I dedicate this story to everybody who misses the real Spike. *sniff*
2001, somewhere in New York, USA…
The scientist looked over his work. Apparently the design wasn't flawed at all, it worked perfectly. It would continue working perfectly for many years, due to it's almost infinite, if tiny, uranium power source. But on this case, it wasn't working. Fortunately they'd been able to capture it and take it into the Initiative Research branch in New York. It was just an ordinary vampire, and the chip wasn't broken… so what could be wrong?
"Bio report's in." said the female scientist, handing him another file folder with a smile. "You're working too hard," she told him, "just look through this one last report and then I'm taking you out for dinner."
"Sure thing." He smiled widely to the attractive brunette. "Just give me five minutes…" he opened the folder and skimmed over with his eyes, "… or perhaps, an hour or so. This looks like our answer."
"You're serious?" she asked, sitting down next to him to see the report. "Wow. God, we should have *thought* of this. It makes so much sense."
"The vampire's brain has found a way of rerouting itself, killing is its primary function and it wont let itself be stopped." He smiled, shaking his head. "It's almost poetic really."
"You think it's just this one?" she asked, looking distantly worried. It wasn't as if they had anything to worry about really; their part of town was fairly vamp-free.
"No, I'd put money on this being a capability of your average vampire." The scientist sighed. "I guess we're looking at a massive redesigning and recapturing all across the country. A lot of paperwork going to be involved too."
"You want a hand with cataloguing then?" she asked. Her colleague smiled back at her.
I had a splitting headache when I woke up. Urgh. I hadn't even been drinking that much… then again, that was probably part of the problem. I hadn't been drinking enough of what I needed. Groaning, I headed to the fridge. My last bag of blood, but god did I need it now. I swallowed it down without even bothering to heat it, which isn't nearly as nice but I couldn't wait. I dropped the bag untidily, and went to sit down. Felt the blood do the tingly thing down in my stomach, but it wasn't helping the headache much. What I needed was a good fresh kill, like in the old days. At that precise moment I heard footsteps approaching, and smelled a human in the air. If fate wanted to torture me, it was doing a damn good job.
"Hey there, fangless." Came a voice I despised more than any other right now, because it was the wrong person in the wrong place at the *worst* possible time. Xander Harris. Should have bloody killed the boy years ago.
"Fuck off."
"Oh, hostile are we?" he asked. That's what the Initiative said. They called us *hostiles*, all of us, all different demons neatly categorised into one label. It was sick and stupid and wrong. They even tortured the ones on the human side of things, like some sort of weird racism. Not that I cared, really, but their hypocrisy gave me just one more reason to hate them. As if I needed that.
"What do you *want*, Harris?" I asked the boy, moodily.
"Scooby meeting." Xander said, "Then we go out and kill the demons." He tossed me a large heavy axe, which I caught easily. Nice, I thought to himself. Wouldn't mind using it. But you already have a headache Spike; don't hurt him.
"Thanks." I muttered. God, how easy it'd be to split the boy's skull right there and then. Slam the weapon down and watch the face twist in horror before it's coated in blood and brains. Hear the bones crunch, the skin tear, the heart beat faster in terror before it stops entirely. Maybe even a desperate last scream?
"Hello, earth to Spike?" Xander snapped him out of his thoughts. I looked up at him, annoyed. "Did you hear anything I just said?"
"Sorry, my mind was elsewhere." I said, looking down at the axe again.
"What do you… oh, right." Xander figured out what I meant. "Listen, you want to *stop* all this fantasising about killing me? About killing any of us? It's not going to happen, and… it's creepy." Don't hurt him, don't hurt him, don't hurt him, don't hurt him, oh god how I would love to… don't hurt him, don't hurt him…
"Yeah, of course, anything for you Xander, who I both respect and take orders from." I told him with strong sarcasm. Xander scowled. Don't hurt him. "You see, if I could control my brain, there are a good few things I'd do to it before telling it not to kill you all."
"Nice to have the comforting thought that you can't, then." Xander smirked. Don't hurt him. Don't hurt him. Don't hurt him. "What with you being neutered and all."
"You have *no* idea." I said through gritted teeth, almost vamping out with the violence of my present thoughts. Don't hurt him.
