In every generation there is a Chosen One. Me. I alone will stand against the vampires, the demons, and the forces of darkness. I am the Slayer.
Except for this one.
The evil vampire whose lap I’m currently straddling. Naked. His cool fingers playing over my bare back, pulling me closer so that I arch towards his open mouth. My jiggling breasts a prize to be won as I ride his hard cock and bring us both, ever closer, to release. A brief moment of time where our anguish and despair disappear for just a while. That slight death that tears down our walls and slowly puts us back together again. Prepares us to handle another day.
My pace increases; I use my thighs to raise and lower myself up and down the length of his cock, taking a moment on the downward stroke to grind my distended clit against his pelvis. I hear his grunts and moans, feel his grip on my hips tighten almost painfully, and even with my eyes closed I know he’s changing, his human mask fading away to reveal the demon just waiting to reclaim his prize. I can hear the bones in his face shift as his fangs elongate.
Just moments now, and I feel him piercing my neck, his movements surprisingly tender for one prone to violence and destruction.
I think maybe he tempers himself because I’m his only link now. His sole means of getting better.
Oh, I have no illusions that he cares for me. Even if after we both find our release, he holds me tight, murmuring inconsequential nothings while he strokes my hair as I lay against him. Breathing heavily from exertion.
No, I have none. Illusions are for children. Not for people like me. Not that there are many of me, because hey, Chosen One here. Destined to walk alone. To remain ever on the outside looking in.
You’re probably asking how this came to pass. How I, the Slayer, champion of the light and savior of the world, would be reduced to fucking my mortal enemy. Spike. The self professed Slayer of Slayers.
Probably wouldn’t believe me if I told you. I hardly believe it myself.
***********
The patrons of the mall were oblivious to the arrow that streaked through the air and embedded itself into the Judge’s chest – they were too busy having their energy slowly sucked out of them. But as the arrow pierced the demon’s flesh, it broke his concentration, and he momentarily released the multitude of people held prisoner to his machinations.
“Who dares?”
“I think I got his attention,” she announced to no one in particular.
“You’re a fool,” he told the slayer, eyes finally alighting on the blond girl standing on top of a concession stand. “No weapon forged can stop me.”
“That was then,” Buffy told the demon. She grabbed the rocket launcher, hefting it to her shoulder as she eyed the Judge standing in the middle of Angelus and Drusilla. “This is now.”
She flicked the controls, arming the weapon just as Xander had shown her, then pulled the trigger.
The rocket tore through the demon, obliterating it into a thousand pieces. The vampires standing on either side of the Judge fared no better, both catching fire from the huge fireball that erupted from the implosion of the bomb. Their joint screams rent the air as the flames consumed their bodies – until finally, nothing more than a small pile of dust marked their passing.
Buffy stared aghast at the scene before her. Her vampire lover, who’d inadvertently become evil after their one night together, was no more. She’d killed him. Done her duty, although it wasn’t what she’d planned. The weapon dropped from her shoulder unnoticed, her fingers simply letting go the instrument of her love’s destruction. She leapt down from the counter, oblivious to Xander’s excited exclamations that “evil undead” was gone as he high-five’d a confused Oz. Ignored Giles’ ramblings of performing her duty at the expense of her feelings. Shrugged off Willow’s comforting touch as she babbled on about how “sorry” she was.
She just turned and walked away, oblivious to the cries of the Scoobies as they stared after her.
She’d done it.
Killed Angel…Angelus. The vampire that had taken her virginity such a short time ago, who’d then proceeded to wreak havoc on her life and that of her friends.
She didn’t know what to feel right now. She was numb.
Her feet carried her out of the busy mall and into the darkened parking lot. Around her, distant sirens could be heard. No doubt racing towards the building once the water sprinklers had gone off.
Buffy broke into a slight jog, wanting to put distance between herself and the site of Angel’s destruction. Soon she was in a flat out run, her feet carrying her towards the seedier side of town – the warehouse district. The place Angel no doubt had returned to after losing his soul.
