Author's Name: Scarlet Author's Email and URL: [email protected] www.geocities.com/karenmnick Disclaimer: Joss Whedon and UPN own Buffy the Vampire Slayer in totality. No profit is made from this piece of fiction and no copyright infringement is intended. Distribution: Of course you may place my baby somewhere nice. Just let me know so I can visit. Rating: PG-13 Pairing: Andrew/Spike Feedback: Yes! Dedication: Author's Notes: Takes place during Touched. ___________________________________________________________________________________ �It�s daylight! Humans sleep at night and are awake during the day! I won�t be able to sleep now,� he whines. �Well, can you try? You were up all bloody night with me anyway. Aren�t you the slightest bit tired?� �I�m just�I�m not used to this, okay?� �Well, no one likes sleeping on the floor, mate. But this is the shelter the fates have provided us with.� �That�s not what I mean. It�s just�never mind. Do you want some food?� �That stuff�s not food, Andrew. It�s junk. I�ll get us real food when the sun goes down.� The only food I�ve allowed him in the last ten hours is what we could get when I gassed up the bike. Now he�s bouncing under the influences of candy, chips and highly caffeinated soda. �Please try.� �Okay, Spike. I�ll try to sleep.� He wads his jacket up and uses it as a pillow. The temperature is rising and I don�t think the mission has air conditioning. I know it�s going to get hotter before long. I lay out my own coat and stretch out several feet away from him. �Spike?� �Yeah?� �Are you awake?� �Would I have answered you if I was asleep?� �I guess not.� �Go to sleep.� �Can we talk for just a little bit?� Bloody hell. �What do you want to talk about?� �I want to play another game.� �No.� �Just Twenty Questions. Okay, ask me the first question.� �No. I don�t like this game.� �Aw, come on.� �No. I didn�t want to play it with Harmony, and I don�t want to play it with you.� �Just once? Pleeeeaaase? I�ll be your best frieeeeend.� �You already are.� Bollocks. I can�t take it back. And it�s not really a lie. Truthfully, I don�t think I�ve ever really had a friend before. I�ve had lovers and I�ve had travel companions. Had family and people who were obligated to me in one way or another. But I don�t think I�ve ever had a friend. Until now. It�s strange. It makes my heart ache. It makes my heart sing. It�s like falling in love, except without all of that ridiculous blissful sex and debauchery. Speaking of which, the boy is completely clueless. I�m not one to beg and�well, maybe I am one to beg. But I won�t with the boy. Not like I have feelings for him. Just think it could be nice. Two lost souls like us finding comfort �fore The First takes us all straight to a bloody, burning death. Maybe he�s not as daft as he appears. Maybe it�s just me. Now, I know I�m a right attractive fellow but I am, after all, a vampire. For some, that�s a turn-on (see also one Buffy Summers). For others� Think maybe I frighten him. And not in a good way. But friendship�I like that. He�s quiet now. We�ve gotten the information we need but the sun started rising and I�m no good at driving the bike when I�m ashes. I�m silly that way. I can�t help but think my musings have come full circle these last few days. Edward and I in the stables, Andrew and I in the mission. �Spike?� �Yeah?� �I can�t sleep.� �Try.� �Did you mean it? When you said I was your best friend?� �Don�t know. Maybe.� �Cause, as revelations go, it�s right up there with, �Luke, I am your father.� � �Go to sleep.� �The thing is, for a long time I was living with Jonathan and Warren. And then just Jonathan, and then Buffy took me hostage and I was surrounded by all of these people. Then after that guy said that stuff about Caleb, I guess I�m a little scared and�� �Get to the point.� �I�m not used to sleeping alone. I mean, I�m not alone, but if you really are my friend then you�ll do something and you won�t ask me to explain or�� �What?� It�s hard to keep the irritation from my voice when he gets like this. �Will you sleep with me?� he begs quietly. His eyes are wide, his lower lip pouting out. I get hard watching him, spread on the cement floor. He is the very picture of the wanton sex slave, begging for favors. �Sorry?� �Like right here. Next to me, you know? Or I could come over there?� I feel an unaccustomed sense of disappointment, but I�ll take what I can get. I don�t answer, just sit up and smooth my coat until I�ve spread it as wide as I can get it. I roll onto my side and leave half of the coat free. Then I wave my hand, gesturing him to join me. His smile is amazing. He scrambles across the floor and lies next to me, flat on his back. I lay my head on my arm and close my eyes. In minutes he is asleep. When I am sure he won�t wake up, I roll to my stomach and stretch one arm across his chest. It rises and falls with each breath he takes. Feels like I�m breathing. I breathe until the moment I fall asleep. *** The rain beats a staccato against the roof as fingernails scratch deep tracks into pale skin. Sweaty bodies moving in rhythm under a tempestuous sky bend and stretch with pleasure. One man is riding the other to an ecstatic climax. As he nears his release, a single word is ripped repeatedly from his lover�s mouth. �Spike! Spike! Spike�!� �Spike!� �Wha?� �I�ve been trying to wake you for five minutes! We need to move you over. The sun�s coming in through that little hole and you�re going to end up Banta food if we don�t get you out of direct sunlight.� I�m still confused and more than a little hard. The boy appears just as tired and disoriented as I am. When I come to, I realize that he woke first when a finger of sunlight struck his body. There�s a chink between the bricks that we must not have noticed earlier. It�s gettin� on late afternoon now and the sun is hitting it just right. It�s just a good thing that Andrew isn�t as combustible as the rest of this partnership. We roll into a more shaded position and before I can tell him �Thank you,� he is asleep again. The lump on his forehead is bruising now. It won�t be dark but its appearance is still disturbing. I run the tips of my fingers over the injury. I hurt someone. Again. Seems as there�s a neverending ledger held by the Powers That Be. No matter how many things I do right, I'll always be lacking. Makes a soul wonder why they should even try. He breathes heavily and turns into my touch, his cheek resting on my palm. I draw my thumb across the paper-thin skin under his eyes over and over. His neck is exposed to me and I can still see two tiny pinpoints scarring weeks later. I hurt him. I drank from him. Would have killed him. That I was under the influence of The First is no better excuse for my actions than it was for Andrew�s. We�re alike in that way. Pair of bleedin� puppets. His skin is smooth and fair, the result of spending too much time indoors. He doesn�t stir as my thumb brushes his eyes so, encouraged, I continue my exploration. I let my fingers graze the skin of his throat, the shell of his ear, the delicate lobe. I run my fingers lightly through the soft strands of his hair and across the small rise of his chin. His lips are pressed together and I can�t keep from running each finger over them, unwilling to deny any of them the pleasure of that satin-smooth feel. His lips part and for a moment I�m stunned utterly still. Then he exhales and his soft breath tickles my hand. His breath, sweet licorice and soda pop, is intoxicating. I draw closer, trying to find flaws. I�m searching for imperfections, but there are none. Only charming inaccuracies. I can�t help myself. I press my lips to his, half hoping that he wake up and make better use of his jabbering tongue, but he does not stir and I part, unfulfilled. We are alike, Andrew and I, in more ways than even he realizes yet. |
 |
| Thoughtful |
 |
| Fiction Archive |
|
| Friction Fiction Home |
|
| On to Next Part |