Title: Eat You Alive

Author: MAC/Undead Euro-Trash

Feedback: W_U_L_L_F@yahoo.com

Disclaimer: so not mine

Rating: very *R*

Summary: Stalker Spike wants to eat someone alive...

Spoilers: Season 6-ish, sometime after Buffy breaks up with Spike but before our platinum baby and Anya have lonely drunken sex... You wanted a time frame, you got one.

A/N I love Stalker Spike and I love Limpbizkit... deal with it.

WARNING: disturbing themes and squickiness, *don't* flame, you've been warned...

Hey you,

Mrs. I-don't-know-what-the-fuck-your-name-is,

I'm drawn to you.

Something's magnetic here.

If I could approach you

or even get close to the scent

that you left behind, I'd be fine

No doubt now (no doubt)

you bring out (bring out)

the an-i-mal inside

I'D EAT YOU ALIVE!!!! i'd eat you alive.....

I'D EAT YOU ALIVE!!!! i'd eat you alive......

Hey you,

Mrs. too-good-to-look-my-way

and that's cool you want nothing at all to do with me.

But I want you,

ain't nothing wrong with wanting you 'cause

I'm a man and I can think what the hell I want,

you got that straight?

No doubt now (no doubt),

I'd love to (i'd love)

sniff on your panties now.

I'D EAT YOU ALIVE!!!! i'd eat you alive.....

I'D EAT YOU ALIVE!!!! i'd eat you alive......

I'm sorry. So sorry (damn, you're so hot!!)

Your beauty is so vague (damn you're so hot!!)

it drives me, yes it drives me (damn your so hot)

absolutely insane

I just want to look at you

I just want to look at you

I just want to look at you, I just want to look at you all day

There ain't nothing wrong, no. There ain't nothing wrong with that.

Once you seep in (once u seep in)

under my skin (under my skin)

there's nothin' (nothin') there's nothin' (nothin')

in this world that could wash you away (wash you away)

Once you seep in (once u seep in)

under my skin (under my skin)

there's nothin' (nothin') there's nothin' (nothin')

in this world that could wash you away (wash you away)

I'm sorry. So sorry (damn, you're so hot!!)

Your beauty is so vague (damn you're so hot!!)

it drives me, yes it drives me (damn your so hot)

absolutely insane

I'D EAT YOU ALIVE!!!! i'd eat you alive.....

I'D EAT YOU ALIVE!!!! i'd eat you alive......


He silently watched her brush out her hair before bed; he watched the brush run through the silky softness of her tresses like he wished his fingers were allowed to. He could smell her all around him when he closed his eyes and let his mind drift away.

He could almost feel her small warm hands on the unnatural cold of his skin touching him purposely, making him whisper out her name with all the awe and devotion of a prayer. As always, it wasn't to last; with a simple sound of a car honking in the distance, the fantasy was smashed into hundreds of blood stained shards. With the horrible shock of a nightmare, he was thrown back into reality; a reality where he couldn't simply take what he wanted, a reality were instant gratification wasn't the norm.

He scowled, his eyes peering into her bedroom window his blue depths trailing down her pajama-covered body as she crawl into her tiny bed, pulling her covers over her shoulders. He hated this reality, in this reality he was left with a raging hard on and the nightly expectation of an empty crypt... all 'cause he was a bloody 'good guy'.

Fuck that.

He didn't want to be a good guy. He wanted to kill and cause pain, he wanted to burst in through the window and ravage the sleeping figure till she didn't have the strength to walk in the morning. He wanted to be a disgusting, perverted bastard. He wanted to be shot 'Oh no, he just didn't do what I think he did' looks. He wanted to be juvenile, he wanted to be the naughty little boy- -he was sick of being a responsible Effin' grown up.

Stupid chip.

Couldn't kill, couldn't even aim a toy gun at people... pathetic.

He wanted her so bleedin' much, needed to feel her, to smell her. Moving closer to the closed window, his boots became amazingly silent on the shingles of the porch's roof. His nails nervously picked at the chipping paint, only succeeding in making his black nail-polish flake off even more. There had been moment, once upon a time, in the lost and forgotten nights of dead big sisters and grieving Scoobies, that the girl now sleeping, was his- -he just hadn't seen it, hadn't seen her. But for a whole summer she had been his, all his, no one else's... and he hadn't fucking seen it.

