Hello fellow fanfictioner's! Am I excited to show you my newest story. This story or stories are a series of different
ways Buffy Ann Summers ( I dunno if it's Anne but who cares . ) could and should die. Many times. J/k. Anywho, each one way is going to be split up into chapters. Each chapter a different way she dies, but none of them are connected or related to eachother. Unlike a normal story, this doesn't continue from where the last chapter left off, instead each chapter acting as if a normal day in Sunnydale. Now, on with da fun!
Shadow Blackthorn A.K.A. The author.
Spike. William the bloody. Whatever you'd like to call him. To her, he was just another vampire.
Spike sat on his old chair, hand at his chin in thought. He grumbled a few words to himself, eyes glazed with fury. He thought to himself. Why do I let her sodding stomp all over me like some kind of rug...For once I'd like to see her get staked by a vampire. That'd be a laugh. The corners of his lips curved slowly, his hand dropping to his lap. It had been a while since he'd had the chip embedded in his brain. Since then, all he could do was wait. Wait for the moment when the promises of her death had been practiced. He'd be there. He'd slip in and have himself a Real. Good. Day. Just like he promised.
Rising from his place, he lifted his cloak from the arm of the chair and slipped it on. The same cloak he had stolen from the slayer so many years ago, when she'd died at his hands. He was so pleased. So pleased that he decided to take her coat as a souvenier. He would somewhat do the same to the present slayer.
He was prepared, with weapons, if needed in the deep pockets at his sides. His eyelids closed, nostrals flaring as he took in a deep breath. She wasn't far from here. Probably on a quick sweep before heading off to meet Soldier boy.
Slowly opening his eyes, he headed for the gate of the crypt. Thoughts raced through his mind, thoughts of how he'd beat the slayer. He had to admit, she wasn't like the other Slayers before her. She was in a sense better, more difficult. All the more funner and challenging. He'd like that. Pushing the gate open, he entered the grave yard and exited the crypt. Hands shoved in his pocket, he gripped the weapon in his hand tightly. The one that would kill her, and have him a 3rd time Slayer...whatever.
His jaw was set, teeth clenched. There she is. In all her splendid....I need a hobby. He told himself, stopping a few feet behind her. He used his supreme senses to their advantage, feet moving quickly and quietly across the damp grass. She wouldn't be able to hear him, and if she did, it would be to late. He stood behind an extremely tall burial statue, the moons light cascading down. He watched from a distance as another bloke of a vampire neared her. He would die easily.
For the slightest instant, he reached into his pocket and recovered a lighter. He reached into it again and pulled out his pack of cigarettes. Two left. He put it to his mouth, and let the cigarette dangle between his cold lips. Flicking the lighter, he watched as the end of the cigarette ignited into an orangish glow.
Eyes snapping back to the fight, he inhaled the smoke that had no affect into his lungs.
Then there was a scream.
A pain filled scream. Of a female.
" Well...look what we have here. " He muttered to himself, cigarette still dangling as he spoke. The vampire had her pretty beaten. Spike had underestimated him. He shrugged to himself, returning the lighter and pack of cigs into his pocket.
Slipping from the shadow of the statue, he walked to where the fight had began. By then the vampire had disappeared into a pile of dust, leaving Buffy fairly winded. She looked at him, stake in hand in defense. She sighed as if to say Oh, it's only you.
" What are you doing here? " She asked, raising a brow and catching the rest of her breath.
He wanted so badly to say " I'm here to finish you like I should've a long time ago, you silly bint. " But instead replied.
" Thought I'd have a good brawl. " He shrugged his shoulders, flicking the fag from his fingers. She shook her head and looked away for a moment. Bad mistake.
He threw a good punch at her, hitting her in the cheeck. He grunted, holding back the pain that seered through his cranium. She spun before rolling to the ground, immediatly jumping back up. She put a hand to her cheeck, confusion showing easily on her face. Her face changed to angry, kicking him in the stomach then uppercutting him in the chin.
Spike went with the blow, causing him to go back and over a tombstone and nearly falling into a large hole where he guessed someone was to be burried. He growled low in his throat, jumping up and over the tombstone ready for attack. Over the past few weeks, he'd trained himself to resist most of the pain caused by harming a human.
He grabbed her arm as she threw another punch at him, twisting it and holding it behind her. She yelped, trying to kick him in the face but he ducked, grabbing her other arm and doing the same. She grunted, struggling against his hold. She attempted yet again to kick him.
" A little rusty are we slayer? " He hissed as he spoke.
He chose this as his oppertune moment, his features changing untill his forehead was rigid and fangs elongated. He let out a low growl, dipping his head and sinking his fangs into her flesh. Her blood flowed freely into his mouth, a satisfied growl escaping him. She took in a sharp breath, her struggles weakening.
Pulling his head back, he licked at the open wound and enjoyed the sensation of her blood. He was addicted, like a drug. The feeling of his lips tingling, sedation coarsing through him.
Her head hung a little low, heart beat slowing. He had her right where he wanted her. He enjoyed himself so, that he'd nearly forgotten the pain that split his head. Turning her body around so it faced him, he gazed down into her eyes. Fear read all across her face. He grinned wildly, blood along his lips. Her blood.
He removed the stake from his pocket, gripping it in hand. Arm around her, he held her as he held up the stake. Her eyes whidened just slightly, knowing her own fate was happening before her.
Tears welled in the corners of her eyes, eyelids slowly closing.
She grunted.
And there it was. What he had been waiting for since he'd come to this sink hole of a town. Tossing the stake in his hand, he sat peacefully at the bar of the bronze. A light stain had remained at the tip of the stake, causing Spike to grin to himself once again.
Not to far from where he sat, The scoobies sat at their usual place, discussing something or other to eachother. Little did they know what happen. They wouldn't find her anytime soon. A chuckle escaped his cold dead lips, and thought.
How did she like it?