Ann (wildannuette) wrote in bloodclaim,
Ann
wildannuette
bloodclaim

Fic: Patience, planning, precision

FIC: Patience, planning, precision
Author: Ann
Fandom: Btvs
Pairing/character: Spike/Xander preslash, Spike/?
Spoilers/Timeline: Second Season AU
Warnings: Dark themes, angst, violence
Rating : NC17
Disclaimer: Not mine, for sure.
Summary: Then he sank his fangs in and it all hit him in a rush. The terror, confusion and pain; it all made the blood sweeter. Made it flow faster so that Spike was almost gorging on it before he forced himself to slow down.


Thanks to Justin, for the great beta

There are full warnings under the first cut, for anyone who wants them.



Additional pairings: Spike/? (FC), mentions of Spike/Dru, Spike/Angelus, Angelus/Dru, Buffy/Angel

Warnings: Het, character death












Like taking candy from a baby. Spike smirked to himself as he silently picked the lock and eased the front door open. They made it so easy, pathetically so. Any half-decent Watcher should be embarrassed at how easily a vampire could slip into the house of one of his charges.

Pressing the door quietly shut behind him, Spike closed his eyes for a moment and savored the feel of the house around him. It radiated security, smelt fresh as they came and unspoiled, it even had the obligatory family portraits scattered around. Spike noted the obvious distance between the portraits’ subjects as he paused, idle for a moment before he turned his attention to upstairs where he could hear two distinct heartbeats. They weren’t all that interesting to Spike, though; too relaxed, blood flowing sedately through bodies which slept deep enough not to register the danger that they were in, letting Spike go about his business. Bodies of idiots so sure in themselves they let anything walk in the door with a good sob story, too sure they didn’t even sense something wasn’t right in their house, that something was off and wrong, intruding and plotting. Didn’t disturb their slumber at all. They slept like fools, ones lucky not to get themselves killed, especially when they gave a vampire a permanent invite.

Spike’s attention was caught by one of the pictures; small and out-of-place among the rest of the arrangement, it was almost hidden, poking out from behind another, larger frame. He took a step towards it, fingers curling around the metal frame as he picked it up.

Perfect. He needed a memento. It didn’t take long to shuck it from its frame, and Spike took a moment to hold the picture up to his face, eyes aglow with satisfaction. They were all in it, the Slayer and her Scoobies, and the Watcher too, though Spike thought he stood stiff and pompous enough to almost spoil the picture. Not that the Slayer didn’t already do that. Stupid gits. Oh well, wasn’t like he wouldn’t be ripping them out anyway. He didn’t want them all in the picture, just one. Just him.

Xander.

The name purred through his mind an image of the boy following suit, so unlike the smiling, lazy one in the photo. No, his Xander wouldn’t be smiling after this; not for a long while, Spike reckoned. The boy would be furious with a passion, eyes wild and face cold, instead. All fists and fury and hurting, striking out in the right places. Right for Spike anyway, wrong for his mates.

Spike pressed the photo into the pocket of his duster. Shame that he’d not be seeing that smile on Xander for a while, it was delicious how it made the blood rush to Xander’s face, made his heart beat that little bit faster. Didn’t take too much imagination for Spike to picture Xander underneath him, lips twisted in a smile, cheeks all pink and glowing with blood that begged to be spilt. Xander arching with neck thrown back to offer himself up, supplicating and pleading.

Lovely. Spike inhaled deeply, a shudder moving through his body, cock pressed achingly tight against the rough denim of his jeans, the friction just an added tease. He kept his hands fisted at his sides, enjoying the frustration and arousal that flooded him as he kept himself from touching. From picturing his boy’s hands hesitantly searching, guided by Spike’s commands, seeking out Spike’s hard length with fingers that trembled with eagerness and impatience.

The sound of whispered voices snapped Spike’s attention away from the fantasy of Xander. Lucky diversion; it wouldn’t do good for him to get distracted and whack one out thinking of his boy, not without thought on where he was. Just a shame thinking of Xander tended to get Spike in the mood to play. Shame now, anyway.

