Ashes scattered to the floor. The burning embers of a dying cigarette was the only indication of someone being in the shadows; deep music and flashing lighting only heightening his concealment.


His eyes scanned the Bronze, smirking at the hoards of teenagers, writhing to the music, their heart beats pounding in his head. She was here, he knew it. The Slayer was reportedly feisty, and didn’t follow Council protocol – Spike was immediately impressed.


His azure eyes narrowed as he felt a slight tingling; she was near.


Light glinted on his smile, fangs dropping almost involuntarily when he found what he sought: the Slayer.


Blonde.


They had mentioned she was blonde and petite. They failed to include the fact that she was gorgeous. Vibrant. Powerful. The Slayer was dancing, her body’s sensual movement highlighted by the frequent flashes of strobe lights catching her figure. She wore a dark midnight blue slip of a dress, emphasising her curves. Her hair was loose and tousled, curling at the ends.


She was mesmerising.


He moved instantly towards her, unable to take his eyes off her, wanting a closer look. He edged closer, growling at the admiring looks she evoked from guys around her.


What do you care mate? he thought angrily.


Sliding onto a stool by the bar, he helped himself to a beer whilst the bartender was busy, snapping off the cap with his teeth. He spat out the top, the lid clattering to floor - eyes fixed on the Slayer.


“You gonna pay for that?” the bartender scowled at Spike, nodding to the free bottle of beer he was currently sporting. Spike hissed in response, shifting into his vampire guise, grinning when the man shrank back.


Satisfied, he turned back to the object of his desires.


The Slayer.


He sniffed, finding himself intrigued to determine the girl’s scent. Vanilla essence and honey he easily picked up, his eyes widening as he realised it included raw sexuality; the Slayer was burning up with her own heat in the club.


He cocked his head to one side, grinning once he began to realise this Slayer was different to his previous conquests. She was stronger, more powerful and infinitely more beautiful. He would have fun with this one, and would relish not just the dance of death that they would inevitably partake in, but his just rewards. Rewards that would begin when he beat the little chit, dominated her, owned her.


Could do what ever the hell I wanted to the Slayer and bloody hell I’ll enjoy it!


He began smirking once more, downing gulps of the frosty beer as his eyes began to darken, his mind filled with chains, blood, screams of pleasure which would later end in pain, his pants becoming increasingly tight. His dreaming was cut short as he caught scent of another vampire.


Straightening, he slugged the beer on the floor, his body tensed, anxious to seek out his fellow demon.


He caught sight of him, a mere fledgling in a high school jacket, who stood arrogantly by the dance floor. As the fledgling began to move among the crowd, intent on finding a hot little thing to quell his hunger, he found himself yanked back viciously by his jacket. Struggling, he was roughly pushed against the Bronze’s exit by a master vampire.


“W-what seems to be the problem?” the boy asked, his shaking belying the nervousness that fell off him in waves.


Spike let the fledge go, flicking out a packet of cigarettes and lighting up one quickly.


“Problem?” his dark voice repeated.


He gave a little smile then, that didn’t reach his eyes. He leaned in towards the younger vampire and muttered, “not yet anyway… All I want is some friendly information.”


He stood up straighter and glanced back into the crowd of moving kids. “The Slayer. She’s here. I want to know everything you can tell me about her. Starting now.”


The fledging gave an obvious shiver when he heard the word slayer. “I didn’t know she was around tonight,” he foolishly admitted. “She’s strong. I thought she was just quiet, but then when I became a vamp I realised she was not the sweet little Buffy I knew in school.”


The older vampire narrowed his eyes. “Buffy? Her name is Buffy?” he enquired incredulously.


The fledge nodded emphatically. “Yeah, she goes to Sunnydale High. She’s friends with the red-head and the loser who is hanging around them,” he said, peering round Spike to look at the Slayer.


He was immediately thrown back against the door to be met with angry golden eyes.


“Don’t make it anymore bleedin’ obvious mate,” he spat. “She’s the Slayer for God’s sake, she’ll notice when two vamps are looking her way.” He paused, one hand holding the fledge up whilst taking a deep drag on his fag until the ridges on his face blended away to leave a chiselled face currently scrunched up in thought.


He looked back at the Slayer still writhing on the dance floor, flanked by the described red-head and whelp.


Little wanton chit.


He smiled, a plan formulating to get her just where he wanted.


In between his legs…


Shaking off his increasing arousal, he turned back to the cowering vampire.


“What’s your name boy?”


The fledge who was struggling to be released from the stronger vampire’s grip suddenly stopped.


“Ben,” he said quietly, inherently understanding for him to survive, he’d best comply with whatever the master vampire wanted.


“Do you know who I am?” Spike dropped the boy, grabbing another beer from the side. He was thirsty, and craved heat, warmth, and the heady pleasure of blood. His demon clawed for its satisfaction but Spike pushed it down.


He needed information on this Slayer, on ‘Buffy’ in order to win the battle between the two. He believed in an honourable fight, but he saw no harm in understanding his enemy’s weaknesses; after all, it was clear a wooden spike and his dark dancing Princess were his.


He turned his attention back on Ben, as the boy shifted uncomfortably.


“Well?” he growled, his fist squeezing the beer bottle until it broke in his hands.


