I got to thinking that Joss made it pretty hazy whether Spike went to that cave to get his soul back, or to get the chip removed. I decided that I would write a ‘what if’ story…. "Believe it or not, He was working with Buffy until recently." Faith couldn't help herself. She let out a wild uncontrollable laugh. "B let that Billy Idol rip off into her little gang. Next thing you'll be telling me she was gettin' her jollies on with him!" "No. You're not serious? What is it with that girl? The living not good enough for her?" "It's not what you think Faith. I got a call from Rupert Giles two months ago. Spike tried to rape Buffy." Faith leaned back in her chair. Third times a charm. "He dropped off their radar shortly afterwards, and they didn't hear anything about him after that." "So why tell me all this?" Faith asked. She had to admit, she was more than a little interested now. Buffy and she had never really been friends. Hell, they'd tried to kill each other more than once, but no woman deserved to be raped. Not even Buffy. "Because he's back." Wesley said, his tone flat and factual. "And it looks like he's somehow managed to remove the chip because he's gone right back to his old ways. I've been tracking his movements for the past week, but I've always been three steps behind him." "So why tell me? Why not Angel? He's supposed to be the hero round here, ain't he?" Wesley frowned again. "Like I said, Angel and I aren’t on the best of terms, and to be honest, I need a slayer for this, not another vampire." Faith was convinced. It'd do her good to get out of here anyway. She'd had enough of taking punishment. It was about time she started handing it out again. She stood up. "Get the door open on your side." she told him. "I'll be there in a minute." She hung up and stood watching him for a moment. He walked to the door, and went to open it. That was all she needed to see. Taking a few steps back quickly, she dashed forward, diving head first through the glass that separated the two halves of the room. The glass shattered as she passed smoothly through it. Wesley stood for a moment, dumbstruck as she rolled to her feet, her movements graceful, almost feline. The next thing he knew, he was being shoved roughly through the door, and heading down a corridor towards the main entrance. ‘Why?’ he thought to himself. Why out of all those pretty morsels had his demon wanted that one? ‘To pay her back!’ another part of him answered. She had spurned him, and now he would make her suffer. He would make them all suffer. He hung back, leaning his shoulder against a building. His eyes never left the group. He was a hunter now, stalking his prey, singling out one from the herd. As they moved out of site, he pushed himself off from the wall with a quick jerk of his shoulder, settling into an easy walk, not hurried. He could be patient. He knew that eventually, they would drift apart, go their separate ways, and he would have her then. He did not have long to wait. They came to the end of the street, and he watched two of the dark haired girls peel off from the group, shouting their goodbyes happily, with promises to call the next day. One of you will be the one to realise she is not home. One of you will go round to see if she’s okay. One of you will find out she’s missing. One of you will find out she is dead, and will have to tell the others. All of you will cry. A short while later, the redhead left the group. Something deep inside Spike told him he should go after her. She was alone, defenceless. There was no point in chasing after the blonde. It was irrational. But he ignored the feeling, and kept on walking, past the road the other girl had gone down, not even noticing that she had gone into the first house on the street. He only had eyes for the three now in front of him. When they paused again, several minutes later, he pressed himself against a wall, hidden in shadows. They were talking about a band they were due to see tomorrow. The girl, his girl, wanted to know if they had managed to get the tickets. One of the others assured her that they had them. They parted, and to Spikes pleasure, the pale haired girl walked off alone. He waited for a short while, allowing the two others to get far enough away, before heading out after his target. She had not gotten too far ahead of him, and he soon caught up to her. She must have heard his footsteps, as her pace quickened. He matched her stride for stride, and she quickened her speed again. As she turned off into an ally, Spike grinned to himself. He rounded the corner. “Buffy?” he called and she turned around at the sound of his voice. He closed the distance between them in three steps. “Buff…Oh, sorry luv, thought you were someone else.” “Oh please.” she replied, sarcasm dripping from her lips. “That’s just about the oldest one in the book.” Spike laughed. “Yeah, you’re probably right pet.” he admitted. “Truth be known, I don’t even know anyone called Buffy.” His beast rose quickly, distorting his features. The girl managed to let off a scream, but it was cut short as he lunged forward. Hands as hard as steel grabbed hold of his shoulders, and wrenched him backwards. He grunted as his head hit the wall, trying to focus on his attacker, but it was her voice he recognised first. “I’m sure B will be just heartbroken to hear you say that Spike!” Spike growled as his head cleared. “Oh look, it’s the mental one. Get tired of your little cage did you?” Faith spared a glance for the girl. “Run.” was all she had time to say before she was defending herself from a flurry of punches. She managed to break free, giving her a moment to prepare before a vicious backhand swing caught her full in the face sending her spinning. She bounced hard off the other side of the ally, but came back with a series of her own attacks, kicks coming as fast as lightning, and as hard as a jackhammer. Spike blocked each one of her attacks. He found himself glad she had spent time out of action. At peak performance, she would have caught him a blow by now. He did not anticipate the fury of her attack however, and was caught off guard when she managed to grab hold of his leather collar, and pulled him close, planting her forehead on the bridge of his nose. He reeled backwards, hands finding the broken bone, and snapping it back into place. “That hurt little slayer!” he said, wiping the blood from his eyes where it had spattered upwards. “You going to' do anything, or you just going to sit there grinning?” She asked him, pissed at her poor performance. “Just enjoying the view to be honest pet!” he responded chuckling, his beast fading back to reveal the chiselled cheekbones, the winning smile, and those cold, cold eyes. Faith dragged her eyes away from his, and cast a glance downward. Her top had been torn open, exposing her to him. She struggled against his hands, trying to break free, but he was just that bit stronger. As he leaned forward, she spat curses at him, but they were silenced, as his lips pressed against hers. She struggled for a moment, trying to free herself once more, but it was futile.
