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This was written for Kelly who wanted to be a part of the Buffyverse. With a sentence, she went from Sunnydale University student to New York Punk.

BtVS pre-series. New York, 1977

Spike/Other

Rated NC-17

How Spike Discovered Anne Rice

Or

Babydoll Dress and Combat Boots

Spike was feeling wild and loose. He loved New York in the summer, where good food was so easy to come by. Three blocks apart two different young urban professionals, smelling of rich business dinners and alcohol, had eased his hunger. Now he prowled the streets, looking for sex, looking for the one he knew was here. Another Slayer. Quickly, he had narrowed down his search to Brooklyn. Last night, he had watched her from a distance as she dusted one, two, three fledges in a row. Her style was fluid, with the edge of desperation street fighting added. A style much like his own. He suspected she had not grown up pampered like the last one.

As he prowled toward the park he knew she patrolled, a thump and beat which had not sounded the night before caught his ear. He followed the sound, which was like the muffled heart of an excited dragon, to a converted shop front. Some name was painted over the door in too many jagged lines and colors of paint to bother to make out. He fished out one of his victim’s wallets and paid the five dollars to get in.

The heat and the pulse of the crowd engulfed him the minute he pushed through the heavy rubber flaps at the base of the stairs. Some band was doing a Clash cover and not too badly. As he worked his way through bodies dressed in black, denim, metal and leather like his own, he thought about the Slayer’s coat, how it had moved when he watched her fight the night before and how good it would feel swinging from his own shoulders. He pulled out the last victim’s wallet and bought himself a dark beer to wash away the taste of aftershave. Deftly, he cleaned the wallet of cash and wedding ring and let it slip, apparently unnoticed by him, to the floor. A pack of punks like this one would soon pick clean and scatter any evidence to the wind. When he needed another beer, he’d do the same with the wallet in his other pocket.

Holding his beer close, he worked his way to one of the raised platforms sporting tables away from the stage. He found a high, dark corner with a good view of the crowd and leaned in it to sip his beer. He knew just what he was in the mood for tonight. Something small, quick, and curvy. A hot human he could sink into and fuck until she screamed. Drusilla had shoved him away with a pout yet again, and he wanted someone as not like her as he could find. He frowned at the thought of his petulant sire and pushed her from his thoughts. Spike was here to party.

By the time his beer was drained, and he’d acquired a second-hand buzz by sipping on a passed-out stoner, he’d found her. The dark spikes artfully tipped with pink and green caught his attention first. She was small, lean, and stacked, with curves in all the right places. So unlike Dru. She was dressed in a hot-pink baby doll dress with black lace. He licked his lips as he watched her full breasts bounce unrestrained under the shiny fabric. Ripped green tights covered her shapely legs and scuffed Doc-Martin knock-offs completed the effect. Three boys danced in attendance around her. She moved only to the music and not for their attention.

A wolf’s grin split Spike’s angular face and he was off to claim her. He knew how good he looked in black and silver, with kohl applied carefully to bring out his blue eyes. No punk here was in his league.

He easily worked his way through the crowd and into her circle of gyrating worshipers. He focused his need, his want on her as she watched the band without seeing it.

Kelly was bored with this club and these ugly guys painted up to be even uglier. She wanted something more, something special. As she let the music move her, her awareness was slowly drawn back to the here and now. Some new energy was near. Something… intense.

She turned her attention to the boys around her only to find them gone. In their place was a new figure. Dog tags bounced and shone against a sleeveless black t-shirt embedded with safety pins. She followed the chain up a smooth column of neck to a wicked grin, with full lower lip caught in even teeth. Impossibly sharp cheekbones framed a straight, classic nose. Spiked, bleached hair stood in tufts around his head. Her heart skipped as she looked up and met a pair of impossibly blue eyes. Her wish was granted.

Spike knew he had her when she met his eyes and turned to dance with him. Her movements were more sensual now that they were focused on him. It appeared she’d been hunting, too. She danced closer and soon his long fingers were on her hips. After two more songs the band took a break. Before the sound system kicked in with pre-recorded Sex Pistols, he asked her if she wanted a beer.

“You’re pretty, Pet. Can I buy you a beer?”

His accent thrilled her. It didn’t sound forced, like so many of the Sid Wannabes. She wanted nothing more than to be alone with this guy. “I’ve got some at my apartment. Wanna go there?”

His tongue curled out to caress his upper lip. “Sounds delightful, Pet.” He took her hand and led her out of the club.

New York city seemed silent after the pounding from the music. Spike slung an arm around her waist and fingered the silk on her hip. “Which way, Pet?”

She shook herself out of the power of his stare and pointed up the street. “It’s just a couple of blocks. I’m Kelly, by the way.”

