Chapter Two

'Aucune Fierté'

"Are you in need of assistance?" Maach asked as he closed the apartment door behind him and released his hold on Spike. The vampire sighed and collapsed onto the couch, waving his hand in a noncommitul gesture. After a moment of silence, Macch shook his head and opened the door again, preparing to leave. He knew when Spike wanted to be left alone. He also knew that the more help he offered, the more Spike would refuse it. Vampires have too much pride. Maach thought to himself as he stepped over the threshold. He heard Spike grunt in pain as he tried to get off the couch and he shut the door over the sound of swearing.

As he climbed the stairs back out of the basement, he had the sudden feeling of pity for the vampire. But before the thought could take up more substantial space in his brain, he reminded himself that Spike was a big boy now. He could handle himself. Besides, he had already done more than necessary to help the vampire back to the rat hole he called an apartment. No self respecting Menchoran would have been seen with such a creature and Maach was taking a risk just speaking to the vampire. Spike was Maach's friend, but he tried not to let anyone else know it. It was a mutually secret arrangement, hidden by a few chosen curse words and well set boundaries.

Spike didn't invade Maach's life and Maach did his best not to invade Spike's. Even if that meant leaving the bruised and ego-beaten demon to his own devises. Even if that meant pretending he didn't care.

"I'm fine." Spike said, slamming the cabinet door above the sink. Any harder and he would have splintered the wood.

"You did not appear fine in that bar three nights ago. It seemed to me—"

"I'm not askin' what it seemed like to you, Maach. Just leave it, alright?" he growled, opening the fridge and taking out a package of blood. It was then that Maach saw Spike get very twitchy. He had never seen a vampire so on edge before. It was like a switch had been flipped inside him and all of a sudden, his senses were on high alert. Spike awkwardly skated the blood package across the counter for a moment before weighing it in his hand and finally tossing it back into the fridge. He left the mug on the counter and tapped it lightly with his finger. He still had his back turned.

That was when Maach finally realized the cause of Spike's distress.

"You do not need to hide anything from me." Maach said softly, watching Spike's back flinch at the words.

"Not hidin'."

"Then why are you not feeding?" Maach asked bluntly, standing and coming up beside his friend. He saw the lines on Spike's face crease his brow and turn his nose into a line of furrows. There was a black bruise running from his left eye, across the bridge of his nose and down to end at a cut on his cheek. Somehow, it wasn't the bruising that made him look so broken.

"Do as I please." he muttered, clenching his hand open and closed onto the surface of the counter.

"You do not frighten—"

Spike turned sharply to face Maach, anger radiating from his face. "Get out."

Maach stood for a moment, transfixed by the look of pure hatred on the vampire's face.

He shook his head and marched toward the door, the resounding 'slam' sounding very loud to his own ears.

Continued...