Chapter Nine
Reflections
Spike woke up reluctantly, torn from his sleep by a pounding on the door that matched the pounding in his head.
“Shite, how much did I end up drinking?” He struggled to remember the party at all. “Bollocks.” He groaned as he sat up and for a second, thought that he was going to throw up.
“Spike! For Christ’s sake, are you in there?” Rich’s voice called out from the far side of the door, and the banging resumed once more.
“I’m coming, Rich. God, take it easy,” shouted Spike, his voice, to his horror, sounding a little hoarse.
He glanced at the floor, found his discarded jeans and pulled them on, fastening his belt as he walked a touch unsteadily to the door. His eyes felt gritty and sore, and he realised that he’d slept with his contact lenses in.
“Spike!” Rich shouted again.
“I’m here. Stop with the yammering,” complained Spike as he opened the door.
“Thank God,” said Rich, pushing his way past Spike and into the room.
“What’s with all the anxiety, Rich?” asked Spike, puzzled. He leaned on the wall near the door.
“Do yer know wot time it is?” said Rich, peering at him closely.
Spike looked at his watch, “Well, in California it’s - -”
“Shut up,” howled Rich.
“Sorry, mate, but what the hell have I done to wind you up this tight?”
Spike walked over, or rather tottered, to the couch and collapsed onto it.
Rich let out a big sigh. “No, it’s my fault. I shouldn’t ‘ave had the party.”
“Why not? What’s happened? Don’t tell me one of the guys has hurt themselves?”
“Wot?” Rich looked at Spike. “No, they’re okay; it’s you that I’m worried about.”
“I know, Rich, I shouldn’t have done it, but I’d had enough and just wanted my bed, you know?”
“You’d ‘ad enough?” repeated Rich. “At least yer know your limits, but if I’d’ve known that you were hitting the ‘ard stuff, I’d’ve made it afternoon bleedin’ tea, not an after concert piss up.”
Now it was Spike’s turn to look confused. “What do you mean hard stuff? I only had beer and…” He squinted as he tried to recall how many, smiling triumphantly when he did so. “I only had three.”
“Shit, Spike, don’t lie to me, not in the middle of a tour. If yer need ‘elp just ask for it.”
“Are you saying that you don’t fucking believe me?” Spike glared at him.
“Spike,” said Rich wearily, “I know the party went on ‘til late, well early, but yer haven’t been seen or heard from in over twelve hours. Buffy called me when you didn’t pick up the phone just now. She was worried that something had happened to yer since yer usually phone her first thing in the morning.”
“I slept that long?” wondered Spike. “That’s a first; I don’t normally sleep too well when I’m on my own.”
“So yer were alone then?”
“Christ, Rich, what are you going to accuse me of next? So far it’s being out of my skull on vodka and sleeping with some skanky ho’ bag,” Something stirred slightly in his memory at that. “What else are you going to throw into the mix? Playing poker for sodding kittens, no doubt.”
Rich couldn’t help but chuckle. “Kitten poker, now that could catch on.” He glanced at Spike who, despite obviously sleeping all of the day, was looking pale and exhausted. “Are yer feelin’ all right mate? Yer look pretty ropey and wot did you do to yer arm?”
Spike twisted his arm so that he could see what Rich meant. There was blood over the top part of it. He touched it with the fingers of his left hand and yelped - it was sore.
“Um…I dunno…I can’t remember doing anything to it.” He glanced up at Rich, not liking the expression on his face. “I didn’t get pissed, Rich, I swear to you.”
“I believe you,” said Rich, and he did but something was clearly wrong with his friend, and the manager in him was worried about the tour. “At least there’s no gig tonight. Just go back to bed, and I’ll organise something for you to eat, okay? I just hope that you’re not coming down with a virus.”
“I need to call Buffy,” said Spike weakly. He did feel dreadful.
“I’ll do it. Just get some sleep.”
“Cheers, Rich,” said Spike as he gratefully wandered back to the bedroom.
He took out his contact lenses, pulled his jeans off and slid beneath the covers. Within seconds, he was asleep. Rich left the sandwiches he’d ordered from room service on the bedside cabinet and left him to rest, but not before he took a closer look at the mark on Spike’s arm.
“How the hell did that happen?” thought Rich. It looked like a bite of some sort. He shook his head, not knowing what to make of it all.
