Channel Alaska 18 – 20
10 March, Thursday, 2001
7.23 pm
As exhausted as he felt, Spike stared up at the ceiling, his vampiric ability ensuring he could make out the numerous cracks throughout the paint in the pitch black of the main bedroom. Spike was unable to sleep as he listened to yet another visitor, this time Stephanie, ask Xander what the doctor had said about Spike´s ´sudden relapse´.
Spike shifted around on the single mattress, frowning at how hard it was for him to do such a simple thing as turn on his side, feeling shaky and heavy. His skin felt tight; Spike fancied that he could almost hear it ripping apart as he stretched out a leg, paper–thin slivers torn from his flesh with the tiniest of movements. A few times, he had held a hand to his face, watching in a sort of weird fascination as dried skin flaked from his long fingers, sprinkling onto his chest. When Spike had followed the fall of one tiny, wrinkled snowflake, he hadn´t been able to see where it had landed, the grey particle becoming anonymous amongst thousands as his whole body peeled at an astounding rate. Much like someone who had been caught out in the sun for a lengthy period and was now suffering the after effects of sunburn. He shuddered, teeth clenched as a bone deep itch flared the whole length of the bottom of his right foot, an unwanted reminder that not even his soles and palms had been spared from the continual itch as new skin fought its way to the surface. Spike just wanted to take to himself with a wire brush, scour at his skin until he bled... throw himself onto a bed of nails, rolling from one side to the other... anything for a bit of relief but the itch was nowhere near as frustrating as his constant thirst.
No matter how much blood he drank, Spike was left with a dry mouth and the desperate need for more. The first day after ´waking up´, the desire for anything liquid had been so overwhelming that, once all the blood was gone and the jug of iced water finished, in less than five minutes, Spike had downed the four gallons of milk that Xander had only just paid for via home delivery. Xander had knelt beside the bed, staring at Spike with open mouthed amazement even as he had poured glass after glass for Spike; helping to hold the glass to Spike´s mouth when Spike proved far to weak to manage on his own. Xander watched the vampire cough and splutter in his desperation to get some moisture back into his body, while he had wiped at the rivers of milk dribbling down the light grey chin. Finally, it had been a bloated stomach and severe cramping that had forced Spike to turn his head from the glass of Coke resting against his bottom lip, his thirst barely sated, yet Spike had been sure he would vomit if he took just one more sip of *anything*. His throat wasn´t as dry as a few days before, and Spike was able to cope with the nagging want for refreshment much better, even though his tongue felt overly large; as if it didn´t fit inside his mouth properly.
Spike was bone tired. Exhausted mentally, physically and emotionally. His vampire senses seemed to be lacking, not as honed and sharp as they should have been. His game face hadn´t come to the surface once while feeding. Worried as he was, Spike was sure that, after a decent rest and a few more meals of human blood, everything would be right again. Still, Spike was finding that he felt ´out of it´; he couldn´t really put it into words. Spike just felt... odd, like his head was wrapped in cotton wool. Because he was frequently lapsing into deep sleep, he was oblivious to many of the visitors turning up at their front door. Every now and again, he heard voices he recognised; Cyril, Spit and Fitzy, the whole of the local pharmacy, even the elderly identical twins that ran Pennington’s small supermarket. Just about every single one of them bringing some sort of foil covered meal or casserole for them both; Xander´s laughter had been slightly strained as he joked that there was no more room in the freezer and that he was going to have to start having lamb casserole for breakfast, lunch and dinner.
Only earlier that morning, Xander had been grinning from ear to ear as he ticked off on his fingers the one chocolate cake, one strawberry sponge cake, complete with freshly whipped cream and sliced strawberries on top and three plum puddings that had been left with him over the past three days, along with sincere wishes for Spike to be well soon. Even as Xander had made light of their friends´ generosity, Spike could see that the youth´s smile was forced, Xander not quite looking at Spike as he told the vampire who had visited while Spike was asleep. More often than not, it was Lukas he heard. Spike was sure that, even dead to the world in a deep slumber, he could sense Lukas in the room with him. Certainly he could smell the Fijian within the confines of the main bedroom. Spike snorted to himself, he would have to tell Lukas that, just because he had touched Spike´s old fella, it didn´t mean Lukas had the right to perve at a bloke when he was sleeping.
