First fic *ever* (be gentle!)
So this is the first, and so far ony, fic I've ever written. I wrote it two years ago during my fist year at UMD on a snow day. :) Gotta love Minnesota. Anyways, get to it, right?
Title: "Sire" Ch. 1/1
Author: Scelto
Catagory: Darkfic/Buffyverse/AU S3/One Shot
Pairing: Spike/Buffy
Rating: R
Warnings: Vamp!Buffy, Rape
Distribution: Whatever, just let me know.
Disclaimer: I own nothing. All belongs to Joss.
Summary: Angel went a little too far in "Graduation Day Pt.2."
Author’s Notes: I've never written or posted a fic before, and I'm almost postitive the layout is going to be all wrong lol. Any tips would be swell, as I'm new to this. *loves*
Also... Lyrics used: Rev 22:20 by Puscifer
The rest of the world was still alive. Still thrumming with the pulse of electronics and heartbeats. The sky still held the yellow sun and the silver moon. But here, in this town, everyone was dead. They all moved their legs, moved from place to place. They all still blinked to wet their eyes, chewed to swallow their food, and fucked to feel anything at all. This town was made of silent steel and concrete. It was a dead kingdom and it was where she lived. She never really went home, didn’t have a home to go to. Didn’t want one, need one, miss having one. This girl was dead. She didn’t need food or water, didn’t need love or a goodbye kiss when she went out for the night. She just needed her smokes, any alcohol she could find, and blood.
It started with an angel. An angel with black eyes and stupid hair. Her Angel. This was where loving someone had got her. To a hell hole of a town where it didn’t matter how many people she killed in a night, it would never make the news. He didn’t have to drain her. Couldn’t control himself, that was always his way. He never did quite get the hang of the whitehat thing. Always had that animal inside of him. Of course, this girl was the one to bring it out. Stupid. It wasn’t supposed to go that far.
She had wanted to cure him. She had done more than that. Made him kill her. Made him leave.
She remembered waking up alone. That was the worst of it. Waking up alone. Just like last time. Only this time she wasn’t afraid he had taken a turn for the darker side. This time she was just afraid. Afraid she wasn’t good enough for him again. Afraid she was wrong for saying the words that seemed to spill out of her every time he was near. Every time he was close enough to be inside she would whisper the words. The three words that got her killed. She had said, “I love you,” and he drank. Claimed her. The claim meant nothing after a few months, then a few more. She couldn’t even feel him anymore. Couldn’t feel when he fell in love again, with someone else.
The first thing she ever knew was the hunger. Waking up to the blinding light of complete and utter darkness. She was in her own room, but nothing was hers. The windows were different, painted black. Survival Instinct, she had realized later, had driven her to do that. When her mind started working again it was nothing but pain and colors. Colors she didn’t even like. Pinks and greens, yellows and browns. Everything that hurt her eyes was dancing behind them.
The next thing was the blood. She opened her eyes to a color she had never been so closely acquainted with before. The color of flesh. It was so close, she was inside of it. The harsh, bittersweet heat coated the inside of her mouth, her throat, her body. It was blood but it wasn’t hers. Neither was the wallet she ended up with. Its soft leather in her hands. It was worn, the story of someone’s life in a case of leather. Leather. Made her think of something. Something dark, something light. Blonde. She had brushed off the sudden ache that started in her unbeating heart at the thought that she didn’t quite think. Blonde.
She learned. She had always been a fast learner. Slaying, if that’s what she was supposed to call it. She couldn’t remember anymore. Only a year ago and she couldn’t remember. She cried sometimes, when she couldn’t remember. Then she would go out, and she would forget. Forget everything but the hunt.
After a while she began to remember, began to become more like the girl she used to be. Still broken, but with flashes of memory and personality she didn’t have before. She cried for the girl she used to be, for a minute. That minute was over so long ago. Now the girl wears leather and skin, the mask of nightclub makeup and the colors she could taste on her face. Thick black eye makeup. Bright red lips. Flesh colored powder to cover up the bruises. She would stand there and take it from other vampires. Just stand there, letting them hit her if she got into an altercation. She would let them hit her and laugh. She would only laugh for a moment. A moment before her smile changed to one with fangs and her eyes changed to the color of the sun she would never see again. The bruises would start to become visible as those who gave them to her would die by her hands.
