Twelve: Twist of Black

By Annie

2003-03-31

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

Day Five.

2.00 p.m.

Buffy swallowed, her eyes fixed on the bottomstep of the stairs and then she heard Willow's voice asking:

"What if we're wrong? What if all that waits down there is the big, bad, hairy, ugly wolf! Without Buffy we might as well commit suicide right here!"

Buffy's eyes grew, then relief bloomed in her chest as she took a step forward and called out:

"It's okay! I'm here!"

Feeling Spike's fingers close around her right arm through the fabric of the blanket before he turned her around with a meaningful look down at her. The scowl on her face was immediately transformed into a gaping exclamation mark and she swirled around, running into the closet space, picking up her clothes lying on the floor of the basement as she went.

"Thank you for the vote of confidence," Spike heard Giles answer and the careful steps down the stairs stopped as the small force of good seemed to contemplate what to do.

"Don't worry," there was suddenly the git's voice and Spike's eyes darkened slightly at the sound of it. Good, old soldier-boy was simply too clean to earn any respect whatsoever from the vamp. "I'm here," Riley added and Spike huffed. "With reinforcements," came another addition and Spike could only imagine whatever tool of destruction the little super-human had brought with him.

"That is... so neat," the whelp spoke up and Spike rolled his eyes to the ceiling.

Whatever they were doing it seemed they hadn't heard Buffy's shout for calm.

"I have been training the girl for three years, after all," Giles now continued his subtle defense of his bruised ego. "I would say that I am quite capable of handling myself in a fight, especially against a simple wolf of some sort."

"All right, big guy," Xander's voice was heard again and then the sound of his hand patting the Watcher's shoulder. "Let it go. 'Sides, Willow was only trying to paint a nice and bloody picture for us to visualize so that we wouldn't be shocked once we stand and face the fiends of hell that are very probably down there... She wasn't ACTUALLY saying that there IS a wolf down there. Isn't that right, Wills?"

"Wolf... Oz," was all the reply he got out of her, the melancholy in her voice not soon to be mistaken for gayety.

"What are you doing?! Get dressed!" Buffy suddenly hissed and Spike cocked an eyebrow, turning his head to her where she was standing one step out of the doorway of the closet, buttoning the button of her pants before getting her hair out from under the hem of her wrecked shirt.

Moving her arms back to do so the shirt slid open, exposing one of her nipples, and he got himself moving. She had reached down and picked up her jacket - which had been lying in the closet until now - and was just pulling it on when his hand slid over her stomach, to the small of her back, and he pulled her to him.

"Are you insane!" she demanded, her voice still lowered and he smirked.

"Come on down! Come see what your precious little Slayer's been indulging herself in for the past few days!" he simply yelled and her eyes grew wide before she started to push at his chest in order to get him away from her.

It wasn't working, her mind wanted the movement to have impact, her body did not - and it seemed in this case it was body over mind because she was slowly letting herself fail.

"I think we're pretty safe," Xander now said. "If there'd been a fang-gang down there they would've been up HERE by now," he added.

"They can't hear us," Spike pointed out, feeling how her struggles became less and less stubborn, his fingers gently massaging the base of her spine and her breathing was beginning to tremble slightly.

"Stop it," she whispered, the glint in his eyes showing how little he believed that she actually meant those words and she couldn't really blame him - they had come out in the most pathetic way.

"That has another ring to it in my ears," he murmured, lowering his head to her neckline and opening his mouth to gently slide his teeth over her skin.

Reaching up his left hand he pushed the dark leather of her jacket back, as well as the thin fabric of her shirt, to get to continue his journey out towards her shoulder.

Her fingers took in the muscles of his chest before placing themselves on either hip.

"Okay, so - if you're right, Giles - these words should lift the spell," Willow's voice distantly echoed and Buffy's eyes shot open before she tore away from the vampire.

Her gaze stared into his and then she reached up stale fingers to button up her jacket. He narrowed his eyes, then he shook his head slightly as if to say "It won't be this bloody easy, and you know it" before he walked up to the mattresses and reached down for his black T-shirt.

Buffy kept her gaze from following his movements, planting it on the spot where her friends were soon to emerge. She heard a low mumble and knew Willow was reciting whatever spell it was that would counter the one the Slayer and Vamp were under.

Spike pulled the fabric over his head and slid it down. Buffy's ears took the sound in and dredged up the fresh memories of when her hands had resembled that fabric as they explored his skin, greedily covering every inch of it... She shook her head to get rid of the much too vivid pictures as well as the close to itchy feel at the tips of her fingers.

Then she heard the leather of his duster gently speak as he fitted it onto his shoulders. She wasn't able to hold herself back anymore, but had to turn her head to him and he caught her eyes with his. She looked at him, and felt as though it was for the very last time.

Nothing moved within her at the thought, nothing appeared even in resemblance to growing ease, or regret over the instances they had shared ever occurring in the first place. The thought simply stepped forward, wasn't there long enough for her to treat it as fact, and then left as calmly as it had entered her mind. And it did so in the light of a sneaking suspicion that she had - that no matter what happened she would never come to that moment where she would actually rest her eyes upon that damnable vampire and have it be for the absolute last time.

A small breeze of warm air fluttered by her ankles and she blinked.

"Buffy?!"

She moved her gaze from his and turned her head to the stairs just as Willow descended them and rounded them to face her. Her eyes lightening up as they caught sight of her friend. The other three followed in her footsteps.

