Everything was black. For so long, there was darkness, and I was floating, weightless, lost. Then slowly, something began to pull me down, pull me in and I went spinning back down into consciousness
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I watch Dawn slide through the crowds, her motions fluid. It's like meeting her all over again, seeing this Dawn. She's different but the same. I wonder if she'll want a new name. Adopt a different voice. Take up period costume, or kimonos. Any of the things that vampires often do when they're turned - me included. Not like I was always a bloody Cockney. But I don't know; those things don't seem so much like Dawn. Besides, there is a kind of amusing irony in her name now.
Dawn picks the prettiest girl in the place, flame coloured hair trailing down her back, a little gingham dress sliding up her thighs. She looks sweet and innocent, and she's no match for my girl. Dawn has her entranced in a minute, and the boy the redhead's with just stares at them both, his mouth open. I reckon he's thinking about how he'll wank over this later, two lovely girls dancing closer and closer.
Dawn manages to dance the girl over to the edge of the dancefloor, and I move. I feel myself really prowling for the first time in a while. My senses are heightened, and I'm not surprised to find I'm aroused again.
"'Lo, pet," I say to Dawn softly, arriving at her side. "Who's your friend?" I tilt my head and look at the girl. Blood rushes to her cheeks as I stare at her, and I think of how that blood is going to explode into my mouth in a moment.
"That bloke back there your boyfriend?" I ask, tilting my head at the freshman on the dancefloor.
"N-no," she says. "He'd like to be, I guess." She laughs slightly. She looks at Dawn and then back at me, and laughs nervously again. I can almost smell her desire.
"It's alright, pet," I say. "I know what you want." I put my hands on her waist and put my lips to her throat. She gives a soft, sighing moan, and then I bite her.
Her blood flows into my mouth and her hands flutter against my back, trying to push me away, but it's no good, and my face is hidden by the curtain of her hair. If anyone is looking, which is doubtful, they'll just see a bloke and a girl locked in a tight embrace.
When I finish, I lift the girl up and put her into an empty booth. Slumped across the seat, she looks drunk rather than dead. I turn and smile at Dawn and lean in to kiss her.
Something stirs inside of me a little when I see Spike pulling the girl closer. I didn't even get her name. And I killed her, as good as I killed that guy I brought home. When all of this really started. I tilt my head to the side and watch her body slowly grow limp, feel the heat fading from her skin.
"She could've been my friend," I say softly. Then I shrug, reaching out and grabbing Spike's hand and laughing. Who cares. If I wanted friends, I'd get them. I'd get as many as I want. But I don't need friends. I have everything I need right here.
Everything I want.
Biting my lip, holding Spike's gaze, I lead him out to the middle of the dance floor, in the middle of the thrashing bodies. It's so warm. I throw back my head and laugh, then pull Spike closer, so that our bodies are touching, my hips brushing against his as I dip lower, then rise slowly, still looking into his eyes. My hands are running over his shoulders, the nape of his neck, down his arms as my hips move in slow circles.
"I want one," I whisper into his ear, my lips brushing against the line of his jaw. I want to kiss him there. I want to bite.
"She could've been my friend," says Dawn softly, and for a moment I'm back in her bedroom, with her in her knickers and lying on the floor, staring up at me in horror after I killed that boy. That boy whose name neither of us knew. But then she laughs, shrugging it off, and I feel relieved. Strange, though; will take a while to get used to my girl without a conscience.
We dance, and I can see she's almost drunk on her new feelings. She laughs again and throws her head back, running her hands over my body. I grow hard as she rubs aganst me, her eyes meeting my gaze, her cool fingers grazing my neck, my arms.
"I want one," she says into my jaw, and I growl softly, almost a purr.
"Then you'll have one, pet," I say softly. So low that no one who wasn't a vampire could hear it. "I'll find you a snack." I turn her around so her back is to me. I press her against my chest. My arms are wrapped around her waist and her arse grinds against my hard cock.
"D'you see, over there?" I say, lowering my head so it almost rests on her shoulder. "That boy." There's a guy at the bar, couldn't be more than 20, cocky looking. Ripped jeans and dyed black hair and an indie boy t-shirt. He's staring at Dawn like she's dinner. He doesn't realise that she can make a meal out of him. "Why not let him get a taste of what he fancies?"