She ignored the stitch in her side from her headlong run. The tears that poured from her eyes were a distant afterthought. Her body’s unconscious response to the grief she refused to feel.
He’d been a demon. An evil, soulless monster.
She’d done her duty.
He was no more than dust beneath her feet.
***********
Buffy slowed to a halt before the warehouse she’d come to earlier this evening in an attempt to stop the Judge from sending Earth into Hell. She pushed her way inside and listened to the sound of the closing door echo in the vacant building.
She wandered around, weaving in and out of the boxes that littered the abandoned warehouse. Her booted feet clicked hollowly as she made her way deeper into the room. Hazel eyes stared blurrily at her surroundings. Moments away from a complete breakdown, she spied a suite of offices and she crossed to them, not surprised when she noticed that they’d been converted into rooms for the resident vampires.
The slayer walked through the doorway of the first one she came to. Noticed immediately that it held some of Angel’s…no Angelus’ belongings. Leather pants and silk shirts were thrown haphazardly upon the silk sheets of the bed. She lifted a discarded shirt to her face, inhaling deeply the slight scent of the cologne he’d taken to wearing sans the soul. Her breath caught on a sob, and she threw herself lengthwise across the bed as she finally gave in to the desolation pressing in on her slight frame.
She cried for what was, and what would never be again.
Huge, wracking sobs that took everything out of her. Left her heart empty. No, not even empty. It was as if her heart were no longer inside her body. As if it had slowly disappeared with each tear she’d shed. Until nothing remained.
Eventually, she drifted off to sleep. Clutching tightly to her chest the garment that had triggered her final breakdown. She cared not that she’d left herself completely exposed to the vampires that inhabited the warehouse. Some small part of her hoped that one would come and end it all. Take her away from the misery she’d known since Merrick had first confronted her in Los Angeles.
She’d thought she could handle anything thrown her way. Shoot, hadn’t she died at the Master’s hand, only to be brought back to life by Xander’s life-saving breath? Hadn’t she gone on to defeat the master vampire?
Even after her spazz attack, where she’d taken a hammer to his bones, pounding out her frustrations until nothing remained but tiny pieces that had no chance of revival. Reduced to weeping like a baby in Angel’s arms.
Angel.
It all came back to him, only, now he was gone.
And, she didn’t want to bother any more. Was ready for the rest only her death could bring about.
She was through handling things. Just through, period.
***********
Spike stayed hidden as the slayer meandered through the warehouse. In his current condition, he couldn’t afford to give himself away. Since Angelus had returned to the fold, Drusilla had been constantly at his side, forgetting completely her childe in her haste to reacquaint with her “daddy.”
The blood that she’d been bringing Spike had stopped abruptly. The sire’s blood she’d gifted him, gone by the wayside as she came back from hunting to writhe in the arms of her own sire, their joint screams of rapture causing his jaw to work as he held in his rage at the change in the status quo.
He’d known the second she’d gone. Felt the invisible string tethered to his unbeating heart snap and turn to dust, like she’d no doubt done. Whatever had happened had been big. None of the minions that had left with Angelus and Drusilla had returned, either dusted themselves or too scared to return and face Spike’s wrath – even if he was still wheelchair bound.
When he heard her heartbeat slow, indicating her slumber, Spike wheeled forward cautiously. His curiosity too much for him to bear. Why would the slayer come here of all places? Alone, and obviously upset, if the sound of her weeping a short bit ago were any indication.
And what would possess her to let down her guard and sleep in the den of her enemy?
It came to him then.
The slayer had a death wish.
***********
Buffy knew someone – some vampire – was there as soon as her body brushed off the last vestiges of sleep. It took a moment for her to remember where she was. The events from the night before came back to her in a rush and she sucked in a breath as she relived every last moment inside the mall. Her mind replayed with morbid fascination the vampires’ demise. The image of their bodies slowly disintegrating to ash. Their anguished cries…
And then nothing.
Nothing but twin piles of dust amongst the scattering of demon parts.