"Oh, I was SO worried!" she exclaimed, rushing up to Buffy and throwing her arms around her.

Buffy hardly reacted, she was looking at Riley. She couldn't believe that she had actually forgotten completely about her very new, trusting and lovable boyfriend! She couldn't believe that she had cheated on him with THAT! She shuddered.

"You cold?" Willow asked, still with her arms wrapped firmly around the Slayer's neck, and Buffy smiled a little before hugging her back. "My God, have you been down here all this time? It's freezing!"

"Well, we managed to..." Spike began, only Buffy pulled out of Willow's arms saying:

"How long is 'all this time', exactly?"

Giles blinked, taking off his glasses and polishing them as he asked:

"You...don't remember?"

Buffy looked at him and then at Riley.

"N-no," she stuttered, putting a hand by her head. "No, it's all a blur."

"Oh, please," Spike grumbled and they all turned their heads to him.

He looked up, raising his eyebrows.

"What?!" he asked. "It isn't like she bloody bumped her head and got amnesia!" he added, turning his gaze into hers and Buffy tried to look unknowing of what he could possibly think she was remembering. "Stop this, it's sodding pathetic," he murmured and she turned her head from him.

"How long have I been in here?" she asked and Willow looked empathic.

"Almost five hours," she then answered and Buffy had to fight not to have her eyes grow at that revelation.

Five hours to them, five days to her...and him. So then the theory had been accurate enough...

"Five hours in a room with Spike and he's still standing in the middle of the floor, not playing with the other little dustballs in the corners?" she asked with a shake of the head. "I find that very hard to believe."

Spike stared at her. Was it true? Didn't she remember anything of everything that had taken place? But how could HE remember it then? He decided to lay low for a short while. He wanted to watch her.

A warm smile suddenly split her face and Spike turned his head to whom she was directing it on. Riley took a small step forward and she walked the rest of the way up to him.

"You weren't worried, were you?" Spike heard her ask softly as she stepped into him and Riley smiled back down at her before he leaned forward and let his lips meet hers.

"Just a bit," he then confessed.

The vampire succeeded to ignore the small twist of black near his heart as he obsereved the cupple and their obvious satisfaction at being in each other's closer vicinity once again. But, how could she do that - act so indifferent - when she just a few minutes earlier had completely surrendered to the touches HE was giving her? Oh, right...she couldn't remember. The day he believed that was the day he willingly let her dust him!

"So... I guess there's no real need for further introduction?" Buffy asked sheepishly, turning to Giles who smiled slightly.

"I should think not. Riley was gracious enough to accompany Willow to my place after she grew concerned of what was keeping you, and I rather came to cunclusions myself as to who and what he is," he then answered and Buffy returned the smile. "I would have appreciated the information a bit sooner," he added and she nodded, looking apologetic.

"I just..." she started and Giles raised one hand dismissively.

"It's quite all right," he assured.

Spike found himself practically staring at the Slayer's fingers entwined with Riley's and something wrenched his gut. He clenched his jaws together and looked away. Bewildered. What the hell was wrong with him? It wasn't like he bloody well cared! That woman was more annoying than anyone he had ever met. Of course, she was also sexy as hell. The sensuality she carried was even more entoxicating simply because she so often seemed rather unaware of it.

The problem with her was that she was too stuck-up, too into being miss-do- good, too set on keeping within her own boundaries that she wouldn't let herself go. Except while under extreme circumstances, as the most resent events had proven, he supposed. But it was that fact of the extreme that had bent even his own limitations to something close to horrifying.

Sleeping with the enemy in the most real sense had never been anything he had taken lightly. He had only ever done it once before... and that had been a nightmare of an expreience so in lack of pleasure that he had banned the memory completely from the collection in his head.

Buffy... was different. She had reached into him and stirred parts of him he hadn't been aware of, where he had been hell-bent at making her suffer that ordeal being done to her.

Her touch. Her taste. The feel of her body. Her scent. All of it had bundled up in the middle of his throat and he couldn't decide whether to swallow or spit it all out again. Thing was that he didn't know for sure whether or not it was his choice. Perhaps all he could do was let it be stuck there for the rest of his existence, like a bittersweet peice of candy he would never be able to have again.

He smirked to himself.

Perhaps it could be remedied. He knew she remembered, all he had to do was twist her arm enough for her to confess to it. If he had crawled successfully under her skin once...

"Let's go," Willow said, hooking an arm with the one of Buffy's not belonging to the hand holding that of Riley's. "It's late. I'm tired."

Buffy smiled as her friend leaned her head against her shoulder.

"Were you really scared that I was like gone or something?" the Slayer wondered, heading with her boyfriend and best friend toward the stairs.

"Yeah, with the whole Hellmouth-coming-one-dead-demon-away-from-being-re- opened thingy last week I REALLY haven't been able to relax," the redhead replied with a sigh. "And now I'm so glad I couldn't 'cause who knows how long you might've had to be trapped down here if it hadn't been for my nerves!"

Buffy laughed at that.

"That's true," she nodded, starting the ascent of the stairs.

Giles and Xander slowly followed the trio, but Spike stood still.

"Coming?" Xander asked, stopping and turning partially to the vamp before he smiled. "Right... Daylight. Well, guess you'll just have to wait for that taste of freedom a little while longer."

Spike gritted his teeth as the teen disappeared up the stairs in trail of his comrades.

The bleached blonde looked around the room. It was cold and even more empty than before.

