Can I Keep You?

By Moxie writing as Candyknicks

Rating: NC17

Pairings: B/S

Genre: Historical with vampire Spike and non slayer Buffy.

Status: WIP

Summary:Spike picks up would-be prostitute on the streets of Victorian England. He fully intends to kill her after he's had his way with her, but finds he can't. Buffy needs a place to hide and finds herself more and more attracted to the mysterious Spike.But can he make her stay? Will she want to when she finds out who he really is? It's the story of the attraction between her light and his darkness, but ultimatley just a love story....

Chapter 1

He sat, a quiet, lonely figure, in a shady corner of the tavern. Talking to no one save a curt word to the wenches who served the ale, his dark, blue eyes scanning the room, picking out his latest victim. He'd been there a good half an hour by his reckoning and had already decided that he could do no better tonight than the sad-looking young man a few tables down, who sat slumped over his beer mug with his head in his hands, the picture of abject misery.

Man or woman, it made no difference to him, their blood tasted the same. And there was sport to be found in either gender. They both screamed like babies when they saw his true face, and they both moaned and clawed at him like animals when he had them. He could make them forget that they were about to die. Some even died with a smile on their face.

He was just about to rise when he spotted a blonde head across the crowded room. Nothing unusual in itself, the room was full of women, some of them blonde, some of them not. Most of them here for the same reason. He usually steered clear of them for it was far too risky to eat a prostitute these days. Drew far too much attention to the existence of creatures of the night, like him. But somehow, for a reason he couldn't define, this one seemed different.

He could smell her fear, and the blood that pounded in her veins, as she nervously approached a table full of drunken sailors. One of them pulled her down onto his lap and plastered his mouth over hers in a sloppy kiss, his hand groping her breast, while the others laughed and egged him on. The kiss lasted so long that the girl seemed in danger of being suffocated. He saw her hand come up to flail uselessly at the sailor's back until eventually he let her go. Reaching into his pocket the sailor brought out a coin and held it up in front of her frightened eyes.

The girl stared at it for a moment then she gave a brief nod and turned for the door. The sailor rose, adjusted his pants, and to the cheers of his friends, followed her out.

"Your lucky night," the vampire whispered to the young man as he walked past him towards the entrance. The young man looked up at him, bleary eyed and then slumped down on to the table. The vampire laughed and let himself out into the misty night. Something better's come up, he thought as he scanned the alley to see which way they'd gone. He could still smell them, terror and arousal, and he knew they weren't far away. He found them just around the corner, in a doorway, the man with his cock hanging out of his breeches, the girl in tears now. The front of her dress was open, her pale breasts exposed and it looked very much as if she'd changed her mind.

The sailor hadn't though. He groped at the hem of her dress, hauling it up her thigh, even as she tried to pull it down again. Protesting all the while that it had all been a big mistake and she shouldn't be doing this.

The vampire watched for a moment wondering whether he ought to intervene before or after the sailor had had his way. Normally it wouldn't have bothered him. The more frightened the girl, the better. Made the blood richer. But tonight for some reason known only to fate he didn't want to watch this oaf violate this girl who was almost certainly a virgin. Perhaps that's all it was? The thought that if she was a virgin, then he wanted that pleasure before he killed her. It was far too much of a delicacy to pass up on.

She spotted him at last as he watched, her eyes widening in silent appeal. And so did the sailor.

"Wait your turn," he said amiably, "this won't take long."

"No, I don't suppose it will," the vampire said, stepping in and taking the man by the throat. There was a crunch and a thin gurgling sound and the sailor fell to the floor with a thud as his head hit the cobbled path.

The girl gathered the remnants of her torn dress to her chest and stared in disbelief at the body.

"Won't be bothering you any more, love. Change your mind did you?"

She nodded, her eyes flickering between him and the body of the sailor at her feet. Looking at him as if he was the devil himself to dispatch one so big with such ease.

She wasn't far wrong, he thought.

"But you need the money?" the vampire said.

She didn't have to answer that one, her eyes said it all.

"I have money," the vampire said ignoring the pull of the dead sailor's blood. Why spoil his appetite with that when this tasty feast was his for the taking?

The girl bit her lip.

"Wouldn't your rather have me, than him," the vampire said taking a handful of coins from his pocket. He took the girl's hand, carefully keeping his demon in check as she flinched from the contact. Dropping the coins into it, he folded her fingers around it and kept hold.

"I just want to go home," she said pushing herself back into the wall.

He held her hand a little tighter. "But you can't, can you?"

"No."

"At least I'm clean," he said. "Won't give you the pox like he would have."

He let go of her then. Let her feel the money. Saw her fear, but saw her desperation too.

"I'll make it good for you," he said his voice silky and persuasive.

She opened her hand and stared at the coins once more, then she seemed to reach a decision. Her chin lifted and even though he could see that her hand still shook, she levelled her green-eyed gaze and nodded.

He could have just taken it, of course. Didn't really need her co-operation, but she was already frightened enough for his purposes. And on some level, whatever male pride he had left to him wanted to make it good for her, as he'd promised. Wanted to hear her moan out his name because of what he'd done to her. Being a vampire didn't change that and he was more than ready for it.

Ready to take advantage of this young girl whose circumstances had driven to sell her body to anyone who had the money to pay. Only at this rate she was going to starve to death before she earned enough from this trade to keep herself.

He was doing her a favour, he thought as he unbuttoned his trousers. What was the alternative for her? Dying on the streets, probably of the pox, or worse being killed by some drunken retard like the corpse now lying at their feet. At least this way it would be quick and it would be clean and she would know pleasure before she died. He'd make sure of that.

She was shaking so much now that he could hear her teeth rattling, and her eyes were bright with tears that were about to spill.

"Not about to change your mind again, are you love?" he asked her thinking what a pitiful sight she made. And a beautiful one, with her tumbled hair and swollen lips from where the oaf had kissed her, and the curve of both breasts clearly visible through her torn gown. Her skin was fine and as yet unmarked and the thought did cross his mind that here was one for turning if ever there was one. That would solve whatever problems she was running from.

But it always seemed to spoil them, somehow. He turned them, promised them the world but always forgot that they were now vampires, and like him, evil. They never stayed, had no ideas of loyalty and invariably broke what was left of his heart. This was better he thought. A warm human who could at least feel something, even if it was only a couple of hours of sexual pleasure and blind terror.

He moved in, hands on her shoulders, his thumbs tracing her soft skin. Felt the stiffening of her muscles as she steeled herself for what she was about to do. She had courage, he had to give her that. Even as she shivered he saw the determination in her eyes.

"Pull up your skirts, love," he told her bending close to her ear. "It's not going to work, otherwise," he added with a low chuckle.

"You're cold," she whispered. "Why are you so cold?"

"You don't want to know, love. Shall we dance now?"

Her eyes narrowed.

"It's a joke," he said slipping his hand into her bodice and filling it with one of her soft breasts. "Who do I have the pleasure of tonight then?"

A startled intake of breath as his hand squeezed gently, turned into a breathy sigh as his thumb brushed her nipple.

"What's your name, love?" he asked again as his hand came to rest flat over a heart that was pounding so loudly that he could hear it, sending her blood surging wildly around her hot little body. He felt the heat seeping into his fingers and watched in fascination as her life force made them tingle and twitch.

"Buffy." She managed, at last. "My name is Buffy. Tell me yours."

"You can call me Spike," he said fisting the material of her skirt and sliding it up himself. "Have you ever done this before, Buffy?" he asked as the look of terror returned.

