The setting is S4. Between Doomed and A New Man.

This story is about what happens when two warriors, from different countries (actually worlds) (still not really...) (I mean, you could dig further into that, but that is not why we're here), with different backgrounds, views of life, means of survival, sides of the battlefield, rules and regulations (or lack there of), tolerance and self-control bounderies (or lack there of) and completely mutual hatred of one another gets locked into - with a little help from my friend the Brain and her descendants, the Two Hands with their family of ten, The Finger Sisters - a completely innocent and yet extremely boring, dusty, dark and dank basement...

How will they cope with being stuck in the same room with one another, though they can barely stand the sight of the other?

What evil forces are plotting against them this time?

But, most importantly, What Ever Will The Two Enemies Think Of To Kill Off Some Of The Pastime?

Will the strain be too much for our death-defying duo (although one half of that duo has no real reason to actually try to defy death)? Will the strain lead to the killing of one of them (literally, since one is already rather...dead)? Well, okay, so the killing of one of them, the horrific dusting of the other? Will they drive each other insane?!

The answers you seek just may be revealed below...or they may not!

If you want to know more, oh, worthy reader - please do not refrain from telling it by clickingthereviewgobuttonatthebottomofthepage once you have finished with the first (and I'm sad to say if you do not clickthereviewbuttonatthebottomofthepage ONLY) chapter. Thank you.

Now...switch of the lights...lean back in your comfortable and expensive or uncomfortable and shamelessly cheap chair...close your eyes...no, WAIT! Don't do that, sorry. Getting carried away here. Where was I? *don't mind my confused re-reading of what I just wrote* Ah, yesssss... prepare! Prepare to be swept away and into the land of possibilities. The land of Imagination, where anything is bound to happen and everything always does. Let your heart beat in sync with mine, dear reader, and let us... EXPLORE!

(In extremely pitched and fastforwarded text I write this) All rights to Joss Whedon and Crew. I do not own, nor do I claim to own, any of the charachters of BtVS - however, if I DID own them I sure as heck wouldn't put them through what current management IS!

Now, let me rinse your mind in the everlasting balm of SPUFFY!

A.M.L, the Narrator.

***************************************TrAPPeD****************************** ****

One: ...About to be Run Over

By Annie

2003-03-06/08

**************************************************************************** *****

She had really crossed the line this time. She had noticed that line out of the corner of her eye, she had turned her head and SEEN it and she might've even acknowledged it. However, none of those very eligable reasons NOT to cross it had stopped her in the slightest from trampling all over it, trying to wipe it away with her booted feet and by doing so spitting him right in the face.

It was for the last bloody time, that was for bloody sure! He'd bleeding well see to that! Somehow she was living on borrowed time as of this moment. He WOULD kill her before the week was over.

This was the last straw, the final blow, the end of that line.

***

"Oh, hi Buffy," Willow greeted as her friend took a seat next to her on the couch in the relax lounge of SDU.

"Hi," the Slayer replied with an unusually sunny smile, reaching for a magazine and flipping it open on her lap as she sat back.

"Okay, let me guess," Willow said, observing the blonde closely. "You just read the menu for today and it says we're having Hot Fudge Sundays for desert!"

Buffy gave her a look saying as-if-that-would-EVER-happen and Willow went back to thinking for a moment, then she said:

"I've GOT it! You talked to Giles and he said that the demons have all gone on vacation for the weekend and so you're free as a bird 'til Monday!"

At that Buffy smiled even wider, shaking her head and waiting for the next suggestion.

"Okay," the redhead said with a knowing expression, "then it has got to have something to do with Riley."

"Oh, I wish," Buffy replied. "But...no."

"Fine. I'm fresh outta witty and clever ideas. Please, do tell."

"Well, actually it has everything to do with," Buffy paused for dramatical effect, and then she finished: "Spike."

"Spike?!" Willow practically exclaimed. "You mean the bleached, fang-gang loving, blood-drinking, Big Bad, Master Vampire Spike?"

Buffy almost giggled, then nodded.

"You mean the fiend you loathe who's currently stuck in Xander's basement eating cracker-jacks and watching TV all day Spike?" Willow wondered incredilously and Buffy nodded again, still having a grin plastered on her face. "Oh, Buffy... What did you do to him? Chain him upside down to the wall?" Willow now inquired and the Slayer laughed, shaking her head.

"No. But THAT was food for thought, Wills," she then answered, sighing. "No, I didn't do anything really. I went there looking for deary old Xander and had a little run-in with good old Spike instead... It's all a blur, really... but the funny part is, is that I managed to piss him off to the extreme. He almost followed me through the door and right into the sunlight 'cause he was so mad! Isn't that just too funny? A suicidal vampire. God, he's so pathetic you almost wanna feel sorry for him. Then again..." she smirked, getting to her feet.

"What DID you say?" Willow asked, doing as her friend and rising as well.

"Something about Drusilla," Buffy shrugged. "And Angelus. And that Spike shouldn't kid himself, he'll never be half the vampire Angelus was... And he won't EVER be the man Angel was... So, no matter what he tries it's a lose-lose situation on his part and he'd just do best at taking a dive. Preferably headfirst into something pointy. I mean, he never listens when I talk, but this time he did and BOY, was it fun. I'm gonna live on this for the rest of the day."

Willow almost stared at her.

"Don't you think you're being just a little hard on him? I mean... it was only two days ago that he..."

The redhead's eyes grew slightly as she realized, by the sudden, evilly mischievous look on the Slayer's face, that Willow's little anecdote of how Spike had recently decided to find his own solution to getting out of his state of shackles had been the reason for the encouragement on the petite blonde's part.

"Buffy!" Willow practically gasped. "Drusilla just left him and... I dunno, he might be feeling really bad. He might actually REALLY listen to you. As in taking it seriously," she then added carefully and Buffy let out another laugh, shaking her head.

"Willow, you're just too sweet. If Spike chooses to take my advice then he'll just save me the trouble of actually pushing a stake through his chest myself. And he won't have to suffer the utter degredation of having me kill him - he hates me, he's wanted to kill me for years and I him, imagine how humiliating when I beat him in our common task. So, in conclusion, we have the opposite of a lose-lose situation. I like to refer to it as a win-win. Spike - dead. Slayage - unnecessary. Big Bad - gone. Fretting - done. It couldn't get any better," Buffy finished and Willow blinked.