The younger vamp began stuttering, “N-n-no, but I know you’re a master vampire, who came into town a few days ago…” he trailed off.


Spike growled. “Name’s Spike. You should know that mate,” he smirked, grounding his cigarette into the ground. “Part of the Aurelius bloodline,” he added with a quirked eyebrow.


Ben began shaking as he realised he was trapped by William the Bloody, the Slayer of Slayers.


“I’ll do anything…”


“Master,” Spike growled impatiently.


Damn fledglings, they hadn’t a clue who was in charge here. He grinned evilly, intent on making sure everyone after tonight knew who the Big Bad around here was.


“Master, what can I do?” Ben asked chokingly, rubbing his throat that had begun to tinge with angry red welts after Spike’s vicious grip.


Spike pushed open the exit doors, his black duster billowing out behind him as Ben hurriedly followed.



“You’re gonna help snag me a slayer…”

A/N: A massive thank you to everyone reading, I really hope your enjoying the story!


“Yo Buffster!” Xander’s chipper tone cut through Buffy’s day dreaming.


Buffy shook her head to clear her thoughts, smiling up at her best friend. “Sorry Xand. Was wigging about tonight, parent teacher hell and all,” she grumbled, kicking at the floor with a dainty shoe.


Xander sighed, plunking his lunch tray next to hers, swiping a rogue fry from her plate.


“Hey!” she yelled half-heartedly. “It’s bad enough I’m freaking out about tonight that my own best friend allows me to starve!”


Xander scoffed, unimpressed. “Yeah right Buff! I’m the wicked XanMan who causes lunch hell.” He rolled his eyes at her and began devouring his burger, red sauce dripping all over his hands.


Buffy wrinkled up her nose and pushed her plate away. Suddenly, she wasn’t so hungry.


“Hey guys!”


A flustered Will sank gratefully down on the bench and began picking at her limp lettuce leaves with an obvious grimace. She looked up at Buffy, her eyes serious. “How you holding up about tonight?”


Buffy sighed, sinking her head into her hands. “I’m thinking graduation is a dream out of my reach. If Snyder sees me mess up, I’m in biiig trouble.”


Willow patted her hand reassuringly. “Well we will just have to make sure that everyone goes peachy, right Xander?”


Xander looked up, his mouth smeared with leftover food. “Err. Yeah.. Peachy,” he agreed, taking a swig of his coke.


Buffy moaned again, head in hands. She wouldn’t survive tonight.


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


“Listen up lay abouts! Tonight, we got ourselves a right pretty little treat…” Spike sneered, twirling a crowbar in his hands. “It seems, there is a little shindig at the Slayer’s school tonight, and we’ve all been invited!”


The crowd of minions laughed, yellow eyes focused on the striking figure that was pacing on the makeshift stage. Spike carried on walking to the end, until he stopped, his face pale and serious.


“Kill who you like, drain them all for all I care. But I must not be bothered when going after the slayer. I don’t want any of her gang and ‘specially not her goddamn watcher getting in my way, d’ya hear?”


The crowd murmured their answer, understanding that the Slayer of Slayers did not want to be disturbed.


“If,” he carried on pacing, “the Slayer is caught before I get to here, she must. Be. Left. Alive.” His voice was deadly quiet, golden eyes shimmering with intensity in the room. He growled, angry at thoughts of anyone touching the slayer. His slayer. “Anyone who thinks their entitled to a bite, sees dust.”


A few fledglings shrank back, nodding their agreement. They had all seen first hand how Spike treated anyone who dared disobey their orders. They need only look at the scorched remains of two of their strongest fighters to see that compliance would equal their survival.


Spike jumped off the platform and strode out into the night, his minions following suit.


Ben hung back at the back of the crowd, quietly thinking throughout Spike’s speech. He thought wistfully of Buffy, the fearless warrior. She’d been nice to him in school. He began to grin, his face shifting into familiar ridges as he grabbed himself a baseball bat. She hadn’t got a chance in hell.


Tonight, there would be carnage.


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


“Buffy!”


Buffy inwardly groaned, and spun around to meet her mother, who was quickly advancing towards her. “Mom! I erm, thought Willow was showing you around school? You really should see the gym, it’s painted blue, it’s so dreamy,” she chatted breezily whilst shooting death stares towards Willow who had run up behind them, panting slowly.


Buffy cocked one eyebrow, and mouthed a few obscenities, clearly pissed about how Willow had failed to keep her mom suitably distracted.


Willow shrugged apologetically, and quickly steered Mrs. Summers to the punch stand, while Xander helped Buffy arrange the sandwiches.


“Mmm. Tasty,” he commented, cramming a ham sandwich into his mouth, grinning at Buffy’s mock frown. “I’m not allowed any of the nummy treats?” His eyes turned wide and began to sniff.


Buffy burst out giggling at his childish display.


“No more,” she warned him, turning away to pour more chips into a dish.


“Holy Frijolie!” he yelped suddenly. “Synder alert!”


Buffy turned slowly to see the little creep striding purposely towards her mother. Before he could reach her, a crash pierced the quiet talking of the crowd circulating the school’s foyer, glass shattering over several parents.


Screams began to peal ominously through the air, and Buffy began to feel a familiar tingling shudder through her body as she lunged for her bag.


Sooo not a good sign.


