“Reitor, lord of pain, hear my prayer.”
In an old mausoleum, under cover of darkness, six hooded figures circled their victim. The victim was a young man, his skin pale save for the many bruises on his bare chest. At first glance he appeared thin, but as he hung from the shackles, muscles bulged painfully from his extended arms. His head was down and his chest heaved as he struggled to breathe.
One of the figures continued speaking. “Reitor, god of destruction. From this mortal’s blood, you shall rise.”
Another one of the figures stepped forward and brandished a sword, as the first continued: “Reitor, king of the underworld-”
The second figure moved closer to the victim.
“-ruler of the undead-”
The sword touched the victim’s chest.
“-most exhaled, most worshipped, most humbling great Reitor-”
The victim raised his head. “Enough with the ass-kissing, mate.” He grabbed the sword by its blade and wrenched it from the hand of the vampire.
A low growl came from beneath the hood of the red-robed vampire. “Stupid mortal. You will die even more slowly now!”
“Stupid vampire,” the victim replied. “I’m not mortal.”
With one swift motion Spike pulled his arms free of the chains. Before any of the other vampires could react, he had swung the sword in a wide arc and decapitated two of the six vampires. The remaining four rushed him, but he dodged out of the way and delivered several strong blows to their backs. One doubled over, but the others kept going, grabbing Spike’s arms and trying to pin them behind his back.
Spike kicked his legs up and each big black boot connected hard with a vampire’s face. Their pain was only momentary, but it allowed him enough time to get a sword in each hand. Before long there was only one vampire left. He lie on the floor, bleeding from a deep chest wound, and glaring up at a shirtless, bruised, and smirking Spike.
“Reitor can not be harmed,” the vampire growled. “You can kill us, but you will never destroy our master.”
Spike positioned the sword over the vampire’s next. “Not too bloody interested in your master.” He slid the blade under a long, gold chain and broke it easily. “I just came for this.” He grabbed the medallion, and then buried the blade in the vampire’s neck.
*
Xander put his head down on the table and took a deep breath, ready to fall asleep. Anya had woken him at six in the morning, excited about opening the store by herself. She had tossed him a thick, old book and told him to continue his research while she stood at the register and counted the money.
“Xander, wake up!” Anya yelled as soon as he was about to drift off. “This Eno-whatever demon isn’t going to slay itself.”
“Maybe it will,” Xander said, “You know, maybe the other demons are treating him badly, the female Enoispeps won’t go out with him, and he just decides to end it all.”
The opening of the door momentarily distracted Anya from the money, until she saw Willow enter. “You’re not a customer,” she pouted.
“Not when the salespeople have attitudes like that,” Willow muttered.
“Hey Will,” Xander said. “You get any info from our least-favorite bloodsucker?”
Willow shook her head. “He didn’t know anything about the Enoispep.” She sat down at the table. “Maybe Willy was lying. Maybe it doesn’t even exist.”
“Help!”
Willow and Xander were at their feet in a moment, until they saw who had just rushed through the Magic Shop door. As he stood in the entranceway holding his chest and panting, they sat down again.
“You have to help me!” he squeaked out.
“I dunno,” Xander said to Willow. “Do we really have to?”
Willow pursed her lips together in a stubborn line. “I don’t think there’s any rule that says we have to.”
Anya shoved her stack of bills into the register angrily. “Go away, Jonathan.”
Jonathan took a few wary steps closer to them. “I said I was sorry about the spell I did. It was stupid, I know. Can’t we just forget about it?”
“Tara was almost killed!” Willow snapped.
“I moaned your name!” Anya shuddered at the memory.
Jonathan hung his head. “I’m sorry. Really I am.”
Willow rolled her eyes at the sight of his pathetic form. “What’s wrong, Jonathan?”
Jonathan smiled slightly and rushed to join them at the table.
“I think something’s after me,” he said. “These weird things keep happening.”
“Could you be a little more specific?” Xander asked.
“It started yesterday,” Jonathan explained. “I passed by a homeless man on the street, so I gave him a dollar. But when I held it out to him, he grabbed my arm.”
“We fight vampires and demons,” Xander said. “We don’t run a protection agency.”
“But - no!” Jonathan stammered out. “I don’t think this guy was human.”
“Why not?” Willow asked.
