“Fuck…” she whimpers at the savage tearing. She closes her eyes tight. She doesn’t want to know about the rest of this. Doesn’t want to feel the pain anymore. It’s hot and sharp as it shoots through her. The place where she was stabbed throbs insistently, like a heartbeat, so that she has to grip her stomach to keep at bay the sensation that her guts will spill out. Her breathing stutters and she scratches at his scalp, her throat convulsing. This time there’s no coming back, no waking up, no second chances. She’s got nothing here and even less on the other end. Just the wide, vacant, accusatory eyes of all the people she’s killed, hurt, let down – her Watcher, her mother, Mayor Wilkins. She thinks she deserves no less, and embraces the dark, lulled to death by the dulcet sound of her killer’s contented sighs.
When she goes limp in his arms he takes a few more drags on her neck before he shoots his load. His cock slips from the slack embrace of her pussy in time with the retraction of his fangs, and he lets go of his hold on her ass so she falls to the floor in a heap.
Tucking himself back into his jeans, he crouches down beside her, drawing his fingers along her chin.
“Stupid little chit,” he whispers, his fingers playing on her lip. Poor, tortured angel was looking for her end. Looks like she found it at last.
Eyeing the empty mirror he smoothes down his hair where she pulled it free of the gel. Satisfied that the Big Bad is back, he taps a cigarette out of the carton, and lights it. He peers back at her as he opens the door.
“Always knew the only thing better than killing a Slayer was fucking one,” he intones and blows her corpse a kiss as the door closes on her rapidly cooling body.