WARNING: GRAPHIC RAPE AND MURDER
This chapter has been written intentionally in such a way that it CAN BE SKIPPED. While it includes major character development, it is not needed to understand the plot as a whole, and you can jump straight to the next chapter without having any misunderstanding of the plot. There are no punches pulled in the writing of this scene, which depicts graphic rape and murder through the joyful eyes of a heinous monster. If this is not your cup of blood tea, YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.

Spike: “You want to know the things I’ve done to girls Dawn’s age? This is me, Buffy. You have to kill me before I get out.”
        Never Leave Me
    

    He started with the man. The girl was more easily held down, and he wanted time to play with her. He grabbed her by the throat and held her stiffly against the wall as he bit the man hard, first injuring his trachea so he couldn’t scream. The man was strong – his blood came quickly, and washed over Spike’s face, trickling down his chin as well as his throat. Mm, yes. That was how it was supposed to be, pure life leading to pure death. Spike sucked hard, swallowing heavily, not like he drank from little Sarah, her tiny throat and delicate little heartbeat trickling the blood like fruit juice into his mouth.

    He made himself forget Sarah and think about the hearty meat against him as he sucked and sucked at the blood, until the heartbeat began to slow. Spike let him go, then. He wasn’t dead – Spike didn’t want him to die yet. The man looked strong, and weak headed – perfect minion material. But Spike wasn’t ready to finish the job yet. He had sweeter meat to gnaw, just now.

    The man slid to the ground, his back against the wall, his eyes glazing over. Leaving the man to battle with consciousness, Spike turned to his lover. “Hello, cutie,” he said with a seductive grin.

    The girl was tinged with blue, half throttled from his strong hand on her throat. She hadn’t been able to scream, either, not even as her boyfriend was ripped apart beside her. Spike pushed her to the ground, waiting for the moment when she got enough breath to scream. He grabbed her before the sound came out, forcing his hand over her mouth. “You’re a sweet little thing,” he said. “Aren’t you. Let’s see how sweet you can be.”

    He didn’t rape all his victims, the blood being as much as he usually needed to be satisfied. But with what Sarah had been doing to him at home, and Dru’s recent reluctance to take him to her bed, his lust was nearly as strong as his blood lust, and this girl was going to feel both. A bite, first. Just a small one. Not too painful, make her quiescent, but don’t make her want it. Her man is watching. Let him hear her – it’ll reinforce the submission of the minion if he watches her taken as he dies.

    Her muffled screams pressing against his hand, he bit down at her throat, her boyfriend’s blood smearing over her skin before her own cascaded into Spike’s mouth. Oh, she was a sweet one. Tender. Young. The best kind of victim. Not so young there isn’t enough blood, or so childlike that the sweet spice of the hormone balance is immature. But young enough to be tender, and untainted by bitterness or the weight of the world. About Sarah’s age...

    He gave her a little, just to ease the pain, but she was still scared of him. As the blood loss began to slow her down, and her screams faded, he knew she was ready to play. He took his hand off her mouth. “That’s right, baby,” he told her. “Time for some sugar.” He knelt up and tore her pants down, right in front of her boyfriend. The man reacted, trying to get up, but Spike had taken far too much blood for that. He sagged back against the wall, a little more sideways this time, and Spike grinned at him. “It’s fun to watch,” he said. “You’ll see.”

    He arched up over the girl, holding her weakly protesting body down with his as he slid his hand into her cunt. “I’m gonna make you feel it,” he whispered to her. “Right in front of him. How do you feel about that?”

    Any reply she made was muffled as he kissed her, his fangs still sharp, his mouth and face still saturated with blood. She screamed weakly into his mouth, and he bit her tongue, hard. She screamed again, writhing under his body and his hand, the twist of her unwilling hips against him making him hard as a rock. He wasn’t sure he could play as long as he wanted. Little Sarah had been making him so randy lately, and he’d have killed her if he even fucked her as often or as hard as he wanted to, taking her blood aside. This little victim would have to take her place, because he wasn’t ready to kill Sarah yet. The thought of his willing human pet made his cock twitch, and he twisted his hand in the girl’s cunt, pressing against her clit, trying his hardest to make her feel it.

    He knew how to force the pleasure. It didn’t always work – every woman, every victim, was different, and some came more easily than others – but this time it seemed like it was going to. Just hold on he told himself. You can hold on until she’s flush with it. The blood is so much sweeter that way, rushes in so much faster. Like those bites you’ve been getting from that... Stop it!

