Title: A Study in White
Author: Salustra
E-mail: goddess_salustra@juno.com
Pairing: Spike/ Grissom (Angel/CSI crossover)
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Spike is a suspect in a murder and Grissom finds him fascinating.
DISTRIBUTION: Various lists and Wierd Romance RP- BtVS/Ats RP http://groups.yahoo.com/group/WierdRomance. And our website,
http://www.geocities.com/pet_salustra/FateDestinyAlwaysForever.html. Anyplace else is fine, just let us know where it is going.
Spoilers: Through Ats Season 5: nothing specific.
Disclaimer: I don't own Spike or anything else from ME… though I really wish I could. Nor do I own anything from CSI. Just having a little fun, guys.
Distribution: Go ahead. I'd like to know where it's going if you can drop me a line.
Feedback: Please? E-mail to goddess_salustra@juno.com
A Study in White
by Salustra
Grissom shows up outside the interrogation room. Brass and Greg are already there. They are watching the subject inside. “So what have we got here, gentlemen?” Grissom asks, even as he looks through the two-way glass at the suspect. A man paces inside, and Grissom is immediately taken with his predatory grace. Something like watching a panther pace in a cage. He is dressed in jeans and a black T-shirt that do nothing to disguise his lithe, muscular body. His hair is platinum, nearly white, in soft waves on his head. His skin is white. When he looks over at the glass, Grissom can see his crystal-blue eyes.
Brass shrugs. “Guy was at a murder scene, holding the body in his arms. Took three taser slugs to bring him down. We thought he was dead…no heartbeat…but he started moving as the paramedics were checking him and had to be sedated. That didn’t last either.”
Grissom raises an eyebrow. “Fascinating. Surprised he’s not cuffed to the chair.”
Brass makes a noise. “He was. Got out of the cuffs about five minutes ago. I’m not real happy about the idea of going in there.”
Grissom nods. “I can imagine.” He looks over at Greg. “So what are you doing here?”
“Brought the DNA kit. Also, Brass had me check out his coat for trace evidence. Got some blood, checking it now. But Grissom, check out the stuff he had in the pockets,” Greg says excitedly. He holds up a bag and then spreads it out on a table.
There is a pack of cigarettes and a lighter, a pocket watch, a glasses case, a whiskey flask, a carved wooden stake, a leather-bound book, and a high-end fountain pen. There is also a wad of bills.
Grissom is drawn to the book first. He picks it up and opens it. It is a journal, apparently. He begins to leaf through the pages. Poetry. All apparently written about a man. Interesting.
Greg raises an eyebrow. “Yeah, pretty steamy stuff. But that’s not the fascinating part.” He picks up the lighter. “This is made in 1943. A commemorative run made for the Navy.” Then he picks up the pocket watch. “This is gold. Made in 1880. Inscription says ‘For William. From A. with Love’.” Then he picks up the whiskey flask. “This is pewter, also 1880. Same inscription.” Then he picks up the glasses case and takes out a pair of wire-rimmed glasses. “From 1875. But the fountain pen is new, high-end, cartridge fill. Odd stuff for a guy to be carrying around in a leather duster, huh? And no wallet, no id, none of the conventional stuff. His jeans pockets were checked at the scene.”
Grissom raises an eyebrow again. “Yes. Can’t wait to meet him. What about the stake? Any trace on that?”
Greg nods. “Yeah, but not what you’d expect. Dust. Like from a cremation. From lots of different sources.”
Grissom stands, not sure what to make of that. He turns to Brass. “What about the vic?”
Brass speaks up. “Jared Northridge. Odd duck. A psychic and card reader. He’d been known to help out the police from time to time. You may want to go check on the autopsy first to see if there’s anything we need to know before we question this guy.”
Grissom nods. “Good idea. Be back in a few.”
Grissom heads down to the autopsy room.
“Al, what’ve you got for me?” He asks of the portly M.E.
Dr. Robbins moves around the body. “A nasty death. And not something you see every day. Big, big knife wounds. I’d be tempted to say they were inflicted by a sword.”
“A sword?” Grissom asks.
“Yes. Double-edged blade, no hilt marks, and some run all the way through the body. It’d almost have to be a sword. Guy fought back, though. Lots of flesh and blood under his nails. Sent it down to the DNA lab. Lots of defensive wounds to the arms, too. But that’s not the oddest thing. There was blood in and around the mouth, but no injury that could explain it. I sent it down to the DNA lab as well.”
Grissom nods. “That it?”
Dr.Robbins nods back. “Pretty much. Cause of death is pretty straightforward. Loss of blood from multiple stab wounds. He bled out.”
“Thanks doc. See you later,” Grissom says as he leaves.
Grissom heads back to the interrogation room. “Doc Robbins says he was killed by a sword. Was there one at the scene?”
Brass shakes his head. “No. There was a big medieval looking axe, but it didn’t have any blood on it either. We sent it down for prints.”
“An *axe*?” Grissom asks, his eyebrow going up again.
“Yep. This case just gets weirder and weirder. So, ready to go in?”
Grissom looks in at the young man, still pacing. “Sure.”
A few minutes later they walk in. Brass has his hand on his gun, just in case. The young man looks over with a mixture of annoyance and amusement. “What, you think I’m git enough to kill a copper in the middle of a station?” He says in a Cockney accent.
