Five: .Specks of Light

By Annie

2003-03-14

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

Day Two.

07.58 a.m.

He just threw the emptied bag of blood into the refrigerator box when the Slayer came out through the doorway of the closet space.

The night prior had seen them on no speaking terms with one another again, both aggitated at the sudden spoken fact of them treading very carefully on the brink of having to spend eternity in the presence of the other. Thus deciding to pretend the other wasn't there at all - hoping it would make the fact vanish. It stubbornly kept making itself known, though.

Through the scrape of one of his DocMartins against the floor. A huff in return from her; as if to let him know just how much she blamed him for disrupting the quiet - reminding her of him still being close. Through a sigh of boredome from her. A huff in return from him; though it bore a trace of agreement, much since he thought he was about to climb the walls literally from having absolutely nothing to do. Tormenting her didn't even hold the same allure anymore.

Tiredly they had gone to bed. The door sliding closed behind her and the lack of accute nearness to her having him slowly fire up the engine that kept him going again. Tomorrow was but one long holding of his non-existing breath away. Tomorrow he'd reunite with the spider of his unbeating heart and he WOULD spin his web around her. Somehow.

Now she stopped one step out of the doorway and stretched with a small yawn before she relaxed, kneeding one eye tiredly before letting her arm drop along her side, and then reluctantly meeting his gaze.

The lazy rays of sunlight falling across the floor of the basement and pooling almost timidly in the dust of it was something he could easily avoid. They were scarce and thin, and if he just kept to the wall none of them hit him, nor did their fingers reach the mattresses. He had enough space.

However, one of those rays now gently played with her tangled locks, highlighted her brow and the tip of her nose and played a gentle game with the softness of her mouth.

He found himself staring. Practically gaping. She was...

"Ew!" she grumbled, putting an index finger up by the side of her mouth as she added: "Blood residue right here and please, don't play with it. Just wipe-wipe-wipe."

...as annoying and bloody unsympathetic as always.

He let his tongue slip out and catch the stray droplet, licking it up easily he then smiled contentedly.

"Anything else I can do to...satisfy?" he asked, just hinting at letting his eyes travel down her body as he slowly pronounced the last word - but he never followed threw as he got the desired effect anyways, her eyes grew slightly and for some reason her heart began to jump scotch just one notch faster.

Jump-jumpjump. Jump-jumpjump.

Buffy walked up to the refrigerator box, unfortunately that meant she had to also walk up to stand beside him, before reaching out a hand and pulling the lid up. She had discovered a smaller stash of food she could actually eat beneath the bags of blood the night before - and so she thought she could indulge in having her stomach filled this morning.

There had been no side effects to her meal yesterday. It seemed safe enough. Which was a relief. Putting up with the vermin of HIM on an empty stomach just might have been too much for her. She had no idea why her heart seemed set on betraying her every time he looked at her in that infuriating way! She had just simply decided to think no more of it.

Grabbing the plastic box still containing some fish and a new plastic bag - this one with tomatoes - she shut the lid of the larger box hard and then she turned to him. His gaze was still carrying that teasing suggestiveness. She had never seen it there before they were thrown into this godforsaken situation. She had only seen hatred, a need of destruction and pure disgust with who she was and what she stood for. So, where had this other expression surfaced from?

"What?!" she now exclaimed, putting both food containers down on the lid of the fridge with a harsh movement as she kept eyecontact.

So much for thinking no more of it.

"What?" he asked back, innocently.

An expression that not only misfit him - he did it cruel injustice.

"What IS it with the whole... attitude change?" she asked, putting her hands on either hip as she eyed him closely, and he smirked a little.

"What 'attitude change'?" he wondered and she narrowed her eyes.

"You're all..." she began, but the sudden gleam in his blue eyes showing just how much he was anticipating what she was going to say next made her stop herself.

"'All' what?" he inquired and she straightened her back slightly, her face relaxed as she met his eyes and he suddenly didn't like the feeling of losing the advantage he had felt he had had over her.

"You think I'm stupid," she said, turning from him and walking to stand in the middle of a blazing ray of light.

She damn near blinded him, stupid bint.

"Get outta the sunlight, love," he said, turning from her as well and walking up to the mattresses.

Sitting down he glanced at his chipped nailpolish. The black was giving way for the boring skin tone underneath it and he sighed. He should make it a custom to always bring a bottle of polish with him. It would rest nicely next to his lighter, he mused. Of course, unless he at some point was at Willy's or wherever and he wanted to light a smoke, grabbed the wrong item and ended up trying to paint the sodding thing with the polish. Nah. Maybe it wasn't such a good idea. Besides, the chipped look kinda suited his state of mind right now. Could she get more...?

"You must think I'm the most stupid person in the world," she now semi- repeated and when he realized her voice was very close he looked up, finding her practically leaning over him.

He glared up into pools of green, the light reflecting in specks deep within them, and he was transfixed. He hated her more than he thougth possible in that moment. Because in that moment he also realized that he wanted her.

Badly.

Right then. Right there.

With his hands in those silly looking tangles of her blonde hair and his mouth...

Snapping out of it he got to his feet quickly and suddenly she was close enough to touch as she straightened her posture when he rose, but refrained from taking a step back. The defiance of her eyes made him understand that she had not yet spoken all that was on her mind.

"I've always thought you daft," he now shrugged, his gaze not leaving hers as he tried desperately to brush the new sensation off of him. "I guess, yeah, that IS the same as stupid - innit?"

She bit her jaws together hard.

"I know what you're doing," she stated, tilting her head back to look up at him.

He raised his eyebrows slightly, then grabbed her upper arms and pulled her flush against him.

Her eyes showed no sign of surprise, they merely grew harder - but the small gasp escaping her made him understand that this was not expected. Good. Because the fact of him actually wanting this had been completely unexpected to him - and as the feeling merely grew when he suddenly felt her body heat extend its roots to peirce his cool flesh he almost pushed her away from him again, panic rising from a dark corner of his subconsious with a warning.

Hold back, it said. Hold back or be lost. Forever.

His hands refused to listen as they merely gripped her tighter.

Her fingers slid with tentative unfamiliarity over the skin of his lower arms, trying to find a way to brace, to shove, to free. There was none...

Her heart - the everlasting traitor - began to run amok in her chest and she drew an unsteady breath as she stared up at him. Her eyes still cold and bearing the sharpness of a knife in a warning.

"And what exactly," he now practically breathed as he pulled her even a little closer, "am I supposedly doing?"

"I told you 'if you ever thouch me again'..." she merely stated as an answer, her voice low and he rested his eyes in hers for the longest time before he leaned down.

She was faster, avoiding his lips she tore away from him.

"What the hell are you doing?!" she exclaimed and he smiled.

"Guess it wasn't that that I was supposed to be doing then?" he mocked, licking his lips and she took another step back from him in fuming disbelief.

"You're a pig, Spike," she replied with a shake of the head.

"Why's your heart beating so fast?" he wondered, putting one hand against his own chest before he closed his eyes and added: "I can feel it... Right in here."

Her eyes widened slightly.

"Stop it," she mumbled and he opened his eyes to rest them in hers once more.

"Stop what?" he demanded. "Feeling you?"

A rush of something tore through her at those words and she blinked in surprise at the sensation. Then she made herself take control again and she shook her head slowly.

"You'll never be able to feel me," she stated.

He smiled.

"I just did," he retorted before releasing her gaze and taking a seat on the mattresses once more.

***

11.05 a.m.

"I'm so bored," he sighed, lying across the mattresses with his head dipped over the side which was facing her, the top of his scalp almost resting against the floor as he blinked.

He had been in that postition for half an hour and it had quietly fascinated her. If she lay like that for two minutes her head began to pound. Of course, he had no blood circulating, he had no blood gathering in his brain, he was just some dead body lying on two worn mattresses glancing at her from time to time with two orbs of blue.

"Would you please not talk?" she grumbled, sitting with her back against the hard stone wall slightly to the right of The Window.

He smirked and she wanted to bite her tongue. That was simple encouragment for him. Secretely she wondered if she hadn't said those words simply to get him going. Because boy, could she agree with him - the sitting and staring into space was mind-numbingly boring. She'd rather... What? What would she rather? Bicker? Argue? Yell? Scream? Fight?

