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Right, remember I said I didn't have time to write? Well that is true. But, a child's birthday party wore me out far too much to read theoretical academic books or answer discursive seminar questions or put real effort into my other fic, so naturally, it was one shot time.
I've said this in the summary, but I'll warn you once more: IF YOU LIKE TWILIGHT AND THINK THIS WILL OFFEND YOU THEN DON'T READ IT!
Okay. So, BBE said she'd like to read a fic where Edward got ripped to shreds...I agreed...and so I complied. I know she wrote a funny one shot of her own about Twilight, however both are completely different stories. We discussed this one together so she was highly involved in planning it out and came up with the title. This is all meant in good fun. It gets an R rating purely because of graphic violence at the end. Okay. That's it. It took about a day to write and is also, un-betaed.
“Stupid vampires.”
The perky blonde marched down the street, her arms swinging and a scowl on her face. Her knee length, cream colored skirt swished to and fro as she hurried forward, her heels clicking against the stone with every furious step.
“Stupid bleach headed vampires with stupid British accents and intense blue eyes—”
The fiery blonde appeared to slam into an invisible wall when she stumbled to a halt, her eyes bulging before she growled, tensing her arms, her hands curling into fists before splaying outward in obvious frustration at having nothing to hit.
“Shit! No! Don’t think about that. Not intense.”
She shook her head vigorously, a few strands of her short hair breaking free of her tiny ponytail from the action.
“Not intense—uh—shifty. Yeah, shifty eyes.”
She nodded her head this time, more hair falling about her face as she continued on her way.
Suuuuuuuuuure, you keep telling yourself that, Buffy, an inner voice spoke up. Shifty eyes. Ha! Try stunning or stormy or soul gazing or—
Would you shut up already?! Geez! the pissed off part of her retorted.
Nuh-uh. You’re just annoyed because you couldn’t find him tonight. Couldn’t get that itch scratched and now you’re all twitchy with pent up frustration with no strong, stamina filled vamp to take away the achies.
Shut up! I am not. And what’s up with that anyway? I mean the guy—vampire stalks me, constantly shows up where he’s not wanted, always just there with the smiles and the understanding looks and the comforting kisses—he’s just there and now what, he vanishes?
Search me. All I know is you didn’t get your fix and if you don’t find something to kill soon, Sunnydale better prepare for one big bitch fit.
Buffy huffed loudly and lowered her head, picking up her pace and ignoring the twinges of protest from her feet as she attempted to drive her pointed heels into the stone with every step. She could argue with herself all she wanted but it was true. Sooner or later she had to kill something or her currently PMS-ing teenage sister would have nothing on her mood.
She made it another block on her way to the worst part of town in hopes of finding some action, although not the kind she had initially been looking for, when she sensed it. A slight tingle that crawled up the back of her neck, making the tiny hairs there stand on end. She slowed her pace, her head turning marginally to her left until she caught sight of the dark figure behind her out of her periphery vision.
Seems I’ve traded one stalker for another, she thought with a put upon sigh. Oh well, guess I better take care of him.
She grinned at the thought of upcoming violence, hoping the guy would put up a decent fight and gradually came to a halt. Deciding to play the part, she wiped the smirk off her face before turning to her right and folding her arms over her chest, scanning the street as if suddenly unsure of where she was and realizing that she was alone in a not so pleasant area of the town.
The tingles were still there and she shuddered at the sensation. Something was off about them. They were particularly unpleasant, though she couldn’t put her finger on why. They just gave her the wiggins.
She waited, suppressing the urge to tap her foot.
What’s taking so long? Lost girl all on her lonesome in the middle of a dark street, does anything scream dinner more than that to—whatever the hell you are?
Eventually the prickles picked up and she relaxed. He was taking the bait, weaving his way closer to her in the shadows of the worn down buildings next to her. She took one hesitant step forward, then another.
Easy, Buffy, play it up. Wait for a dramatic pause and—now!
She spun around quickly with a startled gasp, scanning the shadows behind her. As expected, nothing moved. Of course, she knew better. She could sense him as he slowly circled her, cloaked in darkness too deep for human eyes to penetrate. Brushing the loose hair back from her face with a shaky hand she turned, her head down, letting out a frightened yelp when he pounced in front of her, right on cue.
God you’re predictable.
She raised her eyes, taking in the figure before her and snorted.
You’ve got to be kidding me.
