Title: The Long Journey Into Darkness
Author: Crazy_Girl_Mary
Email: crazy_girl_mary@yahoo.com
Disclaimer: The two main characters are Joss', but I'm not stealin' I promise I'll give them back when I'm done.
Summary: A female is on the run from a killer, and he's not going to give up until he has her right where he wants her.
Pairings: Female/Male. This story has a female character a human, and a male vampire from the Buffyverse, but names are not used anywhere in the story. I did this so the reader could envision any characters they wanted. So if you have a thing for Willow/Spike, hey man it's them. There were two characters I had in mind when writing it and some subtle clues you may pick up may lead you to that conclusion, if you want to know who they really are then you can email me and I'll tell you.
Category: Angst.
Spoilers: None, complete AU, just a girl and a vampire.
Rating: NC-17 parts for sexual content, brutal torture, and character deaths.
Author's Comments: This is my latest work, and I think the fact that I've progressed as a writer shows. I'm probably more emotionally attached to this story as corny as it sounds but I still desperately want to know any thoughts, feelings, praises, and most of all criticisms, so please please let me know!

Part VIII: Voyeur (Perfect Little Slut)


I could look at her for hours on end. She looks perfectly harmless, perfectly willing, and perfectly attainable. She has on the shirt and panties I bought her, in the bed of another. The crisp white sheet is pulled between her legs, which are bent, and to the side. One arm is resting on her stomach the thumb in the groove between her breasts, and the other is tucked under the pillow, under her beautiful head. Her hair is mussed and knotted. Her dark eyes are closed. Her plush lips are parted slightly, calling out to be entered and bitten. Her skin is tight and glistening with sweat.

I’m standing so close to her, and her knees are right by my hand. All I have to do is grab one and pull it up, and climb on and I’d have her. Her friend is lying on his back next to her and she has her see through ass turned towards him, the perfect little slut in all her glory. But I guess I can only blame myself. I bought her the clothes thinking only I would reap the benefits and it was imprudent. Maybe it’s the reason she so brazenly putting herself in the position she has. The guy is big, bigger then me. He’s my height, about a foot taller then her. But his body is much more formed. That doesn’t mean I couldn’t kick his ass, kill him, or put him in the hospital, which ever I chose. He probably couldn’t hurt her much either but he doesn’t know that, and she wants to be hurt. I want to do it, not anyone else. He has to die. It’s as simple as that.

She obviously feels safe with him and that unnerves me. She hasn’t slept at night in days from fear I would come, now he’s here and she’s secure. If she doesn’t think I would or could follow she’s badly mistaken and I’ll have to show her just how badly. Shit, look at her! I could ride that body as hard as I wanted and wouldn’t have to worry about it breaking beneath me, at least not too much. I want to hurt her, cut into her, burn her, tie her up, fuck her dry, and she wants it all just as badly. What’s different about her compared to my other conquests is that she knows she wants these things and embraces them. She did it to herself long before she had men like me to do it to her. She doesn’t cry about it, and go to group therapy, and search for a cure because she’s smart enough to accept it’s her fault. She doesn’t have to be beaten or punished, she wants to be, and that’s why she’s bad. What endowment to leave for my perfect little slut? What token to show her I’m still with her?

Part IIX: On The Road Again


I open my eyes long before he knows he’s waking up. Looking down and seeing I’m a little exposed I pull the sheet up over my legs and look over as he opens his eyes. He smiles and excuses himself to the shower. I stretch my arms and legs, sprawled out across the bed and then I get up and wrap the towel around my body to wait for him to get out of the shower. As I’m pulling the towel around my waist I notice something on my body I’ve never seen there before and my stomach goes cold. It’s a braided leather bracelet around my wrist that matches the belt from him. He was in the room? He was this close to me, how could I not know. And how could I endanger Jaime after all his kindness?

I quickly dress and get my stuff together hoping I’ll get out before he comes out of the bathroom. As I’m closing the motel room door I hear him coming out of the shower saying something about using all the hot water. I start walking across the parking lot and I hear the door open. He doesn’t call after me, but I feel his eyes on me the whole way. I turn around and he’s standing in the room doorway with a little towel hanging low on his waist, the sun shining off his wet body. He’s hot, and he’s gonna get himself killed.

“You weren’t planning on leaving without saying good bye and having breakfast were you?” What’s with guys being so nice and wanting to feed me anymore? The guys I remember were all assholes, and maybe he is but he’s hiding it really well. Do I look malnourished or something?

“I travel better alone,” I mumble.

“No you don’t,” he says, “We have fun together and who’s gonna protect my skinny ass?” he laughs, but I’m not in the mood and he notices.

“What’s wrong?” he asks.

“He was in the room last night!” I’m so pissed off I’m shaking. He was close enough to touch me and I didn’t know.