    She was starting to feel it, despite her bleeding mouth and his rough hand and the height – he could almost taste it – of her fear and the loathing of what he was doing to her. Her tension and the writhing to get away felt too good. He couldn’t hold it anymore, he had to feel her surrounding him. Pulling his hand out of her, he undid his jeans and pulled out his cock, half wishing Sarah was there to pull it out for him. She’d been doing that so often, lately. Drusilla never hunted it out much, usually letting it find her, instead. The way Sarah had been manhandling him, he was starting to feel like his cock was her property as much as his own. It was enough to drive a man to distraction.

    He found the hot core of the woman quickly, and planted himself inside her, abandoning the bloody kiss. He sat up on his knees and thrust in her, quickly, short, rough little bursts, because he’d almost made her come before, and he didn’t feel he had time to tease her. “You gonna feel it, baby?” he hissed at her through his fangs. “The monster’s inside you, and you’re gonna die.” He shifted, thrusting against her, pushing down on her clit, as her ass and back were scraped on the concrete, and her boyfriend looked on in shock and tortured dismay, unable to move or cry out, only to watch in horror as she was violated before him.

    “Please,” she whimpered. “Please, stop. It hurts!”

    He probably was hurting her, but he knew there was more. He started to feel it, how she was building against him. She hated every movement he was making; she’d have been fighting him tooth and nail if he left her enough blood and energy to do it. And he was gonna make her come, anyway. That was the best way of it. To make them feel terrible that it felt good. Destroy all the pleasure they’d ever felt in their own bodies before taking them away completely. Rape them hard, rape them right, make them cry, make them all yours, forever.

    Sarah didn’t need that, though. Her sweet little pussy, open and wet and ready, already his... Stop it! he told himself. Think of this sweet little bint, this bitch is yours.

    Sarah was his. His gift. This girl... she was only being stolen...

    By him. “That’s right,” Spike said. “That’s right, pet, feel me in you, fuck you right like he never did. You knew this was what you wanted, didn’t you. The monster in you, making you come and come. He knew it. He knew you never wanted him, you wanted something like me, inside you, fucking you, hard and harder, making you feel it. That’s it, baby, feel it.”

    “No.” She was whimpering. “No, don’t! Please!”

    Her pleas didn’t fall on deaf ears. They were music. “Yeah, that’s right, baby, say please. Say please. Maybe I’ll leave you alive, if you say please.”

    “Please! Please, please, stop this....” She was definitely crying, now. Saying please often did that to women. The tears were beautiful, and he licked them off her cheeks like the garnish to her blood. He pushed into her harder, and she recoiled under him, “Please! Ahh!”

    He’d made her come. She didn’t want it, she hated the feeling, it was so much worse than if he’d just taken his pleasure and let her lie still in disgust. But he had made her feel it. Against her will, hating every moment, he had made her body spasm with pleasure.

    Sarah came so easily. He didn’t have to work so hard on her, his hands, his cock, his mouth, all of them little gifts she seemed to love. She worked to come for him, to give him her pleasure as much as she gave him his own....

    Forget Sarah! Think of this... delectable.... He bent down to bite her again, almost ready to come as he thought of his willing little pet at home, writhing under him, riding atop him, the way her mouth slid up and down his straining cock. Shame he couldn’t kill her yet. Not like he could this little bitch. He didn’t even wait for what used to be his favorite moment – for the girl to be hungry for the torment to end, where he could taste her gratitude in the death he was finally gifting her with. Sarah hadn’t left him with the patience. He had to have the girl now. He bit her hard and fucked her harder, coming inside her as she grunted, still saying please... please don’t....

    Spike... Sarah’s voice the way she said his name, as if it were a gift to say. Spike....

    He was half tempted to tell his victim to use his name, like Sarah did, but she was already too far gone. He pushed inside her, and sucked her blood out of her and... and... there! He came roaring into her cunt, and gripped her so hard as he did it he broke something. Probably her collarbone. She grunted and he sucked harder, breaking her neck as he did so, still feeling her soft and warm around his cock. He thrust, and thrust, and thrust, until every last heartbeat and spasm had faded from her dying body, and he finally released the wound he’d bitten into her throat. He looked up and spat out the chunk of flesh he’d bitten out of her.

    He looked down at the girl’s dead and staring eyes. Sarah’s deep brown looked up at him from his memory, animated... vital. This dead girl had given him nothing.

    This wasn’t sweet.

    Well, that was a dumb thought. “Now that’s how it’s done, mate,” he told the victim who was to be his next minion.

