by Wil
Cattle, all of them. Cattle milling about a smoke-laden club, saturated in the beat of electric drums. Not long ago he would have had his pick of the herd. A mere smile and the crook of his finger had his meal ticket full for the night, but not now. Now he was forced to quell the natural instinct and burning hunger that gnawed at his form. He could do nothing more than watch as his notorious reputation crumbled before him and feign obliviousness, weakness, and control... pretend that the wounds weren't deep and he wasn't trying to drown himself in drink. All of this bloody misery due to a wrong twist of fate.
Spike occupied a shadowed corner of a LA night club called The Pit. He sat stewing in his quiet rage, balancing on two legs of an uncomfortable chair and reacquainting himself with his old mate, Jack. The Pit was a place that lived up to its name; a rather seedy establishment, known for its demon patronage. It was in a constant state of neglect to steer the meek human away, but those who did venture in were colourful to say the least. They were much more fun to kill anyway...tough and hard with the most marvelous burst of terror as their lives were drained away...
The burn flared in Spike's veins again, as his mind lingered on the image of a fresh kill. With a small growl he shoved the notion into the back of his mind and settled on the fact that this club was safer than Willy's. Thanks to the bloody Slayer, Buffy, he had been ridiculed and threatened with death, and just when he'd started killing again. They may have been demon kills, but it was progress nevertheless. However, now he was back to nothing. Well, at least it seemed that word hadn't spread too far out of Sunnyhell just yet, and he was safe lurking near the underbelly of the city of angels--avoiding a particular Angel--and trying to get on with his un-life.
Spike stared down at the glass of coppery liquid, scowling instinctively--his lips pursed, angled cheek bones razor sharp--then flashed his gaze up to scan the pulsing crowd of people on the dance floor. His somber mood lifted a bit as his icy blue eyes fell on hazelnut and curls.
She was a stunning girl. A dangerous darkness and freedom controlled her movements as she undulated to the throb of the music. Something about her reminded him of Drusilla, only this girl was more violent and fast. Where Dru moved and danced out of fractured insanity, this girl moved out of nature and purpose, knowing exactly what she was doing. Her movements were hypnotic as she slid from one gent to the next with flesh in one hand and a drink in the other. Spike sat entranced by her.
The girl glanced up and met his stare. Her lips slid into a snake-like grin and she abandoned her entourage, moving toward Spike with the rhythm of the song. With a engaging flash of his teeth, Spike thrust the chair out for the girl with his foot.
This pleasing pet would have been his mark for the night... never missed but for her sexual promise. He would have had a meal and a rollick--but he supposed he could settle for merely the later. After all, hunting was hunting, even if the kill was a bit different.
The girl slipped into the chair across from him, straddling it backwards, and leaned forward, giving him ample view of her endowments. Mischief glittered in her dark eyes, "Buy me a drink, Bloody?"
Spike lifted a brow and slid the bottle toward her. This was a bit of a surprise.
The girl hiked her leg up on the chair and downed the whisky straight, perusing the label before replacing it on the table, and looking levelly back at him, "Y'don't skimp on the good stuff. My kind'a guy... so mind tellin' me what you're doing with the starry eyes?"
"It's not fair playing when you know me and I don't know you," Spike replied, his eyes roving over her with strict calculation. Something about her...'so high, dark hair, goes by the name of...' "Faith, is it?"
She smirked looking a bit impressed. Faith placed a stake on the table, and hooked her arm over the back of the chair "You're not as thick as you look."
"And you're not as dead as you'll look, if you just listen to me for a bit," he threatened, only to have that smirk flashed at him again, and her eyes narrow arrogantly.
"You've got it wrong, you wacky vamp, because what I hear is that word on the street is you've got a chip in your head that keeps you from hurting humans or me. So I think I kind'a have the edge here." Faith leaned in and slide the stake up his chest letting the point touch him in the chin. "But what the heck, I got some time to kill. Spill it."
Spike kept his gaze steady, not backing down in his tenacity, "I've got a proposition for you that involves hurting, if not, quite possibly killing Buffy Summers."
