Spike found himself on the subway, headed for nowhere.
The vibrations of the car, the flickering lights, the faint scent of sweat and grime and urine, the oppressive heat. Gave him the tinglies, it did. He soaked in the atmosphere and wrapped himself in the sensations, trying to block out everything but the memory of that violent dance. The smell of fear right before that final gasp, the feel of bone snapping under his fingers. Then that look of peace.
Bloody hell, it wasn’t working. The thrill of the kill was tainted by what came after.
He’d hopped off the train completely juiced, high on the violence, desperate for a fuck and a beer and a savage tearing of the throat. Ready to take over this bloody town.
He’d done it. He’d killed his second Slayer. He was William the Bloody, Slayer of fucking Slayers, and he was drunk on the power, wrapped in his new trophy, body surging with adrenaline.
He’d gone off and tried to find Drusilla so they could bask in his victory, like they had before. So she would coo and call him her sweet prince, so she would once again know what he was worth.
But she was nowhere in this vast city. Nowhere to be found.
She’d started doing this a few years ago, just…disappearing. Going off to find her own fun for a bit. She always came back, but bloody hell it was painful each and every time she left him without a warning. Like someone was pouring holy water inside his veins, inside the cavity of his chest. And she had to pick now?
Alone and horny and exhausted and exhilarated and trying to ignore that fear in his gut that maybe this time Dru wouldn’t return, Spike had done the only thing he could. Get wasted at a bar.
For two days.
He always ended up back on the subway.
His half of the car was totally empty, he’d made sure. Just a few people on the far end. Maybe he’d eat ‘em all in a bit. When he started caring a bit more. But for now, he was soaking in his discontent, sobering up quickly, and feeling lonely.
He was resting against the window, eyes closed. His body was tightly wound and begging to be let loose, mind slow and heavy and desperate for the oblivion of sleep, just so he didn’t have to think anymore. He absentmindedly stroked the leather of his new coat with one finger. The slight vibration of the subway rattled his body. And suddenly, his nose twitched.
Hot, fragrant blood, very, very nearby.
He opened his eyes slowly to see a small blonde girl sitting across the aisle from him. Pretending not to look at him. She was cute, pretty young, with full pink lips and small, round breasts. Dark brown skirt, a white sweater, book bag. A tasty little appetizer out after dark, apparently interested in the Big Bad.
The girl turned her head in his direction, a bit embarrassed at having been caught but not tearing her eyes away. Those eyes were bright green, shining with a kind of sweetness that couldn’t be faked. He could hear her heart beating.
Oh yeah, that’s the stuff.
He’d play with this one. He wanted to, needed to in fact. She was a ripe, tempting treat to brighten up his mood, a gift from the Devil himself to sate his misery.
“Hello, cutie,” Spike purred, stretching his limbs out in all directions, eyes trained on his prey. Her pulse quickened, her skin tinged pink, there was a very faint scent of arousal. Delicious.
“Hi,” she said, trying to sound calm. But her voice was shaking a bit.
He didn’t have to wonder why for long, when he noticed sparkling eyes flicker from his face to the window behind him, then back to his face.
The window where, he knew, he was not reflected.
His body tensed, poised to pounce at the slightest sign of panic, ready to take her out quickly before moving onto the three bodies on the far end. If she made a fuss, that’s how it would have to go. There’d be no playing. Sad, but necessary.
But the girl didn’t say anything about her discovery.
Interesting. Very, very interesting.
“Got a name, pet?” He asked after a moment, tense body relaxing. Looked like he wasn’t the only one wanting to play, and this chit had no idea what kind of game she was getting herself into. Poor thing.
“Buffy.”
“That’s a name?” He scoffed.
“Hey, my mother gave me that name!” She snapped defensively, then her face froze in horror, like she hadn’t meant to talk back to him.
Oh, he liked that fire, and wanted more of it. He grinned at her, easing her discomfort a bit more. “I’m Spike.”
Her lips twitched into a smile. “That’s a name?”
“Not the one my mother gave me.”
The train slowed to a stop, and most of the passengers on the far end exited, save the drunken homeless man whose stench had been torturing Spike’s sensitive nostrils for an hour.
Until sweet Buffy sat near him. Now all he was aware of was the smell of her perfume, sugar and spice, the humming of her blood, the beating of her heart.
Yeah, this was going to be fun. A little shag, a little dinner. Delicious.
Now, he didn’t cheat on Dru. She was his black goddess, the face of his salvation, his queen, his everything. Didn’t need or want anyone else. Never would. But this was hunting. Feeding. Different thing entirely. He could do what he liked with a victim, and hell, Dru usually liked to watch and sometimes join right in. Sure, his girl didn’t happen to be here at the moment, but she’d love to hear about it later.
Wouldn’t feel an ounce of guilt for fucking this one.
