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Author's Chapter Notes:
Content includes explicit rape scene and murder. The victim is a young girl. You have been warned.
Many thanks to beta: myfeetshowit, the very best of the best!

Based on characters created by Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy. No copyright infringement intended. Original characters are mine.

Chapter 22 ~ Crux

Binnemon walked around the back of Tudor Hall. On the way, he spotted the new blonde with the guy all done up in black. He had noticed them walking the grounds at night before. Funny, that. Thinks she can ignore the curfew and her with a lad that looks to be a punk. Probably likes violence and horror. Could show him some horror, he thought. He leaned against a tree, watching the lights go out one by one. Not all, though. There were always a few night owls busy studying or doing girly things to their hair and faces and fingernails. He was around so often now that when he appeared in a doorway after a gentle knock the girls hardly noticed. Those that did would even greet him; happy to know they were well guarded and safe. He was the chief night guard making rounds. What could be more normal? Too bad Fiona couldn’t see him now. She always thought he was headstrong. Too bad she wasn’t around to see how clever and patient he was.

Tonight was to be his payoff. He felt like a king with Armstrong’s fire still in his veins. He was a king, a god. Tonight, he would shut up the demon that tormented him to find out if Armstrong was the only sacred cow. If the others were like her, he could look forward to a whole alphabet of that precious nectar.

He had already chose his quarry. Chastity Baker was one of the youngest girls in the school at fifteen. An orphan. Lost her family when she was six in a motor accident. Her extended family was all gone as well. Her foster family was thrilled to be rid of her, said she was ‘difficult’ and had a violent temper. Nobody would miss her if anything did go wrong. She was a tiny thing with a peaches and cream complexion and naturally curly blond hair and from the same part of Ireland as Binnemon. They had the same accent and she took a particular liking to him. She said she welcomed his visits and laughed telling him he looked like her Granddad but she remembered her Granddad had more hair. He laughed too because tonight the joke would be on her. After all, he wasn’t quite the good man that Rupert Giles once called him…
~~

In mid November, the evening air was chill and damp around the hills of West Gloucestershire where the Academy was located. Eerie mists formed in the valleys and moved with the air currents as the sun went down. “Sorta creepy, huh?” Buffy giggled nervously.

“What’s the matter Slayer, going soft?” Spike said, walking along beside her, pacing his stride to match her shorter one.

“No… it’s just different. Foreign. I know that doesn’t make any sense, but the vibes on this side of the ocean are different. Vamps are vamps and demons are demons, but these speak with your accent. It’s way weird.”

“Not my accent. I’m from London. Born and bred. I can sound like the proper Eton and Oxford trained Englishman that I am or I can sound like a tough from North London…. This, by the way, is what I choose. Whatever you hear around here is something else altogether, innit?”

“You’re right. It’s silly, it’s just that my tinglies are super tingly.”

With eyebrow raised and patented lewd sneer he made a move to tackle her. She anticipated the move, slipped away, and ran laughing all the way. “Hey Slayer, did you ever stop to think that your tinglies are all about me?” He yelled as he caught her around the waist, spun her around, and dropped her to the ground landing on top of her between her spread legs.

“Mmmm, home at last!” Spike said growling as her heat spread to his loins.

She laughed and tried to catch her breath as he settled himself in place. They locked eyes and he captured her mouth in a thorough kiss. Buffy stroked her hands along the length of his arms and wrapped them around his shoulders. Making yummy moans, she tangled her fingers in his curls, and deepened the kiss while Spike’s hands found their way under her shirt.

Buffy squirmed at his cold touch and squealed into his mouth, “Eeeee! Cold!”

His mouth, never leaving hers, spread in a broad smile as he teased her erect nipple. The touch triggered a response deep inside Buffy and she wiggled her hips beneath him. Now it was his turn to moan as she encircled her legs around him.

He groaned and she said, “We’re supposed to be working here. It’s not like we don’t have a bed at home.”

