~*~*~*~



Buffy starred out the hazy window, watching the trees speed by. Her hand fell limply on her duffel bag beside her, and her tired body pressed against the window of the bus. She was leaving – running away from everything she knew and everyone she loved, but none of it mattered anymore, because her mom was dead. And it was all her fault.


One Week Ago…


Buffy closed the door behind her, and bounced into the kitchen. “Hey mom!”


Joyce turned to greet her cheerful-looking daughter. “Hi Buffy. What’s with the big goofy grin?”


“Oh nothing. Just that your brilliant daughter aced her psych final,” Buffy said with a smile as she popped a grape into her mouth.


Joyce’s face lit up, but then she paused, “Wait, you’re not joking are you?”


Buffy gave her mom a dramatically offended expression. “What, you don’t think I can ace a final?”


“Of course I think you can, but last time you said ‘I got an A…minus two grades,’” Joyce mimicked.


Buffy looked sheepish before shaking it off and continuing, “Ok, but this time, I really got an A. Ok, A-, but that still counts right?”


Joyce grabbed Buffy in a big hug. “Of course it counts. I’m so proud of you!” She pulled back to look at her in the face. “I told you taking a break from Parker would be good for you.”


Buffy rolled her eyes. “I know, I know. Can we not talk about him? It’ll ruin my geek-high. It’s not everyday I get to feel smart,” Buffy half-joked.


“You’re very bright, don’t talk like that. Your whole relationship with Parker was just getting in the way,” Joyce comforted.


Buffy sighed. “Yea, I know mom. I’m just having a hard time making him understand we’re really over.”


“Well, you just have to keep away from him. And if you ever need any help, tell me right away. No one messes with my daughter,” Joyce replied sternly.


Buffy flashed her a smile before giving her another hug. “Thanks mom, for being so understanding through all of this.”


“Only because I love you,” Joyce said warmly as she gave Buffy a kiss on the cheek.


~


Buffy wandered around the dark streets of L.A., arms folded and shivering from the chill of the night. All she had was a duffel bag of clothes and 1000 bucks – with no clue what she was going to do or where she was going to stay. The tall buildings made her feel claustrophobic, and the dark alleys gave her chills of fear. The constant honking and bright car lights filled her head, giving her a headache.


Suddenly a man lunged out of nowhere, grabbing her by the shoulders and she screamed as her heart raced with fear.


“Don’t touch the cat!! Don’t touch it!” the crazy bum shook her.


His clothes were filthy and his hands were wrapped with tattered cloth. Most of all, the odorous smell coming off him made her nauseous. She quickly shoved him off of her as hard as she could, sending him staggering backwards. And she ran. Breathing heavily as she ran without looking back, tears began to stream down her face, reminding her of the day that changed her life.


~


“Parker, I don’t want to talk,” Buffy snapped. She was walking home from UC Sunnydale, and he was following her slowly along the street with his car, begging her to get in.


“Come on, Buffy. Just come inside and let me give you a ride,” he said in his smoothest voice.


“No! I told you we’re over,” she yelled as she shot him a glare. With her arms crossed, Buffy continued to march forward, but Parker just kept inching right along with her in his convertible.


“Can’t we talk about this first? Look, if you get in the car, we’ll just talk, I promise. And once you hear me out, I’ll leave you alone.” He put on his most sincere face.


She exhaled in frustration. Buffy knew he wasn’t going to stop following her so she stopped and headed for the passenger door. “All I want is a ride to my mom’s gallery and that’s it,” she said sternly, waiting for him to agree.


“Alright, alright. I promise,” Parker replied, giving her a big smile.


She got in the passenger seat and slammed the door shut, turning to shoot him a cold look that had him shutting his mouth before he could yell about her mistreatment of his ‘sacred’ convertible.


He drove off, and Buffy plastered herself to the door, putting as much space in between them as possible. She looked out the window, refusing to look at him.


Parker put up the hood as he drove through the streets of Sunnydale. Buffy noticed this action and gave him a suspicious look. He didn’t answer, but he pulled his car over and stopped.


“What are you doing? Why are we stopping here?” Buffy asked in a confused voice. They were only halfway to her mom’s gallery and now they were parked in front of some random house.


Parker turned to her and reached out to grab her hand.


“What do you think you’re doing?” she demanded, fury evident in her eyes.


Parker said in a soothing tone, “Don’t you see we’re meant to be together?”


She pulled her hand away violently and slapped his hand as it came back at her again. “No, Parker. We’re not. It’s over,” she gritted out.


“But we’re so good together. We feel so good together,” he said, voice dripping with suggestion.


Buffy scrunched her face up in disgust. How did she let herself get so involved with this jerk?
She had broken up with him because he became possessive and argumentative. All they ever argued about was sex. That’s all he ever wanted to do these days. He had quickly turned from the sweet and sensitive guy to the sex-crazed boyfriend with temper to match, and Buffy literally found herself fending him off on a daily basis – sometimes she just gave in. When her grades had dropped terribly low, making her up for probation, her mom had stepped in and helped her realize she needed to get out of this damaged relationship quickly. But there was still one problem. Even after the break up and all the weeks of ignoring him, Parker wouldn’t accept it.


“Are you deranged? It’s over!”


“You’re fucking someone else, aren’t you?!?” he yelled as his personality clicked from calm to enraged. “I always knew you were a slut!”


She slapped him across the face roughly, fury overruling her composure. “I’m leaving,” she gritted out, voice shaky from anger.


But before she could reach to open the door, he locked it. Shocked, she turned to look at him, but his face was a cold mask. “Let me out!” she yelled.


He didn’t respond, but rather started his car, put it in drive, and speeded down the street. Buffy sat back and gripped the seat, fear lacing through her as he reached 50 miles an hour.


“Parker, slow down! You’re gonna get us killed!” she pleaded urgently.


He didn’t turn to look at her, just kept staring straight ahead as his car roared from acceleration.


Her heart was beating faster, and her head began to spin as everything seemed to go by so quickly. They were going 60 miles an hour on a little street of Sunnydale. Her eyes were fixated in front of her, scanning the road for anything that might get in Parker’s way. Suddenly, she saw a blur in front of them, too far away to tell. “Parker, stop!” she cried with utter panic.


He didn’t seem to be listening as his maniacal eyes showed his road rage. And as if the world were ending, the car approached the figure and Buffy saw her mother’s face flash in front of her eyes.


Parker slammed his foot harshly on the brakes and Buffy pressed her eyes closed as her body was flung forward fiercely, whipping her against the seatbelt. But she didn’t have time to notice the pain that jolted through her body, because all she heard was the loud thud that hit the car.


Feeling like the fear could kill her, she opened her eyes as she realized the car had finally come to a screeching stop. She panted uncontrollably and looked up at the front window. It was smashed into fragmenting pieces that barely held together. Looking past the broken glass, she saw a body lying on the gravel.


“Oh my god,” she cried as her hand came up to her mouth. She fumbled with her seatbelt buckle with shaky fingers as tears flooded into her eyes, blurring her vision. Finally managing to unlock the door and get out of the car, she stepped forward with shaky legs to look at the body. And then she collapsed. Lying on the ground in a pool of blood was her mother.


~


Buffy stopped running as sobs escaped her mouth. She couldn’t get rid of the image that haunted her for the past week. Or the pain that laced through her heart like a sharp dagger at the thought of her mother. Quickly wiping away her tears, she began to scan the dark and cold streets for a place to stay, or a place where she could get some food.


She saw a dingy-looking diner up ahead and began to walk in its direction. But when she walked past an alley, she heard a scream. Halting in her steps, she scanned the dark alley for trouble. Like a mouse and a mousetrap, she tentatively stepped towards the scream.


Trash littered the murky floor of the alley and she cringed as her shoes squished on some rotten food. Peering around the corner of the dirty brick wall, she looked just in time to see a dark-haired woman standing around with some men. She was dressed in tight leather pants and a matching leather top. As Buffy watched curiously, the woman lifted a gun and blew a guy’s head off. Dropping her bag, Buffy’s body froze in horror at the sight. The four men and the dark-haired woman looked up at the intruding sound.


The woman’s eyes gleamed in anger, and she yelled to the others, “Get her!”


Buffy snapped out of her fright and turned to run back out the alley in a panic. She could hear her heart beat pounding in her head as she ran and heard them behind her. They were coming closer and closer, until finally, she felt someone seize her arm and pull her violently backwards. Two people grabbed both of her arms as she screamed for dear life, thrashing with all her might. The woman walked up to her protesting form and threw a solid punch forward, knocking Buffy out and making her body go limp in the two people’s arms.


“Take her back to Angelus. He might have fun with this one,” Drusilla said as she perused Buffy’s unconscious form.



~*~*~*~



A/N: O.K., I live in Los Angeles, and I have never seen a gang or been actually endangered. Just roll with my L.A. dramatization. Think of it as a made up city if that helps sooth your protests.

~*~*~*~


“Mom!” Buffy kneeled down next to her mother’s prone body and shook her shoulders, trying to revive her. “Oh my god, mom, wake up!” Buffy sobbed as she ran her hands over Joyce’s face, covering them with blood.


Buffy shot her head up to glare in Parker’s direction, but her tears made it hard for her to see. “Help me, you bastard! Get help!”


Parker looked dazed and stared down at them wide-eyed.


Buffy got up and stormed over to Parker, gripping him by the collar with her blood-covered hands. “Get help now before I kill you,” she ground out as angry tears slid down her face.


He looked horrified as everything seemed to snap back to reality. “Buffy, I didn’t see her, you have to believe me,” he pleaded. Looking down at Joyce’s body, he used a shaky hand to fish out his cell phone and dial 911.


Buffy was back at her mother’s side, clinging onto the tiny shred of hope that she was alive. She pressed her palm against the open gash on Joyce’s head, trying to stop the continuous flow of blood that was seeping out onto the road. She whimpered as the sight of her mother’s empty eyes stared back at her. Hearing a slam, she looked up to see that Parker had gotten back into his car, and was fumbling with the keys.


“You fucking asshole! Don’t you dare leave us here!” she yelled furiously. But he was already screeching in reverse and in the next moment, he sped off past them, leaving Joyce for dead.


Buffy started gagging on deep breaths of air, unable to calm her racing heart or the sick taste that crept up into her mouth. She choked out sobs, and knowing that her mother was already dead, she admitted defeat as her own body slumped down to the ground.


~


When her eyes fluttered open, she felt a sharp pain lance through the left side of her face. Her hands were tied behind her back and a gag was stuffed into her mouth, making her choke on the fabric. For a few moments, she had forgotten what had happened, until the memory flooded back and hit her like a train.


Her heart began to race and her eyes darted around in a panic as she realized she was stuck in a tiny space of complete darkness. Whatever it was, they were moving, and realization dawned on her. They had stuffed her in the trunk of a car. Screaming into her gag, she kicked against the inner walls of the trunk and thrashed in protest.


A muffled yell reached her ears, “Shut the fuck up if you ever want to get out!”


She immediately stopped her movements, forcing herself to remain still as her breathing became labored. She pressed her eyes closed and just wished it would all go away. ‘Let it be a dream,’ Buffy pleaded to herself.


After what seemed like forever, the car came to a stop and she heard doors opening. The trunk of the car opened abruptly, and she blinked to adjust her eyes from the utter darkness of her space.


“Well, well, well,” a man said as he came up to inspect their new arrival. “Drusilla, looks like you got yourself a little bumpkin. Where’d you get her?”


“The bad girl spied on us,” she replied with a creepy look. “I think Angelus will be pleased.”


“Lindsay! Get your ass over here and help us out, man!” someone yelled from the other direction. Buffy watched all of this with observant eyes, seeing the man leave to go help elsewhere.


Suddenly, Drusilla reached forward and put a bruising grip on Buffy’s shoulder, yanking her out of the trunk carelessly. She pulled Buffy close so that she could look squarely into her eyes. “If you so much as try anything, he’ll make it much more painful than it’s already going to be.”


Buffy shot her a defiant look and lifted her chin, but didn’t make a move or a sound. She let this ‘Drusilla’ lead her forward harshly, taking that moment to observe her surroundings.


It looked like a dark warehouse that was grey all over. The car had come in from a ramp that was leading up. There were no windows, and Buffy figured they might be underground. Drusilla yanked her forward harder, and Buffy shot her a cold glare. They walked toward large double doors, and one of the other guys reached to unlock it. When it opened, Buffy saw that there were huge stairs leading down.


“Hurry up!” Drusilla barked at the others as they took hold of Buffy’s arms which were still tied behind her back. Buffy could hear the loud clamors and shouts of the people below.


When she reached the bottom of the stairs, she was face to face with dozens of people. She tried to control her fear and look defiant, but the intense looks at their new intruder made her shiver. They were all seated at tables scattered around the big open space, and she glanced around to see numerous hallways branching off from the main room. The dim lights of the cheap lamps gave it an eerie feeling and she shuddered from the cold.


She mumbled against her gag at Drusilla, trying to speak. Drusilla teased her as she put her hands up to her ear and pretended she couldn’t hear. “What did you say? Speak up,” she giggled.


“Drusilla! Where the hell have you been?” a voice boomed. A man stepped forward and from the way he walked and the crowd parted, she knew he was the leader. Buffy looked up at him with trepidation in her eyes. He spotted her and his angry mood melted into a sick smile.


“And who did you bring back?” Angelus asked, as he reached out to run his finger along her cheek. She pulled her head back away from his touch and he quickly reached out to slap her harshly against the face. She screamed out against the cloth as her head flew back in pain. “Don’t make it harder on yourself,” he whispered evilly with a chilling smile.


“She saw me off someone,” Drusilla replied at ease.


Angelus looked annoyed. “Dru. How many times do I have to tell you NOT to kill everyone we rob. Do you know how many people are out to get us?”


“But he was ugly,” she defended.


He sighed. “I don’t know what to do with you sometimes.”


“Mmmm, I do,” she purred as she leaned into him. He looked at her possessively and grabbed her closer by the waist, giving her a bruising kiss. She plastered herself against him, giving him a big open-mouthed kiss. Buffy turned away to hide from the sickening display.


Angelus flung Drusilla back after a moment, as if she was disposable. Drusilla didn’t seem to mind as she wiped her lips. He came back over to Buffy, and pulled the gag out of her mouth.


Buffy coughed as she tried to adjust her mouth and ignore the soreness she felt.


Angelus grabbed her roughly by the chin and leaned in before demanding, “What’s your name?”


She looked up at him with fiery eyes and refused to speak, fuming.


“Unless you want some permanent scars on that pretty little face of yours, you’ll answer me when I speak to you,” he ground out.


“Buffy,” she spit out, chest heaving from a combination of fear and adrenaline.


The men and women in the background burst into laughter at her name. “Buffy, huh?” Angelus asked. “You must be from the valley with a name like that.”


He looked at the two men who held her and ordered, “Just tie her up against the wall or something. I’ll play with her later.”


His words sent a flood of fear through her and above all, a sickening feeling. ‘What are they going to do to me?’ she panicked to herself. Before she could open her mouth to yell or scream, Angelus stuffed the cloth back into her mouth, and she thrashed against her suppressors unsuccessfully as they tied her down.


“Cordy! Come watch the new girl,” Angelus ordered. A curvy brunette walked over and Angelus slapped her ass in passing.


She shot him a look that no one else, but Buffy, saw. Buffy glared at Cordelia, wondering what this woman was going to do.


“Relax, Barbie. I’m not the one you should be afraid of,” she said as she saw the look on Buffy’s face. “Boy, are you ever going to regret the day you bumped into the likes of us,” she added as she took a seat near her and started looking at her nails.


Suddenly, the door flew open and a big group bound down the steps. Angelus looked up and rolled his eyes, “Great. The pain-in-the-ass is back!”


Buffy looked up where Angelus was looking, and saw a bleached-blonde man in a leather coat. From her side view, she could see he had sharp cheekbones, but that’s all she saw.


“Thanks for the welcome home, big poofter,” Spike said as he slapped Angelus harshly on the back. Angelus shot him a warning glare, but Spike just rolled his eyes and brought out a cigarette, starting to light it.


He took a puff before exhaling and asking, “So how much are we betting today?”


Angelus looked haughty at this remark and replied, “Well, seeing as I’ve won this entire week, I’ll let you set the stakes.”


Buffy looked confused at this exchange and shot Cordy a look as she mumbled against her gag. Without looking up, Cordy replied, “They’re both the leaders. The gang is split into two sides. Unfortunately, you landed on Angelus’s side like I did.”


She pondered these words, still confused at why a gang split into two sides was still one gang.


“You got lucky. I’m going to kick your ass today,” Spike gave him a matter-of-fact smirk.


“Yea whatever, bleached-wonder. What’ll it be?”


“20 grand,” Spike replied.


Angelus laughed. “That’s it? How about we up the stakes again? Play what we did last time.”


Spike raised his brow and straightened up at the challenge. “For who?”


“Faith,” Angelus replied with a smile.


“Hey! Are you two going to keep trading me back and forth? A girl gets confused with so much action!” Faith said as she stepped up to the two leaders who were staring each other down.


“And who do you want in exchange?” Angelus asked, ignoring Faith.


“Drusilla,” Spike replied evenly.


“No.”


“What’s the matter? Afraid you’re going to lose?” Spike challenged with a smirk.


“If you want to stake best fighters, then I want Illyria,” Angelus knew Spike wouldn’t agree. Illyria just stood in back next to Wesley, watching the exchange with expressionless eyes.


“Fine. Cordelia or Doyle for Faith,” Spike replied.


“You have got to be kidding me? I’m way better than Cordelia!” Faith exclaimed.


Cordelia shot up in her chair and glared at her. “Don’t start with me, butch girl.”


Spike turned to look at Cordelia, and for the first time, noticed the blonde tied to the wall with a gag in her mouth. He turned back to Angelus with an annoyed expression. “I thought we said no more members.”


“Hey, it was a mistake. Drusilla brought her in,” Angelus replied with a shrug. “Some valley barbie.”


Spike turned his head to the side in question. He walked over to Buffy slowly, a perusing look in his eyes. Her dress was smudged with dirt and her golden hair was disheveled. She looked like she had a rough time.


As he walked toward her, she could see his face more clearly. His sharp cheekbones were complimented by his penetrating blue eyes. He had a smirk on his face that made her shiver and feel violated. He moved slowly and she could see his muscles rippling underneath his duster. Her heartbeat began to pick up and she struggled to remain calm and resistant.


As he stalked closer to her, he could see the defiant fire in her eyes. Chuckling, he reached out to take out the gag, and she choked in relief.


“What’s your name?”


She looked up at him with a glare, and he raised his brow at her lack of response. He took another step until he was right in front of her, inches away. With a flick of his wrists, he swished out a small knife and poked her in the stomach with it. Leaning forward into her ear, he whispered, “I said, what is your name?”


At the feel of the tip of the blade prodding her dress over her stomach, she tensed and didn’t dare move. In a small voice that lacked of her previous defiance, she said, “I-it’s Buffy.”


He moved his head back and smirked, closing the blade and putting it away.


Angel came up behind him. “Spitfire, isn’t she?”


“Yea…,” Spike replied as he perused her body appreciatively. Buffy went back to her cold glares, fuming at the way they were treating her.


“What the hell do you people want from me?” she demanded.


Everyone in the room laughed at her brazen attitude, standing there with her hands tied behind her back but refusing to give in.


“Tell you what, Angelus. Cordelia and Barbie for Faith,” Spike decided.


“Hey! You just said Cordelia or Doyle for Faith. You can’t add another person,” Angelus exclaimed. “If we’re exchanging toys too, then I want Harmony.”


“Deal,” Spike replied.


“Spike!!” Harmony exclaimed. “How can you trade me?” She came up to him and plastered herself against him, running her hands across his chest seductively.


“Sorry Harm.” He pushed her back and he took off his duster, while everyone backed away from Angelus and Spike. They circled each other, ready to fight.


“What?! They’re fighting for women??” Buffy exclaimed in disbelief.


Cordelia looked at her and answered, “Well, it’s women this time. They usually bet to get better members regardless, but you seem to be an exception.”


“What do you mean?” Buffy asked, frustrated.


“Well, it’s obvious Spike didn’t trade you for your adept gang skills, since you have none.”


Buffy looked horrified as the idea settled into her. They were trading her around like some whore. She shut her eyes in disgust as she saw her fate laid out before her. ‘I have to get out of here,’ she told herself with determination.



~*~*~*~

~*~*~*~


She struggled with the ropes that bound her wrists, as the two leaders started to fight.


Cordelia saw Buffy’s movements and stood up. She came right up to her and Buffy stilled when she saw the dark look in the woman’s eyes. Cordelia reached for the ropes and harshly yanked them tighter, re-binding them painfully so that they cut into Buffy’s wrists. Buffy cried out in pain, and Cordelia gave her a menacing look.


“Learn something. Just because I talk to you, does not make me your friend. I may look like an ex-valley girl, but that only gives me the ability to cut you ten ways with a nail file, got it?” Cordelia twisted Buffy’s arm in an odd direction, making Buffy’s body arch as she gasped.


She closed her eyes and nodded quickly, relieved when Cordelia released her arm. Opening her eyes and trying to regain her composure, she shot Cordelia a look of hate, which was returned with a smirk.


“Let’s go, peaches,” Spike said as he circled Angelus.


“Shut up and throw a hit,” Angelus retorted, circling and poised to fight.


‘Fine, you wanker,’ Spike thought before he lunged forward. He faked a right punch, leaning his body back slightly. Instead, he quickly threw out his left fist in an uppercut to Angelus’ jaw. Surprised, Angelus staggered back from the blow. He regained his footing and gave Spike a smirk as he dabbed his face to see if there was blood.


“The pup’s been practicing, I see.”


Spike’s eyes darkened at his insult. Angelus quickly came forward and threw two punches, one with each fist. As Spike’s head reeled back from the impact, Angelus gave him a hefty kick to the gut, making Spike double over.


The members around them began cheering for their respective leaders, and Buffy watched all this with disgust. They were like ridiculous animals, hooting and hollering at a violent display of male superiority. She pulled at the ropes to adjust herself, the rough material digging into the sensitive skin around her wrists.


Spike’s hunched-over form rose, and he quickly gave his opponent a harsh backhanded blow, followed by a knee to the gut.


“Why are you guys split into two sides?” Buffy asked Cordelia with a scrunched brow. She flinched as she watched Angelus hit the floor and hit his head with a loud pang.


“We weren’t always. Angelus was the leader, but Spike started bringing in more money and getting more respect,” Cordelia replied as she continued watching the fight.


Buffy could hear the resounding crack in Angelus’ neck as he worked out the kink and shrugged off the fall like it was nothing.


Buffy furrowed her brows, “Why don’t they just split completely?”


“They know that the gang is better off together. They just like to have these male pissing contests to show the crowd who’s got the shit,” Cordelia said matter-of-factly.


“So they just sleep with all of the women?” Buffy asked with a scornful and disgusted tone.


Cordelia didn’t answer right away, face tight and eyes dark with malice. “No. Only the ones that come in with no skills,” she glared at Angelus.


She looked in the direction of Cordelia’s glare as her words began to register their meaning. Buffy closed her eyes in disgust, but they immediately shot open again at the sound of renewed cheers.


“Go in for the kill!” someone shouted.


Spike was curling his tongue behind his teeth, circling Angelus’ momentarily downcast body. Blood was running down the side of his mouth, and Buffy looked over to Angelus to see he was already bleeding too. Angelus jumped up and lunged at Spike, slamming him against a wall as the crowd parted to avoid the fury.


“You better hope Spike wins,” Cordelia said with a shake of her head.


“Why?” Her face flashed with a look of fearful hesitation.


“Let’s just say I don’t bruise easily, but I was left different shades of purple,” Cordelia spat out, arms folded and glaring at the ongoing fight.


“Oh my god,” Buffy whispered in disgust and disbelief. Cordelia’s implications must be only a mere shadow of what was to come if she couldn’t get herself out of here. She was surrounded and tied up. It seemed impossible, and her body desperately cried for escape. The ropes tug deeper into her wrists, and she thought she felt blood begin to surface. Buffy’s gaze darted between the two bloody and battling leaders, and wondered which one would be worse, or if there was a difference at all.


“Is Spike nicer?” Buffy asked, looking for a shred of hope but remembering the knife he pointed at her stomach.


“None of us are nice,” Cordelia replied as she turned to stare Buffy straight in the eyes. Buffy straightened herself and looked at Cordelia with a suspicious look.


“I know what you’re thinking. You’re thinking about how to get out of here, aren’t you?” she sneered knowingly. Buffy pursed her lips and didn’t reply, eyes becoming defiant.


“Well news flash: you’re never leaving. You’re only making it harder on yourself by getting your hopes up.” Cordelia leaned in closer and said in a low, solemn voice, “Once you step into this world, they never let you go.”


Both of their heads shot up at the sound of metal sliding against the cement floor. Connor had thrown a knife across the floor to Angelus, earning a chorus of angry yells from the other side. Angelus swiftly picked it up and lunged forward with a jab, but Spike craftily jumped back, avoiding a blade in his stomach by mere centimeters.


“You always did need other pointy objects to make yourself feel manly,” Spike taunted. As Angelus stabbed forward again, Spike stepped off to the side and quickly wrenched Angelus’ arm until the knife fell to the floor. Spike used his free arm to throw a hard punch to the face, and another, and another.


Angelus roared in anger and threw Spike off of him. As Spike stumbled back, Angelus rushed forward and whipped Spike’s legs from under him with a low spin kick, sending him roughly to the ground and smashing his head against the cement. Spike shut his eyes as sharp pain lanced through his head.


Licking the blood off his lips, Angelus picked up the knife and came to hover over Spike’s form. He stood above him, both of his legs on each side of Spike’s body.


“Oh look, I won again,” he grinned cockily. “I guess I’ll be the one enjoying Barbie, huh?”


As Angelus was about to plunge the knife down into Spike’s stomach, Spike swiftly swung out his own knife and stabbed it forward, stopping a mere inch away from Angelus’ crotch. Angelus froze in his almost-kneeled position, his own knife pointed at Spike’s chest, both of them in risk of a stabbing.


“You willing to lose your dick? Because I’m thinking a stomach wound won’t be so bad,” Spike said smugly. “It’s not like I haven’t been stabbed before.”


They stayed like that for a few moments, the crowd hushed to an eerie silence as the waited for the next move.


Angelus’ eyes fueled with anger and he threw his knife down loudly, stepping back and turning to leave as he cursed under his breath.


Spike’s people jeered and yelled for their victory, while Buffy’s emotions bounced between relief and trepidation. This only meant she was one step closer to him and many steps away from finding a way out.


Spike leaped up onto his feet with a cocky smile and the members proceeded to give him praising slaps on the back. He brushed them off and locked eyes with Buffy, sending her a leer. Stalking over to her, she felt a jolt rush through her body. Fear? Anxiety? Or something else?


She tried to look at him with bold eyes, but her heart was beating a mile a minute. She really hoped he couldn’t sense her fear. Buffy tried to control her deep breaths to appear calm, but Spike noticed her little pants of fear and lifted his brow.


He looked at the sparkles that seemed to gleam in her hazel orbs and grinned. Without looking away from her, he ordered, “Cordelia, move your stuff to the east wing. And find Barbie here a temp lockdown room.”


Buffy’s façade faltered at the words ‘lockdown room.’ ‘Are they going to dump me in some dark hole?’ she thought with a panic. She absolutely hated confined spaces. She once had a dream that she was stuck in a coffin.


Spike began to turn and walk away, but Buffy blurted, “Wait!”


Spike turned back to her in surprise, sending her a questioning look. “Yes, your majesty?” he said mockingly.


“If you let me go, I can get you money – a lot of it!”


The crowd burst out into laughter and Spike chuckled at her naiveté.


He waited for the crowd to quiet down before he continued with a cocky attitude, “Listen, pet, you’re not going anywhere. Do you really think we need your petty cash?”


Buffy looked defeated at her poor attempt at negotiation. She was at her wit’s end, and for the first time since waking up in the trunk of a car, she let her eyes brim with desperate tears. Spike’s expression hardened at the sight and he quickly turned away from her, storming off through the corridors.


~


Cordelia was roughly dragging one of Buffy’s bound arms along through the hallway. “Where are you taking me?” Buffy’s voice was filled with fear as the countless images of dark pits and torture chambers flashed through her mind.


“Why, us girls get to go room shopping,” Cordelia said cynically.


It was a straight and long hallway – one of four – two hallways for each side of the gang. The lights were dim and the doors were all the same sort of green stone, giving the place a creepy horror movie look. It didn’t help that they were underground. Buffy’s attention shot up to a set of double doors made of marble.


“Keep moving. That’s Spike’s room. You’ll get to re-visit it soon enough,” Cordelia said in an implicative tone.


Buffy’s eyes darted around in panic, wondering where she could run and how far she could get before they took her down. Cordelia just gave her arm a yank, and pulled her to a complete stop in front of one of those green doors.


“If you don’t want to have major facial re-constructive surgery, then I suggest that you stop trying to plot your getaway. I would take you down before you even moved a step, and if by some freak chance I broke a nail and let you move three steps, someone else would kill you before you could say ‘Loreal,’” Cordelia finished with a smirk as she turned the key in the lock.


She pushed the door open and shoved Buffy in roughly. Buffy staggered forward and tried not to fall, and the sight that she met was shocking, to say the least. It was a small room, but the carpet was a plushy crimson red sea. She moved her gaze up, mouth gaping open at the sight of the clean twin bed adorned with silky ivory sheets. The room was connected to a bathroom, and she walked forward to peer inside it. Everything was adorned with marble, and though very simple, she was shocked at the quality of it all.


“This is the lockdown room?” Buffy asked incredulously. Her heart actually did a jump for joy. She was relieved beyond words that she hadn’t been shoved into some grimy pit with rats crawling all over it.


“What did you expect? A page out of Pirates of the Carribean?” Cordelia lifted her brow. “There are no windows and no weapons in here. Don’t bother trying to get out.” Cordelia took out a gun from behind her and pointed it at Buffy.


Buffy froze at the sight of a gun.


“Turn around,” Cordelia ordered. Buffy complied slowly. Cordelia walked up to Buffy’s back and shoved the end of the gun into her back, eliciting a gasp. She used the other hand to reach down and untie Buffy’s ropes. After Buffy’s hands were free, Cordelia stepped backwards towards the door, still pointing the gun at her.


Cordelia stepped outside of the doorway, but before she closed the heavy door on Buffy, she added, “Someone will be back to get you later.”


“Wait-,” Buffy whipped around, but the door slammed in her face.


After the door shut, Buffy sprang over to it and started to pull on the edges, since there were no handles from the inside. After her biggest effort, it wouldn’t budge and she gave up, exhaling and flopping down on the edge of the bed. She ran her fingers along the silk, amazed that this is what a captive got.


Snapping back to business, she stood up and rummaged the entire room for something she could use as a weapon. Cordelia was right – there was absolutely nothing. The room only had the bed and a bathroom which consisted of a toilet, sink and small shower.


Defeated again, she went to clean the dirt from her face. Looking in the mirror, she winced at the sight of herself and wondered if it was even worth the struggle. And then a memory flashed in her mind.


~


“Oh my god, Buffy!” Dawn cried as she saw her sister sitting in a hospital waiting room. Buffy’s face and hands were drenched with blood, as her cold and empty eyes stared down at the floor. Dawn’s eyes filled with tears at the sight and she ran forward, flinging her arms around her sister’s form.


Buffy blinked, barely noticing Dawn’s presence until now. “Dawn?” she asked in a hesitant voice, still in a daze.


Dawn began sobbing as she clutched Buffy close to her. Buffy snapped back to reality and her face trembled as she turned to hug Dawn back. With her little sister’s body shaking with sobs in her arms, the tears began to flow again, and they both sat there weeping heavily.


~


Still staring at herself in the mirror, she wiped the dirt off, much like she had cleaned the blood off of her face that day.


~


“I want Lorne, Gunn, and Cordelia to work the Hudson deal downtown,” Spike ordered.


“And the Brickes deal?” Wesley inquired.


“Darla and Faith,” he replied as he took his blood-stained shirt off and tossed it aside. He stepped into his large bathroom and turned on the faucet. Tossing water against his face, he washed the blood away without so much as flinching. Spike grabbed a towel and buried his face in it, before looking up at Wesley who was patiently waiting.


“I want you and Illyria to watch for any of Angelus’ tricks tonight,” Spike put on a smug look, “He’s probably pissing himself with anger - ain’t it grand?”


“The look on his face was priceless,” Wesley smiled. “But what do you want me to do about the girl?”


Spike smirked, “Have someone get her some food and then bring her to me.”


~


They had fed her a pretty decent meal and of course, she had eagerly devoured it all to satisfy her growling stomach. But her smile was quickly wiped away when the blue-haired girl came to drag her away. All she said was, “Come.” And Buffy couldn’t help but be terrified of this woman dressed in tight leather, a cold expression permanently plastered on her face.


As Illyria dragged Buffy down towards Spike’s room, Buffy’s mind frantically tried to think of what she could do. She came up with nothing. They approached the door, and Buffy started to thrash against Illyria in protest, “No! Stop! Don’t do this to me!”


Illyria tilted her head slightly to look at her, before pulling her hand back and giving Buffy a resounding slap to the face. The blow hit Buffy like a hard rock, and she fell back in pain, clutching her face on the floor as tears sprang to her eyes. Illyria pulled her up, opened the door, and shoved her inside.


Thrown on the floor, Buffy could hear the door shut loudly behind her. Tears overflowing onto her face, she looked up to find herself in a gigantic room, completely filled with expensive looking furniture. The carpet was also a deep crimson red, but the silky sheets were black instead of ivory. He had deep mahogany chests and drawers scattered along the walls, and even a small dining set sat to one side of the room. A big screen T.V. was built into the wall, directly in view from the king-sized bed.


She darted her eyes around to look for him, but he wasn’t in sight. And then she saw a door which she guessed was the bathroom. Her heart started jumping as she quickly wiped her tears and looked frantically for something in his room that she could pocket as a weapon. Buffy walked up to one of the mahogany chests and began to fumble around in it, when the bathroom door opened and she whipped around in alarm, eyes wide.


“Why hello, princess,” Spike greeted. He swaggered out of the bathroom in nothing but a pair of black, silky pj pants, his chest glimmering from the damp moisture of the shower. His hair was wet and tousled, and he rubbed a towel through it as he gave Buffy an amused look at the way she tensed up, and then he not-so-subtly perused her body.


She shot him a pure look of anger and tried to avoid looking at his chiseled chest, but it only made her heart pound faster at the implications of what was to come. “Don’t come near me,” she gritted out, backing against the drawers behind her, hands gripping the edges.


Spike smirked at her brass attitude, and started stalking over to her with a predatory look that sent a shiver of fear through her body. “I don’t think you quite understand the rules.” He moved closer and she inched towards the left, farther away from him. “I’m in control now, sweetheart.”


Before she could even blink, he had rushed up right in front of her, mere inches away from her face. She gasped at his close proximity and hit the drawer behind her. Spike grasped her wrists tightly against the chest of drawers and leaned in.


Panicking, Buffy started flailing and hitting Spike wherever she could, mostly on his bare chest. Her mind raced as she lashed out against him desperately.


“Stop thrashing, you chit!” Spike yelled as he tried to grab her arms and still her outburst.
He was finally able to wrap both of his arms strongly around her from the back, pulling her body to him in a tight grip.


Caving in, she whispered with her eyes closed, “Please don’t hurt me.”


“Only if you promise not to struggle,” Spike whispered into her ear in a smooth voice.


She shut her eyes tighter, and nodded slightly in defeat.


Spike let go of her and stepped away. Buffy was surprised at the sudden loss of contact. She opened one of her eyes hesitantly, before turning around to look at him in question.


He lifted his brow, amused, but not answering her surprised look. Instead he said, “Go take a shower and get cleaned up. You look like a mess.”


Her confused look melted into anger as she realized he was insulting her appearance and ordering her to look ‘presentable.’ She didn’t move from her spot.


“Do you want some help?” He waggled his brows at her with an amused look.


Buffy’s eyes widened and she tensed up more, nervously looking from the bathroom door to Spike. Seeing him start to step toward her again, she quickly opted to dart towards the bathroom door, enter it, and slam the door behind her in haste.


He thought to himself with a grin, ‘I’m gonna have fun with this one.’



~*~*~*~

A/N: WARNING: there is a RAPE in this chapter. If you don’t like that, please don’t read. I originally watered it down because I was worried about flames, only to find that it sucked that way and compromised the story.


~*~*~*~


At first, standing in the bathroom of her captor’s room, Buffy was hesitant that she should be taking off any of her clothes, even for a shower. But as she stood there and felt the sticky sweat clinging to her skin, clothes covered with filth, a shower was too good to pass up. Nervously eyeing the bathroom door, she quickly shed her clothes and jumped in under the stream.


The water hit her face and soaked her hair, but she remained tense and on edge. She scrubbed herself frantically and prayed that he wouldn’t come barging in at any moment. As the warm water cascaded down her body, the tension abated, soothing away all thoughts of where she was.


~


“I don’t understand what happened. You mean to say that some guy pulled a hit-and-run and Buffy just was lucky enough to be nearby and witness it all??” Hank screamed at the cop who was explaining the situation. Buffy had been covered with blood – her mother’s blood - and when Hank had tried to find out what the hell had happened, she lapsed back into her daze and wouldn’t speak. Now, she was sitting in a chair in the precinct seemingly oblivious to her father’s tirade. Dawn, by Hank’s orders, was told to go home while they dealt with the police department.


“Listen, sir, I don’t know the details, ok? We need to question your daughter so we can find out more about the driver who killed your wife,” the officer’s voice strained with impatience.


“When you first found her, she didn’t tell you??” Hank pressed in an unbelieving voice.


“All she said was that it was some guy named ‘Parker,’” the officer replied as he turned to get some paperwork.


Hank’s brows scrunched up in thought. ‘Parker…Parker, where have I heard that name before?’ His eyes widened in fury as he realized it was that moron that his daughter used to call a boyfriend. Whipping around, he stalked over to Buffy’s still form and grabbed her by the shoulders to shake her slightly.


“Buffy!” He shook his daughter, trying to snap her out of her daze. Buffy’s eyes snapped up, suddenly jolted out of her thoughts and she looked at her father in confusion.


“Daddy?” Buffy asked in a weak and confused voice.


“Buffy,” Hank tried to calm his angry tone as he gripped her shoulders, “Who did this??”


Her eyes welled up with tears and her lip trembled. “It was Parker…I let him kill her. It’s all my fault, Daddy. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry…” she babbled as her body broke down into sobs against her confused father.


~


Buffy pressed her eyes shut and tilted her head up to let the water stream against her face. The memory was vivid in her mind - all the memories were vivid in her mind, but she had somehow managed to feel disconnected from them. It was a life she no longer wanted to know. She laughed to herself ironically at how her plan to start over had failed so quickly.


Turning off the shower, Buffy suddenly remembered where she was, and her body tensed again in realization. Sticking her head out from behind the shower door, she scanned the bathroom for a towel before grabbing one off the nearby rack.


Buffy wrapped the towel around herself and got out. To her utter surprise, she saw her duffel bag sitting a few feet from the door. She thought her bag had been left back in the alley, but more shockingly, she hadn’t even heard him open the door.


~


Spike was lying on his back watching television from his bed. He had one hand behind his head and the other busy flipping channels with the remote. He heard the shower stop and smirked to himself. ‘Finally,’ he thought. She had taken forever, and seemingly didn’t even notice when he had opened the door to throw in her duffel bag. Stretching out with a smile, he couldn’t wait for the fun to begin.


When he heard the door open, he quickly shut his eyes to feign sleep. Spike felt her pause at the door in hesitation. After a moment, she stepped out quietly and tiptoed across the room.


~


Buffy moved lightly and prayed he wouldn’t wake up. Suddenly he stirred, shifting in his sleep and causing his silk pants to ride lower on his hips. Her breath caught in her throat as panic laced through her, but she couldn’t help staring at the way his bare chest moved up and down lightly along with his breathing. Her eyes followed the contours of his muscles down to his hipbone and then the bulge of his pants.


“See something you like?” he asked suddenly with his eyes still closed. She gasped in surprise and quickly plastered herself against the wall, putting more distance between them.


He opened his eyes and gave her a wicked grin, letting her know that he had been awake the entire time. Fury ran through her veins at his cocky attitude and his mind games. Her heart raced as she remained tense with her back against the wall.


“Come here,” he said as he began to stalk over to her slowly. Spike perused her body and chuckled at her obvious statement. She was wearing a long-sleeved loose sweater and jeans – probably the least revealing thing she had in that little bag of hers.


Buffy refused to move. She tried to keep the defiant glare on her face, and to not gaze down at his chest. Her heart raced faster and her breathing began to intensify as he came within three feet of her. Buffy quickly ran left towards the door, but Spike lunged forward and slammed both his hands down on the wall on either side of her.


Spike had her trapped against the wall and she couldn’t help trembling behind closed eyes as she felt his body inches away from hers. His breath was lightly brushing against her face and she tensed as she felt his erection press up against her lower stomach. She began to struggle against him, trying to push him off of her, but he fiercely grabbed her hands and pulled them down to her side, stilling them.


“Don’t do this,” she ground out in an angry, but fearful tremor.


“And why not?” he said in a silky voice against the skin of her neck.


“Because it’s sick and wrong,” she replied shakily. Buffy shut her eyes as she felt him brush his lips against the side of her neck, commanding herself to not react.


At her words, he pulled back and gave her an amused look. “Trust me, princess, it won’t feel so wrong,” he said in a low, sexual voice.


He saw the panic in her eyes, her chest rising and lowering as she breathed deeply. His gaze traveled up to her collarbone, and her neck, and finally settled on her face. Her cheeks had a clean fresh glow, and her hair was still damp and wavy. He found himself staring at her mouth and the way her little breaths came out between her slightly parted lips. He looked up and saw her staring back at him with a mixture of fear, defiance, and he could’ve sworn a bit of lust.