Yeah. Hell yeah. All the above.

Blinking at the thought she squared her shoulders and hoped he'd restrain himself from saying another word. That he'd listen to her thoughts and understand that some twisted part of her actually wanted him to speak, and thus he'd keep himself from obliging her. Please, oh, please.

"Pure waste of time this is," he crushed her hope by saying and she closed her eyes in sudden annoyance.

With herself. With him! With all of this.

"Would you just NOT talk?" she said again, opening her eyes and resting them in his as he rolled over on his stomach and now he smirked.

"But then, if you think of it," he unbashfully went on, "how many hours of our days don't we spend doing stuff we really don't feel like doing? Shopping. Sleeping. Cooking..."

"...Stealing. Killing. Lying. Cheating," she filled in with a glare his way.

He chuckled, shaking his head and sitting up.

Somehow every last movement he performed seemed to have a slow grace to them, as if he danced a dance only she could ever perceive. Her eyes couldn't help but take in the muscles moving beneath the smoothe skin of his upper arms and small goosebumps spread over her shoulders as the unsettling memory of his hands pressing her to him slipped into her head.

Swallowing she ignored it, keeping eyecontact, determined not to let any of this show on her.

Determined not to even think the thought of him affecting her even the slightest; blaming him doing just that on the fact that they had spent more time together these past thirty-eight hours than they EVER had before and that it was simply bugging her so much that it made her think things that were just... made her think... it made her absolutely crazy, simple as that.

"You just listed what makes this Earth worth existing on," he now replied to her former input and her eyes grew slightly as she tried to remember what the rescent banter had been about.

Ah, yes. His sleezy ongoings whenever and wherever; that evil, un-dead fiend!

"Oh, of course you'd say that," she muttered, shaking her head a little at him.

He cocked an eyebrow and she wanted to get him away from her. As far away as possible. This room just wasn't big enough for the both of them.

"So what would you say does it for you?" he inquired and she waited for him to continue, which he did with no further encouragement. "Playing house with your little friends? Playing little lovable girlie girl with the sodding git? Or could it possibly be," he lowered his voice and slowed the words so that every syllable would have time to sink in, "that what gets you on a high, what can't be compared to anything else in this entire world, is your trade...? Slaying. Killing. Night after night perfecting your skill..." She stared at him now and he rose to his feet with that slow motion in his manner that sent a sudden chill of warning down her spine. "Nothing beats the feel of that stake through dead flesh and dead heart, does it... Slayer?"

She got up quickly. It seemed her brain demanded it of her legs without her consciously being entirely aware of it. She swallowed again, her heart feeling as though it was growing into stone - beating heavily in her chest as he approached her.

"It's what you crave all day..." he murmured, stopping before her and she wanted to take a step back, but her feet were this time dumbfounded at her pleas for them to move and she stood still - feeling as though he was slowly concentrating every last shred of everything that was him, on her.

Filling her up from the inside.

Then she battled it back, made it retract with a sudden furious disbelief with herself.

She knew what he was trying to do. He was trying to manipulate her. And it was NOT going to work.

"Oh, please," she said now, the defying stir in her chest crept into her eyes and he wanted to grind his teeth.

Dammit, he was losing her. Again. He had been so close this time.

"Don't even try to get any kind of meaningful discussion going, Spike," she continued, sidestepping him and walking a few feet away from him before she turned back to him. "About who I am, 'cause I know you don't give a damn. Like I said, I know what you're doing. But mostly - I just really don't wanna talk to you. About anything."

He lifted one shoulder in a small shrug before saying:

"So stop talking."

She felt the lightening of anger jolt through her and just like that he flipped her concentration once again.

"I wasn't the one who started it," she shot, the sarcasm in the remindure making him smirk.

"And if I'd known there'd be no bloody stopping your gob once I GOT you started I bleeding well wouldn't have said a word, now would I?" he retorted and her eyes grew with indignation.

"Just shut up," she replied and he shook his head at her.

"You have serious issues," he stated and now her eyes grew round as she stared at him before exclaiming:

"I - ME - I do?!"

"Yeah," he confirmed simply.

"My only 'issue' is being locked in here with YOU!" she assured and his expression grew impatient as he took a step forward.

"And you think I'm bloody enjoying myself?" he asked and she nodded, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Oh, I'm sure of it," she answered him and now HIS eyes grew.

"You're crazy, anyone ever tell you that? You're sodding outta your mind!"

"Would you stop YELLING?!" she shouted, taking a step closer as well.

"I didn't start THAT!" he retorted, his voice still as loud and they eyed each other for a few moments before she turned from him with a huff.

"You're giving me a headache," she grumbled, putting one hand by her forehead and he scowled.

"Yeah? Well, I have a headache every second I'm near you 'cause all I can think of is how much I wanna bloody dismember you," he retorted and she twirled around.

"SEE!" she once again raised her voice. "If ANYONE in this room has issues it's YOU!"

"And in what way would that be?" he asked, once more cocking an eyebrow as he tilted his head slightly to one side.

Hitting him would have been good, but she clenched her jaws together, mustering up as much self-control as she had left in her as she mentally bound her wrists behind her back. Then she replied:

"In the your-mind-is-so-incredibly-sick way. Good enough?"

"No," he answered. "'Cause that's just my nature, pet. And those are the only laws you can't ever bend."

"Says the LIVING DEAD philosophically," she muttered sarcastically.

He grew into a grouchy silence at that remark, irritated that he hadn't a good enough come back. She smiled inwardly.

Hah! Got you there, you little no-brained, bleach-head, she thought smugly. This is fun.

Oh, but you should really just have him shut up, something stated within her.

And why's that? I'm picking up points here. I could just rub his nose in it, she thought in return. I could get him off that high horse and make him realize that just 'cause he's like a hundred years older than me it doesn't necessarily mean that his brain is bigger. Actually I bet it's smaller now than it was when he was human. Hah, I'd love to see the look on his face when I make that remark.

Buffy. He's a hundred years older than you. Exactly. Ponder that for a few seconds. Think of where he has been, what he has seen and what he has done. Think of what he is, Buffy. You're playing games with him you promised yourself and TOLD him you never would. Don't take it any further. You just got a small taste of the power he has to project onto you. Listen to his voice long enough and you'll start to believe it. He's nothing good, Buffy. He's nothing clean. He's pure darkness. Don't dwell on it, don't try to pry it open. No light can ever reach it. You know this. He's soulless. He's dead. Buffy. He's DEAD. Now let it go. Before you take it too far, let it go.

There's nothing to worry about, she told herself confidently with a shrug. What could there possibly be to worry about? I know all of the above and he's just... air. He's nothing to me. Look at him! He's not even...

Turning her head she glanced at him for a moment, his eyes meeting hers and she blinked at a small twirl in the pit of her stomach.

...attractive, she finished her sentence and the waver, with which she thought it, made her take a step back.

Then the practicality of her Slayer mind took over and rooted out even the smallest shred of doubt in the fact that he would never, ever be able to crawl under her skin in the way he seemed to have set his mind on doing. He would never touch her; not in any way, shape or form would he touch her. Not ever.

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

Six: . All the Lies We Tell

By Annie

2003-03-20

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

Day Two.

15.02 p.m.

"Row, row, row your boat..."

"We don't HAVE a boat."

"...gently down the stream..."

"Oh...water."

"Merrily, merrily, merrily, merrily..."

"You're kidding me right?"

"Life is but a dream."

"Then bring on the frappucino 'cause here's one Slayer ready for a wake-up call," she muttered, giving him a glare to just be quiet.

Of course, it didn't take.

"Row, row, row your boat..."

"Spike," she warned and he smirked, rolling his head to the side so that he could look at her.

Once again he was lying on the mattresses and she was sitting leaned against the wall. Her back killing her, but she refused to move or show any sign that she was uncomfortable since he had made it perfectly clear that he didn't believe she could sit still for an hour without complaining. That had been been forty-five minutes earlier.

"What IS it with you and singing, anyways?" she asked now and he cocked an eyebrow. Since he made no effort to reply she sighed, shaking her head. "Not that I wanted to know or anything," she grumbled, the annoyance rolling back into her chest. "You know you're the most aggravating creature on this planet, don't you?" she now inquired and his smirk turned into a grin.