This girl was a dead girl.
*******
Tonight. It wasn’t night at all. In fact, night was more than a minute away. She would wait for that minute to end while sliding into clothes no looser than her skin. Curse that minute she had to wait while she straightened her hair. Hating the ten minutes of night she had wasted already. Getting ready. For something. The hunt, she kept telling herself. It still kept her alive. The blood she had before dawn.
Not the hunt.
Something was calling to her. Like a hot summer day to an overzealous athlete. Like pain to her joy. Death to her body. Calling. Again an almost painful seizure of her dead heart overtook her. It didn’t beat but it hurt. Inside of her. The blood, it almost seemed old. Like it didn’t belong. She would find more, like she had always done. When she was bored, she would hunt. When her eyes were nothing if not open, she would hunt. The kill didn’t require any feeling. Nothing did anymore. She felt nothing but the thick material of some dead animal against her thighs. The oil of something other than dead on her lips. Shiny and beautiful. Red. Blonde.
She sputtered out a, “Fuck this,” before whipping open the door to the place she spent her days. Not her home. She didn’t have one of those. This wasn’t hers. It was someone’s. She had forgotten who. She would remember when the landlord came to ask for his money. She would kill him and remember.
The night welcomed her as she slipped into its embrace like fingers through warm water. It always did. Welcome her. Ever since…
That night.
They walked around her, past her, almost through her. Never knowing. Knowing she could kill them in a second. She could make it hurt or make it easy. Make them cry or make them scream. She was the right hand of death and they all just walked by. Any of them. She could have had any of them. The one in all black, the wannabe punker, the college slut. The little boy standing under a light post, street-hardened, naïve. The gang member. She would have dozens more meals if she took out that one. They would come for her. It happened before. She had never been so sated as the time she took them out. It didn’t make the news.
The lights burned her night-adapted eyes. Lights from her place. Her club. The one she nearly unwittingly claimed as her own every time she walked through the door. She was painted perfection and that club was her frame. Held her on display. On display for prying eyes.
Certain eyes this evening. Blue maybe, yellow mostly. She could feel it. Strong, familiar. Wanting. She could feel him. Part of her screamed out for Angel while another knew it wasn’t him. Couldn’t be. Would never be. Something about this pull was different. Lighter yet darker. Smoother. Something about it was… blonde. Her face tensed and she fought back the change as her body tightened in response to that one word. She shook it off and pushed through the croud, inhaling the music like air she didn’t need.
The eyes that followed her. Blue for now. Followed her around the bar where she tossed back a few shots of tequila. Followed her into the pulsing crowd. Into the mass of food. Slow and steady a new song seemed to start just for her.
Don’t be aroused
By my confession
Unless you don’t give a good goddamn about redemption
I know
Christ is coming
And so am I
You would too if the sexy devil caught your eye
She’ll suck you dry
Soon you’ll cry
To be back in her bosom
To do it again
He could feel it in his muscles. The bass line like a brand new beating heart. He could feel it in a few other choice places as well as he watched her move like the predator she was. Her hair glowing under the black light. Her eyes melted into her face. Black makeup against the shadows. She was perfection. He growled low in his throat as his eyes lit to her hair again. Blonde. She was his beautiful blonde Slayer. He would take the girl still yammering on at the table, sitting across from him. He would take her alright. Take her home with him. Take her while she cried. Take her while he thought of her. He stood up. Took the girl’s hand, leading her through the crowd to the doors, never taking his eyes off the gyrating goddess in the middle of the dance floor. Off of her. His blonde beauty. The conquest he never had.