“Wills! Grab my mom and take her somewhere safe!” Buffy yelled, pulling out a few stakes from her bag, stuffing them under her shirt.


Willow gulped, grabbed Mrs. Summers and promptly ran out into the corridors. Xander looked around nervously as several vamps began to jump through the jagged window frames, his sandwich stealing forgotten. Their smug, menacing grins and chuckles taunted the Slayer, raising her hackles.


They quickly circled the group of parents and teachers who were panicking, trying to run away but finding themselves inevitably trapped. Buffy lightly touched Xander’s quivering arm, giving it a reassuring squeeze.


“Go get Giles,” she whispered in his ear. “And grab any weapons you can.”


Xander nodded and clutched the stake Buffy offered him, his knuckles white from his intense grip. To secure his escape, Buffy kicked the nearest vamp next to her, sending him flying and spun around to plunge her stake into his friend.


“Now Xand!” she instructed, as he ran off in the direction of the library.


Screams began to fill the air, as the vampires began picking off weaker students in the group, dragging one girl out into the quad by her hair. Buffy’s eyes narrowed.


She shook off the dust covering her and began viciously attacking the biggest vampire in front of her.


“Hands. Off. My. Classmates!” she yelled angrily, pummelling her small fists into the vampire’s chest before slamming the stake in his hearts. “What the hell is with you deadbeats?” she grumbled, scanning the room while staking an unsuspecting vampire as he held a terrified parent hostage.


“We are here to ensure your death Slayer,” one vampire hissed, swinging a metal pipe in his hand.


Buffy laughed, her eyes filled with passion. “Yeah right,” she scoffed as she flicked out her hair and twirled her stake in her hand.


“Geez, you guys need to find a new hobby. Don’t you get it yet?”


She suddenly sprung, landing a flying round kick to the cocky vampire’s head and quickly staking him. Dust exploded, and suddenly the room went quiet.


The lights flickered off.


“I’m the Slayer, morons. I’m always going to dust you losers, get used to me beating you!”


“Is that right pet?” a honeyed voice dryly asked.


Buffy turned, her eyes locking on the lone figure that leant nonchalantly against the wall, his profile awash in darkness. He straightened, the moonlight shining on his face, bringing it into view. Buffy gasped as she saw beautiful blue eyes and a shock of blonde hair set in a face that equalled sin.


Oh God. Trust all the hot ones to be lacking a heartbeat. Way to go Buffy.


She mentally kicked herself, rolling her eyes at her own misfortune. She stared again at his hair, astonished at the colour, and suddenly a memory whispered into her ear. Giles, just the other day was ranting on about a new vampire in good ole’ Sunnydale.


“Be on your caution Buffy,” her watcher had warned. “He is striking in the underworld, with shocking blonde hair. They call him Spike, and he is the Slayer of Slayers.”


Buffy swallowed quickly. Recognition seeped through her small body as she regarded the man in front of her in a new and deadly light.


The famous William the Bloody; Slayer of Slayers.


Spike smirked, as if he could see her panicked thoughts. He looked with pride at the chaos his minions were creating. Several more smashes shook the hallways, as Buffy heard tortured cries for help as more vamps ambushed the school. Her eyes hardened, and she threw her stake into one vamp that was slowly dragging a whimpering math teacher into a room. He exploded into dust, covering the floor with his remains.


The foyer remained hushed, with the humans and vamps equally silent.


“Well,” the blond vampire drawled, walking slowly towards Buffy, his eyes never wavering from hers, “it seems like you’re in a bit of a pickle luv.” Spike ran his eyes appreciatively up Buffy’s body, making her shiver involuntarily.


God she’s beautiful. That blonde silken hair. That unblemished skin… I can’t wait to have her begging for me, for me to stop teasing the chit…


Buffy tensed, aware that the looks this vamp was giving her were more than just predatory. He liked her. And he was hot. She shivered and clenched her stake tightly.


Get it together Buff! He’s a freaking bloodsucker! Cut to the slayage!


“What do you want…‘Spike’?” she demanded coldly, folding her arms, furious at the thoughts running through her head.


Spike raised his eyebrow, smiling.


So the bint knows who I am? Hmm. Good.


As Spike was seemingly distracted by Buffy, a teacher tried to make a run for it, edging towards the exit. Spike laughed, his dark tones humorous at the feeble attempt at escape, throwing the teacher up against the wall and breaking his neck before Buffy could intervene.


His demon howled at the sudden violence, causing Spike to shift into his vampiric guise, screaming to be let loose on the Slayer.


Buffy stepped back, eyes widened in shock.


“What I want is you Buffy.”


He knew her name. She stepped back again, freaked out.


Okay. This is getting wiggy. Usually they’re all fangy and ‘talk later – bite now’...


She looked back up at Spike, who seemed amused at her confusion. She clenched her jaw and punched a vamp who was silently advancing towards her on her left, stamping on his chest to alleviate the panic and sheer fury she felt towards Spike.


“See, Spike,” she cajoled, emphasising again that she too knew her enemy’s name. “I’m not exactly up for grabs tonight. But your friend here,” she pushed her heel down further causing the vamp to squeal in pain, “wouldn’t mind being taken home. So how about it? You and your sorry-assed minions can go off home, and enjoy a nice sunrise if you’re lucky.” She giggled at her own joke before bringing her stake down and creating another dust pile.


