Bad Blood
By Len
Rating: PG
Spoilers for ‘Restless’ (check out http://www.psyche.kn-bremen.de/78restless.html ) for a transcript.  Takes place after Willow’s dream.

URL: Sekhmet’s Sanctuary @ http://www.geocities.com/sekhmet_poppy/home.html
Teaser:  Spike somehow gets caught up in the nightmare madness.  The faintest of faint hints of Willow/Spike.
Warning:  This piece is chock full o' abstract existentialistic clap-trap.  Read at your own risk.

Feedback:  Please do!  I realize this is kind of…weird…but after re-watching this ep when it aired on FX the other day, I felt bizarrely inspired.  Unless it was just the two pots of coffee.

                                                        ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

   “You’re in a funny mood tonight,” the silky feminine voice says.  Spike looks at her and sits up on the four-poster bed.  “You don’t want to play?”  Buffy asks, pouting and folding a large, purple tarot card in half.  She runs it across her lips, making them bleed.

   “I always want to play, baby,” he purrs back, not surprised to see her there.  Her eyes light up. 

   “Goodie!  Do you have a 'Manus'?"

   He nods, and hands her card.  She looks at her hand thoughtfully again.  "Do you have  a ‘soul’?”

   Spike smiles, runs one finger along the side of her face.  “Go fish.”

   She pouts again, throwing the cards onto the bed in a fit of temper.  “Then how do you expect to win this game?  You have to have a soul, Spike.  That’s what I asked for.  That’s what I want.”

   The blonde vampire frowns, suddenly hurt.  “I don’t want one.  You want one, you go get it your bloody self, Slayer.”

   Buffy glares at him, standing up and for the first time he notices that she is wearing army fatigues.  “Fine.  I’ll just put one in you.  We can do that, you know.  You’re bite-less.  You can’t stop me.”

   He watches as she stalks towards him, and he scrambles back in alarm, the truth in her words causing further pain.  She reaches for him.  He leans back against the headboard of the bed….

   ….and falls off the edge into the cemetery.  It’s daylight, and from his prone position, he can see a tiny trail of ants marching up one moss covered headstone.  He follows the headstone up and meets with the amused face of the watcher, who is sitting atop the stone, eating a Popsicle.  The Popsicle is bright red and melting, dripping down the older man’s arms.

   “You making a mess, there, mate,” Spike observes.  “Careful not to drip it, will you?  Blood’s impossible to get out of the carpet.”

   “So is vamp dust,” Giles replies.  “It’s getting dark.  You’d better get inside.”

   “What?”

   Giles rolls his eyes.  “Fine.  Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”  He gets up, still eating the Popsicle.  The trail of ants stops its ascent up the tombstone, and return to the grass.  As he bemusedly watches the Watcher depart, a large black shadow flashes though Spike’s peripheral vision.  When he turns, there is nothing there.  Frowning, he picks himself off the ground and flicks a piece of grass off his shoulder.  Then he hears a scream, and decides to investigate.

   Spike bushed through a small clump of trees, and pops out into Xander’s basement.  He looks around, disgusted.  “I may be dead, but I still have better taste than Droopy-Boy,” he mutters, and then steps in something squishy.  A wordless cry of annoyance comes from behind him, and a short bald man jumps forward to rescue a plate of…is that cheese?

   “You’ve not suppose to have this,” he tisks.  “You’re not suppose to wear the cheese.  Go find your own.”

   “Mate,” Spike says, scrapping it off his boot, “I don’t like cheese.  Didn’t when I was alive, don’t know.”

   “That’s because you have no soul,” Xander comments from the sofa.  “Cheese does a soul good.”

   “If you say so…” A though occurs to the blond vampire suddenly.  “What the hell is with you people and souls, all of a sudden?  I’m getting bloody sick of that word, Zeppo.”

   “There’s a two for one deal on them at the shoe store,” Demon-Girl answers.  “I figured you can never have too many of them around, so…”

   “That was good thinking, honey,” Xander says approvingly.  Spike rolls his eyes.

   “Oh, gag me.”

   Anya picks up a shoe box and approaches Spike with a determined expression on her face.  “Why don’t you try one on, Spike?  See how it fits?”

   He starts backing away again.  “Not likely, you demented woman.  If I wanted one I would go out and kill myself some gypsies.  At least that way I could go out with a bang.”

   “But would you pay the low price of $12.95?” she says, trying to tempt him.  He steps backwards again.

   “Get away from me!”

   “No!  Try it on!”