~ Never woulda figured that one for a poof. What the hell did he think he was doin´, givin´ me todger a right fiddle about? Still, from what the boy tells me, should be bloody well thankful he was around to help. ~
He grinned, pulling the corner of the comforter up around his shoulders, refusing to acknowledge that his hands shook from the effort. If he had one true friend in the world, it was Lukas. Nosy sod and all. From what he had been able to get out of a somewhat reluctant Xander, Lukas had sat with Spike for hours on end, giving Xander a much needed rest from caring for Spike. Spike was sure that he had been able to hear the fellow demon´s much deeper voice as Spike had flitted in and out of consciousness.
~ Owe the bugger big for this. F´ me, already owe for all the human I´ve had an´ all I´m still gonna be havin´ but what he did for the boy... dunno if I can ever repay that? ~
Spike might be feeling and looking like the literal death warmed over but at least he was out of the bathtub. He shivered, the possibility of falling ill again looming over him, no matter how many times Xander had told him that it wasn´t going to happen again. Yesterday morning, Spike had finally been strong enough to sign complete sentences. With his courage gathered, as Xander had plonked himself on the blowup double mattress beside Spike´s single one, Spike asked *what* had happened to him. Spike had listened to Xander´s reply, the explanation dotted with umm´s, ahhh´s and awkward silences. He had been alternately fascinated, confused and horrified by what had happened to him. He could understand how a ´flash´ could bring on a blood nose, the soddin´ thing brought on enough headaches so a blood nose wasn´t that far fetched, but to bleed so much that he was only a few hours from crumbling into dust, well, that was just beyond him at the moment. As for Xander, it was beyond his understanding as well. When Spike pressed the reluctant youth, Xander said there had been some sort of vague reference in one of Wesley´s books; something about a rare occurrence when a vampire´s blood didn´t clot properly which led to the dehydration that only Sire or Claimant´s blood could help alleviate.
Unable to even contemplate locating Diehl, his real Claimant, let alone asking for a pint of blood, Xander had been forced to ask for Angel´s help. Still, even with the lingering taste of Sire´s blood in his mouth, Spike couldn´t really believe Angel had gotten off his lard arse and actually agreed to help Xander, and more importantly, Spike. The sheer fact that he could smell the older vampire´s faint scent wafting from the bathroom had forced Spike to accept that Xander hadn´t been making the story up and that it had been a severe ´flash´ that had made him sick, not a beating as he had first thought. Nevertheless, Spike was at a loss to understand why Angel had decided to help instead of letting Spike die.
~ Things musta got pretty bloody rotten for me Sire to lend a hand. Thought the bugger woulda jumped for joy to learn of me almost kicking it? Can´t hate the ol´ Nancy too much now, him an´ his boy wonder. Still rip his cock off sooner than look at him though. ~
Again and again, Spike had turned the question of ´why´ over in his mind. *Why* had Angel helped them, *why* now? Spike was still trying to remember what had caused the ´flash´; every previous one had been brought on by stress. He must have been in the grip of a major panic attack for the chip to cause such problems. What the hell had happened? Why was he in such a stressed out state on Sunday night? Instinctively, Spike knew that there was more to the explanation than Xander had told him so far, but every time Spike gestured at Xander to tell all, the boy had become fidgety, a too bright grin plastered on his face as Xander waved Spike´s questions aside. With a shake of his head, Spike pushed the puzzle to one side, just the thought of it tiring him enough so that he yawned. Whenever Xander decided to tell him the rest of the story would be fine. As far as Spike was concerned, being alive was the main thing. Such reasoning did nothing to quell the constant unease that tickled the back of his mind. The feeling that something was very wrong refused to leave him, no matter how hard he tried to ignore it. Lifting his hand to rub at an itch on the bridge of his nose, Spike grimaced as he took in how emaciated he still was, his hand looking like the stereotypical old crone´s claw from the movies. With a small shudder, Spike thought back to his reaction when he had first become conscious of how ill he had really been, and still was.
It had been the sting of the lukewarm bathwater and a faint aroma of warm oatmeal that had wakened Spike from a light slumber only two days before, the vampire finally able to gesture enough at Xander for the youth to realise that Spike was awake, if not physically capable of much movement. Xander had been ecstatic, the scent of relief pouring off Xander had almost engulfed him, prompting Spike to try and sign Xander´s name. The resulting gestures hadn´t even been close but nonetheless, the sheer effort of being able to bring his hands together and wiggling his fingers had been enough for Xander to kiss him on the forehead. Spike had opened his eyes, Xander´s face swimming before him. A good minute had passed before Spike had been able to focus on Xander´s worried brown eyes and the first thought that had come to his mind had been that Xander looked like shit. The dark circles under Xander´s eyes and pasty complexion making him look nearly as ill as Spike had felt. Xander had brought Spike´s hand to his lips, grazing his mouth over the cool flesh, but not before Spike had recognised the revulsion that had flickered over Xander´s weary face, and the youth had scrubbed the back of his other hand over his mouth. Still too weak to sign even a few letters to ask what the look had been about, it wasn´t until Xander had tipped him forward to wash Spike´s back that Spike even had an inkling of what his condition was like and as he had taken a good look at himself, Spike hadn´t been able to blame Xander one bit for not wanting to kiss him.