"You fret over Spike?" she asked and the Slayer's eyes grew slightly before she smiled again, this time dismissively.

"Perhaps I didn't phrase it the way I should've," she grumbled. "I'm just saying - he's powerful. Having him loose on the streets, having him running around in our HOMES, isn't the best idea. We'd all be better off if he just decided to...make himself disappear."

"Yeah, like Houdini, in a cloud of smoke," Willow pointed out wryly and Buffy smirked.

"Yeah, that goes 'poof'," she nodded and Willow smiled as well.

"Seriously though... You think he's still a threat?" the apprentice Wiccan asked as they hooked elbows and started to walk toward the lecture room of their next class.

"I don't think, Wills, I KNOW he's still a very large threat," Buffy stated matter-of-factly. "Haven't you seen that look on him? That oh-I'm-scheming- try-to-stop-me? He's so sad," she added, shaking her head as an underlining of what she had just said.

"Why?" Willow asked.

"Why he's sad?" Buffy asked back, surprised; and then she huffed. "Because he's trying to be something he can't be. It just makes me shudder how much that creature needs to be bad. It's like it's what makes him tick, and that ticks me off. He's just the most disgusting...thing I've ever met. Seriously, Wills. Just take a closer look at him and you'll see how black his nature really is. You can see it on him."

"You've been looking closely at him?" Willow wondered, curious now and Buffy laughed again.

"You don't have to look THAT close to notice it," she replied. "I dunno. Maybe it's the Slayer in me. He just puts me on alert. You never really know with Spike... Someday I'm sure he'll just snap on me, and that day I know I'll be ready."

"Right," Willow said. "Unless he drops headfirst onto something pointy before then," she added and Buffy nodded, seriously.

"Oh yes, unless that," she confirmed.

***

He watched her as she entered Giles' flat.

It was close to eight in the evening.

Soon, he was more than certain, she'd emerge to go on her patrol. And then he'd be there. With the anger still boiling and the need to see her blood stain his hands still fresh in his chest. It would be greater than the pain he knew he'd suffer from whatever was wrong with his bleeding scull. He'd actually relish in that pain - hoping it wouldn't succeed what she would be feeling.

"Come on, love," he whispered. "Come on."

And after a while of unpatient waiting - there she was. He shrunk back slightly against the wall as she began to walk toward the sidewalk. Then she froze, stopped and twirled around. Game over. Bloody hell.

"Wonderful," she muttered as he stepped out of the shadows. "I thought I smelled a dog buried for ten days and then dug up for my smelling pleasure," she added, crossing her arms over her chest in that goodie-two- shoes-I'm-better-than-you way that made him want to bend them open again, just to spite the gesture. "What the hell are you doing here, Spike?"

"Would you believe it if I said I was just about to rebury that dog you just spoke of?" he asked, cocking one eyebrow and bringing out his pack of smokes.

She merely eyed him and he sighed.

"Aw, come on. What 'd you think? I'm out to have me some fun with the Slayer? Maim you, behead you, cut your throat open with a very dull knife?" he asked, slipping a cigarette out and putting it in the corner of his mouth as he brought out his silver lighter and opened the top, creating a flame.

She was still just glaring at him warningly and he smirked suddenly.

"Shoulda skipped the visual then, pet?" he asked now and her eyes grew colder.

Putting the flame by the tip of the fag he drew a deep breath and the glow of the filter was warm in the chilly evening air. Flipping the lighter closed he retrieved it into one of the pockets of his black leather duster and then he took a step forward.

"You're never somewhere just to be there," she stated, her gaze growing suspicious and he damned his misfortune.

The anger wasn't even as overwhelming anymore, and that fact made him furious. What was it about her? Why couldn't he kill her? Why?! He would! He would. Just not tonight. Not when she knew something was up. He'd fight her to her death, but not tonight... No. Just not tonight.

"Exactly WHAT are you doing skulking around in the shadows?" she demanded, her voice letting him know just how much she was expecting an answer.

"What am I doing skulking in the bloody shadows?" he repeated her question, positioning the cigarette between the index finger and middle finger of his left hand before he removed it from his mouth, blowing the smoke out as he tried to come up with a good enough excuse. "Well, I'll tell you," he added, to win some time.

Buffy stared at him, waiting and not buying for a second that he was going to tell her the truth.

"I wanted to see if...Xander...was here," he finally said and her eyes grew disbelieving. "Yeah," Spike continued. "'Cause I needed to...ask-TELL him to get some more bloody...blood. 'Cause I finished the last and I want more."

Buffy blinked.

"That must be the lamest lie you've EVER thrown in my face," she stated and he wished he could hit himself. Or better yet - her. "What's the matter? Still shaken up from the little talk we had earlier?" she suddenly taunted and his eyes grew hard as stone. "Beginning to realize there was some truth behind my words after all?"

"You'd do best at keeping your mouth shut right about now," he almost growled, though his voice was lowered dangerously and she could almost see the spirit of the wolf surround him as his eyes turned predatory.

She was unimpressed. Cocking an eyebrow she smiled sweetly.

"Or you'll what? Threaten me to death?" she asked. "Sorry, Spikey," she added, turning from him and letting her arms fall along her sides as she began to walk away, "but you just don't scare me enough for that approach to work."

He clenched his jaws together.

He wanted to twist her neck. Hear that satisfying crackle as the bones broke. Feel the heaviness of her head as it was unsupported by joints and life. Listen to her still heart. Have her be utterly, irreversably dead.

Soon enough, he thought to himself, throwing the cigarette away from him as he began to trail her steps.

Knowing that she knew he was there, and knowing that she knew that he knew that she knew he was there - keeping his distance.

Buffy wondered what he could possibly be up to now. There seemed to be an air of need of revenge around him this evening. She had never thought anything she could ever say to him would get to him the way what she had said to him earlier that day obviously had. She couldn't help but feel a small rush at that fact. He was always the one throwing annoying, mind- twisting and more often than she would've liked accurate observings into her face. This time she had been the one to do it, and it had actually affected him to the brink of having a thirst for her blood.