The sound of the bedroom door quietly easing open drew his attention. Not such a fun distraction, but did as a diversion; if shagging and wanking were out of the picture, a spot of violence and torture would do the trick.

There was a third heartbeat now and not upstairs either. Footsteps light and quiet but confident even in the dark moved past him, the human too worried about mummy and daddy to put on the light and see what lurked in the corner, waiting in the shadows. It was tempting to reach out now and snap the delicate neck that moved closed to him. But it all had to be perfect. Had to be just right.

Was a time he wouldn’t be able to do this. Play like this. Not without Dru missing him. Not without her following Miss bleeding Edith and finding him before the games began. She would’ve pouted and punished him for doing this without her. Would’ve scraped her nails down him ’til he bled and ached for her.

But she was busy now. Fawning and following and playing prettily for her daddy. Seemed she was too busy for anything but Angelus these days, except when she gave him the odd nip or two of her blood. Something the great wanker had forbidden her to do, enjoying watching Spike wheel himself around, dependent on whatever scrap Angelus chose to toss his way. If Angelus has known what Dru was doing, he’d have flayed her alive. Stripped the skin from her back with a whip and rode her hard – just as she loved. Spike shook his head, resisting the urge to spit on the floor of the house. Hell, that was possibly part of the reason she let him feed; hoped Angelus would catch them in the act and shell out pain and sex all round.

Not that Spike wasn’t one for pain, he was looking forward to introducing Xander to it when the time was right. Using his hands to pleasure and punish the boy, watching his skin turn pink as if the blood was all rushed to it again.

There was a time he would’ve craved Angelus’ attentions as much as he did his dark princess’. But Angelus just ignored him now, didn’t even really bother taunting him, which told Spike he didn’t give a damn. Taunting would’ve been better than nothing. Angelus didn’t even favor him with the barest of glances these days; he brushed over Spike’s own scathing, insulting barbs like they – he – meant nothing when not even a century ago Angelus’d have been fucking Spike through the mattress. Shoving sire’s blood down his throat ’til he choked. Healing him up, being his sire, taking Sunnydale by storm with him and Dru by his side and ripping the town a new one.

They’d have bathed in the Slayer’s blood, ripped the Watcher’s head from his shoulders after he saw the girl’s demise. And turned each and every one of the bitch’s friends.

Spike felt the ache in his palms draw him back to his present situation, his body still humming with the need to do something, nails pressed into his palms drawing blood. Would’ve made a pretty picture, that, but those days were long past. Even if Angelus took interest in him again, Spike didn’t want it. Did need the flavorful attention of Dru either, much as he loved her. She was blood to him; everything he needed, coveted and craved. But she buggered off at the slightest whiff of Angelus. Over a century of devotion to each other and Angelus ruined it all.

Time to move on. To find himself someone who’d be that devoted to him. Someone like Xander.

Spike moved to the bottom of the stairs, glancing up for a moment before moving to the closed bedroom door on his right. He could hear the heavy patter of the shower as it came on. Cascading down, cleansing. He swallowed a laugh; he could smell Voreit slime. Looked like the Slayer and her pals found a nest and planned on cleaning it, they’d probably been in for a surprise when they’d exploded. The nasty vermin demons were easy targets but popped like a pricked balloon when stabbed. From the retching sounds coming from the bathroom, Spike guessed the Watcher had forgotten to mention that the slime only stunk when mixed with water. A lungful of that putrid stench would clear the belly of anyone.

It didn’t take long for the smell to fade and Spike heard the light squelch of wet clothes being dropped and the rustle of a curtain before the water started heavily again. He doubted the shower would finish anytime soon. After slime and stench, chances were a long, hot shower would be in order. Luckily he had the time. And the patience.

Spike didn’t often have much patience. Couldn’t wait around for weeks . Not like Angelus could, only coming out every few days, putting on a show for the Slayer every now and again. But Spike had a plan, and when he made plans, them and patience went hand in hand. Besides, to get Xander where he wanted him, he had to be cunning. Had to play it just right and not run in. Had to woo the boy, poncy as it sounded.

