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Seeing her, sleeping the sleep of babes, I’m half tempted to say sod all to the plan, climb in through the open window and drink down her blood until she gives me my bloody ring back. Unfortunately, she takes that moment to roll over and when she does so, the thin strap to her nightie slides off her shoulder and presents me with a nice view of her tit and all thoughts of righteous fury fly out of my skull.  

She’s got a nice handful. Not too big. Not too small. No sign of tan lines and it makes me wonder if she sunbathes nude.  

Ok, now I really want to bite her… but for other reasons. Stupid prick has a mind of its own.  

But, the Slayer seems to be giving it away for free these days. And the way she’s sleeping, like her mortal enemy isn’t perched on her window sill and ready to pounce, I could have her pinned down and be giving her a right good seeing to before she even really wakes up. 

Spike, you’re one sick vamp. Banging the Slayer? Are you out of your bleeding skull? 

Apparently, I am, because she shifts again and exhales a breathy little moan and I’ve got one foot through the window and balanced on her carpeted floor before I can say “Big Bad.” Doesn’t help matters that her nightgown has slid down even further and the dusky hue of her areola is now visible.  

So focused am I on the sight of her nipple playing a bit of peek-a-boo against the lace lining, that it takes me a minute to realize that I am now inside the Slayer’s room.  

She’s not had my invitation revoked.  

Sometimes I have to marvel at the decided lack of brains she possesses, how she’s managed to survive as long as she has. I shake my head in wonder; must be sheer dumb luck.  

Not that I’m any smarter, mind. After all, I am in the chit’s bedroom.  

Still, there’s something to be said for living on the edge.  

I wander over to the dresser and cast an enquiring eye over my shoulder as I rummage through her drawers looking for something to bind her hands to the oh-so-lovely wrought iron headboard. Handy thing, that. I end up settling on a few leather belts I find in her closet.  

Now, do I take the chance and bind her hands while she sleeps, or pounce and help myself to some slayer brew and get her nice and complacent-like? 

She shifts onto her back and lets out an unlady-like snore. I can’t help myself, and grin. File away the bit of information to tease her with the next time we dance.  

The Slayer snores. Who knew? 

Obviously not my git of a grandsire, or he would have gone on and on about it after returning to the fold. But then, it wasn’t like he’d hung around after doing the deed, so to speak. Slayer could have been setting off bloody trombones and he wouldn’t have known.  

I sidle up to the head of the bed, cat-like, senses attuned to the Slayer’s every breath and twitch. Like taking candy from a baby, I’ve got her wrist shackled to the headboard between one exhale and the next. Then, it’s around to the other side of the bed to do the same.  

I step back to admire my handwork. I’ve got to admit, she looks good. Trussed up nice and tight. Bondage is definitely a look she wears well.  

At least, I think so. She may have something different to say.  

Can’t have that, however, so I grab a sock out of one of her drawers to shove into her mouth for when she does wake up.  

Impatient now, I shuck my clothes, throwing everything into the lone chair propped in the corner. Sock in hand, I climb on the foot of the bed and slowly draw the blanket and sheet – already resting at her waist – down and off her legs.  

I think I might have drooled. No, I didn’t. I’m the Big Bad, and we Do. Not. Drool. It’s the kit she had on. Tiny scrap of lace and silk inched up around her waist, showing off the matching knickers – or what passes for frilly underwear – and lean legs to perfection.  

Settling myself between her legs, I breathe deep the musky scent of Slayer. She’s showered; something flowery coats her skin. Lilac, maybe. But, underneath it all is pure Slayer. Power, just lying in wait.  

Makes me hard, it does. Well, harder. Damn dick hasn’t been soft since being perched on her window sill.  

My finger traces her sex through her drawers and I’m rewarded with a new scent, a subtle shift of thighs as she opens more for me. I grin and do it again. Soft. Don’t want to wake her just yet. Want to get her ready for me first.  

I toy with the edge of her knickers, delight in the different textures of silk and warm skin. What can I say? I’ve always been a tactile vamp. A little more and my finger encounters wiry curls.  

I get a moan and a burst of lovely pheromones as my thanks.  

Keep that up, Slayer, and I’ll think you want to be fucked by the Big Bad.  

Then she bursts my bubble by whispering my grandsire’s name.  

