Such Pretty Color
by Amanda K.
"All right, pet, that's it. Right there. Yes... yes! That's my girl!"
A pleased grunt was his only reply.
"Drink, baby," Spike urged. "Take a deep, long draft!"
And she did. The soft suckling noises that her lips made were music to his
hears.
Spike pressed against the invisible barrier, fists clenching and unclenching,
yellow eyes gleaming feverishly and a goofy grin around his mouth. His fangs
were itching to join in; he could almost taste the fear-sweetened blood on his
tongue but the invitation to enter had not included him. He was forced to watch
while his beautiful girl had all the fun.
She hitched up the limp form of the young man and renewed her assault on his
jugular. Spike cheered her on. "Good girl. Teach the sod about bloody
one-night-stands."
The barrier disappeared without warning when the life force deserted the
inhabitant of the dorm room. Spike tumbled forward, catching himself just in
time. With a growl he joined his mate, sucking the final drops of blood from the
dead boy.
Bloody wanker. Got what he deserved. Boy didn't know a good thing when he
bleedin' had it in his hands. Well, perhaps he finally recognized it when she
bit down on him. Of course, Spike mused while he straightened and wiped a hand
across his lips, it was too late. She belonged to him. Forever and ever.
"Had fun, pet?" he asked.
She turned around to face him. God, if he had thought she was beautiful before
-- she was even more gorgeous now. Yellow eyes, bright with barely concealed
lust. Sharp, white fangs, her lips smeared pink with the boy's blood. Spike
leaned forward to kiss those lips and licked the corpuscles from her tongue.
"Oh yeah," she replied as she pulled away, gasping a breath she no longer
needed. "Lots. Lots of fun. Definitely. Much more fun than I imagined."
Spike grinned. "Wanna do the Slayer's mates next?"
She contemplated this for a moment, then shook her head. "Nah. I want to get out
of Sunnydale. Hate this town." She wrapped her slim fingers around his wrist and
caught his gaze with an imploring look. "Spike? You'll take me places, right?
You won't leave me? Ever?"
Spike swelled with a sudden burst of affection and he ran his fingers along her
brow ridges. "Never, kitten. I'm yours. Have been ever since I first laid eyes
on you."
"Really?" She wrapped herself sinuously around his body and it was all he could
do to keep in control. A dead wimp's dorm room was neither the time nor the
place. Although there would be a certain poetic justice in taking her on the
boy's bed with his dead shell as their only witness.
Noises in the hallway -someone walking by, muted voices- decided Spike. Shagging
her, as much fun as it would be, was going to have to wait.
He disentangled himself from her limbs, gently, and admired the disappointed
pout that appeared on her lips. Oh, those lips... He could lose himself in those
lips, so full and--
He shook his head to clear it. "So, where's you want t' go, luv?"
"Los Angeles first!" she cried. "Visit Angel, and my dad. Show 'em about leaving
me. Then, New York. London, France, Rome..."
"Looks like you got it all planned out, eh? Well, then, we should get a bleedin'
move on!"
He laughed at her eagerness when she ran ahead out of the room without a further
glance at her maiden kill. Spike followed her quickly, admiring her lithe form
as she bounded down the stairs ahead of him. Coming back to Sunnydale when his
black rose dumped him had definitely been the best idea he'd had in decades. She
couldn't be more different from Drusilla. Where Dru was all Cimmerian, she was
dazzling and effulgent and radiant. Blonde, petite, fearless, and full of life.
Okay, unlife, Spike amended.
Absently he twirled the red-gemmed ring around on his finger while his mind
replayed the events of the previous afternoon.
The slayer at his feet. "Birds singing, squirrels making lots of rotten little
squirrels." The sunlight on his face. "It's very exciting, I can't wait to see
if I freckle."
And then they fought, dancing together in an intricate swirl of movement, fists,
and fangs, and feet. Until that one good moment came. That one instant where her
guard was down and he managed to get the upper hand. He was holding her tight
against his chest, his fangs at her throat, about to write history with her
blood when it suddenly struck him. He didn't want to kill her. He wanted to make
her his. And there was only one way he knew how. Without a second thought, his
teeth sank into her flesh, opening the vein that ran so close to the surface.
It was over in minutes. Spike had carved a third notch onto his yardstick, done
something that no vampire had done before. He took his third slayer. And he
would never be alone again.
Her voice interrupted his memories. "C'mon Spike!" she yelled, hopping up and
down on the balls of her feet beside the black DeSoto.
He gallantly opened the door for her, eliciting a giggle, before he jumped
across the hood and slid behind the wheel. "Let's go, baby," he growled. "We got
some towns t' paint red."
"Oh, yes," Buffy sighed. She licked her lips in anticipation. "Red...Such pretty
color."
--END--