"Yes," she said, in a small voice.

"You're not a very good liar, are you?" He dropped the skirt and started to re-button his trousers.

"Feeling generous tonight, my sweet little Buffy. Your first time shouldn't be up against a wall in a dirty alley. Come home with me for a few hours and we'll do it all proper like, in a real bed. What do you say?"

"I can't come home with you," she said her hand surreptitiously smoothing down her bunched up skirts. "I don't know you."

"I think you've chosen the wrong profession, pet. So what are you going to do?" He nodded towards the tavern. "Go back in there?"

Her gaze darted to the tavern, then back to him.

He brought her hand to his lips then, trailed his tongue over her palm, felt the shudder that went through her.

"Just a few hours," he said. "Best you'll ever have."

She arched an eyebrow at that, a spark of the real Buffy showing through. And he didn't give her time to think. Crushing her hand in his he pulled her along to his waiting carriage and pushed her inside.

He'd told her his name, something he never did. But what did it matter? She sat across from him pressed back into the plush seat, her arms wrapped around herself as she looked around the carriage, at anything, but him. It didn't matter how much she knew about him because in a few hours she'd be dead.

Or maybe a few days, he thought as he watched her through half-closed eyes. There was something about this one that made him think that perhaps he'd indulge himself a little. It was a long time since he'd kept a human. They were so bloody fragile, so bloody sensitive. He may be a monster, but he was just doing what he had to do to survive. Like the woman sitting opposite him.

Yes, he thought, tilting his head. He was definitely going to make sure that Miss Buffy died with a smile on her face and his name on her lips.

When he'd had enough of her that was……

Tbc.

Any reviews will show up in the Never Just Friends box as I can't work out how to set up a review form, but that's okay, I can move them to One Step Beyond later.....

Chapter 2

Neither of them spoke as the carriage clattered through the night. It was hard to see where they were going, but soon Buffy was aware that the houses were thinning out and they'd left the town behind. Lights no longer shone comfortingly from parlour windows and a terrible sense of foreboding settled over her as she huddled further into the corner of the padded seat.

The man called Spike sat across from her, nothing more than a dark shape. She couldn't make out his features, but she could see that he was watching her. She had no idea how he could see anything, but she could feel that, as if by some diabolical means, he could almost see in the dark. And hadn't she already thought him the devil back in the alleyway when he'd killed the sailor? Snapped his neck as if it was no more than a twig.

She pulled her torn dress together and held it in place just in case she wasn't imagining his quiet scrutiny, and shifted her legs so that they no longer brushed against his as he sprawled comfortably back. He made no move to touch her so, after a while, she closed her eyes and mentally steeled herself for what she was about to do. A task she had never imagined would be so hard.

Yes, he looked and smelled a lot better than the sailor and he had saved her from possibly the worst experience of her life, but he was still a man. A man whose money she had accepted and would now expect his due. She wondered with a sinking heart if he would require her to be naked for this, for she had never been naked in front of anyone save her nurse. Back in the alleyway he'd asked her to lift her skirts so perhaps that was all that was required? she thought hopefully. As long as he had access to the parts he needed then all would be well. She'd let him have his way and then the carriage would return her to the tavern. And once she'd had this experience, then surely the next one would not be so bad?

The money was still in her clenched fist and she knew by the weight of it that it would be enough to buy her a new gown. Perhaps if she looked more presentable then she'd pick up a better class of clientele and this life would not be such a terrible one after all? It did not seem so when she thought of the alternative.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the carriage coming to a halt and she leaned anxiously towards the window to see where they'd arrived.

"Not there yet, love." Spike said, making no move to get up. "Just stopping to open the gates."

The action was repeated on the other side and the carriage lurched forward once more, jolting her out of her seat. She would have fallen had Spike's arm not moved, as fast as lightening, to steady her. He caught her by the forearm in an iron grip that made her flinch. Immediately he loosened it and she pulled away scooting back into the seat once more and wondering with a sinking heart, just what she'd let herself in for. Here was a man who knew exactly what he wanted and who took it without question. As he would undoubtedly take her.

She nursed her throbbing arm, knowing that it would bruise and realising that he was not so different from the sailor in the alley after all. Well spoken and better dressed, but a man buying the services of a whore, none the less. To both of them she was just a commodity to be purchased and used up. Neither of them were required to care about her feelings in the matter. And neither of them had. Yes, Spike had said that her first time shouldn't be up against a wall in a dirty alley, but she didn't fool herself that he was thinking of her own comfort when he said that.

The carriage stopped and she found the strength from somewhere to stand. Spike stood too, moving behind her completely at ease in the darkness, very close to her now. He moved as silently as a ghost yet, even though she wasn't looking at him, she could feel him all around her. Feel the power he radiated. She knew he was there, yet she still jumped when he spoke. And when his arm slipped around her waist and pulled her off her feet and hard against him, in one swift movement, her breath left her body in such a rush that she thought she would faint.

Perhaps it was just the fear of what she was going to do? That combined with the iron band of his arm across her chest made the blood pound in her temples, and that for some reason only seemed to excite him more. She felt his face dip into her neck where he inhaled deeply, and then his teeth were scraping lightly over her skin.

"God, you smell good," he murmured, almost to himself. "I'm glad we're back, been thinking about you all the way. All the things you're going to do for me. What I'm going to do to you. Can you feel how much I've been thinking about you, Buffy?"

How could she not? He was hard, and big against her back and she thought of how the sailor had looked when he'd undone his trousers and exposed himself to her. She'd thought then that it didn't seem possible that he should be able to put that inside her, and she was thinking it now, for judging by what she could feel, Spike was just as large as he was.

And he seemed to have no idea that he was crushing her as his tongue started to make lazy circles around her ear and he whispered words that might have shocked her, had she not been now at the point of expiring in his embrace.

Struggling only seemed to make him more excited and her arms were trapped, so she used the only weapon available to her, because he now had her so fast that she could hardly draw a breath. Twisting her head around as far as she could she bit hard into the first bit of flesh her mouth came into contact with, and he released her immediately with a surprised grunt. She fell forward, her first priority being to take in a few desperate breaths so that she could regain her senses and her second, to jump from the carriage and run as far away as possible, for surely he would be so angry now that he would kill her as quickly as he had done the sailor in the alley?

His deep groan told her how much she'd hurt him, and she'd hardly caught her breath before he had her again, his hand clamping around her neck, just as he'd done with the sailor. And she knew with a calm, certainty that this was the end.

She'd always wondered what death would feel like. And now she knew. It was cold and it was hard and it was unexpectedly lonely. As she stood helpless, waiting for her final moment she felt totally bereft of everything she'd ever held dear. She didn't even think it worth screaming, for who was there to listen, or care? She almost welcomed it then, for if she could not even keep herself as a whore, then what else was left to her? Where do you go when you've already sunk as low as it's possible to get?

"Do it quickly," she said squaring her shoulders and staring out into the dark night.

"Oh, no," death whispered back to her, as it loosened its grip and the cold hard fingers started to wind into her hair. "This is far too much fun for that."

His arm was around her waist once more, holding her, this time only enough to keep her in place as he pulled on her hair and tipped her head back as far as it would go. She tried to twist round to look at his face, but he'd burrowed his head deep into the curve of her neck, and he had her so firm in his grasp, that all she could do was stare at the roof of the carriage and pray that he would change his mind and make it quick after all.