Doesn’t stop me from teasing her slit, feeling the proof of her body’s response to what I’m doing to her. And, it’ll be the icing on the cake to have her wake and see me.  

Me shoving my dick in her.  

Me making her pant and moan and beg for more.    

I might be willing to bring her off after taking my own pleasure… provided she gives me back my bloody ring.

~*~*~*~*~

I slide into the Slayer’s pussy and feel her shudder and sigh. Her body welcomes me in like a lover of old, not the sworn enemy I am.  

“Angel,” she whispers again, and it doesn’t bother me in the slightest. Not with the way she arches into me with each push of my hips. How she wraps those deadly legs around my back and holds on tight, even in sleep. 

No, I’m just imagining the shock that’ll transform her features when she decides to finally wake up and open her eyes. Too bad I don’t have a bloody camera. Could capture the image for posterity’s sake. 

I ignore each squeeze of her pussy as I thrust into her maybe a handful of times, how the heat of her warms me from my dick outwards. Ignore, too, Drusilla’s accusations… about how I’m surrounded by the Slayer. 

I am, surrounded that is, but not the way my sire probably thought.  

Another thrust, and I can’t help but groan as her muscles contract around my length. Like a bloody vise, she is. Just the way I like it.  

Her mouth opens and I have to sneak a taste. See if she’s as hot there as her pussy squeezing me to perfection is. I delve right in, no need for foreplay – already I feel her beginning to awaken.  

As she does, she starts to respond to my kiss. Her tongue battles with my own, and she breathes through her nose rather than quit.  

I have to admit, the Slayer’s not a bad kisser. Rather good, in fact. She surprises me when she becomes the aggressor and pushes her way into my mouth. I let her have her fun, knowing that when she wakes fully, she’s gonna hate herself even more.  

I know the second she realizes she’s not dreaming. Her body stiffens slightly, her mouth stills… she tugs once at her bonds.  

Before she has time to really react, I angle my hips and thrust hard. She gasps into my mouth and I swallow it down. Then I take control of the kiss, invading her mouth with my tongue.  

And for a minute she responds. To my kisses and my fucking.

~*~*~*~*~

I pull my tongue out of her mouth before she has a chance to bite it. I lean back and smirk down at her, see her eyes widen comically, feel her begin to struggle against her bonds, against me; her legs fall from about my waist. 

She opens her mouth and I’m there with the sock – pays to be prepared – shoving it inside her mouth as she draws in a breath to let loose a scream. Her eyes spit fire in my direction and I’m sure her language would be rather colorful if it came out as anything other than a muffled tirade. Such a feisty thing she is. 

I chuckle as she renews her struggling trying to displace me; it does nothing more than wedge me in deeper. She probably doesn’t realize that with each move she makes her pussy squeezes my dick to perfection. I let it go on for a minute before I stop her with a few short words. 

“Want your mum to hear, luv?” 

That gets her attention and she stops abruptly.  

I’ve not given Joyce a thought in all this; my beef is with the Slayer. Besides which, the elder Summers isn’t half bad. She actually listened when I prattled on about Dru before. Right understanding about my plight too… unlike her daughter. No, the Slayer had just mocked me at will, in between making goo-goo eyes at my poof of a grandsire. 

Thought I was pitiful, she did. Beneath her notice.  

Now who was beneath whom? 

I smile, Cheshire-like. Lean in close like I’m going to kiss her again. She turns away at the last second and my lips pause just before actually touching her ear. I thrust my hips there at the end and take pleasure in her muffled gasp.  

“Not that I mind, pet. ’s not like I’ve got performance anxiety. The more the merrier, I always say.” 

She shakes her head vigorously; her eyes plead with mine as I draw back to look at her again.  

Please, no, not my mother, they say. 

I pause, considering.  

“What’s in it for me?” I ask. Quirk a brow when she lifts her legs to wrap around my hips again.  

“Nice,” I admit. “But then, I don’t mind takin’ what I want. Vampire, pet… I like it rough. So, Slayer, your compliance isn’t exactly necessary. Try again. Think bigger… after all, it is your mum we’re bargaining with here.” 

She mutters around the sock in her mouth; she’s back to shooting daggers at me. Never mind that my dick is still buried in her pussy.  