He was a teenager: a pale, pasty faced teenager with weird hair that stood up way too high on his head and a flattish looking face. A crease formed on his brow at her reaction, obviously not the one he was expecting.
“Really,” she said, giving him another quick sweep with her eyes that did nothing to improve the first impression, “you’re what’s been tailing me? Come on, give me something to work with.” She looked heavenward with a shake of her head before facing him again.
“You’re no longer afraid,” he said, in a low voice, attempting, she presumed, to sound mysterious and coming off as majorly lame.
“Nope. You like that little show did ya? I should be an actress professionally, right? Bet I’d make a great horror victim, you know if I didn’t have superpowers and deal with monsters on a nightly basis.”
“What?” The frown got deeper.
She sighed.
“Well go on then. Guess we shouldn’t waste you’re big dramatic entrance. Give me the line.” She folded her arms expectantly.
“Line?”
“Yeah, you know, every grand entrance comes with a line like, ‘hey, little girl’ or ‘dinner that delivers’ or ‘hello, cutie’—damn it!”
Buffy rolled her eyes and huffed, wondering why the hell she couldn’t even seem to speak without reminding herself of the currently MIA vampire.
“I’m not here to attack you,” her stalker said, deciding to brush off her strange behavior. “I saw you were alone. I thought I should keep an eye on you. Pretty girls shouldn’t be out on the streets by themselves.”
Buffy laughed. An honest out loud, belly aching laugh. She stared up into the amber eyes that were squinting at her in bafflement and laughed even harder, bending over and clutching her stomach.
“Oh please,” she begged, struggling to speak over her giggles, “tell me you didn’t really say that. Tell—tell me—hahaha—that my creepy stalker who just—HA—jumped out in front of me didn’t just—haha—say he wants to protect me.”
“I think I should probably walk you home. You obviously shouldn’t be out here by yourself,” he said, reaching out to take her arm.
“Oh God! You’re killing me!” Buffy let loose another burst of giggles.
Her night had taken a turn for the weird all right. This guy was clearly not human as her senses told her, yet instead of pouncing on her he was offering to walk her home. A chivalrous stalker, what next?
His hand brushed her arm and it felt icy cold. The feeling squicked her, much like the tingles he was giving off did and she sobered enough to step back, wiping the grin off her face and containing her laughter.
“Look, pal, I don’t know who you are, but you’re not human. I know this because I’m the Slayer, so trust me when I say I don’t need any help. I’m the scary one that goes bump in the night around here.”
Or I would if a certain someone had been around tonight to go bump with—wrong train of thought!
“The Slayer?”
“Yeah, genius, the Slayer. Whatever you are, you’d better have a damn good reason for hunting pretty girls out by themselves at night. Somehow, I’m thinking you don’t.”
He blinked at her, withdrawing the arm that he’d left reaching out to her.
“My name is Edward, and I came here looking for you, Slayer. You fascinate me. Tales of your exploits have reached me even in my hometown.”
“Oh yeah? And where exactly is that?”
“Forks, Washington.”
Buffy stared at him unblinking. He stared back. Something about that wasn’t computing with the swiftly irritated blonde.
“Forks, Washington,” she repeated, dead-pan.
He nodded and she mimicked the action then shook her head in disbelief.
“Is this a joke? I mean, I know I’m sort of famous, after all, fricken Dracula came here to meet me, but some teen from Forks, Washington has come looking for me? That’s not really a step up. In fact you could say it’s a solid fall in the opposite direction.”
“I know it doesn’t sound like much—”
“Damn right it doesn’t.”
“But I think we were meant to meet, Slayer. I have spent so long surrounded by lesser beings, trying to fit in. When I heard about you—you’re so special, you’re strong and powerful and a hunter, but you’re just a girl, a human. It doesn’t make sense. You’re—different. I had to meet you.”
“Okay back up,” Buffy said, waving her arms in front of her. “You came to Sunnydale to find me because you believe we have a destiny together? My killing you better be included in there somewhere because trust me there will not be any destiny of any other kind going on here,” she argued, gesturing back and forth between them. “Seriously, eww.” She looked at him up and down again and her nose crinkled up at the thought.
“I’m not human, you’re right about that. I’m a match for you, a creature of the night. I can protect you.”
He leaned in to her, his eyes growing bloodshot and his lips parting to reveal elongating fangs. Buffy didn’t wait another second. She reached back and grabbed her stake from its hiding place tucked in the waistband of her skirt and thrust it straight into his heart. He grunted in pain and staggered backwards, looking down at the piece of wood protruding from his chest.