He closed his eyes and willed his thoughts to rest.

He would have his moment in the sun. She couldn't deny him.

***

Regular time-frame.

4.30 a.m.

"...and since Giles already had a pretty good idea who the vamp leader was he checked some of the books and we just put our three very brainy heads together and thought up two options," Willow said.

"Which was?" Buffy yawned, pulling her covers up to her chin before rolling over on her side to look at her room mate who had been explaining excitedly for nearly fifteen minutes.

"Am I boring you?" Willow asked with a small and apologetic pout and Buffy smiled, shaking her head.

"No, not at all. I mean, I really wanna know. I just...feel like I haven't slept well in days," she mumbled and Willow returned her smile.

"Sorry," she replied and Buffy shook her head again.

"No need. Just finish. I have a feeling you were getting close to the explosive, round-up ending," she then encouraged and Willow nodded.

"Okay. Well, option number one was that the leader vamp had killed you, and option number two was that he had used one or two of his notorious abilities for magic to somehow stall you. Since we knew that option number one was barely even visable we decided that option number two was the one to go for... It took us a few hours and a lotta help from Riley and his contacts to figure out what kinda spell it might be, but once we had it pretty much narrowed down it really wasn't that much work and... now you're here!"

Buffy smiled again, closing her eyes sleepily before she mumbled:

"If it had been me I'd just gone out hunting for the pack of vamp's, caught them by the short hairs and then killed them off 'til no one was left but the leader - getting the info I needed from him and then just...being done with it."

Willow stared at her for a moment.

"That might've been a good approach," she then said slowly, "if you're the Slayer."

"Yeah," Buffy muttered. "It WILL be a really good approach," she then added, "'cause once I'm through with that scum he'll need all the magic he can get his paws on to be able to piece himself together."

"Buffy," Willow said in a low voice. "What happened down there?"

"I told you," came the reluctant reply. "I can't remember."

I hope I never do see him ever again, the Slayer thought to herself. I hope I never, ever have to face him again. If he looks at me long enough he'll see right through me. He'll know all of this is an act. He'll break me all over again...

Her thoughts trailed off at that and she opened her eyes sharply.

No.

No, not ever again. If she so had to kill him to keep him from doing it, he would never touch her ever again.

You told yourself he couldn't, a mocking voice spoke in the back of her head and she closed her eyes. You convinced yourself he would never touch you and look at yourself now, it whispered. You desire him still...

Think of Riley, she cut that voice off with. Think of Riley and how his touch makes you warm and fuzzy all over. How he looks at you and...

A pair of ice-blue eyes appeared before her inner vision and she almost drew a breath.

Damn it, let him go! she instructed herself impatiently. Tomorrow is the first day of the rest of your life, Buffy. That's the only thought you have to repeat over and over. Tomorrow these past five days...or something or other, NEVER happened.

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

Thirteen: The Scene of the Crime

By Annie

2003-04-01

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

The Following Night - Regular time-frame.

Day Six.

8.45 p.m.

Buffy pulled her jacket together, buttoning it up as the chill of the air was making itself known. She was huddled behind a bush located twenty-or-so yards away from the house in which she had experienced things she would really just love to be able to get out of her head. What bliss if the un- spelling actually would have erased every last scrap of it from her mind. But. no such luck.

She was waiting.

It was payback time and she was certain it was going to be sweet.

The day had been slow, filled with nothing to do but homework and indulging herself in some boyfriend friendly cuddling activities... It was, after all, Saturday. But now it was Saturnight and she had been longing for it. Dying for it. She needed a good slay and though she hated to admit it she felt like she needed to blow off some steam. For various reasons - the operative one being her still lingering disbelief, abhor and anger with herself that she so completely had lost herself, had indulged herself in acts so heinous they weren't fit to even...think about.

She got herself out of the loop her mind constantly kept drifting back into. A loop where his hands and his eyes and his mouth played key rolls. And how she hated him for it. That good-for-nothing...

"Whatcha doin' lurkin' in the sodding shrubs and weeds?"

She swirled around so fast that she lost her balance and sat down in the grass, her gaze in the blue of his and the sudden tease in it made her hands grasp the straws under them, ripping them from their bed of earth carelessly.

"Sorry, love," he smirked, "didn't mean to knock you off your feet."

She glared at him; too annoyed to even think, much less speak. And she had thought this meeting would be awkward. Bah! Looking at him now made her realize why nothing was ever going to happen between him and her again. He was nothing but a... Nothing but a... Once she thought up a word good enough she'd add it to that sentence and thrash his face with it!

"So, you thinking 'bout going back in?" he asked, squatting down before her as he gazed over at the building.

"Are you seriously here to actually try to TALK with me?" she asked, getting on her knees and brushing the back of her coat before she rested her eyes in his. "Let me just give you one tiny hint - don't."

His smirk widened.

"Aw, but in there you were so talkative. Your lips were keeping themselves busy practically twenty-four-bloody-seven..." he replied, his eyes growing rather dangerous as he let them drift to the spoken body part. "You don't remember...?" he then asked and she narrowed her eyes.

Her heart was beginning to be a challenge and she looked away from him, turning her head to the object of her stake-out. Spike observed her profile in silence for a few minutes. When she refused to speak he shrugged, rising, and she turned her head to him again.

"Once the nasties get here you're gonna need back-up," he stated and she furrowed her brow questioningly. "I hear they're a big group of purebred antiSlayer and you'd do bloody well at..."

