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Chapter 24
A month after Spike, Buffy, and William arrive back in New York.

A flash of lightning illuminated the dark sky as it rippled and cracked across the stormy veil. Revealed by a bolt of lightning, two figures writhed on a bed with unbridled passion as they spiraled toward nirvana. Their harsh breathing erupted, matching the sound of water pouring down from the heavens. The smell of burnt air filtered through the room, cloaking the scent of lust and blood.

The female figure’s hands were tied to the bed with black leather straps. Her fingers grasped the fabric as she strained against her bonds to get closer to him. Her breasts lay soft against her chest as he desperately moved inside her to gain his satisfaction. Her skin glowed in the storm’s light as she pushed her body against his.

Growling, his hips rose away from her greedy, dripping sex. Sharp, claw like fingernails raked down the seemingly perfect skin as he plunged his cock back into her wanton body. “Take it all in,” a low growl filtered through the patter of the rain against the windows, “You know you want to dance,” pushing hard against her hips, the male pounded down fiercely. Another crack from the electrical storm illuminated the room, casting eerie disfigured shadows among the figures inside.

“Oh, God,” the woman groaned as she spread her legs farther apart. The velvety skin of her inner thighs trembled with need as her legs eased their vice grip around his slender hips. His hands sensually caressed the skin of her legs before roughly attaching to the back of her knees.

Without losing his punishing rhythm, the man pushed her legs down to the mattress, her muscles protesting. Long claws pierced into her flesh, holding her open as he pistonned in and out of her. Barely interrupting the rhythm, he pulled out of her swollen pussy, only to position his heavy cock against her anus. Savagely pushing through the protesting tight ring of muscle, he renewed his rigorous rhythm.

Her fingernails bit into the scrap of leather holding her to the large wrought iron headboard as she gritted her teeth against the new invasion. She lifted her head off the bed to look down at their joined bodies; giving up once she realized that curling her body up did not feel good.

Straining for release, she tried to position her body so his skin would rub against her dripping core, only to have his hands push down harder on her legs. Giving up on her pleasure, she watched as he continued to abuse her anus. Sucking in a deep breath, she felt his cock grow harder as it pounded against her inner walls. She concentrated on her muscles now, squeezing them together as his cock thrust in and out nearing his completion. Inside, she felt cool spurts of his ejaculation as he roared out his release.

~*~*~
Buffy opened her eyes to greet the graying dusk. Her arms were no longer bound to the bed frame; the only evidence of her bondage was a slight pinking of her abraded skin along her wrist. Stretching, she grimaced at her sore and uncomfortable muscles. She looked around the room; it was empty save her and the bed. The storm must have blown over, leaving her new Sire to attend to his duties. She took his pleasure and pain during the day, absorbing it like a sponge, learning every nuance. Moving carefully, Buffy scooted off the large bed. She took the silk bathrobe Spike must have left in the room for her and padded barefoot over to the door. Stepping out, she checked to see if any minions lingered about.

Buffy learned early on that she was seen as property among the clan, owned by Spike and capable to be used against him. The first night Spike brought her home was an eye opener. Squabbles among the different factions of the minions broke out during his absence, leaving chaos to rule the clan. Standing on a long practice of pomp and circumstance, Spike initiated the first of many bloody battles with the minions. Vampire tradition dictated that he needed to reassert the family hierarchy through domination or death.

Buffy sat on Spike’s lap, a princess among thieves, as she watched minion after minion try to rip apart their adversaries. Oddly aroused by watching the bloodbath in front of her, she spent most of the time in a lust-induced state, grinding against Spike’s leg in an effort to alleviate her discomfort. She felt entranced by the scent of hatred and vengeance in the room; it ruled her senses.

