Chapter Twelve
Google Vampires
The concert was a great success. The Dingoes played an extra couple of songs in the encore, as a reward for the audience being so appreciative. Now, the band was all ensconced in Rich’s hotel suite, trying to come down from the inevitable high achieved when 15,000 people were hanging on your every word.
Spike was carefully avoiding drinking any alcohol at all. After what had happened in Leeds, he was intending to teetotal for the remainder of the tour. He wanted to have his wits about him at all times. When he’d walked into the room, Rich had pointed out the mirror on one wall so that Spike could avoid going near it and having the whole thing blow open.
“So, Pete, where’s Kath?” asked Spike, opting to shorten the girl’s name as he still wasn’t sure what the full version was.
“I dunno,” said Pete with a shameless grin. “I said goodbye to her in Leeds. I thought that I might be able to find me a nice little Brummie.”
“Brummie?” asked Oz.
“It’s what people from Birmingham are called,” replied Pete. “I did some research.”
They all laughed.
“Yeah, right. The only research that you normally do is how many clubs are in the vicinity of the hotel,” said Spike.
Pete’s words gave him an idea. Spike spotted Rich and went over to him.
“Hey mate, can I borrow your laptop?”
“Why?” asked Rich suspiciously. Spike and technology weren’t the best mix - he’d heard about the murdered microphone.
“Jeez, Rich, what’s with the third degree? Just thought that I’d email Buffy, okay?”
“Okay, just don’t start clicking on icons that yer don’t recognise. If yer delete anything on there I’ll bloody kill yer.”
Spike grinned at him, “Don’t worry, I won’t.”
Once back in his own room he booted up the laptop and put ‘vampires’ in the search engine to see what turned up. He was amazed at how many results were listed. He scrolled down until one result caught his eye.
Vampires – the truth behind the myths
“Okay, let’s see what I can expect,” muttered Spike.
A few minutes later he wished he hadn’t had this great idea of looking up vampires. He felt sick and terrified and a whole lot of other emotions, too. Tara had obviously given him an edited version when she told him about vampires. At no point had she mentioned his soul, or the fact that it was in danger of being lost forever because a vampire doesn’t have one.
A soul, the article said, was the very essence of a person. When a vampire turned you, or rather sired you, as Spike now knew it to be, your soul was banished for good; leaving behind the shell of what you were but with a demon in the driving seat. A vampire had no use for a soul since it needed to be guilt and conscience free when it succumbed to its natural urges of feeding – killing – and sex. Vampires apparently had a copious appetite for both.
“At least I’ve got plenty of shagging to look forward to,” murmured Spike, just before he read on and discovered that the sex often was instigated as a means to ensnare a victim. The reward for the victim at climax was exsanguination.
Spike swallowed hard, “Fucking hell.”
He decided to list the points for and against being a vampire.
“Right, let’s stay positive. Good things about being a vampire. Immortal, never ages and enhanced senses. Okay, negatives. Soulless, combusts in sun, burns by holy water, wooden stakes in hearts so not a good thing, will eat all of my sodding friends most probably after raping them first, whatever sex they are.”
He pushed the laptop away from himself in disgust then gasped and lunged for it as it fell from the table. Luckily he caught it before it hit the floor.
“Oh, thank God.”
“Rich would’ve killed me if I broke it. Killed me…”
Spike started to laugh, the irony was just delicious. Soon he was laughing helplessly, and not a little hysterically, tears streaming down his face.
“What’s so funny, Spike?”
Spike whirled round. The voice sounded like it had been whispered in his ear.
“What the fuck?”
There was no one there. He checked the bathroom and then the bedroom to see if he could find somebody. When he got into the bedroom, he swayed and had to sit on ithe bed before he fell down. For a second, he got an image of a dark, thin woman lying there and then it was gone.
“Oh, Christ,” he exclaimed as he was hit by the memory of the woman in his hotel in Leeds. His hand strayed to the mark on his neck. He was shaking violently.
“You aren’t where I thought you’d be, my pretty Spike,” The voice echoed eerily in his mind. “But it’s all right. I’ve found you again now. I’ll be with you tomorrow - can’t come now. You were naughty to try to hide. Miss Edith says that you need to be punished and she’s right.”
“No!” roared Spike, putting his hands over his ears, desperate to silence the singsong voice.
He rocked to and fro on the bed for several minutes before he moved. When he did, he leapt up from the bed and raced, as quickly as his still wobbly legs could take him, to the bathroom. He fell to his knees in front of the toilet, hands gripping the seat as he vomited until there was nothing left. Spike sat gasping on the floor once it had passed.
“Oh, God, Buffy,” he moaned.
