Working Title: Cold Day in Hell
Author: automatic_badgirl
Email: automatic_badgirl@yahoo.ca
Chapter Four: Attack
The two blondes watched warily as the Hellbeasts snarled and circled, clawed feet clicking on the cool stone of the cave floor. They appeared to be sizing up the pair, debating the risks of attacking in muttering snarls and growls. Spike glanced at Buffy,
“Waddaya think Slayer?”
“This looks bad, Leroy Brown bad!”
Spike gave her a quizzical look. Buffy sighed and said in an impatient whisper,
“Bad Bad Leroy Brown. Baddest man in the whole damn town?!”
“Sorry luv, not much for the mellow seventies gold right now.”
“Yeah, yeah if there isn’t someone screaming about the “bloody queen” it’s not worth listening to right?”
The sound of their whispers had an immediate and unfortunately negative effect on the Hellbeasts. The debate seemed to be tipping in favor of an all blond buffet, commencing forthwith. The low, guttural snarls of the beasts ratcheted up to a steady buzz-saw drone. Buffy felt shivery fear wrap its cool fingers round her at these sounds. Somehow, snarling monsters always wig me the most, she thought. Mesmerized she watched, as dog-like they wrinkled and lifted their lips back from their snouts, revealing a thicket of jagged, yellow teeth. The beasts kept their eyes locked on their chosen targets as they began to close in; Buffy noticed with sick fear the one closest to her was drooling in eagerness.
Buffy and Spike moved closer together, guarding their backs. She shifted her weight onto the balls of her feet and gripped the spear of bone more firmly in a hand made slick with nervous sweat. She wished she had a second to wipe her hand on her slacks when the beast closest to her attacked.
Hideously fast, it didn’t leap at her the way a big Earth predator like a lion would; all lazy grace and killing muscle. Instead, it seemed in the flickering firelight to be suddenly there; moving from its end of the cave towards her in the space of one in-drawn breath. She took an involuntary stumble backward as the Hyena-beast leaped towards her face snapping hungrily. This half step very likely saved her from having her belly unzipped and her intestines spilt all over the floor. She felt the claws of the beast tugging at her blouse, tearing it with a tiny ripping sound that seemed strangely loud to Buffy, over the beast’s growls and her own unthinking cries. Buffy thought the blow meant to disembowel her had been a lucky miss but then she felt the pain, a shock of cool numbness followed by a surge of wet warmth.
Automatically she dropped backwards, kicking upwards with all of her might, her foot solidly connecting with the underside of the beast’s jaw; it snapped shut with a sudden click, shutting off the beast in mid-snarl. Hope you bite your tongue off you bitch! She thought fleetingly as the shock of the impact coursed up her leg, bringing blunting pain in its wake. Unsteadily she regained her feet as the beast fell back, its snarls turned into squeals of outraged pain. The other beast held back, watching its partner’s progress against this new and very different prey.
“Buffy are you alright?”
Distracted, Spike began to turn towards Buffy. He had seen the heavy strike of the beast’s paw, heard Buffy’s cry of pain, smelt her blood begin to flow.
“Yes I think—”
Buffy snatched her hand from the wound, feeling some small relief that it appeared to be only a deep but relatively minor scratch. She had been horribly sure when she probed the wound that her fingers would slip right in—past the barrier of skin and muscle to bump up against the smooth coils of her intestines. Frantically, she gestured to the other beast.
“Watch out!”
Taking advantage of Spike’s momentary lapse, the second beast had darted towards him intent on success where its mate had failed. Quickly Spike spun on his heel and reversed bringing his weapon around in a fast, tight arc. It connected with the ribs of the second beast. Spike felt something give with a crunch and had a moments wild thought, “Oh that’s definitely out of the ball-park. Home run for sure.” The beast made a strangled “Urrk” sound and a spray of blood flew out of its mouth, tiny drops splashing against Spike’s face. The force of the strike lifted the beast and flipped it over, bringing it crashing down heavily on the ground. It lay still.
“That’s got you—bastard!” Spike swiped clumsily at the blood on his face, it was tricking into his eyes. The blood felt obscenely hot to Spike, as he knuckled some more away, he stared in amazement at the steam rising from his hand.
“Buffy, Mind the blood luv’ it’s hot—it’ll burn you.”
Spike wasn’t sure if Buffy heard him; she was too busy keeping the other beast at bay. It snapped and feinted, looking for an opening. It slewed its head around at the sight of its mate lying on the cave floor. Bounding over, it whined piteously and nudged its fallen companion.