Oh, it was extremely readable on him just how much he itched to take his fury out on her. But she really wasn't very concerned. Because - he couldn't. Whatever had stripped him of his ability to attack another creature, it was a blessing. She only wished the twitch of anxiety in her chest would go away whenever she thought of what might happen when he got back to his old self again...

Sure, she had been joking about it with Willow, but the truth was he was strong. He was REALLY strong. And facing him had always been... something out of the ordinary. Their strength lay on such fine lines next to each other that no one ever really had the upper hand. They just...fought.

And now he was following her. This seemed to be turning into an interesting evening.

She crossed the street and headed into the fourth cemetary of Sunnydale. Fighting a fledgeling as she went she dusted it easily. This wasn't her real stop, and once she was done she continued on her way. Through the cemetary, a few blocks of a friendly looking neighborhood and then across yet another street.

His presence was close to haunting. It reminded her of his Big Bad days. It reminded her of Angelus.

She stopped.

She knew he had as well.

"Could you PLEASE go away?" she asked the air before her and then she sensed he was right behind her.

It was confirmed as his voice sounded.

"You askin' me nicely?"

She moaned tiredly, turning around to face him.

"It's not gonna happen," she said and he let his scarred eyebrow rise a notch in question. "Whatever it is you're planning, whatever way you've thought up to get rid of me - it's not gonna happen," she elaborated. "I don't have the time tonight."

"You know," he said, shaking his head at her, "it's that attitude that just makes me not wanna get you anywhere. That wave-of-a-hand, we'll-do-it-at-my- sodding-convenience attitude. It's such a..." he trailed off, not finding a word good enough as he stared into those incredibly irritating green eyes of hers, that fearlessly stared back at him.

"If you can't finish sentences, Spike," she said now, "don't start them."

"You're buggering unbelievable!" he near enough exclaimed and she smirked.

"Thanks, but I hear that all the time," she replied dryly and he narrowed his eyes with the anger once more twisting and twirling around his heart.

"I bloody HATE you!" he stated and she blinked.

"I'm shocked," she shot sarcastically. "Would you be the same if I replied with: right back at ya? Except for the 'bloody', of course," she added and he wanted to grab her, lift her over his head and throw her clear cross the city. "Now, go back to Xander's place, let me do the Slayer thing, and let's never see each other ever again. Sound like a deal?"

She turned from him again and he almost did grab her arm, but the thought which got him as far as making his arm move sent a splinter of pain up the back of his head and he closed his eyes in annoyance.

He stood on the same spot for quite some time, then he moved, once more in the same direction as her.

Buffy looked up at the house towering over her. It was dark in every window. Of course. It was old and looked in good need of a wrecking-ball's gentle destruction. The paint was almost entirely gone and the boards were a light gray with agening of weather and wind. It was two stories high, had a small porch to which five steps lead and the windows were thin and tall, greeting her with tootheless mouths seemingly grinning at her.

Drawing a small breath she walked up the stairs and grabbed the doorknob. It was locked and she unceremoniously took a step back and kicked the thing off its hinges.

A low wizzle was heard behind her and she turned around.

"Blimey," Spike muttered. "Ever heard of ringing the sodding bell?"

"No, mister Propor," she replied, adding: "What do you think you're doing?" when he moved as to follow her when she stepped through the doorframe.

"Oh, right," he nodded, watching her as she turned to him in the small hall. "Invite me in."

She gave him a look and he tilted his head to one side.

"It ain't like I'm gonna come back here and kill the lot," he remarked and she blinked at the mere thought.

Then she smiled with little enthusiasm.

"Wish you would. It's supposed to be a nest," she replied and his eyebrows rose.

"So, invite me in."

"Will it make you go away?" she asked and he smirked.

"Eventually," he promised and she rolled her eyes at him.

"Come in," she murmured, turning her head to look down the darkened hallway leading up to a set of stairs before her.

To the right of it seemed to be the entrance to a kitchen and to the left the doorway leading into what she assumed must be the family room.

"I don't know why I'm bothering," she sighed, glancing at him over her shoulder. "It's not like you're gonna help me in a fight anyways."

"You know, I'm actually growing fond of killing... No wait, watch you fight and hopefully die - good. Right. So...where are the nasties at? Hello?!" he yelled and she turned around and gave him a good punch in the nose.

"Shut the hell up," she hissed and he held one hand to his aching facial part as a wide smirk spread on his face. "God, you're sick," she grumbled, turning from him and walking ahead up to the stairs.

Looking up toward the second floor she frowned. No tingles. Well, no NEW Slayer tingles since she already felt the tingle from Spike all over.

"You're disturbing my concentration," she complained, turning around again and finding him right behind her as he had been gazing up in the same manner she had been.

He turned his head and looked down at her, meeting her gaze he felt a small twirl somewhere in the pit of his stomach and then it vanished as she pushed him to take a step back.

"Am I now?" he teased and her eyes grew a little before they narrowed.

"Get a grip," she replied. "That wasn't what I meant."

"What? I didn't say anything," he defended innocently and she gave him a look which had him smile widely.

"Fine, I'll go up there, you go down into the basement. Maybe with some walls between us you won't be sucha distraction," she instructed and when he opened his mouth to say something to that she raised one index finger and cut him off with a: "Don't even think it. Yell if you find something."

He nodded, watching her climb the frail staircase carefully and then he turned and quickly found the door leading into the basement positioned right inside and to the left of that of the kitchen.

He trotted down the stairs, waited a few more seconds and then called:

"Slayer! Slayer, you'd bloody well hurry!"

Buffy rushed back down the stairs, jumped the last few steps and threw open the door to the basement before descending those stairs as well. Once she reached the floor she felt a small wave of heat swirl around her ankles, but paid no more heed as the vampire faced her with a devilish grin on his face.

She bit her jaws together. He had just wanted to make her dance by his pipe. Control-freak that he was of course he couldn't resist.

"I could kill you," she stated and he chuckled.

"Little ole defenseless me?" he asked, putting his arms out to the sides and tilting his head to one side as well, questioningly.

"So there's nothing?" she asked and he shrugged, arms dropping to his sides again.

"Guess not," he replied as he looked around.

"I couldn't see anything upstairs either... This house is empty," she stated, growing thoughtful.