    The man stared at him, tragic and dying. He was crying, too. Spike rarely kissed off his male victims. It wasn’t unheard of for him to rape them, but it was more rare than his rapes of women. It wasn’t as much fun, the logistics of it simply being more complicated. He’d never used his cock at all before he’d become a vampire – not for it’s intended and unholy purpose, that is – and where he stuck it didn’t matter as much as the why he was doing it. Gender wasn’t usually the important thing. Angelus had taught him that. It all depended on how he wanted his victims to feel.

    This man, Spike wanted to feel helpless. He’d taken his blood, taken his woman, and was about to take his life. “Great, wasn’t it?” Spike told him, hitching his jeans back up. He crouched down and gazed into the man’s face with a bit of a deadly grin. “You lost her to me. And I’m gonna take you. When you come back, you’re my boy, mate. I’m the boss. You’ll do what I say.”

    He didn’t need the man to agree. He lay against the alley wall, almost dead, staring at his murdered and violated lover, and Spike knew that in a few days, he’d be hanging out in the hallway with his other minions, and this moment – that now tormented his human mind – would be a lovely one for his new, demonic thoughts and desires. Just as he looked back on his own death with pleasure, despite the pain and the terror Drusilla had inflicted along with her demonic seduction.

    Spike ripped open his wrist with his fangs and pressed the gushing blood to the man’s mouth. He refused at first – they all refused at first – until the pressure forced a single drop against his tongue. Even silly Willy himself, Spike remembered, had shied from the blood until Dru had pressed his lips to her flesh, and it had suddenly been impossible not to take it. And William had asked for it... for whatever it was. He hadn’t truly known the details of the darkness she was drawing him into. Spike shook his head and focused again on the man. “Come on, mate,” Spike said. There. He’d tasted it. It was all over now. With sudden abandon the man swallowed, and sucked, and his eyes rolled back into his head with the desperate instinct to take the demonic blood in. “That’s right,” Spike said.

    He didn’t give him much. He liked his minions weak when they started. When he thought the man had had enough, he pulled his hand back. The victim made a half-hearted movement to follow after it, and then slumped to the concrete in the alley. He was dead. The demon blood had done what Spike’s bite hadn’t quite.

    Spike considered the best method of disposal. He didn’t like leaving his victims in the territory. His minions’ winos, yeah, no one cared who they were or how they died. But the rockers and the new-wavers he pulled out of CB’s, they usually had family and friends who gave a shit about them, and CB’s was a popular haunt – Spike didn’t want it sullied by news of murders. And he didn’t want to eat winos and derelicts like his minions did.

    Spike waved down his taxi. The newest minion was on taxi clean-up tonight. “Take her to the river,” he told the delivery guy from the other night. The authorities would probably blame her boyfriend – and in a few days, her boyfriend actually would be a vampiric murderer, so it wouldn’t matter. “He can be brought back to the lair,” Spike said, indicating the man. It was easier to have his minions come back to life in their flophouse rather than wait for their corpses to be buried, climb their way out of the grave, and try to find him. Besides, every once in a while he’d try to turn someone who seemed like they would be a perfectly good minion, only to have their family cremate the sucker. Bastards. Drusilla liked the dreamlike rebirth symbolism of her victims having to crawl out of the grave, as Spike himself had had to do, but it was much easier to just leave the turning corpses where they were easy to reach.

    The taxi pulled into the alley, and Spike lifted up the girl to help his minion load them up into the back. The girl’s head lolled on her broken neck, and her hair fell over Spike’s arm. The feel of her silky tresses felt like Sarah – again, like Sarah! That stupid bint was starting to be everywhere in his thoughts. He couldn’t even rape and murder without thinking about her soft, willing lips, her gentle touch, the catch in her voice, the way she’d say his name, say that she was his, that she loved him....

    He should have killed her that first day. It was getting hard to breathe without catching her scent on his clothes. He was full of two victims worth of blood, he’d ground his lust out raping a wet and unwillingly pleasured bint, he’d killed twice tonight, and made a decent minion into the bargain. He was hot, warmed through with the fresh blood and the violent death. There was nothing he should need, now. He should be ready to go home and sleep, possibly in Dru’s wicked arms, but he’d be okay without her for a few more days.

    So why did it all taste like ashes? Why the hell did he still want the taste of that willing little girl? That stupid, suicidal pet, who claimed she knew him, claimed she loved him, and hated that he was a killer. He couldn’t get her out of his head. Her heat, her blood, her affection. He should be sated. He should be full of blood, quenched of lust, satisfied with the death.

    And he felt hungry. And lonely. And cold. He had everything a vampire could ever need.

    And he still wanted Sarah.