"Get down!" she hissed, reaching up a hand and pulling him back down.

He ducked his head slightly, trying to see what she seemed to have picked up on, but unable to detect anything out of the ordinary.

"I don't think you came here to help me," she now whispered, keeping her eyes on the building.

"No?" he asked. "And why did I come then, miss know-it-all?"

"You came here to bug the hell outta me so I'll lose my focus and get myself killed," she stated. "And you can nag my ear off - it's not gonna work."

He smiled at that, shaking his head a little at her.

"You know, for someone whom I hate you know me far too well, Slayer," he mumbled and she turned her head to him with a small wrinkle between her eyebrows.

He merely cocked an eyebrow before bringing a cigarette to his lips.

She rolled her eyes at him.

"Those things 'll kill ya," she said and he gave her a look as he brought out his lighter and put the flame by the tip. She met his gaze with her eyebrows raised, then added with a shrug: "Says so on the box."

"No, the box states that smoking is bad for your health, brainiac," he retorted. "Do you think they'd be so bloody stupid as to sodding consent to putting out a marketing campaign where they actually proclaim that smoking kills?"

"They could throw a 'might eventually' into the mix," she replied. "I mean, if it says that something 'might' be lethal in twenty to thirty years I think people tend to think little of it."

"Are you having a profound moment?" he asked.

"I might be, yeah," she nodded, once more looking toward the house.

"Please, spare me."

"Why do you think I started it?" she shot and he arched an eyebrow.

"Touché," he replied with a small smile and she gave him a look before the sound of voices had them both on immediate alert mode and they turned their heads to their right, from where the sound was approaching.

Soon ten vampires came strolling into view - three of them were carrying a body each, slung over one shoulder. They seemed perfectly unaware of what was awaiting them and Buffy smiled to herself, watching them walk across the street.

"That's a large band of brothers," Spike remarked. "You absolutely positive you wanna go in there all by your literally itsy-bitsy self?"

"What's that supposed to mean?" she asked, her gaze impatient as she turned it on him and he tried to look as well-meaning as he could, answering:

"Well, you're not exactly the largest specimen, are you?"

Her eyes grew a shade darker and he tilted his head to one side, observing her with the self-assurance of seeing how he was getting to her evident all over his posture.

"Neither are you," she then retorted and he smirked widely at that comeback before he watched her as she snuck out of the bushes and began to run toward the house, into which the vamps had now disappeared.

Buffy slowed down as she approached the sagging picket-fence - now as sad and worn off in color and texture as the actual building it surrounded - and then carefully made her way through the gap where there once had been a proud, waist-high gate.

She proceeded her sneaking by means of the over-grown walkway leading up to the stairs, in their turn taking her up to the front door. Pressing herself against the wall of the house she started the ascent. Stealthily continuing on her path up to the door she stopped before it, listening.

"Hear any munching?" Spike asked right behind her and she twirled around with a sharp breath in surprise. "Or sucking?" he added and she glared up at him.

"Shut up!" she hissed, turning back around.

"Oh, the re-live of old times past," he sighed. "How I wish it were me - I - down there with them... Feasting."

"If you don't shut up I'll have to get a needle, a thread, and then most happily do the job for you - understand?" she asked, voice low.

"You're making me shiver," he mumbled and she closed her eyes briefly at the slow sound of his voice. "Please, don't stop."

She glanced at him over her shoulder warningly before placing a hand on the doorknob and turning it.

"If you're only gonna be a nuisance: go - away," she demanded and he smiled at that.

"Not a chance in hell," he replied as they both stepped through the door and into the dark hall. "So," he grumbled as she slid the door closed and let the knob go, "back at the scene of the crime."

"You know, I remember this," she said, turning to face him and he cocked an eyebrow, meeting her gaze. "You following, annoying me - this is all very familiar. What I don't remember is what prompted this swipe of personalities," she now added and he blinked. "You're standing awfully close to me, fang boy. Back off or I'll not-accidentally mistake you for one of the others and you can have exactly what you want - to be part of the rest of the happy assembly, and munch dust down in the basement from now 'til the end of eternity."

He gave a small nod as he took a step back.

She gave him a long look, filled with both a threat and something close to a quizzical expression.

He just did something I asked without his mouth going off like it was the cavalry, she thought, rather perplexed. That was really...weird.

Spike followed her as she slowly made her way down the hallway.

"'Fang boy'," he then whispered, looking around him in the same manner that she was. "I like that. It has a nice, super-hero kinda ring to it," he added and she glanced at him disbelievingly.

He merely smirked.

"Stop," she whispered, reaching out an arm to block his way as they could hear shuffling of feet above their heads.

"Why don't we just run up there and take them out?" Spike asked.

"'Cause there's ten of them," she answered him.

"So? I can take five and I'm sure I'd be able to get rid of them fast enough to take on the three left after you do yours," he stated and her eyes flashed with growing impatience.

"Very funny," she muttered. "Okay... Let's just go up there and see what happens."

He eyed her for a second.

"Good plan," he then nodded, the hint of sarcasm not going by unnoticed and she gave him another glare before she began to ascend the stairs.

He waited for a few seconds and then slowly followed.

The first vamp was dust instantly and as the second and third approached her Buffy ducked, swirled around and got rid of those two just as quickly. Spike had just reached the top step of the stairs when three of the seven remaining fiends attacked her. He tilted his head to one side and leaned with one shoulder against the wall to his right, observing the scene.