"Wow, now, do they teach you Slayers to actually THINK like that?" he asked, mockingly, before adding: "Or does it just come au naturell."

"Oh, don't get into big words, Spike. You might melt your brain," she retorted and he grinned.

"You'd like that, wouldn't you?" he asked. "Almost as much as you like the fact that I'm helpless. You like your men that way, don't you? Needy. Depending. Vulnerable."

"What's that supposed to mean?" she asked back, anger in her voice and he almost wanted to gleefully rub his hands together at the prospect of getting under her skin.

Some sort of payback for what she had said to him earlier just might still be his.

"Angel was the puppy-dog-eyed, I'm-in-so-much-pain type. The one that makes little girls like you just swoon right and left," he stated, his voice carrying an edge he hoped would more than brush against her. "He needed you. He depended on your love. He was vulnerable and huuuuman, but then again he wasn't. Which brings us to bloke number two. Soldier boy. Human as hell - if that's an analogy you wanna go with - but still with a little...twist. Why did you turn to him, Slayer? Why did you seek out a human this time? Scared of getting hurt again, like last time? Hoping that not only changing lanes, but actually what kinda car you're driving just might send you on your merry way? Let me tell you something." He took a step forward, his blue eyes glinting in the pale moonlight falling in through the boards narrowly nailed over the small windows of the room. "It. Doesn't. Help. Love is love, no matter what side you're routing for. You can take on the stronger form, pet. The Slayer and her protection of her Innocent, her boyfriend. But what it boils down to is this: it really doesn't make a difference whether your lover is depending on you or not. 'Cause at the end of the day all it takes is a split second, one mistake, a bad choice or the choice he makes to leave you and love has hurt you all over again. You're blind as a bloody bat if you can't see that. There's no salvation, no safe route. Just a blindfold and your hands on the bloody wheel."

He finished, looking into her eyes and noticing how contradicting emotions was flowing through them. How the strongest one pushed the others away and how she straightened her posture before she sarcastically asked:

"I'm sorry, did you just SAY something? I'm leaving," she added.

As she turned around he watched her when she took two steps forward, about to put her foot on the first step of the stairs she stopped.

For another ten or fifteen seconds she seemed to be struggling with something and he wondered if it was the need to ram a stake through his chest or just the fact that what he had just said began to actually sink in.

Then she shook her head slowly, turning to him and blinking before she said:

"I can't."

"Can't what?" he replied, watching as her eyes grew slightly wider and then she answered:

"I can't go up the stairs, out the front door, away from this house and YOU! I can't move another inch passed this point. I'm stuck."

He stared at her, then took the paces between them and was about to do what she had just tried to, feeling a small warmth as a wall before him and he closed his eyes.

"Oh, bloody hell," he grumbled. "WE'RE stuck."

They stared at each other in growing panic.

This was a truck load of bad roaring into hit them both dead on, and it seemed none of them could do anything to avert it.

Two: ...My Kinda Treasure

By Annie

2003-03-11

**************************************************************************** ****

Buffy tore her gaze from his and let her own dart around the room instead.

It was fairly small, not that much bigger than her own basement. All the walls were clean of shelves except for the one facing the stairs, where a large and tattered old bookcase was the tired proprietor of half a dozen paint buckets - all with lids; what looked like boxes - there was three of them - filled with nails and shabby tools; a collection of flasks and bottles - which appeared to be empty from the few feet away that the Slayer was standing, and on the last shelf lay a bundle of blankets.

Wonderful.

They could, should the spirit set in, repaint the room; play handymen; count the blessings of having nothing to drink, or have a sleepover!

Buffy rolled her eyes to the ceiling. Shaking her head as she closed them and crossed her arms over her chest. Okay, she couldn't give up that easily. So she opened her eyes once more and turned around to keep the inspection up.

Oh, yes. Of the dust and the dirt, and the complete lack of any sense that someone might get locked in here that the previous owners certainly must have entertained. There was nothing! Well, except... Buffy walked passed Spike and up to the large white refrigerator box which stood tucked behind the stairs.

Spike watched her, cocking an eyebrow as he caught a whiff of that everlasting optimism assuring her that she WOULD find her way out of whatever jam she was in, that she WOULD get to play miss Fix-It all over again. Seeing where she was headed made him feel a twitch of annoyance at the outlook that she actually might get to do just that.

Getting out his smokes he deprived the box of one with used fingers, put it between his lips and brought his lighter out when a small hand grasped the cigarette and pulled it away, dropped it to the floor and then there was the heel of a boot crashing down on it, twisting and crushing it with no apparent thought as to what he might have to say about that.

His blue eyes flashed with anger as he looked up and met her green ones.

"What the bloody hell?!" he growled and she glared back.

"I don't know how long we're gonna be down here," she stated. "And it's bad enough that you're here, don't bring your excess baggage and blow it in my face. I really hate the smell of it."

Once more cocking an eyebrow he suddenly smirked, then his face slowly grew to stone as he brought out the pack again. She didn't follow his movement, her eyes were still locked in his and her gaze bore a warning that he really shouldn't. But he did. Taking another cigarette out he raised his eyebrows in a challenge as he put it between his lips and flicked the top of the lighter open.

Putting the flame to the tip of the fag he drew a deep breath and the filter slowly burned. Closing the lid of the lighter he put it back in its home and then he smirked again. Removing the cigarette with his left hand he held his breath for a second and then released the smoke to have it swirl around her face.

Her expression was filled with fury, and he revelled in it.

"Don't try and bloody tell me what to do," he now said, voice low and bearing the trace of a purr, which she knew could just like that change into a growl.

"Who's trying?" she retorted, voice as low as his, though hers was carrying a chill that made a small shiver run along his spine. Something he didn't like. "Put it out."

His eyes grew hard once more. He would not.

"Put. That. Out," she repeated, taking a step forward and tilting her head back to be able to meet his gaze with one of her own.

It was as cold as her voice and he knew she meant business. What the sod did he care?

"Or what?" he asked, drawing another taste and then smiling a much too cocky smile as he once again blew the smoke right into her face.

