Nine: .Attempting the Impossible

By Annie

2003-03-25

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

Day Three.

11.16 a.m.

Buffy sat down slowly on the mattress. Her legs were trembling. She felt weak. Defeated. Shocked. Rattled. But most of all as though she had finally reached that final point, the tip of the knife, and she was through with this. No more. No more of his games, his mind-play, his thralls! Oh, this was all his fault!

"Buffy..." his voice called and her head bopped up sharply as she stared at the closed door.

"This ends now," she stated, getting to her feet. "Do you hear me?!"

"Loud and clear, pet," he replied. "So, I guess you're admitting defeat? You didn't even answer my last question, so either way you turn it seems I stand as the..."

"I mean it," she interrupted, "I'm not doing this anymore."

He stopped in front of the door with a small smile, shaking his head.

She could hear his fingers slide over the wood and a shiver of mixed pleasure and discomfort ran up her spine at the sound of it.

"What are you gonna do?" he asked with a mocking huff. "Lock yourself in there? You don't have any food OR water so that doesn't sound like a very Slayeresque idea. Use your head, love. You can't stay in there forever."

"I'm not going anywhere near YOU," she assured.

"Why?" he asked, lowering his voice and she felt the irresistable urge to take the few steps up to the door.

Following it before she had a chance to stop herself, she put her hand against it and felt his strength leak through the grains of wood seperating their palms. She closed her eyes, shaking her head a little before she placed her forehead against the door as well.

He was overcome by the sensation of her body heat reaching out for him, wrapping itself around him, even through the matter between them. He knew she was leaning against the door. It was as though it, in reality, was made of nothing but silk and her form fitted into his through it.

"I didn't think the Slayer hid," he now murmured, placing his other hand against the door - feeling hers meet it on the other side.

"But she does," she whispered, "when she's really..."

Trailing off she moved her head to look up and she could have sworn she rested her gaze in his for one split second. And she could swear their fingers were linking together, that the door was falling away, that they were standing close again.

Spike blinked. Was this real? He was practically convinced that he was feeling her as though she was...right there.

Buffy closed her eyes again, standing on her toes she placed her lips against the place of his on the other side of the door. His mouth was irreversibly drawn to the very spot and she could feel his response. The small jerk in surprise, the pressure of his lips against hers as he met her kiss.

The wood creaked with pain as the two beings pressed at it from opposite sides.

Buffy was the one to break away with a sudden exclaimation of annoyance and disgust with herself, with her constant failure!

Spike took a step back as well, opening his eyes and staring at the door.

"What the bloody...?" he grumbled.

"You stay away from me!" she yelled.

"Can't control yourself?" he asked, though it was more a simple reaction to what she had just said than it was meant to taunt her.

He was too shaken for that himself; his eyes still transfixed on the door.

"You - shut up!" she demanded and he could hear the frustration in her voice, as well as in the pacing she had started up.

"There's just a cupple of things before I do," he replied, the irritation with her slowly gaining power as she once again was having it her way. "First of all - when we get outta here you'd better get ready to deliver my prize, Slayer, 'cause there's no way in hell I won't claim it. Secondly - I HATE you. And thirdly... YOU stay the hell away from ME!"

He turned and walked to the other side of the room, as far away from her as possible.

Buffy stopped her walking at that third request, hoping that the glare she gave the door would sting him straight through it.

Good, she then thought. Good. Perfect. Wonderful. He'll stay on his side, I'll stay on mine. Willow and Xander'll be here soon. Soon, soon, soon. And then this nightmare will be over with. 'Til then all I have to do is sit here. In the dark. Alone.

With a sigh she threw herself on the mattress.

Anything is better than HIM, she told herself.

And she certainly did believe it.

***

2.03 p.m.

He raised his head from where he was sitting - slumped against the wall facing the entrance to her hideaway - as the door slid to the side and she appeared.

She met his gaze with one as hard and cold as his was. The lack of trust, the air of suspicious anticipation for anything at all to happen, was thickening the atmosphere as they eyed each other for a few seconds.

Then she turned her gaze out of his as she walked up to the refrigerator box to get herself some lunch. She opened it, glancing at him over her shoulder in order to make sure he hadn't moved. He was making no attempt at getting up, and his eyes were resentful.

She grabbed a bag of vegetables - there were only five more left, and then one of the six plastic boxes - this one containing chicken. Shutting the lid she turned to him again. His eyes hadn't left her for one second and now he slowly tilted his head back to rest it against the wall behind him. She moved up to the door and stopped in the doorway.

The rivalry between them was evident.

The silent challenge hung suspended by means of pure need to show which one was the stronger. The silent challenge of battle, of war, of what would happen once they were freed.

She knew he'd fight even harder to get back to his old self again. And once he did they were going to have one final confrontation. And she would kill him. There was no two ways about it.

She stepped into the closet space and slid the door shut, shutting him out and with him the thoughts that seemed set on distorting her peace of mind.

***

5.48 p.m.

Spike barely moved as she once more entered his realm. This time she walked straight up to the bookcase standing facing the stairs and grabbed four bottles from the third shelf, counting from the top. He watched her as she turned and retraced her footsteps to the refrigerator box, stopping and kneeling beside the plastic box still containing her humble water supply. She quickly filled the bottles with the clear liquid, all of it now fitted into their bellys, and then she straightened her posture with a glance at him.

He cocked an eyebrow.

She rolled her eyes and once more disappeared into her own little nest.

Spike shook his head at her.