She was one fast, sleek killing machine when she wanted to be. Wow. He watched the muscles of her legs work as she fought back a dark haired vamp by averting its blow and then kicking her right foot up so high it hit the pained creature in the side of the head. It went down - weakling - and she made no more of it before sinking her weapon through its ribcage.

She turned her head to the bleached one still reluctantly admiring her skill and then she gave him a small smirk.

"So far I've brought down four all by my self," she remarked. "How's that for 'itsy-bitsy'?"

He returned the smirk.

"You trying to prove yourself to me, Slayer?" he asked and her eyes grew hard with irritation right before she was tackled to the floor.

She kneed the red-haired vampire in the groin and then flipped it over her head as though it was made of cardboard. Spike raised his eyebrows, rather impressed. Looking to his left he met the eyes of one of the vamps, standing beside him and Spike came to the conclusion that it must have come up the stairs only moments after he had. It was seemingly also enjoying the show.

"And that was a pretty large chap too," Spike now said and the other vamp smiled widely, nodding.

The bleached one frowned, threw out an arm and pinned the other demon to the wall by its thick neck. Spike's grip was as tight and merciless as a claw and the vampire stared at him with growing disbelief. The former sighed, bringing out a stake from the small of his back and the vamp's eyes grew enormous.

"You cannot be...!" was all it had time to get out before his own kin made him into just another one-liner walk on.

Spike brushed at the ashes as he turned his head back to the fighting.

Buffy was just finishing off her sixth kill and then she turned to the leader who was reading out of a book clearly containing spells.

"Oh, no, you don't!" Buffy stated, running up to the vamp and snatching the book out of its hands. "You've caused enough trouble," she added, twirling around and throwing the book straight into the arms of the approaching Spike.

"There were two more," he said and she nodded.

"Yeah, they split," she replied.

"What?!" Spike exclaimed, incredulous tone in his voice before he shook his head. "You know, you really need to break them in," he added, eyes in the leader's. "You need to make them enjoy pain, you know? Get a kick outta it. Otherwise this is exactly what happens. You're standing in the middle of the battlefield with no one to watch your bloody back! Now, is that good sodding leadership?"

"Spike," Buffy said tiredly. "Just for one second shut up and let me deal with this."

He rolled his eyes to the ceiling, shaking his head once more as he turned away from her. Looking down at the book still in his arms he murmured something incoherent and Buffy once again rested her eyes in that of the leader.

"Are there more?" she asked.

"What?" the vamp asked back, his voice raspy and his gaze cold. "Vampires?"

She smiled with no humor.

"Nests like this one?" she wanted to know and the vamp shook its head.

"You're barking up the wrong tree, Slayer," it spat. "You think I'll rat out those who might eventually kill you?" it then snorted and she narrowed her eyes.

"If you give me information I'll make it quicker," she assured and now Spike chuckled.

She turned her head slowly to him, her eyes foreboding, but he didn't seem to mind.

"You couldn't stomach torturing someone, even if they happened to be a demon," he now stated. "I promise you, mate," he added with a look at the leader, "don't tell her anything, she wouldn't know slow from fast if she so had a bloody manual and a show's-you-how-to-do-it-step-by-step video. You have absolutely nothing at all to worry about."

Her features turned into a shadow-y disbelief and he looked at her fearlessly.

She shook her head at him, her right hand was still holding her stake and now she gripped it before putting it into the chest of the leader without so much as letting Spike's eyes go for the tenth of a second. Stepping away from the settling cloud of dust she stopped before the previous Big Bad with a gaze that could cut straight through stone.

"If you EVER do that again," she said and he smiled.

"That's all you've got though," he retorted. "'If I ever' this, 'if I ever' that... Threats," he shrugged, "never really did it for me."

She took a step closer and he suppressed the small smile in need of growth as he looked down into the thunderclaps of her eyes.

"And what," she began, voice practically shaking with held back anger, "would you say 'does it' for you?"

"Oh, sweetness," he mumbled, reaching up a hand and sliding it to cup her cheek. "Do you really need to ask?"

Her eyes were completely in lack of any emotion as she held his gaze. And after three long seconds she moved one arm and brushed his away, making his hand move as well.

"Don't touch me," she murmured, her jaw tight and her posture rigid.

He couldn't help but smirk as she got herself in motion and walked past him toward the stairs.

Had he done what he just had BEFORE their little imprisonment his hand would be broken in three places by now. Well, she sure as hell wouldn't have let it linger on her skin for those few breathless moments, that was for sure. She did remember. Question was - how hard was she trying to forget?

Stomping down the stairs she proceeded to look for the three bodies and once she found them she felt a sudden rush of helplessness pour through her. Looking down at two young women and an equally young man - they couldn't be over twenty-five either one of them - she felt a searing doubt in herself. In what she was trying to accomplish every night. Was it even worth anything when things like this still happened? People dying...

She disliked having thoughts like that enter her head; but once they did they usually stuck around for a while and she was crying softly to herself as she covered the bodies with old sheets that had been tossed over some of the left behind furniture - now in the same bad state as the whole property seemed to be in. This was when Spike joined her - coming down to stand in the doorway.

He stared at her, the comment he had been about to make got stuck somewhere on the way and he watched her in silence as she finished her work.

She didn't look at him. Seemed barely aware of his presence.

"You...did good up there," he finally got out and she turned her head to him. "Couldn't 've done better myself."

