Chapter Five: Revelations





The following weeks progressed into a similar routine. Spike would be nowhere to be found all night long, giving Buffy as much time as she wanted to sleep. She would wake up, shower, dress, watch some television, and, when she needed to, wash her limited clothing in the washroom sink. Spike had brought her tons of non perishable food, so she didn’t have to wait for him to feed her. The vampire would arrive in mid afternoon, have his way with her and leave. Their small friendly truce seemed to have disappeared since Spike barely even said two words to her; it being replaced by a cold distant arrangement based solely on fulfilling his most immediate needs. In essence, the niceties and humorings were over with and she was now what Spike had kept her around for, his slave. Buffy didn’t think much of his change in attitude; she figured it was what he had wanted all along.



She would keep busy by tidying the room, needing some sort of distraction, and in her rummaging she found books, more precisely a shelf full of books. Some of them were novels of various genres; mystery, fantasy, and even a few classics, but the majority of them were poetry anthologies. Going through each book and dusting it with an old rag she had found, Buffy took stock of every one before placing it back on the shelf. However, as she went through the bottom row of books, something strange caught her eye. There was a slight unevenness in the backboard of the shelf. Buffy reached back and pulled at the board, revealing a small nook containing a few sparse items. She pulled out a few photographs, letters, sketches and a leather bound book, which she surmised was a journal. Buffy wasn’t sure what she had found but she had a feeling Spike would be pissed if he found out that she had discovered the secret compartment.



The pictures were old, crinkled and yellow. Peering down at the face in one of the photographs, she saw a man in what looked like Victorian styled clothing, with an ere of class about him. He wore spectacles on his face, which displayed no emotion whatsoever. It was only when she focused that she could see the familiarity between this man and the vampire who was holding her hostage. ‘Oh my God, it is Spike.’ Buffy couldn’t fathom how this seemingly proper gentleman had turned into the arrogant platinum bloodsucker she knew. She flipped through to the next photo and saw the same dignified man standing beside a seated older woman, who Buffy assumed was his mother. Even in the old and fading photograph, the lady appeared sickly. Shuffling to the next one, she found a very different image staring back at her; a dark haired woman in a white dress sitting quite proper with her gloved hands in her lap. Buffy wasn’t sure who she was but she had to be important if Spike kept a picture of her. Putting the photos down, she turned her attention to the sketches.



The drawings were well done and very detailed. She recognized one of them being the dark woman from the photos but there was another that she couldn’t put a name to. It was a sketch of a man’s face. A dark man who sported a sly grin and whose eyes conveyed pure malice and power, which made Buffy shiver uncontrollably. She wondered who this man was and why Spike had kept a picture of him. There were few more sketches of Spike with the man and the dark woman, and one with four people, a blond woman mixed into the group. Buffy skimmed over these since they didn’t really reveal anything about Spike, other than who he chose to hang out with back in the day. Buffy’s mind was playing with the idea that one of those women could be Druscilla, but that train of thought stopped when she came upon the last sketch. Of her. Actually of her sleeping. She knew Spike had watched her a lot during those first few days, but she never had the slightest idea that he was drawing her. She scrutinized the picture, analyzing every curve and shade, unsure how Spike could capture her misleadingly tranquil face so well on paper. The concept of him drawing her was both romantic and eerie. She wasn’t sure if one nullified the other.



Placing the sketches in a neat pile with the photos, Buffy moved onto the next items, the letters. She knew she shouldn’t be reading them since they were slightly more personal than the photographs and drawings, but she figured she had already crossed the line, so there really wasn’t anyway of going back. As she read over the well penned letters, she recognized them as words shared between a mother and son. Him telling her of his studies and her telling him of the pride she felt for him. They were written with conservative tones, but the feelings behind them were clear; they had loved each other immensely. The letters were soon added to the pile of secret items Buffy should have never come across.



The last piece of nostalgia of Spike’s past weighed heavily in her hands. She carefully opened the journal, surprised at the remarkable condition it was in for its probable age. There didn’t seem to be a chronological order of entries, but instead simple random thoughts put to paper. Some of the scribbles even looked like poetry. Buffy’s eyes encountered a few blurbs, some corny ones about birds and stars but she stopped scanning when she came across a poem that called out to her.







My soul is wrapped in harsh repose,



Midnight descends in raven-colored clothes,



But soft... behold!



A sunlight beam



Butting a swath of glimmering gleam.



My heart expands,



'tis grown a bulge in it,



Inspired by your beauty...



Effulgent.







The poem itself wasn’t the best she’d ever read but the way every word dripped with sincerity and innocence. At first she refused to believe that Spike had written the poem. It was so blind and naïve in its ideal description of being in love. It was almost endearing in the way it was written, oblivious to how ugly love could actually be. Spike wasn’t kind and he sure as hell wasn’t naïve, so the concept that he might have written this poem made Buffy wonder how someone could stray so far from who they once were. From what she was seeing, William was quite the polar opposite of Spike.



Buffy jumped when she heard footsteps outside the door and frantically shoved everything back into the nook, making sure she closed the partition before she placed the books in front of it. Glancing up, she sighed seeing Spike coming through the door. ‘Good, he didn’t see me.’



Finding Buffy on the floor in front of the shelf, the vampire cocked an eyebrow, “Looking for something to read, pet?” His question being the most he’d spoken to her in two weeks.



Standing up, Buffy dusted herself off and picked up a book. “I was cleaning and I noticed the shelf. I was looking at some of them and this one seemed interesting,” she answered, clutching at the novel, afraid his sudden bout of speaking had to do with his possible suspicion that she had found something other than printed literature on the shelf.



He shrugged and slipped off his duster, carelessly draping it on his chair. Buffy followed after him, knowing what he had come for. She sat on the bed and started to unbutton her top, but at about halfway down, Spike grabbed her wrist. “Not here for that, luv. You can keep your clothes on.”



Buffy gave him a perplexed look as she did her shirt back up. Had he grown tired of her already? The past few weeks, the only time she had seen him was for his daily shag and now, here he was, not fucking her. Did she do something? Did he not want her anymore? Buffy wasn’t sure if not being used was any better than being used because she suddenly felt so dirty. Then, a second thought almost knocked her over. What if he was here to kill her? Or even worse, give her to someone else?



“Master…” Buffy started, but for the second time that night was quickly interrupted.



“Don’t worry your pretty blonde head off. Haven’t grown bored of you.”



“So why don’t you wanna…?” Buffy asked, trailing off with slight embarrassment.



“It’s complicated. Had a rough night is all,” he stated as he sat down next to her on the bed, rubbing his eyes roughly with his palms.



“What happened?” she asked, wringing her hands.



“Like I said, don’t worry ‘bout it. Just wanna get pissed and pass out.”



“Oh, okay,” she replied as she watched Spike snatch a bottle of tequila and settle down in front of the television.



She stayed still, keeping her gaze to the back of his platinum head and watched him as he took long gulps from the bottle. She wasn’t sure if she should just crawl under the blankets and go to sleep, or join the obviously ill tempered vampire on the sofa. She had a sinking feeling that she should go be with him, at least try and cheer him up. It’s what she would do for most normal people, but Spike wasn’t normal. Hell he wasn’t even technically people.



Buffy had to admit that her opinion of Spike had slightly changed since she had found his mementos. He had warmed up to her briefly, but then, after that night she had refused to kiss him, he had become so off putting. And now here he was, not wanting sex from her, right after she had read all those things she assumed he had written when he was human. In Buffy’s eyes, the monster that was Spike was starting to grow layers. The only problem was she didn’t know if that was a necessarily a good thing.



She grabbed her blanket, draping it around her like she always did whenever she watched T.V., and made her way to Spike’s side. He was mindlessly flipping through channels as he occasionally drank from the bottle, ignoring her presence completely.



“What you watching?” Buffy asked shyly.