“You—staked—me.”
“Yeah, part of my job description,” she muttered, waiting for him to go poof.
She scowled when he refused to turn to a pile of dust.
“Okay. Now, I know you looked different, but fangs usually means vampire, so why aren’t you dust yet?”
Edward grabbed the end of the stake in his chest and pulled, slowly removing it with a loud suctioning noise before dropping it, where it fell with a clatter to the ground. He groaned and clutched at the gaping wound.
“Stakes—don’t kill vampires.”
“Uh, yeah, they do,” Buffy said with a glare. “I know my job, and I’ve had to wash enough dust out of my clothes to know. You did not go poof, therefore you, are not a vampire. What are you? An honest answer this time if you don’t mind, creepy mc creeperson.”
“Vampire. It’s what I am.”
“Then you must be some other kind because every vamp I’ve ever met doesn’t stand around moaning when I stake him.”
“Slayer,” Edward said, reaching out a hand toward her again, “I won’t hurt you.”
“No,” Buffy agreed, “you won’t.”
She kicked him right in the gut with enough force to send him sailing back through the air into the building opposite. He slammed into the brick wall, shattering it and fell like a stone to the pile of garbage below, the loose bricks falling down on top of him. She waited, but there was no further sign of movement. She bent down to retrieve her stake, grimacing at the blood dripping from the end of it. Her nose curled up again.
“Ew.”
Bloody stakes were not something she usually dealt with. This wouldn’t be going back in her waistband.
A rustling noise caught her attention. She spun around, her eyes darting to where she’d deposited the weirdo with the new hole she’d ripped for him. Walking swiftly over to the spot she sighed when she found plenty of rubbish and debris, but no bleeding whatever he was.
“Typical,” she huffed and began marching back home.
She’d have to tell the Scoobs about the thing that thought it was a vampire that appeared to be immune to stakes. Something told her this would require research. After all, the Watchers had never mentioned anything about any other breed of vampire that didn’t dust, and neither had the other vamps.
A huddled figure watched from on top of a building as she left, holding his wounded chest and wincing at the pain as his skin tried to heal. That hadn’t gone as planned, and it had hurt, but he knew he could convince her. He just had to approach her again.
*** “That the last of it, mate?” Spike asked, dropping the two heavy boxes in his arms down on a table and sending up a cloud of dust.
“Yeah, that’s it. Thanks, buddy.” Clem said, placing the television in his arms down next to the boxes.
Spike stretched, feeling his back straighten after all the bending down. He scanned the small apartment Clem had moved into and faced his eager friend.
“Gotta say, Clem, place isn’t half bad. You got a good price too?”
Clem nodded and gave his new place the once over.
“Yeah, a friend of a friend recommended the guy and he gave me a discount. As long as I keep my business here legal he’s got no problem.”
“Suits you just fine then,” Spike said with a grin and headed for the door. “Well, time I was off.”
“You sure? I mean, I know I still have to unpack but I have a few beers in the fridge already and it shouldn’t take too long to get the TV set up.”
Spike hovered in the doorway. Normally, he’d be quite happy to have a few drinks with his friend, but he’d spent almost the whole night helping Clem move his stuff and he was hoping he might catch the Slayer out on patrol before she called it a night.
“No thanks, mate. Sun’ll be up soon and I have to go run a few errands. ‘Nother time, yeah?”
“Oh, yeah sure. Thanks again, Spike.”
Spike gave his friend a wave as he hurried out the door. He wasn’t kidding about the sun being up soon. He hoped Buffy would be nearby. He wouldn’t have time to get to her house to engage in certain activities before the sun would rise and he knew there was no way she’d let him stay in her house, not when there was a chance Willow or Dawn would discover him anyway.
*** He spent the remainder of the night tracking the Slayer but it seemed that after a quick trip to his crypt, which he was both pleased and frustrated to discover, she’d headed for the dangerous part of town then changed her mind, going home instead.
“Figures,” he grumbled.
He took one night off to help a friend and she had actually come looking for him. Now he’d missed her and would have to do without a shag tonight. No wonder being evil was more fun. This was what he got for being good and helping people, or demons as it were. He sighed and headed home, pausing once when an odd smell caught his attention. He inhaled but couldn’t place the scent. Whatever it was, it was bleeding. The trail seemed to follow the Slayer’s for a bit, before fading in the opposite direction.