“No can do luv. I’ve got a few of your mates tied up in certain classrooms, including Willow – it is Willow, isn’t it?” he pushed, enjoying the fear in the Slayer’s eyes. “Oh and how could I forget Joyce! Joyce Summers, yep she’s in the biology lab. Now you can try and save them, but you need just say the word and I promise you their safety for your live.”


He suddenly smiled, a big grin lighting up his handsome face as he faced Buffy.


She swallowed, terror gripping her slight frame as she raced to think of possible escape plans. Spike could practically see the cogs in her head turning.


James was right, her friends and family were her weak spot. This was too easy…


Quick as a flash, Spike suddenly felt a sharp pain in his chest as he was kicked into a set of glass shelves. He looked up, dazed, to see Buffy running into the hall, staking any vamps that dare get in her way.


He grinned, dusting himself off and shaking his head at her passion. He turned his gaze towards the remaining minions in the foyer.


“Kill them all. Let no-one survive”.


Wails filled the air as the brutal killing spree commenced. Spike turned, following the path Buffy had taken. He had a Slayer to catch.

Buffy ran, her heart beating wildly as she headed straight for the science labs. She skidded into the room, her innocent eyes widening at the scene before her.


Her mother, Giles, Xander and Willow, and another kid from school were tied up before her. She vaguely recognized the boy as Ben, a member of the basketball team. They were flanked by four mean looking vamps, all muscle and brawn, their beefy arms clenching in anticipation of fighting the Slayer, trying to intimidate the small girl that stood before them.


Unfortunately for them, Buffy wasn’t scared; she was pissed.


Whipping out her last stake, she flew into a flurry of kicks and punches, darting in and out of her large enemies.


Her slight figure and rage at her loved ones being captured leant her extra strength as she dusted the over-grown jerks. Her body twisted, melded and bent, avoiding a multitude of well-aimed blows, receiving few hits. She panted as the last pile of dust settled, exhausted from her fight, and quickly set about freeing the captives.


“Buffy?” her mother faintly inquired, coming to after the shock of being kidnapped.


Buffy’s eyes misted, as she fumbled with the constraints. “I’m here Mom,” she shakily reassured, undoing the ropes on Ben after helping her mother. She was just untying Giles, bending down at his knees, when she saw his eyes widen with shock. But his warning scream of “Buffy!” was too late, as a blinding blow to the head left her slumped motionless on the floor.


A small trickle of blood from her head weaved a dark red river on the white linemen floor as Buffy sank into darkness, unable to hear the hysterical cries of her mother and friends.


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


“Tut tut, pet,” the familiar, seductive voice whispered deliciously into her head, stirring her from her dazed revere.


A cool finger trailed from her temple down to her cheek, a searing relief from the heat she felt coursing through her body.


Spike.


Her body shivered at his touch, instinctively leaning into his hand for more as her mind yelled warnings and flashing neon signs that clearly read: STAY AWAY.


Buffy groaned, at the conflict in her head, wincing from the pain as her eyes fluttered open. Blue cerulean eyes connected with glazed green, jolting Buffy awake.


Spike frowned at the discomfort Buffy was obviously feeling and kissed her head, licking away the blood and sealing her wound shut.


Giles and Xander shuddered. To them it seemed a gross display of the master vampire plundering Buffy’s defenceless body, sadistically licking her life essence away, like an appetizer.


Buffy shuddered also, but for completely different reasons.


Spike’s touch felt gentle. Tender. Caring.


Shocked at her thoughts, she looked down, seeing that she was tied to a chair like the others.


“Ben. What did I say about the bloody Slayer? Don’t touch her. She’s for me,” Spike growled at the incompetent fledge whose idiotic smile fell from his face.


“I’m sorry Master,” he stuttered, “but she was trying to free the others.”


Spike scowled, and turned back to the Slayer, noticing her beautiful green eyes had turned dark and stormy.


“Ben,” she hissed, trying to twist herself free from the chair. “I take it your to blame for the bump I’m sporting?” The fury in her voice was barely contained.


Spike grinned at the wild woman before him.


God, she was fierce…


He could feel her power pulsating from that delightful body. He cocked in his head adorably, listening to her heart, steady and strong, her passion resounding with every beat.


“Well Slayer,” he drawled, slapping Ben on the back. “The boy here was our honey trap. A ‘plan B’ so to speak, just in case you were able to reach our precious hostages. Never saw him coming, did you?” he chuckled, noting her flashing eyes as she gritted her teeth, squirming against her binds.


“Here's the deal luv.” Spike spun a chair round, straddling it so he could face her. “You want them to live?”


He tossed his head towards her friends and family. “All you gotta do is agree to come with me. A willing slave so to speak whilst I fix you up.”


Xander squeaked at this, his jealously rising up to the surface.


“As if BleachBoy!” he yelled angrily. “Buffy wouldn’t go or touch you willingly if you were the last dirty vampire in the world!”


Spike snarled, snapping up from where he sat, rushing to Xander’s side in superhuman speed.


“Listen boy,” he spat, his eyes flashing golden. “If you want Buffy and all your little chums to live, I’d suggest you shutting the fuck up.”


He trailed his fangs from his ear down to his neck. He grinned, noting the boys racing heart and obvious trembling.