Buffy felt it. Eyes on her like sweat she could no longer have. Like the scent of arousal in the air felt on her skin, thick and inviting. Alluring and desired. She felt those eyes like skin against skin. Someone else’s against her own, cold flesh. It gave her goosebumps. Not from the fans above her blowing cool air down, not from the breath in her ear from some nobody behind her. Oh, no. This was a good kind of goosebump. It was like a fresh shot of adrenaline had been injected straight into her dead veins. Like the beat of the song had her heart pumping enough to push it through again.
She knew it had felt familiar before. She knew she could feel him wanting. Feel herself wanting him. But now it was just a cold feeling that seemed to add to her already below room temperature body. She ignored the empty reaction and closed her eyes, pushing back against the body moving against her. Its heat burnt her through her clothes and made her want to throw the warm body behind her against the wall and feel it inside of her. She was so tired of seeing their faces when they felt how cold she was inside. How dead. How not human she was. She was tired of knowing they didn’t even care. Didn’t care she was cold, just wanted a fuck. She knew better tonight. She knew she would have to kill this one before he fucked her. He was hard already, grinding into her from behind. And she let him. He wouldn’t last five minutes and she was too damn hungry to let him even try.
With a flourish of blonde hair and leather she spun around in his arms, her own wrapping around his neck. She licked her cherry lips and heard his small moan at the sight of her tongue. She had to control her eyes from shifting. She was so very hungry. She didn’t know why but she knew she wanted blood tonight more than she ever had before, excepting her first night as a Childe.
She slipped her fingers into his and began to walk backwards toward the men’s toilet, swaying her hips and chewing her bottom lip as she went, forcing back the hunger. Of course, he came willingly. Like a child following the man with the candy. Only now it was a scorching hot little girl. All petite and dangerous in her leather and makeup. He knew he was going to get a good fuck against the wall of the bathroom and so he went. Followed the little vixen he’d been dancing with for the last half hour. Followed her to his orgasm (death). Followed her to feel her thighs around him (her teeth inside of him). Feel her lips on his (throat).
The former Slayer pushed him up against the wall. Soon enough he was writhing against the tile and begging for her to let him fuck her. She smiled at him, looking into his lust-filled eyes before changing and clamping a hand over his mouth simultaneously. Soon she could feel the tears on her fingers, feel his pulse rising to a furious pace as she latched her mouth onto his neck, sinking her fangs in, taking his blood. She could taste the liquor still in his blood, making it bitter and thin. Why had she been so hungry for this man? She thought as she drank. Wasn’t there someone else? Hadn’t she felt him? That someone else? She continued drinking until he was dry, almost thankful they hadn’t been interrupted. She didn’t want to waste time killing more boys. She wanted to find her man…
***
He did what he thought he would. Fucked her. Fucked that girl until she couldn’t stand. But that was mostly because of the amount of blood he’d already drained from her tanned body. She was so weak and she was crying. He fucked her while she cried. Fucked her while he thought of the Slayer. Growled the Slayer’s name when he came inside of the warm, yielding body beneath him. Whispered “Slayer” over and over again when he took the girl for the third time. He still wasn’t sated when he was done with her. Still couldn’t stop himself from thinking about *her* as the body under him began to cool. He pulled out of the now pale girl with a roar. He couldn’t get the bloody bitch out of his head. Remembered their last fight. In the church. The last punch, before they planned together to bring down Angelus. The last look attached to the words, “If Giles dies, she dies.”
He had hated her for those words then. Now he hated himself. Hated himself for letting Drusilla go. Letting her tell him what was wrong with him. Letting the words “You’re all covered in her,” have any meaning. “You taste like ashes…” Bloody right, he did! He was a Big Bad, smoking Master vampire! He growled again and threw the body of his substitute of the night over his shoulder and made his way for the doors of the building. He tossed the body into the dumpster outside before hitting the streets. He would find her, one way or the other. He would find the girl who had been haunting his mind for months. Then he would kill her.