Which reminds me… 

I’ve stopped moving. Can’t have that now. 

A subtle roll of my hips and I’m at it again. All the way in and all the way out, until the head of my cock teases her opening. Her mutterings – which I’m pretty sure are her feeble attempts at cursing me, promising death if she manages to get free – change to squeaks and muffled pleas of something. Stop, maybe.  

No chance of that happening. I have mentioned how hot she feels around me, right? 

She struggles again, but all it does is turn me on even more, allows me to slip inside, just barely. She’s wet. Real wet. And I push in all the way again. Grit my teeth against the pleasure as her muscles grip me tight.  

“Mmmm… keep movin’ like that, Slayer.” 

Her arms go taut as she tests her bonds.  

I’ve wrapped them good and tight. No way is she breaking them before I’m through.   

“Still waiting, Slayer,” I remind her, take her earlobe in my mouth and give it a gentle tug. “Give me what I want and I’ll leave your mum alone.” 

I feel her shudder beneath me. I move my lips from her ear to her neck. I’m surprised I’ve held off this long, what with her blood pounding in my ears. It’s been a good long while since I’ve had me some Slayer blood. Not sure why I didn’t take a taste from that one in New York a few years back. 

I’m not gonna make a mistake this time.  

My face shifts and I bite.  

Her blood hits my tongue and it’s just like I remember… only better. I fuck her hard, slamming into her over and over. What surprises me most is that she’s right there with me. Arching into each thrust. 

I growl, low in my throat, both from the taste and feel of her. I tear my fangs out, rear back, and I come. Hard.  

She is too. Her body wrings every last drop of spunk from my cock; my hips seem to have a mind of their own and continue moving long after I’m spent. Which is a good thing, because I don’t think I can form a coherent thought, save one.  

Perfect. Bloody perfect.   

Too perfect, I can’t help but think as I collapse on top of her. 

I lie there for a few minutes, long enough for the Slayer’s breathing to even out and for her to begin to object to my weight. Reluctant though I am, I finally lick her neck and the marks there and push my way to my knees.  

“Last chance, Slayer. Tell me what I want to hear.” My voice is gruff, intentionally so. 

She looks at me, confused, but not because she doesn’t know what I mean. No, she’s trying to figure out what just happened. I am too, but I’m better at hiding it… at least I hope I am. Having my demon prevalent probably helps.  

At her prompting, I remove the sock from her mouth.  

“LA,” she whispers quietly, not looking at me.  

I nod. It makes sense that she’d give the ring to Peaches. Love of her life and all – no matter that they were just “friends” now.  

I climb off the bed and dress quickly. Surprisingly, the Slayer makes no move to free herself. She’s subdued, quiet. A first for her, at least that I’ve seen.  

I walk to the window and spare her one last glance before I climb through. My jaw clenches and I debate going back to her.  

My sire’s words ring in my ears.  

“Why won’t you push her away…” 

I snarl and she jerks against her bonds. I stomp back over to her. Sit down on the edge of the mattress. My fingers trail up the inside of one leg, hover just above her sex.  

“Please,” she begs softly, and I know she wants me to stop. I do for some reason, instead settling her gown down over her thighs. Go one further and pull her covers back up to her waist.  

I stand; my face shifts back to its human mask. She’s still not looking at me. Her head is turned to the side, exposing my bite marks. The skin is red and puckered. My gums itch for another taste of her; already I can feel my fangs start to push their way through.  

I shake my head and shove the demon back.  

Minutes pass as I continue to stare at her, willing her, for some reason, to look at me. Time keeps ticking along.  

Need to get on the road, mate.  

Still, I don’t move.  

A clock somewhere in the house chimes the lateness of the hour.  

Hello… Gem of Amara… 

I sigh. I really do need to leave. No telling what my grandsire will do when he gets the ring. Probably destroy it after a good bit of brooding, the wanker.  

Before I can debate the merits of kissing the Slayer one last time, I do it. Grabbing a handful of her hair, I force her head off the pillow towards me. Hold her in place as I ravage her mouth. She resists me, of course. But, I’m nothing if not persistent.  

I bite her bottom lip, just hard enough to get her to object. And she does, mouth opening again – girl’s rather gullible – enabling me to take advantage. Stealing one last taste before I depart. It’s over before it’s begun. Before she can use those teeth and bite my tongue clear through.  

