He had given the bitch over a hundred years of faithfulness. Even the decade where she was too weak to shag, too weak to give him pleasure; Spike had refused to find it elsewhere. Drusilla was his salvation, his black goddess.
Monogamy was unheard of in the demon realm, but he carried over William’s traits; he was and would always be ‘loves bitch.’
Spike grabbed the lamp of the desk and tore the cord out of the socket. Sparks flew as he threw the lamp against the far side wall. The lamp was the last of an unbreakable item and now it joined the rest of the room on the floor.
The cheap motel room was scattered with various items: broken picture frames, lamps, wooden furniture, part of the toilet and sink from the bathroom, and the mattress. There was nothing left to break or throw; there was nothing left to take his anger out on.
The vampire sat on the box spring of the bed and slid his hands through his gelled and bleached locks, absentmindedly thinking that it was probably time to bleach again. His demon resided and in its place was the man-broken and filled with heartache.
His sire had been cold to him ever since he helped the Slayer stop Angelus from opening Acathla. He did it because he was a realistic; he wasn’t easily brainwashed by his grand-poof of a-sire. If Angelus succeeded in opening the big rock, then the world would have been sucked into hell.
what was he supposed to do in hell? Knit sweaters with Lucifer?
The idea of it all was ludicrous and that was the only reason he helped the Slayer. Drusilla rambled on and on during their venture to Brazil that he was going soft, that the Slayer meant something to him. Honestly, the thought of her made his skin crawl. The Slayer had tried on more than one occasion to make a pass on him and every time he felt bile rise up his throat. She was too curvy, too straightforward; there was no mystery about her. The only thoughts he had ever had of the Slayer were of bashing her fucking head in a draining her dry.
Faith He shuddered at the image Drusilla had conjured up in his mind. The brunette Slayer was trash, something to be killed and that was it. Too bad it wasn’t going to be him doing the killing. After all, he made a deal that he would leave town if she spared his sire, and Spike never backed out on a deal.
His wicked plum was currently out shagging her latest conquest, a chaos demon. She whined and moaned her anger the entire way to Brazil and he was hoping that she would forgive him when they got there-he couldn’t have been more wrong. She left at days at a time, wouldn’t touch him, wouldn’t talk to him. The only times she did come to the motel room was to find shelter during the day.
Spike heard a scrapping noise, coming from the room next door, followed by a loud snap. He killed the clerk that owned the slum motel so he figured humans were breaking in to use the motel for a party. He could smell the alcohol and weed through the walls, hear the laughing and joshing around. The nerve of them to have fun when he was brassed off and depressed.
He closed his eyes and demanded his bones to break and mend on his face. After Spike opened his eyes, the dark room was now perfectly illuminated because of his golden eyes. He grazed his rough tongue across his lips as he anticipated his-soon to be-feast. Spike threw open the door, causing it to snap off its hinges. With two heavy steps he stood in front of the party room. He tossed his head in the air and took a deep breath in. He could smell at least six different pheromones, and then he heard six different heart beats so it was confirmed that he would be having a glorious feast. Spike had used a lot of energy trashing his room and so his demon was furiously hungry for blood.
The bleached-haired vampire knocked on the door and waited for an answer. A boy, couldn’t have been more than sixteen years old, answered the door. He was looking behind him as he laughed at something another human said. When he finally looked at the vampire’s face, his smile immediately turned into a frown and his eyes widened in fear. Spike always enjoyed it when they looked at him like that. His cock hardened, not because of the boy but because of the fear. The smell was addicting and always got him excited. The blood was always spicier when it was laced with fear.
The boy tried to push the door shut but it was stopped by a foot incased in heavy Doc Martens. Spike grabbed the boy by the neck and threw him into the room. The vampire shut the door behind him and laughed as the conversations stopped and the screaming began.
Thirty minutes later, the motel room looked similar to his; only difference was that there weren’t any inanimate objects scattering the floor, there were body parts and blood that sprayed the walls. His stomach only managed to handle draining four of the humans. Letting the other humans go to waste was out of the question, so he tortured them; hence the body parts.
Spike noticed an obnoxiously bright light coming from the corner of the room. He had to shake his demon because it was almost too bright for his sensitive eyes. He recognized the box from movies; it was called a computer. He had never used one but he also wasn’t daft; he could figure it out.
What the hell, nothin’ else to do ‘round here now. Maybe I can find some nekkid films and have a nice wank.
One of the humans was obviously on it before he made himself welcome. The screen was currently on some sort of talking site. It was constantly making noises when a new statement flashed on the screen. He sat down and watched as the new sentences came up. There were currently only two people talking and Spike was mesmerized by the technology.
Rachelburg: U obviously dont no what yer talking abut.
Ann96: Or maybe you are just too illiterate to understand what I’m writing to you.
Spike scoffed a laugh at that comeback. He scrolled up to read other things the Rachel chit wrote and her grammar and spelling were so atrocious that it caused the Victorian in him to gasp.
Rachelburg: This is a chat rum. Knot a book show.
