Firstly- the disclaimer I missed last time-
I do not own the Buffy characters and the setting used in this fic- they are the creation of the genious which is Joss Whedon. I do however own the story plot, and characters like Axel and other creatureswhich appear from time to time.
Thanks to all who've read and commented. Hope you'll keep with me until the end and enjoy!
Acid Rain
Chapter 2
"Hey, man. Don't worry. It's just a slight hole."
Clem shuffled nervously in his seat at 'Willie's Place' as he realised he'd just said something rather stupid. The look he was been given by the vampire across from him gave him this idea- maybe it was the maniacal glare in the centre of the pupil, or just possibly the fact that he was fighting to remain in human face, and not demon. Clem was sure that he was safe around vampires, even if said creature of the night did want to feed -to make up for a burn hole in his leather coat. Pretty sure. Quietly confident.
To be honest, Clem had no clue.
"Just a hole," Spike repeated calmly. "Oh yes. Well, that's ok the… do you know how long I've had this sodding coat?"
Clem could feel his loose skin blown back by his friends fury. He held his arms up in front of his face as if to ward off the impending attack, and was pretty surprised when he lowered them five minutes later to see Spike had settled back into the plush bench, and lit a cigarette. He was poking his little finger through the hole now, and smiling wryly.
"Why did I let you convince me to come out in the day time?" He asked. "I burn- I'm incredibly photosensitive. Even with a coat over my back, I tend to burst into flames."
Clem shrugged. Spike had been moping about most of the summer, ever since he'd come back from wherever it was he'd gone off to. It was strange to watch him from an observer's point of view. He kept alternately rubbing his head and staring blankly, and then balling a fist into his chest, just above his heart, as if he had major heartburn- or something new growing there. And what's more, he was off his food. Obviously he didn't eat people anymore- something which had always made Clem feel slightly sickly- but he wasn't getting through as many sachets of blood.
Is it possible for vampire's to develop an eating disorder?
Clem drained his own drink, noting that Spike had hardly touched the Double O Negative before him, and paused half way through asking if he wanted another. He turned to look at the clientele at the bar- one member of the clientele in particular- and then back at Spike, who rolled his eyes and drawled "Just go and talk to her you pathetic lump of roast pork."
"You'll be ok?" Clem queried, glancing from the object of his affections to his friend, tugging his ear worriedly. He wanted to – oh God, did he want to- but if Spike was in a worse mood than usual…
His dilemma was answered when the vampire in question leaned over and gave him a shove square in the middle of his chest, causing him to do a decidedly ungraceful shuffle off his stool.
"Fair enough," he replied, sticking out his chest, and strolling off.
Spike shook his head as Clem advanced on the unsuspecting young demon. She was in here pretty often- a young black woman, with huge red wings reaching far above her head and trailing to the floor. He wasn't sure that Clem was going to present an attraction for her, but it would be funny to watch.
He needed a laugh, even if it was just to take his mind off things. The newly acquired soul felt like it was burning him from the inside. He kept having flash backs to past events- killings, tortures, sadistic moments from a time gone by. There were periods when these flashbacks hit him when Spike just wanted to curl up and either die or let himself go completely. Some times, the temptation to give himself over to madness was too strong, and the vampire had to drown himself in alcohol just to overcome them. And then there was the voice, telling him that he could be so much more, telling him that the chip didn't matter, he could kill again, soon…
That's when Spike got scared. Really scared.
He fingered the glass in front of him, idly speculating on how it would feel to kill again. If he was honest with himself, it wasn't all that appealing. But he wasn't allowed to be honest- he was a creature of the night for God's sake, designed to kill and to enjoy it.
"Bleeding slayer," he muttered, downing the blood. "If I'd never gotten so bloody involved with that stupid bint, then I could be living it up with Dru. Not having these fluffy feelings."
He shook his head warily. Some days, it was all too much, and he wished something would come. Just to show her.
"So, an Angel of Death, huh? What does that entail?"
Clem was rapidly wishing that he could get out of this conversation. Just because someones pretty doesn't make them nice.
"Well," the girl was saying. "I basically hang about waiting for people to die. I'm destined to signal the appearance of the grim reaper. When I'm here- someone's going to bite the dust."
"Death's calling card, huh?" Clem muttered, laughing pathetically when the Angel of Death nodded seriously. "How did you get stuck with a gig like that?"
"Sold my soul."
Now Clem was seriously worried. If you choose to be a demon you must have a screw loose.
"Well, my friends is probably… I mean, it's been nice talking…"
How on Earth do you disengage conversation without making it sound like a personal affront to someone's job?
You have a vampire stroll through the door, leaving it open and causing an uproar, that's how.
"Hey- I don't want my customers fried, lame brain," Willie called over the bar. "Shut the door."
"No need," the vampire laughed, raising both his arms in a gesture of excitement. "Look- the cloud cover out there is so thick that we can walk around without the sun block."
Clem raised his eyebrow, wondering why all the vampires in the joint were suddenly crowding to the door, feeling the new arrivals skin, expressions of glee and cries of "Now she'll pay!" erupting from their throats, as they suicidally pushed outside. Then he realised that not one of them had burst into flame, despite the clock behind him proclaiming it to be only five 'o' clock on a Summer's evening, and the sun should still be up.
He turned to Spike, the look upon his face a mixture of confusion and fear, still evident despite the rolls of skin. The look on his vampire friend's face was exactly the opposite.
He was laughing.
"Now she'll pay," he echoed. "Now she'll pay…"