I draw back, snake my hand down into my left boot and withdraw my pocket knife. The silver tip gleams in the moonlight stealing in through the open window. I slice through the belt securing her right arm to the wrought iron headboard.  

Then I’m out the window and vaulting off the roof – before I can determine whether or not she’s free and bent on chasing after me.  

The Desoto is parked a few blocks over and I’m in it and gunning the engine on my way out of town before it dawns on me...  

I curse, banging my hand against the steering wheel. I should have bloody well left her tied up. She would have gotten loose eventually… once I was safely within LA’s city limits.   

No help for it though. If the Slayer calls him, she calls him.  

I want my bloody ring back and nothing or no one is going to keep me from reclaiming what belongs to me.

~*~*~*~*~

I catch a brief glimpse of my grandsire as he does the whole champion bit, and I’m careful to remain hidden. Won’t do to have him finding out I’m in town – that is, if the Slayer hasn’t already spilled the beans – or I’ll never get my ring back.

I do notice that he’s not wearing it which means whoever was bringing it to L.A. hasn’t arrived yet.

Maybe my stint with the Slayer hasn’t screwed up my plans then.

But the Slayer has, hasn’t she…

I shove that thought aside determinedly – I’m not gonna let the girl, the way she felt when she arched into my bite, pussy muscles about squeezing my dick off… how she looked, her face flushed from her recent orgasm, eyes alight with wonder and satisfaction for one brief moment—

“Dammit!” I swear under my breath. I can’t get the bloody bitch out of my head. Nearly crashed a time or two reliving the experience. Almost came in my pants once. Me. William the fucking Bloody! Mooning over the Slayer like some love-sick fool.

“Must be out of my ever lovin’ mind,” I grumble as I back away from the ledge.

Angel’s doing his disappearing act now that he’s finished saving the hopeless, so it’s time for me to move out. It’s a simple matter of following the git – he’s rather arrogant in thinking nothing or no one is paying him the least bit of attention. He does a few more heroic deeds which I can’t help but roll my eyes at as I wait, hidden in the shadows.

I’d light up to help pass the time, but I don’t want to give up the game. No need for him to even know I’m in town. At least not yet. I think about the slayer – again. The way she looked as I slashed through her belt and released one of her wrists from their bindings.

It’s close to dawn before he heads home, a great monstrosity of an office building. Wouldn't be surprised if he owns the whole bloody thing. M’ grandsire never did do anything in half measure. Wonder if he’s overcompensating…

Either that, or trying to recapture his human days. I smirk at the thought, watch as he slips inside and disappears from sight.

Me, I like the shadows. The darker the better. And L.A. is right up my alley with its elaborate sewer system. Makes it easy for us vamps to get around during the light of day. A quick circuit of the building reveals no less than five entry points. I pick one towards the back and slip inside, hole up in a tiny alcove just off the underground entrance to what was hopefully my grandsire’s basement level living quarters. Smells a bit like him at any rate, so if nothing else, he makes use of it occasionally.

Still juiced on the Slayer’s blood, I don’t fall asleep once the sun starts to rise. It’s a wonder I’ve managed to sit still as long as I have. Time passes; I want a fag so bad I can almost taste it.

I don’t though.

Which is a good thing, because not a minute later the heavy metal trap door opens and Angel is scampering down the stairs.

My jaw nearly falls to my feet when I watch him pull out the ring – my ring – and hold it aloft. He stares at it, frowning. Then he sighs and hides it beneath a brick. Tucked away out of sight.

I hold my breath, not daring to move a muscle. Surely, it’s not going to be this bloody easy. It’s got to be a trick. He must know I’m down here. The Slayer’s called him and he’s just waiting for me to show myself.

Even as I think it, he turns and strides away, disappearing back the way he’s come.

I wait.

And wait.

Until if I don’t, it’s liable he’ll come back. Change his mind or something.

I hurry forward, uncaring of the noise my booted feet make in the water. I lift the brick away and just stare.

My ring.

The bloody Gem of Amara is staring me back in the face. I reach in and pull it out of its hidey hole, slide it on into place.

Just to make sure it’s the real thing, I pull out my lighter and snap it open with a flick of my wrist. A thumb across the grated wheel and a flame emerges.