"You're right, I'm just going to go now." Xander said, and turned to go. Don't hurt him. "Wow, this place is *really* ugly. What did you do, get a… ARGH!" Xander fell to the ground, a heavy iron axe embedded in his shoulder. I fell backwards, hands clutched to my head. This Was Going To Hurt. My chip was being slow? Don't trust it. It's just the expectation making the split second seem longer. The dread. Pain would come, though. Pain, I knew, would come, it always did. It wasn't coming. It wasn't there, there was no pain. No pain. Oh, YES! My eyes snapped open. The scent of blood was filling the room, flooding my senses. The boy was trying not to let the tears fall, but he was breathing in short sharp gasps, like sobs. Then I heard the axe clattering to the floor, and Xander struggling to his feet. "Spike, you're an evil *bastard*." Xander cursed. "Don't bother coming over, just stay here, and, I hope your headache *kills* you." I leapt to his feet, with a smug grin.
"You're leaving?" I asked. "So soon?"
"Jesus *Christ*!" Xander's eyes were filled with horror. "Shouldn't you be dying of pain?"
"Yeah," I shrugged, "you don't look so great yourself. How's about you let me take a look at that nasty wound?"
"Oh… god, you lost it, you got it taken out… the chip's gone, isn't it."
"I don't know." I said. "And, to be honest, I don't care. It's not working or something, I couldn't tell you why, I'm not an expert and I don't want to be. But I want blood, and I'm seeing it all over your hands there." I changed to vamp face and grabbed the back of Xander's neck. "I've wanted to do this for a *long* time." Oh god, yes, *do* hurt him, and make it good. This was the fantasy made real.
Slayer. The face in my mind, as I walk quickly through the cemetery. I have to find her, I need to see her, I need to see her bleeding and dying in my arms as the others before her were. I need to feel her heart slow, I need to see her blonde hair caked with dark drying blood. A song comes back to my mind, the voice haunting and strong. The lyrics whispered with such meaning, such violence.
"A thousand lips, a thousand tongues
A thousand throats, a thousand lungs
A thousand ways to make it true
I want to do terrible things to you"
The funny thing is, I remember the title. The song's called "suck", which is very apt. It can be *our* song, I think, grinning madly. As if I'd ever want to go out with her like that, as the humans do these days. It didn't even appeal to me as a mortal. Back then I was interested in girls as objects of beauty to possess. Now I see them as more or less the same, except my definition of possess has changed, and I'm more wary of them in these days when they've proved they can be just as dangerous as men. Even more so. There was never a male Slayer, after all.
"Buffy." I say, seeing her standing before me. She'll be going to the Scooby meeting soon, or I will. But one of us will be dead by the end of tonight. Its like the pathetic creature I became died along with the Harris kid. The living fresh blood restored me. Nothing can stop me from being the killer I am, the killer I always was. Nothing.
"Spike," she greets me with indifference. "Here to try and convince me to love you again?"
"Oh if only you knew, Slayer." I tell her, grinning. "It's not love, I understand it now. It's lust. Bloodlust. And you have it just as bad for me."
"Bloodlust?" Buffy wrinkled her nose. "Ew. I don't deal in blood. Dust lust, now there's a thought. Plus it rhymes nicely."
"As a poet, I'd have to say that's worse than anything even *I* would have thought up." I told her disparagingly. She shrugged and turned away. "Hey!" I shout at her.
"What?" she asks. "Are you really looking for a fight you know you'll lose?"
"Nope." I tell her. "I'm looking for a fight I hope to win."
"Spike have you lost your mind?" she asks, frowning. "I'm still human, you can't hurt me."
"I hurt the boy." I tell her, a smirk sneaking up on my face. She falters slightly.
"You… you hurt who?" she asks, nervously. I roll my eyes.
"The ungainly useless human boy." I explain, loving the edge of fear in her eyes. "He came to my crypt and gave me the weapon himself. It was probably one of yours' or Giles'."
"You hurt Xander?" she asks, bewildered. "I don't believe you. He wouldn't have let you live if you did anything like… he hates you, what were you thinking?"
"I was thinking that I wouldn't be able to hurt him." Spike admitted. "But then I got annoyed with him, couldn't help myself. And from then on, I was mostly thinking: Yum, blood."
"How?" she asks. "You have the chip out? You… is he dead?" she looks so shattered, so emotional, so hurt. Apparently she did love him, if only as a friend. I know she'd never look like that over me.
"Yeah, dead and gone." I tell her. "If it's any consolation, it wasn't a quick death, but at least I ended a life that basically just held you back. When has he been any use killing anything?"
