Prey

Spike had hunted his prey to a nearby alley. The man had seen his game face and was clearly frightened. He shouted for help, but such cries in Sunnyhell were more likely to attract killers than good Samaritans.

“Do they cry for help when you beat them?” he growled softly as he approached the man with a predatory step.

The abuser and soon to be victim looked at him through widening eyes, stuttering some nonsense excuses to which Spike didn’t pay any attention. He had been observing him for a couple of weeks, had heard the shouts from the garden where he hid, had caught glimpses of bruises and tears. Social services could always make a mistake, so he was checking his information very thoroughly before he acted.

“Every time you touch them, they must wonder if that’s it, if you’re going to kill them this time. Do you wonder whether I’m going to kill you now?”

Two more steps, and Spike was immobilizing his prey and tearing into his neck, safely away from the artery. He pulled a few mouthfuls, aware of the extreme terror of the struggling man that came from his scent as well as in his blood. Then he felt her.

He let go of his prey, his eyes of fire plunging into teary ones.

“If you hurt any of them ever again,” he growled very low, “I will hunt you down and kill you.”

The man nodded convulsively, and as Spike moved back one step he understood it was his time to run. The vampire didn’t pay him any more attention, turning instead to the Slayer behind him.

She was staring at him through eyes that gleamed with unshed tears, and it hurt to see the sadness in the green depths.

“I can explain, luv,” he volunteered, hoping she would give him a chance.

“There is nothing to explain.”

Her voice was so cold it made him shiver. It sounded void of all emotions, dead, so unlike the woman full of love and life he adored. Unsure how to start, he just watched as she picked up a stake from the ground. For a few seconds, her eyes rested on the piece of wood, and he wondered what was going on in her mind. She couldn’t seriously be thinking about staking him, right? She would at least give him a minute to tell her why. And she had seen the man go away, bleeding but in no danger of dying, that ought to count. Her gaze came back to his, and she approached him, slowly but purposefully. He realized she was indeed going to do it, and cursed mentally. One more plan completely screwed up. Unconsciously, he took a step back, unwilling to fight her.

“I’m sorry luv,” he said softly.

Not sorry about what he had done, sorry about what he was about to do.

“Stop and listen to me.”

He hadn’t used the Sire voice in years. He had said he wouldn’t use it, wouldn’t force her to do his will. But he couldn’t see what other choice he had right now. He needed to make her understand what exactly she had seen. If she still felt like staking him after…well, he didn’t want to think of that. He just had to be very persuasive, that was all.

She had stopped at his words, just out of arm reach, and was watching him with outrage.

“First killing and now playing with my mind?” she said angrily. “This is so not looking good for you.”

Immobile, Buffy glared at Spike. She was trying to move, really trying, but his simple order had stuck her in place. He ran a nervous hand in his hair, his eyes plunging deep into hers, and took a step in her direction.

“That man has a wife and two kids,” he started slowly. “They’re eleven and five. And he beats them. The police know, social services do, too, but no one can do anything because he terrorizes his family so they won’t talk.”

“That doesn’t give you the right to kill him!” Buffy interjected angrily.

He tilted his head, just a little, and she could see in his eyes and hear in his voice that he was really trying to convince her.

“I wasn’t going to kill him, luv,” he pleaded. “Just give him a taste of his own medicine. Scare him senseless.”

Buffy shook her head, wishing it was easier to believe him.

“You told him you will kill him if he does it again,” she pointed out.

He nodded a little, and walked another step toward her. He was within her reach now; she just had to extend her arm to touch him. And she realized she could do that, his order wasn’t holding her still any longer. She wondered whether he was aware of it.

“I threatened him,” he admitted. “That doesn’t mean I planned to get through with it. And even if I did, I wouldn’t have to. Every day he’s going to look in the mirror, see the scars, and remember. He won’t touch them again.”

“How can you know that?”

He took a deep breath before he answered.

“Because it worked with the others.”

She closed her eyes for a second, trying to contain her anger. It wasn’t the first time. She was angry with him for doing such a thing behind her back, and angry with herself for not having noticed. Her hand was gripping the stake tightly, hard enough to hurt.

“How many? And since when?”

“He was the fifth. In eighteen months.”

She kept silent, making the connection in her mind. A year and half before, she had taken her first class without him. He seemed to think her lack of reply was an invitation to continue his explanation.

“I hacked into the social services network two years and half ago. Red showed me how. Was just checking what they had on file for you and the Nibblet. Then I looked around and found those files. Didn’t think much of it at first, but then it started bugging me. And I thought maybe I could try to do something. So I picked one and did it. After that, I returned to observe him, and he wasn’t doing anything bad any more. Even the social services updated the file and said he was going through therapy. So I know it works.”

He took a last half step toward her. Any closer and he would have been touching her. He just stayed there, right in front of her, silent and immobile. She knew he was done with his explanations and was waiting for her decision. But she didn’t know what to think and decide.

In favor of the defendant, he hadn’t killed, or so he said. He had done it only in the hope of doing some good. He actually had done some good.

Against him, he had attacked humans, and had hidden it from her as he knew she would be upset about it.

Jury still out.

“I wish you had told me,” she said at last.

“Didn’t think you would have let me try, luv. But yes, I should have told you.”

His voice sounded sincere. But it was still hard.

“Are you going to do it again?”

“Do you want me to stop?”

She considered him for a second. His face was unreadable, but she knew him enough to believe he wouldn’t hunt humans, for any reason, if she asked him not to. At least, she thought with a frown, she used to think she knew him.

“I am not comfortable with you hurting humans. Even bad humans. It’s not your role.”

“And what is my role, luv?” he asked in a whisper.

She had no answer to that question. She knew what she was. The Slayer. With a clear purpose in life, hunting vampires and demons. It had been true when she was alive; it was still true now that she was a vamp. But Spike? He was, by nature, a killer, who only chose not to kill. He was helping her slay because he wanted to be with her. She didn’t dare delude herself by thinking he actually enjoyed fighting the good fight. He would have enjoyed just as much fighting for the opposing team. And all this punish and scare the bad guys business, it was just a matter of biting. Just an excuse, a reason more or less legitimate, to sink his fangs into living flesh and get some fresh and hot blood. She understood that way too well for her own comfort.

For the second time that night, she dropped the stake, this time deliberately.

“Let’s go home,” she mumbled.