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Demon Dreams
By : marksandspence
Category: AtS AU/AR > Het - Male/Female
Views: 2212 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0Disclaimer: I do not own Angel: The Series, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story. - Chapter List
- Chapter 2
Scene 1: A hallway in Wolfram and Hart.
Deth is carrying a stack of books. She turns a corner to find Spike stepping out of the elevator at the other end of the hall. She doesn’t want to shout down the hall to get his attention; instead, she pushes the top book off the stack with her chin. It goes crashing to the ground and lands with a good thud. Spike turns towards her and takes the few long strides necessary to bridge the gap between them, a poorly hidden grin on his lips. He reaches down and picks up the book, giving it a once over before adding it back to the stack.
Spike: “Thought real books were obsolete around here, with Percy’s magic ones and all that.”
Deth: “They’re for me. ‘Seems I need the originals—need more than the words. [Seeing Spike’s confused frown, she shakes it off, not wanting to take the time to explain.] Nevermind.”
Spike: [looking at her more closely] “You look awful. [catching himself] Not that I’m bothered, but you look like sh...like you’ve had a bad night.”
Her eyes are a bit sunken and she’s got a red mark on her cheek.
Deth: [sigh] “Bad couple of nights.”
Spike: “Sound like a bit of a schoolyard ponce for asking, but want me to carry your books?”
Deth: “Thanks.”
He takes them from her and they start slowly walking down the hall.
Spike: “Been working late at Harvey’s?”
He suspects that’s the wrong explanation, but figures it’ll get her talking.
Deth: [Shaking her head] “Seems I was a bit off about Darryl—not quite as ready to move on as I’d thought. Been dealing with that the past couple of nights. He was pretty upset. And angry.” [She reflexively reaches up to touch her cheek when she says this.]
Spike: [casually] “He hit you?”
Deth: [shrugging] “Suppose I deserved it—running around and then telling him like that. [beat; considering] I’d never been slapped—hurt a bit more than I was expecting. And it made less noise.”
Spike: “Can’t even remember the first time I was slapped. Probably deserved every one. [beat; trying hard to sound disinterested] So, uh, you two work it out?”
Deth: “Nah. It was time. After far too much talking, some yelling, a bit of whining and a few tears, we were done. [For no particular reason, as if she’s just thinking out loud, she decides to add] He was very agitated by the fact that I didn’t cry—took a long time to talk through that. Which is odd because that’s one of the things he said he’d always liked about me. But last night, he went on and on about it—“Five years and it was over—how could I not cry?” But I don’t cry. Never have. Doesn’t have anything to do with him.”
Spike: “You said you liked that he was so self-absorbed, but don’t tell me you haven’t used that against him when the time was right. What people want changes by the day, maybe even the hour—the minute. No sense settlin’ in.”
She thinks about this for a minute.
Deth: “Yeah.”
They’re now standing outside Wesley’s office, neither one quite ready to go their separate ways.
Spike: “So, ‘s the position open then?”
Deth: [surprised smirk] “What position would that be?”
Spike: “Darryl’s.”
Deth: [a bit of an odd way of putting it, but she’ll play along] “Some might say it’s best not to jump back in right away.”
Spike: “Think you’ve already done some jumping.”
Deth: [lets out a small, acknowledging laugh] “Maybe.”
Spike: “As it happens, I’ve got a vacancy myself.”
Deth: “Is that right? ‘Cause I had the impression that was intentional.”
Spike: “For someone meant to be empathic, you sure suck at reading people.”
She thinks about explaining the whole language/demon/human/vampire thing, but decides it would take too many words. And it would take even more words to explain that what she HAS got from him over the past few weeks has been ALL KINDS of mixed—even minute to minute, so she’d given up trying. She chooses to keep up the current momentum of the conversation instead.
Deth: “You suggesting we should help each other out?”
Spike: [In an ever-so-slightly more serious tone and a touch of a smile] “I don’t mind.”
And with that, as if everything is settled, Spike hands the books back to her and turns to go. Deth has a confused frown on her face and before he takes more than a step away…
Deth: “Spike? [He turns back] Did we just decide something?”