He sighed and took his hand from her breast. She took it to mean he was angry, but before she could speak, he thrust his fingers inside her pants. “The law demands workers get a break from time to time…. Just think of this as a break,” he whispered in her ear as he sucked and nibbled her ear lobe. He growled. All she could think was, “talk about tingles!”

Suddenly Spike stilled, a predator sensing prey.

“Oh, don’t be mad,” Buffy whined.

He didn’t answer as he lifted his head alert to everything around him. He whispered, “It’s a demon, Buffy. Run, Buffy. Run.” Lifting himself off her, he helped her up in one incredibly fast move.

“Have you lost your mind? You want me to run?” Buffy said, brushing the grass and dew from her clothes, confused and unaware of the danger he sensed

“Jesus Christ, Buffy. Shut up. You’re in danger. Run”

“Excuse me? I don’t run. I kill demons.” Her tone hardened. “I kill vampires,” she said.

“It’s got this thing…” Spike balled his fists and growled. “Nevermind. Will you please do what I say? Don’t stop until you get to the cottage. Call Giles. Tell him it’s a gnarvole. Bring help. Run! Now!” Spike roared.

She startled at his tone. He frightened her…. For one moment, one moment only, she hesitated. She had to trust him. She turned and ran. At exactly that moment, the air filled with a strange smelling mist. Suddenly her chest felt tight making her cough. The earth rumbled beneath her. Spike was yelling, goading the ‘What was it…gnarvole? Right.’ and using some new words. The sound of pounding flesh filled the air along with the roar of battle. Abruptly Spike fell silent followed by the weird wail of the creature. A sickening thought entered Buffy’s mind and she tried to push it away. “No…He’s OK. Oh God, let him be OK,” she prayed. She wanted to go back. They were a team. Together they could beat anything. Buffy felt her eyes fill with tears. “Stupid vampire,” she said pumping her legs to go as fast as they could. She had to get help.

~~~

The girl was nothing to him, Binnemon thought, except perhaps a particularly tasty meal; still, her death was likely to cause him problems. His plan had worked perfectly for six months without a kill. He did not intend to have all he worked for go down the toilet just because these teachers and professors finally got their heads out of their asses long enough to figure things out.

With all the blood loss, it had to look like a murder…it would have been so much easier if it could have seemed like a simple suicide. The girl had no family, few friends in school…he had no idea how her grades were, but that didn’t matter…kids killed themselves all the time for failing… or just not succeeding enough. Shit, they lost hope if they broke a nail. Kids didn’t think about eternity.

His plan to fake a suicide didn’t work out…not when she started fighting back. She was no bigger than a minute but fought like an Amazon.

At first, it all went well. Binnemon chatted her up a bit. She told him once that he reminded her of her Granddad which made her sad, and he lent a sympathetic ear. That was the easy part. Then, the trance. She had no idea. None of them ever did. One minute they were there…and the next they weren’t.

When he was doing his…research…to work out his plan, he learned that women were horny. He found that once you take away the inhibitions, they were all horny. On that account, when he pulled off her pants and stuck his hand in her panties and she moaned…that was all he needed to hear. His fangs dropped and he went for her groin and that great big throbbing femoral artery. She didn’t object. She liked it…and so did he. And what do you know? It was just like he thought…more of that mind-blowing blood.

The thing is, Binnemon hadn’t been with a woman in over twenty years. Oh, he fucked plenty of undead …they were there for the taking anytime…and Fiona had as sweet a quim as a man could imagine. No, he hadn’t been near a warm wet cunt in a long, long time. His wife was dead long before he was turned and there was no sex for years before that. So when this one started moaning as if she was
enjoying it, he couldn’t resist. He pulled out his amazing, hard dick that had never been like that in life and made ready to mount her.

With his hand wrapped around his cock, he slid it up and down her opening to get it wet and almost came right then and there…she was ready all right! He spread her thighs, positioned himself at her opening, and began to thrust when suddenly she reared up and pushed him off. He flew across the room like a rag doll. She screamed and called him a filthy, fat pig and it occurred to him that maybe there were things that thrall didn’t mask after all.

He tried to talk her down, but the spell was broken. She kept screaming about the grandfather- look- alike trying to fuck her. Angry, ear-splitting shrieks rang. Maybe it had something to do with how strong she was.

Binnemon didn’t want to kill her. He had no choice. He had to shut her up. With vampire speed, he crossed the room and reached for her head. One quick snap, he thought, and the room would be quiet again, but it didn’t happen that way. The whole thing was beyond him…how was it that this tiny child gave him the fight of his life.

Finally, it was over. He got banged up but he managed to get the better of her and ended it with a quick twist.

Quiet.

He waited for the sound of shouting and sirens or alarms, but they never came. The whole thing felt like a lifetime but was over in seconds.

…and then, he looked around the room…this didn’t look like a suicide. This wasn’t how the way he ran his neat little operation. This was a disaster. He sat quiet for a moment to think… It seemed impossible that no one heard…were the rooms soundproof?

Slowly, a smile spread across his face. That blood made him invincible. He was a fuckin’ potentate. He just had to think and his mind was working like a computer…only faster.

He hadn’t bled her dry.

Binnemon ripped the torn panties off her lifeless body and threw them on the floor. Now the scene looked like a rape gone bad.

The bite marks…there would be an autopsy. They’d see the bite marks…

He stood slowly and pulled his Swiss Army knife out of his pocket…He opened it, ran his finger along the blade, and smiled. In his moment of panic, his demon face had receded. Now, he looked even more terrifying than a vampire. His eyes had gone black and his smile became a sneer as he relished the crime he was about to commit. He drank her blood, he broke her neck and now...he would desecrate her body.

Binnemon sat on a chair pulled off his shoes and pushed them under the chair. Then he removed his clothing, carefully folding each piece, never taking his eyes off the prize. There was going to be a lot of blood. What a terrible waste, he thought.

He began by slitting her throat resisting another taste and then randomly stabbed at her breasts and abdomen, finally slicing her groin where he’d bitten her. He calmly stepped back and surveyed his work…yes; it would be all right…the savage wound in her groin would hide the fang marks. It looked like all the others-- inflicted in rage.

He reconstructed the whole thing in his mind and was sure he muddled the evidence sufficiently to keep them on a wild goose chase for a good long time. He glanced out the window and saw no one. He picked up the dead rag doll that Chastity had become and threw her body through the window. Poking his head out through the shattered glass, he saw her broken, twisted body lying in the bushes and was pleased.

Lucky for him, there was a sink in the room. He washed the blood away, rinsed the sink, and dressed. He left the room quietly, exiting the building without seeing another person. Pity it had ended so badly, he thought. She was delectable, and there were so many more to be tasted. He felt like whistling.

