DISCLAIMER: I am not Joss Whedon and have no legal right to any of the characters he's created. This is written solely for my amusement, and no financial gains are involved.
RATING: Maybe R-ish for language and some mild violence.
PAIRING: W/S, I think.
DISTRIBUTION: If you have anything else of mine, you can take this, too. Also, MY site.
FEEDBACK: please. You can even flame me if you like, but if you do, I will respond. (Fair warning given.)
DEDICATIONS: Jeannette and Nat, of course. Also to: Shar, Ryan, Myst, and anyone else who was 'lucky' enough to join the club (you know what I mean, guys!!!*giggle*).
NOTES: A bit of angst which may well become a series. If it does, it will most likely end up being A/W/S, though. It's up to you guys whether I write another after this. And * *= emphasis!!!
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It was the sudden, searing pain in his skull that woke him from a sound sleep, and he groaned, hands clutching tightly at the sides of his head. He must have been dreaming about draining that bitch of a Slayer again. It had happened before, after all. He'd dream that the nasty little cunt was struggling beneath him, and that he was driving his fangs hard into her slim throat, drinking deep, and... he'd wake up screaming. Usually the pain faded once he woke, though. Not *this* time.
No, this time it just got worse, and he curled in on himself, sobbing almost uncontrollably, as the shards of glass cut deeper and deeper into his brain. It seemed impossible that he could hurt this much without turning to dust, and a part of him marveled at the knowledge, even as the rest of him wished he *would* become a stinking pile of ash. At least then he wouldn't hurt this way. Or would he?
Would his earthly form fall away, his demon returning to the hell that had spawned it, only to burn *there* to an extent that made his current anguish seem like only a mild inconvenience? He wasn't sure he wanted to find out.
His fingers clenched harder, nails piercing his scalp as the pain intensified even more, and he screamed out, loud and long.
It almost felt like the world had been waiting for that sound, for as the echoes of his shriek faded from the walls of the dank crypt he called home, he felt a sudden tearing in his head, and the pain was gone. He didn't believe it for a few minutes, and held himself tensely, waiting for the next wave of agony, but it never came, so he slowly uncurled his body, noticing with surprise that he was laying on the dusty floor instead of atop the sarcophagus. He must have rolled from it in his suffering.
He slowly levered himself from the floor and leaned against the stone, promising himself that he'd get his revenge on the Slayer for causing him pain even whilst sleeping. He'd tear her head from her shoulders and bathe in the fountain of blood that poured from her neck. He'd drink her down, then wear her skin as a cloak. He'd make his home into the centerpiece for 'Crypt Beautiful' by stringing her entrails from the ceiling, and wear her eyes for earrings. A sly, wickedly amused smile spread across his lips as he pictured it so clearly, it might as well already have happened.
It took him a good minute to realize that he wasn't feeling the usual pain at the thoughts running through his head, but when he did? His eyes sparkled with evil delight, and his smile became even wider. "Oh, this is gonna be *fun*," he said out loud.
He moved quickly to the hidden hatch in he floor, and swiftly descended the ladder. His fingers ran happily over the collection of weapons he had there, and he smugly selected those that he liked the best. It was only a few hours 'til sunset, after all, and he so wanted to be prepared.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
There was a time when she'd thought she was a good person; when she'd
been sure that she would do anything for her friends. That time was,
she had come to realize, past. She just didn't have it in her anymore.
She couldn't sit back and always defer to the rest of the group. She couldn't
go on burying her own wants just to make them happy, and she didn't even
want to *try*.
Tara wasn't any help, either. She had a way of *looking* at her that was just... annoying. Like she was expecting her to do something disappointing. Like that night she'd been acting all 'concerned' about the powers she could call. Willow knew better. Tara's only worry was that she was becoming *too* powerful, and she was afraid that that would change the dynamic of their relationship.
The blonde was right, of course. The dynamic had already changed, though, and there was no way to go back.
The girl sighed almost silently, her fingers still clacking away at the keyboard, regardless of what was going on in her head. She wished her friends would let her grow up, or at least acknowledge the fact that she wasn't net-girl, homework-girl, old reliable anymore. But to them, she was. *They* were allowed to grow and change, regardless of what anyone else thought, but apparently that same right was denied to *her*. Hell, she was pretty sure they'd only accepted her relationship with Tara because it brought another reasonably powerful ally into their little group. It wasn't fair.
