//Spike’s thoughts//
//Drusilla had quickly dragged me to some dark club, muttering about all the tasty treats we could eat. Everything about her was possessed, full of incomplete sentences and growls which only my demon really responded to. The rest of me was seriously regretting ever kissing the mad bird which had only gotten worse since I left her in South America. She rarely looked at me but when she did, a glint of need was all that could be seen. Her lips were smearing with hunger by the time we arrived and I began to feel decidedly sick.
I should have staked the bitch when I had the chance.
Now though, I was being surrounded by the scent of sire and intoxicating pumping blood, my demon going frenzied with excitement. Pig’s swill is nothing compared to the thrill of a chase; particularly when your victim was scared out of their bloody mind. The animal part of me lived for it.
This however, was calculating and rather dreary in my old age, sparking a dark comparison to Angelus. There was no sport in it, no true competition of strength or guts. At least when fighting the slayers there had always been a very real chance that I could get dusted or at least my head beaten in. Dancing with those girls had been a real challenge and even pleasurable. Crowding docile humans into a dark corner could never compare and was a strategic poofter tatic. The fact that I was now participating in such a ‘hunt’ was downright emasculating. I didn’t tell Drusilla though.
I can remember as a fledgling, relishing the chance to watch my dark goddess slither towards some poor mortal and seduce him with her eyes into the back alleyway. I had thought her perfectly clever, though Drusilla had never used her demonic abilities to go toe to toe with a slayer with her back against the wall. Like Angelus she saw a beauty in planning and setting elaborate traps. They had perfected stalking around with an evil snigger. Tossers. Angelus liked to call himself the trap setter, the torturer. It made me want to hack off my ears. It was far more accurate to give Angelus the title of insufferable sod with loads of pent up sexual tension. Maybe my sire could be his court jester, twirling around and singing nonsense songs were already easy for her.
Dressed as she was, the bouncer barely gave us a glance before allowing Dru to slink in. My hand was grasped tightly in hers, knuckles unbearably cold wrapping around my own. I had hoped that maybe my sire would allow me to simply dance with her and let my demon bask in the familiarity of family, however she refused. Almost instantaneously, Drusilla began to watch the crowd, swaying in my arms with her back to me as she scanned for potential victims.
My demon began to feel uneasy.
Some song was playing, sultry beats sweeping through the club as around us humans gyrated and panted. The floor seemed to shudder with the impact and I braced myself from both the bass and Dru’s intentions.
I didn’t know whether I could go through with it.
My sire had no such qualms, the rose being cast to the floor as she pointed upstairs. There some poor boy was busy sticking his tongue down a girl’s throat unaware of the scene they created. For vamps like my sire they were drawn to such situations, almost voyeuristic. Dru only reinforced this fact, licking her own lips as she giddily ground back against me.
“Do you see them Spike?” Her voice was like silk against marble, barely a whisper in the thudding club.
I only growled back in response, seeking to extricate my limbs away from hers. They only seemed to lock further in place.
“Should we join them dearest? Do you think they would like to share with us?”
I shuddered at her malicious tone and fought harder against my demon which still clung fiercely. It still believed that things would turn out for the better and Dru would accept us where the Slayer hadn’t.
No one ever accused me of being smart.
All too quickly Dru began to cross the floor, me stumbling along behind her. Casting a glance back behind me, I could just make out the rose as it was crushed under the stamping feet of clubbers.
It was all too familiar.
The girl was petite, but thankfully a brunette, driving from my mind the image of Buffy. I probably would have staked my sire if the girl had looked anything close to my Slayer. As it was, Dru strode up to the kissing couple with calm only borne of practice or instinct and separated the two. She twisted the girl’s neck with a clean crack and slung her at me before grabbing the boy.
I didn’t even notice I was shaking.
Being with the chip had removed me from the actuality of feeding and something in me was mortified when hearing that audible snap. All I could think of was Buffy’s reaction, how her hazel eyes would shine with shock and horror at the sight before being overtaken with an all abiding need for retribution. My demon quivered in apprehension at the thought.
