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A/N: I was going to make this a one shot deal, but decided to make it a two shot deal…(no pun intended, honest). Anyway, this is like the second fic I ever wrote and published on another site. It was not received too well, then the ‘virus’ from hell (that shall not be named) from about 2 years ago reared it ugly head and fried all of my files. This is the rewrite of the story and I thought I’d give it a go here.
Summary: It’s post season 6 of BTVS. Spike is back in Sunnydale (no one knows it though) and he is out for blood. However it’s not Buffy’s ‘blood’ that Spike is back for. He wants her for his mate, still, even though he got the chip out in Africa and not his soul. Contrary to popular myth, William the Bloody aka Spike loves Buffy just as much as he did with the chip. Anyway, Spike is back, all is not status quo from before on the Hellmouth and things are about to get real, real, ugly.
Please be kind about this. Like I said, it was about the second fic I ever wrote and is pretty basic. So, please read and review. I’ll have the final chapter, Chapter 2, up tomorrow, or maybe tonight.
Thanks, Luv, Spuf
Chapter 1
Spike watched his Golden Goddess, Buffy, as she exited the building. He stood hidden in shadows, always in shadows, and at a
safe distance. She was laughing with that whelp, Harris, and Dawn, her little sister. It was Friday night and the trio had just left the Bronze together, via Harris’s obvious new car.
‘A Lexus?’ Spike hissed as he watched his soulmate, Buffy, ride off into the night with that fuckhead, Xander and her bitch of a little sister, Dawn. ‘The whelp’s been saving his pennies,’ Spike smirked evilly.
“How adult of him,” Spike chuckled harshly, still hating the ponce. Spike still blamed Xander Harris for most of his woes with Buffy. In fact, it was Harris, Buffy’s little lap dog, that Spike intended on draining dry first.
He’d been back in Sunnydale for a week, Spike had, but he hadn’t told anyone he was here. Not anyone, that is, except Willie the Demon snitch, down at the bar that carried his name. That’s where Spike got his meals, from Willie’s bar, the ‘by-the-glass’ kind that is.
For some reason, even though he could now feed freely? Spike had refrained from doing just that. Actually, the master vampire had every intention of hunting, killing and feeding on humans again, eventually that is. It’s just that he had a certain select few he planned to start with. And, he intended on having his mate, Buffy, by his side when he did.
‘She looks good,’ Spike thought, as he had watched his Slayer duck into the passenger side of the Lexus. ‘Buffy’s put on weight, it suits her. She needed it,’ he mused, briefly feeling guilty at his beloved’s loss of weight, just before he left Sunnydale.
“My fault,” Spike thought sadly, “Buffy was so gaunt, so lost when I…” He shook the bad memories from his mind and plotted his next move.
The truth was, Spike had already taken up residence in a crypt, in the same cemetary, in the same spot that he’d occupied before. Nothing had changed since the day he had told Clem he was leaving Sunnydale to ‘find himself’ or what was that he’d said? Make himself into something Buffy deserved?
Well, he was something now, sure as shit. Something Buffy the Slayer deserved. Spike was the evil, sadistic (albeit not quite as sadistic as his grandsire, Angelus) master vampire he had once been.
Once the chip had been removed, in Africa, by a knowledgeable tribal elder, Spike headed straight back to Sunnydale, CA. If the master vampire had had any doubts as to his plans before the chip was gone? They disappeared instantly, once the offensive matter was removed from his brain.
He was back, Spike aka William the Bloody, to return to Sunnydale, the Hellmouth in victory. Spike would return to Sunnyhell, claim his ‘bride’ Buffy Summers and wreck havoc on anyone and everyone that got in his way.
Spike had driven his Harley like a bat out of hell to 1630 Revello Drive and seen the fucking Lexus parked in the Summers’ driveway. As if Harris had a right to park the piece of shit there!
“He’d better be leaving, and soon,” Spike growled lowly as he took up shop by the oak tree on the Summers’ front lawn. The vampire felt his jealousy over Buffy roar to the surface.
“Fucking prick better not be making himself comfortable in my woman’s home. Or her bed,” Spike hissed angrily.
The vampire was rewarded by the sound of ‘goodnights’ coming from the Summers’ home. Soon, Xander Harris walked out of the house and slipped into his fancy car, oblivious to the danger that lurked just yards away from him.
‘Let him go,’ Spike told himself as he watched his hated enemy leave his love’s house. ‘For now, anyway,’ he added, maliciously.
As the lights in the house went out, one-by-one, Spike remembered a time when he would have been welcomed inside. An open invitation had been issued to him, as if he were human. As if he were mortal, as if weren’t the wicked monster he truly was.
“I’ll see you, sweet Slayer, tomorrow,” Spike whispered with a smirk as he turned and walked to the Harley, parked around the corner. Just before he left his centinel by the oak tree? Spike left a calling card for his Buffy. Three ground out cigarette butts and a blood red rose, right at the foot of the oak tree.
