Warnings: Character death. Blood play. This is a fairly dark story, and Spike will be acting on more of his vampire impulses than he does in most Spuffy stories.
Freedom’s just another word for nothing left to lose.
-Me & Bobby McGee by Kris Kristofferson
Excitement coursed through every inch of Spike’s body as he watched the run down motel. If his information was right, at least five Watchers were staying there. He’d never met a Watcher, but what he knew of them made him suspect that they were mostly a cowardly lot, and they wouldn’t have come anywhere near Sunnydale if they didn’t have the Slayer with them.
The Slayer. The words made his mouth water with anticipation. Within minutes he could be facing off against his third Slayer. Some young girl who would be strong, fast, and deadly. Inside one of those motel rooms the perfect killer was waiting for him, and when they meet it would be kill or be killed. He had every intention of being the killer, of draining her dry of her powerful blood, but it wouldn’t have been half as fun if he didn’t know that there was a real risk that he would be dust before the sun came up.
The wait was nearly killing him, patience was not one of his virtues, but still he waited till his minions had made sure of which rooms to attack. Personally Spike would have been more than happy to massacre the entire motel, but the Master didn’t want to tip his hand yet. Unlike Spike the Master was patient. He fully intended to rule the entire world, and if it took him centuries to do so, so be it. In the mean time, he didn’t want the other vampire clans or demons to know how ambitious he was. A major slaughter outside of Sunnydale would draw undue attention.
Spike didn’t care about that, in fact he really wasn’t all that fond of the Master’s new world order. As far as Spike could tell, the Master thought that if vampires were freed from having to kill on a nightly basis, they would develop some sort of high vampire culture. It seemed like a bunch of rubbish to Spike. Killing was what being a vampire was all about. What other culture did they need?
On the other hand, the Master’s big plans were sure to attract the attention of the Council. They would send the Slayer to stop the Master, and Spike would be there to stop her. That was a big plus in Spike’s book. In the last century, he’d only been able to track down two Slayers. Usually by the time he’d heard about a Slayer and made it to the part of the world she was in, something else had gotten there first and already offed the girl.
Not to mention sooner or later the rest of the demon world would figure out just what the Master was up to and they would have a hell of a fight on their hands. Spike knew that was the only reason the Master kept him around. As much as Spike tried to play nice, it was plain for anyone to see how discontent Spike was. Especially since the Master not only forbade him from wantonly killing, but the Master was enamored with Dru as well, and as the head of the clan had exercised his rights and took her to his bed as often as he pleased.
What was worse, Dru was currently quite found of the Master’s attention. She’d been devastated when she’d felt her Sire’s death and it was her need for family that had brought the couple to the Master. He was more then delighted to welcome them, since he’d lost his favorite fledglings in an uprising by the humans of Sunnydale. The irony was that the uprising had been lead by Angelus, who evidently had gotten a soul and gone all remorseful.
Tonight would be different though. When Spike killed his third Slayer, not only would he achieve a legendary status among vampires–he’d never heard of another vampire that had killed three Slayers–but the Master would have to give him whatever he wanted, and that was Dru.
Not that he would need Dru given to him. Dru had become incredibly amorous the last two times he killed a Slayer, he was sure this time would be no different. Hopefully that would cause her to be bored with the Master, and they would be able to move on.
Finally the minion returned with the information on which rooms the Watchers were in. Spike assigned each of the minions to a different room. One vampire for each Watcher, and he would take the room with the Slayer.
Eagerly they all moved forward. The vampires he’d chosen to come with him where all vampires like himself. Vampires who missed the hunt and the kill, who thought that the Master’s factory blood was little better than raiding a blood bank. They were kindred spirits, and each of them was looking forward to a fresh kill as much as Spike was.
Almost simultaneously they kicked in the doors to the motel rooms, and charged inside. Luckily the Watchers weren’t staying in a private residence so no invitation was needed.
As soon as the door was open, Spike realized he’d been wrong. There was no Slayer here. The woman had to be a Watcher. She was probably in her late twenties, too old to be a Slayer. Besides her reflexes were too slow. She froze for a moment before making a desperate grab for a cross that was inside the suitcase on the floor.
She grabbed the cross, but Spike batted it out of her hand, getting only the slightest of burns on the back of his hand. Then he grabbed her by the throat and forced her against the wall. She may not be a Slayer, but she was still a fresh kill.
“William the Bloody!” she gasped.
“You’ve heard of me?” he grinned.
“I-I-I wrote my dissertation on you,” she managed to say as she gasped for breath.
Intrigued Spike loosened his grip on her throat just enough to let her get enough air to talk. He gave her his most charming smile, and pressed his body against hers.
“And just what did your research say I’d do to you?” he whispered seductively in her ear.
His free hand reached up to stroke her breast through the fabric of her tweed suit. He was rewarded with the scent of her fear increasing, but below that just the hint of arousal. He wished he had time to play with her, that the Master hadn’t been so clear on the fact that they were to kill and get out. No playing with their food. Still Spike couldn’t help but have a little fun. He kissed her neck, and licked the throbbing artery he found there. Again she trembled, but he could tell it was as much with excitement as fear. It was a real shame that he had to kill her so quickly; the Watcher obviously had a little kink that would be fun to explore.
From the room to his left Spike could hear screams as one of his minions killed one of the Watchers. The female Watcher stiffened in his grip; she heard it too. However, it actually seemed to give her a little courage.
“It doesn’t matter if you kill us. We’ll get to her. You can’t keep her forever.”
“Hmmm?” Spike looked her in the eye, wondering what she was talking about.
“The Slayer. If she doesn’t free herself, we will get to her, no matter how many of us you kill.”
He could hear the others finishing up, as much as he wanted to question the woman more, the Master’s orders had been clear and he knew that none of his minions were really loyal to him. They would use any opportunity to curry favor with the Master and to diminish Spike’s status.
So he sunk his fangs into her neck.
The hot blood flowed down his throat straight to his cock. He pressed himself and the Watcher against the wall, moaning with pleasure. It hadn’t even been two months since his last fresh kill, and yet it seemed like an eternity. For the first time since he had come to the Master’s court Spike felt alive again.
He let her lifeless body fall to the floor, and licked the blood from his lips.
“Don’t worry pet,” he told her corpse. “If the Master really does have your Slayer, I won’t let him keep her.”