It was even less fair that the only one of their group who really *did* accept the fact that she wasn't the same girl she'd been five years earlier was the one the others still considered an enemy. Less fair, but still true. Spike never tried to force her into a role she'd long since outgrown. No, he actually seemed to respect her sometimes; that was the reason she'd made a point of showing him at least a little respect, herself.
She liked to think that they had an understanding. Neither of them was as helpless and pathetic as the others imagined them to be, even if they were the only ones to recognize that fact. Yes, he was still a vampire, but... maybe it was the chip in his head, or maybe she was insane, but... she felt like they knew each other a little. She trusted him not to kill her, even if the chip *was* removed some day.
A slight smile creased her face, even as she continued her 'research'. Spike might turn her, but kill her? No. "I've got it," she announced, a moment later, and she almost growled like a vampire herself when her friends-- even her *girlfriend*-- suddenly couldn't get close enough to the computer they'd been ignoring assiduously, pushing her aside without so much as a mumbled 'sorry'.
Yes, she told herself, the times of being 'doormat-Willow' were long gone. Now she just had to show *them* that. She watched them reading the computer screen for a few minutes, and noticed again that they were ignoring her. Why wouldn't they, though? She'd found the information they'd needed, so obviously her job was done.
She sighed silently one more time, and picked her purse up from the floor by the counter of the shop. They wouldn't notice she was gone for a while yet, she knew. They rarely did. She didn't bother saying good-bye, but walked out into the darkening evening without a word. She had plenty of time, and even if something *did* happen, her magic was beyond strong enough for her to protect herself.
Her footsteps dragged as she walked and thought; thought and walked, and finally she sat down on a bench in the small park between the shop and home. She didn't really feel like going back to the empty apartment, especially when her girlfriend was embroiled in whatever her friends were getting into. She leaned back against the bench, and stared at the sky, smiling slightly as she watched the stars appearing in the steadily deepening sky. "Fuck them, anyway," she muttered, smiling more brightly at saying the words aloud where no-one could hear. She didn't really *mean* it, she told herself, but... it felt good to pretend.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Yes, the Slayer would die, he told himself smugly as he strolled through the night in no particular hurry. So would the Watcher, the moron, and the demon girl. He was considering letting the little blonde witch live, but only because of Willow. She was the only one who even bothered to act afraid of him anymore, even if she *was* only humouring him. The demon within him appreciated the effort.
That didn't mean he wouldn't kill her if she got in his way, though. He could do it now.
He had no idea of what had happened back at the crypt, and he didn't really care. The only thing that mattered was that he was almost sure the blasted chip had stopped working. Maybe it had burnt itself out. Whatever it was, though, he was glad. He still had to test it, though. There was always the chance that it was only the 'nasty thoughts' portion that was gone, and he still wouldn't be able to hurt humans. But even if that proved to be true, it was possible that the remainder of the bloody device would fizzle, eventually, too.
His teeth gnashed wildly in annoyance as he strode through the night.
Damned humans were always around when he didn't want them, but now
that he was looking for one? Not a bloody walking happy meal to be
seen. He pulled a cigarette from the pack in his pocket and leaned against
a handy tree as he lit it. It was still early, of course; maybe he'd have
better luck a bit later on.
A small chuckle slipped from him, even as he exhaled a blue-ish cloud of tobacco. He'd try the Bronze, he decided. After all, the high school kiddies had to be home early, so the was a good chance he'd find at least a few of them at the renovated club.
It was only a matter of five minutes and seven blocks before he was there, and he stood outside, trying to hide his smirk. A small group of young girls strolled past him, and he chuckled slightly to himself at the obvious swish of their hips. They wanted to attract his attention? Well, they had, and the lucky ones might even live to regret it. He took one last drag of his cigarette before tossing it into the street and following the girls inside.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
She had no idea of how long she'd been sitting there watching the stars. It could have been minutes, or hours, and she wouldn't have known. She'd come to love the night, in the years that she'd discovered there were things that actually *did* go 'bump' in it. It had only been in the last few months that she'd allowed herself to bathe in it, though. She hadn't been strong enough before, but she could handle it now. She winced slightly at the sound of her friend's angry voice, wishing the others would realize her abilities as well. "What do you want, Buffy?" she replied, not moving at all.
