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Authors Chapter Notes:
This story occurs in an alternate reality. No cannon Big Bads such as Master or the Mayor are an immediate threat. Sunnydale is not a hellmouth, so Buffy's never had to go there. She was kidnapped by vampires while patrolling the streets of LA a year and half after she was called, and she's been gone for about 5 months.

Angel is cursed and still somewhere eating vermin, he won't be relevant to this story.

Spike and Drusilla are cutting swath through Europe, Dru having her full strength. Spike is still very much evil and not even thinking about redemption, he is still in love with Dru (That won't last long, I promise!!). When Spike decides to get the third notch on his belt he will find something that will change his life forever.

If something is unclear, let me know. This is my first try at writing so bear with me, and I'm always open to suggestions, so if I suck you can tell me! Pleeeeease let me know what you think!!!! Not that I'm begging...OK, maybe a little!

Betaed by Dawn, Mabel and Lis!!! Thank you guys so much, I really appreciate your help!!! Thanks Moni for your encouragement!!

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. No copyright infringement is intended.

*Chapter one and two have been revised on 10th of July 2010.*


Chapter 1



Spike closed his eyes and licked his lips, smiling at the lingering taste of the flight attendant’s blood. Silly little thing thought she’d get a quickie before the lift off. To be fair, it was quick, even if she ended up lying in the ditch nearby the airport’s hall as a result. Not really his fault she was daft enough to follow a stranger into darkness.





It never ceased to astonish him, the naïveté of the human race. Thank God for his Sire. If it weren’t for her stumbling upon him all sniveling and weak, he’d never have known the true pleasure of this world. Unrestrained by society’s rules.





He turned his face to look at Drusilla’s sleeping form, the hum of the airplane’s motors having lulled her to sleep. It had taken him quite a while to calm her down and stop her from blowing their cover by throwing one of her fits as they sneaked into the airplane’s luggage storage. It was uncomfortable as hell.





Drusilla stirred next to him and he immediately reached out to stroke her dark long hair. She frowned then fell asleep again. As much as he worshipped the very ground she walked on, traveling with her always tried his patience. They couldn’t travel by boat because the fish would be upset and the stars wouldn’t speak to her anymore if they flew on a plane.





So she was a bit crazy in the head. That didn’t mean he loved her any less. She made him who he was and they had been together for more than a hundred years now. There wasn’t anything he wouldn’t do for her. To make her proud of him.





Killing the Slayers seemed to be the only thing he excelled at above his Grandsire Angelus. Not that he minded facing a challenge. He thrived off it, that feeling of adrenaline pumping through him, the exhilaration of knowing this might be the last fight, the last proverbial breath. It made the victory that much sweeter, their blood taste so much better. What was the point of being immortal if there was nothing threatening to take it away?





The fight with the last Slayer he met, for example. That was a sweet deal. They danced for weeks until the day when he twisted her neck with a satisfying crack and took his trophy. His beloved duster. His second skin.

She had been different, that one. The way she’d moved and the strength of her punches had made him hard for an entirely different reason than just wanting to bathe in her blood. She had been a warrior, just like he was. He’d respected her.





Slayers, representatives of everything good and pure; puppies and rainbows. He bloody well knew better than that. They and the forces they fought were so much alike, the darkness inside just waiting to prevail upon the human conscience. That's why the Slayers were never turned, it was too much of a risk to free something so powerful and destructive. Slayers, killers, predators. His ultimate obsession.





So that was why he and Dru were now on their flight away from Europe to the USA. Spike had his ear to the ground and had heard there was supposed to be a new Chosen One somewhere in California. So that was where they were headed.





Looking for a tiny slip of a girl that harbored power rivaling his own. He was getting excited just thinking about it. The fight. The sweet victory. Pure ambrosia of her blood sliding down his throat. The look in his dark princess’ eyes as she realized he was the vamp that had killed three slayers.





Like she really loved him.





Spike clenched his teeth.





He might be the only one of his family that actually lived every minute like it was his last. Angelus and the bloody bitch-- as he liked to refer to Darla-- were always so uptight about their comforts and only cared about their own skin, and Dru... Well, Dru lived in an entirely different world altogether.





After Angelus had pulled the disappearing act a few decades ago, Darla decided he and Dru weren't worth her time after all and went crawling back to the old bat the Master, playing his little whore, no doubt. He didn't care much about family affairs and reunions.





So now he and his black goddess were left all on their lonesome and he was finally having her all to himself. No sodding daddy in sight, no grandma either. Just the two them, causing mayhem wherever they went. Dancing on the bloodied corpses of their victims, laughing and shagging in the blood they spilt.





He loved her more than anything in his world. She was the one that had saved him from the mediocrity, shown him the freedom of darkness and violence.





But sometimes, just sometimes, when he was awake and staring off into space, there were these fleeting thoughts, disturbing really, that it might not be enough. That she didn't love him as much as he loved her. That she didn't really see him as anything besides her plaything and someone who'd always be there for her. She was too far gone to really love anyone, thanks to Angelus. She looked at him but it was not him she saw. There was nothing but the insane glitter of mischief in her eyes, not real warmth, not love. They never had real conversations and it made him lonely, even though just thinking it made him feel like a poof.