Maybe if he woke her up, all sweet and gentle, she wouldn't protest if he tried to shag her... he rolled his eyes; and then Hell would bloody well freeze over and they'd go ice skating. But right then he could put his need on hold and pretend that he was a guy and she was a girl. He just wanted to watch her sleep, just wanted to look around her room, breathe her in, let her scent soothe him.

She didn't know how he followed her from place to place wishing that he was at her side; she didn't know how he had to bite his tongue till it bled to distract him from pulling her into an alley and doing naughty things against a brick-face. She didn't know how he shagged vamp-whores calling out her name every night and then un-forgivingly staked them.

She didn't know.

She didn't know how he spent all his pre-sunrise hours watching her sleep from outside her bedroom window, wishing that she was sleeping in his arms. After the freezing chill of whatever he had experienced with Buffy; he wanted something soft. He wanted her softness; he wanted to feel her warm tender flesh under his teeth. He wanted to feed from her; his fangs ached to sink into her soft flesh having her electric blood filling his mouth and flow hot down his throat...

He didn't want to kill her... he just wanted to eat her, wanted to have her erotically filling him; in a way similar to how he wanted to fill her; only more so.

But her softness eluded him. He wanted to hurt her, wanted to make her pay for making him feel this way. It had to be something about what she was, she wasn't human after all, not even earthly, that had to the reason why he wanted to hurt her. He wanted to hear her cry out in pain for not noticing the way his eyes lingered on her hot body a little too intently; or how when she brushed her hand against his arm or fleetingly touched his shoulder, he sat with a book in his lap and wouldn't stand till she left the room.

He wanted to bruise the tantalizing flesh that filled his sleepless days for being what he craved, for being what he craved and being so soddin' out of reach. He hated her for not seeing him as anything more than part of the bloody group, but he could forgive her for that. He hadn't really given her a reason to see him as anything more than that... it was even acceptable that she didn't want him... but he wanted her.

Oh God, how he wanted her.

Just her scent was enough to make his denims uncomfortable. And when she bounced up to him and wrapped her arms around his waist in a quick hug...

His world went kind of red and his hands would shake from holding back the urge to crush her to him and shag her to pieces on the floor of the Magick Box. Never stayed around long after one of her hugs, never gave anyone any reason to fear for her pretty virtues.

It wouldn't do for the Scoobies to know that when she smiled at him his mind was filled with images of fucking her hard into her too-small mattress... that was a one-way-trip to dustville. Pushing up the un-latched window he slipped inside, his eyes skimming over his too-familiar surroundings with the perfection of a predator searching for prey.

His eyelids drifted half-shut in pure, unadulterated, animal lust; he always did like to torture himself. He was teasing his demon with something it wanted and couldn't have; her scent was everywhere, every possession around him screamed that it belonged to her. Her room was cluttered; her clothes strewn about in a way only a teenager could manage, her frillies hanging out of her clothes hamper forgotten till it was time for laundry day.

Stepping quietly over a pile of jeans he picked up the small piece of fabric, little yellow flowers were dotted over the white background. Such dainty material, something that a little girl would wear; bringing it to his nose he breathed in her scent and almost groaned. Something a little girl would wear, yes, but she wasn't a little girl; no where near. His hands itched to reach out, itched to touch and feel; wanting to soak in her cries of pleasure as he found what spots on her little body made her shudder and quake...

Screwing his eyes shut he took in an unneeded breath trying to calm himself, trying to drive the sight of her writhing underneath him out of his mind; trying force some kind of control over his want. His shaking hand dropped her panties to the floor and he ran his fingers over the gelled-ridges of his platinum hair.

He wanted to have her grinding into his mouth as he went down on her, he wanted to have her thrashing unable to think, he wanted to feel her surrounding him hot and tight... he wanted her to call out his name as she shattered around him. He needed her, needed to feel her sweat-damp body moving against his cold one. He needed to show her that he wasn't just part of the group... needed to give her pleasure so overwhelming that she'd never tire of him.

He knew that if only he was able to show her what he could do to her, she'd never leave him; she'd never say that he was killing her or that he wasn't evil enough. She'd want him as much as he wanted her. She'd need him as much as he needed her... he clenched his jaw as he glared at her blanket-covered body; and it was back to the whole ice skating thing.

If the blonder of the two couldn't love him what made him think this one would? He was beneath her, sneaking into her room, watching her sleep, sniffing her unmentionables... if his actions weren't stalking and low he didn't know what was. So he had a new obsession, it was only a matter of time before his lust became love and he was stuck pining and getting drunk over the sleeping girl in front of him... unlife sucked.

