Author: Kay Tee maybeshedoes@yahoo.com
Distribution: Take it, but tell me where so I can visit.
Rated: R, mutilation, swears, sexual situations, nudity, references to the last story.
Category: Series
Original Character Warning
Spoilers: Some for 'Ted,' but not really, just that Angel's still weak, and Buffy's taking care of him.
Disclaimer: In my dreams I'm Joss, but during the day I have to face the cold hard truth-- I'm a hack who steals characters. But I'm not giving them back! Or I am, just don't sue me, all I have are speeding tickets and student loans.
Summary: Spike can't take care of Druscilla all by himself, so he gets himself a slave to help. Bathing. Lots of bathing.
Author's note: If anybody knows the name or author of the story at the end of this, let me know. Thanks.
***
Eve dragged the edge of the scissors over the pale white skin of her inner arm. Tiny droplets of blood welled up unsatisfyingly in the wound. She dragged the scissors across her arm again. And again. And again. The scissors were blunt, and she had to apply great pressure to even break her skin. Eve stared at her arm in anger; she wanted to bleed. Bringing the tortured flesh to her lips, she bit down hard, squeezing the wound between her teeth. When she looked at her arm again, it was smeared in her blood. She smiled and dragged her tongue along the wound, lapping up the blood she had spilled.
She didn't feel better, but she felt like she could get out of bed.
Eve had set Spike and Druscilla up in a ground floor room, and made her own bed right outside their door. She was finding it harder and harder to get up in the morning-- or the afternoon-- or the evening.
She stood slowly and stretched. She knew she should probably have a shower-- it had been almost a week-- but she really didn't feel motivated to hike upstairs to the bath.
At that moment the door to her mistress's bedroom opened, and Spike wheeled out, having smelled the blood. "What did you do this time?" He growled.
Eve raised an eyebrow at him, not answering. The vampire grabbed her arm and glared at the new wounds. "Why do you keep doing this?" He demanded, searching the bedding for Eve's latest weapon, but the scissors were under a sheet, and he would have trouble reaching them from the wheelchair anyway.
Eve shrugged impassively.
"You can't still feel bad about those two idiots you killed?"
Her lack of response was enough of an answer.
"Look, this is the Hellmouth. Anyone stupid enough to follow a complete stranger into an abandoned warehouse deserves to die," Spike grumbled.
Eve scowled at him, and he knew this wasn't the way to cheer her up.
"Anyway, I've killed hundreds-- probably thousands of people, and you don't see me feeling glum," he continued helplessly.
Eve sighed, "No, you wouldn't."
Spike barely suppressed the eye-roll that statement elicited. This was why he didn't like to socialize with people; they were all stuck to their damn consciences. "No... I wouldn't understand..." If he could walk, he would have thrown the slave over his shoulder and... he didn't know what he would do. But as long as he was crippled, he felt absolutely powerless. Spike hated being trapped in the damn wheelchair. One week had passed, and he was already going out of his mind.
Almost as bad as the wheelchair was the food he was living off of now. Eve had set up a small refrigerator where she kept a stock of blood for him since he couldn't hunt. Spike hated the taste of the stuff, more so because he knew exactly who had told Eve where she could buy it.
"Maybe you should go out for a while... relax a bit," Spike suggested.
Eve's face didn't change as she asked what time he expected her to return.
"Take your time," Spike instructed. "But be back before dark."
Eve dug her watch out of her pocket and frowned. "There's like, six hours before sunset," she said, uncertain.
Spike gave her a significant look and Eve shrugged. "We'll do your exercises when I get back," she promised before turning to leave. She paused a few steps away from Spike. Turning around, she asked suspiciously, "When was the last time you ate?"
Spike rolled his eyes at her. "I can bloody well take care of myself. I'll eat later."
Eve shook her head, "No, you won't. You'll just sit around brooding all day."
"Hey, I do not brood," Spike insisted.
Eve's lips twisted into what was almost a grin. "Come upstairs, we should both eat... and have a bath." She headed for the lift, and Spike followed reluctantly.
***
Eve sat behind Spike in the bathtub. He leaned back against her warm body and closed his eyes. She had moved his legs around for a while-- it seemed rather useless to him, but she was still reading books on how to fix him, so he let her do what she wanted. She called these useless movements 'exercise,' but Spike would remain skeptical until he was walking again. Eve's feminine voice broke Spike's train of thought, and he listened to her repeat herself a few times before he moved.
"Spike, sit up," she instructed gently.
He finally obeyed and she began to work the shampoo into his scalp. They sat silently as Eve bathed them both. She drained the tub and refilled it with clean water, taking her seat behind Spike again. He sighed contentedly as she began to kneed his muscles, giving him a much-needed massage.