Spike: [matter-of-fact, smiling] “Yeah. I said I don’t mind.” [duh]
Deth: [still not terribly clear; she glances side to side] “Okay.”
Spike: “I’ll stop by a bit later—we’ll go get a drink or something. [beat] And by the way, next time you want to get my attention, dropping one of Head Boy’s millennia old books is probably not the best idea—he gets a bit cranky ‘bout stuff like that and lately he’s been packing. No need anyway—I always know you’re there.”
As soon as he turns to go, a rather gleeful smile flashes across her face. She takes a deep breath and then opens the door to Wesley’s office and steps in.Scene 2
A couple of weeks later, Angel is approaching Spike’s apartment door. As he gets a couple of steps away, he hears an assortment of noises emanating from within—voices, laughter, squealing, some squeaking, a couple of loud thuds. He rolls his eyes and raps on the door. The noises continue, so he knocks louder. Then silence; steps toward the door. He’s already impatient. The door opens abruptly to reveal Spike shirtless, a touch out of breath, still laughing a bit. Angel looks past him and sees Deth standing on the bed in bare feet, dressed only in one of Spike’s button down shirts, with a stupid grin on her face. She’s still bouncing a bit, as if she’d just been jumping up and down. She’s got a can of spray-able whipped cream in her hand and a streak of what looks (and smells) like chocolate sauce across her left thigh. He sees a blender on the counter, half full of some kind of frozen drink next to a half-empty bottle of tequila. A few bits of furniture have been knocked on their sides about the room.
Spike: “Yeah, what do you want?”
Angel: [stern] “I’ve been trying to call you for an hour.”
Deth: [from across the room, as she hops down off the bed and fishes around on the floor for her pants] “Hi boss.”
He reflexively gives her a half-wave, looking a touch uncomfortable.
Spike: “Ah. Yes. Must’ve knocked the phone off the hook, when were...eh...”
Angel: “Put your shirt on, we need to go.”
Spike: “What, now? Kinda in the middle of something.”
Angel: “Yes, now. It’s important.”
Spike: “Thought you didn’t much like working with me. You got an office full of more amicable half-wits in your employ—[turning to Deth]—No offence, pet—[back to Angel] Why not drag one of them along instead?”
Deth: “None taken.” [She’s sitting on the bed, putting her shoes on now.]
Angel: “I need muscle. [beat] And I’d rather not have word get back to Hamilton about this particular situation.”
Spike: [sarcasm] “’Good to be the boss, innit?”
Angel: [a hint of need softens his tone] “You coming?”
Spike: [resigned—he can tell from Angel’s tone that this must be important] “Yeah.”
He steps away from the door and grabs a t-shirt off the couch.
Deth: [Now fully dressed and stag; Tg; To Angel] “Want me to come?”
Spike: [answering instead, somewhat under his breath] “That was the idea.”
Angel: “I think we can handle it, thanks.”
Spike: [to Deth, hopeful] “You want to wait here?”
Deth: [shrugging, disappointed] “Have to be at Harvey’s in a few hours.”
Angel: “You need a ride somewhere?”
Deth: “Nah, I’ll walk. Thanks.”
They all leave together, but Deth heads in the opposite direction after getting a goodbye peck from Spike. We follow Angel and Spike as they approach the end of the block.
Spike: “What, no Wolfram and Hart limo? You really are doing this on the sly. [beat] Sure you’re up for walking? From the looks of you, I’d bet you’ve been spending wee bit too much time sitting on your ass, riding around in limos.”
Angel: [frustrated sigh] “You’re drunk. Again.”
Spike: “Since when do I have to be drunk to insult you? Can’t blame me for being a bit testy—you interrupted a right bit of fun back there.”
Angel: “So you two are what, like dating? [said with obvious distaste] I thought she had a boyfriend—some guy down in Accounting.”
Spike: [With a bit of swanky pride] “She did. Nothin’ a few nights with me couldn’t take care of.”
Angel: “She’s a bit odd. [adding with a smirk] But I guess she’d have to be.”
Spike: “Those shagging wild dogs shouldn’t throw...frisbees. Or something. [laughs] That was kind of pathetic.”