He straightened, playing with the coppery strands of the pale red-head on his right, who was obviously so dear to his Slayer.


His Slayer? Ahh bleedin’ hell. My slayer to KILL. That’s all!


Angry at his thoughts, he pictured Dru, twirling in their room where he left her.


A wistful smile tugged at his lips and he turned back to the red head with a hardening resolve. He grabbed her hand, smirking at the tears pooling in her eyes.


“See Slayer? You don’t want to watch me torture your little gal-pal here now do you?” He snapped one of Willow’s fingers back, smiling at the satisfying crack of bones breaking.


Willow screamed, as her felt her finger snap, desperately trying to claw her damaged hand back, her nails scraping at his hands. Spike chuckled at her struggle and promptly snapped another, inducing further wails of pain.


He turned to the Slayer, dropping Willow’s hand, seemingly bored already of his petty ministrations of pain.


Buffy’s eyes were not full of tears as he expected, instead he was surprised to see black eyes, spitting fire at him.


My God. She’s furious at me! Not the little pushover I expected. It will be even more enjoyable to watch her break…


Happy at the new revelations, Spike turned to Joyce, deciding to push his little golden kitten further. Whipping out his lighter and motioning for Ben to come forward with a can of petrol.


“You know the smell of burning flesh bleedin’ reeks,” Spike commented casually, as he doused Joyce’s trousers and shoes with the liquid.


“Really?” Buffy quipped sardonically. “Why don’t you perch on the window there and watch the sun rise to give us all a demonstration? I sure wouldn’t mind smelling you burn to a crisp…”


Spike snapped round, kicking Joyce’s chair to the floor, causing her to fall backwards, hitting her head on the ground with a wincing smash.


Buffy’s eyes widened, biting her lip upon hearing her mothers anguished moans.


“Listen here little girl,” Spike spat. “I don’t think you’re quite in a position to act lippy, do you?” he asked, squeezing her arms with such a vicious strength it brought tears to Buffy’s eyes.


The room was quiet, except for Willow’s quiet sobbing and Joyce’s dazed moans.


Buffy glanced round, seeing Giles and Xander’s bruises for the first time, and her stomach knotted in anger. She wasn’t stupid, she could see there was no way out. Realization punched her right in the stomach, and she blinked away tears of helplessness from her young eyes.


“Okay.”


Her whispered surrender was barely heard apart from the two vampires in the room.


Spike grinned, his fangs glinting in the light as he released Buffy’s arms from his iron grip. His hands now turned soothing, as he rubbed away the pain he had caused, his eyes suddenly contrite. Buffy looked away, unsure on how to deal with this sudden sorrowful Spike.


Don’t be stupid Buffy, this is the vampire that just broke a guy’s neck!


Buffy shrank back in fear. Aware that she had retreated from him, Spike straightened up and called for his men who had positioned themselves outside the room.


“Right. Time to leave, no hurting these lovely ladies and gents here.” He gestured to Willow, Joyce, Giles and Xander. He spun to face Buffy’s watcher. “You best not cause me any hassle now Watcher,” he warned, his voice dangerous. “I’m gonna let Buffy recover, and then we are going to have ourselves a proper fight. When I win, she’ll be mine alright? I want none of the poncey Watchers of Wankers sending men over here. I’m doing this by the book. Honourable like. The Slayer gets a chance.”


Giles stuttered, trying to push his glasses back up his nose with his bound hands.


“But.. But I don’t quite understand. Why would you allow her that chance to beat you?”


Spike smirked. The twat didn’t have a clue. “’Cos mate, I’m a guy who wants a fair fight. I want to beat the Slayer, not because I can manipulate her into surrender, but because I’m better than her.”


This earned a giggle from Buffy. Offended, Spike cocked his head at her.


“Something funny pet?”


Buffy smiled suddenly, and Spike smiled back at her infectious grin.


“You think you can beat me. That’s cute. So why are you keeping me captive before the fight?” she asked innocently.


Spike smiled as he untied his golden beauty from the chair, trailing his hand from her face.


Buffy sighed, her body welcoming his touch despite her previous warnings. She didn’t notice when he nuzzled into her neck, until he suddenly plunged his fangs into her neck.


Spike took three long drags until his body hummed with the powerful elixir that was Buffy’s blood. He cradled her unconscious body to his chest pressing a light kiss to her temple before striding out, oblivious to the protesting cries and screams of her friends.


“Because you’re mine.”

Buffy awoke to a dark, cool room, her head throbbing painfully. She struggled to sit up, dizziness engulfing her as she almost fainted.


“Hush pet,” a disembodied voice ordered softly, a pale hand pushing her lightly back down on the bed she lay on.


“What?” Buffy’s feeble response died on her lips as she saw Spike move from the chair next to her and slid into bed, shrugging off his black shirt.


Buffy’s eyes widened, taking into account the rippling muscles in front of her. He chuckled at her admiring looks, and she blushed, sinking back into the comfortable pillows. Spike brushed her hair off her face, gathering the limp and weakened Slayer into his arms.


“Why… Why are you doing this?” Buffy asked, her voice barely a whisper.


Spike clenched his arms around her fragile body as she stiffened. He growled, angry at her rejection.


“I told you Slayer. I like you. I want you as mine.”


