The man crouched in the dark, empty crypt. .Restless and tense. Every
muscle tightened in a static pattern of stillness. He considered
soliloquizing about the present ungodly state of affairs, but it would be a
waste of breath. Well, not breath, exactly.
He hadn't changed his clothes in days. Not that he ever really changed his clothes.Still, he just couldn't be bothered.
It was silly, really. Spend the bulk of your life trying to kill someone, you feel like you know them. It wasn't that Spike missed her, he just missed the hunt. The passion. The perverted arousal of her presence. The heat. The warmth of her stupid fluffy eyes. The way she looked at him when he did something nice. Perplexed yet trusting. Dawn's eyes, looking to him for guidance. Buffy's eyes looking to him for support. Conscious or not, there'd been something there and loathe as he was to admit it, Spike hadn't slept in days and even prime blood tasted like dirt to him.
He had to get out of Sunnydale. There was nothing left here for him. The town was bled dry, or would be, literally, soon. Even in the short weeks since the death of the slayer, everything that had been lurking underground, waiting for an opportunity to strike was here. Monsters were drifting in from all down the coast now. A town like Sunnydale was an attractive prospect. Totally dependant on the protection of the Slayer. Without her, the town was ripe as a fat peach.
He rocked back on his heels very slightly and then back again. This brooding was somehow comforting. He'd relived the event a thousand times. He felt himself falling, he watched her jump. He could still feel the intense heat that was crawled on his skin as the sun rose over her corpse. Burning and burning. A sort of penitence for his failure. He'd been too slow. Too soft.
In one swift moment, Spike stood up. He had to hunt. Something, anything. Nothing like a little violence to get your mind off your troubles.
***
The graveyard was practically swarming. Undead, totally dead, wannabe dead, everyone was out for a little prime cruising. Spike shoved through several packs of newly risen vamps and hit the streets. He wasn't looking for an easy fight. He wanted something else. A challenge.
Unprepared for an attack from within their own ranks, the vamps around here were easy pickings for Spike these days. His reputation had taken a bit of a hiatus throughout the recent populationexplosion. Those who'd managed to survive the Slayer's reign in the town were too busy turning humans to care what he did.
He staked vamps carelessly. Most were too new to know how to fight properly anyway. The fights were unsatisfactory in their abruptness. He wanted to stretch his legs a little. Get into the swing of something.
Without realizing it, he was drawing closer and closer to the Magic Box. When he did finally notice, it didn't matter. He had nowhere better to be and as much as he hated to admit it, Buffy's little helpers were really the closest thing he had to comrades now.
Just as he caught a glimpse of the square of light coming from the window of the Magic Box, Spike saw something else. Well, he didn't so much see it, as know it was there. He turned his head and stared across the street from the shop. There was someone in the building directly opposite. There was only the slightest shifting within the building as he passed. He pretended not to notice. Then he broke the door down.
She was on him like a cat. She tossed him over her shoulder before he had a chance to turn his head. All he could make out was long, dark hair. He couldn't fight back. She had a stake. He'd never seen her before. Good thing, too.
He hadn't changed his clothes in days. Not that he ever really changed his clothes.Still, he just couldn't be bothered.
It was silly, really. Spend the bulk of your life trying to kill someone, you feel like you know them. It wasn't that Spike missed her, he just missed the hunt. The passion. The perverted arousal of her presence. The heat. The warmth of her stupid fluffy eyes. The way she looked at him when he did something nice. Perplexed yet trusting. Dawn's eyes, looking to him for guidance. Buffy's eyes looking to him for support. Conscious or not, there'd been something there and loathe as he was to admit it, Spike hadn't slept in days and even prime blood tasted like dirt to him.
He had to get out of Sunnydale. There was nothing left here for him. The town was bled dry, or would be, literally, soon. Even in the short weeks since the death of the slayer, everything that had been lurking underground, waiting for an opportunity to strike was here. Monsters were drifting in from all down the coast now. A town like Sunnydale was an attractive prospect. Totally dependant on the protection of the Slayer. Without her, the town was ripe as a fat peach.
He rocked back on his heels very slightly and then back again. This brooding was somehow comforting. He'd relived the event a thousand times. He felt himself falling, he watched her jump. He could still feel the intense heat that was crawled on his skin as the sun rose over her corpse. Burning and burning. A sort of penitence for his failure. He'd been too slow. Too soft.
In one swift moment, Spike stood up. He had to hunt. Something, anything. Nothing like a little violence to get your mind off your troubles.
***
The graveyard was practically swarming. Undead, totally dead, wannabe dead, everyone was out for a little prime cruising. Spike shoved through several packs of newly risen vamps and hit the streets. He wasn't looking for an easy fight. He wanted something else. A challenge.
Unprepared for an attack from within their own ranks, the vamps around here were easy pickings for Spike these days. His reputation had taken a bit of a hiatus throughout the recent populationexplosion. Those who'd managed to survive the Slayer's reign in the town were too busy turning humans to care what he did.
He staked vamps carelessly. Most were too new to know how to fight properly anyway. The fights were unsatisfactory in their abruptness. He wanted to stretch his legs a little. Get into the swing of something.
Without realizing it, he was drawing closer and closer to the Magic Box. When he did finally notice, it didn't matter. He had nowhere better to be and as much as he hated to admit it, Buffy's little helpers were really the closest thing he had to comrades now.
Just as he caught a glimpse of the square of light coming from the window of the Magic Box, Spike saw something else. Well, he didn't so much see it, as know it was there. He turned his head and stared across the street from the shop. There was someone in the building directly opposite. There was only the slightest shifting within the building as he passed. He pretended not to notice. Then he broke the door down.
She was on him like a cat. She tossed him over her shoulder before he had a chance to turn his head. All he could make out was long, dark hair. He couldn't fight back. She had a stake. He'd never seen her before. Good thing, too.
