It's all about the blood, really.

She knew it, deep inside, with an instinct that had carried over from...then. Now she knew a lot about the blood. But she remembered how she liked it even back in the bygones. It made everything so nice. It was what kept the vamps hunting, kept their demons alive. It was what made the humans die, the loss of it. It was what gave the color to the bruised skin.

And oh yeah, there was something so pretty about a bruise on white skin. It was worth the pain to see it rise up there, purple and blue. Some of them bruised so nice, too. It took only a few well placed hits and the bruises would bloom like flowers in the summertime. Yeah, fucking gorgeous! She loved to see them, and to know she was the one who made them.

They were little, or in some cases when she was too pissed or too drunk or both, not very little reminders that pain wasn't always invisible. It was so wicked to see someone walk around with their wounds showing. Not like hers. Even back when the people who hurt her had been leaving marks, they left them where they wouldn't show unless Faith had stripped and walked in public naked. By the time she reached the age where she fucking well would have stripped just about anywhere if it meant someone would see, they were no longer hitting her with *things.* They were carving her up with words. And that was when Faith got the idea to just get out. She was gone.

There had been a lot of blood between then and now. Fighting, and Slaying, and running and running. Vamps. Demons. They all got to feel some of the pain. She wanted to believe the vamps felt the pain before they dusted. Just in case, she beat the almighty shit out of them before she staked them. Just to be sure, you know how it is. She trusted in the redemption of the shared pain.

Then there was the other shit in her life. There was something that could have been friendship. There was something that could have been trust. And there was something that could have been tenderness. All she had to do to get it all was stand next to the Almighty Goddess and suck up the bitter taste of second best. All she had to do was pretend that it was all good, being thought of as the "other." After all she'd been through, that should be nothing, right?

Wrong. So fucking wrong that there were no words to describe it. She'd been down so long that there was no way she was going to give up the spotlight that she deserved. It was her right, and there was no way she was walking away, or kissing ass, or letting them tell her what to do. She trusted for a bit, yeah, but that kicked her in the ass in the long run.

That had been her second Watcher, and it hurt to think how much she trusted that woman. It was like being handed everything you didn't know you needed in one package. She told Faith how strong she was, called her a good fighter, compared her to legendary warriors. And she'd done some other things that Faith knew the Council wouldn't be down with. Things that she knew weren’t happening between the Golden One and her Watcher, unless her radar was so far offbase that she couldn’t pick up sex signals anymore. So she'd let the woman train her in more ways than was in the Slayer Handbook, and she'd told herself it was genuine.

She let herself fall into the Watcher's hands, literally. And into her mouth, and onto her tongue. And when the Watcher demanded performances from her pupil as well, Faith had done it, done all she was asked, in the hope that her little voice inside was wrong. She wanted so badly to trust for once.

That came back to haunt her. Never again, she swore. Never again. Now it was easier anyway. Now it was all about the blood again.

**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**

He'd taken her by surprise as she was crouched over the body of the last girl she'd been playing with. That one had bruised so nice, so easy, and her tears were like crystals, magnifying the dark markings on her face and on her neck when they slipped down. When Faith didn't lick them up first. So she was watching the girl, who had passed out a few minutes earlier, and she was touching the bruises - there - there - and there, too - and she was marveling at how the blood inside was making such lovely shades of purple and blue. She was so distracted that she never heard him coming.

He must have been watching her from outside the window. He must have watched her and the girl do their thing. Must have waited until Faith was done beating the shit out of her partner and was all caught up in the revelry of the bruises. He just kicked in the door and grabbed her by the hair. Wrapped it in his fist once, twice, and wrenched her head to the side. Buried his teeth in her there without any of the usual bullshit.

Faith gasped and her hands flew back, grabbed at his head and tried to pull him off but it was a weak effort. Panic had sent adrenaline through her system and it made her dizzy instead of sharp. But he was sharp, his teeth were needles, daggers, they were stabbing into her like no pain she'd ever felt before.