“When he grabbed me, it hurt. But not like, regular hurt. He wasn’t holding me very tightly, but it hurt a lot. It felt like...like he was burning me from the inside, just from touching me.”
The others exchanged glances.
“A demon that kills by touch,” Anya said.
Willow nodded. “The Enoispep.” She turned to Jonathan. “What did he look like?”
“That’s the weird part,” he continued. “I saw him again, and he looked like someone else. I went to a store last night, and when the cashier handed me my change, he grabbed my hand, and it hurt, in the same way.”
“So it can change form,” Anya said.
“Wait, this doesn’t make sense,” Xander said. “If this thing is the Enoispep, its touch would kill him, wouldn’t it?”
Jonathan paled.
“Not necessarily,” Willow said. “Jonathan, when this man grabbed you, you said he didn’t grab you really hard, right?”
He nodded. “I pulled away from him.”
“So maybe the Enoispep doesn’t have super-human strength.”
“If Jonathan got away from it,” Xander mumbled. “It doesn’t even have regular human strength.”
“That’s possible,” Anya said. “Most demons are stronger than an average human, but in some, their individual power is all they have. The Enoispep can kill through touch, not strength. So it might be hard for him to keep his victims still long enough to kill them.”
“Well, that’s a good thing, right?” Xander asked them all. “That means we can kill it.”
“If we can find it,” Willow said. “It could be anyone.”
*
When Spike stumbled into the apartment, Dawn was standing at the kitchen counter, making a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. Earlier that evening he was sure he’d wiped out all of the Order of Reitor vampires, but when he was on his way home a few more jumped him. He thought the rising sun would chase them away, but they appeared to be more concerned about the desecration of their ceremony than their impending death. He just barely managed to escape into the sewers, where he had to trudge through miles of filth before he got to the basement of their building.
But the Order of Reitor was nothing compared to the dirty look Dawn gave him as he fell onto the couch.
“What’s your sodding problem?” Spike asked her.
“It’s seven-thirty, and you’re just now getting home,” Dawn said accusingly.
“I’m very sorry,” Spike said sarcastically. “I told the vamps I had places to be, but that didn’t seem to deter them from beating my bloody face in!”
Dawn shoved the sandwich in a plastic bag and grabbed her book bag off a kitchen chair. “Fine, I’ll just starve and die. What do you care?”
“What the bleeding hell are you talking about?” Spike shouted. But Dawn was already past him, slamming the door behind her.
*
Tara leaned on the magic shop counter and picked through a basket of herbs in tiny plastic bags. “What do you think, sage?”
Willow looked up from the table where she was reading her history book. “That could make the demon show itself. Even a simple spell might do it. Once Giles used a German spell invoking Hecate to unmask a demon.”
“That’s good news, right?” Tara asked.
“Not necessarily,” Willow admitted. “Demons hide themselves using magic, so magic can easily undo it. But this demon we’re dealing with now...The shape-shifting could be in its nature, in which case, it would take powerful magic to uncover it.” Willow closed her book and stood up. “Plus, we couldn’t just go around throwing sage on everyone in town.”
Tar shrugged. “Everyone would smell nice at least. Anyway, Jonathan should lead us to him, right?”
“Hopefully,” Willow said.
“Help!”
Willow rolled her eyes. Tara looked over her shoulder to the back room, where Jonathan had been hiding out. “We should probably help him,” Tara said.
“Probably,” Willow agreed.
“Help!”
Willow reached into the basket and rustled through the bags of herbs. “So....sage, huh?”
Tara smiled. “I can make a great pasta sauce with it.”
The back door banged open and Jonathan was pushed into the store. He landed hard on the ground, and struggled helplessly to get to his feet as Spike came up behind him.
“Help me!” Jonathan choked out. “He came in through the basement! He attacked me!”
Spike stood over his prone body and chuckled. “I could’ve killed you ten times by now, Wonder Jonathan. Bloody well should after all you’ve put us through.” Jonathan gasped in pain as Spike’s foot connected with his midsection.
Spike was about to kick him again when he heard a tiny voice in his head. “Spike, please don’t kill him.”
“Why the hell not?” Spike shouted. Jonathan looked up, unsure of whom Spike was talking to.
“We think the demon’s after him,” he heard. “He could lead us to it.”
Spike scowled down at Jonathan before swaggering over to Willow and Tara. He pulled a cigarette out of his pocket and lit it.