He's done this before, she thought suddenly, as he shifted her more comfortably against him in a smooth, practiced manoeuvre that told her she was not the only woman to have suffered this fate at his hands.

Do you hear the crunch and snap of your own bones? she wondered as she waited, with a hammering heart, for him to beak her neck. Or does it happen so fast that you're dead before the sound reaches your ears? She deserved no less, she thought bitterly. Foolish to even think she could have done this.

It was her last coherent thought before she was gripped by a sensation so sharp, and so exquisite that she couldn't untangle the pain from the shockingly intense pleasure of it. He pushed himself hard against her as she jerked in his arms and a rush of heat, and something she'd never felt before, shot straight from her neck like a lightening bolt down her belly to that place no decent woman ever talked about.

The startled gasp came from her lips, the dark groan from his and it was only then, as she writhed against him and rode out the wave after wave of bliss pooling between her legs, and the coins fell from her fingers to scatter onto the floor, that she realised that he'd bitten her, too.

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For one brief moment Spike felt his control completely slip away as her blood flooded his mouth and he came hard against her, emptying himself into his trousers for the second time since he'd met her. The first time had been just a few moments ago when she'd bitten him, a completely unexpected pleasure and one which would have taken his breath away, if he still needed any.

He managed to pull back his demon, knowing that if he took too much blood now she'd be too weak to do half the things he'd been thinking of on the journey down. And if her response to him biting her was any indication of what the next few days were going to be like, then she was certainly going to die a happy woman.

"Come on, love," he urged her, suddenly impatient to get on with it. "How about we find that bed, eh? Then Spike's going to teach you what it's all about."

She lolled against him in response and he only just caught her as she fell. Dammit, he thought as he swung her up into his arms. Too bloody impetuous, as usual. He cursed his demon, loudly. Now she was going to probably take hours to recover, and he was already hard again. The carriage door crashed back as he kicked it open, jumped down, and strode towards the house. And the front door would have met the same fate had the coachman not jumped down and ran ahead to open it for him.

"Get me a decanter of brandy and some blood," he barked as he made for the stairs. "And some wine and food for the lady."

The coachman scrambled away, almost falling over himself in his haste to do his master's bidding, not in the slightest bit perturbed by the fact that Spike had blood all over his chin and a comatose woman in his arms. Spike took the stairs two at a time, shouldered open a bedroom door, swiftly crossed the room, and deposited the still unconscious Buffy into the centre of the quilt.

His demon re-emerged momentarily as he cleaned his chin with the back of his hand and licked it off. Then he turned his attention to the sleeping girl. Clean up the wound first, he thought, bending to lick away the remaining spots of blood and flooding the small cuts with saliva to close them. It would be a simple explanation that she'd cut herself as she'd fallen. Another struggle with his demon ensued as it urged him to just get on with it. 'Just take her now,' it screamed. 'Why do you need her awake? Drink her, turn her, didn't her blood taste good?'

'Bugger off, going to have some fun with this one,' Spike told it as he hitched himself up on the bed next to Buffy. He un-knotted his tie, shrugged out of his jacket and kicked off his boots. Then he leaned over to pull hers off too and threw them onto the floor along with his things.

She wasn't a working class chit, that much he could tell. She was pale, but she had been before, which meant that she hadn't spent much time in the sun. And her hands were as smooth as the skin on her face, so she hadn't done much manual labour to date. He lifted one and inspected the neatly clipped nails and small, slender fingers. It was almost like a child's hand and he imagined how it would feel sliding across his skin. He brought it experimentally to his face and stroked it down his cheek. Yes, that felt nice, and would feel so much better when she was actually doing it herself. He put it down again, fingering the red marks he'd left on her arm when he'd grabbed her. So bloody fragile.

The coachman knocked and he called him in without breaking his fascinated scrutiny of the lady before him.

"Light some bloody candles, will you," he ordered as his fingers trailed across Buffy's lips. They twitched as he tickled her with a finger so he did it again. She stirred then, and moaned slightly, opening her eyes and staring blankly at him. It was only a split second before realisation dawned, but he had it in hand before she could push herself up, as she'd been trying to do.

"Go back to sleep," he whispered. "You just want to sleep now, nothing else. I'll wake you when I need you."

She rolled her head towards him and her brow furrowed as if she was trying to remember who he was, then her eyes fluttered for a few seconds and closed again.

"Good girl, Buffy," he told her sleeping form. "You're a very good girl, I can tell. Let's see what we can do about that, shall we?"

It was the hair that had caught his eye in the tavern. A bright, shiny halo still, but it would soon dim to a dull, tangled mess after a few weeks of working the streets. It told him, more so than her hands did, that she hadn't been out in the world for very long. Perhaps a matter of days. That meant that there would still be people actively looking for her if she was a runaway, as she undoubtedly was. They could look in vain. This girl was never going to be found, destined as she was to become one of the many people that simply disappeared without a trace.

The candlelight made her hair glow as the coachman set a candlestick on the table next to the bed and when he asked Spike if he would be requiring him again, Spike genially waved him away.

"See what we've got in women's clothes around the house, put them in my bedroom and then I'm not to be disturbed. Go find yourself a snack," he told him. "But no bringing them back here, you know the rules."

The coachman disappeared and as he closed the door Spike hopped off the bed and turned the key in the lock. He pulled it out and dropped it into a vase with a grin. Don't want dinner running away on us, he thought. Now where was I?

'You were going to eat her,' his demon insisted, in a very bad mood now.

'Eventually,' Spike replied. 'But not yet.' Her blood had taken the immediate edge off his hunger, leaving him relatively free to continue his leisurely exploration without risk of caving in and killing her too soon.

He had a good sniff of her hair and rubbed it on his face. Learning her scent so that he'd be able to pick it up and know where she was if she did get out of sight of him. He did the same with her skin, burying his head between her breasts which were barely covered by the ripped material of her dress. She still smelled of some kind of flowery perfume, but he caught the more delicate undertones that were essentially Buffy. He pulled at the ribbons of her camisole with his teeth, loosening them and exposing her nipples, and he wondered if she'd wake up if he had a little taste. Darting his tongue out he circled one very lightly and she shifted restlessly beneath him.

"Like that, do you love?" he asked her softly. "Let's see what else you like, shall we?"

His hand rose and fell in time with her breathing as he moved it in slow circles down her stomach, tracing the ridge of her corset under the material and moving lower with every stroke until he was over the source of her arousal. His insistent rubbing released even more of her musky perfume so he pulled at her skirts and petticoats until he could see the tangled curls at the apex of her thighs. She gave a small sigh as his fingers swept lightly over her so he delved deeper, bringing them out wet with her juices which he painted carefully onto his lips with one finger. Then he crawled back up the bed and placing his mouth on hers, he kissed her long and deep until he felt her moving beneath him.

Her eyes fluttered open once more and this time he let her wake up. She stared at the ceiling for a few seconds and then seemed to realise with a start that he was there. He watched her struggle to rise, then fall back against the pillows.

"What happened?" she said, fingering the small tear in her neck. "Did I fall?"

"That you did, love," he said reaching over to pour her a glass of wine. "Cut your neck. I managed to stop the bleeding for you, here drink this."

She reached for the wine but her fingers were shaking so much that he knew she was going to drop it so he slipped his arm around her and helped her to sit up, then he held the glass to her lips while she sipped at it.

"There you go, not too much now," he said in a soothing tone. "Do you remember what you're here for?"

Her spine stiffened then, and she scooted out of his embrace, turning to face him as she knelt on the bed.