***
She could feel it again. Feel him. He was close. Too far away, still. She could smell him now that she was out in the night air, away from all those disgusting humans and their body scents and sweat. She could smell the leather. Like hers. The tobacco, the alcohol. Bourbon. She felt that same pull inside of her. That same pull that screamed Blonde at her ears from the inside. It was too much. She had to have this man. This vampire she could feel. Something about the air was powerful, strong. This was no ordinary vampire she could feel. He was of her line. An Aurelius. She growled low in her throat as she came close to a turn. She knew he was around that corner. Knew when her legs brought her around the dusty brick wall to her right that she would finally be face to face with… she struggled to think of who it felt like but only came up with that damn word again. Blonde.
***
He knew around the corner would be the Slayer. He could smell her arousal from just feeding. Smell her determination. Smell her wanting for him. He took another whiff of the night air and her scent was stronger than only seconds before. This girl would be his.
***
There. There he was. She was face to face with the man she thought she would never see again. Blonde. Suddenly she knew what it meant. It was him. His hair. His beautifully wicked hair, only it was different than she remembered it. It was spiked up rather than slicked back. He also had a piercing where his scar still remained, she could see it peaking from behind the stud. His eyes were like hers, lined in black. His eyes… She let out a small whimper when she saw those perfect blue eyes darken and licked her lips when they turned to a frightening shade of yellow. Frightening? She was afraid of this man, this vampire. This Master. She found she couldn’t move as his eyes took her in. Couldn’t say a world. Just stood there as he ate her alive with his gaze. She suddenly realized just how aroused she was from the fresh blood inside of her. Realized what she had been wanting since she felt his eyes on her.
He took a step forward, making it so only their hips were touching and he looked down at her with his vampiric face. His tongue running over his bottom lip in approval. She still stood there, doing nothing. Just taking in the feel of his own need barely touching her, his fangs glistening under the streetlight. She closed her eyes and let out a small whimper when he growled softly at her. Before she knew what was happening she was slammed up against the building wall, hard. Shards of brick went flying all around her. She cried out in pain but a loud growl silenced her immediately, like she had no control. She didn’t. Not around this creature. One way or another she knew she would belong to him.
***
Spike stopped dead when he saw her. Couldn’t say anything. Just watched as she watched him. Wanted when he smelled her wanting. Her eyes were still the most beautiful green he had ever seen, as surrounded by black as they were. He could feel himself harden and grow. Fuck, he wanted this girl. When she opened her mouth and a tiny whimper escaped her lips, that was when he noticed the tongue ring. Fuck. He would have her. He gently brushed his denim-clad erection against her leather covered sex and watched her close her eyes in pleasure. He couldn’t take it anymore. He had to have her now.
He put his hands on her hips and shoved her roughly, making an indentation in the wall behind her. She cried out and he silenced her with just a simple growl. He could smell her new wave of arousal at the sound of a Master vampire commanding obedience. He pushed himself roughly against her, holding her tightly against the wall. He slowly and almost tenderly began to sniff and lick her neck. He knew immediately who had done this to her and it made him seethe with anger. He knew she was alone when he tasted her. He didn’t taste another vampire on her skin. Didn’t smell another anywhere on her, either. She was utterly alone and without a Sire. His eyes burned brighter with this knowledge and he put a hand around her neck, pushing against it while he savagely sunk his fangs into her neck. Growling and tearing. Ripping and feeding. She would be his. “Childe,” he growled out around her.
***
She could do nothing as he drank her. She wouldn’t have done anything if she could have. It was wonderful. Being dominated, being owned. She wanted this. Knew this was how it was supposed to be. She was being controlled and it thrilled her to no end. She had never had anyone that matched her. No other human, no other vampire since she had been turned.
She knew what the words were going to be when he started to move his mouth around her neck. When he snarled out the one word she needed to hear she began to cry. “Childe.” She wouldn’t be alone anymore. She tried to control her tears long enough to get the word out. She roared out her happiness before whispering in his ear the one word he was waiting for. “Sire.” This was what she needed. She needed him.