Buffy closed her eyes at this, too weak to argue. Spike smiled as she relaxed her body and pulled her back into his embrace, closing his eyes, feeling the all too familiar tug of sunrise. Just as he began to drift off to sleep, he felt Buffy shift to face him.


“I’ll never be yours.”


Spike opened one eye lazily, regarding the beauty who frowned at him.


“We’ll see,” he mumbled, falling asleep, still sniggering at Buffy’s retort.


Wouldn't hold your breath Buffy thought as she too succumbed to dreams.


Exhausted at the events of the night, the Slayer curled up in a master vampire’s protective arms.



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



Spike awoke to an empty bed and immediately snarled, snapping up and sniffing the air deeply.


“Bloody bint! How dare she leave! She needs to be taught a lesson,” he growled as he strode towards the bathroom and slammed the door open.


Buffy jumped as she turned from the sink where she had been washing her face. She scowled angrily at the intrusion.


“Geez. Rude much?”


She kicked the door shut, leaving a furious vampire, staring in disbelief at the closed door.


That’s it Slayer…


He growled again and pulled the door off its hinges. Before Buffy could react, he strode forward and swept her up in his arms, slinging her over his shoulder.


“Hey!” she protested, weakly pounding on his back. But still drained from yesterday’s exertions, her little fists did little damage.


Spike threw her on the bed, grabbed chains from the bedside table and snapped the cold clasps around her delicate wrists, fixing them securely to the heavy bed. She stared at him, sputtering at his man-handling of her.


“I thought that I was meant to get better, not be chained up like an animal!” she exclaimed, scooting back to rest on the headboard.


Spike inched up the bed until he was face to face with the Slayer.


“Listen and listen closely as I’m only gonna say this once. You don’t move, you don’t leave, you don’t act unless I say so. If you disagree with these rules, we’ll see how you feel once I bring back the mangled remains of your beloved friends in teeny, tiny, pieces.” He glared at Buffy whose dark forest green eyes were almost black as she trembled with barely constrained anger. She leant forward to meet Spike, their mouths almost touching.


“Bite me,” she spat.


With a roar, Spike snatched Buffy’s tank top off, his eyes devouring the pretty underwear that caressed her breasts, mounds of golden skin begging to be tasted, licked, sucked. He growled, trailing one finger above her right breast, chuckling at her gasp of indignation.


“Don’t tease me now, luv. I might just take you up on that offer.”


Buffy yelled, screaming with frustration as she tried to escape from her constraints, eyes flashing.


“Get off me! You wait, the moment I get these frickin’ chains off me, you’re gonna be dust!”


Spike grinned, watching her chest rise and fall deliciously as she panted for breath.


“But until then, you’re my little docile slave, sweetling.” He shifted into his vampiric guise, kissing her hard, his fangs punishing Buffy for her outburst, nicking her face.


Calming down Spike broke off the kiss, and began soothing the cuts with his eager tongue.


“You’ve been warned, pet,” he rumbled, suddenly serious.


He grabbed one breast, his hand squeezing the mound until Buffy shrieked with pleasurable pain. He snarled, nipping the covered bud with his teeth before rolling off the bed and striding out the door without a second glance.



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



Buffy had been left alone for two days. Two mind-numbing, colourless days.


Spike has tossed away his ‘play thing’ already, hmm? she thought indignantly.


The bitterness that this thought brought to her head was simply more motivation to break free and regain her freedom.


Not before kicking him right where it hurts.


Minions, on their Master’s commands, had watched the Slayer from sunrise to sundown, silently observing the lithe figure as she embarked on a gruelling exercise program.


To them, it was simply a measure to stop her nerves, a release from pent up energy.


For Buffy, it was for survival. The indignity and shame Buffy had felt since Spike’s tussle days ago had not quelled her desire, her deep and consuming need to rebel, to claim back her freedom and get revenge on her captor.


Granted, her life was party to patrols, slaying, a constant fear of the next apocalypse– Buffy grimaced as she continued her push-ups – one hundred and one, one hundred and two.


Breathe.


But Buffy was determined to escape Spike’s petty prison. Then she’d show him who was boss. She huffed, angry at the weakness that appeared when a certain blond vampire sprung to mind.


Why was she so slow to act when it came to him? It was so simple - you see a vamp, you stake it, dust and dandy. Job done.


Buffy frowned.


So why did she feel funny at the thought of staking Spike?


She must be intrigued. After all, it’s not every day you see a one hundred old year old corpse who models himself on Billy Idol.


Buffy began to giggle at this thought, leaving the minion outside bewildered as to what made the Slayer laugh so happily. Buffy wiped the tears from her eyes and began her push-ups again.


“Two hundred and eighty, two hundred and eighty-one…”


Sweat beaded on Buffy’s forehead, her green eyes piercingly bright with concentration as she flipped on her back and started a set of sit ups, her muscles tightening at the hard work out, toning her body into that of a warrior. Exhausted, Buffy flopped back, breathing shallowly as she regained her breath.


She closed her eyes, taking a final deep inhalation. She sighed wistfully, yearning for fresh air as her eyes fluttered open to look up at the high ceiling.


The darkening sky, streaked with vibrant violet and gorgeous red hues at sunset flashed in her mind as Buffy smiled, remembering her many nights slaying where she had watched the glittering stars, dreaming of a life that held no constraints, no responsibilities.


