To Kill This Girl (Part 1)

Dare H.

~To kill this girl, you have to love her.~


She made three. Elation should have been flowing through his veins, his blood
filled with the high of being the only vampire to ever kill three Slayers.
Months of patience, of his demon protesting the wait, all had culminated in
this one night.

He had realized long ago he would never be able to defeat her in combat. They
were too perfectly matched, their styles both conflicting and similar enough
to bring them to a stalemate every time. But then, the oddest of events had
happened...they stopped fighting.

The first truce with her, the one against Angelus...that had been honest. He
had no intention of killing her then, for his thoughts were on the one thing
he ever thought about...Drusilla. It had been for her; all of it had been for
her.

And she had rejected him. Scorned him. Had said he'd gone soft, and she
mourned the death of evil inside him. She no longer sensed in him the burning
need to kill the Slayer that had fueled him for so long. He had failed.

And she had left him because of it. He never saw it coming...in the morning
she was curled next to him on the bed, her cold, naked body pressing against
his, reassuring the inner turmoil that he had so recently started feeling.
When he had awakened that night, she was nowhere to be found. Her dolls and
dresses were gone, and she had dusted the minion keeping watch during the
daylight.

She was insane, not stupid. She knew how to hide, to avoid his searches. The
weeks passed as he made more and more fledgelings...more and more minions to
send out in search of Dru.

All came up empty handed, until one night he got so stupidly drunk that he
found himself back in Sunnydale. His memories were blurry, but he remembered
one thing: he never even attacked her. Not once did they fight each other,
instead opting to fight side by side.

But it had all worked out in the end, for he had found a new purpose, a new
goal to strive for in his quest for Dru. A renewed sense of hope filled him
where there had previously been despair. A few nights after he returned to the
house they had taken after fleeing Sunnyhell, he received a message.

A petite blonde girl, her throat slit, was lying on his bed. Dead green eyes
stared at him, the pouty lips blue with death. The resemblence was not
extreme, but certainly enough for him to get the point. A letter lie clutched
in her hand. Prying it from the hardened grasp, he read Dru's elegant script.

*Kill her for princess.*

That night, he dusted all the minions. For once in his unlife, he wanted to be
alone. He knew he couldn't return to Sunnydale...not so soon at least. And not
while Angel was still there. The thought of waiting for months without Dru no
longer terrified him, because now he knew that she was willing to come back.
For a price.

A price he knew how to pay, thanks to Angelus.

All he needed was one Slayer. Then his princess would come home.

-end part one-
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
For months he waited, keeping his contact in Sunnydale handsomely paid for
informing him of every little detail in her life. Apparently, she and Angel
were still pulling the 'friends' bullshit...perfect. The more distant Angel
was to her, the closer he could come.

He had time to muse on his actions. This was not his way...this waiting,
scheming. He was a man of action; do first, think never. But living without
Dru had calmed him, sobered him, and he knew that this was the only way.

Besides, it would be fun.

Then came the day Angel left. In early spring, his source said he had gone
away to L.A. Spike had smiled for the first time in weeks as he put down the
phone. Her Angel had gone, most likely leaving her emotionally distraught.

He drove to Sunnydale, watching from the window of his car as she cried in her
room. So brave on the outside, so tough...but when she retreated to where no
one could see her, she let out her real self. A saddened, heart-broken young
woman with no one to share her pain.

Except him.

He watched her cry her eyes out. He watched as she picked up objects from
around the room, no doubt associated with memories of him. A pink stuffed
animal, the ring he had given her...he watched as she ransacked her closet,
tossing aside shoes and clothing with abandon before finally finding what she
was looking for. She held the leather jacket to her face, the tears coming
again. She pressed it to her cheek, burying her tears in it. He noticed with
hope that she did not put it on.

It was then that he realized that she might still love Angel, but she was
willing to get over him.

His assumption was proved right.

Ten days had barely gone by when that wanker Mr. Trick decided to go for it-
to kill the Slayer once and for all. The Slayer, who at that time was barely
managing to defeat newborn fledgelings, had not handled it well.

He both thanked and loathed the bloody bastard for leaving her; how could he
not have known she wouldn't take it well? How could he not see that his
actions would kill her?

Spike couldn't let that happen. There was no way in hell he was going to let
Trick get her, ruining six months of planning and his future with Dru. *He*
was the one that would kill the Slayer, not that wanker.

When she shattered, he was there to pick up the pieces.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Trick, infamous for never using the direct approach, instead planning
elaborate schemes to snare his prey, had apparently switched methods. Most
likely because he had seen the condition the Slayer was in.

He had watched as Trick fought her, easily blocking her punches, teasing her.
Taunting her. Spike wondered where her friends and Watcher were; they were
always around to help her before, why the hell not know, when she needed them
most? But he shook his head and smiled, reminding himself that their absence
was his gain, for the Slayer would soon owe her life to him.

He waited until Trick had her pinned against a corner, giving the prerequisite
bad-guy speech about how much he was going to enjoy killing her. He was so
enraptured by the thrill, he never even heard Spike approaching.

Spike wanted to rip out his heart, or rip off his head. Something really
bloody, for he hadn't had a decent kill in weeks. But it would frighten her,
putting her on the defensive if she thought she was next.

Trick never knew who staked him. He didn't hear the attack until it was too
late, and then he was dust. As the ash settled, Spike saw the Slayer's wide-
eyed look of relief and surprise. He readied himself for an attack, verbal or
physical. An attack that never came.

Instead, her face had crumpled as she had begun to cry, and seeing that sight
close-up was a hundred times worse than seeing it from the safety of the
street. He had felt a rare pang of sympathy shoot through him as she slumped
to the ground, hugging her knees to her chest.

When he had sat next to her on the ground, she surprised him yet again by
turning towards him and crying on his shoulder. The brave facade she had tried
so hard to put up when around her friends had finally broken...she needed
someone she could be weak with. Logically, it shouldn't have been him, but
emotions were not based in logic.

He had let her cry, whispering meaningless words of comfort as she let out all
her fear, her anger, her pain. When the tears finally subsided, she had looked
up at him with luminescent green eyes, and it seemed that for the first time
she truly registered who he was. She made a panicked move to escape his
embrace, but he refused to let her go.

"You need a friend now," he had told her. He could see the conflict in her
eyes. "I won't hurt you," he had lied, and it had worked.

-end part one-

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