Disclaimer: I own nothing. Everything belongs to Joss Whedon, etc.
Spoilers: This fic is post Crush. Joyce doesn't die, Dawn is
the Key but opens nothing. Glory is not around.
Author's Note: This is a repost. I really like this fic and wanted to
make sure that it could still be enjoyed by the readers
of FF.net. It is now rated R. If you are reading this
for the first time, please don't forget to read the
sequel: Candy Sweet Kisses.
It's amazing how naïve and gullible those idiots really are. Especially the slayer. She honestly thinks I'm in love with her. Me…the vampire that wanted her blood more than anyone. I am a vampire! I'm William the goddamn Bloody! But they don't seem to remember that. All they see is a chipped, harmless creature that they think is in love with the slayer. Nope, I'm not in love with the stupid bint but I made everyone think I am.
I know you're probably over there wondering what the hell got into me. I'm the Slayer of Slayers, not the layer of them like my ponce of a sire. But I have a perfectly rational explanation for the facade. That explanation has long dark hair that is like silk to the touch and these big blue eyes that never have any fear in them when she comes to see me. All that fills them is trust…and adoration.
Oh, I know how she feels about me. I can smell it on her every time she enters my crypt. She's the only worthy one of the lot, except maybe for the witches. They respect me. I think they're the only ones who realize that I'm still pretty damn powerful. If I wanted them dead I could make it happen. I am a master vampire after all. They know this and they make damn sure that they don't piss me off. The slayer, watcher, and whelp would do the same if they knew what was good for them.
But I've gotten off the subject. That subject is the Nibblet. I know it's a right pansy nickname but I can't call her Dawn. I had to come up with a nickname for her like I did for all the others. It would raise too much suspicion if I didn't and I'd never get to see her again. It's a good thing her big sis doesn't know that she fancies me. She'd dust me in an instant.
Nope, I've made my intentions known. I've got them all convinced that I'm head over heels for the slayer. It's the most ridiculous crock of shite I've ever delivered, but I'm a pretty damn good actor. It was always Peaches that went for the blondes. That I know from experience. I, on the other hand, prefer women of the darker variety. Sometimes I think the nibblet is what Dru would be like if she had stayed sane. But I don't love her because of that. I love her because of how she accepts me for who I am…she doesn't try to pretend that I'm not a vampire like some of them do. She knows that's what I am and embraces me, despite it. She also thinks I'm sexy…which, lets face it, I am.
I watch how those big, innocent eyes roam over me with a not so innocent look each time I enter a room. Her little pink tongue darts out seductively over those full, ripe lips that no fourteen year old should have. Most of the time it's all I can do not to stride over and kiss her every time she walks into a room. Behind all the clumsiness and babbling there's this sexy young girl who drives me out of my mind. Her scent surrounds me day and night. I can't wait for the day when I will make her mine. I'll love her so well she'll never want to leave me.
Now, I'm biding my time. She's still too young right now, but in two years she will belong to me. I will find a way to claim her, chip or no chip. Then, when she's eighteen I'm going to take her and leave this town. Her sister can't say a word at that point. Dawn will be legal and won't have to answer to that bitch. I'm going to show her the world and all the experience that living for a hundred and thirty years gives you. One day I'll even find a way to change her, cause I'm not going to let her go. Ever.
But for now, I'm playing the part that they want me to play. I'm sitting here in the slayer's front yard like a good little Spike, playing up to the obsession that I confessed to just days ago. If they had any clue of what I really wanted inside that house, I'd be dust before I could say a word. Instead, I sit here, thinking about the nibblet and wondering if I'll have the patience to wait four years.