Dancing With Death [Angelus]

[Spike]

It was the rush that Spike loved. The rush of beating an opponant down, of wheedling out their weakspots, or taking victory right from beneath their noses. Other vampires, Angelus and Dru probably included, loved the thrill of a hunt, and the deliciousness which came from a capture. Spike didn't. He prefered the fight, preferred food which could and did bite back, and bite back hard. He revelled in the challenge, and the fun that a fight came with. He left so often now, left the manor when no one noticed, left to move through this town. It was more fun that a lot of the other places had been, being on a Hellmouth. A wide range of demon's to fight and kill.

To train against, you could say. Because despite the fact that he was a fighting expert, Spike knew that training was important.

He was fighting now. Light on his feet, moving like it was a dance, Spike's strengh and skill in a fight was based mainly around his speed. He wasn't as big as Angelus, and, though he didn't like it, he didn't have as much strengh as the older vampire. He was small, and lightening quick. Which was more fun, really, in his mind. He'd perfected his fighting dance until it was flawless. Fighting was what he did, and he did it well. He wasn't a planner, like Angelus, or a sly bitch, like Darla, or crazy, like his beloved Dru. No, he was the fighter, and he loved to be it.

The vampire he was fighting was shoved away by a roundhouse kick, and then Spike just watched as it landed on the ground. The happy meal was cowering against the wall of the alley they were situated in - the cowering girl was actually the only reason he'd chosen to pick on this vampire to fight. He couldn't be bothered to hunt for himself, so he'd just followed this one. Fighting vampire's was more fun than fighting a human anyway. Vampire's could at least post a challenge.

He snorted down at the snarling figure, that was trying to get up with a dislocated knee and an obviously broken hand. Some of them posed a challenge anyway. The bad thing about being on a Hellmouth was the fact that most vampire's were no more than fledglings. He could tell that this one was only a few days out of the grave. "You really don't cut it, do you?" he remarked, stalking over towards him, bringing one booted foot down on that broken hand. The vampire screamed. No good screaming, it never did anything for you. Spike rolled his blue eyes, and sighed, before reaching down and lifting the vampire back to its feet.

"You can call this a mercy killing, if you think it'll make you feel better. Not that you'll have long to be doing any feeling at all, of cou..." He was faintly surprised when his little speech was interrupted by the other vamp lashing out with an uppercut to his jaw which made his head spin backwards. He grunted slightly, staggering backwards, ignored the small cry of the happy meal (wait, did she think he was saving her, or something? Nice!), before grinning broudly at the other, snarling vampire, blood trickling down one corner of his mouth. His blood.

"I might actually have called that nice, y'know, if I wasn't hungry now." He remarked, before smirking and darting forward into a high spin kick to the vamp's chest, sending him flying backwards into the wall. He darted forward again, pinning him there, before simply grabbing the vampire's neck, and yanking. He held a head in his hands for a few moments, before nothing but dust filled the alley. "And if you'd been worth it at all."

"You saved me..."

A soft muttered voice caught his attention, and Spike turned towards the happy meal. Yes, he'd thought so. It'd looked like he was doing the saving. How delightful. "No luv. I wasn't." He'd grabbed her before she could react, his face shifting into the plains of a demon's for the first time. Blood thrummed through the girl's exposed neck, reaching his ears and making his mouth water, and he snarled before lunging for her neck. Every winner should get a prize, after all.