Without wasting time, Spike leaned in to give her a demanding kiss, pushing his tongue into her mouth and pulling her waist roughly to him. As her wrist was freed, she brought it up to smack him in the chest, trying to disconnect his kiss with a muffled protest. He ignored her resistance as his tongue pushed in to explore her mouth. Spike picked her body up firmly without pulling away from the kiss, and he strode over to the bed while she fought in his arms. He tossed her down on the mattress and looked down at her with a predatory gleam in his eyes.


Buffy gasped for air as he threw her down and broke the kiss, scrambling to move off the bed and run away. But he was too quick for her, grabbing her by both shoulders and slamming her down against the mattress again. Spike pinned her beneath him and said in a low voice and a look of pure lust, “You promised not to struggle.”


She closed her eyes, feeling sick at the way his silky voice managed to both disgust her with his words and make her stomach clench.


Her eyes shot open and she gasped at the feel of his cool fingers dipping into the front of her pants. Her hands came up to stop him, but as his finger plunged in between her legs, she involuntarily arched up. He grinned, pleased at her reaction, and he began thrusting two fingers into her folds.


She let out a cry – a cross between unwanted pleasure and desperation. His fingers moving inside her heat was too much to control. A single tear rolled down the side of her face as the conflicting emotions seemed to tear her apart. Buffy felt incredibly sickened that a part of her was attracted him, that her body fought her mind. And she HATED him for making her feel this way.


Spike added another finger into her and pumped, as he hardened even more from the way she was gasping for control. He could see her willing her body to remain tense and unresponsive – passive. It only turned him on even more. With the other hand, he began pulling at her clothes roughly.


“No, don’t!” she cried, desperately pushing his hands away from her sweater. Panic laced through her at the idea of being naked in front of him. His eyes hardened at her plea and he violently tore at the fabric, ripping it from her body as she let out a choked sob, but she refused to let the tears flow free. She shuddered from the feel of the cool air against her chest, and felt his hand move up to cup her breast roughly as his fingers remained pumping inside her. Her mind cried out, hating him for trying to break her resolve.


Spike extracted his fingers and her body arched at the loss. Slumping back down against the mattress, she willed herself to stop trembling from the way her body was singing in dissatisfaction. She shot him a hateful glare, one filled with watery, unshed tears. He gave her a smirk as he yanked off her pants and tore her panties off swiftly. Shutting her eyes at the degrading feeling that permeated her senses, she didn’t notice that he had tossed his pants aside until she opened her eyes again. Looking down, she felt a jolt of fear and awe at the sight of his hardened cock. Buffy closed her eyes again in shame at her own reaction.


Spike gave her an arrogant smirk as he leaned down to position himself at her entrance, prying apart her closed legs. He swooped in for a bruising kiss before plunging into her in one swift motion.


She cried out at the sudden invasion and reflexively grasped his shoulders, digging her fingernails into him.


He groaned and clenched his jaw at the feel of her heat around him.


She began hitting him wherever she could, but he just leered at her, obviously turned-on by her defiance. He grabbed her wrists and pinned them over her head.


Abruptly, he began pumping in and out as she willed herself not to move against him. Buffy could feel the sensations building up inside her at the feel of his cock grinding against her inner walls. She hated him, and used her fury to disconnect herself from her body. He noticed happily that her body had become slightly responsive, her hips thrusting up occasionally as he plunged down.


“What did I tell you,” he taunted in a low, sexual voice. Buffy was about to thrash out against him in anger, but he started driving in deeper, hitting her spot and causing her body to quake. She grasped his muscular arms and let out short pants as she felt her control begin to unravel.


The sensations built up, threatening to strangle them both, his cock filling her, her heat strangling him. Gazing down at her cloudy expression, Spike wanted to lean down and kiss her, taste her lips, her skin – devour her. But he couldn’t. It could only be sex. With his face dangerously close to her lips with each thrust, he fought the urge and focused on his movements.


Spike knew she was near her peak when her body began to tremor, and he began to pump into her roughly, focusing on his own release. He closed his eyes as he felt her clench against him, tightening the feeling of her wet heat around his shaft. He let himself go and drove into her with force, releasing into her sporadically as she began to spasm in her own orgasm. Buffy cried out in involuntary pleasure and tilted her head up, gasping for air and clutching the sheets. He let out a primal roar as he spilled into her one last time.


Spike slumped down on top of her with a satisfied groan.


Disgusted with herself and fury evident in her eyes, Buffy tried to move, but Spike’s heavy body lay on top of her, his head between her breasts. After a moment, Spike rolled off of her and pulled out. He moved close to her ear and whispered, “I told you it would feel good.” Rolling to the side to lie down beside her, he shut his eyes and adjusted himself for sleep, not bothering to cover up his nudity.


His words laced through her like a knife, making her feel sick at the way her body was humming with satisfaction. Tears finally flowing free, she turned on her side and pulled up a sheet to cover herself. She remained tense on the bed, hoping he would fall asleep soon and prayed she could make a run for it.


~


Buffy waited for two torturous hours until the clock in his room showed 4 am. She hoped that everyone would be asleep by then, and luckily, Spike was in a deep slumber. Slowly and lightly, she inched her way off the bed, stopping whenever he moved. Glancing at him nervously, she inched her way to the bathroom where her bag of clothes were. Once inside, she threw on another pair of pants and a tank top, face filled with fury at the memory of her torn sweater. Looking up into the mirror, she saw herself, and shame washed over her. She felt like she could have done more to stop him, but hadn’t.


Pushing away her thoughts for now, she moved slowly out of the bathroom and tiptoed her way over to the door. Spike turned in his sleep, his right arm coming around to hit the other side of the bed – the side she was just on. Her breath hitched in her throat as she prayed he didn’t wake up. Hearing him mumble but fall back into a calm slumber, Buffy finally worked her way over to the door. Her heart pounded wildly as she spent a good two minutes carefully turning the handle without making it squeak. Spike appeared to be completely out still, and she flashed his sleeping form a cold look before turning back around and slipping out of his room.


~


Outside in the hall, everything was quiet. She looked both ways and didn’t see anyone. She turned right and started running lightly, going towards the main room. At any moment, someone could appear in the hallway and she would have nowhere to hide. She could feel her heart practically pounding out of her chest. All she heard was the rhythmic beats vibrating through her head as she ran away from his room, hoping to never come back.


Buffy almost reached the main room. She could see the clearing in front of her. Desperation filled her at the relief of seeing the stairs that led up to the door in the distance. A voice boomed out, and she halted in her steps and flung herself flat against the wall.


The voice was coming from the main room, but she could tell it was off to the left, and her position was safe from view.


“And what were his exact orders?” a male voice asked.


“He wants us to botch Spike’s two deals tomorrow, hopefully get his members caught in the process,” a familiar voice answered. Buffy’s mind searched for remembrance, and then she realized it was that guy who had appeared as soon as Drusilla opened the trunk – Lindsay.


“In that case, my pleasure,” the guy answered with obvious glee.


“Riley, what did I tell you about letting your hate cloud your judgment?” Lindsay asked with a smile. “You might just get your ass beat again.”


‘Riley’ huffed. “I’ll get Spike back. I’m counting on it.”


The two men pushed back their chairs and stood.


Buffy remained plastered with her back against the wall, trying to control her breathing as the silence increased her fear. Were they coming in her direction? She remembered something Cordelia said about each gang having two separate hallways. Buffy hoped to God that they wouldn’t come her way for some reason. Hearing their descending footsteps, she waited for what seemed like forever.


When she was fairly sure they had gone, she stepped out into the main room cautiously. She almost cried out with relief when she saw the empty room, not a single person in sight. The door was so close now. She was just a couple feet away from the stairs. Buffy begin to move with haste, darting into a full-on frantic run. She took the stairs two steps at a time, and reached the top. The possibility of being caught threatened to strangle her as she reached out to yank the old double doors. They opened and Buffy almost felt her heart flip. She started running out into the warehouse, never looking back down into that trap that they called their home. Until she ran right into two brunettes in leather.


She gasped and stopped in her steps, almost falling over at the sudden halt. They whipped around and looked at her with scowls.


“Who the hell are you?” one of them spat out, reaching down to her side for her gun.


Buffy panicked and she tried to run past them before the woman could lift her gun, but the other was too fast. She grabbed Buffy by the wrist and whipped her body violently back towards them.


Buffy tensed as she felt the end of the gun on her temple.


“Oh wait!” the other girl exclaimed in realization. “She must be Spike’s new toy. I heard there was a new captive today.”


The woman with the gun had an amused smile, “Really? Should we take the little runaway to Angelus then?”


Buffy’s eyes widened in panic. She was not only caught, but these women were obviously from Angelus’ side. Fear rose within her at the idea.


“No! Please don’t,” Buffy pleaded, forgetting all resolves of defiance.


“What do you think, Eve?” the woman with the gun still pointed at Buffy asked. “Maybe I’ll just blow her brains out, ruin Spike’s fun that way. I think Angelus would like that.”


“Nah. I don’t want to have to clean up the shit afterwards,” Eve replied as she stared at Buffy with an amused look.


“Not like you’re not use to cleaning up shit,” a sudden voice jumped in from behind them.


The three of them looked up at the intruding voice, and found two other women approaching. The speaker was a blonde, and the other was Illyria.


“Oh look, Lilah,” Eve continued sarcastically as she looked at the blonde, “Darla’s back for more,” she turned to look at Illyria with a smug smile, “and she brought her body guard this time.”


“Are you testing me?” Illyria asked in a low voice. She gave Eve a deadly look that melted the amused expression right off of her face.


Buffy’s gaze shot back and forth between the women. Eve and Lilah on one side with her, and Darla and Illyria on the other. Remembering the sting of Illyria’s earlier slap, Buffy stepped back in the opposite direction from her.


“I believe,” Darla stepped forward slowly, “that the new girl belongs to us?” With a challenging look, she went face to face with Lilah. “Or are you breaking code? Because I would love to see your ass get beat on by all of us.”


Lilah’s tight expression lit up with furious eyes. Grudgingly, she put away her gun. Motioning for Eve to follow, the two women shot them hateful glares before turning to leave.


Darla watched them leave and then turned to inspect Buffy for the first time. “So you’re our new little addition.” She circled around her as Buffy remained still, knowing she was in for it.


Darla stopped in front of her and gave her a smile. She said, “You made a big mistake, sweetie,” before flinging her fist forward to smash Buffy in the face. Buffy screamed in pain as she fell to the ground. The intensity almost knocked her out, and her hazy mind wasn’t fully registering she was being dragged on the ground. Dragged back down underground, back to her trap.


~


She felt a pain in her face and groaned. Eyes fluttering open slowly, she felt her heart drop when she realized she was back in the lockdown room. Tears threatening to spill, she got up and ran to the bathroom, and vomited into the toilet. There was no particular reason, but that yesterday was something so perverse and hopeless that she felt sick just from thinking about it. Buffy realized that yesterday, she was nowhere close to escaping. She didn’t even have a clue how far underground they were. She was stuck here. And that idea finally began to sink in.



Buffy got in the shower, but no amount of warm, soothing water could make her forget her one overlying thought. ‘I hate him. And I won’t let him win. I won’t let him break me.’



~*~*~*~


A/N: Ok, before we start flaming, I am in NO WAY saying people who are raped enjoy it. DEFINITELY NOT. I’m saying that Buffy and Spike have an initial attraction, and Buffy can’t help it if her body betrays her. The sex progression is a very important aspect of how they develop. You’ll have to make a decision as to whether or not you want to stick around for the end result. Either way, I appreciate you reading :) but no flames, just back away kindly.

A/N: I thank the people who are sticking around/waiting impatiently or patiently for my updates – sorry for the long waits! Ashlee gets credit for Spike’s line denoted by *


Breakdown so far: Spike’s side = Illyria, Wesley, Darla, Lorne, Gunn, Harmony, Faith, Cordelia, and Buffy. Angel’s side = Drusilla, Lindsay, Riley, Connor, Lilah, Eve, Doyle. (10-8 after Angelus’ current loss)


~*~*~*~


Spike woke when he reached over and found nothing. Briefly, his mind questioned whether it had been reality or imagination. Through squinted eyes, he saw the imprint her body had left next to him and the concaved shape in the pillow where her head had been, but the sheets were cold.


It was no surprise. Spike had expected her to run - the fire he had seen in her eyes told him so. He was amused, like he had expected he would be, but somehow, the amused laugh in his head turned…a bit…bitter.


That memory flashed through his head, the one he thought he had long gotten over, and he clenched his jaw to suppress it. Stretching his neck in tense motions, he flung the covers off his body and jumped to his feet. He hoped a shower would relax him, because she did not want to see him aggravated. It would only be worse for her that way.


~


She stared at the mirror…again. It seemed she was always staring at herself in the mirror lately. Her expression had long since lost the pep she used to possess.


~


“Fucking find the bastard and arrest him already, damn it!” Hank yelled into the phone before slamming it down harshly.


Buffy was lying face down on her bed. She had been there all afternoon. As a matter of fact, she hardly moved from that spot in the past few days, ever since it happened. She heard her father’s final yell and a loud slam. But she knew the concern in his voice wasn’t because he was wracked with a broken heart over Joyce – it was because he hated the idea that someone thought they could mess with what was his. Joyce, after all, was his wife, and a respectable one in the eyes of his colleagues.


Buffy couldn’t even remember when they had stopped loving each other. Their demeanors grew curt and formal. Only with her children did Joyce turn into the warm heart she really was. They never divorced; they stayed together for the sake of the family, the ‘children,’ and for the sake of Hank’s reputation.


“Buffy!” her father’s angry yell came closer. He was marching up the stairs. She remained unmoving, ignoring him. He flung the door open, and ordered, “Get up.”


“Why,” she asked quietly with disinterest.


“Because you’ve been locked up in here for three days! You’ve missed school and your stupid counselors keep calling here! This isn’t some excuse to freeload, Buffy!” Hank lectured in a stern voice.


Her eyes widened incredulously. She shifted so that she could look at Hank with a hurt and angry expression. “Freeload?? How can you say that?” she ground out in a trembling voice. “Mom is dead,” the known statement questioned his ridiculous accusation.


Not liking her accusatory tone, Hank raised his voice, “And whose fault is that, Buffy??”


Silence permeated the room as Buffy took in his words. Her face contorted into an expression of pain as her heart broke. It was exactly what she had been dreading to hear for the past three days. The thing was, she believed it – she believed it was her fault. And now her own father just threw it in her face.


She choked out a sob and started to rush to her feet. Hank’s expression faltered for a minute – almost regretting what he had said, but as Buffy pushed past him to run out the door, he demanded, “Where are you going?”


Buffy didn’t respond, tears running down her face. She just ran down the stairs and out of her house as her screaming father’s voice faded, but his accusatory question was already burned into her mind.


When she finally reached Willow’s house, the tears were long gone. Her best friend saw her and Buffy didn’t have to say anything – she just ran into Willow’s embrace. Willow waited for Buffy to cry on her shoulder, but it never came. Willow pulled back with a worried look, and saw, in Buffy’s eyes, a trace of emptiness that wasn’t there before.


~


The days after that were too much to bear, to the point that it had gutted her, wiped her emotions away.


Until now. They had made her feel fear once again, the kind she only ever had when her mother’s life flashed before her eyes. She felt contempt and bitterness towards them, towards him, and Buffy realized it wasn’t just because of what they had done to her, but also because she preferred the numbness, and he stole it from her.


Was she sick? Demented? Was there something wrong with her? How could she have reacted like that? To him? Her face twisted in anguish as the shame flooded through her body. She willed the memories away, but she kept remembering the way her body responded, and she felt like throwing up again.


Her body began to shake, and her face showed her resistance as she fought the oncoming tears. It would be so easy to just let go and let the anguish slide down her face, but she fought it. She started to convulse for air, gripping the edges of the counter.


The sound of a door opening loudly jolted her upright, and she snapped out of it, quickly wiping the barely-shed tear away from the corner of her eye. Her heart started jumping as she braced herself for whoever had come into her room. ‘Please don’t be him,’ she thought inwardly, but logic seemed to tell her that it was unlikely since he would make someone bring her to him.


“Let’s go!” a familiar voice barked at her.


The bathroom door flung open to reveal Cordelia, looking impatient. She dropped a large bag on the ground and threw a bundle of clothing in her hands at Buffy. “Get dressed,” she ordered.


Buffy caught the bundle, and looked down at it in confusion. She pulled the clothing apart to see what it was. Her jaw gaped open as she stared at the outfit. “Leather?!” she asked in disbelief. They wanted her to dress like them. “I’ll look whorish!”


Cordelia looked insulted, put her hands on her hips, and demanded, “Are you saying I look like a whore?”


Buffy looked her up and down. Leather catsuit. “Whore? No. Dominatrix? Yes.”


Cordelia gave her a tight smile, “As long as it’s dominating.” With that, she slammed the bathroom door shut violently. “And hurry up!” she yelled as she folded her arms in impatience.


~


Buffy closed her eyes in disgust. She felt cheap. Cordelia had made her put on loads of make-up, especially to cover up the nasty bruise on her face from Darla’s punch. She felt Cordelia’s grip tighten around her arm and her eyes shot open as she was being pulled out of the room.


“W-where are we going?” Buffy said, slightly panicked.


“Training for Dummies 101,” Cordelia replied, still looking ahead as she pulled Buffy down the hallway.


Buffy halted and resisted her pull, “What?! What training??” She was in outright panic as a thought flitted through her mind. ‘Dear God, please don’t let it be that kind of training,’ she inwardly begged. The thought of a nasty group of men taking their turn at her made her want to keel over. If her shame and disgust was pushed that far, she’d rather just end it.


“You’re going to learn how to fight,” Cordelia replied.


Buffy was shocked. Her mind did a double take. “I’m going to learn how to fight?” she asked disbelievingly, mouth gaping open. ‘Like fight fight? Would they be stupid enough to teach a captive to fight?’


Cordelia let her cold demeanor slip for a second, and she gave Buffy a mischievous smile. “It’s the best part. You’re going to learn how to kick some ass.”


Cordelia resumed her task of dragging her down the hall, not giving her a chance to ask more. Buffy didn’t really understand it yet. Confused thoughts whirled around in her mind, but something had sparked at those words. Hope.


~


Cordelia dragged them down a flight of stairs that Buffy had never even noticed. A chill went through her as she thought about the fact that they were going even deeper underground. Just how far did this place go? She realized that she didn’t even know where they were at all.


“Where are we?” Buffy asked hesitantly, referring to their destination.


“The training room is just down here. It’s where everyone comes together to fight and train.”


She could hear the loud jeers and chants inside, and the image of Angelus and Spike fighting flashed through her mind. Suddenly, the idea of training didn’t sound so great anymore. Cordelia opened the door, and the shouts became louder. With a worried brow and a rapidly beating heart, she reluctantly let Cordelia pull her in. She observed the group of people standing in a circle around two guys.


“Are you kidding me, sunshine?” Lorne taunted as he circled Doyle. “That all you got?”


Doyle gave him a tight glare before lunging forward, jumping up slightly, and smashing his fist down onto Lorne’s jaw. Lorne’s head snapped back abruptly from the harsh blow, and people on Angelus’ side taunted at their upper hand.


Buffy and Cordelia went unnoticed, since everyone was so wrapped up in the fight, except for a pair of blue eyes, standing far off to the side of the large gym-like room. He took in her appearance - her black leather pants were skin tight. The black plunging tank gave him a nice view of her breasts, pushed up involuntarily by the constraining leather. His gaze wandered up her body, and he felt familiar feelings of lust. His eyes settled on her face, and his brow creased in surprise. Her eyes were lined with black, her hair slicked with gel into straight strands, her glossy-red lips glistened. She looked like a completely different person, until he saw her cringe at a deafening crack of a bone. The look of vulnerability in her eyes was still there.


Buffy cringed as the two men’s fists seem to crack against the other’s skin. It was a brutal display, just like yesterday, and there was no holding back. She prayed that this wasn’t the ‘training’ part she had to endure.


Standing in the front row of the crowd in the circle, Eve crossed her arms and yelled with an annoyed look, “Oh c’mon, this is so boring! Bleed, damn it!”


Next to her, Lindsay scoffed. “Sometimes I forget how lady-like you are,” he said with sarcastic smile. Eve looked up at him with a coy smirk. Across the circle, Darla was glaring involuntarily at the two of them, her foot mindlessly tapping rapidly.


“Down, girl,” Faith joked to the blonde. Darla’s lips tightened into a line as she turned away to focus back on the match.


Buffy was watching the match, until she realized Cordelia no longer had a hold on her. She seemed to have a very concerned look on her face, and Buffy wondered for whom, considering the brunette had just recently changed sides.


Buffy inched her way back, trying to remain discrete and unnoticed.


Her heart pounded loudly. They were right in front of her – at any moment they could turn around, but they seemed oblivious – enthralled - so she took her chances. Taking another tentative step back, she turned on her heels to run, but smacked right into a hard chest.


It was him. She started thrashing and yelling as his grip came to tighten around her arms. “Let me go!” she yelled uselessly. When she tried to kick him, he grabbed her thigh in a bruising grip and squeezed until he knew there would be finger marks, letting her know how much he could make it hurt. She cried out in pain, and he leaned into her ear to whisper, “I don’t like it when people run from me.”


She shut her eyes, trying to imagine him away. And then she noticed that the sounds had stopped. Behind her, they had stopped fighting. Spike looked up to see they had all halted to observe them, Lorne and Doyle panting as they wiped away their own blood. Spike was practically holding Buffy up, keeping her from collapsing, and he quickly and roughly shoved her into Illyria, who had already approached them.


“Start training!” Spike yelled to his crew, and Angelus’ side looked to Angelus, who was off to the side, in question.


He agreed, saying, “I was getting bored anyway.” His people disbursed around the room to gather their things.


Illyria was holding Buffy, wrenching her arms behind her back in a tight grip. Spike focused back on her, stalking up to her with a predatory look. He knew they were watching.


“So, luv, how far did you get?” Spike asked, putting on an amused look as he hooked his fingers under her chin and lifted it. She looked up at him defiantly and didn’t answer, merely glared at him, refusing to waver under his gaze. He stared at her intensely, almost challenging her. Then, for a split second, a brief indescribable expression flickered as his eyes discovered the puffy part of her cheek, a dull brown color that stood out from the rest of her skin. As quickly as the look came, it was gone.


“She got as far as the warehouse,” Darla replied with a smile, walking up to them.


Spike smirked, “Not very far then.”


“Not far away enough from you, apparently,” Angelus spoke up, as he approached Spike with an amused look. “Some things never change, do they?”


Spike’s expression darkened as he glared at Angelus. Buffy wasn’t sure what he was talking about, but the look and demeanor that came over Spike actually scared her, and her defiant façade faltered. Spike put on a challenging and arrogant smirk, “What’s the matter? Feelin’ like a defeated git?”


“Considering I’m still 4 for 3, you shouldn’t be so cocky,” Angelus replied with a smile of his own. “Or maybe, if you had been a little more cocky, your little Barbie wouldn’t have tried to run away.”


Cordelia cast a glance in Buffy’s direction, wanting to see her reaction to the exchange, and to send her a warning look. Buffy looked increasingly panicked. Her heart was beating rapidly, and the tension in the air was thick. In the corner of her eye, she saw Cordelia looking at her, and she glanced back to see a warning look that she didn’t quite understand.


Spike had a tight smile, making his cheekbones look more prominent. Feeling all eyes in the room on him, he smirked and retorted, "Ever consider, Angelus, that I was a little TOO cocky? It's a lot for any woman to adjust to. Sometimes scares 'em off...of course, you never had that problem...did you?"* He lifted his brow.


“You’re full of it, Spike. And one day, it’s going to bite you in the ass,” Angelus replied snidely.


“As long as you’re no where near my ass.”


Angelus rolled his eyes and turned to leave. “Let’s go!” His side of the gang began to gather their things and follow him out, not without sending scowls to Spike’s side.


“Get back to training!” Spike roared angrily to the rest. He stalked over to Buffy, whose arms were being held behind her back by Illyria. He shot her an angry glare and yanked her by the arm, dragging her over to the other side of the room. His tight grip on her arm made her cry out once in pain and she stumbled to keep up with his rapid pace. He flung her over to the thin mats and she landed with her palms holding her up.


“Harmony!” Cordelia ordered, assuming Buffy’s training partner would be the least experienced.


“No. Illyria can train her,” Spike answered in a cold voice.


Cordelia looked surprised and Harmony stopped in her steps.


Illyria gave Spike a slightly raised brow, questioning his choice. “She can’t handle it, not even if I go easy on her.”


“Do it. That’s what training is for, right?” His sarcastic tone was matched with an unwavering expression and he ignored the look of pure dread on Buffy’s face.


Buffy understood Cordelia’s warning now. She had made him look bad, and that meant he was going to make it tough for her. She struggled with what to say, not wanting to resort to pleading, “I-I…”


“Oh, don’t worry, Princess,” he said in a patronizing voice, and then his face hardened, “We’ll teach you.”


“Get up,” Illyria’s unfeeling voice ordered. Buffy got up on shaky legs, heart pounding loudly as Illyria stared at her with ice blue eyes and circled her.


Spike stood slightly off to the side, arms crossed and wearing an amused grin. “Lesson the first: When you fight, there’s no cat fighting allowed. Throw a punch.”


Buffy blinked and looked hesitant, but Spike gave her an intense look, “Unless you want Illyria to start.”


Buffy took a deep breath before she balled her hand into a fist and tried to smash it toward Illyria’s face as hard as she could. Illyria dodged without effort and grabbed Buffy’s arm, twisting it around so that Buffy’s back was facing her front, causing her to cry out again. Illyria shoved her forward roughly, and she fell harshly to the thin mat which felt like it might as well have been the cold cement floor. The crowd laughed at the pitiful attempt.


Spike didn’t laugh along with them, but remained serious. “Get up.” He walked over to her, and saw the frustrated and embarrassed tears welling up in her eyes, and heard the slight whimper. He yanked her up by the arm and glared. “Lesson the second: you never give up.” He let her go and stepped back, as she glared at him with contempt.


He was right about something. You never give up. Feeling a little rush of adrenaline run through her, she straightened herself to face Illyria. If she was going down, she was going down trying.


“Lunge at her,” Spike said to Buffy. “Dodge whatever you can.”


Buffy focused her energy, and clenched her fists tightly. She tried to funnel all of her anger at him towards Illyria. She ran forward and let loose, sending out a flurry of punches, as hard as she could. Illyria easily dodged and blocked all of them, and then let one punch of her own.


Buffy’s head snapped back from the force and she screamed, falling to the floor again.


He heard the sound of Illyria’s fist connecting with Buffy’s face, and inwardly winced. On the outside, he remained his cocky self. “Oi! Watch the face! I’m the one that has to look at her at night!” Spike exclaimed comically, and then grinned as the gang laughed.


Buffy glared at him as she clutched her cheek, wishing she could punch his lights out. Buffy struggled to her feet, pain still shooting through her face. She was breathing heavily, eyes stormy with rage and desperation.


“You’re not putting your body into it,” Darla commented with an amused smile and her arms crossed.


“You have no power behind your throws,” Illyria stated.


“I haven’t had years of training,” Buffy snapped back. The others laughed at the contempt in her voice. She looked completely out of her element, and even the leather outfit and make-up couldn’t fool anyone.


“Awww, she’s like a little angry cheerleader,” Faith patronized.


Buffy’s anger and frustration only grew and she glared at the brunette. And then an idea came to mind. Looking up, she wondered if she could pull off a stupid move like that. She would probably fail and look like an idiot, but the other option was to keep getting beat up anyway.


She ran forward at full speed and jumped into the air, bringing her right leg up into a swift kick, hoping it would hit Illyria before she could block. The crowd looked surprised at her sudden move, but Illyria grabbed Buffy’s legs and flipped her up, sending her up into the air and landing with a cruel ‘thump!’ onto the thin mat. Buffy screamed as the pain shot through her back.


Spike looked slightly baffled by her attempt and his brows furrowed as she fell to the ground viciously.


Illyria said to Buffy’s prone form, “Better, but not nearly good enough.”


“Alright, that’s enough for today,” Spike said, his expression back to emotionless. “Back to your own routines.” People began to disburse their training partners, and Spike walked up to Cordelia, who was approaching Buffy. She was lying on the floor with her eyes closed in pain and her hand clutching her back.


Even though Cordelia had a hunch, she gave Spike a curious look. “Why didn’t you let her train with Harmony?”


Spike didn’t answer her question, but merely said, “Get her some ice and bring her to my room later.” He glanced at Buffy on the ground one last time, before he turned and walked away.


~


Buffy was lying stomach down on her bed, back bare and face turned to the side. To her surprise, her back hadn’t bruised, but it sure hurt like hell. She had another bruise on her face which was now swollen from all the abuse, and marks where Spike had gripped her thigh.


Cordelia came into the room, bringing a new ice pack. Without much sympathy in her voice, she asked, “How is your back feeling?”


“Like I fell onto a cold cement floor,” Buffy answered sarcastically.


“Well actually, you got flipped, but whatever you prefer,” she moved to take the melted ice pack off of Buffy’s back, and put the new one on, causing her to flinch at the coldness.


After the cold became soothing to the pain, Buffy said quietly, “Is this what I should expect everyday?”


“Pretty much,” she answered. “It could be worse.”


Buffy laughed bitterly, “How?”


Cordelia’s voice was serious, “Trust me. It could definitely be worse.”


Buffy frowned, trying to search Cordelia’s eyes for the implied meaning behind her words, and then she remembered that the same thing had probably happened to her…except with Angelus instead of Spike. Buffy didn’t answer, not really knowing what to say.


“Anyway,” Cordelia clapped her hands together, and her energetically snarky demeanor was back. “If you’re done bitching about your back, I’ll be on my way to more important matters.”
She turned to leave but stopped, forgetting something. “Oh yea, I got you some pills.”


Buffy furrowed her brows, “What kind of pills?”


“Some pain killers for your back, and some birth control pills,” she replied, throwing them onto the bed beside Buffy.


Her stomach churned at the thought behind the gesture, and a bitter look took over her expression. “Gee, thanks,” she said sarcastically.


“Don’t thank me, thank Spike.” With that, she was out the door before Buffy could react.


Anger bubbled up inside her – not only had she been physically torn down, in more ways than one, she had been humiliated and objectified. She hated that they were able – that he was able – to make her feel this much – angry, hurt, shame. The numbness was easier, and she wanted it back.


Buffy closed her eyes, and tried not to think about what would happen later when it came time to be taken to Spike.


~*~*~*~


A/N: I’m well aware of how much of an ASS Spike is right now (GANG leader).

~*~*~*~


Cordelia came back a few hours later, looking a bit battered. Buffy’s brow furrowed in surprise and she turned around to get a better look. Buffy’s eyes widened as she saw the fresh shallow cut spanning across her chest, and the bruised face she was sporting.


“W-What happened?” Buffy asked, almost afraid to know, her first thought was Angelus.


“Something went wrong with our plans tonight,” Cordelia replied, appearing as if the pain didn’t bother her. “We got ambushed and had to ditch all the money.”


Lindsay’s words flashed through her mind. He wants us to botch Spike’s two deals tomorrow, hopefully get his members caught in the process. Buffy looked back up to Cordelia, a bit of guilt flashing through her, knowing that she could have warned them and didn’t. But why should she? These people kidnapped her after all.


“Who ambushed you?” Buffy questioned, pushing her knowledge aside.


Cordelia sighed, obviously exhausted. “We couldn’t see them. They were masked like some rejects from a bad ninja movie. Anyway, whatever, nothing we can do now. Get dressed, let’s go.”


~


Her back was killing her as Cordelia dragged her down the hall. Buffy hurried her steps to keep up, but something wasn’t set right, and it felt like a sharp knife was cutting into her back each time she moved.


Realizing where they were going, she closed her eyes as she let Cordelia pull her by the arm down the hallway. She didn’t even want to think about what Spike would do to her. Thinking back on training, she remembered how angry he had been, and she had a sinking feeling that the ambush wasn’t helping his mood.


~


“You lost it ALL!?” Spike roared angrily to Faith, Darla, Gunn, and Lorne. They were all standing in his room, telling him what happened.


“I think it’s Rack and his chumps,” Faith suggested. “You know they’re always out to get us.”


“No, I don’t think so this time,” Gunn disagreed. “Those idiots aren’t smart enough to get into the building without us noticing.”


“Should we pay them a visit?” Darla suggested with a calculating look. Her cheek was bleeding and she hadn’t gotten to cleaning it up yet. But she appeared unbothered, just like Cordelia.


Spike pinched the bridge of his nose. 100,000 dollars a deal – both failed. “Look into it. See what he’s been up to lately,” Spike answered with an irritated tone.


Suddenly the door flung open and Cordelia came in, dragging a resistant Buffy behind her. All heads turned to see the intrusion.


Spike paused, looking at Buffy. With her face washed and her normal clothes on, she looked small and weak. The big bruise on her cheek was a deep brown, now not covered by make-up.


“Ouch. That looks like it still hurts,” Darla commented with a smile.


Instead of reacting, Buffy just forced herself to remain unfazed, staring at them with a calm but challenging expression.


“Aw, I think we broke her cheerleader spirit,” Faith added, amused.


Buffy turned to Faith and calmly said, “Bite me.”


Darla and Faith laughed at her, amused that this little girl dared to talk back even when she had just been ass-whooped earlier that day.


Spike demanded tersely, “Everyone get out.” He turned to glare at Buffy, “Except you.”


They started to leave and as Faith was passing Buffy on her way out the door, she whispered, “I won’t bite, but he will.” And with a big grin, she sauntered out of the room and shut the door.


Spike put his face in his hands, exhaling from his previous frustration. Dropping his hands and looking back at Buffy, he ordered, “Come here.”


She didn’t answer, but stepped back in response.


Spike raised a brow, “Are you looking to piss me off even more? I said, come here.”


Hearing the warning in his voice, she decided it would be best if she listened. She took two slow steps forward, wincing each time from the way the pain shot through her back.


Spike watched her move forward two steps and he saw the slight limp she had. He knew what it was from. “How’s your back?” he asked, trying to keep his tone expressionless.


She didn’t answer at first, but saw that he was actually waiting for a response. “Just peachy,” she answered sarcastically.


He started stepping towards her. Buffy quickly moved back, hitting the dresser, which caused her to groan in pain.


He brought his hand up, and she turned her head away from him and closed her eyes, thinking he was going to hit her. When nothing came, she opened an eye to look at him.


He was looking at her like she was crazy. “Relax,” he said, “I was trying to look at your bruise.”


She looked at him disbelievingly, but he reached out to lift her chin lightly, turning her face so he could look at her cheek.


Her brows furrowed in confusion as he stood there, inches from her face examining her bruise. And to top it off, his anger seemed to have disappeared. It wasn’t tender, but it was definitely not the bruising grip that he had used earlier. She still had the evidence on her thigh.


He slowly turned her around, and her confusion grew, “Wha...”


“Your back,” he replied.


She tensed as she felt his hands reaching underneath the back of her shirt. Buffy was about to struggle, but Spike leaned in close to her ear and whispered, “Just getting the kink out, princess.”


Buffy opened her mouth to protest, but his hands found the tense knot in her lower back and he pushed, causing her to let out a strangled noise. He was kneading it painfully and she gripped the edge of the dresser tightly, biting her lip. He grabbed her shoulder with one hand, and put his palm into the spot with the other. He pulled on her shoulder roughly and pushed at the same time, cracking her back. She muffled a cry at the initial pain.


Opening her eyes, she was surprised at the sudden ache-free-ness. Turning around to look at him with surprised eyes, she touched the spot where the pain had been, and it felt ten times better, even though it still hurt.


“It’ll be fine in a few days,” he stated referring to the bruise and her back.


“Aren’t I scheduled to get beat up daily?” she asked with a raised brow. She didn’t understand him, and resorting to her snarky defenses gave her the feeling of security.


At her tone, he tensed. Seeing the look in his eyes, she regretted opening her mouth.


“That’s all up to you, Goldilocks,” he leaned in dangerously close. He smirked and lowered his voice, “Behave yourself and I’ll take care of you.”


Her eyes widened incredulously and she shot him a hateful glare. “Go to hell.”


He curled his tongue behind his teeth and leaned in to kiss her. She struggled against his kiss, but he had one arm linked firmly around the back of her waist.


She pushed him away from her and spat out, “You’re disgusting.” She wiped her lips with the back of her hand.


“Are you sure?” he asked huskily as he grabbed her hands and held them down, leaning in to kiss her neck.


She tried to free her hands, but he wasn’t letting her. She twisted her body away from him, but Spike just wormed his arm around her waist, pulling her against him, and continued kissing her neck.


“Please, don’t,” she whispered, the feel of his tongue against her skin weakening her defenses.


He grinned against her skin, knowing exactly what he was doing and what effect it had on her.


“Stop me,” he said in a low, sexual voice as he captured her bottom lip.


She tried to resist his kiss and not react, but the way he was touching her was clouding her mind. Her mind was screaming at her to try harder, to push him off of her, but every time she put up an effort, he held her down and resumed the kiss.


Pulling back, he gazed at her hungrily. “You know I’ll make it feel good again,” he whispered into her ear, pushing her towards the bed at the same time.


She felt sick and her stomach sank at his words. “No,” she pleaded, but as soon as those words left her mouth, Spike smashed his lips to hers, silencing her.


She knew it was hopeless, and it hardened her heart a little more.


~


“Come on, Buffy. It’ll be ok,” Xander reassured her.


Buffy looked unsure and stared hesitantly at the front of the school.


“You’re going to have to go back sometime,” Willow reminded her softly.


Buffy exhaled and straightened her shoulders. “You’re right. One College-Buffy, coming right up,” she perked, but both her friends knew that it was just for show. It didn’t take a genius to figure out that her heart wasn’t in anything she did anymore.


She started walking, her friends protectively on both sides of her. They joked with her along the way, hoping to distract her and put her at ease. But all she saw, were the other students staring at her – some giving her looks of sad pity, and others slightly accusatory ones. She looked down, not wanting to make eye contact with anyone.


Buffy cut them off mid-sentence, “Do you guys mind if I catch you later?”


Xander and Willow gave her a worried look. “Are you sure?” they asked at the same time.


She gave them a small smile and explained, “Yea, I just need to go get a cup of coffee before I head to lecture.”


“Alright, well call us when you get out of class, okay?” Willow asked.


“Sure,” she replied. “I’ll see you later.” She walked off in the other direction, leaving behind her two very concerned best-friends.


She wandered aimlessly across campus, zoning out and ignoring the looks people were giving her. Buffy didn’t even know half of these people, considering it was a community college and not some small high school. But now practically the whole college knew who she was because a picture of her family before her mother’s death had been put in the school paper.


“Hey, Buffy, right?” a guy appeared in front of her, snapping her back to reality.


“Yea,” Buffy replied, recognizing his face from lecture, but not knowing his name.


“Dude, rough luck with your mom,” he added, shaking his head in some airhead form of sympathy.


“Um, yea. Do I know you?” she faked not remembering him.


“Yea, I’m in your Sociology class – I’m Todd. I was reading the paper about how you accidentally killed your mom, and I thought, dude, that just sucks.”


Her eyes widened, not believing what she was hearing, again. She pushed past him and ran towards the nearest restroom, deciding she couldn’t handle staying for classes today after all. She wondered how long this could go on, the burning guilt eating her up inside, and if she had enough strength to last.


~


Her eyes fluttered open, and she didn’t know where she was at first. Rubbing her eyes, she froze as she felt the arm that was draped across her stomach. And it all came back to her. Last night he had played with her mind, making her body betray her before he took what he wanted. At that point, she would have preferred if he had been a complete monster so she wouldn’t feel so disgusted with herself. Afterwards, he didn’t just roll over and let her go – his arm hugged her waist, trapping her as he slept. Hours passed, and all she could do was fall asleep.


Buffy pushed Spike’s arm off of her roughly and got up, running to the bathroom. Shutting the door behind her and leaning against it, she sank down to the floor and closed her eyes, tears running down her face silently.


~


Spike woke up when his arm was flung aside, losing the warm comfort of smooth skin beneath him. He blinked, and stared at Buffy’s fleeing figure through squinted eyes as she ran into the bathroom and slammed the door. A pained expression flashed across his features for a brief second, but he closed his eyes and suppressed it. He was beginning to hate the little chit for somehow bringing up past memories. But it was nothing a little violence couldn’t solve. He threw on some clothes and headed towards the training room, not the least bit worried about leaving her there alone.


~


“Darla,” Spike yelled when he entered the training room, sauntering over to her and Illyria.


The two girls paused, stepping back from the spar. Breathing deeply, she asked in an annoyed tone, “What? I was just winning.”


“You wish,” Illyria replied, relaxing her stance from fighting position. “I didn’t even break a sweat.”


Darla turned back to roll her eyes at Illyria. “That’s because you don’t sweat. You’re made of ice, remember?” Darla teased.


“I guess that’s why I always win,” she answered calmly.


“Whatever,” Darla replied as she turned back to look at Spike, who had a pissed expression. “What?” Darla asked defensively.


“No more bruises outside the training room,” Spike stated.


“Wha…” Darla looked confused for a few moments. And then she understood.


“Ohhhhh, this is about the girl, isn’t it?” She put her hands on her hips, smiling from amusement. “What’s the big deal? She’s alive, isn’t she?”


“I have to look at her, is what the big deal is,” Spike answered. “I don’t fancy myself a bruised shag, you nitwit. And couldn’t you have hit her somewhere besides her face? Bloody un-attractive.”


“Oh gee, Spike. I’m sorry I ruined your Barbie doll’s pretty face. Will you ever forgive me?” Darla faked dramatically.


Spike didn’t look amused as Darla laughed. She saw he wasn’t lightening up, and a question formed in her head.


“Are you sure her face is all you’re worried about?” Darla gave him a suspicious look.


“What else is she good for?” Spike asked with a raised brow.


The answer seemed to satisfy her, and she nodded. “True. Ok, fine.” She was about to go back to her spar, but she turned back to Spike, “Oh, but all’s fair during training.” She winked at him and smiled before turning away.


He rolled his eyes and started to head towards the punching bags, but someone came in front of him to block his path. Drusilla.


