Chapter 13:

Buffy woke up disoriented, experiencing a sensation she wasn't familiar with. Something was coursing through her, like lust but different—stronger. It was intense and intoxicating, making her whole body hum.

And then she knew. What she was feeling became blindingly clear to her, and she jumped from the bed, running to the bathroom with her hand over her mouth. She made it to the toilet just in time, emptying the meager contents of her stomach into the basin.

She wiped her mouth before flushing, then leaned back against the cool bathroom wall. Her stomach was still rebelling, though now she had nothing left in her system to purge. She kept her head down, purposely avoiding the mirror. She couldn't stand the thought of having to look at her own reflection.

She'd forgotten again. The vampire had touched her—wooed her—until she'd again forgotten he was a monster. Buffy pulled her knees to her chin, shame flooding her. She'd always fought to be strong, but now, she saw she was weak. She didn't even have the strength to resist the caress of a cold-blooded killer.

He'd fed again. Somehow, she'd let herself ignore that that was more than a possibility, spending the afternoon in his arms without thinking even once about how soon he would take another life—or lifting a finger to stop him.

Tears rolled down her cheeks as she hugged her knees tighter. She'd sat back and allowed him to kill again and then—to make it even worse—she'd experienced the kill right along with him. She'd felt what he felt as he fed off of his most recent victim, felt how he'd enjoyed it. Knowing those feelings came from an outside source didn't serve to quell Buffy's horror or shame. He'd killed and he'd liked it—and now she knew how that felt.

"Buffy? Kitten, what's wrong?"

Buffy didn't look up when Spike came back to the motel room and stopped in the doorway of the bathroom. She couldn't look into his eyes. They were always so full of emotion—so human—that they made it hard for her to remember she was looking at a monster.

Spike came into the bathroom, kneeling beside her. "I felt you through the claim. You're upset."

Buffy kept her eyes trained on the linoleum floor. "Get away from me."

Spike sighed. "So it's back to this then, is it? Come on, luv. You and I both know you never get very far with this." He reached out to stroke her hair.

Buffy jerked back, scrambling to get away from him. "Don't touch me! You've still got his blood on you!"

"You know where I was then," Spike said, figuring out the reason for Buffy's behavior now. "I've got to feed, Buffy. Besides, it wasn't like it was anyone special—just the motel clerk."

Buffy looked up then, flinching as she saw his face. He was so handsome, but she had to make herself remember that it wasn't real—just the disguise of a man who had been dead for over a century. This face she saw now wasn't the same as the last face the motel clerk had seen before he'd died. "That doesn't matter! He was a person! He…he could've had a family, people who loved him. Did you even think about that?"

"What does it matter? Do you think a lion wonders if a gazelle has a family before he has it for dinner? It's the sodding food chain, Buffy—and I'm higher up than he was."

"It's not the same!" Buffy replied. "This isn't the Discover Channel. You're murdering people! It's wrong!"

"I'm a vampire! I kill, I feed. It's what I do. You bloody well get used to it."

Buffy rose to her feet. "No. I could never get used to that. I won't…I won't live with a killer." She tried to leave the bathroom, but Spike grabbed her, pinning her against the wall.

"You don't have a choice," he told her, his voice low. "You're my mate—mine. You don't have any say in how your life is run from now on. I've been more lenient than I should've been already, but that can change real quick. You know that free will you're so fond of? I could take that away in an instant, force you to be my willing slave all the time. You want that?"

"No," Buffy said, her head turned to the side.

Spike shook her, hitting her back against the wall. "Look at me when you say it."

Buffy brought her face around to meet his, her eyes narrowed even as tears glistened in them. "No."

"Then you get yourself dressed right now so we can get out of here. Anymore backtalk from you, and your free will is gone—got it?"

"Yes."

Spike let go of Buffy's arms and she slumped back down to the floor. "Don't dawdle. We didn't get nearly as far as I wanted to last night."

Buffy got off the floor, going into the bedroom to find her clothes.

*** *** ***

When Spike saw that Buffy had put that horrible pink sweatshirt back on, he knew he should order her to take it off and leave it behind. It was an obvious act of defiance, and he should curb those before they got any further out of hand. However, her distress was clear through the claim, and if the sweatshirt made her feel better, she could wear it—he'd just have to make certain that that was where her defiant behavior ended.

Spike picked Buffy bags up off the table, then pointed towards the door. "Go to the car."

Buffy gave him a glare before she started to turn around. Spike moved before she could get very far, grabbing her arm and pulling her against him so he could speak into her ear. "Give me that look again and I smack it right off your face. Are we clear?"

"Crystal," Buffy ground out.

"Good." Spike let go of her, pushing her forward as he did. Buffy stumbled for only a second before regaining her poise and walking to the DeSoto.

She waited for Spike to come unlock the car door, her arms wrapped defensively across her chest. Her gaze traveled unbidden to the motel office, a lump growing in her throat as she thought about what was in there. A dead body—a man murdered by the evil thing she was traveling with.

She wanted to run, to keep going until she found herself back in her life again. But she knew he'd catch her, and then he'd take away her free will for sure, just like he said he would back in the bathroom. She was trapped, forced to spend the rest of her life with a vampire.

Spike came over to her side of the car first, unlocking the door and holding it open for her as he really were her boyfriend and not her captor. She slid into the seat, shuttering as the door slammed behind her. She didn't look at Spike as he got into the car, staring instead at the black of the painted windshield. She was trapped, unable to even see the outside.

"Are you hungry?" he asked her. "I can stop somewhere for you."

"I ate when you were asleep," Buffy replied, her eyes still facing straight ahead.

"That couldn't have been a real meal, pet. Will you be all right with more fast food for now?"

Buffy hated this the most—when he pretended to actually care. She didn't know why he bothered, what he could possibly gain from the act. "I'm not hungry."

"You've got to be hungry."

"I don't want anything from you. I'd rather starve."

Spike's only response was to start the car and tear out of the parking lot. He pulled into a fast food restaurant across the street, ignoring Buffy's protests as he went into the drive-thru and ordered her dinner.

Once he had the food, Spike thrust it at her. "Eat."

"No."

"Either you eat or I make you eat—that's the only choice you're getting."

Buffy snatched the bag from him, not wanting Spike to take away what little bit of herself she had left. She ate quickly, silently cursing him as she did. If she couldn't fight against him, at least she could hate him.

Spike didn't turn on any music this time, and Buffy found the silence to be even worse. With no sound and no view beyond that of the car's interior, she felt confined, trapped in a box—or a coffin.

"Where are we?" Buffy asked suddenly, unable to stand it anymore.

"It's none of your business," Spike replied without looking at her.

"Knowing where I am isn't any of my business?"

"No, it isn't."

"Where are we going then?"

"That's none of your business either."

"Yes it is! I deserve to know where you're taking me!"

"The only thing that matters for you is that you're with your mate. Anything beyond that is inconsequential."

"No, that isn't all that matters! I don't even want to be with you at all. I wish I'd never met you."