"Little sister, six feet under... keep talking,."
"The simple thing is, you do something for me, I do something for you," Spike continued lowering his voice.
Faith laughed, looking at him she slid the stake into the belt of her pants, swung herself up from the chair, and grasped Spike by the chin. Her other hand slid beneath his shirt and scratched lightly at his chest, "Look, if you think me letting you get into my pants is a favor? You must think I'm an idiot. I can have anyone one here I want... I could have you and not even try."
"It was you..." Spike growled in realization. Faith's little speech was far too familiar to the one he'd had with Buffy at the Bronze only a week ago. He scowled again and the muscles of his jaw twitched, "But you don't because it's 'wrong', right?" Spike echoed.
"Ooh, found me out, huh? Well, I admit, B was a challenge to imitate, but I think I pulled it off pretty well. I'm not Haley Mills but I think Riley thought it was believable," Faith leaned in closer breathing into Spike's ear. He closed his eyes just wishing that he were allowed to throw her against a wall without a migraine the size of London. Faith's teeth tugged at his ear as she went on, "What's wrong, Bloody, upset that soldier-boy got a ride and you were left blue?"
"I don't mean sex, I mean this..." he growled as he pulled out a wicked looking double-bladed knife from it's sheath and watched the steel glint in the smokey lights. "Talk of the Scooby group has it that this is on your Christmas list. They say it's from--"
"The boss," Faith managed, taking a step back and staring at the knife, She blinked then demanded, "Where'd you get that?"
"Depends on what the trinket's worth to you. From the look on your face, I'd venture it's something special," Spike commented, holding it over her head like a trophy taunting child.
"What makes you think I won't just stake you and take it?" Faith countered, still watching the blade.
With a sigh, Spike slid the knife back into it's sheath and slipped it into his coat, "I'm not up for a bloody game of twenty questions. Deal is, I get this chip out my skull and you get the knife. We both get to kill Buffy and her super friends, and everyone's content to live happily ever after. Fair enough?"
Faith's glance shifted from Spike's eyes to his pocket then back to him, "And what keeps you from killing me as soon as the chip's out?"
"The same thing that keeps you from killing me the minute I give you the knife. Nothing."
***
The hotel room was a dingy place, but looks didn't really matter. Especially for what they had planned for the evening. To the attendant in the office, the young couple looked as if they were simply two people out for the fun of a one night stand. Little did Lloyd, guessing that the name stitched into the pocket of his shirt was his own, know they were going to perform a delicate operation that had very little to do with a morning wake-up call.
Spike slammed the door to room 213 of the Devil's Den Adult Motel and tossed a fresh bottle of whisky onto the bed, then shrugged out of his leather duster. His gaze slid sideways to look a the Slayer who brushed past him and slammed the bathroom door in his face.
"You're sure about this, kitten?" he asked, over the sound of running water.
The door swung open again, and she pulled back her hair and threw a few towels on the coverlet, "Listen, let's get this straight right now. I'm not a chick, kitten, or any other fuzzy little whatsit, ok? And yeah, I'm sure. I don't think these initiative guys are just gonna put you back the way they found you. Anyway, you vamps heal fast, right?"
She flipped out a pocket knife, the blade snapping open, then gestured with it for him to lie on the bed, "So let's get cutting."
"We don't heal instantaneously. If that were the case, I wouldn't have spent six months in a sodding wheelchair," Spike answered, eyeing the blade in her hand with some unease as he sat at the edge of the bed.
"Boo-hoo, save the sob story for a telethon, I had a bad childhood, you don't see me griping to you about it," Faith replied sharply, rolling her eyes and positioning herself on the bed behind him. "Listen, if you don't want to do this, then just hand over the blade and we'll be five by five."
"We're doing this. We made a deal and your part stays as no knife without the chip. My problem is that you don't even know where to start cutting," Spike snapped in response. "It's obvious you're not bloody brain surgeon."
