Burned

By Outofthisworld

"Well now, I barely remember the last time I saw you crying."

Spike looked up, a pained expression on his face while he inwardly cursed himself for his inattentiveness. The walk back from Buffy's had been punctuated by damage and violence, mostly to inanimate objects, but also to the occiasional passerby. He had welcomed the pain in his head as long as it meant that he got to hurt people, even if it was just shoving them down on the sidewalk. He hadn't looked around when he got back to his trashed crypt, just sat down next to the doorway and crumpled in on himself. He was so absorbed that he hadn't even noticed the old familiar scent that now wafted through the room.

"But I do seem to recall that Angelus had a right fun time with it." The saunter, the arched brows, the golden hair. All the same. Like Dru, but not like him.

Spike pulled himself up along the wall and looked down at the slowly approaching vampire, managing a sneer through his shiny cheeks. "Smell a little singed, Darla. Angel didn't have anything to do with that, now did he?"

Darla growled, and in a second her fingers were at his throat, eyes yellow and fangs extended. Before he could react, though, her face slid back and she settled down onto her heels, fingers trailing down his throat to his chest.

"Things change, Spike. Vampires too, it seems. You have a new thing for blondes, I hear." Her tongue touched the top of her lip, a move that she would never admit to have learned from him.

Spike shoved her away roughly, and wiped his face with the side of his palm. “Why are you here, you miserable cunt? You and I have never had anything to say to each other. Go back to LA and play your pretty little games with your bloody little souled freak.” He spat the last word and stalked past Darla into the crypt, knocking over boxes and clutter until he came up with his flask.

As he took a swig, Darla languorously moved towards the coffin and dabbled her fingers along it as if it were water. “You’re trying to hurt me with words.” Her voice was amused.

Spike chuckled humorlessly and raised one eyebrow, casting a sidelong glance her way. “I s’pose so, pet. If you don’t leave soon, though, I’ll try to make it a little more physically painful for you to be here.”

Darla tsked. She was almost close enough to touch, now. “Your minion-girlfriend left you. Your century-lover has given up on you. And the Slayer of your dreams—“ she had to stop to make a face of distaste—“will never even consider you. And now you have a girl right at your fingertips, and you want to kick her out?” She laughed, and her fingers were now on her own skin, dipping into the violet V-neck she wore. “Spikey, how times have changed.”

His voice hardened as he swallowed, pointedly staring her in the face. “How long have you been here?”

“Long enough to see. Long enough to see that you need just a little more—hmm—encouragement, to get you back to LA with us.”

Spike lips became a line and his jaw jutted forward. “I already told Dru no, and I do believe that I’ve proved my unwelcome.”

Darla smiled, mouth open and quirked in a calculated smirk. “I’m not Dru, am I? I’m not that little bimbo, and—well, I’m not that other little bimbo either.” Her fingers reached towards the neck of his black t-shirt. “I think you remember who I am.”

He caught her wrist in a twisting grip. Darla kept smiling, teeth shining in the candlelight, making a little sound in the back of her throat as her bones touched. “Yeh, I do. You’re the bitch who’s been around too long for her own good. The arrogant upstart who.. the whore who barely spared a glance for me in all those decades I ravaged by your side unless you wanted to make Angelus jealous..”

A giggle as she slid her body next to his.

“Oh, and you’re my great grandmother.”

She pouted.

He held her wrist but didn’t push her away. Softly, like silk steel. “Quit the temptress act, Darla. What do you want from me?”

“I think we can help each other out, Spike.”

“Cut to the chase.” His grip tightened.

She sighed, and moved an inch away as her voice turned exasperated. “Let me go or I’ll bite you.”

He rolled his eyes but obeyed instinctively. She lifted herself on top of the coffin, legs dangling coyly. Spike stood back and folded his arms as Darla laid out the facts as they suited her.

“Dru wants our little family back, and I know she’d like to see you purged of your recent disease. I want her happy. You want the Slayer.”

He looked away and down. “I don’t see how this all fits, love.”

“I’ll take you back. To LA. Dru would have you back, I promise. And you could get revenge on all of us, but especially her. The slayer. She loves Angel, you know. Wouldn’t it kill her to know he’s lost his dirty soul? Or his existence?” Darla leaned forward, deepening her cleavage and her voice. “She turned you down, didn’t she? Closed you out of her home. You’ll never be in her heart, let alone her legs.” Spike’s shoulders jerked. “And you want her, don’t you? The muscles she has, her smell.” She tossed a glance behind her towards the hole where she knew his shrine was. “To find out whether she’s a natural blonde..”