I place my palm over it. Slowly lower it down.

Nothing!

Not even a tickle.

I smile. Then chuckle. Before I know it, I’m full out laughing.

For once, my grandsire’s martyr-ish ways have backfired.

The ring is mine once again.

And this time, I’m going to do a better job of holding on to it.

~*~*~*~*~

What is wrong with me?

Why the bloody hell am I driving back to the Hellmouth?

“Why won’t you push her away?”

“Arrghh!!” I slam on the brakes, making the car fishtail to a sudden stop, and I pound the steering wheel with the palm of my hand. My fingers find their way into my hair and give it a good yank. Or several.

Three. Fucking. Days. Three fucking days of walking in the sunlight and doing bugger all. Feeding and fucking and living the high life of an unkillable vamp.

Yet, every time I close my eyes, all I see is her.

All I dream about is her.

And it’s not the warmth of her body I’m craving either. Every human chit I’ve taken to bed has proven that.

It’s bloody her. The god. Damn. Slayer.

“Shoulda’ never went there in the bloody first place. Shoulda told Dru right off…” I mutter as I shove the car in gear and floor it.

A few hours later the Welcome to Sunnydale sign rushes up to greet me. I grin sadistically and veer off the road and plow right over it.

Time to see what the Slayer’s been up to in my absence.

~*~*~*~*~

On a lark, I swing by Revello Drive. The driveway is empty; Slayer’s mum must be at work. Some gallery, if I remember right. I park the car two blocks over and double back.

I’m not sure why I’m here, attempting to break into the Slayer’s home. She’s probably at the campus. Still, I continue on, jump up on the overhang outside her bedroom window. It opens easy enough and I hesitate putting my hand through.

Surely she’s revoked my invite by now.

When it slides through easy, my brows draw together. I try to rationalize all the reasons why she’s not given me the heave ho. Almost begin to brood like my wanker of a grandsire right there on the ledge.

Finally, I square my shoulders and slip inside.

Everything is just like I remember. I breathe deeply and damn near shiver as our combined scents fill my senses. My dick hardens almost painfully.

“I can see her floating all around you…”

“You’re all covered with her…”

I shake myself, shove my sire’s words into a box labeled “Do Not Open. Ever.” My gaze narrows and I take in the room with a predator’s eyes.

“She’s done something,” I growl. “Mojo’ed me somehow.”

I open drawers, get down on my knees and search under her bed. What I’m looking for, I do not know. I’ll know it when I see it though.

In her closet, tucked in the back is a nondescript bag. Inside are a slew of weapons: daggers, stakes, crosses, holy water and such. I don’t even flinch. But, it’s what’s buried beneath that makes me pause. Makes me reach out. Scoop up the leather and cotton and stare at it in confusion.

I don’t hear the car pull into the drive. It’s not until the soft snick of the front door opening and closing sounds in my ears that I realize the Slayer’s mum has come home. The idea of some chocolate – complete with those marshmallows I know she’s got hidden in the cupboard somewhere – takes me suddenly, and I drop the stuff back in the bag and leave the Slayer’s room to walk down the steps, bold as brass. I march into the kitchen and watch the woman jump nearly a foot in the air when I offer a hello.

She’s scared, rightly so; makes my demon sit up and take notice.

“Spike!” she shouts; one hand flies to her chest reflexively.

“Think I could get a cuppa?” I ask.

“A cup of… oh… hot cocoa. Uh… sure,” she stammers and surprisingly, she turns her back on me to get what she needs. I’m not sure if I’m annoyed or not at how quickly she dismisses the danger she’s in.

But, who am I kidding? Never had it in for the woman… never would. Something about the old girl reminds me of my own mum, and… well… I’ll just leave it at that.

It’s nice, seeing how she makes the stuff from scratch. No powered packets for the Slayer’s mum. Tastes the better for it too. Real milk, chocolate melted the old fashioned way. I take a sip as I lounge against the counter and hum my thanks.

“Bloody good this is.”

The compliment slips out and she beams at me. Beams. Like praise is too far and between at the Summers’ household. For some reason, I smile back at her – wondering all the while if it’s just the Slayer that seems to have messed with my mind, or if the elder woman has somehow managed to bewitch me too.