With a small moan voicing the emotion within she got to her feet and he jumped up with a "hah!".

"You lost," he nodded with the grin making him look more idiotic than ever plastered all over his ugly face.

"God, I hate you," she stated tiredly. "And I hate this place. And I hate this spell. And I hate the boring food and the fact that there's nothing I can do to get out of this. And I want a tall glass of water. And a shower. And my own BED. And... God, I hate you."

He tilted his head to one side, cocking an eyebrow again and her gaze grew into a glare.

"You know... maybe," he said, reaching up an arm and grabbing one of the rusted old pipes hanging above his head.

"Maybe what?" she asked sceptically and he got a thoughtful expression on his face before he took a better hold on the pipe and then he yanked down hard.

Her eyes grew and she was about to yell something - he would've figured it to be "no!" - when the fact that there was no flood pouring out of the pipe made her stop herself. However a small trickle of clear water began to make its way through the air and to the floor. Buffy stared at it, almost in awe, and then she ran up to him and pushed him aside.

Putting her mouth under the Heaven-sent liquid she began to drink.

"Oh, no clever remark about 'it might be poisoned' this time?" he asked, observing her eagerness with a touch of fascination as his gaze rested on her lips - wetted by the water, and her tongue glimpsing from time to time.

Turning from her he blinked, getting a hold on himself.

It was an outermost funny feeling, this sudden... need. This very sudden urge to touch, to feel, to ravish in. It was strange and close to ill- fitting, and he didn't like it. It... frightened him. Well, he had to say it did - though he hardly could admit it to himself and NEVER would admit it to her. But it was simply overpowering and in that sense of overwhelming loss of control, he felt fear.

Where would it take him?

It also made him wonder if he was clouding his own judgement. He thought he had sensed a spark fly between them when he had forced her close... A moments anticipation on her part right before he leaned down to claim his kiss, and then her own conscious saying "bad" and making her step down, take a bow, having the show be over right then and there.

Now she was very distant, and had been so all afternoon. Of course, had she ever been anything else? Distant, cold, stupid, annoying, up-tight bitch that she was?

Shaking his head at himself, at this whole insane situation, he turned back to her.

She had gotten a hold on the plastic box previously containing fish (now eaten) and was filling it almost tenderly with the life-preserving H2O.

Humans.

Mortals.

He shook his head again.

"If you'd let me turn you, you wouldn't have to worry 'bout that, love," he pointed out, without even realizing where those words came from, and as she looked up sharply he wanted to kick himself over the head.

Nice work, Spike, he thought. That'll put her off guard. That'll make her receptive to your charms. That'll make her seduce-able. You are sucha sodding WANKER!

"I'm not even gonna dignify that with a response," she replied sourly and he swallowed before putting on one of the everlasting smirks.

"You just did," he remarked and she scowled, making him back off.

The trickle was reducing into a drop and Buffy took the plastic box away. It was half full and she knew that the loathed vampire had probably just saved her a death consisting of incoherent ramblings and pain as her body dried up.

She put the box reverently on the floor by the refrigerator box and then turned to him. He met her gaze, wondering what was now to come. She hesitated, then said:

"Thanks... I don't think I would've thought of that myself."

He was taken very much off guard by that. Then he shrugged.

"Whatever. I scratch your back..." he then replied and a small smile graced her lips.

"I'm not scratching your anything," she assured and at that he smiled widely.

"Look, at some point we're sure to grow desperate," he now stated and she raised her eyebrows questioningly. "That blood," he elaborated with a wave to the fridge, "it won't last until the end of eternity. You look a bit scrawny, Slayer, but when push comes to survive - I think I could eat you."

She merely gave him a look before she asked:

"Don't you mean 'drink' me?"

"Would you prefer that term?" he asked. "I mean, always offer the victim its preferred way to go, right?"

She smiled with no feeling what so ever before she said:

"You'll get those fangs anywhere near my neck over my dead body."

He laughed at that, then nodded.

"Exactly. See, I CAN'T kill you, right? But sooner or later you're gonna fall off the twig. And color me the cat sitting at the foot of that tree just waiting for you to land right before its paws," he stated and she took a step closer to him, her eyes shooting daggers.

"You make me SICK!" she exclaimed and he smiled.

"Good," he said, reaching out a hand, grabbing her wrist and suddenly pulling her close to him. "That'll make you die faster."

She struggled, putting her hands against his chest before pushing him away from her harsly.

He stumbled back and hit the wall, leaning himself against it his eyes showed mere delight and she shook her head at him.

"So stake me," he tempted, taking a step forward and seeing the satisfactory stiffening of her posture. "Come on, Buffy... Stake this vamp and be done with it."

Buffy bit her jaws together. Her fingers itched to do as he asked, but something was simply pronouncing that she couldn't. She couldn't! He was harmless. Couldn't hurt humans anymore. And so she couldn't just 'be done with it'.

"You have no idea how much I wish I could," she said between gritted teeth.

Turning from him she was about to take a step toward the door of the closet space when he suddenly blocked her way. She looked up with a sharp breath in involuntary surprise and he held her gaze almost gently.

"So do it," he mumbled, his voice lowered and she swallowed - a sudden swirl in the pit of her stomach making her senses scream alarm.

He was close enough to just lean into, their bodies nearly touching, and she had to tilt her head back to be able to look up at him.

"Someday..." she said and he smiled a little at that. "I will," she added firmly and his face hardened.

"Once I get this thing screwing me up fixed..."

She nodded, blinking as a warm blanket wrapped itself around her thoughts, making them fuzzy and dimmed. Her eyes stuck in his, the blue of them seeping out to color the world. Her heart beat was just as dazed as her mind, pumping slowly. Then his cool fingers slid up her arm and at the urge of grabbing him, in order to get him close to her, she snapped out of it and took a step back; her eyes growing filled with shock.

Spike wanted to scream with raged impatience. Bloody hell! Who was she, Superwoman? He mentally frowned at himself. Okay, bad choice of charachter analogy, but still...! At least this time he had registered the impact he actually had on her. He had seen the desire make itself known deep in those pools of green and it had been sweet to see it. Now he knew for sure that with a few steps in the right direction she would be his. And that knowledge was something that he was certain had just set her on her path to witnessing her own fall. He loved it!

"What's the matter?" he asked slowly, licking his lower lip before he let his mouth curl slightly.

Buffy didn't answer him. Walking past him she disappeared through the doorway of the closet and the door slid shut behind her back.

He smiled widely.

Soon he would be able to do whatever he pleased with her. And he'd be sodding merciless.

***

19.33 p.m.

This thing, batting its blue eyes at her as it rested in the pit of her stomach, scared her. Made her tremble. Made a small nausea rise in her throat. And still it was exhilarating. She couldn't call it anything but that.

During the first two hours of chosen confinement in the closet, she had pushed any thought of that blue-eyed monster lurking in the back of her throat as far away from her as she could. She had wrestled with it on the moth-eaten holes of the mattress and she had won.

But during the past hour she had been forced to deal with it. To face it. And as it slowly moved itself from a vague position somewhere beneath her bossom to seep into her mind she found herself letting it. Deep down it thrilled her, it excited her; it stirred something inside of her that the side of her, shying away from everything that was linked to the darker parts of the Slayer in her, rebelled against.

It was indeed exhilarating.

And the side of her it provoked to awaken, that side couldn't help but reach out to grasp this opportunity. And she wanted to ignore it, but it would stay dorment no more. Her tries were fruitless and as her stomach signalled her need for dinner she closed her eyes with a groan.

Then she got to her feet with a huff of irritation.

This was what he wanted. She knew it! He wanted her to grow insecure with herself, and she wouldn't. She could tackle this, it wasn't as though it was beyond her control. It wasn't as though whenever she saw him she wanted to throw herself at his feet. As though she couldn't face him.

Nothing had changed between them. She did hate him. He was everything that was bad for her, he stood for everything that was in complete disagreement to who she was. He wasn't even... No, he wasn't even attractive - he was just a manipulative... harsh-looking... evil...