“Spike,” Tara said politely. “How are you doing?”
“Let me tell you something,” Spike said, pointing his cigarette at them to emphasize his words. “Once, sometime in the early part of the century, I don’t remember exactly when, this algae demon started giving me and Dru a hard time. So naturally, I had to kill the bugger. Ends up he was working for a very powerful, very old vamp, who chained me up and tortured me for days. Eventually Dru came in and we took them out, but I ended up with my limbs nearly torn off, and covered in bits of algae demon. And do you know what?” He paused to take a hit from his cigarette. “It wasn’t nearly as bad as living with a bloody fifteen year-old girl!”
“Well...um...” Tara began. “It’s a difficult age for any girl. And considering what Dawn’s been through --”
“And then there’s that bloke at her school she keeps talking about,” Spike interrupted. “I bet he’s the one making her crazy. I should rip his intestines out through his --”
“Maybe she could use someone to talk to her about boys,” Willow suggested. “Tara and I wouldn’t mind.”
“Yeah, what are you two going to tell her about boys?” He sucked the last bit of smoke from his cigarette and flicked it into a far corner. “Besides, what’s there to know? Boys are filthy gits and she should steer clear of them entirely.” He chuckled, licking his lower lip suggestively. “Maybe the two of you could teach her a couple things.” Suddenly his hand twitched involuntary. Spike looked at it, confused, and it abruptly punched him in the face.
Willow and Tara exchanged small smiles as Spike rubbed his nose and rattled off British swear words.
“Dawn’s going to be dating soon, whether you like it or not,” Willow said. “All we can do is make sure she doesn’t make bad choices.”
Spike considered this as he checked his face for broken bones. “Huh?”
“Dawn is becoming a young woman now,” Tara explained. “But she doesn’t have her mother or sister around to talk to you about...you know...girl stuff?”
Spike stared at them blankly.
“She may have questions,” Willow said. “About boys, and dating, and...her body.”
Spike turned even paler than he already was. “Her body?”
“She’s 15,” Willow explained. “And in the tenth grade. She’s at an age where if some of her friends aren’t having sex, they’re at least talking about it.”
“So it might be helpful if Willow and I talked to her about sex,” Tara said.
“No. No bloody way are you two coming into my house and putting ideas in her head.”
“It’s not putting ideas in her head,” Willow argued. “It’s educating her. She needs to know about monogamy, pregnancy, sexually transmitted diseases-”
“Or I could just find the boys who want to have sex with her,” Spike interrupted. “And kill them.”
Willow folded her arms across her chest and attempted a stern glare. “In all honesty, Spike, if she decides to have sex, she’s not going to tell you about it.”
A low growl came from deep within Spike’s throat. “This is all driving me mad. I really need to kill something.”
“Good,” Willow said. “You can start in the sewers. Last night we spotted one of those red-robed vampires you told me about. He went down into a manhole.”
Spike ran a hand over his face and his unkempt hair. “I’m bloody exhausted.”
Tara put her hand on Willow’s arm. “Honey, we could go patrol the sewers. We could get Anya to watch Jonathan.”
“No!” Spike said quickly. “Those Reitor buggers are mine.” He spun around and headed to the back entrance. Jonathan was still on the floor, but he had pulled himself up into a sitting position. As he walked by, Spike bared his vamp face, and was inwardly delighted when Jonathan cowered.
*
“Come out, come out, you robey bastard,” Spike sang softly as he trudged through the underground tunnels. He hadn’t slept since the previous afternoon, and it was beginning to take a toll on him. His head was cloudy and his limbs heavy. He was tired, hungry, grouchy, and ready to tear apart the bloodsucker that stood between him and his bed.
Then he smelled it. Blood. Young female human blood, near death, reeking of delicious fear. It was spilling out of her body right now, trickling over skin that had been speckled with baby powder that morning.
Spike’s initial reaction was arousal. When he had been killing humans, what he was smelling now would be a prime meal. But his excitement was short-lived, and he hesitated in his step at the recent associations the smell invoked.
Human blood, innocent blood, smelling like Dawn had smelled as her blood dripped down her body, over her legs, and left small red footprints on the steps of the tower, on the night Glory tried to kill her, on the night Buffy...