He twisted his neck just slightly, just enough so she knew it was accepted. An invitation. She let herself change and smiled around her fangs before biting into his smooth, pale throat and repeating the title.
“Sire.”
Title: "Sire" Ch. 1/1
Author: Scelto
Catagory: Darkfic/Buffyverse/AU S3/One Shot
Pairing: Spike/Buffy
Rating: R
Warnings: Vamp!Buffy, Rape
Distribution: Whatever, just let me know.
Disclaimer: I own nothing. All belongs to Joss.
Summary: Angel went a little too far in "Graduation Day Pt.2."
Author’s Notes: I've never written or posted a fic before, and I'm almost postitive the layout is going to be all wrong lol. Any tips would be swell, as I'm new to this. *loves*
Also... Lyrics used: Rev 22:20 by Puscifer
The rest of the world was still alive. Still thrumming with the pulse of electronics and heartbeats. The sky still held the yellow sun and the silver moon. But here, in this town, everyone was dead. They all moved their legs, moved from place to place. They all still blinked to wet their eyes, chewed to swallow their food, and fucked to feel anything at all. This town was made of silent steel and concrete. It was a dead kingdom and it was where she lived. She never really went home, didn’t have a home to go to. Didn’t want one, need one, miss having one. This girl was dead. She didn’t need food or water, didn’t need love or a goodbye kiss when she went out for the night. She just needed her smokes, any alcohol she could find, and blood.
It started with an angel. An angel with black eyes and stupid hair. Her Angel. This was where loving someone had got her. To a hell hole of a town where it didn’t matter how many people she killed in a night, it would never make the news. He didn’t have to drain her. Couldn’t control himself, that was always his way. He never did quite get the hang of the whitehat thing. Always had that animal inside of him. Of course, this girl was the one to bring it out. Stupid. It wasn’t supposed to go that far.
She had wanted to cure him. She had done more than that. Made him kill her. Made him leave.
She remembered waking up alone. That was the worst of it. Waking up alone. Just like last time. Only this time she wasn’t afraid he had taken a turn for the darker side. This time she was just afraid. Afraid she wasn’t good enough for him again. Afraid she was wrong for saying the words that seemed to spill out of her every time he was near. Every time he was close enough to be inside she would whisper the words. The three words that got her killed. She had said, “I love you,” and he drank. Claimed her. The claim meant nothing after a few months, then a few more. She couldn’t even feel him anymore. Couldn’t feel when he fell in love again, with someone else.
The first thing she ever knew was the hunger. Waking up to the blinding light of complete and utter darkness. She was in her own room, but nothing was hers. The windows were different, painted black. Survival Instinct, she had realized later, had driven her to do that. When her mind started working again it was nothing but pain and colors. Colors she didn’t even like. Pinks and greens, yellows and browns. Everything that hurt her eyes was dancing behind them.
The next thing was the blood. She opened her eyes to a color she had never been so closely acquainted with before. The color of flesh. It was so close, she was inside of it. The harsh, bittersweet heat coated the inside of her mouth, her throat, her body. It was blood but it wasn’t hers. Neither was the wallet she ended up with. Its soft leather in her hands. It was worn, the story of someone’s life in a case of leather. Leather. Made her think of something. Something dark, something light. Blonde. She had brushed off the sudden ache that started in her unbeating heart at the thought that she didn’t quite think. Blonde.
She learned. She had always been a fast learner. Slaying, if that’s what she was supposed to call it. She couldn’t remember anymore. Only a year ago and she couldn’t remember. She cried sometimes, when she couldn’t remember. Then she would go out, and she would forget. Forget everything but the hunt.
After a while she began to remember, began to become more like the girl she used to be. Still broken, but with flashes of memory and personality she didn’t have before. She cried for the girl she used to be, for a minute. That minute was over so long ago. Now the girl wears leather and skin, the mask of nightclub makeup and the colors she could taste on her face. Thick black eye makeup. Bright red lips. Flesh colored powder to cover up the bruises. She would stand there and take it from other vampires. Just stand there, letting them hit her if she got into an altercation. She would let them hit her and laugh. She would only laugh for a moment. A moment before her smile changed to one with fangs and her eyes changed to the color of the sun she would never see again. The bruises would start to become visible as those who gave them to her would die by her hands.