“You never know,” says Brass evenly. “Would you mind sitting down?”
The young man stops pacing and narrows his eyes. “Depends. Gotta smoke for me?”
Brass shrugs and takes out a pack. The young man comes over and sits in the chair opposite, deftly snagging out a cigarette with his long clever fingers. Brass hands him a cheap little disposable lighter and the man lights up his cigarette, handing it back. He takes a long drag and then exhales. “Ahhhh. Been wanting that for hours.”
“Those things’ll kill you, you know,” says Grissom.
The young man lets out a barking laugh. “If you knew me, you’d understand the sodding absurdity of that statement.”
“I’d like to get to know you…William, is it?”
The young man shoots up a sharp look at Grissom. “Call me Spike. Only certain people get to call me William and you haven’t earned the privilege.” He says this with an air of command and certainty that seems out of place with a man of his obvious youth.
Grissom nods. “Spike, then. We wanted to talk to you about this evening.”
“How’s Jared?” Spike asks with concern.
“Uhhh, he’s dead.” Brass says.
Spike turns around and punches the wall, leaving a sizeable hole. “PILLOCKS! TOSSPOTS! I coulda saved him, but NOOOOOO they have to shoot me with buggering taser darts!” He fumes as Brass has his hand on his gun again, then settles down. “I apologize. Just…fucking imbeciles. One more minute and I woulda saved him.”
“And how would you have done that? You have magic powers or something?” Brass asks.
Spike narrows his eyes. “Something like that. You wouldn’t understand.”
Brass nods. “Cops at the scene said you had your wrist to Jared’s mouth. They said after they tasered you that you had a bleeding wound on that wrist. I don’t see one now, though.”
Spike raises an eyebrow. “Makes you think, eh? How did I heal so fast? Or maybe your cops at the scene were wrong about what they said they saw.” He takes another long drag on the cigarette and looks over at Grissom. “So who are you then? This one,” he says, indicating Brass,” Is quite obviously a copper, but you’re not.”
“Grissom, CSI,” Grissom replies. “I’m a Crime Scene Investigator. Head of the Department.”
Spike eyes Grissom speculatively. “Yeah. Makes sense. You’ve got that Giles look of competence and intellectual arrogance about you.”
“What were you doing with Jared Northridge this evening, Spike?” Brass asks.
“Came to see him on business. I work for a law firm. He said he had some important information for us.”
“And the *name* of your law firm?” Brass asks, clearly skeptical that this hoodlum worked for a law firm.
“Wolfram and Hart. Los Angeles branch.” Spike responds.
“We’ll check that out,” says Brass.
“You just do that, copper,” Spike says, shaking his head.
“So, *Spike*,” Brass says. “Got a last name?”
“Yeah. Don’t use it, though.”
“Well, I need it anyway. Pesky little details like that.”
Spike’s jaw clenches. “Foster. William Matthew Foster.”
“Mr. Foster,” Grissom starts.
“Spike. Just Spike. I don’t answer to anything else.”
“Spike. Did you kill Jared Northridge?”
“No. I bleedin’ well didn’t. I was *trying* to save him.”
Grissom nods. “Then you won’t mind doing a few things to eliminate yourself as a suspect.”
Spike shrugs. “Yeah. Sure. Whatever.”
Grissom takes out the DNA kit. “Ok, first, a DNA sample. Open wide.”
Spike smiles. “Like on the telly. Sure.” He opens his mouth and Grissom swabs out a sample, replacing it in the kit.
Then Grissom sighs. “Mr.Northridge fought very hard. His attacker would have a number of marks and bruises on his body. Would you mind…disrobing?”
Spike licks his lips and grins a predatory smile. “Usually a bloke has to take me to dinner first. But in your case I’ll make an exception.” He stands up and pulls off his T-shirt, exposing a perfect alabaster sculpted chest and abs. Completely unmarked. Then he removes his belt and lowers his jeans. He is not wearing any underwear and a very heftily-sized member comes into view. Grissom cannot help but note this.
Spike smiles. “Like what you see, Grissom?”
Grissom exhales noisily. “Impressive. Can you turn around, please?”
Spike grins again. “Sure. You’ll want the rear view, definitely.” He turns and exposes what can only be described as a sexy back and a well-rounded and firm backside. Again, perfect. No marks.
Grissom coughs. “Ok, you can dress now.”
Spike laughs. “Not enjoying the show? I could do a little dance for you.” But he is already pulling up his jeans and in a minute is dressed and sitting back down again, smoking on his cigarette.
“So, can I go?” Spike asks.
“We’ve got to check the DNA. It will take a few hours.”
Spike growls. “Sod that! Gotta be out of here before sunrise.”
Grissom looks interested. “Why is that?”
“Nasty sun allergy. Could be fatal to me. Why d’you think I’m so bloody pale?” Spike says.
Grissom nods. “I’ve heard of that. We’ll see what we can do. One way or another we’ll take care of it.”
Spike nods. “You do that.” He crushes out the cigarette and starts pacing again as Brass and Grissom leave.
A few hours later, Grissom is in the DNA lab, looking expectantly at Greg. “So what’s the verdict?” he asks.
“Ok…DNA under the fingernails does not match…Spike’s? Is that his real name or is he like a rock star?”