~~~

The apelike beast had arms, legs, and a head. After that, all similarity to humanity ended. It was round and taller than Spike. Rusty colored and covered with a hard shell like scales. Its hands were equipped with curved blades that receded into the joint above the thumb and the many-fingered hands cupped into tongs.

Spike wasn’t about to wait for it to take the first blow. He leapt and twisted flinging his legs at the beast. It sidestepped to avoid the blow. Spike laughed and said, “Well aren’t you the nimble fucker. Knew about your kind, but never met one before. Are you all that round or are you just well fed?”

It never spoke, but emitted a misty spray from its face that engulfed Spike. Raising his hands to his face, he dropped to his knees, grabbed his throat and fell to the ground. With Spike still on the ground, the beast took its place over his shoulders, the thumb blade out and ready. Spike forced his elbows out and knocked the creature off balance.

“Points to you, beastie. I knew about that spray thing you got. Didn’t think it would bother me though,” Spike said. “See, it don’t make me helpless like you was expectin’.” He raised his hands to his throat again as his voice decreased to a whisper and then disappeared altogether. His expression went from startled to understanding to angry in the blink of an eye. The mist was supposed to render the victim helpless, that is, if the victim isn’t undead. The creature looked bewildered. Spike sneered and said, “Have I spoiled your day, then?” He went right on talking even if he was the only one listening. “Thems you spray don’t get up again, eh? Well, I guess that’s all the better for me. I reckon it’s time you learned what it’s like when somebody fights back.”

