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The Big Bad?	By : BeautifullyxSadisticx3 Category: -Buffy the Vampire Slayer > Slash - Male/Male > Angel(us)/Spike(William) > Angel(us)/Spike(William) Views: 5181 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I own nothing, especially any of the characters or stories from BtVS. I also make no money off my stories.

Chapter List
- 1-The Big Bad?
- 2-The Big Bad Stranger
- 1
- 2
Everything is very preliminary as of right now. I'm still developing the story, so my codes are on the conservative side.
Review, review, review. i will take every single one into account and it will help me angle this story to something that's pleasant to my readers.
And don't worry, I'll get to the smutty goodness VERY soon.

Smoke billowed around, framing white blonde hair in the crisp autumn night. Looking around he couldn’t help but feel a mixture of elation and discontent. Then again, returning home always made one anxious. Throwing his cigarette to the ground he ceremoniously revved the engine of his retro muscle car a few times for good measure then slammed through the Welcome To Sunnydale sign, Billy Idol’s, ”Rebel Yell”, playing as his head banged along. “Home, sweet home.” He muttered, while driving much too fast through the sleepy streets.
This time his car was empty, his long time mate off yet again with some nasty demon, whose breed he couldn’t be bothered to remember. He told himself he didn’t come here because he was upset, and he definitely wasn’t planning to kill the slayer just to get his dark princess back. No, of course not. He was William the Bloody, Spike, slayer of slayers. And he was here simply to live out his name. And it definitely had nothing to do with the fact that he wanted to provoke Angel. Of course not, he wanted anything to do with him. Bloody boring soulful git.
He slammed on his brakes, abandoning his car on the side of the road and walking the, by now, familiar walk to the cemetery. Last time he was here he stayed in style, a nice old abandoned factory. However, do to Angelus’ inability to lay low, and his pathological need to torture Buffy, he needed to lay low if his plan was going to work. He didn’t have to search for too long before he found a nice crypt without a view. Even better, it was already stocked with a tunnel underground. Not a bad living space beneath. He could tell by its scent that it was previously occupied, yet the scent was faint enough to believe the previous inhabitants were long gone. Probably taken out by Buff, the annoying twat waffle, he mused to himself.
Alas, the sun was coming up very soon, and he knew he didn’t have time to go out and get himself a treat before it did, so, jumping onto a sarcophagus and squirming a bit before he got comfortable. It didn’t take long until he dropped off to sleep.
The next morning, er night - when he woke up, he could already feel instinctually that the sun had gone down. Game time, but first, a snack. He slid off the rather high impromptu bed, jumping down gracefully and pulled on his signature leather trench coat and climbed the ladder back to the more traditional looking part of the mausoleum. Slamming the heavy open door he took a step out and took a deep breath, not that he needed to, but some habits die hard. He also wanted to get a feel for whether or not the bothersome slayer was stalking the rows of tombstones or if she were elsewhere. Just his luck, she was, thankfully, nowhere near.
As soon as he was out of the cemetery he made quick work of finding some bimbo stumbling along in too high heels alone, obviously drunk and easy prey. However, being the predator he was, snatching her would be too easy. Instead he opted to play with his food. Falling in step behind her he followed her for a few moments, studying her, watching to see just how inebriated she was. Once he was fully confident that she could no more run in those heels then he himself would be able to, he sped up and fell in line with her. “Dangerous for a pretty little thing like you to be walking out all alone like at night, love”, he drawled, taking out his pack of smokes and lighting one casually. She giggled nervously; obviously unaware there was anyone near her, much less next to her. However, she was fairly wasted, so there were no warning bells, and, as Spike had hoped, her body immediately responded to the rather attractive man next to her.
“I was just on my way home from the Bronze.” She slurred slightly, then smirked in what Spike could only think was an attempt at looking seductive, not the constipated look she was giving him. “Wanna walk me home, sexy.” She again slurred. Spike smirked. Game, set, match – she was his. He offered her his arm and allowed her to lead him, taking him to a more residential section of the hellmouth. Finally she stopped before a door, and turned to him with a smile. “Wanna come in?” She asked innocently, he grinned and nodded. “If you’ll have me, love.” He added. After fumbling in her purse for what seemed like hours, finally she unlocked the door and stepped inside. “Come on in.” she slurred.
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The Big Bad?