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Disclaimer: The three characters in this story do not belong to me. Two belong to Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy, Inc. ("Buffy the Vampire Slayer"). One is the property of Bryan Fuller ("Dead Like Me").
Spike pressed his body down over the Slayer�s and sank his teeth into her neck. He drew the potent red elixir hungrily over his tongue and down his throat, trying not to lose a single drop.
A little later, Spike would recall the elusive feeling that someone might have reached down to stroke the Slayer while the vampire was feeding, perhaps touching her on the shoulder on the opposite side of her body from where he sucked. At the time, though, Spike was so engrossed that he dismissed this impression from consciousness.
The Slayer struggled for a while longer, but Nikki Wood finally let go. Her chocolaty skin lost its vitality and rapidly took on a sickly gray tinge. When Spike was sated, he climbed to his feet, wobbling from the heady meal as well as the shaking of the New York subway car. It was then that he saw the man standing in the strobe-like blinking of lights coming through the windows of the train.
It was about 4 a.m., and Spike had thought that he and the Slayer had been quite alone; yet here stood a middle-aged man, reasonably trim with curly dark hair. He was dressed in a dull-brown overcoat, open to expose a tweed jacket and corduroy pants.
�Who the bleedin� hell are you?� Spike demanded.
�Who the bleedin� hell do you think I am?� asked the man who had a decidedly American accent, leading Spike to conclude that the fellow�s use of the word �bleedin�� was impudent mockery.
�I could kill you where you stand, old man,� advised Spike between gritted teeth, but his rising rage made no evident impression on the stranger.
�Give it your best shot,� the man said with utter calm. A smile passed over his lips as if he saw something beyond Spike that amused him.
�What�s your name?� asked Spike tentatively.
�Rube.�
�You�re undead, aren�t you?� Spike asked, though he already knew that he was.
�That�s not something I�m at liberty to discuss,� said Rube. To Spike�s surprise, Rube said it with a Scottish accent, and Spike realized that Rube was not originally an American but could have spoken in many accents and, undoubtedly, several languages. He was an old undead soul, but he was not a vampire.
�What�s your business here?� Spike returned to a demanding tone, but this time with some caution.
�Again, that�s strictly on a need to know basis,� said Rube, returning to an American accent. He turned away from Spike and began walking toward an exit. Just then, the train pulled into the station.
Spike could hardly believe his eyes as he saw Rube�s right hand. It was as if he were holding the hand of an invisible companion. Rube seemed to lean toward this unseen person and spoke very quietly; though, with his vampire hearing Spike overheard every word.
�You can�t. You have to let go. (pause) You saw what happened when you took a swing at him that last time: nothing. You no longer have a body. (pause) Well, you�ll just have to accept it.�
The train halted. Spike grabbed an overhead strap to steady himself. He looked up in time to see Rube disembark, his head turned aside as if to look at his invisible companion who seemingly got off the train with him.
�I�ll tell you where we�re going,� said Rube as if someone had asked him. �First, I�m going to show you that your watcher will take good care of Robin; you've got nothing to worry about there. Then we�re going to see some beautiful lights. (pause) No, that�s when you and I will part company. I�m your guide only for this first leg of your journey.�
The doors closed behind �them� and the train began to roll and rattle again. Spike shook his head. An involuntary wave ran down his whole body, a shiver.
�Soddin� looney,� he muttered. �They�ll let anybody loose in this city�especially on the subway.� He reached down, removed the dead Slayer�s leather duster, and put it on. He began to forget about Rube and everything that had been said. Eventually, he would only remember the fight and the taste of the Slayer�s blood.
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