"Oh god...oh my god..."
The alley was dark and dirty, the pavement caked in mud from the recent rainstorm. A light should have illuminated the back entrance of the club, but the bulb had long since burnt out and been forgotten. Old, empty kegs lined the wall awaiting pick up, a few lay tipped on the ground still rocking lazily—a result of the recent upheaval they had silently witnessed.
"Ooooh..." Her hand shot out and met aluminum, the hollow sound echoing noisily in the empty alleyway. She retracted her arm and placed a moist palm over her face. The asphalt felt cool and unyielding beneath her stiff body. She slowly dragged her hand down her face, not caring—or noticing—that her make-up was already smeared beyond repair.
Her eyes fluttered open and she was greeted with a picture perfect view of the half moon. She blinked and the blurred edges of the silvery celestial body seemed to become sharper. As her senses became more focused, she was made aware of the dull ache that permeated her bones and seemed to spread out through her body to the surface of her skin.
Her tongue flicked out to wet her dry lips. They felt rough and broken to the sensitive appendage and there was no ignoring the overwhelming taste of copper. God.
Shifting her elbows out to her sides, she placed her palms on the gritty surface and carefully pushed her body upwards. Every muscle, every inch of skin protested the movement, but she continued to press on until she was certain she was upright enough not to topple back to the ground the second her hands left the pavement.
With her new position came the awareness that she was actually bare from the waist down. Her short denim skirt was still on her body but it had been pushed up past her hips and her thong was simply missing. Her lower lip trembled as she clumsily tugged at her skirt, trying to regain some semblance of dignity.
Once she was mostly covered, she took a moment to study her surroundings...not that she wasn't completely aware of her location. Everything just looked...different somehow. Was it always this dark...this dirty?
Forcing herself to ignore the discomfort, she lifted herself from the ground, staggering slightly as she attempted to straighten out her body. She braced herself against the brick wall of the club, laying her forehead against the cool, rough surface.
"Gaaaah..." she gagged as she felt a sticky substance making a slow descent down the inside of her thighs. She couldn't hold back and was soon heaving the contents of her stomach onto her little black heels. Her throat burned as the few drinks she had imbibed throughout the evening unpleasantly resurfaced.
Leaning heavily against the sturdy brick building, she blinked back tears as she wiped away the last of the vomit from around her lips. God, she had to get out of here...and there was only one place she wanted to go.
She pushed away from the wall and stumbled out of the alley.
"Twenty-twenty-twenty-four hours ago...mmm-mmm...mmm-mmm...mmm..." Spike sang softly to himself as he beat out a tune on his kitchen table with his mechanical pencil. He had been studying for the MCAT for the last five hours and his brain was toast. If he wasn't prepared after the work he'd put in over the last few months, then he'd never be ready.
He glanced at the clock. It was almost midnight. No doubt his friends had been out drinking and cavorting for the last few hours. It was Friday night afterall. He would've been with them if it wasn't for this damn test. This damn test that he was sure to fail if he didn't get some rest soon.
He pushed back his chair from the table and flipped his books closed as he stood. He was making his way through the living room of his small apartment when he heard a faint beeping sound coming from the couch. He tilted his head curiously before approaching the old piece of furniture and rooting around in the cushions for the source of the noise.
"Ah-ha!" He pulled his cellphone out from its hiding place. He checked the screen and realized that his phone was alerting him that he had a missed call. He looked through his caller ID and smiled at the name that popped up. "Drunk calling me again, pet? Naughty, naughty." He chuckled as he continued on to his bedroom with his phone in hand.
Just as he stepped into the hallway, he heard a light knock on his door. He furrowed his brow. That's odd. While it wasn't unusual for the gang to end up at his place after a night of partying, they were all well aware of his test in the morning. No one had left any messages saying they had planned on stopping by, so a midnight visit seemed unlikely.
Frowning, he made his way back through the living room to the front door. For a moment, he thought about ignoring the knock, but he had no peephole and he was a bit curious. He had the strangest feeling...
He disengaged his locks and pulled open the door, half expecting to find some drunk kid wanting his neighbor down the hall. What he did find shocked him.
"Buffy..." It was more a breath on his lips than her name. His eyes blinked rapidly as he tried to process what was right in front of him.
Her clothing was disheveled, her lipstick and mascara more than a little smudged. His heart rate increased at the sight of her busted, bloody lips...and it seemed like almost every inch of her beautiful bronze skin was covered in scrapes and bruises.
"Oh...god...Buffy..." he murmured in shock.
She focused her watery hazel eyes on his equally moist deep blue orbs. "Spike...help me..."