Part Eight Of
THE PARADISE SERIES
By Bitch Willow
Rating: PG-13, maybe
Classification: Willow/Spike, a little Spike/Tristan flirting. Mention of Tristan/Doyle
Disclaimer: Think about it. If I owned any of these characters, would I be sitting
here writing about them? Hell no. I'd be in a hot tub with Doyle, Oz, Angel,
and Spike. Tristan lives only inside my head, so I guess that means I own him,
at least. The song is 'The Chemicals Between Us' by Bush, and the only reason
it's in here is because I was listening to it when I wrote this. Plus I love
Gavin Rossdale. Yummy English guys with great cheekbones, huh? Oh! And the title
is from the Vampire Chronicles by Anne Rice, and is also the name of a band.
Summary: Spike deals with what happened at Halloween and discovers why he's
been having some...interesting dreams about Willow.
Author's Note: Sorry, but Tristan demanded that I tell his story, so I had to
listen to him. Otherwise he won't let me play with Spike.
Spike clutched his head with a groan. < Fucking hangovers, > he thought angrily. < That Scotch was just way too tempting. >
At least he wasn't giving in to other temptations. Since Halloween he'd been having dreams about Willow. And not his usual dreams with full-on nudity or opaque lingerie, either. Dreams about hurting her.
Dreams about killing her.
It wasn't much temptation when he was awake. Well, his demon came screaming, awake and hungry, whenever he saw her, but it did that with pretty much every human anyway, now that he'd been blood-bagging it. But he didn't feel the overwhelming need to let her blood spill unless he was asleep and dreaming.
That had something to do, admittedly, with the fact that he avoided her at pretty much all costs. She avoided him too, though, and now the others were beginning to notice. "What happened at the frat house?" Buffy'd asked him last night, when he'd been at the pub getting hammered. If she'd thought getting him drunk was the way to make him open up, she was bloody well wrong. All he'd done was leer down her tiny shirt and make her knock him into next week.
He'd overheard a conversation with Willow and her beau, too. They'd been discussing Halloween, and she'd been jumpy. "What was your fear, baby?" Oz had mumbled into her ear.
She'd shrugged. "I dunno. You getting lost, I guess."
Oz had smiled. "No, when you were alone. You and Spike. What happened? You were crying."
"Just...I...lost control of my magic. It scared me. I felt hopeless." Spike noticed the choppy, rehearsed sound of her voice, but Oz just held her close.
"It's okay, Will. It was just that damn demon. You'll never lose control like that."
He'd embraced her, and as Willow looked over his shoulder, her eyes had met Spike's. They were like two green pools of pain. He could have drowned in them, but instead he'd walked away.
And gotten perfectly loaded. And now he was suffering the consequences.
"I am never drinking again," he said to himself as he walked into his apartment. He hadn't fallen asleep outside, thank God. After Buffy'd decked him, he'd just wandered over to Angel's old mansion and knocked stuff over for a while. Odd how kicking over the twelve stone angels in the garden had just made him feel better.
Dropping his keys on the kitchen table, he wandered into the kitchen and opened the fridge. Pulling out a bag of blood, he harshly bit into it and drained it, not even bothering to pop the blood in the microwave.
"Uck," Spike shuddered, wiping his mouth. "That bagged shit tastes bad anyway, but it's worse cold." He crumbled up the storage bag and threw it in the garbage. "Now I just want to sleep for a few hours and wake up, good as new. And if anyone calls me, I'm killing them. I don't care if the Demon Committee for Vampire Conversion or whatever the hell boils me alive."
He stopped in the living room to put on a CD, then wandered into his bedroom. The sound of the music followed him.
I want you to remember
A love so good it could send us all ways
I want you to surrender
All my feelings rose today
And I want you to remain
The power of children can amaze
I'll try not to complain
I know that's a pisser, baby
He walked over to his bureau, took his shirt off. When he turned to the mirror, he expected to see nothing. But instead...
Spike spun around to the bed with a sigh. "Tristan," he drawled in as bored a tone as he could manage. "What is it about my bed you like so much? Or were you just hoping to surprise me?"