Face expressionless, he asked, “What do you want, Dru?”


She smiled at him. “Wanna fight for fun? Just like the good old times.” She took a step towards him, face inches away, eyes dark with mischief.


Spike shoved her back roughly. “Don’t think so. They weren’t that good now that I look back on it,” he pursed his lips in a cocky smirk.


“Oh, c’mon,” Angelus’ voice interjected from the side. He walked up to them slowly. “Dru promises not to stab you in the back this time,” he finished with an amused smile.


Spike glared at him. “Shove off.”


Switching subjects, Angelus asked, taunting, “So I heard you lost 200,000 dollars yesterday to that good-for-nothing trash, Rack.”


“I don’t know if it was him yet, and what’s it to you?” Spike asked defensively.


“You know what it is to me. That’s 50,000 fucking dollars for my cut, Spike,” he spat out angrily. “Don’t think you guys can just slack off and live off your 25% from our earnings.”


Spike scoffed. “We wouldn’t live off of you, you poncy git. You know we’re earning more than you are right now anyway,” he finished smugly.


“Yea, we’ll see,” Angelus warned, and strode away, pulling Drusilla along with him. “One of these days, you’re going down, Spike,” he yelled from across the room as he strode away.


Spike scoffed. “Yea, right,” he muttered under his breath.


“You think one of these days you two will kill each other?” Faith asked as she walked up to him, having witnessed the whole thing.


“I know so,” Spike replied. If not, they would just annoy each other to death.


Snapping out his thoughts of kicking Angelus’ ass, he remembered something. He turned to Faith. “Bring Buffy in here for training,” he ordered.


“Whoa, you remembered her name? Deep,” Faith commented with a raised brow, leaving to go get her.


Ignoring Faith’s comment, he turned towards his original destination. He really needed to work out some aggression.


~


After a long shower, Buffy came out of the bathroom. To her surprise, Spike was gone. She relaxed and walked toward the door. When she flung it open, Faith was standing right there.


“And where do you think you’re going?” she smirked as she crossed her arms over her chest.


Buffy rolled her eyes, mirroring Faith’s moves by crossing her arms as well. “Am I supposed to wait in here all day? There’s this thing called a stomach, and usually one puts food in it.”


“Yea, I’ll bet you worked up an appetite,” Faith said with a raised brow.


Buffy looked disgusted. The more and more this girl opened her mouth, the more Buffy hated her guts. “You’re severely demented.”


“Ain’t it hot?” Faith grinned.


Buffy had a look of revulsion. “What the hell is wrong with you?”


“Take it from me, blondie,” she replied, “the only way to survive in here is to embrace the dark side.” With that, Faith grabbed Buffy’s arm and yanked her out of the room, dragging her to go get some food before heading over to training.


What scared her, was she was beginning to see the truth in that.



~*~*~*~

----------------------------------------------------------------


Beads of sweat began to form on his skin as he breathed heavily and punched continuously. Pounding the bag with swift jabs, the muscles of his arms flexed and glowed with forming perspiration.


Brief thoughts flashed through his mind – Angelus, Dru, the lost money. He knew why he was irked by Angelus and Drusilla – they were out to torture him, break him down in front of everyone. The money just reminded him of the pressure he felt. There was always pressure, pushing down on him, consuming his life, creating the man he was.


And then there was her. At that moment, she frustrated him most of all…because…he didn’t know why. Why should a stupid little chit bother him? How was she different from any other they picked up and turned into a fighter? He didn’t know what made him do it – what made him trade for her that first day. Spike told himself it was lust.


He punched the bag fiercely with a clenched jaw, jolting it backwards into Gunn.


“Dude, what’s got you all worked up?” Gunn asked as he held the bag back into place on the other side.


Spike panted, stopping a moment to wipe the sweat rolling down his face with the back of his arm. “Nothing,” he breathed out gruffly as he resumed his sharp punches, his focus only on hitting.


Gunn raised a brow in question, but kept silent and let Spike take out his aggression. With a few more quick jabs, Spike pulled back and stopped. His chest rose and sank as he pushed back his shoulders, feeling that the tension was mostly gone.


And his senses panned out, reality coming back to him as his focus was no longer on the punching bag in front of him. He could hear the weapons clanging, the punches flying, the shouts in the background as everyone trained.


“That’s enough,” Spike said disinterestedly to Gunn. Picking up a towel from a bench on the side, he began to towel off, burying his sweaty face in the cloth and rumpling his hair into spiked disarray.


“Spikeee,” a voice teased.


He inwardly groaned, but looked up at her with a hardened expression. “What do you want, Harm?”


She moved slowly, sensuously closer to him and ran her finger down his chest in a zigzag pattern. “Did you miss me?” she smiled coyly.


He slapped her hand away and bent down to pick up a bottle of water, ignoring her. “Can’t say that I did.”


Turning the cap and throwing the bottle back to guzzle it down, Spike disregarded her presence as she openly stared at his chest with an appraising smile.


“Oh c’mon, Spike. I know you do. Remember how good I feel?” her voice lowered seductively, both hands returning to his chest and beginning to run up his abs.


Dropping his water, he pushed her back violently and pinned her to the wall of the gym. His expression was pissed and annoyed as his hands placed a bruising grip on her shoulders. “Don’t try to toy with me, Harm,” Spike warned in a low voice, eyes boring into her.


“You liked it just fine a few days ago,” she shot back, eyes angry at the way he was pinning her roughly to the wall. Not that it was foreign to her – they had played it rough plenty of times – but this was different. He wasn’t just playing.


He didn’t answer, but rather just glared at her as he kept his hold.


“Let’s fuck,” she said as she let her lips open seductively, eyes becoming playful again.


Spike pushed off her and stepped back slightly. “I’m done with you, Harm,” he said curtly. At her questioning look, he smirked and added, “You’re yesterday’s news, baby.”


Her eyes widened as she realized he was serious. He was really done with her. Desperation crept into her at the implications of what would happen. “Spikey, please,” Harmony began begging as she tried to plaster herself against him, “I can still make you feel good.” She began to run her hands up and down his body, pressing up against him, but he shoved her off of him violently, once again.


He almost felt sorry for the chit. Almost. Spike knew what it meant for her now that she was no longer his fuck-toy. On the outside, he held his hardened expression.


“Spike, you know I can’t fight them off,” Harmony’s panicked face was pleading with him.


“You’ve had a year to learn it proper. It’s not my bloody fault you’re slow as hell,” he replied with a shrug.


“But Spike-,” Harmony began.


“Harmony! Get your dumb bimbo ass over here!” Darla yelled, looking angry that it was her turn to train the nitwit. Darla stormed up to her and grabbed her roughly by the arm, dragging her back over to the mat.


Watching the crestfallen expression on her face, he almost felt sorry for her. Why didn’t he?


And then a small body was shoved into him. His hands automatically came up to steady her, and he pulled his head back to look at the offending person.


“There ya go, Captain,” Faith joked, having thrown Buffy his way.


Buffy was pushing away from Spike, but his hands just tightened their hold on her arms. “Let go of me,” she gritted out, resistance fading in energy.


“It’s cute how you try,” he smirked, and then eyes traveling down, he gave her an appreciative leer. Her leather top gave him a nice view of her pushed-up tits and when he looked up at her face, he saw a pair of furious eyes glaring at him.


Buffy tried not to notice his current sweat-laden state, or the way he was staring at her with a hungry gaze. Removing her hands from where they gripped his arm for balance, she spat out in disgust, “You’re a pig.”


“Oink, oink, baby,” his voice dropped to a low and sexual tone.


She made a noise of disgust and looked away from him, not wanting to see his leer or his stupid smirk.


“Darla!” Spike yelled, not taking his eyes off of her.


Darla interrupted her annoyed expression towards Harmony and looked up at the sound of her name.


“Train both of them,” he ordered, shoving Buffy towards them. Buffy stumbled forward, but didn’t fall. She whipped her head back around to glare at him, and he just grinned at her, before leering at her ass.


“Is there some reason I’m the one stuck with both incompetents on the same day?” she asked in an annoyed tone.


Spike didn’t bother to answer, turning away already. But Eve and Lilah walked past the three blonde women and Lilah commented, “Maybe Spike’s trying to tell you you’re second rank.”


Eve crossed her arms and pretended to look thoughtful, considering the truth in Lilah’s words as Darla glared at them. “You know, I…I think you may be right there, Lilah.”


“Ha!” Darla put on an incredulous expression. “You’re the one to talk! Everyone knows you are the most useless member on your side, Eve.” She smirked as Eve looked angry at the insult, and added, “Don’t kid yourself.”


Eve’s glare turned into a cocky smile of her own. “You’re just upset because Lindsay told everyone how frigid you were in bed after he got with me.”


Darla’s eyes widened in fury and she lunged forward, causing everyone around them to rush toward them and pull them apart. Illyria came in and shot a warning glare to Lilah, telling to back off, and Faith pulled Darla off of Eve.


“You bitch!” Darla spat out to Eve, pushing Faith’s hands off her as she stood on her own.


“Hey Dar, you know she’s just pulling your chain, girl,” Faith added. “Everyone knows you would kick her ass in two seconds, so let it go. Not worth your time.”


Spike stalked over to the commotion, wondering what the hell it was now. He looked at what appeared to be a near-chick fight and rolled his eyes. “You two,” he said to Eve and Lilah, “Get out. Now.”


They glared at him, but slowly began to walk away, knowing that they were outnumbered.


“If you birds are done, get the fuck back to training,” Spike demanded with an impatient tone.


Darla huffed, trying to calm down from the encounter with the Bitches, and turned back to the two girls. She rolled her eyes – the fact that she had to train them both was not helping her mood.


~

Spike tried not to focus on them. He was lying on the bench and lifting weights, willing himself not to listen to the sounds of her groaning in pain each time Darla showed her how it was done.

~


“Will you two stop fooling around!” Darla lectured as she pulled the two cat-fighting girls off each other.


Buffy yelped as Darla grabbed a handful of both their hair, pulling them apart. “This is not a mud wrestling match,” she snapped. She pushed them back in the opposite direction as the two glared at each other hatefully. Darla turned to Harmony and said in a patronizing voice, “Harm, use your real punches.” Her face hardened into a serious expression, “Before I kick your ass myself.”


Harmony nodded, not wanting to piss off Darla more, and Buffy braced herself for the attack.


Harmony brought her fist back and threw it forward, aiming for Buffy’s right cheek, but Buffy clumsily threw her body out of the way onto the floor. Looking annoyed that Buffy had the audacity to move, Harmony glared down at her and kicked her in the stomach. Buffy groaned, but her hands reflexively came up to grab Harmony’s leg, and she pulled as hard as she could, whipping her off her feet.


Back hitting the hard mat, Harmony cried out as Buffy struggled to her feet and held one hand to her pained stomach. She glared down at her, huffing as the pain of Harmony’s sharp boots lingered, causing her anger to rise.


“Get her while she’s down,” Darla instructed to Buffy.


Buffy hesitated for a moment, before realizing she would lose her upper hand if she thought too much. Ignoring the pang of morality that went through her mind, she turned to face her opponent, who was now getting to her feet with an angry look.


~


Spike watched the brief look of hesitation on Buffy’s face and his expression hardened. Throwing his sweaty towel aside, he walked over to the display and watched them do a poor job of fighting. Buffy was breathing heavily, staring Harmony down as they both caught their breath.


Her chest rose and sank, and she felt the tight leather begin to swish against her skin as sweat formed beneath her clothing. Spike took notice quietly, eyes briefly focusing on the way her lips parted as she panted, and the glow of perspiration on her face. But as he looked at the expression in her eyes, he noticed there was something missing there, something that he had seen directed at him before.


And then Harmony ran forward quickly, spearing Buffy to the ground as she began to choke her. Buffy clawed at the hands that were around her neck, making gagging sounds. She thrashed her body in an attempt to throw Harmony off of her, but to no avail.


“You stupid bitch,” Harmony ground out as she continued to tighten her grip around the other blonde’s neck. Buffy coughed and gagged, trying to wrestle free, her fingers managing to get under Harmony’s grip a little.


“Hit her!” Darla yelled to Buffy, frustrated that she was just letting herself be choked.


Buffy hands shot up and she tried to grab Harmony’s neck, hoping to inflict the same effect and get her to let go. Harmony let go of Buffy’s neck in order to stop her and Buffy gasped in relief, taking that moment to quickly buck Harmony off of her with a renewed force.


“Enough,” Spike demanded in a loud and firm tone, clearly pissed off.


The two blondes panted and Buffy rubbed her neck which now surely would be bruised.


“That was utterly pathetic,” Faith commented, shaking her head. “Like two Barbie dolls in a hair-pulling contest.”


“What am I supposed to do with these morons, Spike?” Darla began to rant, “I show them how to punch, they start clawing anyway. They’re useless! Both of them!”


Spike didn’t answer, his silence was agreement enough. He was staring at Buffy with an unreadable expression as she glared back at him with hostility and contempt. “I’ll train the Barbie.”


The others gave each other looks before turning back to Spike in question. “You sure?” Darla asked with a hesitant look.


“Yea, now get out,” he ordered to everyone.


“Ohhh, I get ya,” Faith smiled knowingly, “nothing like some one-on-one combat leading into some frisky business, huh?”


The others laughed, confusion and hesitation forgotten as they figured it was a cue for them to leave so that Spike could have his fun with her.


Faith smirked at Spike and added, “One thing: we’re not cleaning up any mess you make in here.”


Everyone cleared out, and Buffy stepped back, farther away from Spike as she glared at him. As the doors shut, leaving them alone, he turned back to look at her.


“Stay away from me,” she ground out in a shaky, but angered voice.


“What the hell do you think you were doing back there?” Spike asked in a tight voice, ignoring her threat by taking stalking steps forward.


Looking confused, Buffy asked, “What are you talking about?” She moved back another step, but he was suddenly in front of her, inches away and looking pissed.


“Your pathetic display with Harm. You weren’t even trying.”


Buffy looked incredulous, “Not trying?? You call that not trying??”


“Yea, I do. When are you going to learn that it’s fight or die in here?” Spike demanded, eyes searching hers.


“What do you think I was doing!?” Buffy yelled, hands fisted.


He grabbed both of her shoulders roughly, “You were defending yourself. I asked you when you were going to start fighting.”


She flinched at the pain of his strong grip digging into her shoulders, and she pushed him back roughly. “Don’t touch me.”


Spike smirked, “I think it’s a little too late for that, innit?”


She glared at him, fury evident in her green eyes. “You’re a disgusting monster.”


To her surprise, Spike replied, “Then hit me.”


Taken aback, she hesitated, “W-What?”


With one fluid motion, he stripped his shirt off over his head and tossed it to the ground.


Buffy stepped back, panic taking over her body.


With a serious and tight expression, he stalked over to her retreating form and grasped her by the arms roughly. Buffy struggled in his arms, but he just said, “If I’m such a monster, then hit me. Give it to me good, Buffy.”


Her name coming from his lips felt violating, too personal for her own comfort. Somehow hearing it uttered from this man, the man who held her captive, raped her, was more unsettling and angering than the stupid little nicknames they all called her.


“Don’t even say my name,” Buffy gritted out, wrenching her arms out of his grasp, and punching him in the nose harshly.


His head moved back slightly at the impact, and he smirked, bringing his hand up to check for blood. It wasn’t the strongest punch, but from what he had seen, it was probably the most focused and non-catfight-like move she had succeeded in executing.


She moved forward again, adrenaline running through her veins at the satisfying feeling of hitting him. Her fist shot forward for another punch, but Spike caught it in his hand and twisted her arm, whipping her around so that he had her in a loose chokehold from behind.


“Too slow, luv,” he whispered into her ear. She shuttered from the chills that his breath caused against her skin. Against her bare arms and the exposed skin of her back, Buffy could feel his shirtless chest, and it only served to anger her. She elbowed him roughly in the gut, causing him to groan and release his hold on her.


She quickly spun around and slugged him in the face, but the punch lacked the power it needed.


Spike began to laugh in between breathes, confusing her. “I knew you were holding back before. I could see it in your eyes. It’s like you had a death wish, innit?”


Buffy continued to glower at him. “You’re insane. Why would I have a death wish?” she spat out in question.


“You tell me, sunshine. You’re the one that ran away to L.A., probably from some safe-and-cozy little burb with posh white houses. Am I right?” He raised a brow in question.


She narrowed her eyes at him. “If I had one death wish, I would wish you were dead.”


“Show me then,” he challenged, spreading his arms out in invitation.


Buffy charged at him, wanting to wipe the cocky look off his face. Both fists flying, she succeeded in catching him in the chin, causing his head to snap back from the impact. She continued to punch at him wildly, but Spike was too strong for her, grabbing her arms and suppressing her movements. She grappled with him, eyes blinded by the hate she felt for him, only wanting to make him hurt they way he had hurt her.


She tried to wrench her arms free, chest heaving from exertion and anger, but he just grabbed her by the waist roughly and pulled her to him, staring down at her challengingly.


Buffy glared at him defiantly, but the rush that was flowing through her body only drew her closer to him, the feel of his hard body thwarting her senses. He gazed down at her lips, distracted by the short breaths that were blowing against his face. His lust for her raged, intensified by the adrenaline of violence, and he slammed his lips to hers suddenly.


All of her senses told her to fight against him, because she knew it was wrong. Everything about this man, this place, was wrong. But the rush that coursed through her from the fight, the satisfying feel of skin punching skin, and most of all, the way his tongue was delving into her mouth and battling with hers – everything blinded her good senses and screamed to her in waves of wicked satisfaction.


Much to Spike’s surprise, she didn’t push him off, but instead grabbed the back of his neck and pulled him closer, plunging her tongue deeper into his mouth.


Inwardly pleased, he smirked against her mouth before hoisting her legs up to wrap around his waist. He pulled back from the kiss, both of them panting for air, but he quickly swooped in to kiss her neck possessively, making her gasp and arch into him. Feeling her body push into him, his cock hardened, and he stifled a groan before slamming her against the wall and kissing her fervently.


At the feel of her back hitting the wall violently, Buffy broke out of her momentary reverie and her eyes widened, placing her hands against his chest and pushing him back to break their kiss. “No, no, get off me,” she panicked, realizing what she had just done. Buffy tried to bring her legs down to the ground, but Spike held them firmly in place, furrowing his brows at her sudden change in attitude.


“What?” he asked in between heavy breaths.


“Get away from me,” she protested as he slowly moved in towards her neck with his tongue curled between his teeth. His tongue played with the soft skin of her neck as she weakly tried to stop him. In between seductive caresses, he murmured in a low voice, “That’s not the message you gave me a few minutes ago.”


She tried to ignore his ministrations as best she could, but her resistance was wavering. “Just let me go,” she whispered in a tired voice, closing her eyes to reign in her emotions.


“No.”


“Why? Why can’t you just let me go?” her voice took on a slightly desperate quality, her brain screaming at her to get away from him, but her body reluctant to take more action.


Pulling back to look at her with penetrating eyes, he replied in a serious voice, “Because you belong to me now.”


Closing her eyes, she hated herself as much as she hated him at that moment, because she had played with fire…and liked it.


----------------------------------------------------------------


A/N: Some of you might be worried about Buffy. Well, rightfully so. If you take the title of the fic, the title of the last chapter, and the implications of this chapter, you’ll see where it’s heading. Part of the story, sorry!

Shameless pimp: Ashlee, Allison and I have started a new awards site! Go look around and nominate away!

Buffy willed her aching body not to arch up in response as Spike pumped into her, torturously slow. Breathing labored, she tried to remain passive, hoping that the pain from training would smother the rising pleasure that Spike was building up as his cock slid in and out of her heat, stretching her as he ground up.


He made grunts of satisfaction as her inner muscles involuntarily squeezed him, her body reacting just the way he wanted. Staring down at her as he continued to move, he smirked, watching her close her eyes and bite her lip to keep from moaning out loud. Her hands gripped the bed, scrunching up the sheet between her fingers, grasping for leverage.


Changing his angle, he pushed deeper into her, causing her to gasp as her chest arched off the bed slightly. Smiling at her reaction, he soon became fixated with the sweat that had formed on her breasts. He moved forward to catch her nipple in his mouth, looking up and giving her a devilish look at the same time.


She muffled another gasp, almost whimpering at the feel of his hot tongue caressing her hardened bud. Refusing to look at him, she told herself it was just sex. As long as she remembered that, she would be able to forget the aftereffects of guilt and disgust that tortured her mind. After all, it wasn’t the first time it had happened.


Parker.


Spike.


They were all the same.


Focusing in on her anger, she added another layer to the barrier around her heart.


She jolted as Spike reached between their coupled bodies to tease her clit, and his mouth moved upward. He kissed her neck, savoring her taste before moving up to her jaw. As he was about to kiss her lips, she turned her head abruptly away from him, refusing.


“Don’t… kiss… me,” she managed to gasp hatefully as his cock seemed to push deeper and deeper until she felt like she could no longer breathe.


A quick expression flickered over his features, but then his face hardened in response to her callousness. Revengefully, he twisted her clit and thrust in violently several times.


Screaming out in an unexpected orgasm, she reflexively dug her nails into his shoulder, losing her control as her muscles spasmed and shuddered against him. She was strangling him, her wetness milking him until he could no longer withhold from bursting into her.


He buried his face into her shoulder and pulled her closer by the waist, groaning loudly into her neck at the sensation of his continuing release.


As his cock twitched for the last time, he felt her pushing him, trying to get out of his arms.


“Let go of me,” she struggled, anger evident in her eyes as one of her hands came up to smack him in the chest, but he simply caught her hand in a tight grip.


“Be careful there, Goldilocks. You’re turning me on again,” he smirked, his cock already beginning to harden inside her, especially from her movements.


She remained still, but her hazel orbs showed her hate as she glared at him.


Satisfied that he had the upper hand, he pulled out of her reluctantly, even though he could’ve gone another round. Truth was - he had seen her flinches as he touched certain parts of her body, knowing that she was sore from her training. And as contradictory as it was to what he was doing to her on a daily basis, he felt a twinge of sympathy for her pain.


Spike grabbed her hip lightly, and she flinched. Testing it out, his hands pushed slightly on a bruised area to test its level of pain, wondering how long it would take to heal.


“That hurts, you dumbass,” she spat.


He retracted his hand from the bruise as his other hand continued to hold her by the waist. After they had sex, he often felt like something should come after, but instead, it was always this gap that he couldn’t explain…and he hated it.


“Can I leave now?” she demanded to know, suddenly feeling self-conscious again as they both sat there naked. She already knew the answer to that. Whenever she asked, he told her “no,” saying he might be in the mood during the night, which he often was. As a result, she had only slept once in her own room, the night that she had tried to escape.


“No,” he whispered low in her ear before catching the lobe between his teeth.


She pushed him off, getting up and storming toward the bathroom. He watched her go with a chuckle, and she slammed the door violently. Lying down on his back, he stretched with his arms behind his head, muscles humming from satisfaction.


~


Feeling the aching all over her body, she decided that a hot bath might help. And for every flinch, and every bruise, Buffy blamed Spike, no matter who had inflicted it on her. She hissed as her foot hit the scalding water, but she toughed it out, knowing it would help soothe her body. Inhaling sharply, she submerged herself completely. Slowly, the hot sensation enveloping her took away the pain in her body.


*


She had refused to go back to school for days, telling her father she didn’t feel well. Irate could be one word to describe his reaction. Hank was angered that she would just let her grades fall that easily, like she just gave up on school. No matter how much he yelled, she would just lay there, looking empty and giving him quiet replies once in a while. He thought there was something seriously wrong with his child, not once stopping to act human and realize what she must be feeling.


One day, the phone rang downstairs as she was going back up from the kitchen. Buffy went to look at the caller ID in case it was Dawn, but had no plans on answering it if not.


And that was when she saw it out of the corner of her eye. About to turn away, something on the table under some of her father’s papers caught her attention. Curious, she pulled it out and looked at the front cover of what appeared to be a brochure.


Eyes widening as her knees began to feel weak, she read the title to herself again to make sure she wasn’t seeing things. ‘Sunnydale Mental Health Clinic and Practices.’


*


The door slammed, causing her to jolt out of her memory and thrash a little bit of water over the side of the tub. Spike sauntered in naked and uncaring, heading for the toilet.


Eyes wide, she asked incredulously, “What the hell are you doing!?”


“Taking a piss – what does it look like?” he replied.


“Have you ever heard of anything called privacy!? Don’t do that while I’m in here!” she panicked, looking away as she got up, letting the water rush down her body. Grabbing a towel as she stepped out, she quickly wrapped it around herself and hightailed it out of the bathroom, ignoring his amused look.


Furious, Buffy searched around for her clothes. She made a face as she stared down at her ripped shirt and closed her eyes as she realized she didn’t have anymore clean underwear. All that she had brought with her in the duffel bag had been used.


Spike emerged out of the bathroom and she jumped back. He raised his brow at her inquiringly, and she just gave him an annoyed look.


“Wha?” he asked.


“I don’t have any clothes to wear,” she said with bitterness in her voice.


He looked her over appreciatively, admiring her in the towel, liking the way her skin still glowed with moisture. “Good.”


“I need more,” she ground out, tightening her hold on her towel.


He stalked over to her in his naked glory, and pulled her grip free of the cloth, opening her towel as she glared at him furiously. He leaned in, without letting their bare bodies touch. “You don’t need any clothes, luv.” He pulled her roughly to him and dove for her neck, making her curse inwardly to herself for having a weak spot that he seemed to have discovered.


~


When she woke up, she was alone. Everything was quiet, and nothing could be heard from the bathroom, so Buffy assumed he was gone. Rubbing her eyes, she tried to clear her foggy vision.


As she began to see clearly, she realized that next to her on the bed was a stack of magazines. Of women’s clothing. From Victoria Secret to Macy’s to some weird leather store, it was a full collection. She frowned, puzzled at first by them, until she realized it was because she had told him she needed clothes. She scoffed. Of course she would never get to leave this hell-hole, not even to buy her basic needs. Bitterly, she went to put on her constraining leather outfit for the day.


~


Walking out of Spike’s room, needing something to fill her growling stomach, she paused when she saw a curious sight in the corner of the hallway. It was Cordelia and a guy, obviously getting a little hot and heavy. They paused, and the guy turned around so that Buffy could see his face. ‘What was his name again?’


Cordelia looked annoyed, and slightly pissed as she pushed him off of her gently. “You didn’t see anything, got it?”


“I-I…,” she shook her head, not knowing what the big deal was…until she realized who he was. Doyle. He was on the other side, and from the impression she got over the week, Buffy realized that the rivalry was so intense between the two sides, that none of them were allowed to consort with each other, not even couples who had been split up by trades.


Cordelia raised her brow at her, waiting impatiently.


“Yea, got it,” Buffy answered more coherently, sending Cordelia a look that told her she understood.


“Good,” she smiled sarcastically.


“Later then,” Doyle said simply as he started to walk away, giving Cordelia one last intense gaze.


Buffy could’ve sworn she saw a slight pout on Cordelia’s face, and that was certainly new.


Turning back to give Buffy an annoyed look, she said, “Killjoy.” She eyed Buffy’s clothing and added, “And seriously, didn’t you just wear that outfit yesterday??”


“Well, it’s not exactly like I have anything else to wear,” she replied sarcastically.


“But Spike gave you the magazines, right?” Cordy asked.


Buffy’s expression flickered. “Um yea, he did. Are those yours?”


“Yea, he told me to get you some this morning. You’re lucky I happen to wear school-marm disguises for some of our jobs, or else I wouldn’t have had the Macy’s one.”


Buffy rolled her eyes. Only these people would call Macy’s school-marm.


“Anyway, just circle the ones you want and I’ll have them ordered,” Cordelia added with a wave of her hand. She began to walk away, but Buffy stopped her.


“Wait, how much can I get?” she asked.


“Whatever you want, no one cares,” Cordelia replied. “Although, you definitely have to use the Victoria Secret one if you want Spike to be more agreeable,” she added with a smirk.


Buffy put on a contemptuous look and looked away.


Cordelia saw her expression and added in a slightly humorous but partly serious tone, “Hey, look at the fantastic wardrobe I have.”


Buffy frowned and looked at the brunette, confused at the comment. Cordelia’s expression seemed light, but Buffy saw a hint of bitterness that mirrored a fraction of her own.


“We have our ways, Buffy,” she said as she walked away with one last glance.


She understood Cordelia’s implications, and the image of Angelus on anyone made her toes curl. Even if it was Spike, Buffy still hated him with a passion. She wasn’t sure if she could play that game.


~


“I don’t even know why you try, man,” Gunn taunted as he and Riley circled each other, both heaving from the fight.


“I don’t need to try – I just do it,” Riley replied as he threw a punch, but Gunn ducked easily and delivered a hit to the gut.


His fellow members laughed at Riley’s never-ending pompous attitude. They saw him as some farm-boy-turned-wannabe-fighter, rightly so, because that’s exactly what he was. When he first got dragged into the gang, they found him as some naïve farm boy coming out to Los Angeles in hopes of more opportunities. That, in itself, was enough to send most of the L.A. natives reeling with laughter.


“Nice try, farm boy,” Gunn retorted as he slammed his fist into Riley’s jaw. Riley staggered and touched his jaw, glaring at Gunn.


“Kick his ass already!” Connor shouted. “We have better things to do than watch you two dance around like a bunch of pansies.”

Riley turned to glare at Connor for calling him a pansy, and Gunn smirked before slamming his fist into his face for an upper cut. The crowd erupted into a mixture of cheers and boo’s, more fights threatening to break out.


~


Hunger satiated, Buffy reluctantly headed towards the training room, hearing the commotion inside. Her aches told her to stay away, but something about the reality of it drew her in. They were teaching her to fight, and no matter how obvious it was, she wasn’t about to point out that they were allowing her to get closer and closer to escape.


Hearing a strangled noise, she stopped in her tracks, looking around. The stairway down to the training room was dark and dank, always giving her the creeps. Buffy was about to scurry into the gym door when she heard a muffled cry. Heartbeat picking up, she planted herself against the wall as she heard the sound of tearing.


It was coming from the stairway that was located even farther inward than the training room – a place she hadn’t yet explored. Just the idea of this place going even farther underground was enough to keep her away. But like a mouse to a mousetrap, she inched forward, following the sound of the struggle that was taking place. She could hear male voices, at least two, maybe three. A few grunts and a laugh, followed by a whimper.


Her mind prayed that it wasn’t what she thought it was, but as she peaked around the corner, out of view from them, her eyes widened in horror at the sight.


Harmony was perched on a dryer, her shirt torn off and hanging by the waist while a guy fucked her and two others held her down. She was practically naked, mouth covered by the grimy hand of another and Buffy could see blood running down the dryer. The man, who she didn’t recognize, fucked her violently, grunting as he quickened the pace and disregarded her pain. Her eyes were wide with pain as she begged for mercy, but the third guy only held her arms tighter behind her back.


Buffy turned away, tears threatening to spill and she held her hand to her mouth in shock. She was no longer looking, could no longer look at all, but she could hear the final grunt of the man and another voice quickly following, “My turn.”


As a hand grabbed her arm and pulled her away, Buffy screamed with pure terror, the first truly petrified scream she let herself make. She thrashed violently, blindly, until both hands of her assailant gripped her roughly.


“Whoa! B, calm down!” Faith said, looking at her like she was crazy. Buffy’s frightened eyes searched for clarity, as she realized it was only Faith. She never liked Faith, but at that moment, she couldn’t have been more relieved to see her.


Chest heaving, Buffy’s face relaxed, but it still showed the fear plainly displayed.


Faith was about to ask what happened, but she heard the noises, and understood. Pulling Buffy away into the safety of the training room, Faith turned to her and said, “That’s why little Barbies like you don’t go wandering down stairways alone.”


“Aren’t you going to help her?” Buffy asked frantically, the images still plaguing her mind.


Faith shook her head. “It doesn’t work that way, B.”


“What do you mean it doesn’t work that way!? Did you see what they’re doing to her??”


“We already knew that was going to happen,” Faith replied with a shrug.


Buffy shook her head in disbelief. “What is wrong with you people?”


“Look – it’s obvious you can’t get it through that thick head of yours – we’re a gang. If you watch the cheesy movies, they’ll even tell you that shit happens. And our other little Barbie there?” Faith pointed towards the door, “She’s had it coming. Those assholes were just waiting for Spike to be done with her.”


Buffy looked truly disgusted, and a deeper fear crept up into her mind. Her heart raced at the thought of what would happen when the same happened to her.


Watching the emotions play across Buffy’s face, Faith advised, “The only way that’s not gonna be you someday, is if you start kicking some ass. She took too long to learn, and now it’s too late for her.” Faith gave Buffy a push forward, not wasting any more time chatting it up.


Spike watched the two curiously, wondering what was going on, and why Buffy had a horror-stricken expression as Faith pulled her into the room. She seemed to be screaming or arguing with Faith, but the brunette was surprisingly calm. Confused, he slowly worked his way towards them.


Faith shoved her forward, and she looked up to see Spike a few feet away from her. The brief feeling that washed over her at the sight of him made her freeze. It was relief. And at that realization, her emotions quickly turned to anger and she shot him a glare before storming past him, pushing his shoulder back with hers as she passed.


Spike raised a brow at Faith. “What was that all about?”


“She saw Harmony,” Faith replied.


“And?”


“In the laundry room with some of the lackies,” she added with a pointed look.


She didn’t have to say anymore, because he knew. He had known it would happen, too. The stupid little pricks were always horny, and Harm was the only one who couldn’t defend herself properly. Well, not only one. But only Harmony was fair game for them.


Spike turned around to look over at Buffy, who was looking down with a scrunched forehead, off in her own thoughts. Feeling someone’s eyes on her, she looked up, meeting his gaze. She gave him a cold look, masking her fading trauma, and turned away to wait for Darla’s instruction.


He exhaled, turning away to begin his own workout, pushing his thoughts of her out of his mind. He refused to admit why he had chosen to protect Buffy over the woman he had shagged for a year. Spike told himself it had nothing to do with Buffy…she was just a good fuck.

---

A/N: Ok, I had a hard time writing that one scene, and I’m usually un-phased by whatever I write, so I apologize if anyone was disturbed. It wasn’t just there to punish Harmony – it served a purpose that I’ve been hinting at. Hopefully, you got it at the end. Anyway, I’m extremely proud I updated both fics recently – please review? :D

It had been a week since she saw Harmony get raped, and a week of trying to forget the image. The only time it was forgotten, was when her resentment towards Spike took over all thought.


“I hate you,” she spat at him as she wiped the sweat off her forehead, chest heaving.


“I count on it,” Spike smirked as he circled her, his own sweat slowly gliding down his body.


It was what they did, every day. He trained with her, in addition to the training she got from the other women. No one questioned it, not even Buffy. She figured that it would get her to her escape faster.


Wiping her damp hair back from her face, Buffy lunged at him and brought her right fist back to punch him. Spike anticipated the move, but she surprised him by suddenly throwing a left punch, catching him in the jaw. Giving him no time to realize she actually just hit him, she kneed him in the gut, only missing his crotch because he shifted down, seeing where she was aiming.


Grabbing her, Spike whipped her around in a loose choke hold, and she tried to elbow him, but he caught her arm. “Where’d you learn that, princess?” he asked, amused.


Struggling against his arm which was firmly wrapped around the lower half of her neck, she replied out of breath, “From you. I saw you fake a punch when you fought with Angelus.”


“Well, I’m flattered. I didn’t know you were watching me that closely,” he said in a low voice.


Ignoring the chills that shot through her body, she managed to retort, “Just collecting ways to eventually kick your ass.” Elbowing him, this time successfully, she pulled away from his grasp.


Spinning her body for more power into a backhand, she managed to make him stumble slightly as he caught her arm a little late. She wrenched her arm out of his grasp, and tried to punch him in the face.


Spike caught her fist again with a grin, forcing her arm down as he grabbed her by the waist and pulled her to him violently. Picking her up, he turned and slammed her against the wall, kissing her suddenly and demandingly.


“Stop, we weren’t even done,” she managed to choke out as he attacked her neck hungrily.


“I don’t care,” he whispered, only focused on the feel and taste of her body.


Feeling her body give in, she thought about how one day, she would kill him.


~


Knowing Spike was finally asleep, she quietly slipped out from under the sheets and searched for her clothes. Her hunger had gotten to her, since ‘training’ had started before dinner time, and lasted several hours, eventually making it into his room somehow. Bitterly, she tried feel around the room as the darkness prevented her from seeing anything clearly.


Finally finding her clothes – one of her many new outfits for that matter, she threw them on quickly and tiptoed across the room. Reaching the door and finding the handle, she paused before opening it to make sure he was still asleep. As she left the room, her stomach rumbled and she hoped she could still find some food at this time of night.


She wandered into the hall, much like the time she had tried to escape, except this time she wasn’t willing to risk a blackened cheek when she knew she would lose.


“What is it this time?” a male voice asked.


She halted, feeling a familiar sense of de ja vu.


“He wants us to embarrass Spike – let him lose face in front of his gang,” the other answered.



She recognized those voices. They were the same ones from the night she had tried to escape, ironically – Riley and Lindsay. How were they so predictable to be conspiring in the same place every night?


“Well, that sounds like fun, but how do we do that?” Riley asked.


“Well…”


“What?”


“We could…continue to botch his deals,” Lindsay began.


“Or?” Riley questioned, sensing there was more.


Lindsay gave him a calculating smile. “Or we could hit him where we know he’ll hurt.”


Riley looked intrigued. “And where would that be?”


Beginning to pace, Lindsay smiled, obviously enjoying taking his time explaining. “What’s the one thing that made Spike what he is today?”


Riley scoffed. “Hell if I know. I still think he’s a good-for-nothing jackass.”


Rolling his eyes, Lindsay said slowly, “Drusilla.”


“Drusilla? What do you mean? She joined at the same-,” Riley stopped, realizing what he meant. “Ooooh, you mean when she turned on him?”


Lindsay nodded with a smile, “When she picked Angelus. That’s when it all changed, remember?”


“Yea, then he developed his ‘don’t fuck with me’ persona,” Riley brooded. He stopped, remembering what they were talking about, “What does that have to do with hitting him where it hurts? He doesn’t give a shit about Drusilla anymore.”


“That’s the genius part. When Drusilla left him, he stopped being a loser, and actually made something of himself. Revenge, if you will. Now, he’s leading his own gang, and that requires respect, right?”


“Yea…,” Riley said, getting more and more impatient.


“I think, that just maybe, if the same thing happened to him now, it would have a reverse effect. We embarrass Spike by re-enacting the same thing that happened before. Make him look un-wanted, and he’ll lose his respect. A few more botched deals, and sooner than later, they’ll all stop taking his orders.”


Riley paused for a moment, thinking about what Lindsay was suggesting. “The girl, you mean?”


Buffy began to panic, knowing they were talking about her. She tried to even her breathing, hoping they couldn’t hear her.


“Exactly.”


“How do you suppose we get her to turn on him?”


Lindsay shrugged, “Maybe we’ll just kill her and make it look like she ran away because she loathes him. Probably not far from the truth. That’s even better because you know no one is allowed to get out.”


“Yea, but have you seen her? It’d be a shame to kill her before we even get to test-drive that body of hers,” Riley smirked.


Buffy muffled her reflexive sound of disgust, but a little too late. Both heads turned to look in her direction, hearing something. Heart pounding loudly as she held her breath, she plastered herself against the wall, praying they would ignore the noise.


“Did you hear someone?” Riley asked.


Lindsay thought he saw something. Giving Riley a pointed look, he said in a normal voice, “I think it’s just a rat or something.”


Riley gave him a questioning look, until he followed Lindsay’s eyes to the direction of the hallway. Knowingly, he replied with a smile, “You’re right. Let’s go train and we can talk about this later.”


Buffy heard footsteps descending, and then…silence. She waited an extra minute or more, wanting to make sure they were gone. After what seemed like forever, she slowly allowed herself to move off the wall, and step into the main room…only to be suddenly grabbed by both arms. Screaming, she panicked and began to thrash, but a big hand came to hold her over the mouth, muffling her protests.


“Looks like she decided to start our plan for us,” Riley joked, eyeing her up and down as Lindsay held her from behind, smirking as if he enjoyed her struggles.


“You wanna ‘test’ her first? I know how sexually frustrated you are,” Lindsay joked.


“Shut up. One of these days, Eve and Darla are going to realize you’re not worth shit,” Riley retorted challengingly.


“One of these days isn’t today, is it? Let’s just do this,” Lindsay said, referring to the killing. “Here, you take her.” He threw Buffy to Riley violently, and she fell into him, her protests muffled by his hand before anything could be heard.


Grabbing her, Riley purposely ran his hand down her body before tightening his grip around her waist, and the other over her mouth.


Suddenly, the sound of flesh could be heard and Riley yelled out in pain, letting go of her. Lindsay looked up, seeing a small knife embedded in Riley’s arm, blood beginning to stain his shirt. All three of them looked in the direction of the knife in alarm, and saw Spike approaching them, looking pissed.


As Riley cursed in pain, Lindsay played it cool. “Spike. Something wrong?”


Before anyone could register it, Spike whipped out another knife and held it to Lindsay’s throat as he stared him down. “What the fuck do you two think you’re doing? You know she belongs to me.”


Normally, Buffy would’ve glared at him, corrected him, maybe tried to hit him a few times for calling her ‘his,’ but right now, she kept her mouth shut as she backed away from Riley and the guys. She could do nothing but watch, and calm her rapid heartbeat.


“We didn’t do anything,” Lindsay said calmly, slightly smiling as if he held some secret.


“You fucker,” Riley spat, pulling the knife out of his arm and letting it clang to the ground. “You stabbed my arm!”


“I can re-locate that to your dick,” Spike replied with an angry-cold tone.


“What’s it with you and flinging knives anyway?” Lindsay asked with a squint, still calm.


“I’m only going to ask you one more time. What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”


“Relax, Spike. We didn’t do anything. Look her over, as I’m sure you will,” Lindsay replied with a smirk.


