‘I know daddy cares about me, he just needs a little push to show it,’ Buffy thought as she pulled the duct tape over her mouth and then fastened the handcuffs around her wrists.


This was becoming a common occurrence. Buffy was the daughter of Hank Summers, a producer millionaire from LA. He was the new toast of the town because of the movie he had just put out and Buffy was his only daughter. She had chosen to live with him over her mother after the divorce, deciding that she liked her cozy lifestyle here in her 23 bedroom mansion complete with her own personal staff of 15 or so maids that were there for her every want and need. Much better than that small shack in Sunnydale, at least LA had awesome shopping. But soon she realized that maybe she should have gone with her mom. Hank paid absolutely no attention to her, in fact most of the time he pretended like she wasn’t even there.


Sure, he’d given her a credit card and permission to use anyone of his cars, but he always had to go and do something to prove that he couldn’t care less about her. Like last night when he had come back from that gala. He had walked in the front door stumbling with some brunette attached to his lips. Buffy had been in the living room watching TV and she turned around to see her father about to have sex in THEIR house with Cordelia Chase. Buffy’s supposed best friend. And even as she was yelling and screaming at them, asking them what in the hell they thought they were doing, he just ignored her and took Cordy upstairs. At least Cordelia had the decency to shoot Buffy a semi-sheepish look as she drunkenly wobbled her way up to his room. So here she was, pulling another stunt for attention, about to lock herself in her trunk, handcuffed and duct taped.


She must have fallen asleep at some point, waiting for someone to notice she had gone missing. This definitely wasn’t one of her better plans. But then, as she slowly regained her senses, she realized that the car was moving. ‘What the hell??’ she thought, trying to stay calm. Maybe her dad knew she was going to do this and was just trying to teach her a lesson? Yes, that must be it. I’m currently on my way back to the house she thought, trying to get herself worked up for the conversation she hoped she was about to have with her father. ‘What was he thinking, hooking up with Cordelia at that party? She’s MY age. That’s sick, just plain sick. You don’t see me at his business parties trying to get it on with any of his co-workers.’ She thought bitterly, her anger quickly making her forget her current predicament. ‘I mean she’s my best friend. Couldn’t he have at least brought home Harmony or something? I mean that wouldn’t have been a surprise. She’ll sleep with anything.’ She smirked at the thought. Even though both girls were her ‘friends’, Harmony would be the one Buffy would have suspected.


But now she felt the car jolt to a stop. She heard the driver’s side door open and close, and waited for her dad to come and open the trunk with a less than amused look on his face. But he never came. Buffy finally started to allow herself to freak out. ‘If it wasn’t my dad driving the car, then who was is? Oh my god, what if it’s a serial killer or rapist or have a chainsaw or something!’ Buffy lay in the trunk thinking about all the horrible people the mystery driver could be until she finally freaked herself out enough to start kicking at the roof of the trunk. ‘I need to get the fuck out of here!’ Buffy silently screamed in her head, her assault on the car becoming more and more frenzied as she attempted to open it.


Her long blonde hair was now knotted and she had sweat streaking her perfect make-up, but for once she didn’t care. Finally the trunk gave way and popped open on one especially hard kick to the middle, and Buffy began her struggle to right herself. Tossing from side to side, she ripped the duct tape off and growled while she tried to get out of the trunk. ‘Why did I need to handcuff myself? Was that really necessary?’ She asked herself as she flipped onto her stomach and slid from the car to the floor.


“Ugh!” She cried out as she attempted to get into a comfortable sitting position on the floor, which is quite a task when both your hands and feet are bound together. But then she remembered why she was in such a hurry to leave this place, and realized it probably wasn’t such a good idea to make so much noise. Slowly looked around, praying that she was alone, and noticed she was in what she assumed was an auto repair shop. Backing up to the wall she pushed herself up and began to hop around, looking for a door or a phone.


She found her purse in the front seat of the car where she left it, and took the key to handcuffs she had around her wrists. But, much to Buffy’s dismay she had cuffed her hands at an angle where she couldn’t unlock them herself. “Fantastic,” she whispered to herself. “I really need to start planning these out a little more.” She stayed as close to the wall as she hopped around the grimy car shop. Finally she found a knife and cut the tape that was holding her ankles together. Thankful for being able to walk like a normal person again she took long strides over to the office, which looked like it was deserted. As she glanced through the window she saw a phone, but at the same instant she heard a door shut.

Not wanting to risk getting caught, she quickly ran into the office and hid under the desk. She could only see the feet of her kidnapper from her position, but from what she could tell he seemed pretty tough. His large scuffed Doc Martins fell with large heavy steps, and she could smell he was smoking a cigarette. As he sat down at the desk he must have kicked up some dust, because Buffy could no longer hold in a sneeze. Muffling it as much as possible she hoped he wouldn’t be able to hear it. But as soon as she sneezed she heard a loud voice with a British accent yell “What the bleeding hell?” and as he looked under the desk ice blue eyes met with green and her heart stopped.