Her eyes opened, eager to eradicate the images behind her closed lids. Not caring of what she might see. Black jeans settled in a black wheelchair were the first things she noticed. She raised her head higher, and sure enough, Spike sat there. Staring down at her as she lay on the bed. His expression unreadable as she gazed up at him.
He looked horrible. The right side of his face was covered with blisters, a result of the fire that had lapped at the skin before he’d been rescued – undoubtedly by Drusilla. But, it wasn’t just his face that made him look sickly. It was as if he’d been malnourished, if that were possible. His face more pale than normal, his prominent cheekbones standing in sharp contrast against this thinning face.
But, his eyes blazed with anger. Testament to his deep hatred of her.
“Someone’s been sleepin’ in my bed,” he snarked. “Or should I say Angelus’ bed?”
Buffy sat up on the bed facing the master vampire. Her relaxed posture mocked the threat he posed to her. And she watched as his eyes first widened, then narrowed on her face at her blatant disregard for his appearance at her bedside.
“Spike,” she mumbled, not in the least concerned for her safety. “What are you doing here? I thought you would have disappeared when you felt my approach. Obviously not on the bright side, are you?”
“Careful, slayer. I’m not as helpless as I look,” he growled.
Then proved it by gaining his footing and standing before her.
“What? I’m supposed to be impressed because you can stand up? Please… One small breeze and you’ll wind up a heap on the ground.”
Spike lunged at the slayer, determined to either kill her, or be killed by her. Her taunting that he was less than the master vampire he professed to being rankled him. He slammed into her, well more like fell on top of her. His legs giving way after standing for that short period of time.
She didn’t put up a fight at all, and once more he realized that she did, in fact, have a death wish.
They lay there, nose to nose, neither combatant moving as they stared at one another. His nostrils flared as he watched the pulse beating in her neck. Then he became aware of other things. Her soft breast smashed against his lean chest. His groin nestled between her parted legs.
Neither moved for the space of a minute.
Then two.
Until it became too much for the blond-headed vampire and he used his upper arm strength to rock against her hips. He watched as her eyes widened at the move. Nearly groaned aloud as she shifted her legs and he settled more snuggly against her mound. He couldn’t help himself, and he thrust himself up against her again.
Buffy lay back against the mattress, uncaring that it was Spike above her. Spike that was grinding himself into her core. She’d already made love to one vampire, and look where it had gotten her.
Maybe vampires were the slayer’s one weakness. Their seductive embrace a lure that could not be resisted.
Or maybe it was just her.
Was it just her make up that she couldn’t, wouldn’t, see herself with normal boys? Possibly something in that slayer mold that caused her to seek out her enemy?
Different sides of the same coin.
Night and day.
Good and evil.
Neither one without the other. Complements.
She gave up speculating about the aspects of her existence when she felt his fangs pierce her neck, digging into the marks left by the master. She didn’t shout or try to shove him off of her. Rather, she just let him sup at her neck. Let her life’s blood flood his mouth. For a moment she held him close, urging him on to take his fill and end her measly existence. She’d done her duty; it was time for someone else to carry the torch.
As the blood drained from her body, she became lightheaded. Her limbs grew weaker and her arms slid helplessly from around Spike’s back to fall limply to her side. Eyes closed, she drifted off…peace finally attained.
Spike tore his mouth from the slayer’s neck, lunging against her one last time before coming in his jeans. The slayer’s blood an aphrodisiac that sent him hurtling over the edge. He let out an inhuman roar before collapsing weakly on top of her. His lips nuzzled the open wound on her neck, his tongue flicking out to lave at the marks to stem the flow of her sweet elixir. Lying there a moment, he listened with satisfaction to the steady beat of her heart as it attempted to recover from the blood loss.
He didn’t know what just happened, but he was loath to examine it just yet.
Instead, he managed to roll off her pliant form, falling gracelessly to his back beside her. Already, he could feel the blisters on his neck fade away, revealing his startlingly handsome human guise. Felt the healing properties of her blood zing through his veins, doing much to repair the damage she’d inflicted on his body just a few short weeks ago.
With a contented sigh, he drifted off to sleep.
