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05/18/17 04:16 am
pj! I remember wishing one of your stories would be finished seriously about a decade ago. Amazing. I just tried an old password I used to use and amazingly got in too. Memories!
03/20/17 01:20 am
10 yrs later, i finally rem my username and password. Pari, you rock. Hope you are well.
12/23/16 01:12 pm
I donate every month. Please donate to keep this site up!
10/06/16 08:34 am
Great post.
08/31/16 03:45 pm
And anyone else who loves this site, it's worth mentioning there's a nifty little "Donate" option just below the shout box here! ;)
08/31/16 03:43 pm
Just wanted to take a moment to thank Pari and all the mods for maintaining such a great site!


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Breathing heavily, Buffy tried to flick the hair out of her face with no avail. "Get off me, pig!" She shouted, wriggling and pushing back as best she could.

"You're a woman." He laughed, genuinely amused. "Are you aware there's a war on?"

She grunted and glared at him. "Vaguely." She continued to writhe beneath him.

"Mmmm," he said, happily watching her and without effort keeping her pinned. "What are we going to do with you?"

Blood from his face dripped onto hers, deep against the pale skin. He watched it with a pleasant, amused expression, and lowered his head to her neck, taking in a deep breath.

"Get off me so that I can kill you!" She head-butted him as hard as she could, but only managed to free a leg before he repaid the favour. Her head hit the ground in pain and she cried out.

He seemed to enjoy it, but only for a moment as she shot her knee up as hard as she could and rolled him off her. Forcing herself up, she pushed on, grabbing a blade from the ground as she went.


Head pounding, Buffy ran away. She knew it was cowardly, but in a time of war who could really judge what was so terrible? If the battle was already lost was it so important that she was killed? Or caught, she thought ruefully.

A hand caught her foot and she went crashing head-first into the mud. "Oi, girly," it was that killer. "I'm not done with you yet." He was laughing as he climbed up her body.

"Get off!" Her breath was fast as she spat the mud out of her face and struggled, but he held her there, twisting her arms behind her back until she was in unbelievable agony. She cried out and attempted to move but the pain was unbearable.

"Now I've got your attention," he forced her head to one side so that he could see her face. "Your side's lost."

"Get off me before I kill you!"

"Heard of the spoils of war?" He licked a line up her face. "That's you."


It was easier than she had first thought to force him off a second time. She had stopped struggling and waited for him to stop talking. But then, as soon as he'd turned her around, she had kicked him hard and back to the ground and now stood over him, lifting his weapon from him and plunging it into his side. She fell forwards on top of him on the strength with which she sunk the blade through his naked flesh.

He grabbed onto her hand and held it there, tugging her closer with a strength that she did not wholly understand. Surely he should be in some kind of pain. She tilted her head down and saw the blood. She had definitely struck him.

With his other hand, he gripped her neck and forced her to look at him. They were both breathing heavily as he pulled her closer and covered her mouth with his own. In a rough possession he used his remaining strength to force her lips open and dip his tongue against her own.

Buffy was confused. Was this what dying people did? It felt strange, but not wholly unwelcome. His hand moved away and she pulled back, staring at him.

And then, laughing, he fell back into the mud.


Marie was staring at her, open mouthed. What on earth was Buffy thinking, bringing a half-dead man into their apartments? She asked her.

"He's not half-dead." She told her from the other end of the room. "If he was I would not be thinking to tie him down." She tightened the restraints around his wrists and ankles.

"But why is he here, Buffy?" She stressed, watching cautiously from her safe position by the door.

She rubbed her eyes. "I... I don't know."

"What if my father finds out?"

"He won't find out. He and my mother never come to this part of the house," she wiped her hands on her clothes. She was still covered in the blood and muck from the field. "I need to change." She let out a breath and cast a look at the sleeping man in her bed. She had no idea why she had saved him.


Buffy had long been asleep. She had bathed and dressed in Marie's room, but returned to her own to see whether or not the man had woken up. He had not.

There was a tap at the door that jolted her awake. Like lightening, she shot up and ran to stop it from opening just in case it was one of the maids. It was not.

"Marie, what do you want?" She asked, sleepily, opening the door and letting her in.