"Tell me something," Spike requested.
Without stopping her movements, Eve asked, "Like what?"
"Something about your life-- when you were free."
Eve froze for a moment, and then continued her work. She answered coldly, "You have me, let me have my past."
Spike didn't respond.
***
Just inside Angel's door, Eve looked around his apartment. "I thought you said Buffy was going to clean this mess up?"
Angel looked up from the armchair where he was reading. When Eve had come to him the day after the mess at the church, he hadn't thought twice about helping her help Spike. She had implied just enough-- without actually saying anything-- that Angel knew she really needed his assistance. It wasn't even a question of forgiveness.
He had told her where he got his blood, and she had promised to visit when she could.
"Huh?" He asked intelligently.
Eve gestured to the mess that filled the apartment. Apparently, Buffy had had a fight there, and had insisted that Angel let her clean it.
"The apartment still looks like..." Eve searched her mind for the appropriate cliché. "A natural disaster area."
Angel grimaced, "Buffy cleaned it... I don't think she's had a lot of experience."
Eve smirked. "Please let me finish for her?"
The vampire nodded and watched as Eve slid her CD-- Aretha Franklin-- into his disk player. She went about her work and asked, "Are you all stocked up?"
Angel grinned; it was nice to be taken care of. "Buffy brought me some blood... but I'm out of whiskey."
Eve shook her head, digging an ancient vacuum cleaner out of Angel's closet. "You Irish have terrific priorities," she teased.
"You really don't like Irish people... vampires... er..."
"People-types," Eve finished for the vampire. "And I have no problem with them-- my Dad was Irish."
Angel stared at the girl in surprise. He realized that she had never mentioned her father before. He waited while she vacuumed the floors, and then asked, "You're half Irish?"
Eve shrugged, "Yeah."
Marking his page and putting his book down, Angel inquired, "Why haven't you mentioned your father before?"
Eve sighed, studying the vampire's face. Dried blood was caked at his hairline. "Angel, when was the last time you had a bath?" She asked.
He grimaced. "I'm still pretty weak, and Buffy and I haven't progressed to the bathing stage." He met Eve's eyes for a moment, then turned away guiltily.
"Why don't I help you into the bathroom? When you come out, the place will be clean and livable," she offered.
"I-I don't think that's such a good idea." Angel shifted uncomfortably in his chair.
Eve sighed impatiently. "Give me a break, Angel. It's nothing I've never seen before..." She too looked away guiltily.
Angel's head shot up suddenly. "You changed the subject again," he accused.
Eve grinned unrepentantly. They had an unspoken rule that whenever Angel caught Eve changing the subject, she would disclose exactly what she'd been avoiding.
She said simply, "My dad's family owns most of the property in the town where I lived. He divorced my mom after six years of marriage to be with some more upscale lady. It had a lot to do with inheritances... He lives in the same town still, but he never even acknowledges us. I don't really think of him as a father."
Angel nodded. "Okay, help me to the bathroom."
***
Naked, Angel sat on the side of the tub with a towel covering his lap while Eve tested the bath water.
"Okay, I think it's good. Hope you like it hot." She helped Angel swing his legs into the water and lower himself into the tub. "Call me when you want the water changed," she ordered, checking to be sure that all the soaps were easily within the vampire's reach.
Angel nodded and watched Eve close the door. He heard her return to her cleaning in the main room and he sighed. He couldn't stop thinking about the sponge bath and blowjob he'd received while in Spike and Eve's care.
He tried to tell himself that it was just his demon reveling in the servitude and humiliation of a human being, but he knew it was more.
Angel loved, adored, and cherished Buffy, but the womanizer in him did not see that devotion as an obstacle to taking another woman as his lover.
And he wanted Eve. He wanted her to touch him again as she had before, but willingly this time. He closed his eyes and tried to suppress his human urges. He was going to be a good person... type. He was going to be even better than he had been when he actually was human. He was not going to seduce Eve. Absolutely not.
"Eve?" He called out before he could stop himself.
"Hmm?" Her head popped in the bathroom door.
Angel held the shampoo bottle in his hands as he asked awkwardly, "Could you, um..."
Eve walked to him and took the bottle, apparently understanding what he was trying to say. She worked the soap into Angel'[s dark hair, noticing that his scalp was remarkably different from Spike's. Where the younger vampire's skin was soft, pliant, Angel's scalp was hard, and resistant to her fingers.
"You need a haircut, Angel," Eve informed the vampire.
"I know," he admitted, "but the last time I had one was at a demon salon in L.A.. I don't exactly relish going back there."
"I could cut it," Eve offered.