"Obviously," she retorted and he nodded.

"Right. Well."

"Right? Well?" she mimicked and he frowned slightly.

"You need someone to take whatever's bugging you out on?" he wondered and she crossed her arms over her chest, sniffling before she asked:

"Why? You volunteering?"

"Nah. Just saw this other house on the way here and thought it might be worth checking out," he replied and she shook her head, wiping her nose with the back of one hand.

"Don't try to make me feel better," she sighed and his eyebrows rose high.

"I was NOT bloody TRYING!" he disagreed and she gave him a look. "Hey, if I'd tried you'd BE feeling better," he added and she looked disbelieving.

"Something tells me that someone who thinks shoving railroad spikes through people's limbs isn't THAT good at making a person 'feel better'," she muttered, straightening out her jacket and drawing a breath before she squared her shoulders.

"Don't knock it 'til you've tried it," he retorted with a meaningful smirk and her eyes widened just a little before she walked past him into the hall.

"I'm leaving," she stated and he followed.

"Where to? The night's still young. Wanna go check out some cemeteries?"

"Spike, I don't even wanna look at you. You walk that way and I'll walk this way."

"After everything we've been through tonight?!" he gasped, mock-insult in his voice and she put a hand by her forehead with an exasperated look on her face as she descended the stairs of the front porch. "After everything we've been through - period?" he added; grabbing her arm, making her stop and turn around to face him. "I know you know what happened in that basement, Buffy. I know you remember all of it," he stated and she huffed.

"You wish, don't you?" she retorted and one of his eyebrows rose as the cockiness became clear on him.

"Why should I?" he inquired and she smiled sweetly.

"You tell me," she shot. "It just seems like it to little old, itsy-bitsy me. Actually you almost border on desperate... So tell me, Spike," she added, taking a step closer to him and tilting her head back to look up at him. "What happened?"

"Watch it," he mumbled, his face drawing closer to hers and Buffy felt her heart begin to beat harder as he added: "Or I just might."

"Keep wishing," she murmured, pulling away from him, turning and leaving him standing where he was - feeling his eyes on her back as she made her way towards wherever he wasn't.

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Fourteen: Bestest Buffy Birthday Bash

By Annie

2003-04-03

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Day Seven.

8.54 p.m.

The music was pouring out of the speakers, the cake was half-through eaten and everybody seemed to be enjoying themselves royally. So was Buffy. So much had been going on recently that she had come close to forgetting about her own birthday and a party to celebrate it - however uncalled for and extremely surprising as it had been - was exactly what she had needed.

She needed to remember to thank Willow properly later.

She rested her head against Riley's shoulder and smiled contentedly to herself as she looked out over the small crowd of people, all with faces she knew and it was sort of a comfort. She didn't need to shake any hands and listen to layouts of life-stories because she pretty much knew all of them already.

Nineteen.

She didn't feel older.

"Well, my memory of the whole shablam is pretty jumbled up by now," Xander was saying to Riley, "but it's cool to have some knowledge left, you know? Codes and stuff. And..."

Buffy straightened her posture when her eyes caught the shape of a face much TOO familiar and she flashed Riley a smile before she excused herself.

Spike easily parted the crowd as he made his way through it, looking at the humans and practically feeling how their hearts beat in their tries to reach out to him. Tempt him. He was hungry.

"WHAT the hell are you doing here?" her voice hissed as one hand grabbed the arm of his duster in a tight grip and dragged him off, away from the others.

"Slayer!" he exclaimed with fake-excitement. "Wonderful little bash you're having yourself here," he added as they stopped by one of the walls, the rest of the assembled out of hearing range and Riley positioned on the other side of the room. "Do you serve anything for us prone to...?"

"Don't be ridiculous!" she interrupted, her voice harsh and he cocked an eyebrow.

"Not the friendly hostess, are we?" he asked and she gave him a look of warning. "Would you let go of my arm already? Loverboy over there might get the wrong idea..."

Buffy hadn't even realized she was still gripping the leather and she let it go with a hard jerk of her arm, shaking her head at herself and at him - for showing up like this. He sure did choose the absolutely most horrific moments to barge in.

"You're not welcome here," she said, lowering her voice.

He smirked at that.

"I was invited," he replied and her eyes grew.

"I don't believe you."

"Ask Red," he shrugged. "I wasn't planning on coming, of course... But something just felt right about being here...you know?"

She suddenly realized how close they were standing and she took a small step back, glaring up at him with the most overwhelming sense of impatience with him blooming in her chest.

"Go. Away," she demanded and his smirk broadened.

"I haven't even tasted the cake yet," he remarked. "Bet its sweet and full... Bold. Something even I could bloody enjoy."

She clenched her jaws together at the suggestiveness of his gaze as he held hers.

"It's right over there," she then replied with a nod toward the table on which the treat was located. "Eat your heart out," she added, turning from him and walking back across the room to her boyfriend.

Spike watched her, tilting his head a little to the right as he narrowed his eyes.

Why couldn't he get her out of his head? She was a constant bug crawling around, making his thoughts itch. It didn't matter how much he tried to brush her away, she was too stubborn; clad in a shield of all the wheels she had brought in motion within him. He thought his own desire was driving him out of his rightful mind, but there was something else there - a shadow of something that refused to come out into the light. He couldn't force it either and it was unsettling.

Observing her, how happy she looked... something stirred within him at the sight of it.

He swallowed.