This girl was a dead girl.
*******
Tonight. It wasn’t night at all. In fact, night was more than a minute away. She would wait for that minute to end while sliding into clothes no looser than her skin. Curse that minute she had to wait while she straightened her hair. Hating the ten minutes of night she had wasted already. Getting ready. For something. The hunt, she kept telling herself. It still kept her alive. The blood she had before dawn.
Not the hunt.
Something was calling to her. Like a hot summer day to an overzealous athlete. Like pain to her joy. Death to her body. Calling. Again an almost painful seizure of her dead heart overtook her. It didn’t beat but it hurt. Inside of her. The blood, it almost seemed old. Like it didn’t belong. She would find more, like she had always done. When she was bored, she would hunt. When her eyes were nothing if not open, she would hunt. The kill didn’t require any feeling. Nothing did anymore. She felt nothing but the thick material of some dead animal against her thighs. The oil of something other than dead on her lips. Shiny and beautiful. Red. Blonde.
She sputtered out a, “Fuck this,” before whipping open the door to the place she spent her days. Not her home. She didn’t have one of those. This wasn’t hers. It was someone’s. She had forgotten who. She would remember when the landlord came to ask for his money. She would kill him and remember.
The night welcomed her as she slipped into its embrace like fingers through warm water. It always did. Welcome her. Ever since…
That night.
They walked around her, past her, almost through her. Never knowing. Knowing she could kill them in a second. She could make it hurt or make it easy. Make them cry or make them scream. She was the right hand of death and they all just walked by. Any of them. She could have had any of them. The one in all black, the wannabe punker, the college slut. The little boy standing under a light post, street-hardened, naïve. The gang member. She would have dozens more meals if she took out that one. They would come for her. It happened before. She had never been so sated as the time she took them out. It didn’t make the news.
The lights burned her night-adapted eyes. Lights from her place. Her club. The one she nearly unwittingly claimed as her own every time she walked through the door. She was painted perfection and that club was her frame. Held her on display. On display for prying eyes.
Certain eyes this evening. Blue maybe, yellow mostly. She could feel it. Strong, familiar. Wanting. She could feel him. Part of her screamed out for Angel while another knew it wasn’t him. Couldn’t be. Would never be. Something about this pull was different. Lighter yet darker. Smoother. Something about it was… blonde. Her face tensed and she fought back the change as her body tightened in response to that one word. She shook it off and pushed through the croud, inhaling the music like air she didn’t need.
The eyes that followed her. Blue for now. Followed her around the bar where she tossed back a few shots of tequila. Followed her into the pulsing crowd. Into the mass of food. Slow and steady a new song seemed to start just for her.
Don’t be aroused
By my confession
Unless you don’t give a good goddamn about redemption
I know
Christ is coming
And so am I
You would too if the sexy devil caught your eye
She’ll suck you dry
Soon you’ll cry
To be back in her bosom
To do it again
He could feel it in his muscles. The bass line like a brand new beating heart. He could feel it in a few other choice places as well as he watched her move like the predator she was. Her hair glowing under the black light. Her eyes melted into her face. Black makeup against the shadows. She was perfection. He growled low in his throat as his eyes lit to her hair again. Blonde. She was his beautiful blonde Slayer. He would take the girl still yammering on at the table, sitting across from him. He would take her alright. Take her home with him. Take her while she cried. Take her while he thought of her. He stood up. Took the girl’s hand, leading her through the crowd to the doors, never taking his eyes off the gyrating goddess in the middle of the dance floor. Off of her. His blonde beauty. The conquest he never had.
