Connor, Spike, Illyria... Post AtS Fic
Aug. 8th, 2004 04:37 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
thedeadlyhookBecause I couldn't just leave it where I left off. Still at the Hyperion, Connor gets a wake-up call... Previous parts here.
He could have sworn that he'd only closed his eyes for a few mintues, but when he opened them again, Illyria was standing over him, a plastic shopping bag in both hands.
"I have retrieved nourishment for you." Stiff-armed, she held the bag out to him. "Consume this."
Bleary-eyed, Connor levered himself up on his elbows. His back was stiff and his mouth dry. The light in the room had changed. He must've been out for awhile.
Illyria shoved the bag closer with an irritated rustle. He peered into it, at a tangle of chip snacks and candy bars, bottled juice drinks, packaged fruit pies and a couple of bananas. It looked as if she'd found a gas station or mini-mart and simply swept the shelves clean of everything there was to take.
"You will replish yourself," she insisted, shoving the bag into his chest and letting go. He grabbed at the slippery plastic weakly before it could do an amoeba-like slide off the bed.
It was then he noticed the butcher knife resting on the bedside table. The small bedside lamp had been switched on; its light glinted off the metal surface. The glass pitcher had also reappeared. His sore arm gave a warning throb where he'd pierced the muscle with the knife and his stomach promptly lurched. Illyria hovered over him, staring.
"Uh, do you mind?" he choked. "I, uh, can't... digest well when people are watching me." She did that blinking thing again, a lizard motion, then left the room.
Feebly, Connor dug through the plastic sack. Pulled out the first things his hands came into contact with--a juice bottle and a fistful of candy bars. Scattered them on the bedspread and then shakily tore into the snacks, wolfing down the chewy chocolate, sucking down juice. He did it again, dipping into the sack for more candy surprises, made them disappear. Crinkled scraps of wrappers drifted to the floor as he worked through the stack.
Ten candy bars or so later, he stopped, his stomach aching from an overload of slick sugar and fat. He forced a last swallow of juice, made go it down his throat even though he felt seriously bloated and sick. They he lay back, head swimming from the sugar high, feeling marginally better. From the light in the window, he guessed it might be about noon.
Spike hadn't yet moved. Briefly alert from all the calories, Connor studied the still profile, for lack of anything better to do. Spike's mouth was slightly open, his head titled back. Throat naked and vulnerable, his adam's apple a sharp curve. His face looked surprisingly gentle like that, all hardness and fight drained out of it. Except for the nose, which was sharply prominent, his features were actually kinda small.
A small sound pulled his attention back to the door. Illyria was standing at his bedside again, gravely surveying him. "You have eaten," she observed, and then much to his horror, her gauntled hand started to move toward the knife.
"Don't!" he tried to shout, but it came out weaker than he would have liked. He pushed his hands into the bed, tried to scuttle away. Bumped up against Spike's unconscious body at his back, which was about as immovable as a brick wall. "Keep away from me, you crazy bitch!"
Illyria lifted the knife and stood there, holding it vertically like something out of a slasher movie. Jason Goes to the Blood Bank. She paused. "You said you needed replenishment."
"God, how stupid are you? It takes time, okay! I need time. I need--" He stopped, panting. In fact, he didn't know how much time he needed, how long a body took to replace donated blood, but he knew it couldn't be as fast as this.
"If you take more out of me now, it'll kill me," he told her again, trying to keep his voice calm. He hadn't had a sugar high like this since Halloween when he was eleven and he'd eaten so much candy he'd gotten sick. And that hadn't included his big current does of adrenaline.
Illyria frowned. At some point during his panic attack, she'd picked up the glass pitcher too. Dried rust stains clung to its insides. An implement in each hand, she looked like Alice in Wonderland on her way to a Goth tea party. Where obviously, he was the cake.