He closed his eyes, trying to block out the image of Buffy as he remembered her expression as the door swung closed. He could still hear her, and her sigh of relief as she sagged against the door before Willow and her mother hurried her away. Could smell her cunt, her lotion, and her shampoo. He shook his head, unable to dispel the sensations.

“I am, baby.”

Her legs snaked out and caught him around the waist. For a moment he lost his feline grace and stumbled into her, and all of a sudden his face was in between her breasts and he was overwhelmed with her, soft and tight and smelling cold like the sky at night, but not pure. No, more like musky ice. His hands came forward and grabbed her waist as he straightened and looked at her, nose to nose, panting.

Her eyes were ice, too. “Punish me. Punish me for making him, and her, and you.” That grin again. “For making you so that you’ll never be good enough for her.”

Spike shoved his forearm into her throat and snarled. If he let his eyes unfocus, all he could see was her light as and blonde hair. “You’re the one who was always too good for me. Angelus’s lover, the queen. You and Dru and him..”

She pressed a finger to his mouth with surprising tenderness, stemming the flow of bitter words. “They’re not here now, are they, lover? So get over it, shut up, and fuck me already.”

A beat, then he dove forward, mouth plundering hers with blunt teeth that nonetheless drew lukewarm blood from her lips. She gasped with pleasure, closing her eyes and raising her head to give him better access down her chin and to her neck, working her hands free and grasping his platinum curls.

-*-*-*-*-

Spike knew it wasn’t her. Knew he wasn’t fucking Buffy, and that Darla was right about him never having a chance. But he didn’t mind. As he pulled his hands over her porcelain skin, he didn’t need to think that it was the slayer. He could lose himself in the push and the grab and the slamming of bodies, sweaty for all their lack of heat, and forget for a while the unbeating place in his chest.

Still, some corner of his mind remembered that this was Darla. The woman who was responsible, tangentially, for his creation. She’d laughed when he was sired and ignored his pleas for help when Angelus taught him his place in those first dark days. He’d feared the Irishman and worshipped Drusilla like a goddess, but Darla had been something else entirely. Untouchable. Sinister. Clever and worldly. A golden tower who constantly looked down her nose at his rough exploits.

Oh, she’d fucked him once or twice, sure. When Angelus neglected her, or favored Drusilla too much. She’d wrap her fingers around his dick and rub his scent all over her so that when Angelus came back, he’d take them both up the ass one after the other. Then she’d make them both bleed and mix their borrowed bloods and jisms together and make them lick it off of each other. Spike was always the underling, never in control, never able to win at her violent games. But now was different.

Maybe it’s because she was newly vamped. She was energetic in a frenetic way, grinding against him and scraping his back with her reddened nails. He was on top, and she was letting him drive.

And she made LA sound like a right fun plan. Get a little from Dru, get a little back from the old man, and hurt them all in the process. Maybe this time around he could be the one in charge, the master of them all. Especially if he could get control over this one..

He ducked his head to bite her nipple and twisted it in his teeth, listening for her intake of breath and sharp grunt. Yes, this was Darla, but one who was a little more broken then before.

He grinned. Well, if he couldn’t make the slayer scream, he could certainly teach this blonde bitch a little respect.

-*-*-*-*-

Inside, Darla was crying.

Outside, she reveled in the pain, purely enjoying the physicality of letting Angel’s rival envelop her in that marble statue body. Really, she’d never given him enough credit before. He was truly a work of art. Or, had been.

Now, everything was wrong. She needed to own Angel’s soul and then take it away. She needed his devotion, his undying dead heart, his rage. He was one of the reasons she had enjoyed her unlife so much, and though she’d be damned even more if she withered away without him, she could at least make him pay for leaving her.

And Spike, he’d gone soft. She thought that he would’ve stayed by Drusilla’s side till the end of time, lapping her up like the dog he was. Instead he’d been kicked to the curb and found a new mistress and would spend eternity humping her leg, for all that she kicked him away too.

He ripped her shirt off, leaving the tatters underneath her as he mauled her breasts, tongue and teeth everywhere, licking up the blood he drew. Well, maybe he wasn’t lost for good.

Drusilla, at least, was the same batty girl she’d been since she was vamped. At least she would never change.

But otherwise, it all was so wrong.

-*-*-*-*-

After licking from her belly button to throat, Spike slammed Darla’s head against the stone of the lid, making her laugh with hollow pleasure. “My, aren’t we a rough boy?”