His plan had backfired, to say the least. Not only had he failed in making her buckle - because now she seemed more determined than ever. But he had also managed to deprive himself of his only weapon against her - his own rage. Drusilla's voice kept haunting him. Drusilla's statements of how he was surrounded by nothing but the bloody Slayer.

She couldn't have been right!

Buffy was...

He closed his eyes.

That BITCH wasn't even...

Bloody hell. The only reason he craved her was because he couldn't have her. Once he had had her he would be able to let her go. It wasn't very complicated, was it? No. But now the worthless bint was all shacked up and away from him, on constant alert and... Sod it. HE had told HER to keep away just as she had him, and he had bleeding well meant it.

What the hell had happened between them earlier? The whole touchy-feely- through-the-sodding-doory had thrown him clear cross his whole existence; he had never felt so connected to another creature throughout one century of roaming the world. Not even with Drusilla had he felt such unhinged and crazed power tugging at him from all around, and Dru had been his SIRE! There was no holier bond than that.

He smirked.

No, whatever the bond between him and the blonde goodness-queen was, it would never be holy, so on that aspect he was in the clear.

But the rawness of that moment when their lips had met, and still not... It had been explosive. He knew she had felt it too.

Just shake it off, he instructed himself impatiently. It's not like she's the one with the advantage. It's not like she's...

He trailed off, uncertain as to how he could best finish that sentence.

***

Day Four.

11.59 a.m.

He had been awake for nearly four hours when she decided to reluctantly join him in the larger room, in order to get her breakfast. He met her gaze as she stepped out through the doorway and she squinted as she made a face of pain, putting up one hand by her right temple.

"What's the matter, hon?" he asked with a smirk and she glared at him.

"Nothing," she muttered. "Just have a headache."

He tilted his head to one side, getting to his feet from the mattress and she stopped short, turning to him with a shake of the head.

"Don't even THINK it," she said and his smirk grew back on.

Putting his hands up in a defensive gesture he took a step back.

"Sorry, sorry," he replied. "Just have a trick that might help, but if you're so bloody defensive..." he added and she took her hand from her forehead to raise her eyebrows at him.

"I don't think I'm interested in any more of your little tricks," she stated and the smirk became a wide smile. "And why would you wanna 'help' me?" she added with a huff, turning from him and to the fridge to get the lid open. "No, no, there's a hidden agenda somewhere there and you're crazy if you think I'll let my defense down simply 'cause you say you have some way of..."

She interrupted herself abruptly as she turned around and found him suddenly much too close.

"Spike!" she scowled, brushing away his hands as he was moving them towards her temples. "Don't touch me! Stop it," she protested and he grabbed her hands in stead, stopping their flailing.

"Of course there's a hidden agenda," he now replied, forcing her arms down and giving her a look to just cut it out for a second.

She eyes grew grace with the warning in them, but as she seemed to calm down he let her hands go. Her heart was beating hard, though, and he smiled slightly at the sound of it.

"I scratch your back..." he mumbled, stepping closer to her and she put her hands up against his chest, pushing him to take a small step back.

He smirked knowingly and her gaze grew shaded with intolerrance.

"Stop," she said and he tilted his head to one side before reaching up his hands and placing the fingertips of his index- and middlefingers against her temples. "Spike," she objected, wanting to squirm away, but he grabbed her head and made her stop.

"Just relax," he said. "I'll show you one of the better sides to the vampire world."

She swallowed, then obliged against her own better judgement.

He released her face and once more placed the said fingertips back at their previous postitions. She closed her eyes as the tension slowly lifted from her brain and the ache dimmed until it vanished. It didn't take more than ten seconds and as he moved his hands away she opened her eyes again, meeting his gaze with one rather amazed.

"Wow," she mumbled. "How did you...?" she trailed off, shaking her head.

She didn't want to know.

The small swirl his touch had caused to rise once more was enough for her to feel the need to just get herself something to eat and then get away from him again. It was strange to admit, but he held the most undeniable allure. She wouldn't have thought it of herself, that being able to reach out and pluck that forbidden fruit would have her almost maddened by the thought of simply sinking her teeth into it.

Taste it...

She cleared her throat, turning from him and getting the lid to the refrigerator box open.

"Why don't you just... give in?" he asked slowly and her eyes grew.

"What are you? A mind reader?" she muttered, biting her tongue in the next moment.

"What did you just say?" he asked, the sound of bafflement in his voice made her turn back to him.

"What's with the twenty questions?" she shot, wanting to cover up the huge mistake she had just made.

"Mhm," he said - his eyes suddenly glinting with tease as he added, "maybe I picked the wrong game."

"You know, I WAS scared after our first encounter," she now stated. "You scared me, I admit it. But I beat you. Over and over I had you on the run and now, Spike... Now you're not even a shadow of what you were back then. So just BACK the hell off and leave me alone, okay?"

His eyes had grown harsh and now they glared at her, distantly cool.

"What am I, then?" he asked, voice still lowered and he stopped her from turning around as he put an arm on either side of her before taking a step closer to press her up against the refrigerator's edge. "'Cause you're right... I'm not what I was back then, am I? You look at me now and what do you feel...? What do you feel?"

His lips were practically brushing against hers.

She clenched her jaws together, looking up at him.

"I thought you wanted me away from you," she remarked and he met her gaze.

"Ah, but I never wanted you close in the first place," he retorted and she gave him an iced look before she smiled slightly.

"That's not what your body told me yesterday," she stated and he smiled as well.

"And you never answered my question. Did he ever get you to kiss him back the way you did ME?" he shot.

Once again their eyes locked and neither one of them was about to stand down.

