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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.

Spike & Willy

Everyone Dies

Chapter 8

Tuesday night: Interlude

The bleach blond vamp strode into Willy’s, the local demon bar. “Hey! Spike! Haven’t seen you in ages!” called out the human, yet weasely barkeeper, more warning his other patrons than greeting Spike.

“Give me a shot of your very best liquor, Willy.” Spike pulled out a cigarette and lit it. “I’ve just bagged my third Slayer.”

The other bar patrons, most whom riveted their attention on the dangerous vampire as soon as he walked in, fell silent. Even the Fyarl demon who was making for the back door stopped and turned.

Willy, who grabbed up a fancy bottle from under the bar at Spike’s request, dropped it, staring open-mouthed at Spike.

“Okay, I’ll take your second best.” Spike had a smug smile as he sucked in smoke.

Willy ignored the amber liquid spreading over the floor. “B-B-Buffy? You killed Buffy?”

“That’s right, mate. She won’t be beating you up any more. Where’s my drink?”

Not wanting to anger the short-tempered vamp, Willy fumbled under the bar and brought out another bottle. “Here. On me.” He poured a shot, slopping some on the bar. Spike drained it and snapped it back on the bar for another. “So. Uh, how’d ya… do it?”

“I did it to her every way I wanted. Before offing her.” Spike was aware of a few bold demons edging closer to hear. He leaned in a little closer to Willy and lowered his voice, more to annoy the eavesdroppers than anything. “You know those caves over near the interstate? I took her there and had my fun for a week.” Spike drained his second shot.

“A week of Buffy, huh? I bet you’re tired,” Willy joked, pouring yet again.

“Not a bit of it, mate.” He turned to his audience. “Slayer blood is every bit as sweet as they say. And stamina… that girl had it.”

Willy wanted to have the whole story first-hand. This was history happening. “How did you get her away from her gang? Don’t they always rescue her?”

“One by one, I offed all her goody-good white hat friends first.”

Willy stared for a second, then burst out laughing. “Aw, Spike. You had me going there. No way you could’ve killed all of them, they’re too strong.”

Before Willy could blink, Spike was over the bar in game face and had him by the shirt. “Now, Mate. I was in a good mood. I thought I’d share the good news with those who’d appreciate it most.” He tilted his head to one side. "Do you think I bit my own ear?" He looked over at the now cowering patrons in the dark bar. “Go look. Her mum and her Watcher will be found in their beds. Dog boy’s out in the cemetery. The other two I turned and dusted.” He switched his attention back to Willy. “She, herself… Her beaten and desecrated corpse can be found in the caves. Spike has killed three Slayers.” He shook the skinny barkeep. “Say it!”

“I believe you! You killed three Slayers.”

“Why do people always underestimate me?” He crushed Willy’s throat and dropped him in the puddle of alcohol. He vaulted over the bar and grabbed up the bottle of Willy’s second best. “I’ve cleared everyone’s tab! Drinks are on me!” Spike called as he strode out the door to his car, and drove off into the night.

On to Chapter 9

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