Title: Beautiful Death
Author: Jinni (firstname.lastname@example.org)
Disclaimer: All things BtVS belong to Joss Whedon, et al. All things AB belong to Laurell K Hamilton, et al. The poem is ‘Because I could not stop for death’ by Emily Dickinson
Distribution: The normal places.
Author’s Notes: Answer to Poetry Challenge #1 at http://qfic.moonlitpaths.com
Summary: Spike meets someone he just can’t resist.
Because I could not stop for Death
He kindly stopped for me;
The carriage held by just ourselves
n Because I could not stop for death, Emily Dickinson
It was pure bad luck that landed Spike at the Hyperion the night that She was there. He was supposed to be in Sunnyhell, assisting with another demon infestation. Not here, playing second to Peaches’ Master of the City routine.
Sure, he –was- the poof’s second, but that was beside the point. It was a ceremonial title. It wasn’t supposed to be used for anything. Not like right now, waiting for the bleedin’ envoys of Bella Morte to arrive. The last thing he’d ever wanted to do was meet a representative of the Council – and now here he was, meeting a representative of the Council.
He exhaled explosively, ignoring the look of complete irritation that his Grandsire threw his way.
“Spike, behave,” the dark haired nancy-vamp hissed, causing Spike to roll his eyes.
“I don’t think I need to remind you that I never wanted to be here in the first place, mate,” the blonde smirked, feeling in his pockets for his lighter, cigarette already in hand. “Wanna send me to my room, daddy?”
The older vampire growled, eyes bleeding to golden-yellow slowly. “You just don’t get it, do you? She can kill us. All of us.”
“No, she can’t,” Spike shrugged. “There’s laws and such, wanker. Remember? That whole mess on the Hill years back?”
“And you think they care?”
Those were the last words the King of Brood had a chance to utter before the doors of the Hyperion swung open fully, letting a cool blast of autumn air into the lobby.
And then She strolled in.
To say that she wasn’t beautiful would be a lie.
To say that she wasn’t the most powerful thing, next to Red, that he’d ever seen before in his entire life, the Master included, would also be a lie. She just vibrated with it. From the top of her perfectly blonde little head all the way down to the points of her ultra-thin high heels.
A doll, that’s what she was . A bleedin’ vampire dolly all dressed up and out for a party. He grinned wickedly as her eyes slid over him, daring a wink. Whether she was pleased or not, he didn’t know; because that’s when the formalities began.
The trick to these Council get togethers, at least from what he observed that night, was not to fall asleep. There was backbiting and pettiness, sure. But the rest was like watching negotiations on CSPAN – not really all that interesting at all.
“I would like him for my. . .needs. . .while I stay.”
That brought Spike’s little daydream world crashing to a halt, as all eyes in the room landed on him and the delicate Barbie-like woman pointing his way. He raised his eyebrows.
“Like what you see, pet?”
Musette, as she had introduced herself, flashed him a smile filled with perfectly white, deadly teeth. “Perhaps.”
And perhaps not, her mocking tone suggested. All too quickly he wasn’t sure that he wanted to be caught up in her little arms or tiny body. She had that look that said she liked things a little –
And pain was good. He liked a spot of pain as much as the next demon, but the Council members and their entourage were notorious for being brutal. Bella Morte, he had assumed, didn’t participate in those wicked games, being a creature of passion and beauty.
He had a feeling he was wrong.
He also had a feeling that no matter what she did, he was going to like it; that’s just what her devilish little smile said.
“I won’t tolerate you harming my people,” his Grandsire growled softly.
Musette turned back to the dark haired vampire, shrugging. “One person’s pain is another’s pleasure, no?”
“It’s alright, Peaches,” Spike spoke up before the great git of a vamp could land them all in a world of trouble arguing with the little doll. “I think I can handle this.”
One of Musette’s entourage laughed, a hollow chuckle filled with sarcasm. It withered away under the blonde’s glare, but not before Spike had a chance to get well and truly anxious.
How dangerous could she be, he told himself firmly. With those long fingernails and petite little legs. She couldn’t weigh more than a hundred pounds, if that. She was. . .dainty.
He smirked, full of cocky arrogance.
Pain, pleasure – it was all the same anyhow. Dru’d trussed him up and whipped him til he was raw more than enough times in the past. Of course, that was all in the name of fun. Musette might not care about fun. Or games.
He was turning into a bloody nancy-vamp, Spike concluded with a sigh, throwing another wink at Musette. Her lips curled into a tight smile.
And then it was back to the formalities, the dancing around and negotiating. He tuned it out, focusing only on Her. The one that held his proverbial leash for the next days. She was Beautiful Death, just as her Mistress was.
And he was going to enjoy dying.