Number One
She was easy to find, the only girl who didn't run around helplessly. To call her attention was easy as well. Now, fighting her... Not too easy. But Spike had been Darla's whipping boy for years and Angelus' pupil/toy longer than that. He wouldn't give up before a little Slayer with a decade's training at most.
His fangs finally connected, the rush of blood singing triumphantly into him. Victory. Euphoric victory with the drums of crumbling wood and the trumpets of human screams. This was what he'd been created for.
This moment. This victory
Nothing would ever surpass this feeling.
Number Two
Now this was better, Spike thought as the woman's struggle stopped. The perfect end to a patient hunt. The bitch had moved constantly, her fear over the little boy making her more unpredictable than he'd anticipated. It had taken weeks to learn her weaknesses enough to act on them. Just in time, too. Drusilla was growing restless, eager to move dead Slayer or not.
Spike loosened his hold. He eyed the coat his prey had been wearing and lifted it for a careful inspection. He grinned as he tried it on. Yes, definitely a good beginning for his future collection.
Number Three
Spike had always known there would be a third. Stupid girl. What part of 'He's on our side' had she failed to understand? Buffy better not give him grief for this one; he'd have enough with Dawn and Willow berating him.
He snorted. As if she'd given him any choice. The stake had been firm in her hand, single-mindedly pointed at his heart. This had been the essence of self-defence and Angel better shut up about it. Since when did they let out unstable Slayers anyway?
Fuck this. Those so-called trainers had a lot to explain when he found them.