Grissom smiles a tight smile. “No telling.”
“But the DNA of the blood from his mouth does. But that’s not the odd part. Neither DNA is human.”
Grissom’s eyes widen fractionally. “Care to run that by me again?”
“Well it’s mostly human…more like human-plus. Extra pairs of really odd-looking nucelotides. I have no idea what this is. I ran the tests twice to make sure. But this…this is unprecedented. It’s definitely not human. Nor anything else in the database.”
Grissom sighs. “Ok. Run whatever other tests you can come up with. No spreading these results around yet until we get a more definitive answer. Got me?”
Greg nods crisply. “Got it. I’ll just…come up with some more tests to run.”
Grissom nods and then heads back to the interrogation room. He calls Brass to meet him. Once there, they talk outside.
“DNA clears him on the defensive wounds. I’d like to ask him one thing to clear something up and then…much as I hate to say it…we’ve got nothing to hold him on.” Grissom says.
“I checked with Wolfram and Hart, and he does work for them. They’re sending a full legal team out. High-priced talent. So we had better play it by the books with this one, Griss,” Brass growls.
“Yeah, don’t you find that odd? He works for a law firm and never asked to call them all this time?”
Brass shrugs. “The innocent ones usually don’t. And according to the DNA, he’s innocent. So let’s go ask your question and cut him loose. I’ve got his property here so he can sign for it.” Brass holds up a large shopping bag. “Special treatment for law firm boy.”
Grissom nods and walks into the room with Brass. “Ok, Spike. Just have one more little question for you and then you’re most likely a free man.”
Spike nods. “Shoot.”
“Your DNA matches that of blood found in and around Jared Northridge’s mouth. Care to explain that?”
Spike shakes his head. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”
Grissom sits down, looking the intense young man in the eyes. “Try me.”
Spike sighs heavily. “My blood has healing properties. There, happy?”
Grissom nods. “Happy enough. I believe that *you* believe it, and oddly enough I could almost be convinced of it myself. Well, that’s it. Sign for your property and you’re free to go.” Brass walks over with a receipt which Spike signs.
Spike pulls out the pocketwatch and looks. “Bloody hell! Seven am. Sun’s up by now. Frag it. Any sewer entrances anywhere near?”
Grissom looks around at Brass. “I’ll take it from here.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah. Leave it to me.” Grissom says. Brass nods and walks out. Grissom looks back at the young man. “You have a vehicle?”
Spike nods. “Yeah. Back at the scene. Likely stripped or towed by now.”
“How about a place to stay?”
Spike shakes his head. “Nope. Just got in town last night, went straight to meet Jared.”
“Let me make an offer then. I keep my apartment dark…I’m a day sleeper. I can help cover you, take you to my place, you can spend the day there, and we can track down your vehicle.”
Spike thinks this over, as if weighing all the possible options and motives, and finally nods. “Done. Just let me call the firm first. W&H bastards’ll send out a strike team if they don’t know where I am.”
Grissom nods. “Don’t want that,” he says, though he is skeptical of the young man’s words. They stop at a payphone on the way out and he calls. The young man then swathes up in his duster and Grissom brings in a blanket from his emergency kit. Spike wraps up and moves quickly to the car, burrowing in the backseat, completely covered.
Grissom smiles. “Comfy?”
A muffled voice comes from the backseat, laden with sarcasm. “Yeah. Bloody featherbed back here. Just drive.”
Grissom grins and drives. A short while later they pull up at his apartment and get Spike inside. He happily removes the blanket in the cool, dark interior of Grissom’s apartment.
He looks around at the immaculate interior. Spike smiles. “Definitely Giles. Same fondness for neatness and order.”
Grissom give a slight smile. “This Giles person sounds interesting. No smoking in here, by the way,” he says as he sees Spike pull out the pack of cigarettes.
“Bugger. All right. I’ll hold out til dark. Don’t really need the bloody things, anyway. Just a sucker for oral gratification.” He smirks at Grissom.
Grissom returns his look impassively. “I’ll get you pillows and bedding so you can bunk down on the couch. I’ve got to get to bed soon myself. I don’t have any spare pajamas that would fit you, though.” Grissom didn’t add that he himself seldom wore pajamas. He doesn’t wait for Spike’s sure-to-be-sarcastic retort and heads into his bedroom, emerging a few minutes later with the pillows and bedding. He heads over to the couch and starts putting the sheets snugly over the couch cushions. “There’s food and beer and so forth in the refrigerator if you want it. I’m a sound sleeper, you won’t bother me with moderate amounts of noise, so you can watch the tv or listen to the stereo if you wish.”
Spike chuckles. “Look at you. Acting like you have company over all the time when I’m probably the first person to stay here in years.”
“What makes you say that?” Grissom asks, even as he concedes the truth of the statement inside. Spike had an uncomfortable way of cutting straight to the blunt truth of the matter.
“The fact that you’re making up the couch yourself instead of leaving it for me to do. That, plus the pillows and so forth are really nice. Premium. Untouched. If you had company a lot you’d have a well-worn, slightly shabby set.” Spike’s voice is momentarily muffled and Grissom turns to see why. Spike has pulled off his shirt and Grissom can see his well-muscled torso now. It is even more impressive up close, in the soft light of his apartment. The skin almost glows in its clarity. Grissome sternly represses a groan at the sight.
