| Vampire Promises |
[07 Dec 2005|12:13am] |
Five dollars a pound for beef at the grocery store? Absurd!
Especially if all you bought the meat for was the blood. Two months locked in solitary being fed nothing but animal blood mixed with rotten eggs, chunky milk, motor oil...you name it...will do that to a bloke. If Spike had been any other vampire, he would've killed a good dozen or so people by now. But, no thanks to his pesky soul, that wasn't an option. So the vampire was left to buy whatever meat he could using the money he'd somehow still had in his coat, drinking the blood from it.
It wasn't much--not nearly enough--but it was certainly better than that slop the demons fed him.
Spike's frame was still too small, collarbone and ribs pronounced nearly as much as the cheeks on his face. The bruises were lessened, but still visible in the right light. And the hair? Still all over the place, and the natural blond growing from the bald spots the demons left clashed horribly with the bleached locks the vampire was so known for.
But Spike had his coat, his cigarettes, and at least a little blood, so for the time being, things were close to okay.
( Vampires, lawyers, love, promises, and a whole bunch of other fun crap )
“I do,” Spike replied. “Plenty of abandoned buildings in this town. All I need’s a shield from the sun.”
Hoisting his bags into his arms, Spike waved at the truck before walking off into the night. He puffed on his cigarette as he walked, stewing over the lawyer he’d been told about—then told to forget about.
Maybe he’d pay her a visit. Not to kick her ass, just to talk. They did, after all, share a commonality—Victoria—and Spike simply wanted to make sure the lawyer wasn’t going to take advantage of someone who’d helped Spike survive his ordeal in Beowawe.
If Jill attacked first, or pissed him off enough, then Spike would make with the fisticuffs. But he wasn’t gonna back down on his word to the redhead; breaking promises was one thing Spike never did.
Just ask Buffy.
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