She grabbed him by the leather of the duster, swirled him around and pushed him to back up - which he did in the surprise he felt with this sudden twist. It all happened in the matter of a second, and his eyes grew as he felt the tip of something poking his back when she suddenly stopped with a jerk. Her hands were still gripping him tightly and she tilted her head back once more, this time with a merciless expression in them that he hadn't seen on her in a pretty long time.

"Or I'll shove you backwards and have this place all for myself," she now answered him, underlining it by pushing him just a little tighter against whatever it was that was sticking out of the wall behind him. "From dust...to dust," she added meaningfully and he felt the rage build inside of him.

This tiny little girl. This puny little confused and whiny little teenage girl could actually come this close to defeating him. He moved in the next instant, twirled her around and then he grabbed her as the pain shot through his head. His game face was on and he noticed with satisfaction that her eyes grew just a bit rounder.

"The same goes for you," he hissed. "Never forget that," he added, pushing her away from him before he flicked the cigarette to the floor and crushed it, with his own heel this time, as he changed into human appearance once more.

Her heart was racing. Dammit, she knew he must hear it. Taking a breath she gained some control over her tangled up nerves and put on an indifferent expression as they eyed each other in resentment-filled silence for a few moments.

"This is just SO not happening," she finally grumbled.

"Well, if you're dreaming and I'm bloody stuck in it you'd better wake up," he replied, but she ignored him as she walked back up to the refrigerator box.

"It's locked," she mumbled to herself, as she had grabbed the handle and tried to pull the top open. "Why would anyone lock something like this?"

"Maybe they keep their valuables in there," Spike suggested right behind her and she kept from jerking with surprise before looking over her shoulder at him. "Talk about frozen assets," he then added with a sudden smirk.

She merely gave him a look and then turned her head back to the problem at hand.

"If there's food in here...why would they lock it?" she asked herself, hoping that Spike got the fact that she was in no way speaking to him.

"Food?" Spike wondered, his eyes getting a sudden glint in them and then he grabbed the handle with both hands. "C'mon, love," he now said, nodding to her hands and then to the handle.

She hesitated, then obliged and put her hands by his. Their combined strength saw the lock break and the low click from it, as well as the top of the box flying open, had Buffy almost smile with relief. But only almost and she took her hands away immediately, stroking them against the legs of her pants abscentmindedly as she leaned forward and looked into the stomach of the box.

"Blood!" Spike exclaimed cheerfully, reaching down a hand and grabbing one of the bags. "Now, this is my kinda treasure."

Buffy narrowed her eyes at the sight of the contents. Then she blinked and began to once more look around the room, slowly. Taking a step around the vampire she walked up to the wall against which the box was standing; the stairs stretching over her head. She placed a hand against the wall and let it slide along it until she felt a small draft.

Smiling a little she pushed on the spot where her hand was resting and there was a click as the lock-mechanism on the door was put out of use and the wall slid to her left, opening up to show a smaller compartment behind it; not bigger than a closet.

"This IS a nest," she mused, looking at the worn out mattrasses covering most of the floor, the blankets tossed ontop of them and the old bags of blood in the middle of it. "They must've cast a spell to keep visitors from leaving... Hoping to have themselves a snack in the process."

"Clever," Spike stated, licking his lips clean from the red liquid he had just devoured and throwing the empty bag into the gape of the box before shutting the lid tightly.

Buffy turned to him, shrugging.

"Not very clever," she disagreed. "'Cause now they get to try and make a snack outta me."

"Right," he said with a tilt of the head. "And you're invincible."

She smiled sweetly.

"Do you think a group of fledgelings can kill me, when YOU can't?" she asked and he gave her a good glare at that.

"I can too," he muttered, having a look around the room so that he wouldn't have to look at her anymore.

"Really, William?" she asked and he clenched his jaws together at the mocking use of his human name, as well as all the memories that came with it. "And how were you planning on doing it with a dog-collar around your neck?"

He turned back to her, took a step toward her and she took one back at the murderous look on his face, his game face once again sliding into position and the yellow eyes of the demon met her green.

"You just wait, Summers," he said. "Be patient. Someday when you least expect it... BAM!"

She did jump at that last word, and it got her so annoyed with herself that she wanted to rewind time. The look of malignance on his face grew raked with satisfaction and the game face retraced again. A smirk on his lips as he raised his eyebrows.

"I think you're more scared of me than you'd like to admit, pet," he stated self-assured.

"And you of me," she shot back, ice in every word before she turned from him and walked into the small space where the vampires had so obviously resided for quite some time.

He stared after her.

He was NOT scared of HER!

"I'm not bloody scared of YOU!" he called after her.

"Do you mind?" she asked, her voice muffled from being in another room as well as having her back to him. "I'm trying to find my way out of here."

He stalked up to the door, leaning against the doorframe with both arms put up against either side of it and observing her back intently for a few seconds before he said:

"Don't project your own buggering fears on me, SLAYER."

She swirled around, her face a scowl of sudden impatience as she walked up to him as quickly as she could over the soft mattrasses under her feet.

"This has been coming for a long time, Spike," she said, stopping right before him and looking up at him as she continued: "You and me. An eye for an eye. To the death. Right here, right now. I'll show you who's projecting what onto whom."

He cocked an eyebrow. Staring into her face flushed with the adrenaline pumping through her now - he could smell it on her - and her eyes swirling with force of life and determination. That small twirl he had felt earlier in his stomach region made itself known again. A small breeze of something new inside of him and he frowned at it; he couldn't make it out.

The subtle confusion in his eyes threw her slightly off track and she blinked. Her gaze still not leaving his, though she was growing wondering as to what he thought he was doing. Why was he staring at her?

"What do you mean 'an eye for an eye'?" he finally asked, the confusion disappearing and she drew a small breath in resignation.

"Do you want a manual, or are you prepared to just admit that it's true?" she asked back and he raised both eyebrows now.

"What? That I'm actually afraid of some college-degree-searching, all-good- and-clean little GIRL?!" he almost laughed, shaking his head and turning from her. "You should never underestimate your enemy," he added as he walked back into the basement.

She observed his back and then she said:

"Exactly," before running up and knocking him, by means of throwing herself at him, to the ground.