“Nothin’ really,” he answered without taking his focus away from the screen.



“Okay.”



Holding out the tequila in her direction, Spike asked, “Wanna drink?”



Buffy shook her head. “A world of no. Me and alcohol aren’t very mixy.”



“More for me, then,” Spike said as he took another gulp of the amber liquid.



Buffy kept her gaze on him, wondering what had occurred to make him so quiet and even more distant.



“Look, pet, you don’t have to keep me company. Go on and do whatever it is you do. Read that little book you picked out even. I can get drunk on my own.”



“I’d rather stay here, if that’s okay?”



“Do what’d you like.”



“I will.”



“Fine.”



“Good.”



Buffy was getting slightly irritated by his bad mood. Deciding to risk it, she asked, “What’s your problem?”



Nearly choking on his drink, Spike coughed as he stared at her utterly bewildered. “What’d you just say?”



“What is your problem?”



“Who’s to say I gotta problem?” he asked, scowling in anger.



Holding out her hand to count her fingers, Buffy replied, “Well, let’s see. One minute you’re making with the friendlies, telling me all this personal stuff and actually being somewhat tolerable; then you turn into Mr.Frigid and totally shut me out, that is, unless you wanna count the times you had sex with me. That lasted for two weeks and now you’re here, actually saying a few words to me, but for some reason you don’t want to sleep with me. And right now, at this very moment, you’re being a complete asshole. So now tell me you don’t have a problem.”



Spike was furious. “I should smack you for speakin' to me like that, Slave.”



Buffy didn’t flinch at his murderous gaze or harsh words. She only locked hazel with blue as she moved closer to him, placing her hand on his forearm. “Can you just please tell me. I’m so confused. I just don’t know what to think anymore,” she said, lowering her eyes.



“I’m so lonely. God, I would welcome a beating if it meant you’d just speak to me. I can’t take being cooped up here, in the dark, all alone without you even talking to me. Spike, please talk to me.” She hadn’t meant to say those exact words, to voice feelings she didn’t even know she had buried deep down inside, until her mouth had started to move.



Upon hearing her desperate plea, Spike released a long breath. “Buffy…I…I can’t really tell you what’s wrong, when I don’t even know m'self.”



“Then at least try,” she pushed.



“I don’t know how to describe it. Things haven’t been the same since you showed up. Been havin’ these strange feelings that no right minded vampire should ever have. When I was hurtin’ you, I felt bad, which is complete rubbish, cos I shouldn’t have. And then, when...I tried to...when I...God I can’t do this!” Spike pulled away from her touch, getting up to find another bottle, since his was now apparently empty. Yanking out the cork, he drank down the vintage port that he had found in his liquor crate.



“Spike…” Buffy called out, hopping he would return to the spot next to her.



“I’m not discussin’ it anymore, pet. So sod off,” he responded, moving a little in the direction of where she was sitting.



“I’m not dropping it. Tell me when what happened Spike.”



“Piss off.”



“Tell me!”



Grabbing the empty bottle from the couch, Spike flung it against the far wall, shattering it to pieces. “Leave me the bloody well alone!”



“Why won’t you just tell me? I can help you!” she screamed back.



“How can you possibly help me when you’re the problem?” he yelled.



“So I’m the problem?” Buffy asked, upset by the sheer audacity of his remark. “I’m the reason why you’re being so fucking hot and cold? Hasn’t been the same since your lackeys brought me here, has it? Well guess what, MASTER? I didn’t fucking ask to be captured and I sure as hell never asked to be your little sex slave! If your gonna have issues, at least realize it’s your own fucking fault. You should just kill me if I’m such a frickin’ inconvenience!”



“Can’t do that, pet.”



“Why the hell not?”



“Cos I think I’m in love with you,” Spike said in a barely audible whisper.



Buffy froze, noticing that she was suddenly standing in front of him, blanket tightly wrapped around her, unable to make her vocal chords work. “You love me?” she croaked out, totally shocked. “How?”



“That’s what I’ve been trying to suss out, luv.”



“But you barely know me,” she commented, her eyes still wide in surprise.



“Love’s got nothin’ to do with how long you’ve known a person, pet. ‘S about truly knowing someone. Knowin' their passions, their desires, their strengths, their weaknesses. From the moment I saw you, I knew I wanted you. But I never knew how much of you I actually wanted. Wasn’t until that night, when I held you, after the first time I touched my mark on your neck that I knew I wanted more than just your body,” he explained, his voice low and vulnerable.



“Spike…I…I…”



“Not so eager for conversation now, are we luv?”



“It’s not that. I just don’t think you know what you’re saying. How could you possibly love me, when you treat me the way you do? How could you use and humiliate someone you claim to love? No. It's not love. Lust or an infatuation maybe, but it’s not love. You might think it’s love, but it’s not. It can’t be,” Buffy stated.



“You think I haven’t tried. Do you know how bloody fucked up it is for me to love you? These feelings I’ve been havin'; the guilt, the longing, the unnecessary worry and the all consumin' joy that burn inside of me whenever I’m bloody well around you. I can’t stop thinkin' 'bout you. All day long I dwell on every single word, every single gesture, every single touch exchanged between us. I’m drownin' in you Buffy.”



“Spike…”



“That’s why I haven’t said bugger all to you since you wouldn’t let me kiss you. It hurt and I didn’t know why. Those two weeks I also spent alone, just as alone as you, refusin' to talk to anyone. The only person I saw was you because I needed to touch you, Buffy, needed to get lost in you. Because when I’m with you, I feel whole.”



“So then what made today a non-physical one?” Buffy asked, still trying to grasp the fact that Spike had just declared his undying love for her.



“Today, my Clan confronted me. Well actually, just the Trio. They told me that the Clan was growin’ restless and that my behavior was creatin’ problems. Said I had to get out of whatever rut I was in and start actin’ like the leader ‘m ‘spose to be," Spike explained, obviosuly unmoved by their threats.



"They knew what was wrong with me, hell Tash had known before I even did. Told me that the Clan wouldn’t support me if I openly loved you. They wouldn't accept you as anything other than my slave; it’d make you my equal and no one would allow that. Doesn’t help that I’m a Master vampire either,” Spike paused to take a big gulp from the half empty bottle of wine before he continued. “So under no uncertain terms, they threatened basic mutiny if I ever elevated your position above that of Slavegirl.”



“You lost your clan?” Buffy asked, the rock that seemed to have materialized in her stomach was now pushing against her heart.



“Didn’t lose it. Came close to it though. I still hold the title and respect of Master vampire of this god forsaken hellmouth.”



“You almost lost everything because they wouldn’t accept you loving me?”



“That about sums it up, luv.”



“I think I might have to take you up on that drink,” Buffy said, honestly not trying to be funny.



Spike smirked, closing the distance between them as he handed her the bottle. Buffy snatched it and took a swig, making faces as she swallowed the wine. Passing it back to him, she stepped back, finding a comfortable distance from him.



“Spike, I don’t understand. For the majority of the time, you treat me so badly. And now you’re telling me you nearly gave it all up, for me? It’s so out of sync with everything else you’ve done. I don’t know how to feel,” Buffy revealed, slinking down back onto the couch, blanket still tight around her shoulders.



Spike came to sit down beside her, “Not an easy thing to figure out, pet.”



“You go all revealy with your love, nearly loosing everything you’ve worked for in the process, and without even so much as knowing if I would feel the same way? That was either really arrogant, really stupid or really romantic,” Buffy said, pausing as she reflected on everything she had been told. “I don’t know what you expect from me. I don’t know you, don’t trust you enough to love you, Spike. I need time and I need you to stop with the dominance and the slavery crap. I need my freedom back. God, if you really loved me you’d let me go.”



Spike’s only response was a shake of his head. He hadn’t expected her to open up and he appreciated her honesty, but he couldn’t let her go. If he did, he knew he’d never see her again. “Better go off to bed, luv. Need to sleep on a lot tonight.”



