Pretence
After the wholesalers, I took her to the supermarket so she could get human food and I could buy smokes. We took it all home and now she's in the kitchen, putting away the shopping and pretending not to watch as I microwave my dinner.
Pigs blood. Yay.
The chip may have damped my desire for the real McCoy, but it can't stop this stuff tasting like shit.
She's still staring.
Is she waiting to use the microwave or something?
"Spike? When you drank my..."
"Off topic. It never happened."
"Look I'm not going to tell the others, I just wanted to know something."
"Okay, but we're not having this conversation."
"Of course not." She pauses for a moment, then asks her question. "Why did you say Buffy?"
Hpw the hell am I supposed to answer that?
Because you taste the same? Because you're made of leftover Buffy parts? Because while I fed from you it tasted like she wasn't gone?
I can't think of a single comforting answer.
"Your blood's almost identical."
She seems satisfied with that. The microwave pings and I take my blood into the lounge to eat.
I leave her in the kitchen. Looking thoughtful.
Maybe even too thoughtful.
What's she up to?
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