Part III
When
She scolded herself
for the ungenerous thought, reminding her mean-spirited brain that Riley was a
good guy. A good, responsible, nice guy. He wasn’t
some Parker Abrahms wannabe. He wouldn’t run off and
abandon…her….
She discontinued
all further thoughts on the subject.
When Buffy didn’t
appear in class,
As evening fell,
She checked her
watch.
She’d give it another
hour before calling Giles.
***************
Twenty-four hours of a new life.
Ten demons the
previous night had died interesting deaths at the hands of Sunnydale’s
new High Concentration Slayer, and a vampire that was happy to join in the carnage.
Two shops had been broken into – smashed
into; bags full of expensive women’s clothes stolen. A little shop that
sold firearms and general weaponry had been decimated by Bonnie and
The sleepy town
that had never registered the presence of a Hellmouth
and failed abysmally to notice the arrival of the Initiative had taken quite a
beating from one little girl.
Brave new world.
Dressed is a low
cut black halter and low slung black hipsters, freshly liberated from a pricey
boutique, her new style heels brought her up to his shoulder. Stopping in their
stride through the centre of Sunnydale, he grabbed
her shoulder, whirling her around and pulling her into a long kiss that she
didn’t resist.
Had a taste for it now.
A piercing scream
disturbed them; Buffy’s head spinning at the noise.
“Come on, pet,
ignore it,” grumbled the frustrated vampire. “It’s only some human bint.”
“Spike!” admonished
the Slayer, huge eyes opened wide. “I’m shocked.”
She watched the moment of fear leap in his eyes. “Someone is screaming,” she
continued piously, “and we aren’t causing it.” Her eyes shone in wicked glee as
he recovered himself, digging his nails into her arm and holding her back for a
last, bloody, kiss.
She broke away and
took off at a run in the direction of the plaintive cry. He followed on her
heels, following her, following the smell of fear.
They rounded the
corner and took in the site with a flash of recognition. The scene was not unusual
for Sunnydale; a vampire (newly risen idiot, thought Spike with contempt) feeding off a young
girl outside the Bronze. Spike had to laugh at the stupidity of this town. Conveyor belt of fucking
idiots, lining up to feed themselves to vampires. Me first! No, me! Entertainment turned
to resentment when he remembered that his invitation to the party was still
revoked.
He watched his
Slayer (when had she become his
slayer?) assess the situation with an amused glance, pull out a stake and dust
the vamp before it had thrown so much as a punch at her. All too
simple.
God, she was magnificent.
The shaking,
crying, crumpled figure on the ground seemed to think so too.
“Thank you!” the
girl whimpered, one hand clutching at the hem of the Slayer’s sleeve. “Thank
you so much. You saved my life. God, he was so strong, I couldn’t….”
The curl of revulsion on the
pretty mouth of his girl.
“Yeah,” Buffy
drawled. “Sure. Whatever. Wouldn’t
want some dead beat vamp snacking on you.” Her eyes flicked over the
girl and she reached out a helping hand. Once the terrified creature was
standing, Buffy spun her around, pushing her flat against the wall with a thump
that Spike could feel, yards away. “Not when you could go to the best,” she
explained, all wide-eyed and innocent. The girl shrieked again and Buffy shook
her head sadly.
“The only one who
comes running to save you is me,” Buffy
explained carefully, regretfully. “And I’m….taking paid leave at the moment.”
“Pleeease….” The whispered plea was met with a slap that
knocked her head sharply against brick. “God, no….”
Spike watched in
fascination as Buffy slid a knife from some inner pocket, twirled it in her
hand with practised ease, then slid it across the
young girl’s throat.
His demon greeted
the sight of the blood with a hungry growl.
“All yours, baby,”
Buffy told him, throwing the limp body into his arms. He caught it awkwardly,
watching her, watching it. Could he feed?
Buffy, hands on
hips, looked at him impatiently. Waiting.
He knew the girl
wasn’t quite dead, he could hear the low gurgle of her expelled breath. And now
his greatest fear was no longer the pain of the cursed chip, it was the
humiliation of being the pathetic sidekick to his generous benefactor. Of being lesser than.