“Where you gonna be?” she asked, upset at the fact that she knew he would never willingly let her go.



“Empty house, got a lot of room’s to choose from.”



“Stay here.”



“Figured you’d want me as far away from you as possible.”



“I’ve been alone enough these past weeks. Emotionally distraught vampire is better than being all by myself,” Buffy replied as she made her way back to the couch, with Spike sitting next to her seconds later.



They watched the television in silence, neither one of them actually paying attention to what exactly they were watching. Buffy eventually drifted off to sleep, half-sitting half-reclining against one end of the couch, as physically far from Spike as possible. Spike hesitantly pulled her blanket up to her chin. When she didn’t flinch, Spike smiled and settled into the other end, eyes focused on the T.V., occasionally flicking back to a misleadingly peaceful Buffy.



Unfortunately, it was the same night her nightmares started.



 

Chapter Six: A Vampire's Layers





She was running as hard and as fast as she could, but it didn’t get her anywhere; it was like sprinting underwater. She didn’t know what it was, but she knew something was after her. Every time she looked back all she saw was darkness, which only made her try harder. Frustrated by the fact that she couldn’t speed up, she could feel the gnawing fear about to fully consume her. All Buffy could do was keep trying, even though the thing wouldn’t relent, wouldn’t cease in its pursuit.



Spike stirred, pulled out of unconsciousness by a scream. Looking around, he realized he was on the couch, remote still in hand. Turning in the direction of the scream, he saw Buffy writhing and whimpering in her sleep.



“Buffy,” he whispered.



Deaf to him, she continued to thrash, her beautiful face distorting in fear and pain. Spike reached over to her, placing a delicate hand on her shoulder. “Buffy, wake up luv.”



Her eyes suddenly shot open, tears instantly spilling down her cheeks. Shooting up, she latched onto him, her small arms tight around his torso, her wet face buried in the crook of his neck. Her little body rocked with sobs, pulling Spike out of the initial shock of having her so close to him, making him protectively wrap his arms around her. With soothing strokes and hushed words, he managed to help her stop crying.



“Nightmare?”



“Yeah,” she replied, still in his embrace.



“Might help if you talk it out, luv.”



“Was just your typical can’t-get-away-from-something-you-can’t-even-see kind of nightmare,” she explained, sniffling between her words.



“You alright now, luv?” Spike whispered, rubbing her back.



She only nodded into his chest, not wanting to let go. If she closed her eyes and tried really hard, she could pretend Spike wasn’t an evil vampire and that he was just a man who was apparently in love with her. It was a nice fantasy, but short lived when she could no longer ignore how cold and still his chest was. Pulling away, she settled back against the couch’s armrest, arms wrapped around her trembling body. Looking up at Spike, she noticed the pain plastered on his face. “Sorry for getting all grabby,” Buffy said, knowing the intimate moment they had just shared must have affected Spike in some way.



“No problem,” he said, smiling shyly.



Buffy, who was still reeling from her nightmare, couldn’t believe she was actually looking at a bashful Spike. It scared her how she could now plainly see the love in his eyes. Why hadn’t she noticed it before? Realizing that she had stopped shaking, Buffy allowed herself to relax. “Spike?”



“Yeah, luv?” he answered, looking at her as though he was readying himself for more rejection.



Buffy didn’t respond, she just slowly crawled toward him and settled against his side. Dumbstruck, Spike leaned back, allowing her some space next to him on the couch. With most of her body melded to his side, Buffy placed her head on his shoulder.



“Pet?” he asked, remaining completely still for fear that any sudden movements would scare her away.



“Just distract me for a while,” she replied, rationalizing her actions to not only Spike but to herself as well.



“With what?” Spike asked, slowly becoming less tense as she languidly stroked his arm.



“I don’t know. Maybe tell me about who you were before you became a vampire.”



Spike gulped at her query. “Why d’you wanna know?”



“I dunno. I guess I wanna know the guy behind the vampire. You know, like why one minute you can be the meanest jerk on the planet, and then the next minute, you’re the sweetest man I’ve ever met? Maybe if I find out about William, I might start to understand something about Spike.”



If his heart could beat, it would have broken through his chest. “Umm…I…there’s…well…umm…where d’you want me to start?” he asked, adorably flustered.



“At the beginning, I guess. Where were you born?” she asked innocently, playing with the sleeve of his t-shirt.



“London. Lived there all me life, my human life that is.”



“Umm, what was your family like?”



“Nothing special. All I had was me mum, but we got by.”



“What happened to your dad?” Buffy asked.



“Died when I was three. He was a barrister, decent man and he did a lot for average folks in London. So I was told, anyway. Was stabbed to death on his way home from work,” he said the last part in a barely audible whisper.



“I’m so sorry,” Buffy said as she gazed up at him with the utmost sincerity.



Spike shrugged, trying to hide how her kindness was making him feel. “Never really met the man, but thanks anyway.”



“So you just lived with your mom?”



“Yup, just the two of us.”



“Until you became a vampire anyway,” she commented.



“Yeah.”



Buffy suddenly noticed the pained look on his face and quickly changed the topic. “I just live with my mom too.”



“That right, pet?”



“Well technically, it’s me, my mom and my sister.”



“What happened to your dad?”



“My parents split up and like every stereotypical divorce scenario; I ended up with my mom.”



“Must have been hard on you.”



“It was, and it got worse before it got better. After a while, dad just stopped caring. We barely got birthday cards. I think it was harder on Dawn since she was the baby. She would always stick up for him whenever I’d make a comment about his absentee parenting.”



“She sounds like a pain,” he stated in half-seriousness.



“Naw…well sometimes, but we usually get along. She’s a pretty decent kid.”



“You alright, pet?”



At first she didn’t know why he was asking her that until she brought her hand to her face and felt sparse tears. Sniffling, she answered, “Yeah, I guess I just miss them.”



The feeling of guilt resurfaced in Spike, suddenly needing to veer the conversation away from things that might be painful for her. But before he could say anything, she did it for him. “So, what did you like?”



“What d’you mean?”



“What were you into? Did you go to school?”



“Yeah. Father’s inheritance got me the best education London could offer.”



“Where’d you go?”



“Oxford,” he mumbled, hoping she didn’t hear him.



“Where?”



“IwenttoOxford.”



“Oxford! Wow! Oxford? Are you kidding? You must have been a genius. What happened?” she joked, giggling.



“Funny.” But he couldn’t care less if she had called him a spineless jellyfish. Hearing her laugh was like music for his nonexistent soul and he was just about ready to do anything to hear it again.



“What did you study?” she asked, with a new found respect for her vampire captor.



“Everyone figured I’d just go and study law, like me pops. But it didn’t suit me.”



“Well, what did?”



“You’re gonna laugh at me if I tell you,” Spike said, turning his head away from her inquisitive looks.



“I promise I wont.”



Turning back to look at her, searching her face for anything but unadulterated honesty, he sighed and told her. “Literature.”



“You’re a Lit major?”



“You said you wouldn’t laugh,” Spike scowled at her.



“I’m just surprised. Ya know, I was actually considering having a minor in classical literature,” she explained, giving him a meek smile.



“Didn’t think you a bookish kinda girl.”



“Most don’t. I like reading though, when it’s interesting. What do you like to read?” Buffy asked, already knowing the answer.



“Byron, Shelley, Thomas, and sometimes Auden.”



“So poetry?”



“What’s wrong with poetry?” he asked indignantly.



“Nothing. Just would have never pictured you as a poet.”



“Never said I wrote it, just read it.”



“Read me some,” Buffy timidly asked as she buried her face into his shoulder.



“Don’t have any with me right now, luv.”



“There’s gotta be one you remember by heart,” she whined.