Faith glanced up at him and shoved his shoulder, to sit the vampire down. She pushed his head forward, sending Spike's chin to his chest and started prodding at the back of his head, "If you scarred, this would be a breeze, but since you don't, we're gonna have to do some guessing. This thing is controlled by your actions which means somewhere in the back of your head, at least I think. I took a biology class before I dropped out of school... so where did it hurt?"
Spike let out another snarl, "My head feels fine."
Faith sighed, "I don't mean now, Sherlock, when it was implanted. They did massive brain surgery, you had to at least have a wicked migraine from the whole deal. So where'd it hurt most?"
The vampire pointed to a vague area on the lower right side of his head and Faith applied pressure. When she hit the right spot, Spike affirmed that she had the correct area. The slayer grabbed the bottle of Jack Daniels and thrust it at Spike, "Drink up, deady. Much as I'd get off on hearing you scream in pain, you'd move too much and attract a whole lot of questions. So oust yourself--it shouldn't take long--you looked only a few drinks shy before I found ya."
With a sneer, Spike grabbed the bottle and downed it before the rest went black.
***
Faith grunted, wrinkling her nose as she pushed her index finger into the hole inside Spike's skull. She knew head wounds bled a lot, but this guy was like a sieve! It would have been a whole lot easier if she just staked him and got it over with, but what was the fun of dusting a guy already out like a light? No challenge. She'd dust him when he could put up at least a good fight. If she didn't give him enough brain damage to floor Mr. Rogers and send him into spending the rest of eternity drooling like a retard.
"C'mon..." she growled, poking further. Faith wondered what the chip looked like and how she was going to even find it remotely on the sense of touch. She was tired and covered in vampire blood. Snatching the bottle that dangled from Spike's inanimate hand, she took the last swig of whisky from the bottle and tossed it to the side.
All this work was for the birds.
Suddenly something sharp jabbed her finger. She reflexively jerked her hand back, thrusting it into one of the unsaturated towels.
"Stupid bone..." she muttered, seeing her own blood well at the cut, only it wasn't bone that had cut her. Imbedded in her finger was what looked like a microchip. Faith raised her finger and slipped off the bed, wiping the chip into the motel ashtray, "Well spank my ass and call me Angel, here it is."
***
I hate waiting. Hate it worse than anything, Faith thought as she paced the room watching the motionless vampire on the bed. It had only been a few hours, and she figured that she'd done some impressionable damage to the vamp's brain, but she was never one for patience. If it was a virtue, it was another one of those that she'd been gypped on in the grand scheme.
She'd rummaged through Spike's coat and retrieved her knife, which gave her a little thrill, happy to have something familiar that was HERS again. But you could only polish the thing for so long before you lost some interest, so she'd gone out to get some more Jack Daniels and came back to the undead English patient and boredom. Pacing was doing no good so she perched herself on the table, She propped her feet on the chair in front of her and tried watching TV, but she couldn't concentrate. She needed some action, she needed to vent, or else she was just gonna pop.
Slay. Yeah, that always did the trick. Spike would be out for a couple days at least, what could happen if she left for a couple of hours? She could get in a couple of quick dustings, find a hottie, and be done with him before the sun came up.
Then what? She thought. Come back and wait. Again. Damn, I hate waiting....
But then, why don't I just leave? I got what I wanted, who cares? Let B stake him... He's nothing...
Faith tried not to look at the bed, but she couldn't help it. A vampire, laying there, helpless. She could do anything, She could dust him. She could cut his head off, and no one would be the wiser. She could... no, she couldn't because that would be wrong.
But then, what did she care of right and wrong? She was the Slayer, she could do anything; have anything; be anyone. Couldn't she?
"That's a new one, Faith," she told herself. "Choices."
Damn, I hate waiting...
***
Ice. Frigid, hard, and smooth, but not quite right. It wasn't wet, and it didn't melt. It just stayed rigid in unresponsiveness, Faith's mind reasoned. It was like something else. Something familiar... Marble. Chiseled, unmoveable, solid. Cold marble, the kind that made up the sad and noble monuments in the cemeteries. Like one of those famous Michelangelo sculptures... what was he called? David. Only he was wearing black jeans.
