Series: Mortal Allies
Story Title: Episode 3, Postcards From the Edge
Chapter 7: Dates with Disaster, Part 1 (Mexico)
By: Passion4Spike
Author's Notes:
Spike and Dru have left the Yucatan and traveled across Mexico to the Bay of Banderas (Puerto Vallarta) while we've been in Sunnydale following Buffy. Although there are dances in the town plaza in Puerto Vallarta in front of the Church of Guadalupe a couple of nights a week, I mostly fictionalized the décor, band, etc. I've never been there, all info I used is from online sources, so forgive me if anything is inaccurate.
Warning! Remember, this is season 3 Spike. Soulless and unchipped. He is a vampire. He kills people. He's with Dru, and he is trying desperately to make things work with her. They both have tempers that can get out of hand. This is what I warned about in the story notes at the beginning – evil Spike. There is also Sprusilla sex in this chapter, though not graphicly described.
Thanks to everyone who is reading and extra slobbery doggie-Spike kisses to everyone who has left a comment or a 'like'/'kudos'. It seriously means so much to me, you have no idea!
Chapter 7: Dates With Disaster, Part 1 (Mexico)
Puerto Vallarta, Mexico
"Oh, my Spike… it's beautiful," Dru breathed, her eyes glittering as they entered the town plaza arm-in-arm. Above them, strings of colorful electric lanterns crisscrossed the square, which was framed on one end by the Church of Our Lady of Guadalupe and by El Malecon – the esplanade, or beach walk – and the Pacific Ocean, on the other. The bandstand in the center had a traditional Mariachi band playing, heavy on the horns and guitars, and couples filled the open area, dancing to the Latin beats beneath the stars.
Dru began moving to the music as they slid into the crowd, her eyes fluttering closed as she lost herself in the sound. "I can taste the colors, my Spike," she breathed, turning in a circle in front of him, her hips swaying to the syncopated rhythm. "They come in through my hair… red and black, taste like cinnamon and cloves… it glitters brassy and bright… can you hear it?"
"I hear it, baby," Spike agreed, watching her eagerly. She'd been looking forward to this all day, and he was relieved to see that it was living up to her expectations. Dru had been better since Chichén Itzá – giving him her full attention. Well, maybe not her full attention – the pixies and jaguar spirits still got their share – but she hadn't been screwing around, at least. Still, Spike kept one of her hands gripped tightly in his, not wanting a repeat of Mexico City.
"It's calling me. Warm and sweet on the tip of my tongue. Innocent and pious," Dru continued, opening her eyes and looking toward the large cathedral at the end of the square. The ornate façade was lit by soft, golden light, highlighting the brick walls, arches, stained-glass windows, and lofty towers. The bell tower in the center of the church was the tallest of three, and was topped by a large, stunningly intricate filigree crown hoisted upon high by four golden angels.
Spike followed her gaze and saw a young girl, perhaps seven or eight years old, emerge from the church dressed all in white, including a lacy veil.
"Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned," Dru tittered as she began moving through the crowd, sinuous and graceful, toward the church and the girl, dragging Spike along in her wake.
"Dru, kitten," Spike called, pulling her to a halt. "Time enough for that later, yeah? Dance with me… come feel the music, luv," he encouraged, taking her into his arms.
Dru pouted, looking back at the girl who was making her way away from the square and into the darker streets of the town.
"Love dancing with you, baby," Spike purred against her ear, drawing her with him despite her hesitancy. "Can't ya taste it? Cloves and cinnamon?" he prompted, dropping soft nibbles and kisses from her shoulder to her ear.
"Forgive him, Father, for he knows not what he does," she murmured as she gave in to Spike's attentions, and fell into step with him, her body like an extension of his own, tasting the beat, taking it in, becoming one with it. They melded perfectly into the flow of the other dancers as if the vampires had been born with Latin blood in their veins.
Spike savored the feel of his sire against him, delighting in her lithe, strong body, relishing the way she moved, the way her hips undulated with the dance, driving him mad in the best possible way. She was whole and healthy, strong and vital, a force of vibrant darkness, like before Prague. His dark princess. His queen. His destiny. Right here in his arms with the whole world at their feet. It was all he'd ever wanted.
