AUTHOR: Elektra
EMAIL: mydestinyfic@yahoo.com
DISCLAIMER: All the characters in this fanfiction universe belong to Joss, the WB television network and everyone else who holds copyright to the Buffy the Vampire Slayer series and the Angel series. No copyright infringement is intended.
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CONTENT: S/C, S/A
SERIES: Happy Birthday, Mr. Vampire, Installment 2.
SPOILERS: S4/S1.
RATING: Rated PG13.
SUMMARY: The second installment of the Happy Birthday, Mr. Vampire series. Spike receives some bad news while in the hospital and responds in typical Spike fashion.
Spike fidgeted against the cool steel surface of the gurney that his "nurse" had pushed into the hospital corridor only moments before. It wasn't so much that the wait was getting to him, though he was hardly known for his patience. Rather, it was his awareness of the temperature of the steel beneath his back that was more troubling. Long ago, he had come to relish the blissful silence of those nerve endings. They allowed him to feel nothing in conditions that would have sent even the hardiest human being into painful shrieks. Now, they were reawakening and that could only mean one thing.
He was growing weaker.
Despite Angel's enjoyment of his playful banter with Cordelia a week earlier, Spike had been aware of an underlying unease within him. His sire had been on edge, even refusing to respond to his cheerful digs at the petite blonde who kept them both in a perpetual tailspin. That combined with the bookworm's insistence on his departure from Sunnydale clinched it. Giles had owed Angel a huge favor and he had cashed in on it.
It was a strange but simple truth; and, he knew there was only one possible thing that could have inspired such a request on Angel's part. Hours of prolonged torture, especially at the hands of a vampire you had created, was not something you could forget all that easily - even if you were a foppish Nancy-boy. Only the overwhelming responsibility of their blood bond could have allowed him to push those moments in the warehouse from his mind. Though he might not act it, Spike was still his childe. That particular honor came with certain rights and responsibilities that Angel simply could not ignore. And, as much as Spike knew he would never admit it, Angel had always had something of a soft spot in his cold, unbeating heart for the youngest of his spawn.
Spike felt the unnatural clammy stickiness of sweat gathering on his palms. Not a good sign. The realist inside him knew the truth. One more round and it would be time to give the Devil his due.
Spike smiled; his crystalline-blue eyes danced mischievously as he reached up and tugged at a small, red biohazard lever that had been installed on the wall above him. He chortled as the hallway shook with the reverberation of several pairs of slamming fire doors. As the sprinkler heads let loose gallons of water in what appeared to be a scaled down version of Noah's great flood, he found himself contorting in painful gales of laughter. He could just see Angel's face as the water matted down his carefully spiked coiffure. Better yet, Cordelia had been wearing a white tank-dress when they had arrived in his hospital room earlier in the evening. That surely had to be something to see.
A pair of fear demons poked their tiny heads into the hallway. They, as any intelligent demon could tell you, were a lot of hot air. They put on a good show when they needed to, but other than that, they were basically useless. Spike clutched at his stomach as several drops of water plopped onto the heads of the petite creatures. The larger of the two let out a high pitch shriek before yanking his twin back into their room and slamming the door behind them. Stupid bastards.
Several doctors floated past his gurney without bothering to acknowledge his presence. Spike shook his head but was hardly surprised. He had learned from the beginning of his little run in with the medical profession that the patients weren't really all that important. Hell, any vampire worth his salt could keep them in injuries for centuries. With the blonde brat and his sire on the job, they had more than enough to keep them busy. Spike grinned evilly. Of course, he wasn't exactly above taking advantage of that particular fact. Hell, from his point of view, they owed him.
They all said it was over. He'd show them. If he was going to die, he was going to go out with all his guns blazing. Raising a little hell had always been his forte, even back in the days before Angelus had bitten him. Running around the seedy docks of London had taught him a thing or two, not that his sire had been a slouch in that department. They had met when Angel had slugged some drunk Spike had been fighting in the back of the head with the end of his cane. The sickening crunch of the shattering human skull had caused more than a few of the sailors to turn their heads.
As the water slowed and finally stopped, Spike swung his feet to the floor, barely managing to avoid a collision with a sopping vengeance demon as he did so. Dying he might be, but going out as some kind of goat-slash-human-slash-vampire combo was not going to happen. After all, he still had his pride.
