Disclaimer: all things Buffy belong to Joss Whedon, I just borrow them for fun.

Warning: this is a really dark chapter, but a necessary one for character development. I'm putting in an in-text warning before the worst part, so if you are likely to be offended by descriptions of some of the more horrible things Spike could have done on his first night as a vampire, skim over that part. I'll summarize in a post script so that the story continues to make sense. I really don't want to offend anyone! That said, I hope you all like the chapter, it was really hard and intense to write!

Chapter 11

Buffy snapped awake. There was no period of grogginess or transition, just a murk of nothing and then complete and total awareness, everything pushing sharply on her senses all at once. Most overwhelmingly, the scent of blood, so much stronger and richer than anything she'd ever smelled before. She groaned as a bolt of hunger (or maybe desire?) shot from her belly down between her legs, where she felt something stir and stiffen…huh? But there was no time to worry about the unfamiliarity of her body. Her eyes were already fixing on the source of the intoxicating aroma that had called her attention to the difference in the first place. Just a few feet away stood a thin, pretty, young man with black eye and a split lip. A deep growl ripped from her throat and she leapt forward, long fingers finding and digging into trembling flesh. There was no hesitation, he didn't even have time to shriek as she yanked his head harshly to the side and bared his neck, tearing into it savagely with her fangs.

She moaned as his blood welled and filled her mouth, almost burning her it was so hot, pulsing with his weakening heart. God, she could feel his heartbeat swimming past her lips and she gulped greedily, lost in the taste of it, the intense and overpowering physicality of the life pouring itself into her. She grinded her hips into him, no longer able to ignore the new, hard length straining between her legs and threatening to burst with the erotic thrill his blood sent through her. She thrust against him roughly as she drank, her pleasure building to a frenzy as the blood flowed more and more sluggishly until finally, as the murmur of his heart slipped into silence, she shuddered and exploded.

"Ooo! Mummy's made a dirty boy! Spillin' 'imself all over his first kill. I'll have to paper train you! Bad dog!" crowed a gleeful voice from off to the side.

"I'll leap through any hoop you set for me like a circus lion if I get more of that as my treat." When Buffy heard the familiar low tenor leaving her lips to form a response, she didn't know how she hadn't paid attention to it before. It had been there the whole time, a rumble of masculine presence exulting along with her as she drank, as she came, and now it pushed its way to the front. "God, it's like ambrosia." It, no he, definitely he, licked his, her lips, savoring the last clinging red drops. The words were different, softer, more cultured, but the voice was unmistakable. 'Spike?' she questioned, silently.

'In the flesh, love. Though it's a bit crowded in here now that you're sharin' it with me, innit?'

'I'm in you? Like, in your body?'

She felt a wave of amusement, like a chuckle, 'Yeah. Kinda kinky, don't you think? How this time you're filling me up.'

'This is too weird.'

'Didn't seem to mind a moment ago, pet. When we were feeding. That was as much you as me.' His words had a smirky little echo to them and she felt him tweak her, their lips up into a grin. Damnit, this was going to make pronouns difficult, she thought and felt another one of his silent chuckles roll over her.

Drusilla carried on, oblivious to their internal dialogue. "Oh, what a beautiful, deadly boy you are!" she cooed, "so much to learn! Come along then, follow Mummy and if you're very good I'll let you hide under my skirts before Daddy gets home!" She reached out to lace her fingers through theirs, pulling them along through the wet night of the cemetery.

'Where are we?' Buffy asked.

'Not where, love, when. We're in my first night as a vampire. That's why I sound a bit off when I talk for us. I'm just going through my lines from that night. There was still a lot of William in me then.'

Instead of responding Buffy turned her attention to their surroundings, starting by looking down. Everything looked just a tiny bit smaller. Well, duh, she thought, Spike's taller than me, I'm in Spike, hence, tallness. And don't forget that other physical difference you already got a firsthand demonstration of… the thought wiggled its way forward of its own accord and Spike must have heard it because she sensed a little swell of pride coming from him. 'Like that organ, don't you, pet?'

'Shut up,' she thought at him, but felt a thrill of excitement stir between their legs. Wait, did that come from him, or from her? Ugh, this was too confusing.

'Just my luck,' she sent his way, 'I get stuck inside a vampire and it just has to be you. You'd think a vamp field trip would be educational from the evil perspective, but no, I get soul-searchy, love's bitch boy.'

'Oh, you want evil, Slayer? You'll get evil. This is my first night as a vampire; it's all about the bloody evil!'

'Heh, this is one time I can get behind that word. Bloody sounds fun.' she paused, then continued, her tone curious. 'Hey, isn't this, like, weird for you? Being all with the grr and the slaughter now that you're soon-to-be souly?'

'First of all, you're 'soon-to-be-souly' too. And secondly, 'm still a vampire, for fuck's sake' he shot at her, indignant, 'I don't have my soul yet. Plus, anyone we eat here is already dead, not like I'm killing anyone new. This is more like reminiscing.' he grinned, despite the kernel of misgiving buried deep within the part of his psyche that was still private. He remembered this night, and wasn't sure how he felt about Buffy enjoying it.

