Let's Do Lunch by Bogwitch
(AtS, Season five, Spike and Illyria, gatecrashing a client buffet)
“This body requires sustenance,” Illyria ordered. “I was sent here.”
Spike waved a hand at the disordered remains of the Wolfram and Hart buffet, while appropriating the plate of spicy wings for himself. "It’s all yours."
“What are those?”
“Boiled eggs, Pet.” He dropped one egg into her palm.
Illyria looked at it curiously, her blue eyes staring at the thing he’d given her. "I will not eat the ovulation of such low creatures."
It felt smooth, strangely heavy in her hand. Almost perfect in slippery symmetry, it shined wetly, but felt dry like an eyeball…
“Perhaps they will do.”