Must have found herself a playmate, he thought. Wounded it anyway, even if she didn’t manage a kill, could be an excuse for us to patrol tomorrow if there’s a nasty still on the loose.
Shaking his head to rid it of the curious scent, Spike headed back to his crypt, annoyed at missing Buffy, but looking forward to making up for it the next night.
*** Buffy pulled on her jeans and t shirt hurriedly, preparing to head over to the Magic Box. Some research was in order to figure out if there was more than one breed of vampire or if anything vaguely resembling a vampire without a weakness to pointy bits of wood existed and if so, how to kill it.
She’d barely made it out of the house when that icky feeling prickled up her spine again. She jerked to a halt and spun around. She didn’t see anything and the feeling faded a little but it hadn’t vanished.
No. Couldn’t be.
She shook her head and looked up at the sun scorching down from the sky above. With another toss of her head, she marched off to the Magic Box. She had to be imagining things, and if she wasn’t then she really needed to do her research. No way was she going to put up with a daytime stalker vamp thingy.
*** Spike couldn’t wait for sunset to see her. He’d spent an entire day away from her already and he was going to make damn sure he didn’t miss another opportunity to be with her. So with blanket in hand, he’d made his way through the winding tunnels beneath Sunnydale towards the Magic Box.
Deciding not to just barge in from the basement, Spike headed for the sewer exit just at the back of the shop. From there, he could make his way through the training room and listen in to see who was about. If he was lucky, maybe he could avoid announcing his presence to Scoobie central and catch the Slayer on her own. He was just shoving the heavy metal lid back into place when he realized he wasn’t alone.
Turning sharply, Spike frowned at the figure staring at the door to the training room as though he could see through it. The figure glanced over his shoulder and Spike saw that it was some weirdly pale teenager with hair that made Angel’s look normal. The kid gave him one odd squinty eyed glance before turning back to the door.
“Who the bloody hell are you then, and what are you doin’ here?” Spike asked, keeping his voice even though he tensed his fists reflexively.
The stranger turned to Spike fully, this time studying him a little more intently.
“You aren’t human,” he stated.
Spike glared at the kid with narrowed eyes. He cocked his head to one side and gave him a quick predatory sweep, sizing him up.
“No, I’m not. Neither are you.”
“No,” the kid agreed.
“So, what sort of beastie are you then? Look human enough,” Spike said, slipping his thumbs into his belt loops and casually easing his way over to his right, watching the boy.
“I’m a vampire,” the kid said evenly.
That brought Spike up short.
“Oh you are? Don’t feel like a vampire to me.”
“Well I am. What are you?”
“I,” Spike said with a grin, “happen to be a vampire, only I know I’m not lying.”
“I’m not lying,” the kid said, frowning. “I am a vampire. I don’t know who you are, but—”
“Name’s Spike. And Sunnydale is my town. That,” Spike said gesturing to the Magic Box, “is my turf, and I don’t appreciate some scrawny, deluded, demon boy snooping around on it.”
“Your turf? The Slayer is in there, and I know she doesn’t take kindly to vampires,” the kid said, refusing to move from his spot in front of the door, simply glaring at Spike.
“Well, I happen to be an exception to the rule. You, on the other hand, are not, so bugger off before I get violent.”
“You think you can take me?” the kid said, arrogantly.
Spike snorted.
“Oh, this should be fun.”
A noise from the training room caught their attention. Buffy’s muffled voice could be heard through the door. Spike saw the kid’s eyes widen before he ran off out into the street.
“Oi!” Spike yelled, giving chase then jerking to a halt just before he ran into the fading sunlight.
The ball of fiery death in the sky didn’t seem to bother the supposed vampire who ran right into it though. He paused to stare back at Spike for a moment and Spike’s mouth dropped open.
“Oh that’s just not natural,” Spike muttered.
The kid was sparkling! Lit up like a bleeding disco ball as he stood there in the sun before turning and running off into the distance.
Right, Spike thought, whatever you are you’r e not gonna be prowling round my town, calling yourself a vampire any longer, you great, glittery poof.
*** “Nothing?” Buffy asked, glancing at each of her friends in turn.
They all shook their heads. Buffy groaned and smacked her head down on the pile of opened books in front of her.
“Maybe we’re going about this wrong,” Willow suggested. “Maybe he really isn’t a vampire, but he just thinks he is.”
“So what, we look up delusional demons with pointy fangs who go for your throat?” Xander asked.
