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100fandomhellTitle:Never Weak
Author: Apache Firecat
Rating: Soft R/M
Fandom: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Wordcount: 1193
She was beautiful and graceful. She would have made a wonderful, passionate lover if things had been different, if their lives had been different. Spike slung a shot of whiskey down his throat. He didn't need to be thinking like this. Such thoughts, such prose, was dangerous. The poetry should have died with his mortality. Yet, still sometimes, like now, it threatened to come back. Besides that, he had a wonderful, dark Princess waiting for him at home, a Princess who would be thrilled and proud of him when he brought her another Slayer home. She'd quickly forget about the Great Poof when she had this dangerous, strong, and proud woman as a slave who they, together, would reduce to begging for her life.
He'd heard this Slayer, oddly enough, had a son. He pushed the thought from his mind. It was rumors. It had to be. Slayers didn't have family or friends, let alone children. They were even more lone creatures than the Vampires. At least Vampires had clans, and a few of them, such as himself and the other three of the Fanged Four, did group together. They became a family of sorts. Spike smiled as he slipped onto the back of the subway train. Darla would be proud of him too for bringing this one home. Finally, he'd get some of his own just rewards, and Angel would again be the outcast, the whelp that he was. He'd be the one begging and pleading, struggling to do badder and bigger things, for attention.
These thoughts had been supposed to die, he reflected again, when his mortality had died. Not only the poetry had been supposed to stop, but so, too, should have the feelings of inferiority, the driving need to prove himself to somebody, to prove that he was worthy of love. Vampires didn't need love. They were creatures of the dark, Demons who fed off of the living. Besides, they didn't need to struggle for power; when they were reborn, they were given, with their new lives, more power than any bloke living could ever attain. They were the power, never mind the raw, hungry feelings currently paining his stomach.
He wasn't hungry, Spike told himself, and he wasn't weak. He was strength personified, power supreme. The Slayer might have been a strong girl, but she was just another of an ever growing list. One night, he will have killed them all. He was stand as the head Master Vampire then, and all other Vamps will have to bow to him, including that bloody Poof who his Princess had been lusting after recently. He didn't have to have words, or prose, to prove himself; every body he brought back, especially every Slayer he brought back, just further proved he was the stronger, the more powerful, and better Vampire. He was the one who should be leading their little pack.
Still, she was beautiful, he thought, watching her elegant stride. He had been following her for a week now, biding his time and taking the fact that she had yet to spy him into his pride. It was nice to play with his prey sometimes. Besides, there was a part of him that would love to take this woman as much more than just an opponent on the field of battle. He had imagined, several times now, what it would be like to take her into his bed and ravish her before he killed her, not because he forced himself on her as Angelus would do but rather because she chose him, because she went with him willingly.
He scoffed. He knew he was fooling himself. No Slayer would ever go willingly with a Vampire. Although... There were legends... There were stories that the Slayers were able to weave a natural spell of sorts over their prey, over the Vampires. There was even legend that one such Slayer had bedded many Vampires before waking them with a stake, her beauty lulling their senses to keep themselves safe, to fight her at all costs, and to ultimately overpower her as they should. That's all it was though, he thought, standing on the subway, black-nailed hands wrapped tightly around the slimy pole as he watched Nikki Wood.
Flashes suddenly started darting through his mind. He got them every so often. At times, he'd even considered that he had a gift similar to his Princess, but the images he saw never took actual place. They were just daydreams, or so Darla had told him while his beloved Dru had giggled at him. He'd dared to ask only once when Angelus had been out. When he'd come back, he'd been just in time to see Spike almost blushing and catch his sire laughing at him. He had grinned widely and tried to get them to tell them why they were laughing at William the Not-So Bloody now. Drusilla had spoken wistfully words he'd mistakenly thought were nonsense while Darla, to her credit, Spike admitted if only to himself, had actually changed the topic and not told her favorite pet how silly her other pet was being.
Why? he wondered, not for the first time. Why had she covered for him like that, especially if the images he saw were nothing of importance and only daydreams? Was there perhaps something she was not telling him? It certainly wouldn't be the first time.
He felt a tight heat around his legs, but there was no one there. He saw flashes of bright, blonde hair and a beautiful, white face beaming down at him. Red lips parted in deep, panting gasps. Damn!, he thought. He knew it had been a long time since Drusilla had given him what he deserved, but here he was imagining a woman he'd never seen! He wasn't that bad off!
It was time for the kill, he thought. The Slayer would die tonight, or at least be made to bow and become a slave for his favorite, little mistress. Her defeat would bring Dru back to him and fill her dark, beautiful eyes again with love and pride for him. It would shift the power balance among their little, fanged group of four again, and make Angelus the pup he was. It was time for Nikki Wood to die, and die she would sooner or later, no matter how beautiful, graceful, or powerful she was.
Slayers were wonderful beings, he thought, but they were deadly monsters too. None of the humans would admit they were monsters, no more than they would allow to the wickedness of their beloved Council, but Spike knew better. He'd seen Vampire children be staked by Slayers before, and he'd heard true tale of many a nest of Vampires who woke to a surprise battle they stood no chance of surviving. Slayers were wicked, conniving little beasts destined and dedicated to wipe out their kind. They had to be dealt with as such. Spike slipped, with even less sound than a shadow, after his prey, leaving his daydreams and prose alike behind. Both were for the weak, and he'd never be weak again, blonde girls and Slayers notwithstanding.