I didn’t even know if I could bite the girl with my chip and as much as I despised bagging it, chewing on the dead was not appealing. But inside I knew I was procrastinating, an inner William like emotion repulsed at the sight of the girl’s ebbing pulse.
The whole thing was wrong.
Warily I looked up at my sire, mouth hanging open as though to ask “What now?” Dru continued feeding for a moment, her body jerking spasmodically with the taste of blood. When she looked up, I was taken aback.
Dru is ethereally beautiful, effulgent even whilst still maintaining an aura of darkness. Right then, the shadows seeped from every pore, a coating of blood dripping from her lips. Her haunted eyes held nothing of her personality in them, a vibrant yellow signaling the full control of her demon. It was shocking.
My fingers, already pale from evading the sun for 180 odd years froze as I pondered my situation.
Buffy didn’t love me nor never can and it was hopeless now to escape the situation. The Slayer would blame me for even letting Drusilla live, no matter her role in my unlife. No, it was no use abstaining for the part of Buffy.
I glanced at my sire, who was once more watching the torn neck of her prey. As much as she wanted her family back, she would never want me. Everything would always be about sodding Daddy. Leaving me with the conclusion that even if this was some sort of proof for her of family connection, it could never be for me. It would have to be for a primal reason, a bestial one. Perhaps a pure need to prove that I still could be an animal, would always be an animal.
I wanted to roar then, remembering the thrill when fighting that slayer in the 70’s, Nicki something or other. She had smashed my head through a window, hoping it would scare me and instead I had cried out.
“I’m a bleeding animal!”
I looked at the tanned slender neck of the girl and let my demon take control, sinking my fangs deep into the skin. It tasted indescribable. Sensations of fire, ice and extremes of all colours whirled through my head and I became nearly dizzy from it. Drusilla watched me with glee, sending out approving growls which made my demon preen. My sire once more thought of me as hers.
What had I done?
………………………………………………………………………
My crypt stunk of fear.
I couldn’t make out exactly who the intruder was due to my overall intoxication with Dru’s scent but it definitely was distinctive. It had the underlying essence of power and demon yet was laced with feminine. It had taken me several long minutes to realise that this could only be the chit of a Slayer but at the moment I was fairly high. It wouldn’t have been that far of a leap to see infernal stars in the ceiling.
It was due to this state of drugged haze that I took no mind to Dru or my state as I waited by the entrance to the underground. If the Slayer was worth a penny at her job, the bint would have discovered my treasured stockpile of clothing and pictures, some drawn by Angelus in his stalker phase. I was betting every bone in my body that it would ‘wig her out’ and look at that, I can’t even keep my English heritage around those sodding Scoobies.
I was well and truly buggered.
The Slayer’s surprise when she saw me was almost hysterical if performed at any other time. However, Buffy was not so fortunate. I was pissed, both literally and in a foul mood. I blamed her, and still do for bringing me to this irrevocable point of decision where I would always choose her and thus would always fail. As she stared wide eyed at the blood which still trailed down one side of my mouth, my demon emerged seeking retribution for her earlier rebuke.
I was something to be feared.
William, being a ponce, was jumping up and down, shrilly exclaiming that it was wrong to treat the Slayer like this, even if she had shunned us coldly, but I was tired of it. Tired of these women, tired of my hesitancy, tired of loving women who could never want me back and most of all sick of playing around.
The bloody charades were going to end.
I softened my eyes for a moment, prowling still closer to her as Buffy began to back out of the door. If only I could speak to her as a man and she without the baggage of her friends. I could of won her then. As it was, Drusilla appeared in the doorway and bashed Buffy over the head. The Slayer dropped like a stone. Smiling my sire looked at me, daring to ask the question of torturing Buffy before death.
I grinned back at her before knocking the insufferable bint out as well.
I was sick of playing.//
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Author's Chapter Notes:
well I guess its fairly blatant that no one can stand reading about Spike and Dru in type of ship sense, which I understand completely. In case you don't feel like reading due to a distinct revulsion of the ho-bag she will not be making any more romantic gestures with Spike whatsoever. Hope that cheers you up. After this chapter the real story starts. Please review and read. This chapter was written quickly so if there are any issues with my writing style please email me or review so I can make it more enjoyable to read.