His humor has vanished and he steps out into the parking lot, not concerned about his little towel and how it looks as if it could float away on a breath of air. “How do you know?” he asks.

I throw the bracelet at him; “He left me a present, sweet huh?”

“Oh, angelic even,” he says smiling. “Who cares? He didn’t do anything did he?”

“It doesn’t matter,” I say, “You don’t know this guy, but if you did, you’d be a little more nervous, because he’s got a killer mean streak, he’s the real jealous type and he saw us in bed together, so I’d say you’re pretty much screwed.”

He laughs, “Not yet.” He doesn’t know any better. I don’t want to waste time, the quicker we both get out of here the better, and the quickest way is his car. Whether I like it or not I’ll have to stay with him. It’s a risk he doesn’t recognize, and it scares me.

I go in and get a shower and when I come out he has some McDonald’s for breakfast. He got me extra fries and a triple cheeseburger because he knows I’m quite an eater. After we pack our things and he’s out in the car waiting I take a good look around knowing there had to be something more and in the waste basket in the bathroom I find a crumpled up piece of yellowed parchment with a charcoaled picture of my sleeping form wearing the bracelet.

Jaime knew why I was leaving and knows he was really here and still wants to help me. Then he deserves what he gets, but I’m not mad, or happy, just further impressed. He really is a good guy, or else he really wants something. When we’re on the road, we try to pretend that we aren’t nervously thinking about the close call from the previous night but as the sky turns black I’m anxiously watching for headlights in the mirrors and he decides not to stop for the night at another hotel but to keep driving until morning because ‘there’s no traffic during the night’. We both know the real reason.

We’re a lot closer now. We respect each other because we both understand what it feels like to run, to fear. I have convinced myself I will do everything to protect this older brother figure I never had, and I’m sure he’s vowed to himself to do the same for me. We keep each other awake as we drive through the night by playing trivia and license plate games, and singing the rock oldies that come in on the radio.

When the sun comes up we pull the car into a dirt road off the highway, get as comfortable as we can in the cramped seats, and try to get some sleep. It’s not worth getting another hotel when we’re only six more hours from our destination. I realize I don’t even have a destination. Does he? Does he have a friend or family he’s come to stay with? I don’t know. I’m not sure whether I’m happy or sad that we’ll be parting ways soon. I wish we didn’t have to, we really have fun together and I’ve only known him for a short time, but if we were apart I could keep my danger away from him. I know he only takes pleasure in hurting the friends, family, and any loved ones of those he stalks, and Jaime has definitely become a friend, and with that a target.

I look over and notice he’s fast asleep. I close my eyes and let the thoughts slowly drift away, and darkness replace them.

Part IX: Warning


The car door slamming and the slow booted strides begin to stir me, but the sound of a harsh tapping on the window has my eyes wide open and my body completely alert. Jaime is still sleeping and the cop is knocking on his window. I lift my head from Jaime’s shoulder. Asshole. I lean over Jaime and try to roll the window down a crack without waking him, but my arm knocks into his knee and I pull back. Shit, he sleeps like a rock, a mountain even. I roll my window down instead and wait for the cop to come around. He looks a little pissed, but eventually he walks around.

“Can I help you?” I ask not the least bit politely. He ruined my sleep and nearly scared the shit out of me, that’s not something I feel deserves my respect, but not much does. This cop obviously is riding a major ego trip. Down south cops always did for some reason, or at least they always did on TV, this was my first trip down south, east coast south anyway, and my first encounter with a southern cop. They were all mostly dickheads but this guy did seem a little more confident then most I had encountered in California.

“Wake him up, keep your hands where I can see them, and step out of the vehicle.” He’s definitely smug, and he’s making a big mistake. I don’t want to have to fuck him up.

“Why?” I ask. I know it will only get us into more trouble. “We did nothing wrong.”

“Just do as I told you lady,” he says pulling out his gun.

“Whatever,” I mutter as I put my hands around Jaime’s arm and shake him roughly. He stirs, and mumbles ‘what’ a few times before wiping his big blue eyes and looking at his watch.

“What?” he asks me, and I nod to the cop in the window behind me, most likely still holding a gun.

“Oh, shit,” he mumbles again, as the cop tells us to get out of the car. Jaime starts out and I follow his lead. As I get out the cop turns me and slams me roughly into the car, then instructs Jaime to keep his hands in the air and come around the car. He does, and soon he’s slammed, not nearly as roughly, which pisses me off, onto the car next to me. We are patted down, and cuffed and put in the back of the police car.