000000000
Spike woke a couple of hours later. Thankfully his headache had gone but the wound on his arm was burning. He sat up in bed and noticed the sandwiches that Rich had left. His stomach growled and he ate them quickly, washing them down with half of the bottle of water that was next to them.
“If this is what having three sodding beers does to me, that’s the last time I’m drinking alcohol at all,” he muttered as he made his way to the bathroom.
He glanced at his reflection and grimaced.
“I look like shite.”
His blue eyes were slightly bloodshot and he had dark shadows beneath them. He reached into his wash bag and took out some eye drops. He put a couple in each eye, hoping that it would soothe them.
“Can’t believe that I slept with my lenses in.”
He shook his head ruefully before stepping into the shower. He turned it to as hot as he could bear, letting the water soothe his body. After washing he grabbed a towel and dried off. He wiped the steam from the mirror and looked at the wound on his arm. It looked as though it might be infected as it was swollen and inflamed.
“How the hell did I do that?”
He heard the phone ringing, so he wrapped the towel around his hips and walked through to the bedroom where he’d left his cell.
“Hello?”
“Spike!” Buffy’s voice came over loud and clear, as did the worry in her voice.
“Hey, pet,” said Spike, slumping down on the bed. “It’s really late for you, isn’t it?”
“How are you feeling?” asked Buffy, ignoring his question. “Rich said that you weren’t feeling too well earlier.”
“I’m okay, just all caught up with me I reckon. You know that I don’t sleep too good when you’re not with me.”
“Rich said he was worried that you were coming down with a bug.”
“You know what Rich is like when we’re on tour; he always worries,” replied Spike, which wasn’t entirely true but it was worth a try. “Anyway, how’s Joyce?”
“She’s fine, Spike. Stop trying to change the subject,” snapped Buffy. “I’ve been really worried.”
Spike closed his eyes. “I’m sorry, pet. Just don’t yell at me, okay? I’m feeling a bit off but nothing to worry about. I’m going to rest up for the evening and then we’re heading to Birmingham tomorrow. It’s probably just withdrawal symptoms from not being with you.” He managed a chuckle.
“I hope so.” He could tell she was smiling. “I don’t like the thought of you being ill and having to do all of the concerts.”
“Sleep’ll sort it out I’m sure.”
They chatted for a while longer, just needing to hear each other’s voices.
“Spike,” said Buffy sharply.
“Huh? What, pet?”
“Are you sure that you’re okay? You didn’t hear what I was saying.”
“Yeah, sure I am. What was it?”
“Nothing important, I’ll leave you to rest but call me in the morning, okay? My morning, that is.”
“Will do, love. God, I wish you were here with me.”
“Me too. Just get some sleep. You sound exhausted.”
“’Night, Buffy. I love you.”
“Goodnight, Spike. I love you too, babe.”
Spike put the phone down and flopped back on the bed. He closed his eyes and once more was asleep in seconds.
00000000000
Spike rolled over on the bed as he felt kisses along his neck.
“Buffy,” he mumbled as he turned to wrap his arms around her. “Missed you.”
“I missed you too, my pretty one,” said Drusilla in his ear.
His eyes flew open; he stared at her in horror remembering their last encounter. He scooted across the bed away from her, going too far and falling off in a heap beside it. Drusilla laughed and clapped her hands softly together. She crawled across the bed and peered down at him. Spike frantically grabbed the towel he’d discarded earlier and covered himself up with it.
“How the hell did you get in here?” he snarled. This was getting ridiculous. What sort of a hotel was it where people could just walk into others’ rooms?
“It’s magic,” cooed Drusilla.
“Yeah? Well you can fucking magic yourself out of here right now.” Spike stood up, wrapping the towel around him.
Drusilla pouted, “Is my William all angry at me?”
“I’m not your sodding William. Look, get off the bed and get out.” He pointed to the door.
Drusilla didn’t move. “My place is with you and yours is with me.”
“Okay,” said Spike, “I’ll go.”
He turned towards the door and suddenly, she was in front of him. He glanced back to the bed. How had she gotten there so quickly? He tried to step around her but she blocked his path and stared into his eyes.
“Be in me,” she said softly. “Be in me.”
Spike broke eye contact, shook his head and tried once more to go by her. She grabbed his face with her right hand, fingers digging into his flesh, pulling his head up until their eyes met again.
“Christ, she’s strong.” He tried to pull away.
“Don’t fight it; just be in me,” said Drusilla.
All at once, he stood passively before her, eyes unfocussed.