Twin amber irises alit her eyes as she fell rapt with the savagery of the minions. Whispers of her potential power and violence filtered through her mind, seducing her into an uninhibited wanton state. William was missing from her memory during the first night; his scent disappearing quickly after the gauntlet was set down by Spike. She hadn’t paid attention to the party guests after the smell of blood was first drawn. By the end of the night, Spike had successfully regained control of the clan and created a new pecking order. His battles were fierce and bloody, peppered with the distraction of others going after Buffy as she sat on his throne. Without much effort, he was back on top with the quick death of his serious challengers.

She remembered that night fondly. Barely a week later, Buffy woke up in Spike’s bedroom. The smell of her true Sire surrounded her, teasing her demon. It awakened something curious deep inside Buffy, taunting her. She walked over to the bureau naked and started to open the drawers. Precious jewels aligned the top drawer. They blinded the young vampire with their brilliance and shine. Moving down in the drawers, she found the dresses of her Sire. She sat down on the floor, her body collapsing as she touched the belongings. A small porcelain doll lay on top of the clothes, her dead eyes shining up from the white clay. She cradled the doll close to her heart, patting her back and then set the doll back in the drawer. Buffy touched the rich velvet and silk clothes that adorned the drawer. She held the cool silk up against her cheek, inhaling the delicious scent that lingered on the fabric.

“Get out,” a low growl startled her and pierced her flesh as it wrapped around her bones with an icy chill.

Startled, the fabric she was holding fell to the ground. Quickly standing up, she didn’t have time to brace herself against the first blow. Her jaw felt like it was crushed as she fell back against the bureau. Spike stood above her, his jaw tense and his eyes yellow with anger. He grabbed her upper arms, his grip punishing, and picked up her small form to throw it away from the bureau. She stumbled along the bed until she hit the cold, hard floor. He stalked closer, anger flowing off him in waves. She tried to block his punches and kicks, only to find her body helplessly weak against the Master Vampire.

“Don’t ever touch her things again.” He yelled at her as his punches reigned down on her, “You don’t get to touch her things.” Buffy felt like curling up into a ball and ignoring him until he stopped, but for some reason she couldn’t. She successfully blocked some of his punches, making him angrier. “You think you’re good enough for those dresses?” Her body was thrown across the room again, her blood poured out of her skin like a sieve as Spike’s claws tore through her skin. “You are disgusting!” He sneered, “Nothing.”

Through bloodied eyelashes, Buffy looked at Spike heaving for breath in the middle of the room. His demonic façade was still in place, but he seemed calmer. His eyes were looking over at the doll that Buffy found in the drawer. He staggered over to the bureau, tears in his eyes as his hands reached out to comfort the doll. He picked up the precious heirloom and held it close, “Miss Edith,” he sniffed at the doll. “Oh God, Dru!”

Buffy crawled toward the door, her bones cracking and resisting movement. Spike didn’t even pay attention to her retreating form. “Why?” She heard him roar as she exited the room. She flinched at the sound of things hitting the wall and shattering.

Trying to hurry to a safer place from the wrath of Spike, she crept along the floorboards, naked. She felt minions walking towards her. Knowing that she was in no shape to fight off the greedy minions, she sought cover. The lust and greed she witnessed earlier made her wary of anyone else in the clan. If they did find her weak and naked, she knew she would be taken advantaged of, used and abused. Finding a darken alcove hidden by a tapestry, she slithered her way into it.

Feeling her leg bones crack and groan from mistreatment, she successfully hid herself. Tears of despair rolled down her cheeks as she realized that Spike was correct. She was nothing and not worthy, for some unknown reason her presence killed her Sire. She wasn’t allowed to hunt with the rest of the family, stuck inside to feed off the dead corpses the minions brought in. Steeling herself up for the pain, she slowly rose up on her legs; she had to find blood to heal herself. Bones all ready knitted together in a rough patch job, but she needed blood to help. She extended her senses feeling around in her environment. Stepping out from her hiding place, Buffy quickly found garments in another room. Donning the oversized pair of jeans and plaid shirt, she covered up her naked body and let her instincts take over.