I let go of her and step back to the edge of the dancefloor, melting into the mass of dancers. But I'm watching. I like to watch.
I lean back against Spike slightly as he wraps his arms around me. It's comforting in a weird way, cuddly almost. If two soulless vampires can be cuddly. It's kind of sweet, actually, in a weird and morbid way. Dinner is served.
I laugh again as Spike unwinds himself from me and melts away, trailing my fingertips down his arm and lingering over his hand, unwilling to let go. I never want to get him go. But he's moving away and the hunger wins out. I focus on the guy, who's already pretty focused on me, and move forward.
He's cute, your everyday college kid, maybe someone I would've taken home before, but now he won't make it anywhere with me. He can't compare, he doesn't add up and he has no idea, the poor guy. Will this be the first person I've killed? Or the fourth? What counts as the kill?
His eyes follow me as I walk up to the bar and lean up against it, watching the bartender, but all my senses are fixed on the body next to mine. I pretend like I don't notice it. He knows I'm pretending.
"Buy you a drink?" he asks, shouting over the music.
I look back at him, raising my eyebrows as if surprised that he offered, then grin and shake my head. "Already had one." He looks disappointed, and tries hard to cover it up, but I reach out and grab his hand. "Let's skip to the next step."
He can hardly contain his excitement as I maneuver him back to the dance floor, wrapping my arms around his shoulders, our hips brushing against each other. "That guy-" he begins, and I cut him off, shaking my head. "Just an old friend." I bring him closer, nuzzling at his neck, and he moans softly. "You're - I -"
You wouldn't like me.
I lick the soft skin at the base of his throat, just over his pulse, nick at it gently, then bite. He lets out a gasp, his fingers digging into my hips, but he doesn't pull away. I realize he doesn't know what's happening. His heartbeat speeds up as I move him to the back of the Bronze, where it's darker, and lower us onto a couch in the corner. Sucking on his neck gently, I can feel his heartbeat slow down as he loses blood, but as it gets closer, I lose interest.
I pull away. He slumps down, looking exhausted and mildly confused, a little scared. I can't do it. I don't want to do it.
I watch Dawn from the shadows. She moves like a panther, circling her prey, and the poor bloke doesn't see it coming. He's just thinking with his trousers, and I can't blame him. She's a sweet bit, alright.
She takes him to the back of the room and I wait until I see her let go, and then I move over, ready to congratulate her. Except the bloke isn't dead. He is clutching his bleeding neck and staring up at her, his eyes confused.
"Not hungry, pet?" I ask her quizzically, raising my eyebrows. The guy stares at me, then at Dawn.
"She bit me," he says in a puzzled voice. Then he wrinkles his forehead and says, more loudly, "that bitch bit me!"
"Shut up," I say agreeably. "Dawn, what's going on here, pet? Not ready to make the next step?" I feel both relieved and disappointed. I dunno if I want Dawn to be a killer. The guy stands up and starts waving his arms, and his voice gets loud enough that one or two people look over.
"I don't know what weird mindgames you two are playing," he shouts angrily, "but you're fucked up, man, fucked up." He pushes me in the chest with the flat on his hands, and I'm bored by this bloke, so I twist his neck to the side. I hear a satisfying click, and he drops back into his seat.
"That's what this is about, love," I say to Dawn. "Not pretty, is it?" The boy stares back at us with dead eyes, his head twisted unpleasantly. "Can't pretend it's all about the tasting and the dancing."
"You liked it," I whisper, narrowing my eyes at the guy's body. I didn't even get his name. And now he's dead. Because of me. All because of me.
It doesn't matter.
I look up at Spike and shrug. "I just didn't want him to die. Not yet. I mean, it felt kinda... pointless. Doesn't killing ever feel like that? It's like... I got what I wanted and now I can just walk away." I shrug again. Killing the girl in the shop was fun and exhilarating. She was so brittle, fragile, warm and human, things I will never be again. Killing this guy felt sort of unnecessary.
