Spike looked at the dappled shadows of the leaves on the ground. The world was far more alive and brilliant than he remembered. Well, it wasn't apples to oranges, coal soaked London to Sunnybloodydale. Still, it would take some adaptation. He stepped out into the sun and smiled. The warm burn of the sun's rays on his skin was a seduction of its own. He watched a couple of young women strolling across campus. The sun on their skin was no protection. Oh, this was sweet.
Nothing could kill him now.
He took a deep breath of the warm California air. He could go anywhere and do anything. There were no limits. He was going to kill this slayer and the next one and the one after that. He was going to kill slayers until his dark princess came crawling to him and begged for his forgiveness.
He would live how he wanted. No one and no thing would dictate to him. His ties to this world made no difference. Mortal enemies were no longer a threat and immortal bonds were loosed. He was beyond them. Invincible.
He rolled his shoulders and enjoyed the warmth of the sun on his skin. He was walking in the light of day. It was sheer bliss.
A ruckus caught his attention. He saw the slayer shy away from some human bloke. Oh, it was too precious. She could break the boy in half, but she acted like a skittish filly. Why would she step away lie that?
When the boy touched her arm she flinched and tossed him for distance. The fact that she was beating on a human didn't register at first. She was was bloody amazing. He loved watching her in action. Slayers all had flare, but she burned brighter than any he'd ever seen. He leaned against the lamp post in the blazing sun and took in the beauty of the moment, waiting for her to see him and feel death blow in her ear.
He waited, but her eyes kept darting behind her. She was on the run. What could have her so spooked? He could see her chest heaving as her tanned legs stretched as far as their short length could carry her. Her feet were bare. Something was hunting the slayer, his slayer.
She paused when she saw him. The indecision on her face shocked him. He recognized the look and the behavior. She was trying to decide if he was trustworthy. How barmy was the girl? Dru had similar spells when certain memories of her turning were bothering her, but the slayer should never look so haunted. It wasn't as if Angelus had really gone after her.
Rage bloomed in him as another human moved toward her. The bastard was pointing some sort of gun at the slayer. The girl backed away from this new threat. He could see her body shaking and smell her blood on the air. It was unacceptable. She was his to kill. No two bit human would take her down.
He was beside the fool in a flash of vampiric speed. The blighter didn't even have the sense to protect his flank. He sank his fangs into the bastard's neck and yanked them free, spitting out the foul tasting blood.
"What are you on? Nasty stuff." He tossed the man away and saw the slayer move toward him, her decision made.
Her eyes weren't properly focused. The pupils dominated her emerald gaze. She paused and sniffed the air as she neared him. He felt the absurd urge to hold out his hand toward her. The lab coat she had wrapped around her body was ripped and gaped in revealing places. He looked her over. She had bruises and cuts all over her body, but there was no scent of semen.
They hadn't hurt his slayer like his princess had been hurt, but she had been hurt. The bruises from restraints were clear at her wrists, ankles, and knees. Her exhaustion was clear. It was unacceptable.
The best slayer he had ever known deserved to go down fighting, not running from those she was designed to protect.
She screamed as another one of the masked humans shot her with one of those stupid guns. It emitted some kind of light. He watched as she fell at his feet, the hot flare of ozone burning in the air around her. He snarled at the man approaching them. There were too many to take and keep her safe. He glanced down at the spill of golden hair on the bright green grass. His slayer wasn't going down at some human's whim. He wouldn't abandon her to this fate.
He plucked her up and sprinted away from the rest of the boys in drab green. Stupid humans, shooting at their salvation. He had no idea where to take her. She needed to be safe, but his options were limited. She needed someplace with indoor plumbing. A place to shower. He turned toward Crawford Street with a snarl.
He slowed down as he neared their destination. The soldier boys hadn't kept up. He could stow the slayer here and let her watcher know where to find her. She would be fine.
The slayer started to tremble against him. He gathered her close. Her body was so warm pressed against his chest and smelled so good. He shook his head to clear it. There was no time for a snack. He looked around the mansion.
Angelus had come back here with his stupid soul intact. How could the poncey soul stand it? The guilt should have swallowed him whole.
The bastard had fucked Dru in front of him several times a day. Hell, there had been times when they'd gone at it in the bed next to him, making his emotional pain as sharp as his physical. The times when Angelus had finished with her and buggered him didn't bear thinking about.
He needed to get out of here. The memories were too sharp.
The slayer shifted in his arms, and pressed one hand against his chest. Her tiny fingers splayed against his skin, burning like a brand. He looked down into her eyes. The lights were on, but no one had bloody returned home. She was sniffing him. What in the endless dimensions of hell was this about?
He shoved the door to the Poof's bedroom open. She snarled and clung to him. Well, that was interesting. Little Miss Summers didn't want to be in his sire's bedroom.
She relaxed against him again as he headed back toward the garden. A bit of sun might do her good. The scent of her was intoxicating, all that miraculous blood pounding through her body. He swallowed. She had come to him. This killer of his kind had picked him. Why would the bint run from those soldier types and cling to him instead of heading for her annoying little friends?
He smelled the blood seeping from the gash on her arm. She needed to be cleaned up. Humans could catch their deaths from untended wounds, slayer or no.
He stared out into the overgrown garden. It pricked at him as well. Drusilla had danced with Angelus in the moonlight there while he sat in his chair, forgotten. He had been nothing more than a discarded toy.
Coming here had been a bad idea. Everywhere he turned a memory burst to life, stinging him once more. He should just dump the girl in one of the rooms and leave. He'd already done more than she deserved.
The slayer nuzzled his chest and purred. Her fingers were sliding along his skin. He shivered. Her touch was electric. His body couldn't help but respond.
He set her on her feet. What in bleeding hell was wrong with the gel now? He took a deep breath and froze. There wasn't any fear coming from her, but what he did smell was terrifying.
She growled as he stepped back, breaking contact.
Whatever was driving the slayer stared at him through her eyes. The assessing gaze was confident. No, there was no fear in her. The scent on the air was appealing in a different way. He took another deep breath and inhaled the warm welcome of desire.