The Thurber Hypothesis

 

Or

 

A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to Imladris

 

 

 

By Capella

 

 

Eight

 

 

Spike found himself humming the same tune yet again as he strode through the park on the way back from the all-night store.  That was the trouble with the Bronze.  You always came out of there with some crappy indie song stuck in your head and couldn’t get rid of it for days. 

 

Still, it had been well worth it for the sake of the floor show tonight.  The thought of Giles dancing with the elf would keep him going for days.  You had to hand it to the bloke – going around most of the time like he had an iron rod stuck up his backside, you wouldn’t think he had it in him.  Must have been the sight of all those other would-be suitors crowding around Legolas with their tongues hanging out that had goaded him into action.  Classic stuff. 

 

He wondered for a moment if the Englishman was actually going to get lucky.  He’d be willing to bet that Legolas was interested, but no doubt there’d be some poncey moral reason why he’d have to keep his hands off.

 

Must be a complete pain in the arse, being good.

 

Spike stopped by a bench and put his grocery sack down to find his cigarettes, then lit up and inhaled deeply.  He loved the buzz of that first drag.  It was one of those little human pleasures he wouldn’t want to give up, like afternoon TV and onion rings. 

 

The cigarette was almost down to the filter when he heard the movement in the trees.  His first thought was of the Initiative, but the smell wasn’t right for men.  A moment later speculation became irrelevant as three large grey shapes crashed out of the undergrowth to his left, prompting him to drop both cigarette and groceries and take up a fighting stance.

 

Beygöar demons.  He must have pissed off the underworld very severely if the price on his head was high enough to drag these guys in.  Well, the one downside of demon-killing as a hobby was the fact that it was bound to win you enemies.  No point trying to talk his way out of this situation; he was in with a chance, but it was a slim one. 

 

When two more figures appeared out of the forest and joined the others, circling him slowly with teeth bared, Spike realised this was going to be his last fight.  At least he’d go out giving it hell, he wouldn’t be put down like a neutered puppy by the bloody US army.  He tossed his head, felt his features rearrange themselves into the game face, and snarled.  Bring it on.

 

The first one crashed by and took a fall under its own weight as Spike stepped to the left, sending a vicious kick to its neck to help it along.  The second wasn’t far behind.  It caught him a nasty blow just behind the ear before he dodged out of the way and swung for the third.  There was a satisfying thunk as his fist met the scaly jaw.  He spun to the side and dived between the two coming at him, then rolled to the right before another one could smash his cranium with a rock.  Leaping to his feet he got in a couple of good punches and another kick before pulling back, playing for time.  He could run but there’d be little point.  They wouldn’t be far behind and wherever he went they’d track him down.  He’d heard the Beygöar felt no pain, so it really was all or nothing.  You kill them, or they just keep coming back for more.

 

The fighting got serious then and he went into automatic.  Did some meaningful damage to the biggest of the demons, enough to put it out of action for a while, though not to finish it off.  But the sheer weight of numbers was against him, even though these brutes weren’t really known for intelligent fighting. 

 

Before long one of them had him pinned with his arms behind his back, while another had broken off a tree branch and was about to put it to use. 

 

“Vam-pire, trai-tor,” it hissed as it approached, struggling to pronounce the words. 

 

So this was it.  Strange how it didn’t really seem such a tragedy any more, not since they stuck the chip in his head.  A bloke had to go sometime, and this time was as good as any.

 

Only it turned out not to be his moment, after all. 

 

The Beygöar demon drew its arm back for the kill and Spike closed his eyes in spite of himself, so he only heard the next part.  The hiss broke off and a roar started in its place.  Then the roar turned to a gurgle, and went quiet.  The grip on his arms went slack and he opened his eyes again as he kicked back and wrestled himself free, taking advantage of the other demon’s astonished anger. 

 

He was more than a bit surprised himself to see Legolas whipping an evil-looking knife out of the dead Beygöar’s back and spinning round to stick it in the big one’s belly.  There wasn’t time for comment, however, as three more were still up and fighting.