Spike bit his lower lip, the slight pain bringing him back into the present. He concentrated on following the scent. If he could smell a fresh victim this potently, a vampire couldn’t be far.
When he rounded the corner his hunch was confirmed. A thin, homely vampire wearing a red robe was firmly attached to the neck of a teenage brunette. The girl was twitching slightly, but more as a reflex than a defense; she was moments away from death.
“Hey ugly red riding hood!” Spike shouted.
The vampire lifted his head from the woman’s throat and let her body slide to the ground. Thin lines of thick-scented blood dripped from the corners of his mouth. “You killed my brethren,” he growled. “In the name of Reitor, dark prince of night, I shall reign vengeance down upon --”
Spike cut off the soliloquy with a boot to the face.
The vampire fell to the ground, and was about to push himself up when Spike’s knee connected with his face. Spike crouched over the vampire’s prone form, ripped the gold medallion off, and held his hand ready over his victim’s chest. Then he realized that his hand was empty.
The vampire laughed. “You don’t have a stake.”
Spike smiled as his face changed into its demonic state. “I don’t need one.”
Spike grasped the vampire’s shoulders and buried his head in its neck. The sewer tunnel echoed with its scream as Spike pulled his head back, his mouth full of the vampire’s flesh.
What remained of the creature’s neck began gushing blood, covering Spike’s face and chest. Spike swallowed, grateful for the nourishment but disgusted by the bitter taste of demonic blood. He plunged his hands into the gaping wound, separating it, and watched as the mass of blood and bone turned to dust.
Spike tried to wipe the blood out of his eyes, but managed only to spread blood over much of his face. He gagged and spit out a chunk of flesh. The taste was repulsive.
Then he smelled something wonderful. He looked over to another body that lie on the floor.
The girl wasn’t dead.
She had lost a great deal of blood, and she was unconscious, and so pale that each vein on her body was clearly visible, but her stomach rose and fell slightly with an instinctive desire to live. As Spike watched, her breathing began to slow. Nothing short of turning her would save her, and he knew that wasn’t an option. Even if his vampire child didn’t try to prove herself evil by killing all of Spike’s human acquaintances, she would surely get on his nerves. No, there was no saving her.
But that smell. That smell, with all its virtue and beauty, like a girl who had trusted everyone she met, who had made friends easily, who had loved her family and had to mourn their loss, who had seen evil, real evil, and yet managed to go on loving, go on trusting, and even found a place in her heart for that evil. Like a girl who could see a thousand violent deaths with her deep pure eyes, but when he looked into them, they radiated out nothing but beauty.
Spike knelt by the girl’s side, tenderly brushed her hair back, and then sunk his teeth into the raw holes of her neck.
To Spike, sex was nothing compared to a drink like this. While he had once savored the blood of a powerful slayer, he’d also treasured the taste of a powerless young girl. Everything about them was present in their blood: ignorance and innocence in their limited experiences along with a deep adolescent sadness for minor tragedies, love so unconditional alongside hatred so simple and pure, passion for their tenuous beliefs, and blood so sweet it made him hard.
He bit further into the girl’s neck, sucking out the last few drops of her delicious blood, his eyes rolling back in his head, his arms shaking as he clutched her body against his. When every last bit of her was drained dry, he let go abruptly. Her body hit the ground with a reverberating thud. He felt the sound rush through his body, and was sure that everyone in Sunnydale was looking down at the ground, wondering about the deafening boom that had come from below.
Spike stumbled and caught himself on the gritty tunnel wall. He could still feel her inside him. He wanted to pick up her dead body and drink from her more. Somewhere inside her there must still be a vein with a trace of blood left in it. Maybe the blood settled in the lower parts of her body when the other vampire had started drinking from her. Maybe he could still find a bit...
Spike was kneeling on the ground and untying the girl’s shoelace before he realized it. As soon as he saw the small white sock, folded down on the girl’s thin ankle, he started shaking, but this time not from pleasure. He let go of her foot, shuddered as her heel cracked against the ground, and walked away from her.
When he recognized the tunnel that would take him home, he broke into a run.
*
Dawn walked into the apartment and tossed her book bag on the couch.
It had been a miserable day at school. First, Jonie had spent all of Science Lab twirling her hair and talking to Steve. Then Dawn told Mandy that she liked Steve, and Mandy said that she had gone to the movies with Steve once last year. Since Mandy was the biggest skank ever, Dawn knew she must have kissed Steve at least once. It made her want to scream.