"He was my *friend*." She tells me, choking back tears. She knows I'm telling the truth, and it's killing her. She knows if she doesn't kill me then I'll kill all of her friends. "I'm going to kill you, Spike." she promises. She truly believes that she will.
"Or you'll die trying." I add, just to incense her mood that little bit more. It works, and she comes flying at me. We fight for quite some time, me and her, and I don't make the mistakes I made before. I distract her with the witty fighting banter, but I don't mention anything that gives her righteous purpose, like mentioning Angel. That always seemed to have the wrong affect. I wind her up something silly about the way she trusted me though. It was ridiculous. She let me look after her bloody *family* when she needed help. And I couldn't touch them. But I had my plans, and anyone who leaves friends and family in the direct vicinity of a temporarily disabled vampire who has a good memory for his plots is an idiot in my book. Suddenly I find myself on my back, and her sitting on me. Bloody hell, how did that happen? She's good.
"You killed my friend." She says, bitter and upset. I snarl, and throw her off me. There's not a chance she's going to get to me through lust, even though I recall situations similar to that in my dreams over the last few months. Pathetic. I know it as well as she does, and this is my last chance. I either kill her now, or I get staked, but either way its *over*. I can't cope with the miserable hell of existing as a desperate lapdog to the Slayer any more.
"You killed dozens of mine." I retort, growling as I tear out a fistful of her hair. I know, I fight dirty, but it's the quickest way to get things done sometimes. "You even killed innocent demons, you know the ones that don't kill people? Some of them are on the side of good." Bam, she punches me, but it isn't heartfelt because she knows I'm telling the truth here. "Some of them wouldn't harm a human if their life depended upon it, but you, as the Slayer have killed them indiscriminately simply because they weren't human." She falters, and I quickly duck in for the kill. Her throat, it's unguarded right now, because she was busy attacking rather than defending. She lost her focus for a second, and this is the result. And its delicious finally tasting her blood, more than I ever could put into words. This is what my existence is all about, this is what a vampire is all about, and I am definitely not complaining. The next Slayer has my name written all over her.
That's after I kill all of this one's friends and family of course.
The End
A/N: Yes, I know, my stories are getting kind of a recurring theme, aren't they? Oh well.
2001, somewhere in New York, USA…
The scientist looked over his work. Apparently the design wasn't flawed at all, it worked perfectly. It would continue working perfectly for many years, due to it's almost infinite, if tiny, uranium power source. But on this case, it wasn't working. Fortunately they'd been able to capture it and take it into the Initiative Research branch in New York. It was just an ordinary vampire, and the chip wasn't broken… so what could be wrong?
"Bio report's in." said the female scientist, handing him another file folder with a smile. "You're working too hard," she told him, "just look through this one last report and then I'm taking you out for dinner."
"Sure thing." He smiled widely to the attractive brunette. "Just give me five minutes…" he opened the folder and skimmed over with his eyes, "… or perhaps, an hour or so. This looks like our answer."
"You're serious?" she asked, sitting down next to him to see the report. "Wow. God, we should have *thought* of this. It makes so much sense."
"The vampire's brain has found a way of rerouting itself, killing is its primary function and it wont let itself be stopped." He smiled, shaking his head. "It's almost poetic really."
"You think it's just this one?" she asked, looking distantly worried. It wasn't as if they had anything to worry about really; their part of town was fairly vamp-free.
"No, I'd put money on this being a capability of your average vampire." The scientist sighed. "I guess we're looking at a massive redesigning and recapturing all across the country. A lot of paperwork going to be involved too."
"You want a hand with cataloguing then?" she asked. Her colleague smiled back at her.
I had a splitting headache when I woke up. Urgh. I hadn't even been drinking that much… then again, that was probably part of the problem. I hadn't been drinking enough of what I needed. Groaning, I headed to the fridge. My last bag of blood, but god did I need it now. I swallowed it down without even bothering to heat it, which isn't nearly as nice but I couldn't wait. I dropped the bag untidily, and went to sit down. Felt the blood do the tingly thing down in my stomach, but it wasn't helping the headache much. What I needed was a good fresh kill, like in the old days. At that precise moment I heard footsteps approaching, and smelled a human in the air. If fate wanted to torture me, it was doing a damn good job.
"Hey there, fangless." Came a voice I despised more than any other right now, because it was the wrong person in the wrong place at the *worst* possible time. Xander Harris. Should have bloody killed the boy years ago.