"You'll get what you paid for," she said staring at the palm of her hand as if she'd suddenly realised that she wasn't holding the coins any more. "Just do it and then I'll need your coachman to take me back to the tavern. Will he be able to do that?"

Her voice had all but disappeared by the time she'd got to the end of her speech, but Spike wasn't listening anyway. He was too busy drinking in the sight that she made, with her wild hair and flushed cheeks, and her breasts hanging out of her dress. He could still taste her arousal on his mouth and the smell of her made his nostrils twitch.

They eyed each other across the bed.

"Stay the night," he said. "I'll add an extra shilling."

She looked suitably insulted.

"I'll require double," she said lifting her chin as if she had a choice in the matter.

"Double it is then," Spike said, pulling his shirt over his head in one smooth movement.

Her eyes seemed to triple in size at the sight of him. He grinned back at her. "Best get started on yours, love," he said nodding towards her dress as he began unbuttoning his trousers. "Or would you like me to help you?" His hands stilled and he made the smallest of movements towards her. She scooted back, frantically.

"I, I can do it myself," she said looking down at her bodice and seeming to realise with a start that she was half naked already.

If Spike had had any human pity left in him, he'd have been feeling it for her just then. Her cheeks were a bright crimson as she sat trying to work out the best way to take off the ruined dress. He could see that despite her bravado, she was on the verge of tears and that, in the normal course of events, should have been a bonus for him.

Then why not tonight? He asked himself.

"Bloody hell. Come here," he commanded with a crooked finger. She didn't move, so he went to her instead and deftly took control.

She knelt by dumbly as he expertly stripped off her dress and petticoats, and started on the lacings of her corset. "So many bloody clothes," he muttered as he threw it to the floor.

She flinched again as he went for her camisole top. "Alright," he said holding up his hands. "Take it off later, makes no difference when."

She flashed him what almost seemed like a look of gratitude for that, and then she said, "What do you want me to do?"

"Do you have a single clue?" he said as he unbuttoned his trousers completely and with considerable relief, released himself.

She shook her head, her gaze dropping to his impressive erection.

He almost laughed out loud at the look on her face. Oh yes, he thought. He definitely had forgotten how much fun it was keeping a human. And this one, he just knew, was going to be the most fun of all.

tbc...

I'm assuming for this story that Spike's personality is the same as it is on BTVS, present day. That witty, playful little boy aspect of his character just keeps wanting to come out as I write!

Any reviews will show up in the Never Just Friends box as I can't work out how to set up a review form, but that's okay, I can move them to One Step Beyond later.....

Chapter 3

She'd removed her drawers back at the tavern on the advice of another of the working ladies who'd befriended her. The fact that she was wearing any at all had caused much hilarity amongst the women as they'd waited at the harbour for the newly arrived ship to dock.

"Bit of a waste of time, love," the woman had said with a laugh. "Throw them in the river, you won't be needing those any more."

Buffy desperately wished she had them now as her camisole top barely covered her waistline, let alone her private parts.

It was undoubtedly the most embarrassing moment of her life. Spike sat across from her on the bed completely at ease and completely naked. He leaned back to pour himself a brandy and then sat looking at her as she tried to cover herself as best she could with her hands.

"No," he waved her hands away. "Don't do that, let me see you."

She did as she was told, wishing that he'd get it over with and send her back to where he'd found her. She still hadn't decided what she was going to do after this, but throwing herself in the river was beginning to look the better alternative.

"Can I have one of those?" she asked pointing to his glass.

He gave a low chuckle and motioned her towards him.

"Come here then," he said taking a mouthful of the brandy.

She moved tentatively towards him, but when his arm came out to snake around her neck she flinched as she remembered the way he'd grabbed her in the carriage.

He frowned as she ducked away, and swallowed the mouthful he'd been holding.

"Now then, love," he said, wiping away the trickle that had spilled from the corner of his mouth. "Going to need a bit more co-operation than this, if you want to earn anything tonight. Now, come here, I won't hurt you."

"You did in the coach," Buffy said, fingering the marks on her neck. "You were very rough, and you did hurt me."

Spike frowned, almost as if he was trying to remember what he'd done, and whether it should be of any consequence.

"That's 'cos you're so bloody delicate," he countered. "Fainted at the slightest thing. Now, do you want this brandy, or not?"

She managed a nod, trying desperately to keep her eyes on his face, although she seemed unable to tear her gaze away from his male parts that sat rampant between his thighs.

"Impressed, are we?" he asked her, looking down at himself with considerable pride. "That's going to make you scream tonight, love," he said as he stroked a finger down the length of it, the tip of his tongue showing through his teeth. "In a good way, of course."

She watched in awe as it seemed to grow even bigger at his touch and he stopped.

"It'll fit, don't worry," he said catching the look on her face. "I'll make sure you're nice and ready for me, now come here."

"Be gentle," she said feeling a sudden burst of confidence and then she added, "please," when his head snapped up and something that wasn't there before flashed in his eyes. It was only momentary, but what she saw almost made her jump from the bed and run into the dark night, half naked as she was. There was something not quite right about this man who called himself Spike, and it went beyond him just being a potentially violent murderer as she'd thought him in the coach.

She was only beginning to notice it, but the whole house had a still, heavy atmosphere. As if this was a place that the sun never penetrated and where the air never moved. Her gaze flickered around the dimly lit room as the thought popped into her head that if ever there were such things as ghosts, then they would surely live here.

Spike looked around too. "What?" he asked her furrowing his brow.

"Nothing," she said rubbing her arm as the goose-bumps prickled her skin. How could she have not known how foolish this was? To come to such a remote place with a man who may well be the devil in disguise.

She'd gone mad, she decided. The last few days had driven her to bedlam, and she wasn't here at all. This was all a dream brought on by a bout of insanity, because why else would she be doing this?

"I can be gentle," he said snapping her out of her thoughts and reaching for her shoulder. His fingers barely grazed her skin, then slipped under the lacy strap of her top and slowly slid it down. "Is that gentle enough Buffy?" he asked in a silky voice that, combined with the feel of his fingers on her skin, only served to increase the gooseflesh. "Now come here and get your brandy."

Taking a large sip from his glass he put it down on the table behind the bed and shifted on his knees, positioning himself in front of her and angling his head. His hand reached behind her neck, but she managed to quell the memory of the way he'd held her in the coach since he wasn't forcing her this time. Rather his fingertips were guiding her towards him and for some strange reason she couldn't resist.

The devil has blue eyes, she thought as he drew her nearer, and she had no idea what he was going to do until his mouth came down on hers. His fingers threaded into her hair and tipped her head back slightly, again reminding her of what he'd done in the coach. Before she had time to protest, he opened his mouth just a fraction and allowed a trickle of brandy to run into hers. The fiery warmth made her cough as it ran down her throat, but he held onto her with his cool hands and repeated the action, this time following it with his tongue which he brushed over her lips before slipping it in between and pushing it against hers.

"Relax," he murmured as she coughed again and more brandy filled her. She tried, thinking frantically that his mouth shouldn't feel as good as it did as it slid over hers and wondering just exactly what he wanted her to do. His tongue was fully inside now, pushing at the roof of her mouth, sweeping over her gums and the insides of her cheeks. Pushing against hers. Brandy dripped out and ran over her chin as he continued with the insistent kiss and when he realised it was happening he pulled away momentarily to lap it up, cleaning her of every drop.

He sat back. "Have you ever been kissed before?" he asked her.