It wasn't jealousy. He would never label anything even remotely related to her as that, because it was way too weird a thought. To be jealous, you have to care. And he didn't. He didn't care. All he wanted was to bury himself deep inside of her again, all he wanted was to feel her body pressed against his. Nothing more.

He huffed.

What the bloody hell else is there? he asked himself.

"Spike," Willow's voice was heard before him and he moved his gaze to meet hers. "You came. I didn't think that you would. But you did. So... hi."

He furrowed his brow slightly and she smiled brightly.

"Buffy ask you to get me to leave?" he asked and her smile died.

"Just a little," she replied and he nodded.

"Your mess, your clean-up?" he inquired and she looked apologetic.

"Well, I just kinda happened to MENTION that we were throwing a surprise party, I didn't really formulate it as an official invitation, you know?" she asked back and he smirked.

"You tell that to Buffy?" he wondered.

"Of course," she answered.

"And her response?"

Willow made a rather regretful face before she said:

"My mess, my clean-up."

His smirk widened.

"You know I don't like the lot of you anyway," he stated and Willow nodded. "Best be getting on my merry way then," he added, pushing away from the wall.

"Did you at least taste the cake? It was really yummy," Willow tried to redeem her rudeness - as she saw it - as she walked him toward the exit door.

He turned his head and looked back over at the Slayer, wrapped in the arms of her soldier boy.

"Yeah, I got a little taste," the vampire then replied. "Save me a piece for later, okay?" he added and Willow blinked, rather surprised, not having a chance to reply as he disappeared through the doorway.

Turning her head she rested them in Buffy's. The latter smiled a small smile and Willow returned it, thinking no more of it.

***

11.56 p.m.

Buffy wiped the table, previously hosting the refreshments, with a damp piece of cloth. Leaning over it to reach the far corners as she let her thoughts flow freely.

Why had he come? She couldn't get her head around it. She didn't understand what he thought this constant popping up everywhere was going to accomplish. He couldn't actually believe that she was going to all of a sudden warm to the idea of having him around, she knew even he wasn't that retarded. And... he didn't WANT her to do that. Warm. To the idea. So, what was he doing?

Sure, he wanted her to confess. Confess to the memory of some crazed, surreal, degrading experience that she had just happened to share with him while under a lot of pressure and not a little amount of thinkage toward the whole stuck-forever deal.

So, she had had one second of pure weakness and for some reason she had gone back into some sort of shocked state of wanting something that was...horrendously wrong. It was so wrong it wasn't even within the actual frame of plain, ordinary, gray wrong - this was the black, dark, terrifying sort of wrong that only occurred in nightmares where you woke up with a cold sweat and a heart beating a thousand beats per second and...

She closed her eyes, leaning further forward and resting her upper body against the coolness of the imitated wood.

Why was she fretting over this? Why was she constantly trying to rectify it?

Because you haven't told Riley about it yet, perhaps? a small squeak of a voice piped up in the back of her head and she grumbled.

I can't tell Riley. I can't ever tell anyone. I shouldn't even continue this stupid reminding myself of the fact that it even took place!

She straightened herself into a standing position once more, sighing as she fiddled slightly with the cloth in her hands.

She had told Willow that she would take care of the cleaning up. That she felt like she needed some one-on-one with herself, clear her head. Wind down. Riley had been forced to leave a few hours earlier - something with his alter ego agent Finn... She knew she was falling in love with him. He was funny and handsome and had such a wonderful smile. He knew who she was and he dealt. He was a great kisser and he made her feel...

Two hands slid gently up her bare arms and she drew a small breath at the touch. Closing her eyes at the shivers of anticipating pleasure immediately setting out on a collisions course with every nerve of her body.

"I didn't get a chance to wish you a happy birthday... Slayer."

The words were so low she was unsure whether he was speaking them or thinking them, transferring them into her head by means of silk thread and velvet rope.

Oh, God.

Exhaling she opened her eyes and shook her head, putting the cloth on the table.

"Why would you?" she asked, keeping her voice under control and wondering how she could have missed feeling him approach her, his presence seemed larger than the room could hold and she struggled with the shivers as his fingers gripped her shoulders to move her around and face him.

She looked up at him defiantly, thinking of how very real her disgust with him still was and bringing it forth in spades as she glared at him.

"Why are you here?" she now demanded as he wasn't answering her.

"HERE-here? 'In this room' here?" he asked back and she squirmed out of his hands, taking a step back and putting her hands on either hip - making him raise his eyebrows. "I take it that's your way of saying 'if you don't bloody stop that and tell me what I wanna know I'll bleeding well kick you from here into the fading sunlight'?" he added and she tilted her head to one side meaningfully.

He merely rolled his eyes at her and then reached into the inner pocket of his duster to bring out his smokes. She stared at him and as he brought one out she stepped up to him, grabbed it and threw it to the floor before crushing it beneath one of her heels.

"Been here, done this," he muttered. "You know, that's sodding money you're trampling all over there, sweetheart," he added, the last word hardened with annoyance. "You could just ask me nicely."

She huffed.

"For you to listen I'd have to grovel on my hands and knees," she retorted. "And I'm not the begging kind."

He smirked, holding up the pack of cigarettes before throwing it down on the table.

"A show of good faith, love," he said and she cocked an eyebrow.

"Yeah? Good faith in what - the no smoking rules of the school?" she shot and he chuckled.