We watch helplessly as he meticulously goes through the contents of the car from front to back. I’m openly uncomfortable. I fidget with the handcuffs and move around in my seat as if there is any chance of escape with the cop on his cell phone only a few yards away. Jaime is just as uncomfortable, I can tell, but he sits still and watches the cop throw the contents of his duffel bag on the side of the road in a heap like trash. His eyes have that ‘wait ‘til I get you’ gleam. It’s sexy, but I always did like the evil ones. He’s not evil, I know, and maybe that’s why I don’t have those lusty feelings for anything more then his body.

After he’s gone through the whole car and finished talking to most likely another cop on his cell phone, he hangs up, comes back to the squad car, and gets in the front seat. A strong wire mesh separates us, but we can see him and what he does clearly. He takes a paper bag and dumps the contents on the seat next to him. There are a few empty liquor bottles, a baggie of pot stems and seeds, and a sharp hunting knife in a leather cover. Jaime looks at me with an almost shocked look on his face and I suppress a smile and look away. What? Like a girl doesn’t need to lighten up every now and then?

“I’m a good cop,” he says, starting his spiel, “And this is a good town, my town.” He’s still pretty young for a cop with so much ego, and I wonder if they have that when they are born, the predestined cop-ego. “I know you aren’t innocent, not by a long shot,” he adds for good measure holding up the pot stems. “And I could bring you in, although,” he notices my gaping mouth and the forming of my protest, “As you must know, you can not charge a person for just the stems, or empty bottles or a hunting knife. Like I was saying, you’re not innocents, but I don’t think you’re the people we’re looking for. I’m gonna let you go on a warning, because bringing you in would cause an unnecessary stir and well, waste our time and yours.” He steps around and lets me out, then uncuffs me. Jaime steps out my door and is uncuffed too.

“I would advice you to get out of this town and off the highways as fast as you can because if I catch you with this stuff again I won’t be so kind.” We start toward the car and he calls my name so I turn back. “Your wallets and stuff are on the passenger seat, and I would advice you to stay off the highway at night, in less you didn’t know, you fit the victim profile for this killer to a tee.” A shiver runs down my spine at the word killer. The sky is already a swirling gray and night is quickly approaching like an omen attached to this mans warning. We get in the car and drive in silence for a few miles but we’re both tired and dirty and we want to take the cops advice and get off the highway for the night so we pull into another cheap motel and get a room.

Part X: Bad News


I step out of the shower and wrap a towel around my body. When I open the bathroom door I can smell pizza. How he manages to always have food ordered when I’m in the shower I don’t know but it’s perfect every time. I walk into the room and grab a white slice out of the box. He’s sitting at the foot of the bed with the TV cart pulled up in front of him and I take my slice and sit next to him. He quickly finishes his piece. “Anything yet on a murderer?” I ask.

“No, just weather and traffic reports,” he answers, “I’m gonna jump in.” He stands up and grabs a towel and is walking towards the bathroom when the reporter announces, “And now, from Reilly, Georgia, I’m at the scene of the seventh brutal murder in a chain that has lead decidedly down the East Coast.” Behind him was a section of the highway they had been driving on. “This road is running normally today, but it was only last night that the body of Nicole Micelles was found brutally raped and murdered, the astonishing seventh victim in a horrible killing spree that seems to have started in New Jersey three days ago and led down to Georgia. Like all the previous victims, Micelles was between the ages of 18-25 and fit this physical description...” A list of characteristics, that, like the cop mentioned, fit me to a tee, run down the screen. Then a picture of the girl came up she was sitting on a lawn in the summer with the sun shining down, never guessing that she would be killed.

“All the previous victims had been prostitutes, and the FBI and local law enforcement believe that the killer might have suspected Micelles was too because she was last seen leaving a night club late at night. She was stabbed twice in the neck after being brutally raped and tortured.” The camera left the girls smiling face and returned to the reporter. “Although the killer seems to be winding down, after three kills on the first night, two on the second night, and one on the third night investigators aren’t sure whether there were more bodies that were not discovered yet. The killer tends to leave the bodies in public areas. You are strongly urged to call the police if you have any information on any of these killings. And if you have a loved one that is missing you can call the missing peoples branch of this investigation.” The two numbers momentarily flashed on the screen, then back to the reporter. “Now on a more pleasant note, Connie will tell you about the kindergarten play today at Saint Aberdeen.”

I click the TV off and push it solemnly away. He was following me, and killing people who looked like me. I sigh and flop back on the bed. Jaime is standing in the bathroom door, still dressed. “I saw it,” he says slowly in his gravelly voice. He shakes his head sadly, then turns and goes into the bathroom. I quickly dress, checked all the locks on the windows and doors. Then climb under the covers to escape the biting cold of the air conditioner. When he comes out and lies next to me I pretend I’m asleep so I don’t have to talk about it. Talking about it is the last thing I want. All I want is the strength to kill the only man I ever loved and in a way still do love.




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