"Yes," she said and she couldn't help hanging her head in shame as she thought of the last man who'd kissed her.

Spike took her by the chin and lifted her head. "But not like that?"

"No," she replied, her eyes still downcast. "Not like that."

"What's your story, Buffy?" he asked reaching over for the brandy and handing it to her. "You have to be the most unconvincing whore I've ever had the pleasure of. Run away from home did you?"

"Why are you so cold?" she countered. The brandy went down in one long draught, causing another coughing fit. He did nothing to help her as she spluttered and choked, but he did fill up the glass again as she resolutely held it out to him. Down it went, almost choking her once more, but filling her steadily with the courage she lacked to get through this.

"Horrible disease," he said. "Can't seem to get warm since. Was rather hoping you'd help me with that."

She thought she saw him wink, but she couldn't be sure because there were suddenly two Spikes sitting in front of her, and the glass was slipping from her fingers as she tried to hand it back to him. Then the images merged into one and the room slowly started to turn.

He caught the glass as it fell and then her as she swayed, with a hand on each of her shoulders.

"I don't believe you," she said, as his image swam in front of her. She wondered if he'd mind if she went to sleep again. The bed was suddenly looking very inviting. And then she felt him lying her down onto the silky cover of the quilt. She knew that she was wearing nothing but her camisole which covered none of her blushes, and that he could see everything she had to offer. And that he was probably looking. But she found she just didn't care any more. He could go back to hell, she thought, rolling onto her side and snuggling her face into the pillow.

"Buffy?" His voice filtered through the lovely fog that was descending on her, rolling over her in waves and making her feel as weak as a kitten. Why hadn't she thought of this before? Brandy was the perfect way to make the world disappear. At that moment she couldn't care what he did to her, because she wasn't going to be there. She was floating off to some wonderful place…

"Buffy." She felt his hand on her arm, shaking her and then pulling her over onto her back. The room was still rocking gently back and forth, as was Spike's face as it loomed over her. The devil was handsome too, she decided. Strangely so with his hollow cheekbones and pale skin, but pleasing none the less.

"I'm not usually that bothered," he said from somewhere far away, "but I think I'd prefer you awake for this."

She screwed up her eyes and brought him into focus. "Sleepy," was all she could manage.

"Oh," he said, his face very near to hers now. "Going to let you have a nice, long sleep soon, pretty Buffy. But not yet, love, not yet."

------------------------------------------------------------

"So, who was the man that put you off kissing then?" Spike asked her, intrigued by her reaction to his earlier question.

"Why should you care?" she replied, her voice slurring. "And I don't want to talk about it."

"I don't care," he said, matter of factly. "Just curious, that's all. Is that what this is all about? Forcing you to marry some old codger with no teeth, were they?"

"I don't want to talk about it," she replied resolutely closing her eyes.

He soon had them open again as his hand dipped between her legs.

"Has a man ever touched you here?"

She shook her head.

"Or done this?" He slid a finger inside.

Her legs clamped shut, trapping his hand.

He moved the other to her breast, letting his thumb graze her nipple. "What about this then?"

She nodded.

Spike extracted his hand, sat back on his heels and looked at her.

"Did you like it when I kissed you?" he asked.

"I don't know," she replied.

"Would you like me to do it again?"

Buffy struggled up onto her elbows. "But I thought you wanted to do that other thing?"

"And we will soon enough, but kissing can be very pleasurable, you know. Would you like me to teach you how to kiss, Buffy?" he took her hand, and tugged.

"But I didn't think I'd have to" she said letting him pull her up. She was still loose and floppy, so he slipped his hands under her arms and propped her up onto the stack of pillows. Her head tipped to the side as he did so and suddenly he was hungry again. The sight made his fangs tingle and ache, but he managed to squash the feeling down. They hadn't even started yet and he suspected that it wasn't only the alcohol that was making her so weak. If he took any more blood now she wasn't going to be good for anything.

"Some men like it, others want to cut straight to the chase," he said with a shrug.

"And do you, like it?" she said.

"Let me show you how much I like it," he said dipping his head towards her. "Kiss me back, Buffy."

She leaned up a fraction and touched her warm, quivering lips to his. He increased the pressure by degrees and she took her lead from him and did the same. Then he sat back, leaving her hovering in mid air, her lips still puckered, her eyes still closed. She opened them and looked around to see where he'd gone.

"Can see you're going to be a natural, love," he said smiling encouragingly at her. "This time open your mouth, and I'm going to put my hand on the back of your neck, just to hold you. Not going to be hurting you again."

She still flinched when he slid his hand into the hair at the back of her head and wound it round his fingers and every time she did that, his demon jumped.

Down mate, he told it firmly, but it wasn't listening. Dammit, he thought, turning away as it momentarily emerged. When he turned back, face normal again she was watching him with a puzzled look, so he didn't give her any time to ask the question he could see hovering on her lips. Instead he just kissed her, wet and open-mouthed, pushing his tongue inside, encouraging hers to move against his.

She tasted of brandy and him, a heady mixture of decadence mingling with her own sweet innocence and he could have stayed there all night just doing that to her. He wrapped her hair tighter around his fingers and let his other hand drop to her breast. What little breath she had left hitched in her throat as he squeezed and he remembered then that she had to breathe, so he reluctantly pulled back.

"Tell me you liked that," he said roughly, annoyed that she'd nearly seen his demon face. The last thing he wanted was her hysterical on him.

She frowned at him, and touched two fingers to her lips. "Yes, I liked it," she said. Then she raised her face to his. "Would you like me to kiss you now?"

It calmed him, the way she looked at him so honestly. It was a long time since anyone had looked at him like that. No duplicity, no deceit. She didn't want anything from him and her words were simple and clear so that he knew exactly what she meant. And yes, he did want her to kiss him with the same honesty. It was what had drawn him to her in the first place. He'd smelt her innocence in the tavern, and he'd tasted her honour and integrity in the blood he'd taken in the carriage.

It was something he could never know again, unless it was through her, he realised with a start. His demon laughed at such lofty ambitions. 'You're a sad, pitiful creature,' it told him. 'Will she make you human again? Is that what you think? Best kill her now then. She may like your human face. May bend to kiss you with those sweet lips of hers, but what's she going to do when she sees me? Answer me that.'

She was still waiting as Spike decided what to do. His demon was right. This could never work. He was a vampire first and foremost even if he did have left a smouldering spark of humanity that, try as he might, he couldn't seem to extinguish.

And it was that small spark that spoke to him as he moved his head, fully intending to end it there and then.

'You may be a monster,' it told him, 'but she makes you feel like a man, doesn't she? Do you remember what it feels like to be a man?'

He did. And it was too painful to even think about.

Jumping from the bed, he took two paces towards the door before spotting the brandy decanter, picking it up and throwing it hard at the wall. Buffy cried out behind him as it shattered it into a million pieces and sprayed brown liquid all over the flock wallpaper.

He jammed his fingers into his hair and covered his face with his hands as his demon gloated. 'Show her, go on, it said. See if she wants to kiss your ridges and fangs. See if she doesn't just die of fright like all the others.'

"No" Spike shouted, out loud. "I'm in charge here, do you hear me. I'm still me."

His demon took heed at last and it was only then, when he'd managed to push it back that Spike remembered Buffy again. He spun round and found her standing at the side of the bed trying to struggle back into her dress. She flicked him a terrified glance and ran around it holding the dress in front of her as if it were a shield, but he was across the room in a flash, wrenching it away from her and throwing it down.