Spike's body stiffened. "The feeling's more than mutual."

"Guess that can be the one thing we agree on," Buffy muttered, her eyes trained again on the black painted windows.

"You know, I don't know what your bloody problem is. I didn't kill your mum, so you can stop blaming me for that. And it's not like you've got things so bad. You're my mate, so I have to make sure you're taken care of."

"I don't want you taking care of me. And my problem is that I'm the prisoner of a vampire. That doesn't exactly fill me with warm fuzzies when I think about it."

"A prisoner?" Spike repeated, scoffing. "You are not a prisoner."

"What am I then? It's not like I can leave you now."

"Not anymore than I can leave you! We're connected now, Buffy—you to me and me to you. Even if we went our separate ways the claim would pull us back together. We need each other now."

"You're the last thing I need."

"You need me now like you need to breathe, baby. You can try fighting it all you want, but it won't do you a damn bit of good. I'm in your system, in your blood."

"I'm stronger than some stupid claim," Buffy protested. "I'll learn how to fight it eventually."

Spike laughed, earning him a glare from his mate. "Nothing's stronger than a claim, ducks. Not even the most powerful magic in the world can break one. Believe me, if getting out of this was an option, then we already would've gone our separate ways. I'm not any more thrilled about the whole thing than you are."

"You got the better end of the deal," Buffy replied.

"Why, because I get to spend so much time around your precious self? Hardly. You've been nothing but trouble for me since the start, princess."

"Better than being stuck with you. You're evil!"

"And from my point of view, you not being evil is as much of a problem," Spike pointed out. "An evil mate wouldn't whine at me for feeding."

"I am not whining! You killed a man, and that's wrong. Murder is wrong, and it's never going to something I'm okay with."

"Well, you're just going to have to be!" Spike yelled, slamming one hand against the dashboard and making Buffy jump. "This isn't a negotiable topic. I wouldn't change my feeding habits to please anyone, especially you."

Buffy said nothing in response, knowing this conversation was getting her nowhere she wanted to be. She knew the only way to ensure a vampire stopped feeding was by making it dust, and that was not something she was capable of doing when it came to Spike. She was forced to spend the rest of her life letting people be murdered—as she experienced it right along side the killer. It was a horror she wasn't sure she could face.

Buffy curled up in the passenger's seat of the oversized car, staring at the black, empty windows.

*** *** ***

Buffy had fallen asleep by the time they reached the next motel, and while Spike carried her in as he had the night before, this time he merely dumped her unceremoniously on the bed before backing away.

The girl was doing something to him. He wouldn't dare admit it to her, but as the effects of the claim were far from one-sided, there was nothing the claim did to her that didn't have the reciprocal effect on him.

He hadn't quite relished the kill tonight, not the way he normally did. He'd tried to tell himself it was because a middle-aged, overweight motel clerk wasn't exactly the tasty morsel say a ripe, young virgin was, but he knew in all honesty that it wasn't just that that left the bad taste in his mouth. He'd felt her distress over the claim and it had tugged at him, making him hurt because she was hurting. If that happened every time he fed…

Spike shook his head, denying where that train of thought seemed to be heading. Buffy would get used to things eventually. She'd have to start realizing the way things were and come to accept them. He couldn't stop feeding, and she'd come to live with that in time.

Sensing the sun coming up over the horizon, Spike stripped off his duster, shirt, and bootsand got into the bed.

*** *** ***
 

Chapter 14:

Buffy opened her eyes slowly, finding herself in yet another motel room. These cheap rooms all looked the same and had already begun to blur together in her mind, making it even harder for her to get a firm sense of where she was. She had thought the few trees she'd noticed in the little time she'd spent outside had indicated that they had gone north, but she didn't know if they had stayed in that direction or, if they had, how far they'd gotten. She knew there were possibly clues in the room to their location—perhaps a phone book—but she was too nervous to look. Spike had told her it wasn't important for her to know where they were, and what if he was really serious about her not knowing? If he caught her trying to find out, would he do what he'd warned her of the night before and take away her free will? Buffy shuddered at the thought. That was the one thing she knew would make this all even more unbearable.

Spike was sleeping beside her in the bed, but he had not moved close to her in the night like he normally did. He was almost to the other edge of the bed, his limbs kept in check instead of his usual sprawling. He'd taken off his boots and shirt, though his jeans were still on, and the sight made Buffy feel a momentary pang as she decided he had most likely done so to keep his distance from her. She missed the feeling of waking up with him curled around her, his body warmed by the heat he'd taken from her in the night.

No…she didn't miss that. Not at all. She had to remind herself of that, shaking away her first, traitorous thoughts that she knew must've been pushed into her mind by the claim. Spike keeping his distance as they slept was good, second only to him deciding he'd much rather sleep in the now-sunny parking lot.

Because he was a vampire, and for that she did want him dust. She did. It didn't matter if the claim told her otherwise.

Buffy's eyes trailed over Spike's still form, a lump in her throat. He was on his back, his hands clasped over his abdomen, and he looked like nothing more than a corpse. He made no movements, his chest still, and she shuddered. The demon was sleeping, leaving nothing for her to see but the dead body of the man it had taken over.

Her mother's Watcher, Harold, had always made one thing abundantly clear to her—vampires were not the people they had been before death. Those people were gone, killed the moment their souls left their bodies. Vampires retained the memories of the person, yes, but they were nothing but demons. It was a cruel treachery that allowed vampires to blend in with the humans they made their prey.

Buffy would not fall victim to the ruse. This creature she saw now was not a man at all, but a monster. He took the lives of others for his own pleasure. Whatever man the vampire's body had belonged to in life was long gone.

Her thoughts traveled unbidden to what sort of man he had been. Had he been cruel like the vampire, or had he been someone good, someone innocent, who had merely become a victim?

Buffy had never given much thought to such a topic before. There was no reason to think about the humans vampires had once been—the only thing that mattered was that their bodies would now become dust, doing away with the demon that inhabited them.

But what had he been like? She had found what information she could on Spike when she'd thought he was her mother's killer, but anything on the man that came before the vampire was sparse at best. She hadn't even been able to pinpoint an exact date of turning, since his age varied from text to text, as did the name of his sire. Some texts attributed his siring to Angelus, while others cited that Angelus was his grandsire and it was Drusilla who was in fact his actual sire. His age posed even more of a problem as almost every text gave a different date, ranging from the mid 1700's to the late 1800's. They did tend to agree on one thing, however—his name had been William.

William. He was a man whose body she had touched many times, though she would never get the chance to know him. The thought disturbed her slightly, reminding her as the sight of him so still now did, that her lover was essentially a dead man.

Buffy stopped her train of thought right there. Lover? No, he wasn't that. She wouldn't think of him as that—she would never think of him as that. What he'd done to her, this claim, had been done against her will. It had twisted her, made her want things she never would've wanted under normal circumstances.