Faith cocked her head to the side, tracing the curve of Spike's cheekbone with her fingers, running down his chin and throat and dipping into the hollow between his collar bones. She sat straddled on his waist examining every curve and plane on his face as she had been for hours. She'd never taken the time to actually see a vampire. Instinct, fear, and lust always told her to kill and be done. Dust was what she had always thought of as the essence of the vampire form, not this... this... marble flesh.
She hadn't even really taken the time to look at Angel. It was always a rush and a spite. He'd always been too busy moving, and she'd been too interested in finding another thorn to jab into Buffy and her perfect little world, but she saw it now. They were a thing of beauty. A sultry predator; like the Slayer, like her. They were nature.
Faith slid her knife over the perfect flesh of Spike's jaw, and watched as it drew a crimson line to the surface. She brushed her fingers over the wound to see it unmarred and smooth again. She smiled, almost in wonder when fire and ice sprung to life, and jolted her back to herself.
"Confrontation time, Billy-boy."
***
Rain. London fog and the cold driving rain of home. Desolation filled him almost as violently as the hunger that ate at his body. Death was bound to come soon, but little did he expect it in the brilliant form of a woman. He fell in love with the dainty woman then and there... thirty seconds later he was dead.
The rush of the kill. It always had been fun but killing as a vampire with his sire, Angelus, at his side was the most fun a chap could have! The man was an artist, always knew how to make it more fun. Panache, he had, that was sure. Leaving that last moment of torture for the sweetest moment before you drained them of life. Fear and pleas echoed like chimes in his head every time.
Drusilla. His baby, the reason for his un-life. She always had a way of enchanting him. Visions and poetry, that was his pet... lace and petticoats. She loved Them. He and Angelus were her world, her protectors, her saviours...hers. But he always knew, no matter what happened, that she loved him. He'd never deny her of anything she ever really wanted. She was his all.
The Slayer. Oh killing them is great fun, but not killing them is a thorn in the bloody side. Sure there's a dull ring of respect there--any enemy that keeps coming back and facing off is worthy of that much--but the fact that you can't manage to kill the bitch is enough to drive a man mad! Always mucking things up and bloody incapacitating you.
Pride. When it gets wounded vengeance tends to boil. It was a lot like blood actually. What was that saying? "Blood is thicker than water." Yeah, and it boils faster too. He really had lost all his faculties, Angelus did, it was most likely due to bein' locked up with a soul for so bloody long. But he didn't have to torment me... he didn't have to steal away Dru. The way she looked at him...
Pain. He reveled in it. Usually he reveled in other people's pain, but he was pretty damned good at his own too. Dru loved it, he remembered. He could still feel the sting as her nails trailed down his cheek and the softness of her velvet tongue as she licked the blood away... and her roving fingers... touch... Billy-boy?
Light.
Spike's eyes snapped open to focus on the woman perched above him. Faith. Her sly simper wrinkled her nose, her eyes laughing at him, the steel blade she held glinting in the dim motel lights. He was alive? Surprising the girl hadn't dusted him and left.
Instinct grabbed him suddenly and his hands clamped about her waist. In one fluid movement he flipped her over and had her pinned beneath him, a growl radiating from his throat, his human mask falling away.
Part of him waited, hesitating in wait of the expected flash of agony in his head. When it didn't come he seared icy blue over hazel.
"Call me that again and your pretty throat is a mess of bloody ribbons."
Faith wriggled under his grasp, her nails scratching at his bare chest, as she purred "Ooh, so you wanna hurt me? It's all good, I like it violent."
She drew the knife across the base of her collarbone, springing a thin line of blood to the surface of her skin. He watched, mesmerized like a snake to its charmer. It had to have been at least a week since he'd fed. His eyes were fixed on the small river of life she'd set free.