"Fuck off."
"Oh, hostile are we?" he asked. That's what the Initiative said. They called us *hostiles*, all of us, all different demons neatly categorised into one label. It was sick and stupid and wrong. They even tortured the ones on the human side of things, like some sort of weird racism. Not that I cared, really, but their hypocrisy gave me just one more reason to hate them. As if I needed that.
"What do you *want*, Harris?" I asked the boy, moodily.
"Scooby meeting." Xander said, "Then we go out and kill the demons." He tossed me a large heavy axe, which I caught easily. Nice, I thought to himself. Wouldn't mind using it. But you already have a headache Spike; don't hurt him.
"Thanks." I muttered. God, how easy it'd be to split the boy's skull right there and then. Slam the weapon down and watch the face twist in horror before it's coated in blood and brains. Hear the bones crunch, the skin tear, the heart beat faster in terror before it stops entirely. Maybe even a desperate last scream?
"Hello, earth to Spike?" Xander snapped him out of his thoughts. I looked up at him, annoyed. "Did you hear anything I just said?"
"Sorry, my mind was elsewhere." I said, looking down at the axe again.
"What do you… oh, right." Xander figured out what I meant. "Listen, you want to *stop* all this fantasising about killing me? About killing any of us? It's not going to happen, and… it's creepy." Don't hurt him, don't hurt him, don't hurt him, don't hurt him, oh god how I would love to… don't hurt him, don't hurt him…
"Yeah, of course, anything for you Xander, who I both respect and take orders from." I told him with strong sarcasm. Xander scowled. Don't hurt him. "You see, if I could control my brain, there are a good few things I'd do to it before telling it not to kill you all."
"Nice to have the comforting thought that you can't, then." Xander smirked. Don't hurt him. Don't hurt him. Don't hurt him. "What with you being neutered and all."
"You have *no* idea." I said through gritted teeth, almost vamping out with the violence of my present thoughts. Don't hurt him.
"You're right, I'm just going to go now." Xander said, and turned to go. Don't hurt him. "Wow, this place is *really* ugly. What did you do, get a… ARGH!" Xander fell to the ground, a heavy iron axe embedded in his shoulder. I fell backwards, hands clutched to my head. This Was Going To Hurt. My chip was being slow? Don't trust it. It's just the expectation making the split second seem longer. The dread. Pain would come, though. Pain, I knew, would come, it always did. It wasn't coming. It wasn't there, there was no pain. No pain. Oh, YES! My eyes snapped open. The scent of blood was filling the room, flooding my senses. The boy was trying not to let the tears fall, but he was breathing in short sharp gasps, like sobs. Then I heard the axe clattering to the floor, and Xander struggling to his feet. "Spike, you're an evil *bastard*." Xander cursed. "Don't bother coming over, just stay here, and, I hope your headache *kills* you." I leapt to his feet, with a smug grin.
"You're leaving?" I asked. "So soon?"
"Jesus *Christ*!" Xander's eyes were filled with horror. "Shouldn't you be dying of pain?"
"Yeah," I shrugged, "you don't look so great yourself. How's about you let me take a look at that nasty wound?"
"Oh… god, you lost it, you got it taken out… the chip's gone, isn't it."
"I don't know." I said. "And, to be honest, I don't care. It's not working or something, I couldn't tell you why, I'm not an expert and I don't want to be. But I want blood, and I'm seeing it all over your hands there." I changed to vamp face and grabbed the back of Xander's neck. "I've wanted to do this for a *long* time." Oh god, yes, *do* hurt him, and make it good. This was the fantasy made real.
Slayer. The face in my mind, as I walk quickly through the cemetery. I have to find her, I need to see her, I need to see her bleeding and dying in my arms as the others before her were. I need to feel her heart slow, I need to see her blonde hair caked with dark drying blood. A song comes back to my mind, the voice haunting and strong. The lyrics whispered with such meaning, such violence.
"A thousand lips, a thousand tongues
A thousand throats, a thousand lungs
A thousand ways to make it true
I want to do terrible things to you"
The funny thing is, I remember the title. The song's called "suck", which is very apt. It can be *our* song, I think, grinning madly. As if I'd ever want to go out with her like that, as the humans do these days. It didn't even appeal to me as a mortal. Back then I was interested in girls as objects of beauty to possess. Now I see them as more or less the same, except my definition of possess has changed, and I'm more wary of them in these days when they've proved they can be just as dangerous as men. Even more so. There was never a male Slayer, after all.