"If we both want it," he now said, his voice growing coarse and she stared up at him, "why should we suffer?"

"That's the difference between you and me," she replied. "I will never give in to you, while you've already surrendered to me."

At that he grabbed her, his jaws clenched together at the pain running up the back of his head but he didn't release her. The tips of their noses touched as he held her gaze relentlessly. The subtle fury on him was practically tangible.

Then he pushed her away as he took a step back.

She turned from him, retrieved her breakfast, shut the lid of the fridge and walked up to the doorway. Disappearing through it the door moved to close behind her.

He screamed out his rage.

With her and with himself.

***

8.10 p.m.

The basement was dark. He lay on his back and stared at the ceiling. The broken pipe hung in the air like some stiffened snake, incarsenated in steel and copper. There was a slow drip coming out of it and he had spent the past half hour watching the droplets form and then gently fall through the air to hit the ground with a plop. There was a dark spot where their water was excitedly trying to form a pool - though they were simply too small to ever succeed.

He wondered what she was doing.

What she was thinking.

And then there was a low clonk and a screetch in the old pipes above. He sat up, eyes on them as he frowned slowly. It sounded like...

Before he could react there was a low, sucking noise and in the next instant - through the broken pipe - came a cascade of pouring water.

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

Ten: .Swept Away

By Annie

2003-03-26

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

He flew to his feet, standing completely frozen as to what the hell he should do before he ran up to the pipe and reached his hands up to grab it. The water was gushing; the mouth of the pipe spewing it, bleeding it, pouring it to drown him. Good thing he wasn't air-bound to survive.

"What happened?!" he heard Buffy's yell through the streaming water and he turned his head best he could as it was directly under the unnatural waterfall.

"Not now!" he bellowed back, struggling to grasp the pipe and bend it up to its original position.

Buffy stared at the scene, blinking. Then moved to help. Spike felt her small frame against his own and he looked down. She had her eyes closed and then seemed to decide that bending her head down might help in keeping her face away from the violent shower. Her hands slipped up and brushed against his before grabbing a hold as well.

He almost smiled. She really was too short to be of much use in the particular task and then he shook his head.

"See if you can find a wrench!" he demanded and she took a step back, getting the water out of her nose with small noises as she wiped at it with one hand, opening her eyes and meeting his.

"What?!" she asked.

"Get-a-wrench!" he repeated with a small nod toward the bookshelf. "Something to tighten the bolt with!" he added and she nodded, moving in the direction he had instructed as he let the pipe go for a second to tear his T-shirt over his head.

He bundled it up and then reached up once more, in order to press it against the steady flow. It didn't help and soon he bagged the idea, throwing the fabric aside and simply directing his attention at getting the pipe straight again.

Buffy had begun to dig through the box of tools, but now she gave that approach up and simply tore it down onto the floor, spreading the tools out before her to frantically search for what he would need.

"Hah!" she exclaimed, grabbing her find and getting to her feet.

Rushing up to him she watched him as he got the pipe's mouth to kiss the one of its match, which it had been so cruely torn apart from. The water sprayed disapprovingly as the openings gracefully touched each other - the former was seemingly set on not being locked up again.

"Do it!" Spike yelled and she nodded, moving up and reaching up her arms, putting the wrench's two teeth around the rusty old bolt which necklaced the end of the pipe still providing the water.

Twisting it until she thought she was going to faint from the excruciatingly exhausting stint it was finally locked tight enough to hold the pipe in place and the only testiment to the flood, which a mere few minutes earlier had threathened to swallow them whole, was a slow trickle dripping onto the floor triumphantly - saying "You may have incarcerated my mother, but I have prevailed!"

Buffy let the wrench go with her hands aching from the effort. It fell to the floor with three hard clonks and then lay still and dead, as though it had done what it had been made for and now wished to slip out of man's mind forever.

She took a step back. Her clothes were soaked straight through, her hair hung in tangles around her head and it dropped happy tears down her back and shoulders as it celebrated the dust and dirt having been gotten rid from it. Her breathing was slow, deep, and she swallowed, shaking her head a little.

About to say something she looked up and her breath, the words, and her heart caught in her throat.

The water glistened across his torso, trailing over his muscular biceps, the tautness of his abs and chest. His pants were slimmed around his trimmed thighs.

He was the image of a god after the first spring rain; the mystery, the puzzle, the untouchable.

Her mouth fell open slightly and then she swallowed again, raising her gaze to his. The blue of his eyes glittered at her and the depth of them had her finding herself inadvertently staring into them.

She wanted to run her hands up those incredible arms of his, feel them close around her, feel that tight chest against hers and...

She took a step to the side in an attempt at getting past him and into the closet, but he followed her movement and she closed her eyes with a quiet protest running through her mind. Opening them again she rested her gaze in his and felt the jolt of need rush through her as he took one step closer.

Spike waited. The desire was already burning in her eyes, and the way she had just looked at him had sent pleasurable shivers down his spine. Her clothes were more or less a mere second skin and he wanted it away from her. God, she was so damn beautiful it made him ache.

And then she moved. He met her half way and their mouths found each other. Parting their lips they let their tongues meet harshly and a small moan rose in the back of her throat as she got to finally grace him with her touch. Her fingers slid greedily down his chest, acquainting themselves with every last millimeter.

His hands clasped the front of her shirt and then ripped it open and she took her mouth from his with a surprised gasp. He leaned forward and slid his tongue over her wet skin, her hands moved over his arms before they buried themselves in his damp locks.