“As rough as you’re gonna get until your beloved Angel flips you over his knee and takes his cock to you. But wait—he’s too good for that now, isn’t he?” One lip curled up as he reached down, heaving her over his shoulder as he carried her downstairs. Darla struggled, but his hold was secure. While he had her, he tore through her skintight pants and sank a fang into her hip as he walked.

When he got downstairs and started to set her down, she immediately threw a kick at him, knocking him in the stomach and back a few steps. “How dare you!” Her face had changed and she glowed with anger. “Don’t you remember your place?”

“Oh, I do, love.” He swung a punch that she neatly ducked and she followed with an uppercut that landed in his jaw. His retort was coupled with a roundhouse to her cheekbone. “I’ve got years on you, you newborn.” His tongue came out as they tussled. “I’m your elder.”

She’d let herself get involved in a fists and fangs brawl, while naked to boot. And his taunts kept lashing her hide.

“You’re trying not to remember the times Angelus came to me after you kicked him out, and found solace in the company of another man.” A blow to her ribs. “You weren’t woman enough to keep him satisfied even then, were you?” A scratch to his face. “Poor little Darla, you’ve lost your chips, haven’t you? Needing to come to old Spike for a little release since your favorite child won’t have any of it.” Her jaw. “And a little birdie told me you couldn’t make him happy for just one moment, could you?”

A cold red miasma took her vision as she let out a scream and launched herself at him, throwing all her cunning to the wind as she lost herself in anger and despair. It was all wrong..

When she could see again she was spreadeagled, chained to a wall she had seen from the shadows.

Spike walked them now, circling her slowly. “You’ve come to me at a baaaad time, girlie.” She snarled and craned her head to see him. “I’m in love with the Slayer, so you know I’m one sick puppy. But I’m still a vampire. I’m still Spike, who tore Europe apart with nothing but my body. What do you think I could do to you? Fuck you, stake you, torture you.. anything I want, now.”

Her laughter stopped him and he emerged huffily, grabbing a fistful of her tousled hair. She was coming back to her senses. “Spike, you silly man. Who taught you everything you know? Who taught Angelus, and Drusilla? Do you really think you’d ever get the upper hand? You were, and always will be, a weak fop. A wilting flower of a man. Too man to be vampire, to vampire to be man.”

Now he fanged out and leaned in to her face, licking her nape to ear. “I’m both, you slut.”

His hands dropped to her breasts, twisting and tweaking as he worked his way down, leaving rising beads wherever his mouth went. She closed her eyes when he reached her flaxen curls and inhaled deeply.

He tongued the top of her slit, sucking the hair into his mouth while his fingers still worked her tits. Straining against her chains, she stifled a moan as he went lower, scraping her folds with razor teeth and licked the crevices wetter than before.

Scraping his blunt nails down her sides, he carefully avoided the clit as he kneaded her ass, making her jerk and clang the bindings at her ankles.

Abruptly he was gone, leaving the cool crypt air over her wet cunt to make her shiver. Her head had lolled back but now she lifted it irritably, pulling at her chains once more.

Spike came back with a bent and sad looking box of chocolates and an eerily intense look on his face. “You wanted to play this game. But we’re gonna play it my way.” And with that he took one of the mashed chocolates and shoved it in her mouth.

Darla started to turn away to spit it out, but he just smeared it over her lips with his palm. Taking a look at his eyes, which had gone fiery in their yellow depths, she reconsidered and accepted the dark sweetness.

He took his hand away and kissed her brutally, blood and salt and chocolate mingling together on their tongues. He wiped his hand down her body and made yet another trail to follow that made her cry out with pleasure.

When he reached her drying pussy again, he first tongued her pulsing hole, spreading the drips upward, then without any warning flicked her knob with the tip of his tongue. After a few moments of snakelike tapping, he pulled down on her hips and started lapping furiously, alternating circles and jabs and full-out caressing.

Darla could feel her blood rising, her nerves tingling, the feeling becoming so strong that she would drown, and yet her squirming wasn’t completely what she wanted. Nevertheless, the tides were about to wash over her and she couldn’t stop straining to die in them.

But Spike could. When she was almost there, he stood up again, leaving her gasping and whimpering and quivering. She looked into his eyes, struggling to keep a pleading look hidden.

Breathless, he rested his wrists on her shoulders. “I know that’s not what you came here fore, pet. You’ve got my old flame to do that for you whenever you please, don’t you.” His own voice darkened at unseen memories and imaginations. “But Drusilla hasn’t got this, has she?” One hand reached down and pulled his throbbing cock from pants lowered to his hips. “This is what you want from Angel, but what he won’t give you, eh?” Darla swallowed and nodded slightly. He let it bounce against her thigh and she moved her hips towards it. “But you won’t get it from me, either, until you say her name.”

