Prompt #173 - Predatory - Hunger (1/1) - BtVS - spikesdeb

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Title: Hunger
Author: spikesdeb
Fandom: BtVS
Characters: Ensemble, Spike
Rating: G
Prompt: #173 Predatory
Summary: Season 4 'Pangs'; Spike's forced into seeking the Slayer's help. A little glimpse of Spike's thoughts as he watches from the outside.
Disclaimer: Nothing is mine, sadly, and no disrespect is intended. Plot for this little snippet is heavily based on 'Pangs', and I thank Joss for letting us play.
A/N : Thanks, as always, to seductivembrace for the edit.
Word Count: 1367

HUNGER

It had been easy when people were prey, when they were all 'happy meals on legs'. Before he came to Sunnydale. Why did he? Drusilla had followed her imaginings, the stars or Miss Edith or somesuch telling her to come here. But he didn't have to come with her, especially as she'd muttered dire warnings of sunshine and electronic fishies. Yeah; Dru didn't always make sense, but she was always right, eventually.

So, here he was, stuffed with the electronic fishies in his brain, and starving. And unable to do anything about it because of the sunshine.

Trying to bite Buffy's little friend and failing had been the last straw. And Harmony throwing him out of their bedroom. He literally had nobody. Not even himself.

He'd tried stalking, just to check that what he suspected was right. It was. He couldn't bite anybody. And what was a vampire to do if he couldn't bite anybody? Was he even a vampire any more? What happened if he couldn't ever bite again?

Spike sat in the shade under his frayed blanket and let his mind wander. He had visions of slender necks bent to allow him free access, the feel of his fangs piercing flesh, the delicious gush of sweet, warm blood as it filled his mouth, the first gulp that coated his throat and left a tang of iron all the way down his gullet. Never again.

So, here he was, reduced to begging for scraps from his enemy's door, and huddled, waiting for the shadows to be right so that his dash through the sunlight wouldn't be the last one he'd make.

Buffy would either stake him or listen, and either way, he had no choice. He just hoped that the Watcher's curiousity won out.

Finally, he could wait no longer, and sidled along the wall to grab the few inches of shadow he could find in the Watcher's courtyard. He still hesitated as the blanket started to singe where his fingers gripped it until self-preservation won out and he hugged close to the door to knock, darting backwards to cling to the wall beneath an overhang.

Buffy stopped stirring the pie mix she had been fighting with and, still speaking to Giles over her shoulder, threw open the door. She expected somebody with more supplies. She definitely did not expect a vampire sheltering beneath a smouldering blanket. Buffy reacted predictably, when Spike asked for her help – she shoved him backwards into the sunlight.

Spike scrabbled to his feet, gripping his meagre protection to him, lurching back towards the sanctuary of the doorway and shadow and imploring her, “What part of help me do you not understand?”

Buffy was implacable, reaching behind her for the stake that Giles proffered as Spike begged to be let in.

“No, it's fairly unlikely,” said Giles, standing behind his slayer.

Spike was desperate. “Oh damn it! Look, I'm safe – I can't bite anyone. Willow, tell 'em what I did.”

Willow darted her eyes between Giles and Buffy and Spike, framed in the doorway. “You said you were going to kill me, then Buffy.”

Buffy tilted her head; she had no idea what sick game Spike was up to, but she had potatoes to put through the ricer, peas to boil, pies to bake. Keeping a family together was hard; she had no time for extra, uninvited, guests.

But his eyes...there was something different about his eyes. Her posture softened, the grip on the stake lessened. And Spike knew, immediately.

Confused, Buffy spoke. “What are you saying?”

Spike held her gaze, refusing to look away in shame. “I'm saying that Spike had a little trip to the vet and now he doesn't chase the other puppies any more. I can't bite a thing. I can't even hit people.”

However unlikely it sounded, Buffy believed him. After some prevarication, a sidelong glance or two at her watcher, Buffy relented and let him in. It was unlikely he was a threat even under normal circumstances given the weaponry available in Giles' condo, but it was clear from the dark circles under his eyes and the way he was shaking and struggling to stand that for whatever reason Spike was not his usual murderous self.

Still, Buffy took the time to tie him securely to a dining chair, ignoring his griping. After it was clear that whatever inside scoop Spike had on the Commandoes wasn't going to come without some beating up, Buffy left him to fester. Thanksgiving dinner wouldn't make itself.

ooo0ooo

Spike listened, amused, to the bickering that was going on in a very controlled way between the Scoobies. Some nonsense about the victor not being entitled to the spoils and political correctness that got up his nose. He offered his point of view which was ignored, as he'd expected, but offering it nonetheless made him feel part of something. A family. He stifled that thought. Didn't want to belong here, just wanted some food, that was all. Being part of this tight-knit, do-gooder group would be his worst nightmare. Honestly.

He was a vampire, a demon, and yes, it was true that at present he was slightly handicapped by the lack of fangs but that didn't make him any the less dangerous. Looking at the Slayer, all domesticated and worrying about sticks of butter, made him roll his eyes. She wasn't made for this any more than he was. A good battle was where she looked best, all fists and feet and flowing hair. He was her sworn enemy, but he could still admire a fellow predator.

Spike regretted those thoughts as the spirit warrior that had been the subject of much debate appeared at the window – with friends – and started raining arrows through Giles' living room. He didn't have the strength to break free from slayer-tied rope and was left out in the open as Giles and Buffy ducked behind the couch. Not much could hurt him, but an arrow sent just right into his chest cavity would dust him as effectively as a stake. He started to hop the chair across the floor, eventually tipping it up so that he was less of a target. Unfortunately, that didn't seem to lessen the accuracy of the warriors' arrows and he was peppered with feathered shafts sticking out of his upper body. Somebody had obviously been looking out for him, though, as once Buffy had made a bear and stuck it with the Chumash knife, he was still standing – well, lying - and still clinging onto his version of life.

Dinner was odd; when the slayerettes came back from their scavenging, it turned out that Angel had been sniffing around, and Buffy had been none the wiser. Her face when she found out was a picture of hurt. Strangely, that didn't comfort him as much as he'd thought, even though he managed a smug grin. As the night wore on, and Buffy was quiet in the corner oblivious to the bonhomie of her friends in their Thanksgiving frenzy of family and feasting, Spike watched her. She was on the outside just as much as he was. It was probably worse for her, in fact, as her barriers were self-imposed.

Buffy turned to look at him as he watched her and he gave her a soft smile instinctively, quickly turning it into a smirk, just to keep to the rules. She dipped her eyes, hugging herself, before getting to her feet and rushing to the door, calling over her shoulder that she had to patrol. She was gone before anybody could offer to go with her.

Spike understood that. Nothing better than a good slaughter to work through issues; he only wished that option was still available to him. Maybe he could share in Buffy's predatory adventures vicariously, get his kicks that way.

It was something, at least. And it turned out that being inside rather than outside was an inconvenience he could put up with, especially when Willow held a cup beneath his nose and kept it there while he sipped fragrant blood through a straw. Seemed like there was something in this Thanksgiving thing after all.