Anger blossomed in her chest as she came to the conclusion that all this fretting had been solely caused by HIM. He had made her think that it was something within HER, when that was nothing but whatever seed he had been able to plant there. Doubt in herself so that she'd crumble beneath his gaze the next time he rested it in hers, well, she'd not stand for it!

Giving the wall a harsh push the door slid to the side and she marched through it.

"What have you done?" she demanded as he turned to her with a rather surprised look on his face when she stopped before him.

He narrowed his eyes questioningly.

"Is it some sorta vampire thrall?" she asked cheekily, taking a step closer threatingly and at that he raised his eyebrows, a smirk growing on.

"I don't know what you're bloody talking about," he replied and she gave him a dark look.

"Stop with the cockiness," she said, voice lowered and his smirk widened slightly.

Taking a step forward he slowly placed himself less than an inch from her and she tilted her head back, her eyes growing defiant in a way that just drove him to the brink of wild and before he could really understand what he was doing and why he chose the moment to do it, he reached up his hands and placed them on either side of her face.

Her eyes did grow just a little, and her mouth did fall open ever so slightly as if to ready itself to make the protest; and then her hands placed themselves against his stomach with all their heat just spreading from her fingers and through his skin.

He closed his eyes at the sudden delicacy of the sensation.

She stared up at him, the feel of his surprisingly gentle touch reaching her every nerve and before her, he changed. As his eyes closed his whole face softened and the humanity on him in that moment made her draw a shaky breath. She could see him, the man he once had been, and it made her tear away from him with something not very short of a disgusted growl.

He was nowhere near human, and as he opened his eyes again the gleam in them brought her back to reality. A reality where he was one of her most dangerous enemies. A reality where she had no place losing her head over simple tricks of light.

He smiled, the self-assurance not leaving him as he carefully tilted his head to one side, eyeing her.

"What the hell is it you want?" she asked, voice trembling lightly with lingering anger.

"No... What is it YOU want?" he asked back and she clenched her jaws together tightly as the rush of insecurity once more billowed through her.

He took a step forward and she shook her head.

"Get away from me," she said, jawline tightened as well as her posture.

"That's not what you want," he disagreed silently and she swallowed again.

He approached her, cautiously, not wanting to push her and yet wanting her to face the facts before her. She wanted him, nothing else. He could sense it. He could scent it in the air. The atmosphere was loaded and it was simply irresistable. Stopping once more close to her he kept his eyes in hers.

"Well, I don't want this," she tried, about to put her hands up to get him away again when he cought her wrists in mid-air and held them tight as she fought to get loose. "Let GO!" she exclaimed, frustrated, and he smiled calmly.

"A snare only gets stronger the more a prey struggles against it," he remarked and she slowly settled down, her heart beating rapidly in her chest and the jugular at each side of her throat pump-pumping with hypnotic regularity.

He could see it out of the corner of his eye and he let her gaze go to fix his own upon that spot right beneath her skin. Her chest was connecting with his now and it heaved with every new breath. Her eyes didn't leave his face, the hatred burning its black fire in them as she waited to make her move.

And then he dipped his head forward, sliding his cheek against hers before his lips connected with her jawline. She drew a breath, her eyes growing wide at the sudden jolt of heat originating from the spot to spread through her. His mouth continued down the side of her throat until it was resting against the pulsating string of life and there he parted his lips, and at the feel of his tongue pressing against her sensitive skin before slowly licking it, her fingers dug into the fabric of his black T-shirt and grabbed fistfuls of it, clenching it tightly as she drew another breath.

Oh, God, this can't be happening, she thought to herself as she closed her eyes.

His hands let go of her wrists and in that moment she saw her escape, her salvation. She would have to be her own savior, there was no one else. Collecting herself she let his T go before shoving him backwards hard. He quickly found his balance, his eyes glittering with humor and triumph and she needed so badly to wipe those expressions off of him, only she had no idea how to do it.

"Let it go, Buffy," he said and she glared at him. "Stop fighting me, love."

"Why are you pushing this? One more notch in your twisto belt?" she inquired, almost accusingly.

He merely replied with a smile and it held all the answer she could possibly want.

"I thought me touching you would have you just as grossed out as you touching me has me," she stated, putting her hands on her hips in a challenging gesture.

"That's what makes it all the more fun," he replied and she made a face of discomfort.

"You are a sick, sick individual," she said and he smirked again.

"Mhm. Might be," he shrugged, then he fixed those azur blues opon her again as he added: "But I don't 'gross you out', Buffy. I can feel your responses to my touch."

Her face grew stale and then she seemed to adopt an air of pure self- confidence which was so aprubtly there that it had him rather surprised. She smiled a sugary smile.

"Really?" she asked and he cocked an eyebrow before nodding.

"Double-sodding-really," he confirmed.

"You're losing it," she stated. "The only way I 'respond' is by my gagging reflex."

"Oh, is that how you wanna play this out, then?" he asked, his stance getting dangerous in the gloomy room as he once more approached her slowly. "Denial?"

She smiled a crooked smile, her posture not wavering this time and he wondered where this sudden strength had stemmed from. He'd enjoy breaking it down, that was for sure.

Buffy followed his movements as he circled her once before stopping before her. Controlling her heart was the main thing to focus on. Her skin still had the scorch-marks of where his lips had touched it before, and the sensation still burned right beneath it. She was a better actress than he could even imagine.

And if she so had to beat the lie into her own scull - all that mattered now was believing that he didn't get to her. He-did-not-get-to-her.

He leaned forward, she swayed back slightly and at the glint in his eyes she quickly got herself back to the position she had just been in. Their foreheads practically connected. She didn't move her gaze from his for a second as he took a step into her. Fighting the urge to run her hands up those taut biceps of his she had the indifferent expression of a bored shopkeeper and Spike was falling for it, she could see it in his eyes.

His nose brushed against hers and she strained her own eyes to not close as he moved his head slightly.

His lips barely touched hers and then he smiled again.

"Ready to play that other game, love?" he asked quietly and her heart skipped a beat at that question.

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

Seven: .That Other Game - Part One

By Annie

2003-03-21

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

Day Two.

19.56 p.m.

She didn't move, she didn't breathe, and she really didn't want to be looking into his eyes, but she was unable to take her gaze from his as the question quivered in the stillness before slowly sinking in. He took a small step back; removing his closeness, his mouth, his eyes and she finally drew a small breath as she could let herself relax slightly. Then she shook her head a little and crossed her arms over her chest.

"I'm not gonna play anything what so ever with you," she stated and he put on an insulted expression before he replied:

"You bloody well will."

She looked very calm as she observed him in silence. It was needless to say anything, since the stern look on her face said it all, and he narrowed his eyes before taking a step closer to her again. This time she took one back, unwrapping her arms and having her gaze grow into nails and splinters.

He smirked.

"You know," he said, leaning back slightly and letting his eyes run up and then down her body as though she was a prize to be had - adding: "I like that look on you. Leathal. Kinda reminds me of Dru when she was at her peak."

Buffy's clenched fist connected with his jaw in the next instant and his head bopped to his left. He chuckled, grabbing the spot with his right hand before he turned his head back to face her. Her eyes were glowing with fury now and he nodded.

"Like I said - this look just suits you... Makes you almost intimidating. Bloody hell, Slayer...if you wore this a bit more often maybe not so many Big Bads 'd try and take over this stinkin' town," he stated and she hit him again.

This time his head bopped to his right and he came close to losing his balance as the hit was holding a whole new range of fierceness.

"Wow," he complimented, moving his aching jaw as he once more faced her, "you can be kinda powerful when you put your whole mind to it. How come you've gone easy on me all these years?"

This time his hand caught her fist and he twisted her arm back and behind her as he pulled her tight against him. She stared up at him with such a blinding rage she could hardly see straight and then she jumped up and wrapped her legs harshly around his waist. The movement made him stumble and then fall backwards. They hit the floor with a hard thump and in this new position she was straddling him, causing a slow, mischievous glimmer to appear in his eyes, then he taunted:

"You sure you're ready for this?" as he smirked and then looked down at their crotches pressed together and she twisted out of his grip before she got to her feet.

"You disgust me," she replied. "And I can't stand you. Now stay the hell away from me."

