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Warning: If you do not like the darkest side of Spike or character deaths, fly away little butterfly. For, as the title states, everyone dies, some horribly.
BTVS: Alternate Universe. Very early Season 4 just before “Harsh Light of Day”
What if Spike came back to Sunnydale with a plan other than finding the Gem of Amara?
Rated R - Sex, character death, torture, character death, blood play, character death, homosexuality, character death, rape, character death, angst, and horrible, fiery revenge.
Joyce hung up the phone and rubbed her ear. It was great to talk to her friend Joan. They used to talk every day when they lived next door in L.A.. Joan was the one who helped her through the divorce and to find the courage to move away. Tonight they talked about Joan’s two boys, how much Joyce missed having Buffy around the house now that she was at collage, how much she was enjoying the idea of a couple of days off from work, and a host of other trivial things which weigh less when shared. She sighed and looked out the open window into the night. I resent not being able to sit on my own back porch at night. Now that I know what is out there in the dark. She stood, stretched and went into the kitchen to make herself some hot chocolate. She had just gotten the cocoa out when there was a knock at the door.
Opening it, she found a tall, lean man with short bleach blonde hair, blue eyes and a long, black trench coat was standing on her front porch, his hands clasped in front of him respectfully.
“Hello, Spike. I haven’t seen you in a long time.” When Joyce first met him, he had been respectful and polite despite the fact he was a vampire, and that at their very first encounter she had hit him in the head with an axe. Joyce had enjoyed the one time they had talked about relationships over cocoa.
“Hello, Miss. Summers. Is Buffy home?”
“No, I’m afraid she’s not.”
“Oh, I’ll just go tell her Watcher what I saw, then.”
“Is it important? I can call her.” Joyce knew how time critical things could be when one was dealing with evil elements.
“No, not pressing.” Spike shrugged. “Just something suspicious may be brewing. I was going to look Giles up, anyway.”
“I didn’t think he would have much to do with you. I mean, you’re a vampire, aren’t you?”
Spike smiled his most charming smile, acting like she had just called him handsome. “Yes, I am. But we’ve an agreement, Rupert and I. I give him information on the baddies around town and he pays me. It’s council fund or something.” Spike waved a hand dismissively, as if it were the most common arrangement in the world.
“I thought the council fired him.”
“Freelance. He pays me, he passes the info on, and they pay him. Per information bit.”
They stood there awkwardly for a few minutes.
“Well, I’ll just go on,” he turned away from her. “I’m sure I’m keeping you from something important.”
“Actually, no.” Spike half turned back and gave her a little smile, waiting. Buffy told me to not invite strange men into the house until she has cleared them, but Buffy was the one who first invited him in, so it must be okay. Besides, he’s working for them. “Would you like to come in for a cup of cocoa? We could talk, catch up.”
Spike gave her another charming smile. “That sounds like fun.”
A little later, they were seated in the kitchen and Spike was telling her stories of places he had visited and sights he had seen.
“I’ll never get to travel.”
“You never know. You may.” He dropped a few more marshmallows in his cup and watched them dissolve. “Beautiful woman like you may meet a baron, marry him, and see the world.”
He could feel her temperature rise a degree as she blushed. “I… no. I don’t see meeting anyone in Sunnydale.”
“Well, maybe not in Sunnydale, but you can’t deny the beautiful bit.”
“Go on.” Joyce blushed even deeper and waved this away.
He smiled and slowly cocked his head to one side. “I’ve been around a long time, Joyce. I know beautiful when I see it. And you are sweet and smart. Look at you, living on your own. Raising a daughter by yourself. The Slayer at that. With no one to talk to about it, I imagine you get so lonely.” Spike reached over and brushed her hair out of her eyes, moving on down to cup her cheek.
Joyce smiled at him. She couldn’t help but lean into his touch. “I…”
“Shhhh,” Spike leaned over and kissed her, gently. “I understand about lonely. I’d… I would love to spend one night with you not being lonely.”
Joyce’s inner voice reminded her of what he is, but her physical self was too busy dealing with her racing pulse and spinning head. He called me beautiful. He wants me. He can have anyone he wants, and he wants me…He’s so…sexy! God, it’s been so long. Joyce found herself standing beside him. Gently he touched her, caressed her face.
“I want you, Joyce,” he murmured into her ear. “I have wanted you from the first time I saw you.” His long fingers ran through her hair and he lowered his mouth to her neck. “Please say you’ll have me.” His lips moving against her skin were electric.
“Yes,” she managed to gasp. “I will.” What am I doing?
Spike effortlessly picked her up and carried her up the long stairs to her room. His sky blue eyes never left her warm brown ones. Upstairs, he stood her up and undressed her like she was a queen and he her body servant. He caressed and kissed every bit of her skin as he revealed it. His purring voice listed praises of her body. When she was nude, he stepped back from her. “Let me look at all of you,” he said as he undressed himself.
Only one lamp was lit in the room and it threw a diffused glow. Joyce lost any self-awareness as she watched his smooth pale skin appear from layers of black clothing. His body was lean and strong, with scars here and there mapping a hard existence. Her eyes were drawn to his hardening member, nested in dark, curly pubes against pale skin, as he stripped the tight jeans from his hips.
Again Spike took her in his arms then laid her on the bed. He kissed a trail from lips, down neck, and across body, with his hands acting as advance scouts. He tweaked then sucked each nipple. His long-fingered hand traced the curve of her waist to her hip and around to the triangle of blonde hair. She gasped as his fingers moved expertly over her. He paused in his kissing to look up at her. ”I have pleasured many women in my life, but none were so like a finely tuned instrument as you.” His voice was a rumble she could feel in his chest where he half lay on her. He moved down and parted her legs. Reverently, he kissed the tangle of hair before parting it with his fingers. He looked up at her once again before lowering his mouth to her clitoris.