Spike hadn´t been able to scream, too exhausted from the effort of keeping his eyes open and not giving into the darkness beckoning to him. Instead, he had stared in shock at his legs, uttering low grunts of horror as he slowly ran his gaze from his too long toenails, up his withered legs, to his hairless crotch and limp, shrivelled penis. Spike had been instantly disgusted at seeing the long layers of dry skin literally falling from his entire body, his grunting turning into a sharp whine. At his obvious distress, Xander had patted his head, the callused, too hot hand allowing Spike to realise that it wasn´t just his lower body that was affected by *whatever* had struck him down. As Xander stroked his hand over Spike´s scalp, the vampire had become aware of his lack of hair and, twisting his head to one side, he forced himself to lift his right arm a bare inch, instantly feeling faint when he saw that his armpit was as hairless as his crotch. Dropping his gaze, Spike had started to pant in distress as he counted the ribs on his right side. His panting increased as he ran his eyes over his concave stomach; his once perfectly proportioned six–pack of muscles had atrophied into oblivion and his hipbones were hideously prominent. God only knew what his face and the rest of his body looked like but the way he had felt and going by what he had already seen, Spike had known it wasn´t going to be pretty. The blackness swirling at the back of his mind had rushed forth, swallowing his conscious mind as Spike wondered if he had somehow become a victim of spontaneous mummification.
~ Stupid git, fainted like the big girl I am. Guess the name, ´Xander´s little woman´ is now more appropriate than ever! ~
Unable to hold back a small smile, Spike continued to ignore the nagging discomfort of ´not quite right´, instead, he savoured the small glow of happiness that warmed him from the very pit of his stomach. All that time spent in the bathtub, in pain and terrified beyond all reason of what was happening to him, and all because of a stupid, faulty chip. Spike had lain motionless, drifting in and out of what could only have been hallucinations for hours. His mind had been so addled from pain and worry; Spike had thought he heard Xander talking to himself, barely discernible mutterings of apologies and promises that Spike didn´t believe for an instant. Spike had only really come to as he had felt Lukas touching his body, the too big hand shifting his cock, jerking him from his slumber, and even then he had still lapsed into periods of deep sleep every now and again. His smile broadening, Spike gave a quiet laugh.
~ Christ, I was so off the f´n bloody planet, thought I heard him an´ Lukas´ talking ´bout murder. Dickhead, that´s what I am at times. ~
Sure, OK... Spike could go so far as to believe that Xander would promise not to force Spike into stuff he didn´t want to do anymore, not that Spike really held out any hope of that, but nothing on the planet would allow Spike to believe Xander would murder someone. That much he knew, without a doubt, was just the result of a fairly severe hallucination. The boy wasn´t like that, too much of a White Knight to even consider something so wrong. Just the thought of it was stupid. Spike shook his head, his quiet laughter the only sound in the darkened room.
It was times like these that he was glad he was a vampire; he didn´t have a reflection that would show how foul he actually looked compared to how he felt. And yet, even with that thought, Spike couldn´t help but wonder what he actually looked like for Xander to be so repulsed by him. He sighed, rubbing his hand slowly across his scalp, feeling the soft tufts of hair ripple underneath the palm of his hand. Although it was growing back, his hair was barely half an inch long. Only late last night, Xander had joked that he was going to buy Spike a snow beanie for him to wear until it was a better length. Spike had stuck his tongue out at Xander, steadfastly ignoring how Xander seemed to cringe at his own joke and instead concentrated on grinning up at the youth, Spike´s cheeks straining at the effort. As he continued to listen to Stephanie in the other room, Spike nodded to himself as he heard Xander firmly dissuade Stephanie from taking a ´little peek at one of her favourite boys´.
~ Boy? If only the bint knew how old her ´boy´ was. Stupid cow.~
Stupid cow or not, Spike knew that there was no plausible explanation for him to look as withered as he did and no matter what type of ´setback´ or ´sudden relapse´ spin Xander put on the official reason for Spike being out of circulation for a while, anyone taking just one glance at Spike would immediately freak. Spike could see the struggle it was for Xander to touch him at the moment, ironic when Xander loved to touch Spike in numerous ways when in a temper. And if Xander was having a hard time coping with how Spike looked, then any ordinary person would probably have Spike in the intensive care ward so fast, both their heads would spin.
