Brethren, Where Art Thou?

The First Meeting

Morgan stalked through the cemetery, heart racing after another kill, and she wondered about something.

Why did vampires go to the cemetery, when they knew she would be there? Did they really believe they had a chance against her? Some did, the majority didn’t. You could tell the ones that couldn’t. They showed their true faces before you even got near to touching them. They hid behind that face, the bumpy forehead and the deadly fangs to give themselves confidence in what they lacked. Which was the ability to kill the slayer. They were slain.

Morgan stopped thinking. Looked around. There was that feeling again...

*Please be anybody but Spike* she wished, clutching onto her stake tighter and tighter as the sensation in her stomach heightened. She couldn’t see anything, but she could feel something. Tingling inside of her, down the back of her neck, like goosebumps all over your body, screaming at you to prepare yourself for battle. And still this ‘prey’ was hiding itself, watching, waiting. Morgan closed her eyes, searching the perimeter with her minds eye. Suddenly her body screamed at her to move out the way. She ducked and rolled, turning to face the enemy that had attacked her.

Long, leather duster. Bleached blond hair. Electric blue eyes, gazing over her body. His eyes wandering over her torso because her curvaceous yet slim body had him caught. He smiled, wicked and dark, but soothing. Her tension melted. She felt comfortable. Her hands no longer felt like trembling even though she had urged them peace.

“Slayer.” he greeted calmly, his arms at his side, his hip at an angle. Morgan gulped.

“S-s-spike.” she said, her voice soft and slightly afraid. She was under his thrall. Normal vampires don’t have thrall.

“Hmm.” The vampire murmured. “They told you about me.” His accent was like her mothers, hailing from the south of England. An accent she had fallen in love with too many times before.

“Are we going to fight yet?” The slayer asked, a little louder than last time, the tone more confident and strong as she got a hold of her body. She tensed up again, ready to fight at any moment. Spike chuckled.

“Who said we were going to fight, love. Maybe I just wanna have a nice chat.” He grinned at her. “Or I could pounce on you right now.” He stuck his thumbs into the belt loops of his black jeans. “Take you where you stand. Make you all hot and bothered, gasping my name.” Morgan didn’t move. Was he making a pass at her? As stupid and unbelievable as his proposal was, it still managed to send a chill up her spine, lust flooding her body in all the right places.

“You’re sick, you know that.” she answered, her teeth clenched together to keep herself from actually letting him.

“So that’s not a no then, slayer.” He walked toward her, more of a strut actually, his eyes never leaving hers. Blue on green, cold on warm. She was captivated, she couldn’t move more than the rise and fall of her chest as she breathed.

“I-I…” she whispered as Spike put his hands on her bare upper arms. With that irresistible smile still on his face, he pressed his body against hers, his pelvis hard against the slayer's. Morgan closed her eyes. It had been more than a while since someone had been this close to her and made her feel this good. She felt his mouth hover over her neck, probably contemplating whether he was going to kill her there and then. But he didn’t. He lowered his lips onto the sun-blessed skin, sucking lightly as he kissed the exposed flesh on her neck. She took in a deep breath, not moving for at least two seconds, her heart in her throat as Spike moved. His movements were soft and gentle, nothing like she would expect from a vampire. His thumbs were stroking her arms, and he lifted a hand to her face and Morgan opened her eyes.

He was smiling, obviously confused himself though, because that look in his eye was one of bewilderment also. He stroked her cheek with his thumb and then pulled her to his lips. He parted her lips with his tongue, hers darting out to meet his as they moved against each other in more than perfect unison. Morgan arched her back against him, leaning into the kiss and wrapping an arm around his neck, her other hand pressed against his firm chest. She felt Spike move against her, and suddenly pull away, smiling that smile she would now never misplace as ordinary.

The vampire looked at her strangely, tilting his head to one side, turned, then walked away.

The slayer stood there, arms hanging by her side, not knowing what to think.

Interesting night.


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