Chapter V: Lessons in warfare.
It's been an hour since the sun went down. They have been anxiously dreading this moment since the first rays of sunlight broke through their windows. They have been preparing for this moment with great care. It's their moment of truth. Their moment to shine brighter than a thousand stars.
There are only four of them now. Four matching each other in strength and wit. Four hunters to feed upon. Young, beautiful and strong. He walks at a steady pace behind them. Their eyes fixed upon the obvious directions for an uninspired ambush, always a pace behind him.
He smells the cold, salted air, discerning their particular scents from one another. A strange sensation of pleasure runs through his veins, forcing a gleeful smile onto his lips. The excitement of the hunt. A prosaic sentiment that only those who live for death can truly find inspiring. Playing with their minds, giving them hope that they will conquer his strength with theirs. The typical arrogance of a Slayer. A particularly dissatisfying sentiment that is commonly found in every girl that possesses that Power.
They walk steadily along the predetermined path across the forest. As they step down a hill, a gush of wind blows across their. Their hair flows against the mighty current, like ripples in a great calm lake. They stop in their tracks and turn to look behind. The youngest of the four, a very gifted fourteen year-old Japanese girl, who had been following them shyly in the rear tumbles down into the whirlwind of leaves in the ground as if all life had just been poured out of her.
The wind blows again. They are shrouded under a veil of pure fear, and, to him, there's nary a more beautiful sight than this. Instilling fear gives him strength that he'd otherwise could not posses by mass. It gives him power that could only match that of warring angels. But, if anything, it gives him the satisfaction of knowing that they would fight as if their very lives depended on it.
He follows their moves with caution, waiting for the right moment to ambush them. A brawl against three very gifted, not to mention proficiently armed, Slayers from the Academy. His kind of odds.
He glides from branch to branch as silently as a whisper, and as deadly as an enraged viper. Yet as he prowls his prey closer, he recedes into a calm, not wanting to give them the pleasure of knowledge as to his whereabouts. He knows he can take them all in battle. He knows this without question. Yet the intrigue of surprise feels far more compelling.
The women huddle together, pressing onto each others backs. They feel their bodies warm in anticipation. It's exciting, yet frightful. Something that they quite relish upon. A gush of wind sweeps the plethora of leaves that surround them, and as they look for their prey expectantly, an alarming sound of crisp tree leaves simultaneously crushed behind them takes them by surprise. Without a prior warning, the Slayers jump into battle against a vicious, ravenous monster. The battle is waged with reflexes so fast, that lighting itself can't rival them.
The first to fall is a tall, Latin girl with glistening golden locks. As she turns to face her adversary, his fist collides with her face, leaving her to stumble backwards blindly. He turns his body and rams his foot against her stomach. The remaining two Slayers run towards him swinging their weapons in a blind rage. He smiles, relishing in the moment, and flips backwards, narrowly escaping the fury of their blades. He turns around as soon as his feet touch the ground and leads them towards a large, brooding tree. Then, as if his body were weightless, he runs his feet over the surface of the tree and flies backwards with swift grace.
Landing square on his feet, he lunges at the distracted attackers and dodges their incoming blows as he makes way towards them. The pale light of the moon glimmering and across his long, flowing dark coat. He dances in a flurry of fists around the determined women, forcing his weakened adversaries to yield one at a time.
The battle is fought quickly. The victor, declared before it even begun.
As the hour passes, the girls slowly begin their recuperation from the battle. Although some are heavily bruised, none of them suffer considerably damage.
Spike watches over them as they gather back to their feet, reclined against an old oak tree. He's holding his coat under his left arm. Puffs of smoke escape from his lips, curling brightly against the pale moonlight. A smile crosses his face as he sees the Slayers gathering before him. He turns his head and spits, then slightly pushes himself from the tree with his right leg. He walks up to the girls and lets the cigarette bun drop to ground and calmly steps on it. He takes a deep breath and exhales loudly, a clear gesture of disappointment.
He looks into their eyes and says, "Fun night, wasn't it?" The Slayers smile contemptuously at him, as if expecting mockery from the casually witty vampire. Spike notices and walks in between them towards an axe lying on the batch of leaves. He grabs the axe with his left hand and walks back towards the girls swinging it casually.
"What the bloody hell happened here, girls?" he asks them with a note of disappointment in his voice. The girls look at each other with bewilderment. "You're all Slayers," he continues. "Yet you jumped at me as if you were pissed off nine year olds scratching my leg 'cause I shaved off your Barbie's head. Really pathetic."
The tallest one shyly raises her hand. Spike looks at her and nods in compliance. "We did not expect you to be hiding up in the trees, sir."
"That's for damn sure, junior," Spike responds. "You were all too cocky. Four high and mighty Slayers against the handsomest devil in this neck of the woods. Not to mention he's a vampire at that. You could've won today, girls. Your heart was in the right place, but your mind was left behind drooling over that cute Orlando Bloom poster you have on your wall with all the little heart cut-outs about, Christie. Not something you want to happen when you're fighting a blood-thirsty demon like me."
Spike hands Christie the axe. "Next time, don't drop it," he says turning tail and walking away from them. Twenty paces or so later he stops and notices that the girls were dragging themselves in utter shame behind him. He takes a deep breath and, in a single sweep, he puts his coat back on. Spike looks up at the moon, then back at the girls.
"I'd say we have about three hours before Mr. Sunshine comes knocking to roast me a new one," he says, looking around slightly impatiently. Then, looking at their eyes with a cocky smirk on his lips, he says, "Wanna play some tag?"