Dawn went into the refrigerator and pushed aside all the boring food that Spike bought for her. There was nothing good, and she was starving. The door to Spike’s room was closed. Obviously, he thought he could just sleep all day and not feed her. She’d have to show him how very wrong he was.
Spike was lying sprawled across his bed, naked except for a sheet wrapped around his waist. Dawn stood in the doorway and watched his unmoving body. When she had first slept in the same bed as Spike, his lack of breathing and the coldness of his skin had startled her. It had been weird to curl up next to him and try to find comfort and love against a body that was technically dead. But she figured that weird love was better than no love at all. And she had needed something then, when she was so sad that most days she didn’t even want to wake up, didn’t even want to live, back then, in the time right after Buffy had....
Dawn pushed the thought away and walked around to the side of the bed. In a way, she wished she could do it still. Just put on her pajamas in the afternoon and crawl into bed with Spike. He wouldn’t wake up completely, but he would notice her there, and put his arm around her. And if he heard her crying, or even just breathing heavily, he would kiss her on the forehead, and stroke her hair until she fell asleep. And then, when she woke up, he would already be awake, holding her in both her arms, and breathing, even though he didn’t need to. She thought he didn’t notice that he was breathing, he just did it without thinking about it, as if something about her could make him almost human.
But she couldn’t lie in bed with Spike, even if she wanted to. Somehow it was just different now. Before, they had slept together in motels, when they were running, when they were afraid and had nowhere else to go. Now Spike had managed to become her guardian, and they had their own apartment, with their own bedrooms. Life wasn’t terrifying anymore.
Besides, Dawn was much too old to be afraid to sleep alone. She was 15 now, and about to have her first boyfriend and her first kiss. Well, kind of her first kiss. When Spike kissed her, that didn’t count.
Dawn was pondering whether to wake Spike up by tickling him or dumping water on him when she noticed a brown bottle on his dresser. She walked to the dresser and picked it up. It was chocolate syrup. Her eyes narrowed with anger. It was obvious what had been going on in this bedroom.
Spike was hiding all the good food from her.
Dawn walked back to the side of the bed, clicked open the top of the bottle, and poured the chocolate syrup over Spike’s naked torso. Spike responded to the cool sensation by twitching, and then waking slowly.
“What the bloody hell...” he mumbled. He touched his chest and examined his sticky chocolate fingers. He looked up at Dawn with sleepy eyes.
“What are you doing with this in your room?” Dawn said sternly, holding the bottle out.
Spike’s eyes widened. “Where’d you find that?”
“On your dresser!”
Spike sat up in the bed, causing the chocolate to run down his body. “What are you doing in here?” he snapped.
“I know what you’re up to!” Dawn shouted, her face contorted in anger.
Spike looked away from her, embarrassed. “It’s not what you think. It’s...it’s...” he turned back to her and held his head up defiantly. “It’s a grown-up thing, and it’s none of your bloody business!”
Dawn put her hand on her hip. “It is my business if you’re hiding food from me!”
Hearing this, Spike stifled a laugh.
“You think it’s funny?” Dawn said. “You are so mean to me!” She stormed out of the room, taking the bottle of chocolate syrup with her.
Spike burst out laughing, until he realized that Dawn was actually upset. “Dawn!” he called out. “Dawn, come on!”
Spike stood up and pulled on a pair of jeans, cursing under his breath about how he’d have to wash chocolate off them later. He walked into the living room and saw Dawn picking up her book bag.
“Hey!” Spike called out. “Where do you think you’re going?”
Dawn spun around, her hand on the door. “None of your business.”
“The hell it isn’t. You’re going to see that bugger Steve, aren’t you?”
“Maybe I am!” Dawn opened the door. “You can’t stop me!”
Before the words left her mouth, Dawn felt heavy hands on her hips, and then she was lifted. The room tilted, and she found herself slung over Spike’s shoulder.
“Hey!” Dawn flailed her arms and legs, but her meager blows didn’t deter Spike from carrying her across the apartment and into her bedroom, where he dumped her on her bed and slammed the door shut.
“Jerk!” Dawn shouted as she sat up and tried to straighten out her hair.
Spike stood over her, blocking her path to the door. The chocolate was still glistening on his chest. “Listen, little girl. Me and you are going to have a talk.”