Buffy felt it. Eyes on her like sweat she could no longer have. Like the scent of arousal in the air felt on her skin, thick and inviting. Alluring and desired. She felt those eyes like skin against skin. Someone else’s against her own, cold flesh. It gave her goosebumps. Not from the fans above her blowing cool air down, not from the breath in her ear from some nobody behind her. Oh, no. This was a good kind of goosebump. It was like a fresh shot of adrenaline had been injected straight into her dead veins. Like the beat of the song had her heart pumping enough to push it through again.
She knew it had felt familiar before. She knew she could feel him wanting. Feel herself wanting him. But now it was just a cold feeling that seemed to add to her already below room temperature body. She ignored the empty reaction and closed her eyes, pushing back against the body moving against her. Its heat burnt her through her clothes and made her want to throw the warm body behind her against the wall and feel it inside of her. She was so tired of seeing their faces when they felt how cold she was inside. How dead. How not human she was. She was tired of knowing they didn’t even care. Didn’t care she was cold, just wanted a fuck. She knew better tonight. She knew she would have to kill this one before he fucked her. He was hard already, grinding into her from behind. And she let him. He wouldn’t last five minutes and she was too damn hungry to let him even try.
With a flourish of blonde hair and leather she spun around in his arms, her own wrapping around his neck. She licked her cherry lips and heard his small moan at the sight of her tongue. She had to control her eyes from shifting. She was so very hungry. She didn’t know why but she knew she wanted blood tonight more than she ever had before, excepting her first night as a Childe.
She slipped her fingers into his and began to walk backwards toward the men’s toilet, swaying her hips and chewing her bottom lip as she went, forcing back the hunger. Of course, he came willingly. Like a child following the man with the candy. Only now it was a scorching hot little girl. All petite and dangerous in her leather and makeup. He knew he was going to get a good fuck against the wall of the bathroom and so he went. Followed the little vixen he’d been dancing with for the last half hour. Followed her to his orgasm (death). Followed her to feel her thighs around him (her teeth inside of him). Feel her lips on his (throat).
The former Slayer pushed him up against the wall. Soon enough he was writhing against the tile and begging for her to let him fuck her. She smiled at him, looking into his lust-filled eyes before changing and clamping a hand over his mouth simultaneously. Soon she could feel the tears on her fingers, feel his pulse rising to a furious pace as she latched her mouth onto his neck, sinking her fangs in, taking his blood. She could taste the liquor still in his blood, making it bitter and thin. Why had she been so hungry for this man? She thought as she drank. Wasn’t there someone else? Hadn’t she felt him? That someone else? She continued drinking until he was dry, almost thankful they hadn’t been interrupted. She didn’t want to waste time killing more boys. She wanted to find her man…
***
He did what he thought he would. Fucked her. Fucked that girl until she couldn’t stand. But that was mostly because of the amount of blood he’d already drained from her tanned body. She was so weak and she was crying. He fucked her while she cried. Fucked her while he thought of the Slayer. Growled the Slayer’s name when he came inside of the warm, yielding body beneath him. Whispered “Slayer” over and over again when he took the girl for the third time. He still wasn’t sated when he was done with her. Still couldn’t stop himself from thinking about *her* as the body under him began to cool. He pulled out of the now pale girl with a roar. He couldn’t get the bloody bitch out of his head. Remembered their last fight. In the church. The last punch, before they planned together to bring down Angelus. The last look attached to the words, “If Giles dies, she dies.”
He had hated her for those words then. Now he hated himself. Hated himself for letting Drusilla go. Letting her tell him what was wrong with him. Letting the words “You’re all covered in her,” have any meaning. “You taste like ashes…” Bloody right, he did! He was a Big Bad, smoking Master vampire! He growled again and threw the body of his substitute of the night over his shoulder and made his way for the doors of the building. He tossed the body into the dumpster outside before hitting the streets. He would find her, one way or the other. He would find the girl who had been haunting his mind for months. Then he would kill her.
