what her blood would taste like. She wasn't human, it wouldn't hurt him.
'My blood won't do you any good....' One perfect eyebrow raised in question.
'Spike.'
'It doesn't do me any good either Spike. No longer human, but nothing else either. Just a pet.' Bitterness sounded discordant from her lovely lips. Suddenly she shuddered and hugged herself tight.
'Time... it has so little meaning... how long... I must go.'
'But your name?'
"
Camille." Echoing as she faded straight from his life. No angel. No ghost either.
Spike killed that night. A mercy killing he told himself. The blood tasted sweet and fulfilled him. He had forgotten. The pain from the chip had been just bearable, more so than his Hunger. And he had saved one life by taking one. The thanks I the brown eyes of the wounded woman was as gratifying as the bloodless corpse of her murderous boyfriend. Spike whipped blood from his lips as he called 911.
'Like leaving milk for the Lords and Ladies.' Camille smiled up at him, the pouch of grass in her hand. He had left the gifts every night waiting for her to come. "Thankyou gentle."
He wiped foolishly at the blood on his mouth. He was returning home after another feeding. The Slayer had almost staked him but he had taken flight. Few enough crimes of passion in Sunnydale to feed a vampire.
'Didn't know you'd be back.'
'Have I been long? Time... has no meaning.'
'What are you Camille?' He sat beside her, absurdly happy she was pleased with his gifts.
She lit a reefer, ignoring his question. He could wait, he had eternity. A bit of what he fancied wouldn't go astray but... She passed him the reefer and in that moment Spike, The Big Bad, would have pulled his own head off if it pleased her. And he knew.
'Shit. Camille you're a ... '
'Just a half thing, a pet. Half of nothing. I wish I could repay your kindness Spike.'
'
My kindness? I am just an evil vampire. I kill to keep up this charade of a life. I am but a dead man my Lady.'
'Not so.' Reaching out with her long thin white fingers she touched his chest. He felt a lunge that tilted his world. 'Something keeps time there, Spike'
Then her frozen lips were tasting his. He grabbed at her but she slipped away kneeling before him, hunger in her strange eyes.
He lost track of time. He left his gifts for her every night but they were never touched. Some nights he went vampire killing, just for the hell of it. Mostly he slept his door barred to the Slayer. He despaired at seeing his Camille again. Brooded on letting the Slayer dust him. What use was his 'life' to him? Why did he crave a creature colder than himself?
The light caught his eye. She was there dancing into a frenzy. He sat broodingly watching her until finally she joined him.
'I was half dead when my rebel Lord found me. To save my wretched life he gave me his blood, made me his half thing. His pet, his slave, his lover for a while. He did not like the smell and taste of you upon me dear vampire. ' She shuddered and lit a cig.
'My son is my only ally but he has so little humanity he doesn't understand my urge to be whole again. You understand don't you Spike. But you feel used. Oh, I would stay, I long to stay here with you. But the pain. I am held in thrall and am not strong enough to battle. Even if I could I would only be half human.'
'More than me, Camille. What is it that sustains your kind?'
'Cruelty is their life-blood. It is in me too.'
'You would be cruel to me too?'
'Have I not already? I have fed of you.'
'We make great pair. You torture them and I'll kill them.'
'I want to know if I can live otherwise.'
'So yo use me to find out. Doesn't matter pet. I'm every woman's favourite doormat..'
'Let's fly!' and she was in the air racing away.
Spike followed despite himself.
They made love again. At least it felt like love to Spike. She was hungry and he was caught in her glamour he knew but he wanted to please her to help her to hold her. His Camille. As she lay in his arms she felt her shudder. The call of her Lord he knew. He tightened his grip upon her.
'I must go.'
'And come back occasionally? Tease me Camille? I can hold you. I can help you weather the pain. I might not be here when you return. Think of what I give you and what you suffer in return.'
'You can't hold me Spike.' Her eyes gleamed. She glistened all over.
And he lunged, sinking savage desperate fangs into her frosty flesh. Her blood was as shocking as drinking a glacier but he sucked and drank. Only when she went limp did he pull away, staring down at her, blood like liquid crystal seeping from her neck.