He moved quickly onto his back and was able to meet the foot she kicked out - her still lying down as well - with his hand before grabbing her with his left hand under her thigh and his right still locked, in the manner in which it had averted her blow, around her ankle before he spun her away from him. Flopping her over she landed on her stomach with a huff. He got to his feet in the next instant and she let out a pained "ah" as he grabbed her arms and pulled them up behind her.

"Now, are YOU willing to admit that I scare the hell outta you, love?"

"Is that what you wanna hear?" she asked, straining herself to take the pain. "Is that what really gets you going? Being the Big Bad? Do you even realize how pathetic that is?" The heat in her joints increased as his grip grew tighter. "I'm not scared of you," she stated. "I pity you."

The ache in his head was too great and he let her go with a growl.

She rolled over on her back, prompting herself up on her elbows with a small smile on her lips. The triumph in her eyes got to him in every single possible way and the anger rose in his chest, sending a bitter taste to his mouth.

"What do you mean 'an eye for an eye'?" he now repeated and she raised her eyebrows.

"Actually I should take BOTH your eyes," she replied. "You've killed TWO Slayer's, after all."

He stared down at her and she glared back at him before getting to her feet to face him.

"And I've never been scared," he stated now, his expression grave. "I've never hid."

"So tell me," she said, "why haven't you gotten around to completing the task with me? If you're THAT good, how come I'm still around?"

'When I look at you... all I see is the Slayer.'

He shook Drusilla's voice violently out of his head with the hands of his thoughts.

"In case you hadn't noticed, I'm a bloody cripple," he replied and Buffy smirked. "What's so funny?" he grumbled and her smirk widened.

"You just try and figure that one out yourself," she answered him, turning and walking back into the other room. "It shouldn't take you too long."

He let out a huff of breath, turned as well and walked up to one of the boarded up windows running right below the rather low ceiling and along three of the four walls. Letting the moonlight grace his face he closed his eyes.

He had to get out of there.

He had a funny feeling in the middle of his chest, it scratched its nails against his flesh and it was driving him out of his mind with its elusiveness. Something bad was bound to happen if he didn't get the hell out of there soon.

Yes, he could feel it.

***

Buffy came back out through the doorway ten minutes later. It seemed she had cooled down a bit, though she was still throwing him dark and suspicious glances as she walked up to the stairs. For another two minutes she seemed to be trying to find some way around the spell and when she was reluctant to call it quits he shook his head and took the second cigarette he had lit, in her abscence, from his mouth; putting it out by scraping it against the wall.

"It ain't gonna do the trick," he said, coming up to her.

He had to admit, even though they had only spent a very short amount of time apart just now, he felt more in control as well. Of course, he hadn't been losing his control before, just his ability to not act too unrationally. Wait. When the hell was he EVER rational. He wanted the bitch dead, short and simple as that. He had wanted her dead ever since the first time he saw her, and he wanted her just as much dead now.

He just needed to find another approach.

She looked at him. Eyes telling him to shut the hell up, which of course only pushed him to speak. He smirked, then nodded to the stairs.

"You can't break the spell if you don't have the propor words," he stated. "We're not getting outta here on our own. Someone'll have to find us and help us. Preferably Red, but I could go with the poof if he just gets the words right," he added and she just shook her head, walking passed him and into the middle of the room.

"I can't stay here," she said.

"Afraid of confined spaces?" he asked and she turned around, growing aggitated with him.

"Do you EVER say anything that has any sort of meaning to it?" she asked grouchily and his smirk broadened.

"I thought it was a good enough question, pet," he answered. "This IS a confined space and you're acting all...jittery."

"I'm not gonna tell YOU!" she stated. "You'll just use it against me someday 'when I least expect it'," she added cheekily and his smirk turned into a smile.

"Ah...didn't think I ever said anything that has any sorta meaning to it," he remarked and she huffed.

"I don't mind confined spaces," she grumbled, turning and walking up to stand below the very window by which he had stood not twenty minutes earlier. Trying to see a peice of the night sky she drew a small breath. "I just hate being locked up like this," she then sighed, turning her head she met his gaze which was glittering with curiosity in a way she had never seen them do before. "And I can't say the company is of my choice either," she muttered, meaning every last word.

She turned from him again and stubbornly picked up the search for a sight of the freedom outside.

"It'll only be a few hours," he said. "Then they'll come. Your chappies, or whatever," he added and she frowned slightly.

"You trying to comfort me?" she asked and his eyes grew.

Had he?

"No!" he replied. "I'm just saying - you know - thank GOD for that. Then I'll be outta this hellhole and the nearness of YOU."

She nodded.

That was better. For a moment there he had really wigged her out. Evil Spike. That was him. Evil Big Bad in search of harm and destruction and death.

But he was right though. Soon the Gang would come. They would, as always, and then she would be free to just have him as far away as possible again. She almost ached for it. Being near him made her feel ill in so many ways it almost spun her head. She couldn't stand him, and to be forced to tolerate him even in the slightest... Had he actually said 'a few hours'? HOURS?!

She jumped up and grabbed the boards covering the window. Fighting to tear them down and not succeeding she finally gave up. A low chuckle behind her made her turn around and face him, her eyes wondering and he smiled again, shaking his head a little before he said:

"Who's sodding pathetic now?"

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Four: .One-Card Draw

By Annie

2003-03-13

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01.30 p.m

Buffy had been fighting a tough fight for the past few hours not to show just how hungry she was, but as the ache in her stomach grew so did her intolerance with him. And as he cut the deck of cards he had retrieved out of one of the pockets of his duster with a loud "rrrritsch" for the hundredth time she couldn't keep quiet anymore.

"Would you stop it?!" she snapped and he smirked.

He had been waiting for that for a while now.

"What?" he asked, parting the deck into two equal piles in either hand. "This?" he added as he let the cards blend, releasing one side of each into the "rrritsch" that was getting on her nerves.

"If you don't stop it right this instant I'll tear it into shreds and you'll have nothing to play with anymore," she warned and he grinned.

"I'll have you, love," he remarked and her gaze turned sub-zero.

"You will never 'have' me," she assured and he raised his eyebrows before getting to his feet.

She struggled with her heart, concentrating on keeping the rate down though it was stubborn and as he took a step forward it skipped a beat. She couldn't help but draw a small breath in aniticipation for the fight that was surely coming. But then he stopped before her and the pause that followed made her wonder exactly what was up now.

