Victory

Spike turned towards the source of that delicious scent to find the Slayer watching from a doorway, the fire axe from earlier in her hands. He should've kept hold of that, really - he didn't much fancy the possibility of having it used on his head - but there was no denying she looked bloody good with it.

"Slayer."

"Slayee."

There was a subtle shake to her voice. Spike could tell she was doing her best to project Slayerly strength and assurance, but he could hear and smell her uncertainty, her nerves. He wondered idly what had spooked her since last night, whether it was him or if his berk of a grandsire had done something characteristically idiotic.

He suspected the latter.

It was clear to him after his little chin-wag with Angelus that Dru was right, and also that the Great Poof already had his claws in deep when it came to this one. Seemed like the soul didn't change his MO very much.

She cocked her head to one side as she moved towards him. Even off-balance, the chit had serious attitude. He reckoned Angelus, soul or not, probably didn't realise just what he was up against.

"Do we really need weapons for this?"

Now there was his Slayer. "I just like them." He looked her up and down appreciatively. She was right gorgeous. "They make me feel all manly."

He dropped the pole and let his hand slide down his chest, watched her eyes follow it until she realised she'd ended up staring at his crotch. She shook herself, trying to brush off her embarrassment. He wanted to laugh at her. Silly girl. Kept forgetting vampires weren't so easy to fool.

(And probably didn't realise she was making him hard as stone. Again.)

She threw down her axe, and he was almost surprised. He'd half expected her to attack him the moment he left himself open that way, but she made no move to do so. Which was interesting.

He prowled closer. "The last Slayer I killed... she begged for her life." He had to give it to her, she showed no sign whatsoever of backing down. Her fear was fragrant in the air, and she was all demure in her pastel outfit, dolled up and pretty as a picture like the good girl the Slayer could never truly be, but underneath all her sweet girl-next-door camouflage, she was ready for battle. "You don't strike me as the begging kind."

There was a flash of pride in her eyes, and he grinned. He couldn't help wondering if maybe he could justify not killing her, keeping her around a bit longer instead. It would be a terrible shame for this to be over too quick.

"You shouldn't've come here."

His smirk widened, and he let his tongue curl up behind his teeth. "No," he agreed with a chuckle. "I've messed up your doilies and stuff. But I just got so bored."

She watched him come closer, her face calm as she studied him. He wondered if he could make that façade crack. "I'll tell you what," he murmured, his voice going deeper and darker than he'd intended, "as a personal favour from me to you, I'll make it quick." He took a breath, and when he continued he managed to sound a bit more taunting. "It won't hurt a bit." He was supposed to be scaring the bint, not seducing her, but sometimes it was hard to separate the two.

She tilted her head up at him, refusing to be intimidated. Oh, she had such pluck, such beautifully unreasonable confidence,despite all the natural instincts that told her danger, predator, be afraid.

He couldn't deny he was impressed. He was also much closer than he'd expected her to let him get. Those huge green eyes were staring up at him, wide and wild, and he could hear the unsteady rasp of her breath and the pitter patter of her heart, but she didn't back down. She was even prettier than he'd remembered. Golden skin and golden hair... she must absolutely glow in daylight.

"No, Spike," she said softly at last. "It's gonna hurt a lot."

God. He had to take a breath. Did she even know what she was doing to him with dirty talk like that? At least he knew it wasn't just him who was revved up. Her scent was all around him now; terror, excitement and arousal overlaid the scent of her blood. It was glorious. He did appreciate a girl who enjoyed a good brawl, and he loved being proven right; his instincts about her had been spot on. He looked and lusted, without realising his fang was worrying at his bottom lip until he tasted blood coppery rich in his mouth.

He reached out to touch all that glittering, shimmering gold floating around her face, his breath catching in his throat. Like liquid light. Part of his brain reminded him Dru had warned him about playing in the sunshine, but mostly he was captivated by the softness of it, the way it shone, how it flowed through his fingers.

For half a second, maybe less, they stood and looked at each other, his hand caught in the act of smoothing her hair back from her forehead, her eyes even wider than before. Then they remembered they were enemies.

Her fist caught him in the gut, and he laughed out loud. Oh, she was a feisty little thing. He'd been looking forward to this for what felt like forever; this was why he hadn't been able to make himself wait any longer. He'd told her the truth, even if he'd left some of it out. He'd been bored... and he also just hadn't been able to resist. He couldn't fool himself; if the parental inspection hadn't been in the offing, he would've found another excuse. A whole day had been almost unbearable. Waiting till the weekend? Untenable.

It didn't sit right taking on a Slayer on some mythical night of power anyway. It should be like this, ducking and diving, never sure if she was going to get in a lucky blow.

(It didn't sit right doing it with backup either, but chivalry and the honour of battle only got you so far. He wouldn't trust the Aurelian twats to look after a kitten, never mind his beloved sire. Having a couple of goons within yelling distance in case he got in too deep was necessary insurance. And hey, evil vampire here. It was only his own outdated sense of decorum that said this wasn't fair; there wasn't a vamp for miles who'd think twice about cheatin' to get one over on the Slayer if they thought they could manage it.)

He let himself fall into the rhythm of the fight, the give and take of it, laughing again as they laid into one another. She was just as good as he'd hoped, maybe even better. If he didn't need to get a stranglehold on the town for Dru's sake, he'd definitely keep her around. If she was this good at sixteen, she would be magnificent in a few years. Easily as good as his Nikki, given time, and he could've danced all night with that one.

Her heart was racing. Oh, he did so enjoy playing with his food. He was sure she'd deny it, if he took a second to ask - maybe wasn't even consciously aware, since she was such an innocent young thing - but it was obvious combat gave her a rush, thrilled her. Just like it should.

He threw her down, watched her bounce right back up on her feet, got in another satisfying left hook to her jaw. A good thing Slayer healing would take care of it - it would seem a shame to touch her face otherwise.

Then he remembered he was supposed to be killing her here, and it didn't much matter whether he left behind a beautiful corpse. She got in a few good hits while he was distracted, but he was a vampire after all, and he wasn't intimidated by a little girl, even if that little girl happened to be mystically chosen to kill his kind.

Overeager after her minor success, she got too close. He grabbed her, threw her back down on the floor, then slammed himself on top. Maybe he'd get to nibble on that oh so tempting bottom lip after all.

She flailed, trying to dislodge him, so he rammed his arm across her throat and pressed down. She scrabbled at him as she tried to catch her breath, her nails tearing at his face, her eyes gone huge again. He grinned - well, leered. "You like it rough, kitten?"

For the first time since he'd met her, he saw outright terror in her expression. Not instinctive fear for her life, or a healthy respect for her opponent, but genuine, unadulterated terror. Given everything else he'd seen of her so far, he was sort of flattered.

He leaned down harder until her scrabbling weakened, then eased up. It was effective, and undoubtedly it'd truly scared her, but suffocation was not a proper death for a Slayer. Besides, it was a shame to get a feast like this and not feel her fight him to her last breath.

He caught one arm, then the other, splayed her out and held on tight. Finally he had her pinned, at his mercy. He roared his triumph, his demon exultant, then let his body press down hard into hers, his mouth unerringly seeking out the soft skin of her throat.

Mine.