Riley got up, one arm clutching at his bleeding wound, as he glared at Spike’s back. Eyeing the knife on the ground that had just stabbed him, he reached down slowly to get it. Before he could touch it, the sound of several guns cocking could be heard. Everyone, but Spike, froze, looking around them at the new participants. As Spike still held the knife to Lindsay’s neck, Cordelia, Darla, Gunn, and Lorne stood around them, pointing their guns at both Lindsay and Riley, two on each.


Spike smirked at Lindsay, letting the knife graze the skin of his neck before he put it down. He turned to Riley and grabbed him by the neck, yanking him up. All Riley could do was stay still, knowing the guns were ready and aimed, and none of them were afraid to use it. Voice low as he glared at him, Spike warned, “Touch her again, and you’ll lose your limbs.” Kneeing him in the crotch painfully, Spike threw Riley back on the floor and walked away from them, grabbing Buffy’s hand and dragging her along. She didn’t resist, wanting to get away from the threat of a gunshot, or several, for that matter.


Not looking back because he knew they would take care of it, he dragged her down the hall and into his room, shutting the door.


Once inside, he whipped her around to face him and demanded with an intense glare, “Why the fuck were you out there?”


“I was hungry,” she replied hesitantly, not knowing why he seemed scarier than usual. His hands were gripping both her arms painfully, until he saw her flinch and his grip loosened slightly.


“Then why didn’t you tell me?” his jaw twitched.


“I didn’t know I’m supposed to report to you every time I’m hungry,” she replied evenly, but her words voiced her growing irritation. It seemed to be her usual emotion whenever he was around.


Letting her go and pushing her farther into the room, he ordered, “I don’t want you to leave this room until morning.”


Glaring at him, “I’m not a dog. I can’t just stay in one room forever and eat and drink once a day. In fact, even dogs have it better than I do.”


Teeth clenched, he replied slowly, “Next time, tell me. Unless you want those idiots putting their mitts all over you – and I don’t take leftovers from the likes of Finn.” The moment he saw her eyes widen incredulously, he wondered how it was that he was able to find the worst thing to say at all possible occasions.


She glared at him in fury. “Well, at least I’d be dead and then I wouldn’t have to look at your face anymore.”


“What do you mean - dead?”


Opening her mouth to retort something, Buffy realized he must not have heard everything. She contemplated whether it was a good idea to tell him about their plan to take him down. It made sense to tell him, considering Riley and Lindsay were the enemies, but a part of her still wasn’t sure, and no matter how you looked at it, Spike was still one of her enemies. The one who was making her life a living hell, and the one who kept inadvertently made it a little less hell-ish. So she told him the part that affected her. “They said, we’re going to…’test-drive’ me…,” she tried to word calmly, not wanting him to see how much it affected her, “and kill me.”


“And why would they do that?” he questioned, jaw tight.


“How am I supposed to know? You’re the expert criminal - you figure it out,” she lied. Buffy wondered for a brief second if these kept secrets would work for her or against her in the end.


“What else did they say?” he demanded, thinking he was going to gut those two soon and put everyone out of their misery.


“I don’t know. I tend not to hear much after I’ve been told I’m going to be killed soon,” she replied sarcastically.


Thinking about it for a moment, he had a ticked-off expression on his face. After a few moments, he looked back to Buffy and ordered, “Take off your clothes.”


She blinked a few times at his sudden change in attitude, and then glared at him as her angered dignity came to surface, “Go to hell.”


“Already going there. Take off your clothes or I’ll take them off for you,” he replied evenly with a serious expression.


It was one of those moments where she felt like she could never be angrier, or want to kill someone so much. As he took a step towards her, she took a step back and gritted out, “Get away from me.” Seeing his raised brow, she cursed him before she reached for the hem of her shirt, all the while picturing several ways to kill him in his sleep.


Lifting her shirt over her head, she looked back to him and threw her shirt at him, as if it would have any effect, “I hate you, you know?”


Catching her shirt, he said with the same even expression, “Pants too.”


Shutting her eyes, she tried to overcome the incredible feeling of utter embarrassment as her pride and dignity was completely shot to hell. She didn’t even know what the hell he was getting at. Reaching for her pants, she pulled them down without looking at him, not wanting to see his stupid smirk or that look he often had. When she opened her eyes to glare at him, she was surprised to see that neither of those expressions was there.


Instead, he examined her body, eyes scanning over her skin, but showing no amount of sexual implication, even though his growing arousal was telling him to do otherwise.


After what seemed like forever, she suddenly felt self-conscious and crossed her arms over her chest protectively, shuddering.


Seeing her tremble, he looked up into her eyes, “What?”


“It’s cold,” she lied.


He grabbed the sheet off the bed, brought her arms up and wrapped it around her. Not knowing where he was going with this, she could do nothing but stand there and wait with a confused frown. Standing up and beginning to walk away from her, he asked, “Are you still hungry?”


“No.” Her hunger had suddenly disappeared, and with good reason.


“Then go to sleep,” he said as he walked towards the bathroom.


He was telling her to go to sleep? Looking surprised and hesitant, she wondered if he was all the way there, and what the hell that was all about. Deciding not to question it any longer, she got onto the bed and lay down, eyeing him until he disappeared into the bathroom.


Finally putting down her head against the pillow, she let her confusion melt away as the exhaustion overtook her. She forced herself to sleep, because if she didn’t, she’d have to think about what had happened out in the hall, and also, what the hell just happened in the room.


~


She woke up at multiple sensations permeating her body. One, she felt a wetness at the back of her neck. Two, she felt something in between her legs. Blinking away the hazy fog from her eyes, she realized she was in bed, and a warm body was behind her: Spike’s. His lips were gliding over her back, as one of his hands traveled down past the flat of her stomach and dipped down in between her curls.


Trying not to react, she began to ask, “What are you doing?” When no answer came, she turned her head to look at him from her ‘spooned’ position, and her eyes showed her surprise as she realized he looked half asleep.


“Mmm,” he hummed in response against her skin. Before she could do anything else, Buffy felt him pull out his fingers and his cock slipped into her forcefully from behind, causing her to gasp at the sudden invasion.


She tried to pry his hands away from his body, but they just tightened their grip around her as he began pumping into her. “Wake up,” she said, beginning to panic. It wasn’t that he had never wanted sex in the middle of the night. It was the way he was holding her and kissing her that scared her most, and the fact that he was weirdly asleep, or faking it.


“Five more minutes,” he muttered.


Buffy wasn’t sure if he was actually awake or talking in a sleepy haze, but he was slowly driving her crazy as he moved his cock in and out of her, making her wet against her will. She was about to forcefully push him off, when his lips found that spot on the back of her neck. Rasping slightly, she closed her eyes and tried to reign in the control.


Spike’s lips continued to caress the back of her neck as his shaft pumped into her from behind, as they both lay on their side.


“Spike,” she tried to wake him, using his name – she rarely called him anything but an asshole.


Eyes still closed, he whispered lustily in her ear, “Buffy.”


Closing her eyes again, she realized he really was asleep, or else he wouldn’t have called her Buffy – and the way he said it made her stomach flip. Unable to take the pressure that was building up in between her legs, she bit her lip and fought to control herself.


Her breathing getting increasingly shallow, her body willed her to move – and after what felt like a tortured forever of resistance, she finally did.


Moving back against him as he pumped forward, she felt the sensation shoot through her body as his cock pressed deep within her.


All conscience fell away, and the only thing that mattered was what her body was feeling right now. Not turning around to look at him, she started moving back against his thrusts, her body demanding it. The whole time her eyes were closed and she muffled her involuntary responses into the pillow. If she didn’t have to look at him, it would be o.k. No thinking – just heat, rising, consuming her until all logical thought was gone.


The warmth that surrounded him was strangling him, and his body was humming with pleasure. Feeling something slam back against his cock, he slowly opened his eyes, blinking away the sensations of what he thought was a dream. But as the haze cleared, he became perplexed because it wasn’t – or didn’t seem to be. The searing heat around him was suddenly magnified as he slipped back into reality. Looking at Buffy’s face, he saw her closed eyes and open mouth, muffled half into the pillow as her body moved against him.


“So you like it when I’m asleep, huh?” he whispered into her ear, speeding up his movements as a wave of lust hit him.


She froze, snapping out of her temporary insanity. Trying to push him off of her, she found her efforts being slowed as he continued to let his cock glide in and out of her channel from behind. “No, don’t,” she begged ineffectively, conviction in her words lost as she found herself close to her climax.


It was too late. Lost in the feel of her around him, and the memory of the way she responded, even for the briefest of seconds, Spike rasped in her ear as he came spiraling towards his own release, “Fuck, you feel so good.”


Her body jolted at his words as a wave of wetness flowed in between her legs. As one of his hands let go of her waist to reach down for her clit, she didn’t fight him off, even though she probably could have if she tried. Gasping as he both fucked her from behind and played with her clit, pressing it in just the right way, she came with a pleasure scream.


Feeling her body convulsing in pleasure, he came soon after as her slick heat strangled him until he exploded.


They both gasped and panted for air, coming down from their highs.


As Spike looked over at Buffy’s flushed face, he felt overwhelmed at the idea that she had been fucking him in his sleep, even if it was probably initiated by his sleep-induced state. Maybe she was finally-


Thoughts interrupted, he felt Buffy push away from him and get up, running away to the bathroom like she often did. Sighing, he plopped down on his back and rubbed his eyes. Why should he care? …Right?


--------------------------------------------------------------


A/N: Next chapter: Spike gives Buffy a ‘present.’ Review please!

It hadn’t been a dream, and his brow creased at the realization of what it meant. For a second, a millimeter of a second even, it had been almost gentle between them. He couldn’t help but drift to the last woman he had allowed himself to be that way around…

*

Sitting at his desk, he tapped the eraser of his pencil on the desk, staring at his worn-out sheet of paper. His brows furrowed in increasing frustration and he ran his left hand through his brown hair, sighing.

“I’m never going to get this done,” he shoved the paper aside, leaning back as if he was defeated.

“Get what done, William?” Drusilla’s voice whispered. She came up behind him and wrapped her arms around him from the back.

Feeling himself relax at her touch, he pulled her around into his lap, kissing her softly. “It’s nothing important, luv. Didn’t even know I was speaking out loud.”

She ran the back of her left hand down his cheek, “You worry too much. We should get away – go visit the beaches like we used to – spend the whole day playing in the sand…”

Looking up at her with a look of regret, “You know we can’t, Dru. We just can’t afford it right now.” He hated saying those words to her, having these discussions – it made him feel weak and incapable. He wanted her to sit back and relax while he took care of her – something he hadn’t been doing so well ever since the Los Angeles Times laid him off two months ago. And it had not been a big surprise to find out that his aspiration of becoming a real published writer was not currently well-paying.

“I can always ask daddy for a loan,” she said absently, running her hands through his hair. It was her automatic response – she had never worked a day in her life, always having men who provided for her.

Closing his eyes as he sighed again, he knew it would really help if he could get a loan. After all, their new apartment was anything but new – worn-out secondhand furniture, chipped paint, and shitty plumbing. But he refused. The man hated him, and thought he was a worthless and lousy wannabe writer.

“No, Dru. We talked about this,” he reminded her with clipped patience.

She pouted, hearing the edge of his tone, and he sighed, softening his expression. “I’m sorry. I just don’t know how I’m going to find something that pays enough.”

She put her fingers to his lips, “You’ll find something. It’ll work out, William.” She caressed his face, “I promise we’ll have our happy ending.” She kissed him lightly and gave him a smile, an innocent gleam in her eyes.

His muscles relaxed and he smiled affectionately at her. She was his dark-haired beauty - although her innocence contradicted her striking looks. It was one thing he found fascinating about her, which is why he shouldn’t have been so surprised when that same innocence was so easily shattered.

*

‘Bitch,’ he thought to himself in growing anger, abruptly getting off the bed. He mindlessly threw on some clothes and stormed over to the bathroom door. Without bothering to knock, he burst the door open.


Startled, Buffy jumped up and whipped around, eyes wide. As soon as she registered it was him, she tightened her grip on the towel wrapped around her body and her eyes narrowed at him, “Get away from me.”


His expression turning dark, he strode over to her in two long strides, effectively backing her up into the edge of the sink counter. Wrenching her wrists forcefully, he pulled them down to the counter and pinned them there, causing her towel to loosen, but not fall down completely. Face coming dangerously close to hers, he said in a low voice, “You forget where you are, and who I am. If I were you, I’d be careful the way you talk to me.”


Buffy let the silence fill the air for a moment, feeling the edges of fear penetrate her stubborn resistance – it wasn’t often that he got that dark and cold look in his eyes, one where the rage overweighed his normally cool control. But seeing the beginnings of a victorious smirk on his face, the spark of defiance crept back into her eyes. “I haven’t forgotten who you are. You’re the disgusting low-life leader of some demented gang, and I’d wish you’d kill me so I wouldn’t have to look at your face anymore,” she spat venomously as she tried to jerk away from him, causing her towel to cascade down onto the floor.

His eyes narrowed for a moment before he leaned in closer and tightened his grip on her wrists. Antagonizing her, he pressed his body up against her naked skin, showing her who was in control. Her jaw was tight and Spike heard the sound of her deep, and obviously enraged, breathing coming through her nostrils. Finally, he asked with a squint of his eyes, “So as long as you don’t have to look at the person, you can fuck them in their sleep and still live with yourself in the morning?”

A look of incredulity flashed across her face before she began thrashing against him, trying to get away from him angrily. “Get away from me, you fucking bastard!” she screamed, wrenching a wrist free and trying to bash him with her closed fist.

Spike caught her fist, struggling with her to maintain his hold on her arms. But other attentions were being brought to play at the feel and sight of her naked body battling against him - her chest heaving, face flushed and skin beginning to glow from exertion. He suppressed a groan, his controlled attitude quickly slipping away, and he wondered when she was ever going to understand that naked-fighting only led to one thing…

Panting, she only stopped when she noticed the hungry look in his eyes, scanning up and down her body and settling on her mouth as his own lips parted ever so slightly. She began to protest, “Sto-,”

Silencing her, Spike slammed his lips to hers and pushed her up against the counter.

Her muffled protest died in her throat and turned into a gasp when she felt his hands grab her ass and pull her to him roughly, lifting her up onto the cool marble of the counter. At the sight of him unbuttoning his jeans, her eyes widened incredulously and she kicked him backwards roughly with her foot, getting back down to her feet. As he gave her a leer and came toward her again, she shot him a murderous look while her hand searched behind her for something – anything – on the counter that could be a weapon.

Pulling his shirt over his head and tossing it aside, he advanced on her.

She suddenly felt exposed and panicked, feeling like his helpless prey. Behind her back, her hand knocked over a small standing mirror. Buffy fumbled with it, trying to get a grip. Clutching it in her hand, she swung with all her hate, aiming for his head.

The mirror shattered against his forehead, sharp edges cutting his flesh and causing blood to trickle down. Shocked, he staggered back for a moment, putting his hand to his head. As he brought his hand down, he saw red.

*

He felt his blood running down his chest, even though he didn’t look down to confirm it. His wrists were sore – skin raw and bloody where he struggled too hard against the chains. Drusilla stood before him, twirling a knife, admiring the patterns she had etched into his chest.
Feeling the unbearable pang of his broken heart, he managed to ask with a rasp, “Why?”

“Because you’re not good enough, William,” she answered simply, licking a spot of blood off her thumb.

*

He looked up at her, a dark coldness in his expression. She saw the unmistakable change in his demeanor, one that she hadn’t seen since the day he fought Angelus.

Lunging for the doorknob, she twisted and yanked, heart hammering in her chest. Halfway across the room, she felt his hand grip her arm painfully and fling her around to face him.

“Bitch,” he backhanded her roughly.

Falling onto his bed, Buffy let out a cry and clutched her cheek. She didn’t need to look at her hand to know that there was blood because she could taste it on her lips. Before she could move, he was on her, reaching into his jeans.

Tears of anger began to burn at the corner of her eyes, and she kicked at him, refusing to give in. He easily pinned down her legs, ignoring her protesting body and continuing his actions.

She sank down onto him, throwing her head back in pleasure.

Buffy let out her fury, punching him, scratching him, doing anything she could to stop him. “Get off me!” she screamed in complete anguish.

He didn’t hear her, pulling his cock out and positioning himself at her entrance before quickly shoving into her.

Her black hair fell forward as she leaned down to bite his lower lip, and she jerked up roughly, eliciting a grunt from him.

Buffy fought for air, Spike’s jerking movements unconstrained and violent - this time was different. She struggled against him, tears running down the side of her face. He wasn’t looking at her, and she was scared that this was it. This was the end.

Spike looked down at Buffy, without really seeing her.

He flipped her over so he was on top and started pumping into her furiously, cocky grin on his face. She smiled in satisfaction, un-phased by his violent movements.

She screamed, his violent jerks hurting her. His grip was bruising her, and she felt like she was dying.

He proceeded to fuck the life out of her, making her scream as she came close to her orgasm. Angelus turned to look at a chained-up Spike, giving him a taunting look before coming to his own release. The last thing Spike heard was Drusilla’s pleasured scream.

“No, you’re hurting me,” she sobbed hopelessly, the pain threatening her consciousness. Spike suddenly grabbed the back of her head and smashed his lips to hers, forcing his tongue in. The moment he tasted her blood, he stopped, blinking as he snapped back to reality.

His confused eyes looked down at her, his pained expression making him seem more vulnerable than he had ever appeared before. Though he had stopped, he was gasping for breath as he watched her cry, blood smearing the side of her face. He closed his eyes and opened them, hoping it wasn’t reality.

Buffy didn’t know what happened, but as soon as she realized he had stopped, she pushed him back harshly, wiping the tears away with the back of her hand. Glaring at him with a quavering expression, she grabbed the sheet to wrap around her body. “You’re a monster,” she ground out, voice unsteady. She wanted to move, run, anything away from him, but her body was aching.

He backed up, pangs of guilt threatening to choke him as he took in the sight of her. Hair in disarray, tears staining her face, blood smeared around her mouth, hate in her eyes.

“I didn’t mean-,” he began, but couldn’t finish. With a shaky intake of breath, he moved to find his clothes, feeling more like William than he had in years. He couldn’t look at her anymore. He hadn’t felt this wrong in years. So he turned, and quickly left the room.

He gripped the side of his head, shutting his eyes as if in pain. It was that feeling that crept up into his stomach, the one he had learned to never have over the years – guilt. It rushed through him every time he saw the image of her disheveled state, knowing that he caused it. But a war was raging within. The memories had never come so alive in his mind, to the point that he could feel the faded scars stinging on his chest.


He yelled out in frustration, lifting up the desk and overturning it, sending everything clattering to the ground.


Drusilla’s voice rang through his head. ”You’ll never be good enough, William.”


Spike turned to survey the room – he had long deserted it. Bookshelves along the wall, a comfortable armchair now covered with a sheet. The air smelled musty and a thick layer of dust settled on every surface. He hadn’t come back here since Angelus put doubt into everyone’s mind. What kind of man had an interest in lame books? Certainly not one capable of leading a gang.


No, only William.


Now, standing in the darkness, Spike felt like destroying everything that was William. Striding over to the large bookcase, he began pulling books off the shelves, tearing out as many pages as he could at one time. One, two,…five, until his hands became impatient. Yelling out, he knocked everything off the shelves, making a large pile on the floor. Dust swiveled in the air, but he didn’t care. He pulled on the bookcase, swinging it down loudly onto the pile. Spike huffed, taking in the sight before him, the mess he made, and flinched. Gone was the cool, calm, and collected persona that he used to hold. After all these years, he had lost control.


The image of the stubborn blonde immediately popped into mind. The hate in her glares, to the flickers of uncertainty, to the sobbing fear. It was her fault.


His tortured eyes looked around the room for the one thing he wanted. Advancing over to the bar, he let out a sigh of relief when he saw an unopened bottle of Jack Daniels. Spike grabbed the first glass he saw, ripped off the top of the bottle, and poured himself a full glass. With one quick movement, he downed the drink in one gulp, before bringing down the empty glass and peering at it. Failing to calm his turmoil, he let out a frustrated yell as he flung the glass as hard as he could, smashing it against the far wall. He grabbed the bottle and began to drink recklessly.


The bitch would pay.


~


The alcohol pumped through his veins, making his flesh hot and his head pound. Normally, drinking was a good way to forget, but all he could think about was her. ‘The bitch needs to be put in her place,’ he thought coldly as he left the office and worked his way toward the bedroom. In the end, Spike remembered who he was supposed to be, and what they did here. It was the way of the world, the way of their world. He would teach her not to defy him again.


~


She didn’t make an effort to move. Buffy sat on the floor, sheet wrapped around her body, physical appearance still in disarray. She let angry tears glide down her cheek, but she sat in silence. She could taste the dried blood at the corner of her mouth, but she failed to care. She passed the hours in dead silence, not wanting to do anything but sit.


~


Throwing the door open, he had expected her to attack him, provoke him, crash another mirror against his head. But when he opened the door, with every intent to regain his “respect,” Spike froze as he took in her appearance. It was obvious that she hadn’t made any attempt to clean herself up. In that moment, she looked like a lost little girl - she was asleep, sitting on the floor, head resting against the wall.


The anger melted off his expression. The damage he had been planning to do had already been done. Spike stood there for a while, not knowing what to do. Finally, he approached her slowly, and kneeled down to observe her. Blood smearing her chin, face covered with tear tracks – but it was the sad expression on her sleeping face that made something inside him feel…


Sighing and running his hands through his hair, he wondered how the alcohol could wear off so quickly. He reached underneath her arms, and began to lift her up, slowly. Carefully, he placed her on the bed and let go as she stirred. Holding his breath, he waited for her to wake up and for the rage to enter back into her expression, but she didn’t. Spike relaxed, and stared down at her. She looked so…peaceful...something he hadn’t seen on her before. He had never taken the time to look at her like this, even though she spent every night in his bedroom. The way she was breathing lightly, chest moving up and down softly…He turned away when he realized what he was doing.


~


“Wes,” Spike called as he approached him in the main room.


“Yea?” Wesley asked, turning around away from Illyria.


“I need you to look into something.”


“Ok…,” he questioned, waiting for Spike to continue.


Spike brought out a card of some sort, and shoved it in Wesley’s face for him to see. “Look up ‘Summers’ and give me everything on all her family members, from occupation to police reports to where they live. This information only goes to me, got it?”


“Yea, got it,” Wesley answered as he scrunched his brow for a second, grabbing the card and looking at it. It was Buffy’s UC Sunnydale student I.D. card.


Summers, Buffy Anne.


“What’s it for?” Wesley questioned, sensing Spike was plotting something.


“Revenge,” Spike replied evenly, walking away from the two without looking at them again.


~


She woke up to the sound of distant yelling. She groaned and tried to blink her eyes open, realizing the sounds were coming from people walking past the closed door. Remembering the events of the previous night, the anger returned. She wondered if it was real, but she felt the evidence on her body - it ached, but…she felt surprisingly…clean. Touching her hand to her lips, she realized the blood had been cleaned off. Frowning in confusion, she realized her hair was no longer a tangled mess, her face was clean, and she was dressed in a nightgown. Scanning her memories, she realized she hadn’t fallen asleep in the bed, in his bed, last night.


Refusing to think about the state of her cleanliness and how she got to be that way, she threw off the covers and stood up. It was time to take matters into her own hands.


~

The mess hall was loud and noisy, people from both sides of the gang conversing, or rather, bantering and fighting. The long, metal table and dim cement walls gave the room a dreary, but clean, look. As usual, the hired cooks were rushing to prepare the custom ordered meals, not wanting to anger any of them.


Buffy looked around with a steely glint in her eye. It was never safe to come here – it was a place where no one cared what happened to her. It wasn’t the training room, where people watched her, even if it was to see her get her ass kicked. She couldn’t really pinpoint the reason before, but she supposed that this room clearly displayed the chaos and disorder of who these people were.


Now, her fear was gone. To say she was hardening would be an obvious statement, but she was also gaining confidence – not from a renewed view on life, but rather from the fact that she started to care less and less.


Ignoring the gazes of the people around her, she strode right over to Cordelia, who was in the middle of a conversation with Darla.


“I need your help,” Buffy said to her evenly.


Cordelia paused mid-sentence, turning to look at her, annoyed.


“Well, aren’t we bold today?” Darla asked snidely, eyeing her up and down and taking in the slightly different air about her.


“What makes you think I care?” Cordelia asked, crossing her arms. She didn’t fail to notice the slight cut in the corner of Buffy’s lip.


“Teach me how to use a knife.”


Thrown off by her random request, she responded after a moment, “You don’t learn anything until Spike says so. Take it up with Spike.”


“I-,” Buffy began.


Darla interrupted with a dismissal of her hand, “Get lost now.”


Buffy sighed, frustrated, knowing that with Darla there, she would never get anywhere talking to Cordelia. She’d have to catch her alone. Giving Cordelia a final look, she turned and walked away.


Darla tilted her head and watched as Buffy retreated. Looking thoughtful she commented, “Hm, I guess she isn’t just your typical bimbo Barbie after all.”


“You say that as if whore is much better,” Cordelia retorted with a challenging smirk, taking offense to the Barbie comment, and forgetting all about Buffy.


“Excuse me, it was Professional Escort, got it?” Darla threw back.


“Yea, whatever,” Cordelia rolled her eyes, both of them going back to their previous conversation.


~


She approached him as he took out his aggression on the punching bag, as usual.


“What is it?” he asked, never stopping his punches.


“I thought you should know she asked me to teach her how to use knives today,” Cordelia said with a lifted eyebrow, coming to stand on the side of him.


He stopped, slowly turning to look at her. “Did she?”


“I told her to take it up with you.”


“Then why are you here?” he asked, going back to his punching bag.


She smirked. “Because I figured out how she got that cut on her lip, and by the looks of that scratch on your head, I was right.”


Spike stopped again, jaw clenched. “Do it then.”


Knowing that they both knew Buffy’s intent, she didn’t bother to ask him if he was sure. She knew what he was thinking. Hate was really the best motivator.


--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------


Two months later…


“I’m in the lobby,” Gunn said discreetly into his microphone piece. Sucking in a little, he reached to button up his suit jacket before adjusting his tie. He surveyed the area, looking at all the men and women in business attire busily walking about. Spotting Cordelia disappearing into the elevator, he moved in the opposite direction, towards the security counter, knowing that Spike and Buffy were about to start.


~


“Don’t screw this up, Goldilocks,” he whispered into her ear as one hand grabbed her arm, “or you know what happens.”


She wrenched her arm out of his grip, shooting him a glare. “I’m not going to screw it up.”


“Now.”


“God, you’re such a jerk!” she screamed, loud enough to cause a disruption. Pushing him back by the chest, she turned to stomp away from him, but he grabbed her arm and whipped her around.


“Stop making a scene,” he warned with a tight expression. “There are people here, Joan.”


“I don’t care – the whole world can hear me for all I care,” her angered voice rose in irritation.


They continued to bicker loudly, until the guards at the security desk looked to each other and two of them began making their way over to them.


“Will you just shut up for a minute?” Spike yelled in frustration as he shook her shoulders.


“Excuse me, sir, but you’re going to have to take this somewhere else,” one of the guards adjusted his belt.


“Hey, don’t try to tell us what to do, you jackass,” Buffy yelled. “Can’t you see I’m trying to have a fucking conversation here?”


The guards exchanged looks before getting right to business. One of them grabbed her by the arm, and said, “I’m going to have to escort you outside.”


“Hey, what the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Spike warned.


Before they could respond or try to calm the two down, Buffy began screaming like a banshee and thrashing against the guard, alerting everyone in the lobby to their already-obvious drama.


The remaining guard at the desk looked to the debacle in alarm, and seeing his co-workers dealing with two apparent handfuls, he opted to help them and left the desk for a moment. Gunn slipped by the counter, pressing a button he knew was located on the monitor, all the while looking like he hadn’t even moved a finger. It would only buy them a minute or so, but it was all they needed.


~


“Mr. Hensley,” the secretary’s voice called through the speaker, “your 2 o’ clock is here to see you.”


He pushed the button and spoke, “Send them right in.”


If he remembered correctly, his next appointment was with people from the American Cancer Society, seeking a generous donation. Normally, he wouldn’t even see such people, but he had soon learned that sparing a few thousand dollars every couple of months to a well-known non-profit organization was a highly effective way of keeping suspicions away from his company and looking good in the media. After quickly logging off his computer, he stood up and buttoned his suit, straightening his posture just as he heard a knock on the door.


“Come in,” he called loud enough to be heard on the other side of the door.


The door opened, a man and a woman walking in.


“Hello, Mr. Hensley. I’m Wesley Wyndam-Pryce,” Wesley walked up to the desk, and reached over to shake his hand in a strong grip.


“Nice to meet you, Mr. Wyndam-Pryce,” noticing the grip the man had in his handshake.


“Yes, likewise, and this is my colleague, Ms. Winifred Burkle,” he introduced, turning slightly to his side.


Mr. Hensley took in the appearance of a small, petite, and brunette woman – hair pulled up into a bun, wearing thin glasses, generally looking very mousy, and holding a small briefcase. Smiling, he reached out to shake her hand, “I didn’t know the Cancer Society had such good-looking workers, or I would’ve offered more of my services,” he joked with a glint in his eye.


Wesley laughed and shot Illyria a look that Mr. Hensley didn’t see, warning her to stay in character.


A dark look flashed across her eyes briefly, before she accepted his handshake and giggled with a blush. “Oh, you should see the other girls – they’re much prettier than little old me.”


“Well, I’m sure you’re being modest. But please, have a seat,” he gestured to the two chairs.


Sitting down, she placed her briefcase on the ground and unlatched the clasp.


“So, I’m assuming you’re here for a donation?” Mr. Hensley asked knowingly.


Wesley smiled cordially, and continued, “Yes, you’ve assumed correctly, and I’m sure you don’t want me to bore you with details you already know about.”


He nodded and got out his checkbook, hoping to wrap this up within a few minutes. “How much are you asking for this time? And let’s not beat around the bush,” he said without looking up, knowing these people liked to play the ‘however much you’re willing to give’ game.


After a long moment of silence, he began to look up curiously.


“Everything you have,” Illyria said in an emotionless tone, bringing the gun out of the bag and firing it directly at his neck as his eyes widened. The tranquilizer shot him as he made a short strangled noise before he slumped forward onto the desk.


Wesley got up immediately, going to the computer and beginning to type.


“Hurry up. If I have to wear this disguise any longer than I have to, I’m going to break someone’s neck.”


“Well Frank here thinks you look rather fetching,” Wesley patronized with a smile as she glared at him.


As she put her gun back into the bag, she strode over next to Wesley and opened the desk drawer. Reaching up against the ceiling of the drawer, she pulled off a key that was placed there in a custom-made space.


After typing continuously for a few more seconds, he announced, “Got it. Let’s go.”


~


They walked out with accomplished smiles on their faces, passing the secretary. “My gosh, can you believe how generous he is?” Fred smiled excitedly as she looked at the check in her hands.


The secretary just smiled and shook her head as she looked down, going back to work. Some people were really naïve.


As soon as they were far enough away, Wesley spoke into his mic-piece, “We’re coming up.”


~


In silence, Cordelia stood in the elevator with other people. As the it reached the 31st floor, it stopped and opened. Wesley and Illyria got in, the other occupants scooting aside to make more room.


“Oops, sorry,” Fred apologized nervously as she bumped into Cordelia.


Cordelia gave her a slightly annoyed look and went back to staring ahead at the door, but she secretly pocketed the key Illyria had handed her.


They rode the next few seconds in silence.


Cordelia got out on the 32nd floor with a few other business men and women, leaving her co-members behind. After waiting for the other people to start walking to the right towards where all the offices were, she turned left with a determined stride.


Stopping before she came to an intersecting hallway, she waited, because she knew there was a guard standing in front a door at the end of the perpendicular hallway, and a security camera pointed at him and the door. Gunn’s voice finally came through the mic, “You have two minutes tops.”


“Only need one, Charles,” she smiled before bringing out her gun.


The guard saw her coming and straightened. “Miss, you can’t be here.”


She moved the gun into his line of sight, causing him to widen his eyes and fumble to reach his own, but she held hers up and aimed straight for him. “Don’t call me miss,” she said as she fired.


The tranquilizer hit him and he slumped down automatically. “Well, this thing’s a killjoy,” she rolled her eyes, preferring a real gun. “If we weren’t pretending to be classy, then you’d need some serious facial reconstruction,” talking conversationally to his unconscious form as she took the keys out of his pants pocket.


She opened the door quickly and looked at the stairway before her. Cordelia knew it lead to floor 33 – the secret floor, and exactly where everything of value was.


~


“Cordelia, you in?” Wesley asked as he pressed two fingers to his ear. He waited with Illyria, both of them already in their car and driving away.


Immediately, he heard her respond, “Yea, piece of cake. I’m in front of the safe. What’s the code?”


“721 1218 9372 H-E-N-S-L-E-Y,” he repeated slowly.


“What the fuck? There aren’t any letters on here, Wes.”


He frowned for a moment, “Well, try the corresponding number for each letter. That’s what his files said.”


“Great. I have to do actual thinking, and sing the damn alphabet in my head. What a ruthless gang banger I am,” she said sarcastically.


“Just hurry,” he urged. He held his breath, hoping that the code was right – he had only spent a month figuring out how to hack into this man’s files.


“It cleared,” she said, and she heard him let out a breath.


“Alright, it’s in box 385. Just take the blue floppy disk and the CD. Don’t take any of the other stuff,” he reminded.


She was about to reply snarkily, when she took in the sight before her. The safe was a large room, bigger than three bedrooms put together. On the entire right side of the room, there were stacks of money carefully organized into bounded piles. She gaped, feeling her fingers itch at the idea of how much money must be sitting there, and how many outfits and cars she could buy with it. The left wall was completely lined with what looked like safety deposit boxes, and she snapped out of it, remembering she had about 30 seconds left.


Locating box 385 quickly, she took out the key Illyria handed her, and used it. Pulling out the metal box, she saw a simple blue floppy disk and a CD. “I feel like the nerdiest robber ever,” she muttered as she pocketed them and put the box back. Giving the money one last longing look, she turned and fled.


~


“That was so classless of you!” Buffy yelled after the guards, who were walking back inside after they threw them out.


She turned back to Spike, who was giving her an impressed smirk. Her face immediately darkened, act over. Rolling her eyes, she said, “I told you I could do it.”


He grabbed her hand and began walking away quickly, “Let’s go.”


She stopped him, pulling her hand out of his. “I can walk by myself, thank you very much,” she retorted before walking in front of him, up to the dark car parked on the side of the street. She opened the door, got in, and slammed it loudly.


Opening the door to the driver’s seat and getting him, he saw her staring straight ahead, ignoring him as usual. He closed the door, and before making a move to start the car, he felt like there was something he should be saying, or offering. Instead, “You hungry?”


“No. Can we just leave?” she asked with tense irritation. Buffy knew what he was getting at. You would think that her first time outside of that underground hole, she would be ecstatic, and desperate to connect with the outside world. She had thought so too, but he had ruined it for her. Now all it meant being out her was being reminded that every second she spent was a possibility, in his eyes, for her to run away. But she knew she couldn’t do that. Nothing was worth risking the lives of her loved ones – especially Dawn.


Spike knew why she was tense and highly irritated. He had told her they would kill them all - there was nothing else that would ensure she didn’t run – it was the only way.


Sighing, he touched his ear-piece, “Everyone out?”


“Illyria and I are,” Wesley’s voice came through.


Spike waited, until he heard Cordelia’s voice, “Got the stuff - Gunn and I are in the car.”


Considering what this successful job could secure them, he should’ve been reveling. But a look at the indifferent expression of the blonde next to him kept clouding his mind.

----------------------------------------------------------------------


Spike knew what she was doing, but he didn’t let it bother him. She was staring out the window as he drove, most likely trying to remember the way, storing street names in her memory. They both knew she wouldn’t do anything though, not when she thought her family was at stake. He had found out everything he needed against her, but got more than he asked for.


*flashback*


Wesley handed him a file, “It’s everything from her elementary report card to her little sister.”


Spike frowned, taking it, “She has a sister?”


“Dawn Summers – goes to Sunnydale High School. You’ll be interested to read why Buffy probably came to L.A. too,” he added with a knowing look.


“And why’s that?” he looked curious as he opened the file.


“I’m assuming it has something to do with what happened to her mother,” Wesley guessed. Seeing Spike’s questioning expression, he added, “It’s in the police report, and the newspaper article I was able to find.”


Flipping a few pages aside, he came to the cutout article of a newspaper. Woman Dies Tragically From Hit-and-Run. His eyes widened slightly, continuing to read the article:

At approximately 5pm, a Sunnydale civilian, Joyce Summers, was run down and killed by a reckless hit-and-run driver. There was only one witness: Mrs. Summers’ daughter, Buffy Anne Summers. It has been confirmed that the suspect is a student at UC Sunnydale, Parker Abrams. Police are doing their best to track down the suspect, and a full report of the tragic witness account is anticipated to be released tomorrow morning.


Taking a moment, Spike stared down at the papers in his hands, frowning. His picture of Buffy in a spoiled role of rich valley girl was suddenly thrown out the door. Imagining her grief and horror, he flinched. He had been wrong about her.


*end*


He pulled the car down into the warehouse, and turned off the engine just as the other cars pulled in next to him. Unlocking the doors, they both got out at the same time as everyone else.


“I would say it’s time for a celebration, don’t you think?” Cordelia smiled as she held up the disks and addressed the others.


“You kidding me? We better do something. We only spent a month going over that shit,” Gunn added.


Spike wasn’t paying attention to them, staring at Buffy and the way she wrapped her arms around herself when she thought no one was looking. When she noticed he was, she dropped her arms to her side, giving him a cold look and turning away.


*flashback*


“Who is Parker Abrams?” he asked suddenly, breaking the silence between them in his room.


She froze, widened eyes turning to him. “How did you hear that name?”


“Saw it in the paper,” he replied.


“You ran a check on me??” she asked incredulously. Shaking her head in disgust, she marched over to the bed and tried to ignore him.


“What happened?” he asked quietly.


“None of your business,” she answered, lying down and pulling up the covers, turning away from him.


“Is he why you ran to L.A.?” he asked, not giving up the subject that easily.


“No,” she partially lied.


“Then why did you?”


“Why do you care?”


“I don’t,” he lied.


She didn’t answer him.


“Was he your boyfriend?” he asked, neutralizing the tone of his voice.


“Was,” she replied, hoping he would drop it.


“Until he killed your mother?” he raised his brow, deciding to dive in all the way if she was going to act difficult.


She whipped around on the bed, glaring at him. “No, until he couldn’t keep his hands to himself. Then, he killed her. Are we finished?”

He ran his hands through his hair. None of this was supposed to have happened...The only thought that came to his mind was that he’d have to do something about it.


*end*


“Spike?” Wesley asked again.


“I’ll be there later,” Spike replied, eyeing the direction that Buffy went off to. The gang gave him looks, but shrugged it off a second later.


“I’ll let you know if there’s anything wrong with the disks when I check,” Wesley said, but Spike had already turned away and headed off.


~


She marched into the room, not caring where he wanted her to be. Beyond acting the part she had been told to do, Buffy couldn’t care less about the stupid disk or what it meant for them. Grabbing the hem of her shirt, she pulled it off over her head and began to look through the few drawers that had come to be hers.


Walking in, he saw her changing, her bare back to him. She knew he was there, but didn’t address him, as usual. “You did good today,” he commented, stepping closer as he observed the smooth of her back and the slight curve of her breasts.


“Hating you publicly? Not a problem,” she replied, “or a stretch.” Finding a comfortable silky tank top, she pulled it on, knowing he was staring at her. It had come to be something she was able to do – change in front of him without a second thought. It wasn’t like it was anything new, and after a while, she had stopped caring. It didn’t matter - none of it did.


“I’m sure it’s not.”


She turned to look at him for a moment, surprised at his response. He gazed back at her, not offering more than that.


“Don’t you have a celebration to be attending?” she asked, changing the subject but not breaking her own gaze.


“Yea. Is that what you’re wearing to it?” he asked, eyes gesturing at her silk shirt that showed off a lot of skin.


She narrowed her eyes, “Who said I was going?”


“I’m saying.”


She turned away from him, picking up a brush off the night stand. “I’m not going.”


“Are you always going to fight me?” he asked.


She stopped mid-brush, and turned around to glare at him. “I don’t think I’ve been fighting you enough,” she gritted, both of them knowing what she was referring to.


That look flashed across his features briefly, and his gaze broke away from hers.


“Don’t give me that fucking look again. You know exactly what you do, and you mean it,” she said hatefully.


“I told you-,” he began to defend.


She walked past him, heading for the bathroom in quick steps, “I don’t want to hear it. I’m not going.”


Her demeanor finally hit a nerve, and his anger seeped back in. Coming up behind her, he grabbed her and whipped her around, slamming her into the wall near the bathroom. “You forget the one who’s in control here,” he warned in a low voice.


That line was not new to her. She stared at him defiantly for a moment, not intimidated by the closeness of his body or face to hers. Speaking clearly and slowly, she responded, “I don’t feel like fucking right now.”


His jaw tensed at her unexpected words, and he narrowed his eyes. “You’re going.”


Lips pursed, she didn’t respond, continuing their stare down as she tried to maintain what she could.


“Even if I have to drag you there.” Giving her one last warning look, he pushed off the wall and turned from her, walking towards the bathroom.


Buffy didn’t move for a minute, silently letting her rage bubble up inside her. She hated him in these moments more than anything, because with all the resistance that she was capable of, something about his serious demeanor caused her to unwillingly give in. With anger in her moves, she stomped over to the drawer and opened it roughly, pulling out one of her revealing shirts. Slamming the drawer closed, she began to re-dress.


~


She had no doubt that this would just be all of them getting drunk off their asses. Rolling her eyes in irritation as she walked with Spike over to the mess hall, Buffy was dressed in her leather outfit – in front of the others, that’s what she always wore. Dark eye makeup, straightened hair, leather-tight clothes – it was a way to be a different person, one that wasn’t the girl she used to be.


Noticing Spike going in a different direction, she frowned and paused, “Where are we going?”