God help him if she resorted to begging because he just might explode from sheer joy at all her unexpected niceties. “There’s one that sticks out.”



He felt Buffy settle against him, getting comfortable. When she stilled, he began.



“My love is like to ice, and I to fire:



How comes it then that this her cold so great



Is not dissolved through my so hot desire,



But harder grows the more I her entreat?



Or how comes it that my exceeding heat



Is not allayed by her heart-frozen cold,



But that I burn much more in boiling sweat,



And feel my flames augmented manifold?



What more miraculous thing may be told,



That fire, which all things melts, should harden ice,



And ice, which is congeal'd with senseless cold,



Should kindle fire by wonderful device?



Such is the power of love in gentle mind,



That it can alter all the course of kind.”*



Uttering his last word, he gazed down to look at his newfound love. Her even breathing and calm heart rate told him she was peacefully sleeping. So much had happened today, that he was still a little unsure if it all wasn’t just a dream. He had nearly lost everything he had worked for concerning his Clan but he could care less. Buffy was all that mattered. After he had told her his feelings, she had considered them seriously. She hadn’t laughed in his face, but instead, after the shock had worn off, told him she needed time. And now, here she was, actually reaching out to him. The hope he had that she might some day reciprocate his feelings was growing. He couldn’t let himself mess things, he just couldn’t.









*******





The slamming of a door and the mutterings of an infuriated vampire woke Buffy from her dreamless sleep. She groaned and rolled over into the empty space next to her, realizing Spike must have carried her to bed after she had fallen asleep. She opened her eyes to see Spike staring at her with a regretful expression on his face. “Sorry, luv. Didn’t mean to wake you,” he said sheepishly.



Buffy smiled at how cute he was being. She still couldn’t believe how emotionally complicated Spike was, especially with his newly proclaimed love for her. “That’s okay. I needed to get up anyway,” she told him, noticing how much more nervous he seemed around her. “So what was with all the yelling?” Buffy asked, hoping casual conversation would ease the tension.



Spike scowled. “Damon and I had a bit of a disagreement?”



“About?” Buffy asked, knowing it was probably about her.



“I killed one of his fledges.”



“Why?”



“The lug head said a few things about you that I didn’t much care for,” Spike explained.



“Like what?”



“Let’s just say that I don’t even want to repeat it.”



“Oh,” Buffy bashfully stated. “Is this gonna make things worse for you?”



“Was just a fledge. Damon might stay mad for a few days but he’ll get over it; can always fix things with those three. It’ll only get worse if the whole lot of ‘em start formin’ opinions. That’s why I had to kill him; nip it in the butt,” Spike explained.



“Aren’t you worried that Natasha or Vincent or even Damon might turn everyone against you?” Buffy inquired.



“A little. Mostly because I’d have to kill ‘em. You see pet, even if my so called lieutenants make the whole rabble of ‘em mutiny, the minions won’t last a second without their leaders. ’S why I’m more worried about minions hell bent on a cause than ‘em mindlessly followin’ Damon.”



“Uh huh. Aren’t you being a little too sure of yourself? I mean, what makes you think you can just knock off any of your pals? They gotta be stronger than the average vamp to buddy up to the likes of you, right?” Buffy asked, getting up from bed.



“There’s a reason why I’m Master vamp, luv,” he stated, standing a bit taller and giving her a look that conveyed absolute power.



“So I’ve been told,” Buffy replied, quickly changing the topic. “I’m gonna go take a shower.”



Spike watched as she scurried off to the washroom. After shrugging off his duster, he jumped onto the couch with remote in hand, continuously changing channels. He wasn’t sure what he was going to do. Any more minions like Damon’s and he was going to have a major crisis on his hands. He needed to show all of them that Buffy was nothing more than just a plaything, even though he knew she was so much more. He needed to put it all to rest so that he could keep his clan and Buffy too. But how was he going to do that?



Spike started to slowly develop a plan as he idly flipped through mid-afternoon television. His mind went on pause when Buffy stepped out of the washroom, steam billowing around her towel clad body. He hadn’t realized he was staring at her until he noticed she was looking directly back at him. Breaking her gaze, Buffy went to the room’s only dresser and pulled out some clothes and made her way back to the washroom. She soon remerged, clad in blue jeans and a black t-shirt.



“Nice shower, luv?” Spike asked as Buffy made her way over towards the couch.



“Yeah,” she answered, still feeling a little funny after their stare-fest. She wondered if the awkwardness between them was going to be permanent.



“So I guess there isn’t anything I can do to help with your current quandary?” Buffy asked but not really sure why she did.



Spike was surprised by her offer. He knew she wanted nothing more than to be free of him, to be free from this prison he had created. But here she was, offering her help. Did it mean she was allowing herself to see that he really did truly love her? Was she starting to accept his love?



“There might be. But I dunno if it’s something you’d be willin’ to do,” Spike said.



“Well, what is it?”



“We go out,” he stated only to receive a confused look.



“Huh?”



“To the Bronze. If I publicly show everyone that you are my slave and nothing but my slave, they’ll accept and move on. We can end this stupidity by tonight, luv.”



Buffy suddenly grew agitated. “So you want me to go out with you to a club filled with vampires and play slavegirl? The same club your friends raided and kidnapped me from not even a month ago?” she asked.



“It might be the only way, pet.”



Buffy nodded, seriously considering her options. Spike was never going to let her go. He claimed he loved her, and from what she had experienced last night with him, she was beginning to believe that it might be true. Emotionally speaking, Spike might be more than the average vamp but when it came down to it, that’s what he still was –a killer. His moral compass was completely disoriented from years of guiltless killing and god knows what else. She wasn’t sure if she would be able to overlook that even if he truly did love her.



Buffy also knew that since Spike was never gonna let her go, she was trapped. If a revolt did occur, she wouldn’t survive. She would be a prize awarded to the victor. And an emotionally confused Spike was a lesser evil than whatever else lurked downstairs. She really had no choice. If she could help Spike get everyone off his back and bring stability back to this messed up vampire clan, she would. As long as Spike was around, Buffy still had a chance. But the mere thought of going back to the club scared her to death. God, she must be nuts because she was actually going to go along with it!



“Okay. Let’s do this.”



Astonished for the second time that day, Spike allowed her words to sink in. Taking in an unnecessary breath, he began to explain what needed to be done. “This is how it’s gonna be, pet. I know you don’t want me treatin’ you like how I did before, but if we want to make this believable, you’re gonna have to make an Oscar worthy performance. I’m talkin’ full and total submission or nobody’s gonna buy it.”



“Fine. I understand. I don’t like it, but I understand. And you better not push me anymore than you have to,” Buffy warned, knowing that if Spike ever wanted her to consider his feelings, he couldn’t blow this.



“I won’t,” he promised.



“So other than that, what else do I gotta do?” she asked.



“Well, you’ll have to follow my every order and never look directly into my eyes or any other vampire’s for that matter. You’ll have to sit at my feet when I tell you to and…” Spike started to explain, but soon trailing off, unsure how to continue.



“And what Spike?” she asked, getting annoyed.



“Possibly wear a leash?”



“What! You’re kidding, right?” she asked bewildered, looking up into his face to see that he wasn’t anything short of serious. “You’re not kidding.” Buffy shrugged. “I guess if the occasion calls for it, but don’t be getting any ideas,” she warned, pointing her finger at him.



“There’s also the issue of wardrobe, pet,” Spike brought up, dreading what he was about to ask.



“What do my clothes have to do with anything?”



“Well, everyone expects that I’m keeping you around for certain reasons. And if we don’t make that obvious, then they gonna start thinkin’ there’s more goin’ on,” he told her, avoiding looking straight at her.



“So basically, if I don’t look like a sex slave, nobody’s gonna believe I’m one?” she reiterated his logic.



“Pretty much.”