Turning she walked into the closet space and the door closed behind her.

He huffed, sitting up. If she thought he was supposed to just back down after what he had seen in her eyes she really did have more than one screw loose. Getting to his feet he brushed the dust casually off of him as he approached the closed door.

"I thought you had some sorta code of honor," he said to it. "Make a promise - you don't break it, that sorta thing. Sod it, Buffy," he added, "'cause I sure as hell wouldn't 've acted like some spoiled brat if I'd lost the draw. I'd 've given you my lighter without a second thought 'cause that's the way of the game..."

The door opened and she faced him with a cold glare.

"'Spoiled brat'?" she asked.

"Well, yeah," he smirked again, leaning against the doorframe and watching her for a second before he added: "You want everything the way you want it WHEN you want it. But the real world doesn't work like that... How old are you again? Sixteen? Seventeen?"

Her eyes grew with indignation.

"Nineteen," she replied. "Soon..." she added, voice wavering and his smirk widened. "What are you so damn gloaty about anyways?" she snapped, brushing past him as she re-entered the basement. "You're old enough to be my great- great-grandfather or something and you're running around acting like you actually think... Like you actually BELIEVE..." trailing off she met his gaze and he tilted his head to the side with a questioning expression in his eyes.

"I know you feel something," he stated with a shrug. "It's like in that movie where Richard Gere says to Julia Ormond 'I can see when a woman wants me'."

"Oh...my God," she breathed, her voice appalled. "You should eat another bag of blood 'cause your braincells must be deteriorating, and fast too," she added.

He merely smiled and she wanted to get rid of the smug knowledge it seemed to hold.

God, he was out of his mind. She did NOT want him. Just looking at him made her want to pull a shade down before her eyes so she'd get away from the sight of him. He was delusional! So, for a second he had been able to actually twist her mind and his touch had felt... not so vile... But hello! Man, he was annoying.

"So," he said now, biting his lower lip slighty and taking a step forward before adding: "Prove it. Play with me."

She gave him a sideways glare at that, shaking her head a little and then sighing.

"Will you give this stupid mission to... whatever... up if I do?" she asked and he cocked an eyebrow. She turned to him with another look his way. "PROVE it, I mean," she remarked and he smiled widely.

She didn't like that smile. In fact it sent a small shiver of discomfort down her spine.

"All right," he said with one nod.

"'All right' what?" she asked and he hesitated.

"All right I'll give the mission to whatever up if you play with me," he then elaborated.

"Stop saying it like that," she said grouchily, walking up to the mattresses and taking a seat as he approached her.

"Saying what like how?" he wondered, stopping before her and there was a moment of contemplating what to answer before she slowly tilted her head back to look up at him.

"'Play with me'," she said, mimicking his suggestiveness as best she could manage and he smirked.

"You're pretty sodding good at that," he commented, turning around and having a seat beside her - though not next to her - and she turned her head slightly to be able to look at him.

"Good at what?" she asked and his smirk broadened.

"Oh... I think you know," he replied and she turned her gaze out of his with a small frown.

Clearing her throat lightly she then demanded:

"So, what's the game?"

"Truth or dare," he replied without even blinking and at that she got to her feet with the disbelief sketching itself across her face.

"You cannot be serious," she stated and he raised both eyebrows.

"I'm always deadly serious," he answered and she gave him a look as black as the night sky before she put her hands on her hips and said:

"Cute, Spike. Real cute."

He gazed up at her, once again tilting his head to the side and then he got to his feet.

"You'll play, or you'll admit defeat - to me," he pointed out and her eyes grew with irritation.

"Truth or dare is a game you play when you're thirteen and wanna know if the boy you like has a crush on you too," she stated now. "It's not the sorta game you play when... when..." not finding a good way to end the sentence she trailed off.

"When you're stuck between a rock and a hard place?" he tried and she sucked in a deep breath through her nose, getting ready to just scream her lungs out with frustration, and then his chuckle stopped her.

She HATED that damn noise!

"You're unbelievable," she muttered.

"Ah, I seem to recall me saying the very same thing about you," he nodded and she bit her jaws together. "Returning of favors?"

"There are no 'favors' between you and me," she replied, voice lowered and laced with anger. "This is totally inappropriate," she added and he merely gave her a look saying save-it. "This is completely obscene!" she grumbled.

"You wanna sing the song of complaint there, Slayer... Or 'prove' me wrong?" he asked and she looked up at him with growing determination.

"Fine. Truth...no matter how ridiculous it seems...or dare it is," she agreed, reaching out a hand to him and he did the same, slipping his fingertips over her palm - she stubbornly ignored the small whisper from a part of her awakened - before his fingers grasped her hand in a tight grip.

They let go.

Silence settled between them, shrugging its shoulders in wait for one of them to speak.

Buffy finally did.

"Any ground rules?"

"No. No bloody rules," he shook his head and she cocked an eyebrow.

"We can't do this just to do it," she stated. "It's totally absurd anyways. If you choose truth I'm sure you'll just lie..."

"And if I choose dare?" he asked, the smile spreading on his lips combined with the sudden twirl of something warm in his gaze made the shiver she had experienced before rise again, though this time it spread like wings across her back and shoulders and the discomfort lifted with it.

She swallowed.

Thrall, she told herself. You'll have to fight it. You can fight it.

"Okay," she mumbled, blinking and then getting a hold on herself. "We'll just say we get five questions each... First one to back down loses. The winner gets to state their prize and it can be absolutely anything that comes to mind... If there's a tie then we'll have to... keep asking," she finished and he smirked, then nodded.

"Sound fair," he concurred.

Silence once more waited as they eyed the other for a short minute.

Spike wished he could straighten out the circling thoughts in his head. He wanted to make them all stand in a line so that he could have a long look at each of them and then simply discard any that didn't seem important or as though they mattered. But they refused to comply, they kept going round and around, and they were making him dizzy.

She was making him dizzy and it vexed him.

She was making him use the word "vex" which had him close to furious with her.

Something was being turned upsidedown within him. Some vital part that he desperately needed to stay the way it was seemed to be carefully switching position and he struggled to keep it from doing so by thinking the most horrible, evil thoughts he could possibly think up.

It wasn't working, though. His mind was focusing on something entirely different.

On her.

Once again, there she was. A disturbance. Turbulance on the frail route of his, up until this moment, sane mind. Well, he merely wanted her. And the least he could do for himself was to not show just how much she kept affecting him. Infecting him with her scent and the way she moved, how her lips had felt as he brushed his against them... Things she would never know, things he would NEVER tell.

"I'll start," she muttered now and he was brought out of his thoughts as he watched her take a grumpy seat on the floor, glancing up at him and obviously expecting him to follow her movement.

He slowly obliged, sitting down to face her.

Buffy didn't know what the hell to ask him. There was nothing she felt compelled to know about him! Well, except...

"Okay," she said, the light of interest flickering on in her eyes making him stiffen slightly. This might not have been sucha good idea. "Truth...or dare?"

If he chose truth... Well, he could lie, of course. Somehow something told him that he wouldn't, though. That he couldn't. He loved to cheat. He always cheated. It was a bit more edge in it, just a tad more of a gamble. But this time...

If he chose dare, on the other hand. He couldn't cheat his way out of doing whatever it was she would call on him to do and...

"Truth," he replied and she cocked an eyebrow, the smile spreading made him feel the need to gulp.

"What's your darkest fear?" she asked.

Bloody sodding buggering hell!

"I don't have one," he answered much too fast and she gave him a meaningful look.

Lie, you wanker! It's just the Slayer. Not a lie-detector! She won't know!

But that something that somehow had spoken up before seemed sure that somehow she would know.

"Bullocks," he muttered. "My darkest fear, eh?" She nodded, the intrigued anticipation on her face made him clench his jaws together. He didn't know why he said what he did, wasn't sure where the words came from, but as he spoke them he knew that he meant them. "My darkest fear is that, in the end, I'll always be alone... It won't matter what I do, where I go, who I'm with... I'll just feel lonely. Forever."

She stared at him.

"That's the saddest thing I've ever heard," she said, the trace of irony in her voice making him glare at her.