"If you expire, you will not provide enough blood for this purpose," she droned, and fixed her eyes on a corner of the room, a faraway look. She put the glass pitcher and the knife down on the table then with a bang, and left the room.
Relieved, Connor sagged back into the mattress. If he was lucky, she'd gotten the message. If he wasn't...
Nausea swept through him and the room spun. Through clenched teeth, he forced down an urge to vomit. With the hammering of his heart and the candy binge, it took some time.
When the feeling passed, his eyes drifted closed again.
----------
This time, when Connor woke, it was Spike standing over him.
Well, not standing, exactly. More like crouching. His face was pushed very close to Connor's, his cold fingers wrapped around Connor's jaw. Blue eyes simultaneously suspicious and wide with alarm.
"Hey," Connor bubbled, uncomfortably aware of how often he'd been saying that. He'd woken up too many times today to find some bloody face in his face. He swatted Spike's hand aside. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"
Spike stood up, stepped back. He'd been kneeling by Connor's bedside, apparently. His movement was still unsteady, awkward. He opened his mouth, closed it again. "I don't... I mean, I didn't..."
Then Spike collected himself, or at least seemed to. Drew himself up a little straighter. "Just checking to see if you were alright," he said then evenly, voice a rasp over gravel. "Didn't mean to... to bite you. I don't... remember doing it. Must've been more messed up than I thought."
"Oh." Connor sat up. The blood. Everything clicked into place. "Uh, that's okay. You didn't. Bite me."
Spike winced. "I did something kid, because I can still taste your blood. A lot of it." He stared at Connor intenly, and there was something not entirely pleasant in those eyes.
You are the bastard child of two vampires, he heard a voice saying in his mind.
Hurriedly banishing the mental voices, Connor fumbled at his shirt, pushed up the sleeve. Rotated his arm to show Spike the mark where he'd dug the knife point in. "You didn't do it. I did. Donation to the cause."
The look that washed over Spike's face was one of clouded confusion. Connor's gaze flicked away. "It's no big, really. I mean, you were kinda dying there, you know," Connor rambled. Instinct was urging him to hurry, to just get through this conversation, get up, get out. The way the vampire was standing there, so still and silent... something about it was really making his hackles rise.
Unnatural, that voice in his head said again. Evil.
"You didn't... have to do that, mate," Spike rasped, not looking at him. He dipped his head in a stiff little nod. "Thanks."
"It's okay, like I said. No big."
"No, it's--I mean, no one's ever..." Even at a distance, Connor could see the honest surprise in Spike's eyes. But the hunger... the unnaturalness... that was still there too. He could feel it.
"Forget it," he said harshly, ignoring the way the vampire's face fell a little at the sound. "I figured I'd better volunteer before your girlfriend drained it out of me. I mean, what is she?"
Spike's head raised slowly then, as if pulled on a string. The soft expression was completely gone, replaced with something intense and fierce. "What girl?" he growled.
"My height, skinny... blue," he said, and watched the vampire's brows draw into a deep frown.
"Illyria." Spike let out a long sigh. And just like that, the feeling of preturnatural stillness, of wrongness in the air was gone. Connor was a little shocked to realize that what he'd been feeling was an awareness of Spike as a vampire. He'd felt it in his bones.
Stranger still was that the feeling was now gone.
"So. Where is she now?" Spike had definitely pulled himself together. The cold, distant look was back, slightly narrowed eyes sizing up Connor as if he were an unwelcome male guest to a hot-chicks-only party. "Got a hearing problem? I said, where is Her Blueness now?"
"Hell if I know," Connor grumbled. "She got as much blood as she could out of me without turning me into a kosher dinner, then went to the grocery store and got me food. Then she took off again."
"You sent an elder god to the grocers. Well, not everyone gets to say that."
"Yeah, funny. Except that chick is dangerous. She's--" Connor halted, reminded himself that the first time he'd seen her she'd been belting the person in front of him across a room. "Look, what's the story with her? I mean, she looks like... somebody I used to know."