“Where you headed, pet?” Spike asked, sliding his hand up his thigh to rest on the hard erection trapped in denim, rubbing gently. The girl’s eyes were glued to the small movement, pink lips parted in surprise, and she didn’t respond to his question. “Buffy?”
“Hmm?” She jerked her head up quickly, eyes wide.
“Asked where you were headed.”
“Oh. Um, home. But…I, like, kind of missed my stop? I’m new in the city, and I haven’t exactly figured out…”
He tuned out the words themselves, just enjoyed the melodic sound of her voice as he observed her. Made his plans.
He’d fuck her, for sure. She looked young enough to maybe be a virgin, so he’d make it good for her. Then biting…neck? Tit? Thigh? All three? He could take his time, draw out the pleasure, suck every last drop of blood from that delicious little body. Considering her lack of fear with his lack of reflection, he had to figure she had a guess as to what he was. She’d probably like getting nibbled on a bit. Had a kink for it, maybe.
Excellent.
“…do you know?”
No, he did not know. But he also didn’t care.
The subway jerked to a stop, and Spike rose quickly, stretching out his hand.
Buffy looked at him quizzically.
“We’re getting off.”
“I…okay,” she agreed hesitantly, reaching out and placing her small hand delicately in his.
She was so warm. He could feel her pulse in her palm, feel the slight tremors of fear. He dragged her behind him to the doors and pulled her onto the platform, sparing a glance up to check where they were.
Prospect Avenue.
Spike led her towards the stairs, reluctantly pausing when he felt resistance. He turned back and raised one eyebrow questioningly, but chose not to speak aloud. Whatever she had to say, he’d listen, but at this point there’s no chance in hell she was getting away from him.
“I…Spike, um, are you…”
“Am I what, pet?” He purred, sidling towards her until she backed up a few paces and found herself pressed up against a pole. He moved to within inches of her, stared down at her nervous, twitching face, and waited.
“Are you…you know what? I should probably go, I---“ She tried to move away.
He pinned her in with his arms quickly, but tried to keep his face from showing his anger. Didn’t want to scare her, yet. But certainly wasn’t letting her run off. “Go where, Buffy? It’s late, you shouldn’t wander the streets by yourself. There’s some nasty things out after dark. Dangerous like. Don’t want to get caught by one of those...”
He moved one hand in and skimmed it down her arm, appreciating the fuzzy softness of her sweater. And so he kept petting it, waiting.
Spike was always a tactile kind of bloke.
“You’re not one of those?” She asked, raising her chin high, voice no longer trembling. Showing a lovely bit of spine.
Spike smirked. “Maybe. But you like that, don’t you?” He lowered his voice, shifted closer, pressed his body to hers. Sighed through his teeth at the exquisite friction on his erection, at the soft pressure of her breasts on his chest. “Like the bit of danger, you do.” She shook her head. “Just chill, Buffy. Not gonna hurt you.”
Yet.
There were a few people scattered around the station, none paying attention to the two of them. Buffy seemed to realized this as her eyes darted around, finally settling back on his face. She opened her mouth to speak, closed it again, opened it. Cute, like a fish.
“Come on, curious little kitten,” Spike chuckled, grasping her hand and pulling her towards the stairs again. “Let’s go.”
She was silent as she followed him up the stairs to the street, silent as he dragged her under the bridge, and silent as they turned into an alley and lost themselves in the shadows. Spike wondered to himself why she was so willing to go with him---could be the pretty face, it had certainly got him many a tasty morsel over the years. Could be she was too young to know any better.
Could be he didn’t care.
He stopped and turned, wrapping an arm around her waist, spinning her until her back hit the brick. She let out a gasp, a gasp that she choked on when his mouth descended to press light, fluttering kisses from her temple to her jaw.
“What are you---“
“So beautiful, Buffy…” he murmured, hand playing with the hem of her sweater, dancing at the bare bit of skin he revealed. “So warm. Want to feel you. Will you let me?”
“I---“
“Yeah, you will. Know you want it. Don’t try and fight me.”
Her body was tense in his arms as he trailed kisses down her throat, licked at her fluttering pulse point, slid his hand up her spine to unsnap her bra. She twitched, tried to pull away, and he pressed his hips forward to trap her against the wall.
“Spike, I---“
“Shhh…” He placed one finger on her lips, adopting the voice he always used to calm Dru when she was in one of her fits.“I’ve got you, baby. Gonna make you feel so bloody good.”
Her body was still edgy and quivering with fear, but she didn’t say anything more.
Spike slipped his hands down to pull up her skirt, gathering it around her waist as he distracted her with a kiss.
First she didn’t respond, lips pressed together tight, hands fisted on his chest. Not pushing him away, but not pulling him closer. But as he lightly traced his tongue at the seam of her mouth, she instinctively opened up, and Spike slid himself inside before she could stop him.
She tasted like cherries.