Angel closed his eyes and smiled, enjoying the sensation of having his hair washed. "I'd like that," he said softly.
***
Twenty minutes before sundown, Eve walked into the warehouse smelling unmistakably of souled-vampire. Spike looked up from the newspaper he was reading when she walked in. "You've got little hairs all over your shirt," he said.
Eve looked down at herself. "Yeah, I do," she admitted. "Come upstairs." She was smiling, making Spike suspicious. He had known she would visit Angel, as she had whenever he let her have free time in the past week. But she looked too cheerful; he had assumed that the two of them sat around brooding together, or something like that.
"Stop with the glaring," Eve rolled her eyes at her master as they made their way to the lift. "I didn't do anything you'd have to kill me for."
They made their way to the office where the fridge and microwave were set up. Spike watched as Eve took out some blood and set the microwave to heat it up. "Come here," he ordered with deceptive softness in his voice.
Eve obeyed, and Spike pulled her down into his lap. He kissed her softly, lapping at her lips, tasting her strawberry chapstick there, but no hints of Angel. He pushed his tongue past her teeth, diving into her mouth. He tasted the Ramen noodles she'd had for breakfast, whiskey, and the faint remnants of toothpaste from earlier, but no Angel. Satisfied, he pulled away.
"Sir, did I pass the test, sir?" Eve asked facetiously.
Spike growled quietly, "Don't tease," he warned, his tone full of promised pain.
Eve opened her mouth, but the microwave beeped before she could speak. She stood and retrieved Spike's meal.
***
The blond vampire was sucking miserably from the packet of blood when Brad, one of his cockier minions, sashayed into the room.
Brad clucked his tongue disapprovingly. "You are so pathetic," he announced loudly. "You don't even drink real blood, you have to settle for that hospital reject shit."
Spike saw that the minion's body was tensed, ready for a fight. Brad had come alone, so he was obviously confidant that he would win. The half empty blood packet hit the floor as the crippled vampire prepared to defend himself.
"Ooo look, did da wittle boy spill his lunch?" Brad taunted, pulling a stake from his back pocket.
Spike clenched his jaw, but otherwise he did not respond.
Eve watched the interaction from the side. She knew Spike always carried a stake, but she wasn't sure if he would even have time to draw it before Brad dusted him. She wanted to interfere, but she was sure Spike would never forgive her if it appeared that she had saved his life.
Oh well.
"Brad," Eve said, taking a step towards the thickly built vampire.
He glanced at her with contempt. "You won't address me so informally when I am your master," he promised.
"No," Eve bit her lower lip as she approached the tall vampire. She smiled coyly at him from under her lashes. "But what *will* I do when you are my master?" Her eyes traveled down his torso appreciatively.
Brad turned to face Eve, his back to Spike. In an instant the blond vampire had his stake out and ready, but he couldn't reach his minion's heart.
Eve took a deep breath as her eyes made their way back up Brad's body. Her arousal was thick in the air, but Brad misunderstood the reason for it, thinking she was attracted to him. His guard was down, and Eve smiled, licking her lips, and stood on her toes as if to kiss the putrid minion. She couldn't believe it when he actually shut his eyes a moment before their lips met. He had been a high school kid a few months ago, and obviously hadn't shed his mundane human instincts.
Eve easily kicked his legs out from under him. Brad's arms flailed as he tried to catch himself, but he could not stop as he fell into Spike's lap-- and onto Spike's stake.
The blond vampire sneered at the dust that settled on his clothes. "That was... interesting, pet." He studied Eve as he put his stake away. Her arousal had increased since Brad vanished into dust, the smell of the unwashed vampire no longer cooling her off.
"Yes... it was." Eve grinned suddenly. "I'm so fucked up, you know I actually enjoyed that?"
Spike smiled. "You like the seduction."
"Well, yeah, when I don't have to feel bad about it later." Eve blushed, and Spike pulled her into his lap, kissing her deeply and slow, savoring her arousal.
When he pulled away, he grinned devilishly into her glazed eyes and promised, "Someday you'll be a master vamp. And you won't feel bad about anything ever again."
***
After a few more minutes of making out like teenagers, Eve struggled to her feet. She popped another packet of blood into the microwave. While she waited for the beep, she said slowly, "When I was a little kid, I had two dolls. They were both presents from when I was born, so I had them my whole life. I slept with them in my bed every night. One was a rag doll: Elizabeth, and the other was porcelain with a soft body: Hannah.
"I was never the tea party type of girl, but I did take them everywhere I went. I put them in my backpack and went for hikes out in the woods. We explored together...