He took her right breast in his mouth and she closed her eyes, her mouth agape as she drew another breath. Tilting her head back she relished in the feel of his cool tongue and the subtle scrape of his teeth around her sensitive nipple. The touch sent waves of pleasure down further south and she grabbed fistfuls of his hair as she pushed his mouth closer.

Moving his head up he rested it before hers for a second, her eyes in his and then their lips once more fell on the other's and the kiss deepened as she pressed herself against him, wrapping her arms around his neck.

His hands slid over her stomach to her waist, pushing the opened shirt away and caressing her skin before sliding them down and grabbing her buttocks roughly, making another groan rise from her as her kiss grew even more demanding.

Then she let her mouth leave his as she glided with her tongue down the side of his throat and further down his chest, catching droplets as she went and stopping only when she came across a certain spot which she thought deserved a kiss. He closed his eyes, biting his lower lip and frowning slightly as her caresses sent waves of unexperienced heat through his entire body. This was new, and he felt as though she was ripping him in half.

Her hands slid down the front of his tighs as she got to her knees before him, then she moved them up again before she began to unbuckle his belt and then getting to work on the button of his pants. He had to draw a small breath and hold it, though he wasn't at all sure why he did. She pulled the pants down and had him step out of them.

At the sudden touch of warm fingers lightly brushing his already throbbing erection he opened his eyes and bent down to grab her, pulling her to her feet. He was done with her having the upper-hand. Her eyes showed mere expectancy as they travelled from his gaze to his mouth and then her hands once more slid over his torso, down to his waist and to the small of his back as she stepped into him.

Tilting her head back she looked up at him and he met her eyes.

"Buffy," he mumbled and the small smile on her lips made him move his head forward to have his lips on hers again.

The kiss was this time unforgiving, merciless, knee-bending and they both forced the other to completely succumb. In each others arms they were weaker and yet stronger than ever before and the everlasting war had found a new battlefield.

He got the shirt off her by means not very clear to him, and still kissing her he somehow managed to get the button to her pants undone as well as sliding them down far enough for her to do the rest of the job herself without having to take her mouth from his for even a second. He wouldn't have let her. Her taste was filling him up and he was growing addicted to it.

Her underwear had gone down with the pants and they both clumsily jumped out of their shoes before their arms wrapped around the other tightly. His hands roamed her curves, owned her as he so had wanted, pressed her to him. And she let the emotions ravish her, let the sanity elude her for the blindfolded craving to have him, all of him.

They were animals, clawing at each other; ripping away the shield that - up until this moment - had parted them. Tearing the natural self preservation string in their heated blood into shreds.

It was a born disaster which neither one of them could do anything but cherish, because with its birth they were set flying and that high - forbidden and otherwise unreachable - grasped them breathlessly.

He turned her around and she felt herself bend her knees as he sunk them down onto the mattresses.

She was ready for him, more ready than she thought she had ever been and would ever be for anything. It was driving her out of her mind not feeling him inside of her and she pushed her hips up as she opened her eyes, taking her mouth from his and he opened his eyes as well, questioning.

Her chest was heaving heavily beneath him, her blood was pushing through her veins like freight trains and the sound of her heart beating was echoing in his head. Her scent and taste was everything. Was him.

He moved his hips forward and slid into her; both pairs of eyes growing wide, two mouths hanging open in silent agreement to the unspoken, coursing pleasure; two hands grasping the mattress, two hands clasping his shoulders.

He filled her, fitted her, moved within her and she drew an unnoticable, shaky breath as her eyes rested in his. The shock was carefully making itself known to both of them. They were actually doing this.

And then he moved his hips a little and she gasped, closing her eyes and meeting him as the silence was broken by her rising moan. At the sound of it he was awakened from the state of partial confusion and his thrusts began to pick up their pace as her groans grew louder.

She put her head up, caught his mouth in hers and kissed him deeply as she once more buried her hands in his blonde curls. Rolling them over she sat up and his eyes grew as she began to ride him. Her muscles were tight and hot and he grabbed her thighs before sliding his hands to her hips. Then he sat up as well, having his hands move up over her back as he pushed her closer.

The fire was consuming and too bright for them both. They were pleasurably warmed by it, still unthinkably scorched and they gasped in unison as it continued to grow - kindled by rough touches, deep kisses, low moans.

The passion was stripped naked between them and they both fondled it, explored it with unembarrassed and unleashed desire to feel all of it with no restraints. There were no laws left, and even if there had been they would have broken them without ever looking back to watch the peices fall to the ground.

Spike's eyes grew wide again. The feel of her was incredible, changing with every new step closer she came to the peak and he drew a breath.

"Slayer," he gasped and she opened her eyes to meet his. "Holy f-...!" he began, but she cut him off by leaning forward and attacking his lips with her own, kissing him harshly as he exploded into her and her own groans grew louder as she clung to him.

They slowly descended into their own bodies again. Buffy was trembling, her arms still around him and their mouths still against the others though the kiss was interrupted and she was taking steadying breaths, trying to calm her racing heart as she couldn't help but enjoy the aftermath of the blinding orgasm she had just experienced.

With Spike.

With SPIKE.

She unwrapped her arms and pulled herself away from him, having him make a face as he had to glide out of her, and then she got to her feet on much too shaky legs before she reached down and grabbed his duster - which had been lying on the floor at her feet. She wrapped it around herself as she glared at the vampire.

He looked quite calm, leaning back on his elbows as he watched her where she stood so suddenly back on obvious bitch mode.