“So, uh… Spike? Um… what brings you… uh… back to town?” She’s nervous, though she tries valiantly to hide it, affecting a nonchalant pose similar to mine on the opposite side of the kitchen.

For a minute, I think she’s talking about my most recent return. Then she asks me about Drusilla. I stutter for a minute, unsure what to say.

“Didn’t work out,” I finally mumble. “We’re takin’ a bit of a break.” She looks at me and I shrug. “It happens…”

“Oh. I’m sorry.”

And I can tell she really means what she’s said. Woman’s all heart. Makes me wonder what the Slayer would have been like if fate hadn’t intervened.

Again, dangerous territory.

I swallow down what was left in my cup and abruptly push away from the counter.

“Ta, luv.” I gesture with the cup and set it down, then make for the front door.

~*~*~*~*~

The sun is just starting to set as I walk outside and start back towards my car. It’ll probably take years for me to get used to feeling the sun on my face again. How it warms up my skin.

It’s going to be a while yet before the Slayer takes to the streets to do her nightly duty. Enough time for me to catch a few hour’s kip. The ring makes me impervious to harm, doesn’t do anything to keep me from growing tired unfortunately. I want to make sure I’m in tip top form for my next confrontation with the Slayer.

I park the car, make a meal of a pair of teenaged boys that were daring one another to see how long they could stay inside Restfield once the sun went down, then wander about a bit trying to find a place to sleep. I’m not too particular where I lay my head, don’t plan on being in town too long. Not longer than the night, if things go according to plan.

And, since the Gem is now firmly in my possession, I don’t see that as being too much of a problem.

~*~*~*~*~

I sit up on the sarcophagus and stretch, shake the cobwebs from my head. Sounds of fighting drift through the closed door and my yawn turns into a grin.

Slayer’s here.

I slip outside and lean back against a nearby tombstone as I watch the girl dance. She’s not yet sensed my presence, the two newly-turned vampires have her busy at the moment. Her skill far exceeds theirs, however, and it’s not long before twin piles of dust are floating to the ground. When she’s finished her chest is heaving, her long hair, tied back from her face, has started to unravel. Her stake is gripped tightly in her hand.

Finally she notices me. The play of emotions on her face is wide and varied. I wait her out, pull out a fag, calmly as you please, and light up. I inhale deeply, causing the tip to flare red. It’s the only light in the otherwise darkened cemetery.

Minutes pass as I smoke. The Slayer hasn’t moved. Hasn’t spoken either. She’s just staring at me.

It’s kinda freaky, actually. I’m used to her ready quips, how she always has to get the last word in.

“Cat got your tongue, luv?” I finally ask as I toss the butt away and stand.

She’s still quiet, watching me intently. The grip on her stake tightens and I see her body shift subtly.

Smart girl. Not that it’s going to do her a bit of good. I raise my left hand, show her my ring.

Her eyes narrow. And finally, she speaks. “I took it once. I can take it again.”

I’m on her in an instant, before she barely has time to finish her retort. My left hand grips her right, the one holding the stake, and twists it behind her back. She tries to kick out, but I’m too close, and her blows don’t even faze me. I grab her other hand; that too is shoved behind her back, making it easier for me to pull her in close.

She struggles, but it’s no use. She’s been out fighting for a few hours now and is beginning to tire. Me, I’m fresh off several hours sleep and have recently fed.

She seems to have found her voice, because she’s hurling invectives left and right.

So I silence her with a kiss.

I devour her mouth, punish her for whatever it is she’s done to me. What she’s making me feel.

Damn her.

It’s not supposed to be like this.

I can’t want the Slayer. Well, I can… she’s a nice bit of fluff. But not want want.

Loving the Slayer is Angel’s gig. Not mine.

I freeze and abruptly shove her away.

How I’ve made the leap from want to love, I have no bloody idea. I shake my head in denial. There’s no bloody way I have any sort of feelings for the Slayer. Not now. Not ever. I’m a vampire for chrissakes!

“No… NO!” I pace, pull at my hair in the hopes of… something. Some sense to work its way into my brain.

So involved am I that I don’t notice her bolt. She’s nearly to the edge of the clearing before I react. I tear off after her. Catch up to her before she can reach the exit.