Angel: “Not one of your best. [beat] You know we’ve hired her full-time.”
Spike: “She mentioned it.”
Angel: “Be careful. Try not to screw things up.”
Spike: [disbelief] “You are NOT giving me relationship advice.”
Angel: [noticing a glob of what must be whipped cream on Spike’s ear and obviously distracted by it] “You’ve got a...[he motions toward his own ear]...you’ve got something...”
Spike: [annoyed, not getting it] “What?”
Angel lets out a frustrated sigh and lifts his hand to wipe it off himself. But once Spike sees what he’s doing, he recoils away in mock disgust and lifts his own hand up.
Spike: “Back off. I got it. Just a bit of cream is all. [He licks it off his finger once he’s done wiping it from his ear. Smiling] She sure knows how to have a good time, that one.”
Angel: “I’m just saying, things could get awkward at the office if you start playing games.”
Spike: “Because we’re all just one big happy family now. Relax. We’re just having a laugh. And with all this apocolypting going on, we could use a few. Never underestimate the restorative powers of a good shag. ‘Course in you’re case...”
Angel: “Don’t. [pause] Guess there’s no harm in it—there are bigger things.”
Spike: “Now if only we could get Wes laid—‘might cut down on the office shootings.”Scene 3: Later, at Wolfram and Hart. Wesley’s office.
Wesley is quietly sitting at his desk, books open in front of him. His head is down, but he gazes through them. There’s a light knock on the door.
Wesley: “Come in.”
Gunn peeks his head around.
Gunn: “Just thought you might want to know, Deth is down in the infirmary. She got jumped down on Augustus.”
Wesley: “Is she alright?”
Gunn: “Bump on the head and a stab wound in the arm, but doc says she’ll be fine.”
Wesley gets up and makes his way down to the infirmary—motivated more by curiosity than concern. When he gets there, a doctor is stitching up the cut on Deth’s upper arm. She has a red bump on her forehead and is holding a cold pack against it. She looks a bit flushed, but otherwise appears calm. She smiles quickly when she sees Wes.
Deth: [anticipating his interest] “Humans.”
Wesley: “Well that’s bad luck.”
Deth: “So much for my self defense classes. First one knocked me out cold. Guess I wasn’t paying enough attention.”
Wesley: “It’s not your fault. We’ve all been a bit distracted lately. Did they take anything?”
Assuming it was a robbery.
Deth: “Not what they were after, luckily. I woke up before...”
She just looks at him until she’s sure he understands.
Wesley: “Classes must have taught you something, then. You managed to get away.”
She just shrugs and looks like she is about to say something more. But before she does, she sees Spike casually stroll through into the room. He sees her and walks over. She looks a touch embarrassed.
Spike: [He’s concerned, but tries to make light of it.] “Heard you had yourself a bit of a tussle.”
Deth: “And I wasn’t even on the clock. Seems a bit of a waste.”
Spike: “Stopped by Harvey’s and they said you hadn’t come in. Thought I’d pop in here to see if you’d been about. Gunn genned me up.”
Deth: “’Night sure didn’t end as promisingly as it started.”
The doctor finishes the stitches and gives her a few care instructions.
Spike: “You should get another tattoo there—cover the scar nicely. ‘s in just the right spot.”
Deth: “Maybe.”
Gunn appears in the doorway.
Gunn: “Cops are here—figured you’d want to file a report, so I called one of our people at the LAPD. I gave ‘em as much as I could from what you told me, but if you’re up to it, you should probably talk to them.”
A glimmer of a frown crosses her face, but she quickly melts it away.
Deth: “I’m fine.”
Gunn: “Thought so.”
Gunn opens the door for the officers.
Wesley: “Should I arrange a car to take you home when you’re done here?”
Spike: “I’ll take her home.”
This elicits an appreciative glance from Deth.
Wesley: “I’ll just be on my way, then.”
He has a fleeting thought that he should probably say something else, but it dissipates as quickly as it came and he finds himself making his way back to his office. Deth watches him go with a bit too much focus.
