Title- To Slay the Slayer
Author- ShawThang.
Summary- How Spike came to meet and kill his second Slayer in New York.
Timeline/Spoiler- Set in 1977. No spoilers.
Person- Spike's POV.
Disclaimer- I do not own the characters in this story, nor do I own any rights to the television show "Buffy the Vampire Slayer". They were created by Joss Whedon and belong to him, Mutant Enemy, Sandollar Television, Kuzui Enterprises, 20th Century Fox Television and the WB Television Network.
Challenge (By WitchMoraya)- Take the subway scene and describe also what happen before, as how Spike met the slayer, how the came to be in the subway, etc.
Author's Note- This is my first response to a challenge, so I would appreciate any feedback about my writing.
To Slay the Slayer
I saunter down the streets of New York, breathing in the scent of hot, rushing blood that pounds in my ears. People crowd the street; hurrying home from a long day at work or blasting their car horns in an attempt to vent their frustrations over the thick traffic. A harassed looking bint pushes past and shoots me a quick, seductive smile, obviously believing her fake blonde hair and cemented make up would actually do something for me.
I don't bother hiding my amusement. She wasn't even worth the second glance. Ah, but this next one...she's a bloody good-looking bird. Light brown hair, huge green eyes, slim frame, and legs for days- this girl could have come straight from a magazine's centerfold.
Folks, we have a winner.
Smirking, I follow the lady as she weaves through the throng of happy meals on legs, and my stomach starts to grumble with anticipation. I can hear her blood pumping through her veins, but she's careful to stay in well lit areas and the waiting is soddin' killing me. But I ain't going to settle on anything else; I see what I want, and I take it. And this woman is what I want.
I ignore the glares and frowns sent my way by the 'respectable' woman and gentlemen who pass. They're looking at me like I'm some sort of bleedin' freak. I shoot an elderly lady my best smirk and watch her scurry away as though scandalized to be singled out by me. Well, kudos to her. What a pathetic bunch of do-gooders. They strut around with their noses in the air and act like their God's bloody gift to the world. Someone give 'em an Oscar.
At last the bint stops and I slink by.
"Excuse me, ma'am," I say in my 'proper' voice, tilting my head forward in a slight bow. "Have you seen my younger sister? She's about five, blonde hair and yea high," I indicate her height with my hand.
I see her scrutinize me, as though debating whether I'm good enough to help. Finally she nods her head, as though deciding I'm a respectable gentleman.
"No, I'm sorry," she answers with an apologetic smile. "But I can help you look for her if you'd like."
I thank her and begin to call some random name, injecting a touch of worry and annoyance in my tone. She follows my lead and with a quick glance to either side of the street, I stroll into an alley. I move further into the shadows and pretend to search behind a stack of boxes.
"I don't think she would be in here," the woman says nervously.
"She loves the hiding, pet," I reply trying to contain my hunger until she approaches me. "The silly bint is always playing these games with me."
She nods and walks over to the other side of the alley. Licking my lips, I follow her until I'm standing directly behind her. She turns around and jumps in surprise, taking a nervous step backward.
"I-I don't think she's h-here," she stammers.
"Nah, but there's someone else I'd like you to meet," I answer, morphing into game face. I slap my hand over her mouth before she can scream and spin her around so that she's facing the wall. I sink my fangs into her pale neck and ignore the urge to purr as the hot liquid fills my mouth.
I drop her lifeless body to the cold concrete once her blood stops flowing and her heartbeat is gone. I'm right disappointed; this bint was supposed to be a sweet meal; she was barely an entrée. Ah well, I've still got the whole damned city to scope out my next one.
Life is bleedin' great at the moment. Dru has all but forgotten the ponce and the bitch, she pays undivided attention to my lavishing and I've got a smorgasbord of blood at my fingertips- well, fangs, to be exact. What else could I want?
A Slayer.
The thought comes unbidden to my mind and I scowl. It's been nearly eighty years since the last one. That was the finest night of my life- well unlife, I should say. I remember the pure taste of her blood, the power and adrenaline that followed her death. I crave it every time I feed, always imagining the sugary, potent drug instead of the bland and boring flavor that is so common these days. I remember my last victim that came close to the intoxicating blood, and the doped-up hippie was off by a long shot.
Irritated and frustrated by the lack of excitement and thrill that used to reign in this city, I continue my hunt. Human after human bumps into me, but none of them are worth the trouble. Boring, old, stressed or annoyed- their emotions make me want to heave. Where's the fun in this game? It's downright depressing.
Just as I'm about to return to my princess I over hear an odd conversation.
"But mom," I hear a kid whine, "You taught me how to use them! Just because your Watcher says no doesn't mean I can't fight. I mean, have you seen my punch? I can kick too...I'll show them vampires!"
A woman's laughter fills my ears and suddenly my body feels like it's on fire. Watcher. Vampire. These two words are only associated with one thing. And that thing is a Slayer.
I'm so rapt I feel like grabbing somebody's neck and snapping it, but I don't feel like getting staked in the middle of a busy road. Hey, I have some pride; the only way I'm dying, undying- bloody hell, whatever you 'wanna call it- is by going out in a fight against the best. And the best is the Slayer. Tonight could get interesting.
I follow the voices and discover that they belong to an attractive African-American woman and her son. Now this is certainly an interesting twist to the game. The Slayer has a son. By the look of the bite-sized boy I'd say he's about six or seven, old enough to see that the Slayer must have been knocked up at a young age. Who would've known that the world's fastest and strongest fighter has been changing diapers all this time.
The image amused me to no end, and the smirk doesn't leave my face as I follow the bint and her platelet through the thinning city crowd. Every now and then she glances over her shoulder, and I know that she knows I was here. All the better, I say.
She goes down into the subway, clutching at the hand of the boy, and I prowl down after her. Following my senses, I find her standing in front of the train's open door, talking to an old man who I suppose is the Watcher. They're all the same, those blokes are. Stuffy, uptight bastards who think tweed is the superior man's emblem.
My craving for her blood is intoxicating me and I feel drunk with the pulsation of her blood. It's becoming too much and I want some action now.
Luck is on my side tonight. The subway is nearly empty and the shadows are out in plenty, so making my way closer is easier than I thought. I take a step into the light and with one huge leap find myself above the train. I feel like a bleedin' idiot crawling on my belly across the roof, but there's no other way I can get close to her.
Her presence is stronger now; I can feel every inch of her. I know she's only a few yards below me, and I realize I have no plan. Sod the plan, I decide, and just go for it.
I stand up and morph into game face for the second time that night. She stiffens and I know she can sense me, but I don't care. All I care about is getting her god damned power-filled blood in my mouth and draining her dry.
I jump off the train and knock Watcher boy off his feet with a quick swing. The Slayer turns in surprise but my fist connects with her nose and sends her sprawling into the carriage. I grab the small boy by the arms and look into his petrified eyes.
"Hey Bite-size, why don't you show them vampires now?" I taunt with a smirk. I could just sink my fangs into his neck now and teach him who shows who, but it's not him I'm after. I push the boy on top of the Watcher and jump into the carriage, pulling the doors shut behind me. The train begins to move and I see the old man and the Slayer's son banging on the windows, their expressions full of terror.
The Slayer stands up and faces me, reading herself in a fighting stance. She glances at the window and I see her looking at her son.
"I love you," she mimes, and I see him nod, tears streaming down his round cheeks.
Then they're gone, and I'm alone with the Slayer. The dance is about to begin.