“Too bad precious—Sunshine’s all broke, now you two can’t play no more” Spike sneered, then both vampire and Slayer watched in shock as the fallen beast stirred and slowly staggered to its feet. Obviously it was grievously injured but it stood and faced the pair; bloody froth rimmed its lips and its snarls were undercut with a rattling wheeze. Weaving, it stared at the two and its eyes filled with an insane light. It knew it was dying and it intended to take one or both of its attackers with it. The other beast picked up on the electric hatred emanating from its mate, and it crouched low, hackles raised, steady rumbling growls echoing round the cave. Then as if some circuit had closed, both beasts went for broke, attacking with fanatical intensity.
Buffy was borne down underneath the injured Hyena-beast; she screamed and stabbed up desperately with her weapon hoping to hit something vital before it tore her throat out. Spike had cried out when he saw Buffy go down, her tiny blonde frame all but disappearing under the murderous bulk of the beast, but he was occupied in a deadly dance with his own beast. He snagged the beast’s neck in a death grip and tried gamely to keep out of reach of the wildly flailing claws. Spike pressed his face into the stinking fur, shuddering at the avid heat he felt, and tightened his grip on either end of the bone spear. He was unaware of having shifted into game face. He pulled upwards, using the bone as a lever. The beast bucked and heaved, hoping to throw its adversary off. Spike grunted with effort and succeeded in raising the beast’s two front paws off of the floor; it whipsawed its head wildly, trying to turn and rip into Spike’s face. Spike could feel the sides of the beast working like a bellows, its noisy breaths hitching and catching as its supply of air was slowly diminished. Can’t wait to choke this fucker to death, gotta get to Buffy, he thought frantically as he could no longer hear anything but the labored breathing of his beast and the terrible roars of the other. He made a tremendous wrench upwards, feeling things in his back give with the strain. Spike’s arms trembled at the limit when he heard and felt the beast’s neck snap. It went lax in his arms, muscles twitching with death throes. He let it drop to the floor and raced towards Buffy.
Buffy was only aware of a rank stench and wildly snapping jaws, she could see one maddened yellow eye of the beast fixed on hers as it dove for her throat. She was only just fending it off. Her arm was shoved into the underside of the beast’s jowls, blocking it, but her ability to hold it away from her face was rapidly weakening. It wasn’t able to claw her because she was pressed up against the beast’s front. She had thrust upwards with the bone shard when the beast leapt at her and it had impaled itself on it when it took her to the ground—but it hadn’t stopped the beast’s attack.
Got to reach a vital spot, heart, lungs something—does this thing even have that stuff on the inside? The Slayer made frenzied stabs into the belly of the beast with the shard of bone. Her other arm was shaking with the effort of keeping the beast off her, its rancid breath blasted into her face as it screamed its rage and pain at her. Buffy yelled in anger, disgusted and horrified by the scent and sight of its fetid jaws. Realizing she was going to have to go for broke Buffy slammed up one final time, her hand and arm slithering into the hole she punched with her weapon. Her entire arm felt as if it had been dipped into boiling water, the inside of the beast felt like a blast furnace; she screamed with the pain. Hot blood steamed and smoked as it rained out of the wounds she’d made, coating her in gore. She could no longer hold back the beast’s head and her arm gave out, she had one second to think of Dawn and her friends as the beast’s mouth gaped, intending to tear her throat out. At least I’ll be in Heaven again; the thought didn’t hold as much comfort as she once thought it might. The beast’s head descended heavily and she felt teeth brush her skin, amazingly a flood of hot stinking blood gouted out of its mouth, drenching her. Through her pain and revulsion Buffy felt a thrill of victory, then eyes stinging, the blood blinded her. She gasped as the dead weight of the beast pressed down, she could barely breathe, her vision began to swim and grey. Buffy felt a strong hand wrap around her wrist and yank. She slithered out from underneath the dead hyena-beast. Blessedly Spike wiped some of the gore off of her face, relieving some of the pain.
“C’mon Slayer, there’s a pool over here, lets get that crap off of you. I don’t think it’s acidic just buggardly hot is all. You’ll be all right in a minute.” She allowed Spike to lead her stumbling over to the water. She felt a moment of fear when he mentioned the possibility that the blood could be acidic and whimpered with pain. She felt the cool water sluice over her face and the pain lessened.
“How do I look Spike—was it acid…am I—burned?”
“Shh Slayer…Naww looks okay, well actually you look sort of like Carrie, being covered in blood n’all. Just don’t fry me at the prom alright?” Surprised she barked out a laugh. She looked down at herself through a haze of red; her clothes were soaked in blood.
