Disclaimer: Characters of Buffy and Spike belong to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy and 'Grr Arg', not me. No profit being made.
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Part Four
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Look my eyes are just hollow grounds, see your love is drawn red from my hands...
-Twist
* * *
Following Celene as she left the bar, Spike had eschewed subtlety and gone for the direct approach. He tailed her discreetly, and as soon as she reached the alley by the back entrance, he lunged, jerking her into the darkness at the buildings rear.
She whimpered as he pushed her up against the rough brick of the wall, desperately trying to convey her submission to him, as a fledgling faced with a Master. Grasping her by the throat, he raised her up off her feet effortlessly, shaking her slightly, like some great cat toying with it's prey.
The female, he remembered from the conversation he'd overheard earlier; was in game-face, and she was futilely trying to switch back to human, knowing that perhaps the only thing that would get her through this 'alive' was keeping up a front of respectful submission.
But in her head, she was screaming. Spike had death written in his golden gaze, and Celene doubted that grovelling would get her through this in one piece; but she was prepared to try it. After all, it wasn't every day that a new vamp arrived in town, even in LA; and never before had another master been on the scene.
Now, as she gave up struggling, dropping her hands to her sides and raising her eyes to look at him, he spoke:
"Tell me about the Slayer."
Simple. Direct. Celene wasn't stupid enough to play games with him, this vampire powerhouse who had seemingly appeared out of nowhere. His game face was on, but even then, he seemed coolly calculating, in control of his demon. The heavy ridges on his brow curving down the bridge of his nose gave him a distinctly feline appearance- like some humanoid jungle cat. The yellow eyes bored into hers, and she knew how it felt to be prey, yet in those eyes also, she noted, burned a strange desperation, all the more terrifying contrasted against the icy calm of the rest of him.
His hand tightened on her throat, and she realised she hadn't answered his question.
"What... y'... want... t'... know... ?"
She managed to gasp out, not needing to breathe, but still needing air in her windpipe to talk. He growled, and for a moment she thought he'd lose it.
"Where. Where did you see her?"
He punctuated it by banging her back against the wall.
"S... Sub Station! Corner... 37th... and... Maple... "
Spike loosened his grip slightly, satisfied. A bead of blood stole down her forehead where he'd hit her head, and his gaze fixed on it, roiling hunger suddenly foremost in his thoughts. She saw where his eyes were looking, heard the soft snarling sound he made.
she began to struggle wildly, thrashing against his hold.
Lost in his hunger, she caught him off-guard, falling back as her foot collided with his abdomen. Celene never had a chance, yet in that split second, a giddy sense of achievement hit her:
Spike looked up at her, slightly stunned, gut burning from hunger. For a second the dark-haired woman that stood over him was not Celene, but his Druscilla. Her jeans and shirt had become a scarlet dress, those dark, glittering, mad eyes calling him to her. He smiled slightly, and she charged, snarling, as the vision dissipated.
Insinct kicking in, Spike slashed at her before she reached her target, leaving bloody rents across her face. Driving his foot into her stomach, he sent her crashing across the alley, scattering the garbage bags piled there. The hot sweet scent of blood, so long untasted, drove him on, completely beserk now; as he pounced on her body, ignoring the weak flutterings of her arms against him, sinking fangs deep into her neck. And even as he drained the last drop, her blue eyes darkening as she died a true death, body withering before his eyes; it was someone else he imagined staring out of the window of her gaze. A mingling of love and hate, guilt and fierce satisfaction; another vampiress whose death he blamed himself for.
He was drawn painfully back into the present by the sound of slow amused applause from the bars nearby back entrance. Turning sharply, he saw the other vamp... leaning against the doorframe.
"'Bout time someone gave that bitch what for." Alex grinned, obviously secure in his belief that he had the upper hand.
Spike's dusting of Celene should have tipped him off as to the level of power he was dealing with, but since he'd seen her knock Spike down, he'd assumed he had nothing to worry about.
"So, you new 'round here? Name? Need someone ta show ya the ropes?" he continued, brightly oblivious to Spike's amazed indignation.
"No. To everything. I'm Spike."
Standing he glared at Alex icily, speaking as if to a child. Alex's face darkened.
"Yeah, ain't that nice. Well... 'Spike', maybe I shouldn't be here making nice with ya. Maybe I oughta be talking to my sire, the master 'round here, let him know you killed one of his children? Annoying bint that she was, he still ain't gonna be too happy... "
Alex trailed off, his predatory grin fading. Something about the look on the other vampires face, he reminded himelf; made him somewhat... uneasy. The way he just stood there, looking at Alex like he was... dinner. It gave him a disturbing window into what it must be like for his human prey. Backtracking, he stammered:
"Ah... Or not. Ya know how it is- the Laws can be bent... " he trailed off into silence as Spike stalked towards him. Made no move to resist as his arm snaked out, grabbing him around the throat. Spike was smiling, his eyes too bright in the moonlight, all the more terrifying for the fact his game face was off.
"Tell your 'Master'," and he spat out the word like an epithet, "Spike's in town." he released Alex's neck, then turned his back contemptously and walked away.
Rubbing his throat, Alex watched him go. It wasn't often he came across another vamp that could scare him. Except his own Sire. He shivered. He would at that.
Still rubbing his neck, he ducked back inside the bar.
* * *
Spike swore to himself as he paced swiftly along the sidewalk, heading for 37th and Maple. He'd lost control of himself, if only for an instant. That wasn't what was really pissing him off though. Aside from the vision of Dru,
it was the way he was acting.
Declaring his dominance to that idiotic fledgling, practically issuing a challenge to an unknown Master...
he snorted humourlessly,
It was like he had a deathwish. And killing that female...
That truly disturbed him. He hadn't experienced that kind of loosing of his demon since Dru had first made him. He'd never fed on another vamp before, and even with his 'less ritual, more fun' approach to vampiric un-life; Alex's mention of the Law had shaken him.
The Laws were just that- namely the rules which vampires were supposed to abide by. There weren't many, but the most important one was 'Thou shalt not kill another vamp.' Unless of course they were your own child, in which case you had the right as their creator to do whatever you wanted with them. But killing your sire, or someone else's child- that was an offence punishable by death. Naturally, being demonic in nature, vampires weren't partial to following the letter of the law, and as a consequence, all this depended on politics within the community you were in at the time. Suffice to say, if enough vamps disliked you, unless you had many supporters of your own, you were toast. Or ashes.
Of course he'd been ruling the roost then. Here, in a strange city, vampire community ruled by God- knows-who, he could find himself being punished for such indiscretion. Especially if the Master here saw him as a threat...
Part of him, the practical, self-preserving part; was concerned about this. Another part, the rapidly growing piece of him that didn't care anymore, welcomed the exhilaration of being hunted. He wasn't sure which disturbed him more.
Grinning fiercely as the wind whipped his face; he let the love of the hunt consume him, as he continued down the street, searching for the Slayer. He looked forward to breaking her bones, supping on her, as if by killing her he could kill all memory of Sunnydale, and the events there that had led to Dru's death.
It never occurred to him that chasing after Buffy whilst half-starved and severely distracted, would also be seen by some as suicidal.
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