Have you *any* idea how many variations there are of burning? Well, I'll tell ya.... fuckin' LOTS and each and every one of them a bastard.
Have you ever heard of a good way of burning? Have you ever heard of a burn that felt good? I think fuckin' not, 'cause they all hurt... or so experience has, up until now, had a *wonderful* time showing me.
I know a lot about burning.
I have, you might say, been there, done that and worn the bloody t-shirt. I've burnt and I've been burnt and I'm here to tell you that the giving is a hell of a lot more fun than the receiving.
Unfortunately I've received an awful lot of burns in my time; in terms of mental torture a lot more than I've given. I'm strictly a physical torture type of guy. Screaming, I love. The inner turmoil, angsty type of mental torture I'm afraid I've never much had the patience for. I like my pain here, now and fuckin' loud.
Love is what has burned me more often than not. Love has hurt me more than a knife in the belly or a bottle shoved up my ass Angelus-style ever could.
Love hurts because it burns, children. It sits inside your body, in your gut, in your head and it blinds and it binds and it bleeds and it burns. Oh it's a bitch alright!
Angelus. My Sire, my daddy, my lover. He made me, he broke me and then he left me... which, ironically, broke me again in ways his brutality could never reach. And it burned... all of the love, all of the hate, all of the fear that I had...
((Still have))
...for him burning and twisting and eating away inside o' me.
I think the 'being left' burnt the most... I could never stand to be alone.
I never thought it would burn to have Angelus back.
But it did.
The joy of realising that my Sire lived on, the anticipation of being reunited was quickly quashed by, of all things, a tremble.
Yeah... I know, a tremble... such a little thing; but it burned like the fires of Hell.
You see Angleus thought he could fool me; me... his beloved, favoured Childe, his protégé and one-time lover. He offered the whelp's throat, held the boy towards me but I saw it then; the tremble in his hands. I saw it and then I heard it when he called me 'Spike'.
I was never 'Spike' to Angelus.
I was 'boy', 'my little fuck-toy', 'whelp', 'idiot', 'bastard' and when he was pleased, when he was well fucked and satisfied then it was 'Will... My beautiful Will'.
But it was never, ever 'Spike'.
Did it burn Angelus, I wonder, when they gave him that soul? And did it burn again when it was taken away?
Angelus burnt me in as many ways as he fucked me. Lots of variations and all of them painful. If there exists a form of mental torture that my Sire didn't use, well I'd like to know what it was. In the physical torture stakes one could truly say 'Angelus Rocks!' - the things that he could do with your cock and a needle... well, I'd rather not talk about that right now. Mentally though? He was the King of bloody pain; he fucked my mind with as much skill and fervour as he did my body. It was all pretty painful, I can tell you.
One of my Sire's greatest triumphs, and I think he'll agree, was Drusilla. She had been a gift to me for giving Angelus a week of the most divine and unholy fucking he had ever received. Believe me when I say that I couldn't walk for two days and couldn't swallow properly for a week.
Dru was so beautiful. Even in evil she had a child-like innocence and a vulnerability that I couldn't resist. Angleus knew that, of course. Daddy always did know what threw my switches.
Angelus brought her to me one night. It was winter I remember, and she was gift-wrapped in a long, indigo cloak which accentuated her pale skin and made it seem to glow in the candlelight. My Sire was well pleased with his new prize... 'Fresh from the convent,' Angelus had crowed as he led her around the room like a prize mare.
We fucked her together that night, Angelus and I. Dru might have been my gift, but with Angelus there was no 'I' in T.E.A.M - we shared everything... except when it came to *his* toys, of course.
I still remember how it felt to be allowed to touch a woman again. I hadn't been allowed to touch anyone since Angelus had turned me; he refused to share me, even with Darla. He allowed her to torture me, but never to *touch*.
Dru's skin was so pale and translucent; you could see the thousands of little blue veins that hugged her flesh beneath that milky skin... it was, for a vampire, an incredibly erotic sight. I traced those veins with my tongue, inhaling the scent of her blood below, the scent mixing with the musk of her arousal to create a heady brew. I licked every part of her; hard, erect nipples and the cool, wet velvet of her womanhood until she sighed and moaned, spreading her long legs and arching her body to receive her prize.
Angelus watched enthralled, allowing me to penetrate her first, allowing me to take her virginity, which she gave with an ecstatic scream. I'm not sure if that's the moment I fell in love with Dru, but I do remember wishing that I could encase us both in ice so that we could stay that way, frozen, entwined, joined, held in orgasmic ecstasy for ever.
But nothing lasts forever, I've learned that much. Not even when you are immortal. Not when 'daddy' is Angelus.
Drusilla didn't come for me that night. But she did for him, for 'daddy'. I was still bucking against her, my cold seed filling her, when Angleus pulled me from her with a growl. He mounted her then, no foreplay, no tenderness, just hard, vicious fucking the way *he* liked it.
I burned then, fearing Angelus would hurt her. But I burned even more when I realised how much she liked it. I watched and burned inside as Angelus pounded into her again and again, his large powerful hands gripping those milky thighs hard enough to bruise, his fangs sinking into that soft flesh, ripping and tearing and drinking; and all the while Drusilla screamed... screamed like the demon she had become, screamed as her daddy hurt her, screamed as she came, as Angelus growled in her ear 'Good girl... scream for me Dru, scream for daddy...'
