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That's Not My Name	By : marksandspence Category: S through Z > True Blood Views: 6314 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I have not created the True Blood (credit to Charlaine Harris & Alan Ball) or BtVS universes (credit to Joss Whedon) and do not have any claim on the characters other than the ones I have added. I make no money off of these stories.

Chapter List
- 15
- 16
- 17
Chapter 16
Flashback (Nyack)
[Author’s notes: I am abbreviating this quite a bit, as I have decided not to dwell too much on the past. Just a few key highlights. I thought I was going to wrap this up in one chapter, but will likely need another one after this (of flashback) to get through everything. And because during the flashback, Peia is known and Jen, I found myself flipping back and forth a bit with the names – I hope it isn’t too confusing. Also, smut warning for those who care.]
Peia had been working for Gillian for a few months. She helped set up the bat enclosure in the back of the house, complete with rather sophisticated environmental controls capable of finely adjusting both temperature and humidity. During this time, she had interacted with Spike on occasion. Gillian would send him along if Peia needed help with heavy lifting or picking up special equipment and various similar errands. They had been friendly and perhaps a bit flirty, without intent.
Peia was happy with her life as it was. You could not quite describe her as a hermit, but her partners in the writing co-op had learned to never count on her interest in socializing. She enjoyed a good drink and would sometimes join the group when the mood struck her and there was little chance for intimacy, but for the most part, she kept to herself. This was partly her nature, but mostly a conscious decision to withdraw. During the immediate recovery period after she woke in that hospital bed after 20 odd years, she endured the physical therapy with bravery and determination. However, when it came to the psychiatric side of things, she was unable to face the tragedy directly. The loss was too great, the pain too powerful even from a distance. She had decided, despite everything she was told (and herself knew to be true) to take the cowards road. She locked the memories away (in what she liked to picture as a treasure chest frozen in a glacial-sized block of ice) and left to start a new life. And to reduce the chance of any glacial melting, she strove to make her new life as different as possible from her old one. This was surprisingly easy – a new city, a new job, new people. She spent a lot of time in her own fantastical world, creating stories and allowing herself unlimited freedom to do so.
But there was something rather sweet and exciting about Spike. He was full of a mellow confidence and had a sharp wit that often made her grin despite herself. And he was handsome in the particular way she liked – just tall enough, lean, pale eyes, punkishly hip without trying too hard. She had only ever said a few words to him, but he had babbled on about nothing on occasion. He had tried to talk to her about music, but they had very little overlap in knowledge, both out-of-date in their unique way; they seemed to both have missed a couple of non-overlapping decades.
It was about the time that she started putting in some over-nights at the house in the summer to monitor the bats’ feeding schedules that they had had their first mutual conversation. She was sitting on the couch, working on her laptop when he came down the stairs and plopped himself down on the arm, fishing in his coat pocket for a cigarette.
“What’s up, Doc?” He had said with a squirrely grin.
“Doc?” She said, confused, glancing up from her screen. In fact, he had tried out a number of nicknames on her already – “Bat girl” “McVitie” “Anorak”. She had assumed this was just his style, but it had occurred to her that perhaps he had forgotten her real name and was too embarrassed to ask.
“You are a doctor, right? Very posh indeed,” He responds as he lights a cigarette.
“I was a scientist once. It happens. How did you know?” She responds with a shrug.
“Nicked your wallet while you were in the loo.” He pulls it out of his coat pocket and tosses it on the couch, holding back one card. “It’s not the name you gave Gillian, but I couldn’t figure why else you’d cart this around.” He waves the card about. “You in witness protection or something?” He adds before handing it over to her.
In fact, it was a miniature version of her Ph.D. diploma. She had found it when she went through an old box of paperwork before she left town. After laughing at how ridiculous it was that her university gave out mini-laminated diplomas to their grads (in addition to the real thing, of course), she found herself stuffing it in her wallet.
“Something,” She answers cryptically while taking the card and putting it back in her wallet. Wanting to change the subject, she asks, “So isn’t smoking an odd thing for a vampire to do? Doesn’t it feel weird?”
“What’s that?” He responds, scrunching up his face.
“You don’t breathe, so I thought it might free strange to inhale and exhale the smoke.”
“What are you on about? It’s like riding a bike. You smoke?”
“Once in a while.”
“That’s rude of me,” He says reaching back for the pack.
“No, I’m ok.”
“Ah, social smoker, yeah?”
“More of a scotch smoker.”
“Scotch. Didn’t think kids today had much of a taste for the stuff. Unless it ends in ‘tini’ and tastes nothing like gin, they turn up their noses.”
“More for us,” She responds, wryly.
“Because you’re an old lady, I suppose.”
“Something like that.”
“You’re a funny bird, you are.” He takes another drag from his cigarette before continuing. “So what do you do for hours on end on that laptop of yours? Science?” As he says the last word, he does a funny gesture with his hands, fingers wide and wavy.
