Old Friends
Ch 2- We All Want
Vampires dreamed. That was something that not all people understood. Those, anyway, that knew of vampires in the first place, of course. Just because they were animated corpses run by a demon, didn't mean that they didn't have wants and desires and even needs. They may be rather unfortunate wants and needs from humanity's perspective, but they were just as real for that.
Usually being a dreaming vampire was a fun experience. You got to relive past exploits; the killing and the fighting. The blood letting, the raping and the pillaging you'd done over years or decades or centuries. Good times. Sometimes though, a vampire dreamed in the way that their human hosts had once dreamed. Little problems and worries tried to work themselves out in the deep subconscious. Of course, the awoken vampire had no use for such deep meditation and dreams were rarely recalled or worried over.
Spike slept deeply as the sun rose higher into the day sky. Next to him, Harmony had wrapped herself around his naked body like a cold shroud. She also was deeply asleep.
His dream was progressing in a most pleasurable way. Though outwardly, of course, there were no tell-tale signs. Spike was in the deep recharging sleep that all vampires had to enter in order to keep a body which should by rights be decomposing healthy and usable. There were no sighs coming from his still lips. No shifting or turning of his slab-like body. And there were no signs of the erection one could expect, considering the subject matter of his dreams.
Buffy stood above him as he lay on his bed. A diaphanous rose colored sheet of silk tickled and glided where it touched his bare skin. She was in full Slayer mode; wild and fierce with fire burning in her eyes. She was also topless, which was always a good. Spike was enjoying the view and fighting to remain patient with the fact that her tight jeans had yet to be removed.
Buffy, for her part, seemed to be unhurried. The smile on her lips was predatory. The sort of smile he'd catch from her when she was getting into a good Slay with whatever baddie had been stupid enough to take her on. She was also raven haired, which was unusual, but he refused to let it concern him. From her lips a cackling laugh that sounded part mad and part delirious issued. It reminded him of Dru and he was happy to have both of them in one body.
Next to Spike, equally happy with the view, lay Xander Harris. He was also shirtless and his body was muscled and sculpted from the heavy lifting he did at work. He hadn't yet acquired the beer-gut that construction workers seemed destined to get and Spike enjoyed the light sheen of sweat that made the golden skin glisten.
Xander noticed Spike's gaze and smiled at him. There was no concern with each other's nudity. He leaned over toward Spike and kissed him, full on the lips. The kiss was brief and held the heat that Xander felt for Buffy, who continued to strut her nakedness. It reminded Spike of Darla's pecks when their family had engaged in the odd orgy among each other. Even though Spike and Darla had never really got on, she'd make the effort during their group groping to include him in on her attentions. So Xander did now. Spike found himself a little disappointed that the kiss was not hotter, not more directed toward him self.
Buffy had finally done away with the jeans. She allowed her self to be lowered by Spike into his arms. He opened his mouth to tell her that he loved her, when he found him self suddenly looking at Xander instead. The words, starting to flow from his lips, could not be stopped. They flowed out like a river of green lettering and surrounded Xander's head, but he only laughed.
Spike tried to tell him he meant them for Buffy, but the words were already waved away by Xander. The letters fell to the floor, as if they were mosquito's bodies after having been swatted from the air.
Spike felt a pang of sadness. The words were used now, and couldn't simply be retrieved and used again. He'd wasted them. Just as he'd once wasted words in poems that weren't worth reading, he'd wasted words on a woman not worth saying them to.
And just as his poems fell on the ears of those who could not appreciate them, his words now had fallen on the ears of one who would not value them. Spike found his eyes begin to burn, tears falling down ice-cold cheeks like little trails of fire.
Spike turned back to Buffy, striding his hips. She no longer laughed or smiled. Instead she peered at him with contempt. His confusion grew as she slapped him hard; her hand seemed made of granite. He struggled to understand, to say the right thing that would allow them all to go back to the happiness they'd had just moments ago.
He turned desperately to Xander, as Buffy disengaged herself from their bed. But he found Xander also weeping bitter tears. Spike stared, more confused than ever. He didn't want the words that Spike had spoken anyway, as the proof lay on the floor around them in glowing green letters. And yet, Xander seemed sad to have lost them.
Spike leaned forward. He sought to comfort the distraught young man and rested his palm against the tear stained cheek. But his hand, grave cold, froze Xander's skin in place until he was nothing but a frost covered statue. Spike yanked his hand away, calling to Xander, apologizing for what he'd done. Only this time when the words reached Xander, they were black and had an inner yellow fire. As they touched his skin, to Spike's horror, Xander simply shattered. His frosty parts fell onto the bed, the floor, they ripped through the silk covering Spike and settled against his skin where they lay unfelt by his own cold skin.
Spike desperately tried to recall how to fix things. They'd been through rough times before, through Spike's betrayals before. Xander and he had always found a way to repair the air between them. This time, though, before Spike could come up with the answer, Buffy was there again.
Dressed in camouflage green from head to toe and wearing a black beret, she looked like the Initiative soldiers. She looked at the bits of Xander around and on Spike.
He met her eyes and they were filled with hatred and pain and anger. She pulled out a stake and Spike knew he'd gone too far this time. There would be no time to put things to right.
Spike gasped in his sleep. Coming nearly to consciousness, his senses assured him there were no threats nearby. He resettled and pushed Harmony's draped form off of his own. Turning away from her, he unconsciously moved several inches away from where she lay still and fell back into a deep rest.
oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo
End Ch2