Warm and wet, her tongue started to move timidly against his, and her hands unclenched to stroke at the leather of his jacket. He murmured his approval and slid one hand around the back of her neck, playing with her soft golden hair, relaxing her.
He let the kiss stay gentle, let it go at her pace, but it wasn’t long before she was increasing the intensity, pressing her lips harder to his. She was a good kisser when she got going, passionate and raw. She wriggled her hips.
Spike moaned, pushed himself up against her, rubbed his cock on her bare thigh, kissed her harder. He bit her lip, not hard enough to draw blood, but enough to make it interesting.
She squeaked in his mouth and he chuckled, pulling away. He returned his attentions to her neck as he slipped one hand between her legs, finding the cotton crotch of her underwear heated, becoming damp, just as he’d hoped.
“Told you I’d make you feel good,” he murmured into her throat, all too pleased with the way she was giving in, the way she was tightly clutching his shoulders and sighing softly. He slipped his fingers underneath her panties and she tensed up again briefly, but quick attention to her hard little clit made her shiver with pleasure and relax into him again.
She was already wet, not quite enough to take him yet, but clearly enjoying their little tryst. Such a horny little thing.
He rubbed softly at her clit as he slipped one hand up her sweater to pull down her bra, cupping one of those cute little tits in his palm.
She yelped.
Oh, right. His hand was probably cold. Wasn’t exactly a warm summer’s night.
“Sorry baby,” he whispered in her ear, rubbing the hot flesh of her breast quickly to heat his own hand up.
“It’s---it’s o-okay.”
Her voice was shaking.
“Don’t be nervous,” he soothed, nuzzling into her hair. Sweet smelling, like the rest of her. It was hard to be rough with this one, all his wired adrenaline from earlier had simmered down, and he was willing to be patient to get what he wanted from this girl.
Well, patient to a point.
“I’m not nervous, but---”
Kissed her to shut her up, to sate his need to feel her right there with him, responding to him. She did, kissing him eagerly, hand moving up to run through his hair.
Spike slipped one finger inside her, groaned at the tight softness he found, added another then rubbed gently at that special spot. Buffy arched toward his touch, head falling back and smacking into the brick, fingers tightening in his hair, pulling on it.
God, he was hard, needing her touch, needing her cunt, wanting it so badly he could almost taste it.
Then he did, pulling his fingers out of her and moving them up to his lips, licking them clean as she watched in shock. Her pulse was pounding, her blood boiling, her pussy giving off the most mouth-watering scent. She was ready.
And Spike’s patience snapped.
He yanked her panties off, ignoring her protest when they ripped in two, then easily undid his belt, distracting her with little licks to the shell of her ear.
“Wait, Spike, I’m not sure…”
He lifted her easily, ignored her protest, wrapped her legs around him and bit down lightly on her earlobe.
“Don’t fight it, Buffy,” he coaxed, one hand under her ass while the other slipped back under her shirt and tweaked her nipple. “You know this is what you wanted.”
“No, I---“
“No? Your body’s telling me different. Tells me you want me inside you. Come on, tell me you do.” She was silent, he moved to look her in the eye. “Have you done this before?”
“Once…a long time ago.” She bit her lip nervously.
Disappointing, but it didn’t matter. He was still more turned on than he’d been in ages.
Spike guided himself to the entrance of her sex, brushing it against her clit, and she shivered. “Let me in, baby. Want you so bloody much. Feel how much I want you?” He pressed forward a bit, sliding just the head of his cock inside of her.
She didn’t say anything, just closed her eyes, and he wasn’t in the mood to wait any longer. With one thrust he sheathed himself inside.
Buffy cried out, fingernails digging incredibly hard into his shoulders, no doubt leaving nice little moon-shaped crescents in the leather to remember this night by.
Spike growled, a harsh and nearly inhuman sound, the heat of her almost unbearable in contrast to the cool night air that had been tickling his flesh. He let her adjust to him, just for a moment, relishing the way her pussy gripped every inch of him like a vice.
God, she was sweet.
He pumped his hips slowly, once, twice, then she moaned, softly but he heard it clear as day.
“Mmm, yeah you like that…” he taunted, nipping lightly at her throat as he held her tightly and started to fuck her faster. “Knew you would. Naughty little thing like you, just aching for me. You were, weren’t you? Say it.”
She let out a high pitched whine, and nodded. “Yeah…”
He slipped a hand between them and rubbed at her clit, hard, pinching it, and she cried out in pained pleasure. Yet more of her essence soaked his cock. “Didn’t know what you were getting yourself into, did you? Watching me, wanting me, teasing me with the sweet smell of your cunt. Knowing what I am.”
He stilled his hips, despite everything in his body screaming at him to keep moving, and took his hand from between her legs to grab her by the jaw, forcing her face towards his. Her eyes fluttered open, green and glittering in the dark. “Tell me what I am.”