Dawn rolled her eyes. “I’m sorry, okay? I’m not really going to leave.” She stood up. “I’ll just go watch TV.”
Spike gently pushed her back into a sitting position. “You’re involved with some pansy bugger at school, and it’s making you bloody insane, so we’re going to talk about it.”
“I’m not involved with him,” Dawn said. “He hasn’t even asked me out yet.”
“Shut up and listen.” Dawn sat at the edge of the bed and watched Spike pace back and forth in front of her. “Boys are evil,” he began.
“You should know,” Dawn muttered.
Spike whirled around and pointed at her threateningly. “No talking!” He resumed his pacing and continued. “Boys are all knobby pillocks who want to get in your knickers. Your only thought should be to prevent this from happening. Because if you allow boys to touch you, you’ll get syphilis and die. Understand?”
“No,” Dawn said.
“Boys equals syphilis equals death,” Spike explained. “It’s a simple bloody concept.”
“I mean no, you’re wrong,” Dawn said. “Syphilis doesn’t cause death. It can be treated and cured.”
“Since when?”
“Since 1929, when Alexander Fleming discovered penicillin,” Dawn said.
Spike dismissed this with a wave of his hand. “Whatever. Also, boys can make you have little ugly babies.”
“Not if you use a condom,” Dawn said.
“What?” Spike looked down at her, confused. “You don’t even know what you’re talking about. See, this is what causes little girls to get into trouble. You learn these bloody lies on the streets.”
“You don’t even know what a condom is, do you?” Dawn challenged.
“A silly, made up word,” Spike stated. “Now then, you see, girls have parts and boys have parts. And boys want to touch your parts with their parts.”
“Are you talking about penetration?” Dawn asked.
“No, I’m talking about sex.” Spike said. “Let’s review. If boys touch you, you’ll get pregnant and you’ll get syphilis, and then you’ll give birth to little rancid blind syphilitic babies, and then I’ll kill you.”
Dawn laughed. “You have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“I bloody well do!” Spike shouted.
“No you don’t!” Dawn stood up and faced him boldly. “You don’t need to tell me this stuff, Spike. I know everything about sex already.”
Spike’s face darkened with anger. “Who taught you? I’ll kill them.”
“School,” Dawn said. “I took a whole class about it. We watched slides of genitals infected with STDs, we watched a movie about contraception, and we colored in diagrams of the male and female reproductive system.”
Spike considered this. “What the bloody hell is STDs and conta...contra...?”
Dawn muffled a laugh. “You wanna see my textbook?”
Spike nodded.
*
Since Willow and Tara had made plans to go the movies that evening, they offered to walk Jonathan home and put a protection spell on his house. As the darkness settled onto the Sunnydale landscape, painting the sky dark red, Willow reassured an insecure Jonathan that he would be safe at night without them.
“Just don’t leave your house,” she advised. “The protection spell will keep out everything, but it won’t prevent you from walking outside. If you’re outside, you’re vulnerable, okay?”
“O-okay,” Jonathan said, his voice shaky.
“And don’t open the door, even if someone knocks,” Tara added. “Just pretend you aren’t home.”
“We’ll come back in the morning,” Willow continued. “And we’ll remove the barrier and let ourselves in, okay?”
“O-o-kay,” Jonathan said.
A sudden scream made him jump. Willow and Tara turned towards the sound and saw a thin blond girl come stumbling down the street.
“Help me, help me!” the girl panted out.
“It’s okay,” Tara said. “We can help.” The girl rushed up to them, nearly falling onto them.
“What is it? What’s chasing you?” Willow asked.
“This guy,” the girl said, looking over her shoulder, frightened. “He just walked up to me and grabbed my hand, and it felt like he was...I don’t know...burning me.” She turned to face the two witches. “I think I know you. UC Sunnydale?”
Willow nodded. “Yeah, and we can help you. Do you live far from here?”
The girl nodded. “The other side of town. I was waiting for the bus.” She noticed Jonathan and smiled. “Hey, I know you too. You’re....you’re on TV or something, right?”
Jonathan blushed.
“This thing, whatever it is,” Tara told the girl. “It’s after Jonathan too. We’re going to put a type of barrier around his house that’ll protect him for the night.”
