All About Spike

Little Red Riding Hood
By Circe

1800 words


Spoilers for Sleeper

Summary: If you go out in the woods today, be sure of a big surprise. And no, it’s not a teddy bear’s picnic.

WARNING: This contains non-consensual sex. If having Spike fuck and kill an underage teenager squicks you, please don’t read it. And if you do and are squicked, don’t blame me. Hell, I’m squicked and I wrote it.

Dawn always talks about her sister’s boyfriend like he’s her brother or something. Huh. Janice never understands that, but Dawn’s always been mega-childish that way. ‘Cause, God, a hottie like that? Janice’d be panting to get a bit of that action.

Hell, she already is.

Sometimes she’ll be leaving school late after practice and it’ll be just after dark, and the boyfriend will be waiting outside on his motorbike. And Janice will watch while he helps Dawn on with her helmet. Sometimes he’ll look up from the fastenings and see Janice staring. That mouth will twist into a smirk and those blue eyes will tell her that he knows exactly what she’s thinking.

And she’ll get wet.

“Bye, Janice,” Dawn will call, and she’ll press herself back against the boyfriend’s chest as though he’s her big brother, her protector, nothing more. Janice will mutely wave because really there is nothing to say.

His name is Spike, and he’s the reason Janice even bothers to hang out with a weird-ass loser like Dawn.

Then in the fall of last year he stops coming to pick Dawn up. And Dawn, who’s always “Spike this” and “Spike that” is suddenly Spike nothing.

Janice asks her about it one day in the summer.

“Where’s the wolf?”


“Spike. You know. The most gorgeous thing ever to walk this earth. Danger in leather, baby. Duh.”

“Don’t joke about that,” Dawn snaps, and Janice is shocked by the look on her face, though she does the sang froid thing and plays it ice cool.

“That it? He’s not just a wolf, he’s a big bad?”

“Don’t joke about him being dangerous. It’s not funny. You don’t know. You don’t know what he can do.”

Hmmm, apparently not. Janice smells gossip with a capital G, but she underplays because Dawn’s not gonna spill about Spike. Janice learned this long ago.

“Whoa. Chill out. I’m sorry, okay?”

“Okay.” There was a long pause. “He’s gone.”

“Gone? Where? Hollywood? With a body like that—”

“Just gone! I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Okay, already. Forget about it.”

Gone … and Janice doesn’t see him again until one night in late fall.

He’s standing outside a bar, not kid’s play like Bronze, but one of those shiznit places with bouncers and a million bucks for cover.

He looks different. Older, maybe. And he’s lost the leather and gone for khaki. A blue shirt that brings out the colour of his eyes, like raspberry freezies. His hair is still that amazing platinum that you’d think should look totally eighties but looks freakin’ wicked instead. She could cut herself on those cheekbones they’re so sharp.

Bleed me, baby, she thinks to herself.

She’s in line for a while before she spots him; shimmying and adjusting her lyrca boob top every few minutes to make sure it’s in place. Dawn can only dream of having tits like hers. Janice knows she’s looking good, and she’s gonna pick up tonight. She’s decided. The high school guys are total losers – way too young and immature. She’s here to find herself a real man.

And when she sees Spike, leaning against a lamp post, casually checking out the girls in the line, she knows she’s found him.

So she’s a little distracted when she hits the front of the line and the bouncer says, “Gonna need some I.D., kid.” Janice fumbles in her lacquered purse and hands it over. A guy in her class makes them for a price and she gladly forked out the cash. No more lame ‘X’s on the hand for her—

The bouncer laughs. “Want to try again, kid?” He tears up the card, and Janice watches the pieces fall like snowflakes to the ground. Someone in the line titters. Feeling her cheeks burn, Janice raises her chin and jerks her head in Spike’s direction.

“I’m with him,” she says.

He’s there in an instant, as though he was watching her all along, hands heavy and deliberate on her bare shoulders. He’s behind her, and his voice is rough sandpaper scraping her senses raw. Cool breath whispers across her ear, stirring her hair.

“You sure you want to be with me, love?” Lips dab kisses along her neck. She gasps, forgetting to play at experienced seductress.

In front of them, the bouncer snorts his disgust and turns to the next people in line.

“Yeah? You want to?” Strong fingers splay across her exposed midriff, burning his fingerprints with icy fire against her skin.

“Let’s blow this scene,” she manages. She turns around and hooks her arms around his neck, pulling him in. His mouth tastes like cigarettes and alcohol.

She’s been round the block, but never all the way home. And her panties are soaking.

Before she realizes what’s happening, he’s maneuvered them off the main drag, and they’re kissing and groping in the alleyway behind the bar.

It’s kind of gross, but this is Spike and Fuck you, Dawn, and your constant disappearing act and you’re I’m too cool to hang out any more, and fuck your pretty little perfect sister, because I’m gonna fuck your man.

She’s all slippery and hot and only he can make it better.

“Dawn said you were dangerous,” Janice purrs. “Should I be worried? You gonna hurt me?”


Something in his voice makes Janice pull away and stare into those heavy-lidded eyes. For a second there he sounded as if he didn’t know what she was talking about. Then it passes and the pads of his fingers are stroking across her lycra-covered breasts, pulling gently at the peaked nipples.