The blonde frowned and moved closer. "I want to know what you're doing out here," she insisted. "You *know* how dangerous it is! You know all about the vampires and demons, and... and other things, so I want to know what you think you're *doing*!" Her frown grew deeper when the redhead didn't even glance her way, and she crouched down in front of the girl. "It's not safe out here, Will," she tried, "You could get hurt, you know?"
Willow's eyes narrowed slightly, and she finally pulled her gaze from the brilliance of the night sky. She glared down at the Slayer before her, growing angrier by the minute. "It's just as safe out here for me as it is for you, Buffy," she said, the words clipped and sharp. "I've been patrolling with you for almost five years; I think I know how dangerous it is!" She pushed herself up from her seat and shouldered her bag. "I'm a witch, after all," she continued, clenching her teeth in an effort to contain her fury.
Buffy smiled and stood. "Oh, that," she said, giggling. "Come on, Will, it's not like you're *really* a witch! I mean, you float a mean pencil, but really, what good is that?" She laughed again, and when her friend started to walk away, she paced along beside her. "It's not like your spells even work, half the time, and when they do?" She shuddered dramatically. "You end up making me want to marry *Spike*, of all people! And by the way, *still* not entirely over the yuck-factor of that one!"
She could feel the ire rising in her blood, and she could tell that her eyes were going black as her 'friend' went on listing the few times she'd messed up. She wasn't useful? Her *powers* weren't useful? Well, that certainly explained why Tara was suddenly such a big part of the group! "Shut *up*!" she finally shouted, barely keeping herself from hitting the blonde. "You think I can't handle myself? That I'm incapable of helping? After I helped you for half a decade, you have the nerve to tell me that?" Her entire body was shaking with unsuppressed fury. "Well, why the hell do you keep me around, then?"
The Slayer was so stunned by the unlikely outburst, she stammered out the truth. "Y- you're helpful, Will; the research alone..."
A loud shriek burst from her lips, and she gestured swiftly. "Go!" she
cried, an enormous sense of satisfaction flooding her when the blonde flew
across the park and wound up pinned to a tree. "I won't be your research-bitch
anymore, Buffy," she said intently, approaching the struggling girl. "That
wasn't enough for me in high school, and it's not enough now. You want
me to be safe. I get that." A small smile quirked up the corner of her
still-angry lips. "The best way for me to be entirely safe is for me to
stay the hell away from *all* of you, isn't it? Tara included." She nodded
sharply at the shock in the other girl's eyes and turned away. "Tighten,"
she said over her shoulder, and grinned at the Slayer's surprised gasp.
The spell would wear off in a few minutes, but by then she'd be somewhere
else; she wasn't sure where, exactly. Maybe she'd stop in at he Bronze.
Have herself a drink or two. Maybe she'd even find some sweet young thing
to dance with. Buffy would expect her to forget about everything that had
happened, she was sure, but she'd meant what she'd said. It was over. All
of it. Even her relationship with Tara.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
"So, pet," Spike said softly to the young girl who was grinding against him in what he thought was supposed to be a seductive manner, "Care to go upstairs?" He tilted his head slightly, indicating the catwalk above with one raised eyebrow.
The girl, whose name he didn't care to remember, giggled and nodded slightly. She honestly couldn't believe that he'd singled her out. He was older, and was he ever hot! Her friends were watching enviously from their table near the stage, and she wasn't going to say no, even if she *wouldn't* let anything happen beyond a few kisses. *They* wouldn't know that; not if she stayed up there with him for a while. "Sure, Billy," she said, letting him take her hand and pull her from the dance floor.
Damn, he thought, it was just too easy! Of course, she wasn't terribly bright to begin with, but that was why he'd picked her in the first place. He hadn't had any trouble separating her from the herd, and now? Well, now he was going to find out if his butchering skills were in working order. "Come on, then, luv," he said, smiling silkily down into her eyes. He smirked slightly as she followed him up the stairs. She was like a lost little lamb, following the big bad wolf to her doom. And it *would* be her doom, if things went the way he hoped they would. He stepped out onto the broad catwalk, moving over to the railing. He could see her friends watching them, and he pulled the girl hard against him, lowering his lips to hers.
Oh, God, he was kissing her! And okay, that was why she'd come up there with him in the first place, but he was actually *kissing* her, and she hadn't even had to try to manoeuver him into a place where her friends could see them! Her eyes closed tightly, and she gave herself over to the sensation of his tongue sweeping through her mouth. She didn't even bother trying to object when he started moving them back into the shadows by the wall. Maybe she'd let a little more than kissing happen, after all.