He turned halfway, serious and unreadable eyes looking directly into hers. “The celebration,” was all he said before turning around and continuing toward the training room.


Following him hesitantly, she heard the commotion coming from the room before they even stepped in. As Spike opened the door, she took in the sight before her.


All of Spike’s side was there – Illyria, Wesley, Darla, Cordelia, Lorne, Gunn, Faith, and Harmony, and several other ‘insignificant’ people. Everyone was loud and boisterous, and the smell of alcohol permeated the air. What she didn’t understand was why they were in here, until she saw a large table with several knives set out on it.


“What are those for?” she didn’t let her tone falter.


“You’ll see,” he replied simply, not looking at her.


“Spike!” the sound of Faith’s voice called out as she approached him, “I gotta say, I’m deeply hurt that I wasn’t on this little classy mission of yours.”


“Hate to break it to you, Faith, but you’re not the classy type.”


“Hey, I can be classy,” she put her arms out, offended, before directing her attention to Buffy, “just as much as little miss pom-pom here.”


Buffy shot her a glare, until Cordelia and Darla came up to her from behind, interrupting before she could bite back. “You two ready?” Cordelia asked, her gaze directed at Buffy.


Her angered expression faltered, “What?”


“I’m ready whenever she is,” Faith smirked.


Buffy looked back and forth between them, now confused.


“You didn’t tell her, did you?” Darla asked Spike in an amused tone, tilting her head.

“Tell me what?” she whipped around to Spike, voice on edge, knowing something was wrong.


Staring back at her, Spike took a moment to observe her appearance. She had changed a lot of the course of two months, knowing most of it was because of him, but it was in these few moments that he imagined the girl underneath this image, the girl she used to be – carefree, innocent, normal.


He hadn’t told her because he knew she wouldn’t understand. “You’re going to fight Faith tonight.”


Buffy faltered, “I thought this was supposed to be a celebration,” seeing them back up and make room.


Faith stood where she was, smirking at Buffy’s confusion, “it is. You’re getting a sort of…initiation, for pulling off your first job. Well, I guess it would be a second initiation, wouldn’t it?”


Her eyes widened for a moment, before they narrowed. She turned her head to the side and shot Spike a hateful look. It suddenly had become quite clear. She was a fool to think that rape was enough of an “initiation” – no, she suspected this was when they decided they were going to kick her ass until she could hardly move, or god knows what other sick things they had planned for her. Well, she wasn’t going to go down without a fight. “You can all go to hell,” she straightened her stance, lifting her chin as she braced herself for the fight to come.


The others stood around them in a large circle, looking amused and ready for her bloodbath – except Spike. His body tense, he knew there was no other way. It was what she needed to do, what he needed her to do.


“Sweetie, we’re already going there,” Faith smiled calculatingly, before launching her body into a spin-kick, sending Buffy reeling to the side before she could even get out of the way.


Buffy fell on her hands, and she grimaced, touching her hand to her left cheek.


“Don’t tell me that’s it? You can’t collect your prize if you don’t manage to live through this.”


Getting up quickly, Buffy threw herself forward, throwing a punch. Faith caught it easily in her palm, and looked cockily at her, a second before Buffy’s other fist slammed forward into Faith’s face, causing a resounding crunch.


Faith staggered back, surprised. She touched a hand to her nose, and red coated the tips of her fingers. The others grew deadly quiet, their attention suddenly at its peak as their movements to step closer became the only sound in the room.


“Oh, it’s on now, sister,” she broke the serious silence with deadly intent. Lunging forward, she let out a series of blows, attempting to punch or backhand Buffy in the face. Buffy dodged quickly, barely able to decipher what was coming at her, but she moved with a natural grace she hadn’t quite exerted before.


Frustrated, Faith grabbed Buffy by the shoulders threw her down with full force.


Panting, Buffy ignored the pain, seeing the objective clearly in her mind for the first time: win. It was time to stop defending herself, and start kicking some ass of her own. Seeing the table of knives to her side, she smirked and grabbed one, poising it in the correct grip.


“What? You going to play dirty? Where’s my knife?” Faith asked, putting her arms out.


“Get it yourself, bitch.” Buffy stabbed forward, missing her by an inch. She let out a series of quick moves, trying to slash or stab her. Faith dodged quickly, blocking Buffy’s wrists a few times and flinging her arms back.


Landing a rough punch to Buffy’s jaw, Faith took the moment to grab a knife of her own, smiling as she turned back to face her opponent. Not wasting time to quip, she swung forward.


Both of them dodged and missed the blades at the last moment, panting, adrenaline pumping and feeling every close call.


“Well, I’ll be fucking damned,” Darla commented, impressed. “It’s a real show.”


Spike spared a quick sideways glance before turning his full attention back to Buffy and Faith. Every swing, his fists clenched, the tip of the blade appearing to barely miss skin.


Dropping her knife on purpose, Faith grabbed both of Buffy’s arms and slammed her head forward to Buffy’s, head-butting her and causing the other knife to fall. She grabbed both of Buffy’s wrists, pinning them down as her other hand grabbed her by the neck. Bringing her close to her own body, Faith put on a taunting smile as she yanked Buffy’s hair back, baring her neck.


Buffy breathed heavily, angry that Faith gained the upper hand, but she didn’t know what game she was playing now.


“I’m liking this more and more,” Lorne commented to Gunn and Wesley with a raised eyebrow, both men nodding.


Faith leaned in, close to Buffy’s ear, “Maybe the problem is that you’re mad, but you don’t know what the hell you’re mad at more.”


“Get off me,” Buffy gritted out, feeling Faith yank harder on her hair.


“I’ve got news for you, B,” she whispered, “it ain’t us.” Throwing Buffy backwards roughly, she put her hands on her hips as two men dragged someone out. Hands bound behind their back, a black sack over their head – the man groaned in pain as he hit the floor, face first.


On the ground, Buffy turned to the unexpected entrance, shocked to see someone tied up.


“String him up,” Spike ordered, shooting Buffy a look that she couldn’t read.


Her fight with Faith seemed to be over – cut short for this intrusion, but she didn’t know why. She stood up, stepping forward as they tied ‘him’ to the wall. “What the hell is going on here?” she asked, adrenaline still pumping. Was this a way to distract her before Faith attacked her again?


“This is the initiation part,” Spike turned to her with a cold look. “That was just a warm-up.”


They pulled off the black bag, revealing a bruised face. She widened her eyes, stepping back. It was Parker.


He looked up, lifting his head weakly. Those eyes.


He didn’t seem to be listening as his maniacal eyes showed his road rage. And as if the world were ending, the car approached the figure and Buffy saw her mother’s face flash in front of her eyes.


Feeling like the air was being sucked out of her body, she took a shaky step forward as the overwhelming rage filled her mind. The pain of the memory was never as vivid as it was in this moment, and the emotion choked in her throat.


“Buffy?” he asked in a raspy voice, not believing what he was seeing. He recognized her face instantly, but everything else about her was a drastic difference. “What’s going on?” he asked, confused. “Who are these people?”


She didn’t answer him, merely staring at him as if a ghost was making himself known. “You-,” she stopped, wanting to say a million things but not knowing what it was. Turning to face Spike, she shot him a look that demanded answers.


He stepped forward, until he was next to her. Running his fingers lightly across her shoulder blade, he said quietly but seriously, “It’s your chance.”


Parker let out a chortled laugh, “You actually know this guy, Buffy? Don’t tell me your with him.”


Buffy shot back around, glaring at Parker’s attitude. Even in this situation, he was still the same asshole. “Shut the fuck up, you murderer.”


Frowning, he shook his head. “I didn’t murder anyone.”


Grabbing her knife off the floor, she was in front of him in seconds, pointing it at his throat. “You murdered my mother,” she said in a deadly tone, pressing the tip of the blade into the skin of his neck.


He suppressed his choked sound, feeling the sharp edge at the most vulnerable point of his throat. “Please,” he managed to rasp.


Her chest heaved up and down, the turmoil playing through her head, remembering the moment of the crash over and over again, remembering every time Parker tried to get sex out of her, even if she didn’t want it. It wasn’t rape, but it was damn near close. She wasn’t naïve to the fact Parker smooth-talked his way into everything, and out of everything, no matter how reluctant the other person was.


“Don’t get soft,” Spike ordered in a low voice. “It’s what he’ll try to do.”


She raised her chin, glaring at Parker, and not turning around to address Spike.


“Kill him, Buffy,” Faith said. “He’s nothing.”


Parker shook his head slightly, still conscious of the knife near his throat, which was slowly receding. “You wouldn’t do that, Buffy - not to me. You couldn’t.”


“Do it,” Cordelia said harshly, speaking up for the first time.


“You wouldn’t be able to live with yourself,” Parker reasoned, seeing he was winning the battle as her knife was almost away from his neck.


Buffy let her hand drop down to her side, knife pointed down.


“How could you just let him get away with what he did?” Spike asked incredulously, voicing the thoughts of everyone in the room. It wouldn’t have even been up for consideration if it was any one of them.


Parker laughed in relief.


“If she’s not gonna-,” Faith began.


“I’m not,” Buffy said, staring directly at Parker as she spoke. She cut down his ties with one quick swing of her knife, and he fell to the floor. As he lifted his head up with a patronizing smile, she punched him square in the face.


Spike jerked his head up a little, curious to see what she would do.


Continuing to punch him several times in between her words, “You…murdered….her…you bastard.” She grabbed him and slammed her knee into his crotch, eliciting a sharp groan. Throwing him backwards towards the center of the room, everything else seemed to fade away. No one else mattered. The only person she saw was Parker, and the image of her broken mother.


They watched her, quietly. Normally, the blood sport would’ve excited them. But this was something deeper. Losing a mother like that was something no one should suffer, even if a few of them already had. Spike watched her, seeing her emotion pouring out with every hit. They just let her pound on him endlessly, not making a move to interfere. It was what he had planned all along, after all.


Parker’s head began to give in easily to her punches, signaling that he was unconscious. She stared down at him, lying on the floor. His face was a bloody mess, his eyes were swollen slits. Normally, the sight would’ve disturbed her, but she felt no remorse whatsoever.


“Kill him,” Darla urged. “Just end it. If you don’t, he wins.”


Breathing heavily, she began to slowly stand up, still riveted by what she caused. She looked at her fists, and saw blood on her knuckles. Finally, she said with a shake of her head, “No. I won’t kill him.” She knew Spike was about to ask why. She turned to look directly at him, “Because if I did, then you would win.” Turning to glance at Faith, she added, “And you’re right, he is nothing.”


He frowned, taking in what she said. She gave him one last look, before turning away and walking out of the room, not caring if she risked the chance of getting a knife, or a bullet, in her back.

Disturbing quote of the day: "There is enough of a rapist in every man to give him insight into the grossest manifestations of sexual passion...this kind of love is intimately associated with the impersonal violence of war." – J. Glenn Gray


*Two months earlier…*


Frustrated that Cordelia and Darla barely gave her the time of day, Buffy found herself wandering to the training room. The hate and indignation was building inside her, and her fingers itched for something to vent her emotions. Find a way out, find a way to kill Spike – what could she do? She felt helpless, and absolutely hated it.


Looking around, Buffy’s gaze settled on the punching bag. A thin thought came to her. She didn’t have the experience, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t train herself – to become stronger, to become the person that would one day fight her way out of this place. She would do it – somehow.


Glancing around the room and seeing that it was completely empty and dead silent, she refocused her attention to the bag before her. Buffy punched it once with her right fist, and as if to defy her, the punching bag barely moved, making her feel weak. Aggravated, she punched it again – this time with both fists. She focused on what made her angry, and what came to mind was more than enough to get things going.


She screamed, his violent jerks hurting her. His grip was bruising her, and she felt like she was dying.


The bag jolted more under her hits, her breathing becoming heavier. Sweat began to emerge on her skin – on her face, under her clothes – but it didn’t matter.


“No, you’re hurting me,” she sobbed hopelessly, the pain threatening her consciousness. Spike suddenly grabbed the back of her head and smashed his lips to hers, forcing his tongue in.


Blinded by the images, she let out a punch that sent the bag spiraling in the other direction, swinging around wildly. She stopped, her chest heaving as her anger took a pause. Hearing the sound of the squeaking chain as the bag slowed to a stop, she realized she wasn’t alone.


Buffy expected to turn around and see the image of him that she had etched in her mind – cold, unfeeling, monstrous. When she turned with a steely look, he looked…unreadable.


Spike stood there, observing her silently. There was no doubt who she had been envisioning instead of that punching bag. When she stopped, the bag swinging back and forth from her last punch, he could see – he had finally done it. He knew what he had to do now, what he had to let her do.


So he said what he knew would strike the wrong chord, “Sleep well, pet?” Seeing her infuriated expression, he saw her fists clench.


“You’re despicable,” she replied in a tight voice.


“That, I am,” he stated without a hint of remorse. “Is that all you got?”


Without answering, she attacked him with a flurry of punches.


He blocked her punches easily, never letting out one of his own. She tried for a backhand – he grabbed her and pulled her against him, hand on her arm. She elbowed him in the gut to get loose, determined not to give up. Buffy punched him, sending his head reeling back and he touched his hand to his nose. She didn’t stop to think about it – she just attacked him, letting her emotions drive her actions.


Spike could’ve tried, but he hardly did. She was the fastest and most angered she had ever been, but to him, it was a mechanical fight, where he knew it wasn’t about what he could block or not. He felt the sting of her blows, the harsh edge of her elbows to his gut, the venom in her expression – but at the same time it was surreal, and the fight didn’t fuel him, invigorate him like it usually did. When he realized she had probably given him a few good bruises already, he grabbed her by both arms, slamming her back against the punching bag.


“Do you feel better now? Was that satisfying for you?” he asked in a low voice, deadly calm.


“I’ll never be satisfied until you’re dead,” she spat back at him, trying to wrestle her way out of his grip. “What you did was disgusting. You’ll never be more than a low-life bastard.”


“Who did you think I would be? This is who I am,” he told her evenly, tone full of conviction and bitter acceptance.


She ignored him, focused on getting her arms out of his tightening grip. “Let go!”


He looked down at where his hands gripped her arms and a slight frown crossed his features. As if scalded, he dropped her to the ground. He realized in that moment, those things had become so natural to him, that they hardly seemed to register as wrong anymore.


She looked up at him with a hateful glare once she had regained her balance, clutching one of her arms. “You’re beneath me,” she stated evenly, her eyes full of judgment.


He said nothing – there was nothing to say to that.



*The present day…*


Buffy washed the blood off her hands, watching the color of red swirl among the faucet water and go down the drain. The quiet ease at which she continued her task was a bit unsettling, when she thought about it. Since when did blood and violence stop bothering her? Or was it just because it was Parker – the man who killed her mother and took away her first piece of innocence?


No, she didn’t feel guilty at all. Looking up at herself in the mirror, she realized that the coldness had already begun to work itself into her heart. But she didn’t regret it. She was stronger because of it. Bitterly, she laughed at the one good thing Spike had given her. She remembered the night she changed it between them, and began taking what she could.



*Seven weeks earlier…*


She felt his needy kiss on her lips, and she knew that he had known she wasn’t really asleep. Opening her eyes, she saw his face hovering over her, knowing his intentions. He had just come out of the shower, towel wrapped loosely around his waist. Despite the way he was waiting for her response, she felt bitter that it was back to sex again.


Because she wasn’t protesting, he leaned down again to kiss her, pulling the sheet slowly down her nude body. Reaching down, he found her clit and began massaging it, all the while kissing the skin of her neck fervently, as if trying to devour everything he could get.


She gasped as his lips and the tip of his tongue caressed the nape of her neck, her head automatically tilting to give him more access. As his thumb pushed down on her clit in just the right way, she felt a jolt shoot through her body and she arched up, feeling the wetness begin to pool.


Taking that as his cue, he pulled the towel away from his waist and flung it aside, his strained erection waiting for release. Spike positioned his body over hers, letting the tip of his cock delve slightly into her increasingly-wet folds.


She restrained a whimper, her brow creasing in concentration. As he kissed her skin, a thought came to her amidst the heat her body was feeling. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be - it wasn’t like the first time, the first time they had sex after he had gotten violent. They had fought and fucked equally, not…this. She felt like she was suffocating, reality bringing her back to the sensation of Spike’s mouth on her breast, sucking on her hardened bud. She shook her head in silent protest, at a loss for words, but Spike didn’t notice. Buffy moved to grasp his arms and pull his mouth off her body so he could see her, but her grip turned into one of surprised ecstasy when he plunged all the way into her warm entrance, the slippery heat sucking him in deeper.


He groaned, closing his eyes and lifting his head away from her in pleasure. The feel of her fingernails digging into his back only made him harder for her. Beginning to pump in and out of her pussy, he kissed her lustfully, probing his tongue into her hot mouth.


The burning inside her core was building, but she still felt like she was suffocating, helpless against him. The week that had past silently between them had confused everything, and now she felt herself losing the control she had gained ever since then. ‘No. Too soft,’ her mind whispered.


The way her body was writhing beneath him only fueled him, thinking she was enjoying it that much more. He sank into her, grinding himself against her smooth and burning hot channel. She let out a pleasured gasp, and jerked. Before he could pull back out, he suddenly felt her push him roughly, and flip him over.


He blinked in surprise, utterly shocked that he was now on his back, and Buffy was on top. He had always been the one on top. He felt his stomach clench and his cock jump, suddenly very aroused by the change. Gripping her hips, he looked up to her in question, trying to control himself from exploding at the same time.


Her chest heaved slightly, and his gaze was transfixed to her breasts, now above him. “I wanna be on top this time,” she told him in a raspy tone, before beginning to sink down onto his stiff cock and rocking forward.


“Oh fuck,” he let his head flop back onto the pillow, jaw clenched as his body sang with tension.


She looked at his expression as she continued to move against him, and realized the suffocating feeling was gone. The tenderness was gone. All that was there, was power. Her power. For the first time, she realized just what her weapon was.


Her movements quickened and he knew he was way past just arousal. The occasional profanity slipped out of his lips as he alternated between closing his eyes in concentration, and gazing up at the erotic sight of her riding him toward their climax. Never had it been this way, and he began to curse at himself, wondering why the hell not. Her heat was pulling on his cock, strangling it as she clenched her muscles around him.


“Buffy…,” he managed to rasp.


She didn’t stop – the tone in which he said her name empowering her. Instead, she leaned down until her face was close to his, pace never slowing, and whispered, “Do you want me to stop?” She knew there was no stopping, but something inside of her felt like teasing him when she knew he couldn’t resist. He had been her cruel torturer – now she was his.


A part of him wanted to turn the tables and assume control again just because he knew what she was thinking – the other part of him was so turned on by the whole thing that there was no way he could refuse. Feeling her milking him for all he was worth, he ran his hands down her waist slowly before gripping her hips and helping her ride him harder. “No, don’t,” he choked out, climax deadly close.


Feeling her own body begin to lose control, she bit her lip and pulled back, letting his cock slip out of her aching pussy. He looked panicked for a second, hips jerking, thinking she was really stopping. But instead, he felt her slam down onto him so hard, that the tip of his dick pushed against the deepest part of her slick walls, and she began to climax with loud exclamations that she couldn’t contain. “Yes, yes, yes,” she repeated as her body convulsed with pleasure, feeling the jolts shoot through every region of her body, and burn her deep down.


Feeling her inner muscles strangle his cock until he felt like he couldn’t breathe, he burst into her with his own exclamations. “Fuck, yes,” he rasped as he spasmed, Buffy still riding him to the very end.


When the sensations finally stopped, she collapsed on top of him, trying to regain her breath.


Feeling his erratically beating heart calm, he still couldn’t believe she was on top of him. Now, she was lying on his chest, both of their sweat making their skin incredibly slippery and hot. He couldn’t help but break the blissful silence, “Not that I’m protesting, but where did that come from?”


She lifted her head away from him, his question bringing her back to reality. Somehow mustering up the strength in her legs, she got up and pulled away from him.


He instantly regretted asking, feeling the aching loss of her heat.


Looking at him with the most composed look she could have at that moment, she answered, “I don’t see why you always have to be the one on top.” She raised her eyebrow at him in question, and stood up, uncaring of her nudity. She turned away from his curious and still obviously lustful gaze, walking to the bathroom, knowing that his eyes were on her every moment. In a weird way that wasn’t her at all, she felt like she just got a little piece of herself back.


*The present day…*


Turning off the faucet and wiping her hands on a towel, she turned towards the door, only to find Spike in the doorway.


“So are you here to kill me now?” Buffy asked sarcastically, throwing the towel into the sink casually. At his lifted brow, she sighed and elaborated with an annoyed expression, “For failing your stupid little initiation?”


He shook his head as he gave her a questioning look, “Why didn’t you do it? You wanted to, don’t deny it.”


“I never said I didn’t want to,” she replied evenly, walking past him out of the bathroom.


Spike followed her out, not done with the conversation. “Then why? He certainly deserved it.”


“I told you. I’m not going to reduce myself to your level. I know it’s what you want – you want me to become one of you.”


“That’s not what it’s about,” he said in a frustrated tone.


“That’s exactly what it’s about,” she ground out, turning around to glare at him.


Fists clenched, he took a moment before slowly saying, “I brought him here for you.”


“Just shut up,” she turned away and began to walk across the room, “I don’t want to hear it.”


Wanting to reason with her, he struggled with the words to say. “I thought this would be something you wanted – that you have probably been waiting for. I did it so-,”


“So you can feel better about yourself? So I can forgot that you threatened to kill my family and friends?” she asked venomously as she whipped around again.


He tensed, knowing there was no way he could adequately answer that. Finally, he asked, “Would you have tried escape if I hadn’t threatened you?”


She took a step toward, appearing to calm. “You’re right. What was I thinking? That makes it all better. You’re excused. I’ll continue to live here blissfully.”


“Is it really so bad? What have I not given you that you’ve asked for? Look around this room, Buffy. Your stuff is all over it,” he gestured.


“I don’t care about any of this crap,” she snapped. “What have you not given me? My freedom. Do you think it’s supposed to be comforting that I’m your whore? Buy me off with all these meaningless…things?”


“Don’t think I don’t know,” he replied in a low warning voice.


She widened her eyes slightly before returning to her collected demeanor, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”


Suddenly, he was on her, pushing her back into the edge of the dresser and pinning her wrists down. “You think I’m stupid? You think I don’t know why you’ve been fucking me back?”


“In your dreams,” she responded with malice.


“I don’t have to dream,” he replied with a smirk. His expression turned serious as he regarded her with cold eyes, “I know you think you have more control than you do, Buffy – that you can just play me and I’ll never notice. Guess what, princess? I’ve known all along.” At her widened eyes and hesitant look, he added, “I just indulge you.” That last statement even bit into him a little, seeing her flinch.


She pushed him back and managed to punch him in the face before he could regain his balance. Glaring at him, she stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind her.


He let his shoulders slump slightly, brow creasing. It seemed like there was no way to talk to her – reasonably or unreasonably. It reminded him of the week after he had lost control of himself, and how silence was the only thing they had.


*Two months earlier…*


Walking in the room, he looked up towards the bed to see her still form, sleeping. Exhaling, he shrugged off his duster and tossed it on the chair off to the side. Spike walked over to his dresser and unlocked a drawer, putting his few possessions inside before closing it up again. Looking up in the mirror, he saw himself, but his attention went straight to Buffy’s sleeping form.


He knew why he had said those things to her six days ago; she had needed the release – he knew what it felt like to have hate consume himself from the inside out. The few bruises that she had inflicted would fade – they didn’t matter.


As he took off his shirt to get ready to sleep, he wondered how long silence would be the only thing between them. True, she had definitely calmed her anger toward him – she was no longer trying to kill him each day, but it was almost more torturous now that she hardly regarded him. Lying there, sleeping in peace, it seemed like she had accepted the life she had been forced into, but refused to acknowledge him as anything significant.


Spike got into bed beside her. She was right next to him, in a strange domestic way, but she was still so far. He didn’t wake her, lying down and going to sleep, not even giving sex a second thought. For some reason, it hadn’t appealed to him that entire time, and that was a big thing to say. But if he questioned why, he might get answers he didn’t want to admit yet.


The next morning, Buffy woke up when she hit something beside her. Realizing it was a person, she reluctantly opened her eyes to see Spike’s sleeping form next to her. Those were the weirdest moments for her – surreal to be lying in a bed, so at ease with the person she was supposed to hate the most. Not like she really had a choice, she remembered bitterly.


But he had stopped using her for sex in the past week, and she didn’t dare to question it, even though his actions confused her. Spike was, at times, cold and snarky, voicing no regret or guilt, but yet, he didn’t try to touch her. She found her anger at him slowly lessening, or more like, she found it harder and harder to sustain that hate everyday. She spent days wracking her brain, trying to figure it out without giving him the benefit of the doubt. That was when she understood. It was the only way he could say that he knew what he had done.


She continued to believe that theory, until two days later when their brief and unspoken understanding came to an end, making her realize he was nothing more than he had to be. It was the day the sex started again…


He saw her tire, her sweaty appearance only adding to the fact that her moves were getting softer by the punch. Grabbing her by the shoulders roughly, Spike asked, “Are you getting soft on me already?” He smirked, shoving her back as the spark of anger came back into her expression.


She lunged at him, letting out rough punches, a few of which hit him roughly in the face. Spike rubbed a hand to his jaw, but looked at her unimpressed. Buffy felt like her blood was boiling – the way he looked so cocky and arrogant while they trained made every inch of her want to lash out and inflict violence.


Suddenly, she remembered something Darla had said to her during one of their training sessions: Violence is power. It’s what puts us in control of others. It’s like sex, but sometimes even more enjoyable if done right. In that moment, she knew why it always felt like she couldn’t fight well enough, even when she was fueled by plenty of anger. No matter how many times she got in a punch, or gave Spike a bruise, she didn’t control him. He had controlled her, and taken what he had wanted without a second thought. Looking up at him, her eyes narrowed in contemplation.


Something began to formulate in her mind, but she quickly went back to the fight as she saw his inquiring expression. Buffy ran forward, letting her fists fly as they battled. Purposely, she attempted a move that she knew he would block, by grabbing her arm and swinging her around into a hold, her back to his chest.


“That was a disappointing one, luv,” he said into her ear.


She struggled against his hold as she gasped for breath.


Feeling her body move against him, he clenched his jaw, trying to suppress the feelings of lust that he had tried to bottle up for days. He threw her forward, breaking the contact before it went any farther.


They battled again, exerting more energy than they had for the past hour. She ducked his swing, and aimed for his gut, but he caught her right fist with his left hand. Frustrated, she tried to punch him with her left fist, but he caught it with his right hand. Both of her hands in his fist, he smirked and shoved them down.


Noticing he always pushed her back instead of going for the ‘kill.’ “What’s the matter? Lost your edge?” she let her lips part seductively as she mocked him.


Glaring at her in indignation, he replied in a low voice, “You don’t want to see my edge.”


“I think I’ve already seen it all,” she replied with malice. “So shut up and stop holding back.”

Feeling a chord strike within him, he began to let loose, not holding back. She ducked many of his punches, proving that speed definitely was a factor, but as she rose up, he had the perfect chance for a shot. Changing his mind at the last moment, he grabbed her and pushed her backwards until she slammed into the wall roughly.


She gasped, feeling a sense of de ja vu as her back hit the cold wall. Staring up at him with an unrelenting gaze, she knew this was the moment she could begin to make a change, even if certain values had to be sacrificed. She didn’t have to wrack her brain over it – as soon as she remembered what Darla had said, she knew what she had to do. Sex wasn’t love, but it could be power.


He stood there with his hold on her still intact, looking down with an expression that showed he was struggling with something. But then he heard her taunting voice, Shut up and stop holding back. It was a direct challenge, and he knew it. Crushing his lips to hers, he answered the challenge. When she didn’t push him away, he couldn’t help the tiny part of him that read into that…


*The present day…*


Well, that was disappointing,” Cordelia crossed her arms, looking down at Parker’s unconscious form.


“Are we just gonna let her get off that easy?” Faith asked incredulously, not believing someone would actually pass up a chance at sweet revenge, handed to them on a platter.


“Maybe she’s just not cut out for this,” Darla commented, looking down at Parker in thought.


“Or maybe Spike’s the one not cut out for this,” came a male voice. Drusilla and Angelus stepped out of the shadows, as if they had been there all along. The others looked up at them in surprise, bodies tensing in case of a fight.


“I don’t think we sent you two the invite, now did we?” Lorne asked, him and Gunn stepping forward challengingly.


“Now, now, boys. Don’t get all excited. We just wanted to see how the lame side of the gang parties. And apparently, I was right. I’m guessing next is a round of ‘Pin the Tail on the Donkey?’” Angelus smirked.


“Only if you’re the donkey,” Gunn replied with a mocking smile.


“Since you’re already the jackass,” Cordelia muttered not-so-quietly.


“This one,” Drusilla said, pointing to Cordelia, “always so jealous because daddy likes me more.”


“What!?” Cordelia shot her an outraged look before lunging at her neck, wanting to strangle her for even implying something that was even revolting in thought.


“Whoa there,” Angelus commented, amused. “If you two are going to fight over me, you might as well take some clothes off.”


“Get out,” Illyria spoke up, staring directly at Angelus as the others pulled Drusilla and Cordelia off of each other.


Glancing at her for a moment, he rolled his eyes and turned to grab Drusilla by the arm, dragging her away with him. “What kind of freak has blue hair anyway?” he muttered as they left the room.


When Drusilla and Angelus were gone, they relaxed themselves, confused at what just happened. Then they all stood in silence for a moment, their enemy just having voiced the one opinion they had all been pondering themselves: Or maybe Spike’s the one not cut out for this. But they quickly snapped out of it, because after all, Spike was still leading them to success, and had done nothing to jeopardize the gang…yet.


“So what should we do with dickhead, here?” Faith asked as she kicked Parker’s still form slightly with her foot, breaking the silence.


Darla smiled sweetly, stepping forward as she peered down at the loser, “Oh, I’m sure we can figure something out.”


------------------

Unconsciously, she wrung her hands together before pressing her palms to her pants and dragging them down. Sitting in the passenger seat of Spike’s car, Buffy stared out the window and wondered if she had made a mistake by wanting to come out.


”What kind of club is it, anyway?” she asked hesitantly, watching Spike ruffle through his drawers. She couldn’t help the small bit of hope that getting out of their “lair” into the real world was at least a chance to escape.


“It’s a night club. You know? Music, booze, people grinding up against each other,” he replied, turning to look at her. “But I’ll warn you now – this place is where all the gangs spend their weekends – it might be dangerous for you to go.” Spike stared at her, his expression conveying that what he really meant was there would be no place for her to run.


Feeling that hope squashed, she sighed in resignation before collecting herself and saying determinedly, “I still want to go. I’ll go crazy if I stay here for the entire night again.”


Turning away to busy himself, he replied, “So you keep telling me.”


Exhaling, Spike pulled the car to a stop in a darkly lit parking lot behind an old-looking building. He had quietly observed her the entire ride over, but had said nothing. Gripping the steering wheel, he asked calmly, “Do you want me to take you back?”


Her head snapped up, not realizing her inner monologue was so easy to read. Straightening up to appear more unaffected, Buffy replied, “No, I-, I want to go.”


His jaw clenched slightly before he shook it off and nodded once. He had hoped she would say yes. Spike didn’t want to bring her at all, but she had been getting increasingly hostile towards him this past week, more than once voicing her resentment that he kept her “locked up like his bitch.”


“Fine. Before we go in, a few ground rules. One, don’t stay out of my sight,” he began, only to be cut off by her exclamation.


“Excuse me? Don’t stay out of your sight? Why the hell do you think I wanted to come? To spend more time with you? Won’t you be too busy being evil or something with your other evil minion buddies?”


“Alright, I’ll take you back,” he replied expressionless, turning the key to rev the engine again.


“Ugh! Fine!” she shouted, throwing up her arms and looking at him with anger in her eyes. “What’s idiotic rule #2?”


Turning off the engine and looking over at her, he continued, “Second, never let your guard down.” Seeing her annoyed look at the cliché warning, he stressed, “I mean it, Buffy. I already told you what kind of people come here.”


She rolled her eyes and crossed her arms, “Anything else?”


He thought of 143 other rules and precautions he wanted to tell her to follow. But as he looked over to her waiting expression, his gaze slid down to her outfit. Leather pants and a red leather halter that dipped into a good amount of cleavage. He could see the glow of her perfectly-done make-up and the bronze that shined all over her exposed skin. If it weren’t for the flicker of question in her eyes at his contemplative gaze, he would have acknowledged that she looked just like one of them, whether it was a good thing or not. Reaching over and placing his hand on her shoulder, he let his thumb brush over the skin there, “No, luv, that’s it.” A second later, he turned and got out of the car.


~


“There you guys are,” Gunn looked up from his brief conversation with Darla and the huge bouncer.


Turning to see the approaching couple, Darla smirked, “Figured you were having a quickie.” Ignoring Buffy’s glare, she informed Spike with a lifted eyebrow, “Miguel was just telling me that Rack and his guys are here tonight, and so is Angelus.”


Buffy crossed her arms and appeared disinterested in their exchange.


“What a small world,” Spike replied dryly.


Buffy looked around the shabby building while tuning out their dialogue, noticing that this place was like nothing she imagined. Weren’t clubs supposed to be hip and ritzy? Or were gang hangouts beyond basic hygiene? It was seedy, to say the least, and her gaze came to settle on the half-broken down neon sign above the door that said, “VAMPS,” with the lights only working on three of the letters. Rolling her eyes, she hugged herself and tried to warm her arms, wondering when they would shut up already.


Seeing her movements out of the corner of his eye, Spike cut the convo, “Well let’s get on with it. Whatever happens, we’ll take it outside.” He added the last part as he looked up the bouncer, questioning if that was good enough for him.


Miguel nodded, “Alright, but if anything happens, I ain’t the one who let you guys in.” He waited for the other man to pay him – he had instructions to make sure the daily clientele weren’t the main rivalries, but he often was willing to overlook it, for a fee. At a club that catered to people like these, fights were unavoidable anyway.


Taking out a bill, Spike handed it to Miguel. He decided to pull out another one, handing a second one-hundred dollar bill to him. “She doesn’t leave here without one of us, got it?”


Buffy’s head whipped up, knowing Spike was talking about her. Glaring, she watched as the bouncer eyed her up and down, and nodded with a slight calculating smile.


“Great,” she grumbled, “He’ll probably drag me into an alley and rape me, and he just got paid for it.”


“You’ll be fine,” he replied, “He wouldn’t do anything that would get him killed.”


“Oh, you mean like, working as a bouncer for this hellhole?” she said sarcastically, following him in.


As they stepped inside, the pulsing of the music became almost unbearably loud. Buffy could feel the floor vibrating beneath her feet as they walked through the narrow entranceway. As drunk-looking men stumbled from the opposite direction and pushed their way out of the club, Buffy couldn’t help reflexively grabbing onto the back of Spike’s duster with one hand.


Once in the club, she looked around the main dance room. The effects and lights, combined with the fast music, were enough to give anyone a headache, but what riveted her attention were the couples dancing dangerously close, bodies grinding against each other, practically having sex on the floor. Frowning unknowingly, she turned to look around, seeing a large bar off to the side, and several booths and tables around the dance floor.


Seeing her look, he hid an amused smirk and grabbed her wrist before looking for where the rest of them were. Finding them, he started working his way across the room, dragging Buffy closely behind him.


She didn’t seem to care about being pulled forward, suddenly noticing the leers and looks that several guys she passed were giving her. An unsettling feeling crept up into her body, and she tried to ignore them, turning the other way to look at the bar.


That wasn’t much better either, as her gaze found several other scantily-clad women, giving her the once over as they rolled their eyes and snubbed her by turning away. Not knowing why all the girls seemed like bitches, she inwardly noted that they all looked like dominatrix trash anyway.


Before she knew it, she was being pulled to sit in a booth, joining the rest of the gang. Cordelia gave her outfit a once over before turning to Spike and asking, “Do you think it’s a good idea to be bringing her here already? You know how they get.”


“Well, I guess you’ve got a fun night ahead of you, then,” he replied, looking at Cordelia with a readable expression.


“Oh, no you don’t! I am not playing babysitter tonight, thank you very much. I already have plans that don’t include my head exploding.”


Annoyed, Buffy interjected, “Hey! I don’t need a babysitter!”


Everyone at the table laughed as Buffy sent them all a glare, feeling really belittled in that moment.


Faith got up out of the booth and pulled Gunn with her, “C’mon stud. Let’s go find us some hot ass. I bet I can get more numbers than you can tonight.”


As they walked away, Buffy heard Gunn reply, “This time, you can’t pretend you’re a lesbian. Now that’s just playing dirty.”


Just then, the “waitress” came up to their table with an empty tray in her hands. Buffy’s gaze slowly looked up to see the person now in her view, disgusted to find this girl was wearing underwear with fishnet over them and nothing else. She had on high leather boots and a tight bustier that pressed up her tits until they looked like they would spill over. Already wanting to retch, Buffy saw that the girl had on dark make-up with the exception of bright red lips, and dark hair, which fell in wet curls around her cleavage.


She smirked, looking around the table before her eyes settled on Spike, “I haven’t seen you in a long time, Spike. What can I get for you today?”


Buffy averted looking at either of them, her gaze going out to the dance floor in an attempt to not make a snarky comment about the girl’s lack of taste. Ignoring her table as Darla, Lorne, Illyria, Wesley, and Cordelia ordered their drinks, she was snapped back to reality as she heard the trashy waitress.


“And the new girl?”


Reluctantly, Buffy turned back to the table and saw the waitress looking her up and down, an expression similar to those at the bar earlier. Voice clipped, she forced a sarcastic smile, “I’m fine, thanks.”


With a look of attitude on her face, the waitress turned away and Buffy was presented with the tactless view of the girl’s ass cheeks through the fishnet. She should’ve figured it was a thong. Turning her head, she saw Spike ‘appreciating’ the view as she expected and scoffed before turning away, feeling his eyes on her now. ‘Men are so easy.’


“What?” Spike asked with a smirk.


Looking to him briefly, she had an irritated expression. “Nothing.” Ignoring him, she focused on the loud beats of the music, scanning the club as if it was an interesting sight.


Leaning in close, his arms closing her in towards Cordelia, he whispered close to her ear, “What’s the matter? Jealous, luv?”


Pretending to not notice how close he was to her, she laughed at the ridiculous notion. Buffy turned to look him in the eyes, and had to restrain herself from moving back, finding his face inches from hers, eyes boring into her own intently. “You really, really wish.” Without breaking their mini-staring contest, Buffy said in a casual tone, “Cordelia, can you let me out?”


Cordelia looked to Spike, giving him a questioning look.


Seeing the exchange, Buffy rolled her eyes and added, “To go to the bar. I want to get a drink.”


“I thought you didn’t want anything,” he reminded with a raised eyebrow.


She gave him a fake smile, “I changed my mind.”


Giving her an amused expression, Spike briefly signaled to Cordelia that it was ok. As Cordelia started getting out of the booth to let Buffy by, Spike warned, “You better stay where I can see you.”


She could feel the gazes of strangers close enough to hear them, their snickers only serving to piss her off and make her more defiant. But she decided to take another approach, a cool smile on her lips and a mischievous glint to her eyes. “Don’t worry, Spike, I won’t - I know how much you like watching me,” her lips parted as she finished, giving him an arrogant smile at the look of surprise on his face, and the suppressed laughs of everyone that was listening. When she saw his eyes narrow and his mouth begin to open to speak, Buffy turned and hurried towards the bar.


While making her way through the crowd of people, she glanced back and saw that Spike’s ‘path of wrath’ was stopped when a strange man came up to their table.


‘Bloody bitch,’ he thought, about to drag her back, hearing and sensing the muffled laughs of his gang, and others around him. He got up and stepped out of the booth, only to have his path blocked. Reeling his head back with a scrunched brow, his annoyance grew, seeing Buffy disappear into the crowd. But a look at the offender made him momentarily forget the blonde girl.


“Rack,” he said shortly, the others at the table standing up as Rack’s men came to surround them.


“Spike,” he greeted in his low, scratchy voice. “Heard you were looking to talk to me.”


“And what makes you think that?” Spike asked coolly.


Rack snorted, looking at him with a smug expression, “Well, I just figured, since you were having me followed.” At Spike’s slight flickering expression, and the straightening of his shoulders, Rack added with a slight smile, “Quite poorly, I gotta say. You guys must be slipping.”


Jaw tight, Spike signaled to the rest of them, and turned back to Rack. “Let’s take this some place private.”


Rack grunted in approval, indicating to his men to follow.


Before following, Spike looked to Cordelia.


Knowing what he was going to say, she nodded, “I’ll tell Faith to keep an eye on her. I’m coming with.” She muttered under her breath, “No way I’m playing Mother Hen all the time.”


Seeing his nod as he left with the others, she quickly scanned the crowd for Faith or Gunn. Rolling her eyes, she went up to Faith, who was currently wedged in between two guys, dancing seductively with her hips. “Faith!” she yelled over the music, barely able to get the other girl’s attention.


“Busy here,” she yelled back, grabbing one of the guy’s asses as they grunted their approval.


“You have to watch Buffy,” Cordelia’s patience wearing thin. “We’re going upstairs.”


“Damn, you’re such a killjoy,” Faith grumbled as she continued to dance. “Where is she, anyway?”


“By the bar,” Cordelia yelled over the people cheering as the song changed to a faster beat.


Faith took a moment to look up, seeing the blonde at the bar. “Yea, fine, whatever. Don’t worry so much – she’s not going anywhere.”


Cordelia sighed, leaving before she felt obligated to stay and watch Buffy. Not like she would get far in this part of the neighborhood anyway.


~


Buffy jumped up onto a barstool, turning in the chair towards the bartender. She wasn’t really there to get a drink – she just wanted to get away from them for a moment, even if there was nowhere to go. Looking towards the entrance, she wondered briefly about making a run for it, but remembering Miguel, she sighed and looked around the club.


“What the hell do you think you’re looking at?” the girl next to her spat out.