Gathering his
courage and his demon, pushing aside the nagging voice of doubt, he slowly
licked the dripping blood from the girl’s neck. The demon grew greedy, casting
caution to the winds and drinking deeper. No twitch of life now. No heart
a-beating. He sank his fangs into the jugular and drank his fill. Drained her
of the blood she no longer needed. It wasn’t the same when they were already
dead, but the blood was warm if not pumping, and it was human.
And it had been far
too long.
“Now that,” he declared vehemently, his head
snapping up and his eyes glittering gold, “was more like it!” He wiped the back
of one hand across his mouth, saw how it came away
stained red. Three weeks on pig’s blood and a man could loose his table
manners.
He let the body sag
to the ground like a rag doll; advanced towards the amused Slayer. “Thanks,
pet,” he said easily. “How can I ever repay you?”
Her dancing eyes
suggested the answer he had been hoping for. In one flowing movement he lifted
her up and slammed her into the wall, mimicking her treatment of his last meal.
“Let’s see if you
can last more than ten minutes now you’ve got a meal in you,” she mocked into
his ear, her warm breath tickling him.
Ten minutes?
She laughed into
his biting, devouring kiss as he pinned her against the cold brick.
His hands assaulted
her body, pinching, nipping, twisting; forcing the laugh into a gasp and then
into a groan.
He’d show her ten minutes……….
She retaliated in
kind, a hand slipping beneath hard denim, applying the kind of pressure that
would break other men. He growled against her throat.
She took control,
breaking his hold, catching one of his wrists and using her full strength to
push his back to the wall. He wasn’t arguing now. Held him there, mocking him
with her eyes, before slowly descending his body, nipping and biting through
his clothes.
Slayer down on one knee before him…… He might just
explode now. Her mouth teasing his crotch….. This was a fantasy too
perverted to have ever acknowledged before.
She tore the fly
open with practised hands, releasing his eager erection, taking it into her
mouth, taking him in….
His hands clutched at
clammy brick behind him, desperate for something to steady him. Grabbed at
golden hair as his hips rocked violently against her; tongue, teeth, fucking hell.
He came violently,
explosively in her mouth, felt his knees buckle with the force of it.
She looked him in
the eye, laughing as she wiped her mouth. “Said you wouldn’t
last ten minutes.” Smirked up at him, so very pleased with herself.
With a growl, he
lunged at her, knocking her to the damp ground. Sprinkled with blood. Tore at her button-fly
jeans, sending silver skidding over the slick surface of the ground.
Roughly pulling her legs from under her, dragged her trousers
to mid-thigh, ripping at panties that presented no challenge to a pissed-off
vampire.
Holding one of her
arms flush against the ground over her head, controlling himself with his other
hand, he entered her in a rush of heat and anger and endless lust.
The tiny whimper
that escaped her before she could bite it back sent a whole new surge of blood
to his groin. God, she was amazing.
Muscles he had
never imagined, stamina beyond even that of a vampire, her nails tearing his
flesh through his now ragged shirt, driving him faster, faster, forcing him to
ride her at a gallop, now, driving him back over the
edge again.
Ten minutes…. Fucking cheek….So he thought of
other things and ignored the pull and push of those slick muscles, refused to
think of the wet heat that he could drown in, that he could………Show her…
Finally dragged
back to the moment by her strangled yowl of primal delight, ‘cause the moment
was worth being in, he let it go, came with a roar that woke the neighbourhood
and collapsed on top of her, joining her in brief, breathless, worn-out
laughter.
They fitted
perfectly, they were perfect….The though was enough to jolt him from anything
resembling afterglow. The Slayer. And
Him. Perfect? What sort of
fucked-up vampire was he anyway?
The sort that takes what’s being offered on a plate.
This was the kind
of thing he was happy to blame the chip for. Although right now he was having
enough fun to almost make up for the damn thing.
A slow handclap
made them both jump, startled them back into watchfulness. A girl, dressed in
black, stepped over the body of their victim and looking at their post-coital slump
in the oddest way.
“Faith,”
acknowledged Buffy, as casually as she could. Pushing the wary Spike off her
body, she pulled her shirt to cover one breast.
“Other slayer,”
recognised Spike quietly, upon hearing the name. Wondered what to make of this new
development. One vampire, two slayers? This place just got interesting-er and interesting-er.
“Still boning dead
guys, huh, B? And, you know, gutting innocent girls with knives.” Faith nudged
the broken body on the ground with her boot. Looked at it
distastefully.
