Harm Done – Chapter 1

He was drunk. Not as drunk as he ought to be, mind, not when he'd been roaring up the Mexican pacific coast before turning west, over the border and in broad daylight with nothing but a painted piece of glass between him and Mister Sun… no, just enough to keep the rest of his thoughts at bay and make the last leg of the drive along the I-10 from Phoenix bearable with only himself for company. Thoughts that came crashing back metaphorically in sync the literal crashing of metal into metal, the "Welcome to Sunnydale" sign going down with a satisfying shriek of twisting steel and scraped asphalt.

Right then; parking accomplished, time to make up for the missing drink. Alcohol or blood or some combination of the two, didn't make no difference to be honest. Not like he planned on skimping on either, just sooner rather that later if this bloody town could do him one favor for a change. Could do with a good shag and a good kill as well, and not necessarily in that order come to think of it. Christ, it had been weeks since he'd had so much as an ounce of his needs met, and even that was pushing the definition of needs. A grotty hole on the outskirts of Guadalajara, with a bottle of rotgut that even vampiric constitution recognized as absolute piss, and some equally bottom of the barrel senorita with bottom of the bottle blonde streaked hair that he'd taken for the evening; the actual blonde bane of his existence still some fifteen hundred miles north… not anymore though, here he bloody was, back in her back yard when he wasn't supposed to be like the bad dog he was.

He'd shagged, and he'd killed, and he'd drank, and then he'd torn like hell the rest of the way from Sao Paolo to Sunny Hell, leaving his dark princess to whatever revolting demon she was shagging now – no chance the chaos demon was still around, Dru never kept a toy for more than a few weeks before she got bored and either forgot the sod that a minute ago she was on about or killed the wanker; if Spike didn't kill him first. Not this time though, this time she'd shrieked and slashed and kicked up a storm, about how this was all his fault and how he had betrayed her and her daddy and how he was full of the sodding Slayer. That Miss Edith said he was a naughty boy and naughty boys came to sticky ends. Well sod the stars and sod Miss Edith sideways with a punting pole.

A thousand thoughts flickered through his mind, the journey ending with a definite jolt, car sinking slightly off the shoulder of the road where it had skewed after hitting the welcome sign. Didn't know what he was going to do, but knew that Sunny D was the source of his problems and he'd damn well dredge up a river of blood if need be until Sunny D came up with a solution. Covered in the Slayer was he? He'd rip her to pieces and wear her intestines as a hat and then some, serve her right for bollixing up a century of a good time with her precious Angel. Maybe he'd turn the girl, see if Slayers kept their souls or whatever it was that kept them ticking; be a hoot and a half seeing Angelus and her little chums trying to sort that shitshow out as he made his way back to Brazil with a pint of Slayer '98 on ice and a bit of pep in the step. Or maybe… Maybe a love spell – let Dru writhe about in agony feeling for him the way he felt for her as he went off on his own for a bit. He bit back a sob; his wicked little plum did enjoy a good writhing, didn't she? Christ, but he shouldn't have left, should have-

Spike shook his head, helmet of peroxide hair going to roots after the frantic drive glistening under the streetlight. Could try and seduce the red witch maybe. Twitchy, that one was, with a desire to please, from what he remembered. Would make an interesting vamp, he remembered thinking that. Kill the Slayer, turn her best mate… or maybe the other way round for maximum shits and gigs. Something to think about. Better than thinking about what a miserable wanker he was right now. She didn't mean it, and anything could happen to her while he was up here having a strop. If something happened to Dru because he hadn't stuck around, he'd bloody well-

And on and on and on. A thousand plans, all half-baked, but all boiling down to a good time, rivers of blood and booze, turn the town to hell, make a name for himself that the Slayer of Slayers was very much still in the business, and a cigarette over their graves and Angel's poncy, overly styled dust.

But first, a drink.

Spike gave the sign a boot for good measure then turned to the Desoto with an air of a grand entrance, still half in the drainage ditch though it was and slammed the door shut. As he was not a little drunk it came out less of a swagger and more of a stumble in the dry, hot night air of southern California. He kept spinning anyway, giving the sign another good thwack and taking a moment to just admire the damage. After a moment's final thought, he gave a shrug, leather duster bouncing slightly on his shoulders as he did so, and decision made to leave her parked where she was – so to speak – and headed off in the direction of downtown. Blood, booze… he'd just see whatever came his way and go from there.