“Spike,” he sneered.

“It suits you.”

“I’ve always thought so, though my mates didn’t at first. I proved it to ‘em.” 

“Proved it? How?”

“Killed the right person.” 

Kelly laughed. “That’s a good one. I’ve not heard that line before,” she said sarcastically.

Spike was feeling good and he’d found a smart one. Conversation was as good as fucking when one lived most of his life with a loon who talked to the stars more than him. He wouldn’t hurt this girl.

At her tiny third floor apartment, she pulled him inside. He took in his surroundings as she locked the door. It was an efficiency, small and neat. One wall was covered with Polaroid pictures of punks and club scenes. He turned back to her to comment on it and was dazzled by a flash. He should have seen it coming. He hissed and ducked away.

Kelly laughed and put the camera aside, not even looking at the picture. “Sorry, but I like to catch people off guard.”

“You should be careful who you startle, love.” Lucky for her he was in such a good mood. Spike blinked away the retina burn. “I have very sensitive eyes.”

“I’m sorry,” she pouted. “Can I make it up to you?” She slid in close and boldly ran her hand under his shirt.

“I think we can find some way,” Spike pulled her to him and kissed her, hard. “Let’s get out of these boots, pet. I love a good pair of Docs, but they’re hell on foreplay.”

They both sat on the end of the low double futon and unwrapped the lacings. “At least yours are real. Mine are just knock offs,” she said.

“Still look good, just won’t last as long.” Free of their boots, Spike pulled off her pink silk dress and tossed it aside before freeing himself of his shirt.

Kelly gasped as she ran her eyes, then her hands over his lean, sculpted torso. “You’re beautiful,” she breathed.

“You, too, love.” He cupped her breasts and kissed her again. He moved to kiss her throat, then tongue the rings in her ears. One ear had a ring through the thickest part in the center. He flicked it with his tongue. “Didn’t this hurt?” he breathed in her ear.

“Like mad, but… I still want to get the other one done.” He looked in her eyes and grinned. He liked this slip of a human. Her attention was drawn to the safety pin through his left eyebrow. It highlighted an old scar, which twisted his brow. “Did an old piercing do that?”

“What? No.” Spike had taken the silver pin from a punk two nights before and had stuck it in his brow as a reminder of the damage the last Slayer had done. “It’s an old trophy, but a new pin.”

“I want a new pin.”

Spike went back to kissing her, barely listening. “Where?” He pushed her down on the bed.

“Down low. My… lips.”

“That would be hot. I could do that for you. I’m good with sharp things.” Spike’s attention was already focused on getting her tights off. Spike hated tights. They rolled and bunched.

“Maybe…” She shifted her hips, then said something which thrilled Spike. “Tear them off.”

“All right!” She didn’t have to ask twice. Spike took the waist in his strong hands and ripped the fabric. He grinned wickedly as she lay bare, writhing in anticipation as he undid his heavy belt, dropped his faded jeans and kicked them aside. His erection sprang free.

Her heart skipped. Damn, this man was beautiful. The chipped black polish on his nails stood out in sharp relief against his pale, smooth skin. His body was muscular lean and not druggie skinny. So many of her crowd had marred their bodies with crude bright tattoos, it was exciting to see his body so bare and healthy.

Spike touched his tongue to his top lip and smiled. “You like what you see, Pet?” Her eyes followed his hand as he ran it across his chest, brushing each nipple in turn, then running it down over ripped abs, following the trail of hair from navel to groin to curl his long fingers around the base of his hard shaft and cup his balls. His cock was full and heavy, standing out from his body. The foreskin was drawn back revealing the weeping slit.

“God, yes. You’re like… like one of those statues of athletes, but, well, much better equipped.”

“Those old things do often have their bits broken off, don’t they?" He leaned down and planted a fist on the bed, his eyes on hers. He crawled up her body. “Nothing wrong with mine." He paused half way up and kissed the warm mound of her belly. So unlike Dru whose belly was almost concave, as if she were hollow. “Sweet,” he murmured, and continued his trek. He paused again to run his tongue along the underside of her breast, tasting the salt and smoke from the club. “Salty,” he muttered. He supported himself over her with knuckles and knees and leaned down to capture her tongue in his mouth. “Delicious,” he sighed and lowered himself onto her.

His body was cool and angular. He fit neatly against the curves of her body. He kissed and licked his way back down to her breasts, licking, kissing, and nipping as if he were hungry for her, although she couldn’t imagine a man this handsome not getting or taking what he wanted. She was aware of the danger that buzzed around him. No one could live long in this city without learning to sense that. But there was also something else. Plus, she wanted him. His fingers found her clit and expertly tweaked it. A pulse of pleasure shot through her.

“Fuck!” she shouted.