Faith's grin deepened as she watched him "So let's test you without the restraints. I was about ready to pop waiting for you to wake up," She slipped one hand around his neck, coaxing his head to the wound, and tugged with the other at the belt of his trousers. "I gotta tell ya, I've been dyin' to know why they really call ya Spike."
Cor, it seemed an age since he'd felt the attentive touch of a woman and it was far too long. If she wanted to bloody shag him until he couldn't see straight, he was not about to be the one to stop her. Spike closed his eyes and went to ravaging Faith's throat.
Beneath him he heard her breath catch. She let out a soft grunt as she clutched his head to her breast with her free hand, her right finding the previous target. She smiled and managed "What d'ya know, you do live up to the name. I think I'm gonna like."
***
"Dru," Spike moaned as his lips seared into hers again.
Huh? Faith thought to herself, then shook it away. He was probably thinking about somebody else. It didn't matter, as long as he finished what he started, he could be calling her Buffy for all she cared. OK maybe not Buffy but almost anything. It didn't mean anything anyway.
She clutched to him, her legs wrapped around his waist as she waited for the shaking to subside. When she could breathe again, she released him and shoved him off of her. He rolled onto his back and pillowed his arms beneath his head.
Pushing her hair from her eyes she leaned her head on her palm, "So who's Dru?"
Blue eyes flashed and the vampire scowled "No one of your concern."
"One of those, huh? Everybody's got one," Faith nodded, "Don't tell me you're goin' all Angel on me, crying about your one true love--"
Suddenly his hands were around her throat crushing her windpipe. She pried his hands off of her and let loose a smirk, lifting a brow, "Oh, hit a nerve?"
"NEVER, compare me to Angel, are we bloody clear as crystal?!" he snarled, his face in its demon state. Faith couldn't help herself and ran her fingers over his forehead. His eyes closed and she marveled as it dissolved into the smooth tautness of a normal human face again.
"We're five-by-five, Angel's a wuss anyway," she remedied, "Just sayin' that you got the whole love of your un-life or whatever, soulmate thing rulin' ya. Personally I think the whole thing's for the birds. She left ya, didn't she? They do that. Best bet is to get over 'em and have some fun. Takes time but eventually ya learn to deal. And, hey, you got like what? The next hundred years or so to do it in."
Spike settled back down and stared at the ceiling. It looked as if he were actually considering her words. She watched him for a moment; then, Faith slipped out of bed, taking the sheets with her and shrugged "Well, B's at least been doing one thing right. You vamps got a certain...ughn, ya know? Talk about stamina. Got a smoke, Bloody?"
He was still staring at the ceiling, and didn't even seem to notice the lack of covering, not that she was complaining. She stood at the foot of the bed, wondering what he was doing. Hopefully plotting Buffy's demise, but who could tell? She kind'a liked Spike, Faith decided. He was her kind of people--demon--whatever. She could get used to him, you know, as long as he wasn't all doting... well maybe if he was only doting on her--wait a minute... No, it didn't mean anything. It was a good time. They got their rocks off. End of story. Sex didn't mean anything. It was sex. That's all it was. That's all it was...
She cocked her head "Well?"
Lifting his head slightly he glanced at her, as if noticing her for the first time "Whut? Breast pocket," he gestured to the coat piled in the corner of the room.
Faith frowned "Sorry, cleaned that out while you were still playing Sleeping Beauty."
She glanced at him on the bed again and told herself, It was just sex. That's all it was. Then she turned and shut herself into the bathroom, slamming the door behind her. She turned on the water, starting a bath. Suddenly she had the overwhelming urge to get him off of her with scalding hot water and a brush.
***
"So how's the chump gonna get us B?" Faith hissed narrowing her eyes at the silhouette of the boy they'd spent the last half an hour watching. She vaguely remembered him. He was the one who'd called her a killer. The one she'd run into at the Sunnydale U frat house.
Faith shifted, itching for action. She wasn't used to the whole lying in wait thing. Spike tipped one of the branches up to get a better view.
"The commando lad here is a mate of Buffy's boy, Riley. We nab him, Riley gets perplexed, and Buffy's hero hormones kick in. She comes to save the day and revenge ensues," the vampire explained.