“Sleeping in your jeans?” Grissom asks, stuck for something to say.
Spike shrugs. “Guess I don’t need to worry about sodding modesty. You’ve already seen me in my kit.” He starts to unzip and slide the jeans off and Grissom looks on, determined not to show any hint of how uncomfortable he found this, or how…arousing. Spike is soon naked and even more attractive here than in the harsh glare of the interrogation room. He moves over to the couch, slipping under the covers and looking back at Grissom with his crystal blue eyes from under his too-long-for-a-man lashes. “All set. No need to watch over me now, go get some rest. Be a luv, though, and set the radio to some classic rock station. I like some music. Soothes me.”
Grissom shrugs. “Don’t know the local stations. I’ll put in some CD’s into the changer. I have a decent selection of that kind of music.”
Spike’s expression is one of mild surprise. “Figured you for a classical music kind of guy.”
Grissom smiles slightly. “Yes, well, I *was* young once.”
Spike nods. “Brilliant, then. I leave myself in your capable hands…for the music selection.” He grins mischievously.
Grissom ignores the grin and heads to the stereo system. He opens the changer, taking out his classical CDs and dropping in some classic rock…Boston, Styx, Doors, Fleetwood Mac, and Queen. He shuts it again and sets it on shuffle and the music starts playing. He smiles a bit as Boston’s “More Than a Feeling” comes on and he heads into his room.
Grissom lays down and falls into a troubled sleep. His dreams are disturbing and intense, and he wakes up a few hours later. He sits up and runs his hands through his hair. Finally he decides to go face the object that is causing this disturbance, and quietly opens his door, staring into the living room.
Spike has tossed about and mostly thrown off the covers. He lays, a perfect alabaster statue, all caved muscle and smooth skin. His face is peaceful and absolutely striking, lacking only the beauty of his eyes to make it perfection. Grissom watches, contemplating. Part of his brain studies Spike like the statue he appears to be, noting the lines, the curves, the way the light holds him. The other part reacts to him in a visceral way that unnerves Grissom. He is feeling an arousal that is most unlike him. He wants this young man, more than he has wanted anything in a very long time. As he stands, a familiar Queen song comes around on the changer.
“Look into my eyes and you'll see
I'm the only one
You've captured my love
Stolen my heart
Changed my life
Every time you make a move
You destroy my mind
And the way you touch
I lose control and shiver deep inside
You take my breath away
You can reduce me to tears
With a single sigh
Every breath that you take -
Any sound that you make
Is a whisper in my ear
I could give up all my life for just one kiss
I would surely die
If you dismiss me from your love
You take my breath away
So please don't go
Don't leave me here all by myself
I get ever so lonely from time to time
I will find you
Anywhere you go, I'll be right behind you
Right until the ends of the earth
I'll get no sleep till I find you to tell you
That you just take my breath away
I will find you...
Anywhere you go, I'll be right behind you
Right until the ends of the earth
I'll get no sleep til I find you to
tell you when I've found you -
I love you”
And then…the statue moves. Grissom darts back in his room before Spike can see him…or so he thinks. In the living room, Spike’s lips quirk into a smile as he pulls the covers back over himself and falls back to sleep.
When Grissom finally comes out, later in the afternoon, it is to the smells of cooking in the kitchen. He wanders in to see Spike—fortunately fully dressed—searing some meat in a pan.
“What are we having?” Grissom asks.
“Pepper steak, and fried rice. It’ll just take a few minutes.”
Grissom smiles a half-smile. “I wasn’t aware I had the makings of that in my refrigerator.”
“You didn’t. Paid a cabbie to go shop for me. It’s amazing what you can talk people into doing for a little cash.”
“You *could* have just ordered from a Chinese restaurant.”
Spike sighs. “Yes but then I’d have sod all to do but sit and watch the telly while I waited for it to get here. I was bored and wanted something to do, and I *like* cooking now and again. Pay you back for your kindness in putting me up.”
Grissom’s smile is wider now. “Can I do anything to help?”
“Set the table. It’ll be done in just a minute now.”
By the time Grissom has set the table Spike is coming over with two heaping dishes of food. “What do you want to drink?” Grissom asks.
“One of the Newcastle’s you have will do fine.” Spike settles down, watching Grissom move. There is a sort of grace to him, an elegant economy of movement.
Grissom gets two Newcastle’s and comes to the table. He digs into the food and starts to eat. He raises an eyebrow. “Good. Really quite good. Where did you learn to cook like this?”
Spike shrugs. “Here and there. You knock about long enough, you learn a few things.” Spike starts eating, not seeming inclined to conversation, so Grissom leaves him be in relative silence until the meal is finished and they are taking care of the dishes.
“So,” says Grissom, “Before evening comes and you slide back off into the shadows, do you want to tell me what you are?”
Spike sighs. “The DNA test, was it?”
“Yes. And if it were only you, I’d let you keep your little secret and disappear. But the killer has the same atypical DNA.”
Spike moves into the living room and sinks down onto the couch. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you. And if you believed me, you might try something stupid like contacting some government agency that would attempt to lock me up and study me. Believe me, been there, done that, got the bloody t-shirt to prove it.”