'Well, it's new to me,' she thought as their nostrils flared at a whiff of something musky but with a tanginess to it that set her, their, mouth watering. 'What's that smell?'

'Fear.'

Drusilla must have smelled it too because she stopped and pulled their arms around her waist, wrapping her own around their neck and leaning in close. Buffy felt something build in their chest, making her feel like she needed air though she hadn't even thought to take a breath since waking.

"Scent that, my William? Someone's horribly frightened! Now be a dear boy and give us a kiss before having your first hunt. Show Mummy how much you love her." And then her lips were moving against theirs, her sweet little tongue darting in to explore hungrily, and Buffy was kissing back, desperately, whatever had been growing in their chest now threatening to overwhelm her. She was hard again, she knew that much, but this was different, she felt this everywhere, burning her, rising in her throat, pricking her eyes, she had to— "I, I love you," it was William's voice, William's words, but she knew the wonder and truth that filled them, felt it, "what do I call you?"

"I'm Drusilla, prince, and you'll love me forever." Her lips curled in a satisfied smile and she tugged them along after her, following fragrant trail of their prey.

'What the hell was that?' Buffy shouted mentally, still trembling with emotion.

'That was how I felt the first time I kissed Dru. How William felt.' Spike's sigh washed over her. 'Makes sense,' he continued, 'the point of this charming little trip down memory lane is our souls. 'Course we're gonna get the whole living color experience, not just a fancy light show.'

'Well, it's gross.' Buffy sulked uncomfortably.

Spike rolled their eyes, 'Oh, pardon me for sullying your evil highness with my private emotions. Bitch.'

They lapsed into silence and soon Drusilla led them into a cobbled alley near the cemetery. A tall, full-figured woman with red hair and a dark cloak pulled tight around her walked quickly away from them. Fear wafted off of her as she made her way home; it was late, and she had no escort but even so, her steps were purposeful and determined.

dark part starts here

"Go on, catch her, Willy." Drusilla whispered softly, the cool breath of her words tickling their ear, "Show Mummy what a bad, bad man you are." She pressed her fingers into their back, giving a little shove, and they were stalking forward, silence coming as naturally as the fangs that once again broke through their gums in anticipation.

They pursued her down two streets, listening to her heart beat louder and louder and closing the gap with each turn she took. She rounded a third sharp bend, and something changed. There was an almost imperceptible new layer to the scent, but William only had an hour's experience with a vampire's nose, and wasn't slowing down for subtleties.

They stepped around the corner and head first into a heavy, brutally swung, earthenware jug. Cheap wine poured into their eyes as it shattered, blinding them on top of the daze brought on by the unexpected blow. "Don't you follow me! I'll fight you to the last!" the woman cried at them, her voice harsh with terror and rage as her footsteps pounded away. But in a minute they were after her, no longer stalking, but chasing, the close walls of the narrow street winding past in a cold blur until they were on her, clawing and tearing, face contorted in a growl, eyes hard yellow ice. And she was punching and gnashing and screaming in desperate fury, and they were ramming a fist into her mouth, and shoving up her skirts. She clenched her thighs together and clamped her jaws down hard, her teeth biting savagely into their hand with enough force to have broken human bones, but it didn't matter. The vampire was too strong, prying her knees apart and forcing into her, cold and rigid, slicing her open like a bruise as his fangs tore into her neck.

And it was nothing, nothing; it was drinking and rutting, and he saw nothing, felt nothing but himself. His cock, his fangs sunk deep for him, not her struggle. Not her life seeping away. Not her dead eyes screaming: you won't ever know me! Just blood and fight and friction. And two lost passengers, an alien audience.

Ends here

They left the body where it fell, drained and sticky and just so much more waste decorating the anonymous London streets. Drusilla found them at the mouth of the alley and wrapped them in praise and promises, winding her arms around their neck, her words a parody of misplaced romance. "You give me tingles in my toes, sweet William. Take me someplace lovely and dark to pass the day; I want to take hours and hours to make you tingle." So in the approaching grey of dawn they found the graveyard again and slipped into the catacombs beneath the chapel, the pitch dark blue to their vampire eyes.

Buffy and Spike maintained mental silence, curled in separate corners of their mind as Dru stripped William's muddy clothes from them. She guided their hands to the laces and buttons of her dress, murmuring macabre nonsense as she swayed and squirmed in slow excitement. She pushed them onto a coffin protruding from the wall and crawled into their lap, rubbing herself against their stiffening member. William's love washed over them as he covered Dru's neck and shoulders with kisses, tonguing her collarbone and the hollow of her throat. When the vampiress sank down onto them with a moan, somewhere inside Buffy shivered, divorcing herself from this absurd and impossible act of lovemaking. She'd come with them; she'd shudder and gasp and fuck with them, but not this, not this wave after wave of unbearable tenderness that somehow kept pouring forth from William's dead chest. It was too much.

Later, when the sun was climbing outside and Drusilla grinned languidly, sated, they found a roomy sarcophagus and dumped out the previous tenant. Two bodies and four people crowded into the grave to drift off to sleep, and of all of them, only William felt close to anyone.

summary: Dru pushes the newly-turned William to rape the red-haired woman, in order to prove his masculinity and evilness to her. He does it.