Never Ever Tell by Lilachigh
Meeting 5 Not Cricket
He’d slid silently into town. No car this time. And he was sober. He’d passed through endless passages, through graveyards and crypts, like a dark ghost. Vampires and demons saw him coming and sensed his mission. They faded away, scared, not wishing to come between him and his deadly goal.
Now Sunnydale lay before him, and one house, one bedroom, one Slayer.
He’d heard on the demon grapevine - and nothing travelled faster - that she was sick, weak, at her lowest ebb. Something about a soddin’ test from the soddin’ Watchers’ Council.
Oh he knew all about the Cruciamentum. Had seen it in action before. But he hadn’t really believed good old Wanker Giles would put her through it. What a prick!
But hey, good result for vampires and demons.
He ghosted up the tree that grew outside her bedroom window, no more than a silent shadow in the moonless night.
The window was open and it took seconds to slide his legs across the sill and be standing by her bed.
She was fast asleep - looking exhausted. He stared down at tumbled blonde hair, bare arms and shoulders and a neck, open and waiting for him. The beauty of his face changed in an instant and his eyes glowed golden and his fangs extended. Oh yes, Slayer number three was about to be his next kill.
He bent forwards, then hesitated and the yellow glow faded as sapphire returned to his eyes and his face shimmied back to human.
Sod it! Was it a little bit unfair to kill her while she was asleep? The other two Slayers had been taken in fair fights, they’d given as good as they got - until he killed them.
Somehow, biting this Slayer in her sleep while she was weak - well, it just wasn’t cricket, was it?
He flinched. Bloody hell - where had that old saying sprung from?
From the eternal Englishman who lurked somewhere in his deepest nerve cells, came a memory of Sunday afternoons, a village green, the crisp sound of ball on bat, and a distant cry of ‘Well played, William. Well played, sir!” Fair play. Always give the other person a sporting chance. He’d come a very long way since those days.
He stared down at the Slayer who gave a funny little snore and turned over in her sleep. He could sense how weakened she was, but it wouldn’t be long before she recovered. This might be his only chance to rid the world of her.
So what was he waiting for? He reached out to waken her. If she was conscious, he could kill her, he reasoned. But even as the thought crossed his mind, he knew he couldn’t.
‘I think I’ll wait until you’re strong again, Slayer,” he muttered. “Killing something that’s got no more strength than a bloody kitten? Where’s the fun in that?”
And instead of reaching for her throat, the vampire gently pulled the covers up over her bare shoulder before sliding out of the window and back out into the night.
meeting 6 follows shortly
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Author's Chapter Notes:
I’ve always felt it is important to remember that Spike is an English gentleman at heart. He might want to be a football hooligan, but William would have been brought up to follow a totally different set of game rules. For my American friends, cricket is the only game where one side ‘declares’ to give the opposing side a chance to win.