“Excuse me?” Buffy gave the ho a look of attitude. “Who said I was looking at you?” She eyed her quickly, noticing the distasteful leather top, the woman’s breasts almost falling out.


The woman stood up, angered, and Buffy had to control herself from backing up, her heart rate speeding up at the anticipation of trouble.


“If you think I’m going to let some new little floozy come in here and talk to me like that, you-,”


“Girls, girls,” a male voice interrupted. A good-looking dark-haired man came up to put both of his arms around each of their shoulders. “Let’s not end the night before the fun starts, Cecily. Bill, let’s get these two girls each a drink, on me.”


‘Cecily’ huffed, sitting back down reluctantly at the man’s offer. She glared at Buffy before turning around and starting a conversation with the girl next to her.


“So what’s your name, sweetheart,” the man asked in a smooth voice.


Her body rigid as his arm was still around her, she hesitated, “Buffy. My name’s Buffy.”


Seeing her discomfort, he let his arm drop and smiled, putting a semblance of space between them. Turning to face her fully, he noticed she was actually a hot piece of ass. His prospects were looking brighter tonight – he could tell this was her first time here – she would be easy meat. “Well, Buffy. I’m Scott,” he smiled genuinely, offering her his hand.


She took it awkwardly, looking around for any sight of the rest of them, but not seeing anyone. This guy made her nervous – the snarky bravado she was slowly building up with the gang seemed to dissipate immediately.


The bartender looked annoyed, “What drink will it be?”


Scott looked to Buffy, and she asked awkwardly, “Do you just have coke?”


Bill mock-laughed, drumming his fingers on the bar, waiting for a real answer.


“She’ll have an Adios, and I’ll have a beer,” he ordered for them. Seeing her confused look, he asked, “Girls like pretty drinks, am I right?”


“Um, sure,” she answered hesitantly, eyeing the blue concoction that the bartender put down in front of her. She took a sip cautiously, and had to control herself from not spitting it out, her face screwing up in disgust at the bitter taste. After a moment, she looked up at him with a smile, “Not bad.”


~


Faith looked around, noticing Buffy was no longer sitting at the bar. Reluctantly, she stopped dancing, “Alright boys, grope-fest over.” They tried to grab at her to keep her from leaving, but she shoved them aside without a second glance.


“You’re gonna fall behind,” Gunn yelled, thoroughly enjoying his own people orgy, a girl in front of him and a girl in back.


“Giving you a head start – you need it,” she yelled back, heading off to look for the annoying blonde.


Pushing her way through the crowd, Faith finally found her – bumping and grinding against some dickhead, and obviously totally plastered from the glazed-over appearance in her eyes. The guy was grabbing her ass, bringing her closer to his body.


“Hey, you ok here?” Faith grabbed her by the arm, getting her attention, the guy not even looking up to see who it was.


“I’m great,” Buffy yelled with a slur, throwing her head back as she continued to move her body to the beat of the music.


Faith shrugged, “Ok…” Feeling a hand grab at her hip, she turned to get a look at her new dance partner. Pleased, Faith forgot about the other two, smiling seductively at the guy before grinding back against his crotch.


~


“Where are we going?” her head lolled forward, feeling dizzy. Placing her head on his shoulder, she felt herself being lifted off her feet slightly.


“To get some fresh air,” he comforted, half-carrying her and half-pushing her towards the back, near the restrooms.


“Air is good. I like air,” she nodded in agreement, looking up at him with a dopey expression. Lightly smacking his face with her fingers, she giggled. “I feel like I’m floating.”


“Shut up, bitch.” He slammed her against the wall, her head knocking against it painfully.


Realizing what was happening, she pushed at his groping hands, trying to yell for help, but her voice struggled to be heard over the music. His hand squeezed her breast roughly, and she cried out. As she felt his hands reach for the buttons of her pants, panic laced through her body, her attempted blows sloppy from the alcohol in her system.


Her vision started to blur, the sweaty heat between their bodies suffocating her. Before she could pass out, the heat suddenly disappeared, and she looked up with foggy eyes to see Scott smashing against the opposite wall.


“You don’t know who you’re dealing with, you little fuck,” a voice warned.


Scott looked up, seeing who it was, and his whole demeanor changed. “Hey, I didn’t know she was with you guys, really.” Getting up, Scott backed up away from him with his own hands up, seeing the other man’s ready stance.


“Spike?” Buffy asked in a weak, confused voice, her head throbbing.


He looked up at her, and Scott took the moment to run away. Approaching her, he soothed, “Don’t worry. I took care of it.”


As her vision cleared, she realized it wasn’t Spike at all.


It was Angelus.


Cringing, she backed up reflexively, but she only hit the wall. Looking to both sides of her, she suddenly realized that she was far from safe.


“You ok?” He put the back of his hand up to her head.


Hesitating, she asked, “What are you doing? W-why did you help me?”


He chuckled as if it was a silly question. “We’re still a part of the same team, Buffy. At the very least, we stick together against our rivals.”


Not knowing what to think, she closed her eyes and just laid back against the wall. “Can we go now?”


Smirking at her drunken state, he perused her body before stepping forward to hoist her up. “C’mon, let’s get you out of here.” Any minute now, he thought…


~


Coming back downstairs after their little ‘talk,’ Spike looked to the bar. Buffy wasn’t there. Scanning the dance floor, he didn’t see her, but spotted Faith dancing wildly, Buffy nowhere in sight. ‘Fuck.’


“Where are you going?” Wesley asked, not getting an answer as Spike rushed off.


He pushed his way to the bar, immediately getting the bartender’s attention. “Where did the blonde go? Short, tiny thing, glares a lot?”


Bill thought for a moment as he poured someone’s drink. “Oh, that girl? She left to dance with some guy.”


His fists clenched as he got an image of some guy pawing all over her. He knew he shouldn’t have let her come. “Which way did they go?” he asked in a tight voice, already thinking of ways to wring both their necks.


“I think towards the back,” but before Spike could fully walk away, the bartender called out, “I’m pretty sure she was plastered too.”


‘Bloody hell,’ he thought as he moved faster, not caring who he pushed out of the way.


When the crowd finally cleared, the image he saw before him was like a book out of his past. His blood began to boil, and the only thing he felt was pure rage. He was always moving in on what was his. Seeing Angelus pick a vulnerable-looking Buffy up off the wall, Spike rushed forward and grabbed him by the shoulders, slamming him back.


“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” he practically growled, grabbing Angelus by the collar.


Angelus laughed as if he wasn’t pinned against the wall, “What’s the matter, Spike? I’m just helping her up.”


“Like hell you are, you son of a bitch,” he pushed Angelus up against the wall more, wanting to pummel him until his brains came out of his nose. Just then, a crowd gathered.


“Spike!” Cordelia stressed, trying to get him to realize what he was doing. A few others came running over – Darla, Gunn, Wesley, and Illyria – and most importantly, Rack and his men, who looked amused.


“Ah, looks like there’s trouble in paradise, eh boys?” Rack laughed, the others joining in.


Angelus lifted his brow at Spike, amused smile on his lips. Normally, he would never let anyone get the upper hand like this, but this…it proved something, something he would use in the future to get rid of Spike once and for all.


Body rigid, he forced himself to let go of Angelus, glaring at him with pure hatred. Low enough so only he heard, Spike warned, “Stick with the crazy bitch. You two are meant for each other.”


Angelus’ eyes narrowed at that, and he straightened. “Once again, you’ve proved just how I’m the better leader; you’ll always be love’s bitch.”


Spike stepped forward menacingly, stopping as Gunn stepped in between them. “Hey, man. Let’s go.” His eyes gestured to the watching crowd, everyone undoubtedly perceiving this as a weakness in the gang.


Finally calming at the realization of what he just did to their image, he collected himself and turned to Buffy, grabbing her half-unconscious form from the wall and heading out the back.


“Hey, nice chat. We’re really petrified now,” Rack called, causing the rest of the men to laugh one last time before they went back to their fun.


~


Once outside, Spike told the others to go ahead. As soon as they left them, Spike grabbed Buffy by the shoulders, his grip cutting into her skin. “What were you doing with Angelus? I told you to stay out of trouble.”


“Stop,” she said, her discomfort written on her face. When his grip loosened slightly, she looked up to see his still-angry eyes. “I didn’t do anything with him. He- he helped me.”


That answer only angered him more - she was his to help. His. Grabbing her by the arms, he forcefully slammed his lips to hers, clinging her to him as he attacked her mouth with pent-up anger and passion.


She mumbled against his mouth, unprepared for the sudden invasion and fervor of his assault. His mouth was devouring hers, punishing and possessive all at once.


But what was, at first, brutal softened slightly, his tongue beginning to caress hers, and she was hardly aware that they were both clinging to each other.


He pulled back from the kiss, his grip tightening as he demanded, “Helped you with what?”


Her eyes still glazed over, she frowned. “Huh?”


“What did Angelus help you with?” he gritted.


“He…saved me…there was this other guy…Scott…he gave me a drink…h-he wouldn’t let go of me,” she babbled, her eyes closing, gripping Spike’s arms for balance.


“He touched you?”


Turning abruptly to the side, she vomited violently.


He reacted quickly, diverting the aim of fire away from him as he kept her from collapsing. Cringing at the sight, his anger melted at the look of discomfort on her face.


Putting a hand to her sweaty cheek and lifting her face to look in his eyes, he continued with less anger in his voice. “I want you to stay away from Angelus,” he ordered, “Do you understand?”


She nodded half-heartedly, her unsettled stomach occupying most of her mind.


“What ever he says to you is a lie, Buffy. I want you to stay away from him,” he stressed. “He’ll kill you, for no other reason but his own entertainment. Do. You. Understand?”


“Yes, I understand,” she exasperated, a pleading quality to her drunken state. “Can we just go now?”


Sighing, he relented, “Yea, let’s get you back.”


~


In the car, she seemed to sober up, her head rested against the windshield as she stared sullenly out the window.


“I told you, you shouldn’t have come,” he broke the silence, his anger at her growing again.


She didn’t answer, merely staring at the passing scenery, the night’s events a blur, surreally played in her mind. Buffy didn’t understand what had happened in the back, what had happened with Angelus. She wasn’t sure if she mattered at all in that situation, knowing that Spike and Angelus had an ongoing rivalry. Besides, she was “property,” she thought bitterly. This world was too harsh, and she felt miniscule in it. Just when she thought she was getting some of her dignity back…


“What did you do with Parker?” she asked quietly, her voice not as strong as usual, but still composed. She didn’t turn, only waited for his reply.


He drove, hearing her sudden question but not answering immediately. After a few minutes, “He’s dead.”


She turned slightly to look at him for the first time, not really surprised at his answer.


“He bled to death.”


She sat back again, closing her eyes, and wondered, was it the only way out?


------------------------------------------------------------------------------


A/N: I almost split this up into two because last time I gave a long chapter, it seemed to have less response than normal (at first) and I thought I didn’t keep people’s attention, which discouraged me. But, I figured it has been a long time, and the entire read would be better. I guess I’m trying to say, I’d really appreciate a review :)

“War is a turn on for it cloaks the men in a costume that conceals the limits and inadequacies of their separate natures.” – William Broyles Jr.



~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


Buffy groaned, the pain in her head interrupting her sleep. Opening her eyes, she realized she was alone. She hoisted herself up, and leaned against the headboard, clutching her pounding head. Vaguely, the night’s events flashed in her mind. Looking down, Buffy saw she was fully dressed in a nightgown. She put her hand to her face and realized it was clean and make-up free.


*


“I wanna sleep,” she groused as Spike tried to help her into the bedroom.


He held her by the waist as her body lunged for the bed. “You can sleep after we get you cleaned up,” he instructed, pulling her towards the bathroom.


“Get off me,” she squirmed in his arms, pushing at his face. Before she knew it, she was being shoved under the shower spray. She screamed, the cold water hitting her body and making her jump back. “You jerk! The water’s cold!”


“Maybe you’ll remember that next time you decide to get drunk,” he glared at her, shoving her back under the shower as she tried to get out.


“Bite me,” she yelled as she grabbed Spike’s hand and pulled him in.


“Shit!” He jumped, realizing it really was cold.


“Take that, asshole,” she said as she shivered.


He stopped, taking in her appearance. Her hair was plastered to her face, and she was shivering, but still, she managed to be a bitch while drunk. Unsuccessfully suppressing a smile, he pushed her back with his body and reached for the knob.


She yelped, jumping up.


“Relax. I’m turning on the hot water,” he said with a smirk as he tried to look through the water pelting down his face.


“Oh.”


The warm water hit their skin, and instant sounds of relief could be heard.


After a moment, Buffy saw the way Spike was staring down at her. “If you think I’m having shower sex with you, you are out of your mind. I’m not that drunk,” she managed to lift her chin indignantly, although in her sleepy/drunk state, she just looked more intoxicated.


“You flatter yourself, luv. Have you seen yourself drunk? Why do you think I’m running you under a shower?” he asked with a raise of his eyebrow.


“I hate you,” she said as her eyes closed from the comfortable feeling of water warming her body.


“Yea, I know,” he said as she plopped forward onto his chest, asleep. He shook his head, one hand holding her up against him as the other turned off the water.


Looking down at her, he warned, “And if you ever do that to me again, I’ll kill you.” He wondered when his threats started lacking conviction.


*


With a groan, she got up and went towards the bathroom. She stopped, the sound of a muffled yell reaching her ears. Frowning, she hesitantly stepped toward the bedroom door and turned the handle.


Blood-curling screams echoed throughout the halls. She paused, not knowing what to do, until the female scream reached her ears again. Closing the door to get dressed, she had a hunch it was coming from the training room.


~


“Why don’t you just admit it was Rack and end your misery?” Spike asked, signaling for Faith to back off for a minute.


Blood oozed from her strung-up body, her head down. Still, the brunette laughed through her pain, “I told you, it wasn’t us.”


At the sound of the door opening, they whipped around, seeing Buffy at the entrance.


Red. She saw red all over. Blood all over the floor, blood all over everyone, blood pooling around a strung-up girl in leather. Putting her hand to her mouth in horror, her gaze shot over to a blood-covered Spike.


“Get out of here,” his voice sounded cold and harsh in the silence of the room.


“What happened?” she asked with wide eyes, stepping forward.


“I think it would be good for her to see this,” Darla said, giving Buffy a cruel smile.


Buffy couldn’t believe the amount of blood splattered all over the room. A line of it trailed across Darla’s face, and Darla didn’t even care. Walking towards the strung-up girl, Buffy noticed she looked like one of those girls at the club. Face scrunching in disgust, she saw the open wounds in the girl’s body.


“Who is she? And what are you doing to her?” her tone was one of revulsion.


The girl began to laugh in amusement despite her tied-up state, “Who the hell is she? You accepting anyone to be a member these days?”


Faith backhanded her roughly, “Shut up. We’ll crack the jokes.”


She chortled, a little blood dripping down the corner of her mouth, “Rack will kill you guys when he finds out I’m dead.”


“God, Amy, you do have horrible taste in men,” Cordelia shook her head as she looked down at the battered girl in disappointment, unfazed by her warning.


Buffy’s headache increased and she felt sick, but she could not tear her eyes away from the sight. “Is this what you guys did with Parker? Strung him up and stabbed him until he bled to death?”


With a perfect good-girl smile, Darla said, “If only he was that lucky.”


Seeing the scrunch of Buffy’s expression, Faith supplied with a devilish smile of her own, “Don’t worry, B. Parker wanted to die,” the humor lighting her eyes, “he begged us to kill him once Illyria got to him.”


“He was weak. He’s better off dead,” Illyria said without expression.


Not too long ago, Buffy had guiltlessly beat Parker until he was unconsciousness. Now, seeing this slaughter about to happen, she was relieved she had chosen to walk away after that. It was easy to get lost in this world, clouded by violence and pain, but in certain moments, she remembered clearly just how wrong this place was.


“And so is she,” Darla tilted her head towards Amy. Walking over to her strung-up body, she grabbed a fistful of hair. “If we kill her, Rack will get the picture and stop interfering with our deals.”


“If that fight didn’t give them the message already,” Lorne grinned.


“Wait, is that what all this is about?” Buffy asked incredulously, remembering what she overheard so long ago.


They looked at her with raised brows and then turned back to Amy when she began struggle against the ropes.


“If you don’t want to watch, then get out of here,” Spike said without looking at her, the others closing in on Amy as her sudden bout of defiance threatened her confines.


“Spike, wait,” Buffy grabbed his arm, stopping him. “Don’t do this.” She cringed when she saw that her hand was now covered in blood, and her eyes widened at the large gash on his other arm.


He laughed, almost bitterly. “I have to.”


“Why?” urgency laced her voice, but trying to keep the others from hearing them as they continued to abuse Amy.


He turned and faced her, his eyes intense, “Because after last night, we had to prove we could still take them. We’re going to teach him a lesson for messing with us.”


Buffy noted the change in his demeanor and wondered how this had all happened. She shook her head, “Spike, it’s not them.”


Giving her a suspicious look, “What are you talking about?”


“I never told you-,” she paused, knowing she was about to give up her only bit of information to try and save this girl’s life, a girl who probably killed dozens of people herself.


Spike grabbed her by the arm, yanking her farther away from the others. With a tight expression, he asked, “Told me what?”


Hearing another piercing scream that ended in a gurgled noise, Buffy didn’t have to think twice. “It’s Angelus – it’s not Rack. You’ve got it all wrong.” Seeing his disbelieving look, she explained hurriedly, “I overheard Riley and Lindsey the night they tried to-…they were saying how Angelus wanted them to keep messing up your deals.”


“You’re lying. Even Angelus wouldn’t be that stupid,” he shook his head, his brow scrunched.


“Spike, if you kill her, you’re going to start a war, and it’s not them.” At his hesitant look, she admitted without a hint a remorse, “I never told you on purpose.”


At that, he seemed to get the meaning behind her words. She had been planning to use it against him. He just stood there and looked at her for a long time.


Giving her a cold look, he turned towards the others, who had their backs facing them. “Change of plans, people,” he announced.


The tone of his voice, combined with the pissed off look that he briefly shot her, made her wonder what she had just done.


“Take her to my room instead.”


Buffy turned to him, eyes widening, but he ignored her.


“You can not be serious,” Cordelia asked, the rest of them baffled also.


“Just do it. A few hours with me and she’ll tell us everything we want to know,” he grinned, stepping closer to a confused Amy.


“Spike, she’s all bloody. Don’t tell me you’re turned on by this,” Gunn looked puzzled.


“Well, I guess one of you better get the blood cleaned off her.” Beginning to leave, he added without looking back, “And move Buffy into another room.”


Buffy stood there, shocked, not believing her ears.


~


Buffy stormed into his bedroom, fury evident in her eyes. “You fucking bastard,” she gritted out, her fists clenched. Striding forward, she launched herself towards Spike, clocking him square in the face.


“Bloody hell, woman,” he yelled as he tried to grab her arms. Blocking her next hit, he pinned her arms down, looking into her furious eyes.


“I knew you were scum, but I should’ve known you were this disgusting,” her voice wavered, the anger clouding her emotions.


“Calm down – it’s not what you think,” he said, struggling to keep his hold on her.


She seethed, waiting for him to explain himself.


“You wanted me not to kill Amy. You think I can just tell them that I changed my mind? Decided to let her live after all? It doesn’t work that way, pet.”


She wrenched herself out of his grip. “So what? You’re just going to make her your new fuck toy? I didn’t know I was going to be thrown out in exchange for her life!” Trying to pound on him in frustration, Buffy began to feel the panic of what this meant for her.


“Buffy, calm down,” he struggled with her, trying not to hiss in pain as one of her blows came in contact with his newly-bruised ribs. Frustrated, he grabbed her by the shoulders and backed her into the bed. “Buffy! Nothing’s going to happen to you,” he yelled, shaking her.


Chest heaving, she pursed her lips in anger, not believing him. “And what are you going to be doing with her in here all night? Knitting sweaters?”


Hearing the jealousy behind the anger, Spike stared down at her fuming expression with a tilt of his head.


“What?” she demanded, hating the way he was looking at her.


He leaned down, capturing her lips with his, only to feel her struggle against him. He looped his arm around her waist, trying to get close enough to kiss her soundly.


Her hands pushed at his chest, furious that he would try to solve this by distracting her. When he kept persisting, she bit him on the lip, hard enough to make him jump back and let her go.


“What the hell are you trying to do? Bite off my lip?” he touched his lip and looked at his hand, seeing no blood.


“You’re insane if you think I’ll let you touch me again after you fuck her,” she spat at him.


“Bloody hell,” he exhaled, “do you actually think I would want her? Not to mention, her guts are practically spilling out of her stomach.”


Cringing, she began to calm, knowing how unlikely it was that anyone would want that girl the way the shape she was in right now…except for maybe Angelus. A memory of last night flashed in her mind.


Angelus chuckled as if it was a silly question. “We’re still a part of the same team, Buffy. At the very least, we stick together against our rivals.”

He laughed as if he wasn’t pinned against the wall, “What’s the matter, Spike? I’m just helping her up.”


She looked down in thought, piecing together what had happened in the past few hours. Looking up to him with suspicion in her eyes, it suddenly became very clear. If Spike said nothing was happening to her, and he didn’t want Amy for himself, but he was making everyone else think that he did…


Spike was going to trick Angelus into wanting Amy.


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


A/N: Anything that’s not clear just adds more intrigue ;)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


“You thought of that out of nowhere?” Buffy gave him a skeptical look after hearing the reasoning behind his ploy.


“Yea, I’m a genius, aren’t I?” he grinned, looking down at her with a goal in mind.


Feeling his arms worm around her waist, she stepped back, out of his grasp. “And what about those lackies? I am not going to end up like Harmony.”


Stopping for a moment, his face darkened. “I already told them – if they so much as lay a greasy finger on you, I’ll cut off whatever limb they touch you with.”


The possession in his voice was obvious, and it made a small part of her almost…feel. But the other part of her became angered. He thought he owned her, and never hesitated in making that fact known - to her and to others. “And what happens if they do it anyway?” she asked with that cold expression back in her eyes.


Her change in mood surprised him. “They won’t,” he said with an assured tone.


“Say they do,” Buffy said, stepping towards him as she spoke. “Say a bunch of them corner me in the laundry room like they did to Harmony.”


Spike practically growled, not knowing what she was up to.


“They put their greasy hands all over me,” she continued with a steely expression, her own words not fazing her.


“I’d kill ‘em.”


“And then what?” At his look of uncertainty as to what she was looking for, she came to stand so her body was almost pressed against his and asked with an accusatory tone, “Would I be yesterday’s news, then? End up like Harmony – used up and cast aside?” It was something she tried not to think about, but she knew Harmony was now a broken girl, with nothing going for her – reduced to the men’s common whore.


“What the hell are you trying to get at?” he demanded.


“Don’t tell me this isn’t all about sex. This possessiveness and fake concern – it’s all about making me some kind of…thing that only you can touch,” she said with contempt. She shook her head at him in disdain, “It’s always about sex with you.”


“You’re off your rocker, if that’s what you think.” He turned away from her, grabbing the edges of the dresser in frustration.


She scoffed, not believing him. “What else could it be? Everything you do to me is about sex. That’s the only thing you think about. It’s the only thing you’re capable of.”


Whipping around, he glared at her. “Then why do I bother with all this?” He gestured to the room. “Wouldn’t I just string you up in some isolated room and have you brought to me for sex when I feel like fucking?”


She moved back as he neared with slow and menacing steps.


“Why bother giving a rat’s ass when you complain that you feel locked up? Have you even wondered why I keep you ‘locked up’? It’s for your own fucking protection!” he yelled, frustrated as he ran his hands through his hair. “Just look what happened yesterday!”


“If I hadn’t been drunk, I would’ve been able to take him,” she retorted, not willing to lose the argument.


“But the fact is, you were drunk, weren’t you?”


Her eyes darted to the side, knowing it was her mistake to have so naively taken that drink.


“Don’t you see? You still don’t know your way around this world, Buffy. And if you just stopped hating me for a minute, you might find out that it’s not always about sex.”


Her eyes shot to him at that. “Then what is it about?” she asked, trying to keep her voice steady as she held his gaze.


He tried to find the words that described what it was, but the thing was, he didn’t know himself. It had long stopped being just about the sex, although he still wanted her every time he looked at her. But when he thought of her, it wasn’t the only thing there.


She shook her head, and relayed hatefully, “Like I said. It doesn’t matter what happens to me, as long as you’re the only one who fucks me.”


“It matters. You’re mine,” he couldn’t keep the possessiveness away from his tone.


“I’ll never really be yours,” she looked up at him with an unwavering gaze, the truth in her voice.


Spike stood there, staring down at her and seeing the truth behind her statement. And all he could do was claim her lips, if nothing else.


It was everything he couldn’t say, his lips searing to hers as one hand held her by the cheek, bringing her closer.


Feeling his needy kiss, she didn’t protest. It was one thing she hated about him: he was able to make her forget everything else. Before she knew it, she was lost in the passion.


~


“You think this is for real?” Gunn asked Cordelia as he dragged a half-unconscious Amy with her to Spike’s room.


“I’ll buy it when I see it,” Cordelia muttered.


Buffy broke apart from the heated kiss, hearing a loud knock.


“Hell, that’s probably someone with Amy,” he sighed, frustrated that they were interrupted.


She tensed in his arms, beginning to pull away, but Spike stopped her.


“It’ll only be a couple of days, luv,” he comforted. Seeing her look of unease, he said with determination, “Nothing will happen to you.”


She cast her eyes away, remaining silent.


“Not that this is a stretch, but you’re going to have to act like you hate me,” he smoothed his hand over her hair before turning to the door. “Come in.”


His entire demeanor changed as Gunn and Cordelia came in with Amy. Throwing Buffy roughly against the bed, he said in a cold tone, “Get your clothes and get out.” Turning to Cordelia, he gave her a knowing look, “You know which room.”


“Where do you want her?” Gunn asked, looking down at Amy’s wounded and unconscious body with a sketchy expression. “Probably some place where the blood is easy to get out,” he muttered to himself.


“Just hand her here, and the rest of you get out,” he ordered, catching Amy in his arms.


Cordelia eyed him for a moment, not knowing what he was up to or if he was really serious. “Come on, Buffy. Let’s go.” She dropped the chains she brought with her onto the ground.


Shaking her head at him with a look of contempt, Buffy hastily grabbed some of her clothes out of a drawer and stormed out.


He kept his expression even, until Gunn and Cordelia left too. As soon as the door closed, he dropped Amy to the floor, his composure gone.


‘I can do this,’ he told himself, running his hands through his hair.


~


Walking out of Spike’s room and into the hallway with Cordelia, Buffy bumped right into Harmony.


“Well, well,” Harmony’s tone was resentful. “If it isn’t the skank.”


Stepping back and taking in the other blonde’s appearance, Buffy saw the bruises that marred her arms, and her overall beaten-down appearance. Harmony was no longer the cheery, ditzy bimbo; she had been dragged down by the cruelty and abuse from the men.


“Don’t you have some place to be that’s away from here, Harmony?” Cordelia crossed her arms.


“How does it feel, Buffy? I knew he wouldn’t keep you long,” she snorted.


Buffy clenched her fists around her clothes, suppressing her irritation. “I’ll let that go since I know you have reason to be a total bitch.”


“If anyone’s the bitch, it’s you. I wish your skanky ass had never come here. You’ve ruined my life.”


“What the hell are you talking about? I didn’t do anything.”


“You’re the reason Spike doesn’t want me anymore, you slut,” she responded pathetically.


“Will you shut it already, Harmony? If you hadn’t spent so much time playing dress up at our expense, you might’ve learned how to defend yourself against those idiots. You were asking for it,” Cordelia finished coldly, crossing her arms.


“Like you were asking for it from Angelus,” Harmony retorted.


Before anyone could blink, Cordelia brought her hand back and slapped the blonde fiercely across the face, causing her to cry out and clutch her cheek, tears threatening to spill.


Cordelia’s eyes gleamed challengingly, “You had a year. What do you think this is? The Hilton Hotel?”


Harmony scurried away, tears running down her face.


Seeing Buffy’s look, Cordelia misinterpreted it, thinking she was worried about her fate now that she was being thrown out. “Here. Take this,” she looked down both sides of the hall before slipping something into Buffy’s pocket.


“What is it?”


“Pepper spray,” Cordelia smirked. Her expression dropped to a serious one, “You have to promise me that you will never say I gave it to you. If they knew I was helping the likes of you, I’d be socially dead in here.”


“Well I wouldn’t want to ruin that,” Buffy answered sarcastically, but with humor in her eyes.


They continued down the hall silently, and Buffy questioned why Cordelia would help her and not Harmony. More importantly, she doubted if mere pepper spray could save her.


~


He saw her stir, groaning as her eyes began to open.


“Time to wake up,” Spike threw some water on her face.


Amy pulled at the chains around her hands, but they only clanked against the bar of the tub, where it was looped through. “I never pegged you as the torture type, Spike.”


“It’s a new day for everything.”


“In the tub?” she lifted her brow at him, questioning his torture location.


“If you haven’t noticed, you’re an open fountain over there,” he replied, gesturing to her blood.


“So what are you going to do now? Torture me to death until I give you what you want to know? I’m not afraid of death.”


“Oh, I know you’re not,” he smiled cruelly. “But you’re going to do exactly what I say anyway.”


She laughed, almost hysterically. “Oh, that’s rich. Why would I do that?”


He dropped a clear bag of white powder on the ground, and her eyes widened. “Do you know what happens to crackheads once they go into withdrawal?” Seeing her bite her lip in anticipation, he leaned back, pleased. She would go along with it, because he had what she wanted.


~


Buffy tossed and turned in her sleep, the vivid images of people’s faces haunting her dreams.


Scott. Angelus. Spike. Amy. Darla. Amy. Spike.


“Nothing’s going to happen to you.”


Somewhere, Amy began to scream, the tortured sounds taunting her subconscious.


“Look, it’s for the best,” an image of herself said as she stood and held a gun over a tied-up Amy.


As if the pain had magically gone away, Amy looked up and smiled wickedly, “So you gave in to the evil, huh?” She began to laugh, and the blood dribbled down the sides of her mouth.


“It’s not what you think,” Buffy replied solemnly.


Amy wouldn’t stop laughing, her face beginning to contort into a hideous grin.


A loud shot fired, and blood splattered on the wall.


She shot up and gasped at the loud explosion, her eyes quickly darting around the room.


Remembering she was in her new room, she relaxed. Much to her surprise, she didn’t go back to her temp room, but rather a different one. It was the same set-up, but bigger. Plush carpets, silk bedding, dark furniture, and a small bathroom off to the side. Only difference was, this one had a door that opened from both sides, and most importantly, it had a lock.


Hearing the loud pounding continue, she jumped up. Looking at the clock on the nightstand, she saw it was 2am. She began to panic, automatically assuming it was one of the men coming to rape her. ‘The door is locked, the door is locked,’ she reminded herself, trying to calm down.


Her eyes widened, seeing the lock about to turn. Jumping up, she went to the drawer where she had left the pepper spray. ‘I can do this. I’m not helpless,’ she told herself, hoping it was only one of them. One guy she could take.


Buffy held her breath, fingers poised over the spray button, bottle down to her side.


The door lock snapped open, and seeing a glass ashtray on the dresser out of the corner of her eye, she grabbed it with her other hand.


As the door opened, she brought up the ashtray and slammed it down.


He reflexively grabbed her arm, but as a result, she let go of the ashtray and it dropped on his head. “Bloody hell!” Spike clutched his head as the ashtray dropped to the ground.


Her eyes widened when she realized who it was. Quickly, she threw the pepper spray behind her back into the drawer and closed it. “I thought you were one of the lackies!” she exclaimed, feeling the need to defend herself.


“Right. Like the bright yellow hair doesn’t give you a hint,” he snapped back, testing his head for a bump.


“You don’t just go around and, and unlock people’s locked doors,” she burst out.


“You wouldn’t open the damn door when I knocked!”


“Well, how was I supposed to know who it was!” her chest heaved and she leaned back against the dresser, trying to calm her breathing.


Seeing her expression, he softened slightly. Grabbing his key and closing the door behind him, he worked his way over to her. “Sorry, luv,” he said genuinely. “Didn’t mean to scare you.”


“Yea, sure,” she muttered. “What are you doing here, anyway?”


“You didn’t think I was going to stay in there with her the whole night, did you?” he leaned in.


She put her hand up to his lips. “How exactly do you plan to pull this off? Won’t she just tell Angelus it’s all a trick?”


“I’ve got it covered.”


Rolling her eyes, she said, “Pray tell.”


He sighed. “Amy’s a junkie. Sooner or later, she’ll do anything, just for a hit.”


“Wait, you mean…she does drugs?” she wanted to clarify.


“Yea, she’s a pothead, druggie, crack whore.”


She raised her brow, “Need a few more descriptions for that little mix?”


“Nah. There are better things we could be doing,” he smirked at her in the way she hated.


She stopped him again with a glare. “It was bad enough before, but if it’s possible, I feel even more like a whore.”


“Will you stop calling yourself that?”


“It’s what it is, isn’t it? You come in here late at night for sex. Isn’t this that stick-me-in-a-hole thing you were talking about earlier?”


“I didn’t come here for sex,” he defended. Seeing her glare of disbelief, he added, “Ok, originally.”


She crossed her arms.


“If you must know, I can’t bloody well sleep,” he exhaled, running his hand through his hair. Realizing what it sounded like, he added quickly, “with that chit in there yelling the whole night.”


“There are a whole bunch of other free rooms,” she pointed out in irritation.


He grinned, recognizing her irritated expression. “The rest of them don’t have you in it,” he said in a low voice as he backed her into the dresser. Slipping the strap of her nightgown off her smooth shoulder, he leaned down to kiss her skin.


Buffy closed her eyes, hating the way he made her feel. Wanted. And she would never admit it. It was wrong. Very wrong.


~


Three years ago…


“Stay close, luv, and watch your bag,” he warned cautiously, his hand tightening around Dru’s waist, bringing her closer as they walked home together on the dark streets of L.A.


“You worry too much, William,” she snuggled in closer, placing her head on his shoulder. She began to hum a tune in her carefree manner.


Shaking his head, he muttered, “I wouldn’t have to if we had a bloody car.”


Drusilla stopped her humming to smile at him, “Soon, we will.”


“What are you talking about?” he paused, confused at her words.


“It’ll be better for us, William,” she soothed, running her hand down his face.


His face relaxed, realizing it was just her child-like optimism. Smiling at her affectionately, he pulled her against him and kissed her on the lips. When he heard the sounds of footsteps, he tensed and looked up.


Stepping out of the shadows of the alleyway came several men. “Well, well, well – what do we have here?” a bulky man with brown hair asked with a devious smile.


Instinctively, William moved in front of Drusilla to shield her as he tried not to show his worry. There were three men in total, and they looked like they were searching for trouble. “What do you want?” he tried to sound composed, though his fear was increasing, especially at the thought that they might get their hands on Dru.


“It’ll be alright, pet,” he assured in a whisper, feeling her hand on his shoulder. Looking back at the men and taking a step back with Dru, he asked, “You want money? You can have it – just leave us alone.”


The three of them laughed at that, and stepped closer menacingly. “Have you asked your precious girl where she gets her money these days?” the main guy asked.


“What the hell are you talking about?” William clenched his fist, not liking what he was hearing. He glanced at Drusilla. “Dru, do you know this man?”


Drusilla didn’t speak, merely looked at him with an eerie expression.


“Dru?” his voice was laced with insecurity. When she offered nothing, he turned back to the stranger with a glare. “Who the bloody hell are you?”


“Angelus. The man who’s been fucking your girl and paying your bills, you worthless sap.”


Before William could react, they rushed forward and Drusilla jumped back. All three of them began to beat him with their bare fists, kicking him in the gut as he fell to the ground. He groaned, suffocating from the ambush as they continued to beat him relentlessly. He began to spit out blood, and before he faded into unconsciousness, he thought he saw Drusilla’s white-clad form walk towards him.




Groaning from the pain, he stilled his movements as his eyes fluttered open. As the fog in his mind cleared, he realized he was strung up, his wrists shackled in chains. He opened his eyes completely, to see the same man standing before him with a cocky smirk.


“Where is she?” William managed to croak, Drusilla his first concern. “If you hurt her…,” his voice was low and shaky at the same time.


“You’ll what?” he challenged. “Kill me?”


Struggling against the chains in anger and desperation, “What do you want from me? And tell me where she is, you fucking bastard!” Behind this man, he saw a figure move.


Slowly walking into the room was Drusilla.


“Dru-,” he began in utter relief at the sight of her seemingly unharmed image. He halted in his words when he noticed the way she was dressed – clad in tight leather, and looking anything but the innocent girl he knew and loved. Looking back and forth between the two, he felt a panic lace through his body. “Dru?” he asked shakily, realizing Angelus had been telling the truth.


“William,” she replied simply as she walked to stand beside Angelus, placing a hand on his shoulder purposely.


He felt like someone had just stabbed him through the heart. His mind was in utter confusion but he knew something was deeply wrong, and he wondered just how long he had been unconscious. “What are you doing, Dru? Get away from him,” he struggled in his chains, and then glared at Angelus, “Where the hell are we, and what do you want with us?”


Both of them just smiled at him calculatingly. “Well, I actually didn’t want you at all, but Drusilla convinced me you might be useful,” Angelus replied, stepping closer to Spike’s strung-up form. “She can be quite convincing, if you know what I mean,” Angelus leered.


Spike looked at them with confused and frustrated eyes, a pleading look towards Drusilla, asking for what it all meant. “What is he talking about, Dru?”


The cold, indifferent look washed away from her face, and he was suddenly seeing his Drusilla again. With that look of adoration, she walked over to him, one hand reaching behind her back. Touching his cheek, she soothed, “Everything will be better now.” Giving him one last kiss, she stabbed him.


He tossed in his sleep, feeling the pain as if it were real as day.


Her black hair fell forward as she leaned down to bite his lower lip, and she jerked up roughly, eliciting a grunt from Angelus. He flipped her over so he was on top and started pumping into her furiously, cocky grin on his face. Drusilla smiled in satisfaction, unfazed by his violent movements.


But suddenly Drusilla was no longer under Angelus.


It was Buffy.


Golden hair, splayed out on the pillow. Her face contorted in pain and pleasure.


Angelus turned to look at a chained-up Spike, giving him a taunting look before coming to his own release. The last thing Spike heard was her scream.


~


She was jolted awake at the feeling of being pushed. Rubbing her eyes, she looked around in confusion when she realized Spike was thrashing around, apparently having a dream. Watching him for a moment with a frown, Buffy saw the sweat that had collected on his face.


“No, Dru,” he said in a pained voice as his head thrashed back and forth.


His arm lashed out towards her, and she quickly reacted, grabbing him before he hit her. She straddled him and tried to shake him awake by the shoulders, “Spike!”


At her increasing force, he began to wake up, movements stilling as he opened his eyes in confusion and panic. Breathing heavily as he felt the sweat surround his body, he lifted his head slightly and looked up at Buffy, who had a curious and hesitant expression.


“You were dreaming.”


Letting his head hit the pillow, he exhaled with his eyes closed, wiping the sweat off his face with the back of his hand. “Yea.”


She got off him, sitting back down on her side of the bed. She wanted to ask what it was about, but she thought it might sound like she cared too much. “You were thrashing. You almost hit me,” she stated for him, waiting to see if he would explain, or not.


When he said nothing as he ran his hands over his face, she added, “You said Dru.” The only thing she had heard him say about Drusilla before was when he tried to trade for her in that fight the first day.


He tensed. Looking up at her finally, “Did I? Don’t remember that.”


She scoffed and pulled at the covers, deciding it wasn’t worth the conversation to know. “I should’ve figured you’d have some sort of weird-twisted fantasy about that freak show.”


“Are you daft? I’m in a fucking cold sweat here,” he said incredulously. “And it was ‘No, Dru’, for your information.”


“Huh?”


“I said ‘No’ first.”


She raised an eyebrow at him. “Thought you didn’t remember?”


“It suddenly came back to me,” he lied.


“Right.” After a second of silence, she sat up more. “So the Big-Bad Spike has nightmares about Drusilla? What about her? Are her nails too scary or something?”


He got up, turning away from her. “I don’t feel like talking about Dru.”


The way he said that made her look at him suspiciously. “Why?” she asked, crossing her arms. She just noticed that he always called her Dru - not Drusilla, but Dru.


“I just don’t, ok?” his tone was a little louder than he would’ve wanted.


Pursing her lips at his harsh attitude, she got up herself and walked towards the bathroom, “Maybe you should leave then.”


Sighing in frustration, he grabbed her by the arm. “Come on, let’s just…go back to sleep.”


“I don’t feel like it,” she replied calmly. “In fact, you should just stay in your room with Amy indefinitely.”


“You don’t mean that,” his voice low, stepping into her space.


“Oh, I do.”


He tried a different tactic, a more familiar one. “That’s not the message you were giving me earlier,” he trailed his hand lightly down her arm.


“Temporary insanity,” she wormed out of his grip and picked up his shirt, throwing it at him.


“Is that your new thing? Run hot and cold in the turn of a second?” he asked, annoyed.


“You’re the one that ran cold!” Hearing the turn of their conversation, she yelled in frustration.
“Just go.”


“No.”


“Fine, I’ll go,” she decided, reaching to open a drawer to pull out clothes.


“Like hell you are,” he growled, shutting the drawer roughly.


She glared at him, the hate fully back in her eyes.


Closing his eyes, he realized where it was heading. Trying to calm himself, he took a deep breath. He looked down at her fuming form, and he gave in.


“If I tell you, will you stop being a bitch?”


She pursed her lips at him in anger, but didn’t say anything to protest.


“Dru betrayed me.”


“She was part of your gang?” Buffy lifted an eyebrow.


"No." He struggled with his words, not knowing how much he wanted her to know. Finally, he decided on, "She's the reason I'm here."


She opened her mouth to ask, but he stopped her.


"Don't."


Buffy frowned, anger forgotten, watching him pull on his shirt.


"It doesn't matter now," he said as he started to leave.


