Title: Come Alive
Author: MoonSidhe (magi_dancer@hotmail.com)
Rating: I have no idea. PG13, maybe R for death?
Disclaimer: None of the characters of BtVS belong to me, Joss & Mr. GrrArgh have that pleasure. Please don't sue, I couldn't afford the bloody lawyer. Lyrics from the Faith & the Muse's songs 'The Silver Circle' and 'Scars Flown Proud', & quote by Swinburne: The Triumph of Time
Summary: Spike is partying in Chicago on a blood moon. No real point to it, I just had to get the dancing girl out of my head.
Spoilers: none really, takes place pre-Season 4
Feedback: very new to this, so more than welcome. flames will be tossed to the logs,
Downtown Chicago at night. The moon was a bloody crescent fast sinking below the skyscrapers.
At three in the morning, when creatures of the night are still riding high awaiting the dawn, there are places, hidden places, where those who know how and why to look can find one last refuge before returning to the sunlit world.
He didn't know why he was coming here, really. The mortals who came here.... they were ones he could almost respect. Almost. The meals had been plenty tonight, but the blood moon had risen high, and hunger high with it. When the law abiding day-dwellers awoke, they would discover the alleys and gutters of their city once again ran with blood.
He pulled in a drag from his dwindling cigarette. One more kill, to make the night complete. This had been his best night since his separation from Dru, the moon had woken the thrill of the hunt, and rekindled the his own lust for unlife. Tomorrow he would begin the future again, and tackle the past
(Blonde hair, swirling stakes, always just a little too hard to kill, one who had learned to bend and not break. Cursed sire, double cursed be his soul while he has it and thrice when it's lost again . Beautiful Dark Goddess, trapped inside a childe, searching for a demon hard enough to fill the void "Daddy" left behind....)
No, not yet. For tonight he wanted only one last, exquisite kill. Something to make this a night to truly remember.
Crushing the cigarette under his heel, he moved from the alley from which he'd been watching. The nameless vault, a converted two story slaughterhouse, was nestled, safely hidden, in backstreets that wouldn't be found on any map. From the club drifted the twisting yet serene threads of music, strings intertwined with a primal beat, electronic notes inspiring pure lust, with dulcimers evoking fatal rushes of nightmares given voice.
Not his usual type of music, but the fitting for the night. He brushed past the bouncer not even sparing a glance. The rather large brawny man didn't spare him much of one either, after about 2 am they stopped asking for cover charge, being too dangerous for the health of the staff.
He stepped through the slightly crumbling doorway, taking in the view and scents. The club opened to a bar dominating the room, where the most angst ridden of the club's patrons could be found, with their head lolling over their cups. The scent of stale blood could still be detected in the air, it permeated the atmosphere, soaked through the walls. Truth to be told, they wouldn't have it any other way. The crack from the pool table turned his head momentarily, but was quickly averted when the band started up their second set.
The music drifted down from the floor above, twisting down the spiral stairs in invitation. With a barely suppressed predatory grin he headed up, as waves of nearly sexual energy crashed on him, evoked by the darkwave band with an angel's voice playing, and the inhibition free vibe of the writhing forms on the dance floor.
Spike mused to himself.
He made his way slowly over to the bar at the far end of this room, working through the crowd, taking time to appreciate potential dinners, and milking glances in return. He twisted out of one blonde's attempt to pull him further into the dance, leaving her with a disappointed pout on her lips.
Finally reaching the bar he was attended by a matronly woman with black hair past her hips, and a wardrobe that looked as if it came from the Elizabethan period. She was good though, cordial but not too much so, and damn good style behind her bar.
The music changed tempo, switching to a more sensuous rhythm. Beer in hand he turned around to once more watch the dance floor.
A flash of red caught his eye, and he scanned the crowd to get a better look. There it was again. One of those strange breaks that occurs in crowds happened, and he saw her.
Her hair was burgundy with streaks of violet, and it poured down to her waist, with crystals tied in and flashing throughout. She wore a black flowing skirt and leather corset, with a transparent lace top underneath. Her makeup was done with a few tasteful shades of purple and black, and she was twirling a scarf around her as she danced. The shred of silk followed her every lead, moving with her like an invisible partner.
Spike growled in his throat as the lust came on him once again. The bodies still parted he moved towards her, and by way in introduction placed his hand on the small of her back. She turned around in shock, something akin to fear flashing across her eyes, but he moved into the dance with her, his face betraying only his obvious interest. Frozen for a moment, but quickly drifting back into the movements, her eyes half closing as the music once again wound around her.
When the song stopped she looked up into his eyes, and he bestowed her with a small, secretive smile.
"May we again, luv?" Spike whispered to her gently. She merely nodded her consent, as the next song began. He moved with her, sometimes touching sometimes not, a courtship of, little did she know it, death. They went so for nearly an hour, the band on stage above them inspiring nearly ceaseless energy. Spike was intrigued with their style, it didn't seem to fit in any one type of music, but was endlessly innovative. As was the woman before him. She never moved in any set dance pattern, but seemed to bend the very music around her. His demon was nearly howling within him, as her pulse was pounding ecstatically, reaching higher.
The last song ended with one of her hands held in his, which he took advantage of by bringing it up to his lips. Holding her fingers firmly, he looked in her eyes.
"A name, pet?"
Her skin was flushed slightly, the heat from the dance still between them. But she communicated well with body language, she knew it was ending.
"Isolde"
"Isolde?" Spike let it flow past his lips once, trying it's taste as he planned to soon taste her. He brought her hand to his lips once more, this time nipping at her knuckles. She inhaled sharply, and Spike caught a glance of the necklace she was wearing for the first time, a rose cast in silver, with a snake twisting down it with red flashing eyes. The thorns of the rose were piercing the body of the snake.
Her hand slipped from his fingers, and with a last unreadable glance, she turned to leave, maneuvering through the crowd as they were crying out for an encore.
His demon was nearly humming through him in anticipation of this last kill. He drifted back in the direction of the bar, then went out to follow her.
As he reached the bottom of the stairs, he saw her saying goodbye to someone at the entrance. With his heightened senses he could hear the man telling her to be careful, you could never be sure what was lurking around these streets at night.