With an unneeded breath he climbed out her window shutting it quietly behind him, sinking down underneath her window he reached into his duster and pulled out a cig. Lighting it he took a long drag, holding the burn in his lungs for a long while, before breathing out the cloud of wispy gray smoke.

His rattled nerves seemed to calm slightly; he was a dirty bastard, she was just a little girl; but then again he was a Master Vampire and age didn't really mean anything to him...

He kept telling himself that, but there was this nagging feeling in the back of his skull making him feel down right grimy after he'd wake up from dreaming about her in his crypt in need of a sad, pathetic wank. He didn't know why. When he was human it wasn't that odd for girls to get married at fourteen and fifteen, if he had lived, he would've probably wed a younger girl. He guessed the modern times were rubbing off on him, trying to turn him into something decent...

He smirked a little, just a little. It looked like *decent* sure as hell wasn't happening here; he was still dreaming about her in his lonely crypt, and he wasn't even trying to stop himself from sneaking into her room. He was obsessed and lusting after a Summers' girl- -not the most original or surprising thing in the world. But fuck it. It wasn't like he wanted to go from one to the other, it wasn't like he sodding enjoyed wanting something he could never have... okay, yeah, the fact that he enjoyed and savored the challenge and the pain of un-satisfaction were two giant neon pluses.

He was a sadistic masochist; yeah, well, hello, *vampire*.

He was *finally* doing something evil and morally corrupt, he was being a demon, of course the fact that he was just watching and not touching bothered him to no end. He was sick of not getting things he wanted, he was sick of trailing after girls he wanted to be with; he was just so bloody sick of it. He was sick of settling, knowing that he *deserved* the *whole* bleedin' package and not just *pieces* of it... with the eldest he got sex without the emotion and with the youngest he got the emotion without the sex.

He wanted to kill whoever was screwing with his afterlife; a bloke could only unlive with so much cold sex and only take so much platonic unknowing touches...

He wasn't shagging the righteous blonde one anymore, not since she left after blowing up the lower level to his crypt claiming that his love was killing her. He wasn't ever going there again, never going to shag another girl just 'cause she couldn't *feel* and day-to-day life wasn't doing it for her. Call him an old romantic deep down, but he missed making love, he wasn't sure if he could quite remember how that one went. During his stint as a shag-toy. it had just been hard fucks with bruises and blood, never anything tender, never anything soft.

He wondered if the Littlest would want tender and slow, he could give her everything that she might think that she would want. Let her experiment; let her decide if and when she wanted him to be her man. He didn't just want to shag her; he wanted her to let him share her bed and stay there, let him unlive on her softness and child-like beauty.

Standing from where he had been sitting, he dropped his smoldering butt to the shingles and snubbed it out with the toe of his boot. He had to show her that he could be there for her, the whole big sis distraction was out of the way so he could protect her like he should've been all along. He needed to show the girl that she could count on him, then he'd see if she'd even want him as more than that.

It was a covert way of apologizing, a way of soothing what bit conscience he had.

She was such a wonderful little thing. He knew he'd still wake up craving her in ways he shouldn't, he knew he'd run off after her hugs, and he knew that he'd probably find himself back under her window when he couldn't sleep. But he'd try to actually go about it the right way, he wouldn't screw things up or let them be fucked like last time; she deserved better.

He deserved better.

Jumping down from the porch's roof, he turned on his heel looking up at the window, to his surprise, he saw two huge blue eyes on the other side of the reflection blurred glass. Sighing unnecessarily he stuffed his hands into his duster's pockets, in the seconds that their eyes were locked, he came to a decision.

She wouldn't find the long-burned butts to his cigs under her window anymore; when she went out with her friends she wouldn't see the flash of blindingly bright blonde mixing in with the crowd. He'd protect her; he'd start showing up at Scoobie meetings again, paying extra attention to her, only caring for her opinion. He'd start this- -whatever it was- -all over again; he'd do it right. It might take a while, but he wouldn't bugger this one up:, he wanted things to turn out right this time 'round.

He'd try to be patient, for those brilliant blue eyes looking down from their heavenly perch, he'd try, even if he ultimately failed, it was the fact that he cared enough to try.

Spike had always wanted Buffy's blood, to lose himself as he fed from her; it was the same with Dawn, only when he ate the bitty brunette alive she'd enjoy it.