Spike lay on the new bed he’d bought when he got back to Sunnydale. It was huge, massive and covered with black satin sheets. When Spike had brought the bed to his old home, he’d made sure it was perfect, like the sheets he covered it with. Like the bride, his Buffy, that he intended on seducing on it.
It had been hard, no, make that impossible for Spike not to just go up to Buffy and drag her off with him. But, he’d been patient, he’d been determined not to act rashly this time. This time, Spike would bide his time and plan everything carefully.
The vampire lay on his massive bed and thought about his Buffy, his girl, his Slayer. She had betrayed him, dozens of times, in dozens of ways. He certainly had not forgotten ‘that’ but he intended on forgiving her, anyway. In time that is, after he made her his, completely.
Spike lit a cigarette and thought back to the times, just four months before. It was Buffy that had driven him to try and force her, that night in her house, in her bathroom. He didn’t delude himself, if he had won out over Buffy? Spike would have raped her completely, torn into her body with his cock and teeth. Turned her then, instead of now, which is what he intended on doing.
As he smoked his cigarette, down to the end, Spike ticked off the ways his beloved Slayer had betrayed him:
First, she left him, after GI Joe had dropped into town. Then, she had ‘tried’ to pretend that the skank he’d brought to the defunct wedding of Harris and his demon slut, didn’t bother her.
Oh, but the trashy bint, what was her name again? Tarantula? She had tweaked Buffy’s nose, quite a bit. Even then, Buffy couldn’t admit she was jealous. So, Spike had taken the nightmare of a date home, to her house, and nearly pushed her out of his car. He never saw her again, nor did he want to. The doped up sleaze had only been a way to make Buffy jealous.
When Spike and Anya had hooked up, drunkenly, in what was the biggest mistake of his unlife, or life for that matter? That was the thing that had pushed Buffy to reveal her jealousy. When Spike tried to talk to Buffy, his Princess, his true love, she had thrown his mistake at him. Made him feel like the true shit he was.
Everything, that night, in her bathroom, had come rushing back at him. Buffy’s betrayal with Riley Finn, who’d just showed up, out of the blue and turned her from him. Buffy’s holier then thou attitude about him, Spike, and those fucking eggs that he’d promised Clem he’d keep an eye out for.
“She bought Soldier Boy’s bullshit, about those eggs and how lethal that mother demon was. Bought it all. And it was me she was sleeping with until then. Me who gave who peace and an escape. The bitch,” Spike hissed as he glared at his ceiling.
“The fucking little self-righteous bitch. I’ll make her pay for the rest of her life. Or unlife, that is,” he began to chuckle, evilly.
A knock on his crypt door broke his plotting and Spike leapt up from the bed. He scurried up the ladder to the upper level of the crypt and stood by the crypt door.
Before he even got to the upper level, Spike could ‘smell’ Buffy at his door. Her vanilla/lavendar scent would forever be forged into all of his senses.
“That was quick,” Spike whispered with a self-satisfied smile as he pulled on a pair of jeans and sauntered to the front door of his ‘house’. “Buffy figured out my clues I left for her pretty fast. Her intelligence has actually improved in the last four months,” he thought, proudly.
“Open this door Spike” Buffy screeched from the other side of the great oaken door. “I know you’re in there. I can sense you.”
Spike laughed, wickedly, then unbolted the great door and opened it. He was careful not to let the sunlight touch his body, as he slid back into the shadows of the crypt.
“Welcome home, Slayer,” Spike purred seductively as he eyed his bride with glee.
“This isn’t my home,” Buffy snipped back at him, her head held high. “Why, I wouldn’t live in a hovel like this if…” Her sentence was cut short by Spike, who grabbed her arm and pulled her inside.
Once Buffy was in the crypt, Spike slammed the big door shut and bolted it tight. He turned to face his errant lover, a vicious grin on his mouth and his eyes afire with desire.
“You were saying, beloved?” Spike purred like a cat as he approached his Buffy, carefully.
“I,” Buffy stammered, taking two steps back for every one step Spike took towards her.
“I believe you said that you would never live in a hovel like this, sweet,” Spike stated, huskily, as he neared his prey.
“This is ridiculous!” Buffy spat, turning from Spike and trying to pass by him. She apparently thought she could make it to the door before the vampire could grasp on to her.
She was wrong.
Spike grabbed his soon to be bride and pulled her flush up to him. He wasn’t gentle, and Buffy must have noticed this since she cringed, visibly from his touch.
“You dare to pull away from me?” Spike roared, his blue eyes had turned amber yellow from his rage. “Me? Your master? Your mate?”
“Not my mate,” Buffy murmered weakly, “my enemy,” she finished with a hiss. “You are my enemy, Spike!” She growled at her ex-lover, angrily.