“Why was the blood all hinky?”
“What’s that?” Spike was barely paying attention; he had been so sure that when he reached down to pull out Buffy, it would be too late. His mind recoiled from that thought and he was still relishing the fact she was alive.
“Well, why is the blood so hot?” Spike paused for a second considering,
“Now don’t quote me, cause everything I know about nature n’all I get from the ‘Discovery Channel’, but it seems to me that it would make sense to have hot blood in a cold climate? Like natural antifreeze, y’know.”
“Huh. I guess that makes sense, and this is a hell dimension so no holds barred with the weird.” She laughed, “Funny you being all with the “interesting animals of the hell dimension” factoids, she made finger quotes and had adopted a very Giles tone of voice “maybe we really should call Mutual of Omaha.”
Spike sneered and wiped more of the blood off. Buffy’s skin was reddened but he didn’t think there was permanent damage.
“How’s my hair? Is my hair all messed?”
Typical Buffy, worrying about her hair when she could have been….“Your hair’s fine pet, just a little blood is all.”
“You sure I don’t have stupid hair?”
“You are never going to let me live that insult down are you?”
“Not a chance!” Buffy’s grin quickly became a grimace when she felt the sopping strands hanging limply about her face. Cooling blood, still sickeningly warm, slid down her body and pattered on the floor.
“Oh Gross Spike! I have to get this off of me right now.” The raw copper stink of the blood was making her gorge rise. Quickly she began to shed her clothes, wadding them up and handing them to Spike. Spike stood stock still as Buffy stripped down to her bra and panties; her body was covered in blood. Mesmerized he watched one bead slide down the golden column of her neck and slip over the swell of her breast. She was breathing hoarsely, partly from exertion from the fight and partly from disgust. Tiny droplets rained down around her, to soak into the cool stone of the ground. Spike felt his stomach clench with need and hunger. The Slayer stood before him partly nude, her skin glowing subtly in the firelight, blood tracing and limning her curves in glinting threads. Before, he’d often fantasized about Buffy covered in blood, usually her own… the culmination of these fantasies was the death of his former enemy, but sometimes he took her before he killed her, or as he killed her. Spike made a strangled noise deep in his throat, does she have any idea what she is doing to me looking like that, he wondered.
“Spike?” Buffy looked over at him coolly, meeting his eyes for a long moment, “are you just going to stand there being all bumpy or do you mind rinsing out my clothes for me?”
Startled, Spike realized he was still in full vampire face. “Um…Sorry.” He shook off the demon face and clumsily began to scrub her clothes through the pool of water. Red stains swirled and pooled around his hands, quickly filling the whole pool with a bloody haze.
“Um I think I’ll just be over here…there’s another less ooky pool.” Buffy turned and carefully made her way over to another shallow pool and knelt to rinse her hair out. The water was icy, her scalp contracted painfully and her hands quickly numbed. “Fine by me, at least they’ve stopped shaking.” She muttered. Mechanically she dipped and rinsed her hair, thoughts whirled in her brain; he looked like he wanted to—to feed on me, devour me. Buffy tried to shake the mental image of Spike’s look as he watched her undress. I know he’s a vampire but—she shuddered and crouched and began to wash the blood from her body. The icy water stung her wound but it cleared her mind, cooled the ardor she felt rising unbidden from Spike’s hungry glance. What’s the deal Buffy, she told herself, you’re the Slayer as in slay the vamps—not play kinky sex games with them. Try as she might she couldn’t deny the heat Spike made her feel when he looked at her that way. She jumped when she heard his voice.
“Buffy—” he cleared his throat and started again,
“Your clothes are mostly clean and er…damp, I wrung ‘em out as best as I could, they’re over there…by the fire” he gestured vaguely trying not to look at the sight of Buffy wearing only bra and panties made see-through and clingy from the water. She crossed her arms over her breasts and waited awkwardly.
“How’s the uhh—”, he pointed to the scratch.
“Fine—already healing.”
“Here” he held his coat out to her once more, “you can wear this until…” he trailed off and shifted uncomfortably.
“Thanks” she said softly and slipped into the coat and went to sit by the fire. She very pointedly didn’t look at him when he came to join her. Spike waited a beat or two then he said,
“Buffy, look what happened before…with us—”
“What happened Spike was a mistake, it won’t happen again!”
“C’mon pet, don’t be like that…s’only a little messing about, your precious virtue’s still intact.”
“Don’t be like what? A little slap and tickle until it’s time to feed?”