“Maybe,” Willow said with a shrug. “Are you sure there’s nothing else that could help identify him, Buffy?”
Buffy raised her head and propped it up on her hand while she thought.
“Well, he stalks like a vamp, and he had fangs, but his face didn’t go all bumpy and grr. It was more like a sick person. All bloodshot eyes and pasty skin. He looked like he should be in the hospital on death’s door you know? Not all feral and ready to rip your throat out like the ones I’m used to. Except, you know, for the fangs.”
“Hmm. Well, I could cross reference a few things. Hang on.”
Willow began typing away furiously on the laptop. After several moments of waiting, during which the red-head didn’t even glance up, too intent on the screen, Buffy sighed, taking it as a hint that she wouldn’t be getting an answer any time soon.
“I need to go hit something. I’ll be in the training room until it gets dark enough to go patrol.”
“Okay, Buff. Don’t worry, I’m sure whatever this crazy kid is, we’ll figure it out,” Xander said, confidently.
She gave him a weak smile before standing up and walking into the training room. She began bandaging her hands, muttering away to herself. After a few quick stretches to loosen up she faced the punching back.
“Edward, I don’t know what you are, but next time we meet,” she gave the bag a solid punch that sent it swinging back and followed up with a flurry of punches and kicks before one very strong spinning kick caused the chain it swung from to snap, dropping the bag to the floor with a resounding thud. “We’ll see if you can recover from decapitation the way you do a gaping chest wound.”
After a satisfying workout, Buffy prepared to go on patrol when Xander walked into the training room, smiling.
“Guess what?”
“You found out what he is?” Buffy asked, excitedly.
Xander pretended to pout. “Aww, come on. It’s no fun if you guess correct on your first try.”
Buffy grinned and followed her friend out onto the shop floor. She stopped next to Willow who smirked up at her from her computer at their little table.
“You found him?” Buffy asked, eagerly.
“Well not him exactly, but something that matches your description. Says here, they’ve often been mistaken for vampires, to the point that they sometimes took the name for themselves.”
“But that’s not what he is?”
“Nope. I’d say what you ran into was a,” Willow squinted at the screen, “Fulgentibus Hirudo.”
“Huh?” Buffy asked eloquently.
“It’s Latin. Nearest translation is, um, glittering leech.”
“Something about a pigment in the skin and some sort of reaction—the details are hazy. Any idea, Buffy?”
Buffy shook her head. “Not about the glitter, but I can get on board with the leech part. So this thing—fulge-the-bus whatchamawhosit, it’s killable right?”
Willow typed something in quickly, scanned the screen and nodded. “Yep. Oh, but—”
“But? What but?” Buffy asked.
Willow looked up at her friend. “There’s only one way to kill it.” She grimaced. “And it’s not pretty.”
“Fine with me,” Buffy said. “Spill.”
*** As soon as the sun set, Spike ceased pacing and began the hunt for the rhinestone-skinned boy. His urge to see Buffy had been momentarily replaced with a need to preserve the sanctity of the vampire name. If word got out about some kid calling himself a vampire that twinkled like a Christmas tree, Spike’s very species would become a laughing stock in both the human and demon world.
It didn’t take him that long to track the ponce down. When he did, Spike’s desire to kill the git escalated. The reason being that he’d tracked him back to Buffy’s house, and caught him squatting in the branches of what Spike had come to think of as his tree, looking into Buffy’s window, apparently thinking he could step inside her inner sanctum.
“I suppose a vamp like you doesn’t need an invite either,” Spike called up, startling the prick enough to make him lose his balance.
Spike smirked in satisfaction when the sod fell to the ground in a heap.
“Slayer catches you in her room, you’re gonna find yourself a twinkling pile of glitter you know.”
The teen stood and brushed himself off, glaring at Spike and attempting to look intimidating. Spike had to bite back a laugh. This would be fun all right.
“My business with the Slayer is none of your concern. She’s mine to protect.”
Oh that just tears it.
Spike scowled and stared daggers at the boy.
“That’s where you’re wrong. Any business you have with Buffy is my concern, and newsflash, glitter boy, she doesn’t need protecting.”
“So why do you care?”
Spike snarled.
“Because I know she wouldn’t appreciate you stalking her and sneaking into her house to rifle through her stuff.”
Spike was reminded of his behavior last year. But that had been different. He was a regular in her life. And evil. This kid was just a creep.
