Save the Last Dance for Me
By: Passion4Spike
Chapter 10: Bite Me
Chapter Summary:
Sam gets the bullet out of Spike, but the injury leaves him unable to fight. With the possibility of a horde of Suvolte demons in town, Buffy makes a decision that could be disastrous.
Spike sat on the closed lid of the commode in the upstairs bathroom shirtless, facing the tank, his back, and the bullet wound, exposed. Two sets of female eyes examined it, and fingers delved gingerly around the wound, trying to determine the angle of entry.
"I don't think it went into the bone," Sam assured him as she reached into her kit for some disinfecting swabs.
Spike watched her over his shoulder and rolled his eyes. "Don' need those, pet. Vampire, remember?" he pointed out.
"Oh … right," she hesitated, putting them back down. "I've never actually worked on a vampire before."
"Shock, that is," Spike grunted, crossing his arms on the top of the tank and laying his forehead down on it. "Just get on with it."
"Are you sure you don't need some pain killers?" the brunette offered, reaching into the kit again.
"The only pain I need killed is that blighter downstairs," he assured her.
Sam looked a little confused, then nodded, realizing his meaning. "Yeah, Finn can be a little … over-zealous."
"Some things never change," Buffy muttered from behind her, watching the proceedings over Sam's shoulder.
The black ops soldier picked up some forceps from her kit, preparing to remove the bullet. "You might want to hold him still," she suggested to Buffy.
"Don't need t' be held still, not a bloody poofter," Spike assured her, waving Buffy off before returning to his former position with his head down on his folded arms.
Sam shot a questioning look at Buffy, but Buffy just shrugged and waved a hand indicating that the medic should continue.
Sam took a deep, steadying breath and opened the wound with the forefinger and thumb of one gloved hand before slipping the forceps in, following the trajectory of the bullet, which had entered a few inches below his left shoulder blade and traveled up toward his scapula. Spike tensed beneath her, but good to his word, did not move or even breathe as she searched for the projectile.
His bleeding, which had slowed, began again in earnest as she probed deeper and deeper for the bullet. It had been deeper than she thought, but finally the end of the forceps touched metal.
"Got it," she declared, opening the pinchers and gripping the flattened lead slug tightly. She tugged on it, but it didn't budge. "Damn. It went through the cartilage, it is in the bone after all … this might hurt."
Spike would've told the bint that it already DID bloody hurt, but didn't trust himself to stop with that as a few other more malevolent thoughts roared through his mind, so he just kept quiet and remained still.
Sam tugged again more forcefully, pressing one hand on Spike's back for leverage as she pulled with the other. In the end, she had to twist back and forth three times while pulling hard to get the slug free from the bone and cartilage in his shoulder where it had lodged.
Spike's body went as rigid as stone beneath her, but, true to his word, he still did not move. With one last hard jerk, she pulled the bullet free, and even more blood streamed from the re-opened wound. Sam dropped the forceps and bullet into the sink and grabbed some gauze, pressing it against the wound to staunch the bleeding again.
Spike remained silent and still as a corpse as she finished, putting five neat stitches in his back to close the hole. She dampened some more gauze and began to clean the blood off Spike's back, but Buffy took it from her and, with a small nod of thanks, the Slayer dismissed the medic.
Buffy leaned down close to Spike's ear and whispered, "She's gone, you can breathe now, tough guy."
The Slayer kept cleaning his back gently, getting all the blood off. Finally, she felt his ribs begin to move shallowly beneath her hand, slowly becoming deeper and more regular.
"Don' need t' breathe," Spike reminded her after a minute or so.
"You do if you want to curse, moan, or scream," she countered.
Spike began to snort a laugh, but stopped abruptly, his face twisting into a grimace of pain. "Fucking pillock," he growled. There was no question to whom he referred.
"Can you stand up? I'll clean the rest," Buffy offered, tossing the bloody gauze away and reaching for a washcloth.
Spike did, very slowly, still holding the injured arm against his body and being careful not to jar it as he turned to face her.
"Hurts bad, huh?" Buffy asked as she began cleaning his neck and chest.
"Na, jus' thought I looked hot this way," Spike retorted, letting her move his arm a bit to clean under it.
Suddenly tears welled in Buffy's eyes and she turned away abruptly, ostensibly to rinse the cloth in the sink.
"Hey," Spike beckoned mildly, reaching his good arm out to touch her. "I'm fine, Buffy. No permanent damage, yeah?"
Buffy nodded jerkily, but didn't turn around. "Thank you … Dawn … I …" she stammered, finally turning back to face him. "I face death every day … it's jaded me. I sometimes forget how fragile life is. I don't know what I'd do if something happened to Dawn. 'Thank you', isn't enough, I know, but … it's all I have."
Spike gave her a small smile and cupped her cheek in his palm, brushing away a tear with his thumb. "You never have to thank me, Buffy. Told ya before I'd protect the bit, nothin's changed. My promise is until the end of the world, yeah?"