 

Now the numbers had been evened up he could start enjoying himself.  He took his time with the next Beygöar, playing with it a little and feeling his strength peak.  By the time he’d finished the job with a sharp twist to the neck Legolas had already despatched one of the two remaining demons and was tackling the other. 

The elf had lost his knife at some point and was fighting hand to hand.  He was so quick the Beygöar couldn’t keep up with his weaving and ducking, and the bulky demon was clearly enraged by it.  Spike watched in admiration as Legolas drew his opponent into a lumbering run, brought it down with a feint, and got a foot on its neck. 

 

There was something about the way the elf moved that filled Spike’s head with thoughts of wild, dirty sex.  It was decades since he’d messed about with a bloke, but he still knew hot stuff when he saw it. 

 

“Here,” the vampire called, tossing Legolas the rock he’d been threatened with earlier. 

 

The elf glanced at him briefly, caught the rock, and brought it down two-handed on the Beygöar’s skull.  There was a loud crunch and Legolas leapt away in distaste as all five demons started to shrivel and smoke, eventually reducing to small puddles of goo under the elf’s astonished gaze.

 

“One of the more convenient features of the Beygöar,” said Spike.  “Kill off the whole posse and they take care of their own housekeeping.”

 

Legolas turned to stare at him.  His expression wasn’t friendly.  He’d been home and changed after the Bronze, and was now in full Merry Men regalia, hair braided and tied back.  He looked even better in his own clothes.  Totally shaggable.  Spike licked his lips, and immediately felt the weird buzzing in his head he’d first noticed at Giles’s place.  It was coming from the elf, he was sure of that, but it wasn’t like any mind contact he’d ever had with a telepathic demon – and he’d met several species.  This was oddly uncontrolled, and he couldn’t make it out.  Intriguing. 

 

He relaxed his face, felt it change back to normal.  “My guardian angel,” he said sarcastically.  “I should be thanking you.”

 

“There is no need,” said Legolas shortly.

 

“Why’d you do it?  Why’d you save my wicked life?” he prodded.

 

“Giles and Buffy let you live.” 

 

The elf showed no sign of wanting to prolong the conversation, but Spike was just warming up.  He watched as Legolas bent to retrieve his knife and wiped it carefully with a handful of leaves.  Once the blade was sheathed, the elf rolled up his sleeve and inspected his arm.  The vampire clenched his fists and dug nails into skin as he saw the cut just above the white wrist, on the tender inside.  It wasn’t deep, but the blood was welling.  The scent of it hit his nostrils moments after he’d taken in the sight.

 

Elf blood.  Rich and sweet, just as he’d imagined it.  His ears started to ring and he took a step closer.

 

“Keep away from me!” 

 

The tone was hostile enough, but what he was getting in his head was… something else entirely.  Spike looked the elf up and down speculatively.  Seriously hot stuff.  It had to be worth a go.  The urge to knock him down and give him the shagging of his life was almost as strong as the bloodlust. 

 

He moved closer still.  Any second now the elf would make a run for it.

 

“Don’t pretend you don’t want it,” he said, feeling the clamour in his head intensify.  “It’s just you and me now, nobody else’s delicate sensibilities to protect.”

 

“I will not allow it,” said Legolas.  He sounded desperate and looked panicked, but he wasn’t moving away.

 

“So stop me,” Spike smirked and closed the gap between them.

 

He laughed as the elf began to put up a fight.  This was more like it, an adversary who was quick, strong, intelligent – and, if he was reading the brainwaves right, hugely turned on.  They grappled, threw, punched and rolled, but as far as the elf was concerned it could only have been making matters worse.  Every time they touched each other the heat was turning up another notch.

 

It came to him in one of those weird moments of clarity that happen in the middle of a brawl.  Suddenly he understood why the elf was saying one thing and doing another, why he seemed so freaked out.  The strange, fuzzy brain-link he could feel was a two way thing.  All that nasty, hot horniness in the elf’s head was coming from Spike himself, and Legolas was powerless to stop it, no matter what his conscious mind was trying to do.  Spike would lay odds that out of control was a new scenario for the elf.  No wonder he was going crazy.

