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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.


Everyone Dies

Chapter 7

Monday morning through Tuesday night

Cold. Damp. Earth. Ow. Spike. What the hell did he do to me? Where has he taken me? Oh God! Oz! XanderWillowGiles! “Mom!” Buffy lurched up only to be stopped by chains around her wrists and ankles.

“Well, well. That’s rich. A Slayer calling for her Mommy.”

Buffy looked frantically around. Not much could be seen beyond a pool of light cast by a sputtering torch. By the sounds and scents she could tell she was in a large cave. She lay on a bed with a single pink cotton sheet covering her. A metal box-shaped frame surrounded the bed. It was to this her cuffs were attached.

The glow of a cigarette shone from the dark. Spike strolled slowly into the pool of light. “There are demons who are immune to fire. They can shape hot metal with their bare hands. Wonderful welders, that lot. I hired one of them to make this bit of art here.” Spike patted the metal frame with fondness. “You won’t be able to break it, or the chains.”

Buffy tried anyway, but only succeeded in making the sheet slide off her breasts and chaffing her ankles. “Let me go, Spike.”

“Why? So you can kill me?” Spike screwed up his mouth and considered. “No. I’ve everything to loose and nothing to gain by doing that.” He flipped aside his cigarette and whipped the sheet off Buffy. “I’ve got you all clean and ready, after all.”

The air hit Buffy’s bare mound. “You… you shaved me?”

“Been shaved before, pet?” He reached over and ran a cool hand over smooth flesh. “I didn’t even nick you. Like the way that feels?”

“Spike. Let. Me. Go.”

“If that’s all you have to say, I’ll have to gag you. What’s wrong with a little conversation, Luv?”

“I have nothing to say to you.”

“Right to the action, then?” Spike stripped off his black t-shirt, and Buffy turned her head away. “Not in the mood for a show?” He shrugged and sat on the edge of the bed as he removed his heavy boots. He ignored Buffy as she pulled hard and steady on one chain after another. “They won’t come loose.” Buffy just kept testing.

“Do you like my love nest, pet?” Spike said as he stood to remove his pants. “Oh, some of the décor is tacky, but it’s a very comfy hole.” He tilted his head and considered Buffy’s open legs. “Which, by the way, I bet you have one of.” He stared a minute more, then shook himself out of his study. “Where was I? Oh, yes, how I come to have this pad. When I first came into town almost two weeks ago, I met a pretty blonde vampire. Lots of naturally blonde hair. Nice tits. Talked way too much, name of Harmony? She said she went to school with you.

“She told me all about how well she knew the Slayer and how she got turned at graduation. She shared this place with the dweeb who turned her. She had him drag all this stuff in here from all over town, just so she’d stay with him. Pffft. Like she could make it on her own. Prat hadn’t taught her how to hunt or hide bodies, or any of the basics a fledgling needs to know. I swear, some vamps shouldn’t be allowed to have childer.

“Anyway, I dusted the prat and started showing her what a real man could do for her. I called in the welding wizard to make this. Told her what wonderful things one vampire could do for another with a toy like this.

“I know these chains are strong, Slayer.” Spike’s hands had drifted across his body to his cock and balls, and he worked them as he talked. His voice was a soothing murmur. “I tested them out on her. Vampire strength. I let her chain me up and tested the chains myself. Then, I had her, many ways, many times. Chained her up different ways. Then killed her for not shutting up. If a woman’s not screaming for one reason or another, or saying my name, there’s no reason for her to make any noise at all.” He crawled up on the bed between her legs. “It’s quite a strange feeling to be fucking someone then have them turn to ash around your cock.

“Then again, you’ve had dreams about a guy turning to dust while fucking you, haven’t you?  Because it’s a vampire. Because you stake him. Are you sure it wasn’t Angelus fucking you? He’s got quite a thick cock on him, doesn’t he? Not any longer than average, but quite thick.”

He told me he’d read my dairies. I guess he really has. So it’s true about my mother. He’s killed her. He’s killed everyone I love. I have nothing left but my hate.

“Spike,” the Slayer called quietly. “Spike.”

Spike looked up from where he was running a finger over her bare mound. “Yes, Pet?”

“Don’t you ever SHUT UP?”

“Oh, I could be quiet. I could be so quiet. You may not want me to be. You see, when I’m not talking, I’m thinking of more things to do to you.” He grinned wickedly and lowered his mouth.