"Well, look-see bleeding here then, Slayer," he replied, "at where we're at. At where the hell I'M at. Trapped in here with you FOREVER! Talk about feeling lonely. Your icier than the bloody fridge."

She smiled a gentle smile at that, the sarcasm this time seeping through her features made him want the shake her hard.

"My turn," he then grumbled. "Truth or dare, precious?"

"Truth," she answered, seemingly very sure of herself.

"The first time we met," he said and she blinked as the memory danced within the frame of her mind, "I scared you. Didn't I?"

She remembered him then. How a stranger in a leather duster and with bleached hair had looked at her with his piercing blue eyes, commending her on a job well done before stating that he was going to kill her.

She shivered.

"Yes," she mumbled. Then she shook her head to clear it and turned her gaze into his. "Yeah, you did," she added with a little less breathlessness. "All right?!"

He smirked.

"How much?" he wondered and she put up one index finger saying:

"Don't push it. Besides, MY turn."

He waited as she thought for a few seconds, then she seemed to decide before she asked the question for the second time:

"Truth or dare."

Well, look where the hell truth had gotten him.

"Dare," he sighed and her face was graced with a smile.

"Oh...bloody hell," he mumbled at the sight of it.

"I want you to stand on your hands and cluck," she said and his eyes grew.

"Cluck?!" he exclaimed.

"Like a chicken," she nodded.

"I most bloody certainly will NOT!" he replied.

"Then I get to name my prize," she remarked and he got to his feet, walked up to the wall and quickly got himself prompted up against it - upsidedown.

Buffy was already giggling.

"Now...cluck," she demanded and once he started she began to laugh.

"Are you bleeding well satisfied?!" he finally growled and she took a deep breath, then nodded and he let himself down.

Swirling around he walked up to her and she rose to her feet, still smiling brightly.

"That was one of the best performances I've seen from you, Spikey," she teased.

"And you haven't even begun to experience them," he replied and her smile minimized in size at the light tremble running through her as her brain worked though the insinuation of that statement.

"Truth?" he now asked. "Or dare?"

She swallowed. The sudden demanding expression in his eyes showed that he wanted redemption.

Fast.

"Truth," she answered, hesitant and unsure.

"Was Angel your first?" he asked and she looked at him, taken off guard by that question.

"Boyfriend?" she wondered and he shook his head.

"Was he the first you ever shagged," he elaborated and she frowned at the crudeness of that blunt inquiry.

"Why the hell do you wanna know that?" she asked and was about to turn from him when he grabbed her upperarm harshly, making her stop and look up at him.

"I want an answer," he said, "or I'll be the one claiming my prize."

She bit her jaws together.

"Yes," she then confirmed. "He was my first."

"You know... Angelus said something about the event," Spike now stated and suddenly her eyes grew vulnerable as she tried to tug her arm free from his grip. "The little he could feel of it," the bleached vamp continued, pulling her closer as he leaned forward and then whispered: "It wasn't pretty."

She tore loose with a yell, taking a few steps back and away from him.

"Truth or dare?" she demanded, voice quivering slightly and he shrugged.

"Ah, why not pick the truth this time?" he wondered with a small smile.

"Then I wanna know, Spike," she said, her strength coming back to her as she took a step forward again, "I wanna know why the hell you think you can judge me, when all you've ever known of 'love' - as you call it - has been the chilled embrace of your crazed ex-girlfriend? A hell-bitch extraordinaire, who not only dumped you for Angel - but drove you as far as coming to ME for help in getting her back. If anything, I'd say THAT wasn't pretty at all."

He took a step forward, his eyes hard and she met his gaze with such a lack of respect it made him see red.

"Shut up," he replied. "You don't know a sodding thing 'bout me and Dru."

She smirked.

"Aw, poor Spike, still dwelling on the past. You're afraid to be lonely? You're a killer. A murderer. A demon." She huffed. "Do you think anyone could ever actually WANT to be near a creature like you? Unless she's completely braindead or a raving bimbo like Harmony," she added and he cocked an eyebrow.

"There's a difference?" he asked and the Slayer couldn't help but smile a crooked smile before she suppressed it and the anger came back into full view. "You know what I mean when I speak of loneliness," he then stated. "Sometimes you feel outside your own crowd, looking in on them. Watching over them. Constantly. It's a responsibility, innit? And not an easy one. So, when you crawl beneath the sheets at night and rest your little head on your soft pillow you feel it. I know you do. That creeping notion that no matter what, when it all comes to a close you'll be standing on one side - the stronger side - and you'll be fighting for your friends, to keep them alive. And not WITH your friends."

She swallowed.

"Stop it," she grumbled, shaking her head and taking her gaze out of his.

"I can judge you," he now said silently, "'cause in a way - you and me - we're exactly the same."

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

Eight: ...That Other Game - Part Two

By Annie

2003-03-23

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

Day Two. 08.37 p.m.

"I am nothing like you," she got out between tightened jaws and a small smile drew across his lips.

"It's the irony of our relationship, pet," he began to disagree, continuing with: "In a sense you're me and in a sense I'm you - and it makes us hate the other even more. I'm night, you're day. They're not supposed to exist at the same time in one place - but you and me..." He tilted his head to one side. "We do."

"You're contradicting yourself," she stated, the displeasure she was under evident in her tone and he drew a small breath in impatience, squaring his shoulders as he eyed her for a few seconds. "Night and day are each other's absolute opposites and..."

"They complete the other," he filled in, nodding slowly as she took on a look of protest.

"That's a very poor choice of words," she pointed out and he smirked.

"You're right," he now agreed.

"'Cause to 'complete' the other there would have to be a hint at me not being able to be without you," she continued. "And that you can't stand being away from me, and we both know that's a big, fat lie."

His smirk broadened.

"You're right," he repeated. "It was a bloody poor choice of words... Or of a metaphore. But I think you know what I mean."

She crossed her arms over her chest, getting a sudden playful look in her gaze as she replied sarcastically:

"Yeah. The sun in me lights up parts of you that you didn't even know existed."

His eyes grew slightly at that and he was about to respond when she shrugged, unwrapping her arms and taking a step forward as she said:

"And you bring out the darker, more hostile, more in-need-of-a-good-kill parts of me that I'm usually very able to leash. That's the irony, right? I make you wanna..." she took another step forward, reaching out a hand and placing it against his chest as she tilted her head back to meet his gaze, finishing: "be good. While you make me need to be bad... wanting to KILL you even though you're completely impotent."

Grabbing her wrist in a tight grip he moved her hand away from him as he pulled her closer, staring down into her eyes with growing anger. She merely smiled.

"What?" she asked, meeting his gaze with hers challenging. "I hit a nerve?"

"Did I?" he retorted and she raised her eyebrows.

"You couldn't even if you TRIED," she assured, voice lowered and they eye- battled for what seemed like an hour, none of them able to declare themselves the winner before he released her wrist and she took a step away from him.

"It's my turn," he stated and she glared at him.

"Why not just drop it?" she asked, the stupid game seemed to be taking them places neither one of them wanted to journey to - especially not in the company of the other - and she was getting tired of it.

"You wanna throw in the towel?" he asked and she grumbled.

"Just ask," she muttered.

"You know the ques-..."

"Dare," she cut him off and he cocked an eyebrow.

"Really?" he wondered and she narrowed her eyes, her heart beginning to pick up its pace in her chest and then she straightened her posture slightly before nodding.

"Really," she confirmed.

"Then stand completely still," he said and she blinked, furrowing her brow questioningly. "I mean it," he said. "I dare you to not move one single...muscle," he added, slowly approaching her and she didn't like the look in those blue eyes one bit.

He all but licked his lips and she struggled with her breathing as it was slowing and growing slightly heavy with sudden anticipation. He didn't stop until he was right in front of her, inching closer he reached out a hand and placed it lightly on her right hip. She kept eyecontact, trying to look as threatening as possible; as hateful as possible... But as his hand slid inside her shirt she had to swallow hard.

This wasn't going the way she had been sure it would. A small throb was making itself known in her midsection and her heart was quickening painfully in her chest as his thumb graced the side of her bellybutton before his hand travelled up over the sensitive skin right next to the place of her heart.