He raised his right hand, which was holding the deck, as if to show it to her before he asked:

"Wanna play?"

"With you?" she asked and he blinked before looking demonstratively around the room, then he turned to her again and asked back:

"Is there someone else here that I missed?"

She bit her jaws together.

"I'm not playing any kind of game with you whatsoever," she replied to his former question and when he merely arched his scarred eyebrow she gave him a look. "I'm gonna stay at my side of the room, you stay on yours."

He tilted his head slightly to one side, then put one heel down and dragged it across the space of floor seperating them - creating a dark line in the dust.

"We can still play," he said and she stared down at the line and then up at him.

"Cute," she said, sarcastically. "Really clever. But my answer's still 'no'."

"Why?" he asked, getting that self-assured air about him that made her want to reach up and pull him back down to earth. "Scared of losing?" he added tauntingly.

She crossed her arms over her chest, shaking her head to get her long locks placed behind her shoulders before she met his eyes.

"I never lose," she replied with as much cockiness as he would ever produce.

Once again he tilted his head slightly to one side, observing her.

"Neither do I," he stated and she smiled.

"'Cause you cheat," she said knowingly and he rolled his eyes at her.

"Everyone cheats, Buffy," he retorted. "In life everyone tries to get their share as bloody quick and painless as possible. Sometimes they skip the painless, but that doesn't mean we all don't want what should be coming our way."

"In life, you say?" she asked. "And in cards?" she added and now a diabolique grin spread on his lips as he held the deck up to her again.

"In cards it's as raw as it gets. Win or lose. Claim and take, or back down and see-never-again," he replied and she couldn't believe how that could make any sense at all - but it did.

"Well," she started, about to turn from him and once more decline when he said:

"One-card draw. As easy as it gets: ace's are high, higher card wins, we state what the other lose before we draw a card each."

She stopped, then met his gaze again.

"All right..." she finally conscented, nodding slowly.

He nodded as well, holding the deck up.

"What do I get if I win...?" she mumbled to herself, observing him for a few seconds thoughtfully and then she smiled. He didn't like that smile, nor did he like the sudden light flickering in her eyes. "Your lighter," she stated firmly and his eyes grew.

"N-..." he started, but she cut him off.

"Your rules. Your turn."

And it WAS his turn, he reminded himself. If he won this it might actually help him in the deprivation of her sanity. Or at least her faith in herself. Over the course of the past two hours a plan had formed in his head. One that really made him feel rather sick, the thought of actually being close to her made his stomach turn, but it was the one thing he knew would bring her to her knees. If he could seduce her...

Oh, the sweetness of that triumph over her.

"I win - we play another game," he therefore stated and she blinked, seemingly surprised by the simplicity of his demand.

"Okay," she said.

The rush of the moment caught up with her as she reached out a hand to lift a part of the deck . What kind of game would he want to play? A flash of hands entangled in hair, and mouths about to meet, sent a shiver of sudden discomfort down her spine and she stopped herself, looking up and resting her eyes in his. The wondering gaze in his seemed to say "scared?" and it pushed her to complete the movement with a defiant glare up at him.

Taking a small stack of the cards she turned it and looked at it.

Queen of Hearts.

Hah! Beat that, she thought, trying to keep a poker face as she looked back at him.

He moved his left hand and did as she just had, lifting a stack of the cards up by means of his fingertips and then turning it to him.

"Ace of Spades," he said and her eyes grew slightly.

Her expression tightened and he knew that he stood as the winner.

"Let me see that," she grumbled, reaching out a hand and grabbing the cards out of his.

Staring at the card in question her shoulders slumped slightly, then she raised her head and gave him another glare.

"You cheated!" she stated and a small smile curled his lips before he shrugged.

"Can you prove it?" he asked and she simply threw the cards at him before turning from him.

"This makes the draw... not countable," she said. "Let's just forget about the whole thing."

"Sure," he replied and she turned back to him, sheer shock on her face. "When pig's fly," he added with another small smile and she tried to actually dust him with her gaze.

It didn't work, she was sad to notice.

"You can't actually believe that I'm just gonna be fine with this," she muttered now and the smile turned into a smirk.

"Buffy, I didn't cheat," he defended. "You'll have to trust me on that. If you had won I sure as hell wouldn't 've like it, but I wouldn't have made such a fuss of it. Seriously. Just admit defeat and turn yourself over into my humble hands. I promise, I'll be gentle."

At the words "defeat" and "hands" the Slayer shuddered. How the heck had she gotten herself into this?

"I won't ever trust you on anything," she now shot. "And I'm not making a fuss; I'm just saying. And I will never go anywhere near your hands so there's no need to sugarcoat it."

"You like it rough?" he asked and her mouth opened by itself to reply to that before she shut it, giving him a dark look.

What the hell was he doing? In every other word she thought she could detect some sort of... trace of... a link to what seemed to be hinting at something... What the hell was he doing?! Or...was it her? Was she reading a bunch of things into it? But, what would that say of her? It wasn't like she was so starved that she would ever hunger for his... Oh, she couldn't even think the thought.

Though the analogy brought her back to the harsh reality of the burning need for food within her and she closed her eyes.

"What's this other game you wanna play?" she sighed, wanting to get her mind off her current state.

He cocked an eyebrow.

"Interested?" he wondered and her eyes shot open.

"No!" she replied, with emotion. "I'm just..."

"Hungry," he nodded and she found herself suddenly simply staring at him. "Yeah, I know. I can hear your stomach talking," he added and she grumbled.

Great. Now he'd remind her of it all day - or however long it would take for the other's to find her - and she wouldn't have a moment's peace.

"Here," he now said, walking up to the refrigerator box and her eyes widened as he opened it.

"I may be reaching the point where I could eat bugs," she protested, "but I won't ever get to where I'm actually able to drink..."

She trailed off as he brought out a plastic box as well as a plastic bag. It didn't look like a vampiric kind of meal. He closed the lid and brought the objects over to her. He practically threw them into her arms and she caught them with a small, annoyed glance his way before she sat right down on the floor and tore the lid off the box.

"Fish," she said, staring at the cold, but cooked, meal before her. "Why would vamps store actual food in their lair?" she mumbled.