Grissom sits down next to him and steeples his hands. “Look, I know you have no real reason to trust me. But I have no agenda in mind other than catching the killer. I’ll do what is needed to get that done. So, please, tell me.”
Spike sits back, eyes closed, considering for a long while. Then he sits up. “Okay. I’m a vampire. A real one. Like Bram Stoker wrote about.”
Grissom raises an eyebrow. “I suppose you have some way to prove this?”
Spike nods. “Watch.” As Grissom watches, Spike’s face changes…shifts. His eyes glow yellow and his brow and nose alter, becoming ridged, and his canines lengthen and become pointed. Then they shift back. “You could prove it easily any number of other ways…body temperature, no heartbeat, that sort of thing, in your lab.”
Grissom nods and lets out his breath slowly. “Color me convinced. And the killer is a vampire too?”
Spike nods.
“So am I in any danger from you? You planning to drain me and kill me?”
Spike shakes his head. “No. I’m one of the good guys. I really was trying to heal Jared when the police interrupted. One more minute and there wouldn’t have *been* any murder to investigate, because Jared would be alive. Your police won’t catch him though, and if they do, there will just be a lot of dead policemen. This guy, whoever he is, is pretty powerful. I wounded him enough to make him flee but I had to fight all-out. And he’ll be healed by now.”
Grissom purses his lips. “This is a lot to take in. But…what can we do then? I’ve got a murder and the police are going to be looking for the murderer. I can’t just tell them that the murderer is a vampire and they need to back off.”
Spike sighs. “I can track him. You want to help me and give me official cover? The guy was wounded and I have his scent.”
“Enhanced senses then?”
Spike grins. “Enhanced everything. But yes.”
Grissom nods. “Your car is in impound. I can get it released and we can go looking for this killer.”
Spike purses his lips. “Good. Sounds like a plan. We go looking for the bloody killer and take care of him proper and no one else has to get hurt.”
“Wait, wait,” say Grissom. “Are you planning to *kill* him?”
Spike grins. “Technically speaking, he’s already dead. But yes. I plan to stake him in the heart and turn him into a pile of dust. No body. No need for your people to have to investigate another murder.”
Grissom sighs. “Guess it can’t be helped. You do this sort of thing a lot?”
“Depressingly often. But at least you know you’re working with a professional.”
Grissom smiles slightly. “That’s a *great* comfort.”
“Thought you’d see it that way. So, almost sunset. Want to head over to impound?”
“Sure. I’ll get your blanket. Let me call work first and let them know I may not be in.”
A short while later they are headed to impound. It’s after hours but Grissom made arrangements earlier for someone to meet them and release Spike’s car. Grissom piles his gear into Spike’s car and they head off for the crime scene.
They start walking through the tape. Grissom shakes his head. “There wasn’t any report of a blood trail in the crime scene report. My people are thorough. They wouldn’t have missed something like that.”
“Look at that report when you get back and see if they mention old, dried blood. Vampire blood degrades quickly if separated from the body. In minutes it would seem hours old…in hours, days old. They’d never connect it with a fresh crime. The timeline would be all wrong.”
Grissom breathes out slowly. “Fascinating. You’re right. They’d mention it briefly but never connect it to the crime. But you can track from that still?”
Spike nods. “Yes. You’d be amazed how faint a scent we can track, and for how far. Bloodhounds would envy our sensitivity. Once tracked a woman I knew across a small town by scent alone.” He starts moving. “This way.”
Grissom follows behind him as they wind back through an alleyway and emerge onto a street. Spike turns around and tosses him the car keys. “You may want to bring the car. I have the feeling it may be a long bloody trail.”
Grissom takes the keys and heads back towards the car. “Meet you soon.”
A few minutes later he is driving slowly, trailing alongside Spike as he apparently follows the trail that he can smell. He stops, finally, in front of a warehouse. He stops, sniffing, and then comes over, motioning for Grissom to lower the window. Grissom does. Spike says, “This is the end of the line.
Blood trail goes into that warehouse. There’s vamps in there. You stay here, I’m going in. Just gotta get a weapon out of the trunk.”
Grissom shakes his head. “Not staying here. I’m your cover, remember? I need to stick with you. Besides, if you’re in there, what’s to stop one of them from coming out here and disposing of me?”
Spike sighs. “Good point. Okay, let’s get you suited up them. Come on.”
Grissom parks the car and gets out. They go around to the trunk and open it, revealing an impressive array of weapons. “Can you handle any of these?” Spike asks.
“Not a one,” Grissom says. “Never took courses in medieval weaponry.”
“Pity,” Spike says. “Figured you for maybe something geeky like the S.C.A. Okay, then, we stick to the basics.” He hands a bandolier of small bottles and a large cross to Grissom. “Holy water,” he says, indicating the bottles. “Splash it on them. Face is best. Takes the eyes out nicely. Use the cross to keep them back.”
Grissom nods. “Why does this feel like something out of a cheesy horror flick?”
“ ‘Cause it is.” Spike takes out a large axe. “Ready. Let’s sodding well head in and take care of business.”
They move cautiously into the building, creeping slowly. Grissom keeps an open bottle of holy water in one hand and the cross in the other. They can hear them before they see them…a group of men, playing cards. Spike moves in fast, charging, hacking, whirling. It isn’t long before all but one are dust and Spike has the last one pressed across the table. “Where is he?” Spike demands.