The demon on the bed shrugged. "Yeah, you're pretty cute, for a vampire. But you're not my type. Too...evil. Just doesn't turn me on the way it used to."
Raising an eyebrow, Spike approached the bed. "So why are you here? More things to blackmail me with? Harboring the secrets of some ancient evil? Or just hanging out here, avoiding some demonic collectors?"
Tristan shrugged sheepishly. "That last one is more or less true. How'd you figure that?"
"Doyle said you were a troublemaker. A lot like him, actually. Atoning for some crap, borrowing money from monsters when humans are so much easier to get rid of...or get off your scent."
"Well, I never have been one to think ahead. Just ask Doyle." Tris' voice was surprisingly hard, but it still retained it's melodious sound. It reminded Spike of diamonds.
He shook himself. "So, what's the deal with you and Doyle anyway? I get the impression that you two used to be friends or somethin' but now you can't stand each other. What gives?"
The other man sucked in some air painfully, brushed back his curly blond hair, and ran a slow hand over his flesh-colored horns. "We were...involved. It didn't work out well."
Spike bit back a laugh. "You and Doyle? Eh, I didn't see that one comin'. Wasn't sure you were particularly suited to one another, seeing as you like to hang around and be responsible while he takes off with anything on his back." Tristan looked at him strangely, and Spike grinned. "I've been doing a bit of readin' on you. You're an interesting little bloke. So, when were you and Doyle involved?"
Shifting uncomfortably, Tristan got up off the bed to examine the mirror on Spike's wall. "About five years ago. You know, I wonder why you keep all these mirrors around here when you know perfectly well that you have no reflection."
"What happened?"
"To your reflection?"
Spike rolled his eyes and growled. "With you and Doyle, mate."
"Oh." Tristan turned back to the mirror, running his fingers over his reflection. "I think maybe it's some of your old narcissism left over from your human days. Or maybe you're trying to punish yourself by reminding yourself of how human you're not."
A pang went through Spike. < That hits far too close to home. > "You're avoiding the issue."
Tristan spun around, an unfamiliar look of pain on his usually flawless face. "And you're not? Did it ever occur to you that it was easier to send those dreams about Willow because you feel your lost humanity so deeply?"
< Send...dreams...Willow. > He ran towards Tristan with a roar, pinning him against the mirror. "Not to interrupt your Interview with the Vampire phrasing," he snarled, "but what do you mean? You sent me those dreams?" He shook Tristan like a rag doll.
Tris growled back and easily extracted himself from Spike's hands, throwing the vampire to the ground. "Not me. The Lower Beings."
Spike got to his feet, shaking himself off and resisting the urge to just rip Tristan's face off rather than listen to him. "Lower Beings? Who're they?"
"Like the Higher Beings, but...lower. Like, I'm from the Powers That Be, the Higher guys. We're on the side of good; trying to even things out and make the human world a better place. The Lower Beings...well, they're different. Destruction and horror and all of that, that's how they like to play. They wanted you, and now we have you. Besides, you're in love with a human girl," interrupting Spike before he could protest, "whether you admit it or not."
Spike swallowed nervously. "I admit it. I love her. So why now? Why not before, when I first came to Sunnydale?"
"That frat house, with the fear demon? Gave them an insight to your head. What scares you. And then they used it to manipulate your dreams."
Spike swore. "So, what do we do, then?"
Walking slowly back over to the bed, Tristan grabbed a brown pack from on top of it and opened it. He pulled out a book and shoved it into Spike's hands. "There's a spell in here. It takes some of your blood, but it'll get rid of your nightmares. You up for it?"
Spike thought of Willow, the fear he'd seen in her eyes that night. He nodded, and when he spoke his voice was hoarse. "Let's do it."
I want you to remember
Everything you said
Every driven word
Like a hammer hell to my head
* * *
Spike wiped his hands off on his now-ruined black jeans. He had symbols and runes cut into his flesh, and his hands were covered in his own blood. However, the cuts were already beginning to heal, and the demon side of him was calming as if a leash had been put around it. "So that's it?"
