Part Two
"Bloody women, bloody bloody women!" A loud, Cockney voice slurred through the night. The owner was holding onto a large jug of what looked like beer, and staggering through the streets. "Bloody Angelus!" The man yelled, launching his drink at a nearby wall. "Poofter. Look, he made me loose my drink." He looked up, around, searching for what he was looking for. His eyes settled on a sign saying 'Goat and Duck Tavern'.
"Great," he muttered under his breath, and made his way towards the door. When he entered, the patrons inside feel silent. "Look, all I want is a drink," he said, to everyone and to noone. "Now get me a whisky." He wound his way over to the bar and sat down on a high stool.
As he waited for his drink, Spike's head span as he tried to make sense of what had happened to him. After their time spent in China, he had though that his and Drusilla's relationship was stronger than ever. Killing that slayer had been a good move- Dru had been very impressed and had been at his beck and call for months. Willing to do anything for him. Anything. But Darla- Darla was another story. Nothing either of them did held her attention, and eventually Dru had had one of her blinding flashes of insight. Darla was missing Angelus! Silly prat had gone and got himself cursed with a soul, and Dru had said that Darla felt it was all her fault. In fact, it was Angelus' fault for being such a ponce, and now he had gotten what he deserved. Spike has taken the place of the man in the group, and had tried to make up for Angelus' leaving by being even more evil than usual, but nothing had worked. Drusilla had decided that the only thing to cheer Darla up was to go on a rampage across the South of Europe. Girls only. No men allowed. So here he was, stuck on his own in the middle of London, drinking to himself.
"Women!" he exclaimed out loud, and a number of men sat around him raised their drinks in appreciation.
"Aren't you looking for a little company tonight, sir?" a soft, very feminine voice came from behind him. Spike downed his drink and turned around. He was met by a girl, about 18, with blond hair and blue, blue eyes. And breasts that were pushed up so high by her undergarments that if someone squeezed her around the middle, she'd fall out.
"If you're from the female side of things, no. Can't you see, I'm trying to enjoy a drink, on my own, wallowing in my self pity. Or are you blind?"
"All I see is a lonely man, looking like he needs a bit of loving." She placed a hand on his leg and her fingers crawled up higher. Spike slapped his hand down on hers and gripped it tightly, not tight enough to break bones, just to scare her off.
"I said, I'm not-" His sentence was cut off when he saw the look in her eyes. Her body was saying that she was good at this, experienced, but her eyes gave her away. She was frightened. Spike sniffed at the air and he could smell her panic. "So, look at me, I've stumbled upon a whore house all by myself. Dru would be so proud."
The girl lifted an eyebrow, and Spike waved his hand. "Shall we go somewhere a little more private, pet?" She smiled, and his stomach pulled tight, just for a second. She looked familiar, the tilt of her nose, the curve of her cheek. Spike shook his head. Probably ate her sister, he thought to himself, taking hold of her arm and leading her out of the tavern. As soon as they turned a corner, he tightened his grip and dragged her into a dark alleyway.
"Please, mister, you're hurting me," she whined, trying to struggle out of his grasp.
"What did you expect, this job, gonna get a bit of rough and tumble." He pushed her roughly against a wall and leaned into her. He could taste her fear on the back of his throat, feel her heart pounding, see the rise and fall of her chest, far quicker than it should have been. He'd been here before, and he'd be here again. The minutes before the feed were always the most exciting for Spike.
"Sir, please, we have to do a deal."
"Later, later," he said, placing his arms around her waist and moving his body against hers. "There'll be time for that." The girl forced a smile and raised her head to his, expecting a kiss.
Why not? Spike thought. She's not going to be around to tell the tale in the morning anyway. His lips bent hers and she gave way instantly, probing his mouth with her tongue. He let himself get swept up in the moment- fear and lust only made the blood taste better, so why stop? No good reason Spike could see. He moved his hands upwards and a small moan escaped her lips. She broke away, and dropped to her knees.
"Hang on there, luv," Spike said, picked her up. "I've got a need more pressing than that one." She looked at him with puzzle in her blue eyes, and he grinned, morphing into his vampire face. It was hard to describe how he did it- one moment he knew that he looked human, the next his fangs were out and ready for the feed. He covered her mouth with one hand to stop her from crying out, and with the other tilted her head back, revealing the large, pulsing vein in her neck. It looked so good. He could almost taste it. She was making pathetic whimpering sounds from behind his hand, and they got louder and more frantic as his teeth pierced her skin. Hot, thundering blood coursed into his mouth, and he drank of her. He drank of her life, of her essence, and he didn't stop until she sagged in his arms and her heart stopped beating.
"Nice." Spike wiped the blood off his face with the arm of the brown shirt that he wore, and dumped the body into the nearest bin. "Free food. What more could a guy ask for? Welcome home to good old London, Spike. Welcome home."