“Yes, Pet?” he did it again and her back arched.

“I… I want you inside me. I… gotta…” she gasped.

With a wicked grin, Spike tweaked her again and climbed on top. “What ever the lady wants.” Spike positioned his hard cock at her more than ready slit. He closed his eyes as he slowly sunk into her unbelievable hotness. He’d been with humans, but rarely one this wet and ready. And Dru had denied him the pleasure. Five years she’d kept him from taking a human lover. Well she’d let him off his leash, and he was going to have fun.

She was surprised at how cool he seemed, like her vibrator straight from the drawer. This thought soon fled before the sensation of being filled by his heavy cock. It wasn’t huge, but it filled her completely. And he knew how to move.

He undulated his body, tirelessly supporting himself with is corded arms as he moved within her. She ran her hands over him, exploring and finding what made him gasp and react. Every nerve in her body was alive and she wanted more. “Spike,” she said, causing him to open those blue eyes and look at her through a haze of lust. “Harder.”

With a moan of pleasure, he hooked his arms under her legs. “Hold on, Pet.” Slowly at first, then more firmly, Spike thrust into her, testing her limits. When he’d found the point at which pleasure and pain teetered, he set up a steady, pounding pace. He luxuriated in the feel of her around him, her juices running down his thighs, the pounding of her heart and her expression of bliss. When he felt her hand twitch toward her clit, and he felt her muscles quivering, he moved one hand down and stroked her. She froze in that beautiful way humans do just before they come. He held himself still deep within her and stroked the little hooded nub once, twice, again. Her body was wound like a bow string. He could feel her muscles squeeze and jump around him. “Come for me, love. You’re so beautiful,” he murmured. She opened her eyes a slit to look at him over her, and he pressed her clit again. Her body lurched up and she shuddered, crying out a stream of begging and praises which soon blended into incoherence. Spike dropped down on top of her and rode her orgasm. The clenching of her muscles, and her small hands grasping and scratching at his back soon had him pounding faster and faster into her until his rhythm broke and he came in her, thrusting in uncontrolled short bursts.

Too soon, he slid off of her and both lay panting. “Damn,” she said, turning her head to face him. “Thank you.”

Spike smirked. Mission accomplished.

With a murmur the girl fell asleep beside him. Spike could go again after a few minutes, but he didn’t want to force the girl. This was a cozy enough nest and he had no where to go. The Slayer patrolled almost every night. He looked around the tiny room. A white, red and black paper back among the clutter of the bedside table caught his eye. “Interview With the Vampire.” Spike sneered, why would any vampire want to be interviewed? “Horrible… Beautiful… Erotic… Extraordinary!” the cover blurb read. Well, maybe they’d get something right. Spike noted the time and looked again at the girl sleeping beside him. He wanted more of that, so he settled back to read.

He soon found himself caught up in Louis’ tale. He would never admit to anyone, but he sympathized with the put-upon vampire. Lestat was his Angelus, bungled sire training and all. After about three hours, the girl murmured and rolled over. She blinked up at him. “You shouldn’t read in the dark, it’ll wreck you eyes.”

 He looked around, he’d not noticed how dim the light from the one bulb was. Spike grinned and put the book aside. “Can’t happen, pet. I’m a vampire. I can see in the dark.”

She laughed and pulled herself up to kiss him. Her hot tongue invaded his cool lips. “I don’t feel any fangs,” she said, still close.

“I only have them when I need them.” Spike was enjoying this game. He could talk freely and she’d never believe him.

“Retractable, like a snake’s?”

“Not exactly.”

“Do you loose control when you have fangs? Do you have to bite?

“No…”

“You don’t attack automatically?”

“Do you eat every bit of food you see?”

“No... So how old are you?”

“Almost a hundred, love. Three more years will see my hundredth birthday as vampire.”

She flopped back on the bed and stretched. “Pretty spry for an old guy.”

He leaned over her and traced the arch of her ribs, making her shiver. “And I always will be.”

“So you think she really interviewed a vampire?”

“Who, pet?” Spike was getting aroused again; the book was being pushed from his mind.

“Anne Rice. I just got that book last month and I’ve already read it three times.”

“She’s somewhat right about the senses. But it’s not like an acid trip all the time. She’s way wrong about the soul. Demons don’t have souls. We don’t sleep in coffins. We can eat whatever we want. And, obviously, she’s wrong about the sex.” Spike leaned in and kissed her long and thoroughly. He slid down and nipped at her throat with blunt teeth. “I can hear your blood rushing, pumping as your heart speeds up,” he said, moving his lips against her throat. “I’ve eaten tonight or you’d make a tasty mouthful.” He was surprised by her reaction. Instead of being frightened, she moaned and pressed his head close to her throat.