Spike looked around the cheerful bathroom, taking it in. "Appears the world is still spinning," he observed, looking back at her.
Buffy nodded, taking a deep breath to calm her roiling nerves, and began wiping the last of the sticky ice cream and blood mixture off his stomach.
"Not just the bit, Buffy," Spike continued, reaching a hand out to lift her eyes up to his. "You too. Till the end of the world. I'll be here for ya … whatever you need. You know that, eh?"
She couldn't help but believe him. The depth of emotion and devotion in his blue eyes was bottomless. She found herself wanting to fall into them, to drown there in the ardor that welled up from his heart.
Buffy nodded again, a little more tentatively, before dropping her gaze back to the job at hand, her mind considering all that had happened and all that now needed to be done. They could have a serious problem out there if that demon had spawned, a problem that would need to be handled immediately, if not sooner.
With the last of the goo removed from Spike's torso, Buffy tossed the dirty cloth into the sink and steeled herself, facing him – her mind made up.
"I need you to feed," she announced without preamble. "From me."
Spike's brows hit his hairline. "What the bloody hell for? Told ya, I'm fine."
"You are the definition of un-fine. I know you'll be fine, but I need you fine now-ish, and there is no fine in that shoulder in the foreseeable future. We might have a whole horde of those blood-thirsty tribbles to put down and all I've got out there for backup is Mr. and Mrs. NRA. And he's a little worse for wear; I might've broken his leg … and arm ... and a few fingers … maybe a rib or two."
"Shame, that," Spike interjected with mock remorse.
Buff rolled her eyes, continuing, "I need you at 100%, sooner rather than later. Thus, the feeding. I know Slayer blood is a whole lot more powerful than pig's blood – it'll get you back in the game, which is where I need you," she finished, holding her wrist up and out toward him.
"Bloody hell, Slayer. I'm not gonna …"
"Yes, you are. Spike, this is no time to be noble or honorable or decent or whatever you're trying to be. I need the demon tonight, not the man, and I need him strong. You heard what Riley said about these demons – about how they multiply. It took both of us to get that one down, if there's a horde of them out there, I'll need your help with them."
Spike just stared at her, his gaze hard and unwavering, his jaw set in stubborn defiance.
Buffy huffed out a breath. "Do you want me going to war with a bunch of tribbles with just those two backing me up?"
"I can fight," he protested, but didn't move his arm, which he still held protectively against his chest.
Buffy punched his injured shoulder with barely enough power to be considered a love tap between them, and he snarled and stepped back, doubling over in pain.
"Feed. Now," she demanded. Stepping forward and again offering her wrist to him. "I know how to make you do it," she informed him flatly. "But I'd rather not."
Spike glared up at her from his bent-over position, then lowered his gaze to her offered wrist. He could smell the blood, sweet and hot, he could hear it thrumming through her veins, he could even feel the heat of it, and, heaven help him, he yearned for it.
He lifted his stubborn, blue gaze back up to hers. "Can't make me, Slayer. I'm not Angel."
Buffy screwed up her face in frustration, squeezing her eyes closed and clenching her fists. "I know that, Spike, but you're still a vampire and I'm still the Slayer," she ground out, her jaw clenched in exasperation.
Then she opened her eyes, let her expression relax, and met his steely gaze. "Please," she implored, her voice tender. "For me. I need you beside me in this. If you're going to stand by me until the end of the world, then I'd rather that not happen tonight."
Spike pursed his lips, wanting to refuse, but she was right. He couldn't fight like this, and he couldn't send her out to fight with two-thirds of the Three Stooges as her only backup. He finally, reluctantly, nodded.
Buffy took a deep breath and let it out in a relieved sigh, then extended her wrist to him again.
Spike stood up slowly, and grasped her arm with his good one. "Do ya have a stake?" he asked, not taking his attention off the throbbing vein beneath her thin skin.
"No."
Spike snorted. "That's a bloody first," he muttered mostly to himself, but his attention was still on her pulsing vein.
"I don't need one," Buffy contended.
Spike looked up at her then. "You do. I might not be able to stop in time. You might have to…"
"You'll be able to stop," she asserted confidently.
Spike scowled at her. "Did Finn hit you in the bloody head? Have you gone daft?"
"No and no. I … I just … I trust you. You could've … I mean … the chip. It's not what's stopped you from hurting us … it's not what's kept you here, it's not what's made you protect Dawn … or me. You could've hurt any of us any time if you'd wanted to – killed us. We had our guard down around you; it would've been easy. I was asleep in your crypt the other night, for heaven's sake! If you wanted to drain me, you could've! But you didn't, and you aren't going to start now."
"Pffft," Spike spat, shaking his head in denial. He dropped her wrist, looking around the bathroom for … there! A plunger with a wooden handle. He picked it up and brought the end of it down against the edge of the tub, breaking off the plunger part and leaving a jagged end on the wooden dowel.