As she answers the officers’ routine questions, Spike watches her intently. He can hear Gunn in the hallway, talking to Angel. Gunn: “She’s a trooper. Think maybe it’d take a lot to rattle her.” But she is rattled, despite her sedate appearance. The others can’t tell, but he can. She’s tougher to read than most—took him a good while to figure the signs and he’s still not always sure—everything is buried deeper; filtered. Not intentionally—just as part of her. Just her. ‘Least that’s his assessment. He’s enjoyed the challenge of it, the distraction—enjoyed that it is only his little mystery, as no one else takes much notice. Tonight, she’s agitated—he’s not sure whether it’s fear or something else. She’s thinking about something. He’d been making light of tonight’s events both for her and for himself. Thinking leads to concern, leads to disgust, leads to fury, leads to memories, regret, revulsion. He’ll keep it on the surface, to avoid the muddle within. He’ll watch over her tonight.
Once she’s done with the police, they grab a spare ice pack for her head, get some pain pills from the doctor and head in the direction of the exit. Just before they reach it, Deth hesitates.
Deth: “I’d like to talk to Wesley about something. Will you wait?”
Spike: “No worries. I’ll go on out and have a smoke.”
She nods and turns around, heading in the direction of Wesley’s office. Once she gets there, she knocks lightly on the door and waits for a response. She hears his gruff “come in” and steps inside. He’s behind his desk, sipping a glass of whiskey, looking very tired.
Wesley: [Seeing her, his thought from before catches up with him] “Don’t worry about coming in tomorrow if you’re not up to it.”
Deth: “I’d like to talk to you about something. Something that happened tonight.”
Wesley: “By all means.”
Deth: [Taking a deep breath.] “The police won’t find those boys who attacked me. They’re gone.”
Wesley: “What do you mean, gone?”
Deth: “After I woke up, I kicked and punched and thrashed my way out of from under…and got up and started running. One of them sliced my arm as I struggled passed, but I kept running. At least one had a gun and I was just waiting for the sound. I was terrified, and kept stumbling because my legs were stiff with fear. I could hear them behind me, chasing me. I ran as fast as I could and didn’t look back. Until...until I heard something. But it wasn’t a gunshot. It was a scream. One of them, screaming, then another. And then the gun went off. I looked back over my shoulder and caught a glimpse of something that made me stop dead. Three demons—each with one of the boys. [beat] They were ripping them apart.”
Wesley: “Did you recognize the species?”
She thinks about it a minute—pausing as if to recall something deeply imbedded in her memory. The name comes to her, but she has to turn it over in her mind before she attempts to pronounce it.
Deth: “They were...Kquitoth.”
Wesley: “Kquitoth. [Thinking a moment] They must’ve been in the area, smelled the blood. Very keen olfaction and very quick. It’s a good thing they were occupied with your attackers—few who’ve seen them have lived to tell the tale. In fact, we should put a team on it if there’s a gang of them in town—they have the capacity to...”
Deth: [interrupting, showing a bit more emotion] “I didn’t want them to die. I didn’t think they deserved it. Just kids, trying to prove themselves to a gang or something. Should’ve just been thrown in jail. ‘Enough to scare them. I didn’t...”
Wesley: [Befuddled, but sympathetic frown] “I don’t understand. You can’t possible think it was your fault that you survived the attack and they didn’t. You’re not responsible.”
Deth: “I stood there for a minute, before running away. I was frozen. One of them looked at me—one of the Kquitoth. He...he had one of the boy’s severed legs in his hand...he was gnawing on the flesh when he saw me...he...”
Wesley: [Now concerned] “You’ve seen something horrible tonight. Perhaps you should speakh onh one of our staff trauma therapists before you go home. I’m happy to make the call. At the very least, you should have a sedative tonight and you can speak with someone tomorrow.”
Deth: [Finishing her thought] “...he...waved at me. Wes, he looked right at me, put the leg down and waved like he knew me.”
She decides not to mention that she’d reflexively waved back before turning to run away.
Wesley: “Are you sure it wasn’t a threat? A warning posture of some sort?”
Deth: “He was sorta smiling...well, as close as a Kquitoth can reasonably come to a smile. Trust me, there was no malice. It was a friendly wave. It was a “hey, nice to see ya’, have fun storming the castle” kind of wave.”