I launch myself at her, a flying tackle that sends both of us to the ground. We both struggle for dominance, but she’s no match for me. Not with my anger lending me extra strength.

She’s face first on the ground, trying to buck me off her. All she’s doing is grinding her ass into my dick.

I want to yank her head aside, drain her into immobility, then fuck her until my figurative demons are exorcised. Finish her off and add a third notch to my belt.

Why can’t I?

My fangs are itching for another taste of her. My dick is hard and heavy, digging into the metal teeth of the jeans I’m wearing.

I lower my head, nuzzle into her neck. She struggles harder, but I catch a whiff of something, just the barest trace… and moan at the smell. I lick her throat, tracing the pulse that’s beating rapidly beneath her skin. Revel in the fact that as much as she seems to hate this, hate me, some part of her – buried deep within – doesn’t.

So I bite down and bring her into the dark with me.

~*~*~*~*~

With nothing but time on my hand as I drive far away from the Hellmouth, the former slayer’s head resting on my lap, I can’t help but wonder what the bloody hell I’ve done. Definitely not part of the plan, turning the Slayer. But then, when was I ever one to plan and follow through?

Been called impetuous often enough by Angelus and my own sire.

Guess this’ll be one more thing to add to the list.

Still, I can’t wait for the girl to awaken. It’s my first childe – one more than I thought I’d ever have, especially after that botched attempt with my own mum.

Memories of my own turning rush back to me. How Drusilla took great delight in taking my virginity. My first taste of blood straight from my sire’s throat. My first kill, messy… until I buried my humanity that didn’t seem to leave me after my death. It wasn’t until Angelus had taken me under his wing and taught me the fine art of stalking my prey that I became a much tidier eater.

Now I get to relive all that again. Only this time, I’ll be the teacher.

I make it all the way to Vegas before I’m forced to stop due to the coming dawn and my own weariness. I pull into the first motel I come across and actually pay for a room, don’t want to draw too much attention to myself. Not anytime soon, at least.

Gotta get my girl strong first.

My nose crinkles in distaste as the smell of stale sex, smoke, and an overpowering air freshener hit me as the door opens inward.

Just for the day, I silently vow. Once the sun sets and my childe awakens, I’ll determine where we’ll go. Been awhile since I’ve been east, maybe a trip to the motherland might be in order.

I get the Slayer stripped and settled beneath the covers, then dart out for a quick bite to eat. No shortage of happy meals walking about, even this close to sunrise – it is Vegas after all. I find a hooker and her john just letting themselves into a room several doors down from mine, and it’s a simple matter of snapping the second’s neck and shoving him forward into the room before attacking the first. I stifle her scream with a hand over her mouth, latch onto her throat and suck. Her blood, flavored with fear, hits my tongue and I swallow it down, humming my pleasure.

When I’m through, I let her body drop to the floor, snag the key card out of the door and lock the two bodies inside. If no one discovers them by the time I wake up, I’ll have an easy meal later.

The sun starts to rise, and I take a moment to bask in its warmth before I return to my room, strip, and climb into bed next to the lifeless body of the Slayer. I curl up close, drape an arm across her waist, and close my eyes.

I’m asleep moments later.

I awake to see my childe’s demon staring me back in the face. I can’t describe what I feel at that moment. Probably what every other sire has felt: surprise, pleasure, lust… a need to dominate.

“Sire,” she whispers, her gaze alight with wonder and hero-worship, and I can feel the love for her, this creature of my own making, filling me up to near bursting. My own face changes, and I feel her hands caress my face, trace over ridges and bumps, linger over lips and fangs.

She leans forward and I meet her halfway. I expected the kiss to be harsh, passionate. But even with our demons prevalent, it’s slow, tender. Just a soft brush of lips at first before I coax her mouth open and really taste her with my tongue. I take my time, like I’m mapping every inch of her, committing to memory every gasp and moan she makes. When I’m through, I invite her to do the same. And she does.

Then she nicks her tongue on one of my fangs and her blood – childe’s blood – tempts my palate like nothing before. I suck hard, greedy for every tiny bit that leaks from the cut. Her rumble of pleasure just goads me to more. The sound goes through me, making my dick ache with need.

I finally break away, panting harshly. I roll the slayer to her back and see how her golden eyes glitter with need.

