On a routine patrol, Buffy hears a disturbance not far away. Upon investigation she spots a car on the street, the 'Welcome to Sunnydale' sign in ruins. But she has to admit: the reckless, vamparic driver is HOT!
Hope you like it.
Rated M.
Buffy stalked the cold, macabre cemetery routinely, twirling a long, tapered stake in her hands absently. Her eyes remained alert despite her relaxed figure and she casually hummed the latest song by some new boy band that she didn't know the name of, but already had the poster of in her bedroom.
At seventeen, she believed such juvenile behaviour was still very much within her right, despite her whole 'Chosen One' status thing. Hoarding posters of cute boys and keeping Mr. Gordo, the pig, on her bed weren't going to be 'childish' until she was at least nineteen, she reasoned. She did admit, however reluctantly, that a teenager that fights the scourge of evil on a daily basis, owning stuffed pigs was a bit strange; but she just wasn't ready to lose that innocence.
The cemetery, as always, was eerily silent. It could never be just silent- there always seemed to be a creepy edge to it. Whether it was because it was simply a cemetery (and cemeteries' are not capable of being not-creepy), or because she was waiting for something big, tough and ugly to jump out at her, she couldn't deny that the creep-factor was especially high for such a quiet night. Perhaps it was the inactivity that made the vibe so weird. The rustling of leaves and the slight whistle of the wind was only noise after all; very natural and banal. The pale moonlight seemed to be having an epic battle with the cloaking darkness; impeded also by the soft layer of fog that blanketed the ground.
Fighting supernatural evil was definitely messing with her mind and her irrational (but sometimes rational) paranoia was inciting major wiggins.
She had sprayed herself with her most girlish perfume she owned, to make herself smell more enticing, but nowadays, vampires always knew when it was her, and were smart enough to stay away. But really, how stupid could a vampire be to go after her? What other type of teen goes wandering through a cemetery at two in the morning? Did they just think she did it for kicks?
No, she came out at night to hunt and kill… to save humanity. Phew, she nearly admitted to being a murderer. If there was anything she hated- other than French class (yeah, I'll show you where you can shove that croissant, Monsieur!)- was people calling her a killer. She could feel the darkness of her power, but adamantly refused to use that power for anything other than killing and ridding the world of demons. No easy feat either. She was only one girl after all. And they were thousands, millions, and bazillions: a whole myriad of slavering beasts that wanted her dead!
One at a time, she thought. A disturbance of the soil of a newly dug burial had caught her eye. Mr. Pointy was ready for action. Unfortunately, the young ones were always the easiest, and most naive. The vampire managed to escape its coffin and crawl through the soil. It stood up shakily and brushed off the loose dirt on his death suit. He looked up, vamp face in place, and finally realized she had been waiting for him patiently.
"Well, well, well. Has Little Red Riding Hood strayed off the beaten path?" He asked, sneering. Presume much?
Buffy almost laughed, "Wait, are you trying to insinuate that I'm Little Red and you're the Big Bad Wolf?" She chortled.
The vampire was a little bit confused, "Um… yeah?" He replied uncertainly.
Buffy grinned, "Please, I've seen scarier Chihuahua's with worse teeth than you." She joked.
"I should rip out your throat." The vampire growled.
"What's stopping you?"
The vampire frowned, stumped, "Nothing…" It said.
Buffy rolled her eyes, "Well, come on then! I don't have all night!" She yelled at him.
The vampire growled again and ran towards her. Buffy stooped as it came closer and kicked its leg out from under it. The vampire fell heavily to the ground and Buffy aptly straddled him and pressed the stake to his heart.
"I bet Little Red Riding Hood couldn't do that," She grinned.
The vampire snarled and pushed her off. She flipped back to her feet, as did the vampire. Buffy blocked one punch and sidestepped another, before grabbing its wrist as it flung another hairy fist at her and she twisted it behind his back. He cried out in pain and Buffy kicked him in the back, sending him flying into a mausoleum wall. As he lay, moaning, on the ground, she walked up to him and plunged her stake into his chest. His eyes were wide, clutching the stake as he slowly turned to dust.
Smiling triumphantly, Buffy pronounced to the pile of ashes, "Little Red Riding Hood: 1. Big Bad Wolf: 0."
She heard the screeching of tires suddenly pierce the air, followed by a loud crash, interrupting her self-congratulation. Her interest piqued, she made her way to the source of the noise.
She walked to the edge of town, not even two minutes from the cemetery and saw a rusty, although stylish, vintage black car parked halfway up the curb. The 'Welcome to Sunnydale' sign was smashed and splintered near its hood.