It wasn't long though before his brain caught up to where his feet were taking him; away from the seedier and more demon infested parts of town and towards the pissant little place that passed for nighttime fun around here, The Bronze. He let out a sharp, bitter chuckle. Where it all began, yeh – good as place as any to start tonight. No theatrics though, he saw the little blonde bitch tonight it wouldn't be any grand threats or slow clapping of mock approval, he'd off little miss do gooder right there, snap her twiggy little neck right there on the dance floor, and drag her corpse out to the alley to drink his fill before she went cold. Maybe leave her body in a funny position like the Finnish lads had done to Russian corpses during the Winter War. Now that was a good time, and just the thing to lift his spirits.

For the first time in weeks, he felt alive again, the scent of humans living it up without a care wafting along the lazy breeze. Like much of this part of the world Sunny D was as dry as it was hot, but as he passed the bouncer, in here, the heat was matched with humidity that made you feel moist. Living. So many bodies giving off passion and lust and feeling. Bottles of beer condensing in a not really up for the job AC. It was as close to a living breathing body as he was ever going to get, and he reveled in it. Partly why he loved Brazil so much. That hot breathing living human wetness just begging to be consumed; live life like it's your last night on earth and sod it if you wake up in casket. A buffet where the food played with you. A bloody-

"Spike! Oh. My. God. Spike!"

He froze, tension flowing back into a body just beginning to unwind. Typical, been in Sunnydale all of fifteen minutes and plans all gone to complete pot. Little higher pitched and screechier than he remembered any of the Slayer's mates, but on the other hand, not exactly contemptuous either. He grinned. Felt good to be feared.

Or…, as he honed in on the source of the shriek - admired?

"Oh my god, it really is you! I've been waiting like weeks… uh…helloooooo. Earth to Spike… eep."

The girl sodding eeped. His grin turned lecherous, a look he'd long mastered hunting willing prey from Buenos Aeries to Berlin crept up his face.

"Must be one of the Slayer's chums, but can't say I remember seeing you before." His eyes raked her body from bouncy California hair to the silly pink heels that made it clear that escape was the last thing she'd be capable of, superpowers or no. He went back up for a second look bottom to top this time and stopped on the pair of tits straining to pop out of her sparkly top. Not exactly Dru's standard of beauty (but then who was), but not half bad either. Sort of looked like the Slayer if the Slayer knew how to have a good time and tarted it up a bit. His grin widened, and his voice dropped an octave as he slunk towards his prey. The girl gulped, throat moving all delicious like and little heart going pitter patter.

"Have a feeling if we'd met before I'd have remembered, luv. So how's it you know my name?" He gave a small sniff – definitely human, and definitely panting for him, all buttery and letting out 78 trombones worth of hormones. This was unexpected, but not exactly unwelcome.

"Ugh, that bunch of losers? Noooooo." She scoffed, rolled her bloody eyes at him, and then she looked at him again and her face melted a little bit. "It's really you, oh my God." Maybe he'd let her keep her eyeballs then, for now at any rate.

"Think we got that bit, pet." He tried again, " Know who I am, curious as to how you do."

The silly bint actually fluttered her hands at that, waving them out in front of her as if she was one of those 1960s chits fanning after nancy boy McCartney. Heart was racing now like a frightened rabbit too – just what the bloody hell was going on here? Wracking his brains, couldn't remember racking up a fan club last time he'd been in town. Oh there were those idiot kids at that Anne Rice wannabe club, but he was pretty sure events had put the fear of the real world into those that survived.

"Um well, I know you. That is we are, well not yet but in the future. You died, Spike! You were ashes and the Slayer and I had to stop it and-"

Spike tuned her out then right quick, rubbing his head to fight off the incoming headache that was barreling towards him. He needed a drink, not a nutter. Or hell, just his luck to run from one mad seer and straight into another one. Great cosmic joke this was. Had Dru managed to manifest herself a thousand bloody miles into some California tart just to take the piss out of him when he arrived? Bloody sick of hearing about him being ashes and the Slayer mucking up the works and nonsense about a future that hadn't happened.