Swallowing
surprise, Buffy snorted with laughter. “Yeah, Faith. ‘Cause you were seven kinds of innocent.” She
shifted her position a little, lifting her hips and adjusting her trousers to
cover herself a bit better.
Faith tilted her
head, thrown off balance by this whole new Buffy. Cast an approving eye over
her rival’s taste in dead guys, then turned her icy gaze back on Buffy.
“Whatcha come back for?” asked Buffy. “Gonna
kill us all in our sleep?” Her lip twitched in amusement.
Faith crossed her
arms and brazened it out. “Something like that. You gonna stop me, girlfriend?”
Spike chuckled,
causing both girls to glare. “Sorry,” he said, not sounding sorry at all. “You
don’t mind if I stay and watch the catfight, do you pet?” Buffy elbowed him in
the ribs and he exhaled a groan. Remembered – two slayers? Probably dangerous.
“B, don’t get me
wrong, I hate your guts and I want to kill you and everything, but…..what the
hell happened to you?” asked Faith, the confusion evident in her voice. Buffy slicing
the throats of vamp-victims just didn’t add up. Nor did the screwing
of a non-Angel vampire in a back-alley, for that matter.
“You now what they
say about college,” Buffy replied. “I guess I found myself.”
“No
way.” Mingled respect and disbelief. “There’s no way
this is Buffy. What is it – thrall? Spell?” She turned
her questions on Spike, who watched the scene unfold with obvious
entertainment.
Spike grinned and
nudged Buffy. “Better tell her I’m not pulling your strings, pet. Big bad
Slayer might slay me.” Two pairs of narrowed eyes, reminding him he was
outnumbered here, and couldn’t even hit one of his opponents. He rolled his
eyes and shut his mouth.
“Seriously, B, I
don’t get it. If you’re out exploring your dark side, how come all the little
Scooby fiends aren’t talking sense
into your head? Or, you know, chaining you to walls while they whine about the
true and righteous path?” Faiths face clouded; anger held below a very fragile
surface.
“The Scooby fiends
are probably more concerned about Giles-the-Fyarl-demon,”
said Buffy casually, examining her fingernails. “And seeing how I’m not there
to connect the dots, it’s probably gonna take ‘em a while to figure that one out.”
Faith laughed, a genuine belly-laugh. “No way!
Giles is a Fyarl demon? Aren’t they the ones with
the…..”
“Mucus,” agreed
Spike.
“And you did this?”
Faith gasped, laughter fighting utter disbelief.
“Me?” asked Buffy
innocently. “I’m surprised you could even suggest such a thing. Me, indeed.” The sly grin belied the innocence.
“No, that was me,”
admitted Spike. “Though I have say, I really regret not havin’
the video camera ready for that one.”
Faith tried to
reign in the giggles, only barely managing. “So let’s get this straight,” she
said finally. “Giles the Great and Good is running
around town as a Fyarl demon, the – gang – are dealing with him, and you
are…..”
“Having fun,”
supplied Buffy, matter-of factly.
“And you, Buffy the
Vampire Slayer, are screwing – sorry, I didn’t get your
name?”
“Spike,
aka William the Bloody. You may remember
me from such scourges as the Scourge of Europe,” said Spike facetiously.
Faith cast an eye
over him as he tucked himself away and zipped up. An
appreciative eye.
Okay, he was still hard, who wouldn’t be with these
two around?
“Yeah, we should be
heading,” said Buffy, watching him arrange his clothes, smooth down the duster.
She turned to Faith. “Look, d’you wanna do the whole trying-to-kill-me
thing or do you wanna come with?” Hands on hips, she
faced down the other girl. “Your call.”
And for the first
time in her life, Faith hesitated. “Where are you going?” she asked, going for
hard swagger, but only managing kind-of-curious.
Buffy looked to
Spike, then grinned. “Drink,” she cried, remembering.
“We were going to – buy – some
drink.” She smirked. “Then we sorta got distracted.”
“That sounds like
something I could help with,” said Faith slowly. “Been kinda short on cash since the waking up in a hospital
gown.” She looked at Buffy, new
Buffy, hard and shiny Buffy. “I take it you’ve learnt how to deal with a
cash-flow crisis?”
The two slayers
looked at each other, slow smiles of understanding growing.
“Want,” said Buffy.
“Take,” agreed
Faith.
They both looked at
Spike, and in unison, concluded, “Have.”