"Where the hell do you think you're going?" he growled, unable to bring himself down from his struggle with the demon.

"Let me go," Buffy cried trying to run around him, but he caught her easily, lifted her clear from the floor and threw her back onto the bed.

He could see what she thought he was going to do to her then. This wasn't going to be someone buying the services of a whore. She'd withdrawn her consent, that was obvious. But she'd taken his money, so she owed him. And his demon asked him why he was even having this conversation with himself.

"You're insane," she said quietly although her voice was still laced with terror. "I want you to let me go."

Spike shook his head. "Can't do that, love, sorry."

"But why?" Buffy said pulling at the quilt to cover herself. Then all the colour drained from her face. "You're going to kill me, aren't you? I'll never leave this room, will I?"

She looked about as she spoke as if she was taking one last look at her own grave.

"Hell, no," he said sitting on the edge of the bed. "I'm not going to going to kill you."

"You are," she said "I know it. You wanted to do it in the carriage, but you remembered that you hadn't had me yet. That's right, isn't it?"

"I am not going to kill you," he shouted, taking her arm again, forgetting that she bruised so easily.

"Then what do you want?" she said her whole body trembling. "I don't understand what you want from me."

What did he want from her? He thought he'd known that at the start of the evening. Then she had to go and look at him like that, when she'd asked him about the kiss. Go and remind him of things that were best locked away and forgotten. Foolish things that made him weak and pathetic.

He brought his hand to her face once more and traced a finger down her cheek. She stayed very still as if she was afraid she might anger him by even breathing.

"I just want you to kiss me," he said. "Like you were going to before."

He tilted his head, and looked her in the eye.

"Do you think you could still do that for me, Buffy?"

tbc...

Any reviews will show up in the Never Just Friends box as I can't work out how to set up a review form, but that's okay, I can move them to One Step Beyond later.....

Chapter 4

He was mad. There was no doubt in her mind now. It was almost as if he were two different people inhabiting the same body, each of them fighting for control. And her fate rested with the outcome of that struggle, she already knew that much. The cold, unfeeling killer who'd taken the sailor's life and then calmly stepped over the body without a glance was also the man whose touch could be as gentle as a summer breeze, and who's velvet lips had promised something that she hadn't even realised she wanted.

And the man who she'd thought was going to kill her in the coach was the same one who looked at her now with eyes so naked that she could see right into his soul.

The thought struck her as odd for how could such a monster have a soul?

Buffy pulled up the quilt, covering herself from those eyes that seemed to see everything, even in the dark, and thought that her only hope of surviving this would be to appeal to the man who sat waiting for her now. As long as he was here, she was safe, but how to keep him?

"I want you to kiss me," Spike said again. "Have I frightened you too much for that?"

"No," Buffy replied hoping that her voice sounded convincing. "You don't frighten me. Not as you are now."

He shook his head, his gaze flicking to the quilt as she clutched it to herself, a small humourless smile on his lips.

"Don't look for the man, pet. He's not there any more."

Buffy swallowed, trying to keep calm as she watched him warring with himself.

"But I can see him," she began. "Whatever happened to bring you to this, he is still there."

"I know what you're doing," he spoke quietly, without looking at her, his finger drawing a pattern on the quilt. "And it's not going to work. I'm not letting you go."

Buffy fell back onto her heels, meeting his cool gaze as he lifted his head. Desolation, that's what she saw. A bleak emptiness that chilled her to the bone. And the man was still there, trapped inside it all. Frozen in some nightmare place.

"You can't keep me here against my will," she said.

Spike shrugged and twisted himself so that he was sitting beside her, totally unconcerned with his nakedness. His cock was still hard as he leaned back against the headboard, one leg straight, the other bent, his arm dangling across his knee. He raised his eyes to the ceiling and contemplated it for a moment, and then his head rolled sideways so that his face was close to hers.

"Go then," he said his voice betraying no emotion. "Dress yourself and go."

Buffy kept her eyes firmly fixed on his face, unable to believe what she was hearing. He was giving up, so easily?

"You'll try and stop me?" she asked.

Spike raised his hands, palms forward. "I won't move from this bed."

"Then this is a game?" she said looking around briefly and locating her dress as it lay on the floor. Game or no game, if he was giving her any chance at all to escape him, then she ought to take it.

"Perhaps," he replied, his eyes glittering. "But I think you owe me that kiss first. You did take my money, it's the very least you can do."

"I dropped it," she said trying to remember where. "In the coach I think."

He leaned calmly over the edge of the bed then and picked up his discarded jacket. "Here," He said fishing out another handful of coins. "Will that be enough?"

She only hesitated a moment before reaching for them. Part of her wanted to tell him to go to hell. Do what he wanted with her because she didn't care anymore. She'd show him how she could die with her honour still intact. Whatever he did, he'd never take that away from her.

But another part of her still desperately wanted to live, despite everything that had happened to her. It still wanted to take that very slim chance he was offering her of a way out of this. And if it meant sacrificing her honour, then she was learning fast that honour is worth nothing to you, if you are dead.

"I could just take it," he said noting her hesitation.

"Yes you could," she said, her heart speeding up as she realised just what he wanted from her at that moment. "But you don't want to do it that way, do you?"

"Oh, I want to alright," he said. "You don't know how close I am."

His face was an impassive mask and he sat before her like a cold, hard statue, but he couldn't hide it from her. The need for something, what was it? Love, affection, someone to see the man he'd once been?

It was his only vulnerability. And it was her only chance.

She handed back the coins. "I'll give you what you want, if you will let me go."

He made no move to take them. Instead he jumped forward onto his knees one arm moving behind her back, the other hand sliding upwards to grasp her cheek. He jerked her towards him, making her drop the quilt, pulling her flush against him so that his hard cock prodded and rubbed against her belly.

Thinking that the inevitable moment had come, Buffy found that she had some fight left in her after all. Any thoughts of meekly letting him have his way flew straight out of the window as her survival instinct came to the fore. She tried to twist out of his grasp and rake her nails down his face, but as he had done in the coach he knew exactly what to do. As if he'd done this many times before he smoothly captured her hands, flipped her over and pinned her down beneath him on the bed. And he had a physical strength she could never hope to match, she knew that as she lay under his hard length.

But still, even as he had her exactly where he wanted her, she managed to see it. Even through her fear she could see that there was still a small spark of hope for her as he clenched his jaw and got himself under control.

It was still there. The need and the wanting. The desire that, for once, he wouldn't have to do it this way. His weakness, she thought, understanding something of the world at last. Go for his weakness and exploit it, no matter how cruel that may be.

"I'll give you what you want," she repeated wondering if she could be that cruel even to this monster. "But then, you must let me go."

"Buffy," he said, his eyes scanning her face, his hand coming up to smooth away a strand of hair that tangled in her eyes. "If you gave me that, I would never let you go."

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'Feels good, doesn't she?' His demon whispered.

Spike twisted his head, almost as if there were someone else sitting behind him breathing seductive words in his ear, making him do things, despite himself. When it was like this the two beings that occupied his body separated in a way that was almost painful and he could feel it, tearing him in two. The weakness of the man, the strength of the demon, usually they sat together without any thought of rebellion. The demon took the man's hand and led him further and further away from the light and the man went willingly, revelling in the lessons, taught so insistently.

But this woman spoke to him with words that were like food to a starving man. The promise of cool, clear water when your throat was parched. They made him want to reach out and grasp at hopeless possibilities. They made him want to believe again.