The End
Author: Apache Firecat
Rating: Soft R/M
Fandom: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Wordcount: 1193
She was beautiful and graceful. She would have made a wonderful, passionate lover if things had been different, if their lives had been different. Spike slung a shot of whiskey down his throat. He didn't need to be thinking like this. Such thoughts, such prose, was dangerous. The poetry should have died with his mortality. Yet, still sometimes, like now, it threatened to come back. Besides that, he had a wonderful, dark Princess waiting for him at home, a Princess who would be thrilled and proud of him when he brought her another Slayer home. She'd quickly forget about the Great Poof when she had this dangerous, strong, and proud woman as a slave who they, together, would reduce to begging for her life.
He'd heard this Slayer, oddly enough, had a son. He pushed the thought from his mind. It was rumors. It had to be. Slayers didn't have family or friends, let alone children. They were even more lone creatures than the Vampires. At least Vampires had clans, and a few of them, such as himself and the other three of the Fanged Four, did group together. They became a family of sorts. Spike smiled as he slipped onto the back of the subway train. Darla would be proud of him too for bringing this one home. Finally, he'd get some of his own just rewards, and Angel would again be the outcast, the whelp that he was. He'd be the one begging and pleading, struggling to do badder and bigger things, for attention.
These thoughts had been supposed to die, he reflected again, when his mortality had died. Not only the poetry had been supposed to stop, but so, too, should have the feelings of inferiority, the driving need to prove himself to somebody, to prove that he was worthy of love. Vampires didn't need love. They were creatures of the dark, Demons who fed off of the living. Besides, they didn't need to struggle for power; when they were reborn, they were given, with their new lives, more power than any bloke living could ever attain. They were the power, never mind the raw, hungry feelings currently paining his stomach.
He wasn't hungry, Spike told himself, and he wasn't weak. He was strength personified, power supreme. The Slayer might have been a strong girl, but she was just another of an ever growing list. One night, he will have killed them all. He was stand as the head Master Vampire then, and all other Vamps will have to bow to him, including that bloody Poof who his Princess had been lusting after recently. He didn't have to have words, or prose, to prove himself; every body he brought back, especially every Slayer he brought back, just further proved he was the stronger, the more powerful, and better Vampire. He was the one who should be leading their little pack.
Still, she was beautiful, he thought, watching her elegant stride. He had been following her for a week now, biding his time and taking the fact that she had yet to spy him into his pride. It was nice to play with his prey sometimes. Besides, there was a part of him that would love to take this woman as much more than just an opponent on the field of battle. He had imagined, several times now, what it would be like to take her into his bed and ravish her before he killed her, not because he forced himself on her as Angelus would do but rather because she chose him, because she went with him willingly.
He scoffed. He knew he was fooling himself. No Slayer would ever go willingly with a Vampire. Although... There were legends... There were stories that the Slayers were able to weave a natural spell of sorts over their prey, over the Vampires. There was even legend that one such Slayer had bedded many Vampires before waking them with a stake, her beauty lulling their senses to keep themselves safe, to fight her at all costs, and to ultimately overpower her as they should. That's all it was though, he thought, standing on the subway, black-nailed hands wrapped tightly around the slimy pole as he watched Nikki Wood.
Flashes suddenly started darting through his mind. He got them every so often. At times, he'd even considered that he had a gift similar to his Princess, but the images he saw never took actual place. They were just daydreams, or so Darla had told him while his beloved Dru had giggled at him. He'd dared to ask only once when Angelus had been out. When he'd come back, he'd been just in time to see Spike almost blushing and catch his sire laughing at him. He had grinned widely and tried to get them to tell them why they were laughing at William the Not-So Bloody now. Drusilla had spoken wistfully words he'd mistakenly thought were nonsense while Darla, to her credit, Spike admitted if only to himself, had actually changed the topic and not told her favorite pet how silly her other pet was being.
Why? he wondered, not for the first time. Why had she covered for him like that, especially if the images he saw were nothing of importance and only daydreams? Was there perhaps something she was not telling him? It certainly wouldn't be the first time.
He felt a tight heat around his legs, but there was no one there. He saw flashes of bright, blonde hair and a beautiful, white face beaming down at him. Red lips parted in deep, panting gasps. Damn!, he thought. He knew it had been a long time since Drusilla had given him what he deserved, but here he was imagining a woman he'd never seen! He wasn't that bad off!
It was time for the kill, he thought. The Slayer would die tonight, or at least be made to bow and become a slave for his favorite, little mistress. Her defeat would bring Dru back to him and fill her dark, beautiful eyes again with love and pride for him. It would shift the power balance among their little, fanged group of four again, and make Angelus the pup he was. It was time for Nikki Wood to die, and die she would sooner or later, no matter how beautiful, graceful, or powerful she was.
Slayers were wonderful beings, he thought, but they were deadly monsters too. None of the humans would admit they were monsters, no more than they would allow to the wickedness of their beloved Council, but Spike knew better. He'd seen Vampire children be staked by Slayers before, and he'd heard true tale of many a nest of Vampires who woke to a surprise battle they stood no chance of surviving. Slayers were wicked, conniving little beasts destined and dedicated to wipe out their kind. They had to be dealt with as such. Spike slipped, with even less sound than a shadow, after his prey, leaving his daydreams and prose alike behind. Both were for the weak, and he'd never be weak again, blonde girls and Slayers notwithstanding.
The End
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Date: 2022-06-27 11:51 pm (UTC)