NB: The time-line may be a little screwy…please don’t yell at me….I
did zero research for this, it was written purely for fun.
A sound. A scuff of bare skin against wood. It was enough to attract his attention. Exhaling the smoke form his cigarette, he flicked the butt to the ground, and swung his legs off the bed. He stood up, and made his way over to the door of the bedroom, and looked through the dark portal to the figure in the room beyond.
The girl was pale of hair. The kind of blonde that is a shade off white, and the girl’s hair was almost iridescent in the moonlight streaming through the window. The skin of her naked body was equally pale in the soft light. Long elegant legs were pulled up to her chest, and her forehead rested on her knees as she sagged forward. The only things stopping her from falling over onto her side were the manacles that held her arms aloft. Lines of crimson rolled down over the soft skin of her arms from the wounds she'd caused herself as she struggled to free herself of her bonds.
She was a pretty thing, the vampire thought to himself as he ran a hand through peroxide hair. He'd picked her up the night previously, and he'd more than had his fun with her. All in an attempt to rid himself of the feelings he had for another blonde, in another place. Feelings he'd not had for a long time. Feelings he knew he never wanted to have again.
As if suddenly aware of his eyes upon her, the girl raised her head to look at him. Her face had been beautiful once, but now its beauty was gone, her visage a purple and red ruin. Spike had not been gentle in his play. Cuts around her forehead had spilled red trails of blood down her cheeks, and both her eyes were puffy and purple. She tried to speak, perhaps to beg for mercy, and winced at the pain caused by swollen and split lips.
Spike dropped down on all fours, and began creeping towards her, his eyes fixed on hers, and hers caught by his. He smiled, and she whimpered softly, but when he felt his demon rise, she made no sound at all. Her only reaction was the single tear that fell from her left eye. He watched it with fascination as it rolled down her face, mingling with the dried blood, turning pink before it fell to the ground.
He was close enough to touch her now, and he wanted to touch her so badly. His hunger called to him. His sharp hearing could pick out her heartbeat, hard and frantic as his hand stretched out to brush her calf gently. The girl shivered, but that only spurred him on. He crawled closer, and came to kneel upright in front of her. Placing a hand on each of her knees, he drew them apart, exposing her to him, but it was not her sex he was interested in. He leaned forward, placing a gentle almost reverent kiss on her inner thigh. Then he moved a little higher, finding that which he wanted most.
With an almost savage growl, he reared back, and struck. Fangs finding their target, piercing her femoral artery, blood gushed into his mouth, and he drank it deep. Sweet copper, like a shiny new penny filled his mouth, made his body surge in ecstasy. His nose detected a scent, but ignored it. He could feel a wetness soak into the material of his jeans, but ignored that too. He was lost in the feeding. Lost in the bloodlust. He drained her quickly, taking joy in every last drop until the flow stopped. Until she was dead.
When he was done, he crawled away from the corpse, and his hand went flat into something wet.
"Oh bloody hell." he moaned, as he realised what it was. In her final moments, the girl’s body had given up to the fear, and her bladder had released its contents. The wetness on his jeans stank of her, as did his hand.
Spike pushed himself up onto his feet, and walked swiftly into the bathroom.
Peeling off his shirt and pulling soiled pants from his legs left him naked, his body hard, smooth and pale as a dead man. He threw his dirty clothes into the bath, and climbed in after them, He turned on the shower, and leant back as the cold water washed down over his head.
Ten minutes later found him standing in dripping wet, but definitely clean clothes. There was no point in waiting for his body heat to dry the clothes. He had none. Plus, he did not wish to stay here much longer. In this modern age, it was not so easy to feed and stay to celebrate. People tended to ask more questions these days, and he did not want to be locked in a cell come sunrise. Not that he truly believed a bunch of cops, weighed down by daily doughnut helpings could take him down, but stranger things had happened.