Considering his proposal, Faith nodded. She understood revenge. "I kind'a love the way you think. Want me to flank him while you snap from the rear?"
"Read my mind, pet."
***
The chair tilted on its side threatening to tip over but the boy's weight sent it back into balance as he struggled against the chains. Forest had woken up, bound to a chair in the middle of some seedy motel room. Hostile 17 now paced before him like a caged panther, while a girl he didn't know polished a knife. Probably another Hostile Sub Terrestrial, Forest figured.
She was perched on the table behind him, smiling almost hungrily. When she caught sight of his gaze she winked at him and puckered her lips blowing a kiss, then chuckled to herself and hiked a leg up, crooking it at her side.
"What d'ya know, Spike, he's all awake," she voiced, resting her chin on her knee, "now we can get to the fun part."
Forest tried to spit a retort, but the gag in his mouth hindered him. Instead, he surged against the chains again and let out a grunt of disdain.
"We gonna let him stay gagged, or you gonna let him scream?" the girl inquired. The hostile said nothing but with liquid mercury tore the bandana that served as a gag from his mouth, and Forest let a stream of insults loose.
***
Spike paced restlessly in front of Forest, who sat chained before him uttering various insults, now that his mouth had been freed. Faith was perched on the table enjoying her-self quite immensely, her knife lying still beside her.
She really did have an affinity for that blade, Spike noted. Not that he blamed her--it was brilliantly crafted--dual pointed and serrated at the hilt. The fact of the matter was that she'd scarcely had it out of her reach since he'd woken up. It was important to her that much was certain. It was more than mistrust of him or mere obsession there was something to her infatuation with the knife. He reminded himself to find out just what it was later. Right now, Forest was his main concern.
"I get out of here and you're head's going to be mounted on my wall, you stupid animal!" Forest shouted. It was meant for his own benefit, Spike knew, and less of a threat for him. He'd seen the way they treated their captives, and those bloody operatives didn't view them as being intelligent or sentient in any way, just mindless teeth and nails.
"Animal?" Spike vaguely echoed, cocking a brow. He had a thing or twelve to say to this lad about that.
"Gotta agree with ya there, Forest, right?" Faith remarked, sliding off the table with a mischievous grin on her lips. She approached the boy and straddled Forest's lap. "Spike's all teeth, instinct, and ughn... like some untamed beast, if ya get me. Slayers like that kind of kink, don't you?"
"I thought Buffy was the Slayer," Forest offered, inquiry in his voice as he ignored Faith's question.
"Little sister's always trying to upstage me on that riff. Funny thing happened about that, she couldn't cut it and two were called, but that's a snore and change. As for me, I'm more Slayer than you can handle," she breathed, leaning closer and slipping her arms around the boy's shoulders.
Forest made a face and leaned back, trying to stay as far away from the Slayer as possible. Smart lad, Spike thought. Faith looked ready to strike and then some.
"You the keeper of that hostile, then?" Forest growled, then smirked as he added, "Bestiality is against the law you know."
The punch flew so fast that if he'd blinked even Spike would have missed it. Faith scowled "Well, me and the law don't get along and I work better when I don't trust. As for jumpin' vamps don't tell me you didn't know about Buff and Angel?"
Forest only looked blankly, "Who?"
Both Faith and Spike exchanged amused glances.
"Weird how things work. Who'd have thought I'd have a Slayer in me ranks," Spike remarked, deciding to watch the boy quiver. He leaned against the wall, watching Faith glare at the captive. "So you think I'm an animal, do you, and why? Because I've got teeth, like an animal; have instincts, like an animal; I hunt, like an animal; growl, kill, fuck, all like a bloody animal, right?"
Forest watched Spike with a glaze of hatred coating his eyes, but there was a hint of wonder there too--wonder at the fact that this "animal" was speaking intelligently. The cool touch of metal against his throat brought his eyes back to the vampire and his speech.
"Animals like you don't feel, don't think!" Forest sneered, the flat of Faith's blade pressing against his cheek.