***********
Up. Down. Up. Down.
I increased my pace until the sound of my ass slapping against his bare thighs competed with his grunted encouragement and my keening cries of pleasure. Faster. Faster. My movements nearly frenetic as I ride him wantonly towards climax. I stretched towards him, my body silently begging for that sweet kiss that only he could give me. I could feel him hovering over my flesh and opened my eyes to see him staring at me.
Smirking at me.
God, I hated that look.
Yet at the same time, it got me wetter than ever.
And he knew it too. I watched as his lips curled into a shit-eating grin.
He was going to make me beg. I could see it in his eyes.
But, I didn’t care. I’d stopped caring so long ago. If he wanted me to beg for him to bite me, it was fine by me. I’d long since given up the fight.
“Please…Spike…I need it,” I whined prettily.
“What do you need, slayer?” he asking, licking a trail along the vein in my neck. “This?”
“Yes… please…bite me…” I begged shamelessly.
My eyes rolled back into my head when I felt his fangs plunge deep. Then he began sucking greedily at my neck, huge gulps that went straight to my pussy and caused me to finally climax. I could feel my inner muscles clenching and unclenching his cock just before I felt a flood of cool liquid shoot deep inside my womb as he joined me.
I collapsed against him, there in his wheelchair, utterly spent. His hands left my hips and returned to my hair as he started with his meaningless babblings yet again. I’ve tried to tell myself that they mean nothing. That this – this nightly ritual of sex and blood – means nothing. I can feel myself drifting off as his hands run through my sweat-slickened tresses as I lay my head wearily against his shoulder.
***********
Buffy woke a few hours after dawn and realized that she’d ended up missing class. She twisted her head to the side and took in the slack features of Spike. Was shocked that he appeared almost angelic in slumber.
She struggled to rise from the bed, slightly confused that she could actually still count herself as a card carrying member of the living. Why had he not killed her? Thoughts too deep for her addled brain. Better to concentrate on a cover story for her mom, and a convenient lie for her watcher and friends.
She finally managed to gain her footing, staggering slightly as she made her way out of the impromptu bedroom towards the exit. The lack of blood was playing havoc with her body, and she swayed drunkenly as she slowly made her way down the sun-drenched streets of the warehouse district towards school…and home.
By the time she reached school grounds, classes had let out for the day. Buffy went straight to the library. She needed to reassure the others that she was ok. And, hopefully see about that cover story for her mom. Until she remembered that her mom was out of town for the next few days. But still. The others deserved to know that she was alright, and it was that thought alone that forced her feet to keep moving towards “Scooby Central.”
Pausing before the swinging double doors, she glanced in through the windows to gauge everyone’s mood. Giles was pacing, the end of his glasses dangling thoughtlessly from his lips as he gestured to both Xander and Willow. Even Miss Calendar was back in the fold. No surprise there.
Bracing herself, she pushed through the doors and waited.
She didn’t have long as Willow happened to glance up; a shouted “Buffy” and then she was racing towards her friend, enveloping her in a hug.
“Buffy…we were so worried!” the redhead cried.
And, then the others were there. Smothering her with their false concern. As if they cared that she’d just killed a vampire. Her vampire. Only not hers anymore. Just dust.
Blowing in the wind.
“Are you ok?”
“Where have you been?”
“So worried…”
“Looking all over for you…”
Their questions floated around her, unable to penetrate the shield she’d erected around her body.
Warm. They were too warm. She needed to get away. Smothering. They were slowly smothering her.
She began to struggle, her voice locked in her throat, unable to spit out the words to gain her release. Finally, they seemed to notice her fidgeting and she breathed a sigh of relief when they released her.
Buffy stepped back, putting distance between herself and her friends. They saw the gesture but didn’t comment.
“I’m fine.” The rote reply coming easily to her lips. “Really.”
“Buffy…that is to say,” Giles began.
“I’m fine, Giles.” This time, slightly louder, with a little more conviction.
He seemed appeased and dropped whatever he was going to say.
“I’m going home now. I’ll see you all on Monday.”