Spike barreled at him with every thing he had. He wasn’t going to take any chances with this one. He knew they traveled in packs and more would be coming along sooner rather than later. The thing fell back but remained upright, its scaly skin ripping Spike’s ear. “Right then, mate,” he said as his hand went to his ear. It was still there.

“Just fist and fangs, suits me. Pity you don’t get the pleasure of my rapier wit. Doesn’t mean I can’t entertain myself while I tear you to pieces for ruinin’ my evenin’. I was about to be talked into a very nice shag.”

He bounced on his feet shifting his weight from side to side, as he decided where to strike this time. Shifting into game face, he heard the creature make a noise that might have been a gasp. “Damn right, you smelly fat fucker. You just made the biggest mistake of your life.”

He ran into the monster again, but this time down low like a football tackle and sent him rolling down the hill. “Well now, look at you! I wonder if you’re like a turtle on its back. Damn funny, that. You, trying to right yourself. Picked the wrong bloke to start a fight with this time, eh?”

Spike followed his opponent down the hill and kicked him in the head making it spit out more of the stinking mist. The monster took advantage of the momentary distraction as Spike instinctively covered his face and wrapped his hand (tong) around Spike’s ankle bringing him down. Now on a level playing field, Spike tucked his hand inside his sleeve for protection and delivered a roundhouse right directly into the spout on the thing’s face. The sound it made was more a howl than a roar. Different from the sound it made before, Spike worried that it was a distress signal.

Quickly, Spike got to his feet. He wanted the advantage of height. In a split second, the rusty colored monster rolled between Spike’s legs, raised its arm and slashed the curved blade between Spike’s legs. It cut through his pants tearing a gash in his leg, and ripping open the sac that held his balls. Only Spike could hear his own scream as blood poured from his wounds.

He dropped to his knees and tried to ignore the searing pain as he watched the thing regain its footing. “That’s it, then. I admit it. Made a big mistake, I did. Shouldn’t ‘a’ played with you. Shoulda just offed you right at the start. Shame, shame on me. Well, say goodbye, ‘cause I’m the last thing you’ll ever see.”

Spike lunged at its legs and dug his fingers into scaly skin as deep as he could, ripping off his own fingernails on the way. The thing was single minded as it grabbed onto Spike’s balls and snapped its claw shut around them. Spike howled a silent scream, seized the beast’s head and twisted. Lifeless, the monster fell with Spike’s jewels locked in a death grip.

“Right then,” Spike thought, “ in 150 odd years I’ve been stabbed, shot, drowned, choked, punched, flipped, thrown off roofs and out windows. I thought I knew every kind of pain…but this is new.”

In an instant, the realization hit him.

“Bollocks, I’m gonna die. I can’t even cry out. That spray shit took away my voice. It’ll be sun-up in a bit and I’ll fly away in a burst of embers unless its mate, brother, or sister finds me and finishes me off first.” He winced, “Fuck, this hurts.”

Spike turned his thoughts to Buffy.

“Aw luv, done it again, haven’t I? Fucked things up permanent, I think. No more miracles for me. I know you did your best, but by the time you get to the cottage and call the watcher and he called the boy…it’s just too much time. The rest of those beasts will have come and taken care of business before you and your cavalry get here. Hell, I don’t want you to see me like this anyway. Jesus, it hurts.” He tried to move but it only pulled against the monster’s grip “Aaarrrghh…’S my fault. I got cocky. I really thought we were gonna make it this time, baby. I was starting to believe the Powers were on our side. Guess I was wrong. Shoulda been smarter, more vigilant.” His words came in grunts and squeaks now. The paralytic mist was starting to wear off. Spike was nearly bled out and he knew it. Even if he had his voice, he didn’t have the strength to yell. “No blood left in me. Maybe I’ll be gone before sunup. ’m sorry, pet. I love you. Oh Buffy, ’m so sorry, I love you, pet.” With those words as his mantra, the pain became unbearable and Spike lost consciousness.
~~~





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