The air slowly left her lungs in silent indignation as his thumb this time slid over the softness of her left breast and then carefully teased the already hard nipple. She closed her eyes in concentration. Wanting to will back all the sudden emotions being stirred within her. Wanting to tell herself that it was a mere reaction to the touch...not to the touch from HIM.

This was simply unthinkable. What was happening wasn't happening. She was having some sort of nightmare.

His other hand was at the small of her back and she found herself pushed closer to him, his muscular upper body against her chest, and she felt light-headed.

No.

"Spike," she practically breathed, putting her hands up against his shoulders and opening her eyes to look up at him with a meek shake of the head.

For three dragged out seconds he looked back at her, and then he leaned forward. His lips met hers and she made a small noise in objection, her hands pushing against his shoulders as she tried to lean away from him. But the hand previously at the small of her back had sometime during the whole stare-into-her-eyes scenario made its way up to the back of her neck instead, and she couldn't pull her mouth away from his.

His lips parted and before she knew it his tongue had parted hers.

No!

Struggling she grabbed at his T, wanting to shove him away, but in actuality only pulling him closer. And she was kissing him back. Her tongue harsh in its dance with his and she felt the hunger for him let hear a roar inside of her.

At the sound of it she opened her eyes and finally got him off of her. Got him away from her. Or should that be herself away from him?

She wouldn't dwell. All she knew was that he had just used this absolutely idiotic game to put her in a situation that had her completely appalled with herself, and even more disgusted by him.

"What the hell?!" she exclaimed, watching him slowly wipe his mouth with the back of his hand, his whole body saying how convinced he was now - how much she had just restored his faith in the fact that no matter what, he had been right. She wanted him. "What the hell do you think you're doing?!" she demanded and a smirk spread on his face.

"An invitation to refresh your memory?" he asked, the cockiness in every word making her boil.

"I hate you," she replied, voice trembling.

"Hate can be a greater aphrodisiac than love," he remarked and she was shaking with irritation.

"If you think for one second that..."

"It's your turn," he interrupted and her eyes grew slightly. "I got what I wanted," he added and her gaze turned darker. "You took the dare... Now it's your turn."

She ground her teeth.

"Truth or dare," she mumbled and he looked at her, eyed her in such an ennerving way that she had to strain herself not to move or take her gaze out of his.

"Truth," he then answered.

She grew silent for nearly a minute. Observing him in the same manner as he had her through the thick silence before she finally asked:

"Why did Drusilla leave you?"

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

He blinked, then turned from her and walked up to the wall below The Window, tilting his head back to gaze up at it and through the boards at the blackness outside.

"I left her," he then replied. "She was cheating... going around all..."

"But you went to get her back..." Buffy remarked, mumbling, and he turned around again. She met his gaze. "And you're still moping over her. So, again... why did she leave you, Spike?"

He swallowed, opening his mouth to reply, but nothing would come out.

"I'm not sure," he finally admitted. "It's not like she wrote it down in a manual and bloody handed it to me on a platter," he added and Buffy stared at him, rather surprised.

"That's it?" she asked and he sighed.

"As far as I know," he muttered.

"You're lying," she said.

His face didn't change, his expression calm.

"No," he then assured. "I'm not."

"I don't believe you," she shot and he looked at her, then smiled a little.

"Do you think I care?" he wondered and she broke eyecontact with a huff, crossing her arms over her chest. "I can't give you a better answer," he now said, approaching her again and stopping a few feet away from her as he finished: "unless you want me to lie."

She glared at him at that.

"This time I choose truth," she stated and he raised his eyebrows.

"All right," he nodded. "Would you rather have me kill you, than touch you again?"

She took a step back, the taken expression on her face showed how unexpected that had been and he waited for her answer.

Death. Spike's hands. Death. Spike's lips. Death. Spike's tongue... Death... Spike's body pressed against her own... Death... Spike... Death............ Spike............ Death...

"Yeah, I'd rather have you kill me," she answered and he smirked widely.

"That can be arranged, you know," he nodded and she put on a less amused expression than his at that.

His smirk consisted.

Le petite morte.

She blinked.

Stupid french. She hardly learned anything at all from it and THAT had to stick?

"Why, cutie, I believe you're blushing," he now teased and she was brought back from her musings as though she had had a cold shower.

"I'm going to bed," she said.

"We're not done yet," he pointed out and she sighed.

"Then we'll finish it tomorrow. Eternity awaiting and all that, I don't think it really matters," she replied and he shrugged.

"Fine. It's your turn. One more each and then we have to declare it a tie, you know?" he said, watching her as she walked up to the door into the closet space.

The door slid shut behind her with a quiet click and he felt the need the laugh to himself. Suppressing it he walked up to the mattresses and threw himself on them. This being enclosed in tight and dreary old places might actually have its perks. He was getting to her... Problem was SHE was getting to HIM. Ah well, nothing good that doesn't have a little bad in it.

So, this was how it was. Spend a little time in an environment with only objects you can't stand sooner or later you get to a state of toleration, and then further into a state of actually needing them to be there, needing to see them - to be able to touch them... and then...

"Bloody hell," he seethed. "We've been in here for TWO DAYS. It feels like two bloody months to me. Sodding spell. Buggering bitch. Stupid bint. Bloody..."

"Stop SWEARING!" she yelled through the door. "I can't sleep."

"'I can't sleep'," he mimicked her, agitated, and then he rolled over on his side, closing his eyes.

She closed her eyes as well. Trying to concentrate on her breathing. On anything else than the thought of that kiss.

Tomorrow she had to have a battle plan or she would lose this war.

And she knew she couldn't afford to lose it. Not to him.

***

Day Three.

10.00 a.m.

He woke with a start, rolling over onto his back and his eyes meeting hers. He sat up straight, sure that it was some sort of ambush and he was done for.

"Mornin'," she said cheerfully and he blinked as the memory of where he was and what had occurred during the past two days had its display in his head and he shook it to wake up.

Then he squinted up at her.

"'Mornin'?" he asked incredilously and her smile widened.

"Grab some breakfast," she encouraged.

"'Grab some breakfast'?" he once more adopted her words, getting to his feet.

"Not very much in need for verbal showing-off this morning, are we?" she quipped, and he frowned.

"Why are you in a good mood?" he asked.

"The prospect of getting out of here does that to a person," she replied and his eyes grew.

"When did we get a prospect?" he asked.

"Last night," she answered. "I had a dream."

"So did dr. King and he was assasinated," Spike remarked dryly and she tilted her head to one side, smile dying as she grew impatient.

"You're so slow," she muttered. "A Slayer dream, smart-ass. I dreamed that they're on their way."

He raised his eyebrows, walking over to the refrigerator box, opening it and getting a bag of blood.

"Right," he then said, voice sarcastic. "Of course. One of those. And did this 'dream' happen to detail exactly when 'they' might be getting here?"

Her posture grew less reassured.

"Well...no," she answered. "But they're coming!"

"Oh, well, hoo-bloody-ray," he grunted, ripping the bag open and beginning to quickly devour the contents.

"You know, if you were just a tad bit more... optimistic perhaps you wouldn't be so damn annoying," she stated and he raised his eyebrows again, swallowing the last of the blood and then throwing the bag with the others before closing the lid of the fridge again. "You're all oh-let's-just-wait- till-you-die-so-I-can-eat-you and you're-dreams-don't-mean-anything-anyways and 'did-this-dream-happen-to-DETAIL-blah-blah-blah' and..."

"What do you expect?!" he snarled. "I can't see our situation bloody improving in the near future and your attitude's giving me sodding frost bites."

"Really?" she asked, almost offended and he blinked before nodding.

"Hell yeah, really!" he confirmed and she cocked one eyebrow.

"Truth or dare...?" she asked and he stared at her for a moment, then he took on the trademark cockiness.

"Truth," he replied and she smirked.

"Just how badly...and for how long...have you desired...me?" she inquired, voice lowered and her gaze holding his steadily.

He watched her mouth curl into a small smile, watched her eyes hold the way of a tempteress and he swallowed.

"I do NOT bloody desire you, Slayer," he finally grumbled, lying through his teeth and not caring one bit. "I'd say YOU'RE the one who's carrying around secrets about pent up yernings towards ME."