“I’m not wearing any golden bikinis,” she declared, getting up and walking toward the bed. She knelt down, pulled a plastic bag from under it and brought it over to Spike. “I guess that’s what these are for,” she commented, opening the bag full of kinky clothes that Spike had asked Natasha to get for her.



Spike gulped and nodded as he eyed the corsets, fishnets and black hooker boots in the large bag.



“What time are we leaving tonight?” Buffy asked, closing the bag and bringing back Spike’s attention to the issue at hand.



“When it gets dark,” Spike responded, mentally kicking himself for acting like a horny teenager.



“I better go get ready,” Buffy stated, making her way to the washroom with bag still in hand.



When Spike heard the bathroom door close behind her, he groaned loudly. Ignoring his rock hard erection, Spike grudgingly searched for the leash while Buffy got ready for their big night out.





*poem called Ice and Fire by Edmund Spenser

 

Chapter Seven: A Night Out





After two long hours of struggling with the binding clothing and scrutinizing over her hair and makeup, Buffy emerged from the washroom. Spike nearly tripped over his own two feet when he caught sight of her. She was wearing a red corset that was covered entirely in black lace, which pushed her breasts up and gave any onlookers a good eyeful. Her strong thighs were covered in a black leather miniskirt and her long legs were sporting black fishnet stockings. The outfit was topped off with the pair of knee-high black hooker boots Spike had noticed earlier in her bag of tricks.



Her face was painted with heavy make up. Her eyes were smokey, rimmed in black eyeliner, and her lips were painted blood red. Her hair was brushed up neatly in a high ponytail without a single straying strand. She looked amazing. And if Spike didn’t do something soon, he was sure he was going to burst.



“So, do I pass the test for sleazy ho bag sex slave?” Buffy asked, cocking her hip.



Spike inwardly moaned as he held his hand out to her. Buffy peeked at it and realized he was handing her the leash. She took it and secured it around her neck, allowing the attached silver chain to dangle down her front. Going back into the washroom, Buffy gazed into the mirror. “I think the spikes on the collar are definitely the finishing touch,” she giggled.



“You look great, luv,” Spike complimented.



“Damn Skippy,” Buffy replied, giggling again.



Spike liked seeing her like this; confident, happy, wearing lace and leather. Keeping his eyes on her, an idea popped into his head. Abruptly turning back into the room, Spike strolled quickly over to the far wall next to the room’s main door. Kneeling down, he removed a section of base board and pulled out a red velvet bag. Getting back up, he felt Buffy’s close presence.



“What’s that?” she asked.



Turning around to face her, Spike undid the cords of the pouch. “Hold out your hand,” he ordered.



Buffy opened her hand palm up. It was a slight show of trust on her part which he fully noted. Turning the pouch upside down, Spike allowed its contents to spill into Buffy’s awaiting hand. “My necklace,” Buffy said, bringing the silver chain and cross to her breast. “Why are you giving this back?”



“Cos it’s not mine,” Spike simply stated. “Plus, it’s a little incentive for those wankers to keep their greedy little mitts off ‘f you.”



Buffy clasped the chain around her neck, adjusting it so that it was in plain view and not obstructed by the leash and collar. With the outfit complete, Spike gave Buffy his trademark smirk, “Let’s get going, luv.” Almost as though it had materialized out of the thin air, Spike placed a black hooded cloak around Buffy’s shoulders. “It’s cold out,” he explained. Drawing the cloak tighter around herself, Buffy nodded in gratitude.



She nearly jumped out of her skin when she felt Spike’s hand cup her face, pulling her gaze up into his own. “Whatever happens tonight, I want you to know that I don’t mean it. ‘Preciate what you’re doin’ for me, luv.”



With that said, and without waiting for Buffy’s response, Spike turned on his heel, the chain of her leash wrapped tightly around his other hand, and walked out the room’s only exit, with his slave not too far behind. What he had failed to notice was that one of the sparse chairs in the room was strangely missing one of its legs.









********



The trip out had been rather uneventful which was expected seeing as how the house was completely deserted. The same could have been said for the rest of the neighborhood as they quietly made their way down the streets of Sunnydale. It was a part of town that Buffy had avoided, even during the day, before her capture. The Bronze was on the borderline between the safe and not so safe part of town. It explained why the raid had occurred that fateful night.



When they neared the club, Spike pulled Buffy closer to him. “Better keep your eyes to the ground, pet,” he whispered. Buffy quickly dipped her head low, keeping it bowed.



As they neared the front doors, Spike held out the leash, making it more visible to anyone watching. “Move it, Slave,” he ordered, tugging on the chain. Buffy allowed herself to be pulled, even staggering a little to make it seem like his treatment of her was slightly rougher than it actually was.



Walking up to the two vamps posted at the door, Spike vamped out and growled. The two instantly fumbled out of the way and bowed to show the respect that was due to their leader. Spike shoved the doors wide open, and swaggered in, dragging Buffy along with him. She kept close to him once they entered the club, keeping her gaze to the floor, too petrified to look anywhere else. She could here the growls and curses coming from all around her. There was loud, angry heavy metal music playing over the speakers and the air was filled with cigarette smoke. She knew just from looking at the floor that the Bronze had changed drastically since the last time she had been there.



Spike stopped when he reached his makeshift throne, happy to find it vacant. Buffy was careful not to bump into him. She hid her hands beneath her cloak, since they were starting to shake, and waited for instructions.



“Sit,” Spike ordered as he reclined on his big high-back leather chair. Buffy instantly settled at his feet, always keeping her eyes to the floor. Spike reached down and started to pull off her cloak, leaving her a little more exposed to the room full of vampires. If she could have lifted her eyes to the room, she would have noticed that most, if not all of the vampires in the room were salivating at the mouth, some from more than just mere appetite. As Spike pulled his hand away from Buffy, he allowed his thumb to brush against his mark, in the hopes it would calm her. Luckily for her it did, making the tension gradually flow out of her body.



Keeping his grip tight on the leach, Spike glanced around the room, noticing that everyone was looking their way but not a single vampire dared to make eye contact. He took it as a good sign.



“You got a lot of nerve bringing her here,” a quiet but confident voice spoke behind him.



Glancing over his shoulder, Spike saw Damon come up to sit in one of the seats by his left side. Leaning in towards him, Spike calmly said back, “And you must be yearnin’ for a Redwood through the chest.” There was no humor in his statement. “Don’t really care if you believe it, mate. So long as the mob does,” Spike countered.



“I guess we’ll just have to wait and see,” Damon retorted.



Buffy already didn’t like Damon. From what she could hear, he was an asshole. If she was a leader she would have gotten rid of him a long time ago. He was too defiant and way too arrogant. She also wasn’t completely convinced that he wasn’t a threat to Spike.



“So took the pet out for a walk?” a different voice called from Spike’s right.



“Vincent,” Spike welcomed the newcomer. “’Sprise to see you here.”



“Figured it was time I showed my face,” Vincent replied.



Oddly enough, Buffy was grateful for the elder vampire’s sudden appearance. He seemed to have buffered out the tension Damon had created, which even a person staring at the floor could sense. Vincent was without a doubt English, like Spike, but his accent was more refined, upper class even. And he didn’t speak with any airs of superiority or bouts of insolence like Damon. There was just something about him that seemed like he’d stay loyal to Spike even until the end.



“Where’s Tash?” Spike asked, looking out into the crowd.



“Getting someone to eat,” Damon replied casually.



Buffy tensed up at his words. She knew that the room was filled with vampires. But it hadn’t really hit her yet what that meant. Suddenly, she was noticing sounds that she hadn’t picked up on when she had first entered the Bronze. There were moans and whimpers accompanied by growls and even a few screams. Buffy assumed that like her there were other humans at the club. But unlike her, they weren’t gonna leave alive. Her blood ran cold at the idea that people were being used like cattle all around her and that there was nothing she could do about it. She just wanted this night to end.