Ann96: What does that even mean? ‘A book show’ If I’m talking with a five year old than just be honest. I’ll take back every mean thing I’ve said to you…
Rachelburg: Im 27 bich.
Spike started to bounce in the computer chair as he waited for Ann to send something. He couldn’t believe he was that anxious over waiting for some silly chit to write something. It had been two minutes and still nothing. He smiled when, finally, Ann96 came back.
Ann96: Ha! Sorry to make you wait but I seriously just laughed so hard I had to run to the bathroom before I pee’d my pants!
Spike laughed but something compelled him to let her know that he did laugh. During the few minutes she was gone he had time to investigate everything on the screen. He noticed in the right corner there was a smaller chat box with the name Weedmonster Spike found out that it was the way to enter the larger chat box because the human that sat here last was in mid sentence. He quickly looked over the keyboard and noticed the back space. He pressed it and just as he thought, it erased the sentence. He pressed it too long though because the name went away to. It was fine because he’d make himself a new name. That was easy: Big-Bad79 BigBad because-well he was obviously the big bad. And 79 because that was the year he killed his last Slayer.
Spike’s immediate reply was from Rachel.
Rachelburg: Woo the fuk r u? Shut up.
Ann95: Nope. You should definitely talk Big-Bad. You’re obviously on my side so please join the conversation.
He smirked and began typing.
Rachelburg: Whatever. I dint cum on to get herassed.
Rachelburg has signed off…
A separate window popped onto the screen: it was a message from Ann.
Ann96: Should I call you Big bad or you got another name?
What he wrote next would shock him for the rest of the evening.
Ann96: *curtsies* Nice to meet you, William.
Big-Bad79: *kisses palm and gazes up at you through lashes* It’s a pleasure to meet you, Ann.
Ann96: Woah. You really know how to sweep a girl off her feet, huh?
Ann96: My mom just got me a new computer. I found that chat room but it’s not something I normally do. I don’t even know why I private messaged you. If I’m bothering you then just say so.
Big-Bad79: I’m a first time computer user. And you’re not bothering me. As a matter of fact, this is entertaining for me.
Ann96: Cool. So where you from?
Big-Bad79: *laughs* Why would I not be?
Ann96: You’re not the stuffy kind of English are you?
Big-Bad79: Give an example of what you define as ‘stuffy English’ and I’ll tell you.
Ann96: I can do that in one word: TWEED
Big-Bad79: I wear all black and a leather duster.
Ann96: Leather, huh? Definitely not stuffy then. What’s a duster?
Big-Bad79: It’s a leather jacket that grazes the floor.
Ann96: So you dust the floor when you walk around.
Big-Bad79: Very funny, pet.
Ann96: I’m nothing if not funny…pet. ;-)
Big-Bad79: I’m sure there is more to you than humor.
Ann96: You have no idea.
Ann96: 79 isn’t the year you were born is it?
Ann96: Do you mind if I ask how old you are? I don’t want to be talking to some old pervert. You’ve seen those shows, right?
Big-Bad79: I’m twenty-four.
It wasn’t a complete lie. He was twenty-four when he died.
Ann96: Oh….I’m sixteen. So 96 is the year I was born.
Big-Bad79: Not much of a difference, love. And we’re just talking. Nothing wrong with that.
Ann96: Right. I think I’ll go to my mother right now and say, “Mom, I started chatting with this English guy in is early twenties.” That would go over so well.
Ann96: What mamma don’t know don’t hurt her.
Ann96: Ha! Yes. Love that movie.
Ann96: Speaking of mothers…I need to go to bed; I have school tomorrow. And could I sound any lamer?
Big-Bad79: Not lame. Little girls need their rest so they can learn their ‘ABC’s’ in school.
Ann96: Now who’s the funny one?
Big-Bad79: Can I speak with you again?
Ann96: You’d want to chat with me again?
Big-Bad79: Wouldn’t have asked.
Ann96: Right. Um, yeah. I’d like that. Just add me to your friends and next time I’m on you should message me.
Big-Bad79: How will I know when you’re on?
Ann96: See how my name is highlighted in blue?
Ann96: When I’m logged out it’s going to turn red.
Big-Bad79: So when you’re on again, it will turn blue.
Ann96: Wow. Humor and a brain. J
Ann96: Night, Will!
Big-Bad79: Goodnight, Ann. Sweet dreams.
Ann96 had signed off…
Spike stretched his arms above his head as he re-read what he and Ann talked about. He actually enjoyed that. It had been so long since he’s had a sane conversation with anyone. He would be on the lookout for the next time she was online.
“Buffy sweetie, it’s getting late.” Joyce said as she peeked through her daughters door.
Buffy wanted to stay on-line and talk to William but she did need to patrol.
“Okay, mom. I’m shutting it off in a couple minutes.”
“Alright, baby. Goodnight,” she closed the door with a soft click and went to her own bedroom.
The blonde said her ‘goodnight’ to William and turned off her computer. She went to her chest to grab her stake, and then snuck out the window. As she did her nightly patrol, Big-Bad79 continuously entered her thoughts.