'Bloody idiot, ' he cursed himself.
Then sprang into action staunching the flow, bandaging. He felt a weird giddiness as the alien blood fed him. A howl escaped his frosted lips as the chemicals mingled. He fell to the floor.
To her own wild beat she danced like someone possessed. Mesmerising him. Sometimes he thought he caught snatches of otherworldly animalistic music, gone before he could comprehend them.
'
Shit,' his cigarette had gone out. As he relit it the flash of gas took her eye. She came to a stop and smiled wryly at him.
In less than a blink she was standing before him. A wild ethereal thing she was, hair like spun ice falling past her knees. His whiskey-drowned brain could not quite accept her. The pain on his thigh slowly gained his attention and from there he realised his jaw was hanging open allowing the cigarette to drop. He reinstated it between his lips.
"Do you have one of those to spare?" her voice like crystal.
Spike was ready to give her his last one, give her anything. His hands were steadier in her service as he took a cylinder and lit it for her. As she took it her long thin fingers brushed his and he felt a touch both bitterly colder than his own dead flesh and possessed of a tingling spark.
'There you go angel.' He sat back and watched her as she positioned herself beside him and dragged down the smoke with deep deep pleasure.
'Why do you watch me dance?'
'Why do you dance outside my home?'
'Another one please kind gentle?'
'That was quick.' He passed her packet.
'It has been a long time, I think since I tasted such simple earthly pleasures.' Her momentary wistfulness struck Spike but he deflected it with his shield of bitterness. No more bloody women.
'You are not quite human are you? Though you are warm to the touch.'
Spike chuckled. 'No one's thought me warm since...' Not going there either. He tried to take a long swig but the bottle gave out early. It clanked with the others. Self-pity rose.
'Not quite human, not quite dead, not quite anything.'
'When I was human...was it only yesterday?' She rubbed nervously at the inside of her elbows and Spike clearly saw needle tracks in her ivory flesh. Then they were gone. Shit, a bloody junky ghost. Really know how to pick 'em. She smiled ruefully and forced herself to stop rubbing.
'I'd love some heads!' she burst out, reaching for another cigarette.
'Wot?!' Spiked was taken aback by the flash of lust through his alcohol sodden libido.
'Heads. You know, grass, pot.'
'Oh. ... I... I could get you some. Tomorrow night you know.'
The radiance of her grateful smile filled him. Everything would be all right.
Spike paced and smoked and swigged furious with himself. Sucked in by another bloody pretty face. No beautiful, She was the most goddamned beautiful woman he could imagine. Beyond beautiful. Beyond this world or any other dimension it had been his misfortune to visit. He was desperate to see her again. She certainly made that bitch the Slayer pale in to insignificance.
The door swung open and he spun instantly sober, aware that his crossbow was in reach. He sneered.
'Get out before I kill you.' His immortal hunger surged. The pain would be worth it to taste Slayer blood, drink her all until she was no more. He took a step forward morphing, and was gratified to see a flash of fear on her face, and then he laughed, calming down. Just good old Spike again.
'Spike I ....'
'You what? Need help? Information? I'm not telling you again Slayer, you've used me for the last time. If you come into my home again you won't be leaving.'
She stood there stubborn. Then behind her, out in the midnight cemetery he saw a blue-white flash. The traitor in his breast came to life. He snarled feeling used and abused. Screw them all. The Slayer backed out, perhaps mistaking his frustration. Good riddance. But he was caught, mesmerised in the cold heartless brilliance of the dancer.
As he took the reefer from her freezing fingers a spark jumped from them. It smarted.
'Man that's good,' she purred.
Her eyes though stoned were haunted. Why was he such a sucker for twisted hearts? Echoes of what he once had?
'You are a vampire.'
'Only half a one these days. Haven't tasted human blood for so long.' He wondered what her blood would taste like. She wasn't human, it wouldn't hurt him.
'My blood won't do you any good....' One perfect eyebrow raised in question.
'Spike.'
'It doesn't do me any good either Spike. No longer human, but nothing else either. Just a pet.' Bitterness sounded discordant from her lovely lips. Suddenly she shuddered and hugged herself tight.