Buffy wanted to forget what she'd felt when he'd fed the night before, but she wouldn't allow herself such an escape. She needed that reminder of what he really was. He wasn't a man. He wasn't William. He was Spike. A cold-blooded killer. A monster. He didn't have the capacity to be anything else. After all, a soul was what allowed you to care, what allowed you to feel, and he was without one.

She cast one last glance at the vampire before getting out of bed. She gathered some clothes together and headed to the bathroom to shower, hoping it would make her feel better.

It didn't. She was physically cleaner, but that's where it ended. She was still trapped here, still at the mercy of a vampire. Buffy sat down in a sparsely-padded wooden chair, staring at the closed curtains. She missed the sun, missed being outside and letting the warmth wash over her. She wondered if she'd ever get to feel that again. Spike had been very clear when she'd left to call Giles that she wasn't to go outside in the day where he couldn't get to her, and with Spike around she couldn't as much as open the curtains to even see the daylight.

Buffy had made the dark her home in her quest to avenge her mother's death, but it wasn't at all she wanted, wasn't where she felt the happiest. Back when she was living with Howard, there had been a balcony connected to their apartment that he'd kept covered in potted flowers. It had become her haven, her own little garden where she'd spent long hours, just enjoying the peace and tranquility. Did being Spike's mate mean she had to give that up completely, living instead in dank motel rooms and dark alleys?

Longing welled up inside her at the very thought. She knew now exactly where she was—hell. She was suffering, stripped of her choices and her freedom, forced to hide in the dark with a monster who would make her live through his evil deeds over and over again until it broke her.

And it would break her. Buffy was certain of that. What she had experienced the night before when Spike had murdered the motel clerk still shook her, the memory of it screaming inside of her, her mind and soul still assaulted in its wake as they had been in the moment. The thought of it was something almost tangible, made more vivid from being experienced through his vampiric senses, bringing with them an intensity she had never known before.

The feelings rose inside of her like bile and broke the surface as sobs. Her breaths came in gulps between the tears, her body shaking.

Suddenly, Spike's arms were around her, lifting her from the chair and brining her to the edge of the bed where he could hold her in his lap, stroking her hair as he whispered gentle words against the golden strands. His comfort both calmed and repulsed her at once, her body reacting to the closeness of her mate, while her mind railed at the horror of his touch bringing her any amount of peace.

"I'm crying because of you," Buffy told him finally as her tears slowed.

"I know," Spike admitted, his voice holding a tone of regret that Buffy didn't want to hear.

"Then you should know I don't want any comfort from you. It doesn't help."

"You're not crying as hard," Spike pointed out. "Besides, I can't feel that sort of pain in you, kitten, and not do anything to try to make it better." He gave her a smile that would've tugged at her heart had Buffy let it. Instead, she turned her eyes away from him, not wanting to look at his face. It was too expressive, too human, too much.

Spike tucked a lock of her hair behind her ear before brushing his hand down her cheek, wiping away the tears he found there. "It'll get better, pet. You're just adjusting, is all."

Buffy got off his lap them, pushing on his chest hard enough to make him struggle for a moment to remain upright. "No, it will not get better. Why can't you understand that? I'm not like you. I have a soul. I have feelings."

"Hey now, wait a minute," Spike snapped. "I've got feelings, too, Buffy. Don't think just because I don't have a sodding soul I don't care about anything. I can feel, same as you."

"No. No you can't. You're a monster, Spike. You don't feel anything at all."

Spike jumped up, grabbing her by the arms. He opened himself to her completely through the claim, making her gasp. "Tell me, what's this, hmm?" When Buffy didn't answer, he shook her. "Tell me!"

"An…anger," Buffy said, her voice cracking.

"Yeah, anger. My anger. I feel things, Buffy. Don't try to fool yourself into thinking otherwise," Spike replied, his voice a snarl.

Buffy's eyes narrowed then, her head rising. "That doesn't mean anything. It's just anger. You're incapable of feeling anything good. You can't love, you can't care about anyone or anything."

Spike tisked. "Doesn't work that way, ducks. Hate, love—both sides of the same coin. Can't have one without the other."

"You're wrong."

"You so sure about that?" Spike threw her on to the bed, kissing her hard until she stopped struggling and gave in. When she began moving beneath him, moaning into his mouth, Spike pushed himself up on his arms. "Do you hate me, Buffy?"

Her mouth fell open for a moment as she realized how she had reacted to him, then her expression turned cold. "Yes. I've never hated anyone more than I hate you, Spike."

Her response only made him give her a cocky grin. "And yet here you are, kissing me."

"This isn't love," Buffy snapped.

"No, but I'd wager it's moved a little past hate, too, what with that flush on your face and that delicious wetness I can smell in your panties right now."

"Ugh!" Buffy exclaimed, pushing him off of her and getting to her feet. She wiped her mouth roughly with the back of her hand. "You're sick," she spat at him.

Spike chuckled as he sat up. "Am I, luv? You're the one who gets off from the touch of a 'monster.' What does that say about you, hmm? You said last night that you could never get used to me feeding, yet there you were, writing under me like a bitch in heat. You like getting fucked by a killer—so who here's the one who's really sick?"

Buffy gasped, looking as if she'd been slapped. "No. No. You…you make me react like that. I don't want you!"

"You can say that as many times as you want—it's never gonna make it true."

Buffy couldn't take this anymore. She couldn't stand here and listen to what he was saying to her, couldn't look at that knowing smirk on his face. So she did the only thing she could do—she ran. Towards the door, towards the sunlight where she'd be safe from him.

She didn't make it. Buffy had barely gotten three feet away when the sharp bark of his voice stopped her in her tracks, the pull in the command too much for her to ignore. "Stop!"

Panic washed over as felt him come up behind her, pushing his body against her back. He caressed her through her clothes, and Buffy trembled, her knees threatening to buckle. Her mind rebelled, but her body… She felt like she was on fire, her skin itching in desperation.

This was it… Realization hit her hard and she wanted to scream, though her own body wouldn't allow it. He'd done what he'd warned her he would do—he'd taken her free will.

Spike leaned in, his mouth against her ear. "Take off your clothes for me, pet. Show me your gorgeous tits and that ripe, wet little cunt."

His words made her shiver, and not in the revulsion she wanted it to be. Her hands moved without her thoughts, quickly complying with his request. Soon, Spike was pulling her nude body against him, letting her feel his denim-clad erection. He nibbled at the marks he'd left on her neck, making the tingling she felt in them in them increase. "Lie down on the bed and spread your legs for me," he murmured against her skin. "Let me see it all."

Buffy walked shakily to the bed, complying with his request without hesitation. Spike stood and watched her, smirking as he did. She trembled as she looked at him through hooded eyelids. The fire between her legs was more than she could handle, her desperation overriding the last of her thoughts. Why wasn't he here, why wasn't he making her feel better?

"Touch yourself."

Buffy moaned in fevered desire as her hand went between her legs, her fingers glazing over her dripping pussy. She bucked her hips, her body screaming for release.

"More than that. Rub you clit, Buffy. Make yourself come."

She responded immediately to his command, finding the swollen nubbin and massaging it roughly. She arched against her own hand, vocalizing her pleasure as she did.