His other arm came around her naked body, drawing her in closer and tighter to him. His clothes were cold and rough against her skin, and the grip brought the little air in her lungs out of her in a loud whoosh. Her chest couldn’t expand for her to draw any more in, the black spots that were taking over her vision begin to pulse with red at the edges, and she had a moment to realize she was dying before it actually happened. Her feet kicked against the bed in a spasm, grinding her bare bottom into his groin. She noted, dazed, that his cock was hard.

Then black. Her last thoughts were of bruises on white skin, and of her mother.

~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*

She was amazed that she got to have another chance, although when she woke up, Faith was a different girl. Everything was immediately sharper - sight and sound and smell. And desire. That was sharper, too. She was still naked, in the same room where she'd died, and now she could see things she never saw before. A crack in the corner of the bedpost. A spider on the ceiling. A man in the chair who had most definitely not been there before. Familiar man. Vague sense of having seen him not so long ago.

"So," Faith said, stretching her neck awkwardly and resisting the urge to put her hand to where he'd drained her. "Does this mean I call you Daddy?"

He chuffed out a cloud of smoke with a short little barking laugh. "Yeah, I suppose so," he answered her. Didn't move, though. Didn't make any attempt to touch her. "Hungry, pet?"

"Starving," she hissed and felt her face shift, melt into the face of her demon. She sat up straight on the bed, an arc of pain racing through her now that he'd called attention to her need for food. "Starving, starving, starving," she chanted as she rolled to hands and knees and swayed over to him with the loose limbed crawl of a lioness.

He reached down beside him and tossed a heavy bundle onto the bed, stopping her in her tracks. It was the girl. She was awake. Bound with strips of the bedsheets. Gagged. Shaking, vulnerable. Terrified.

Delicious.

With a growl that felt like a purr to Faith, she fell upon the girl and ripped her to pieces. Her throat first, of course, gulping down the hot blood as it gushed out in slowly decreasing arcs. Then she tore into every piece of flesh that she had bruised earlier, biting and sucking, and eating and eating and eating.

Faith looked up at her Sire with yellow eyes and a feral grin. Blood was all over her like a painted suit, shining and smelling like death. It was inside of her, too, singing in her veins, making her feel hot, making her want. She reached out a hand to the man who had made her into this wonderful dark thing, and he stared at it a few moments before he took it in his own. Catching her eyes with his own, he let his game face slip on as he brought her hand up to his mouth and slowly licked her fingers clean.

"What a pair we'll make," he whispered to her when her fingers were shining and alabaster. "What a wicked pair, luv."

She smiled, and walked on her knees across the pieces of the girl she had fed on and then slipped off the bed onto the floor between his legs. She put her demon face against his chest and let it slide to his lap. She rubbed her ridged forehead against the hardness she found there. One of his hands dropped to her hair, which was sticky with the drying blood that had flown everywhere in her feeding. He stroked it, and let his head fall back on the cheap dirty fabric of the chair, and smoked while he stared at the ceiling. The smoke drifted, white as his hair, and he saw vague patterns in it.

His new scar ached vaguely in the way that healing flesh did. He stuck the cigarette between his lips and let his fingertips wander over the short raised ridge hidden in his hairline. The man who had removed his chip hadn't been the most skilled of surgeons, but he had had the advantage of not knowing who the hell he was dealing with. The minute he'd put in the last stitch, Spike had decided to give the chip-free version of himself a trial run.

The doc might not have been skilled, but that first bite had been exquisite. His blood had been like a youth serum, better than any blood he ever tasted before. He'd had an erection the minute his teeth broke the skin and an orgasm before the body was drained. He'd killed three more people that very night. He felt like he was back to his old self again. Now he had some things to take care of. Some people who had taken him lightly when he was unable to behave in his natural ways were in for a rude awakening.

Faith was purring, her face still in his lap. Spike took a long drag from the cigarette and flicked it away to the corner of the room. It landed in a spot of carpet soaked with blood and went out with a hiss. He reached down with both hands and drew her face up to look at him. Her golden eyes blinked slowly once, twice, then with a small shudder, her human face was back. It was a lovely mask. He rubbed his thumbs across her cheeks and pushed his own demon down below.

"Let's get you cleaned up. We have a little trip to make." Spike led Faith to the tiny bathroom and she followed meekly behind.

~end