As the door opened and a leather boot slammed heavily into the pavement, a slim, lithe figure emerged. Buffy remained close to the shadows some way off, eyes narrowed attentively. A cigarette hung loosely from between the lips of the irrefutably male driver. He flicked open his lighter and lit the end, taking a slow drag. His long, leather coat hung off his broad shoulders and fell near his ankles. He turned slightly, the street lamp catching his features to show the vamp face of a confident man with short, bleached hair slicked to his skull. A single scar cut through his eyebrow. Of all the many vamps Buffy had seen, he was definitely one of the most intimidating… And even in vampire mode he was damn sexy.
Despite his lungful of cigarette smoke, he breathed in deeply, "Home sweet home." He said, smirking evilly; expelling the smoke through his nostrils.
Buffy drank the stranger in, analysing him for what he undoubtedly would become- an opponent. She had to admit he was quite impressive, since very few vampires actually instilled an appreciation in her. The only one she knew of was Angel, but where Angel was mysterious and aloof, noble and rugged, this newcomer was sleek, arrogant and dangerous; he was a true predator.
As much as she would have preferred to attack this vampire now while she had the element of surprise she had to get home. The new Big Bad would have to wait for another day- or night.
Trying to learn French was getting her nowhere.
"And you said it wrong," Willow was saying, sensitively pointing out all of Buffy's flaws- but in a nice way.
Buffy gave up, "Oh, je stink," She muttered irritably.
Willow tried to cheer her up, "You're just not focused. Its Angel missage," She said.
Inwardly Buffy shrugged, honestly she hadn't been missing Angel, she hadn't even thought of him in a while. The pumping vibrations of the bass were distracting her; she glanced to the dance floor wistfully: she really liked that song.
"Well, he didn't say for sure. It was a 'Maybe see you there' kind of deal," She explained half-heartedly for Willow's sake.
Xander suddenly walked up to them, tired of boogying it up on the dance floor alone, "Guys, I'm all alone out there. Someone has to dance with me." He tried not to plead. He failed, miserably.
Sensible Willow tried to squash the idea of possible fun, "Well, we are studying." She tried to point out.
Xander was only slightly disheartened, "Come on, one dance. You've been studying nearly twelve minutes." He whined.
Buffy jumped on the idea, "No wonder my brain's fried." She said perkily.
She left her chair and pulled Willow along with her while Xander practically bounced on the balls of his feet; all excited at being able to dance with actual girls.
"Come on," Buffy coaxed Willow when she hesitated.
Unbeknownst to Buffy and the two Scoobies, a figure stepped out from the shadow's, eyes immediately finding the Slayer as she danced to the song.
The same long, leather coat hung loosely around his frame, although, his face was devoid of the vampire bumpies; it was now smooth and handsome. His peroxide hair swept back. The scar in his eyebrow was milky white, even in the dim light that covered his face in shadow. He watched her, almost softly, regarding her from a distance; yet close enough to smell her perfume and Slayer musk that drove his senses wild. He started to slowly move, arcing around the dancing crowd, his eyes never leaving her. He had no thoughts of ripping out her throat or snapping her neck; for now, he just watched her gently, admiring her. She was so small, seemed so helpless. But he had killed Slayers before; he knew their strength. But every slayer was different. He needed to know what made her tick.
He stopped watching her and slipped away, over to one of his lackey's who had also been surveying the crowd, although for different reasons.
The peroxide vampire seemed undeterred that the other vampire was almost a head taller than him.
He looked up at him and said, "Go get something to eat."
The other vampire smiled, walking away and grabbing a girl he had noticed just come in; she barely struggled- at first.
Peroxide watched him go, smirking. He walked back over to the crowd where Buffy was dancing. He walked over to a man dancing.
"Where's the phone?" He demanded, seeming desperate, "I need to call the police. There's some big guy out there trying to bite someone."
Buffy immediately rushed out. The vampire watched her go, smiling slightly.
Buffy ran outside and saw some vampire grab a woman around the throat and go in for the kill. She wasted no time and quickly pulled him off the frightened girl. The vampire snarled.
"Slayer," He spat.
"Slayee," Buffy countered.
(I'm not going to write out that whole fight scene, sorry! I'm too lazy ;P)
Buffy had no real problem dispensing of the vampire. She was slightly distracted, however, when the vampire asked for help by an unseen person, referred to as 'Spike'. And that stupid St Vigeous thing: whatever the hell that was.
Spike, as he was called, simply watched, not caring that the other vampire was getting beaten to a pulp. He felt impressed, aroused and familiarity as he watched her fight. He felt her rush of exhilaration as she plunged her stake into the vampire's chest. She liked it, no matter how much she denied it. Spike sensed the darkness in her that he hadn't noticed in the other two slayers he had fought and killed.