"You know, when you put your mind to it you can actually be pretty damn amusing," he stated and her gaze grew darker as she took a step closer to him.

"I want you to leave me alone," she breathed and he blinked.

"Why?" he asked, tilting his head slowly to one side as he looked down at her.

She turned from him with a snarl of irritation and he smirked, leaning against the edge of the table and observing her as she began to pace from side to side before him.

"I don't hear an answer," he pointed out and she stopped to hold his gaze.

"I'll give you twenty reasons. Hell, I'll give you a thousand! Would that be answer enough?!" she exclaimed and his eyebrows rose again.

"Temper, temper, honey-buns," he teased. "But yeah, please, you just start talking and I'll keep count."

"Okay," she nodded. "I have never hated anyone this purely before in my entire life."

"Likewise," he volunteered cheerfully and she glared at him to not interrupt. "That's one," he merely added and she continued:

"You're nothing but this annoying, evil, revolting, soulless, sickening, stubborn, repelling, cocky, insufferable, crazed with needs to rule the world, murdering, good-for-nothing, bleached...leather- wearing...scheming...annoying..."

Spike straightened his posture as she began to trail off, approaching her slowly.

"You already said that," he cut her off and she turned her head to him.

Tilting it back slightly as he stopped right in front of her, she looked into those blue eyes and felt how they were cautiously, but surely, hooking her. She swallowed.

"And - you tend to think that this sudden...lack of...air between us is something that is..."

"Acceptable?" he filled in and she nodded slowly.

"It's really not," she stated and he smirked.

"So move," he encouraged and she knew that she would have to, growing nervous at the thought of stumbling to the ground as her legs proved to be useless as tools of getaway.

Taking a step back she said:

"I think I was at four..."

"You lost, you know," he suddenly said and she felt a rush of ice run down her spine as she instinctively knew to what he was referring.

Putting on a quizzical expression she waited for him to elaborate.

"I'd like to claim my prize sometime in the near future," he continued.

"I haven't even the faintest clue as to..."

"You're not even the slightest bloody curious?" he interrupted softly and she bit her jaws together as he came closer again. "There's no...need...to know?" he asked and the slow purr in the back of his throat made her mouth water with an urge to have his lips...

Oh, dear Lord!

She swirled around and walked up to the table again, grabbing the cloth and turning to him when he followed.

"Stop it," she hissed, at the end of her tether with him, growing fed-up with herself and feeling a subtle confusion rest somewhere in-between.

"What? What am I doing?" he wondered.

"Do you think that just by trying to be your usual, creeping-me-out-'til-my- head-is-spinning, incredibly vermin-y self you're gonna get me to magically remember whatever you dreamed happened during the short extension of time we spent in that boring hole of a basement?!" she wanted to know and he arched his scarred eyebrow with a small smile. "Oh, drop the whole 'you already remember' bit, Spike. It's a pathetic excuse for trying to drive me insane."

His smile widened considerably at those words.

"Ah, so THAT'S what I'm doing," he nodded and she threw the cloth in his face.

He merely laughed at that, getting it off him and tossing it aside.

"I HATE you, you make me sick!" she yelled and he eyed her calmly as he replied:

"Once again with the that-has-already-been-said."

"Get out," she demanded, voice growing cool as she turned from him again.

"You know, I have to bloody compliment you," he now stated, once again coming up to her. "No one's ever been able to resist me this long... Especially not after I've already had them once. Or was it tw-...?"

He was cut off by her hand connecting with his cheek as she slapped him hard.

Her eyes grew as his narrowed with questions. The surprise in her gaze tattled on how unprepared she had been for that reaction from herself, and he blinked as the wonderment slipped through his thoughts.

Then he smiled slightly.

"Oh, you're right," he nodded. "It was a few more times than that."

She bit her jaws together. He took a step closer, leaning forward slightly to speak into her ear and then he whispered:

"Happy birthday."

Without another word from either of them it was his turn to turn from her, and leave her speechless as her hand ached from the task it had performed.

What's wrong with me? she asked herself as she could feel the immediate sense of him fade away with him removing himself from the school grounds. Why do I let him get to me like this, over and over? Why didn't I hit him normally. A good left hook right on the chin, THAT would've been a bit more intimidating - but slapping him like that? What did that show? Nothing but the fact that it was a heat-of-the-moment reaction to the words he was speaking. Like they would matter to me. Like I would care that what I am is just another one...another... It was sex! For crying out loud, it was nothing but sex for the both of us. Why do I feel so... violated by him?

She sat down on the floor, crossing her legs and looking down at her hands.

Sex - sure, it had been that... But it had been more. Because she wasn't one to take to it lightly and that was why it was getting to her. This desire for him still burning deep inside her was unlike anything else and that was why it was getting to her. It had been meaningless, mindless sensuality. But the fact that she had given herself to him, had taken him... THAT wasn't something, once she chose to acknowledged it - as she had in that short moment just now - that she could shrug her shoulders at.

She knew all of the aspects came down to simple fact - there had been NO emotions what so ever involved in their actions that had been related to any kind of stronger affection toward one another.

But sex - no matter how raw - is always about something more. So be it power, be it lust, be it one moment in history where you completely lose your head and can't hold a deeper urge down - it was still that force of needing to be close, be joined, be one with another that...

Oh, I can't think like this, she interrupted her attempt at rationalization, getting to her feet.

Still the soft feel of his hands sliding up her arms, the closeness of him as he stepped into her from behind - it was more than she could shake.

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