“She and I have a destiny,” the brat said firmly.
“The only thing you have with her is an appointment to die, which you’ll be missing since you’ve run into me, and I’m ticked off enough to take care of you for her.”
“You can’t kill me. The Slayer already tried to stake me. It doesn’t work. But I guess it would on you. I suggest you stay away from her and me before I try it.”
Spike shifted into game face, pissed off beyond belief.
“You think you can threaten me? The Slayer is mine. Think you have the stones to take me you bloody well try it.”
“I don’t have time for this,” the kid muttered, and took off in a blur.
Spike snarled and gave chase. Whatever the guy was, he was fast. He must have realized he was being followed because he stopped in a nearby cemetery to face his pursuer.
“You really want me to kill you?” he asked.
Spike forced himself to calm down and shook off his demon. He wouldn’t need it for this fight.
“Fine,” the kid said and flew at Spike.
Spike followed his movements calmly as the git jumped, launching himself full speed towards Spike. Spike brought his left arm in front of his chest and swung outward, his fist smashing straight into the kid’s face, the force of the blow sending him flying into a mausoleum several feet away. Spike sauntered over and stood looking down at the huddled form on the ground.
“Still think I’m a pushover, ponce?” Spike asked.
“My name,” the kid muttered, rising to his hands and knees, “is Edward!”
Edward whirled and swung a fist up at Spike. Spike had seen it coming a mile away. Sidestepping the attempted blow casually, Spike grabbed Edward’s arm, and grinning, twisted it forcefully. There was a loud snapping sound and Edward howled. Spike wasn’t done yet. With a sharp yank, he pulled Edward’s arm while shoving a foot against his side, ripping his arm clean off. The shriek of pain sent various sleeping critters nearby running.
Spike tossed the severed limb over his shoulder and tilted his head, looking down at Edward, kneeling on the ground, blood pumping furiously from the bleeding stump below his shoulder. He was whimpering in pain.
“Let that be a lesson to you. Never piss off a real Master vampire. And keep your nose out of where it doesn’t belong.”
Spike reached into his duster pocket for his cigarettes, and was caught off guard when Edward suddenly stood and kicked him in the gut. Spike staggered back a few steps and looked up at Edward’s blood red, eyes, the blood vessels within and around them appearing to have burst and his sharp protruding fangs. Seems he’d pissed whatever monster the kid was off.
“Well at least you’re not a complete pansy,” Spike commented as Edward charged him again, ignoring the fact he was missing an arm as he swung his remaining one at Spike.
Spike dodged and ducked, avoiding a few misplaced kicks and swings and leading Edward backwards into more open space. After another swing at Spike’s head, Spike kicked Edward hard enough to knock him back into one of the iron railings that separated the cemetery into sections. Edward grabbed one of the spiked poles and removed it from the railing, swinging it at Spike. Spike snorted and caught the weapon kicking Edward again and making him release his grip. With a quick twirl, Spike used the blunt end of the railing to sweep Edward’s legs out from under him, sending him slamming into the ground, and then plunged the pointed end down into his gut, pinning him there.
“You really don’t learn do you?” Spike asked. “Whatever you are, you don’t die easy.”
“I’m a vampire,” Edward snarled, struggling to sit up and remove the railing.
“No. You’re not. Vampires,” Spike began, “dust when they’re staked, look like this,” Spike said, shifting into game face and shifting back again, “don’t prance about in daylight, and never, ever, under any circumstances, sparkle.”
Edward managed to half sit up, using the railing to keep him upright and panted heavily from the effort. He leveled Spike with a cold glare.
“It will take more than this to kill me. You’ll never beat me. This won’t hold me long. I’ll—”
Spike rolled his eyes. He’d had enough. Quickly bending, Spike grabbed one of Edward’s legs and ripped it off, much like he had his arm. Edward shrieked in pain again. Spike grabbed Edward’s leg by the foot and swinging it like a baseball bat, whacked it at Edward’s head with full force. Edward’s neck snapped sideways, and his head lolled down at an awkward angle. His body hovered like that for a minute before falling backwards onto the ground.
“Don’t suppose that’ll finish you either,” Spike muttered, dropping Edward’s leg. “Well, let’s see what we can’t do about that.”
Spike grabbed Edward’s head in both hands and twisted it clean off, with a crunching, squishing pop. After briefly considering using the head as a football, Spike dropped the body part down in the gradually growing pile of them he was accumulating. Strolling back to where Edward’s arm lay, Spike picked that up and dropped it onto the pile of Edward too. Humming to himself, Spike pulled out his cigarettes, sticking one between his lips and lighting it with his zippo. After several, satisfying drags, Spike pulled out his hip flask.