"You know, some of us actually still enjoy the taste," Spike replied matter- of-factly and she looked up at him again. "Found it under the blood bags," he added at her still questioning gaze. "You gonna eat?" he finally sighed, taking a seat on the mattresses and she looked down at the food again.

"It might be posioned," she mused.

"Give me a sodding break," he grumbled, aggravated. "You think I'd get rid of you after all I've been through by poisoning you?!" he added and she raised her eyebrows as she had looked up at him again.

Then she turned her head back down to the food.

"If you don't eat it you'll probably die anyway," he remarked. "Your friends seem to be taking a while longer than you thought, aren't they? Don't eat - die in pain. Eat - and live for another hour."

"You know," she said, putting the box aside and facing him, her eyes growing suspicious. "I just might've tasted it, but you actually routing for me to do it and not shrivel up and die makes me..."

"Oh, please!" he exclaimed with a snort. "Are you gonna blame the end of the world on me as well? Whenever it decides to hit?"

"You know, being locked up with you IS the end of the world as far as I'm concerned," she retorted. "I've put up with this whole situation for far too long, and I'm done!"

"YOU'RE done?!" he asked, voice growing loud and he rose to his feet at the same time as she did. "You think this is my kinda fun? Huh?! You think I wanted to be stuck in some crummy old basement with the hate of my un- life?! We can't even fight 'cause then I feel like my sodding head is being torn off my shoulders! So what do I do? I try to make the best of it," he added, meeting her in the middle of the floor as they both had moved forward.

"And how IS that exactly?" she asked, tilting her head back slightly to be able to face him completely, her eyes showing green thunder. "By some little devious plan, I'm sure. What? The food was the set off of a chain reaction? Posion me, rendour me weak, make me dead and then you can drink my blood? You want it that badly, Spike?"

"Hey, I haven't touched that food! This is just... an eye for an eye - in a sense. I came to you for help when I was wasting away from the no-killing deal I never signed. I help you now. Debt is payed and I NEVER have to do it again," he replied, his jawline tight as he met her eyes without any intent of standing down and she did the same.

The atmosphere was moving with something close to a small tug that neither one of them could really understand. There was something there, but none of them had any intention of pretending that it was. They hoped it would just give up, turn around and slip out the way it had come.

"Even if you didn't do something to the food," she finally spoke, taking a step back, "that doesn't mean THEY didn't."

"I'm not gonna try and bloody persuade you to eat if you'd rather starve yourself," he replied, turning from her and walking back up to the mattresses.

Throwing himself on them he placed his hands behind his head and looked up at the ceiling.

She bit her jaws together as she watched him for a few seconds, then she looked back at where the box and the plastic bag lay. Noticing the bag held some sort of vegetables she walked up to it. Carrots. Unpeeled. She bit her lower lip before turning slowly to approach him in the same manner. Stopping by the side of the mattresses she looked down at him with a hesitation in her way that he had never seen on her... Except that night when he came to offer her his help fighting Angelus. That night she had kept her eyes on him with the same tentative wonderment as she right now held in her gaze.

"Do you have a knife?" she asked.

He stared at her and she made a small wave with the vegetable in her hand as an elaboration. He shook his head to her question. She turned and walked back to where she had sat before, sinking back down on the spot she eyed the carrot in her hand before she wrinkled her nose. She then brought it to her lips and parted them, taking a bite of it.

She ate almost carefully, though once the taste of the carrot seemed to be nothing out of the ordinary she was actually grateful for it. She ate another as well and then a small peice of the white meat of the fish before cealing the lid of the plastic box tightly.

Taking both of them up to the fridge she put them back in there and then closed that lid as well. Walking up to the wall beneath "her" window she sat down and leaned against it, resting her head back and closing her eyes.

Why hadn't they come yet?

Why was she still in there, with HIM? She thought she would've liked being locked up by herself more than having him there with her. He was so frustrating. Getting on her nerves and entangling her thoughts. Filling the room with his irritating presence so that she couldn't escape him, no matter what she tried.

Why hadn't they come yet?!

***

05.47 p.m.

"Show me the way to go home... I'm tired and I wanna go to bed... I had a little drink about an hour ago and it got right to my head... Bom-bom-bom. Show me the way to go home. I'm tired and I wanna go to bed. Well, I had a little drink about an hour ago and it got right to my head. Bom-bom-bom. Show me the way to."

"Shut up!" Buffy exclaimed, throwing one of her boots at him.

It hit him dead center on the forehead and he stopped the singing he had been keeping up for nearly eight minutes. A repeating of the same part over and over and over and over. He twisted his neck where he still lay on the mattrasses to be able to look at her where she was pacing.

She had removed her boots an hour earlier, after complaining about them hurting for nearly half of that.

"Don't get your knickers in a twist," he said, rolling over on the side to keep watching her as he prompted his head up in one hand.

"I'd put them over my head if it kept me from hearing you sing," she shot, stopping and looking back at him.

"Oooh," he said, slowly. "You gonna hurt a blokes feelings."

"Which bloke? I only see you and you're not one of those," she retorted and he raised his eyebrows.

"Ouch, love," he mumbled with a small smile and she ignored the sudden swirl in the pit of her stomach as her eyes slid down over his torso where the fabric of his black T stretched over the obviously taut muscles of his arms and upper chest.

Closing her eyes she turned and began to pace again.

She had to get out of there.

Now.

"Stop calling me that," she grumbled, putting one hand up by her forehead and rubbing it gently.

"What? ...Love?" he asked, sitting up before rising to his feet.

"Yes," she answered, tone short and impatient. "Stop calling me that."

"What's the matter?" he asked, voice lowered in that unsettling way again and she stopped, once more turning her head to him.

"What do you think?" she asked. "Something's seriously wrong. Giles was the one who told me I should check this place out last night, he KNOWS where I am. If they were looking this'd be where they'd start. They're not looking, Spike. And I just... can't figure out why."

He grew thoughtful at that, forgetting that he should use her distress to his advantage at the fact of them being trapped for a while longer than even he had expected.

"Well, it's not like we're gonna be down here forever," he then stated carelessly and her eyes grew disbelieving.

"What's to say we're not?" she asked and he once more grew quiet as that question sunk in.

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