Bloody hell, the girl was disgusting. Her mouth tasted like dead rats smelled. But she was incredibly easy, and that was what mattered. He walked backwards slowly, his eyes darting through the shadows, looking for any unexpected witnesses, and he moaned happily at finding no-one there other than himself and the girl he hoped to make dinner. His mouth slid from hers, and he quickly kissed his way to her neck, then down until he could feel her pulse against his lips. He glanced quickly at her face. Her eyes were still closed. Good, he thought, allowing his true face to slip out. His arm slid around her waist, and he pulled her hard against him as his other hand rose to cover her mouth, and he drove his jagged teeth viciously into her throat, pausing for a moment as he waited for the agony that didn't come. His lips formed a wide smile, even as he gnawed hungrily at her.
She wanted to scream, to fight him, to gouge his eyes out, but she couldn't. Her entire body was frozen in fear and shock, where moments earlier she'd been motionless from entirely different sensations. She should have listened to her mother, she told herself, even as she felt him drawing the blood from her body. She should have listened...
He could hear himself growling, even as he drank her down, and when he felt her heart beat its last, he released her, dropping her in disgust as he wiped at his bloody chin. He'd been too anxious, he knew, and had wasted almost half her blood in his haste. His eyes traveled down his own shirt, and he sighed at the wet splashes on the black fabric. Oh, well, he'd do better with the next one. His wicked little smirk returned, and he picked up the girl's lifeless body. He'd have to stash her somewhere, and he glanced about again, his eyes lighting up when he saw the door to the roof. Yes, that would do nicely.
It took only moments to force the heavy door open, and he passed through it quickly, letting it close behind him. He propped the body against the air conditioning generator, and moved over to the fire escape ladder. He could hunt anywhere, after all; there was no need to limit himself to the Bronze, of all places, especially with Slutty and friends still liking to hang out there on occasion. "Look out, world," he murmured, gazing out at lights of Sunnydale, "Here comes the Big Bad. Again, and this time, to stay!"
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
She was only a block away from the bronze when she was stopped by the vampires. There were only four of them, though, so she wasn't terribly concerned. She sighed deeply, and stared at them in annoyance. "I'm having a really bad night," she announced loudly, "And I'm kinda mad right now, so why don't you make this easy for all of us and just be on your way?"
The leader of the little group stared at the redheaded girl for a moment before bursting into laughter. "Oh, it's gonna be *easy*, girl! It'll just take a minute."
Willow sighed again as the vamps started to close in, and she tossed her bag onto the ground a few feet away. "Fine," she said, already bored, "I tried to warn you, but have it *your* way." She gazed at the two directly in front of her, icy shivers racing through her blood. "Burn," she commanded them, not even watching as they did. She turned around, in no particular hurry, and looked at the other two as the screams of their fellows died out. "Shatter," she ordered, amusement warring with shock as they literally cracked and fell to dust. She turned again, and bent down to retrieve her purse, straightening quickly when she heard the sound of slow applause coming from the trees across the way. "I am *so* not in the mood," she grumbled, starting down the street.
Spike had seen the four approaching the girl, and he'd actually thought about helping her for a moment. But no, he'd decided, just because *he* wasn't planning on killing her, that didn't mean he was going to play protector. So he'd stood back in the trees and watched, amazed when the little witch decimated the entire group with two softly spoken words. He hadn't been able to resist clapping at her performance. He'd almost thought that she would come after him, and found himself to be slightly disappointed when she didn't; she would have been a much better opponent than the Slayer could ever hope to be. So he followed her.
She could feel him behind her, and she truly wished that whoever it
was would just leave her alone. He'd seen what had happened to those
vampire's; that was what the clapping had been about. He didn't seem
to be going anywhere, though, and it was starting to get on her nerves.
Her steps slowed, until finally she stopped and turned around. "All right,"
she said seriously, "Either come out where I can see you, or go away!"
A small laugh slipped from her when the bleached blonde vampire stepped
from the shadows. "Spike," she chuckled, "I should have known."
He laughed, himself, and moved towards her. "yeah, you should have, pet," he said smugly. "Nice moves back there, by the way-- with the spells and all. You're one dangerous witch!" He fell into step beside her as she began walking again. "So," he went on, after a few minutes, "Where are we going, Red?"