A sharp look. "You knew Fred?"
"She says she isn't Fred."
"She's not." Spike ran a hand through his hair. Or rather tried to, and got stuck in the clotted tangle. He made a face, shook his hand loose. "It's complicated. Look, I'm going to go have a wash. Thanks for... well, you know."
He disappeared from the room.
He could have sworn that he'd only closed his eyes for a few mintues, but when he opened them again, Illyria was standing over him, a plastic shopping bag in both hands.
"I have retrieved nourishment for you." Stiff-armed, she held the bag out to him. "Consume this."
Bleary-eyed, Connor levered himself up on his elbows. His back was stiff and his mouth dry. The light in the room had changed. He must've been out for awhile.
Illyria shoved the bag closer with an irritated rustle. He peered into it, at a tangle of chip snacks and candy bars, bottled juice drinks, packaged fruit pies and a couple of bananas. It looked as if she'd found a gas station or mini-mart and simply swept the shelves clean of everything there was to take.
"You will replish yourself," she insisted, shoving the bag into his chest and letting go. He grabbed at the slippery plastic weakly before it could do an amoeba-like slide off the bed.
It was then he noticed the butcher knife resting on the bedside table. The small bedside lamp had been switched on; its light glinted off the metal surface. The glass pitcher had also reappeared. His sore arm gave a warning throb where he'd pierced the muscle with the knife and his stomach promptly lurched. Illyria hovered over him, staring.
"Uh, do you mind?" he choked. "I, uh, can't... digest well when people are watching me." She did that blinking thing again, a lizard motion, then left the room.
Feebly, Connor dug through the plastic sack. Pulled out the first things his hands came into contact with--a juice bottle and a fistful of candy bars. Scattered them on the bedspread and then shakily tore into the snacks, wolfing down the chewy chocolate, sucking down juice. He did it again, dipping into the sack for more candy surprises, made them disappear. Crinkled scraps of wrappers drifted to the floor as he worked through the stack.
Ten candy bars or so later, he stopped, his stomach aching from an overload of slick sugar and fat. He forced a last swallow of juice, made go it down his throat even though he felt seriously bloated and sick. They he lay back, head swimming from the sugar high, feeling marginally better. From the light in the window, he guessed it might be about noon.
Spike hadn't yet moved. Briefly alert from all the calories, Connor studied the still profile, for lack of anything better to do. Spike's mouth was slightly open, his head titled back. Throat naked and vulnerable, his adam's apple a sharp curve. His face looked surprisingly gentle like that, all hardness and fight drained out of it. Except for the nose, which was sharply prominent, his features were actually kinda small.
A small sound pulled his attention back to the door. Illyria was standing at his bedside again, gravely surveying him. "You have eaten," she observed, and then much to his horror, her gauntled hand started to move toward the knife.
"Don't!" he tried to shout, but it came out weaker than he would have liked. He pushed his hands into the bed, tried to scuttle away. Bumped up against Spike's unconscious body at his back, which was about as immovable as a brick wall. "Keep away from me, you crazy bitch!"
Illyria lifted the knife and stood there, holding it vertically like something out of a slasher movie. Jason Goes to the Blood Bank. She paused. "You said you needed replenishment."
"God, how stupid are you? It takes time, okay! I need time. I need--" He stopped, panting. In fact, he didn't know how much time he needed, how long a body took to replace donated blood, but he knew it couldn't be as fast as this.
"If you take more out of me now, it'll kill me," he told her again, trying to keep his voice calm. He hadn't had a sugar high like this since Halloween when he was eleven and he'd eaten so much candy he'd gotten sick. And that hadn't included his big current does of adrenaline.
Illyria frowned. At some point during his panic attack, she'd picked up the glass pitcher too. Dried rust stains clung to its insides. An implement in each hand, she looked like Alice in Wonderland on her way to a Goth tea party. Where obviously, he was the cake.