"So that's how it is?" he asked and she narrowed her eyes, not answering and holding the leather tighter around her. "Use 'em and lose 'em?" he elaborated and her gaze grew indignantly annoyed.

"Shut up," she muttered, looking around the room in search for something to cover herself up with that didn't have his scent all over it.

Her eyes caught the glimpse of a blanket still left on the bottom shelf of the bookcase and she turned from him in favor for that rescue. She quickly made her way up to it, satisfied that her ableness to maneuver her parts hadn't completely left her, and then she took a hold on the blanket. Making sure to wrap it around her shoulders before she let the duster deter from the mission to protect her naked form from his gaze.

He huffed from across the room and she looked up with a scowl.

"What is it now?" she asked as she came back up to him, stopping eight feet away before she threw the duster on him.

He tossed it aside before getting to his feet and she fought hard not to let her eyes take him in as she kept them in his steadily.

"'What is it now?'" he repeated with a smirk, approaching her stealthily and she bit her jaws together as she raised her eyebrows in very well faked indifference.

"Yes," she replied, holding her ground as he stopped before her.

Damn, he was hot. He was more than hot, he was sizzling. That lower lip of his was a constant weak-spot to her and she refused to look at it now, knowing that if she did she would only want to take it in her mouth; knowing full-well where that would lead as it was bound to end up in another kissing marathon and...she was getting herself turned on again.

Not a good thing.

Especially not with all of his goodiness within reach...

Buffy! Stop it!

Now he reached out a hand and slid it between the small slot of blanket hems by her right hip. His touch made the ache for the feel of him start to once again gain power and she swallowed. His fingertips graced her hip as his eyes were growing seductive, telling her all the things he could promise her she would have if she only let that ridiculous attempt at distancing herself from him fall to the floor.

"Spike," she murmured, wanting it to have to sound of a resonant threat somewhere in the back of it - but it failed as it more or less sounded like a plea.

"What?" he asked, stepping into her as his hand glided to her back instead and she closed her eyes as he bent down and kissed her collarbone - exposed since the blanket was hanging loosely by her shoulders by now.

"I can't," she tried and he lifted his head to look at her.

"You can't?" he asked, his right hand reaching up and lightly tugging the fabric off of her. Without any further resitance it tumbled around her ankles; persecuted, judged, executed.

She shook her head now; feeling his strong arms slide around her and pull her to him, feeling her own arms glide around his neck, feeling her whole body drinking the sensations it recieved from him as though it had been thirsty for decades.

"There's no use trying to fight this," he murmured, bending forward to kiss the side of her throat. "We've both wanted it since that first moment..." he added and she tore away from him, pushing him to take a step back.

"I have NOT wanted you since 'that first moment'," she assured. "This only happened 'cause of this...traumatic situation and... the water and... you were all wet and shirtless and I'd never seen you like that before and..."

"And what?" he smirked. "You got horny enough to shag your very own, little favorite nemesis' brains out just 'cause he got himself wet?"

She shook her head at him.

"You know, you always do that. You always twist my words around 'til I'm not even sure MYSELF what the hell I was meaning to say," she stated, crossing her arms over her chest and he smiled widely as the thought came to him - he would probably never be able to see her do that from this moment on without remembering her doing it before him with not one string of clothing on her.

It really took the edge of it, didn't it?

She glared at him, not knowing what he was thinking, but convinced beyond any doubt that it was something dirty.

"And I didn't 'shag your brains out'," she now added before she grew slightly self-consious, adding: "Did I?"

He cocked an eyebrow.

"I dunno, Slayer. If you asked me I'd have to proclaim you the lay of the century," he replied and her eyes grew hard before she took the few steps deviding them and hit him over the jaw.

He straightened himself up again, facing her. The small smile gracing his lips made her come to the conclusion that she had just played whatever role he had ordained her perfectly. And as he grabbed her she became painfully aware of how right that conclusion was.

His lips met hers and she huffed, squirming away from him the best she could with the anger rising bitterly in her chest. Getting up enough strength to get herself out of his grip was hard enough, making herself take a few steps away from him was damn near impossible, though she succeeded.

"Stop it," she hissed and he smirked again.

"Is that a real request, or just one of those you have to say to make daddy Watcher proud when you don't have to lie about how you tried with your last breath to not give in to the fiend's demonic schemes?" he inquired and the growing hatred in her eyes made him chuckle to himself. "Or perhaps it's just what you need to tell yourself... so that when all is said and done you can blame it all - your weakness, your fears, your needs, your finally reached freedom - on me?"

He took a step forward and she jumped back, shaking her head slowly.

"Do you think I WANTED this to happen?" she asked, voice unsteady with her restrained fury, rising at the mere thought if his words carrying a grain of truth.

"I think you've wanted this to happen for a real long time, love," he replied, eyes glinting dangerously in the dim light of the room. "As have I."

"Really?" she asked. "You're admitting to it?"

He smirked.

"I didn't even realize how much until I felt your sweat rubbing off on me," he then stated and she clenched her jaws together.

"I don't even..." she trailed off.

"What?" he asked, tilting his head a little to one side. "Like me?" he then asked and her eyes showed that he had filled in the missing part. "This has nothing to do with liking or disliking, loving or hating," he added, once more approaching her and this time she couldn't bring herself to move. "This has nothing to do with anything but..." he murmured, burying his face in her locks before reaching down and letting two fingers grace her clit.

She leaned against him, closing her eyes, and her heart began to pick up its pace again. And once again she was losing herself completely.

"Oh, God," she whined, her hands moving up to grab his shoulders.

"I try my best," he mumbled in her ear and against her will she found herself smiling.