~ Don´t wanna see no one anyway. Too soddin´ tired. ~
Still, Spike was honestly overwhelmed by how careful Xander was when touching him. With his rough and calloused hands, Xander carried Spike from bed to bath, dabbing at him with oatmeal scented bathwater before Spike was gently towel dried, smothered in overly oily cream and put back to bed. Twice a day, slowly and softly. No matter how much distaste Spike could sense from Xander, there was no mistaking the constant relief that shone in Xander´s eyes. Since Spike had been settled into the main bedroom again, Xander had been hovering around him. Always ready to ask if Spike felt all right, was he tired, was it OK for Xander to sit down on the bed, did he need something to eat, was the radio too loud or not loud enough? Even if Spike wasn´t hungry, there was always the scent of human blood wafting from the kitchen, the ping of the microwave going off every four or five hours, Xander tip–toeing in with a mug in his hand only a minute later. More often than not, it was the microwave that woke Spike, so used to it signalling that it was time for food, that he automatically jerked awake the moment the timer went off.
~Jus´ like a ruddy dog, ain´t I? ~
Not even bothering to worry about his kinship with Pavlov´s dog, Spike smiled to himself. Xander was fussing around him like the proverbial mother hen, something that Xander normally wasn´t. As far as Xander was concerned, Spike had two hands, two feet and a working brain that meant Spike was perfectly capable of pulling his own weight. And so, Spike was determined to enjoy Xander´s coddling for as long as possible. His stomach fluttered as he recalled falling asleep with Xander holding his hand, waking up just under an hour ago still hand in hand with Xander. For over 3 hours, Xander had sat with Spike while he had slept. Xander had to have been bored out of his mind, sitting on a slowly deflating blowup mattress with nothing but a bare wall to keep him occupied. Spike had woken up, opening his eyes just a smidgeon as he realised that the large, warm hand around his hadn´t moved even an inch the whole time he had been asleep. He had taken the opportunity to stare at Xander from underneath his newly grown eyelashes, silently adoring the man who had once again saved his life. Spike had been overwhelmed by the love he felt for Xander, any of the feelings he had experienced for Xander previously were nothing but mere shadows of what he now felt. As Xander had turned a little to one side and caught Spike´s gaze, Xander´s face had lit up in a soft smile and he gently squeezed Spike´s hand. There had been such emotion in the dark eyes that Spike wondered if there was more than just relief every time Xander looked at him.
Over the past few days, Spike rather fancied that maybe–
Spike hurriedly cut himself off before he got too caught up in it. Was stupid to keep thinking about things that were never going to happen but he couldn´t help it. Love was his Achilles Heel, through and through. He was 99% sure that Xander was never going to love him as Spike did. Never in this lifetime anyway, but Spike was such a bitch to the whole idea of being *in love* that a sliver thin 1% chance encouraged him to work at Xander until the boy was head over heels with him.
As he lay in the bed, just staring up at his Claimant, Spike had suddenly realised that Xander was as close to the fairytale knight in shining armour as he was ever going to get. There was no horse, not even a decent car and the boy´s armour was tattered flannel and denim. And in no way did it matter if the castle was a pokey two bedroom cabin in a backwater, interbred town. All that mattered was that Xander had come along when Spike had desperately needed a saviour. Time and time again, Xander had saved Spike from attack and the threat of a second death. So, none of the bad things mattered to Spike anymore. None of the beatings or the gut wrenching insults screamed at him by a youth in the throes of a violent temper tantrum. Likewise with the threats and promises of ´you´ll get what you deserve´. So what if Xander sometimes beat him, it wasn´t as if it was a daily occurrence and anyway, Spike knew full well that he was the one to blame most of the time. Besides, beatings and forced interactions were part and parcel of both Claimant/Adored and Sire/Childe relationships, so Xander wasn´t doing anything out of the ordinary. Spike knew in his heart that, if he could get Xander to love him, even just the tiniest bit, then Xander wouldn´t lash out at him as much. He wasn´t naive enough to hope for the ´lessons´ to stop completely, but if it only happened one or twice a month, then things would be as close to perfect as Spike could ever hope for.
Spike grinned, wincing slightly as he hugged himself, giving Stephanie a mental wave goodbye as he heard Xander walk her out to her car.
~ White knight. That´s me boy alright. All that matters is he saved me life. An´ it ain´t love *yet*, but it will be. One day. ~
And yet, Spike couldn´t quite shake the deep voice telling him that, one day, Xander was going to kill him.