“That’s right, Sweet William; listen to the other who’s going to give birth to you again.”
She led him back to the bed, pulling the towel from his hips and pushing him down onto it. She hesitated for a moment thinking of what she had to do as things didn’t work quite the same here.
“It won’t hurt if I play with you a little first.” She smiled seductively at Spike, who lay there unmoving. “You want to make love to me, don’t you?”
Spike smiled sleepily back at her, “’Course I do.”
“Am I your dark princess?” She stroked her hand along his leg from the knee to his thigh, mewling in pleasure as she saw him becoming aroused.
“My dark princess,” whispered Spike.
They kissed and she lowered herself onto him in one swift move that made him hiss at the sensation. She rode him slowly at first then increased her rhythm. At the moment of climax she nuzzled his neck, her face changing to show the demon she was, and then swiftly sank her fangs into his jugular vein. Spike groaned, though he wasn’t sure if it was from pleasure or pain.
“Six nice mouthfuls and no more,” thought Drusilla as she carefully counted the pulls she took from him, relishing the hot blood pouring into her mouth.
The thrall over Spike wavered, and he started to thrash wildly and cry out. She calmly clamped a hand over his mouth and held him down. Once she’d taken the correct amount of blood she nicked her wrist and then pressed it to Spike’s lips. He resisted, pursing his lips tightly together until she reinforced her thrall over him.
“Drink it,” she ordered.
Immediately, Spike grabbed her wrist and put it to his mouth, sucking eagerly at her blood. He pouted at her when she pulled it away, a trickle of blood running down his chin.
“More,” he said.
“Not yet, my darling, or else the stars won’t be happy.”
She wiped the blood from his chin with her index finger and held it for him to lick clean. Then she walked to the door.
“Don’t…don’t leave me,” said Spike.
“I have to go now. It’s different here,” said Drusilla. “But I will see you tomorrow and each day until you are truly my Sweet William, and then I shall make you Spike again.”
He blinked and when he opened his eyes she was gone. He tried to get up but found that he could scarcely move and fell into a deep sleep.
0000000000
When Spike woke up, the first thing that he noticed was that he felt much better than the day before. He glanced at his watch; it was ten p.m. in California so he reached for his cell and called Buffy.
“Evening, pet.”
“Hey there, how are you feeling?”
“A lot better. It must have been one of those twenty-four hour viruses or something.”
“Thank God for that. You really had me worried, especially when you spaced out when we were talking.”
“Sorry, but I just felt so tired. Feel great now, though.”
“It’s early for you, isn’t it?”
“Yeah, but since I pretty well slept for a day I don’t think that I can stay in bed any longer. We’re heading off to Birmingham later to get ready for tonight’s gig.”
Buffy was delighted to hear Spike talking so animatedly. She was much happier when they finally hung up.
Spike wandered into the bathroom and took a shower. He’d noticed that the weird cut on his arm had settled down but as the hot water ran on the left side of his neck, it stung. He put his fingers to it and could feel something there. He stepped out of the shower and went to the mirror to have a look. The mirror was steamed up so he wiped his hand across it, leaving a clear part across it. He repeated the motion but stopped when his hand was halfway across. He pulled his hand away from the mirror and waved it about.
“What the hell?”
In the mirror there was no hand. He stepped closer so that his face was in line with the mirror. There was no reflection looking back at him.
“Is this a trick?” He glanced around as if expecting Joey, the band’s practical joker to suddenly appear. “I must be asleep. I’m dreaming - this is just a fucked up dream.” He started to shiver; he was still wet from the shower. He grabbed the towel from where it was hanging behind him and rubbed it over his hair.
“Christ!” he yelled, dropping the towel and backing away. His heart was pounding and his breathing was so rapid that he was in danger of hyperventilating. “Calm down, Spike,” he chided himself. “There must be a rational explanation.”
He backed further away from the mirror. “So how come a towel that I could clearly see when it was hanging on the wall suddenly sodding disappears when I’m drying myself with it? Oh, God,” he whispered as he hit the wall and then slid down it; his legs no longer were able to hold his weight. “What he hell is going on? How can I not have a reflection?”
tbc
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Banner By dawnofmeAuthor's Chapter Notes:
Thanks as ever to Carol and dawnofme for their beta work and so much more ---We didn't quite make the 10 revs but since the site has had problems and some revved elsewhere I thought I'd better keep my promise! :)
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