So why did he feel an odd quivering in his stomach when he saw a flash of long, blonde hair in the crowd? Why did he have to maneuver them toward the girl? Why did he have to see, to just make sure… though it couldn't be. He knew it couldn't. The Slayer wouldn't follow him to Mexico… would she?
"The sunshine is held tight, stake at her back and fire at her feet. No escape from the cows that moo with unseeing eyes," Drusilla told him, drawing his gaze back to hers.
'What the bloody fuck?' he thought, rolling his eyes. "Just makin' sure, pet. Don't need to be caught off guard, yeah? Bloody bitch can be right stubborn and sneaky when she has a mind to," Spike excused as he got close enough to see and scent the girl – a tourist joining in the dance, just like they were. Not the Slayer. The excited butterflies turned to a ball of disappointment in his abdomen. Not the Slayer. Not Buffy.
"The raven still owns the dark. Dance with me, my prince… the night calls," Dru murmured.
Spike smiled at her, his hands gripping her hips and jerking her body against his. "Dance for all eternity with you, pet," he promised, his mouth closing over hers in a sultry kiss beneath the stars.
** X-X-X-X-X **
"The sea roars in beautiful whispers, Spike, do you hear?" Dru asked later as they strolled long the Malecon, hand in hand. "It chews the pebbles, sips the sand, and pirouettes beneath the winter moon."
"I hear it, luv. Not as beautiful as your whispers… or screams," he flirted, leaning in to nuzzle a kiss against her earlobe. "My dark princess outshines them all."
Dru giggled and twirled away from him, only to be brought up short by his grip and pulled back in a graceful spin. "What next, my princess? Could walk out on the pier or have a bite," he suggested, waving a hand at the innumerable street vendors.
The peddlers were scattered around the plaza and up and down the beach walk, some selling souvenirs, but most selling street food. The aromas of the grilling meats, onions, and peppers mingled with the spice of each vendor's proprietary salsa, filling the air with a mouth-watering fragrance. There were tamales, tacos, quesadillas, huaraches, gorditas, and burritos. There was roasted chicken, grilled beef, goat, pork, and fish, as well as fresh seafood cocktails. And for dessert there were fresh, warm, mouth-watering churros for a peso each from 'The Famous Churro Man.' Maybe he could talk his sire into trying them this time.
Spiked pulled Dru over to one of the stands and watched a moment as they created two carne asada quesadillas for a young couple who were clearly on their honeymoon. "Looks good, eh, pet?" Spike asked, holding Dru's back to his front, his chin resting on her shoulder.
"The meat hisses in such sweet pain… sizzling the life from its bones," she agreed. Or, at least Spike took it for agreement.
"Lotsa cheese on 'em, not like some I've seen," he continued. "Get a couple o' those, then, yeah?" he suggested, digging in a pocket for some pesos.
"Spike?" Dru asked in a childlike voice. "Am I to die before the moon sets?"
"What?" he retorted, his voice rising a couple of octaves. "'Course not, luv. Your dark knight's here to protect you." And then he froze, his hand halfway out of his pocket with the dosh. "Bugger," he muttered, closing his eyes and clenching his jaw in annoyance and frustration. "Sorry, pet, wasn't thinkin'…" he apologized, shoving the cash back down and withdrawing his empty hand.
"Thinking's a funny thing, my Spike. Little golden goblin's skittering about in the sunshine, popping up to have a look at the moon," Dru suggested, turning to look at him. She sank the fingers of both hands into his hair, running her nails lightly over his scalp. "No plastic nor wires, but she's leashed you all the same. Try to keep her locked away, but she's there… always waitin'. Innit that right, sweet William?"
"Not leashed! Got nothing to do with the sodding Slayer, Dru," he contended, pulling her scratching nails from his head. "Just forgot, is all."
"Can't abide cheese," Dru reminded him. "Makes me all weebly-wobbly on the insides."