There was a moment of quiet, but for the very distant sound of cars on the road, and Buffy’s quick breaths.
“You---you’re a vampire,” she said finally.
He was actually kind of surprised she got it right on the first go. Maybe she wasn’t as innocent as he thought.
“Interesting guess,” he smirked. He started moving again, pounding into her hard, eyes trained on hers.
She began to shake and pant. Her eyes started to close.
“Oh, no you don’t,” he said warningly, tightening his grip on her face. “You look at me.”
She did.
As her orgasm built inside her, as her sweet little muscles fluttered impossibly tight around his cock, the scent of her fear grew and grew. With her pleasure was coming her realization about what she’d gotten herself into, about whose arms she’d fallen into so willingly.
Spike let go of her face and returned his attentions to her clit, rubbing her roughly, smirking at the look of gratitude on her face.
When she came, desperate little moans falling from her lips, he let his face shift into its demon features, allowing her one second to register them before he tore her sweater in two and bent down to bite hard around her nipple.
He sucked in a mouthful of blood then found himself exploding. The taste of her sent him into an instant, unprepared for orgasm, and he snarled around her flesh, hips jerking against hers as he filled her with his come.
Hot and sweet, filled with the taste of sex and fear, her blood was more than he’d bargained for. Because under those expected, delectable layers, he tasted something more.
Power.
He’d tasted it once, years ago, and could have tasted it again a few days earlier. He couldn’t believe it, couldn’t tear his mouth away, sucked harder and harder until he was finally sure.
Slayer blood.
Buffy was screaming above him, fright and gratification together, struggling against his mouth but still grinding her hips against his. Her hands were pushing his head away, the salt of her tears reached his nostrils, and he wanted to stop. Wanted to pull away and ask her what the fuck she was playing at, but she just tasted so fucking good. It was like he was bound to her, cock and fangs, still coming and sucking and he could not stop.
Finally, once he was drained of his fluids he pulled away and backed up, letting her fall to the ground. Her hand flew to her breast, streaming with blood, and she was sobbing, scrambling for her shirt.
“Please please just let me go I didn’t…I didn’t think and I’m sorry just please…” she rambled, begged, voice weak and full of terror. The words would have been music to his ears from anyone else.
But not a Slayer.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” he hissed, foot shooting out to press on her bare chest, pinning her to the ground, leaving traces of dirt on her skin. She whimpered. “Is this some new Slayer technique I don’t know about? Getting yourself fucked and bit? You idiot child.”
“I—I don’t know—“ she gasped. “Please, I’m sorry please just don’t…”
His eyes narrowed. There had been nothing on her face that showed she knew the word Slayer, and she wasn’t even trying to fight him. He wiped a drop of blood off his chin, tested it with his tongue, felt his cock hardening again in response.
There was no question. She was Chosen.
The how of it came to him slowly as he stared at her pale, tear streaked face, those pretty eyes wide with abject panic. It started to make sense.
”The way you tell it, one Slayer snuffs it, another one rises. I figure there's a new Chosen One getting all chosen as we speak.”
And she hadn’t been found, yet. Hadn’t been told. She was just a stupid little girl playing at a fantasy, had no idea what she was.
Roaring, Spike reached out and grabbed her, pulled her up, slammed her against the wall and buried his face in her neck. But his ridges had smoothed out, his fangs had retracted. He inhaled deeply.
He felt himself shaking, registered her sobs, smelled her blood. He could take her, take his third, two in one week. Kill yet another Slayer. Dru would have to stay with him then. He could fuck this little Slayer raw then gorge himself on her blood, teach her the lesson she’d seemed so eager to learn. Bury himself inside her.
But it seemed…wrong. Rarely did anything seem wrong to him, but this did.
Wrong. Wasn’t right. The words didn’t seem to make sense, but he knew they were true.
He couldn’t claim her as his third Slayer when she hadn’t fought back, when she didn’t even know who she was. Could kill her, sure, but there would be no victory in it. No pleasure.
She still smelled so sweet. And she had felt so good…
Spike backed up quickly before he could change his mind, before his demon could roar to the surface again, shoved his renewed erection back in his jeans and said quietly. “Go. Get yourself trained, and you’ll be seeing me soon.”
“I don’t…I don’t understand---“
“GO!” he roared, and she didn’t need to be told again. On wobbly legs she stood and fled, tossing him one glance over her shoulder.
He watched her run off, covering her bare chest with her torn, bloody sweater, her breathing harsh and labored. She’d left her book bag on the ground. He’d get her name, her address. Look her up in a few months.
Should have known the only thing better than killing a Slayer would be fucking one.
Author's Chapter Notes:
Just a little one-shot that popped up in my brain and would not be ignored until I wrote it. A bit different than my usual stuff, and a little darker. Please let me know what you think!