Immediately, Joyce’s back arched and she cried out at Spike’s practiced tongue giving her wave after wave of pleasure. He played her for some time before raising his head and gazing respectfully up at her. “More?” he asked.
Joyce could only pant and shake her head, for he had robbed her of speech. She took his hand and pulled it to indicate she wanted him up beside her. He moved up the bed, bringing the covers as he lay beside her. He held her as her ragged breathing evened out and her pulse slowed. She became aware of his hard member against her leg. He’s not had any fun yet. But I have never come that hard in my life. I want to feel him inside me. I don’t know if I can take it. He’s like a man… like a creature of the night out of a romance novel. Maybe he will… Joyce closed her eyes and tried to climb out of the dizzy spiral her brain was in.
When she opened her eyes again he was leaning on one elbow, looking at her. “I’m sorry, I must have fallen asleep.”
“Shhh. That’s a compliment.” His voice was a comfortable murmur as he brushed a strand of hair from her face. “I've been enjoying watching you sleep.”
Even after everything he had just done to her, she blushed, then more as she realized he was still hard against her leg. “I... I have to get up for a minute.”
“Joyce, if you want me to leave, I will.”
“No!” Joyce paused to regain her composure. “No. You don’t have to leave.”
“Then let me put it this way; if you want more. I’ll be right here.”
Joyce smiled, slipped out of bed and into the bathroom. Hurriedly, she took care of her body’s needs and headed back to the bedroom. She paused as she reached for the knob. What am I doing? He’s a vampire. An evil thing that could easily kill me. But, oh my God! He’s so beautiful. He’s sweet and… Buffy told me about Angel. There can be other good vampires, can’t there? There is no way Buffy would approve. She opened the door to see him naked, hard, waiting, and stretched out on the bed. We’ll just never tell her.
Spike rolled out of bed in a fluid movement and held out a hand to escort her. “You are so beautiful. I’m glad you came back.” Again his lips and hands were upon her. He began to move on top of her when she stopped him.
“I… I have no protection.”
He laughed a warm chuckle. “Joyce. I can't make you pregnant. I can't kill you with diseases.” He kissed her again. “No worries,” he whispered against her lips. She could resist no longer and spread her legs to him.
He closed his eyes, threw back his head, and gasped as he slid into her. Easily, he sank deep into her. “You’re cold,” she whispered, “like my vibrator just out of the drawer.”
He looked down at her, his mouth open and panting. “A lady like you should have no need of one of those.” Once he started to move inside her, the world went away. His sharp hipbones rode against the roundness of her belly, her legs wrapped easily about his muscular ass. His pace increased and again he closed his eyes. She felt another orgasm building within her and clutched him tightly.
He gazed into her eyes once again. “Joyce. I’m sorry.” Before her mind could translate these simple words, or register the sorrow she thought she saw, he lowered his lips to her neck again and changed the angle of his thrust. Another intense orgasm claimed her. Distantly, she was aware of was a strange crackle at her ear and pain at her neck. As the orgasm shook her, and her blood rushed out, a torrent of sensations rocked Joyce. Barely coherent thoughts floated from the abyss of pleasure surrounding her. What? He’s biting me! He’s feeding…No!…Buffy! I was wrong1 Save me! God! It feels so good! Spike let go of his own pent-up pleasure that he had been holding back all night, waiting for the right moment. His thrusts bruised her tender insides and his teeth ripped her flesh. The pleasure and intense pain blended, making Joyce cry out and shake beneath him. Fear and desire melded one into the other until the world fell away from her. Her limbs stopped clinging, and her heart pumped her last blood into his mouth as his penis emptied inside her.
When she was still and he was done, he untangled himself from her corpse and lay down beside her. He propped himself up on one elbow as he had while she was sleeping. He looked on her slack, dead face just as fondly. “I’m sorry, pet.” He said to the silent body. “I respected you. You always treated me like a man. You know, you really should watch what you say in front of open windows. But, I thank you for that. I have all the information I need to do what I must do next.” He got up, gathered his clothing and dressed. “Oh, thanks for the cocoa,” he said as he sat on the bed to lace his boots, his back to her staring eyes. He started to leave and hesitated. Going into the bathroom, he rummaged around until he found some small rubber bands. Grabbing a length of her naturally golden hair, he put on one band high up, deftly braided the soft hair into a short rope, put on another band, and cut it off. He wiped it against her torn neck to foul it with some of the drying blood there, and then tucked his trophy into a small drawstring bag. He cleaned all traces of the kill off his face in the bathroom, and wandered into the hall, patting his face with a towel.A wicked grin lit his face upon seeing a closed door. He threw the blood stained towel in the floor and inhaled deeply. “Slayer’s room.” Spike did not hesitate to open the door and flip on the lights. The girl’s bedroom was filled with crates and boxes marked with labels from her mother’s art gallery. “Well, well, here's the work Joyce was going to stay home and do. I guess Buffy really doesn't come home often.” He made short work of finding his prize: four years of Slayer’s dairies. “The L.A. years should be interesting. I wonder if Watchers ever read their Slayer’s writings after they die?” he said to no one. Spike grabbed a book bag and tucked his finds in it. He looked over her CD’s and decided the bint had no taste. Downstairs, he raided Joyce’s handbag for what ever cash was there and took the mad money hidden in the kitchen. “You’d think after so long the human race would evolve better money hiding skills.” He turned off all the lights and locked all the doors. Pausing on the front porch, the well-fed vampire lit a cigarette before heading off to the next stop on his list.
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