But it's also unnecessary to worry about it. It's just another guy. They're a dime a dozen in this world, staring at you with their mouths hanging open and their brains working overtime, thinking if I could just...
Better off without them, really.
"It's just a waste of energy," I say mildly, glancing around to make sure that nobody is staring at us. Nobody is. Everyone is too wrapped up in their own concerns - meeting someone, getting laid, whatever.
Being dead, I feel so beyond that. Petty human affairs.
I move closer to Spike, pressing my body against him, palms flat on his chest, and stand on tiptoe so I can be closer to his eye level. I'm tall, but not that tall.
"Spike," I whisper, my lips almost brushing his skin.
"Pointless?" I tilt my head to the side. Never really thought of it like that before. "Dunno, pet. I don't think most vampires kill cos it has a point. We could, if we wanted, go all Anne Rice and just sip off people and beat ourselves up about it if we accidentally killed someone. But most don't. Cos killing... is fun." I feel her body close to mine and I'm hard again. Never thought turning Dawn would make me so turned on. I put my hands on the back of her thighs. "That's why we do it." I lick her neck. "The hunt, the kill... It's sweet." I smile at her. "I admit, this bloke wasn't a challenge. He was just annoying me." I stroke her cheek. "Just as long as you're not feeling guilty. 'S'all right if you can't be arsed to kill someone. Just don't feel bad if you do. They're not worth it. None of them."
I kiss her, ignoring the fact that things aren't that simple. They were for me, once. Back when I rampaged across Europe and before I fell in love with a human girl, and ended up caring for her sister. Before I got bogged down in human feeling and giving half a shit about people.
Bollocks.
"Dawn," I say, drawing back. "Pet. Think we might have a problem. When I... nearly killed you, I think I might have offed Willow. I dunno. I knocked her down the stairs. She was alive. Might not be now." I wonder how Dawn will react. Will she want to finish the job? Will she want to hurt me? I can't tell.
"I know," I whisper against his skin. Again, I wonder if he misses my breath. I don't. I feel like I should be worried about that, but I'm not, and I'm not worried about not being worried. It goes on and on. And none of it matters. "I get it. And I'm not a fan of Anne Rice."
I kiss him back, softly and carefully, enjoying the sensation of our bodies coming together, me pulling him in, closer. He'll throw me around 'cause he knows I like it but he is rarely gentle with me. He's ashamed of the things he does to me, the things he does because he wants to do them. He can't let himself be in love with me. I understand.
I understand it all.
I bite down gently on his lip, a slow and steady pressure, every slightest movement calculated. I can be serious, too, and deliberate. It's not all wild passions. I can be so much more. I can make him forget about Buffy, and maybe Drusilla, too. They all left him, and I wanted him the most. And I plan on keeping him. For a very long time.
Spike pulls back and I sink down from my tiptoes, watching him carefully with wide eyes. I wonder how he feels to see me looking so innocent. But my expression changes when he says Willow's name. I frown.
"Willow?" I shrug. A whole big mess of emotions rises inside of me. Willow Willow Willow. "We should go see, then."
God, I love the pressure of her teeth on my lip. Kind of thing that might encourage a man to just whip up a girl's skirt and take her on the dance floor, rest of the world be damned. And maybe we'll do it. Just not tonight.
"We should go see, then."
Yeah. We've got someone else to worry about right now. If worry's the right word. It's hard to tell from Dawn's voice; it's too even, too calm. No idea what she's thinking.
We walk out of the club hand in hand. Her skin is cool against mine. I like seeing the way her legs scissor beneath her short skirt, the pallor of her skin above the black leather of her boots. She's beautiful.
We can walk faster, now. She keeps pace with me easily. And then we run, just for the hell of it, and she doesn't flag. She's not a weak little girl any more. I don't really know what the hell she is. But she's mine. I look at the mark on her throat. Yeah. My girl.
We get to the house. Can't believe that only a few hours ago I nearly killed Dawn here. Before I actually killed her, o'course. Thank fuck Willow turned up when she did.
Willow. Is she dead yet? I push the door open but of course Dawn can't go in. Shit. I call through the door.