“Wh-who?”
“You know who. Your boss.”
“He’s not h-h-here.”
“Then where…is…he?”
It’s then that Grissom sees the figure moving up on Spike. “Spike! Behind you!”
Spike whirls just in time to get caught in the gut with a sword blow. He reaches for his axe but is stabbed twice more before he can get it. He brings the axe around weakly to defend himself.
Grissom starts unplugging bottles on the bandolier as he moves, flinging the thing at the man. The water hits him and he starts to steam and burn as if hit by acid. He drops his sword and claws at his skin. Spike grunts and swings his axe, decapitating the figure, who explodes in a cloud of dust.
Spike drops the axe and collapses onto the floor.
Grissom comes over to Spike, kneeling on the floor. “Spike? You okay?”
Spike speaks, and when he does, blood bubbles up through his mouth. “Not good. In…the…car. Back seat. Cooler. Blood.”
Grissom nods and rushes out to the car. In the back seat, plugged up to the lighter outlet, is a large cooler. Inside are several bags of blood. Grissom grabs them all and takes them to Spike.
Spike takes them, one at a time, and down them, drinking quickly and greedily. Grissom can see the wounds start to knit as Spike drinks. Finally the last one is drained and Spike slumps back.
“Son of a bitch used aconite on the blade,” Spike says.
“Wolvesbane?” Grissom asks.
“Yeah. One of the few natural human poisons that really affects vampires. Doesn’t kill us, but…I’m gonna need your help to get out of here. And your couch for a while. And some more blood.”
Grissom helps Spike up, draping Spike’s arm over his shoulder and wrapping his own arms around Spike’s slender waist. He notes the relative coolness of Spike’s body to his own and to his own shame, starts to get slightly aroused at the close contact. He gets Spike out to the car and slides him into the passenger seat, buckling him up. He goes back to retrieve Spike’s axe and puts it in the trunk and then heads back to his apartment, helping him in and onto the couch.
Spike slips out of his duster and starts stripping his clothes and then gets under the covers. “Blood next.”
“There’s no more in your car. You drank it all.”
Spike nods. “You’ll have to go buy some.” He reaches into his duster pocket, coming out with some money. “Jake’s. Look it up in the phone book. They’re supposed to be the local after-hours supplier. Get lots… three gallons, at least.”
Grissom looks in the phone book and he leaves, coming back a while later with a large grocery bag. “That was *surreal*. Looked like a mixed crowd of vamps and humans buying blood. No one even blinked twice when I asked for three gallons.”
Spike grins. “You’ve been introduced to a weird little twilight world you didn’t even know existed. Here, hand me one and put the other two in the refrigerator.”
Grissom hands over a gallon jug and Spike starts drinking. He doesn’t stop until he has finished it, then he falls back on the couch. “Now we wait.”
“For what?”
“Gonna start throwing off the toxins here soon. I’m going to start running the vampire equivalent of a high fever, and I won’t be able to move much. I’ll be sweating off the toxins. I’m going to sodding well ruin your couch, cause I’ll be sweating blood, but I’ll pay for a new one. Then I’ll need you to heat up the other two gallons so I can replenish. Fucking tosspot…I mean, who the bloody hell uses *aconite* anymore? Honestly.”
Grissom sighs. “Anything I can do?”
“You’re doing it, mate. Got me the blood, got me here. You could put on that music again. That was nice.”
Grissom moves over and starts the cd player on shuffle. “What about your firm? Can’t they help?”
Spike groans. “Oh, yeah. They’d bundle my arse into an ambulance and take me to some secure medical facility smelling of antiseptic and drain my blood and fill me back up again. Quick, efficient, and terribly unpleasant.” He sighs. “I guess I should do that instead of imposing on you. Hand me the phone.”
Grissom shakes his head. “No. That’s all right. You can stay here.”
Spike smiles. “You’re all right, Grissom. Thanks.”
“No problem.” If he was honest with himself, he was doing it to spend some more time looking at this young man. Well, not so young, probably, if he was a vampire. “How old are you?”
Spike smiles. “One hundred and twenty-four. Why?”
“Just idle curiosity.”
“Doubt anything is idle curiosity with you.” Spike’s face suddenly contorts in agony and his body tenses up. “There it is. It’s starting.”
“You want me to leave?”
“No. Stay, please. Talk to me. At least while I’m still lucid.”
“What about?”
“You like Shakespeare?”
“Yes.”
“Good. Let’s talk Shakespeare.”
And they talk about Shakespeare, the plays, the sonnets. Spike is starting to sweat, now, clear at first, then pink, then red. He suddenly stops talking, his eyes closing, and his body tenses tight. Grissom moves over and touches him. Spike’s flesh is hot. Grissom stands for a minute, then goes and makes a bowl of ice water and gets several washcloths. He pulls back the sheets, now covered with blood, and starts wiping Spike’s body down with washcloths soaked in ice water. He keeps doing it, for hours, as Spike continues to slowly sweat blood. Finally his eyes open and his body untenses. He sees what Grissom is doing. His voice is a hoarse whisper. “Thanks. You didn’t have to, but it helped. I could feel it. The cool. It was nice. Blood now, please.”
Grissom gets up and heats up the blood, bringing it to Spike, who downs it all quickly and then falls back again. “Tired. Need to sleep.”