“Hello Cutie.”

Buffy let out a short ‘Eeep’, and then did the only thing she could think to do; kick him in the shins and then run. ‘Fuck, Fuck, Fuck!’ she screamed at herself as she ran. ‘What the fuck am I going to do?’ She could tell her kidnapper was close behind her now and she realized he was yelling something at her in a very sexy British accent.


“Who the bloody hell are you?” He yelled as he made a grab for her.
She evaded him and managed to grab a wrench when she dodged his hands. Quickly turning around she whacked him as hard as she could with the handle of it, then turned around and kept running. All she heard was her assailant mumble something she couldn’t quite make out. ‘What does bint mean anyway?’ She thought as she continued running down the hall that she hoped would lead to an exit. Finally, she saw the door. It was a large garage door, and now all she needed to do was open it. Easier said than done since there seemed to be no switch for it and she didn’t know where she would find one. Reluctantly she turned around and started pacing not knowing what to do. Obviously she would have to go past her kidnapper again, assuming she had knocked him out which seemed probable since he wasn’t following her anymore.


‘OK, think Buffy, think. So I can either stay here and hide, or go find the nice serial killer man you knocked out back there.’ She decided on the latter, hoping that he would be unconscious. As she made her way back through the hall, her fear heightened. ‘What if he’s waiting for me to come back because he knows there’s no way out? What if he’s just sitting there waiting to axe murder me?’ As her legs began to tremble, she rounded the corner and saw him lying on the floor, with a pretty bad head wound. She couldn’t help but feel bad. He looked pretty out of it and she was scared she might have killed him. She got closer and reached out her hand to check his pulse, when suddenly an arm shot out of no where and grabbed her wrist.


“No you didn’t kill me, Goldilocks. But that blow to the head really did hurt quite a bit. You going to say you’re sorry and then possibly answer the question of who the fuck you are.” His voice was still raspy from being knocked out and it made Buffy’s legs tremble in an entirely different way. ‘No Buffy, stop thinking perverted thoughts about the nice kidnapper over here, get a grip, he’s just some scumbag, you could have the richest man in L.A.’ She knew the last part was true because Angel O’Conners, the city’s new billionaire, had been telling her just last week how he couldn’t wait until she was 18 so they could have a public relationship. They had already fooled around at a few clubs in the past, but it had to be a secret so he wouldn’t ruin his name. ‘Yeah, think about how hot Angel is.’ She silently scolded herself. Then it dawned on her that during her inner fight, she hadn’t said a word to the man at her feet.


“Who the fuck I am? You seriously don’t know?” She asked skeptically. ‘How can he not know who I am?’ She thought, insulted.


“No princess, I have no sodding clue who you are. I go to the parking garage to steal Hank Summer’s car. I come back here, and you pop out of no where. I’m assuming you’re part of the package?” He stated, leering at her as best he could from his position on the ground.

“And seeing those handcuffs in your pocket, and the duct tape that’s still attached to your pants I’m going to assume you were hands and feet were bound. Which begs the question, why?” He asked her with an infuriating smirk.


“First of all dumbass,” she replied with a thrust of her hips and a huff. “It’s not Hank Summers car you stole, it’s Buffy Summer’s car, and guess what. You’re looking at her.” Smiling to herself she saw that his hand was resting close to one of the many pipes that lined the walls of the building. Silently thanking him for reminding her of the handcuffs, she swiftly bound his wrist to the pipe.

“Oi! What the fuck? You bleedin’ bitch!” he exclaimed, obviously surprised.

“Now, what I do, tied up in my car is none of your business, OK? And since I seem to have the upper hand right now why don’t you start by telling me who you are, where we are, and how I get out. As quickly as humanly possible.”

“Well, I guess fair’s fair love, since you did tell me who you are. My name’s Spike, I steal cars. We’re in my ‘shop’, and you’re not going anywhere until you uncuff me.”

“You can’t be serious.” Buffy said, her toned telling him there was no way in hell she was letting him out of the cuff that had him attached to the building.

“And why the bloody hell not? I said I steal cars, not eat small children. Or in your case scrawny high school girls with fake tits. I’m not trying to hurt you here.” He clearly wasn’t enjoying his restricted movement.

“SCRAWNY? FAKE TITS?” Buffy screeched. ‘Wait. What do I care what he thinks of me? I may be wearing a padded bra, but these are still all natural!’ She thought still appalled that he could even think such a horrible thing. ‘Besides, Angel said they’re perfect. Isn’t that what counts?’

“Whatever. Spare me one of you’re upper class stuck up bitch rants and just let me out of this fucking hand cuff? I promise not to bite.” He said, exasperated.

“No, in fact I’m going to leave you alone for a little while. Think about why it’s a bad thing to say such naughty things while I’m the one with the power here.” She said, proud of herself for taking control.

As she walked away, she could have sworn she heard him groan. As she looked back she noticed him checking out her ass. ‘Oh yeah,’ she thought, satisfied. ‘I’m definitely the one with the power here.’