"Willow? Can Dawn come in?"
There's a mumbling, weak sound. But evidently it's enough. We walk inside and there's Willow, lying at the bottom of the stairs. There's some blood on the carpet. She looks pretty crap.
Waiting on the porch, I cross my arms even though it's not cold. I don't feel cold. Right now, I don't really feel much of anything.
How weird, that I can't go into my own house anymore without an invitation. My goddamn house. Suddenly, I just have this wild urge to set the place on fire, everything, leave it in flames and run away, like Spike and I ran through the alleys, my body fast and compliant and everything would be simple and easy. Just torch this fucking mess of a life that I left behind now that I'm dead and go far away, just me and Spike.
But there's still Willow.
Apparently she's not dead yet, because she lets me in, even though she has no idea why. I wonder if she even realizes what she's saying. I slip past Spike once we're inside and approach her, the weak, crumpled figure at the foot of the stairs. What a fucking mess. And she'd caused me so much trouble. And now she's nothing.
The air smells like blood and fear and pain - how fucking weird is that, that I can smell how people feel? - and Willow is so pale. She's fragile, like I used to be. I look at her, and I think, I can't be broken that easily anymore.
I kneel down next to her, balancing carefully on stiletto heels, my hair falling down to brush softly across her skin. She looks at me and winces, and it looks like her eyes are clearer than they have been in months. Yeah, a narrow brush with death will really sober you up. I meet her gaze and hold it.
Dawn picks the prettiest girl in the place, flame coloured hair trailing down her back, a little gingham dress sliding up her thighs. She looks sweet and innocent, and she's no match for my girl. Dawn has her entranced in a minute, and the boy the redhead's with just stares at them both, his mouth open. I reckon he's thinking about how he'll wank over this later, two lovely girls dancing closer and closer.
Dawn manages to dance the girl over to the edge of the dancefloor, and I move. I feel myself really prowling for the first time in a while. My senses are heightened, and I'm not surprised to find I'm aroused again.
"'Lo, pet," I say to Dawn softly, arriving at her side. "Who's your friend?" I tilt my head and look at the girl. Blood rushes to her cheeks as I stare at her, and I think of how that blood is going to explode into my mouth in a moment.
"That bloke back there your boyfriend?" I ask, tilting my head at the freshman on the dancefloor.
"N-no," she says. "He'd like to be, I guess." She laughs slightly. She looks at Dawn and then back at me, and laughs nervously again. I can almost smell her desire.
"It's alright, pet," I say. "I know what you want." I put my hands on her waist and put my lips to her throat. She gives a soft, sighing moan, and then I bite her.
Her blood flows into my mouth and her hands flutter against my back, trying to push me away, but it's no good, and my face is hidden by the curtain of her hair. If anyone is looking, which is doubtful, they'll just see a bloke and a girl locked in a tight embrace.
When I finish, I lift the girl up and put her into an empty booth. Slumped across the seat, she looks drunk rather than dead. I turn and smile at Dawn and lean in to kiss her.
"Pleased with the show, pet?" I ask her.
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"She could've been my friend," I say softly. Then I shrug, reaching out and grabbing Spike's hand and laughing. Who cares. If I wanted friends, I'd get them. I'd get as many as I want. But I don't need friends. I have everything I need right here.
Everything I want.
Biting my lip, holding Spike's gaze, I lead him out to the middle of the dance floor, in the middle of the thrashing bodies. It's so warm. I throw back my head and laugh, then pull Spike closer, so that our bodies are touching, my hips brushing against his as I dip lower, then rise slowly, still looking into his eyes. My hands are running over his shoulders, the nape of his neck, down his arms as my hips move in slow circles.
"I want one," I whisper into his ear, my lips brushing against the line of his jaw. I want to kiss him there. I want to bite.
I'm hungry.
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We dance, and I can see she's almost drunk on her new feelings. She laughs again and throws her head back, running her hands over my body. I grow hard as she rubs aganst me, her eyes meeting my gaze, her cool fingers grazing my neck, my arms.
"I want one," she says into my jaw, and I growl softly, almost a purr.