He remembered what had happened to him. He remembered Drusilla somehow controlling him. He remembered her biting him both on his arm and on his neck. He remembered having sex with her. He leaned over the toilet again as he retched again. He felt that his stomach was turning inside out, but that was nothing compared to what his heart was feeling. He’d never been with a woman other than Buffy. He’d never desired it and now he’d done it – twice – with some weird vampire bitch. He knew that vampires didn’t have a heart beat, was this why? Did they break your heart as they sired you? Spike was sure that his was being cleaved in two.
He staggered to his feet and went to the basin, wincing at his non-existent reflection. He splashed some cold water on his face, then went into the lounge part of the suite and looked around it fearfully. Locked doors hadn’t stopped Drusilla in Leeds. He went to the door; he wasn’t staying there a moment longer. He needed to talk to Tara and Rich. He walked back to their room, not caring what time it was, banging loudly on the door. Rich opened it.
“Spike, mate, wot’s up?”
“C…can I…sleep in here tonight?” he asked as he walked in.
“Wot’s ‘appened? ‘Course yer can crash on the couch if yer want to.”
Spike glanced around the room, seeing the debris left by the band. He saw a half empty bottle of whisky and picked it up. He managed to take a huge gulp before Rich snatched the bottle from his hand.
“Shit, Spike. Yer know that yer can’t drink that,” said Rich furiously.
“Why not? I’ll be fucking undead soon and won’t be able to front the band anymore. So it won’t matter if I’m pissed or not, will it? It won’t cost you any money, so what would you care?” snarled Spike, turning on him.
Rich punched Spike in the face. He fell sprawling, to the floor. Rich stood over him.
“Don’t yer bleedin’dare talk to me like that. ‘Course I’ll bleedin’ care about you whatever ‘appens, yer total git,” yelled Rich. “Yer my best friend.”
Spike stood up and squared up to Rich. “Your sodding meal ticket, you mean.”
“Yer bastard,” shouted Rich, flinging himself at Spike.
The two ended up on the floor, trading punches and each trying to pin the other down.
“Stop it,” shouted Tara, racing from the bedroom.
Neither man took a blind bit of notice of her.
“Spike, Rich, for God’s sake stop.” She tugged ineffectually at Spike who just happened to be on top at that moment.
“Sweet Goddess give me strength,” she whispered as she stepped back from the writhing mass of testosterone on the floor. She held out her hands, and took a deep breath. “Separatum,” she said loudly.
As if grasped by strong hands Spike and Rich were separated and flung across the room until they were some ten feet apart, gasping like fish out of water. Tara moved between them, glaring at each in turn.
“How did you do that?”
“’ow did yer do that?”
“Witch, remember?” said Tara, with a smile.
Rich and Spike glanced at each other.
“Bloody ‘ell,” said Rich.
“That’s some girlfriend you’ve got there,” said Spike.
They burst out laughing. Tara shook her head. “So have you stopped trying to kill each other now?”
Spike looked at Rich, shamefaced. “Shite, I’m sorry, mate. What I said…you know I didn’t mean it, don’t you?”
“’S all right, I know it,” replied Rich sincerely. “Sorry that I ‘it yer.”
Spike rubbed at his cheek which was sore. “Deserved it I reckon.”
They got to their feet and had a brief, slightly awkward hug; Rich had never got over his Englishness in the hugging department.
“That’s it? It’s over?” said Tara in amazement as they went and sat down together.
“Yeah, it’s forgotten, right?” Rich looked at Spike, who nodded gratefully.
“Men,” stated Tara calmly.
“Um…don’t turn me into a hoppy toad or anything but what the hell did you just do?” asked Rich, eyes wide.
“I separated two idiots; that’s what I did.”
“Okay,” said Spike. “Good point, pet. Different question. How did you do that then?”
“I called on the Goddess to give me the strength to do it. It’s not difficult,” said Tara, enjoying their discomfort.
She sat down near them. “Spike, did you come over for a reason other than to fight Rich?”
Rich chuckled at Spike’s face when Tara said that. “Yeah, Spike, wot was goin’ on with yer? Yer were really spooked when you came in.”
Spike glanced at the bottle that Rich had taken from him. Shit, he really needed to get wasted. Reluctantly, he pulled his gaze away and looked back at Rich and Tara.
“I remembered how I got bitten,” he said.
Tara leant forward. “Do you know who it was? Do you have a name?”
“Does that matter?” asked Rich.
Tara nodded. “Yes, without it we’re helpless. The coven’s seers need an individual to focus on. The blanket search for all vampires that have entered this dimension failed. It needs to be specific.” She turned to Spike. “Do you know?”
“Yeah, it’s some crazy bint called Drusilla.”