"That's it," Tristan sighed. He was sweating and shaking from his efforts to fend off the Dark Forces, and Spike laid a hand on his shoulder.
"Thanks, man," he said with genuine affection in his voice. "I'd be dust without you."
Tris shrugged, and then smiled like a true smartass. "Well, don't think I did it for you. I saw that redhead, and she's a cute little thing. I don't want her killed before she gets a chance to have some cute half-demon kids with me."
Spike snarled good-naturedly and ruffled the shorter man's hair. "Bastard." Tris got up to put his shirt on, and Spike threw the grenade. "Speaking of demons...what happened with you and Doyle?"
Tristan stiffened, but swung around to face Spike, a resigned look on his face. "It ended badly."
Spike gestured to the floor where he was sitting. "Pull up a chair, man. I've got centuries."
The demon chose to walk around instead. "Okay...you know that he's half-human, right?" Spike couldn't hide a gasp, making Tristan smirk. "Guess not. Anyway, his dad, who's a big guy down in the Underworld, took off after his mom got pregnant. She remarried, and raised her son as human."
"Wait. So...Doyle thought he was human? His entire life?"
"Yeah, pretty much. I mean, naturally his demon side came out at times, but his mom never told him he was a demon, so... She also never told him he would like guys."
Spike narrowed his eyes. "Yeh, but this is the nineties. Most people are at least willing to experi--"
Tristan sucked in another painful breath, making Spike remember how sometimes the air could taste like acid if you had to say something you didn't want to. "Well, it was Ireland. Besides, his stepdad was this...asshole. I'd have personally loved to track him down and rip him open, but it sort of goes against the whole 'doing good, not murdering anyone' rule we have."
"But you two got involved?"
"Yep. I was working in Dublin on this really mean vampire, I mean he was a real..." Tristan sighed as Spike glared at him. "Anyway, I didn't know he was a demon, either. He smelled pretty human back then. And since we were so...involved..."
Spike interrupted him. "You can say 'shagging' mate. You won't burn my virgin ears or anything."
Tristan glared, but went back to his story. "Anyway, he found out that I was a demon, but he was okay with it. But then...it brought out his own demon side. Which freaked the hell out of him, needless to say."
Spike laughed painfully, remembering how he'd woken up to find that he was no longer human. "And?"
"Well, he went sort of wild. Did some things that he...regretted, to say the least."
"Such as?"
"Killed his stepdad." Spike choked and Tristan laughed. "I know. By the time we got him under control and on our side, he'd done a number on the village. We got involved again for a while, but I don't think he ever really forgave me."
Spike shook his head, standing up to put his hand on the arm of his friend. "I'm sorry, man. I shouldn't have made you tell me. It's...personal."
Tris shrugged. "No, you needed to know, since I've got you and Doyle's working with your sire. Besides, I know your entire sexual history, so it's give and take, you know?" Spike made an annoyed sound, and Tristan grinned. "Well, I'd better be going. When you need me, I'll know. But you can summon me if it's important. Okay?"
"'Kay. See you, Tris. Thanks."
The demon picked his hat up off the floor, then doffed it. "It was nothing. Just...if you see Doyle again, make sure he doesn't do anything stupid. Okay?"
Spike nodded and Tristan walked into the bedroom. After a second or two, there was a thunder strike and a cloud of smoke from the bedroom. Spike tried to enter, but it was so hot and clouded with smoke that he couldn't.
"Damned demon," he muttered to himself. Then he shucked off his bloody jeans with a sigh, ignoring how caked with blood they were. He threw them in a corner and turned up the CD player, which had been pounding throughout the entire ritual.
Crawling naked onto the couch, he closed his eyes and prayed to whatever evil god looked after vampires, < Please, no dreams tonight. >
His sleep was dreamless and undisturbed.
The chemicals between us
The walls that lie between us
Lying in this bed
The chemicals displaced
There is no lonelier state
Than lying in this bed...
THE END