He didn’t want to scare Xander off, get him running to his friends and ruining everything. Boy was so bleeding loyal and stubborn, he’d be off like a shot if Spike missed the moment.

Which this clearly was. Spike heard the shower trickle to a stop and he silently opened the bedroom door, easing himself inside. Shrugging off his duster, he set it to one side; laid it over a chair as he listened to the humming, recognizing the tune and hearing the lyrics repeat in his head.

Nice taste there.

It was all about timing. The song, the beat, the harmony of it. It was exactly like that as the bathroom door opened, the humming trailing off to a confused silence as his duster was spotted first. Then there was the tell-tale jump as the body caught on before the mind and then the all over tensing that brought goosebumps to smooth skin.

She swung around jerkily to face him, sensing his presence.

For a moment Spike saw disbelief and uncertainty in her eyes, then they widened as a look of horror came over her face, her mouth opening to scream, as she lunged for the cross on her bedside table.

Spike was on Willow in a second, one hand slapped over her face, the other pulling her close as she clawed at him. She was a picture, too; all flushed and terrified, heart racing a mile a minute. Frightened half to death and smelling good enough to eat. Good enough to turn if Spike’s plans hadn’t had to be fast-tracked lately. It was a shame.

He grinned, eyed on the smooth skin of her neck, gaze moving down to the swell of her breasts half-hidden by the towel. Complete bloody shame. Still, Angelus had upped the ante being all psychotic and driven. Prat wasn’t half the vamp he thought he was, half the vamp he had been before the gypsies cursed him. He lacked style now, finesse. Idiot was so embarrassed about shagging a Slayer that he wanted to bring hell into the world to cover it.

Except, Spike liked this world. He didn’t want hell leaking into it. What was the point of shocking with seduction and violence if it was everywhere, pushed up in peoples faces? It would get boring pretty fast. Besides, there were things he liked here. JD, for one. Couldn’t have hell erupting, stopping all the breweries from working. Not to mention Xander….

Pain caught at his hand and Spike swallowed the ‘oi’ that had threatened, pressing his palm more firmly against her mouth. This one had spunk to her, had bit hard enough to draw blood and send tingles straight up Spike’s arm. “Nicely done.” He murmured the words, lips pressed to her ear sending a shudder through her as a tear rolled down her cheek.

His eyes moved to the mirror in front of them, marvelling at her as she stood statue-still, chest heaving and mouth moving as much as she could make it against his hand. Moving too fast for her to do more than jump, her towel falling to the floor as he held her tight again, Spike inhaled. Smelled the scent of fear and breathed deep. She was a sight; all smooth skin and curves, would’ve made a good bedmate too, if it hadn’t been for Angelus.

Stupid git.

Spike kissed her ear, lips pressed to the lobe, his eyes on the mirror in front of them. “You’re a beauty, pet. Would love to take you back with me, make you mine before I get my boy, but I’ve not got the time now. Besides–” He nipped the side of her cheeks, voice husky as he added, “I wouldn’t want you distracting him from me.”

As he murmured the words his face shifted and she tensed. She couldn’t see him in the mirror’s reflection, couldn’t see the fangs so close to her and she didn’t turn her head. Spike took a moment to savor the sudden stench of fear that came from her, the way her heart raced that little bit faster. Then he sank his fangs into her throat and it all hit him in a rush. The terror, confusion and pain; it all made the blood sweeter. Made it flow faster so that Spike was almost gorging on it before he forced himself to slow down.

His arm burned like fire and when he managed to reluctantly drag his lips away, eyes burning into the mirror however unseen by it as he was, he saw the blooded lines drawn on him. Claw marks from her nails. Brands of blood along his skin that only showed in the mirror when it smeared onto her skin, her blood and his.