"If you expire, you will not provide enough blood for this purpose," she droned, and fixed her eyes on a corner of the room, a faraway look. She put the glass pitcher and the knife down on the table then with a bang, and left the room.
Relieved, Connor sagged back into the mattress. If he was lucky, she'd gotten the message. If he wasn't...
Nausea swept through him and the room spun. Through clenched teeth, he forced down an urge to vomit. With the hammering of his heart and the candy binge, it took some time.
When the feeling passed, his eyes drifted closed again.
----------
This time, when Connor woke, it was Spike standing over him.
Well, not standing, exactly. More like crouching. His face was pushed very close to Connor's, his cold fingers wrapped around Connor's jaw. Blue eyes simultaneously suspicious and wide with alarm.
"Hey," Connor bubbled, uncomfortably aware of how often he'd been saying that. He'd woken up too many times today to find some bloody face in his face. He swatted Spike's hand aside. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"
Spike stood up, stepped back. He'd been kneeling by Connor's bedside, apparently. His movement was still unsteady, awkward. He opened his mouth, closed it again. "I don't... I mean, I didn't..."
Then Spike collected himself, or at least seemed to. Drew himself up a little straighter. "Just checking to see if you were alright," he said then evenly, voice a rasp over gravel. "Didn't mean to... to bite you. I don't... remember doing it. Must've been more messed up than I thought."
"Oh." Connor sat up. The blood. Everything clicked into place. "Uh, that's okay. You didn't. Bite me."
Spike winced. "I did something kid, because I can still taste your blood. A lot of it." He stared at Connor intenly, and there was something not entirely pleasant in those eyes.
You are the bastard child of two vampires, he heard a voice saying in his mind.
Hurriedly banishing the mental voices, Connor fumbled at his shirt, pushed up the sleeve. Rotated his arm to show Spike the mark where he'd dug the knife point in. "You didn't do it. I did. Donation to the cause."
The look that washed over Spike's face was one of clouded confusion. Connor's gaze flicked away. "It's no big, really. I mean, you were kinda dying there, you know," Connor rambled. Instinct was urging him to hurry, to just get through this conversation, get up, get out. The way the vampire was standing there, so still and silent... something about it was really making his hackles rise.
Unnatural, that voice in his head said again. Evil.
"You didn't... have to do that, mate," Spike rasped, not looking at him. He dipped his head in a stiff little nod. "Thanks."
"It's okay, like I said. No big."
"No, it's--I mean, no one's ever..." Even at a distance, Connor could see the honest surprise in Spike's eyes. But the hunger... the unnaturalness... that was still there too. He could feel it.
"Forget it," he said harshly, ignoring the way the vampire's face fell a little at the sound. "I figured I'd better volunteer before your girlfriend drained it out of me. I mean, what is she?"
Spike's head raised slowly then, as if pulled on a string. The soft expression was completely gone, replaced with something intense and fierce. "What girl?" he growled.
"My height, skinny... blue," he said, and watched the vampire's brows draw into a deep frown.
"Illyria." Spike let out a long sigh. And just like that, the feeling of preturnatural stillness, of wrongness in the air was gone. Connor was a little shocked to realize that what he'd been feeling was an awareness of Spike as a vampire. He'd felt it in his bones.
Stranger still was that the feeling was now gone.
"So. Where is she now?" Spike had definitely pulled himself together. The cold, distant look was back, slightly narrowed eyes sizing up Connor as if he were an unwelcome male guest to a hot-chicks-only party. "Got a hearing problem? I said, where is Her Blueness now?"
"Hell if I know," Connor grumbled. "She got as much blood as she could out of me without turning me into a kosher dinner, then went to the grocery store and got me food. Then she took off again."
"You sent an elder god to the grocers. Well, not everyone gets to say that."