   “No!”

   “Yes!  Xander – tell him he has to try it on!”

   Spike looks nervously between the advancing pair and retreats until his back is up against a rather flimsy feeling pipe.  He sees the dark shape from the cemetery behind them; it seems to give them a push towards the vampire.  Spike gulps and looks for a way out.  “For the last fracking time, no!”

   They both reach out and grab his coat, dragging him towards them.  He latches onto the pipe, which promptly comes away from the wall and explodes in a shower of water.  He closes his eyes and when he opens them again, another spray hits him in the face…

   …from a lawn sprinkler.  He stands in front of the witches’ house, in the middle of an immaculate green lawn.  Night is falling finally, and as he turns to catch the last rays of sunlight on his face, he sees a vast desert across the street.  Somewhere in the distance, a cricket chirps, and the first stars appear in the sky.  The familiar silhouette of Drusilla stands on top of a near-by hill, looking up towards the heavens and spinning about in a circle.  Then she stops and points at him.

   “You’ve been bad, my darling.  They don’t want you.  Nobody wants you, do they?” she asks, her voice somehow carrying over the distance.  Spike blinks, and feels his heart break all over again.  When the black shadow again appears, he stares it down until it becomes something.  What, he isn’t sure, but something solid. 

   “It’s going to kill you, Spikey.  It’s going to tear you up and throw your dust to the moooooonnn!” Drusilla wails.

   He tries to move, but discovers he can't even look away from the creature running towards him.

   Then a hand grabs his collar and yanks him backwards.  It’s Red.  She pulls him into the house and slams the front door shut.  “What are you doing out there?  You’re going to get killed!  It’s after dark!” she says, obviously upset.  The door bursts open and Spike grabs Willow and pulls her down as it flies over their heads.  The Thing, snarling and furous, and yet looking oddly like a pet of Dru’s from their time in Spain, ran into the invisible barrier.  Spike stared at it, feeling the heart he didn’t have racing in his chest. 

   “What is that thing?  Did you do it?  Why is it after me?” he demanded.  She shrugs and ties a black ribbon around her wrist.  “It doesn’t want you.  Oh!”  she says, as if a thought suddenly occurs to her, “I want to show you something.  C’mon!”

   Willow grabs his hand and tows him towards the stairs.  “But – pet – don’t you think we should do something about Chewbacca there on your porch?”

   The redhead smiles.  “It’ll wait for me.  I brought it here, you know.  I didn’t mean to, but I must’ve.”

   “Er…right.”

   “Here.  This is my room.  I’m not supposed to have boys up here, but you’re the only one I know who won’t bite.”

   “Hey!  That’s not nice, little girl!  And it won’t be true for long, you know!”

   She pushes him towards her bed, and begins rummaging through her closet.  “Yeah, because the Adam thing went soooo well, right?  Maybe if you just for once trust me – I won’t make you kiss Xander, I swear.”

   He voice is slightly muffled with racks of hanging clothes.  Spike gapes at her.  She continues.  “And I won’t give you your soul and send you to hell, either.  So, how do you like it?”

   She turns around, and suddenly she iss older; longer hair, sadder eyes.  But she smiles the same nervous Willow smile he is familiar with.

   “Beautiful.  Er…what exactly am I looking at?”

   “The soul, silly.  What do you think?  I know it’s a little big – it could probably fit both of us and we’d still have room for the turtles! – But it’s really pretty comfortable.  What do you think?  Should I wear it?”

   Spike suddenly feels very sleepy.  “You look gorgeous, Red,” he says truthfully.  "Wear it if you like it."  She smiles at him again, and he takes her hand to tug her towards the bed.  “Come on, love.  Let’s just have a little nap, eh?”

   She shakes her head, but does squeeze his fingers a little before releasing them.  “I can’t.  I left Tara in the bathtub.  But you stay here.  You’ll be safe.  And I promise not to ding this up too much,” she assures him, smoothing down the invisible garment covering her.

   Spike nods, yawning, and then snuggles into the pillows.  He can still feel a heart beat.  He hadn’t felt this warm and safe and comfortable since…ever...



   …Spike rolled off the edge of his tomb, and hit the floor.  A cloud of dust billowed upwards.

   “Bloody hell!” he muttered, dragging himself off the ground.  “That must’ve been some bad blood…mad cow blood, perhaps?  Revolting…kissing Xapper?!”  He made a horrible face.  And then, very cautiously, he raised a hand and rested it over his heart.

   It was still.
  


The End