'Time... it has so little meaning... how long... I must go.'
'But your name?'
"
Camille." Echoing as she faded straight from his life. No angel. No ghost either.
Spike killed that night. A mercy killing he told himself. The blood tasted sweet and fulfilled him. He had forgotten. The pain from the chip had been just bearable, more so than his Hunger. And he had saved one life by taking one. The thanks I the brown eyes of the wounded woman was as gratifying as the bloodless corpse of her murderous boyfriend. Spike whipped blood from his lips as he called 911.
'Like leaving milk for the Lords and Ladies.' Camille smiled up at him, the pouch of grass in her hand. He had left the gifts every night waiting for her to come. "Thankyou gentle."
He wiped foolishly at the blood on his mouth. He was returning home after another feeding. The Slayer had almost staked him but he had taken flight. Few enough crimes of passion in Sunnydale to feed a vampire.
'Didn't know you'd be back.'
'Have I been long? Time... has no meaning.'
'What are you Camille?' He sat beside her, absurdly happy she was pleased with his gifts.
She lit a reefer, ignoring his question. He could wait, he had eternity. A bit of what he fancied wouldn't go astray but... She passed him the reefer and in that moment Spike, The Big Bad, would have pulled his own head off if it pleased her. And he knew.
'Shit. Camille you're a ... '
'Just a half thing, a pet. Half of nothing. I wish I could repay your kindness Spike.'
'
My kindness? I am just an evil vampire. I kill to keep up this charade of a life. I am but a dead man my Lady.'
'Not so.' Reaching out with her long thin white fingers she touched his chest. He felt a lunge that tilted his world. 'Something keeps time there, Spike'
Then her frozen lips were tasting his. He grabbed at her but she slipped away kneeling before him, hunger in her strange eyes.
He lost track of time. He left his gifts for her every night but they were never touched. Some nights he went vampire killing, just for the hell of it. Mostly he slept his door barred to the Slayer. He despaired at seeing his Camille again. Brooded on letting the Slayer dust him. What use was his 'life' to him? Why did he crave a creature colder than himself?
The light caught his eye. She was there dancing into a frenzy. He sat broodingly watching her until finally she joined him.
'I was half dead when my rebel Lord found me. To save my wretched life he gave me his blood, made me his half thing. His pet, his slave, his lover for a while. He did not like the smell and taste of you upon me dear vampire. ' She shuddered and lit a cig.
'My son is my only ally but he has so little humanity he doesn't understand my urge to be whole again. You understand don't you Spike. But you feel used. Oh, I would stay, I long to stay here with you. But the pain. I am held in thrall and am not strong enough to battle. Even if I could I would only be half human.'
'More than me, Camille. What is it that sustains your kind?'
'Cruelty is their life-blood. It is in me too.'
'You would be cruel to me too?'
'Have I not already? I have fed of you.'
'We make great pair. You torture them and I'll kill them.'
'I want to know if I can live otherwise.'
'So yo use me to find out. Doesn't matter pet. I'm every woman's favourite doormat..'
'Let's fly!' and she was in the air racing away.
Spike followed despite himself.
They made love again. At least it felt like love to Spike. She was hungry and he was caught in her glamour he knew but he wanted to please her to help her to hold her. His Camille. As she lay in his arms she felt her shudder. The call of her Lord he knew. He tightened his grip upon her.
'I must go.'
'And come back occasionally? Tease me Camille? I can hold you. I can help you weather the pain. I might not be here when you return. Think of what I give you and what you suffer in return.'
'You can't hold me Spike.' Her eyes gleamed. She glistened all over.
And he lunged, sinking savage desperate fangs into her frosty flesh. Her blood was as shocking as drinking a glacier but he sucked and drank. Only when she went limp did he pull away, staring down at her, blood like liquid crystal seeping from her neck.
'Bloody idiot, ' he cursed himself.
Then sprang into action staunching the flow, bandaging. He felt a weird giddiness as the alien blood fed him. A howl escaped his frosted lips as the chemicals mingled. He fell to the floor.