"Know that, don't I? Just forgot," he excused again, cursing himself for his stupidity. How could he forget that? Been that way for decades, since that time they'd eaten that fromager and his entire extended family in Aquitaine in the '50s. Just looked good is all and he got carried away. Didn't have a bleeding thing to do with the Slayer and her depraved cheese fetish. "Don't make a bleedin' mountain outta a molehill. Just get something else, we will."
"I think I'd like that…" Dru suggested, her eyes settling on a spot over Spike's shoulder. "Her dress is lovely, innit?" the dark vampire asked, eying a svelte, twenty-something who was wearing a backless, black dress made of floral lace, fitted at the top but falling from her waist in waves, flowing down nearly to her ankles.
Spike turned and followed her gaze. "Very fetching," he agreed.
"I could wear it to the ball and all the teacups would be so jealous," she continued. "Can I have it, Spike? I'd love it, ever so much," Dru wheedled.
"Anything for you, sweets," Spike agreed, happy to get out of the great cheese debacle so easily. "Wait here, pet… be right back."
He left her with a kiss to the cheek and sauntered up to the girl in question, who was looking out at the moon shining over the ocean. Dru waited with giddy anticipation as her prince charmed the girl, making her giggle and blush. An innocent touch here, a subtle leaning in there, a boyish grin, a lusty leer, a genuine compliment, a sexy suggestion, a nervous laugh, a nod, a hand splayed on the tanned, bare skin of her back as they slipped away into the dark. The vampiress waited as long as the pixies and jaguar spirits allowed, clapping to herself and bouncing on her toes. Finally, she followed, off the softly-lit promenade, moving inland, where there were fewer eyes and often only moonlight for a guide.
Drusilla found her dark knight emerging from the shadows behind a restaurant, the lovely lace dress in hand and a satisfied smirk on his lips. "For you, my wicked plum," he offered, holding the dress out to her.
Dru stopped short, her brows furrowing as she searched the darkness behind him. "But… where's the honeyed sweetbread that was in it?"
Spike's brows went up, his eyes widening. "Didn't say anything 'bout the girl, pet. Thought you wanted the frock." He offered it to her again, unfurling it so she could see it.
"Didn't want the hollow dress, Spike," Dru objected querulously. "Wanted the pretty girl in the dress. She smelled of toffee and sunflowers."
"Didn't know, did I?" Spike defended. "We'll find ya another, yeah?"
Drusilla let out a painful yowl and launched herself at him, nails raking over flesh, fangs snapping. "Shan't abide fibs and fantasies! No masks allowed at the ball!" she shrieked, knocking Spike back against a wall as she continued her assault.
"Bloody hell!" he exclaimed, half in surprise and half in pain as he raised his arms to defend himself.
"Pretty little liars must pay the piper!" she continued as Spike tried to grab her hands and push her back. "The ferryman demands his due!"
"Stop it! Bloody fuck, Dru! Stop!" he demanded, ducking away from her as blood ran into his eyes from the gouges she'd inflicted on his face.
"Bad doggie!" she chastised. "Rolls over for his treats, snapping up crumbs, but it's time for tricks and mischiefs and monsters in the night. My deadly boy still dances in the dark, with me! Still bathes in blood! With me!"
"Told ya I'd find ya another one!" Spike reminded her, wiping the blood from his face.
"Like yesternight? And the night afore that?" she hissed bitterly, stalking forward toward her childe.
Spike kept pace, stepping back with each of her steps forward. "'Course, pet. Plenty o' toffee and sunflowers to choose from."
Dru picked up a tequila bottle from the ground and hurled it at him. It sailed past when he ducked, shattering on the wall further down the alley. "Not had toffee and sweetbreads for an age! Didn't like the old man we 'ad yesterday, nor the rancid one 'fore that, nor the sour one, the bitter one, the one that smelled of poppies, nor the diablo at the river!" she complained angrily.
"Dru—" he tried, but she kept talking over him.
"The spirits of the ancient kitties purred their secrets in my ears. Told me of your nights alone beneath the shadow of the temple – of hunting rancid prey in paper wrappers!" she accused furiously. "Not made to sup putrid droplets from plastic cups!"