“Please—”

A finger to her lips silences her begging. The minx licks it then opens her mouth and sucks on it. My eyes close as I groan. I want to explore her body at leisure – something I couldn’t do before – and her mouth… gah!

I yank my finger back, and nearly return it at her pout. Where my willpower has gone, I don’t know. My jaw clenches; somehow I manage to get a grip on my emotions. Though it’s rough going there for a bit.

Back on track once more, I allow my hands to roam over her body, eyes glued to her face to witness what my touch does to her. She whimpers her need as I fondle her breasts, lower my head to take one and then the other into my mouth, sucking and biting almost hard enough to draw blood. I torment her until she cries out my name. Her body arches off the bed.

“Yes!” she cries when my fangs finally penetrate the tender flesh surrounding her nipple.

Her hands are clenched in my hair trying to hold me in place and I growl a low warning until she lets go to grip the sheets instead. I move lower, touching and tasting every bit of skin I encounter, until I’m hovering over her sex.

I inhale deeply; my eyes roll up at the smell. Her desire is a tangible thing. Addictive. Drawing me closer. I lap at the wetness glistening on the dark curls cover her mound. Ignore her begging of “Please, Spike. Please,” as I lightly trace her opening. I’m determined to take my time, disregard the demon that’s demanding I stake my claim, fuck her ‘til she bleeds then sip contentedly at her throat.

I am more than my demon.

I’m not ashamed to admit it.

Her climax catches me by surprise. She bucks beneath me, screams her pleasure, and it takes some strength for me to hold her in place. Then she stills and I feel the lassitude snaking through her limbs, making her relax into the mattress. Cheshire grin twisting her lips.

My turn.

I rise up on my knees between her legs and shift her up onto my lap, sheath myself in her pussy and pull her up against my chest. One hand winds its way into her hair, draws her close for a kiss. The other guides her hips, showing her how to move above me.

She feels just like I remember… only she doesn’t. It’s better somehow. The taste, the feel of her. It’s because she’s mine. Irrevocably tied to me for the rest of her unlife.

I am her creator and she knows it. She gives herself to me willingly, eagerly. And she takes whatever I see fit to give her – which is everything.

All that I am.

Sire.

I leave off from her mouth, place a trail of open-mouthed kisses along her jaw. Her head falls back in pleasure, and submission. My gaze hones in on the marks on her neck. The marks that made her mine. I tease them, scraping my fangs against the surface of her skin. Nibble and suck until she loses her rhythm on my lap.

She pants and begs, wanting it… needing my bite.

I need it too. Need the reaffirmation of this. Us.

“Spi—” A gasp of surprise, then a breathy sigh as I bite deep, take my due. My arms wrap around her, holding her in place as I thrust up once. Twice. On the third, I’m coming. I growl, eyes closed in bliss as she joins me.

Minutes pass and we’re still locked together. I feel too good to move, even if it’s just to stretch out on the bed and pull her down on top of me. The Slayer’s not offering up any type of protest either, equally content to remain on my lap, her body pierced with cock and fangs. Solely devoted to my pleasure.

Several more minutes pass and I reluctantly pull back, gently lave the marks I’ve made. I roll to my back, taking the Slayer with me, then guide her to my neck and invite her to feed.

I hiss as her fangs sink into my flesh. Damned if doesn’t make me hard again. She growls, a throaty purr, and starts to rock her hips. Tiny movements that provide very little friction. Fucking torturing me and she’s not even aware, too caught up in the taste of sire’s blood.

“That’s enough,” I finally tell her. Shiver when she releases my neck and starts to lick at the holes she’s made.

Then I flip us, and relieve the ache she’s caused.

~*~*~*~*~

We get dressed and dart down to the other motel room when it appears that no one has discovered the dead bodies inside. The john’s blood is cold, but it gets the job done for now.

It’s only once we’re settled in the car, the Slayer’s head resting once more in my lap that I ask her where she’d like to go. I feel her shoulder bump into my thigh as she shrugs.

“Surely there’s some place you’d like to see, pet.”

Her brows furrow as she ponders my statement.

“Don’t care,” she finally says. “Wherever you feel like driving.”

I think about it for a minute, then smile.

“Ever been to New Orleans?”

The End

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