BtVS Drabble Prompt: Clash

He sits, Caesar on his throne, enshrined behind his desk. He’s surrounded by guards, separated from his supplicants. He offers bread and circuses like crumbs to his inferiors. He feigns disinterest, but his avaricious eyes never leave the battles raging before him.

He lives for the clash of steel on steel, the flash of fangs and the burst of blood. It makes his own heart pump, his own fists clench, safe above the crowd and stink. Safe from the real dangers of blades and flames, he dabbles at war, wasting his soldiers without thought.

There’s always another Slayer, after all.