"Oh, balls," he groaned, realizing exactly what she was talking about – the bodega near Chichén Itzá – he'd nicked fags and booze, and a couple of postcards, but he'd bought the blood… more than once. "Just had the butcher's blood in Pisté cos you wanted to stay there for a bit, running with the bleeding jaguars. How many Happy Meals you reckon I could'a taken 'fore they got wise to us, eh? Couldn't stay if I'm slaughtering the populace like cattle, now could we?" he reasoned. "Was just trying to keep a low profile, for you, luv. All for you."
"Ashes and shackles!" she spat at him. "You bow at her feet from a world away!"
Spike sighed and stepped back a bit further from her. "Not bowing at anybody's feet, for fuck's sake. Do you not remember Mexico City?" he asked in exasperation.
"I remember dancing rainbows and sweet blood full of fire and rubies," she replied, her eyes narrowing accusingly at him.
"Yeah, well, I remember barely escaping with our unlives," he retorted. "Not overly fond o' running like a sodding coward… less fond of dusting."
Dru's eyes flashed with golden fire. "My deadly monster fades day by day in the sunshine… like dewdrops from dandelions. I shan't abide shattered promises from my dark knight!" she warned. "The sunshine's stolen the monster before my turn is done! I shan't allow it!"
"You sayin' I'm not monster enough for ya?" Spike growled, his anger flaring as he reversed his steps and moved forward, toward his enraged sire.
"Too afraid of the golden goblin and her bitty splinters of timber. Won't taste the smooth toffee nor the pious fawn!" she accused. "Only touches the lost and lonely, who have nothing but vinegar in their veins, or the eyeless cows who rot beneath the butcher's hammer!"
"Me? Afraid of the Slayer?! That's rubbish, and you know it!" he asserted, jabbing a finger at her. "Just trying to keep you safe, you daft bint!"
"Monster's gone soft! Soft in the middle, soft in the head, soft in the ribcage, soft in the bed!" she spat.
"SOFT!? SOFT!? I'LL SHOW YOU BLOODY SOFT!" he snarled furiously, closing the short distance between them with blinding speed. He gripped her upper arms with bruising force and slammed her back against the wall, Dru's head 'thunking' like a hollow melon. "This hard enough for ya, then?! Monster enough now, am I?" he demanded through clenched teeth, banging her over and over again against the brick.
"I WANT TOFFEE AND SUNFLOWERS!" she screamed at him, scratching at his face and neck with her sharp nails.
"FINE!" Spike bellowed back at her. "Get you the sodding bitch!" he agreed, tossing her one last time against the unforgiving wall and striding away, duster flaring behind him, back into the deepest shadows of the night.
** X-X-X-X-X **
"B-but you said…" the girl stammered through her tears as Spike hauled her forward by her long, dark hair. "Y-you said I could go… if I gave you the dress… you said…"
"Shut the fuck up!" he barked at her, yanking harder and nearly making her fall. She hadn't gotten far. He hadn't expected she would've, being nearly naked and all. Just made it a couple of blocks, trying to keep to the shadows, making her way back to her hotel without being seen. American, by the accent and the scent.
"You're S-Spike, right? M-my name's Lisa, do you remember? I told you? I-I'm from Denver," she tried then, remembering hearing something about making yourself human to an attacker, that it would… do something. Make them see you as a person and maybe… let you go?
Spike snorted. "I remember… were looking for a bad-boy. Reckon you found 'im, Lisa," he sneered, tugging her along behind him.
Lisa's heart was about to beat out of her chest as she tried to pull free. She tried to think of something to say to get away, but panic flooded her, making it hard to do more than lurch forward behind the angry man. He was so strong! She'd always thought she was strong – growing up on a working ranch built plenty of muscle – but she felt like a tiny bird caught in the jaws of a lion.