“Sometimes. Mostly I write.” She sees his fingers start to wiggle and before he can ask, offers “Not science.”
“What, like stories and such?”
“Yeah.”
“Anything I might like?”
“Maybe.”
“What are you working on now?”
“I think it might be a graphic novel.”
“You think?”
“Or maybe a screenplay. I can’t draw.”
“That could be a problem. What’s it about?”
“It’s kind of a hero/serial killer thing. Think a cross between Dexter and the Punisher.”
“Sounds promising. I know something about killing if you need a technical consultant.”
“I might take you up on that. Can you draw?”
“A little.”
An alarm on the coffee table goes off. Spike glances over at it,
“Time to make the donuts?”
“Time to feed the bats.” She closes up her laptop and slips it in her bag.
Spike pops up and slips on his coat and heads toward the door.
“Take it easy, Doc.”
“You know, you could just call me Jen.”
“I shall take it under advisement.”
**
A few nights later, Spike is sprawled on the couch watching t.v. There is an unopened bottle of scotch on the coffee table next to his feet. He is restlessly pushing buttons on the remote, looking bored. Peia walks into the room, obviously coming from working with the bats in the back room. As she enters, it is obvious that something is different – she appears almost stiff and is glancing around the room, nervously. Spike sees her and sits up quickly.
“Looking rough, Doc. Hungover?”
Peia walks toward the couch and glances at the table. She says, softly,
“You got Glenmorangie.”
“Used the money from your wallet the other night. Didn’t think anyone carried cash anymore.”
She rests her hand on the couch as if balancing herself.
“Can I ask you a favor?” Peia asks, almost timidly.
“I’d be happy to share. Was waiting for you to show up to open it. Seemed the proper thing to do, seeing as it was your money and all,” Spike says, good-naturedly.
“That’s sweet, but I actually need something else. Could you walk me home?”
“That bad, eh?” He picks up the bottle and waves it about. “You know what they say – ‘hair of the dog’”.
Peia takes a deep breath and you can see she is trying very hard to focus her thoughts.
“I took something – a drug called Dirt. Nothing happened at first, but now I’m not sure I can make it home. Plus it’s late and, well, you know what’s out there.”
“They call it Dirt because a full third of the gits who try it end up in the ground,” Spike responds, a bit concerned.
“I wanted to write about it – nothing I had read made any sense, so I thought I’d see for myself.”
“That’s pretty ballsy. Or stupid, depending how you look at it.”
She shrugs. “I’ve made it this far, so I think I’m good. If I can make it home.”
Spike sighs and stands up. He had been looking forward to opening that scotch.
“Fine. Want me to borrow Gillian’s car?”
“I think I could use the walk. It’s only a couple of miles.”
They start to walk. It is a mixture of houses and parks. Spike notices her eyes darting around.
“So what’s it like?”
“I’ve never done any hallucinogens before, so I can’t compare it to anything.”
“What do you see?”
“Shadows moving about. Auras that change shape. From what I’ve read, the first time makes the least sense.”
“Is it fun?”
“Uh. Not really. Supposed to be mind-expanding,” Peia explains as her steps become a bit erratic as though she is stepping around things that are not there.
“Heard that one before,” he mumbles, as he takes her arm to steady her.
They walk a bit further when she stops suddenly at the edge of a small grassy field. About five meters in front of them is a large tree. Spike looks at her, questioningly and she gestures toward a small raccoon digging in the grass a few meters away. She brings her finger to her lips. Spike rolls his eyes, thinking mockingly “look at the cute furry mammal.” But then Peia shakes her head and points upwards to the tree. He squints his eyes and sees a large owl inching into position down a branch. In a few seconds, the owl leaps silently from the tree and snatches the unsuspecting raccoon in its talons and flies away.
“And that is how its done,” Peia proclaims, snapping her fingers criss-cross.
“Got a thing against raccoons, do you?”
“Got to root for the owl, every time. It’s tough to be a predator.”
“Don’t I know it,” Spike agrees.
“You’re a parasite, not a predator.”
“Excuse me?” Spike responds, incredulous.
“Ok vampires can be predators, but they can also be parasites. Parasites may not sound as sexy, but they do a hell of a lot better in todays world.”
“Maybe we should get moving. Still, respecting the stealth of that owl. Don’t think I’ve ever seen that. Personally I tend to go for a bit more flash, but he got the job done, so good on ‘im.” Spike comments.
They walk for a bit. Then there are a series of beeps from Peia’s phone. She looks at it, squinting hard as if there is something wrong with her eyesight. She smiles and punches something into the keyboard.
“I am so going to win this one.”
“What’s that?”
“Just a stupid phone game that I play with the other authors at the co-op.”
“Nerd,” Spike whispers under his breath.
After a minute, her phone rings. She picks it up.
“Of course it’s a real song. No, seriously. I win. Finally. (pause) Prince. It’s a Prince song. Pussy Control. Look it up. I’m not going to sing it for you. Really? That’s a rule? You don’t think I’ll do it. (pause) Well, suck it losers, I’m singing.” She moves the phone away from her face and turns to look at Spike.
“I have to sing now and I am a shit singer. Don’t judge me. For some reason, I really want to win this game. Which is weird.” [back it the phone] “Is everybody on? Yeah, I am going to skip the chorus to make this go faster….”
“Good mornin' ladies and gentlemen
Boys and motherfuckin' girls
This is your captain with no name speakin'
And I'm here 2 rock your world
With a tale that will soon be classic
About a woman U already know
No prostitute she, but the mayor of your brain
Pussy Control

