First Installment: Sparla
BI (background information, you bleeding stupid puffs): Angelus has gotten his soul. The now trio are camping in the Romanian camp they destroyed (See “Darla”). Darla is feeling lonely and Spike just can’t help himself from comforting the little blonde. (((Spike doesn’t KNOW Angelus has gotten his soul, for those you are to lazy to watch an forty-five minute episode on DVD)))
*~*~*~*~*
The night was still and quiet. Spike lay in the blankets upon the ground, the cold of the ground lowering his temperature drastically. Not that he could feel it, anyway. Drusilla legs were wrapped around his body and she was sound asleep. But something was tugging at Spike, telling him he couldn’t be sleeping. He was exhausted, but every time he slipped into a near sleep area, he was roused by some unseen force inside himself.
Spike craft fully wiggled out from Dru’s legs without waking her from her peaceful slumber. He knew wherever his legs were leading him, he had to get there fast. He slid into a pair of pants and stumbled out of his poorly built tent and out into the night air. *I knew I should have waited until I was sober*, he thought.
He headed toward Darla and Angelus’ tent. Why? He didn’t know, but there was no force in the world that would stop him from getting inside that tent. Maybe that was why he couldn’t sleep. He had to go see what was going on in there.
Angelus hadn’t been around for a long time. Darla didn’t seem to be bothered as much as expected, but then again, she had gotten a little snappy with Dru and him. Saying they were so “immature” and that they needed “to get over there childlike eating habits and clean up the act”, but Spike was never going to clean up the act. Hell, he had been around for *ALMOST* a hundred years already. If he was planning on cleaning up the act, it would have happened long before now. Not that Spike missed Angelus and his fatherly attitude. And not a loving father.
He pulled back the flap to see... Nothing. He looked around and still, no one was in the tent.
“Darla?” he said, loud enough for anyone in the tent to hear, but not loud for anyone outside to hear. They didn’t need to know he was in here. Might think the worst of him. Not that anyone around here was alive. But he *really* couldn’t risk waking Dru. Not that she would care of his foul play.
It was then that he heard strangled sobs. Spike peeled his super sonic ears and got down on all fours, listening at his peek. Darla was in the corner, shrouded by a curtain, setting the chamber pot apart from the rest of the tent. “Darla,” he said, moving slowly to the curtain, tugging it back. The woman was curled, head in hands. Her perfectly rounded face was streaked with red. She looked up at him, shooting him a look of hatred. “If looks could stake, luv.”
“What do you want, Spike?” she growled.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, getting down to her level, peering intently at her blue eyes. They spoke volumes and suddenly, Darla wasn’t such a mystery. He knew exactly who she was and she was gorgeous. Spike found himself completely lost in her eyes, and he found... He thought, just for a second he might be in love. But then he thought of Drusilla and knew he wasn’t.
“Nothing, all right? Go back and tire yourself out with Drusilla and leave me alone!” Darla barked.
“No, you see, I can’t do that. I’ve known you for a nearly hundred years and I can’t just let you eat yourself up inside. I can’t help you if you don’t tell me,” Spike replied calmly. Not moving, not blinking.
“I said leave me alone, Spike.” she said, quietly. Darla had lost the emotion behind the words. Spike’s lips curled into a suggestive grin.
“I don’t think that’s what you really want. What *do*you want, luv? I could... help? Anyway you want?” Spike slid his hands into Darla’s, her pale, slender fingers looking perfect between his.
“Spike...” She said his name with new light behind it. “I know you’re just trying to help, but I... I need to be alone.”
“But you’ve been alone so long! I think what you need is to feel loved. And Darla...” Spike persisted. “I can help you. Just sack it on me. Everything that’s bothering you.”
Darla stood up, but Spike’s fingers never disentangled from her own. He carefully took his time getting to his feet, smiling at the blonde beauty inches away from his figure. His skin was humming... To be so near, yet so far.
“Sack it on you?” she snarled. “Well, there are a lot of things. Where should I start? Hmm, how about the love of my life is gone forever? Or that you killed the stupid gypsies you could give me the chance to get him back? Or I don’t like being alone? Or I don’t like watching you and Drusilla so cozy and me, just pretending not to notice? Is that enough sack to have thrown at you!? Is it!? And, oh yeah...” Darla halted her rant. She roughly grabbed Spike’s face between her hands, her palms contacting his skin with a loud smack. She brutally forced her lips upon his, biting and licking and prodding and smacking for endless minutes. Her body pressed against Spike felt light and new. So different from his black goddesses. Darla was not a black goddess, she was a princess.
Darla jumped up and wrapped her legs around Spike’s waist, her skirts splaying out in all matter, deepening the heat of the kiss. Spike felt every muscle in his body relax, felt his mind escape the prison of his head, his soul soar about madly. He was free. Free in her passion. Her lips barely left his own, except to start attacking his earlobe. Then, she pushed his head away from her neck and swung her leg around, planting her foot against his stomach. He was sent sprawling on his back, staring, eyebrows raised at her.
“I always wanted to do that,” she finished, tears streaming down her rosy cheeks in turrets. “Don’t come in here again. I don’t want to see you, Spike. ‘Cause, guess what? I hate you. Better stick with Drusilla. But don’t *ever, ever,* *EVER*!!! Come here to get your kicks again.” And she ran out of the tent, the flap ripped completely off with her ferocity.
Spike stayed on the floor, staring at the canvas above. He felt tears brimming in his own sapphire eyes. He let them fall, all ending to slide down his neck and make mud on the natural floor beneath him. He stayed there until the sun was so close to coming up, he had to go back in his own tent to Drusilla, crushed.
“I guess... It was never meant to be...” he said quietly to himself as he looked on at Drusilla, so different from the princess he had almost had. But Drusilla was a goddess, and one so devoted to him, he should have never thought of letting Darla pounce on him like that. All of what Darla said had leaked from his head when they shared an embrace, and now, looking at the woman he loved, it didn’t matter anymore.
*~*~*~*
Here Endith the First Chronicle of Sp! Tune in next time for the Second Chronicle, Spaith.
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