Spike tugged his wet, hardly concealing johnny into place and strode down the hall, making sure to splash the incoherent demons he passed as he went. Fuck that, he thought, remembering the look in Angelus' eyes the night they had met. They'd blazed with the strength of his anger, though underlying had been a gleeful hunger that had shaken the then human William to the core. Angelus had delighted in every pop of bone and snap of sinew. More than that, he had clearly relished forcing life to play by his rules. Though his sire might currently be a colossal prick, there was no way Spike was going to lay back in the face of that memory. If he was going to die, it was going to be on his terms. The last thing he wanted to do was to go out drooling on himself because they had pumped the wrong combination of drugs through his IV.
Spike slowly eased the door leading to the staff lounge open and noticed that several of the lockers had been left ajar when their owners had rushed out of the room to investigate the source of the commotion. A quick glance around the room assured him that it was empty. He silently cursed himself for not knowing that before opening the door. There had been a time when his particularly keen sense of hearing would have done the job easily. Unfortunately, that was only one of the many side effects that he could credit to the Initiative's computer chip. Lucky me, he thought wryly, damned to be the fucking guinea pig. He sighed, shrugging his shoulders slightly. At least they'd left their lockers open. Things were getting easier and easier all the time.
He poked his head into the first locker.
Hell.
Unless the surgeon had miscalculated and given him a Pam Anderson, there was no way he was going to be able to pull off a strappy sundress with what looked to his educated eye to be a double D neckline. If Dru could only see him now - she'd dismember him with a hacksaw. Spike cocked his left brow. Well, maybe that wasn't such a bad thought when you considered the alternative. He shook his head and tossed the offending garment back into it's locker.
Spike gave a quick glance over his shoulder at the hollow wood-veneer door before diving into the next locker. All he would need was for some big burly orderly to come strolling into the lounge when he was too weak to fight him off. As his hand brushed against the distinctive texture of the garment inside the second locker, he groaned. Could things possibly get any worse?
Spike frowned at his reflection in the mirror.
It wasn't so much the fact that he had a reflection that was bothering him. He was bound for the boneyard after all. What did he care about a little thing like a reflection? Actually, he thought with a smug grin, he really was quite an attractive fellow. No, it wasn't that. It was what he saw in that reflection.
Bloody hell mate, he thought. If anyone gets a load of that getup, you're toast.
Spike brushed his fingers through his hair, being careful to avoid the small tender area where the hospital's psychic surgeon had removed his chip only a few days before. The stupid bastard had been the one to tell him that the chip had been left in too long. The changes were irreversible. That had been the last thing he had said before Spike had swung one of his rehab trapeze at him, neatly crushing a particularly sensitive portion of the surgeon's anatomy. The fool had stood there for a few minutes before finally collapsing to the floor.
Angel hadn't said a thing. He just sat there staring at him. That was the first time that Spike had fully realized what was happening to him. He had looked into the throbbing melancholy of Angel's eyes and realized that there was no going back. The moment had been broken by a slight, though incredibly painful, slap to the back of the head that he had received from Cordelia. The girl really knew how to go for the jugular. Angel was teaching her well.
Spike took one last look at himself in the mirror before sliding a pair of dark-framed sunglasses over his eyes. Maybe no one would recognize him. He could always hope. Turning toward the door, he assumed his trademark cocky stance and strolled out into the corridor as though he hadn't a care in the world.
His lips spread into a broad grin as several doctors nodded at him as they passed. Hell, maybe this was going to work. People really were stupid. As long as you gave them what they were expecting, they really didn't pay all that much attention to what was passing through their tiny little lives.
He turned the corner and rapidly walked through the waiting area when he noticed Angel at the nurses' station demanding to know where his "sick brother" had been taken in the confusion. Spike had suggested telling them that they were lovers but Angel hadn't been terribly amused by the suggestion. On the other hand, Cordelia had nearly wet herself laughing, so he counted that as a rounding success.
As Spike neared a pair of glass doors with the phrase "Emergency Entrance" emblazoned on the surface, he turned to take one final look at Angel. He shook his head as Angel thumped on the counter with his fist. His temper had always tended to flare in times like these. That was one of his charms really, that he cared so much. Even after all he'd been through, they couldn't take that away from him.
Bye dad, Spike thought, bitterness welling up in the bottom of his throat. He inhaled deeply before pushing through the doors and moving out into the sunlight. See you in hell.