"Pinch your nipples with the other hand."

Buffy did, going between the right and the left. Spike watched, never moving towards her, his arms crossed over his chest. "Pinch them harder. I want to hear you scream."

She tweaked her left nipple cruelly, letting out a hoarse cry as she did. Her hips were moving frantically now, the only thought in her mind just how badly she needed to…

"Come."

Buffy wailed as pleasure crashed over her, her mind shutting down completely as she rode the waves of her orgasm. Finally, she slumped, her hands falling to her sides as she panted heavily.

Then, Spike pulled himself back from the claim again, letting her thoughts clear. She gasped in horror as she sat up, scrambling to pull the blankets around her. Spike chuckled, watching her with a smug expression.

Buffy's eyes narrowed. "How dare you do that to me?"

"Oh, don't act so bloody self-righteous," Spike replied. "I know you liked it."

"I…I…you made me do that!" Buffy yelled.

Spike moved then, coming to the bedside and grabbing her hard around the arm. "You tried to run outside. I already told you not to do that, Buffy—and I told you what will happen if you continue to disobey me. From you behavior, I thought perhaps you didn't believe me when I told you I could take away your free will. Now you do."

Buffy trembled. Yes, she did believe him, and it terrified her. She looked down.

"Lesson learned then," Spike said. "I'm going to take a shower. If you're not still in that spot when I get back, you'll be very sorry."

Spike left Buffy alone then, the bathroom door shutting between them. She stared forward, her eyes going wide as she caught her own reflection in the mirror across from the bed. What she saw there disgusted her, but she kept her eyes ahead, unable to turn away.

*** *** ***
 

Chapter 15:

Spike stood in the shower, his hands braced against the wall. It had been all he could manage to keep from touching Buffy himself, and then it had been even more difficult to walk away. But he'd had to. The moment he'd slid inside her, he would've lost all control, the feel of her always enough to push him over the edge.

He moved one hand from the wall to his aching cock, desperate for some release. His body screamed for his mate, but he'd have to make do with this now. Buffy would stop this insane denial of hers soon enough, give into the inevitable the way he had, and then he could have her anytime he wanted.

He came quickly with a strangled cry, the release enough to ease his physical tension, but not his mind. Buffy's anxiety was screaming at him through the claim, and Spike grimaced at the stab of guilt feeling that gave him. She was distraught, and it pained him.

She did, however, fully believe that he was capable of stripping her of her free will, and for that Spike was slightly grateful, even though the relief he felt there was tainted. He had hoped that threatening her with making her no more than his puppet would've been enough, but as she continued to try him, he knew he was going to have to take more drastic measures. He had thought quickly, taking a gamble, and it seemed to have paid off. Spike only hoped she didn't push him any further, didn't call him on his bluff and make him lose what little power he did have over her.

Since he had been the one to initiate the claim, Spike did have the upper hand in the relationship, being able to control Buffy physically though his mark—to a point. He could influence her movements for a short while, using what was essentially an altered version of the vampiric thrall. But as far as stripping Buffy of her free will, he could no more do that than he could style his hair in the mirror after he finished his shower. What was important is that she believed that he could.

The stunt he'd just pulled back in the bedroom had been a huge risk, but one he had been certain he would come out on top in taking, if Buffy reacted the way she normally did—which she had. She was still refusing to believe that anything she felt for him was coming from her naturally, that she felt anything except what he was apparently "making" her feel. He'd tried to explain to her otherwise, but she hadn't listened, so he'd decided instead to use her stubbornness to his advantage.

The desire he felt for her combined with his to increase its strength, sure, but were she to feel no desire for him at all, then it wouldn't matter how much lust was coming from his side. Buffy wanted him just as badly as he wanted her. Granted, his deeper understanding of the claim allowed him greater ease in filtering some of the effects, giving him the ability to push down a portion of the overwhelming emotions that surged between them, but it was still difficult and something else he couldn't hold on to for a long period of time.

He had stopped actually controlling her shortly after ordering her to stop going towards the door, relying instead on her to act under her own desire, but to place the blame for it on him in her on-going struggle to deny her own feelings. It seemed that she'd rather believe she had no free will than to accept that she wanted him, that his words and his touch had made her burn with need in mere moments.

She also didn't seem to realize just how much power she had over him, for which Spike was grateful. She could crumble him with just a look. And her touch…

While claims had once been the norm for vampires, they had fallen to the wayside in recent centuries, more modern vampires resenting the ties to someone else that a claim created. Taking a mate meant losing a degree of one's own freedom, and that was something newer vampires detested, no longer being the social creatures they had once been. Nests had once been formed for something other than protection and easier hunting, or at least Spike had been told.

While Angelus had spoken of claims with disgust, they had always intrigued Spike. He had longed for a connection that deep even in his human days, and that desire had strengthened with his turning, not weakened. He had wanted for quite some time to claim Drusilla, but her status as his sire had not allowed him to do so, since he wore her mark, not the other way around. He was subordinate to her; therefore, she would have to be the one to initiate the claim, and Spike had eventually accepted that this was something Drusilla would never do. He had given very little thought to claims since then, until Buffy Summers had slammed into his life, turning everything on its head.

Spike still wasn't sure why he'd made the move to claim Buffy, only that he had seemingly acted on instinct in doing so. Seeing her in the grasp of Angelus had set him off, but he feared now that there had been more to it than a need not to lose another woman to his grandsire. The connection he'd felt with Buffy had been instantaneous, something inside of her calling to him even when she'd stood with a crossbow pointed at him. He'd craved her before the claim and now…

She was consuming him. She was all passion and fire his mate, possessing a strength that seemed almost out of place in a seventeen-year-old girl. She shook him to the very core, making him feel in a short time things Drusilla hadn't in a century. It was as frightening as it was alluring.

But it was the frightening part that had him worried. Something had happened last night, and it was still there, like a piece of her inside of him, taking hold and making him face things he never should have to. He felt a niggling sense of guilt over what he'd done, not only for how he'd tricked her in the bedroom in order to make her submit, but also for what his feeding had done to her as well. Guilt wasn't something he should be feeling. It wasn't something he should be concerned about without a soul.

A thought entered Spike's mind then that he didn't even want to entertain. He knew that mating bonds between humans and vampires were rare, and while he'd believed it was simply because the circumstances needed to facilitate such a pairing were not ones that could easily be accomplished, he had heard rumors that claiming a human without turning them had been known to drive vampires insane. Since he'd never seen evidence of this, he'd written it off as an old wives' tale. However now that he was experiencing a vampire/human claim firsthand, his knowledge of them had certainly grown and he couldn't help but wonder…

A mutual mating claim like the one he'd formed with Buffy was the strongest form of demon bond, something that could not only never be broken, but also served to merge the mates together, shaping them into two halves of a whole. They experienced everything together, shared everything. Did that mean he would now share her…

No. Spike cut that thought short right there because it was utterly ridiculous. He wouldn't even think the vile word. What he was feeling probably wasn't really guilt anyway, just a desire to protect his mate mixed with her feelings about the whole thing. He had to make her accept who and what he was, and what that meant for her now, and then it would all go away. He didn't like being cruel to her, but it seemed to be the only way he could get anywhere with her, and he would do what he needed to make sure she understood her place. This was a transition period for both of them, and while he'd come to accept that it was Buffy and not Drusilla who would remain by his side now, she would come to accept that as a vampire, he would have to feed.