Rich snorted. “Sounds like a bad horror movie character – ‘Drusilla, Queen of the Damned’.”
“Not really seeing the funny in that, mate,” said Spike, “Since I’ll be joining the ranks of the damned if this goes all the way.”
“Rich, can you make us all a cup of coffee please?” said Tara.
Rich knew that she wanted to stop his interruptions and so went, with good grace, to make use of the kettle on the table at the other end of the room.
“What else do you remember? Think hard, Spike. The more we know the more chance we can stop it.”
Spike shuddered at the memory of Drusilla’s cold hands on his body. “She seems to think that I’m hers. Kept going on about being her Sweet William. Said she’d been looking for me for nine years, that ‘her’ Spike had died then,” said Spike.
“Nine years ago? That might help us too.”
“You remember how you said that some dimensions worked parallel to ours?” said Spike.
“Yes.”
“Well, nine years ago I was in a bad car wreck, nearly died…”
Tara nodded eagerly. “That’s exactly what I meant. Important events are mirrored in each dimension but in different ways and with different results. That could help trace this Drusilla. Anything else?”
“She…she could somehow control me,” said Spike, “I don’t know how, and I forgot about her once she’d gone.”
“Wow, it’s true then,” said Tara quietly. “It’s called a thrall. Not all vampires can do it, but basically they can get into your mind and make you think and feel things that you never would without it.”
“What, like…” He glanced over at Rich, who was still messing with the kettle. “Um…like…” He looked down. “Feeling like you’re in love with the skanky bitch?” He finished the sentence in a rush.
“Oh,” said Tara quietly.
Spike looked up his blue eyes clouded with pain. “So can it?”
“Yes, Spike. From what I understand about it, that would be one of the more common uses of that ability.”
“Honest?”
“Honest.”
“Thank God.” Spike was appalled to find tears running down his face. He wiped them quickly away and avoided Tara’s eye. She put a hand on his arm and he drew comfort from it. “I’ve never been with another woman, Tara. There’s only been Buffy and now…and now…” He choked up.
“Shh, it’s all right Spike. It’s not your fault,” soothed Tara.
“But, I remember that I enjoyed it, that I wanted it,” mumbled Spike, wiping his eyes again.
“That’s what a thrall will do, Spike. You had no choice in the matter.”
Spike heard Tara’s words but couldn’t draw much comfort from them. It was another secret that he was keeping from Buffy. He felt his whole world was crumbling and was terrified that this thing would be unstoppable and he’d succumb to the vampire’s advances. Once he was fully turned, he knew that he’d be a willing partner, and it made him nauseous again just thinking about it.
“When she bit me, she drank some of my blood and made me drink hers. She said things worked differently over here.”
“Did you see her tonight?” asked Tara, smiling as she saw Rich was reluctant to come back with the drinks in case he interrupted them. She put him out of his misery. “It’s okay, Rich. You can bring the drinks over now.”
Rich complied and gave them each a mug - Tara’s and his own holding coffee, Spike’s his preferred hot chocolate. He really was just a big kid.
“No, I didn’t see her - well, not properly. I heard her in my head and then sort of got a brief image of her,” replied Spike.
“Can you remember what she said to you?” asked Tara, pleased that Rich was keeping quiet.
“Yeah, she said that she hadn’t been able to find me but knew where I was now, and would come to me tomorrow night. Said that she’d punish me for hiding from her.”
“Shit,” breathed Rich.
Spike looked at him, “Yeah, that’s what I thought,” he said smiling slightly at him.
“Right,” said Tara, all business. “I’m going to email all that you’ve told me to the coven and get them to work on it right away.”
She didn’t miss Spike’s look of panic when she’d said ‘all’, and smiled at him, trying to convey to him that she’d not mention what he’d done while under the influence of Drusilla’s thrall. Spike got it and nodded his thanks. Tara stood up and disappeared into the bedroom.
“So you can see why I needed a drink,” said Spike.
“I can, mate, but yer just can’t go there and yer know it.”
“I know, but this is so fucking hard to deal with. I keep thinking that it’s all just a joke, a bad dream, anything rather than bloody real.” He looked Rich in the eyes. “I’m petrified. It’s all so out of my control. Promise me that you’ll look after Buffy for me.”
Rich swallowed hard. “She won’t need me to ‘cause you’ll be there with her.”
“Rich, just promise me, please?” begged Spike.
Rich looked at the stricken and, it had to be said, bruised face of his best friend. “I promise you, Spike, that if anything happens I’ll take care of her.”
tbc
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Banner By dawnofmeAuthor's Chapter Notes:
thanks as ever to Carol and Dawnofme :)
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