Good to the Last Drop
By Jane Davitt
Spike could remember going to the seaside as a child, stepping out of the
carriage and being overwhelmed by the novelty of it all. His dreams were
haunted by the rush of the waves and the raucous screams of the gulls, his
eyes dazzled by sun sparkled sea, his hands and mouth sticky with melted,
drizzled ice cream... but the smell of it all was what told him that, for
a fortnight at least, he was on holiday. Salt and sand and fizzing air. Bracing.
That’s what it said on the hoardings at the railway station. ‘Come to bracing
Brinton!’ with a brightly coloured picture of children playing in the sand
with wooden pails and shovels. William had looked for those children, wanted
to play, to make friends with them...
As Spike stepped out of his car into the centre of Sunnydale, he had that
same feeling, though he’d long forgotten the source of the emotion. The Hellmouth.
Such a small, normal little town, and yet the darkness lapped against each
house and the TV’s were turned up to drown out the screams. Spike snuffed
the air enthusiastically, breathing in the scent of, well, food. And after
his trip he was hungry. Revenge, yes; when the Slayer and he tangled this
time, only one of them was walking away, and he planned on being that one,
but no rush for that.
Getting back in the car he drove to the college where he’d last seen her.
Educated food. What would they think of next?
The couple were wrapped around each other so tightly that Spike wondered
if they were vampires because they sure as hell couldn’t be able to breathe
like that. He debated letting them finish but decided not to. Evil. Yes,
he really was.
He dug his fingers into clothing and pulled his arms apart, sending them
flying. They cried out and looked up at him with terrified faces, filling
the night with the sudden sharp scent of fear. Just perfect as an appetiser
that was. He studied them. If they ran and were sensible and went in two
directions, which one would he chase? The girl was a red head, pretty, soft
face, plump and cuddly. The boy, hmm, tall and lean, worked out a bit by
the look of him. Dark brown hair, dimple in his chin. Choices, choices.
“I’m going to eat you,” Spike said, his voice easy, even friendly. “Both
of you would be a bit much. So you get to tell me...which of you lives?”
He went into game face and grinned down at them. As he expected, the girl
screamed and tried to run, the boy swung at him and missed. Spike sighed.
Predictability was what made immortality a drag. He went after the girl,
slamming her against a tree just hard enough to stun her, dragging her along
a little before letting her body slide to the ground. The boy was backing
away now, eyes wide, and mouth open.
“’Please don’t hurt me, kind sir. I have an orphaned kitten back home who
needs me?’ That what you’re going to say? Or maybe, ‘Take her; let me go,
I promise I won’t tell?’”
The boy took one more step away and Spike sprang at him, hand around his
throat just loving the leap of the pulse beneath his hand. Boy’s heart was
hammering so hard...just sweet to hear it.
“Well? Asked you a question.”
The boy shut his eyes, blue but with grey in them, long dark lashes fluttering
down. Was he going to faint? Spike slackened his grip and waited. The eyes
opened again, a hopeful peek, as though the boy thought the monster might
have disappeared once he wasn’t looking at him.
Spike didn’t pretend not to understand. He didn’t mind talking to them but
it wasn’t like it was going to be a lasting friendship, now was it? “I’m
a vampire. It’s what I do. Sorry and all that. Well, she’s out for the count
and it’s no fun if they’re not wriggly so I guess it’s going to be you.”
He moved his hands until one was fisted in the smooth hair, just like the
girl’s had been, and put the other on the boy’s shoulder. One quick yank
and the smooth line of the neck was there for him, curving beautifully. He
bent, snarling just for the fun of it, and bit down gently, a parody of a
proper bite, piercing the skin just enough to start the blood trickling down,
just as the ice cream had trickled down the cornet in strawberry pink rivulets
all those years ago.
“No! Please, no!” The voice wasn’t scared now. It was cold, angry, hard with
desperation. “Her. That’s my answer. Take her. I don’t...I don’t want to
Spike lifted up his head enough to look into those storm cloud sky eyes.
“Sure about that, mate?”
He barely waited for the nod. Pulling the resisting, struggling boy with
him, he brought them both to their knees beside the still figure. It was
difficult to hold on and position her but the boy’s struggles stopped abruptly
as Spike tore into the girl’s throat, showing him how it really was, turning
her so that he could see the dying eyes open and fill with fear for just
long enough to spice the blood.
When she was dead, he turned to the boy, golden eyes blazing. “Liked that,
The boy was panting, harsh gasps, parted lips. Spike trailed one hand down
his chest and pulled him in to kiss him with blood smeared fangs vanishing
just as their lips met. The blood was still there though and he pulled back
enough to scoop it up with his tongue before returning to the kiss, painting
the inside of the boy’s mouth with his lover’s blood, forcing him to taste
He didn’t need to touch to know the boy was hard. Violence, fear; they turned
you on. Spike knew that from both ends, so to speak.
Breaking away from the kiss he whispered, “Still a bit peckish after all.
Think you tasted better than her. Probably because you’re as evil as me,
do you think?”
“You can’t – you said –” The panic was there now. Nothing left to bargain
with. Unless? Spike felt the grin curl his lips up and out. This was going
to be interesting. The boy began to paw at Spike, hands going right to the
heart of the matter. “I can? If you’d like?”
The boy had an ego bigger than his dick if he thought he was good enough
to divert a hungry vampire, Spike reflected. He stood up, kicking the girl’s
body aside, and walked over to the tree. Leaning back against it he put one
hand on his cock, hard and aching pleasantly and then crooked a finger at
the kneeling boy, beckoning, commanding. “Get over here, then. No, don’t
get up. Crawl.”
The boy looked at him, defiance sparking for a second before survival instincts
snuffed it out, dropping forward onto hands and knees, crawling the few yards,
head down. Spike wasn’t interested in playing this out for long. The Slayer
was out here, he could taste her in the air, almost hear her voice. Jerking
down his zip, he pulled out his cock. “Do I have to get all detailed, mate?
Thought not. Oh, and use your teeth too hard on it and I’ll rip yours right
It had been a long time since he’d done this with a human. The boy was crap
at it, gagging and sobbing around the hard flesh, not making any effort to
tease or to play. Disappointed but still enjoying the warmth around his cock,
Spike held the boy’s head still with merciless hands and fucked his mouth
in leisurely, driving thrusts until he came.
Then he pulled the boy up and kissed the come spattered lips before washing
it down with blood. Evil didn’t have to keep promises.
Feeling vaguely depressed - what kind of wanker treated his girl like that?
– he wandered off to find the Slayer.