Spoilers: Mid-late Season 5
Content: Spike angst
Dedication: This one is my family- wish I could have been there. Love you much and I will see you on the flip side.
Disclaimer: I don't own 'em. Never will unless someone *wink wink nudge nudge* decides to give me one hell of a birthday present.. Love you, Joss. O:-)
Note: I debated on whether or not to post this one because it's still gonna get a revision soon, but I wanted your thoughts on this baby before I pulled it apart. Thank you!
Feedback: Please! Pretty pretty pretty please?
Her eyes gazed towards the ceiling, the slightest suggestion of a smile playing on her crimson-stained lips as she ignored his pleas.
He forced his wrist again to her lips, frowning as the cool, dry mouth showed no inclination to partake of his blood. Angrily, he yanked down her jaw and watched as the dark red droplets fell on her parched tongue, only to gather in small pools on the inside of her cheeks.
It wouldn't work like this, he realised in dismay as he released her jaw. The faint, knowing smile returned to her soft lips as his panic started to overwhelm.
"Come on, pet," he whispered urgently, his voice hoarse and weak. "Just a little nip, luv. One little nip."
But her only answer was that damning smile.
"Drink!" he commanded impatiently as he lowered his trembling lips to her ears.
His baritone rose to a tormented howl as he whirled away from where she lay, only to strike his fist against the metal wall with a satisfying crunch.
"I said DRINK, you worthless bitch! Drink! How bloody hard is that?" he shouted in frustration as he turned to face the woman once more.
But that familiar smile broke his heart and stole his anger, leaving only desperation behind.
"I didn't mean it. Really, luv..." he assured her almost frantically as he dragged a nail across the tender skin of his undamaged wrist.
With infinite care, he smeared his blood across her lips, hoping to whet her appetite. But the blood was already congealing from the last attempt, so he kneeled in frustration as he watched her impassive face.
Her smile. Her sweet, soulless smile.
He cried alone in that night in the godforsaken morgue, his wounded hand stroking her light, feathery curls lovingly as he kissed her alabaster forehead. That smile. There was a wonderous peace in her beautiful smile- one that he had seen so many times, yet never thought he'd see here.
Not on her.
With a stiffled moan, he laid his platinum head on her bare chest, listening for a heart that would never beat again.
"Joyce," Spike closed his eyes as he finally admitted to himself that she would never drink. She couldn't drink any more than she could raise her white, lifeless arms and embrace him with a force that could rescue him from the grief.
"Please, Joyce. Just... just wake up."