Angelus had wanted me to love her, you see. Wanted me to love her and then watch as he took her from me. Wanted me to burn.
But, burning aside, I loved her... loved Dru.
Now here's the paradox - it burned even when I loved her, even when she loved me. Why? Because she was never really mine. Angelus was always there, branded onto her dead heart and behind her eyes. I suppose you could say that this was Dru's burn, Dru's pain, this love for 'daddy'.
It was Dru's burning that tore us apart in the end. She couldn't see that all I wanted to do was protect her; all she could see was Spike hurting 'daddy', Spike betraying 'daddy'. I think she stopped loving me after that. I think the love she had for me burnt out, it's one small flame consumed by the inferno of her love for Angelus. She certainly had no faith left in me... in *us*.
So Dru left... left me to burn.
I thought nothing could hurt as much again. I thought that there was so much pain already burned into my being that I could be excused from bearing anymore.
Wrong.
I'd forgotten the Hunger.
Now, if we're talking about burning, then I can say without fear of contradiction that for a vampire the Hunger is the biggest burn of all time.
It's at this juncture that I must say a huge 'Thank you' to those *nice* soldier boys.
Yeah, I'm the fuckin' Prince of sarcasm, me.
Dru and Angelus I can obliterate with booze and a little mindless slaughter, but this baby? This baby, this *Hunger*, is eternal.
The soldier-boys fucked with my head... can't bite, can't feed, may as well not bother with the fuckin', 'cause what's the fuckin' without the biting?
I spend my days drinking' pigs blood out of a fuckin' novelty mug and wanking myself stupid, but still it burns and it never stops.
So *I'm* thinkin', hey! Time to re-think, Spike. Time for somebody else to burn for a change; let's unload some of this agony on somebody... it won't help me, but it will make me feel a *hell* of a lot better.
That's when I decided.
Decided to burn the Slayer.
Decided to take Slayer's little fuck-toy away.
It was absurdly easy, laughable even. Finn was a soldier, after all. He had spent all that time with one hundred other blokes all sweating together, fighting together, *showering* together...
Now, as any fool will tell ya, one thing fighting does is make you horny. Did Slayer *really* think her boy's ass was unstretched? Did she really believe that Finn hadn't spent a little 'down' time on his knees with a cock in his mouth?
Pretty fuckin' naive if you ask me.
I knew, though... I could smell it off him; could smell him wanting me, wanting Xander even. I could feel his eyes on me when he thought no one was watching. He tended to stare at my crotch a *lot*. I used to rub against him when we passed each other, and I'd make a point of sitting close to him. I knew he could feel me staring, and when he glanced in my direction I'd slowly lick my lips and watch him blush...
It took two weeks - then he was mine.
He came around to the crypt; some petty errand for Slayer. I could tell he was in no hurry to leave. Truth be told I was horny and I didn't waste time with small-talk, I just prowled up close to him and when I reached out and stroked his clean-shaven cheek I thought he would come on the spot.
Finn was so surprisingly eager. There was me thinkin' I'd have to do all the work, but before I knew it he had me pinned against the crypt wall, his tongue plundering my mouth and he was so fuckin' *hot*... God, I love that heat, I could lose myself in it.
The boy was like an octopus, his hands seemed to be everywhere at once, but then when one hand found my cock it stayed there, squeezing, gripping, pulling down my zipper, and I gasped out loud when that hot hand wrapped itself around my cool, hard dick, gasped as he wanked me slowly, leisurely, as his tongue danced in my mouth and his free hand stroked and tweaked my nipples.
Holy shit, but this boy's hot! I envied the Slayer then, no wonder she was lookin' so smug... such a pretty toy he was, and *so* talented.
He didn't even flinch when I fucked him, just pushed back against me and begged for more. I rode him ragged and he took it all and you know what? He came back three nights later for more... which, I might add, he got.
In retrospect, I'm not sure which part I liked the most; fucking Finn or telling Slayer that I'd fucked him. If you could have seen her face, it sorta folded up on itself... wiped that smug little smirk off though.
Initially, I thought Slayer might've staked me - fair play, it was a pretty dirty stroke I pulled, but it was *so* much fun... and to be honest, at that point in my unlife I didn't really give a shit if she staked me or not. I had bugger all to lose.
You know, up until that point, up until Slayer's itty bitty wittle heart was scorched I had thought that all burning was bad.
But you know what? I learned something from this. I learned that *not all* burning has to hurt... I learned that true evil can burn, but sometimes in a good way... in a 'Spike's gettin' off on this' way.
I like this burn.
Finn's gone now. Left. Didn't even say goodbye to the Slayerettes.
((Snigger))
I would bloody well think not.
Slayer never told them why... too ashamed, I suppose. But I can see it when she looks at me, I can see that hate, I can see that pain, I can see that *burn*... and I FUCKIN' LOVE IT!
Nope, Slayer never told them... they have *no* idea.... which is why...
I'm gonna do it again.
Why?
Because I'm bored.
Because I'm evil.
Because it distracts me from my own pain.
Because I hate those bloody Slayerettes.
Because I *fuckin' can*.
Besides... I've always wanted to fuck a witch.