There was more of her, though. More that Spike had already had, and more for the taking. Willow was making noises behind his hand, not enough energy left in her to do more than whimper. Easing his hand from her mouth, Spike inspected the bloodied palm, approval and pride rushing though him. Fast as he could heal, it was just as well that both Angelus and Drusilla were ignoring him, thinking he was still crippled; useless and impotent as Angelus had once liked to throw at him. Dru’s blood had healed him up good and proper; his girl just hadn’t noticed how fast. He could sneak back in, dusting any minion who caught sight of him; play at being weak and useless, as they believed he was right now.

It’d work in his favor when they found the girl’s body. All pretty and posed as Spike planned to leave her. The perfect epitome of Angelus’ work – once upon a time, that was. And if Angelus bothered to torment anyone but the Slayer. Spike couldn’t believe how easily his mementos, his gifts, had been believed to be Angelus’. What made this one so sure she was more worthy of a vampire’s attention than Xander, he’d never know.

Certainly is for the moment.

The thought made Spike grin as he lowered his lips to her neck once more, kissing at the surface of the wound before he bit down viciously. Willow jolted in his arms, silent tears tracking down her cheek, her body making small and insignificant movements, though when he glanced up Spike could see the desperation, how much she wanted and willed herself to live and fight. He could hear her heart slowing, not enough blood and what there was sluggishly flowing. He ghosted a hand over her nipple, feeling the hardness there as he bit down for the last time, the last few mouthfuls of blood as sweet as his triumph.

There was nothing but a trickle now, not enough to fill his mouth and Spike settled for bathing the wound with his tongue. She was limp in his arms, a welcome weight that he carried over to her bed before laying her reverently down.

She was a beauty, all right. Skin white and cool to the touch, the beauty not marred by the savage gash in her throat, his fang marks almost hidden in the middle of it. All red hair, red throat and pale. Eyes still not relaxed, even in death, Spike had to congratulate himself on the look of terror he saw there.

Shame his boy couldn’t be the one to find his ‘gift’. Or Angelus’ gift as they’d all believe. The moron would take credit for it too, Spike knew. Anything to hurt the Slayer. But it’d be Xander who hurt the most. Who felt agony from this loss, who would feel hatred when his precious Buffy refused to do the job and kill the man she loved. The man Xander would hold responsible and Buffy would try to redeem.

And then he’d blame them. The Slayer, her Watcher who’d take his charge’s side until he realized just what plans Angelus had for his gypsy friend.

Spike licked his lips, the taste still lingering. He’s be there for Xander, would take the abuse and hatred and ride out his pain. Would confuse the boy and woo him, would drag him close much as Xander would hate himself for it. He’d lose that loathing, would see Spike and only Spike and be his.

Mine. My boy. Distraught, devastated, perfect.

And if the Slayer killed Angelus, all the better. Spike would be long gone while she grieved and pushed them all away, made Xander all troubled and pushed him to Spike – at least as far as they’d all know. Not that he’d go far from Xander, just far enough so the other Slayer wouldn’t catch onto him. That one could keep Xander safe, do Buffy’s job and protect him.

Spike laughed, the thought of Slayer against Slayer occurring to him. Seemed the new girl was more loyal to the ‘stake first’ campaign, which could lead to amusing times. Whatever happened, he’d be there to pick up the pieces, and Angelus…he’d be gone. Dusted, Spike guessed, since he’d just got rid of the other one that Dru had been so scared would take her daddy away.

Just a shame she couldn’t know what he had done; his dark Princess would delight at the thought of Spike ‘saving’ Angelus from being resouled.

Spike sauntered to grab his duster, shrugging it on with ease, the warm feeling of fullness and smug satisfaction heating him.

Yup, Angelus could dress himself up however he wanted. Could play at being the master and fuck Dru through the floor. Spike didn’t give a damn if Angelus ignored him now, Spike’d set things in motion and all he had to do was wait. And Spike had patience, because he had his plan. Angelus could call himself whatever he liked; they could all – Sire, Slayer and Watcher – overlook him as much as they liked, as much as they felt safe to, but Spike was the master of mindfucks and he was going get what he wanted.

However long it took.

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    Title: The Love of the Bullied 18/? Author: Forsaken2003 Pairing: S/X Rating: R Disclaimer: I own none, all belong to Joss Whedon Comments: Always…

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