"Well, *I'm* going home," she told him, thrilled by the compliments he'd paid her. It wouldn't have meant so much if it had been anyone else saying those things, but Spike had never been one to be nice just for the hell of it. "I guess you're going wherever it is you go these days," she finished.
The vampire frowned and gazed up and down the street. "Uh, Will," he said quietly, "You *do* know that this isn't anywhere near where you live, right?" He'd seen this sort of thing before with Drusilla, and it would be a shame if the witch was losing her mind. If she was, though, maybe he should turn her before it got any worse.
Willow shook her head. "I won't be living at Tara's anymore," she stated calmly. "I'm going to my parents' house."
A small frown creased his brow, and he looked at her from the corner of his eye. He couldn't deny that he actually *cared* about this human, or not to himself, anyway. Chip or no chip, he understood her in a way he thought would have surprised her. He'd been frighteningly intelligent himself, before he'd been turned, and some small part of him still knew what it felt like to be something of an outcast due to that internal superiority. Oh, she wouldn't think of it that way, but that didn't make it any less true. He was surprised that she hadn't gone insane years earlier, just from dealing with the Slayer and her ilk. Still, he hadn't had any inkling that there was trouble between the witch and her girl. "Why's that, pet?" he probed lightly, amazed when she actually answered.
She found herself telling Spike everything, up to and including her little 'conversation' with Buffy in the park. The fact that he was actually *listening* was a balm to her abused spirit, and she discovered that she didn't even care that he'd use everything she said against her at some point. It was just such a relief to get it all off her chest! Her words went on and on, and she was surprised to find that they'd gotten all the way to her front porch. She gazed at him consideringly for a moment, but he was chipped, after all, so she didn't see any point in making him stand outside any longer. She slipped her key in the lock and stepped across the threshold. "You can come in," she told him.
He closed the door behind him, locking it firmly before following her into the living room. He almost couldn't believe that she'd invited him, but then, she had no idea that he was a real vampire again. He'd been completely captivated by what she'd told him; especially what had happened with the Slayer. He glanced about the room swiftly, his eyes finally resting on the large brass sculpture beside the television. "Nice place, Will," he told her.
Willow rolled her eyes. "Please," she said drolly, "It's got Ira and Sheila Rosenberg written all over it."
Spike chuckled and met her eyes. "Well, yeah. I was trying to be polite, what with them being your folks and all..."
Her eyes narrowed dangerously, and she looked more closely at him. "All right, Spike, you're *never* polite, so... what do you want?"
He shrugged sheepishly, putting on a show for her benefit. She wouldn't like what he wanted, after all, so he wasn't going to tell her. "Well, unless your folks have some blood laying about, I suppose I could settle for a soda."
The witch laughed and dropped her purse on the end of the sofa. "I can do that," she told him, turning towards the kitchen. Maybe it was the fact that she'd grown used to him, or maybe she was tired from the expenditure of energy that night. Whatever the reason, she didn't hear or sense it when he moved vampire-quick and snatched up the brass statuette he'd been eyeing. She didn't notice when he was suddenly behind her. I fact, she didn't notice much of anything, because that same sculpture clipped her behind the ear and sent her into the darkness of unconsciousness.
He dropped the bit of metal to catch the girl before she could hit the floor, and he smiled happily as he carried her up the stairs and found her room. "What do I want, Willow?" he asked her, repeating her earlier question as he laid her gently down on her bed, "I want *you*, pet." His real face dropped down, replacing his human seeming, and he lowered his mouth to her neck, taking care to bite neatly into her. His eyes closed in sheer bliss at the power in her blood, and he could barely stop himself when he felt her heart faltering in its steady beats. He tore the shirt from his body and raised himself over her, slashing harshly at his own neck and lowering the swiftly bleeding gash to her lips, and he groaned softly as her unconscious lips latched onto the wound and she began to drink him down. "You're going to be one *hell* of a vampire, luv," he murmured, is eyes closing as he pictured the havoc they would wreak. Perhaps he'd let her be the one to kill the Watcher.
He felt it the moment she stopped taking his blood, and he rolled from her, collapsing beside her on the small bed. His eyes glittered dangerously as he pulled her lifeless body against his side. Maybe he'd let her kill the moron, too. She might like that.
End.