Aaah, Pussy Control, oh

Our story begins in a schoolyard
A little girl skipping rope with her friends
A tisket, a tasket, no lunch in her basket
Just school books 4 the fight she would be in
One day over this hoodie
She got beat 4 some clothes and a rep
With her chin up, she scolded "All y'all's molded
When I'm rich, on your neck I will step"
And step she did 2 the straight A's
Then college, a master degree
She hired the heifers that jumped her
And made everyone of them work 4 free?
No! Why?
So what if my sisters are triflin'?
They just don't know
She said "Mama didn't tell'em what she told me
'Girl, U need Pussy Control'"

Verse 2
Pussy got bank in her pockets
Before she got dick in her drawers
If brother didn't have good 'n' plenty of his own
In love Pussy never did fall
And this fool named Trick wanna stick her
Uh, talkin' more shit than a bit
'Bout how he gonna make Pussy a star
If she come and sing a lick on his hit
Pussy said "Nigga, U crazy if U don't know
Every woman in the world ain't a freak
U can go platinum 4 times
Still couldn't make what I make in a week
So push up on somebody that wanna hear that
Cuz this somebody here don't wanna know
Boy, U better act like U understand
When U roll with Pussy Control"

With one more verse 2 the story
I need another piece of your ear
I wanna hip U all 2 the reason
I'm known as the Player of the Year
Cuz I met this girl named Pussy
At the club - International Balls
She was rollin' 4-deep
3 sisters and a weepy-eyed white girl drivin' a Hog
I pulled up right beside her
And my electric top went down
I said "Motherfucker, I know your reputation
And I'm astounded that U're here
I fear U're lonely and U want 2 know
A 12 o'clock straight up nigga
That don't give a shit that U're Pussy Control
Well I'm that nigga, at least I wanna be
But it's gonna be hard as hell
2 keep my mind off a body
That would make every rich man want 2 sell, sell, sell
Can I tell U what I'm thinkin' that U already know?
U need a motherfucker that respects your name"
Now say it, Pussy Control

And the moral of this motherfucker is
Ladies, make'em act like they know
U are, was, and always will be Pussy Control”