She laughed.

The sound clear in the dusty air and his eyes widened.

"'Pent up yernings'," she repeated. "I'll have to remember that phrase. That's just... priceless."

He glared at her in something close to astonishment. What the hell was up with her? This was... a new side to her. He rather...liked it. Damn it!

"Shut up," he muttered and she smiled.

"Well, actually I think I'll choose dare this time. I think I put up with the most degrating one you could think of last night... So whatever else you have to throw at me I think I can take."

He looked at her, then smiled.

"I want you to dance," he said and she tried to keep a cool expression, tried to not look too taken aback by that request.

"You want me to dance?" she asked and he nodded.

"Real slow... and then maybe I WILL desire you, love," he replied and now her eyes grew with irritation.

Damn her and her bad choices.

Then she rested her gaze in his again, and she felt a huge wave of determination route out any other feeling. Determination of getting that smug smirk off his face.

"Have a seat," she offered with a small wave to the mattrasses and he held her gaze for a second before he did as she suggested.

She walked to stand on the floor, five feet away from him, facing him. She urged a tune into her head and wasn't sure which one it was, or if it in fact were several all jumbled up into a nervous mess in her head, but anyhow it was a good enough beat and she began to move to it. Slowly, as he had demanded.

Spike stared at her. At how her curves gently flowed into each other and how her hands slid over the body that was their own. His mouth was almost watering and he squirmed slightly in his seat as his pants grew tighter. Biting his lower lip hard he tried to make the excitement fade, but it was no use.

Her eyes was what got to him the most. The veil of seductive daze that rested over them under half-closed eyelids was too much for him. She was too much.

He cleared his throat.

"Okay, that's...enough," he murmured and she stopped, raising her eyebrows.

"I've barely started," she said and he shook his head.

"It's enough," he repeated.

She eyed him for a few moments, then nodded.

"Fine, it's your show," she replied. "I believe that makes it a tie."

He nodded, not really willing to look at her anylonger, but forcing himelf to seem as normal and bored out of his mind as possible.

"I guess we'll...keep going?" she asked and he nodded again, shrugging. "All right, so what do you want then? Truth or dare?" she now wondered.

"T-..." he stopped himself. "Dare," he changed his mind and she crossed her arms lightly over her chest as she looked at him in a way that made his skin crawl with discomfort.

"Then I want you," she said, voice lowered as she began to approach him, "to not even breathe."

He swallowed as she stopped before him and then sunk down with one knee on either side of his thighs, straddling him. He stared at her as she met his gaze and then she smiled a much too sweet smile as she gently moved her hips forward, the attempt at getting his erection less noticable being completely shot to hell and he moaned.

Her smile turned into a smirk.

"Don't-even-breathe," she repeated her instruction.

"I don't...ever..." he mumbled.

"Just shut up," she cut him off, leaning forward and slipping her toungue out to let it trace his upper lip.

He struggled to not even blink, but his hands wanted to grab her. To get the fabrics seperating their skin off. To glide over unfamiliar territory and claim it over and over as his own.

Her tongue moved and glided over his lower lip before she let it continue down to his chin, kissing it she then slid her mouth down his throat.

He closed his eyes. Sure that he would be able to take it. And then her lips parted at the place of his still jugular and as her teeth lightly scraped his skin he reached the brink of sanity, moving straight into the ripping need that was tearing him piece by piece apart.

His hands moved of their own accord, grabbing her waist and tilting her over so that they both rolled to the side and he could place himself ontop of her. Then his fingers travelled up her arms to lock with hers in order to keep the former above her head, making it easier to pin her down.

Buffy looked up at him with a mischievous expression on her face.

"I kne-..." she began, but he cut the sentence short as his lips crashed down on hers and he parted them roughly with his tongue before he kissed her deeply.

Her eyes grew with surprise, and then they closed as her fingers clasped his tightly. She returned the kiss without thinking. She simply did. It was too demanding not to. The heat was intensing by the second and her legs wrapped around his waist harshly.

After a while of ongoing kissage he was the one to break it, pulling away from her to look down at her. The expression in her eyes caught him off guard. She looked victorious.

"I KNEW there was more to it than you just wanting to get to me," she stated with a sudden smile. "You WANT me! Do you realize how absolutely disturbed that IS?!"

He tore away from her with a growl, getting to his feet and she rose as well, although slower.

"YOU want ME too," he said, facing her.

"You tell yourself that, if it makes you feel better," she replied.

"Don't patronize me!" he exclaimed and she giggled.

"What should I do then? Pity you even more than I already do?" she inquired and he walked up to the wall, ramming a fist into the stone of it with a scream of fury.

Buffy stared at him with a small twirl of shock, meeting his gaze as he swirled around.

"You're so bloody stubborn it makes me feel ill!" he yelled. "What do you want?" he then asked. "It's my turn again," he elaborated at her uncomprehending gaze.

"Oh...right," she said with a sigh at how quickly he was able to switch topics. "Truth," she then answered.

"Then tell me, did Angel ever kiss you the way I kissed you just now?" he wondered and her eyes grew as she clenched her jaws together. "Or better yet - did he EVER get you to kiss him the way you just kissed me back?"

"What makes you think it was real?" she asked and at that he stalked up to her.

She looked up at him with a heart pounding adrenaline through every last vein. When he grabbed her she couldn't help but draw a sharp breath and as his hand moved over her stomach and further down, inside the hem of her pants her eyes grew wide.

His fingers pushed away the thin fabric of her panties before they slid inside of her and her hands flew up to grasp his shoulders.

"'Cause you're waiting for me, Slayer," he now answered her question. "You're juices are flowing over and you're just ready for me. It doesn't matter how much you loathe the idea, does it?" She groaned silently, closing her eyes. "It doesn't matter...what you tell yourself," he mumbled, growing fascinated with the play of pure pleasure on her features.

Her brow slightly furrowed, her mouth slightly agape, the feel of her hands gripping him, her breathing erratic...arousing.

"Should I stop?" he whispered and she slowly shook her head, eyes still closed and then she gasped, a tremble running through her and her hold on him tightened for a second before she slowly relaxed.

As she leaned her forehead against his chest he pulled up his hand, placing it on her hip instead, and then he waited.

"God damn it," she mumbled.

"I'm sure He would," Spike stated and she raised her head.

"That's not even funny," she replied.

"I wasn't even trying," he shot and she bit her jaws together.

"See, now you're irritating again," she sighed and he cocked an eyebrow.

"Am I ever NOT?" he wondered and she narrowed her eyes.

"Are you trying to be clever?" she asked back and he shook his head.

"Not trying anything here," he assured and she looked up at him.

"I don't want you," she stated.

"I don't want you either," he concurred.

"I can't stand you," she said and he shook his head.

"I can't bloody well look at you without feeling the need to go straight into the sun," he then muttered.

"Yeah," she huffed. "Right."

He smirked and as she looked up at him something glimmered in his eyes that made her come to a conclusion. And a tentative smile made itself known on her lips before she broke eyecontact, shaking her head a little.

"Day and night, huh?" she asked, looking up at him again and he smirked wider.

"That's us," he nodded.

"Do you think they hate each other as much as we do?" she wondered and he tilted his head a little to one side, looking thoughtful for a second.

"Why are you still in my arms?" he asked back instead of answering her question, and she seemed to grow self-consious as she looked down at their chests still against the other's.

Taking a step back she shook her head again.

"I have to..." she mumbled, waving toward the closet before she turned from him and walked up to the doorway.

"So, your little posse...it's really coming?" he asked and she turned partially to him before she nodded.

"Yeah, soon we'll be outta here," she replied and he smiled a small smile of relief.

That was good. Really good. This was spinning out of hand. Too far for him to reach. Two days felt like two months of nothing but her. What would it feel like after this day was over? The spell needed to be lifted. Patterns needed to be resurrected. Bounderies needed to once again be put up.

The raving lust he felt was unhealthy.

It was taking him over. Blinding him as to whom he was actually dealing with here.

He should have taken his own advice. He should have held back. Because now he found himself losing his train of thought whenever he looked at her, losing himself in her. And maybe, just maybe, if they got out of there in time he'd be able to prevent it from going too far...

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