A Vampire and His Hand
TITLE: A Vampire and His Hand
AUTHOR: Fyredansa
EMAIL: Fyredansa@hotmail.com
SUMMARY: Spike gets back from a...party (And no, it's NOT as dirty as it sounds!)
FEEDBACK: It's every writer's bread and water...sorta
DISTRIBUTION: Just here at the mo...but anyone can have it :-) Just ask nicely ;-)
SPOILERS: none again.
COUPLE: Not exactly a couple
RATING: G
DISCLAIMER: Ain't mine. Ain't fair. Ain't anything more to say.
CLASSIFICATION: Okay, it's a prequel to silly fic A Bad hair Day - which wasn't meant to have a prequel at all.
NOTES: This was actually based on a line from 'School hard' - "I was actually at Woodstock...I fed off a Flower person and spent the next six hours watching my hand move."
but the inspiration came from some feedback and comments from the Iprov circle I'm in - Having a Thought - Improv: Sepia, wish, memory, revenge - Written : 10/12/2000
DEDICATED: The improv group for letting my insanity loose!
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“What are you doing?”
Blinking up at the figure standing over him, the vampire grinned inanely, his fangs gleaming in the surreal light. “Look!” He slurred, raising on hand and swaying it back and forth. “S’great, innit?”
One hand on her hip, Darla pinched the bridge of her nose between her finger and thumb, trying not to give in to her frustration. “What have you been eating?” She asked quietly.
Spike shrugged, breaking into demented giggles before falling flat on his back on the dusty floor, his hand flopping onto his face. “Heyulp!” He shrieked in a shrill falsetto, feigning a struggle with his limp palm. “S’tryin’ ta kill me! Help!”
His grandsire didn’t know whether to laugh or to yell at him. He was Angelus and Drusilla’s responsibility and yet, she always got lumbered with him and his irreverant attitude. If she could have one wish, it was that Drusilla was sane so she would never have chosen the cocky young man as her mate.
As it was, though, she was stuck with him. And while she sometimes found him amusing,at this very moment, he was driving her out of her mind. She had never been left to deal with a high vampire before, if her memory served her correctly.
Bending, she grabbed his wrist and pulled his ‘attacker’ away from his face, glaring at him coldly. “Tell me what you ate, childe.” She growled.
Struggling into a sitting position, the vampire swayed back and forward, a dopey grin on his face. “ ’E tasted funny.” Wrinkling his nose, he giggled again. “Kinda sweet and...magic...” He looked down at the back of the hand that lay on his knee, his mouth rounding in an ‘O’ of amazement. “Didcha see it?”
“See what?” She sighed.
He pointed to his limp hand, then gasped again, staring at his pointing finger in astonishment. “It did it too!” He tried to point again, but whatever he was seeing continued to distract him as he moved his hands this way and that. “S’funny...never see’d a hand do that...”
“Spike.” Her voice was crisp, icy.
Until he raised his wide, surprised eyes to her and blinked. “You have the prettiest mouth.” He mumbled around his fangs.
“Huh?” For once, the blonde vampiress was at a loss for words. A compliment from a grandchilde who didn’t give a damn what she looked or acted like normally. It had to be the drugs talking. “Just tell me what you’ve been eating, idiot.”
Shambling to his feet, the vampire grabbed her around the waist and buried his face in the hollow of her neck, nuzzling her gently. “ ’E was sleepy.” He burbled. “ ’E was just lyin’...waitin’ to be eaten...”
The younger vampire’s long hair tumbled over his face as he lost all sense of up and down, his legs going out from beneath him. Only Darla’s arm around his waist held him semi-upright, directing him to the couch.
“Darla?” He mumbled, blearily staring up at her, his multi-coloured poncho covering his muddy clothes. “Do you like it?” He gestured to the poncho. “ ’E gave it me. ’E didden need it no more...”
Taking in the scabby material, Darla grimaced in disgust, the thought of donning the violet, mustard and crimson coloured cloth holding as much appeal as wearing a habit on a Holy Day. “It’s...”
“Bee-oo-ti-ful?” The sandy-haired vampire suggested, rubbing a dirt-covered palm across his face, a smear of thick, black mud crusting his features. “Everyfing’s so bloody bee-oo-ti-ful!”
“How about you take a bath?” Anything to get the half-stoned young vampire out of her way for the time being. “If I run you a nice bath, how about you sit in there and get all clean and everything?”
Spike stared at her vaguely, his eyes half-glazed as he morphed back into his human features, a dopey smile still on his lips.
“That settles it.” She said to herself. “Bath.”
~~~~~~
As she swept away, leaving the vampire sprawled on the sofa, the door banged shut behind her.
Raising his left hand again, Spike looked at it quizzically. “Whaddya mean?” He frowned in confusion, his other hand fumbling through his deep pockets, beneath the poncho. “Lookie what we have here...”
Blinking several times, he shakily unscrewed the cap of the bottle and tipped a little of the contents onto his fingertip, rubbing his fingers together, the greenish brown colour staining his skin.
Looking at his left hand with a wicked chuckle, he lifted his palm to his mouth and whispered conspiratorially. “I ’ave h’an h’idea.”
“Spike!” Darla’s voice rang down from the bathroom, so he shambled to his feet, hiding the bottle of sepia-coloured fluid concealed beneath the poncho, as he swayed his way up the stairs. “Take a bath, childe.” She pushed him into the room. “And don’t you dare touch my shampoo.”
“Yes mum.” The sandy-haired vampire tripped over his boots and landed face-first on the cool floor, breaking into another fit of giggles.
“I give up.” Pulling the door shut behind her, with a sigh of dismissal, she didn’t see the fully-clothed vampire stagger to his feet, only to fall into the bath, two bottles clutched in his hands.
With his legs dangling over on high side of the massive tub, Spike fumbled with the cap of the shampoo bottle, oblivious to the scalding water swirling around him, mud floating in lumps around him.
With a wicked giggle, he tipped the contents of the bottle he had found in the poncho into the expensive shampoo that Darla always used, tossing the late hippy’s glass bottle at the door with a satisfying smash.
Replacing the shampoo on the shelf above him, his head lolled back against the stone wall, a deliriously happy grin on his face.
“She didn’t like my clothes, so it’s h’only fair.” He confided in his hand hazily, wagging his feet back and forward against the side of the tub. “I wonder if she likes that colour...’e looked silly with it...”
Listening to his hand’s reply seriously, Spike stared at the palm as if it was crazy. “I don’t care if she get’s angry...” Plunging his arm under water to punish the offending limb, he chuckled dementedly. “It’ll be bloody funny.”
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