Time to put a stop to this then. "Mmm, that's interesting pet," he stepped into her space and she blissfully went silent, save for another swallowed eeeep. "So long as you're not part of the Slayer's little group, don't really care what's coming down the pike just yet though. Why don't we go out back and…" he gave her a little smirk, hands teasing her hips and pulling her a little closer and in the direction of said door. Get her outside and sink himself into a willing quim and pair of tits and then give his fangs a seeing to. An absolute hat trick of a plan thus formed and ready for execution. The girl nodded and didn't that do delightful things to her chest and off they went and halfway through the door he felt her tug back at him.

"Oh my god! For real! I almost fell for it, you were going to kill me weren't you?"

His grip tightened on her wrist, not enough to damage but she wasn't going anywhere anytime soon, her sudden and feeble attempts to pull back notwithstanding.

He shrugged. "Yeah. Not like you don't know what I am or what I do, pet." His eyes did a scan of the bronze, nobody caring or looking at them, and flashed the girl some fang.

Her struggling stopped. But her face looked… what the bloody fuck?

"My poor broken blonde baby." She reached for his face with her free hand, and he jerked back before she touched him. She jolted back, eyes chastised and sad. Never mind, this girl was more wonky than Dru on a bad night, no question.

"It's going to be different this time, I promise," she said, whimpering a bit at the end as he increased the pressure on his wrist. "Spike, please, stop you're hurting me," she yelped as he pulled her out into the alley, then swallowed a scream with his mouth as he thrust her up against the wall of the alley, toppling a small mountain of trash bags over to the side in the process.

Little chit welcomed him right in, giving way to his tongue and like a switch she stopped trying to scream and started trying to swallow his whole bloody head off. He slowed down, gave the bint time to catch up, and blow him but after she got a hold of herself kissing her was smooth as chocolate. Knew what she was doing at any rate. Mission accomplished, he pulled back, giving her bottom lip a little bite with just a touch more pleasure than pain.

"Right then, luv. What's your name, and why don't I drain you dry right this bloody second. You with Angelus then? Some other beastie?" Even as he asked, he grabbed her other hand and brought it to the first, holding them both with his left hand and his right reached for her neck, thumb stroking the pulse point in her nape of her neck. Chit did have a nice neck. His incisors fell, the demon pushing underneath at the thought of a fuck and a kill. Right where he'd bite her after he had his answers and could go back to whatever the buggering fuck he was going to do.

"No! No, I mean, well I mean I was… I guess will be but no, not with Angel." She squeaked as he growled at his grandsire's name. "You asked, you asked!" she pleaded, as his fingers squeezed.

And then she blurted three words that he'd never, ever thought he'd hear.

"Gem of Amoray!"

His grip slackened. Slightly. "Amara?"

"Yes, that!" Her eyes were frantic and she began to babble. "It's here in Sunnydale. I totally know where it is. It's super ugly like whoever designed it totally deserved to be staked but it's real and it's here.

It was absurd of course. The Gem of Amara was just the Vampire version of the Holy Grail, but it had always lurked at the edge of his mind, the little 'What If' that played to William's poncy imagination, the idea of walking in the sun once more… so that he could feast his way across continents in ways no vampire before him ever had, of course.

Enough that he'd looked into it a time or two. Enough that he had an inkling that maybe, just maybe it did exist, and if it did then good ol' Sunny D might just be the place for it. Enough that he had an idea of an ancient old Shaman rattling around the Yucatan who might - just might - know something for the right price, and he'd been considering stopping by the next time Dru fancied having a laugh at some of the more bloodsoaked sites in South America…

"Go on, pet." Spike whispered to the quivering girl, his hands relaxing ever so slightly and moving from her neck down her shoulders to rub her arms, feeling the goosebumps that blossomed underneath as he did so. "Tell me about the gem, Gorgeous."

"You think I'm gorgeous? I mean of course you do, obviously uhhh it's um… underground. And near the school. Not our school the you know UC? UC Sunny Dale. The college." She stopped, eyes blossoming into a moment of real panic. "But you have to turn me first! I'm not putting out without getting something back, Spikey!"

Spikey?

"Not this time. I've done a lot of reading about how it's important that your partner know your comfort zone of power dynamics and I am um well that is… So if you want the Gem of Amara you have to make me yours."

He couldn't help it, his eyebrow raised slowly at that, the grin coming back full force as she cottoned on to what she'd said and turned a lovely pink, all that blood flushing underneath the surface of those cheeks that still hadn't quite lost their baby fat. Delicious.

"Don't have to do anything pet, and I think maybe you're starting to suss that out yeh." He paused. Still though, it had a nice possessive thought to it.