“Kiss me again,” she commands, and he does until she can’t breath she’s so dizzy. Then his blunt fingertips are stroking up her thighs and under her short skirt until they hook around her thong panties.

“Mmmnuh,” she groans into his mouth.

“You’re all lost, aren’t you? But I can make it better. I can show you the way, little girl. Invite me in.” His voice is hard, and she can feel another part of him, a part that’s pressing insistently against her belly, and that’s hard too.

There are sudden nerves fluttering in her stomach, tightening her throat, and she can feel herself shaking as he slams her hard against the wall of the club. Her feet are no longer touching the ground and her gaze falls on his arms, all taut muscle and cording veins. She licks dry lips.

“Invite me in, baby,” he croons, and bites gently at the corner of her mouth. One thigh eases up and he lowers her onto the solid muscle there. It feels good, really good.

Janice moves a little, experimenting, and is rewarded by a rush of pure sensation. She hears Spike whimper, and this of all things banishes the butterflies, makes her feel all superior, all womanly.

“Come in, lover,” she tells him, and reaches out to touch the bulge in his pants.

Quicker than she can see, his hand is clasped like a manacle around her wrist. “Yeah, you want it, don’t you? You want me buried in your sweet cunny.”

“You’re hurting me!” Janice squirms, trying to get off his leg. He’s cutting off the circulation to her hand. And what the hell’s a cunny?

“You want to fuck me?”

“Spike, you asshole, let me down.”

He freezes, grip loosening enough so she can pull free. She stands against the wall, panting.

“You know me?” His blue eyes are frighteningly blank.

She’s indignant. What a jerk. No wonder Buffy dumped his ass. “Uh, yeah. Dawn’s friend, remember? Janice. You always told me I was too young to smoke.” She barks out a laugh. “You’re a freakin’ lech. Too young to smoke, but you couldn’t wait to get your hands on my hot little ass, right?”

He’s in her face before she can blink. “Too late, you invited me in.”

God, he’s so fucking sexy. She still wants him. She can’t help it. Maybe this is what it’s supposed to be like. She’s unsure. All the guys she’s been with were so immature. “You gonna call me by my name?”

“Janice, lovely Janice. I’m sorry. How could I treat a poor maiden so?”

Then his mouth is grinding down on hers and his pants are open and his cock is in his hand.

Janice gasps, feels a flush of warmth between her thighs. He’s got her up against the wall again; she just has time to look down and think Big before he’s sliding it against her slick pussy.

“You like this?” he hisses at her. His hands are tangling in her hair, and Janice’s brain is turning to electric Jello mush. It never felt like this before, not with the other guys, and part of her dimly registers that it’s because this is Real Sex, not fumbling around in the dark.

His face is slack, eyes half shut. “Let me in, little girl,” comes his voice, but it’s drowned out by a sharp pain as he rams his hips forward in one snapping motion. Her mouth opens in a silent ‘O’ of surprise, and then it’s all about burning burning burning through her cunt and along her thighs.

She itches, and he’s moving fast and hard and all she wants is to be scratched. Her hands claw at his shirt and she rips it open so that a few of the buttons pop off and scatter with muted pings along the crusty garbage cans in the alley.

But the burning is getting worse, and he’s going too fast, muttering weird shit into the curve of her neck and suddenly she’s not in the Zone anymore. She’s just the class slut in an alley getting fucked by some guy old enough to be her father.

“Don’t joke about him being dangerous. It’s not funny. You don’t know. You don’t know what he can do.”

He’s so hard, he’s hammering her into the wall. She chokes back a sob as her head slams into the brick. “Spike! Stop!”

And he does, shuddering into her in great long spurts. She can feel his stuff oozing down her thigh and realizes they forgot a condom.

“Get off me!”

But he doesn’t. He’s still inside her, still hard. He blinks once, slowly, then focuses on her face. “Lost little girl,” he says.

She can’t breathe, can’t tear her eyes away from his predatory expression.

“Shouldn’t go offering your treats to strangers you meet in the woods.” He tilts his head and suddenly his face is hideously deformed. But it’s the eyes that capture her, amber and bright. No pity in them. “Never know when you might get bitten,” he growls.

She doesn’t have time to scream.

Read Reviews / Post a Review

Send feedback to Circe | Visit Circe's site | All stories by Circe

Print Version | Plain Version

Please Support This Site
A percentage of sales from the links below will be used to pay the server fees for All About Spike.

Home  |  Site Map  |  Keyword Search  |  Category Search  |  Contact  |  Plain Version  |  Store
Website by Laura
Buffy the Vampire Slayer is trademark (TM) and copyright (�) Fox and its related entities. All rights reserved. This web site, its operator and any content on this site relating to "Buffy the Vampire Slayer" are not authorized by Fox. Buffy the Vampire Slayer and its characters, artwork, photos, and trademarks are the property of Twentieth Century Fox, Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, and/or the WB Television Network and/or the UPN Network. The webmaster is not affiliated in any way with the aforementioned entities. No copyright infringement is intended nor implied. This site contains affiliate links, which are used to help pay the server fees.