"I-I have a brother, Jake… a year older a-and he… he goes to Duke, a-and a little sister… she's only twelve, Jillie. She… she was the big surprise baby a-and she plays it up – she's so spoiled," she rambled. "They're home… in Denver… or really outside Denver, but no one knows Fairplay—"
"Shut the fuck up!" Spike ordered, jerking her hard enough to make her fall.
Lisa cried out when her bare knees hit the dirty pavement, trying desperately to get back to her feet when the vampire began dragging her along by her hair. "Please!" she begged through her tears, as hair was ripped from her scalp and the skin from her legs "Money!" she blurted suddenly, struggling to find her feet again. "M-my father will pay you! He's rich and—"
"Don't need your soddin' money," Spike grunted, yanking her back up to her feet and eliciting another shriek of pain from her.
"Ahh! That hurts! Please stop!" she pleaded, her hands wrapped in her dark hair beneath Spike's, trying to ease the pressure on her scalp as she stumbled along in his wake.
"Yeah, well, reckon it won't hurt for much longer," the vampire assured her acidly.
"Please!" she begged again. "It's not fair!"
"Give the girl a Kewpie doll – learned the first lesson o' life – it's not bloody fair," Spike quipped joylessly as he emerged from the blackness between buildings to where Dru waited, bathed in the light of the moon. "And, just in time, too."
"J-just in time?" Lisa stuttered, trying to look around, but Spike's grip kept her face pointed mostly toward the ground.
"Just in time to let St. Peter know ya figured it out," he told her, jerking her forward and flinging her at Dru. "Toffee and sunflowers, as requested," he announced angrily.
The girl screamed as more wads of hair were ripped from her scalp with the motion, trying to get her balance as she sailed momentarily through open air. Free! Was she free? Had he let her go? But no. More arms, strong as steel bands, wrapped around her, compressing her chest, making it hard to breathe.
"Oh, my Spike," Drusilla purred, all her anger apparently forgotten as she pulled the trembling, crying girl into a reverent embrace. "She's perfect," the vampiress continued, running one hand down from the girl's bare, round breast to her flat stomach and over the smooth curve of her hip and the lacy panties that covered her sex. Dru sniffed her neck, breathing in as if smelling the sweetness of a rose, then ran her tongue over her salty skin, tasting her.
"Please… please no," Lisa gasped, barely able to find enough air. She struggled against her captor, her eyes filled with tears as she looked up to see Spike standing a few feet away. He met her eyes for a moment — only a moment — but then looked away. "S-Spike…" she begged, not knowing what else to do, but her breathless, pleading voice was drowned out by the woman behind her.
"Come see, Spike. Come out of the light, have a taste, bathe in the blood with your princess," Drusilla invited as the girl squirmed and fought fruitlessly against her grip.
Spike stood rooted to the spot, hands planted on his hips, his blood boiling, panting for air as if he actually needed to breathe. He hadn't noticed before. The girl's eyes were green. Green like… He clenched his jaw, forcing the image of other green eyes filled with tears from his mind. He felt like his chest was being torn apart from the inside, his demon clamoring for the hot, sweet blood, but some other, long forgotten, buried part of him fighting to hold it back.
Drusilla looked up at him, her golden eyes shining with avarice. "Come, William… back into the dark where you belong, with me."
Spike lifted his head to the sky and howled in frustration, every tendon and muscle in his body tightening into whipcords stretched to their limits. As the howl died, something inside him snapped with a growl that reverberated up and down the narrow backstreet. He was on the pair in one of Lisa's fluttering heartbeats, his demon emerging, saffron eyes ravenous.
"No…" Lisa breathed, her last vision was that of a monster, her last sensation was of two sets of fangs sinking into her flesh, her last thought of her family. 'It's not fair.'
** X-X-X-X-X **
When the girl slid lifelessly to the filthy ground of the alleyway like so much garbage, Spike and Dru attacked each other, ripping and ravening, biting and tearing, fucking with demonic fervor. They toppled cans of refuse, dented parked cars, and crumbled brick walls as they joined and parted and attacked again, the terrifying sounds of two wild animals fucking to the death keeping the humans away.