"Technically," the Spike said as he pushed himself off the wall. He laid a heavy hand on the captive boy's shoulder, "I'm not an animal. I'm a demon, you know, one of those things that go 'bump' in the night, not really born but created... in Hell. I inhabit the body of an animal, that's true enough: a human body.
"That's right, humans are animals, aren't they? Mammals, I believe... and as the body I've taken up shop in is a corpse... I'm not an animal, but mere Dead. Weighted. Matter," with each word, he leaned in closer to Forest's throat, grinning viscously in the boy's peripheral vision.
Faith met Spike's eyes with a look of lust, running her tongue over her lips as she slid her knife away from him and tipped its dual point, perforating Forest's flesh like tiny fangs.
"Patience, pet," Spike chided, an ache inching its way through him, suddenly. He found himself adoring the girl's fervor for pain, torture, and death. It reminded him of Dru--stirring feelings he hadn't bargained for. Faith sat with a dejected pout, her very pose begging to be let loose on Forrest. Spike reached up and grabbed her by the hair and yanked her into a violent kiss.
She let out a moan, tensing for a second then melting into his touch. She let the knife slip from her hand. It cut Forest near his shoulder before it hit the floor, sending the captive boy jerking back and teetering the chair on two legs. Faith managed to stand and balance the chair before backing toward the wall, where Spike pressed against her.
"What do ya know, a captive audience," Faith breathed huskily watching Forest's face over Spike's shoulder, "Points for spontaneity."
"Oh man, you gotta be kidding me," Forest uttered in disbelief as Spike growled and tore at her clothes. It only made him kiss Faith all the harder.
***
Faith knew Forest watched them with interest. Porn played out in front of you was hard to resist, and the evidence was pretty plain. Ha, men were so easy. All of them were nothing more than animals at the core, she thought as Spike's lips crushed hers. But she had to admit, this was a new spin on an old game for her, and boy was she getting off on it.
Arching her back she sent Spike tumbling beneath her, where she could take control. She looked up through a veil of hair at Forest and managed "What's the matter, Commando, jealous 'cuz you're not gettin' a piece?"
"Disgusted is more like it," Forest snapped back.
"Witty, but a lie. You want everyone t'think you're noble and innocent. No such animal, kid," she retorted then leaned in to pull at Spike's ear with her teeth. Letting Forest disappear into the background noise.
Digging her nails into the vampire's flesh, she wondered at the combination of hot and cold sensations electrifying her senses. She vaguely wondered if steam rose from their entwined bodies– funny, the things you think in a moment of passion. Things like, I wonder when B's gonna wise up and figure out...
The door crashed open revealing Buffy leaning on the frame, looking quite holier than thou, twirling a room key around her finger, "Knock, knock... Play time's over--oh ew!"
Buffy closed her eyes, her face scrunching up. Riley instinctively stared at the floor.
Spike's head snapped up and he growled, his eyes flashing amber-gold and his face twisting into that wicked distorted vamp-state. He leapt into a defensive and Faith could feel nothing much more than annoyed at the interruption.
"Don't be such a prude, B. And, man, could you plan worse timing? I mean I was just about to have that good low down tickle shoot firecrackers, ya know?"
"God, Spike, I thought you hit sad with Harmony, but I gotta say, you really hit a new low with Faith here. Considering your choice of Ho's–"
Buffy didn't get a chance to finish the statement, because Faith had gotten in one hell of a punch. The younger Slayer reeled for a moment and Faith took the moment to grin at Riley and steal a quick kiss, "Hello Lover."
Riley still stood shocked until Buffy swept a swift kick into Faith's gut. Then he looked up at his comrad in tied to the chair, "Forest, you alright?"
"Been better. Ri, watch your back!" Forest warned.
Spike came up behind Riley and delivered a hard drive to the back of the boy's skull. Riley went down then swept the vampire's feet from under him, bringing him down to his level. Riley may have had a fighting chance, but Spike minus the chip was bound to win against an unarmed boy.