And she couldn't help thinking of the same words he used earlier, 'It matters.'


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


A/N: If you’ve noticed, the last few chapters have been not-as-dark angst between our couple. Enjoy it for a couple more chapters ;) Also, I researched it, and I’m sorry, but Amy’s character doesn’t really have any defining characteristics that I can capture on paper – for me, anyway. Reviews are always appreciated :)

Oh, I also have to thank not only the nice comments from last chapter, but also the people who have been referring the story to others! :D

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


He was ignoring her. And even though it was normally what she wanted, it pissed her off. It had been several days and he hadn’t spoken to her since that night.


She had waited for him to come back the next night so she could ask him what the hell he meant.


“Dru betrayed me.”

“She’s the reason I’m here.”


The more it played in her mind, the more it began piecing together. Spike and Drusilla must have had a thing. It explained the way he shut down and his dream-induced words. The idea of it began to slowly unnerve her until she seethed, more and more each day.


Her eyes shot up as the sound of the training room door brought her back to reality. Speak of the devil.


Spike came striding in without acknowledging her or the rest of them, going towards Wesley and Illyria as if on a mission.


Unfortunately, the entire time her mind had wandered, Buffy was in the middle of training with Darla and had blocked out what the other blonde was trying to teach her.


“Earth to Buffy,” Darla called, kicking Buffy’s feet out from under her. “If I let every guy I fucked affect me, I would be dead by now,” she smirked knowingly.


At the loud impact, Spike turned, seeing and hearing Buffy groan on the floor. Feeling Wesley and Illyria’s eyes on him, he went back to his hushed conversation without a flinch – something that was not missed by Buffy, nor Cordelia, who was watching.


Infuriated, Buffy rolled out of the way just before Darla’s foot came down, grabbed her leg, and yanked the other blonde to the ground as well.


“Knowing how many guys that must be, I’m surprised you haven’t died from an STD,” Buffy retorted, getting to her feet.


“I resent that,” Darla snapped as she got to her own feet.


“Yea, you know they have cures for STD’s now,” Cordelia humored, giving Darla a look at the fact that Buffy had just got the upper hand. “Darla would know.”


“Hey!” Darla pointed an accusing finger at her friend, “that was one time!”


Buffy furrowed her brow in disgust, “Ok, I was kidding, but ew.”


“Riveting conversation, girls, but we have bigger problems.”


Buffy crossed her arms and gave Spike a cold look as he approached them, but he barely even returned the gaze, his eyes only passing over her briefly, uninterested. “Jackass,” she muttered under her breath.


Ignoring her, he said to Cordelia and Darla, “I need you two to suit up. We’re going out tonight to take care of some business.”


“For what?” Cordelia asked.


“I’ll explain. Meet me in the front hall in ten minutes.”


They nodded, silently noticing that has demeanor was similar to how he used to be a few years back, when he first became the leader.


They began to go to their rooms, but Buffy stood there confused, “What about me?”


“What about you?” Spike asked, back facing her.


“Am I going?” her eyebrow was raised as she spoke each word slowly and with annoyance.


“No. We don’t need you. You’ll just get in the way.” With that, he walked out with the rest of them.


Cordelia gave Buffy a brief glance, before leaving the blonde standing there with a furious expression.


When they were all gone, she screamed in frustration. “I’m gonna kill him! Fucking bastard!”


“What’s the matter, little girl?”


Buffy looked up with wide eyes, not having heard anyone enter. It was Drusilla, and she was approaching her. She was suddenly aware of how alone she was. Not wanting to show any fear, she lifted her chin and gave her a steely gaze as Drusilla came to stand before Buffy. “What do you want? And I’m not a little girl.”


“Did you think you could take William away from me?”


“Wha-,…who the hell is William?” Buffy creased her brow, wondering where that question even came from. In fact, she had never spoken to Drusilla, except for the first day when the bitch was screaming at her to shut up.


“He’ll always be mine, you know that, don’t you?” she said prettily.


“Okkkk, I think I’ll be going away from the crazy now,” Buffy began to walk towards the door. She was stopped by the tight grip of Drusilla’s hand on her arm. Eyes widening, she yanked her arm out of her grasp with a furious expression. “Get away from me.”


Ignoring her, Drusilla continued with her cryptic questions. “Now that he’s bored of you, what will you do?”


Buffy frowned, hesitating before asking, “Are you talking about Spike?”


“He’ll never be anything but my dark prince, even if he refuses to play by the rules,” Drusilla assured.


“Your dark prince?” Buffy repeated as she looked at the other girl in confusion.


“They told me you called my name in your head. Something tells me he hasn’t told you the whole story.”


With a tight expression, Buffy managed to retort, “Enlighten me, if you can manage not to speak in haiku form.”


“I changed him from the poor, sniveling sap. I saved him. Not you.” Drusilla poked two fingers at Buffy, giving her an eerie and angry stare.


Getting a glazed over look in her eyes, she let her posture slack, beginning to sway her body, “Don’t you think ‘Spike’ is a fitting name? All jagged and rough.”


“Why are you telling me all this?”


She ignored Buffy, continuing on her own train of thought, “I’ll always be the one he loves, always. Why else do you think he moves from one silly girl to the next?”


The one he loves. Love. A word so familiar and a concept so foreign. Was he capable of loving?


Buffy began to laugh, bitterly. Replaying every memory she had with Spike, her anger grew by the second. She knew it. If he was in love with Drusilla, then she was a substitute – a toy. She had always been a toy.


“Did I upset you?” Drusilla asked with obvious glee, laughing. “I’m a creature of the dark, and so is he. He’ll always be in the dark with me. And eventually, so will you.”


“I’ll never be anything like you. Never.”


“Everyone has dark parts,” Drusilla traced a finger down her chest. “You might not see them, but if I cut you up and opened your insides, they would glow. Shall we see?”


Before she could move, Drusilla had appeared in front of her, hand shooting up to choke her. Buffy gripped at Drusilla’s hands, almost gagging. She kicked her off and caused the brunette to drop her.


Drusilla backhanded Buffy roughly, sending her to the ground. “He’s no longer here to help you, is he?” she laughed. “He doesn’t care about you, he never did.”


Infuriated, Buffy got up quickly and blocked the next hit, returning the rough backhand, surprising Drusilla as she flew back a little.


Drusilla stood up, glaring at her. Rushing forward, she tried to attack.


Buffy ducked as her heart rate began to beat faster, narrowly avoiding a fist. She let her own punches loose, and after a series of blocked attempts, she successfully brought her knee up roughly into the brunette’s stomach.


Drusilla shot her a furious look as she stood slightly hunched over, indignant that some little girl could even get in one cheap-shot.


“You’re going to regret that.” Gone was the crazy rambling tone. With a yell, she grabbed Buffy by the shoulders and threw her with renewed strength, causing Buffy to fly back and slide across the floor.

Not even able to register what had happened, Buffy blinked, and Drusilla was there, hovering over her with an arrogant smirk.


Pulling her by the hair, Drusilla lifted Buffy off the floor.


“Now, now, Dru – don’t get carried away,” came a male voice.


Recognizing it as Angelus’ voice, Buffy tensed, sensing things were about to get worse.


“But the little bitch is asking for it,” she pouted, her child-like quality coming out as he entered the room, never letting go of the fistful she had.


Angelus ignored her, approaching Buffy like a predator to its prey.


Reluctantly, Drusilla let her go as Angelus narrowed in on Buffy.


“Stay away from me,” she tried to keep her voice strong.


“Or what?” he asked with obvious amusement.


She seethed, but didn’t answer. Two to one. There was practically no chance that anyone would come back to help her; they were probably gone by now.


Satisfied with her silence, he asked, “So am I supposed to believe that Spike threw you away only a day after he tried to protect you?”


She looked up at him with a steely gaze. “I don’t care what you believe, and Spike can go to hell.”


Chuckling, “I like that answer.” Stepping into her personal space, he moved his face close to hers, all around her face and neck, as if sniffing her.


She dared not to move, not wanting to show her fear, but the closeness of his face to hers made her insides turn. If evil reeked, she now knew what it smelled like.


He traced one finger down her cheek, surprised that she didn’t shudder against his touch, and asked in a whisper, “So what did you do to make him not want you?”


She didn’t know where she got the words from, but she replied without hesitation as she glared into his eyes, “I tried to cut off his dick.”


Stepping back a little in uncertainty, Angelus eyed her, gauging her expression. The fear was gone. Her eyes were brimmed with stubborn confidence, something that unnerved him.


Turned off, he finally broke the glare in a huff and simply sent a silent signal to Drusilla. They both left the room after giving Buffy final look that let her know they weren’t done with her.


As soon as they were gone, Buffy let her shoulders sag, and she tried to contain the shakiness that threatened her body.


~


“It’s been nearly 20 minutes now,” Gunn commented as she waited with the rest of them for Spike.


“I’m getting restless here. If we’re not going there are better things that we could be doing, if you catch my drift,” Faith said with a smirk.


“Please send your drift the other way,” Cordelia answered, rolling her eyes.


“Let’s just go get him,” Gunn shrugged. Seeing Wesley and Illyria nod in agreement, they went to Spike’s room.


They approached the door and could hear screams. Amy’s. Giving each other looks, they listened for any “other sounds” before Gunn knocked on the door loudly.


“Shut up,” they heard Spike yell at Amy before a slap resounded to their ears.


Finally, Spike came to the door and opened it. The sight that greeted them was…intriguing.


Amy was chained up on his bed, stark naked, legs spread apart, and blood could be seen even from the distance of the doorway.


Spike buckled his belt and looked up to them. Lacking sincerity, he smirked, “Sorry. Lost track of time.”


They didn’t comment and had no choice but to follow him in silent stupor.


Cordelia noted that he was chillingly like the old Spike, and she wondered what went on between him and Buffy to bring this on.


Spike kept on his air of indifference and cockiness, but inside, he felt sick. He didn’t know how much longer he could pretend.


~~~~~~~~~~~


Several hours later…



Buffy stood inside her bedroom, next to the door. Every time the lock would begin to turn, she would turn it back into locked-mode.


“Buffy,” warned Spike’s voice from the other side. “Open the door!”


“No,” she replied with resolve.


‘Fuck,’ he thought as he scanned both sides of the hallway to see if anyone was watching.


“Someone’s gonna see if you don’t let me in now,” he tried the key over and over.


“Then you better go back to your room.”


He sighed and stopped, feeling like it was useless. He had been standing there for over 5 minutes. “Fine,” he muttered. Louder so she could hear, he threatened, “Just wait until I get my hands on you.”


“Why do you think I’m not letting you in?” she snapped.


She waited for a response, but there was none. Putting her ear to the door, she listened and heard the faint sound of footsteps fading into the distance. ‘It’s a trick,’ she narrowed her eyes at the thought. Deciding to wait, she stood there for a good 10 minutes before eyeing the door suspiciously and walking away towards her bed.


Buffy hesitantly got into bed, eyeing the lock the entire time. Finally, she relaxed, relishing the feel of the silken sheets on her bruised skin. “Mmmm,” she let out in satisfaction as her face hit the pillow.


“Getting started without me, pet?”


She yelped, her body shooting up as her eyes widened, finding that Spike was next to the bed. “Spike, how the hell-,” her eyes darted to the door, which swung closed, clicking into place.


“I was very quiet,” he grinned, putting his palms and one knee onto the bed, beginning to crawl toward her.


“What part of locked don’t you understand?” she glared at him, pushing him back roughly. The force was hard enough to send him off the bed.


“Bloody Hell!” his back hit the floor with a thud. He tightened his jaw while on the floor. “Can you explain to me just what your problem is today?”


With a tight expression of her own, she glared down at him. “I’m trying to ignore you.” Adding sarcastically, “I’m sure you’re familiar with the concept.”


“Don’t tell me you’re mad about that?” he looked at her incredulously, getting up off the floor. “It’s an act. You know this already.”


“No, that’s the way it should be. This is an act.”


“You know what has to be done if my plan is going to work,” he tried to explain.


“I’m not talking about the plan. I don’t care what you do. Just don’t touch me.” She turned onto her side away from him, pulling up the covers to her neck and shutting her eyes.


He couldn’t hold back his grin as he crawled towards her again. “You know, I could get used to this jealous side of you,” he said, thinking she was upset about Amy.


“How many times do I have to tell you? I’m not jealous!” she whipped up from her position to yell before flopping back down on the bed.


Ignoring her words, he crawled next to her and promised in a devilish way, “I’ll make it up to you.”


Her voice tired and defeated, “Please, just leave. All I want is to go to sleep.”


Halting his movements, he frowned. Hesitating, he asked, “What’s wrong?”


“Just leave.”


Reaching over to touch the back of her shoulder lightly, “Buffy…” As soon as his fingers touched her skin, she whipped around and pushed him back violently.


“I said get out!” She screamed in a sudden fury, getting off the bed as she continued to push and hit him wherever she could.


Taken by surprise, Spike could only move back away from her reach, but Buffy kept coming towards him.


“Leave!” Her voice was filled with both anger and a pleading quality.


She pounded at his chest with her fists, and he reached around her to try and hold her to him. “Ok, ok, I will,” he assured, tightening his arms around her.


“No,” she protested in a strained voice, her arms trapped between their bodies. Trying to push away from him, she felt her resolve break as his hand ran gently through her hair in an attempt to calm her. She closed her eyes against his shoulder, letting herself forget for just a moment. When she realized that they were in an embrace, she pushed away from him roughly and backed up.


His eyes full of confusion, “Tell me what’s wrong.”


She shook her head, her eyes lined with unshed tears that she refused to let go, her voice filled with conviction, “I don’t want it - I don’t want your comfort.”


“What are you talking about? You’re not making any sense, pet.”


I’m not some conjugal visit you can just…visit,” she finished lamely with contempt, completely changing her course of thought.


“I never said you were,” Spike looked at her as if she had grown two heads.


“You don’t have to say it. You act like it,” she replied, a slightly hurt look flashing across her features before masked it with anger.


“When? I-,” he stopped, figuring out what she meant. Spike realized that to her, it could very well seem like he was only coming to her for sex. After all, he had acted like a perverted jerk. Frowning, he wondered why that part of him came so naturally. He didn’t admit to himself that it was a cover – it had become the only way he knew how to interact with her without starting a fight.


“I’m not a toy,” she tried to keep her tone from wavering.


He shut his eyes tightly before opening them and looking up at her with regret. “I didn’t mean it like that.”


Those words only served to piss her off more. “You never mean it like that. You’ll never be any different, Spike. Sometimes I fool myself, but you’ll always be the same.”


Her words hit home. Combined with what he had been pretending to be these past few days, he did feel like a monster. Buffy was the only one who knew of the plan, and he had fooled himself into thinking it would make her forget about the past. About what he had done. All of a sudden he had the intense urge to tell her he would try and be different, that he wasn’t the same anymore. That he wasn’t heartless, that he was wrong, that he hadn’t always been that way.


But he answered solemnly, “Yea, you’re right.”


“Don’t think you can just agree with me and make things right. Were you planning on telling me that you’re in love with Drusilla?” her voice was tight. It wasn’t that she loved him or wanted him or was jealous. She hated him. But the fact that he had not only done those things to her and was in love with someone as evil and vapid as Drusilla…maybe he really was just a monster.


“What?” the disbelief in his voice only began to show his surprise.


“You heard me.”


“Where did you-,” he started with wide eyes, but cut himself off. Changing his expression to a masked one, he stated clearly, “I’m not in love with Drusilla.”


“Are you sure? Are you sure you’re not her dark prince?” she mocked.


He didn’t know how she knew, but the sudden thought of it angered him. “Where the hell did you hear that?”


“Where do you think?”


The only one who had ever used that phrase was Drusilla, when she tried to justify why she betrayed him. He looked at Buffy incredulously, about to ask, when she cut him off.


“It doesn’t matter. What matters is you’re disgusting. And I never want you to come near me again. I’m not going to be your cheap substitute, or anyone else’s.” She began to scurry around the room, looking for clothes. If he wouldn’t leave, she would.


“Buffy…,” he called her name in a reasoning tone.


“Don’t you Buffy me,” she gritted before going back to her task at hand.


“God, just…stop for a second and listen to me,” he yelled, frustrated. He was tired of this daily battle with her, even though he knew it was his doing and that he deserved it.


To his surprise, she did stop, even though she didn’t turn around to face him.


Long moments of silence passed between them, and she hadn’t made an effort to face him.


He sighed, running his hands through his hair. Wondering how he got here, back to this re-hashing of the past, he started, “Dru and I…” Seeing her tense, he reluctantly continued, “We were ages ago. In a different life, a different world, even.”


“What does that even mean?” she asked, finally whipping around.


“It was…before,” he chose to say.


“You mean before you became a part of this gang, don’t you?” her anger subsided to curiosity just a little bit. It was hard to imagine him having a before.


“Yea.” He looked away, unable to hold her gaze.


“So what? You just decided to join a bad-ass gang? Let me guess, you did it for Drusilla?”


He strode forward and brought his face close to hers, his anger bubbling again. “I didn’t join anything. What makes you think you’re the only one who came in against your will?”


She narrowed her eyes, “Are you trying to say you were a poor, innocent victim?”


“I was stupid.”At her uplifted eyebrow, he continued, “I was a fool - naïve back then. She changed right before my eyes and I never saw it…she had been having an affair with Angelus.” Spike paused as the next words got caught in his throat. But he would put aside his pride, because she wouldn’t be satisfied until she knew. “The next thing I know, I was attacked…,” he spread his arms out, gesturing to the space around him, “and here I am.” But he knew it wasn’t as simple as that.


“And you became one of them? Just like that?”


He could’ve said more, but he didn’t want to. It made him feel powerless to his past. So he answered with a solemn nod, “Yea, I guess so.”


She laughed, “So what am I? Revenge on Drusilla?”


Spike knew she wasn’t, but there was no way he could win this argument. He wanted to pull her to him and just have everything he wanted to say be said. Trouble was, he barely knew what to say.


He was looking at her in that way again. She let her expression drop into a tired one, and she finally said in a quiet tone, “Just leave.”



So he left, like she asked.


~


He didn’t want to go back to what he left in his room, but now he had no choice. Opening the door, he was greeted by the harsh sight of Amy still exposed on his bed. As he closed the door behind him, she woke from her half-sleep.


He went over to cover her up before taking out the key to her chains. To his surprise, she laughed.


“What could you possibly find funny right now?” he asked with a raise of his eyebrow.


“Anyone else would’ve just fucked me instead of faking it all in some lame, elaborate plan. I mean, what kind of bad guy are you supposed to be?”


“The kind that doesn’t enjoy having sex with a bleeding corpse.”


“Or the kind that is whipped.”


His head jerked up at that.


“I knew I was right,” she exclaimed, laughing, seeing the caught and surprised expression on his face. “Since you strung me up naked the whole night, I had lots of time to think. I figured out why you’re doing all of this, and all the late night getaways you pull are pretty obvious. It’s all for her, isn’t it?”


He yanked on her chains, pulling her to her feet so he could take her back to the bathroom. Before he continued, he grabbed her by the throat and brought her face close enough to see his expression clearly, “Do you want a gag too?”


She remained silent but her body shook from the suppressed laughter, irking him even more.


~


Spike tossed and turned, not able to sleep at all. It had been 3 hours already. Giving up, he got up and threw on some clothes. Grabbing his cigarettes, he went out the door.


As he passed into the front corridor, he saw Angelus speaking in hushed tones with Lindsay. Lifting his brow, Spike watched as they turned to see who it was.


Angelus turned to face him with a smirk, “And for a moment I thought you were avoiding me.” He dismissed Lindsay with a tilt of his head, and Lindsay left reluctantly, glaring at Spike.


“I can’t help it if you’re a sore sight. Blind me with your ugliness, you do,” he answered Angelus non-committally.


“I’m fucking handsome and you know it.”


Spike rolled his eyes, trying to control the urge to let Angelus know that he knew it was him who had been sabotaging everything. But it would be more fun this way.


“Yea, like a first-class dog,” Spike retorted sarcastically. “What do you want, Peaches?”


“You know what. You broke a code at the club and now you’ve basically started a damn war between us and Rack. And don’t even try to pretend it’s because of Amy. We both know she’s not worth it.”


“I never said we kidnapped her because I wanted her. I did it to show them who’s better. The fact that I’m fucking Amy is just an unexpected bonus.”


“Oh cut the crap, Spike. You and Amy? I’d be stupid to believe that. Two seconds ago you were acting like a blithering idiot over the blonde bitch at the club.”


Spike had to control himself at that. Calmly, he asked, “It worked, didn’t it? Rack let down his guard enough for us to get a good attack on him.”


Angelus eyed him skeptically. “You’re trying to say it was all a plan?” After a moment, he shook his head, “No way you’re that smart.”


“We killed three of his men and captured his favorite whore, who so happens to be fully trained. What do you think?” Spike smirked, “And I was smart enough to betray you.”


His expression grew cold before he lightened up and gave a tight smirk. “Something that you’ll regret one of these days,” said Angelus.


“Yea, yea, that’s what you say everyday. Now what is it you want because you’re wasting my precious quality time with my cigs.”


“You know what happens because of the rule you broke.”


“Right. A fight. What will it be?” Spike asked, no worry in his voice.


Angelus smiled calculatingly for a moment. “Buffy. I could have a lot of fun with that tight body of hers.”


“Fine by me,” Spike put on a small suppressed smile of relief. “And I’m sure you could.” The words felt like poison in his mouth.


Angelus eyed him warily. Wanting to goad and test him more, he continued, “Judging from her reaction earlier, she likes being tortured.”


The implications behind his words ran through Spike’s head, but he had to tell himself to not react. Buffy hadn’t mentioned anything about an encounter, but by the way she was acting earlier, it suddenly made sense. And he felt like tearing off Angelus’ head and drinking from his brain stem.


“Drusilla finally boring you, or is it the other way around?” Spike finally asked with a raise of his brow. “Perhaps she’s fucking someone else.”


“Shut up,” Angelus gritted, Spike’s cool demeanor starting to grate on his nerves.


Just then, a string of loud curses pierced through the hallway. Amy. Smiling, Spike thanked the bitch’s timing. “If there’s nothing else you want to bore me with, I’ll be getting back now. I think her drugs are wearing off, which should be fun.”


For the first time, Angelus looked confused as he watched Spike walk away.


~


He thought of 450 ways he would eventually kill Angelus as he rushed to Buffy’s room. And why hadn’t she told him? Just what did the bastard do? Or was he making up the whole thing for a reaction?


As he turned the key in the lock, he felt a little wave of guilt for going back when he had promised to leave. But he needed to find out. Stepping quietly into the room, he looked over at the bed and saw that she was seemingly asleep.


Slowly approaching her, his eyes roamed over the exposed parts of her skin but saw nothing. “Buffy?” he whispered. When there was no answer, he knelt down beside the bed and looked at her face.


Her eyes were closed, her mouth slightly open as light breaths came in and out. She frowned in her sleep and turned, letting out a small groan of discomfort.


His expression softened involuntarily as he watched her in her troubled sleep. He could resist the urge to touch her, but he found himself unable to leave.


Finally, he crawled into bed carefully, lying next to her but far enough away to not be touching her. Lying on his side, he just watched, until he finally succumbed to sleep himself.


~


She was warm and comfortable. For the first time, she felt completely safe and nothing about reality seeped into her dreams, even for a second. Feeling sated, she snuggled her face into her blankets as her eyes began to open and her mind came out of sleep.


She froze. To her dismay, she was on the bed, snuggled into Spike’s arms as he slept beside her, her face comfortably against his chest. She pushed away from him abruptly with a frustrated whimper, falling off the bed in turn.


A loud thud broke his own comfortable sleep as a feeling of soft warmth fell away from him. Blinking his eyes open, he saw the top of Buffy’s head behind the edge of the bed as she struggled to get up.


“When did you come back in here?” she demanded, getting to her feet.


He sighed. “Sometime last night.” Seeing her open her mouth to yell, he continued before she could, “Look, I couldn’t sleep, is all.”


“And what does that have to do with me?”


“A lot, actually. As it turns out, I can only bloody well sleep when you’re around.”


Her eyes widened at the truth in his tone, before narrowing, “Well maybe I can’t sleep when you’re around.”


“Oh really? So you were awake in my arms just now?”


Stuck in her own word play, she let out an aggravated yell before picking up a pillow and throwing it at his head. “I was not in your arms!” Beginning to throw everything at him from off the bed, she felt her frustration choke at her. It was everything and it was anything. She just felt it all strangle her emotions. “I can’t do this anymore,” her voice wavered.


With a frown, he automatically heard himself comfort, “You don’t have to,” approaching her as soon as he saw the expression in her eyes. He realized at that moment, that besides all her anger and hate for him, there was a fragile girl underneath.


“You’re not a substitute, you’re not a toy, and you hate me - I know.” Reaching out to brush his thumb across her cheek, he leaned in to kiss her lightly - not looking for more, but just…comfort, because he knew she needed it, and so did he.



~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

~


Buffy tossed and turned, her brow furrowing in discomfort. A thin layer of sweat formed on her skin as she found herself trapped in darkness, with the sound of Angelus’ voice taunting her.


”Screaming only turns me on,” he whispered in her ear, trailing a finger down her arm.


“Why are you doing this?” she asked, helplessly, feeling the bounds on her wrist tighten, but she could see nothing around her, or even where she was.


“Why? Why are you doing this?” She heard herself repeat several times, but soon the voice had changed.


“Why are you doing this to me?” Parker’s pleading face looked up at her, but she stood above him with a relentless gaze.


“Because I can,” she replied without remorse, “because you killed my mother.” She turned her head to the side and pointed, showing him the lifeless body of her mother in the corner, and she heard him beg for mercy.


Turning back to her mother, she saw herself in her mother’s eyes.


Buffy looked sheepish, “Ok but this time, I really got an A. Ok, A-, but that still counts right?”


Joyce grabbed Buffy in a big hug. “Of course it counts. I’m so proud of you!” She pulled back to look at her in the face. “I told you taking a break from Parker would be good for you.”


Blinking, her mother was gone, and she was alone in a dark room with only the sound of her own sobs.


Opening his eyes at the sound of her whimper, Spike looked over at her with a sleepy gaze. Her back was turned, but her shoulders were shaking slightly. Frowning, he moved closer and pulled her lightly by the shoulder to see her face.


She was crying – crying in her sleep, he realized.


“It's all right, luv. Shh, it's all right,” he soothed into her ear as his hand ran comfortingly down her arm, hoping it would end her nightmare. “It’s just a dream.”


Awaking, she turned around slowly to look up at Spike with a pained expression.


He wiped a few tears away from her face, causing her to shudder from his touch.


Misinterpreting it, he withdrew his hand.


But she reached up and looped her arm around the back of his neck, pulling him to her for a kiss.


Surprised at first, he returned the kiss and groaned when he felt her tongue enter his mouth. The fact that she was initiating contact only ignited more of the emotion he had tried to quell for so long. Pulling away, Spike looked at down at her. Not over 24 hours ago she had told him to not touch her; now, he could see the lustful expression on her face.


“Make me forget,” her voice was practically a whisper, suddenly feeling very insecure.


He nodded, the emotion stuck in his throat. Leaning down, he captured her lips again, caressing them with his own. His arm wrapped around her waist, bringing her body under his. His desire grew, feeling her press her body up into him before her fingers reached for his shirt.


Helping her, he shed his shirt in one move. Seeing her involuntarily lick her lips, his desire for her grew. Spike grabbed the edges of her nightie, looking into her eyes.


She put up both her arms, letting him pull the silk across her skin and over her head. She felt a breeze tickle across her before Spike lowered his mouth to her breast. Moaning, she closed her eyes and focused on the feel of his tongue caressing her soft mound.


He suckled at her skin, taking his time. He wanted to touch every part of her. He wanted to memorize her skin, the way she moved and reacted to him. He refused to acknowledge that it might be the last time, but a part of him still knew.


Realizing she was beginning to writhe against him for more friction, he reached for the straps of her panties. He pulled them down her legs achingly slow, aroused by the shudders he caused and his own anticipation.


When her panties were off and she was completely naked, she reached for the button of his jeans, her slick opening now ready for him. But he grabbed her hands, stilling her. Looking up at him with a frustrated questioning look, she dropped her hands back down.


“Not yet,” he managed to get out.


“I need-,” she began to protest, not able to take his ministrations any longer, but she was cut short when she saw what he was doing. Eyes widening, she saw him lower his head. Closing her legs, she asked incredulously, “What are you doing?” They had never, in all the times, done that before.


“Relax,” he said, one hand on each of her thighs. Massaging them, he tried to pry them open without too much resistance. “It’ll feel good, I promise.”


She wanted to say no, but the ache between her legs grew at the idea of his tongue working inside of her. Biting her lip, she let him open her legs and put them over his shoulders. Suddenly embarrassed, she opened her mouth to protest, but she gasped, feeling him kiss her. She bucked involuntarily, screaming as he plunged his tongue into her hot, slick, channel at the same time.


The sight of it – his head buried between her thighs was enough to send her over the top. Buffy felt her stomach tighten as she focused on the sight and feel of Spike lapping at her hungrily.


She tasted fantastic, and he cursed himself for never doing this sooner. Her reaction, the feel of her body nearing her climax, the juices that kept flowing into his mouth – all of it only aroused him more. His erection was already rock hard, but he wanted to make her forget.


She couldn’t take it anymore, and she came suddenly, rocking her hips into him as she clutched his face to her mound.


As she screamed out the end of her climax, he moved up to kiss her.


Tasting herself on his lips, her desire grew again at the implications, in disbelief that he had just gone down on her. This time when she reached for the button of his pants, he didn’t stop her but helped her.


“Now,” she pulled his cock down to her opening.


Letting out a sigh of relief that he could finally be inside her, he pushed slowly in as her channel stretched for him, surrounding him with liquid, hot heat. ‘God,’ he thought to himself as he struggled to control himself. Somehow, it had never felt like this before. Her hands were clutched at his back, her body flush against him as she gasped – everything about her was surrounding him this time; there was no sense of disconnection.


When he was inside of her fully, she ached for friction. Pivoting her hips up, she got him to start moving. She couldn’t think too much, or else she would realize what she had started. All she wanted to think about now was the feel of him against her and around her.


He started, slow at first, kissing her in between strokes. As both their desires heightened, he increased his pace, marveling at the way they felt together.


She gasped every time he drove into her, wanting him to go faster. The sweat between their bodies helped them slide against each other in need. Pulling at him, Buffy rasped, “Harder.”


Complying with a clench of his jaw, he ground harder into her, and faster, feeling himself near the edge.


She would never admit it to him, but the feel of his cock inside her made her…feel. Combined with his soft caresses, she often forgot all the reasons why she should hate herself for enjoying it.


Their moans and grunts of pleasure filled the room - the rapid pace of their coupling became desperate.


As he plunged deep into her a few more times, she lost her control and screamed as her orgasm hit, her body convulsing into his. Her whole body ignited and sang with pleasure as he started to come into her.


Closing his eyes, he collapsed on top of her with a satisfied groan.


Feeling exhausted, she closed her eyes and drifted off into sleep, too tired to do anything else, much less think about the reality of it all.


~~~


She sat at a bar, sipping her strawberry daiquiri as her eyes perused the room for hot guys. As usual, all eyes were on her – her dangerously short and tight red dress hugged her curves, making her the source of hate for every girl in the room.


“Hey, baby,” a dark-haired man slid into the stool next to her with a lascivious grin, clearly gazing down the V of her dress.


She turned and a look of disgust crossed her face. The man was one of those sleazy but good-looking types, with the emphasis on sleazy. He even had the whole unbuttoned-shirt-with-nasty-chest-hair-hanging-out thing going on. “As if,” she looked at him with disdain.


“Oh, c’mon. I’m sure we could have a lot of fun.”


“In your dreams, pal.”


“What? You think I’m not good enough for you or somethin’?” anger crept into his voice.


She ignored his change of tone, replying spitefully, “That’s exactly what I’m saying. If I were filet mignon, you’d be leftover mincemeat, if that analogy isn’t too hard for your pea-sized brain to figure out.”


His eyes narrowed, “You little slut. Do you know what I could do to you?”


It suddenly registered with her that she was staring at trouble. The bouncer she knew was off duty today, and he was usually the one who threw out the guys that bothered her.


“What is your deal?” she muttered before quickly grabbing her purse, frustrated that this jerk was ending her night early.


“Where the hell do you think you’re going?” He grabbed her arm roughly as she got up to go.


“Get your slimy hands off me,” she said incredulously, fear slipping its way into her emotions. She pulled but he kept a strong grip on her, and she began to panic as she could already feel the bruises forming.


Suddenly, like a blessing, a stranger interjected, “Hey, hey – that’s enough. Get your hands off her.”


Without debate, the slimy man let go of her after seeing who it was, walking away with wide eyes. Stunned, she looked up at her savior: a good-looking, dark-haired guy dressed in a sharp, black button down shirt.


“Oh, wow – who are you? The godfather?”


He laughed, “Not even close, but one time I did give him a nice little black eye - that jerk’s always in here causing trouble.”


She smiled, her flirtatious goal coming back into her mind. “I’m Cordelia, by the way. And just who am I thanking for saving me?”


He reached out a hand to shake hers and smiled, “Angel. And it’s no trouble at all.”


*


Some moments it would be ok – sometimes Buffy numbed herself into not thinking about what would happen to her if Angelus won. It all didn’t matter because it was hopeless anyway. Even the beginning of Cordelia’s story failed to rouse her concerns.


“So he charmed you? Don’t tell me he made you fall in love with him first?”


Cordelia scoffed bitterly, “I would never love him. His charm hardly lasted a second.”


*


She screamed desperately, running down the dark alley. As her heel broke, she struggled to not fall, looking behind her with frightened eyes. But he was already there.


She felt his arms lock themselves around her - one around her waist and the other on her mouth.


Panting heavily, he yanked her head back and breathed on her neck before saying in her ear, “Be a good girl and don’t scream,” he lowered his voice to a whisper, “Or I will rape you to death.”


A sob choke through her as she felt the hopelessness seep into her. She could only walk forward as told and hope that someone else would come to her rescue.


*


Other times, like this one, the thought of it began to suffocate her.


Seeing Buffy’s expression, Cordelia asked again, “Are you sure you want to know?”


She nodded in answer. She would probably regret it later, but she needed to know.


*


Groaning, Cordelia’s eyes struggled to open as the pain shot through her body. She could feel the bruise on her head throbbing. A cold draft brushed across her, and with sudden clarity, she realized she was completely naked, and bound by all four limbs.


Looking around in panic, she saw ‘Angel’ standing there with his shirt off, leering down at her with a dark expression. So much darkness in his eyes – something he had skillfully masked when she had first met him.


“God, what did you do to me?” she could sound nothing but helpless, her exposed nudity worsened by the fact that her legs were spread and tied to the respective bed post. “Where am I?”


Ignoring her, he gazed down at her full breasts and voluptuous curves, her skin so tan and perfect he hardened from the thought of ruining it. “I’m going to show you what it feels like to be fucked into oblivion.”


Another pang of fear shot through her. “Why? Why would you do this?”


“I want to make you regret that you’ve been living the life of a rich little bitch. I want to see how much it takes to break you.” He moved around the bed, in front of her exposed cunt, and smiled evilly.


“Get away from me, you sick bastard!” she screamed, struggling against her binds as she knew what was coming. Looking around frantically, she halted when she saw the small table that was a few feet away. Like some sort of sick, perverse, “doctor” scenario, it had several weird metal objects on it – knives, clamps, a leather belt, and things she couldn’t even name.


As she stared at him with pure fear, she heard him say, “If you’re lucky, I won’t have to use them.”


But unfortunately for her, she wasn’t.


*


Gasping for air, Buffy sank down along the inside of her bathroom door. The fight was today.


Today, her fate would be decided.


Rape wasn’t even really a question. But even worse, would he torture her too? Mutilate her? Pass her around when he was done? Would he ever be done?


She jumped, hearing the banging on the other side of the door. Realizing Spike had been calling her name for the past five minutes, she reluctantly got up to open it.


“What?” she asked in tired annoyance.


“You alright?”


“Don’t I look alright?” she asked dryly, ignoring the memory of his soft touch on her flesh. After a moment of no reply, she sighed and turned away, unable to hold his long gaze. Buffy couldn’t stand to look at the concern in his eyes any longer.


Exhaling, he said, “I’m not going to lose,” for about the hundredth time in the past few days.


She shook her head with her back turned, “You don’t know that.”


“I’m not going to lose,” he grated with determination, his fists clenched tightly.


“That’s easy for you to say. It’s not your life up for grabs, is it?” There was nothing she could do – her entire fate rested in his hands. Yet again, she felt helpless.


“There’s still a chance he’ll change his mind, and if he doesn’t, I won’t lose,” he insisted. Hearing her shortness of breath, he frowned and tried to grab her arm, but she evaded him.


“Why can’t you just let me go?”


Searching her eyes with regret, he couldn’t give her what she wanted to hear. “I can’t. You know no one’s allowed to leave.”


“Then you’ve just sentenced me to a life of rape,” she paused briefly, “but that’s either way, isn’t it?”


Hearing her say that wrenched something in his heart. “Is that what you still think?” he couldn’t hide his pained expression that she would say that, even after last night. It had been anything but.


She turned to him and replied spitefully, “Still? Since when did it stop?” She felt the need to hurt him, because she could do nothing else. And because she didn’t want to remember the weakness she had let herself show.


“You kissed me first yesterday and asked me to make you forget, or do you not remember that?”


She flinched, hearing her words stated back to her, but she recovered, “So you take me up on it after I just had a nightmare and was too vulnerable to be alone?” She expected him to become angry or indignant, but he didn’t.


Instead, a look of hurt flashed across his expression before he looked down, struggling with his emotions. “I won’t lose,” he repeated once more when he could find no other words. He turned away, angry at himself. He realized that as long as sex was involved, he would always lose.


~


Adrenaline pumped through his veins as Angelus grinned, circling him. Everyone surrounded them - shouting, yelling, practically asking for blood – but it was a blurred mass of chaotic sounds which he drowned out. Spike saw Angelus’ mouth move but heard nothing. Because his attention was on her.


They locked eyes for a moment. Would it be the last time she was his? The last time he could make sure she was safe? Despite his assurances to her, he felt fear. His control and composure when it came to Angelus had slipped away. And all it took was one person.


Angelus caught the direction of his glance after Spike didn’t seem to hear him. Smirking, he reassured himself of his decision in picking Buffy, even though he still had doubts. The idea of having Amy – a source of control over Rack – did not lack its appeal.


“If you want, after I win you could watch me fuck her. In fact, maybe it’ll be a public viewing,” he rubbed his chin in mock contemplation.


Snapping back to Angelus, Spike’s anger and disgust only fueled his adrenaline. “So everyone can see your small dick?”


Angelus’ eyes narrowed.


“Just for that, I’ll make sure she bleeds.”


With a snarl, Spike launched at him, smashing his fist into Angelus’ face and erupting a chorus of shouts.


But Angelus wasted no time recovering, backhanding Spike roughly with a pissed expression. “You’ll never be better than me,” Angelus gritted out as he sent Spike flying back onto the ground.


Spike jumped back onto his feet and cracked his neck. Seeing Angelus about to throw a punch, he ducked as Angelus’ fist went swinging above him. As he came back up, he delivered a swift uppercut that had him reeling back with a surprised look. With a surge of power entering his body, Spike grinned, “Who are you reassuring here, peaches? Yourself?”


Expression darkening, Angelus charged him and slammed him against a wall right after the crowd jumped out of the way. “I’ve always been better than you. Why do you think Drusilla came running to me?”


Narrowing his eyes, Spike pushed him off roughly. Grabbing Angelus by the collar, he was able to pick him up and fling him backwards several feet, despite the difference in size. And he replied sarcastically, “Maybe because she’s a psychotic whore.”


Angelus flew forward, exchanging a series of punches with Spike. “Because you’re pathetic. No one will ever want you, William.” The last word was combined with a painful punch to Spike’s face – one that he clearly could have blocked. He kicked Spike in the gut, smiling as he realized he had struck a chord.


Spike exploded in fury. Grabbing Angelus, he brought his face down to smash harshly against his knee. “I’m not William anymore.”


Off to the side, Buffy scrunched her brow in confusion, sensing the change of demeanor in Spike. His moves were no longer calm, yet deadly – they seemed to include a hint of desperation that wasn’t there before.


And it was something Angelus saw.


Catching his fist, Angelus pushed him back as he licked the blood off his lips with a cocky expression. “Who are you reassuring here, William?” he mocked before slugging Spike in the face three times in succession.


Spike tried to block the shots, but couldn’t. His left eye was bruised and he could barely see out of it now. His mind was a hazy mess of painful memories and harsh realities. All he could hear and see were everyone’s disdain and disappointment.


Angelus grinned again as Spike’s eyes showed his loss of focus. “No woman could ever love you, William. You’ll never be good enough for anyone.”


Buffy felt the panic seep in as she watched Angelus beat Spike with ease. “What the hell is he doing?” she asked, desperately.


Cordelia shook her head in confusion, “I don’t know. He doesn’t even look like he’s trying anymore.”


“Oh god. He can’t lose,” Buffy shook her head in denial. He promised me. Buffy put a hand to her mouth, seeing Spike take a rough shot as he fell to the floor.


Angelus laughed, seeing Spike spit out blood. “What did I tell you? Not even a contest. You give up, boy?”


“Never,” Spike managed to croak as he slowly lifted himself up.


“Let me help you there,” his tone was insincere. Grabbing him by the collar, Angelus lifted him up so that they were staring face to face. “I’ll tell you what, Spike. You throw in Amy too, and I’ll even let you have Drusilla. That is, if you can manage to win.” Laughing, he grinned as the others cheered him on, with choruses of “finish him off!” ringing through the room.


“Well? You up to the challenge? Just think, Drusilla back in your arms,” Angelus mocked, knowing he was one step away from winning.


Through his hazy gaze, Spike looked beyond Angelus’ shoulder for the briefest of seconds, and saw Buffy. The look of worry on her face. Was it for herself? Or for him?


And he remembered what he was fighting for.