The music suddenly changed, gone were the harsh notes and screams that were associated with heavy metal, replaced with instead by the loud strong beats of techno. Buffy, though her eyes were still lowered, could sense a shift in the room. She assumed that everyone was moving to the dance floor.



Since his makeshift throne faced the stage, Spike was able to see the large mob rush the floor once the music changed. Stomachs now full and bodies warm with stolen blood, the crowd moved, gyrated and grinded to the erratic beats. The spectacle before him exuded raw sexuality and the stench of their arousal soon filled the air to the point of suffocation. Like a domino affect, one triggered the other and soon Spike found himself falling victim to it as well. He looked at either side of him and noticed that his second-in-commands had disappeared, most likely in search of something to fuck. Spike glanced down at Buffy, who was unaware as to what was happening around her. The way she was dressed, her absolute compliancy and the fact that he was chocking on everyone else’s arousal was driving him insane. The desperation for release was consuming his every thought.



Spike reached down and wrapped his hand around Buffy’s upper arm, lifting her up off the floor. Shaken at first by his unexpected actions, Buffy eventually rose to her feet and allowed Spike to guide her onto his lap. He pulled her as close to him as she could get, making her ass push against his erection. Spike groaned not only from the contact but from the little gasp that escaped Buffy’s lips. Trying to keep his composure, Spike leaned into her and whispered into her ear. “Just relax, pet.” He brushed his mark with his thumb, causing a shiver to run through her. He continued to rub the bite mark, circling it with feather light caresses. “You have no idea what you do to me,” he huskily whispered in her ear as he stimulated her flesh.



Buffy was no longer able to control her actions. His touches were sending shocks straight to her womb, making her panties drenched. She writhed in his lap, trying to get the much needed friction between her legs. Spike groaned louder as she moved against his hardened cock. “Make me so weak,” he whispered so quietly that even he barely heard it.



Spike took his hand away from Buffy’s neck, which caused her to whimper from the loss, but soon replaced it with his lips. Buffy squeaked as his mouth kissed, nipped and sucked on her already sensitive wound. At that moment Buffy dared to look up and what she saw shocked her. She had expected everyone to be staring at them but instead she found that they were all too preoccupied with satisfying their own needs. Buffy couldn’t believe how here she was, writhing in Spike’s lap before a whole group of on-the-verge-of-fucking vampires. She turned her gaze to the far corner of the room. Oops! Make those actually-fucking vampires. Strangely, the idea of being with Spike in front of so many people made Buffy feel so liberated. She found herself getting off on the danger of it.



Feeling a little braver, Buffy reached a small hand behind her and began to stroke Spike’s denim clad erection. The moment her hot hand touched him, Spike’s hips bucked and he growled into her neck. Her bold move made Spike intensify his ministrations until Buffy was on the cusp of orgasm with a nearly black hickey. He deliberately pulled away before she could come. Spike had stopped in hopes of enticing her to do more, to simply act without any inhibitions, but what he got was not what he had unexpected.



Buffy didn’t know what came over her. It was as though all rational thought and logic had just flown out of her head. The orgasm Spike had been building up threatened to be explosive, and not being in the right frame of mind at the moment, she was willing to do anything to just come. Spinning in his lap, Buffy straddled him and started to grind her soaking sex against his hard cock. The friction wasn’t enough and soon she found herself frantically unzipping his jeans and pulling him out. Stroking him a few times for good measure, she pushed her thong out of the way and impaled herself on his cock. Feeling his cool member fill and stretch her, Buffy developed a newfound appreciation for thigh high stockings.



Spike’s eyes almost rolled to the back of his head as he entered Buffy’s searing hot velvet quim. He hadn’t fucked her since he had told her he loved her, and God, how he had missed it. She rode him slowly, bringing herself back close to fulfillment. When Spike couldn’t take it any longer, he began to thrust his hips in time with hers. Both were soon on the edge, both waiting for that one thing to drive them over.



It was Spike who finally acted. Grasping her head roughly, he brought the unmarred side of her neck to his mouth. Vamping out, he sunk his fangs in her neck, drinking down the warm blood that flooded his mouth. The moment he pierced her kin, Buffy’s orgasm ripped through her, making her inner muscles pulse around Spike’s cock. Holding out for a few seconds, Spike soon followed, pulling away from her neck and screaming out her name in release. Slowly sliding out of her, Spike lifted her limp body and cradled her against his side, allowing her head to lazily nestle onto his shoulder. Her warm breath tickled his skin as she exhaled heavily, still reeling from the mind shattering sex they had just had.



They both looked around and saw that the mayhem still hadn’t died down and that no one was paying them any attention. Deciding he had made his point, Spike whispered, “Time to go, luv.”



Buffy simply nodded and slowly slid off his lap. Spike draped the cloak back over Buffy and started to lead her toward the front exit. With downcast eyes, she allowed Spike to lead her through the apathetic crowd, her mind beginning to wander.



She wasn’t sure if having sex with Spike had been such a great idea. Buffy knew he had initiated it, getting her all hot and bothered, yet surprisingly, she wasn’t angry at him for it. Deep down, when she had first agreed to help him with his crazy plan, she had a feeling she was going to end up sleeping with him before the night was through. She just hadn’t expected it to happen in front of a crowd. Yet, when all was said and done, she had jumped him and had wanted it just as badly as he did. She could play it off as it being all an act for the masses, but she knew better. She worried that he might interpret it as more than just sex. To be honest, Buffy wasn’t sure herself what it had meant.



When Spike had told her he loved her, she had been adamant about not being able to love him back. She had convinced herself that he didn’t know what love was and that he was nothing more than a cold blooded killer. And here she was, helping him keep his title as leader of his clan by screwing his brains out in front of a room full of vampires. Buffy knew she was throwing him mixed signals, but she hadn’t meant to. So much had happened with Spike in the past few days to make it all so much more complicated between them.



Unfortunately for Buffy, she didn’t see the minion until it was too late. Colliding into him, Buffy accidentally looked up at him from the unexpected bump. The vampire appeared infuriated, and not really noticing she was tethered to Spike, grabbed her roughly. “You dare look at me!” the game faced vampire spat in her face, making Buffy instantly cower and bow her head. When he didn’t let go of her, Buffy struggled to get out of his grasp, causing the chain around her neck to swing wildly. When the silver cross hit his hand, hissing as it burned, all hell broke loose.



Feeling Buffy’s sudden halt, Spike turned to see his girl get smacked to the ground by some meat-headed fledgling. All he saw was red as he raced over to them, ready to rip the vampire to pieces. He knew the minion was another one of Damon’s but he didn’t give a fuck. No one touched what was his.



The vamp stood over a fallen Buffy, readying himself to strike her again as venomous words spilled from his fanged mouth. “Stupid bitch! Maybe this will teach you a fucking lesson!”



As he went to make his move, Spike flew between the vampire and a cowering Buffy, his death grip somehow finding its way around the minion’s neck. “Better step off, mate. She doesn’t belong to you,” Spike stated rather calmly, surprising everyone around him.



“Let go of him Spike.”



Spike could hear Damon’s threat from within the crowd of onlookers that now surrounded them, but he didn’t give it a second thought. If anything his grip only tightened, threatening to snap the vamps head right off his neck.



It was only when he heard Buffy whimper that he realized they needed to get out of the club before everything they had accomplished that night had been for naught. Throwing the vampire to the floor, Spike called out to Buffy. “Let’s go,” he ordered. It killed him that he couldn’t go over to her and scoop her up into his arms. But if he showed any sign of emotion toward the girl, things no doubt would have only become worse.



Buffy shakily got herself to sit up, trying desperately to get up as quick as possible. To Spike it was all too reminiscent of the first night she had been brought to him. He waited patiently, face devoid of any emotion until Buffy finally stood up on trembling legs, head bowed and ready to follow her Master.