"One day I left Elizabeth and Hannah in the kitchen after making a big mess-- we were making meatballs. My mom got pissed and cleaned the mess up. Then she brought the dolls upstairs in a big huff. She threw them on the ground in my room. I don't think she even realized what she was doing, but of course, Hannah's face broke right off. The hair kept the rest of the head together, but the doll was ruined."
Spike interrupted, "Let me guess. You kept her anyway, wrapped her face up in bandages or whatnot, and still slept with her right by your side."
"No," Eve shook her head. "I threw her out. And I put Elizabeth up on the shelf in the closet, 'cause it wasn't the same without Hannah."
"You threw her out?" Spike asked incredulously. "You didn't even keep her as a memento?"
Eve shrugged. "Nope. She was broken."
Spike's brow furrowed as he considered this. "How old were you?"
"Ten, I think."
The microwave beeped, and they were both distracted as Eve took Spike's blood out.
"Why did you tell me all this?" Spike asked as he took the packet from Eve.
She backed away, leaning on the mini-fridge. "You asked me to tell you something about my life." She shrugged, as if there was nothing more to say.
After a moment, Spike nodded and sunk his teeth into the plastic packet. While he drank, Eve spoke. "I know you're all depressed about not being at your full strength. And you know why I've been so down lately..." She unconsciously rubbed her inner arm where she had cut into it. "I think that if we both just concentrate on cheering each other up, we'll be okay."
Spike took the half-empty packet away from his mouth. "Why should I help cheer you up?" He demanded.
Eve smiled as seductively as she knew how and sat back down in his lap. "'Cause I asked you to," she said matter-of-factly.
Spike licked his lips. He still had no feeling below his waist, making Druscilla avoid him in bed. But it was nice to know he was still wanted by someone. He didn't care what Eve's motives were.
"Take your clothes off," he ordered. He finished the blood as Eve stripped. "Sit on the table," he nodded to the desk in the center of the room. Eve sat, and Spike wheeled his chair over to her, so he was positioned between her legs. "Feel free to scream," he joked as he lowered his lips to the apex of her legs.
***
Lying in her sleeping bag, Eve fingered the bite mark Spike had left on her inner thigh. She smiled tiredly; it was nice to have someone to bleed for.
She knew that she would have to stop cutting herself. But she also knew that there were four people who might still be alive if it wasn't for her, and she wasn't ready to stop cutting yet.
"Oooo, pretty pictures."
Eve started. She hadn't even felt Druscilla's presence, but the vampiress was whispering right in her ear.
"Druscilla." Eve sat up, rubbing her eyes. "What can I do for you?"
"Tell me a fairy tale," Druscilla commanded, "tell me your favorite."
Eve carefully considered this request. Druscilla would know if she told a story that wasn't her favorite. The slave thought about what she would say as she followed the vampiress into her bedroom. Dru changed and crawled into bed next to Spike. "Tell me now," she said.
"Okay," Eve started. "I don't know where I heard this, but I always liked it. Once upon a time, there was a man who hated his name. He hated it so much, and he hated his father, who gave it to him. So when this man had a son, he didn't give the boy a name. He called the kid 'son.' The father decided that when the kid was ten-years-old, he could pick out his own name.
"So there wasn't a problem, the father just called the kid 'son' all the time. Then he had another son. He couldn't call them both 'son,' so he called the second one 'boy.'
"Well Boy was really jealous of Son, even though their father treated them the same. When Son was ten-years-old, he decided that his name should be Michael. After that, everyone called him Mike, but the father still called Boy 'boy,' not 'son.' All Boy wanted was to be called 'son.'
"So when Boy was ten-years-old, his father asked him what he wanted his name to be, and Boy said, "I don't care what my name is, but I want you to pick." The dad tried to tell Boy that's not how it worked, but Boy kept saying that he wanted his dad to pick out his name. The dad wouldn't, he thought Boy just needed more time, so he kept on calling the kid Boy.
"When Boy was twenty years old, the Dad said, "Now don't be silly, you need to pick out a name." But Boy still wouldn't." Eve blinked at the two sets of yellow eyes watching her in the darkness. She felt like a mother putting her kids to bed.
"And I don't remember how the rest of the story goes," Eve finished lamely.
Spike growled, but Druscilla laughed and clapped her hands. "What a lovely story," she said. She snuggled in next to Spike, and Eve quietly let herself out of the room.
She lay down in her sleeping bag and tried to remember the end of the story, but it remained elusive. Sighing, she relaxed and tried to fall asleep, but her fingers found their way back to the mark Spike had left on her. It seemed to be tied to the vague moral of the story in some profound and mysterious way.
When Eve finally fell asleep, she was restless, and Druscilla crept out of her bedroom to listen to the beautiful words the unconscious slave mumbled through her nightmare.