“Pity to waste it, but,” he said, glancing down at the body in front of him, which he noticed was beginning to twitch and jerk, “definitely necessary.”
With a sigh, Spike screwed the top off and poured the whiskey inside down on top of the twitching pile of limbs and torso.
*** “For a stalker, he really sucks at it,” Buffy grumbled.
“Maybe he’s skipped town already,” Xander suggested.
“Well that would suck, after all the time we wasted researching. Highly inconsiderate, really,” Anya said.
Xander and Anya decided to accompany Buffy on her hunt before they headed home. Buffy suspected the glittering leech was something Xander wanted to see for himself. It was admittedly weirder than a lot of what they’d encountered.
“I don’t think so. I mean why show up with the big ‘you and I were destined to meet’ spiel if he’s just gonna leave,” Buffy argued.
“You did stake him, Buff. A hole in the chest might have changed his mind for him.”
“Lame,” Buffy grumbled again.
She pulled up short when a tingle ran up her spine. This wasn’t the icky, prickling sensation she’d been expecting. This was a familiar tingle, one that sent heat running through her. Cautiously, Buffy followed the sensation until the group came across a sight none of them were prepared for. Buffy gaped when she saw Spike, casually leaning against a grave marker, looking down at a twitching mass of—she squinted.
“Edward?” she asked, eyes widening.
Spike glanced up at her voice and grinned.
“Hello, luv.”
He chucked the remainder of his cigarette down onto the corpse as he walked towards them. Buffy watched as flames sprung up on Edward’s clothes and then burst into a roaring fire that quickly covered the gruesome sight.
“Out hunting?” Spike asked, drawing Buffy’s attention from the fire before her.
“Huh? Yeah. I am—was. What did—You killed it.”
“Oh,” Spike said, glancing back behind him at his handy-work. “Yeah, I did. Stupid sod had the audacity to call himself a vampire. Pillock.”
Xander, Buffy and Anya glanced from the burning corpse to Spike.
“But we didn’t even get a good look,” Xander whined. “When will we ever get the opportunity to see a glittering leech again?”
Anya patted him on the arm consolingly.
“A what?” Spike asked with a confused frown.
“It’s what he was,” Buffy explained, “it’s the real name for them. They just took the name vampire after a lot of confusion over the similarities what with the fangs and the blood.”
“Oh,” Spike said, nodding. “Yeah, that makes sense.”
“How did you know?” Buffy asked, looking up at him.
“Know what?” Spike asked, tilting his head at her.
“How to kill it. There’s only one way to do it. Rip them to pieces and set them on fire.”
“Huh. I didn’t.” Spike shrugged. “Pissed me off and I took a wild guess.”
Buffy stared up at him and her shoulders slumped.
“You’ve got to be kidding me. I wait around to figure out what he is so I can kill him, come all the way out here with a sword,” she waved the aforementioned weapon in her hand from side to side, “and matches to get the job done and you’ve already killed him, by accident. That’s just—just—not fair!”
Spike chuckled.
“Sorry, pet. You can hardly blame me though. He was right irritatin’. Tell you what, now he’s gone, why don’t we go work out all that tension of yours on somethin’ more worthwhile, eh?”
Buffy glanced up at him and saw the barely contained leer on his face, accompanied by a suggestive eyebrow. She glanced back at Xander and Anya, still watching the fire blazing away in front of them.
“Guys?”
They looked over at her. “Yeah?” Xander asked.
“You can head on home if you like. I’ll go patrol with Spike. I’m sure I can find a demon around here somewhere that’ll put up more of a fight.”
“Oh. Sure, Buff. And hey, if you don’t find anything else to slay, there’s always Spike,” Xander said, before leading Anya out of the cemetery.
“Yeah, there always is,” Buffy murmured, turning around to her vampire who was staring down at her with smoldering eyes.
“That there is. So. You wanna do a quick sweep or head straight to the crypt?”
Buffy stared him straight in the eye then walked past him at a brisk pace.
“Crypt,” she said firmly.
Spike smirked and hurried after her.
Behind them, the fire continued to blaze, Edward’s body shriveling and melting away. He may not have been a vampire, but they had a weakness for fire in common.
Chapter End Notes:
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