"I brought you some food. I told my father that you were feeling unwell and would not be joining us for dinner." She strode across the room and set the tray down. "He is not yet awake?"

Buffy stifled a yawn and shook her head. "No, but his breathing quickens from time to time as though he were ill." She picked up a small potato from the plate with her fingers and popped it into her mouth. And then she laughed. "I watched men die earlier today and now I stand here covered in frills eating potatoes." She closed her eyes as a tear slipped out. "I think I am going mad. Did I tell you about this man I met? His name was Robert Mortimer." She swallowed and stared across at Marie. "He saved my life."

"I think you are tired." Marie whispered after a moment or two and Buffy nodded.

"You are right." She sighed and rubbed her eyes. Coughing distracted her. He was awake! She ran to the bed and stared down at him as he fluttered his eyes open. She watched him focus before he frowned.

"I know you." He wasn't quite sure where from. And then he tried to move. His head shot around, his eyes wide awake as he both saw and felt the restraints. "What is this?" He growled.

Slightly nervous of what he might do if the knots did not hold, she took a step back. "You are a prisoner of war." She lifted her chin as best she could and tried to look fearsome for whatever would come next.

Despite all her actions and efforts, he merely paused and stared at her momentarily, and then laughed. "You're that bint from the field."


Buffy glared down at him, not wholly sure what he meant but certain that it was not a kind thing to say. She folded her arms beneath her breasts and shot a look to Marie who remained quiet by the door.

"Oh, this is bloody priceless!" He laughed again, tipping his head back to look at the headboard. Then he sighed. "Circle of life." She swallowed involuntarily as he turned and looked at her. "You're a strange one."

"I can assure you, so are you." She snapped.

"Go on, tell me," he said, leaning as best he could towards her, wincing slightly at the pain in his side. "Why did you bring me back here? Was it that kiss?" He grinned, his tongue between his teeth.

"Kiss? Buffy!" It was Marie, gasping.

Spike lifted his head, noticing her for the first time. "Oh, hello..." She turned coyly away.

"No," Buffy told him, pulling back the bedclothes to his obvious enjoyment. She pressed against a bloody stain that had formed through the bandages she had wrapped around his wound. "Because of this."

He coughed and pressed his head into the pillow when she did so. "Bloody hell, woman!" He growled. "Have a little charity!"

"Oh, just like you, you mean?" She spat at him, covering him back up. "You killed a good man today."

His eyes took in her form and face, as if painting a new picture of her in his mind. "Many good men have died and many more will go on doing so. It is nature. Learn to love it, you sadist."

She clamped her teeth together. "You are mad!" She almost laughed.

"And yet you are the one with a prisoner of war tied to your bed." He told her, tilting his head to one side. "Everyone has the potential to kill. That's why you stabbed me."

"I am no murderer," she told him, shooting a look to Marie. "That's why I brought him back here, Marie. Because I do not want blood on my hands."

Spike forced his head back up to look at Marie. "It was a little about the kiss."


"I still do not see why we should keep him here," Marie pressed. They had locked their captive in the room and gone to her room for a private conversation. Of course, having stressed the importance of silence. "Buffy, think what would happen if we were caught! He's British." She whispered the word as if it would call upon the Devil to hear it spoken.

Buffy had to admit, her friend had a good point. To be caught would mean... Oh, she scarce could think of what they would do to her. "We will keep him until he is well enough to move on his own."

"He can move 'well enough' already."

Buffy rolled her eyes. "He is stupid, yes," she explained, "and although he may say that he can do these things, he is still bleeding heavily into that bandage."

"But, Buffy," Marie insisted, "why save him at all?"

"Because." She swallowed. "I do not want to have killed a human being, even one so disgusting as him."

Marie sighed and leant back against her pillow. "But he does not seem that disgusting, Buffy." She shook her head. "His manners are a little course, but he is attractive enough—"

"Marie!" Buffy breathed, eyes wide. "Are you mad? Had not I stabbed him, I am quite sure that he would have done things that would try even your sensibilities." Her friend did not look impressed. "We shall keep him here for a few days, and then decide what is to be done. Most likely he will wish to simply be released back into the wild with a promise not to do anything stupid."

"And if not?"

"Then, well," she took a breath. "We shall see..."

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