“Ok, did I win now? You can stop laughing anytime now. Fuck off. See you Monday.”
She puts the phone down and starts walking. After a moment, she notices that Spike isn’t with her. She turns around.
Spike shakes his head. “That was the most horrific, bizarre thing I have ever witnessed. And I’ve seen a Fungus demon in a corset singing Brittany Spears. There are no words.”
“Your welcome,” she responds with a bow. But then she gets dizzy and falls over. She lays on her back a minute, watching the sky.
“I think I like you, Doc. That said, its time to get you home.”
Spike grabs her hand and pulls her up. Upright, she takes a step back and looks directly at him for a minute.
“You look different.” She tilts her head to the side before asking, “Have you ever bleached your hair?”
He is about to respond, but then hesitates. After a moment he shrugs, “maybe?”
She shakes her head. Her eyelids look heavy. He ends up carrying her the rest of the way to her apartment. Once she is settled inside, he asks on the way out, “Raincheck on that scotch?”
“Sure.” She responds, attempting to smile.
*
From that point on, they saw each other fairly regularly. She told him more about the story she was writing and he thought it was good fun to help out. So they’d sit together on the couch with the laptop, combining ideas. He’d sketch some panels. They went to a few clubs, saw a few movies, talked about everything until all hours (as you do). Scotch got drunk and the writing sessions got more intimate. It was good fun.
One night, the laptop was quickly put to the side and things were getting hot and heavy on the couch. Just shy of clothes coming off, Peia whispers, “should we go upstairs?” There was a butler in the house (tall & creepy – rather Lurch-like, which she imagined was Gillian’s intent) who always seemed to be lurking and she didn’t really fancy being caught naked by him. Spike had responded, “Lets go to your place.”
She breaks away and sits back, “Seriously?” He pulls her close again, kissing her neck before saying, “Too many people in this house.” “Okay,” she responds, a bit thrown by the unexpected change of venue. They quickly stand up and she packs her things before heading out the door. She had driven tonight, so they go straight for the car, stopping every few steps for more kissing. As they reach it, Spike turns her around and pushes her back against the door, crushing his body up against hers, his face lingering next to her cheek for just a moment before their lips connect again. She feels dizzy. Up to now, everything had been tentative – almost a game. She was just toying with the idea of a relationship. But suddenly now it felt real. And not just a relationship, but a relationship with a vampire. She knew nothing about this, no idea whether or not to expect anything different.
Spike thinks about taking her right there – how easy it would be to tear off her pants and slide in – how good it would feel. He hadn’t felt this aroused for months, years maybe. He couldn’t remember the last time he was this hard. But as his hands start to reach down, he hears the sound of a door closing inside the house and remembers why he had requested they travel to Jen’s apartment. He pulls back, smiling devilishly and walks around to the passenger side. Peia takes a deep breath and after fumbling with the keys a moment, climbs in. She closes her eyes in an attempt to clear her head so she can drive without crashing. As soon as he moves into the seat next to her, he leans over and starts kissing her again, slipping his hand under her shirt and into her bra.
“If we’re going to make it to my place without crashing, you’d better stop. Unless you want to get in the back right now.” She says glancing over her shoulder.
“Drive,” he commands, reluctantly extracting his hands.
She nods and starts the car. They arrive at her apartment in just a few minutes. She hesitates a moment after she turns off the ignition. Spike can sense the rapidity of her heartbeat. Her apparent trepidation is intoxicating.
“You’re shaking. Are you afraid?” He hears himself ask in a low whisper.
“Shouldn’t I be? Just a little?” She turns to look at him. He responds with a half smile.
They leave the car and the minute they pass the threshold of her apartment, fall to the floor. As they kiss, he unbuttons her pants, and slips his hands between her legs. She whimpers, almost embarrassed by the obviousness of her arousal. Feeling the warm wetness of her swollen folds, he murmurs, “Gotta lick it.”
He moves down her body, sitting back on his legs as he pulls the sides of her pants over her hips, down her legs and tosses them to the side. He does the same with her purple thong before pushing her knees apart and leaning in until his face is just an inch away from her swollen lips. He inhales to catch the sweet scent of her arousal. She feels herself tremble with anticipation. He lurches forward and runs his tongue up the length of her slit, feeling for her hole. Finding it, he teases it with his tongue for a few seconds before moving upwards and flicking the skin just below her clit. She lifts up her pelvis, pressing into his face, unable to stop herself from coming almost instantly. She screams and jerks as her muscles contract rhythmically against the soft wetness of his tongue. “Sorry,” she hears herself say, unsure why. Spike pulls back, unbuttons his jeans with one hand as he moves back up her body. He pauses for an instant to watch her face as he pushes his cock into her as quickly as her body will allow. It takes a couple of thrusts to bury it fully into her cunt, “Holy shit,” she gasps, not quite prepared for the size of it. His eyes flutter as he takes in her warmth. He fights the urge to thrust as hard and deep as his body begs him to, for fear he might hurt her. She is human, after all. “You okay?” he asks before withdrawing for the next thrust, worrying that he might not be able to stop himself if she were to say ‘no’. “I’m good,” she replies despite the slight pain she feels at being stretched. This is only the second time she has had sex since the coma and the first was completely unmemorable. Her body was desperate for a good fuck, but tight from the lack of it. Hearing what he was hoping for, Spike begins thrusting in earnest, delighting in the tantalizing whimpers Jen is making in response. She wraps her legs around him, opening herself up further, inviting him deeper. It feels so good, he frees himself from the burden of restraint. The faster he thrusts, the harder he gets, soon unable to prevent the release that has been weeks in the making. He delights in the build-up and growls loudly as he feels himself spray inside her, the waves of his orgasm climbing up his knob delivering what feels like gallons. Afterwards, he collapses on her a second before resting his head on his elbow. “My turn to say sorry. Usually give a bit more mileage.” Smiling back at him, Peia responds, breathlessly “We’ve got the rest of the night.” “I like the way you think, Doc” he smirks back. Suddenly, Peia starts to look flushed and she feels her heart start to race as if her body is being jump-started from the inside. “What’s this?” She asks Spike, confused and a little freaked. “Round two,” he responds, then adds, “One of the many benefits to fucking a vampire, so I am told.”
***
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That's Not My Name