"Then you'll have one, pet," I say softly. So low that no one who wasn't a vampire could hear it. "I'll find you a snack." I turn her around so her back is to me. I press her against my chest. My arms are wrapped around her waist and her arse grinds against my hard cock.
"D'you see, over there?" I say, lowering my head so it almost rests on her shoulder. "That boy." There's a guy at the bar, couldn't be more than 20, cocky looking. Ripped jeans and dyed black hair and an indie boy t-shirt. He's staring at Dawn like she's dinner. He doesn't realise that she can make a meal out of him. "Why not let him get a taste of what he fancies?"
I let go of her and step back to the edge of the dancefloor, melting into the mass of dancers. But I'm watching. I like to watch.
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I laugh again as Spike unwinds himself from me and melts away, trailing my fingertips down his arm and lingering over his hand, unwilling to let go. I never want to get him go. But he's moving away and the hunger wins out. I focus on the guy, who's already pretty focused on me, and move forward.
He's cute, your everyday college kid, maybe someone I would've taken home before, but now he won't make it anywhere with me. He can't compare, he doesn't add up and he has no idea, the poor guy. Will this be the first person I've killed? Or the fourth? What counts as the kill?
His eyes follow me as I walk up to the bar and lean up against it, watching the bartender, but all my senses are fixed on the body next to mine. I pretend like I don't notice it. He knows I'm pretending.
"Buy you a drink?" he asks, shouting over the music.
I look back at him, raising my eyebrows as if surprised that he offered, then grin and shake my head. "Already had one." He looks disappointed, and tries hard to cover it up, but I reach out and grab his hand. "Let's skip to the next step."
He can hardly contain his excitement as I maneuver him back to the dance floor, wrapping my arms around his shoulders, our hips brushing against each other. "That guy-" he begins, and I cut him off, shaking my head. "Just an old friend." I bring him closer, nuzzling at his neck, and he moans softly. "You're - I -"
You wouldn't like me.
I lick the soft skin at the base of his throat, just over his pulse, nick at it gently, then bite. He lets out a gasp, his fingers digging into my hips, but he doesn't pull away. I realize he doesn't know what's happening. His heartbeat speeds up as I move him to the back of the Bronze, where it's darker, and lower us onto a couch in the corner. Sucking on his neck gently, I can feel his heartbeat slow down as he loses blood, but as it gets closer, I lose interest.
I pull away. He slumps down, looking exhausted and mildly confused, a little scared. I can't do it. I don't want to do it.
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She takes him to the back of the room and I wait until I see her let go, and then I move over, ready to congratulate her. Except the bloke isn't dead. He is clutching his bleeding neck and staring up at her, his eyes confused.
"Not hungry, pet?" I ask her quizzically, raising my eyebrows. The guy stares at me, then at Dawn.
"She bit me," he says in a puzzled voice. Then he wrinkles his forehead and says, more loudly, "that bitch bit me!"
"Shut up," I say agreeably. "Dawn, what's going on here, pet? Not ready to make the next step?" I feel both relieved and disappointed. I dunno if I want Dawn to be a killer. The guy stands up and starts waving his arms, and his voice gets loud enough that one or two people look over.
"I don't know what weird mindgames you two are playing," he shouts angrily, "but you're fucked up, man, fucked up." He pushes me in the chest with the flat on his hands, and I'm bored by this bloke, so I twist his neck to the side. I hear a satisfying click, and he drops back into his seat.
"That's what this is about, love," I say to Dawn. "Not pretty, is it?" The boy stares back at us with dead eyes, his head twisted unpleasantly. "Can't pretend it's all about the tasting and the dancing."
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It doesn't matter.
I look up at Spike and shrug. "I just didn't want him to die. Not yet. I mean, it felt kinda... pointless. Doesn't killing ever feel like that? It's like... I got what I wanted and now I can just walk away." I shrug again. Killing the girl in the shop was fun and exhilarating. She was so brittle, fragile, warm and human, things I will never be again. Killing this guy felt sort of unnecessary.
But it's also unnecessary to worry about it. It's just another guy. They're a dime a dozen in this world, staring at you with their mouths hanging open and their brains working overtime, thinking if I could just...