Wesley: “Had you met him? Perhaps he was one of your patrons at Harvey’s.”
Deth: “I’ve never seen a Kquitoth before. Never in my life. Harvey must not let them in the bar—or maybe they don’t drink.”
Wesley: [flummoxed] “I don’t know what to say.”
Deth: [shrugging] “I wanted to tell you. [beat] I didn’t mean for it to happen.”
Wesley: “Yes, of course not. I’ll look into it. We can talk more about it when you’re better. You should go home and get some rest now.”
She nods, seeming a touch relieved. After she leaves, Wes frowns, turning over in his mind what Deth just told him. He has no idea what it means. She probably imagined it. Maybe her attackers had given her something...a drug...maybe it was the blow to her head...maybe...but before he can add another thought, his exhausted mind spins toward another place—the place that consumes everything like an internal black hole. As his mind approaches it, he feels the pain return that earlier put the whiskey in his hand and he instinctively pours himself another drink, quickly washing away all conscious thought.
S
Scene 4: Outside Deth’s apartment building that night.
Spike gets out of a taxi and then helps Deth out—she’s a bit wobbly, probably a mixture of the pain pills and the adrenaline wearing off. They stand for a moment outside the entrance to her building.
Spike: “Remind me again why I haven’t been here?”
Deth: “It’s very small.”
Spike: “Is that all?”
Deth: “Not all, but enough.”
Spike: [gesturing towards the door] “Shall we?”
Deth: [hesitating] “You don’t have to. Stay, I mean. It’ll be light in a few hours and you’d be stuck here.”
Spike: [Sigh. Here we go.] “Haven’t you heard? Boss-man’s got a garage full of necro(fucking)tempered glass cars. I have no problem demanding transport, especially if I get to call him in the wee hours of the morning. And that’s only if I feel the need to leave before dark, which is rather unlikely. Well, unless you don’t put out, but frankly, what are the odds of that?”
This elicits a smile and quick laugh.
Deth: “We’ll see. Think I need to do some sleeping.”
Spike: “Sleeping happens to be my second favorite activity. Maybe third. [beat] Certainly in the top five.”
Deth: “I only have a single bed.”
Spike: “You’re talking to someone who used to sleep on a concrete slab. [beat] You trying to talk me out of it, or what? ‘Cause if itour our comfort you’re so worried about...no, wait, I still don’t care.”
He knows she wants him to stay, but he wants her to say it. They stand there for a minute, Spike giving her somewhat expectant look. She takes a breath and in a slightly more serious tone, exuding a mixture of decisiveness and longing she responds:
Deth: “Stay.”
He nods and then reaches forward, gently taking her hand, pulling her towards the front door.
Spike: “Alright then. Keys?”
She pulls a set of keys from her pocket and instead of unlocking the door herself, she hands them to Spike. He guesses correctly, turns the key and they step into the vestibule of the apartment building. She tells him what floor and what number; he leads the way, keeping hold of her hand.
Spike: “Single bed, eh? Good thing you’re a cuddler.”
She shakes her head, warmly—he’s focused ahead, so doesn’t notice. She loves how he does that—how he makes it about her. She’s the cuddler. ‘Not so one-sided as all that, but she always lets it go. She doesn’t mind much. Not much at all.
They arrive at her apartment. Spike stops at the doorway, waiting for the obligatory invite and takes the moment to comment.
Spike: “You weren’t kidding—this place is tiny.”
She steps through the threshold, muttering the necessary words, “come in”.
Deth: “Spent a lot of time over at Darryl’s. Haven’t had a chance to look for anything else. Don’t know if I will. [considering] I like it—my little cave.”
Spike looks around. It’s a small studio—bed in the corner, separated from the rest of the room by one of those room shades. There’s a small loveseat and coffee table; a set of bookshelves along the wall, filled. The room in painted dark blue, adding to the cave feel. On the walls and on the ceiling are a few pieces of art depicting under-water scenes, along with some of those star stickers that glow in the dark. Everything is neat, organized and clean, though her bed isn’t made.
Spike: “It’s good. All you need, really.”
Deth: [thinking about this] “I’d like to have a tub—one of those big claw-foot things.”