“Buffy-” Willow began.
“It’s ok, Wills. I’m just tired. Call me later, m’kay?”
“Uh…sure,” the redhead replied uncertainly.
Then Buffy was out the door leaving her friends behind, dual masks of confusion marring their features.
***********
I stayed away that first night. Had Willow sleep over at my place so we could do the “girl” thing while my mom was still out of town. I guess I said all the right things at the right time, because she woke the next morning, a Miss Fucking-Ray-of-Sunshine. Not caring in the least that I’d just dusted my first love the night before. The vampire I’d gifted with my virginity.
I waved her off, telling her that I planned on spending a quiet weekend at home. Recuperating. I squelched the eye roll as she turned the sad puppy dog look my way. But, I congratulated myself on standing firm. I really hadn’t wanted her around. I wanted to be alone. To grieve.
And to think.
About him. And why he’d left me alive.
It had made no sense. I’d practically gift-wrapped myself for him. The more I thought about it, the more he pissed me off. So, it wasn’t long before I’d worked myself up into a righteous fury that he had left me alive. Who the hell did he think he was anyway?
I grabbed a stake, tucking it in the waistband of my jeans, and let myself out the front door into the early afternoon hours. With my blood stores returned, it hadn’t taken me long to reach the warehouse district. I had been practically running there towards the end, my ire steadily rising with each footfall upon the pavement.
How dare he leave me alive!
I’d known he was there as soon as I’d arrived. Could feel the slight tingling along my neck that indicated a vampire was close. Throwing the door open angrily, I’d stalked inside, determined once and for all to have it out with him. My feet had eaten up the distance between the entrance and the mock bedroom, until they’d ground to a halt at the scene before my eyes.
He’d tidied the room up. Had removed all traces of Angelus and Drusilla. The sheets had been changed. Still silk though. The various candles placed around the room had provided the only light to the space. And there he’d been. Nude. Lying in the center of the bed as if he’d known that I would come.
I couldn’t stop my feet from moving instinctively towards the bed. I’d never seen a naked man before. My one time with Angel had been under the sheets with the lights almost completely extinguished.
I think at some point I’d started to drool. And Spike had most definitely been drool-worthy. Even with the gaunt features. Although, my blood had seemed to have helped him in that regard. He’d sensed my approach. The steel blue gaze had watched as I’d approached. I’d stared back helplessly, caught and held in some trance completely of his own making.
When I’d reached the bed, I could only stare in a kind of sick fascination as his cock lay hard and full against his stomach. My hand had reached out. Wanting to feel it.
“Take off your clothes and get on the bed,” he rasped out. His voice husky with desire.
I don’t know what it was that made me do it. Even now, after nearly two weeks of these nightly visits, I couldn’t tell you what made me obey him. Maybe it had been the gleam in his eyes that promised something. Something besides pain. A pleasure so deep that I’d be begging him for more. So, I’d shed my clothes, caring not a whit about my nudity, his evilness, or the insanity of making love with my mortal enemy. Just climbed up on the bed and let him awaken my body to the true meaning of passion. Something even Angel hadn’t been able to show me.
I’d stayed for the entire weekend that first time, leaving the bedroom only to see to nature’s call, and then the one time I went out to get me some food. He’d given me an hour. An hour to grab something to eat and be back in the bed with him. His eyes had hinted at dire consequences should I not return in time. I almost was deliberately late, just to see what he’d do. But in the end, I’d made it with a few minutes to spare, tossing the bag of snacks on the bedside table as I shucked my clothing and resumed my place beside him.
I lost count of the number of times – and the number of ways – he brought my body to orgasm that first weekend. He’d been surprisingly inventive for someone without the full use of his lower limbs. Even now I still marvel at his ingenuity.
Maybe that’s why I still come. Slink away from my friends. Distance myself from them more and more each day. Hurry through my patrols so that I can race over here to spend the remainder of my time entwined in the arms of my new vampire lover.
Maybe I’m just waiting to see what he can do to me once he’s got full use of his body.
I get wet just thinking about it.
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