"Hey! New rule in this house: if you break it, you buy it!" Buffy chastised as he handed her the rounded end of the improvised stake.
She took it reluctantly. "I won't need it."
"You might."
"I won't stake you."
"You will," he assured her. "You're still the Slayer, I'm still a vampire," he threw the words back at her.
Buffy's mouth pressed into a hard line, but she didn't say anything further. Arguing with a fence post was more effective than arguing with Spike. Stubborn asshole.
"You might want t' sit down," he suggested.
"I'm not gonna faint, I've been bitten before," Buffy protested indignantly.
"Not by me," Spike purred, tilting his head and giving her a smoldering look.
Buffy rolled her eyes. "Modest much?"
Spike twitched his head in a sort of shrug, careful not to move his injured shoulder, a salacious smile curving his lips. "Just honest, pet."
"Just get it over with, we're wasting time," she urged, again extending her left wrist to him, the stake held loosely in her right.
Spike stepped up close to her and once again took her arm in his good hand, lifting it to his lips. He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, taking in the heady scent of Slayer with adrenaline still flowing through her blood. There was nothing else in the world like that scent, and it pulled at his demonic need, rousing his darkest desires.
His cool lips closed over her warm flesh, his tongue gently stroking over the throbbing vein there. He could feel every beat of her heart against his tongue, feel the heat of her, the power inside her. He felt every ounce of apprehension leave Buffy's body as he suckled her skin gently with his soft lips and talented tongue, using all of his one hundred plus years of experience to mesmerize her, tangling her in his web like a spider would a fly.
He knew the exact moment to strike and he waited for it, weaving the spell of his touch around her, waiting for her surrender. They always surrendered in the end. He'd done it so many times, it was part of him now, second nature … or perhaps first nature.
In the split second he felt her defenses drop, his demon rose without bidding, and his fangs sank into her flesh, cutting through her like a knife through warm butter. He heard her gasp, felt her shudder in pleasure, and it filled him with a dark, bone-deep hunger.
The stake fell from her right hand, clattering on the tile floor, and his demon rejoiced. And then she fell, as he knew she would, her knees buckling beneath her. It was a slow descent to the bathroom floor, as if she were melting beneath him, and she was. He came with her, following her down, connected, part of her, her life flowing into him like the sweet nectar from a delicate flower.
The next notch on his Slayer belt was at hand, trembling and gasping with the sensuality of his invasion, floating with the pleasure of his saliva, now flowing through her veins as her blood flowed through his. Her life poured into him like manna from heaven, hot and sweet, with just the perfect tang of fear and anger from the altercation with Riley.
She would be his … forever his. He could feel her heart-rate beginning to slow and then race, and slow again. The demon moaned around her sweet flesh. Soon. She would be his soon.
"Spike …" Buffy groaned, regaining a modicum of conscious thought through the fog.
Spike purred a deep rumble against her skin like a contented tiger. Soon … his.
"William…" she moaned, before losing consciousness again.
Spike jerked back like he'd been shot – again – not retracting his fangs first and ripping her tender flesh in the process. His eyes were wild with terror and panic as he saw more of her blood flowing from the wound into a wide puddle on the tile beneath her hand.
"Buffy!" he exclaimed, clamping his mouth down on the wound again, but this time pressing his tongue against it hard to staunch the bleeding. Another trick he'd learned from Dru: his saliva would help heal wounds on humans, stop the flow of blood. It was how they kept victims alive for days to feed on again and again and again.
When he felt the bleeding stop and the wound begin to close, he released her wrist and gathered her to him as he sat on the blood-soaked floor. He cradled her limp body against his chest, rocking gently and praying. Who would listen? No one, probably, not for his sake, but perhaps for hers. She was the Slayer, surely that meant something to the Powers.
"Buffy, please," he begged, still rocking her in his arms despite the pain that still radiated from his shoulder. "I told you … told you to stake me. Told you this was a bad bloody idea, the worst idea you've had yet, I'd wager, and you've had some colossally bad ideas. Jumpin' off a bloody tower built by numpties comes to mind.
"Please … please, Buffy," he pleaded, dropping his face down next to hers, holding her against him, listening to her heart stutter, race, slow, and skip beats arrhythmically. "I'm so sorry, Buffy … please, please. I need you … Buffy, please don't leave me."
** END NOTES **
Will Buffy be okay? What will happen when Riley and the others find out that Spike fed from her? Will anyone be able to find and stop the Suvolte spawn ... assuming it laid its eggs before Buffy and Spike killed it, of course.
We'll find out soon!
Thank you for reading! I hope you'll stop in and say hi! My muse loves hearing from you!
Thanks also to my wonderful and talented Beta, PaganBaby! She so rocks!
Any mistakes are mine cos I can't stop fiddling!