She lifts the strap of her tiny bag over her head (it’s one of those small notebook sized hippie pouches) and sets it down on the table. She fishes inside to pull out a bottle of pills.
Deth: “Doc gave me some exra pain pills—want one? They pack a punch. I’m starting to feel pretty groovy.”
Spike: [shrugs] “Sure.”
She hands him one and pulls a bottle of water out of the fridge. She swallows another half herself, without explanation. Spike takes his duster off and tosses it over the back of the loveseat. She first sits, then after a moment lays down on the loveseat, her head resting on the arm and her legs bent at the knee to fit. Spike sits down by her feet, lifting them and then resting them on his lap. Once they’re settled.
Spike: “You gonna tell me what’s wrong?”
Deth: “I’ve got 20 stitches in my arm and a big headache inducing bump on my head. Not to mention that I feel a bit stupid and useless for getting jumped in the first place.”
Spike: “Not that.”
Deth: [She frowns slightly.] “I was scared. More than I expected.”
He shakes his head, knowing her answer still isn’t quite right, but decides not to press. She’ll tell him if he wants. She blinks slowly and deliberately—she must be feeling a dizzy.
Deth: [continuing her thought] “Don’t know why it was such a big deal. They wouldn’t’ve killed me. Don’t think so. But it felt so wrong, so [She’s searching for the right word, but can’t find it; she settles] alien. I had to run, get away—there was no choice. Didn’t expect it. Strange that it should be so upsetting.”
Spike: “No, not strange at all, actually.”
Deth: “But I’m strange.”
She says this in a matter-of-fact way; no hint of insecurity.
Spike: “Different might be a better word.”
She doesn’t say anything for a while. Spike spies some pictures in frames on the bookshelf and decides to take a closer look—seems like there could be some much needed distraction there. Lifting one up.
Spike: “This your mum?”
Deth: “No. I mean, yeah. Foster mom.”
Spike: “Looks like Joan Baez.”
When he lifts up the frame to look more closely at the picture, a folded up piece of paper falls out the back. He picks it up and starts to unfold it, all while anticipating her objection—It was obviously meant to be hidden from view. She just looks on. It’s a sketch of a demon. Quite detailed. Drawn almost like a portrait. He doesn’t recognize the species. He holds it out for her to see.
Spike: “What’s this?”
Deth: “Pastuyk. [explaining] Demons who raised me. Drew it as best as I could remember—my...mom.”
Spike: “You were just a kid, right? Eight or nine. [She nods] Ever see them again? [She shakes her head.] Must’ve been one hell of a childhood.”
Deth: “I wasn’t allowed to remember. Caused all sorts of trouble when I did. [Pause. She takes a deep breath, as if she’s gathering up courage.] I liked them. The Pastuyk. I couldn’t speak their language—didn’t have the right machinery—but it didn’t matter. I could understand, mostly. Only reason they gave me up was because there was another girl in the family—when she came close to… the age, it was too dangerous for me to live with them. Others were coming to it at the same time—woudn’t’ve been able to help it. So they brought me up—left me in that playground. [beat] I...I didn’t want to go.”
She hadn’t been looking at Spike when she said this—she’d been looking straight ahead. Once she’s finished, she turns her head towards him with a look of expectant fear. When she’d started, he figured she was just making conversation—glad for the distraction from the night’s events. But her intonation became something different.When she turned to look at him just then, he realized she was confessing. She was now waiting for his response—his judgment?
Spike: “No surprise in that. It’s what you knew—‘was your home.”
She looks relieved and nods her agreement. He can sense that she’s not finished. Maybe the pills have put her in a talkative mood—he doesn’t mind much. It’s a nice change.