He threw Angelus backwards with a newfound burst of energy, knowing he couldn’t lose. There were so many things at stake, but most of all, he had promised. And he would die before letting Angelus follow through with his taunts and threats.


Punching him roughly, he snorted at Angelus in disdain, “You always were a cocky bastard.” Kicking him, Spike sent Angelus flying across the room. The crowd flinched, seeing Angelus slam against the wall with a sickening crack.


Falling to the ground, Angelus’ fury and outrage blinded him as he quickly got up to attack with a growl.


But Spike easily dodged his efforts, ignoring the pain that shot through his body. He heard nothing else, saw nothing else. His entire focus seemed to click into place as he smoothly blocked Angelus’ attempts. Each hit he threw was perfectly calculated and deadly - the crowd knew the odds had changed.


A kick to the gut. A punch to the face. Another. And another. And another.


It took him a moment to realize that his hands were covered in blood and he marveled at it, staring back down at Angelus’ bloody face. It gave him a perverse sense of satisfaction that filled him with power. “Do you give up, peaches?”


“In your dreams,” Angelus sputtered as he panted and tried to wipe the blood away.


Grabbing Angelus by the neck, he lifted him off the ground and dragged him over to the wall. With a steely expression, Spike began to smash Angelus’ head against the wall repeatedly.


Buffy had to turn away, seeing the blood oozing down the wall.


Dropping Angelus, Spike lorded over him. Kicking him in the side, he saw no protest from Angelus as shouts of outrage and shock surrounded him. “I win, bitch.”


He was about to step away but he stopped. Lifting his half-unconscious form off the ground again, Spike added one last thing, “I wouldn’t want your whore if you begged me to take her.” Letting go of his hold on him, Spike walked away in exhaustion, the pain seeping back into his body. But it didn’t matter, because he had won.


~


She followed him, surprised that he hadn’t even looked over at her after he won. If he had, he would’ve seen her look of utter relief, and perhaps, gratitude.


Knocking on his door, she waited for what seemed like forever before he opened it. Flinching at the sight of his battered face, she stepped into the room and he could only step back.


Avoiding her gaze, he stepped away and let her close the door. She had come to him. It hadn’t gone unnoticed. But he didn’t want her to see him like this.


“I’ll help you clean up,” she offered lamely, not able to find the words she needed to say.


As she walked toward the bathroom, he looked up, remembering Amy was still in there. “No, wait, Buffy – it’s ok-,” he began.


“Oh my god.” Buffy covered her mouth as her face paled.


“I didn’t have anywhere else to put her,” he tried to explain, walking over to her. But when he looked where she was looking, he knew that wasn’t what she was paling over.


He didn’t know how, but Amy was dead.


Her wide, lifeless eyes were staring up at the ceiling; her mouth was slightly open.


“What did you do to her?” Buffy asked in shock.


“What? Nothing. I…,” he shook his head, not knowing how she could’ve just died. “She was alive the last time I saw her,” he protested. ‘Shit. Shit, shit, shit,’ he thought as he ran his hands through his hair.


The room suddenly felt so small, and she couldn’t star at the sight of Amy’s lifeless body anymore. She ran out of there, Spike following her.


“Buffy,” he called, feeling a desperation seep into his bones. She thought he killed her. And no matter what he did or did not do, he had.


“I can’t stay here,” she said, her eyes still looking around in a daze. With a final glance filled with mixed emotions, she turned and left the room.


And as much as his bruises hurt, the constriction around his heart hurt most of all.


~


A/N: Yes, I did mean the sex scene to be different from all the others so far, if anyone was confused.

If you would like to be added to an email notification list for updates to this fic, then email me with the subject heading “PotDS update list” at spuffyangst@yahoo.com and add that email so it doesn’t go to your spam folder.

~*~*~*~


She heard the knob turn, and her eyes darted up. She rushed forward to turn the lock before the door could be opened, but it slammed into her before she could.


Stumbling back, strong arms caught her before she could fall.


Spike’s brow furrowed. He let go of her when he realized that her hands were pushing him away as if she was disgusted by his touch, or even afraid of him. His stomach dropped. “It’s not what you think.”


“Really? I’m thinking Amy is dead.” She stepped back farther.


He sighed, running his hands through his hair. “Ok, it is what you think, but I didn’t kill her.”


“Then who did?” She tried not to react to his still bloodied appearance.


“I don’t know. She was fine when I left the room.”


She had to remember who he was – a killer, her rapist – he was evil. She forced herself to look calm and collected, although the image of Amy’s body kept haunting her mind. “I don’t believe you.” She inched towards the dresser, remembering what she had left in there – what Cordelia had given her.


Spike saw the way she was inching around the room, and it looked like she was trying to get as close to the door as possible. Frowning, he asked, “Are you afraid of me?”


“Shouldn’t I be?” Her tone was deceptively calm, even though her imagination was running wild. Spike was a killer. She had known it before, but it didn’t compare to seeing it in front of her.


“You know I wouldn’t-”


“How do I know?” she cut him off. “For all I know, you tortured her to death. All those days chained in a tub? Can you honestly say you didn’t kill her?”


He sighed, feeling like whatever he said or did, she would always think of him as a monster. And perhaps she was right. But he tried to reason with her, because it was the only thing he could do.


“Think about it, Buffy. Why would I kill her, especially right then? She’s useless to me dead. Hell, when Rack finds out…” He ran one hand down his face.


He was right. It didn’t make sense for Spike to kill Amy, because if he had done it, it had to have been before the fight. He hadn’t even fought with Angelus yet, and wasn’t it the point to use Amy to trick him? And would Spike really just kill her and leave her there?


At the same time…


Spike had won; she was safe. What good was Amy to him now? It was possible he had had time to kill Amy in the minutes before she got to the room. She remembered the panic in his voice as she opened the door. What if he had really done it? She didn’t doubt he was capable of it.


Red. She saw red all over. Blood all over the floor, blood all over everyone, blood pooling around a strung-up girl in leather. A blood-covered Spike.


“Get out of here,” his voice sounded cold and harsh in the silence of the room.


He was a cold-blooded killer. Killers did whatever they wanted - they were liars who manipulated people to get what they wanted…like sex.


Like sex from her.


Looking up at him, she wondered if it was all an elaborate ploy. Get her to think he wasn’t just the monster she first thought him to be. And if he was? Was he that great of an actor? It could all be a part of his plan to conquer her - play with her. Killers weren’t caring – they were selfish.


He hesitated under her scrutiny, unsure of what was running through her head. “You alright?”


And there was the concern – the concern that made her forget he was a killer. He kept her safe from Angelus yet again, and it wasn’t something she could just avoid or ignore. He promised her he would win, and he did.


The change in his behavior towards her was undeniable, and every time she thought about it, it made her angry – angry that he thought he could just make things better if he protected her, fought for her, comforted her. It wouldn’t erase her memories.


That was when she decided. No matter who he was, she had to get out. Away from here. Away from him.


Two times she had been allowed out – the job and the club. It meant that she would have to go out on more jobs, make a plan to escape. She would have to prove to them that she could handle it, which ultimately meant she had to convince Spike to let her go. As for the club, he had only let her go because he felt guilty about keeping her cooped up.


When it came down to it, she realized the way out was through him.


That was when something clicked in her mind.


“Pet?”


She snapped back to reality, and saw the increasing concern on his face as he said, “You don’t look so good. You feel alright?”


Would it work? Would he see through her?


“I feel fine. I don’t want to talk about Amy anymore, ok?” she replied as she closed her eyes.


Inwardly, he sighed with relief that she seemed to be dropping the subject.


“You should probably get cleaned up,” she pointed at his appearance.


“Right,” he tried to mask his disappointment.


“Just let me wash my face before you use the bathroom.” She turned and moved to the bathroom door.


His expression was filled with surprise at her words – surprise that she was openly not telling him to leave. Spike was glad her back was turned.


Buffy sighed to herself in front of the mirror. ‘I can do this.’


She would get out, because now she knew how.


~


It’s not like he had never gotten rid of a body before. In fact, it was what Angelus used to make him do as a sort of cruel punishment. He remembered the first day he had to do it; he had thrown up at the sight of a woman’s mangled body lying dead on Angelus’ bed – sheets completely red with blood. It had taken him nearly an hour to even approach it.


Spike had come a long way from William. He had dumped many bodies, without a trace of remorse or disgust. This one shouldn’t be any different.


Somehow it was.


His mind wandered as her lifeless eyes stared back at him, and the room suddenly seemed so small.


The room seemed so small, because all he could feel around him was her, and she wasn’t even touching him yet. He sat still, afraid if he moved, she would suddenly hate him again. Her eyes avoided his, even as she stood in front of him, cloth in hand.


He struggled as he pulled the body to sit upright in the tub, but her head and her limbs fell back. Halting, he looked at her neck. There was a belt of deep purple and black bruises along her skin.


He winced as the cloth touched a bruise on his face, and he saw her jerk back.


“Sorry, reflex.” He straightened and readied himself, trying not to look the way he felt – like an awkward teenager.


Under closer scrutiny, he knew they weren’t the kind of bruises that hands would leave. In fact, it didn’t take him long to realize what they were from.


Someone had choked Amy to death with her own chains.


His eyes scanned over her body for any other clues, but there were none. When he looked down in the tub though, he saw a small piece of debris. He examined it, discovering it was a broken fingernail.


It wasn’t Amy’s.


“Who do you think did it?” Buffy asked, breaking the silence between them as she carefully blotted at the blood on his face. Anything to get her mind off the way his eyes were fixated on her.


“I’d say Angelus, but he couldn’t have done it himself.”


“Because he was at the fight.”


“Right. Don’t remember who was there or not, ‘sides Angelus.” ‘And you.’ “Do you?”


“Well,” she sighed, “I know Cordelia was there…and I remember Illyria, but she’s hard to miss – blue hair and all…”


He heaved the body up and rolled it over the edge of the tub, onto the sheet he had pulled off his bed. It hit the ground in an unusual way, but he just rolled it into the sheet without letting it affect him.


Her closeness was beginning to affect him. He shut his eyes when he felt her breath brush against his face as she exhaled.


It looked like she wanted to say something, but kept hesitating.


“What is it?” he asked, capturing her hand to stop her from her task. She wouldn’t answer, but looking into her eyes, he saw it. Gratitude.


~


“There’s the man of the hour,” Faith chided as the others let out yells of congratulations. Everyone was already in the dining hall awaiting a celebration.


“Where have you been, man? We thought you were a no-show.” Gunn handed Spike a beer.


“Sorry – had to stop the internal bleeding,” he joked half-heartedly.


“Well, internal bleeding is a small price to pay for the way Angelus looked after you pounded his face in,” Cordelia offered.


“It was priceless! Darla, do your imitation of Angel-cakes again,” Lorne laughed.


Darla made a bewildered face, imitating the way Angelus looked when he came back into consciousness. Anger and indignation flooded into her expression and she started huffing, a combination between rage and brooding.


Everyone burst into laughter at the accuracy of it, and it was apparent to Spike that they were all drunk or almost there. Maybe now would be a good time to tell them Amy was dead. He almost hated to ruin their fun and games.


“You know you just won, right?” Cordelia asked, seeing the serious expression on his face.


“Yea, what’s up with you? Shouldn’t you be all cocky and arrogant right about now? I didn’t even see your ‘victory saunter’ when you came in here,” Faith joked.


“Yea, what’s the deal, Spike?” Gunn asked.


“First of all, I don’t saunter.” He scowled. “And the deal is…,” he sighed before continuing, “Amy is dead.” He tried to gauge their reactions, knowing they would figure out it meant much more than Amy’s life.


A few of them exchanged looks, letting the implications seep in.


“Someone broke in and strangled her to death.”


“That means it was an inside job,” Wesley looked puzzled. It meant that Angelus was waging a war against them – one that they had expected to explode for a long time.


“Seems so.”


~


The rage he felt vibrated through his body as he stared into his battered reflection. Never in his life had he wanted to kill Spike more than in this moment.


“I wouldn’t want your whore if you begged me to take her.”


He didn’t just want to kill Spike – He would make him suffer until he begged to be put out of his misery. He had an idea of where to start.


Picturing Buffy in his mind, he thought of several ways he would love to break her. He would make her bleed, from the inside out – make her scream – make her cry – watch the life drain out of her. Angelus could just picture the look on Spike’s face at the sight of his innocent, little Buffy marred by blood and sex.


He smiled evilly at the new possibilities ahead of him.


~*~*~*~


Training had almost increased to twice the length, and the only time Buffy had had so many bruises was back in her first month. There was just one main difference.


The sex. As in, they hadn’t had sex since before the fight. Every time it seemed like they would, Spike made up some excuse and avoided it, perplexing her. He had only ever danced around the subject.


“No.”


“Why the hell not? It’s bigger.”


“Size is not the issue.”


He scoffed, “So every woman claims. And it is when I crash into a dresser everywhere I turn.”


“Then leave,” she rolled her eyes at him, as if the answer were obvious.


“I told you why I can’t,” he scratched back of his head, not looking at her.


“You could buy an inflatable doll,” she joked dryly.


“It would squeak too much,” he replied instantly, not able to resist the beginnings of a smirk. “Besides,” he said in a different tone as he stepped towards her, “it’s not the same.” He absently traced her shoulder with his hand.


Buffy forced herself to not pull back, seeing what he would do, but he pulled back a mere moment later, and she frowned.


He turned away as if remembering something, and resumed his original topic. “What is the issue?”


“Huh?” she asked, topic forgotten.


“Why don’t you want to move back?”


At that, her expression dropped and hardened. “You don’t seriously think I would ever use that bathroom or sleep in that bed again?”


“Well, what do you expect me to do? Construct a new bathroom for you? I got a maid to sterilize it twice.”


She shivered, remembering Amy’s body, and drew her arms around herself. “I can’t.”


“You will.”


She scowled up at him. “Why should I?”


He sighed, knowing she wasn’t going to like his answer. “You’re either mine, or you’re theirs. If you stay here, then that means you’re fair game. I can only threaten lackeys for so long. The others will start to suspect.”


“I’m not anybody’s,” she gritted, trying to keep her temper in check.


“It’s just the way it is. You have to choose.”


When she realized he wasn’t trying to be a jerk, she plopped herself onto her bed, frowning. Finally, she looked up at him with resolve, “Replace the bed, and maybe. That thing is tainted.”


“Replace the bed?” he asked indignantly. “Are you kidding?” As soon as he looked at her resolve face, he knew he had to cave or else she wouldn’t budge, and he cursed inwardly. “Fine. I’ll get a new sodding bed.”


She had to contain her smug smile.


It wasn’t until training with him one day that she figured it out.




She grunted, pushing Spike off of her from her pinned-down position and quickly getting to her feet. As Spike was getting up himself, she grabbed him by the back of his neck and slammed his head down into her brought-up knee.


“Bloody hell!” he yelled as he clutched his nose, but before he knew it, his legs were kicked out from under him and he fell flat on his back.


She straddled him, mimicking their earlier reversed position by pinning his arms above his head. “Give up?” she raised her brow.


“Are you trying to break all my body parts?”


“Maybe.”


Spike had to swallow his groan as she lowered her hips until she was straddling his. He tried to push up, but it only worsened things as his crotch ground against hers and his face brushed against her chest.


Involuntarily, she let out a little sound at the contact, but she tightened her grip on his arms to maintain her hold. “Your nose is bleeding,” she whispered against his face.


“It’s what happens when you crash it into your kneecap.” Even as he said this, he had to keep from rolling his eyes back because she shifted, grounding down against him. “Stop.”


“Why?”


“We’re training,” he reasoned.


“It never stopped you before,” she let go of his arms and went for his belt buckle.


His mind went through why he couldn’t. She would hate him. Sex would always make her hate him. He no longer wanted to see the hurt on her face, because all he saw was that face – the one he caused when he raped her, when he took out his anger towards Dru on her.


He grabbed her hands, stopping her. “No.”


“No?” she asked unbelievingly. “What do you mean no?”


“As much as I want to, we’re not having sex.”


After a moment of confusion, she pushed off him angrily. “You’re fucking someone else, aren’t you? That’s why you haven’t tried to have sex with me in days.”


Getting up to face her, “That’s not it, and you know it.”


“Then what is?” she demanded.


“I won’t hurt you again,” he looked to the side, unable to look at her as he recalled the things he had done.


“You won’t hurt me again?” she repeated incredulously.


“You’ve made it clear what sex means to you.”


“Tell me what it means to me, Spike. Enlighten me.”


“I’ve sentenced you to a life a rape, remember?” He tried not to look like it bothered him as much as it did.


“So what? Now you’re going to prove you’re not a rapist? It’s a little too late for that.”


“I know how this sounds, but I’ve changed.” He didn’t know into what, but he knew he had because he no longer saw himself as the same man who would hurt her like that. “You can’t tell me you haven’t noticed.”


“I’ve changed too, or have you not noticed? I’m no longer the innocent girl that begged you not to hurt me. Do you think I would ever try to have sex with you if I still was? You made me this way.”


He could see the anger and the hurt battling in her eyes, and he felt a pang of guilt, wanting to console her. Stepping toward her, he reached out to touch her cheek, “Buffy-“


She backed away from him.


“Don’t be like this.” He tried to grab her hand, but she jerked her hand out of his grasp.


Ignoring him, she stormed out of the room, not wanting him to see how much she hated herself too.

~*~*~*~

~*~*~*~


He watched her closely as he moved his finger to the right spot and pressed, seeing her face contort in pleasure.


“Like that?” His voice was strained as his hands teased her between their bodies, trying to ignore the raging hard-on pressing against his jeans.


“Yes, don’t stop,” she pleaded, pushing up, craving more friction, more of his touch.


“I won’t,” he promised, adding a third finger as he re-entered her slick warmth.


Her body tightened in anticipation, wanting more. She hummed in satisfaction, arching into his hand.


He increased his pace, stretching her on each stroke until he could tell by her breathing that she was close. Continuing his ministrations, he used his thumb to rub her clit with just enough pressure.


She closed her eyes, biting her lip as she felt herself nearing the edge, her world about to explode.


“C’mon, luv,” he whispered against her ear, coaxing her.


Feeling his voice vibrate against her skin, she threw her head back in pleasure, “Oh, god.” She came, gasping, panting, bucking into his hand as she dug her nails into his shoulder.


He continued rubbing her swollen clit softly through her spasms, until her body slowly relaxed, a look of satisfaction on her face.


“All better?”


“Mmm,” she nodded, eyes sleepy.


He leaned down to kiss her before removing his other arm from under her neck and getting up stiffly. Painfully, he turned away from the delicious sight of her in her nightgown. He felt her grab him by the arm.


“Are you sure?” she asked, shifting to sit up, knowing he was going to grab a cold shower like usual.


“Yea.” He responded without looking at her, going straight for the bathroom.


She frowned, watching him just leave her there.


~



He jumped under the cold spray, trying not to think about her and the way she felt – the way it would feel if he could just bury himself in her warmth again. He wanted to bang his head against the cold tile.


Truth be told, he didn’t know how he was going to continue going on without sex. She was all he ever thought about. Everything she did lately was a turn on – all she had to do was look at him. He thought that by pleasing her, he could give her what she needed without the repercussions. He didn’t expect it to be so painfully hard, pun intended.


He almost jumped up when Buffy suddenly emerged in the shower with him.


“Cold!” she yelped as the spray hit her nude body.


“What are you doing!?” He quickly reached for the knob past her and turned it to a warm setting. At the sight of her naked and now wet, his stomach clenched, arousal spurred.


“You left me.”


As he opened his mouth to protest, she stopped him and added, “I was going to help you…with that.” She gestured downward, amazed that he was still hard after the ice-cold water.


“You don’t-“


Before he could finish, she was shushing him and lifting herself onto him by his shoulders.


He groaned as his erection slipped between her legs, and he pushed her back, placing her on her own two feet. “No, not like that.” He inhaled a sharp breath, trying to think with his head instead of his dick.


She looked confused. “Don’t you want me?” She couldn’t help but ask, since he had never been able to keep his hands off of her for this long.


“Are you blind? I always want you. That’s the problem.” He ran a hand down his face, frustrated.


“So you’re gonna take a cold shower every time?” she asked unbelievingly.


He sighed, knowing she was right. There was nothing he could think of that was an easy solution. Spike looked at her, sopping wet underneath the spray and all he could think about was taking her. Lips glossy and kissable – skin taut and tan - absolutely perfect.


He could see she was about to say something sarcastic again, so he wound his arm around her waist tenderly and claimed her mouth before pulling back. “Be quiet and let me kiss you.”


“Don’t tell me to-“ Her hands were about to push his away indignantly.


She was silenced when he pulled her against him until their lips met softly. Surprised at the gentle caress, she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him back.


The kiss was soft, yet hard enough to make her want more. As his hand trailed up to touch her cheek, she forgot all her inhibitions, leaning into him.


Spike felt like he could just kiss her forever – it was the one time when he could believe she didn’t hate him – the way she let herself relax into him as he softly claimed her lips, and most of all, the way she claimed his back.


She parted her lips, letting him slip his tongue in to caress hers. She could hear him groan in relief, mouth eager to devour hers. Encouraged, she pressed closer to him, feeling the wetness between her legs as his arousal teased her entrance accidentally.


Buffy jolted up, surprised as Spike tensed and jerked forward suddenly, making a mess.


Hand against the shower over her shoulder, he closed his eyes in disbelief. “Feel like a pimply teenager,” he shook his head at himself before looking at Buffy. “Sorry, luv.”


He found her merely staring at him, lust and a bit of something else in her eyes.


Without words, she looped her arms around the back of his neck and brought him down for another long kiss, and he gladly complied.


~


“How did you do it?” He smirked in satisfaction, thinking about what her death would cause.


“Choked her with the chains.”


“You sure no one saw you?”


“I’m positive. Everyone was at the fight, you know that.”


He nodded. “Good. Now we just have to wait. Soon, I’ll take everything Spike has, including his girl.” He grinned.


~


“Time to wake up, Princess.”


At first, she only groaned and tried to wave his arm away, pulling the covers over her head. “Go away,” was her muffled answer.


“C’mon, luv.” He pulled the covers down.


“Sleepy still,” she mumbled with her eyes closed.


“Alright, well, I’m going out. Was gonna see if you wanted to come along.” He pushed a strand of hair off her face.


She opened a squinting eye at him. “To where?” she asked warily.


“A few stores for some things I need.”


“Stores?” She sat up with more attention. “What kind of stores? Dark, seedy, gang-like kind?”


He chuckled, “No. The regular, bright kind.” He put on a serious expression, “With flowers.”


She looked confused before she scowled at him for making fun of her. “This is probably some trick to sell me as a whore on the street.”


He sighed. “You either want to come, or you don’t.”


She moved to get up, “Fifteen minutes.” As she stood up, the sheet fell to the floor, exposing her nude state.


“Do you have to sleep naked?” Spike asked, throat suddenly dry.


“Whose fault is that really?” She asked with a raised eyebrow before she sauntered away purposefully.


He scratched the back of his neck and muttered something indecipherable as she went to get dressed.


~


Half an hour later, Buffy came out of the bathroom dressed in a pair of jeans and a white blouse with a lace-covered layer. Her hair was in a half ponytail, with the dangling strands curling slightly at the ends. Her make-up was light – the only thing noticeable was her lip gloss.


It was almost strange to be wearing regular clothes again, and for once, she felt normal. “Ok, I’m ready,” she replied absently, scanning the room for things she wanted to bring.


For a few seconds, he just stared at her, but she didn’t notice. He tried to ignore the feeling in his stomach.


Nodding, he finally said, “Right. Let’s go.”


~


The car ride started off silent.


“Tell me why you’re really doing this.” She gave him a suspicious look.


He scoffed. “You’re right, I lied. I’m selling you to a brothel.”


She crossed her arms with a huff. “Not if I sell you to one first.”


Looking amused, he pointed out, “They don’t have many male brothels these days.”


“That’s not true. Haven’t you ever heard of Heidi Fleiss?”


“Is that the scary, anorexic-looking chick?”


She ignored him, returning to her original inquiry, “At least tell me where we’re going.”


“A bookstore.”


“A bookstore?”


“You know, those places that sell bound paper?”


She dismissed his patronization with an eye roll. “Do you even read?”


“Of course I bloody well read,” he said defensively.


“Read what? The Art of Thievery? Are you telling me that you, Spike, are going to a bookstore just to buy books?”


“Alright, no, but that doesn’t mean I couldn’t,” his voice was indignant. “If you must know, an old friend of mine runs it.”


“Like a normal person friend?”


“I’m starting to think you have a really low opinion of me,” he said in a deadpan voice.


“Did you just get that now?” She smiled at him.


“Is that a smile?”


She let her expression drop. “No. It’s a smirk.”


“Nuh-uh, I think it was a smile.”


“It was a patronizing smile, not an I-feel-joy smile, so don’t get excited.” She turned away huffily from him to look out her passenger window.


“Mmhm,” he replied with a grin.


After a moment’s silence, he continued, “I think you’ll like him. He’s a bit stuffy these days, but he’s a nice bloke.”


“Do I have to pretend we’re just a normal, real-life couple or something? Because if so, I quit.”


“No, he knows I lead a gang. And we’ve played the couple-routine before, you know.”


“I try to forget,” she said dryly.


He smirked, remembering how well she had acted out that part.


“What’s his name anyway?”


“Rupert Giles, or Ripper is what we used to call him.”


~


“What kind of bookstore is named The Magic Shop?” she whispered as they walked around the shop, scanning the books and waiting for Spike’s friend to appear.


“A magic book kind. Why are we whispering?” he asked in the same hushed tone.


“They have actual shops for that? Wait, they have actual customers for shops for that?”


“Quite a lot, actually,” a male voice jumped in.


Buffy whipped around, a deer-caught-in-the-headlights expression on her face. She didn’t know what she had expected, but it certainly wasn’t an older man in a sweater vest and glasses. That only made her feel more embarrassed. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to sound rude. At least, not to your face.”


She frowned when she realized that last part definitely sounded rude. She opened her mouth to correct herself, but heard both of them chuckle at her.


“It’s quite alright. I get that a lot actually, but there’s a rather large Wiccan following in Los Angeles.”


“Wiccan?” She turned to Spike questioningly.


“He means witches,” Spike explained.


“Right. Witches. Of course.” She wasn’t sure if it was a joke but didn’t want to sound offensive in case it wasn’t.

Giles smiled at her and offered his hand, “I’m Giles. It’s nice to finally meet you.”


Spike coughed and sent Giles a quick glare.


Finally? She glanced at Spike suspiciously before extending her hand. “I’m Buffy. It’s nice to meet you too.”


“Please sit down and I’ll make us some tea.”


“Tea?” Buffy mouthed to Spike when Giles turned to lead them. If anyone had told her beforehand that Spike had a friend who ran a magic book shop and made tea, she would’ve laughed in their face. Apparently, she would’ve been wrong.


“You know, British and their tea. It’s a thing.” Spike ushered Buffy forward, one hand on her back.


~



It had been several minutes of Giles explaining his shop to her. She was slowly starting to understand that there were people who took magic really seriously, as in hocus pocus serious.


“So you’re saying you have magic spell ingredients too? Downstairs?”


“Yes, an extensive collection, if I do say so myself.”


“Yea, all full of mummy hands and rabbit tails, right, Rupes?” He smirked, seeing Buffy’s wide eyes.


Giles smiled, and Buffy looked confused, before she figured out that Spike was teasing her.


“You’re a jerk,” she retorted, crossing her arms.


“He often is,” Giles comforted.


“Hey! Whose friend are you anyway?”


Both Giles and Buffy gave him a look.


Offended, Spike mumbled under his breath in response, picking up his cup of tea for a drink.


She rolled her eyes and turned to Giles, ignoring him. “So…” Buffy began, hands around her cup of tea, “What is it exactly Spike has said about me?”


Spike spit back into his cup mid-sip.


“Only good things, rest assured.” Giles looked amused.


“She doesn’t like good things. Hates ‘em. Hates most things I say, actually.” He hoped to change the subject because he knew how this was all sounding.


“I just like to know what is being said about me behind my back,” Buffy gave Spike a pointed look.


“I’ve never even told him your name,” he defended.


“That’s true. He first called you the ‘new pretty blonde girl’,” Giles started.


Spike groaned.


Instead of finding that flattering, Buffy glared at him.


Spike was about to respond when his phone rang. Fumbling in his pockets, he took it out and furrowed his brows when he looked at the caller id. He got up to take the call, going to the other side of the bookstore. “Hello?” A muffled voice could be heard. “No, I’m busy today,” Spike responded with annoyance. After a moment, his demeanor hardened, “I said I’m busy. What the hell is this about?”


“So Spike tells me you’re a quick learner,” Giles started conversationally.


“I try,” she responded, forcing a smile. It was hard to imagine Giles having a friend like Spike, and she wasn’t sure if Giles had ever seen the ruthless side of him.


Leaning in a bit, he said, “You don’t need to pretend around me, Buffy.” His expression grew serious, “I know how gangs work, and how it really is between you two.”


She looked surprised by his candid tone – he had fooled her into thinking he was unaware of the hostility between them.


“Spike’s an old friend, but it doesn’t mean I don’t know about all the horrid things he’s done.” He touched her lightly on the elbow.


She looked down as she shifted in her seat, uncomfortable with his implication. Unsure of how to respond to him, she waited for him to continue.


“I’m telling you this because I’ve tried, for years, to get through to him, make him see how destructive he had become.”


Giles made sure Spike was still occupied before continuing in a low voice, “Something which you’ve managed to do in less than 6 months.”


Her eyes shot up at that. “What are you talking about?”


“He was a cold, heartless man. For the first time in years, I see humanity in him again.”


“What makes you think I have anything to do with it?”


“Isn’t it obvious?” His expression said it was self-explanatory.


Her brows furrowed. She didn’t want to be the reason. She couldn’t be.


“What’s wrong?” Spike asked as he approached them, seeing Buffy’s furrowed expression.


She gazed down at the cup in her hands, quickly rebounding. Buffy didn’t want to make things awkward between the two, especially since Giles had only been nice to her. She made a face, “Do I have to drink this?”


He smiled, “You don’t have to drink it. Rupert can take the insult.”


“Yes, you really don’t have to drink it,” Giles took the cup from her. “Would you like some coffee or water instead?” He got up to put the cup away.


“Water would be great,” she smiled.


As Spike sat down, he asked her, “So what did you two talk about?”


“Nothing. Chit-chat, magic books, etc,” she responded without enthusiasm. She avoided his gaze, focusing on their surroundings instead.


Noticing the change in her mood, toward him in particular, he asked again, “Sure nothing’s wrong?”


“Can you stop asking me that?” she snapped.


Taken off-guard by her sudden shift, he responded hesitantly, “Ok.”


~


“Did you say something to her?” Spike demanded, pulling Giles aside once Buffy had gone to the washroom.


“Like what?”


“Don’t know. That’s why I’m asking you. Something is off.”


“I didn’t say anything she didn’t already know.”


Spike gave him a look of warning, but Giles shook his head at him.


“You don’t intimidate me, William. You should know that by now. And you know what I think?”


“What?” He looked annoyed. Spike hadn’t thought that Giles would go so far as to meddle.


“I think you’re in love with her.”


Surprised, he opened his mouth to respond, but Buffy appeared from the back.


Spike and Giles exchanged a brief glance.


“Something wrong?” Buffy asked, catching the exchange.


“Everything’s fine. Let’s go,” Spike gestured towards the door.


“Buffy, it was great to meet you.” Giles offered his hand for a handshake.


She smiled, returning it, “Thanks for having me. Sorry I dissed your tea.”


“It’s quite alright. Horrid stuff,” he waved it away. “But come back if you can. Gets rather boring around here.”


“Rupert.” Spike nodded once.


“Spike. Try not to get yourself killed,” Giles said wryly.


Ignoring him with a scoff, Spike exited the bookstore with Buffy.


~


“Where to?” Buffy asked in an uninterested tone. She couldn’t get what Giles had said out of her mind. Was that why he had brought her here? To show her there was more to him than a gang?


Despite the fact that Giles was his friend, his mind was on overdrive with the things he could’ve possibly told her. Giles had been on his case for years about starting over - getting away from Angelus and the like. Turning to Buffy, he said, “Tell me what’s wrong.”


“Nothing’s wrong.”


“What did he say to you? Did he upset you?”


“Who? Giles?”


“Who else?”


“He didn’t upset me. He was fine – friendly and normal. Let’s just go, ok?” She had her arms crossed, but it looked more like she was hugging herself.


Frustrated, he sighed and started the car, wishing he hadn’t taken that call.


~


“Where are we going?” She finally asked. They had been driving for well over an hour.


“It’s a surprise.”


She looked at him warily. “I don’t want to be surprised.”


“I think you’ll like it.”


“Not if it’s from you.”


“Don’t get cheeky. We’re practically there. Look.”


Buffy saw the ocean emerge out of nowhere, waters glistening under the setting sun. They were driving onto the stretch of freeway along the coast, and the entire sight seemed so grand. It had been forever since she had seen the ocean.


He saw her riveted expression and smiled.


~


The waves crashed against the shore, spilling gently onto the sand. They looked down at the small and vacant cove from the cliff top where the car was parked.


“Where are we?”


“Off the coast of Santa Barbara. Gorgeous, isn’t it?”


She turned to him, frustration filling her expression. “Why did you bring me here?”


“Do you not like beaches?”


“That’s not the point. You brought me here, to a secluded beach, to what? Reflect about our lives as we gaze into each others’ eyes? Will there be rompy beach sex?”


He was amazed that she had somehow turned this into an elaborate plot. “Have you ever thought that maybe I come here regardless of you? I thought you might like it, but I didn’t come for moon eyes and weepy tales either.”


She looked surprised at his tone.


Sighing, he said, “I’ll smoke my cig, and we don’t have to talk, how’s that?”


Wordlessly, she nodded, following him as they went closer to the water.


~


They sat silently on the beach, watching the waves.


Spike was smoking his cigarette, ignoring her like she wanted.


“Do you have to do that?” She asked, looking annoyed.


“Thought we weren’t supposed to speak? Might lead to reflecting.” He looked amused that she had broken the silence within a minute.


“I’m not reflecting. I’m asking you not to smoke. It’s killing the mood.”


“There’s a mood?” He raised an eyebrow, intrigued.


“The beach mood,” she rolled her eyes. “I want to smell beach smell, not gross smoke smell. Besides, secondhand smoke kills. Are you trying to kill me?”

He sighed, putting it out in the sand. “Since you asked ever so nicely,” he replied dryly.


“You’re polluting.”


Becoming exasperated, “And where am I supposed to put it out? On my arm?”


She shrugged. “Maybe. Or you could not smoke in the first place.”


“Why? Don’t tell me you care about my health now.”


“Ha! If you died of lung cancer, I’d pretend it was me who,” she made stabbing motions, “And then I’d take over as leader.”


“It’s nice to know you’re waiting for me to kick the can.”


She smiled. “You’re welcome.”


Seeing her smile again, he smirked himself. “That’s two.”


“What?”


“Nevermind.” He turned toward the ocean again, smirk still in place.


She narrowed her eyes at him. “What’d you say?”


“Nothing,” he shrugged and shook his head with an innocent expression.


“Ugh, you’re insufferable.”


“Insufferable is a move up from ‘blood-sucking scum,’ at least.”


“When did I call you that?” She tried to remember.


“Same time you clocked me in the nose.”


“Oh, right. Now I remember.” She had gotten upset that he was trying to buy her off with nice clothes and pretty jewelry. She had flung all her clothes at him, yelling, but he had tried to placate her, and her automatic response was a punch to the nose.


He waited, expectantly.


“What? I didn’t break it,” she defended.


“Just made it bleed a little,” he drawled sarcastically.


“I could always finish the job this time,” she answered dryly.


He quirked a brow. “Sounds kinky.”


Her face scrunched up. “You’re a pig, Spike.”


“Is that a move up or a move down from insufferable?”


She glowered at him and ignored his question, turning back to the view. She would just pretend he wasn’t there.


Gazing at the ocean, she watched the waves curl and crash onto the coast, lightly coating the higher sand with water. The sun was setting on the horizon, illuminating the sky in hues of orange, purple and pink. Closing her eyes, she listened to the serene sound of the ocean. Slowly, the tension in her body melted away.


When she felt her hand being taken, she opened her eyes. Rolling them, she asked, “What do you think you’re doing?”


“Don’t think I don’t notice you creeping farther and farther away from me,” he gestured to the space between them.


“What? I haven’t even moved!”


“That’s what you say.”


She gave him an annoyed look. “That’s a lame excuse to hold my hand.”


He grinned at her as she pulled her hand from his with a huff.



~


After a while of peaceful silence, Spike looked over at her, thinking it was about time to leave. He opened his mouth to speak but was cut off as Buffy leaned toward him, slumping on his shoulder. Surprised, he saw her closed eyes and realized she had fallen asleep.


With a slightly awed expression, he gently lifted his arm and put it around her, careful not to wake her.


~


One side of her felt cold, and the other side of her felt warm. The crash of the waves reached her ears again as she opened her eyes slowly, realizing she had fallen asleep sitting up, nestled against Spike’s side, his arm around her shoulders.


“When did I fall asleep?” She blinked to clear her hazy eyes.


“Some time ago. Must’ve gotten tired trying to come up with snarky comebacks,” he teased.


“I don’t have to try. They come naturally when I look at you,” her voice was still slightly hoarse from sleep.


“That’s touching. I’m your inspiration, then?” He smiled when she scowled up at him, noticing she hadn’t made a move to disentangle herself from him, not that he minded.


“You wish.” She smirked.


His smile turned sad. “Yea.” He cleared his throat as the arm around her shoulder dropped. “We should go.”


She felt the warmth fade, and a feeling of loss went through her. Biting her lip, she turned away from him.


“What’s that pout for? Don’t tell me you wanna stay?” He ran a hand down her arm.


She looked up at him, her arm tingling at his touch.


He frowned at her silence. “What’s wrong?”


As his hand slipped back to his side, she grabbed his arm.


Confused, he looked down at her hand.


Silently, she pulled him toward her and stepped closer.


Her gaze was locked on his lips as she moved in.


Spike couldn’t help the shaky breath he exhaled, leaning in to meet her halfway.


Worming her arm around the back of his neck, she pulled him down toward the sand.


~


The rush of the waves filled the silence as she pulled her clothes back on, eyes averted.


Growing worried, he reached over to touch her cheek, but she turned away from him.


Her body trembled, and she felt the sting of tears in her eyes.


She felt him pulling away, closing his eyes as he rested his forehead on hers. “God, you don’t know how badly I want you.”


“No one’s stopping you.” She leaned up to kiss him, arching up to urge him on.


“You know why-“


“I want to.”


He met her steely gaze and felt his heart expand at the certainty in her words, in her eyes. Still, he hesitated, torn between his lust for her and his resolve. “Are you sure?” He asked seriously.


And then she said the words that she swore never to admit to herself. “I want you.”


“You’re shivering.” He reached over to warm her arms, but he stopped when she flinched. As she turned to avoid his gaze, he saw the shine of wetness on her face. He felt something inside of him break.


“Can we go now?” Her voice was small and she was hugging herself.


He swallowed the dryness in his throat and nodded.


She threw her head back, gasping as he finally entered her. She reveled in the way they felt together, and the simple way he could make her feel like she was the only one. Closing her eyes, she moved with him, letting herself forget.


They walked to the car in silence, and he searched for something he could say – ask her what was wrong, tell her he was sorry, anything.


She hated herself. She had asked for it, practically begged for it – from him. There was nothing that could save her now.


”Yes, more,” she urged him on, pushing up to meet his thrusts, wanting to feel him move inside of her.


“Buffy,” he whispered feverishly against her lips. She was all around him – her warmth, her skin, the lust in her eyes.


She could feel herself nearing the edge at the sound of worship in his voice. “Tell me you want me.”


“I want you,” he assured immediately as he rocked with her.


“Only me.”


“Only you,” he nodded, voice shaky as their eyes locked.


At his words, she tensed and gasped, feeling an intense orgasm seize her.


His mouth opened in pleasure as the muscles in his body tightened. Feeling her quake beneath him, he came with her.


They approached the car atop the cliff.


“I’m sorry,” he broke the silence suddenly, unable to handle the heart-wrenching sight of her tears.


Quickly, she wiped her face with the back of her hand, eyes darting away from him. “Let’s just go.”


“I shouldn’t have-“


“I don’t want to talk about it,” she grounded out.


“We need to talk about it. You’re crying.”


“There’s nothing to talk about. We had sex. It’s not like it hasn’t happened a million times before.” She stood guardedly, arms wrapped around herself.


“I know it’s my fault.” He closed the gap between them, but she only backed up.


She laughed bitterly. “I begged you for it, remember? For once, you’re off the hook.”


“Luv-“


“Don’t call me luv.” She took another two steps back as he reached for her.


He ached to comfort her, make it like it was before.


“Buffy,” he tried again.


She shook her head, eyes glossy with tears as she moved farther out of his reach. “Don’t you understand? I begged you. How depraved do I have to be?”


“You’re not depraved.”


“Oh no? You raped me, Spike. Hurt me more than once. And look at me now. I’m asking for sex.” Face scrunching in anguish, she covered her mouth, choking out a sob as the memory hit her again. She looked behind her, seeing the edge and taking another step back.


“I can change, I have changed. I can be a better man.”


She shook her head, lip trembling. “I don’t want you to be.”


“Buffy, please. Just come back and we’ll talk about it.”


“That’s just it. I don’t want to go back. I don’t want this life-” She felt the rubble beneath the edge of her foot crumble away.


He froze, panicked, but she regained her balance. He asked in a strained voice, “And what are you going to do? Fling yourself off a cliff? I can’t let you do that, luv.”


“I don’t want to want you,” she finished with pain in her eyes.


He frowned, feeling like he had been stabbed in the gut. He drove her to this. A part of him had hoped that he could make things better, and it would be ok. But now he knew it would never be ok.


“Just let me go.”


“I can’t.” Guilt filled his features.


“Why?” she cried, exasperated with the same answer he always gave her.


“I love you.”


~*~*~*~