As they turned to leave, Damon’s minion slowly rose up, staggering to get his bearings, and locked onto Spike’s back with a murderous glare. Ready to retaliate, the vamp sprang into attack, lunging toward a vulnerable Spike. However, to get to him, he had to push past Buffy. Nearly knocking her down as he flew by, the vamp halted when he felt that something was off. Peering over his shoulder, he saw Buffy holding a stake that was embedded in his back.



“Ah fu—“was all that was heard before he collapsed into dust.



The room was dead silent; all amber eyes were glued to the girl who had just slain one of their own.



“Whoa.”



Some vampire’s lone remark, though brief, was a good representation of what was going through minds of everyone else in the room.



Spike, who had been none the wiser, turned to see Buffy with dust at her feet and with stake in hand. She was staring at it as though she couldn’t believe she had just actually dusted a vampire. Her eyes were just as wide as of those around her, the shock and amazement at the power she wielded with a simple piece of wood gradually sinking in. Spike watched as her expression changed from bewildered to self-contentment, almost to the point of pride in what she had just done. Buffy, slightly bolder, glanced around, gazing right into the eyes of other vampires, at times actually making a few fledglings take a few steps back.



Spike didn’t know what to do. He knew it could get ugly if he didn’t approach it the right way. If it were really up to him, he’d just stay exactly where he was and admire Buffy. There she stood, defiant in all her glory. Her chin was up with her cloak thrown behind her shoulders, exposing her supple body to the crowd. It was almost as though she was begging for someone else to take her on. God, he loved this woman.



“Can’t just let anyone touch what’s mine,” Spike stated loudly, making sure everyone heard him. “If any of you lays a hand on her and survives, you’ll have me to contend with!”



With that said, Spike turned on his heel, pulling Buffy, who had reverted back to her meek head bowed stance, along with him. Everyone silently watched the duo leave, all with a new found respect for their leader and his feisty slave girl.


 

Chapter Eight: Aftermath





“Do you have any idea what you just did?!?!” Spike shouted, slamming the door once they had entered the room. His jaw tensed and twitched as he gazed down at her, his fists clenching and unclenching as he tried to maintain some sort of composure. But to her credit Buffy remained unfazed by his anger, her eyes meeting his own, refusing to be intimidated.



Buffy didn’t really know what had come over her that night. The now infamous stake that she had constructed out of a broken chair leg was still in her hand. Weeks before, when Spike had left her to her own devices, she had made it. Left with nothing but her fear and paranoia, she had made it for the moment when she was to escape. And as Spike appeared to be less and less interested in her, she had figured it important to have something to protect herself with when the day came that he wouldn’t return and she’d be left with a house full of bloodthirsty vampires. She had brought it with her to the Bronze for her own protection, but she hadn’t thought she was actually going to use it.



All she knew was that something inside of her had snapped when she saw that vampire about to attack Spike. It had all been instinct; her brain didn’t even have time to process what was happening.



But why? Why would she endanger herself for Spike, especially since he had made her life for the past month a living hell? Even if he hadn’t expected it, Spike could have taken on that vampire all on his own. So what had compelled her to stake that vamp? She knew that if in the off chance Spike got killed, she would be done for. Technically, and ironically, Spike was her only lifeline. With him gone, she could kiss this mortal coil goodbye. Maybe that was what had made her pull that stake out from under her cloak. She couldn’t ignore the nagging thought at the back of her mind, the one that was considering that she had done what she did from genuine concern about Spike’s wellbeing.



So what did that mean? She wasn’t sure, but she knew that Spike couldn’t know the truth. He couldn’t find out that she had done it for him. He had to think she had dusted that fledge out of anger and not out of the fear that she would never see his stupid smug face again.



Letting out an exhausted sigh, Buffy removed her cloak, briefly breaking eye contact with Spike, who still seemed like he was going to burst a vessel. “Yeah, I do,” she stated calmly. “I just spent my night helping you reclaim you Leader of the Pack status.”



She watched as he relaxed at her response. “And I’m grateful. Really, luv, I am. But you know there’s gonna be some hell to pay for what you did,” Spike replied, easing out if his duster.



‘Great!’ Buffy thought. ‘The whole night had been for nothing.’



Spike turned from placing his leather coat on his chair to find Buffy with a self-deprecating look etched on her face. He knew ranting at her wasn’t fair. He was actually angrier at himself for letting things get so out of control. “Oh well, sod it! Guess ya made things kinda interestin’,” Spike admitted, smirking at her.



“What...?”



“Said you shouldn’t worry ‘bout it, luv.”



“So, I didn’t completely screw everything up?” Buffy asked, hopeful her little performance as ‘slave-girl’ hadn’t been completely pointless.



“Actually, luv, ‘m thinkin’ vamps ‘round here are gonna start mindin’ what they say ‘bout you,” Spike commented, sitting down on the bed’s edge.



“Why? Cuz I killed one of them?” Buffy asked, still not completely convinced.



“You’d be surprised what kind of power that holds. It’s no joke when the hunters become the hunted, pet,” Spike rebutted.



“So, let me get this straight,” she paused as she collected her thoughts. “I might have actually helped you out by staking that vamp?” Buffy inquired, slightly bewildered.



“Possibly. Hopefully Damon won’t make too much of it. But other than him, yeah, all the minions know not to mess with me or what’s mine.”



Buffy contemplated while she worried her bottom lip with her teeth. Once she seemed to have finally accepted what he was telling her, her eyes narrowed in irritation. “So, what the hell were you getting all mad about?”



“Dunno. Felt like the moment called for it,” Spike shrugged, knowing that his hollering had been more reflex than based on actual anger.



“Huh,” Buffy replied, clearly unimpressed. “I’m gonna go and get out of these clothes.”



Spike groaned loudly when he heard the bathroom door close behind Buffy. As excruciating as it was just to see her in those clothes, the idea of her slipping out of them was a million times worse.



Since the whole staking incident, Spike hadn’t had much time to reflect on the past night’s events. Namely the mind blowing shag he had had with Buffy in front of a crowd of lust crazed vampires. God, it had been one of the most erotic experiences he’d had in the longest time. Marking her as his for all to see; claiming her, figuratively speaking anyway, in front of everyone. And as surprising as it was, he had sensed that she had enjoyed it as well.



He knew the only reason she jumped him was because he had been playing with his mark on her neck. She wouldn’t have otherwise. ‘She probably regrets it,’ he reflected, knowing she didn’t feel the same way about him.



‘'Probly blew my chances.’ It hadn’t occurred to him until now that fucking Buffy was most likely gonna make her despise him again. All the progress they had made, opening up to one another and possibly becoming friends, was shot to hell. Who was he kidding? They’d never be friends.



Finding himself in a sour disposition, Spike just wanted to get the hell out of the room. He needed to give himself some time away from Buffy and all the unnatural emotions she managed to bring out of him.



Sliding off the bed, Spike made his way to retrieve his duster when Buffy suddenly emerged from the bathroom. Decked in a tank top and pajama bottoms, face scrubbed and hair loosely tied back at the nape of her neck, she had never looked more beautiful. The urge to flee vanished when he finally noticed the bruises on Buffy’s cheek.



“You’re hurt luv,” Spike said, making his way over to her.



“You can thank Mr. Dusty for that,” Buffy quipped, a little thrown at Spike’s concern.



Taking her chin gently in his hand, he slowly turned her head from side to side, inspecting her injuries. ‘She must be gettin’ tired of this,’ he thought. ‘Always bein’ hurt; it always bein’ my fault.’



Stroking her cheek lightly, he gave her a sympathetic smile. “I’ll get some ice for that.” Making his way to the room’s small fridge, he pulled out an icepack from the tiny freezer compartment. Wrapping it up in a shirt he found on the bed, he carefully placed it against her swelling face. Slowly guiding Buffy to the couch, Spike helped her get comfortable, throwing a blanket over her so the room’s constant chill wouldn’t affect her. All his hovering made Buffy brake out into a fit of laughter.