Deth: “Took me a long time to adjust. Had to learn to speak properly—learn English. The usual stuff. [pause] No one else talked about them; no one acknowledged them. Took me a long time to understand they didn’t see them—they weren’t aware. I remember hearing kids talk about the Boogie Man and monsters under their beds or in their closets. I’d try to get invited to their houses so I could see—figured they were just demons and I missed them. But there was never anything there—nothing to see. Got in trouble at school if I drew too many pictures—it’s not right for a little girl to be so interested in monsters. When I was a bit older, we learned a bit about Greek mythology—just the basics. I showed an interest and my foster mom bought me a book. For a school report, I decided to write an essay on the likely origins of the monsters in the myths—to me, they were all bastardizations of various demon species, so I just wrote about what the “real” monsters were like and compared them to what was in the myths. Think I must have been in junior high. Didn’t go over well. Caused a lot of trouble. First there was anger because the report was supposed to be based on facts and they said I’d written fiction. But it was when I kept insisting that it wasn’t fiction that they called the child psychologists. I fought them all for a year—they pulled me from school, sent me to a special hospital, put me on medication. Then I figured it out. So stupid that it took me so long. They’d never believe—they’d never see. They didn’t know the reality—they refused to know. I had to pretend, too, like they all were. So I went back to school. I played along. But there came a point where I lost the distinction—the memories became dreams. I never even saw them anymore, or if I did, I instantly perceived them as something else. I wasn’t sure. I went to college, like everyone else. Majored in Philosophy and Religion, with a minor in history—special focus in ancient mythology.”
Spike: “Explains your career thus far as a bartender.”
This cuts the intensity nicely, and you can see the tension lift as she melts into the cushion before continuing. She’s back to feeling a bit more groovy.
Deth: “It wasn’t until Darryl took the job with Wolfram and Hart that it became real again. Then they were everywhere.”
Spike steps back over to the couch and sits down—he’s starting to feel a bit groovy himself. He scans her expression a minute.
Spike: “And? I’m guessing there’s more. This all ties back into tonight somehow, doesn’t it?”
Without responding, she gets a funny, slightly bemused look on her face. She frowns down at her t-shirt. Lifting herself slightly, she proceeds to wiggle out of her bra, without taking her shirt of. She tosses it aside and then pulls the neck of her t-shirt out just enough to allow her to peer down it. Satisfied, she looks up.
Deth: “Boobies are nice.”
Spike smiles.
Spike: “Yeah. I think those pain pills have made you a bit high, pet. Might be time to send you off to bed.”
Deth: [ignoring him] “They’re just so soft and round.”
Spike: “Definitely preaching to the choir. [He reaches over and puts his hand on her newly freed breast through her t-shirt, massaging it gently.] This isn’t the part of the evening when you confess to being gay, is it? ‘Cause that could put a damper on things.”
Deth: [Gazing at him through sleepy, relaxed eyes.] “I don’t think I could be further from gay.”
Spike: “Good. But if you wanted to experiment a little, I’m all for it.”
Deth: [Back to looking a touch more serious] “I like working at Harvey’s. I like being around them. I know demons do terrible things and are more likely than not to be evil, but I’m comfortable there. They’ve never hurt me. [Pause a minute while she decides how much more to say. She’s never said any of this out loud before.] Sometimes I think they’re beautiful. [beat] How weird is that?”
He casually stops molesting her breast and sits back up slightly.
Spike: “You worried that makes you wrong, aren’t you?”
She shrugs lightly.
Deth: “They like me, too. They talk to me at the bar. Remember those Quill demons a few weeks ago? I didn’t sneak around them to get the Cup. I asked for it and they gave it to me.”
Spike: “That is a bit bizarre. You know, honestly. Maybe the Pastuyk gave you something—an internal charm to protect you, make your life easier. Have you talked to Wesley about this?”
Deth: “Not really. Not everything. Don’t know what he’d think. Maybe it says something about me. Maybe it’s just...me.”
And that’s it. That’s the heart of what’s bothering her. He can tell by her relief on saying it out loud. Now, she’s ready for sleeping.
Spike: “No sense worrying about it. You’re lovely. Don’t know that there can be any harm in liking and being liked.”
Deth: [She smiles warmly at him] “Sleeping?”
Spike: “Yeah.”
She dreamily slides off the couch and heads to the bathroom to brush her teeth. She returns to find Spike under the covers. He scrunches up his face when he sees her.
Spike: “What are those?”
Deth: “Pajamas.”
Spike: “Uh, nudity rule?”
Deth: “But we’re not in your bed.”
Spike: “Ah, see the rule applies to any bed I’m currently in.”