But his demon always knew what was happening and it was always there, to squash down these feelings. To remind him of what he was.

'Her skin,' it said, 'so smooth and clean. The way it slides against yours, the way it smells. She wants you to take her,' it said. 'Can't you feel it? Smell how much she wants you, go on. Why are you doing this to yourself?' it asked in a mocking tone.

Spike listened. The devil behind him, an angel in front of him. And him in the middle. Her eyes pleading with him not to hurt her. Its voice telling him to kill her, or turn her. Her body asking him to be gentle. His demon telling him to take without thought of anything else. Just because he could.

And in the middle of it all, the man who just wanted to be loved. And who was never going to be again.

'She's aching for you,' his demon insisted. 'So wet and warm that you'd slide right in with no resistance.'

"She's a bloody virgin," Spike said, out loud causing Buffy's startled eyes to flit from side to side as she looked for the person he was talking to.

'But she wouldn't stop you,' his demon said with glee. 'Maybe a token protest, but once she feels that cock of yours inside her she'll soon be singing a different tune.'

'They always do,' it added.

You don't want it that way, do you? He remembered her words that rang so true they cut him open. Could you force someone to love you? Would it mean anything? Did it have to?

What the bloody hell was happening? One look at this girl and his whole world was tilting so far over that he couldn't imagine it ever being straight again.

"You will come to me," he said in a voice of calm certainty.

"Not like this," she said wriggling beneath him.

He moved a little so that he could dip his hand between her legs, stilling her protests with the weight of his body. "Shh", he said sliding a finger inside her, "let me show you how much you want this."

He stroked her most sensitive flesh, feeling her response even as she struggled to keep still. The clenching of her inner muscles, the flow of her wanton juices. The way she pressed her mound against the heel of his hand, looking for something that she didn't understand. And more subtly, the flush of her skin, the rapid beating of her heart and the imperceptible hitch in her breath as she tried to deny what was happening to her.

"There," he said, bringing out a wet finger and rubbing it on her lips. "That's how much you want me. Can you smell it, Buffy? Can you feel it?"

She shook her head. "Then my body betrays me," she said. "My body may betray me but my mind never will. It proves nothing, Spike, only that I am a physically weak. Take me then, and do your worst, for you will have no satisfaction from it."

"Damn you to hell woman." Spike rolled off her and flopped down beside her, his hands covering his face. Let her go, his better half urged. This is only going to lead to torment.

She lay very still beside him except for a slight trembling which he could feel even though they weren't touching, and he made no more moves towards her. She can do what she likes, he thought. It was obvious that she wasn't going to kiss him voluntarily now. He didn't know why he was so reluctant to kill her. It didn't make any sense, he knew that. But he also knew that her blood tasted better than anything he'd ever had. And that she appealed to a side of him that he'd thought was long dead.

And that her body was screaming out for his touch no matter how much she chose to deny it. He could still feel her skin beneath his palm. Her musky scent was so strong he felt drunk with it. She'd writhe and moan beneath him, call out his name in ecstasy as he made her climax over and over. He already knew how it would be. Already knew her better than she knew herself.

The bed dipped as she slid quietly from it, then he heard the rustling of the stiff material of her dress and petticoats as she slipped into them. He watched her silently as she looked around for her boots, picked them up and made for the door.

Running away barefoot? His demon gave him a prod and he heard it laugh. 'This will be funny,' it told him. 'When she finds the door locked. How mad is she going to be? You'll have her then, won't you? Won't be able to resist that.'

He was a predator, a creature of the night. And she was his.

As she moved further away from him he could feel himself twitching as he anticipated the thrill of the chase. It was always particularly enjoyable when they ran. Fear seemed to make the blood boil. Gave it a heady, spicy edge and he had to grab great handfuls of the sheet to stop himself jumping her there and then. A poor, innocent victim and a big, hungry vampire. His favourite scenario. His demon whispered and whispered.

Spike sat up, his eyes glowing, and Buffy screamed.

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Glass. All over the floor, from the decanter he'd smashed She remembered it now and she'd stepped right in it.

Buffy screamed as the shards pierced her feet and each step that she took seemed to just lead her to more pain. Then she felt herself being lifted clear off her feet and enclosed in an iron grip that she recognised well.

"Bloody hell, woman," she heard Spike say. "How far did you think you were going to get? And without shoes, you stupid bint."

He sounded cross as he carried her back to the bed, but there was in his voice a tiny hint of something else. Like the tone one would use when scolding a child that you were concerned about.

"I'd rather run over broken glass than stay here with you," she said as he laid her down. The pain was intense and she couldn't help crying out, much as she didn't want him to see that it was hurting badly. There were still pieces in her skin, she could feel them and they burned and stabbed at her.

Her head was spinning as she tried to sit up and pull them out, but Spike pushed her back down.

"Keep still, woman," he said, "I'll see to it."

"Please," she said, the pain overriding her shame at having to plead with him for help. And for having failed so miserably in her escape attempt. "It's hurting."

"Well of course it's bloody hurting," he growled at her. "Your foot's like a pincushion. Now, hold still."

She wasn't sure what he was going to do, and at that moment she didn't much care, as long as he took the pain away. But never in her wildest dreams did she expect him to do what he did next.

"Roll over onto your front," he ordered her, giving her a helping hand when she looked at him, puzzled.

She pressed her face into the pillow and then she felt him take her foot, and surely that wasn't his mouth she could feel?

Buffy tried to twist herself round, crying out again as more pain sliced through her.

Spike pushed her back down again. "I can't do this unless you keep still," he said. "It will hurt, so bite the pillow or something. I'll be as careful as I can."

"What are you going to do?" she asked as his cold, wet mouth descended on her once more.

She got no answer but the pain he'd promised her. Each strong pull from his mouth loosened another piece of glass and she heard them clink as he threw them into his empty brandy glass.

He worked methodically, seemingly uncaring of the way she writhed and cried with the pain he was causing. Hot tears stained her cheeks and she instinctively tried to wriggle away from it, even thought she knew that it must be done, but he pulled her back and held her fast.

"Nearly done," he said. And then when she tried to turn around again he pressed a hand on her shoulder and wouldn't let her.

"Don't look," he said. "It's not a pretty sight."

"How bad is it?" she asked flopping back down against the pillows.

"You won't be able to walk for a few days," he replied.

She didn't miss the note of triumph in his voice as he said it and she groaned inwardly, knowing that she'd lost her best and possibly her only chance of escape. Knowing that her rash action had irrevocably sealed her fate.

She no longer heard the clink of glass upon glass as he sucked at her foot, but he continued to work at her, drawing mouthfuls of her flesh into his mouth, and each time he did it she could feel her blood rush around her body in such a frenzy that it made her dizzy.

A lazy warmth started to overtake her, making her feel fuzzy and cotton-headed. And the pain was receding to be replaced by something else. In the carriage it had been sharp and intense, but this was different. It washed over her in waves, each peaking higher than the one before, making the blood pound in her ears until she could no longer hear the growling and sucking noises coming from Spike.

All she was aware of was the dull ache of his mouth working on her and the rhythmic building of wave after wave of intense feeling centred on the place between her legs. It was becoming hard to breathe as she clutched at the sheet and she tried to bat him away, because some part of her was telling her that she shouldn't be enjoying this. That this was so wrong. Genteel young ladies didn't get pleasure from this intimate touching. The marriage bed was a place to be endured not enjoyed. Every good Victorian lady knew that.

