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Reviews are appreciated! This is my first fic, so please be nice.
A dull thud echoed through the room, breaking the awe-filled silence. The body lay where it had fallen, blood still trickling sluggishly from the ripped puncture wounds in the neck and the crimson lips. Glazed green eyes stared into space, blank and unseeing, barren of any signs of life. The final, labouring heartbeat rang in the sensitive ears of the gathering before life totally faded from the young woman’s body. Long, shimmering honey-blonde hair was spread about her face like a halo, her tanned skin already beginning to become colder, the icy air of the abandoned warehouse working its chill into her bones. The man standing over her looked up, feral eyes glittering in savage triumph.

A grin split his thin lips, a deep, resonating growl of victory bursting forth to shatter the expectant stillness. In answer, the crowd of vampires roared, a blood-curdling howl of barbaric amusement. The slender figure of a raven-haired woman made its way to the side of the hulking figure of the killer, swaying in delight as childish giggles fluttered from her lips before swooping down and licking the ragged tear on his wrist. She clapped, leaning upwards to whisper in his ear. His eyes narrowed, the grin twisting into a smirk. A wave of his hand and a vicious snarl quieted the bellowing hoard. His voice rang out above the crowd, powerful and coldly amused.

“And that, kiddies, is how to turn a Slayer.”

At his feet, the lifeless eyes of Buffy Summers continued staring into eternity.

14 years later…

As the dust settled around him, William ‘Spike’ Calendar wiped his hands, grimacing as a splinter from the broken end of the ‘For Sale’ sign he had grabbed burrowed deeper into his flesh. Sucking at the small entry wound, he dropped the sign with a muffled sigh, bending to snatch up the stake he had dropped before spinning and stalking towards the cemetery he had originally planned to patrol.

“Bloody vampires, can’t wait for a bloke where its supposed to be, no. Has to bleedin’ well attack before he gets to the dark, evil graveyard.”

Still grumbling under his breath, his accent a mixture of Cockney and a more refined English class, the current Slayer prowled restlessly between headstones. He’d been only 15 years of age when he’d been Chosen, the first male Slayer ever known. The Council had fussed endlessly over that before deciding that it didn’t make a difference whether he had the manly bits or not, he was destined to kill, maim and otherwise slay evil. His Watcher had been informed that they would be moving to Sunnydale, California, a quick cover-up story had been fed to his parents, who were only too glad to be rid of a total wimp like him, and he’d started his work as the Vampire Slayer.

Now, coming up to the end of his fourth year as a Slayer, Spike was a far cry from the timid, bookish boy who had first been Chosen. Then, his mouse-brown hair had curled hopelessly in every direction, his clothes had been stuffy and old-fashioned, and wire-rimmed glasses had distorted his intense blue eyes so they seemed to bulge from his head.

Now, sleek platinum locks were gelled into submission and his piercing eyes were unchanged by contact lenses. His average height and lean build disguised muscles that were hard and wiry from years of training and fighting, though the black t-shirt he wore left little to the imagination. Coupled with the now-dirty, tight black jeans and the long leather duster, his appearance was all bad-boy.

When he’d first become the Slayer, it hadn’t taken long for him to realise that William wasn’t about to strike fear into the heart of a girl scout, let alone a demon. His transformation had been helped by the sudden confidence in himself he’d found, and so William was buried deep beneath the tougher, brasher Spike, who’d earned himself the nickname early on in his first year.

When he’d moved to California, his Watcher had been insistent that nobody learn of his ‘secret identity’ but before long, he’d met the group of friends affectionately named the Scooby Gang. Willow, Xander, Oz and Tara were the original Scoobies, led by Spike himself. However, Anya had soon become a firm friend, once her demonic tendencies had been stamped out. The last addition to the gang was his girlfriend, Cecily Adams. Formerly a popular member of teen society, she’d disgraced herself by dating Spike, too punk and don’t-mess-with-me to be ‘cool’.

He wasn’t an idiot. There was some tension between Cecily and the other Scoobs, but he’d never seen anything to worry about. He was never around to watch her riding roughshod over his other friends, flirting with Xander before cruelly putting him down and mocking sweet, shy Tara. She’d managed to achieve a fine balance between simpering over their every virtue when she and Spike were in private and flaunting his trust in her at every opportunity, knowing that they doubted he’d believe them over her if they spoke up.

Sauntering casually towards a crypt that seemed to be favoured by newly-risen fledglings, he tightened his grip on the stake. Approaching silently, he was gratified to see that his instincts had paid off; his senses tingled with a low hum that screamed ‘Vampire!’ Just as he prepared to kick the door open, his cell phone let out a piercing wail before launching into a sickeningly cheerful melody. The Slayer inside informed him that the young vampire had fled and he gritted his teeth before hitting the appropriate button.

“Yeah?”

“Spike, you have to come back to Robin’s house.” Willow’s soft voice was nervous and frightened.

“What’s up, Red?”

“The Order of Aurelius is coming to Sunnydale. They want to kill the new Slayer.”

“I’ll be right there.”

Not giving her time to warn him to look out for himself etc. he spun and began jogging towards his Watcher’s house. An inner eye followed his every movement, the raven-haired vampire giggling to herself as she tracked the image of the Slayer in her mind.

“Daddy’s coming to get you, Slayer. Naughty boys have no toys.”





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