And once more she was swept away.

By him.

With him.

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Eleven: Small Grains of Truth

By Annie

2003-03-29

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Day Five.

3.18 a.m.

She rolled off of him with a huff. Placing herself at his side and closing her eyes. He turned his head to her with a small smile on his lips, taking her in. Her body was glistening with perspiration, her perky breasts exposed and rising and sinking with her deep breathing, her left hand was placed on her stomach while her right rested above her head - playing gingerly with one of her blonde strands. Her mouth was temptingly outlined by the blue rays of moonlight tentatively gracing her and he moved to lie on his side, prompting his head up in the palm of his left hand as he eyed her intently.

"What?" she murmured, not opening her eyes, and his smile widened slightly as he reached out his right hand and let his fingertips dip into the small cavity between her collarbones before he ran them gently down between her breasts and further to her bellybutton - circling it. "Stop it," she muttered, slapping his hand away before rolling over with her back to him, "I don't like you... touching me," she added and he smirked.

His fingertips then slid down the place of her spine, sending wicked little shivers to scurry through her and she opened her eyes. His hand stopped at the small of her back and he splayed his fingers over the spot before letting them travel further down to cup one of her cheeks and she twirled around with an irritated snarl.

"I said: cut it the hell out!" she clearified before sitting up and he tilted his head to one side with a naughty gleam in his azure orbs.

"Then tell me what you DO like," he mumbled, sitting up as well and letting his lips gently touch her shoulder.

She closed her eyes again, wanting so badly to be able to push him away, but knowing that she wasn't. She had tried. For six hours had she struggled to get the need to be anywhere but where he was to uproot the devouring daze of being with him, having him be within her...

"I'll... accommodate," he now whispered and she shook her head a little at him before she moved it to meet his mouth with her own.

He kissed her and she wanted to slip under his skin; he filled her and she thought she was about to die; he touched her and she was bursting into flames; he looked at her and all she wanted was to show him more. It scared her out of her wits.

"I'm thirsty," she said, taking her mouth from his and getting to her feet.

He watched her, then did the same.

"And I'm hungry," he stated, walking with her up to the refrigerator box and he opened it as she proceeded into the closet space to get one of her previously precious - now that they had the steady trickle of the Daughter Flood from the pipe as a resource - bottles of water.

He ripped open the bag of blood he had retrieved for himself and emptied it easily.

"You know," he said. "I've been thinking."

"Ah," her voice was heard, "first mistake right there," she finished and he glared at the doorway, though she didn't discourage him and he continued:

"Why the hell would not-cursed vampires keep BAGS of blood in a fridge? They hunt! They live..."

He shook his head, turning it to her as she re-entered the room, wiping her mouth clean from liquid and holding a half emptied bottle in one hand. She was frowning slightly.

"That's a pretty good point, actually," she admitted and he cocked an eyebrow.

"'Actually'?" he mimicked and she smiled sweetly, taking another sip of the water.

"Maybe it's for emergencies?" she suggested and he threw the emptied bag into the box before closing the lid once more.

"Yeah, what emergency? One of 'em accidently getting trapped in this stupid spell?" he asked, his eyes suddenly lightening up as though something just hit him and Buffy nodded slowly.

"Maybe that's it!" she said and he smirked.

"If this spell is a time-loop of some sort," he began.

"Then maybe time stands still for the one caught in it," she continued.

"While to the outside world," he said and she nodded as he trailed off.

"While to the outside world a month in HERE, to them, might be an hour... or ten minutes even," she murmured. "And if the vamps have a leader who controls his pack by having the words that lifts the spell... Or maybe they store the blood in here in case a stranger vamp should wander down here while the pack is out and it gets stuck. It'll survive long enough for them to come back and either handle the problem or ask the vamp to join. Same thing with...humans, keeping them alive long enough for the prey to be fresh," she concluded, her eyes growing. "They actually ARE clever sons-of- bitches aren't they?" she then grumbled.

"Okay, wait," Spike now said, holding up one hand slightly. "This theory would explain why the Happy Crew hasn't stormed the place yet. But if we're right, if the spell has to do with some sorta buggering time-twister, then who's to say how long we actually WILL be stuck down here? If you're right, then an hour out there just might be a bloody MONTH in here and how long does it usually take your pally-pals to get worried about you? One night, at least? I bet they're all in their beddie-bys right now! Bloody hell!"

She raised her eyebrows, watching his little outburst calmly before she shrugged.

"We don't know anything yet," she merely replied. "All we can do now is wait."

"Well, I will applaud thee for this sodding amazing conclusion!" he exclaimed and she stared at him.

"What are you so upset about all of a sudden?" she inquired and he glared at her.

"I don't know!" he then replied and she bit back the smile at his frustration. "Why aren't YOU upset?" he retorted and she looked at him for a moment before she lifted one shoulder in a shrug.

"We've been down here for four days now," she answered him, turning and walking up to the mattresses to have a seat, reaching out a hand and pulling one of the blankets lying at the foot of them to her before wrapping it around herself. "I figure we have no use for panic. Can't eat it. Can't drink it. Can't do anything but let it take over. And I'm not gonna. Let it, I mean."

He suddenly smiled, approaching her before stopping to stand right before her and she tilted her head back to look up at him.

"This the Slayer in you talking?" he asked and she smirked.

"It's the resolve-girl in me," she then replied. "Willowism," she added and he furrowed his brow to which she shook her head dismissively.

He sunk down beside her with a sigh.