Spike turned off the water, stepping out of the shower and toweling off. He eyed his jeans where he'd wadded them on the counter and decided to slip them back on, knowing he needed a physical barrier between himself and Buffy. It had been over a day since he'd had her last, but he knew it wouldn't be a good idea to remedy that while she was still being so defiant. Being with her made him lose all control and he couldn't afford to do that when so much rested on her believing he could always be in control.

He was pleased to see when he left the bathroom that she'd stayed on the bed like he'd told her to, even if she did look miserable about it. Spike sat on the edge of the bed and turned towards her. "Are you hungry, pet? We can't go anywhere right now, but you could order something if you'd like. A pizza?"

Buffy glared at him. "Stop acting like you care," she said through gritted teeth.

"I care what happens to you, Buffy," Spike said with a sigh. "You're my mate, and it's my place to take care of you."

"No it isn't," Buffy replied. "And you don't care. All you want to do is hurt me."

"That isn't true," Spike insisted.

"Wait, sorry. Hurt me and fuck me. Although with you it's the same thing anyway," Buffy said, her expression cold.

Spike actually started a little at that before his face fell back into the cocky mask he wore. "Come on now, pet, don't try to lie to me like that. Those screams of yours—they're all from pleasure."

"Only in your sick mind."

Spike used what little self-control he had to hold back, stop himself from proving to her just how much in pleasure those screams were. He could tell that she wasn't as in control of herself as her expression and body language would suggest, and he couldn't slip any now, not when he had worked so hard to get this far with her. He had to wait until she gave in, until she realized there was no point in fighting and finally submitted to her mate. It would happen soon, Spike was sure.

So for now, he'd play her game, just see to it that he had the upper hand. He stretched his arms above his head, fighting the grin that threatened to spread across his face at the way her eyes darted to his bare chest as he did, her little pink tongue poking out to wet her lips. "Right then. Not a scream of pleasure in the bunch. Wonder what's on the telly." He got up and took the remote control from the top of the television before flopping back on the bed, resting against the headboard with his feet stretched out in front of him. "Oooh, haven't caught this show in awhile," he said, stopping on a channel.

Buffy's mouth fell open. He wasn't even going to try to seduce her? First he'd rather have her touch herself than do it himself and now he was completely ignoring the fact that she was in the bed and quite naked beneath the covers. Not that she wasn't grateful, she quickly added to herself. She didn't want to have sex with him anyway. She was just…insulted. Yes, that was it. Who did he think he was, ignoring her to watch… She frowned. "Is this a soap opera?"

"Passions," Spike replied without looking at her. "Bloody great show, it is."

Buffy crossed her arms over her chest, glaring at him. How dare he be more interested in crappy daytime television show than he was in her? Especially after all he'd put her through. With a sound of disgust, she got out of the bed, snatching her clothes off the floor and putting them on angrily.

Spike watched her from the corner of his eye, fighting back the giddy laughter that threatened to rise to the surface. This had gone even better than he could've imagined. He could feel her fuming through the claim, his decision to pass her over in order to watch television infuriating her and wounding her womanly pride. Yeah, sure, she didn't want him. And he was next in line for the papacy…

Buffy sat down in the chair, her face turned from him and her nose in the air was she pointedly ignored him. Spike smirked slightly as he settled in to catch up on Alistair Crane's latest dastardly plot.

Oh yeah, she'd give in to him in no time at all…

*** *** ***

Buffy watched Spike as he laced up his boots. The sun had just gone down, and she had no doubt in her mind as to what he was doing. He was going to feed, and she was going to have to live through it all over again. Just the thought of it made her want to scream, and she didn't know how she'd bear it anymore.

"Please, don't. I'll…I'll let you feed from me. However much you need, you can take it all, I don't care, just please…don't do this."

Spike looked up, the desperate look in her eyes making him wish he hadn't. The sight of her made his unbeating heart clench, and for a moment, he almost gave in to her demands. But he couldn't. He'd considered holding off from feeding for the night to give her a little reprieve, but he decided that it was best to just keep his habits regular so she could get accustomed to it. It was bound to get easier for both of them as soon as she accepted it, and the sooner that happened, the better.

"I won't be gone long, kitten," he said, his tone gentle. "Then we'll head out, go someplace else."

Buffy jumped up from her chair, going to him and kneeling in front of him. She pushed her hair out of the way as she tilted her neck, offering herself to him. "Here. Just take this. I'm…I'm young, and it's warm and fresh. It has to be better than eating anyone else around here. Please, Spike. I want you to. I want…" She paused, swallowing before she said the next words. "I want to feel your fangs inside me."

His demon threatened to burst forward at that, but he shook it off. Buffy was right when she said her blood would be better than any other he'd find tonight, but feeding from her wouldn't allow him to accomplish what he needed to accomplish. "Maybe later, baby," he said, running a cool finger down her exposed neck before standing up, grabbing his duster from where it was slung over the table. "Wait here for me."

Buffy rose to her feet. "You monster!" she screamed. "I hate you! I wish you were dust!"

Spike turned on her, his eyes cold. "Listen here, you bloody little bint. I'm going out to feed now, and you're going to sodding deal with it. I showed you earlier what I can do to you. Do you really want to push me?"

Buffy shrunk back from him. "No."

"Good. Now stay here and wait for me." Spike turned on his heel, slamming the motel door behind him.

Buffy paced the room as she felt Spike begin his hunt, the bloodlust coursing through him reverberating in her. She let out a choked sob when he found his prey, experiencing the kill through him. She gasped for breath, her heart seeming to twist in her chest. It was even worse this time than it had been before, her mind and body fully awake now, and she also possessed the clear knowledge she had from the start of exactly what she was experiencing. She opened her mouth to scream but it came out as a sob, every bit of her in anguish as she stood there and did nothing as another person died.

She couldn't take this. It was too much to handle, and she had to get away, had to find someplace where she could breathe again. If she could just find a place where this hold of his was no longer on her, she could think clearly again, she could find a way to survive.

Without any thoughts towards the consequences, only knowing she couldn't be there anymore, Buffy ran.

*** *** ***

 

Chapter 16:

Buffy ran as fast as she could through the woods that lay behind the motel, heedless of anything she might find out there. Her only thought was to get away, to escape from Spike and what he was doing—what he wouldn't stop doing. She had to…

Suddenly, her knees buckled and she fell to the ground, her entire body now aching in a way she'd never known before. She felt herself slammed with a pain that was soul-deep, bringing tears to her eyes as it made her want to sob in anguish. Something inside of her was screaming that she turn around, go back to her mate. She needed him, needed to touch him, needed to feel him.