"Buffy." I say, seeing her standing before me. She'll be going to the Scooby meeting soon, or I will. But one of us will be dead by the end of tonight. Its like the pathetic creature I became died along with the Harris kid. The living fresh blood restored me. Nothing can stop me from being the killer I am, the killer I always was. Nothing.
"Spike," she greets me with indifference. "Here to try and convince me to love you again?"
"Oh if only you knew, Slayer." I tell her, grinning. "It's not love, I understand it now. It's lust. Bloodlust. And you have it just as bad for me."
"Bloodlust?" Buffy wrinkled her nose. "Ew. I don't deal in blood. Dust lust, now there's a thought. Plus it rhymes nicely."
"As a poet, I'd have to say that's worse than anything even *I* would have thought up." I told her disparagingly. She shrugged and turned away. "Hey!" I shout at her.
"What?" she asks. "Are you really looking for a fight you know you'll lose?"
"Nope." I tell her. "I'm looking for a fight I hope to win."
"Spike have you lost your mind?" she asks, frowning. "I'm still human, you can't hurt me."
"I hurt the boy." I tell her, a smirk sneaking up on my face. She falters slightly.
"You… you hurt who?" she asks, nervously. I roll my eyes.
"The ungainly useless human boy." I explain, loving the edge of fear in her eyes. "He came to my crypt and gave me the weapon himself. It was probably one of yours' or Giles'."
"You hurt Xander?" she asks, bewildered. "I don't believe you. He wouldn't have let you live if you did anything like… he hates you, what were you thinking?"
"I was thinking that I wouldn't be able to hurt him." Spike admitted. "But then I got annoyed with him, couldn't help myself. And from then on, I was mostly thinking: Yum, blood."
"How?" she asks. "You have the chip out? You… is he dead?" she looks so shattered, so emotional, so hurt. Apparently she did love him, if only as a friend. I know she'd never look like that over me.
"Yeah, dead and gone." I tell her. "If it's any consolation, it wasn't a quick death, but at least I ended a life that basically just held you back. When has he been any use killing anything?"
"He was my *friend*." She tells me, choking back tears. She knows I'm telling the truth, and it's killing her. She knows if she doesn't kill me then I'll kill all of her friends. "I'm going to kill you, Spike." she promises. She truly believes that she will.
"Or you'll die trying." I add, just to incense her mood that little bit more. It works, and she comes flying at me. We fight for quite some time, me and her, and I don't make the mistakes I made before. I distract her with the witty fighting banter, but I don't mention anything that gives her righteous purpose, like mentioning Angel. That always seemed to have the wrong affect. I wind her up something silly about the way she trusted me though. It was ridiculous. She let me look after her bloody *family* when she needed help. And I couldn't touch them. But I had my plans, and anyone who leaves friends and family in the direct vicinity of a temporarily disabled vampire who has a good memory for his plots is an idiot in my book. Suddenly I find myself on my back, and her sitting on me. Bloody hell, how did that happen? She's good.
"You killed my friend." She says, bitter and upset. I snarl, and throw her off me. There's not a chance she's going to get to me through lust, even though I recall situations similar to that in my dreams over the last few months. Pathetic. I know it as well as she does, and this is my last chance. I either kill her now, or I get staked, but either way its *over*. I can't cope with the miserable hell of existing as a desperate lapdog to the Slayer any more.
"You killed dozens of mine." I retort, growling as I tear out a fistful of her hair. I know, I fight dirty, but it's the quickest way to get things done sometimes. "You even killed innocent demons, you know the ones that don't kill people? Some of them are on the side of good." Bam, she punches me, but it isn't heartfelt because she knows I'm telling the truth here. "Some of them wouldn't harm a human if their life depended upon it, but you, as the Slayer have killed them indiscriminately simply because they weren't human." She falters, and I quickly duck in for the kill. Her throat, it's unguarded right now, because she was busy attacking rather than defending. She lost her focus for a second, and this is the result. And its delicious finally tasting her blood, more than I ever could put into words. This is what my existence is all about, this is what a vampire is all about, and I am definitely not complaining. The next Slayer has my name written all over her.
That's after I kill all of this one's friends and family of course.
The End
A/N: Yes, I know, my stories are getting kind of a recurring theme, aren't they? Oh well.