Grissom shakes his head. “Not there. Let’s get you cleaned up and you can sleep in my bed. Come on.” He helps Spike into the bathroom and into the tub, and proceeds to run the water. Spike just lays back. “Why are you doing all this?”
Grissom looks into Spike’s eyes. “I think you know why.”
Spike nods, closing his eyes. “Thought so.” He relaxes and lets Grissom bathe him. Grissom feels terrible, luxuriating in the ability to just touch this wonderful, tight body, knowing he is taking advantage of Spike’s weakness to gratify his own needs. Spike groans and he starts to harden under the water. “Sorry. Been too long since anyone has touched me.”
“No need to apologize,” Grissom says.
Grissom gets him out and then towels him off, helping him into the bedroom. He slides him into the bed and covers him.
“I’ll go sleep in the recliner,” Grissom says.
“No.” Spike’s voice is quiet but firm. “Stay in here. Keep me warm.”
Grissom starts to slide in fully clothed. Spike looks into his eyes. “Naked, please. Body warmth conducts better that way. Unless you don’t want to.”
Grissom’s body responds. He swallows hard. “Yes. You’re right. But…”
“I know. I can smell. It’s okay.”
Grissom would have blushed then, if he were the type to blush. Instead he just gets up and takes off his clothes, pausing only momentarily before he slides his underwear off as well and gets under the covers. Spike moves over and pulls his body against Grissom’s, cuddling close. Grissom wraps an arm around Spike’s shoulders. He is all too aware of that tight body against his.
Spike murmurs. “Sleep now. I need to sleep. We’ll see about the rest later.”
*The rest? I’ll never sleep now,* Grissom thinks. But he does, eventually, the excitement of the evening finally catching up with him and he falls into a deep sleep.
Grissom wakes later to the faint smell of soap and jasmine. *Jasmine?* He looks down at the man sleeping on him and moves his head down closer to him, sniffing again. Spike does, indeed, smell faintly of jasmine. Without thinking, his hand starts stroking Spike’s hair, which has dried in soft messy waves and curls.
Spike starts to stir, and he looks up at Grissom, eyes blinking sleepily, like a great sleepy cat, and he stretches and rubs himself against Grissom. Grissom’s body responds again, helpless to resist the charms and touch of this man. “Forgot what that was like,” Spike murmurs.
“What?”
“Going to sleep next to a warm body. Been a long while. It’s nice.”
Grissom half-smiles. “That’s me. A great big warm body.”
“I can’t stay. I mean, a day or two, maybe, but no longer.” Spike launches into this without hint or preamble, expecting Grissom to understand.
And he does. Grissom sighs. “I know. I didn’t expect you to stay past tonight.”
“I have commitments. And…there’s someone. Someone I love. I have to be near him, even though he bloody well acts like he hates me now.”
“I understand. You don’t have to, you know. I…I can’t help how I feel, but I’ll deal with it. It’s what I do.”
Spike moves up and kisses Grissom, softly, tenderly, and Grissom can feel Spike’s hardness against him. “I want to. Don’t you want me to?”
Grissom closes his eyes and nods, suddenly unable to speak. Then he feels the weight of Spike’s body on his, Spike’s cool flesh touching his skin, and then a cool mouth on his nipple, licking and sucking, and then blunt teeth biting. Grissom hisses and arches and opens his eyes. Spike looks into them again. “I can’t receive. Only give. I’m…corny as it fucking sounds I’m saving myself for him.”
Grissom gasps. “I don’t care. Right now I will take whatever you can give. Been too damn long. Too long. Please.” Just for now, for this moment, all the little walls that he has built up to keep the world at bay are dissolved at the touch of this otherworldly creature. He’s on fire now, needing that touch to cool him.
“Grissom, I…” Spike begins, but Grissom cuts him off with a hand over his mouth. “Call me Gil, and I swear, please, please, please don’t explain any more.”
Spike chuckles as he lifts his head. “Just wanted to know where the lube was, Gil.”
Grissom chuckles then too, tension broken. “It’s in the bedside table.”
Spike reaches over and gets it, tucking it under the pillow. “Now…back to business.” He lowers his mouth again, working on Grissom’s nipple as his hands caress down Grissom’s sides. Grissom buries a hand in Spike’s silken hair and runs the other over his back, stroking the muscles as they play under his smooth skin.
Spike kisses up Grissom’s chest, up his neck, and then captures his lips in a fierce and punishing kiss. He grinds his pelvis against Grissom, their hard cocks rubbing together. Grissom moves his hands down Spike’s back to cup and massage his asscheeks. They both moan and Spike starts to purr.
Grissom can’t help it. He asks. “You purr? Vampires purr?”
Spike chuckles. “Yes, yes we do.”
Grissom considers and nods. “It’s sexy.”
“Thank you.” Spike moves back down to Grissom’s neck and starts licking and sucking, then biting with blunt teeth. Grissom can’t help it…he is a more than a little turned-on by the sheer danger factor of having a vampire gnawing on his neck and he gasps and his cock hardens still more.
Spike, for his part, is getting more and more aroused as well, and his brain finally processes why. Grissom’s smell…it’s cinnamon and musk, like a certain vampire…He puts this thought out of his head and concentrates on the task at hand. Grissom knows this is purely casual. There’s no need for Spike to hurt him by even thinking about this little detail.