Buffy shook her head in a vain attempt to clear her mind and regain control of herself, crying out in desperation when she could not. He was doing something to her, he had to be, controlling her again. She had to fight it, had to get far enough away that he didn't have an influence on her anymore. She tried to stand, but her legs wouldn't let her, so she used every bit of strength she had remaining in her to crawl, struggling to make her way across the dirt.

She could feel Spike approaching, the tingles in her neck from his presence growing stronger by the second. She whimpered as she kept fighting, knowing it was a losing battle but not willing to give up all the same. Then he was there, snatching her up and holding her so her feet were dangling above the ground, his hands like vices around her biceps. The fury he was feeling was written clearly on his face as well as assaulting her through the claim, and inside of her, terror warred with the relief she felt from being back with her mate again.

"I told you to stay put!" Spike roared, throwing her back to the ground. Buffy cowered at his feet as his demon face fell into place and she found herself at the mercy of an enraged master vampire. "When are you going to learn to listen, girl? What am I going to have to do, beat you into bloody submission?"

Buffy gasped at that. He wouldn't…would he? "I…I couldn't take it…I felt you and…"

"Shut up!" Spike roared. "I've had just about enough of this from you." He snatched her up again by her arm, making his way back to the motel parking lot as he practically dragged her behind him, ignoring every time she tripped. He stopped when they reached his car, but he kept a bruising grip on her arm as he got his keys from his duster pocket and opened the DeSoto's trunk.

"What…what are you going to do to me?" Buffy asked, her fear rising to near panic levels. All she could feel from Spike through the claim was blinding anger, and she knew she had pushed him too far.

"I'm going to make sure you stay where you're told," Spike replied, pulling something from the trunk.

Buffy gasped when she saw what it was—rope. "Please, no. I'll…I'll stay and I'll be quiet, just don't…"

"Shut up!" Spike yelled at her again. "Another word from you, and I break your jaw."

Buffy closed her mouth tightly, though the occasional whimper still escaped as her body shook in fear. Spike handled her roughly as he bound her hands and feet together, pulling the ropes almost tight enough to cut off her circulation but not quite. When he was through, he lifted her up and threw her into the trunk, slamming it shut with her trapped inside. Her panic grew, and she struggled helplessly in her bonds, gasping for air. How long would he leave her in there? Would she suffocate? Hot tears ran down her cheeks, and she fought the urge to throw up.

She heard the engine start and felt the car begin to move a few moments later. Buffy struggled to calm herself, knowing that she would get nowhere by losing control. Spike had to let her out eventually—didn't he? Surely if he was going to kill her, this wouldn't be the way he'd do it.

And if this was what her life was to be from now on, would death even be so bad?

Resigning herself to whatever the night brought, Buffy stopped her struggling and lay still in the trunk.

*** *** ***

At some point, Buffy had managed to doze off, and she didn't know how much time passed before she felt the car come to a stop. The engine turned off and she waited until she heard the door open and close, followed by Spike's footsteps and the jingling of his keys. Silence fell again and Buffy wondered if maybe he planned to leave her out there for the day when she heard him coming back and the trunk opened.

Spike didn't look at her as he hauled her out, throwing her over his shoulder as he walked to what would be their motel room for the night. He unlocked the door and strode inside, opening the closet and throwing her in, not seeming to even notice when her head hit the wall. Without a word, he shut her in, and Buffy felt tears spring to her eyes.

Her skin was chaffed from the ropes, her arms and legs sore from being stuck in one position so long, and now her heard ached, too, from where it had connected with the wall. But even on top of all of that, she felt empty inside, Spike's coldness towards her hurting in a way no physical blow ever could.

It was overwhelming. She knew now she really couldn't get away from him. She wanted it to have been him that made her stop in the woods, but somehow she knew it wasn't. He'd given her no order either verbally or through the claim. It had been her who had stopped herself, her own body rebelling against her and refusing to put too much distance between her and her mate. Spike had told her before that they couldn't be apart, and now she knew it was true. She was bound to him.

Outside the closet, Spike lay on the bed, his mind in turmoil. Buffy was in pain both physically and emotionally, and it tore at him. He hated himself for what he'd done to her tonight, experiencing through her just how much his actions had wounded her. Still, he fought to hold back, telling himself over and over that he had to do this, that he had to make her submit to him and accept the way things were going to be for her from now on.

His resolve lasted only as long as it took for the sound of her tears to reach him. In an instant, he was on his feet, going to the closet and throwing open the door. Buffy looked up at him in fear, scooting back from him as best she could. "I'm sorry, Spike. Please…please don't hurt me. I can't anymore take anymore tonight, please…"

The sight of her now completely broke him. She was scared of him. He hadn't really wanted that, not like this anyway. He wanted her afraid to disobey him, but not for her to beg him not to hurt her anymore… Never before had such a sound been so displeasing to him. He lifted her up and she trembled, driving Spike to hold her close for a moment, whispering softly to her. "It's okay now, pet. I've got you. It's going to be okay."

She calmed slightly at his words, and Spike brought her over to the bed, untying her and dropping the ropes to the ground. He massaged her wrists, wincing at the dark red marks that showed where the ropes had been. Compelled to find a way to make it better, he leaned in, kissing the rope burns. Buffy sighed, her body relaxing now and her mind shutting down, allowing her a reprieve from the horror of the evening.

"Gonna make it all better now, pet," Spike promised her, guiding her to lie down on the bed before covering her small body with his own. He kissed her cheeks, tasting the salt of her tears before pulling up, looking into her eyes. "Do you want me, Buffy?"

She nodded, unable to speak. She did want him, god, she did. She'd tried to run and she couldn't—there was nothing she could do anymore. He had really and truly claimed her, conquered her and made her his own. She didn't have the strength left to fight it anymore.

He smiled at her admission, leaning down again to kiss her, belying a tenderness now with her that he'd never really had before. This time it wasn't about dominance between them. It was about submission.

Spike's hands caressed her body, soothing away her aches. She arched into his touch, begging him without words for more. He didn't tease her, didn't make her wait. Instead, he removed her clothes then his own, allowing them to touch skin to skin. Buffy sighed in contentment, running her hands across his back.

"This is how it can be between us, pet," Spike whispered before gently nipping her ear. "Don't you want this?"

"Yes," she said, further giving in to him. "I want this. I want…I want what you make me feel."

Spike smiled at her again, glad to know that this suffering tonight hadn't been for nothing. Buffy had finally realized where her place was with him, and things could be all right now. No more of this senseless fighting, constantly feeling like he was hitting a brick wall with her. "Tell me what you need from me right now, baby," he said, his voice a husky purr. "My hands, my mouth…whatever you want, it's yours."

"You," Buffy said. "I want you…in…" She blushed slightly, adverting her eyes as she whispered the last word. "Inside."

Spike's heart leapt, and for a second he could've sworn it was beating again. He hooked her legs around his hips before positioning himself at her entrance, hissing at the warmth that was already assaulting him. Never in his existence had he felt heat like Buffy's. He said she was fire, and here was his proof.