Buffy made to walk back to her friends, her job complete. A soft clapping stopped her in her tracks. Spike emerged from where he had been standing and confidently moved into the open.
"Nice work, love." He said.
Buffy recognized him despite his human face, she also noted his English accent: HOT, in her opinion.
"Who are you?" She asked, not really afraid, but not really relaxed either.
"Some people call me William the Bloody," He said casually, "I prefer Spike."
"Why 'Spike'?" Buffy asked.
"Railroad spikes were my weapon of choice," He told her offhandedly.
"Not anymore?" She asked, cocking an eyebrow.
"Moved on," He shrugged.
Buffy twirled Mr. Pointy deliberately, "I prefer the old classics, myself." She told him, her eyes challenging.
Spike ignored her underlying threat easily, "You know, you're a lot different than the other Slayers I've faced before." He said thoughtfully.
Buffy immediately tensed, "Other Slayers?" She asked warily.
Spike smirked, "Yeah, two. Tasty little girls," He sneered.
Buffy's face turned hard, she glared.
"You make three." He said, suddenly serious.
Buffy met his gaze.
Willow was trembling she was so scared, "Buffy?"
Buffy didn't turn around, "You guys go home. I can handle him." She said firmly.
"But Buffy-" Xander tried to argue: always her saviour.
"No, Xand." Buffy snapped at him.
Willow and Xander glanced at each other worriedly, then slowly turned and left.
"Alone at last," Spike grinned.
"What now?" Buffy asked, still glaring at him.
He looked thoughtful for a moment, "It was you. I feel it now." Spike said unexpectedly.
Buffy frowned, "Huh?"
"You were the one who was watching me last night," He said smugly.
Buffy rolled her eyes, "Why do you have to make it sound like I was stalking you or something? I was just doing my job." She told him, annoyed.
"Right," He drawled disbelievingly, "Is checking out hot vampires a part of the job description?"
Buffy stared at him, "You think you're hot?" She asked him.
"I know I'm hot," He said confidently.
Buffy smiled, "Actually you're room temperature, but let's not get into that. I don't really want to debate about how hot you think you are."
"Deny it all you want, Slayer. But there are just some things you can't hide from a vampire. Like arousal, for instance." He said cockily.
Buffy blushed.
"I was not aroused!" She said defensively.
"I wasn't talking about then. I was talking about now," He smirked.
Buffy gasped, "I am not aroused."
Spike just smiled.
Buffy gave him a flat stare, "You think a lot of yourself don't you?" She asked.
"What can I say, baby? I've always been bad," He purred, taking a step towards her.
Buffy could be bad too. She closed the gap between them and punched him, hard, in the nose. Spike staggered back, not that surprised, and pinched the bridge of his nose. She punched him again, in the stomach, and, as he doubled over, she viciously brought her knee up fast into his face. He fell back on his backside, panting, though grinning from ear to ear; loving the passionate violence. She moved up closer to him, intent on beating the crap out of him. She half-crouched, arm back, ready to strike when his hand shot out and caught her fist tightly. His other hand wrapped around her neck and he flung her hard into a wall.
She gasped in a breath, her eyes meeting his defiantly. His hand still tight on her throat, the other with a vice-like grip on her hand, holding it pressed against the wall to the side. Buffy's spare hand removed the stake she had stowed in her jeans; she held it tightly, its grainy texture, reassuring and familiar. Spike growled deep in his throat and her Slayer senses went wild: screaming danger. She moved the stake up to his chest and held it over his heart. Spike glanced at it, then back at Buffy. He saw hesitation in her eyes and he seized the moment, crashing his lips to hers.
For a moment Buffy was paralysed with shock, but slowly she let herself melt into his lukewarm embrace. Her stake fell limply from her grasp. Spike's hand left her neck to twist through her honey blonde hair, and the other slipped up her side. Buffy wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling his head closer to kiss him deeper. Tongue's danced and hands roamed.
Buffy was surprised at how different he tasted to Angel. He tasted like cigarettes, vodka and blood and it turned her on. His lips moved down the slope of her neck and she tensed.
"Shh, easy, pet. No fun draining you now. It's just getting good." He murmured against her skin huskily.
She sighed as a shiver ran down her spine and she relaxed against him. He placed open-mouthed kisses to the skin of her throat and nibbled at her pulse point, making her gasp. Buffy tipped her head back, threading her fingers through the hair at the base of his neck. She arched into him, trying to mould her body to his so she could feel every inch of his hard muscle. Spike pushed her firmer into the wall at her back and groaned deep in his throat. His hands traced the line of flesh exposed from where her shirt had ridden up and he slowly pulled the fabric higher; his teasing fingertips ghosted over her soft, warm stomach. Buffy helped him pull the top over her head and she tossed it to the side. She shivered as the cold night air raised goose bumps on her skin. She realised they were still quite exposed, standing in the damp and destitute alley, but her body was aching for him and she needed him now.