But instead she felt him pulling at her skirts and then his fingers delving into that place that was radiating such a surprising feeling of pleasure that she wanted to scream out with it.

She did cry out when he found her most secret spot. The place she hardly dared touch because she'd been told she would go to hell if she did that to herself. And that was when she learned just how much of a monster he was.

She cried no, but he just did it more. She tried to move away, but he held her fast. She felt the world dissolving around her and fought and struggled to stay with it, but he urged her to go. Told her to find her release, and kept on saying it and rubbing at her and sucking at her foot until she gave up and just went, to the place he was sending her.

How could this be hell? she thought frantically, as a voice that may have been hers cried out someone's name. Could something this good, be so wicked?

There was something wet trickling down her thigh, but it was cold, so it couldn't be blood. And Spike was still there, licking at the sole of her foot now, small, delicate movements of his tongue as if he was cleaning up every drop.

Buffy let out a long breath into the pillow, trying to gather up her scattered senses, lifting her head and bringing the room into focus once more. For a moment she couldn't even remember what she was doing here, thinking it to be a dream, or more likely a nightmare from which she was just awakening.

But it wasn't a dream. The aching in her feet was real, and so was the silken quilt beneath her. The flickering candlelight lit up the room with strange shadows, but it was still the room that Spike had brought her to, to be his whore. She pushed herself over on to her back and there was the man himself watching her, his eyes burning, intent on her alone.

Her blood stained his cheek, and his mouth, and when he saw her staring at it he wiped it away with the back of his hand. For a moment neither of them spoke. Buffy sat herself up and pulled down her skirts and petticoats while he just stared at her. She scooted back against the headboard using her heels for leverage and wincing at the pain it caused. Spike gaze darkened when he saw the small streaks of blood that her bleeding feet were leaving on the quilt.

"You've got to let me go," she said pulling up her knees and hugging them, as if they could be a barrier between her and this man who'd just drunk her blood, and who seemed to be holding her in place with his eyes alone.

He shook his head.

"Then kill me now," she said.

Again, he shook his head. "I told you, I'm not going to kill you," he said. "But I'll make a bargain with you."

She stared at him, unblinking.

"The day you come to me of your own free will, because you want to, and because you want me. That's the day I'll let you go."

"I don't understand," Buffy said.

"Oh, I think you do," Spike replied jumping from the bed and reaching for his trousers. "Did you enjoy what I just did to you, Buffy?"

She felt a blush crawl over her as she shook her head.

"Liar," he said. "Would you like me to do it again?"

"No," she found her voice at last.

"I will if you ask nicely." He took a step towards her.

Buffy held up her hands and moved back a little more. "I will never ask you for anything."

"You came here to whore for me, Buffy, or have you forgotten that?"

"I haven't forgotten," she said, "but the game has changed, I think."

"Oh yes, the game has changed." He moved closer. "But who is the cat and who is the mouse here? Tell me that," he said raising his eyebrows.

It was still there, she realised. The need she'd seen earlier. Try as he may to mask it, he couldn't. He was still waiting for his kiss.

"I will kiss you," she said, his weakness making her bold. "And I will let you make love with me." He jumped visibly when she said that. "But do not fool yourself, that I am doing it for any other reason than that I want you to let me go from here and away from you. And here is my bargain," she continued. "I will give you this one night, but no more. Tonight I will willingly do anything that you ask of me, but tomorrow morning your coachman must take me away from here to the place of my choosing. If you do that, then you may find me and I will let you do it again."

"What kind of bargain is that," Spike said snatching up his shirt. "I can have you anytime I want. I don't have to make bargains with you."

"Take me kicking and screaming then," Buffy lifted her chin. "I will fight you every inch of the way, and you will get no satisfaction from it."

"Good," he said taking a step towards her. "Because do you know, I prefer it that way."

"Not this time," she said meeting his gaze as boldly as she could given that her heart was now beating so fast that she could hardly draw breath. "That's not what you want this time."

"There are people looking for you," he said. "Asking for you in the tavern, they were."

She faltered. "You're lying."

"Young bloke, fair hair, big moustache."

Her heart missed a beat and almost forgot to start again.

"I'll hide you here," he said, smirking at the way he'd wrested the advantage from her.

"In return for being your whore?"

"Well, yes, what else would I keep you here for?" he said dropping the shirt again.

"My offer still stands," she said. He had to be bluffing. Surely he hadn't seen her brother? Just a clever guess, she told herself. And she couldn't back down now, this was all she had to fight with.

"You don't back down, do you?" he said with something almost amounting to respect in his voice.

"I ran away from something far worse than you," she said remembering just what had brought her to this in the first place.

"Oh, I very much doubt that, my sweet. You have no idea what you've got yourself into."

"My offer still stands." She backed away as he approached the bed, sucking in a short breath as she skidded her sore heels along the quilt. "Take it or leave it."

He sat on the edge for a moment, unmoving and then suddenly his arm shot out with lightning speed and grasped her by the chin.

"And what makes you think," he said, his face very close to hers, "that one night with you will have me so enamoured that I will do anything you say? Don't you think that if you give me that much pleasure then I am more likely to want to keep you here, you stupid girl." He dropped her chin so abruptly that she almost toppled over. "Did you not think of that?"

"I will give you a night to remember," she said as she rubbed at her chin. "And one that you will never have again, unless you release me."

"We'll see about that."

She watched him pulling at his trousers and kicking them off. Releasing his cock that always seemed to be in a permanent state of arousal. He pointed to her dress.

"Take it off, all of it this time."

"Tell me you agree to my bargain first," she said, wondering if it was the brandy that was making her so bold, or whether it was just pure fear.

"Tell me you agree to mine," Spike said as he climbed onto the bed and crawled towards her. "Make me believe that you're doing it because you want me and I'll unlock that door."

"But if I ever get to that stage, then I wouldn't want to leave, ahh," she said, "I see your game. What kind of bargain is that?"

"I never said I played fair, love."

He moved so fast it made her dizzy. One minute she was sitting in front of him, the next he had her on her back, and his hands were pulling up her skirts, one coming to rest on each hip. With a satisfied smirk he lowered his head and swept his tongue just once over her suddenly, terribly sensitive flesh. He laughed at the look of shock she knew she must be sporting.

"Did you like that?" he asked.

"Did you?" she said, determined not to let him take the advantage.

"Ask me really nicely, and I'll do it again," he said showing her his tongue.

"Ask me nicely and I might let you," she said taking her cue from him.

He laughed at that. "You're a clever one, aren't you? Don't find many women like you around."

"And you're an arrogant pig," she said. "And, unfortunately there are far too many men like you in the world."

He laughed again. "I knew you were going to be fun. Alright, you've won the first battle, Buffy. But you won't win the war. May I kiss your fragrant little flower, madam?"

"My what?" Buffy propped herself on her elbows

"I'll take that as a yes," he said with a chuckle.

One long, hard suck had her throbbing in his mouth.

"Pace yourself, love," Spike said sitting up. "It's going to be a long night."

"You're not going to win this," she said weakly.

"We'll see about that, shall we?"

She watched bewildered as Spike lay on his back and put his arms behind his head.

"What are you doing?" she asked, still unsure exactly whose bargain they were going by here.

"Thought you might like to return the favour, pet."

Buffy looked at him, aghast. "You don't want me to…."

"Ask me nicely" he said with a wicked grin, "and I might just let you.

Tbc….

Any reviews will show up in the Never Just Friends box as I can't work out how to set up a review form, but that's okay, I can move them to One Step Beyond later.....