He waited until she turned and met his eyes before sliding all the way inside, the pair gasping in unison as he did. Buffy felt Spike reach towards her with the claim, tentatively this time, asking for the connection. She didn't refuse him, and the link between them grew, wrapping around them, biding them. Their bodies moved slowly, together, all the world falling away but the two mates, joined by a force as old as time itself.

Pleasure spiraled through the both of them, bringing them to new heights of ecstasy, bringing down all their barriers until neither could tell where one stopped and the other began. The cries that pierced the silence of the night blended together as well, sounding in harmony until they reached their shared peak, the pleasure flowing between them seemingly endless.

Buffy could still feel him there, on the edge of her consciousness as she floated back down to herself. Her body began to shake uncontrollably, and Spike pulled the covers up around them as he brought her to rest against him. She clung to him tightly, her heart thudding in her chest.

Spike had heard that sex could be like that between mates, though he hadn't ever been able to truly fathom it before then. He'd thought he had, but he'd been so far off, knowing now that he'd never have been capable of knowing what it was until experiencing it. It had been the most incredible thing he'd ever felt, and he was awestruck by how beautiful it had been.

He felt something damp hit his chest, and he looked down to see that Buffy was crying. "Kitten? Something wrong?"

"No," she said, shaking her head against him. "I just…that was…"

"I know. I don't have words for it either."

Buffy looked up, smiling almost shyly at him then. She felt peaceful here with him now, complete, and for once since she'd met him, her mind wasn't racing. Her limbs and eyelids felt heavy, and she snuggled closer to him, letting him hold her tightly in his arms. She pressed a soft kiss against his bare chest as her eyes closed, and murmured his name softly. "William…"

Her use of his given name touched him at the moment, and he smiled against her hair. He could spend eternity here in her arms and never tire of her for even a second. Her hair, her skin—she felt so soft against him. And her scent… It surrounded him, captivated him, making him breathe in deep and fill his useless lungs.

At some point during their lovemaking, the sun had risen over the horizon, and the day added its pull to the forces urging Spike towards sleep. Buffy's breathing had evened, letting him know that she was already gone, and he didn't resist following her. He whispered one last thing to her before he fell asleep fully, although he was already far gone enough to be unaware himself of what he had said.

I love you, Buffy…

*** *** ***
 

Chapter 17:

Buffy woke slowly, still curled in Spike's arms. He was smiling slightly in his sleep, his expression one of complete contentment. Her body had warmed his in the night, and she felt comfortable there with him, exactly where she wanted to be.

As she became more fully awake, the night came rushing back to her, every bit of it. Spike's feeding…her attempt to escape…the trunk of the DeSoto… And then…

Buffy flushed at the memory. She had felt the presence of the claim between them before, but this time had been different from all the other times. The lust and desire had been there, but there was…something else. Something stronger. Her realization that she couldn’t run away from him had made her succumb to him and this thing between them in a way she wouldn't before, as she realized she had no choice but to give in.

Spike had told her before that they couldn't be apart now, but she hadn't realized at the time just how literally he meant that. The claim had managed to somehow physically bind them to each other—how could she fight such a thing?

She couldn't. For as long as she lived, she'd have no choice but to stay by the side of a vampire, forcing herself to endure his every heinous act as they cut deep into her soul. Finally facing the reality of the situation, Buffy accepted her fate.

And it broke her.

She didn't want to think anymore. Last night she gave herself over wholly to the claim, and for a time, she had been able to push back the pain. Is that what she'd have to do from now on? Would she have to live for the moments when she could lose herself in her mate and then spend the rest of her time aching from what he would do when he wasn't with her?

Before now, Buffy had forced herself to focus on what Spike was, but she wasn't strong enough to anymore. She wasn't sure she was really strong at all. She had tried, she really had, but it was too much.

"Mornin', luv."

Buffy looked up at Spike as he spoke, meeting his eyes. "Good morning," she replied softly.

Spike frowned as he looked at her. "Something wrong?"

Buffy lied with a shake of her head. "No."

"You sure?" Spike reached up and ran his hand down her cheek. "You look so sad, pet."

"I'm fine, really," Buffy said, forcing a smile.

Spike knew she wasn't fine. Her sadness was clear through their bond, and he wanted to know what was causing it. Was she still upset about what he'd done to her the night before? He would've thought that her behavior towards him after he untied her would indicate she was willing to forgive him. "Buffy, I…"

"Shh," she said, putting her finger to his lips. "No talking now, okay? Can we just…can we just touch?"

Her eyes were wide, almost frightened, and her voice trembled. Spike swallowed, her pain cutting through him. "Will that make you feel better?" he asked.

Buffy's eyes moistened at his question. "Yes," she told him. "It will." And she knew it would. The only time she ever felt better at all was when she gave in to him, gave into what he could make her feel.

Spike rolled over on top of her, then began to kiss his way down her body, starting with a tender peck on her lips. He made his way to her apex, giving her one quick lap before going down her leg, ignoring her gasp. When he'd reached her foot he switched to the other leg, and again he merely grazed over her core, eliciting a moan of desperation from Buffy.

He perched up on his arms, looking down at her with a smirk. "Want something, pet?"

Buffy responded by pulling him down and pushing his head towards where she wanted him to be. Spike chuckled at her forwardness as he happily settled between her legs, ready to give her what she wanted.

Spike lost himself in the taste of her as Buffy lost herself in pleasure. She cried out until she was hoarse as he brought her to peak over and over again. This was what she needed to focus on, to hold on to. Maybe with this, she could dull the pain, push it from her mind until it no longer gripped her anymore.

Spike stayed there between her legs until his own need became urgent and he surged up, entering her with a powerful stroke before she even had time to register he'd moved. Buffy screamed in surprise and pleasure, wrapping her legs around his hips as Spike set a firm rhythm.

Buffy came two more times with him inside before Spike stiffened above her, shouting her name as he slammed his hips into hers and held, coming hard into her body. Panting, he collapsed on top of her, his head nestled against her breasts.

Buffy reached up with a shaky hand, her fingers running through his bleached curls. She needed to hold on to what she was feeling now, the pleasant numbness buzzing inside her. Her body was pleasantly sated, and her mind was too jumbled from the several orgasms she'd just experienced to form any sort of coherent thought.

After a few minutes, Spike looked up at her, relieved to see much of the sadness had faded from her eyes. He opened his mouth to speak to her when he was interrupted by a rumbling in her stomach.

Buffy blushed. "Sorry…I guess I'm hungry."

Spike sat up, a sudden look of horror on his face. "I didn't feed you yesterday! Buffy, I'm so sorry, pet. You haven't eaten in…I'm sorry."

Buffy shrugged. "I guess I was just a little tied up at the time when you normally give me dinner."

Spike winced. "Kitten, I…"

He looked…guilty, regretful, and that fell into the realm of what Buffy didn't want to think about right now. She didn't want the negatives right now, didn't want to have to handle them. "Could you just order me a pizza?"

