Blood and Fire – Part 1

Total Chapters: 1 - 20

A young woman goes looking for revenge and finds more than she bargained for…

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Author’s Notes: Thanks again to Niamh for sending this little plot bunny after me, albeit inadvertently. I know the summary kinda sucks, but I didn’t want to give much away. Read it, and it’ll make sense.

Also, this fic has some dark spots in it. Spike is very much still the Big Bad. So if you like your Spike well on the path to redemption, parts of this fic will not be your cuppa. But if you like Spike acting, well, like a vampire, then read on.

Spoilers: Technically this is season 2, but the timeline’s all wonky, so I’m not sure how much of it is really spoilery. Still, I suppose you’ve all seen at least the first two seasons, so we should be good.

Chapter 1

*** *** ***

Temptation falls in your path
No hesitation why you ask
You have another waiting at home
And yes she matters to you
Kind of woman that’ll haunt you

You didn’t mean to meet her you cry
Oh but the sun goes down every night
She came to you when you were alone
And yes she matters to you
Kind of woman that’ll haunt you
She matters to you

I promised myself a long time ago
It would be difficult to let you go
If not at least within
The touch of my fingers
It was close to being
In heaven
Kind of woman that’ll haunt you
To being in heaven
Kind of woman that’ll haunt you
Is to be…in heaven
Kind of woman that’ll haunt you
I know I know

*** *** ***

If Spike hadn’t hated the Slayer after she’d managed to best him on the night of the Feast of St. Vigeous, then he surely hated her now. He could hear Drusilla moaning in pleasure, and it wasn’t for him. She had her precious “Daddy” now, and Spike felt like nothing more than a discarded plaything.

For a century, he had existed outside the shadow of Angelus. Dru had been his only, no overbearing sire trying to reclaim his childe. But the careless act of one Slayer had ruined it for him. She had to go and make the brooding wanker happy. Bloody bitch.

As Drusilla’s moans turned into screams, Spike decided he’d had enough. He stormed out of the mansion in search of something to kill. Maybe he’d get lucky and find the Slayer. If he came back with her head on a stick, Dru would have to accept him for the monster he was and give up the ponce who’d rather love a Slayer than kill her.

Spike had never quite understood what Angel had seen in that Slayer anyway. She was certainly no great beauty. Not ugly, but just…plain. She didn’t have much of a spark to her either. Not like that Slayer he’d fought in New York. Now that Slayer he could understand wanting a good tumble with. But the Slayer here in Sunnydale? Good fighter sure, but not worth becoming some brooding, whipped git over.

Spike made his way towards that club all the young people of the Hellmouth seemed so fond of. He tried to remember the name. Oh right, the Bronze. That was it. Damn silly name for a club if you asked him. The Bronze what? Still, there was always some intoxicated girl stumbling around just waiting to be his dinner. A bit like shooting fish in a barrel, but right now he just wanted a kill to take the edge off.

It wasn’t long until Spike was leading his dinner for the evening into the back alley. The first flash of his demon face made her scream, and Spike covered her mouth even as he relished the sound. Fear made the blood taste so much sweeter.

Spike had just sunk his fangs into the girl’s neck when he felt a new presence in the alley. He stopped drinking, closing the girl’s nose to stop her whimpers so he could hear better.

“You might want to consider dropping the girl. I mean, I’m going to dust you either way, but I may make it a little less painful if you let her go now.”

Spike did release the girl, although not because he’d been told to. He wanted to see the chit who was dumb enough to threaten him. When he turned and saw a small blonde girl who couldn’t be much more than sixteen glaring at him, her arms crossed in front of her, he almost laughed. Probably would have if she hadn’t just caused his meal to get away. “Y’know, pet, it’s not polite to interrupt a bloke when he’s having dinner. Unless of course, you’re offering another entrée.” He looked her up and down, then ran his tongue over his teeth suggestively.

“The only thing I’m offering you is an end to your worthless existence.”

Spike wondered who exactly this girl thought she was. Did she not get the memo that this town already had a Slayer and wasn’t in need of a little girl who dusted vamps for fun? “I have a feeling that isn’t going to happen. See, killing girls who wander into dark alleys—it’s what I do.”

“Yeah, and dusting evil vampires—it’s what I do. And you, William the Bloody, are a vampire I’ve wanted to kill for a long time.”

His smirk faltered a little at that. She knew who he was? “Didn’t know we were acquainted,” he replied.

“We’re not.” The girl raised a crossbow, and Spike’s eyes widened. How had he missed she was carrying that? Probably because you were too busy checking her out, a little voice in the back of his mind supplied. Yeah, that was why.

She fired the weapon, the bolt narrowly missing his heart. Spike pulled it out of his chest and snapped it in two, letting the pieces clatter to the dirty ground. “See, now you’ve gone and made me mad.”

Her fear was almost imperceptible as she reloaded the crossbow, but Spike knew it was there. He advanced on her with inhuman speed, throwing the weapon from her hands and pinning against her against a wall. “Looks like you were offering me something to eat after all.”

The girl spit in his face.

Spike snarled, rearing back to rip out her throat. Suddenly, he was on his back, an angry looking Slayer standing above him. Her stake was poised to strike, but Spike jumped up, kicking his foot out as he did and knocking the Slayer to the ground. “Another time, ducks. I’ve got other things to do.”

Despite his earlier desire to bring the dead Slayer home to Dru, the other girl had intrigued him too much. He wanted to see if he could dig up who she was. Killing the Slayer could wait for another time. With a swirl of leather, he was gone.

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