Over two days and one night, Spike enjoyed his captive Slayer. At first he forced her body to respond to his touch, exhausting her with involuntary orgasms. He used her as he pleased and tormented her endlessly. She only got to rest as he cat-napped curled against her still-chained body. He fucked her and hurt her, often at the same time. He put Xander’s box of tools to use in many creative ways. Often he read passages from her own journals and her Watcher’s out loud to her. He regaled her with details of how he killed everyone she loved. The chain and frame system had proven every bit as strong as promised. Only once did Buffy manage to get a wrist out of her cuff by sacrificing much of the skin on that hand and dealt him a hard blow to the side of his head. Spike repaid her by re-chaining her upside down for three hours.

When Spike tired of abusing her ass, he chained her on her back again. “You know, I’m starting to get bored,” he said as he fastened the last chain back to the frame.

“Go ahead and kill me, Spike. I’m not afraid to die.” Buffy’s voice was a harsh whisper. She was dizzy from being upside down for so long. Her hair was matted with grease, sweat, and Spike's cum.

“I never said you were, pet.” Spike grabbed a bottle of water and held it up  for her to drink. She greedily sucked some down, choking a couple of times before draining the bottle.

She caught her breath and looked Spike in the eye. “You may not know this, Spike. But I have memories from all the Slayers before me. I remember you killing me twice before. Neither one begged. You’ve kept me alive long enough that hate for you will be the first thing future Slayers feel when they awaken to their destiny. They will hunt you down until one of them kills you.”

“You know, love. This has been really, really fun. All my Slayer fantasies are out of my system. I’ve so thoroughly had you, I can now move on. I’ll now be able to say I’ve killed three Slayers. As well as fucked every way possible, tortured, and broken one. ” He placed a hand over his non-beating heart. “Thank you. I mean it.”

Still naked, he moved around the cave, tossing a few things into a duffle bag. Buffy lifted her bloodied head off the stained and in some places burned bed. She glared at him through puffy eye lids. “You’ve not broken me, Spike.”

He pitched one last book in the duffle and came over to her. He sat on the bed beside her and mock tenderly pushed her hair off her face, having to break it free from dried blood to do so. “What’s that, Pet? I’ve not broken you? Well, there’s been no one here to witness that I didn’t, has there?”

“The lie will haunt you. All your days, you will know I won.” She lunged at him with the very last of her strength.

Spike jerked his hand back. “I’ve seen all the movies, Pet. I’m not going to let you get in a single blow.” He crawled up her bruised body, and pushed into her, ripping open old wounds, the blood making her slick. He whispered in her ear, low, like a lover. “I’ll tell you a secret to pass to all your lineage. You were the third best fuck I’ve ever had. After Drusilla,” he thrust in hard, “and,” another thrust, “Angelus.” 

Buffy was chanting with the little breath she had. Spike rose up and looked at her and she glared at him with the strength and power of a Slayer. “Hate you Spike. Kill you Spike. Hate you Spike. Kill you Spike,” she chanted over and over.

“Too late for that, Luv.” With a shake of his head, he morphed to game face and sank his fangs deep in. The chanting faded out and Buffy went limp under him. Still thrusting, he drew more blood, letting his guard down, and Buffy lunged and bit into his ear. Spike cried out and clawed at her face. He pulled back to see her defiant look. The Slayer spit a disk of Spike’s ear and his own blood in his face with her last breath.

His hands scrabbled to feel the damage that had been done. He had been so careful for so many years, now this. It would heal, but not grow back. “No! Damn you, Buffy!” In a rage he destroyed everything in the room, yet made himself leave the Slayer’s body alone so those who found her would know her.

Finally, his rage spent, he sat among the splinters of wood and strips of fabric that once made a bed. His deadline was fast approaching. He sorted through the rubble and picked up Mr. Pointy. “Let’s make sure you don’t come back, sweetheart.” He buried the stake deep in her heart where she hung from the frame and twisted it around to make certain he destroyed it completely. With a laugh, he tossed the bloodied stake in his bag. “Let’s get one more trophy and go home.” He cut off a hank of Buffy’s once-golden hair that was matted with blood, sweat and cum, and placed it in his bag. He took his time at the cistern in the back of the cave and washed off all traces of the Slayer. He had hoped to carry her scent as another trophy, but the taking of his ear ruined that for him. He dressed and took a last look at his handiwork, fingering the notch in his ear.

Buffy Anne Summers the vampire slayer, the once chosen one, hung dead in a cave. Across the ocean, a young girl sat up in bed, and screamed Spike's name with rage.

On to Chapter 8

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