"We just shagged for six hours straight," he then stated and she giggled, the sound close to unfamiliar in the stillness of the room, before she nodded. "I have to say, I'm bloody impressed."

She turned her head to meet his gaze and he thought he could see a small hint of flattery in her eyes before she smiled, then shrugged.

"You got the job done yourself," she replied and he smirked. "But let's not get too friendly," she added, squaring her shoulders and he looked away from her, shaking his head.

"No, I wasn't," he then assured. "I just...you know...In light of the facts of where we are and all that... I..."

"Wanted to butter me up so I'd simply cave in again," she filled in and he raised his eyebrows high with one of those misfitting innocent expressions on.

She got to her feet and he muttered something incoherent as she headed for the door of the closet.

"Good night," he called after her and she stopped in the doorway, turning partially to him before she gave a small nod.

"Good MORNING," she then corrected and he rolled his eyes at her before watching her disappear from view, having the door glide shut behind her.

***

Day Five.

6.37 a.m.

"Spike," she grumbled as she felt his hand turn her over.

Then his mouth closed over her own and muffled the small protest as his tongue danced with hers. Her hands moved into the short-cut locks of bleached curls on his head as she began to return the kiss, growing more awake by the second.

"Tell me you want me," he whispered, pulling his mouth from hers in favor for letting it plant kisses along the side of her throat. "Say it."

"No," she moaned, catching his lips with hers again and he slid his body to fit it into hers ontop of her blankets, her legs parting and her thighs tight on his hips through the rough fabric.

"Tell me you want me..." he demanded once more and she opened her eyes to look up at him.

The sunlight gently seeping into the other room was making the gloom in the one they were in less dark and she could make out his face as it hovered above hers.

"More than I wanted Angel?" she then asked and his eyes grew slightly with surprise and rising aggravation. "Isn't that what you wanna hear?" she wondered, the bareness of those questions making him shake from irritation with her.

Moving out of her grip he got to his feet and walked into the basement. He had his pants on again, she noticed, and wanted to hit herself for practically pouting over it. Clearing her throat she rose as well, wrapping one of the blankets around her still naked form before she followed him.

"What is this thing between you and him anyways?" she asked and he twirled around where he had stopped, below The Window, which was positioned slightly to her left.

"Nothing," he then replied. "Just good, old-fashioned competitiveness."

She frowned.

"He sired Dru, who sired you. That's about all the info I have so how 'bout a low down?" she inquired and he huffed.

"Do you think I can just link together a hundred-and-twenty years for you with a sodding snap of my fingers?" he asked and she could tell he wasn't in a very good mood at the moment. "Perhaps it's easy for you, you've been the Slayer for what? Three-four years? I bet you could tell me all your most exciting moments in about two bloody minutes. But to describe decades of time... my existence..." he trailed off at the indignant expression on her face.

"How long I've been the Slayer doesn't matter, Spike," she now stated, pronouncing his name in a hard fashion, which rather made him reminisce the way his trademark tool used to make the scull bone of chosen victims sound as it penetrated it. For some reason he didn't like it. "I've died, I've lost loved ones, I've even killed loved ones. But most importantly: I've battled and I have come out standing in fights with your great-great- grandsire, with your great-grandsire, with your grandsire, with your sire and with YOU. I've defeated your whole bloodline so it's no surprise that I so easily got rid of you, now is it?"

He blinked as he realized that what she had just stated was nothing but the very raw, exceedingly powerful and much too sexy truth. She had taken down the Master, Darla, Angelus, Drusilla and himself in one great big sweep with her tiny right hand and they had barely been able to scratch her.

"But we scarred you," he then mumbled and her eyes grew.

"What?" she asked and he tilted his head a little to one side.

"The Master killed you... Made you realize it actually could happen to you, didn't he? Made you understand that no matter how good you are, you can always get better... Dru murdered - what's her face? That other Slayer girl."

Buffy clenched her jaws together.

"Kendra," she then enlightened and Spike nodded with a small wave of one hand.

"Right, that one. And Dru also had Angelus wrapped around her red nail- polish painted pinky. Which brings us onto Angelus. He hated you where Angel loved you and, yeah," he paused, observing the growing tension on her, "that must've been the hardest fact to face of all of it. That no matter what, your love could never transform that monster residing in the back of his soul into something that could actually feel for you... And me...? Well, you tell me, Slayer. Exactly how," he now added, slowly moving up to her and her eyes were cold as she looked up at him when he stopped before her, "did I scar you?"

She grabbed the hand he was raising to place on her cheek and then pushed it back down with a rough movement before she turned and took a few steps away from him.

"You're good," she finally said, turning back to face him. "You had me distracted. You managed to get me to completely forget about my own question. But I was serious, and I still wanna know, WHAT is this obsession you have with Angel? Is it 'cause of Dru? I don't think you're telling all the sides to the story when you say Dru was the only one having someone wrapped around their pinky, though, are you? 'Cause as I recall it - and please, correct me if I'm WAY off here - but I have this lingering memory of YOU actually helping me take down Angelus in order to get your little girlfriend out of his clutches. I mean, that would point to Angelus having the little skank wrapped around...well, HIM," she finished and had a smile grace her lips at the cloud of fury billowing in those blue eyes of his.

"How did you feel when you saw Angelus with Dru?" he asked and she looked rather surprised by the counter question, then she broke eyecontact and he could see she remembered the pain, that sense of betrayal. "You loved Angel," he now said. "I loved Dru. She broke my heart, the bitch, but I still loved her. The way I bet you still love the sodding poof."

She gritted her teeth.

