Spike did not know when the sensation of feeling came back to him. He still couldn't feel much. He felt like he was wrapped in membrane, floating in something protective that cushioned and muffled what was going on around him. He felt almost like he was drunk except without the distortion, just the feeling of floating in his skin. He only saw black. Not aware of much outside his own mind other than the sharp poking, prodding, or electricity that sometimes found their way into his consciousness. He screamed in his mind from the pain.

Memories...they came back to him in fragments, not making much sense. He thought he should know what these images meant. A crazy dark haired girl, an angry dark haired man...so much of his memories were dark. The meaning of them was right on the tip of his tongue, just past his finger tips. There was a blond girl. He loved her as soon as he saw her picture in his mind. He knew by the way his stomach dropped and his chest constricted. And a necklace. A horribly ugly thing.

He felt like his nerves had been fried and were slowly burning like embers back to life.

And blood. He swam in the blood for how long he did not know, consumed with the horrible thoughts of bathing in a bathtub full of blood. A memory. Of drinking, drinking, drinking in the thick crimson syrup that tasted like old pennies. He felt like the blood in his veins was turning to ash. His mouth was parched. He was paralyzed. He tried to move. A man in a desert. There was only the dryness. The scratching in the throat. The lethargy. When would he die? He felt like he already had.

Then there was rain. He would have cried with relief and joy as he felt the drop on his face. The wet trail it left on his cheek. He struggled to see. Fought against the blanket that held him in the blackness.

His eyes finally opened, though they felt like they had been glued shut. His joints felt like they had rusted together; unmovable. The first thing he was was the red. Crimson. Blood. It clouded his vision, narrowed his sight until that was all that his paper dry thoughts saw.

He lurched forward and sunk his teeth into the tender wrist and almost died from the orgasmic pleasure it caused.

Remy was so shocked that he did not react. How was one supposed to react to this? Corpses coming to life? He did not even step back as he man came towards him. The bite was painful. It really did feel as though someone had just some up to him and bit a chunk out of his wrist. He jerked his wrist back but the man was holding him in such a death grip that his movements made no difference. He shot out a punch to the man's head and it connected with a crunch. The man spared him no attention. He tried a different approach.

"Y' know, usually people try t' go on a date before they start this kind of kinky stuff." Silence. Okay, not the most witty thing Remy had ever said, but what to do? Was his life in danger? He didn't know yet, though he was feeling terribly lightheaded. What would the X-Men say? He had only been back from Antarctica for a few months. What would they say? Not only do you slaughter morlocks, you try to re-kill dead people. Even if said dead person was a vampire, and he had no doubt that this was what he was.

He knew the stories though. He wasn't going to be killed, and he sure as hell wasn't going to be turned into one of the damned. Okay, too much time thinking.

He twisted around until he had the vampire in a reverse headlock, prying his mouth away from his wrist, finally. Damn, that guy had some strong jaws. Those dark eyes stared at him. His mouth dripped blood, my blood, he thought, onto his black shirt.

"Well, this is disconcerting." Hank announced when he entered the room. He debated whether he should even enter the room now that his corpse was alive and eating people, but the coherent look in the man's eyes told him he was safe. He no longer held a feral look, though he looked confused and not all there.

"Hank-" Remy turned around. He must have moved too suddenly because his eyes rolled back in his head and he fell to meet the floor.

"Oh, dear. Blood loss I suppose." Hank said as he lifted Remy easily in his arms before placing him on the medical table next to the living corpse.

"Now, you." He said once he had Remy settled. "Care to explain this mutation to me? Because I will admit, I don't understand it a bit."

"Mutation?" He asked, dazed in a voice, hoarse from lack of use.

Hank looked closely at the young man. His eyes were glazed. The blood on his mouth was drying. His platinum blond hair had grown out, revealing brown roots.

"What do they call you?" Hank asked him, hoping for some kind of helpful information. All he could tell that the man was British by his accent.

"Spike." He said slowly, tasting the name on his lips. He felt heavy, as though he were about to fall back to sleep at any moment. It hadn't been enough blood.

Hank's brow furrowed. "Is that your name?"

"No. William."

"Ah, then, William, will you explain to me how you are alive yet dead?"

William laughed without humor. "Vampire. With a soul." He seemed to awaken for a moment. "I didn't mean to attack him. He was there. And there was blood..." His voice trailed off and he fell back against the pillows.

"Vampire..." Hank was unsure whether to believe the man or not. Considering that he had just drank a good amount of blood from one of his teammates, he would have to assume for the moment that he was telling the truth. And that worried him.

He took a bag of blood from the refrigerator and hooked it up to the vampire. Maybe he really was a vampire. Or maybe he was just crazy.

He used his time to hook Remy up to a bag of fluids and bandaged (and heavily disinfected) his wrist before feeling his ankle and foot. Not broken, just twisted.

He sat at his desk and began researching vampires. He did not find anything that was particularly useful. Diabetics were once thought of as vampires because they would fall into a coma and be unwakable. That Elizabeth Bathory was a crazy lady. Nothing that said whether vampire bites were infectious. And nothing that really fit the description of this young man. If only he could find out more about him.

Though he did find out a lot of useful information about Bella Lugosi.

Wow, I'm so glad this got such a good reception. I'll try to keep it interesting for you guys :)

Okay, some comments: I was watching old BTVS videos and Spike's eyes seemed dark so I said they were brown even though they might have been another color, that's what I'm sticking with.

And FYI, this isn't going to be a horribly gory sadist/masochist thing, so don't get worried/excited about that.

If you feel I'm letting the story get to boring or you think I'm not keeping the characters true or whatever else you think I'm doing wrong, it's okay to tell me, and I wish that you would.