Stranger things. Like Angelus acquiring a soul, and fighting on the Slayers side. Like the Initiative capturing, and virtually neutering him. Like the demon who had managed to remove the chip from his head when others had told him it was impossible. And like him still loving Buffy, even though he no longer suffered every time he did an evil deed.
He paused at the front door, just before leaving, and looked back at the corpse of the girl. A wry smile crossed over his lips. "You should have listened to your mum and dad pet." he said softly. "They were right when they told you that you shouldn't go off with strangers. Still, too late for you to learn that lesson."
Word got around, even in here. The big bitches had learned not to mess with her, and the weak ones knew that she would not stand to have them simper and beg her to protect them. She had sworn not to harm another human ever again, but that didn't mean she thought she had to look out for them. She was alone in the world, and alone behind these walls and bars that kept her imprisoned.
And that's why she was so surprised when they told her she had a visitor. It wasn't expected, and wasn't wanted. But she had no choice. The guard behind her tapped her nightstick against the wall as she walked Faith to the visitor’s room. The sound drove its way into Faith's brain, and she tried her hardest to block it out, but the steady rhythmic thud was persistent in its attack.
She would not rise to it. The guard was trying to provoke her, and she knew it. Word got around, even to the Screws. They all wanted to try her. They all wanted to be the one who managed to put her down.
Her eyes widened in surprise as she entered the visitor’s room. Now here was someone she had never expected to see again. As she sat down on the chair, and picked up the receiver, she felt his eyes pass over her, as though evaluating her.
He looked a lot better than when she'd seen him last. He looked rough. He'd not shaved in a while, and the stubble that graced his face suited him. He had lost the dorky glasses too. She'd never noticed his eyes that much before, when they had been hidden behind the lenses, but she knew there was something different about them now. They seemed harder somehow, like he'd been through shit, and come out the other side a lot worse off than when he went in.
"Wesley." she purred into the handset. "You look like crap!"
He laughed at this, and she felt his laughter, a mans laughter, stir things deep inside her that she hadn't felt in a long time.
"Faith." he said in simple reply.
She took a moment to relax, allow the sensation to pass before she responded once more. "That's all I get?" she asked. "No 'Hi, how are you?' I guess I shouldn't have expected anything more from you. What do you want Wesley?"
Again he laughed, and again it touched her, deep inside.
"Still sharp and to the point I see." he told her.
"Well I'd have been dead a long time ago if just my attitude was sharp." She stood. "Now tell me why you came here before I hang up and walk away."
"Very well. Do you remember anything about Spike before he was chipped by the Initiative?"
She raised an eyebrow, and sat back down. That was the second time she'd been surprised today. It was turning into a bad habit.
"Just that he was almost as much of a badass as your boss used to be."
Wesley's eyes darkened. His hand went unconsciously to a scar at his throat that Faith hadn't noticed until now. "Angel's not my boss anymore Faith. He and I had a misunderstanding."
"Was he the one who tried to give you a new smile?" she asked. She'd seen wounds like that before. She'd made a few of them.
Wesley shook his head. "No. That was someone else. But that is not important. I was speaking of Spike."
Faith sighed. Despite how things had turned out, she remembered every single bit of the little training she'd had from her original Watcher. "William the Bloody. Sired in 1880 by Drusilla, and a member of the Aurelius clan. Acquired the nickname Spike for his habit of torturing his victims with a railroad spike. He's known to have killed two Slayers, Chen Ma in 1900, and Nicky Wood in 1977. That's where he picked up that leather jacket of his."
"I'm impressed."
"What's this about Wesley? I'm not in the mood to take a trip down memory lane. You’re not my Watcher any more. What's with the history lesson?"
Wesley leaned forward. His voice dropped low, but she heard him perfectly through the receiver she held to her ear.
"Spike was up to his usual tricks, fighting on the wrong side of the tracks until about a year ago." he told her. "A group called the Initiative got their hands on him and implanted a chip in his brain that made it so he couldn't attack or kill any human being"
"So?"
Wesley coughed.
There were six of them. All about eighteen or nineteen. Four brunettes, a blonde, and a redhead. It was the blonde he had singled out.
The girl rolled her eyes at him.
Faith pressed her attack once more, relying on the fact that he was injured to slow him down. Unfortunately, it did not. His vampiric speed and senses gave him an edge, but his age, and the couple of hundred years he’d spent fighting her kind gave him another. A quick downward slash caught her chest to midriff, knocking her back, and an arching kick took her in the face, dropping her to the floor. She felt his weight as he squatted on top of her, his hands on her wrists, his demonic features looming over her.