Spike recoiled from the acid her heard in her tone, “Wh-What No! Buffy it wasn’t like that…never would, you know I can’t anyway—”
“I saw the way you were looking at me just then.” Her voice was small and hard with accusation.
“What—with all the blood? Pet, I was only having a look and…It’s not like I was all Grr. Well maybe for a minute there but—” She turned to glare as he floundered about trying desperately to explain. “Aww fuck it! Now her highness is all offended ‘cos I happen to be a vampire and I happen to drink blood. Guess what luv’? Your first boyfriend was a vampire too and you seemed jim-dandy with it then. Seems to me that Angel could drain you dry and you wouldn’t mind one bit—Oh what am I saying, he almost did! ”
“Leave Angel out of this!”
“Gladly!”
They sat in furious silence.
Buffy pulled her fingers through her hair, working out the tangles. She wished it were so easy to work out the complex knots she was feeling in her stomach. She felt vaguely guilty for baiting Spike they way she had, but clearly this—whatever it was—couldn’t continue between them. She was shocked at her level of response to him, his mouth, his touch… Oh no, Buffy Anne Summers you just stop that train of thought in its tracks right now, back it right up and send it to the station, everybody off! The fight with the Hyena-beasts had made her realize that despite everything she wasn’t ready to lie down and die. Survival was important to her. Just concentrate on the survival part okay, the last thing you need right now is Spike distracting you, it’s time to get your act in gear. Willow’s probably going to be plucking you out of here any second and it’ll be hard enough explaining the semi-nudity and wearing of Spike’s coat, the stern mental talking-to wasn’t having the desired effect. She was painfully aware of Spike and the way he made her feel. He seemed to be able to touch her so easily, get past the parts of her that still felt dead. She sighed and fiddled with the buttons on Spike’s coat. She could smell his scent; it enveloped her. Dark and complex it was a combination of cigarette smoke and whisky, with an undercurrent of cool dark places like his crypt. It wasn’t off-putting it was just…Spike. She inhaled deeply, getting his scent inside.
“What’s the matter…smell something off do you? Probably Captain Cardboard or Angel smelled all manly with the cologne then?”
She just looked at him.
“Right then” he rose and dusted himself off, “since you’ve put my mind to it, I’ll believe I’m going to find something to eat.”
Buffy tensed then felt a wave of shame when he said sarcastically,
“Oh don’t worry, not you pet! Couldn’t anyway even if I wanted to,” he gestured to his head, “your last boyfriend saw to that.”
Besides chip or no, he wasn’t sure he could drink from Buffy anymore—not in the feeding way anyway. “I was thinking of Sunshine or Precious over there, I have to eat sometime and blood’s blood right?” Spike thought for a moment, “At least it’s red and not green or something, so I’m pretty sure it’s edible.”
“Don’t you mean drinkable?” Spike waved off her derisive comment and examined the closest dead Hell beast. Whew, these things stink, still catch as catch can right? So thinking, he gingerly poked his finger into a cut and tasted some of the blood. He waited to see if there was any reaction. The blood was cool and slightly sour, but seemed fine.
“Mmmm. Tastes just like chicken. You want some of this?” he taunted.
“Help yourself; I’m on a strict Hell-beast blood free diet.”
“You’re going to have to eat sometime if we’re here for much longer…”
Buffy ignored the implications of that comment and turned away as Spike cupped his hands beneath a dripping wound and noisily drank the blood. Buffy made a moue of distaste and tried very hard not to listen to the noises he was making.
“God Spike you eat like a pig!” Grinning he looked over at her, mouth smeared with blood. Then she watched shocked, as his eyes bulged and he leaped up and scrabbled away from the carcass. “Spike what is it? What’s wrong?”
Spike clutched at his chest and wheezed, for an insane moment Buffy thought he was having a heart attack.
“God—Buffy help—it burns.”
She leapt up and ran over. Spike’s face was flushed. She stared in disbelief at the rosy glow that climbed down his neck and suffused his cheeks.
“You’re all red; you can’t be all red, what—?” She broke off when she reached out to touch him and felt the incredible heat emanating from him. She pulled her hand back stunned. Tiny wisps of smoke began to curl from his torso.
“I’m burning up—please—help me Buffy.” Spike clutched at her hand, she couldn’t believe the heat boiling off of his skin. Dimly she registered that Spike had a pulse—Spike has a pulse?—and that it was hammering crazily against her fingers. She realized with dawning terror if she didn’t do something quickly Spike would turn to ashes right in front of her.
Chapter Five: “Fever” In progress