The darkness had been her friend, her solace; a chance to be alone and reflect, sitting on a headstone, stroking the carved names of the long forgotten, wondering if they too had felt stifled in their existence.


Her eyes turned bright green glowing pools of pain that focused on the roof that barred Buffy from her desire to see the night’s sky.


Buffy sighed again, not noticing the faint tremors that shook the mansion. Caught up in her troubled musings, it was only when white plaster flakes danced down from the ceiling to lightly cover her face that she realised the roof was crumbling away.


Shocked, she sat up, staring at the ceiling as the centre began to disintegrate. Chimney tiles crashed to the floor, causing panicked yells from minions below.


But Buffy was oblivious, her concentration focused on what was happening above.


As the shaking ceased, all that could be seen in the room was a slight figure, covered in white debris, with a smile on her face as she looked at the glittering sky through the hole in the ceiling.



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



Spike was mad. Dru had been screaming bloody murder about the enslaved Slayer being held prisoner in the mansion, and had clawed at Spike, shrieking like a banshee.


“Noooooo! My William! You must kill her – NOW,” Dru demanded.


Spike walked forward, trying to catch her flailing arms as she spun around the room, shaking and cursing.


“I can’t, pet. I’m gonna fight her properly, then I’ll kill the bloody bint,” Spike said wearily, tired of her sudden tantrums.


Dru suddenly spun around, her angry, vicious mood seemingly lulled, as she swayed into his arms, pressing red lips to his neck in a cool, delicious pattern. Her eyes dark and seductive, she enticed Spike into her embrace.


As she trailed her tongue up to his ear, she felt Spike tighten his grip on her, moaning at her skilful ministrations. Dru smiled at her simple efforts to seduce Spike.


“But my dear William,” she wheedled, with saddened, wide eyes. “The stars say she will take you away from me. The darkness is her friend, but she is not mine. You must get rid of her, my sweet,” she murmured softly.


Spike yelped as he felt her fangs slice his neck and she began lapping up his blood. Sighing with pleasure, he tried to reason with his princess. “Pet... No… she stays alive for now.”


With a howl, Dru twisted away, Spike’s blood on her lips as she wiped it away with disdain. “Nooooo! Miss Edith tells me, she KNOWS! I hate you, I hate you! You must kill her for me!”


Spike ran a hand through his hair as he watched Dru go on a rampage, screaming and kicking as she didn’t get her way.


Bloody women.


Suddenly a blond beauty flashed into his mind, and he smiled wistfully. As least she didn’t go crazy when she didn’t get her way. Just used that beautiful pout that made him go bleedin’ weak at the knees.


Suddenly, a strange shaking began from the floor, deep tremors that even Dru noticed; she cowered in the corner of the room rocking back and forth.


When the earthquake stopped a minion ran into the room in a panic. “Master! A hole has appeared in the Slayer’s room!”


With a growl, Spike strode into the corridor, leaving a distraught Dru still curled up in the crevice.


“My dear William,” she sobbed. “She begins.”

The door slammed open, wood breaking with a snap, leaving it hanging on a pitiful hinge. Spike stormed through, kicking the rubble violently as he picked Buffy up with a bruising grip and threw her against the wall.


“What the fuck was that Slayer?” he yelled, slapping her when she failed to answer.


Buffy’s head whipped to the side, hitting the wardrobe with a resounding thud. She whimpered at the shooting pain as her recently healed wound re-opened, blood seeping out.


Spike growled, smelling the potent blood and grimaced, relaxing his grip against the small girl, before finally letting go. Buffy’s vision swam as she grappled for something to hold her up. The warrior had now been damaged, and was struggling, angry at being weakened by the vampire in front of her.


Spike took a step back, his eyes narrowed as he watched Buffy attempt to stay upright. He took a deep, unnecessary breath as he saw she was obviously hurt.


“I’ll ask you again. What was that?” he asked quietly, his tone hard and unyielding.


Buffy lifted her pounding head at him, furious at the tears that trailed down her face.


Don’t let the bastard see you cry, Summers.


“I. Don’t. Know,” she answered, emphasizing her anger at the violence Spike had inflicted on her.


Spike growled.


“Less of that tone, little girl. Don’t want me to remind you who the master is. You’re just my little plaything, pet.”


Buffy gave a little hysterical laugh, her frazzled nerves lending her false bravado.


“Ha! You’re the master of nothing Spike,” she spat, “You hold no power over me.”


Spike stepped forward, shifting into deep furrows and fangs as his own fury grew at Buffy’s defiance. He growled again, determined to teach his new captive a lesson, one that would clearly define his status as the Big Bad, her Master, and that she would do best to follow his orders and whims if she wanted to live.


He began to circle Buffy, slow measured steps as he predatorily watched her from his hooded gaze. Anxiously, Buffy inched away, her broken body desperately trying to heal itself before Spike launched his attack.


But it was too little, too late.


He swung his hand to meet her stomach, causing Buffy to sink to her knees at the painful blow. She dodged his flying kick to her head, and swung her fist into his chest, making him yell in anger at the continuing protest that Buffy posed to his authority.


With a roar, he flew at Buffy’s broken body, raining hard punches and jabs, meeting tender flesh with frightening accuracy.


Moaning, Buffy finally gave up trying to land blows of her own and simply deflected what she could, throwing up her arms and elbows to meet Spike’s powerful arms.