"Mine, eh? You want ol' Spike to give it to you. Can't imagine the Slayer taking too kindly to that."

The girl huffed. "Oh my god who cares what Saint Buffy thinks for once!" She even stomped her silly little heel at that. "And you can't just make me a gross minion! Make me a Childe. That's the deal."

Spike snorted at that. Just like he told her he'd do whatever he bloody liked, not like she'd be in a position to object once his fangs were at her throat, and not like she'd refuse him sodding anything whether he made her a minion, a Childe, or just trussed her up like a Christmas turkey and tortured the location out of her…

Only… torturing her was a bit superfluous when the girl was already panting for him, and all said and done she came in a nice little package, be a shame to hack it up into bits to get what she was already offering no nevermind. Plus, if any vamp had experience teasing prophesies out of pretty girls who weren't all there upstairs, it was Spike. And while Dru enjoyed a good torture cession – he shivered at the thought – it wasn't always the best way to get her lucid enough to make sense about what the stars had in store.

And minions… well, they could be a bit one track minded for the first twenty or thirty years before they got a second bloody thought beyond where to put their fangs. Would be a shame to find out the gem was real only to have this dozy cocktease go even more off her rocker than she already clearly was.

Could always dust her when he was done and ready to go home to Dru, romantic notions of Sire and Childer be damned to girly books where they belonged. And bonus, if this chit really was a seer and not just a trampy little fangirl, maybe he could wheedle a bit of info out of her, see if he couldn't edge something out that might help him with his real girl when he went home.

"If that's what you want pet, no problem at all," he whispered into her ear with a grin. "Pretty bird like you, be a right treat taking you. Turn you into a right little hot mess of a demon, yeh?" He smirked against her neck, feeling her blood quicken as she melted in his arms.

"Not here though, ew. Can we get out of here?"

He nodded into her neck, giving her a chaste little kiss just under her ear. She moaned, silly thing. Same thought was already crossing his mind; one thing to leave a corpse behind the dumpster for the morning cleaning crew to find, but quite another to turn the girl and then carry the body halfway across town like some gruesome warzone photograph. He gave another nod, half to her and half to himself, letting her go and grabbing her firmly round the waist as he led her out the alley, indulging in a squeeze of her bum as he did so. She gave a giggle that almost came out a hiccup. Christ.

She prattled on a bit, and he indulged with a few 'umhum' and 'yeh' best he could, but he was on alert now, warrior he was and second to none he may have been, but this was still the Slayer's turf and best he remembered that. He turned in the direction opposite the Slayer's house, heading to the ritzier neighborhoods, where lawns were bigger and there was less chance of some nosy do-gooder noticing when you ate the kindly retired granny answering the doorbell after she invited you inside with a girl in your arms.

Course two blocks in she was moaning about lack of proper transport and how she was going to break a heel and he just lifted her up like a bag of potatoes and plopped her over his shoulder, little fists clawing at his back all indignant like and legs kicking deliciously in front, which earned her a nice smack… then a harder one a minute later when she didn't blood well calm down.

Passing by a street that he was fairly certain contained the local magic shop, he caught the unmistakable whiff of the red witch. She'd been by here, and recently too. Might have caught her if he hadn't made a detour with the tasty pink crumpet in his arms. Oh well, night was young and he had plenty of time to make the rounds around town after he'd shagged this one right proper and left her corpse tucked in to start the vamp process. He gave her another look… plenty of time, so much so no sense in rushing a good thing.

"Still haven't told me your name, pet." He mentioned as they turned into a very promising stucco home, lights on in the parlor and only one car in the drive.

"Huh? Oh, um… Harmony."

Spike snorted. Sodding Californians.

"Hey!"

"Whatever you say, pet. Now give us the sniffles luv," he jostled her in his arms, shifting her from sack of potatoes to an almost bridal position, holding her up to his chest. Bloody girl slipped one little hand into the duster and gave his chest a rub like he was a sodding teddy bear, then gave a gasp as she remembered what he'd just said and gave a good enough impression of being a teary eyed teen just saved from some unspeakable trauma.

He rang the doorbell, and jackpot! The telltale sign of footsteps shuffling towards the door. "Give em a good show pet, make sure they invite your dashing hero in."

The door opened. After "Who is it?" and "Oh god what happened, come in?" there was no time for so much as a scream.