"Hey B, couldn't you just die, you're army boy isn't so faithful after all," Faith grinned, dodging a roundhouse to the head. "I mean, he couldn't even tell it wasn't you."
"I got over it, but hey, you scored Spike. Wow, what can I say–a shell of a loser. You bagged a real winner, there. Both of you are crazy killers–hey it's a match made in heaven!" Buffy leapt back to avoid an offensive mule kick.
Spike was coming up from behind, the two of them could easily double team Buffy and deal the death blow with ease. Faith smirked, and glanced briefly at Riley. "See ya in Hell, B."
Spike grabbed Buffy the throat, cutting off her air supply and jerked her backwards.
"You don't think he actually cares about you, do you--'F'? He'll kill you the second I hit the floor. You've been used. He doesn't love you," Buffy choked out, prying at Spike to get free.
The vampire looked almost blankly at Buffy then Faith and asked, "What is it with you birds and love?"
Faith froze.
It gave Buffy enough time to bring the heel of her boot down on Spike's bare foot, eliciting a yelp from the vampire and her chance to get free of his grasp. Spike fought hellbent on winning with Buffy, as he addressed Faith.
"Don't get me wrong, ducks, it was brandish. It's not that I don't fancy you--got that certain flare for evil--but it was nothing more than a few rolls in the sack. I thought we had a mutual understanding. Besides, Drusilla's my girl. It's an eternal thing," said Spike, matching Buffy blow for blow.
Faith felt something inside shatter, and she glanced down at Riley, then shrugged, "Hey, no big. Never said anything about love, did I? I'm not all romantic mush, like you. " She raised her chin to Spike, "Let's finish this."
***
That was one of the reason's Spike taken to Faith. There was something about the infallible way she let things run off like water off a duck's back. She still focused on the subject at hand. They were a lot alike, the two of them. Too bad he'd have to kill her later–not that she had to stay dead. He wondered what it would be like to change a Slayer...
Faith was staring at the other Slayer as she unsheathed her blade, her muscles tensed and ready to spring. Spike meant to keep Buffy busy long enough for Faith to strike. Suddenly there was a acute pain as something cracked him in the back of the skull.
"Bloody hell–" he gasped, seeing Faith's satisfied smirk before everything dimmed.
***
"Go, take your Commando men and leave," Faith said, looking at Buffy, who seemed a bit confused but proud at the same moment.
"Faith I–" she began only to be cut off sharply.
"Not a word, B, or it's null, got it?" Faith snapped, holding up a hand and kicking the unconscious vampire in the ribs.
"I was just going to–"
"Did you not hear me. OUT and leave me alone!" She roared kicking the bed.
Forest watched the whole scene with relative confusion. Women were strange creatures, he thought. Riley was just coming out of his unconsciousness and sat rubbing his head for a moment before coming to free him.
"I don't get 'em," Forest remarked to Riley.
"Psychotic demons? I don't think I ever will," Riley smiled, sliding the chains from around Forest.
"No, women. They're a fickle breed, man," he said shaking his head.
"Mysterious maybe," Riley considered, "but not fickle."
"Alright, Slayer women, then. That Faith girl is just as much an animal as that hostile."
Buffy frowned and approached Forest, "Haven't you learned anything from this? They're not Hostiles, HST's or anything like that. They're like anyone else. We're like anyone else. We want to be cared for and loved."
"So they talk and move–their animals in a human puppet. They don't feel love: no hurt, just lust and instinct," Forest said, still rather stable on his original view, as he followed Buffy and Riley out the door.
Faith opened the window and climbed onto the ledge, glancing back into the room for a moment, at Spike still lying sprawled on the floor where he fell. She could have loved him... They were wild and connected like kindred spirit--that was silly, now he had her thinking like B.
No, she felt nothing. It didn't hurt. She wouldn't let it because it didn't mean anything. It never did. Forest was right, no hurt, just lust and instinct.
A tear slipped down her cheek despite herself, and disappeared into the night.
No hurt, just lust and instinct. Liar Larson, there's no such animal.