She lets out a sigh, while she considers it. She feels a slight twinge between her legs when she imagines him naked under the sheets. She shakes her head, smiles and promptly disrobes. He gives her newly naked body a lingering gaze and then opens the sheets to invite her in to bed.
Spike: “Much better.”
She lies on her back a minute and lets him leisurely run his cool hands over her in the usual way. There’s a little routine he goes through. First, he runs his hand down the left side of her neck, just past the place where he’d bitten her weeks ago; then down to her left breast, where he pauses briefly to cup it and give it a slight, gentle squeeze. He drags the back of his hand down the side of her waist, outlining the first inward, then outward curve of her body. His hand takes a slight inward path and brushes over the bump of her pelvic bone, then outward along her thigh down to her knee. He turns his hand over and moves up her inner thigh, cupping the curve of her leg, briefly pausing again to cup her muff, sometimes running his fingers along the detail of her outer lips. Then it’s everything in reverse up the right side of her body. Usually when his hand reaches the right side of her neck, he leans in to kiss the opposite side aorksorks his lips upward to hers. Wonderfully relaxing—makes her limp. Tonight she wonders if she’s ever felt so tired.
Deth: “Do you like being a vampire?”
Spike: “Aren’t you a Chatty Cathy tonight? [beat] Silly question. Might as well as you if you like being a girl. Or a human. You are what you are.”
Deth: “That’s such a cop-out.”
Spike: [acquiescing] “Mostly, yeah. Used to love it. Now things are a bit more...complicated.”
Deth: “I meant what I said before. [beat] You’re the first demon I’ve ever dated, ‘case you were wondering. [She turns to look at him squarely, her eyes showing the effect of the pills] I think your demon face is beautiful—every bit as handsome as your human form.”
It’s an odd sort of compliment. Relaxing, somehow. Having seen neither in decades, and before that only in sketches and a snapshot or, he, he can’t quite fathom it. He wonders if he’d ever describe a vampire as beautiful—in full game face. Yes, of course, Dru was beautiful—he loved any sight of her. But would he now?
Spike: [joking] “Aw, you’re gonna make me blush.”
She smiles.
Deth: “I should probably stop talking now.”
Spike: “There are better things to do with those lips.”
He leans over and kisses her. It’s soft and slow, going nowhere but towards sleep. After a moment, she reaches to her nightstand and turns out the light. Suddenly, all sorts of shapes appear to glow in the apartment. Spike scans the room.
Spike: “Got a thing for constellations?”
Deth: “They’re starfish.” [duh]
Spike: “Starfish? So that’s what your tattoo is. Looked a bit fat for an ordinary star.”
Deth: “I like them.”
Spike: “Starfish. That’s a bit of an odd thing to fancy—they just lay there, being boring. How surprisingly girlie of you.”
Deth: [defensive] “I don’t see what’s so girlie about starfish. They have their place. My foster mom took me snorkeling once. I liked it. [beat] Haven’t been back. The sharks scared me.”
Spike: “The sharks scared you. How is it that you can stare down an eight foot, snarling Klarprhoth demon and yet be afraid of a big fish?”
Deth: “I knew the Klarprhoth demon wasn’t going to hurt me. Have you seen Jaws? Sharks are just swimming stomachs with big teeth. Nope, not setting foot in the ocean around here anytime soon. Just have to get myself an aquarium. [beat] And a tub.”
Spike: “Any other fears I should know about?”
Deth: “Nah, just the big fish. I’d say ‘sharks’, but dolphins kind of freak me out, too. They’re not fish technically, but same idea.”
Spike: “This ought to be good. What is it about dolphins you don’t like?”
Deth: “They kill sharks—they sorta torture them just for laughs. Sharks are really stupid, so you can’t really blame them for biting anything that bleeds. But dolphins are clever. I think there’s malice there.”
Spike: “You’re definitely an odd egg, Deth. And I mean that in the best possible way.”
She leans over the edge of the bed, picks up a throw pillow and hits him with it. They both have a laugh before settling down for sleeping. She normally doesn’t like to be on the inside of the spoon—too confining. But tonight, she encourages him to cuddle her tightly.
**
tbc...
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