Bruised and bloodied and coated with each other's juices, they emerged from the darkness into the moonlight. Lisa lay sprawled there, still and cold, her rosy color drained to ashes, her green eyes open but unseeing, looking up at the stars. Dru spun and whirled, a lilting hum joining the dance around the body. Her dress was shredded, her skin bruised and bloodied, and Spike's cum slid down her thighs – and she was as joyful as a child on Christmas morning.
She found Lisa's dress, dropped and forgotten on the pavement, and picked it up, holding it up against her chest and twirling around, giggling gleefully. The dark vampiress danced her way back over to Spike, her chest slamming against his as she wrapped one arm around his neck and captured his lips with a fevered kiss.
"My monster lives," she purred against his mouth before twirling away again and sashaying from the alley, still tittering and hugging the dress to her chest. "My sweet deadly boy… the sunshine shan't take him… not until the raven sets him free," she murmured as she disappeared from view.
Spike stood and watched her go, an inexplicable cavern of emptiness opening inside. He sighed and looked down at the dead, broken girl. She had been beautiful, with long raven locks, skin tanned golden by the sun, and green eyes. Green eyes that stared up at him in disgust. Green eyes that accused and castigated. Green eyes full of hatred. 'My name is Lisa.'
He flicked his gaze back up the street to where Dru had disappeared, that cavern crumbling in on itself. "That monster enough for ya, then?" he muttered after his sire, his jaw clenching in renewed anger and frustration and confusion. "Bloody fucking women. Always playin' games… mucking with your mind," he growled, looking around for his duster, which had been lost in the melee. He stomped over to it and tugged it on, covering his ripped and ravaged clothes and the blood that seeped from gouges down his back, chest, and arms. "'My sweet William'," he mocked Dru, raising his voice to a falsetto. "Sweet William, Savage Spike – what the bloody fuck do you want from me!?" he demanded to the empty air, tears welling in his blue eyes as he looked down at the dead girl.
Lisa. From Denver… no, Fairplay. He snorted mirthlessly.
'It's not fair.'
Spike dropped his head back, his face to the sky, and closed his eyes, forcing back the threatening tears. What the fuck was wrong with him? He was a vampire! A demon. A monster! Dead girls were a dime a dozen! Lisa had gotten off easy – Dru hadn't even asked to keep her as a dolly, had only tasted her blood. So what the fuck was the sodding problem?!
"It's that bloody Slayer!" he decided, opening his eyes and kicking a metal trash can down the passage. It clanged loudly, bouncing off the walls before coming to a juddering rest. "Wriggled into your skull like a sodding worm, eating your brain! No more! No fucking more!" he insisted, shoving his hands into the pockets of his duster as he began stalking after his sire.
He stopped dead. His left hand came out with a postcard he'd nicked earlier. His eyes narrowed, a muscle in his jaw ticking with anger. Digging through the inner pockets of his duster he found his pen and began scribbling on the card madly, using the top of a dumpster as a writing desk. The postcard ripped in a couple of places with the effort, the pen nearly tearing all the way through the thick cardboard. He glared at it when he was done, scribbled again, hard enough to break the pen, ink spewing from the end and splattering it like blood.
Spike tossed away the pen and grabbed up the card, stomping out of the moonlight and back into the shadows. Into the dark. Where he belonged. With Dru.
End Notes:
Thank you so much for reading! I've been loving all the positive comments and 'likes' the story is getting! I really can't tell you how much each and every one of them means to me!
Spike's getting pushed and pushed... how much can he take? Well, we know the answer to that - a LOT! Hang in there!
This chapter and the next were one large chapter when I first wrote it: Spike's date with Dru and Buffy's with Percy. Let's hope Buffy's goes better! It will be the next chapter.
Did you guys catch the meaning of this from Dru? "The sunshine is held tight, stake at her back and fire at her feet. No escape from the cows that moo with unseeing eyes." Hint: Mothers Opposed to the Occult = MOO
If you ever have any questions about Dru's meaning, feel free to ask. I know what she's saying, but I'm not always sure it's decipherable by anyone else! LOL!
** X-X-X-X-X **