Resisting her body’s screams, Darla turned away and spat. “No.”

He backhanded her across the cheek. “Yes. Just say her name, and I’ll ram you like that ponce never did.”

“It’s filthy.”

“So’re you.” He reached down and grasped himself, touching the head to her slit, moving it in tiny little figure eights over her clit. “Just say it..”

“Buffy,” she whispered.

He cock danced towards her hole. “Louder.”

“Buffy.”

He settled himself right at her opening and let his hands settle feather-light on her waist.

“Now say my name.”

“Spike!”

And he rammed upwards, feeling her walls expand and then tighten around him, slippery and crushing with supernatural strength. Darla shouted wordlessly, helpless, unable to move under the gloriously violent assault. His mind was filled with thoughtless violence and sex and blood, like it should be, emptied of Bu..He pulled out and slammed again, sending rainbow spots to Darla’s eyelids, and suddenly it was there, washing over her like a bloody black waterfall of light, shuddering through her limbs and coursing her veins with an adrenaline bolt that tore all the chains right out of the wall. On Spike’s next thrust, he fell forward on top of her, and still shimmering with the aftershocks, the shoved him off of her, sending him flying across the room.

Immediately she was up and advancing on him, glowing with gold and crimson. “You should have known better than to mess with me, boy.”

Spike lifted himself to his elbows, lonely cock bobbing aimlessly above his fly.

As Darla knelt over him, she yanked his t-shirt away from his chest, ripping as it pulled away. “Time to teach you why I always end on top.”

She punched his head, cracking the skin on his temple and knocking him back to the ground. She lifted slightly to tear away his pants, and settled down on his thighs in time to land another punch to his other temple, leaving his vision doubled.

“It’s because I survive, you worthless waste of space!” She grabbed his dick and squeezed it to the point of pain, letting her nails prick the soft skin. Spike arched his back.

“I don’t fall for the slayer! I don’t turn my back on my own kind!” Keeping her death grip, she began pumping him as he grew larger in her small hand.

“It’s because I’m Darla! I’m the terror of Europe, you idiot! You’d be nothing without me. Nothing. I made you. I made you and I can destroy you if I want!” One sharp nailed finger snaked around and stabbed into his asshole, making him cry out.

“I can destroy you. I own you, body and soul..” Spike could hear her choked sobs, though he couldn’t come up with the faculty of mind to process what this meant.

Just when he thought he was going to explode, she let go. Before he could react, he was enveloped in searing coolness that gripped him and slid up and down, faster than any human being ever could fuck.

You’re mine!

And they both sailed into the darkness alone.

-*-*-*-*-

They dressed facing away, she in the jacket she’d thoughtfully stowed away beforehand and he in a fresh black tshirt and jeans.

Darla looked out the high windows of his crypt, seeing the stars through the stone. She held her coat closed, and spared a thought for the sorry state of her hair. The numerous cuts Spike had inflicted were healed, but still stung when she moved. She held perfectly still.

Spike pulled on his leather duster and spun, a tiny grin behind his cigarette. “So. LA. Back to the bosom we go, eh pet?”

“You fool.” Darla turned, her eyes sad underneath a veneer of glee. “No one wants you back in LA. Dru’s given you up for good. And I’ve got all I need from you.”

Spike’s cigarette fell from his lips.

Realizing herself again, Darla winked. “Oh, it was fun, William. Just like old times. You’ve served your purpose. Now go back to your pitiful longing—we have no use of a slavering lovesick tamed dog like you.”

Spike opened his mouth to protest, then shut it. Opened it. “A bint like you just needed to remember what it’s like to have a real vampire inside of her, not one full of a fluffy soul. So take your skanky ass out of here, see what I care. At least I got a good fuck out of you—it’s more than you’ll get out of him. And even if you do, he still won’t find perfect happiness with you. Because you're not her.”

Darla rolled her eyes and laughed. “And you'll never have her.”

“Just leave,” he growled.

She smiled. “Of course. It’s what every woman does to you, eventually..”

As she slammed the door of his crypt, she took a deep breath. Her steps were slow as she went to meet Drusilla at the train station. That fucking slayer. They were all connected now. And all because of her and her four-centuries old decision. And someday she'd find a way to put it all right, with blood and sex and death..

Spike stalked to the fridge and grabbed a bag of blood, ripping the corner with human teeth. God help him, it's all about her.