 

He realised he had the winning hand, and used it.  Visualising himself ripping the elf’s clothes off and pounding into him, he felt his cock throb painfully and heard Legolas groan.  That was a sound he’d pay money to hear.  He grabbed a fistful of blond hair, got an arm round the elf’s middle from behind, and hissed,  “I’m going to fuck you senseless,” into a pointed ear.

 

Legolas yelped and shuddered.  Spike took advantage of the fact, hooked a foot round the elf’s leg and tumbled them both to the ground.  The elf was still struggling, but he was weakening.  He writhed against Spike as the vampire rolled them over and got on top, one arm pinned underneath him.  The elf was pushing at him uselessly with the other. 

 

Spike pressed his cock down onto Legolas’s hip.  The elf was rock hard against him.  He knew he’d never last long enough to carry out his promise, what with the turmoil in his mind as well.

 

“Stop!”  Legolas made a last attempt.

 

“Oh come on.  I can feel what you want, here,” Spike jerked his head towards the elf’s, “and here.”  He shoved his hand down between them and grabbed the elf through his leggings. 

 

Legolas yelled, and Spike felt the effect of his own touch in his head via their weird connection.  What a rush.  He didn’t mess about with the fine details, just tugged on a leather tie till it broke so he could get his hand inside Legolas’s clothes.  He fumbled around until he got a good grip on the elf’s cock, hot and smooth, then started to move his hand, thrusting against the elf at the same time. 

 

“You feel it don’t you?”  he murmured.  “You feel the energy.  Being a vampire’s not just about blood and stakes.  I can give you something you’ll never get from a human.  Not even from another elf.”

 

He craned his neck to reach the skin of the elf’s throat.  Legolas brought the back of his free hand up to protect himself, and the red gash on his arm came into view.  That was it.  There was no way Spike wasn’t going to have it.  He pushed himself up on his elbow and bent his head to lap at the blood.

 

Jesus, it was incredible.  He could taste the elf’s arousal, like hot spice on his tongue.  There couldn’t be any holding back.  He sealed his lips around the wound and began to suck. 

 

Legolas was moaning loudly now, one long stream of incomprehensible elvish.  He was pushing up repeatedly into Spike’s hand, shifting his hips against Spike’s cock.  The friction, combined with the warm blood in his mouth and the mess of sensation flooding into him from the elf, all of it massively, painfully good, was taking him well beyond the limits of control.  He was losing it, losing it rapidly. 

 

And then he could feel Legolas coming, unbelievably hard, and Spike was right there with him, pulling his head back from the elf’s wrist to shout out as he shook with the most devastating orgasm he’d had in at least a century.

 

“Bloody hell.”  Spike rolled off onto his back and stared at the sky.  After a while it came into focus.  “Bloody frigging hell.”  He licked the last trickles of blood from his lips.  He’d taken less than a mouthful, but it was enough.  It was like cream, too rich to drink it all down in one go.

 

Legolas got to his knees and attempted to sort out his clothing.  He looked down at the vampire with cold eyes.  “I should kill you for that,” he said.

 

“Go ahead.  Be my guest.”  Spike yanked up his T-shirt, exposing his hairless, well-muscled chest completely.  If he went now, he’d go smiling.

 

The elf stared at him, his gaze wandering up and down.  Spike grinned.  Maybe not all that lust had come from him, after all. 

 

“Can’t do it, can you?” he said.  “Never mind.  Better admit it wasn’t all that bad.”

 

“It would not have happened if I could have stopped it.” 

 

Spike had the feeling that was a moot point, but he wasn’t about to argue.  Even vampires get  mellow after good sex.

 

“Look, relax about it.  The world hasn’t ended,” he said.

 

“If you speak of this to any of them, I will kill you.  I can put a wood-tipped arrow through your heart from fifty paces,” the elf responded.

 

“I don’t doubt it.  It’s part of your charm.  Besides, I’m not about to say anything.  Don’t want the whole world thinking I’m a raving poofter.  Anyway, you can’t blame me.  All that mind mojo made me crazy too, and it wasn’t my doing.”

 

Legolas was standing staring into the trees, but his head whipped round at these words and he peered down at Spike suspiciously.

 

“It was not your doing?” he asked accusingly.  “Then what was it?”