Spike reaches over and gets the lube, moving down Grissom’s body as he coats two fingers. He reaches down between Grissom’s legs and slides his hand down. Grissom groans and spreads his legs. “Spike…it’s….it’s been a long time.”
Spike nods. “I’ll be gentle.” He moves one finger, circling it around and then slowly sinking it into Grissom. Grissom gasps and arches, his body reacting to the unaccustomed touch. Spike keeps pushing, slow and gentle, and then starts moving it in and out. Grissom forces himself to relax as the pleasurable feelings begin to sink in.
He looks down on Spike, who is looking back at him with those blue eyes. Grissom wishes that he could be the one doing this, making that beautiful blonde squirm for him. It’s probably just as well that he has to be the one to receive, though, having to give up his tight control over everything and just take what he is given.
Spike moves in another finger. He pushes in far enough to brush over Grissom’s prostate and Grissom cries out, pounding a fist onto the bed. “Good?” Spike asks, grinning evilly.
Grissom nods. “You have no idea.”
Spike hmms and works the fingers in and out, scissoring, stretching, and then pulls them out, lining up. Grissom moans in anticipation. Spike pushes in, carefully, slowly, as Grissom pushes back against him. Finally he is all the way in and starts moving in and out. He leans forward, rubbing on Grissom as he moves, and Grissom reaches out to touch him again, stroking his hair, his face, his shoulders, his arms. He arches and cries out as Spike angles deeper and pushes harder, hitting his prostate.
Grissom moans. “So…so…” He can’t find proper words and so he does something he rarely does. Curses. “So fucking good. More. Harder. Please.”
Spike groans and presses harder and faster. He reaches down between them and curls his clever fingers around Grissom’s cock and starts stroking. Grissom pants as he quickly starts climbing towards completion. Spike keeps pumping, approaching his end as well. Finally Grissom shouts and cums, splattering over their stomachs and shortly thereafter, Spike cums as well. He pulls off and starts licking Grissom’s stomach clean, and as soon as he does, Grissom raises up. “I want to return the favor.”
Spike nods and lays down on his back. Grissom moves over and begins licking, enjoying the taste and feel of his skin. When he finishes he lays back, pulling Spike to him. Spike allows himself to be pulled and snuggles in against Grissom’s warmth.
Grissom breathes out slowly and strokes Spike’s hair. “That was…incredible. Kind of earth-shattering for me.”
“Me too. Not much in the way of touching in a long time now.” Spike purrs as Grissom plays with his hair.
“So what’s he like, this man you are saving yourself for?” Grissom asks.
“Intense. Broody. Sexy as hell. Bad-tempered. Anal retentive. Completely infuriating.” Spike says.
Grissom smiles. “Suits you.”
Spike sighs. “Yeah. Like a glove. He’s my first love and I still love him. Never stopped.”
Grissom sighs. “I can’t understand how anyone could push you away.”
“*Long* story. Very complicated. And I don’t really want to talk about him. I want to lie here and be held.”
“I can understand that. No more probing questions, then.”
“No.” And then Spike grins evilly. “Or else I’ll start asking questions about *you*.”
Grissom chuckles. “We can’t have that.”
They lie there for a while in companionable silence, Spike purring and rubbing, Grissom stroking his hair and his back.
Then the phone rings. They both look at it and ignore it. Finally Grissom can stand it no longer and picks it up. “Hello?” Then he looks at Spike and hands him the receiver. “It’s for you.”
Spike picks it up. “Yes?… Peaches, it’s taken care of…. No… No…. No… Okay, I’ll be right there. Bye.” He looks at Grissom. “I have to go. *He’s* calling.”
Grissom nods. “Yeah. I figured. Right now?”
Spike nods. “Yes, or he’ll send a team after me. For someone who supposedly hates me, he’s awfully possessive of my arse.”
Grissom smiles. “Sounds like there’s hope yet.”
Spike gets up and gets dressed. All too soon, he’s ready to go. He stops before he leaves, pulling Grissom to him and kissing him. “Thank you. For everything. This will keep me going for quite a while.”
“I should be thanking *you*. I’m the charity case.”
Spike shakes his head. “No. Definitely not. You need to get out there, Gil. You have a lot to offer a man.”
“Thank you for saying that. I’ll keep it in mind.”
“Oh, and just so you don’t get distressed…my underhanded little law firm by now will have wiped out the DNA evidence. It will be gone.”
Grissom raises an eyebrow. “I was going to arrange that myself. Nice to know I won’t have to. I won’t see you again, will I?”
Spike shrugs. “You never know. I might get the itch to come to Vegas sometime. Take in a show.” He strokes the side of Grissom’s face. “Time to go.”
Grissom only nods and looks away as Spike walks out the door.
A week later he gets a package in the mail. He opens it, and inside is a pocket watch, gold. It’s inscribed, “For a lovely night. Love, S.” The card says, “Time will tell. Getting the urge for a show.”
Grissom smiles, and polishes the watch, slipping it into his pocket. He’ll have to get a proper chain for it, keep it always close to him. It’s a reminder of time, and how he needs to use it, and not let it slip by while he is studying it. And a reminder that while there is time, there is hope.
END