***
She could feel it again. Feel him. He was close. Too far away, still. She could smell him now that she was out in the night air, away from all those disgusting humans and their body scents and sweat. She could smell the leather. Like hers. The tobacco, the alcohol. Bourbon. She felt that same pull inside of her. That same pull that screamed Blonde at her ears from the inside. It was too much. She had to have this man. This vampire she could feel. Something about the air was powerful, strong. This was no ordinary vampire she could feel. He was of her line. An Aurelius. She growled low in her throat as she came close to a turn. She knew he was around that corner. Knew when her legs brought her around the dusty brick wall to her right that she would finally be face to face with… she struggled to think of who it felt like but only came up with that damn word again. Blonde.
***
He knew around the corner would be the Slayer. He could smell her arousal from just feeding. Smell her determination. Smell her wanting for him. He took another whiff of the night air and her scent was stronger than only seconds before. This girl would be his.
***
There. There he was. She was face to face with the man she thought she would never see again. Blonde. Suddenly she knew what it meant. It was him. His hair. His beautifully wicked hair, only it was different than she remembered it. It was spiked up rather than slicked back. He also had a piercing where his scar still remained, she could see it peaking from behind the stud. His eyes were like hers, lined in black. His eyes… She let out a small whimper when she saw those perfect blue eyes darken and licked her lips when they turned to a frightening shade of yellow. Frightening? She was afraid of this man, this vampire. This Master. She found she couldn’t move as his eyes took her in. Couldn’t say a world. Just stood there as he ate her alive with his gaze. She suddenly realized just how aroused she was from the fresh blood inside of her. Realized what she had been wanting since she felt his eyes on her.
He took a step forward, making it so only their hips were touching and he looked down at her with his vampiric face. His tongue running over his bottom lip in approval. She still stood there, doing nothing. Just taking in the feel of his own need barely touching her, his fangs glistening under the streetlight. She closed her eyes and let out a small whimper when he growled softly at her. Before she knew what was happening she was slammed up against the building wall, hard. Shards of brick went flying all around her. She cried out in pain but a loud growl silenced her immediately, like she had no control. She didn’t. Not around this creature. One way or another she knew she would belong to him.
***
Spike stopped dead when he saw her. Couldn’t say anything. Just watched as she watched him. Wanted when he smelled her wanting. Her eyes were still the most beautiful green he had ever seen, as surrounded by black as they were. He could feel himself harden and grow. Fuck, he wanted this girl. When she opened her mouth and a tiny whimper escaped her lips, that was when he noticed the tongue ring. Fuck. He would have her. He gently brushed his denim-clad erection against her leather covered sex and watched her close her eyes in pleasure. He couldn’t take it anymore. He had to have her now.
He put his hands on her hips and shoved her roughly, making an indentation in the wall behind her. She cried out and he silenced her with just a simple growl. He could smell her new wave of arousal at the sound of a Master vampire commanding obedience. He pushed himself roughly against her, holding her tightly against the wall. He slowly and almost tenderly began to sniff and lick her neck. He knew immediately who had done this to her and it made him seethe with anger. He knew she was alone when he tasted her. He didn’t taste another vampire on her skin. Didn’t smell another anywhere on her, either. She was utterly alone and without a Sire. His eyes burned brighter with this knowledge and he put a hand around her neck, pushing against it while he savagely sunk his fangs into her neck. Growling and tearing. Ripping and feeding. She would be his. “Childe,” he growled out around her.
***
She could do nothing as he drank her. She wouldn’t have done anything if she could have. It was wonderful. Being dominated, being owned. She wanted this. Knew this was how it was supposed to be. She was being controlled and it thrilled her to no end. She had never had anyone that matched her. No other human, no other vampire since she had been turned.
She knew what the words were going to be when he started to move his mouth around her neck. When he snarled out the one word she needed to hear she began to cry. “Childe.” She wouldn’t be alone anymore. She tried to control her tears long enough to get the word out. She roared out her happiness before whispering in his ear the one word he was waiting for. “Sire.” This was what she needed. She needed him.
He twisted his neck just slightly, just enough so she knew it was accepted. An invitation. She let herself change and smiled around her fangs before biting into his smooth, pale throat and repeating the title.
“Sire.”