“Jonathan, of course.” The girl’s smile widened at the mention of his name. She held her hand out to him. “I’m Amanda.”
“Hi,” Jonathan said, nervously shaking her hand.
“I’d love to stay with Jonathan,” Amanda told Tara. “It’s pretty far to my house, and I live alone. But Jonathan can protect me.”
Willow rolled her eyes. “Sure.”
*
He drank from a human.
Spike tried to pay attention to what Dawn was saying. They were sitting on her bed cross-legged, with Dawn’s Health textbook open in front of them. She was pointing at diagrams and explaining them in disturbing detail as Spike finished wiping chocolate syrup from his chest with tissues. It was actually interesting, but Spike couldn’t push other thoughts out of his mind.
He sat beside her, this girl who he loved more than anything, so close that he could smell the strawberry shampoo she always used, and all he could think about was what had happened earlier in the sewers.
He drank from a human.
When he thought of how the girl in the sewers had tasted, he felt a sublime sensation, as if all his organs were contracting and releasing at once. And he wanted to touch the girl who sat beside him now, to share this feeling with her, because somehow, it was all about her.
He drank from a human who reminded him of Dawn.
It was that simple. The girl in the sewers had looked like her, smelled like her, and tasted as delectable as he imagined she was.
He knew he was in love with her. He’d accepted that after the night when she’d slept in his arms and he found himself so comfortable, so unnaturally at peace that he’d started breathing unconsciously. He would kill for her. He already had. And he was fully prepared to die for her if he had to.
But now, after drinking from a human for the first time in nearly a year, he felt that love turning into something else. It wasn’t enough to be sitting next to her, even hugging her, loving her, protecting her. He wanted to be closer, so close that she was swallowed whole within him.
He wanted to kill her.
“You’re not paying attention!” Dawn’s whine broke through his thoughts. She was pointing at a disgusting full-color picture that depicted a woman giving birth.
Spike looked down at the book and shuddered. “Nibblet, I think I’ve learned more than I ever wanted to know.”
Dawn smiled. “Good.” She slammed the book shut and hopped off the bed. “Now if you don’t mind, it’s almost eight, and if I miss Dawson’s Creek, I’ll probably die.” She turned on her heel, her thick hair spinning, and walked towards the living room.
Spike’s face lit up. “Dawson’s Creek is on?” He hurried after her.
*
Amanda pushed her long blond hair over her shoulder and gazed across the couch at Jonathan.
“So how come you never made any more movies?” she asked him, then immediately chuckled. “Well, I guess you have enough money as it is, right?”
Jonathan looked down at the floor. “Um...actually...that was all -- ”
“And it must’ve been hard,” Amanda continued. “To have so many fans chasing after you.” She slid closer to him. “I was a big fan, Jonathan.”
“Um...Amanda,” Jonathan’s voice caught in his throat and he coughed. “Amanda, all that...it wasn’t real.”
“What do you mean?” she asked, inching even closer.
“It was a spell,” he explained. “I did a spell to make myself more popular.” He felt her hand on his thigh and his leg started shaking involuntarily. “Most people forgot about me once the spell was broken.”
“Shhhhh,” Amanda said, running her other hand through his hair. “Mmmmm, you’re like one of those reclusive movie stars who starts going insane.” Her lips brushed against his ear. “But don’t worry, Jonathan. Even if everyone forgets about your work, I’ll still be your biggest fan.”
Amanda kissed him, and Jonathan forgot his uneasiness in an instant. Her hands ran down his back and her breasts pressed against his chest. Jonathan leaned into her, craving more, and allowed her to kiss him so deeply that his lips seemed to burn.
Amanda pulled back. “Can we go into your bedroom?” she asked.
Jonathan groaned in response, and Amanda led the way.
She straddled him on his twin-sized bed, pausing in her fierce kisses only to remove their clothing. Jonathan’s uncontrollable moaning heightened as Amanda rocked on top of him.
She was so hot he felt like he was on fire.
And then he felt like he was really on fire.
Jonathan screamed as he felt the pain radiating out from where their hips met. Her hands felt like they were leaving scorch marks on his chest . He looked up at Amanda, and she was smiling wickedly.
“It’s you!” Jonathan choked out, and then he couldn’t see anymore.
Amanda climbed off of his body as soon as it went limp. She stretched and squealed with happiness.
“Damn, I was hungry.”