“What’s so funny?” Spike asked, unsure what had brought on the unexpected giggle fest.



“I think you should change your name to Florence Nightingale,” she joked, trying to stifle a giggle.



“Is right that?” Spike asked, appearing not in the least bit amused but inwardly ecstatic that Buffy wasn’t angry at him for anything that had happened that night.



“Uh huh. I think you’d look cute in a nurse’s cap,” she added with a snort.



“Your sense of humor still eludes me, pet,” Spike replied, sitting down next to her. “Where’d you learn you could kill a vamp with a stake, luv?” he asked out of the blue.



Buffy sobered up at his question, knowing where the question was leading. “It’s like common knowledge, Spike. It’s in all those cheesy horror movies. You know, the ones with the castle and the angry mob with torches. My cross hurt you, so I figured the stake thing was probably true too.”



“So what you mean to say is that from your expert knowledge in bad horror cinema you deduced that stakes are weapon of choice against vamps?” he asked, receiving a nod in response. “And,” he continued. “That on your first try, you managed to stake a vamp in the exact right spot? Well that’s just impressive,” he said, unmistakably skeptical.



“Is that so hard to believe?”



“Yeah, it is.”



Slumping into the couch, Buffy cast her eyes to her lap where she began to fiddle with the drawstrings of her cotton pants. “I kinda practiced when you weren’t around much. Just in case I needed to protect myself,” she explained, still finding her clothing incredibly fascinating.



“Who were you practicing for, pet?” Spike asked, his voice stern.



Buffy didn’t answer. Her refusal to even look him in the eye told him enough. “It was for me, wasn’t it?”



Buffy nodded. “It was before you told me that you…you know and you left me here all alone. I figured you’d just get bored with me and leave me,” Buffy shivered at the thought. “But, I gotta admit, things are different now.”



“Because I love you,” Spike said, thinking it was what she meant.



“There’s that,” Buffy admitted, a little uncomfortable at how easily he could say those three words to her. “But also because I don’t think you’d leave me. Call it love or possessiveness, but I don’t think you’d ever leave me.”



Spike gave her a confused look. ‘Of course I’d never leave you, you crazy bint.’ God he should leave her, run from her screaming like a madman for all the grief she’d caused him. But he couldn’t. He might play the role of Master vampire but it was Buffy who had him the short hairs. He was completely and utterly love’s bitch.



“But the stake. You brought it tonight and kept it from me. Speaking of which, where the hell did you manage to hide it anyway?” he asked, not remembering feeling anything on her person during their coupling.



“I put it in my boot,” she explained. “And I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want you wigging out.”



“Course I’d ‘wig out’. What compelled you to bring it?”



“To protect myself,” Buffy replied.



“That’s bollocks. I was there. You didn’t need it,” Spike snapped back.



Lowering the icepack from her face, making sure Spike clearly saw her cheek, Buffy calmly said, “You weren’t always there, Spike.”



The vampire flinched at her remark, knowing it was nothing but the truth. He had lowered his guard down for a second and by some stroke of bad luck, Buffy had managed to nearly get throttled by some pissant fledge.



“Plus,” Buffy added as she watched Spike’s countenance diminish. “If I hadn’t brought the stake, I wouldn’t have been able to dust the sorry asshole and make everyone afraid of me.”



“Guess you’re right,” Spike mumbled, still feeling like the world’s biggest pillock for nearly getting Buffy killed. Like many other things that had happened that night, it hadn’t hit him until now the severity of what could have occurred. Buffy could have died. He hated how he hadn’t even noticed Buffy’s face until a few minutes ago. He hated how he had almost shrugged off the whole incident and was just about to leave because she made him feel guilty. And he really hated how he couldn’t get the image of Buffy dead in his arms out of his head.



Placing the pack back on her face, Buffy watched as Spike retreated into himself, an upset expression marring his usually flawless features.



Reaching out, Buffy patted his hand reassuringly. “It’s okay. Still all in one piece here,” she smiled, hoping he wouldn’t get all broody.



Inhaling deeply, Spike nodded, put at ease by Buffy’s claim that she was alright. He only hoped that her optimism was grounded in fact, that everything was really going to be okay.









*******





“I can’t fucking believe him!”



Vincent and Natasha, who were both lounging at the now empty Bronze, watched an infuriated Damon pace back and forth on the dance floor.



“I think it’s rather ingenious,” Vincent remarked. “Training her so that she’d protect herself; it scares the minions away.”



“And Spike makes sure she sticks around for the long haul,” Natasha added.



“You’re kidding me, right? You actually think he did this to protect his property? Didn’t any of you see his face when he saw what she did? It didn’t even look like he knew what was going on,” Damon countered.



“I don’t think Spike would be foolish enough to let the girl carry a weapon without being aware of it first,” Vincent commented.



“Well, I didn’t think Spike would be stupid enough to keep the fucking girl!” Damon growled.



“I kinda have to second that. Definitely wasn’t something I expected,” Natasha supported.



“He kills one of mine, lets his whore kill another one and fucks her in front of all of us and then has the gall to expect me to just go along with it?” Damon vented, still pacing the wooden floor.



Vincent watched the younger vampire with a twinge of disgust. Damon, who was slightly younger than Spike, couldn’t understand how he, in such a small amount of time, had managed to stronghold the majority of Sunnydale. In Damon’s logic, Spike had nothing that he didn’t have. However, Vincent knew that wasn’t the case.



Where Damon would have to resort to violence, Spike would only require the use of a menacing glance to make another vampire submit. The minion that had dared to challenge their leader had been under Damon’s influence and brainwashing. His misguidance had proven quite lethal for the insubordinate fledgling. Yet, in most cases, one only had to watch Spike enter a room, and see how the crowd would part. There were only a few vampires that had that amount of power and Vincent could count them off on one hand. What Damon didn’t understand was that what Spike had had nothing to do with age, or strength, or even charm. It was an innate quality, one that couldn’t be taught by experience. It was all in the blood.



Everyone knew, but seemed quickly to forget, what line of vampires Spike heralded lineage from. He was after all technically the Master’s great great grand Childe and the Aurelian Order wasn’t anything but excellent at securing and using power. Damon was a fool to think he could ever take on Spike. Vincent, being at least two centuries older than his peroxide leader, knew that challenging Spike was futile, and more importantly, foolish. He was actually looking forward to seeing Damon fail miserably.



Vincent turned his attention back to Damon, who had stopped rambling, but who was still pacing angrily. Natasha on the other hand appeared indifferent, inspecting her nails as she reclined in her chair, acting very bored.



“So, now what?” Natasha asked.



“We follow Spike like we always have. Nothing has changed,” Vincent answered.



“Are you blind?” Damon asked, infuriated. “Nothings changed? Everything has changed, old man. Not only is Spike making that bitch his number one priority, but soon he’ll be forcing us to call her ‘Mistress Buffy’.”



“Don’t be absurd,” Vincent remarked, beginning to get annoyed with Damon’s insolence.



“Just you wait and see. It’s only a matter of time before this whole clan is groveling at her feet,” Damon replied through gritted teeth. “And you’ll all be wishing I killed her when I had the chance.”



Emphasizing his point, Damon stormed out of the club, leaving behind Natasha and Vincent to ponder his statement.



“You think he’ll do it?” Natasha asked.



“Do what?”



“Try and get rid of Spike.”



“If he does, he’ll just end up dust in the wind,” Vincent replied, waving his hand in the air.



“Vincent, did you just make some obscure pop culture reference?” Natasha asked, feigning shock.



“I guess I did,” Vincent admitted with a chuckle.



“Guess we’re starting to finally rub off on you.”



“Just don’t tell anyone, alright?”

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