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He'd considered, off and on, through the years, the possibility of making a childe. A pretty little bird that he could have all to himself. He'd thought about it more than once, but something always seemed to get in the way of his actually doing it. In the beginning, it was Darla and Angelus who stopped him. And then it was just Angelus. And more Angelus... and... well, you get the idea. Bloody bugger wasn't very good about sharing his power, and controlling Spike – forbidding him to create a childe – was definitely a way for him to maintain his control.
After Darla and Angelus stopped being a direct influence on his life, Spike had had his Dark Princess. He'd had over a hundred years of trying to keep up with her; and that was unquestionably a consuming task. He'd had no time and no energy to dedicate to the creation and nurture of a childe.
But now, now that Angelus was Angel, and Darla was dead, and Drusilla had her damned Chaos Demon, he was alone.... and he had nothing but time and energy at his disposal.
Now was as good a time as any for him to find a pet he could train.
It would be a nice Christmas present; from himself – to himself.
()
He pulled out the short list of names of possible childer that he'd scribbled down earlier.
He'd had his eyes - peripherally – on two or three duckies in the past few years. The first being Lucia – a dark haired, slender, Afro-Brazilian farmer's daughter who spoke not a word of English. He licked his lips, then frowned. 'Course she was all the way back in South America – where Drusilla was. He licked the tip of his pencil and crossed her name off the list. Too 'effin' far away.
Next name.
He smiled. Willow Rosenberg. Now she was a cute lil' thing. Petite, pretty green eyes, and that innocence that just radiated off of her. An innocence tempered by – if he read her right, and he was pretty certain he did - a desire to know a little more.
To be a little less innocent.
He could definitely help with that.
O' course, her being best friends with the bloody slayer made her a more... challenging choice. Now don't get him wrong, he loved challenges. He loved pushing the envelope; pushing it 'just because he bloody well could'.
That being said, going after Red would make him an undead target for the Slayer... might make him her number one priority... and not in a good way.
He put an * next to Willow's name. Wouldn't do to cross her off the list just yet, but....
His eyes drifted down to the third name on his list, and his smile turned into a smirk. He settled back in his chair, crossing his legs at the ankles. Cordelia. Cordelia Chase.
Now there was a bint who could make a man stop and take a second look.
He was an equal opportunity skirt chaser, but he'd admit to having a predilection for brunettes. A hundred years of dark curtains and carpet will build an affinity like that in a man.
And Cordelia Chase was one fine example of how a brunette should be made. Legs. Hips. Knockers that defined why it was good to be a man... and to have a pair of hands.
Cordelia Chase.
He'd had her in the back of his mind for a couple of years now... even mentioned it to the bloody watcher-in-training that one time.
He let his free hand drop down to his chest and then trail lower to his stomach.
She was pretty, shapely..., sassy enough to keep things interesting.... And, she was close enough to the inner Slayer circle for it to be a direct insult on his part to 'take' her, but distant enough from the inner circle that Buffy would have to wind herself up a bit to truly want to attack him for taking her.
Not that he was afraid of the slayer. He wasn't.
But was he dumb enough to NOT be wary of her? Hell no.
He looked back down at his hastily scribbled: Cordelia Chase.
Queen C. He chuckled lightly.
Oh, this was going to be fun.
I
"I honestly think I hate you!"
"Well if you have to 'think' about it, I clearly haven't been doing my job correctly." Spike leaned across table and selected an orange from the festively wrapped fruit basket.
She looks good against the wall; wrapped in chains of grey and silver. 'Course, he eyed her voluptuous frame lasciviously, Cordelia looks good in anything. He rolled his tongue behind his teeth. I bet she looks even better in nothing.
As he stared, he could sense her fear mounting; hear her heartbeat speeding up.
125 years, yeah, it's definitely about time I make myself a childe.
II
I watch as he rolls the orange in his hands. His fingers are nimble and strong looking.
I pull against the chains again; the metal biting into my wrist.
I need to find a way to get out of here, I'm not exactly on Buffy's best buddy list, so it's not like she's going to just burst in here and save MY ass. Maybe when he falls asleep….
I lift my eyes from his hands to his face, searching for signs of tiredness. Instead, I find his eyes actively taking in my figure. His eyes are lined with lust, and darkness, and an avid awareness.
I try my 'Cordelia Chase' best to hide the shiver that runs through my frame.
III
"I'm going to let you loose from the chains now, Luv."
"Since we're sharing our plans: I'm going to kick you in the balls."
Spike grinned. Spunk. He loved a girl with spunk. Less whining and more attitude… put it in a pretty Cordelia shaped box and what more could a vampire ask for? "Thanks for the warning, Princess."
He stepped closer, lifting his hand to her hair. He could smell the orange he'd toyed with; its' scent mixed with the perfume and shampoo she used. And most excitingly, it mixed with her fear. "Such a brave, frightened lil' kitten."
IV
She rallied her nerves. "Let me loose so I can use my claws, and I'll show you what kind of damage a frightened kitten can really do."
Spike smirked and continued to trace his hand alongside her face. She arched her head to the side, trying to escape his touch, and it was only after she'd shifted that she realized what she'd done.
He was so close to her that Cordelia could now smell him. He was leather, alcohol, cigarettes, and a faint, dry, mustiness. And just on top of all of that, there lingered the bittersweet aroma of the orange he'd so recently been fondling.
V
Spike ran his hand down her now exposed neck. "You do know, Luv, that you should never show your neck to a vampire unless you're offering."
"Ooops! My bad! Umm, 'do over?'"
"Sorry, too late, Pet." His features shifted, ridges furrowed along his brow, his fangs elongated, and his eyes turned from aurelian blue, to amber.
Tangling one hand in her hair, Spike placed his other hand on her hip before lowering his mouth to her neck, his tongue darting out to moisten her skin.
Just before his fangs sliced into her skin, she heard him whisper a dark little: Merry Christmas.
She wondered if his words were meant for her, or for him; and with the first pull of her blood into his mouth she hazily wondered if her scent would now cling to his fingers as the orange's had.
VI
She hadn't thought it would feel like this. That it would feel like a drug pulling and running through her veins.
She hadn't thought it would make her nerves tingle, or that it would make her nipples harden and her thighs clench with need.
But it did all of that.
His bite, his fangs, his demon taking her essence from her? It was better than chocolate. Better than a Fendi sale.... Better than her damn vibrator.
As she slid deeper into the pleasure, and further away from life, her eyes fluttered open, locking with his glowing orange and gold flecked orbs.
VII
~ one year later ~
Cordelia patted down the jacket, loving the pliant buttery texture of the leather. It, and the matching black stiletto boots she wore, were Christmas presents from her Spike, and they were definitely 'of the good.'
Of the bad, was the scent that she'd suddenly caught in the air.
Slayer.
Edging her way around marble and granite headstones, Cordelia finally caught sight of her nemesis.
She could tell the exact moment that the slayer sensed her.
"Hello Buffy," she gave a fanged grin at the shocked look on the slayer's face, "long time no see.” She subtly moved into a fighting stance. “A whole year and your fashion sense still hasn't improved! Orange is soooo not your color."