 

“Beats me.  Seems to have gone now, whatever it was.”

 

He got to his feet and scanned the ground for his belongings.  Thankfully his cigarettes were intact.  He pulled one out, and turned to offer the pack to the elf, who was looking up at the sky.  Quite why he hadn’t run off yet, Spike wasn’t sure.  A moment later he heard the helicopter and understood. 

 

“The bastards are on their way,” he said.  “No, wait!”

 

Legolas hesitated for a second at the edge of the trees.

 

“Are you going to risk leading them back to the house?” the vampire said quickly.  “Better come with me – the graveyard’s so full of weird stuff they don’t use their trackers there.  Besides, got a few spells of my own.  You’ll be safe.”

 

The elf looked unconvinced.  Spike decided it was time for a bit of reverse psychology and set off at a run for the cemetery gates.  It wasn’t long before he sensed that Legolas was following.

 

Once inside the crypt, Legolas looked around with obvious disapproval while Spike kicked the door shut and bolted it. 

 

“This is hardly secure,” the elf said.  “I should have gone into the forest.”

 

“Ten to one they’d have tracked you down, and it wouldn’t have been pretty.”  Spike sat down on the big stone coffin and fished in his pocket for his lighter.  “You’re better off risking it here with me.  We could have another go if you like, with a clear head this time.” 

 

It was far too easy.  The elf spun round and looked daggers at him.  “You will never touch me again,” he said angrily.

 

“OK, OK, just a joke.  You really need to calm down.  Smoke?”  He held the pack out.  Their eyes locked.

 

“No, pipeweed does not agree with me,” Legolas said stiffly, after a long pause.

 

“Doesn’t it?  Well, this might.”  He rummaged in the grocery bag and found the whisky.

 

The elf made no move to take the bottle from his outstretched hand.  Spike sighed.  All that rich red goodness must have gone to his head.  Why else would he suddenly feel the need to see Legolas smile?

 

 “Don’t beat yourself up about it,” he offered.  “You spend all your time with the humans being pure and good and self controlled, but you’re also wild and passionate and immortal.  You’ve seen stuff they couldn’t even imagine.  How else can you deal with it?  You can’t show it to them, they’d never cope.  Isn’t it a relief to be around someone who isn’t in awe of you?  I might be evil to the core, but I do understand all that.”

 

“There is some good in you yet,” said the elf suddenly.

“Don’t spread that around, or I’ll have to kill you.”

 

To the vampire’s delight, the elf threw back his head and laughed, then crossed to the stone slab and sat, not too close, admittedly, but near enough to reach for the whisky.

 

“Help yourself,” said Spike. 

 

Legolas removed the cap and took a healthy swig from the bottle before handing it back.  “I thank you,” he said. 

 

“No problem.”  Spike took a mouthful himself.  It was a shame to lose the taste of elf blood, but he wasn’t about to let Legolas hit the whisky alone.  “Now, are you going to tell me about it?  Who is he?”

 

“Who is..?” said the elf, puzzled.

 

“This bloke that’s bringing on all the guilt feelings.  I got those, you know.  No idea how, but they were there.  So go on, who is he?  Or are you going to tell me it’s a woman?”

 

Legolas shook his head and reached for the bottle again.  “I do not understand how it has come to pass that I should even consider unburdening my soul to a vampire,” he said.  “This world has made me strange indeed.”

 

“This world is bloody strange indeed.  No point fighting that.  So go on.  I know a bit about love, I can tell you,” Spike said despondently, thinking of Drusilla.

 

Legolas stared into the gloom and pulled his feet up to sit cross-legged.  He swallowed another measure of whisky and passed the bottle back to Spike.  This time he didn’t snatch his hand away quite so fast.  “There is no woman,” he said quietly.

 

 “So what is he then, a man or an elf?”

 

“Ah, well, the matter is a little more complex than that.”

 

Spike lit his cigarette and took a long draw.  He blew out a smoke ring and sent a second one through it.  So there was a story?  That was hardly a surprise.  “Well go on then.  We’ve got all night,” he said.

 

 

 

 

To be continued…

 

 

 

 

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