For the very first time, Buffy stepped out of the house she had known as home for the past week. The dewy, muddy smell of earth assaulted her. Closing her eyes and inhaling, she searched the air for more, a ribbon of life. Suddenly she felt like the world was closing in on her. The skitter of a death watch beetle against the cracked concrete flew through her eardrums, tapping against her skull. Acidic fumes from a passing car hit her nostrils, almost causing Buffy to gag with revulsion. She took a step off the property and then another staggering step. Raising her head up, she took more steps away from her virtual prison and explored the world with her new senses.

~*~*~
She was hiding in the dark; the smell of life surrounded her, enticing her to take a sip, to heal herself. She already picked out her victim from the canvas in front of her. She watched as he moved closer to her spot. Come to me she felt her mind reach out to him. Her victim’s height was less than average for a male, barely topping over her own shorter form. Sandy brown hair and glasses, he reminded her of William. She realized now that she should have gone to him instead of sneaking out of the house, but pain and humiliation kept her blind to reason until she was barely a half mile away and her brittle bones were threatening to re-break. The only option left was to find her meal, a real meal instead of the dead victims in the kitchen that she was forced to endure for practice sake.

She felt her victim come closer to the shadows; unaware of the danger hidden when she felt something else, a predator. Her back stiffened, she stood alert and aware of the danger coming her way. She didn’t have time to react to the ambush, only to change into her demonic visage for defense. She was wrestled to the ground, her body making a sickly thud on the wet sloppy mud.

“Well, well, well, what do we have here?” Buffy looked up into the eyes of her attacker. “Little girl thinks she can hunt, eh?” She watched as his wrinkled face and teeth melted into a smoother surface. Hurt and pain were reflected in his eyes as they peered down at her body. Buffy struggled underneath him, bucking her hips. She ignored the pain in her back as she rolled from underneath him.

Spike pounced on top of her, “Shh,” he growled, his voice authoritative. She smelled liquor on his breath. “Not going to hurt you, little one.” She struggled against the hands binding her arms. His face dipped down to her shoulder, inhaling her scent slowly. “Got to say, love, you scared good old Willy half to death. Should have seen him scurrying about when he got home from hunting. What were you thinking?” He drew her arms together and held onto her wrists with one powerful hand, “Leaving the house, smelling the way you do?” His lips ghosted against her skin, “Bloody calling card, ‘Turned slayer, injured: come and get me’,” Spike mocked, his blunt teeth biting against her skin.

Buffy inhaled sharply as the pain paralyzed her, afraid to move or talk. She watched his platinum head shift from one side of her neck to the other as he laved attention to her neck. His tongue licked and prodded against her as he spoke, leaving conflicted feelings in her mind, “You miss her,” he said softly, releasing her arms as he sat up to straddle her waist “You feel her, don’t you? Her blood is flowing within your veins, inside you,” his fingers brushed up against her jugular, pausing. “You didn’t know her, though? Barely turned before she evaporated into dust?” Buffy nodded solemnly. His fingers threaded through her hair, “She gave you to me,” he paused in thought. “One last gift, she told me.”

Buffy saw the tears in his eyes, the emotion he fought so hard to control. Her hand rose, she wasn’t sure what she was doing, but she saw him in pain and his sorrow, and she craved to give him something. Cupping his cheek, she smiled in understanding. “I know,” she whispered.

~*~*~

Minutes later…
“Stop it,” she wriggled around again, her mood now dramatically changed. Spike’s touches turned softer than night. Almost gentle. He held her close as they searched for her first live human prey.

“Shh,” he chided, “Which one do you want?” he whispered sensually. When she touched him softly on his cheek, he realized that the future would be all right even without Drusilla. It was if a light bulb went off in his head, he finally understood Buffy’s place.

“That one,” she whispered, pointing to her earlier intended.

“He’s all scrawny and shit, Slayer.” Spike mocked her choice. “How about that one?” He pointed over to another student, big and burley. “He’d make one fine minion, pet.”