“Do it! Drink from me! Drink!” she gasped.

Spike felt his cock jump at her words. A willing victim, this was new. Spike would have to finish reading that book, for apparently Miss Rice had made life easier for vamps. Spike lightly nipped at her neck, not breaking the skin. “Be careful who you say that to, Love. It would be a shame to drain such a vintage as yourself at one go, love. I’d rather savor you.” Spike kissed his way down to a full breast. Cupping one, and pinching the nipple he plied his mouth’s attention to the other. “And I have to find just he right spot,” he said between kisses and licks, “to bite.” He worried a nipple with his teeth and she writhed under him. Oh, yes. A thank you to Miss Rice was in order.

Soon, Spike was lying between her spread legs, narrating his actions. “Now for a strong feed, the main artery here,” he kissed high up on the inside of her thigh, his nose brushing dark curls, “is excellent, but tricky. The victim can bleed out very quickly and you often waste a lot.” He nipped the skin and she moaned. “I rather like,” he said as he lifted one of her legs, “the area behind the knee.” Holding her leg up in the air, he licked the salty skin. “It’s hard to get to, but you get a nice feed.” He nipped her there. “Now for flair,” he said, lowering her leg and returning to between them. “You can make a small bite here.” He tapped her labia with a finger, making her gasp. “Didn’t you say something about a piercing?” he asked.

“What? Yeah.” She rose up on her elbows and looked down at him. “Does this mean I can see your fangs?”

“Do you really want to?”

“I do,” she panted.

Spike grinned and sat up. He reached up and took the safety pin from his eyebrow. He held it up, opened. “It’s silver, pet. You like?”

“I do, but…”

“But what, love? You change your mind?”

“It’s not that. It’ll hurt. And I want you to use your fangs.”

Spike leaned over and kissed her. “I can’t do such a delicate thing with my fangs, pet. I’d shred you to bits. Trust me. It’ll hurt a little, but you won’t notice.” She hesitated. “I want to taste you,” he purred.

She lay back down, spreading her legs wide. Spike kissed his way down the inside of her thigh, reached up, and parted the dark curls. With long practice and long tongue, he worried and teased her clit. “You see,” he said when she was trembling and close, “Anne was right about another thing. We don’t have to breathe.” Spike ducked back down and carefully took the folds of flesh between his teeth. He let his fangs drop and neatly pierced the soft flesh, then just as quickly switched back to human. Kelly cried out and bucked against him. Spike lapped at the thin trickle of blood and her clit until she pushed him away. Deftly, Spike caught up the lips and threaded in the safety pin, closing it.

Kelly had piercings before. Her ears were adorned with rings. She liked the adrenaline rush it brought, and the extra sensitivity. But she had never felt anything like this. She felt like she was lifted out of her body as wave after wave of pleasure swept through her. She could hear him growling softly and it thrilled her. He may not be a real vampire, but he truly didn’t seem to be breathing. When it felt like her back would snap from the sustained tension, she pushed him away. He did something which sent a little stab of pain, but that passed.

He moved up to lay beside her. Languidly, she kissed him and tasted blood on his lips. “You did it.” She reached down to explore, but he stopped her.

“Leave it be for now, pet. You’re so wired, I’m afraid you’ll tear it.” He kissed her again and she dropped off to sleep, exhausted from two intense orgasms in one night.

Spike watched the girl as she slept. He was hard and wanted her again, but the piercing could tear and he was proud of his work. Spike pressed close to the heat of the sleeping girl and jerked himself off.

The sudden shrill sound of a neighbor’s alarm clock sounding through the thin wall cut into his awareness. His eyes darted to the windows where the sky was starting to lighten. Dawn. With a curse, he dressed and headed for the door, but then paused. He went back to the bed and grabbed up the paperback. He wanted to finish it.

Spike looked down at the sleeping girl as he stuffed the book in his pocket. It had been nice to actually talk to someone who wasn’t crazy. He found a stub of a pencil, a scrap of paper, and scribbled a note. “You’re no whore pet, but I don’t need all this money. Go buy yourself some real Doc Martins. Sun’s coming up, and I gotta get home. I had fun.” He signed it with a little drawing of a spike, as he would sometimes cave into his victim’s bodies. He placed the note with the wad of cash he’d taken from his nightly victims on the table, beside the camera. He picked up the photo she had taken earlier and squinted at it. She had caught him in profile, but he’d moved so fast the image was blurred. It was just streaks of white and black. With a smirk, he shifted to game face, bared his fangs, and snapped a second picture. He propped it by the note and left with a final, smiling glance at the sleeping human.

My original, read-to-bits copy of the book. Published May 1977.

It's what got me into vampires. I was goth before goth was cool...

Thanks for Donovan for the Beta.

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