"That doesn't work on me, the whole analogy bit," she replied, looking back up and into his eyes. "I don't believe soulless creatures can love."

He raised his eyebrows in undisguised bafflement at that. And then he furrowed his brow instead, watching her as she turned and walked up to the mattresses to sit down.

"I think THAT'S the sodding saddest thing I'VE ever heard," he then stated, coming up to her and squatting before her.

"I don't give a damn what you think," she replied and he could almost smell the growing pain on her.

What he had just said seemed to have cut her deeper than he had even intended.

"Why did he leave?" he couldn't help but ask and she swallowed hard, shaking her head and refusing to look at him.

"Because of me," she finally got out, battling back her tears. "Because whatever he had to offer he decided wasn't good enough," she added, quickly getting to her feet as she swiped at her eyes with annoyed motions of her right hand. "And I can't believe I just told you that," she mumbled, pulling the blanket tighter around her.

Spike didn't move, he merely observed her back in silence until she slowly turned back to him. For someone whom he had faced a thousand times with her shiny armor on, her face decisive, her eyes relentless, her fists made of steel - in that moment she was frail as an autumn leaf to the wind and he found himself wanting to hold her tight, fight the tears with her and make her feel...

He blinked.

She noticed the stiffness on him and mused over what could have brought it on before she shook herself out of the thoughts and concentrated on thinking about something that wasn't him. Only everything popping up in her head, of course simply because of her efforts, in some way or other was linked to him and she began to get irritated with herself.

The touch of his index finger below her chin, as well as the sudden closeness of him, caught her off guard as he made her look up at him. Her eyes grew slightly wide as she stared into his and then he bent down and gently kissed her.

"Wanna forget about them?" he asked and she nodded slowly, stepping into him as their lips once more touched and then locked together, the kiss deepening and two pairs of arms wrapping around two bodies.

***

1.40 p.m.

"What time do you think it is?" she asked, sitting up from where she had been lying beside him on the mattresses and running her hands through her hair before looking at him over her shoulder.

"Between twelve and...six?" he tried and she blessed him with a small smile before she grew serious again.

"We need some sorta...plan," she mumbled and he sat up as well.

"What sorta plan? There's nothing we can really do to improve the situation, is there?" he wondered and she gave a small shrug to which he grabbed her and tilted her back again, moving himself to lie ontop of her.

She giggled, shaking her head as she looked up at him and then the smile once more died before she broke eyecontact.

"Spike," she muttered, attempting to push him to make him roll off her, but his hands slid into hers and he held her down before leaning his head forward and kissing her neck.

"I mean it," he then murmured. "I can't see any sodding way we could POSSIBLY improve the situation," he added and the smile was reborn as she closed her eyes at the intoxicating feel of his mouth against her skin.

"Spike," she tried again. "Maybe we could try to...signal the...outside," she mumbled, his tongue dragging itself up her throat before he kissed her jawline.

"We can't even get the sodding boards off the windows," he reminded and she sighed, moving her head to meet his kiss.

Pulling her head back slighty again she rested her eyes in his and he could see the flicker of an ideabulb having been lit deep within those two shiny scraps of emerald.

"Maybe we need to combine forces?" she suggested and he raised his eyebrows slightly; amused at the fact of how right his observation had been. "Like with the lock on the fridge," she added and he smirked.

"You don't bloody quit, do you?" he asked and she smiled back.

Then she cleared her throat, stripped the merriness and shoved him off of her as she sat up. Getting to her feet she grabbed one of the scattered out blankets and got it around her as she walked up to The Window.

"Buffy," he mumbled and she turned her head to him with a questioning gaze.

He patted gently on the empty spot by him and she shook her head.

"We need to find some way out of here right now," she stated and he rose as well, to approach her, keeping himself out of the small rays of sunlight before stopping by her.

"Why?" he asked and she raised her eyebrows.

"Why?" she asked back. "Doesn't it sound like a good idea to you? A few hours ago you were freaking out at the prospect of being locked in here for a month, and now...?"

He smiled meaningfully as he stepped closer and she put up one hand against his chest in objection. The feel of his cool skin beneath her fingers, as well as the sculpted muscles of his chest, made her take a step back - though her hand stubbornly stayed where it was.

He placed his left hand over it before gently taking a hold on it and bringing it to his lips. Kissing it softly he rested his eyes in hers and she felt how she was melting. He was like a leathal injection, spreading its poison through her and she knew she needed some sort of antidote to survive. She couldn't do this...!

And yet she found herself moving her hand to slide her thumb over his lower lip as she took the step deviding them, placing her hand on his cheek before taking a hold on his face and making him lean forward. Feeling his mouth against her own made her body slowly ache for his, for them to join. And she couldn't fight it, it was overwhelming.

Losing herself in him was the most terrifying sensation she had ever been under. It enslaved her, made her lose every last ounce of self-control, and it made her feel utterly alive.

The part in her awakened was joyous to be free of its shackles. And willingly it picked up new ones, binding it to him in the most destructive way.

He ruled her, he broke her down so easily. What had happened to her over the course of less than a week to make her so completely give into him? What if he was right? What if it actually had been there for a lot longer...?

No! It was the spell. And once it was lifted she would be able to...

The creek of a floorboard above their heads made the kiss calm down and they slowly pulled apart to look at each other, eyes growing wide. Then the sound was there again and the two pulled apart, tilting their heads back to look up.

"Someone's up there," Buffy whispered and Spike nodded.

"And I'm pretty sure we're just about to find out who," he replied as they could hear the door to the basement slide open.

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