Set Me Free

by Kallie Rose

Copyright © 2003

kallierose@earthlink.net

Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: I acknowledge Joss Whedon as god of gods. All the characters in this story are his creation, along with Fox, the rest of the Mutant Enemy Crew, and whomever else wants to lay claim to them. I'm merely killing time by putting them in totally unrealistic situations.
Distribution: Night Flowers http://www.geocities.com/kallierose01/
The Mystic Muse    http://mysticmuse.net
Sure, take it if you want it. Just let me know where it's going so I can visit it.
Feedback: Pretty please.
Spoilers: Season 5, but pretty much AU.
Pairing: Willow/Spike

Spike walked aimlessly through the heart of 'downtown Sunnydale'. 'And what a fuckin' joke *that* is,' he thought bitterly. The damn town wasn't even large enough to qualify as a 'one-horse-town.'

He felt oddly unsettled by tonight's visit with the redhead. Things had gone just the way he had expected them to, up until the end. When she had asked him about Angelus, that was when it had all turned rather personal.

Initially his little adventures with Willow had merely been a way for him to kill some time. But tonight, when she had asked about his sire, suddenly she had become a person in his eyes instead of just a pet. He still wasn't sure how he felt about the change in status.

He decided that a beer was in order. When wasn't a beer in order, after all? Purpose guided his steps now, and he headed towards the nearest liquor store. Sunnydale was rotten with them. You could buy alcohol on just about any corner in town. Maybe that was why the citizens of this fine town seemed to be in denial about the existence of the creatures of the night; perhaps it was because of the alcoholic fog through which most of them viewed their world.

Spike entered the door of "Sunnydale Stop-N-Shop," wincing as the cheerful bell on the door jingled away. Walking straight to the back of the store, he stopped in front of the display case and grabbed a six-pack of beer and a bottle of vodka. It was always good to keep one's options open, he decided. As he headed back to the front to pay for his selections, he bumped into a big, burly redheaded man with the appearance of a body-builder gone to pot. He tried to move out of the other man's way, but the man just stood there, blocking his progress.

"Do you mind, mate? Got a date with a beer," he said, trying to edge past the body-building reject.

"What the fuck's your problem, dude? You look like that 80s reject, that Billy guy. Billy Idol, right? That who you're supposed to be? Huh? I guess Halloween came early this year, huh?" he snickered.

The man was obviously smashed, and not pleasantly so. Still, there was no way Spike could let such an insult go unchallenged. "The bloody bastard stole his look from *me*, if you must know," the vampire growled, pushing past the drunk and making for the counter.

The stranger was simply too stupid to let well enough alone, and he grabbed Spike's arm, attempting to swing him around so that they were face to face again. Anger bubbled beneath the surface of Spike's human façade, and his demon face emerged. Suddenly he didn't care how badly the chip hurt him, he was going to teach this overgrown moron a lesson. One good shove would do it, he wagered. Knock the bastard into the display case, and let gravity take care of the rest.

He pushed the moron with all his strength, watching with satisfaction as the man careened into the display case, Twinkies and Ho-Hos flying in all directions. Well, at least the bastard would have a soft landing.

As he watched his victim fall to the ground amidst a sea of sweet snack foods, Spike waited for the inevitable pain from the chip.

And waited.

And waited some more.

Nothing. Not a twinge. Not a ghost of a glimmer of a twinge. A cruel smile slipped across the vampire's face, getting wider and more predatory by the second.

The chip didn't go off. Spike gave his victim a vicious kick in the side, hoping that the first time wasn't just a fluke. And judging by the lack of pain, it wasn't. His grin turned gleeful, his eyes sweeping the store, looking for witnesses and possibly fresh victims.

'Damn place is empty as a tomb,' he thought with disgust. Spike contemplated the man at his feet for a moment, watching the labored breathing and slack-jawed features. He considered just finishing him off, but decided that he could do better. Much better. The man looked rancid anyway, and his blood was probably 80 proof.