“No,” Spike hissed, stubbornly, “you’re my mate,” he insisted. “Always my mate. Mine!” he roared again and turned Buffy around, her back against the wall of the crypt. He slammed her up against it, pulling at the heavy, ugly coat she wore.
“It’s a California Summer, Princess,” Spike smirked at his intended, “why the cover? Afraid the ‘big bad’ will give you the chillies?” He pulled the coat from Buffy, who for some reason gave no resistence to his force.
Spike wasted no time in pulling Buffy’s skirt up over her hips and unzipping his black jeans. He pulled his cock out of his restrictive pants and without ceremony, rammed it into Buffy’s rather damp cunny.
“Buffy,” Spike rasped as he began to thrust into her sweet, wonderful cunny. “I’ve missed you so,” he whimpered as he pummeled inside of her.
“Spike,” Buffy moaned, rather in pain or pleasure, Spike wasn’t sure. “Please, honey,” Buffy groaned, “stop. You don’t understand. I’m…”
It was just after his words about ‘the chillies’ and just after he had thrust inside of his beautiful Buffy, heard it. Blessed with vampire hearing, Spike detected the two heartbeats coming from Buffy’s small frame.
The blond vampire reared back and glared at his Slayer, stunned at the tell tale beating of the two hearts. He began to growl, softly, lowly at first, then louder with each beating of the two hearts.
“What’s this?” he roared again at his Buffy, pinioned onto the wall by him and his cock. “Whose is it?
“Spike,” Buffy whimpered as she stared into his blue eyes, her own green ones filled with tears. “It’s…”
“Bitch!” Spike roared at the top of his lungs. “You fucking whore!” he screamed violently.
“Spike,” Buffy squealed as her former lover pulled out from inside her and swept her up in his arms. He flung her over his shoulder and carried her downstairs to the lower part of his crypt.
“You don’t understand,” Buffy cried out, desperately when Spike tossed her onto his bed, roughly.
“I understand plenty,” Spike hissed as he dropped on top of Buffy and pinned her down onto his carefully selected satin sheets. He had picked them out for Buffy, specially. For her, his Golden Goddess and now? She shows up here, at his crypt, knocked up with a spawn of God knew who?
“Whose is it?” Spike asked Buffy, his blue eyes never breaking contact with hers.
“Whose!” he barked again, before she could even breathe, much less respond to him.
“It’s…” she began, anxiously watching Spike’s reaction.
“Tell me,” Spike hissed with a jealous rage. “Is it Soldier Boys?” he rasped, pissed beyond pissed at this possibility.
“Riley?” Buffy gasped, shocked that Spike would even think such a thing. “He’s not here, Spike,” she hissed angrily. “He’s never been here, not like…”
“Doesn’t matter,” Spike countered, hatred for the tall Iowan burning in his blue eyes. “He ‘was’ here and he could have fucked you. Left his mark with you and…”
“He was married then, still is,” Buffy mumbled, embarrassed for some reason. “Riley’s not this child’s father,” she stated firmly.
“Harris!” Spike spat, his accusing tone hurt Buffy’s sensitive ears. “He’s the fucking bastard’s dad, right?” Spike shook Buffy, non too gently, and increased the pressure of his body onto hers.
“I’ll find that fuck and shove the engine of his shiny new car right up his bloody arse. How dare he touch what’s mine!” Spike roared out his threats, his whole body shaking with jealous rage. Tightening his hold on a pale, terrified Buffy, Spike began to shake her little body, violently.
“No,” Buffy cried defensively, “not Xander, I swear,” she added whispered, terror radiating off of her body. “Stop shaking me William, please,” Buffy pleaded of her former lover. “The baby, please, Will.” Buffy began cry, large wet tears of fear and pain ran down her pretty face like rain. This deterred Spike from shaking her and he immediately stopped, but he continued to grill her with questions and accusations.
“That little piece of shit that showed up, at your birthday party?” Spike asked, his insecurity flared up and reared it’s head, unfortunately. “Richard, that was the fuck’s name, right?”
“Richard was just a guest, William” Buffy groaned, sore from the pressure Spike was putting on her body. “Nothing more,” she added. “I haven’t even heard about that kid since my birthday, honest.”
“Then who?” Spike hissed, his blue eyes flicked from indigo to amber, in just seconds. “Who’s the little spawn’s Da?” He glared into Buffy’s honest emerald eyes and asked the question, repeatedly.
“You,” Buffy spat, her tone was breathy and harsh. “You’re the father,” she repeated through drying tears, with a smug, triumphant smirk on her pretty mouth.
A/N: The next chapter (and final, maybe an epilogue right after) will explain some facts about the baby. It will also reveal the very different reactions by Giles, Dawn and the gang to Buffy’s pregnancy. Spike will be estatic, of course, when he finally is convinced he’s the father. But, this is Spike, the vampire, and he is determined to seek revenge on the people he holds responsible for his and Buffy’s break up in the first place.
