The weather uncomfortably reminded Spike of Merry Old. Rain. Endless drizzling rain and grey clouds, third day and night in a row now. Neither dog nor demon fancied going out in this weather – no demons to kill and no damsels to save or scare. Even the Slayer hadn’t deemed going out worth her while to darken his doorstep to harass him.
William the Bloody, Slayer of Slayers, Spike, badest of the biggest Big Bads was bored. Bored out of his mind. The lower level of his crypt had acquired an unpleasantly damp note and an annoying dripping sound so he was pacing around the sarcophagus forcefully enough to have made himself dizzy. Cabin fever, he decided with the telly images mirroring the weather outside, he felt trapped and bored and gearing up for a major fit of pique. He threw himself backwards onto his sarcophagus, overshooting a bit and leaving him with his head dangling over the side he growled in frustration
“That’s all it takes to fix the town? Sodding drizzle? What’s it take to get some action anyway?”
On cue he heard slow and slugging, squelching footsteps coming closer and he perked up with a nasty grin. “Ta, mates.”
Spike’s mind was running a mile a minute, it could be some good old-fashioned ghoul, stupid but tough, didn’t sound big enough for a real challenge but as long as it could take a few hits he could draw that out to entertain him for quite a while.
He was daydreaming about the amount of violence he could get from this little fella when something unexpected happened.
There was a knock on his door and the footsteps had quieted.
Spike frowned, he’d planned to let that thing get a head start and get himself a bit of a chase in as well but now it came up knocking at his door? He hated this town.
Enraged and in demon visage he rolled off the stone lid and barrelled towards the door, nearly ripping it off its hinges with his forceful opening, intending to scare the thing into running and giving him the chase anyway.
He was not prepared for what he saw. The Slayer stood on his doorstep. She was shivering, bleeding, and smelled scared. There was a dazed look in her eyes - she looked drugged. She looked like she'd been through hell. Caked in mud, blood and other things he couldn’t identify. When she looked up at Spike he thought he saw relief flicker in her eyes briefly, swaying slightly as though close to passing out, she mumbled, "...didn't know where else to go..." then, she collapsed in Spike's arms.
Spike dropped her immediately. A near silent grunt told him that she wasn’t unconscious and just too weak to stand. His eyes glared daggers into the roof of his crypt. You’ve got to be kidding me, not what I meant! He thought towards whoever he’d just recently thanked.
When he turned his gaze down towards the crumpled body, he saw the Slayer hadn’t moved from where he’d dumped her and was dripping slowly on his crypt floor. He considered using the door to shove her out of the crypt so he wouldn’t have to touch her but saw that it would most likely only catch her legs and feet. Both of which were bare he noticed in the back of his mind while the rest of his mind considered whether cutting her body in half with the help of his door would make the chip fire. Technically he’d simply be closing his door…
He heard her breathing change, coming out in shallow gusts now and he rolled his eyes.
“Slayer, you gonna go all hysteric on me now? ‘Cus I’ve got better things to do than deal with you bawling over some dirt on your favourite jumper.”
He guessed some verbal sparring with the Slayer was better than wearing a moat into the floor around the stone coffin.
Only the Slayer didn’t respond. At least not as expected. Her head slowly lifted and her glazed eyes took him in.
“Shhhhpike?” she slurred “What’re you doing here? What ‘m I doing here? Where is here?” Her head wobbled before dropping down to the floor with a loud thunk. Spike winced when he smelled fresh blood coming from her forehead.
A slow smile spread over his face, he had the Slayer high as a kite in his crypt, injured and in no shape to heap abuse on him. Oh, the things he could do to her! He sent another thanks to whomever gifted him with this treat, his boredom was forgotten.
He grabbed her by the oversized shirt she was wearing and dragged her fully inside his crypt so he could close the door and add the crossbar. Frowning at the trail of dirt, blood and other mucus this left on his floor. He had intended to drag her to the sublevel but if that messed up the last more or less clean area in his crypt… Oh well, he guessed he could carry her.
He grabbed the front of her shirt and one bare, dirty thigh and pulled her up from the ground. Her head lolled downwards and the foot of her other leg dragged on the floor as he held her as far away from him as he could, not wanting to get all that mud on himself. Which is when he saw the shirt ride up her thigh and reveal her to be naked underneath.
That briefly gave him pause as he studied her. His eyes flickering over her once more before he shrugged. He was sure he’d get it out of her sooner or later. Spike did take a deeper breath of her though, trying to ignore the tantalizing scent of her blood, the earthy mud and everything else, searching for the distinct scent of male ejaculate or condoms on her. If someone had forced themself on her he knew he wouldn’t enjoy this the way he intended to.
There were male scents on her, more than one but when he pulled her lower body closer to his nose and drew another deep breath he was sure she’d not been attacked like that. Her core smelled untainted and delicious.
Shaking his head and rolling his eyes at himself, he walked over to the trapdoor and carelessly dropped her down the ladder towards his basement. She made no noise this time which told him she was fully unconscious now, all the better.
Spike dragged her limp form over to the chains he’d set in the ceiling and shackled her unresisting body into them. Grinned madly at the limp Slayer simply hanging from her wrists. Then he frowned, her legs were half folded under her and the shirt, as oversized as it was, left her woman parts exposed. The vampire huffed, this would be a picture-perfect demonstration directly from Angelus’ ‘How to break a woman - 101’. He had no interest in breaking her spirit especially not by forcing himself on her, so he huffed and started rummaging through his stuff. He was sure he had snatched some underwear at one of the rare occasions Dru felt like wearing some and he’d wager used and almost new would be considered better than none at all when being held captive and if not, he couldn’t care less.
He finally found a tiny little snow white and innocent looking pair of knickers and snorted at them. Dru loved playing innocent, it had made him smile, what with her cruelty being second only to Angelus’. He drew them to his nose and sighed sadly, her scent barely lingered on them. He must’ve gotten them off her very soon after she put them on and long before he got her going.
Turning to stand before the captive Slayer, he observed her. By the time he got them all the way up her legs, they’d be as soiled as the rest of her. He shrugged to himself, whatever. He still took care to carefully manoeuvre them up her legs while keeping them as clean as possible until he finally pulled them up and she was as covered as he could make her. Then he settled cross-legged and grinning in front of her, well out of kick range and waited impatiently for her to wake while he let his head go wild on the things he could do to her.