Better off without them, really.
"It's just a waste of energy," I say mildly, glancing around to make sure that nobody is staring at us. Nobody is. Everyone is too wrapped up in their own concerns - meeting someone, getting laid, whatever.
Being dead, I feel so beyond that. Petty human affairs.
I move closer to Spike, pressing my body against him, palms flat on his chest, and stand on tiptoe so I can be closer to his eye level. I'm tall, but not that tall.
"Spike," I whisper, my lips almost brushing his skin.
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I kiss her, ignoring the fact that things aren't that simple. They were for me, once. Back when I rampaged across Europe and before I fell in love with a human girl, and ended up caring for her sister. Before I got bogged down in human feeling and giving half a shit about people.
Bollocks.
"Dawn," I say, drawing back. "Pet. Think we might have a problem. When I... nearly killed you, I think I might have offed Willow. I dunno. I knocked her down the stairs. She was alive. Might not be now." I wonder how Dawn will react. Will she want to finish the job? Will she want to hurt me? I can't tell.
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I kiss him back, softly and carefully, enjoying the sensation of our bodies coming together, me pulling him in, closer. He'll throw me around 'cause he knows I like it but he is rarely gentle with me. He's ashamed of the things he does to me, the things he does because he wants to do them. He can't let himself be in love with me. I understand.
I understand it all.
I bite down gently on his lip, a slow and steady pressure, every slightest movement calculated. I can be serious, too, and deliberate. It's not all wild passions. I can be so much more. I can make him forget about Buffy, and maybe Drusilla, too. They all left him, and I wanted him the most. And I plan on keeping him. For a very long time.
Spike pulls back and I sink down from my tiptoes, watching him carefully with wide eyes. I wonder how he feels to see me looking so innocent. But my expression changes when he says Willow's name. I frown.
"Willow?" I shrug. A whole big mess of emotions rises inside of me. Willow Willow Willow. "We should go see, then."
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"We should go see, then."
Yeah. We've got someone else to worry about right now. If worry's the right word. It's hard to tell from Dawn's voice; it's too even, too calm. No idea what she's thinking.
We walk out of the club hand in hand. Her skin is cool against mine. I like seeing the way her legs scissor beneath her short skirt, the pallor of her skin above the black leather of her boots. She's beautiful.
We can walk faster, now. She keeps pace with me easily. And then we run, just for the hell of it, and she doesn't flag. She's not a weak little girl any more. I don't really know what the hell she is. But she's mine. I look at the mark on her throat. Yeah. My girl.
We get to the house. Can't believe that only a few hours ago I nearly killed Dawn here. Before I actually killed her, o'course. Thank fuck Willow turned up when she did.
Willow. Is she dead yet? I push the door open but of course Dawn can't go in. Shit. I call through the door.
"Willow? Can Dawn come in?"
There's a mumbling, weak sound. But evidently it's enough. We walk inside and there's Willow, lying at the bottom of the stairs. There's some blood on the carpet. She looks pretty crap.
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How weird, that I can't go into my own house anymore without an invitation. My goddamn house. Suddenly, I just have this wild urge to set the place on fire, everything, leave it in flames and run away, like Spike and I ran through the alleys, my body fast and compliant and everything would be simple and easy. Just torch this fucking mess of a life that I left behind now that I'm dead and go far away, just me and Spike.
But there's still Willow.
Apparently she's not dead yet, because she lets me in, even though she has no idea why. I wonder if she even realizes what she's saying. I slip past Spike once we're inside and approach her, the weak, crumpled figure at the foot of the stairs. What a fucking mess. And she'd caused me so much trouble. And now she's nothing.
The air smells like blood and fear and pain - how fucking weird is that, that I can smell how people feel? - and Willow is so pale. She's fragile, like I used to be. I look at her, and I think, I can't be broken that easily anymore.
I kneel down next to her, balancing carefully on stiletto heels, my hair falling down to brush softly across her skin. She looks at me and winces, and it looks like her eyes are clearer than they have been in months. Yeah, a narrow brush with death will really sober you up. I meet her gaze and hold it.
"Hey, Willow," I whisper.
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