His hands palmed her lace covered breasts almost reverentially and her hands tugged his shirt out from the waistband of his black jeans. She let her hands slide up under and traced the hard muscle she found there. His mouth moved back up to hers and nibbled on her bottom lip. Buffy's hands fiddled with his belt, undoing it and slowly pulling down the zipper. Spike sighed in appreciation when she brazenly grabbed him and stroked up and down his hard length.
"Fuck, Slayer." He panted absently as his eyes closed and Buffy's grip tightened sensually.
"That's the plan, Spike." She smirked, feeling quite proud that she could make him feel just as good as he had been making her.
With Spike satisfactorily distracted, Buffy used one of her hands to pull her skirt up high around her hips. Feeling a little impatient, she didn't bother removing her panties properly and instead just snapped the thin straps and let them drop away. Making sure Spike still had his eyes closed, she wrapped her legs around his waist and his hands instinctively dropped to her ass to steady her. His eyes snapped open when his hands came into contact with her bare ass, but she didn't give him much time to think. She quickly lowered herself down on his shaft and groaned at the feeling of completion. There wasn't even any pain as he pierced her maidenhood, just the wonderful feeling of fullness.
Spike stared at her, half surprised, half in awe. He pushed her harder into the wall, consequently pushing himself deeper into her slick hole. Buffy moaned when he hit a sweet sensitive spot and urged him on. He pulled out then let himself slide back in and both cried out at the incredible friction. Spike soon lost all control in the slow rhythm and pounded into her hard, her hips slamming into the wall each time, but she didn't care. She liked it hard and fast, it was the most amazing feeling ever. She knew Spike's hands on her hips would leave bruises and she would probably go to school the next day covered in hickey's, but she would deal with it then.
He was so strong, she knew a normal human probably wouldn't find pleasure in it, but she loved the pressure and the pain that blurred with the desire. It felt like he was splitting her at the seams, and he went so deep, hitting the spot that had her seeing stars every time. Heat burned at the base of her stomach as she felt the onset of something larger, but she knew something was missing. She needed to take that plunge into the feeling that only a vampire could induce.
Her eyes were open, unseeing, moans escaping her parted lips. Spike nuzzled at her throat, kissing her skin.
"Yes," She hissed, the missing piece suddenly fit into place, "Bite me." She ordered.
Spike growled deep in his chest.
"Do it." Buffy moaned. She could feel it nearing.
"Slayer," Spike rumbled.
"Bite me, Spike!" She yelled.
Spike roared and sank his fangs deep into her throat, giving into her pleas.
Ecstasy was overwhelming as it washed over her body and her inner muscles squeezed and shuddered all around him; squeezing him harder than any woman could possibly. Spike thrust deep once more into her and released himself with a groan, the power of her blood washed over his mouth; filling him with its brilliant purity.
More amazing to Buffy than the unbelievable orgasm was that he let her go. His fangs gently retracted from her flesh and he licked her wound clean. Buffy shivered as his tongue glossed over the two small holes.
Slowly, Spike lowered her to the ground. She shakily flattened down her skirt and watched his face as he did up his pants.
"Spike…" She murmured.
He looked up at her, his eyes hazy, from either lust or the thrill of her blood running through his veins.
"Slayer," His voice was husky and low.
"You let me go," It wasn't a statement, merely observation. She had known that offering her neck to him was probably suicidal, but it had seemed necessary at the time so she could feel that tidal wave of pleasure that a vampire's bite could cause when prompted by the right emotions.
"Yeah, I guess I did." Spike said.
"Why?" Buffy asked softly.
"'Cos I look forward to our next meeting, Slayer," He replied with a grin.
Buffy smiled slightly, "Who says our next meeting is one to look forward to?" She mocked.
Spike merely smiled and changed the subject, he pointed vaguely to her neck, "You might want to hide that mark from Peaches." He said.
He started to move away.
"Peaches?" Buffy frowned.
"Angel," Spike elaborated.
"How do you know-" Buffy gasped.
"I'm thinking he probably wouldn't like to know that his girlfriend willing let his grandchilde bite her," Spike cut her off, smirking.
"Angel's your-" She whispered, horrified.
"Sire? Yeah," Spike said.
"Oh god," She moaned.
Spike turned and left, over his shoulder he called, "Sleep well, Slayer."
Buffy watched him disappear into the shadows then stooped to pick up her top and pulled it down over her head. She winced as she stretched the muscles in her lower body and sighed.
Until we're alone again, she thought, but for now I could only dream about the heaven of next time.
And hopefully he doesn't kill her.
Review please.