"Yeah, of course," Spike replied, getting the phone book from under the bedside table. "What do you want on it?"

"Sausage, mushrooms, and green peppers," Buffy replied. "And diet Coke."

Spike eyed her protruding ribcage for a moment at her request for a diet drink, but figured it was probably just some bizarre girly thing and that the pizza would do enough towards putting some actual meat on her bones that a few less calories in her drink wouldn't matter anyway. "You got it, luv."

"I'm just going to go clean up a bit," Buffy said. She made a face. "You got me all sticky."

"Most of that's from you. You were creaming like crazy, baby," Spike replied, wagging his eyebrows.

"Ew. Perv," Buffy said, smacking his shoulder lightly. She got up from the bed, hearing Spike chuckle as he flipped open the phone book.

This was nice… She could do this, if it could only always be like this. She wondered if maybe she could just hold on to these sorts of moments when the other ones came and that would give her the strength she needed to hold on.

Buffy showered quickly, then went back into the bedroom, finding Spike reclining in the bed wearing only his jeans, flipping through the channels on the television. She picked up his discarded black t-shirt from the ground, slipping it on before climbing into bed with him.

Spike's eyes darted towards her, the sight of her in his shirt affecting him on several levels. Physically, seeing her in his clothes made him harden instantly, doing more for him than he was sure even the skimpiest of lingerie could do. But beyond that… It was an acknowledgement of their relationship and Spike knew that. She was wearing his clothes because she was his.

He reached his arm out and Buffy moved towards him, snuggling up next to his side. The scent of her shampoo was strong with her hair freshly washed, and Spike breathed in deep, smiling softly as he did. Her scent was fresh and clean, with the underlying essence that was completely Buffy, and it both calmed and excited him at once.

"Stop here," Buffy said, tapping his arm when he reached the channel that was the "free HBO" advertised by the sign outside the motel. "I like this movie."

Spike frowned at the television. "You're making me watch Romeo and Juliet?"

"Yes," Buffy replied. "I like it. Leo's a hottie."

"Why on earth are women so convinced of that? Look at him. He's all…scrawny," Spike said, looking at the teen heartthrob in disgust.

"And what, you're not?" Buffy asked.

"Oi! I'm not scrawny! I'm…compactly muscled." Buffy snorted in response, and Spike gave her a dirty look. "I'm not watching this shite."

"You watch soap operas," Buffy said. "I think you can stomach a little Leonardo DiCaprio."

"I watch a soap opera. One. And it's a bloody messed up one at that." He clicked to the next channel.

"Hey!" Buffy cried out in protest. "I wanted to watch that."

Spike turned back to her, fully intending to tell her no, he was not going to put up with that drivel no matter what she said. But then he saw that she was pouting. Her perfect little bottom lip jutted out, begging him to take it into his own mouth. Her green eyes were wide and pleading, making the vampire's heart melt. "Fine," he said with an exaggerated sigh. "We'll watch the sodding movie."

Buffy smiled, curling up against his side again. Spike wrapped his arm around her, enjoying the warmth he felt being near her. Maybe having to watch Romeo and Juliet was worth it if he got this along with it…

He didn't want to get up when he heard a sharp knock at the door followed by a bellow of "Pizza!" but he knew Buffy needed to eat. He untangled himself from her arms regretfully and went to the door, shoving a wad of bills at the boy on the other side before grabbing the food and shutting the door in his face. "Thanks for nothing, asshole!" the boy yelled at the point Spike assumed was when he discovered the lack of tip, and Spike muttered under his breath that he should just be glad he didn't get on the menu, too.

Spike brought the pizza and diet Coke back over to the bed, handing them to Buffy. "Here, pet. Eat."

"Thanks," Buffy said, leaning over the pizza box as Spike sat back down to give him a quick kiss.

Spike liked this. A lot. She was acting like a mate should now, being warm and inviting to him physically and letting him care for her. He'd known she'd come around quickly, realizing there was no point in fighting what neither one of them could change. He was relieved that it hadn't taken any longer than it did. Her constant rebellion had been trying his patience.

Buffy sat with the open pizza box in her lap, a slice in one hand and her 20 oz. bottle of diet Coke in the other. Her eyes were on the television screen as she was completely engrossed in the movie, and Spike smiled. She was really adorable. He looked forward to more days like this, more pleasantly domestic moments with the woman he'd claimed as his own. It was almost as good as the sex in its way, and he didn't care if thinking that made him a bit of a poncy git. He was happy.

And watching Buffy, it looked like now maybe she could be happy, too.

*** *** ***

Buffy was able to make herself ignore the reality of her present situation until sunset. After she'd finished eating, Spike had taken her again, spending hours with her in the bed until all she knew was bliss.

Then the sun was down and he pulled away from her, making the darkness she'd spent the day hiding from come crashing back down to her.

"You're going to feed," she said softly as she watched him dress.

"I am." Spike paused, waiting for her reaction. He was hoping that the way she'd been towards him all day had meant she'd come to accept this, and he waited to see if he was right.

"There's nothing I can say to make you change your mind, is there?"

"No."

Buffy looked away, a single tear running down her cheek, but she said nothing. She couldn't stop him feeding and she couldn't get away. She'd just have to suffer through this and then tomorrow she could pretend again. His actual feeding would be quick, and then she could begin pushing it out, making the pain stop.

"Be dressed to go when I get back, all right, luv?" Spike asked, deciding not to push things too much now by giving her an order instead of asking her politely. She seemed to be accepting his feeding, but it was a tentative acceptance, he knew.

Buffy said nothing in response, but nodded, and Spike took that as a good sign. He leaned down and kissed her cheek. "It'll be okay, Buffy. You'll see, pet."

He left her then, and Buffy shook as the door shut. She curled up on the bed, shutting her eyes tightly as she waited for the moment to come. Spike had already changed from the gentle lover he'd been when he'd left her to a predator, and she trembled uncontrollably, fear gripping her as she dreaded what was coming.

A sob burst from her when it finally did and the full horror of it all hit her again. She tried to focus on the pleasant part of the day instead, but that didn't make it better as she had hoped—it made it worse. She hated herself for being selfish enough to try to simply ignore what she had known would happen tonight, for allowing herself to experience pleasure when she had been fully aware that someone would soon die at the hands on the man giving it to her.

Her last attempt to find a reprieve from this had failed. She knew now without a doubt that she could never live with this. No matter what she did, she would never get away from the fact that Spike was killing. Ever.

She couldn't stop him.

She couldn't run.

It left her with only one option, and she took a deep breath as she stood, forcing herself to have one last moment of strength. This was her only option, and she wished she'd done it long before it had come to this point. On shaky legs she walked to the bathroom, a look of determination on her face.

Buffy caught her reflection in the mirror, and her expression changed for a moment. "I'm sorry, Mommy," she whispered before her face hardened again, and she lashed out, smashing the mirror with her fist. Then, with shaky fingers, she picked up a jagged piece of glass.

It was what she had to do…

*** *** ***
 

Next