Suddenly a world of possibilities lie spread out before him. The key was to find someone young, someone fresh, and someone who would scream for him. He gave the man below him one final kick, nodding contentedly as he heard the crack of broken bones, and then headed off to the best hunting ground that this pathetic town had to offer: The Bronze.

The vampire stood quietly in the shadows, cold blue eyes surveying the slim pickings at this late hour. It was fast closing in on 2am, universal closing time for bars everywhere. There were a couple of brunettes that caught his eye, but they all lacked that something special that he felt his first kill should have. Then he noticed a flash of long blond hair. His eyes narrowed, his attention drawn to the petite woman with hazel eyes who was sitting several tables away. As if she could sense someone watching her, the young woman glanced in his direction, her eyes daring him to come closer.

She smiled as he took the seat across from her, casually stirring her drink with a straw. The look she gave him was part 'come-hither,' part 'please ravish me.' That made up his mind for him.

"Fancy a walk, luv?" he asked, turning on the charm. He stood gracefully and held a hand out in invitation.

How could she resist? With a knowing smile, she stood and put her small hand inside of his, allowing him to lead her out of the club and into the dark night.

He listened to her prattle on as they walked away from the bar, inconsequential small talk, each word more banal than the last. Once he managed to get her a couple of blocks away, he led her into a dark alley and pushed her up against the rough brick of the warehouse behind them, pinning her body to the wall with his own.

She gasped, finally silent for the moment, her eyes looking large and uneasy. As much as Spike reveled in her silence, he was also in a hurry to get to the part where she screamed. And as he slid smoothly into his demon face, he knew that she would not disappoint him.

"What the hell are you?" she yelped, shocked, her eyes wide with fear. The moonlight glinted off of his white fangs and played along the curves and ridges of his face.

"The last face you'll ever see," he said with a smile, watching with delight as her eyes grew even larger in her tiny face. The sound of her heartbeat deafened him; the look of panic in her eyes made him grin; and the feeling of her small, terrified body moving against him was making him hard.

"Scream if you'd like, luv. In fact, I'd consider it a personal favor," he whispered, bringing his lips to her ear. The scent of her fear mingled with the strawberry of her shampoo, and the result was absolute heaven. He nuzzled her ear, breathing deeply, and then smiled with satisfaction as she let out a loud shriek, followed by another loud scream.

He was reasonably sure that nobody was around for miles, but just in case, he thought he'd better make his play. Wouldn't do for some moron to come by and mess up his whole evening.

Hand in the hair; pull the head back, fangs to the throat. It had been a while since he had been able to participate in this particular game, but it was just like riding a bicycle, he thought. Only with lots of blood.

The fangs slid in easily, and the taste of the blood, human blood, warm and fresh and tangy, was almost enough to drop him to his knees right there in the alley. He growled in approval, grabbing the struggling body and holding it tighter as he fought to get every last drop. Soon her heartbeat slowed, then stopped, and he pushed her away, satisfied and full. It had been everything had dreamed it would be. And he couldn't wait to do it again.

Spike lay quietly on his bed, thoughts, ideas, and tentative plans creating a whirlwind in his mind as he waited for the sun to set. So many people to kill, so little time. No, wait, make that 'so very long to watch them suffer.'

His first instinct was to go after the slayer. Kill her and dance in her blood. Then he'd take out the rest of those self-proclaimed 'Scoobies,' hunting them down one by one. He might turn the redhead; she'd been a decent pet so far. Now that the chip was gone, he could train her properly. That was a project he would look forward to.

Being forced by the daytime sun to stay inside and think was actually working in his favor, he decided. Instead of following his passion and attacking the slayer outright, and inevitably failing, this time he was going to lay his plans carefully. No out-and-out bloodbaths, unfortunately. That was just too dangerous. But an isolated kill here there would be easy to cover up. Make it look sloppy, like a fledge had done it.

If he could wait until the slayer was weak and her defenses were low, then he was sure of a victory. Stupid chit was always getting herself hurt; shouldn't take long before the opportunity presented itself.

In the meantime, he had all kinds of games he could play to pass the time, and they all involved the little redhead.

Next...