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The Night the Slayer Bagged His Third by slinkypsychokit
 
DARK!FIC! Please read warnings and do not read if underage!
 
Title: The Night the Slayer Bagged His Third
Author: Slinkypsychokit
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Dark!fic! The following contains violence, bloodshed, rape/actual (involving a child) torture/actual, strong language, multiple character deaths, and character vamping.
Genre: Challenge response
Pairing: Spike/Buffy (sorta)
Disclaimer: You know the drill. I own nothing.
Word Count: 1,261



It took her years to track him. He had made sure of that, as he simultaneously stalked and evaded her across several continents and more countries than he cared to name. She was like family, after all. Angelus had clearly underestimated the strength in the girl. From the tales he’d heard, the older master vampire had systematically raped, tortured, and slaughtered everyone the Slayer knew; friends and family alike. He’d even managed to capture the girl’s mother and younger sister, baiting a delicious trap for the petite blonde. Then the bastard had waited until the girl arrived and found herself chained to a wall with heavy magic-enhanced chains. The things he had done to the mother had filled the daughters with shrieks of horror; the Slayer begging through gut-wrenching sobs for him to stop. Angelus laughed cruelly and ripped out the mother’s heart before allowing each of his minions to repeatedly rape the eleven year-old sister until the child was finally dead from the extent of blood-loss and injury done to her tiny, untried body.


When the great Council of Watchers at last located their missing Slayer, the retrieval team discovered her hanging limp from her chains without a scratch. The girl had been unresponsive. They had immediately whisked her away to some secret location, not to be seen or heard from for the space of several years. That was, until she somehow managed to return to her senses and fight her way free. It was then she began her single-minded pursuit of revenge.


Now, three years and countless executions later, William the Bloody had decided it was time they meet face to face. It was time to give the girl what she had truly been asking for every time she took down a master vampire on her way to Angelus’ doorstep. She had no way of knowing the Aurelian master was long out of her reach, having run afoul of some witch or sorcerer who, in turn, exacted their own brand of justice. Nor had she any way of knowing that William the Bloody, the Slayer of Slayers, was, for all intent and purpose, the last of his great and noble line.


He had led her on a merry chase throughout exotic, far-reaching locales; each time setting the girl up against larger, more dangerous opponents. It was almost like a game to him as he studied her every move. If she wanted death, he would give it to her, but he would make damn sure she worked for it. It wouldn’t be the first time he offed a Slayer with a death wish. The African American Slayer he’d fought and killed in the seventies was proof of that. William the Bloody, also known as Spike, had learned first hand that Slayers were faster and stronger than most master vampires. The only reason he had managed to take out the two he had to his name, was the girls’ inherent desire to at last end the endless battles against the creatures they were chosen to destroy.


As with the Summers girl, Spike had gone to great lengths to study his opponents; to learn their strengths and weaknesses until he found the opening he needed to ensure he had himself a real good day. It would not surprise him in the slightest if he knew more about the life and death of his mortal enemy than even that collection of stodgy old men with all their journals and books on the arcane. After all, to the Council of Watchers, the Slayer was simply a tool, an expendable weapon to be used and forgotten moments after her death activated the next Slayer in line.


To the creatures she battled, however, the Slayer was someone to fear and elude at every opportunity. Only Spike never hid from the one destined to eradicate his kind. He sought her out, held her in the highest respect as the ultimate quarry, and battled her to the death. This one was no different than the others aside from the fact it was her who sought him. In fact, it was her very dogged pursuit of the infamous, sociopathic killer of her own kind that drew his attention and, ultimately, decided her fate for her as a plan formed and cemented in his mind.


He’d known from the first moment he laid eyes on her that he wanted her more than she wanted vengeance; more than the lasting peace she craved once she had achieved that vengeance. In a very short time, she became an obsession for him; starring in his blackest fantasies. The things he could do to her perfect unmarred flesh…Wicked things he would delight in teaching her to do to him. Oh, yes, she was an exquisite creature rendered all the more so in her righteous fury, fierce determination, and that underlying heartbreak she hid behind the mask of a cold, calculating predator. It only made him crave their eventual dance more than anything else he had experienced in more than a century.


At last the time had come. He brought their game of cat and mouse to an end in the crowded streets of Merry Olde –the place where his own foolish human actions had seen the end of his mortal life and the beginning of the powerful existence he had enjoyed every night since. The fight had been brutal, vicious as the two beings went all out against one another. And now the Slayer lay at his feet, her body covered in scrapes and bruises while that divine elixir held within her diminutive body seeped across her sweat-slicked skin. He could tell by her strained breathing, and the pain she could not hide, that the worst of her injuries were all internal. His heightened sense of smell told him one of her broken a ribs had punctured a lung.


Cocking his head to the side and lighting a fag, the Slayer of Slayers studied the broken body sprawled upon the wet pavement at his feet. She was dying- would be dead in a matter of minutes whether or not she had the benefit of emergency medicine. Better still, the look of resignation beneath her grimace of pain told Spike she was well aware of this fact. It was a victory he intended to savor for a very long time, though right now, there was one last matter that demanded his attention.


Tossing his spent butt away, the master vampire crouched down beside the dying female’s face and gripped her head tightly in his hand. “All this, and here we are, Slayer. You dying on your back in some dark, disgusting alley with only myself as witness.” He gave her a very brief moment to digest that tidbit before continuing. “Question is: Is that what you’ve wasted the last three years chasing? Is your thirst for vengeance worth nothing more than death at the hands of another Aurelian vampire sired by the very monster who took everything else from you?”


The Slayer’s lips moved with the barest of whispers, and Spike leaned closer to hear the words she gasped in reply.


The Slayer of Slayers grinned as he brought the girl’s head up to meet his fangs.


She would make one hell of a vampire.


Fini



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Final Note: This is a one shot. There will be no sequels or further ficlets told within this ‘verse. Writing it made me extremely uncomfortable, and I have no intention of continuing it.