"Yeah, funny. Except that chick is dangerous. She's--" Connor halted, reminded himself that the first time he'd seen her she'd been belting the person in front of him across a room. "Look, what's the story with her? I mean, she looks like... somebody I used to know."
A sharp look. "You knew Fred?"
"She says she isn't Fred."
"She's not." Spike ran a hand through his hair. Or rather tried to, and got stuck in the clotted tangle. He made a face, shook his hand loose. "It's complicated. Look, I'm going to go have a wash. Thanks for... well, you know."
He disappeared from the room.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Date: 2004-08-09 12:23 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2004-08-09 08:00 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2004-08-09 02:21 am (UTC)Still, poor Connor. And to think he could have been hanging out at a beach house instead.
Stiff-armed, she held the bag out to him. "Consume this."
Heh! Great bedside manner.
Pulled out the first things his hands came into contact with--a juice bottle and a fistful of candy bars.
Wasn't there some business involving Connor sampling the delights of our Earth candy when he reappeared back at the end of Season Three? But now I'm wondering how on earth Holtz managed to scrounge up any infant formula in Quartoth...
An implement in each hand, she looked like Alice in Wonderland on her way to a Goth tea party. Where obviously, he was the cake.
If I didn't know better, I'd think you were riffing on that Tom Petty video. Wait, maybe I do know better. "Whatever you're lookin' for, don't come around here no more, or cover us both with gore..."
If you expire, you will not provide enough blood for this purpose,
Weak frickin' species, eh?
You are the bastard child of two vampires, he heard a voice saying in his mind.
And YES, we have Inner Mental Holtz! Bless you, Your Hookfulness.
No, it's--I mean, no one's ever...
Oh-oh, Spike's in wuv. Now he's going to imprint on Connor like a baby condor. Or, uh, not.
Connor was a little shocked to realize that what he'd been feeling was an awareness of Spike as a vampire. He'd felt it in his bones.
Hmm. Methinks somebody is starting to lose track of his alternate personas under these stressful conditions...
Got a hearing problem? I said, where is Her Blueness now?
Ouch. I guess Spike's not going to be the nurturing comforter in this scenario...
Look, I'm going to go have a wash. Thanks for... well, you know.
...but perhaps there's still a chance for hot slashy shower action. Go to him, Connor! Go to him while you still can!
Or, you know, kick back and regenerate some blood cells. That's good too.
(no subject)
Date: 2004-08-09 08:06 am (UTC)Hey, you're right. I hadn't done the parallel intentionally, but it works - I was just thinking of Illryia's shopping process as stalking into a 7-11 and ransacking the place.
"Whatever you're lookin' for, don't come around here no more, or cover us both with gore..."
(groan) Okay, I admit it - I was thinking of it a little. Just the knife and tea party parts. (cough)
Weak frickin' species, eh?
HEH
Oh-oh, Spike's in wuv. Now he's going to imprint on Connor like a baby condor.
Oh, you think so, do you?
Hmm. Methinks somebody is starting to lose track of his alternate personas under these stressful conditions...
Don't know what would give you that idea. (mesmerizing blink)
(no subject)
Date: 2004-09-26 01:58 pm (UTC)Hey, no fair. I think after a century or so it becomes common-law marriage, don't you? And they certainly never got divorced.
(no subject)
Date: 2004-09-26 04:32 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2004-08-09 03:05 am (UTC)And Illyria is a joy.
(no subject)
Date: 2004-08-09 08:10 am (UTC)Ah, your praise makes me float. I've no idea where I get this version of Illryia from. I've read so many good Illryias, like
(no subject)
Date: 2004-08-09 08:13 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2004-08-09 08:19 am (UTC)Poor Spike and Connor indeed. I'm having special fun with them now they're both such wrecks.
(no subject)
Date: 2004-08-09 08:24 am (UTC)"You only hurt the ones you love," yes?
(no subject)
Date: 2004-08-09 08:26 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2004-08-09 08:33 am (UTC)