Chapter 02 – King Kill 33°
The Bronze had once been the most popular club among the teen population of Sunnydale. Well, it had been the only club but it still had been decent enough to attracked quite a large crowd, both on the weekends and school nights.
But that had been almost three years ago.
Now, the Bronze belonged to them, to the vampires.
Since the Master had taken over the reign in the small town, he had set up shop in the club. He might be a few centuries old but he did know how to rule with style.
Now the place was headquater, dungeon and brothel all rolled into him.
Spike pulled his car into the back alley. He could already feel his skin crawl with the sensation of the fellow undead close by. He had been to all sorts of vampire strongholds (both as ally and enemy) but it had never been this intense.
Even if he hadn’t known about the Master’s death grip on little SunnyHELL, he would feel it now. The vampires didn’t only rule the night, the fear they brought upon the people clung to the air like thick, oily mist.
It flooded his perception, made his senses tingle, and heightened his thirst for fresh, hot blood so much that it amost hurt.
It definitely was his sort of place.
He had one arm around Drusilla’s shoulders as they headed for the entrance. For one, he had to protect her against those vampire who didn’t understand was his and what was theirs. And secondly, he simply had to keep her from falling over. She had her moments but must of the time, she was almost too weak to walk.
The place was packed with people. Well, not people per se. Vampire lounched everywhere, around the bar tables, on the various couches, some even played pool (as much as it was possible around the young man tied across the table).
Some of the undead were just talking, others were having a nice sip of fresh blood from the various humans, sucking from necks and other less appropriate places.
A vicious grin crept on Spike’s face as he sauntered through the crowd. He received a few irritated and angry looks, apparently they knew who he was. Having two nodges in the Slayer belt did help the reputation.
The Master had set up a little secluded area in the far corner of the huge room. It might have been the managers office once. A wall had been torn down, now replaced by a thick velvet curtain of deep red.
The vampire sat in an ancient looking wing chair, his legs crossed leisurely, his almost talon-like fingers drumming on the armrests. Beside him on a little side table gurgled an espresso machine. He placed a little china cup underneath the despenser but the machine didn’t deliver a nice hot espresso but hot, almost creamy blood.
“Can I have that low fat and to go?” Spike had flipped the curtain aside, his eyes roaming over the little hideaway. The decoration made an interesting split between trash and actual gothic paraphenalia.
“You’re earlier than I had expected.” The Master picked up the espresso cup, taking a careful sip of the hot liquid. Then he added, his pronounciation speaking volumes, “William.”
Spike bit back a comment, refraining from correcting the older vampire about his change of names. They hadn’t actually met in person before but he knew that it was better to let him have his way.
“Time is fleeting, even for us,” he said instead.
“This one smells of cobwebs. They are clinging to him like wine.” Dru had disengaged from his arm, now reaching out a hand towards the Master.
“Drusilla,” the Master’s voice held nothing but awe as he pressed a fangy kiss onto the back of the vampire’s hand. “You’ve always been a gem of the bloodline. It’s good to have you back.”
Drusilla’s spidery fingers clawed at the Master’s leather attire, raking at the fabric. She all but mewled when he brushed a strand over her raven black hair out of her face.
“She’s weak,” the Master said, without even turning towards Spike.
“That’s why I’m here,” the younger vampire growled. He hated seeing Dru like this, cooing into someone else’s ear but his. “I want to cure her, make her strong again.”
“And what are you planning to do?”
Spike reached into the pocket of his duster, producing a crumbled piece of paper. The page was crammed with hand-written words in what looked like Latin. “Cure’s in here.”
The Master snatched the paper from his hand. “The du Lac manuscript,” he said with something close to appreciation. “It’s written in code. Can you read it?”
“Not yet. But I plan on getting the key, a golden cross. It’s here in Sunnydale.”
“In du Lac’s mausoleum, I presume. On Restfield Cemetary.”
Spike took the paper back, folding it neatly to prevent it from crumbling even more. “Seems like we got ourselves a plan, then.” He smiled triumphantly.
It was then, that the thick curtain was flung again and a couple stepped into the tiny refuge. The two of them looked as though someone had dragged them right out of some pseudo-goth music video. They both were vampires and strong ones at that.
The guy was a little taller than Spike with dark hair and eyes, including the black eyeliner. He wore all black leather except for a white undershirts into which the girl clawed her black-polished fingers.
She was clad in a black leather combo, red lace cupping small but perky breasts. Red hair veiled her face and her sultry green eyes.
“I didn’t know we would have guests tonight,” the girl said, snuggling up her boyfriends. “And who would you be, gorgeous?” Her eyes scanned Spike up and down before letting her hand glide over her friend’s chest, apparently comparing them to one another.
“May I introduce,” the Master sat down in his chair, pulling Drusilla into his lap. “This are Drusilla and William the Bloody.” He pointed to Spike who watched the entire scene with rising indignation. Then, the older vampire introduced the other couple as Willow and Xander.
“You’re the one who killed those two Slayers,” Xander said, and it wasn’t a question.
“Damn right I am,” Spike all but growled. From the corner of his eyes he was watched as Dru ran her fingers over the Master’s face, whispering something into his eyes at which made he chuckled.
“You’re just in time then, Willie.”
The blonde vampire cringed at the name. It bore way too many bad memories of his former mentor. “Why would that be?”
“Because we have a Slayer in town.” The words rolled off Willow’s tongue in an amused tone.
“A Slayer?” The Master and Spike asked in unison.
“Now? Now that the plant is almost ready to launch?” The Master barked. He all but jumped out of his chair, knocking Drusilla from his lap.
If his reflexes hadn’t been supernaturally fast, Spike wouldn’t hae been able to catch his girlfriend before she hit the floor. As the Master kept going on and on about how his (pardon the pun) masterplan was about to fail, his mind drifted off, spurred by one single thought: the Slayer.
The Slayer was here in this hellhole of a town. He had heard about this girl, that she was stationed in Cleveland. So why was she here now? Was it a coincidence? It had to be. He might have killed two Slayers but other than that, they were flying pretty much under the radar. She was probably in town to take out the Master. All the while, whatever reason she was here for, it wouldn’t keep Spike from kill her. Three time’s the charm, right?
As if she had read his thought (and Spike knew she had), Dru ran a hand up his chest, her nails raking over his t-shirt until she reached his neck. “You will kill her,” she said, her voice suddenly less weak. “You will kill her for me.”
A wicked smile tugged at his lips, making his yellow eyes gleam. “Anything for you, luv, anything.” He wrapped his arm around her shoulders, pulling her against him. He felt blood trickling down his neck where Dru’s nails had sliced his skin. “The Slayer’s head on a silver platter, if you wish.”
She looked at him with those bottomless black eyes. As crazy as she was, she knew fullwell how to pull his strings. She knew that he would do all these things he promised just to please her. She was his princess after all.
Spike’s attention was pulled back to the matters at hand when the redheaded vampire pushed past him, her hand brushing against his stomach and other more delicate parts. She shot him a cheeky glance before sidling up to the Master.
“May I play with the puppy?”
The Master ran a hand over her hair in an almost fatherly fashion. “Yes, you may. But be careful, you almost killed him last time.”
Somehow, that perked Spike’s interest. He had always been a friend of a little torture to break the ice. “And what kind of puppy would that be, luv?”
Willow took a ring of keys from the Master’s belt, playfully twisting them in her hands in the prospect of her little pastime. “Come and see for yourself.”
Originally posted at http://seasonal-spuffy.livejournal.com/207557.html