He'd never shared Drusilla's obsession with children and virgins either. Didn't quite care for the insane glee in her eyes as she destroyed anything innocent or pure. It possibly had everything to do with her subconscious need to make the blinding light of pureness bleed and give way to the empty stare of death. Just like Angelus did to her. He didn't even have to be here and the sod's overwhelming presence shadowed everything that Drusilla did. When she killed, when she fed and... 'Better not go there, mate.'





He'd never really seen the whole point of slow torture, never had the patience for it. But he loved her and that was all that mattered. He never left the ones he loved, didn't matter how much they hurt him. It seemed like his grandsire didn't succeed in beating the humanity out of him after all.





The lurch of a landing airplane roused a sleeping Dru from her slumber and alerted Spike to the fact he was now in the same country as the Slayer. A wide grin crossed his face. Her life would be his.



******



She tried to get used to the physical pain, to her whole body aching inside and out. Pretending that the cold stone of her prison grating on her skin, metal shackles chaffing her slender wrists and bruises that marred her flesh were nothing but an echo of the pain within her soul.

In a way, it was true.





Punches and kicks, those she could take. It was the loss of control, the inability to defend herself and knowing that she was nothing but a toy they used for their pleasure that was threatening to consume her sanity. The pain resonated deep within her soul and spread out through her veins like a poison.





Slithering.





Mocking.





Killing.





Sometimes she wished it would end and she'd finally be able to be free of this mortal coil. Free of life. It never stopped though. Buffy forgot how long she had been here...weeks, months, years? Time blended into an endless blur after a while.





Hugging her knees to her chest proved to be a futile effort at warming her skin. She couldn't remember what it felt like to be warm. It wasn't just the hard cement floor that made her skin freeze mercilessly. It was coming from within. Cold hands trying to wrap its fingers around her soul and take over.





She was ashamed of even thinking it, but sometimes...sometimes she wished they had. She wished they wrapped around her neck and strangled the last breath out of her. Maybe then she'd be able to find the solace that seemed so close, yet at the same time so far out of reach. She used to be a warrior. It felt like there were still some vestiges left of it inside of her because despite it all, she was afraid to die. What if the fate that awaited her was even worse than being here? Being alone, shackled, blind.



It wasn't always like this. She kind of remembered what it felt like... She used to be a part of the world.





Alive.





She used to be a part of that glittering glamour that kept the darkness hidden underneath. Glamour that was just waiting to be scraped off and reveal the gaping mouth of hell and its fetid breath.





World with people passing each other in the streets, worrying about how they looked in the eyes of others, what others thought about them. People terrified of their own reflection.





Buffy knew now that it didn’t matter because in the end everybody only cared about themselves. Ultimately everyone died the way they were born.





Alone.





There was that word again. It had been taunting her since the moment she’d been approached by a creepy old guy dressed in tweed, her freshmen year in high school, about who she was. What she was.





She was chosen to fight for people that didn't give a damn about her, but she still did it because it was the right, honorable thing to do. But she wanted to be one of those faceless people that went on about their lives with blissful oblivion, not caring that someone out there risked their life every night so that they could live.





It didn't matter that she didn't want it, that she didn't ask for any of this. There would be no white picket fences or children waiting for her in the future no matter how hard she would like to pretend otherwise. There was nothing but pain, death and rivulets of blood trickling down her hands. She was raped by this power in the name of everything good and light, the burden thrust onto her shoulders along with the burning guilt for every single life she couldn't save.





No one cared how hard she tried, in the end she was just one girl in all the world surrounded by evil and darkness that penetrated her very being and threatened her own humanity with every single life she took.





Vampires-- all dead but still living-- and she was the one that took it all away. Who was she to judge who deserved to die? She was just seventeen! The only way to retain her own peace of mind had always been justifying that by killing them she was saving the lives of the innocent. That they couldn't possibly feel, not like humans did.





That was until she got here and realized how thin the line is between the two worlds. It weren't just vampires and demons that paid for her humiliation. Even those she was sworn to protect treated her as if she was soulless, just a doll for their own amusement. Theirs to break and theirs to play with.





She kept saving the lives of others, knowing that one day it would be the reason for her own death. And look where it got her. Where were all those people when she was the one that needed saving?





Her musings were interrupted by the sound of the doors swinging open.





Dim light entered the room, though Buffy couldn't see it, she flinched from the sound that disturbed the long silence. A set of now familiar heavy footsteps followed the bang of steel against the wall and a man approached her.





Buffy's breath picked up in speed as she waited for him to do something, anything. The keys jingled as the man unlocked the shackles that bound her wrists to a wall behind. As soon as she was freed, she tried to scurry away from him, but his cold hand shot out and grabbed her hair, and Buffy had to restrain herself from crying out in sudden pain.





“What do you think you're doing, sunshine?” His voice full of mocking menace and he tightened his hold on her.





Buffy didn't reply. She wasn't meant to after all, and even if she was, she didn't think she could regain her voice. It wasn't put to use since it was very clearly pointed out to her that this was not a place to speak your mind. Buffy had learnt that the hard way. Her mind drifted away to a place where it all started.





To the the first time that she woke up in this hell.





TBC


Chapter End Notes:
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