“No!” Buffy pouted. “I want that one,” she insisted. “He’s smallish and I think I can take him even with my broken legs.”

“Hey,” Spike took offense. “I was angry, you were touching her…”

“I know.” Buffy looked down at the ground, “I’m sorry.”

“Shh, don’t pout, little girl.” He whispered, “Let’s get something to eat, shall we?”

Buffy nodded and followed Spike out of the shadows and onto the campus quad. Students milled around the campus coffee shop as they studied and socialized. Breaking off from Spike, she headed towards her victim. “Hi!” she waved at the studious looking man. “Mind if I sit down? There aren’t many seats available.” The boy looked up at Buffy’s scruffy, oversized clothes and the mud marring her face.

“Uh, yeah, sure,” he supplied and looked down at his book.

“Hi! I’m…” she faltered with her name. If she gave her real name, would anyone recognize it as a missing student? “I’m Buffy,” she said. Putting on her best flirtatious smile, she winked at the boy, hoping that he would see through the mud and grime.

“Michael,” the boy muttered and then smiled. He set his books aside and glanced at Buffy’s face. “Haven’t seen you around these parts, Buffy.”

Buffy smiled and looked around she noticed Spike’s white head inside the coffee shop watching her. “It’s so crowded and loud to study,” she supplied, “I usually study down the street, it’s quieter.”

“Really?” Michael asked, “Well, why don’t you show me this quiet spot you have and maybe we’ll see each other again.”

“It’s right down the street,” Buffy motioned into the shadows. “About a block or two.” Michael gathered up his books and stood up. Grinning, Buffy walked beside her victim, the scent of arousal and blood pumping through his veins.

~*~*~
As Buffy walked down the hallway towards her small chambers, she thought back to her first fresh bite into Michael. The smell of rotting garbage and urine filled her nostrils right before she smelled his fear. It intoxicated her. His eyes widened in disbelief when he felt her teeth embed themselves in his neck, latching on to the cords and muscles, quickly draining his life force. He didn’t even see her face shift out of human form; he was too busy trying to kiss her in the shadowy alley.

The crimson liquid splashed against her tongue and throat as she held onto his body. He tasted of disbelief and humiliation as she started to drain him. He couldn’t even scream for help before Buffy disabled his voice box. She crushed his windpipe with her hands, leaving him helpless to be anything but her meal. Tangy and coppery, he smelled like heaven. Feelings that seemed to be dull now exploded in her body. Love and hate. Sorrow and passion. Regrets. It hit her with a force of a hurricane. Human emotion draining from him and into her, she felt her body feeding on it. She felt herself grow stronger, felt the blood as it poured inside her. She felt Spike approach, felt his proud swagger as he neared.

“That’s it,” he whispered as he stepped behind Buffy. “Drink it all down.” His hand stroked her golden mane, “That’s my girl, can you taste the fear in his blood? Makes it all the sweeter doesn’t it, pet” she felt so inspired by Spike’s words so she sucked on Michael’s neck harder. Acceptance of his death reigned in Buffy’s mind, victory for her demon. “Oh yes,” she felt Spike’s arousal poking her in the back. His fingers trailed down her head and on to her neck, kneading her muscles. “Harder,” he encouraged, “Smell the pain in the air!” Her bite became fiercer, drawing in the last of his blood. “Do you smell it love? Death... isn’t it intoxicating?”

Buffy dropped the dead body onto the streets, leaving the corpse to the rats and the cockroaches to maul over until the first light of dawn. She moaned as she twisted in his arms. Her lips tingled with fresh blood in her system, “I feel wonderful,” she smiled.

“Come here,” Spike rasped through his demonic incisors. He lifted her up in his arms, stretching her above his head as he propped her up against the brick wall. She wrapped her legs around him as her body descended. “And give me a kiss.”

a/n: Sorry for the delay in updates. I went out of town and just couldn't get organized enough to post. As always please let me know what you think.





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