He’s too strong.


The realization shook her hard.


She would once again have to concede that Spike was better than her. Mentally shattered, Buffy’s defences began to weaken until her feeble blocks caused Spike more amusement than harm.


She slumped down to the floor, grimacing when she felt a shadow fall over her. Sighing, she lifted her bruised face to squint at the feral, golden eyes that bore down menacingly at her.


“Understood yet, luv? Tell me who’s your master and I’ll stop.”


Buffy choked with indignation at this retort, her mind screaming to hit him right in his smug face, but she knew this was one battle she could not win.


“Fine,” she muttered petulantly, as she forced her body to sit up, despite the aches and pains. “You’re the Master.”


But mark my words, Spike, she added silently. I will have my revenge.


Spike smirked, bending down and scooping her up into his arms. “Now why do I think that wasn’t heartfelt, pet?” he retorted, as he walked towards a room.


Buffy snorted into his chest, not noticing the smile on Spike’s face as he looked down on the sulking slayer.


God, I’ve missed her. Damn Dru and her tantrums.


Spike shook his head, anxious to dispel the idea that looking after his dark plum was a chore compared to caring for the blonde beauty in his arms. He kicked open the door to a new room, throwing Buffy unceremoniously onto the bed, ignoring her yelp of pain.


“Thanks for the ride, Master,” she grumbled, as he made to leave.


Spike swung around, gazing at Buffy for what seemed an eternity before slamming the door shut. He prowled dangerously towards Buffy, his eyes threatening all kinds of torture for her latest remark.


I have to learn to keep my mouth shut Buffy thought regretfully.


She shivered, scared at the anger exuding from Spike’s body but was also slightly thrilled to see him all hot and bothered. She found herself transfixed by the sheer masculine power that he alone held.


Spike jumped onto the bed, startling Buffy from her musings. He dragged her down to meet him by yanking her hair, Buffy whimpering as he did so.


“As Master luv, you must make sure all my masterly needs are met,” he whispered darkly into her ear.


Shocked green eyes met vivid blue, as Buffy saw the clarity in Spike’s eyes. She shook, knowing that Spike didn’t just want physical submission; he also wanted sexual dominance over her.


Power.


It didn’t matter how he yielded it, Buffy was being made to recognize who was in charge - and it certainly wasn’t her. She began to whimper, tears glistening in her eyes as she realised she was helpless.


Spike smiled at the sight of Buffy’s distress, picking up her body easily and placing her in his lap, peeling off her top. Tears she fought to conceal were let loose as she scrabbled to get away, clawing at the bed sheet in a bid to escape. Spike growled and smacked her face, placing her back on his lap and grinding his increasing arousal into her core. She flinched back, shock evident on her face as she felt his hard cock pressed up against her jeans.


“Now pet, this is gonna happen whether you want it or not. You’re here to please me until you get better, so you best do what I want, or I carry out my threat of killing all of your little gang.”


He trailed one finger down her exposed neck down to the swells of her breasts, growling again when she jerked back from his touch.


“Hmm. I bet Red wouldn’t pull back. She’d be so terrified that she’d just let me take her, rip her body apart. She’d be so easy…”


Buffy’s eyes grew stormy as she forced herself to breathe, to relax against Spike’s roaming hands. She couldn’t bear Willow having to pay for her mistakes.


She gulped her tears back, forcing her eyes to meet Spike’s before bowing her head down in a wholly submissive pose, an action that was not lost on Spike.


He grinned, unclasping her bra, palming her lush breasts in his hands, before nuzzling the honeyed flesh, licking and nipping at her nipples as he grew increasingly erect.


As he sucked and teased one breast, his hand kneaded the other, squeezing and stroking with delicate and light fingertips, making Buffy moan with involuntary pleasure. He smiled against her other breast and began flicking his tongue against her pointed nipple, sucking it forcefully as it grew hard in his mouth.


He pulled Buffy off his lap, placing her on the bed as he tore off his shirt and unbuckled his jeans. Buffy gulped as she saw his sculptured body come into view, her eyes landing on the long, hard penis that sprung out from his constricting jeans. She shook slightly, Spike growling at her. He lay back on the bed, propped up on the headboard.


“Come here, slave,” he ordered huskily.


Buffy quickly complied, scooting up the bed until she lay next to his cool body. He threaded his hands through her hair, trailing them down until they finally rested on her breasts, squeezing the globes of flesh with increasing fervour. “I want you to kiss it,” he said, his voice brooking no argument.


Buffy began mumbling nervously, “But.. But.. I’ve never done anything like this before…”


Spike yanked her head back, a smile of satisfaction on his face. “Good. You’re mine, and no one else’s. And address me correctly in future, luv.”


Buffy shuddered before whispering, “Yes, Master.” Her fear and inexperience clouded her mind, forcing her anger towards the vampire to dissipate.


Spike smiled and tugged her down to his groin, before indicating she should start her duties. She eyed his cock in apprehension before Spike growled furiously, causing her to bend her head quickly and nervously lick the base of his shaft.


Spike groaned, muttering, “Take it into your mouth, pet.”


Buffy began lapping at his cock with a renewed fervour, encouraged by his growing arousal. She tentatively brought his sensitive head in, sucking gently as she brought him into her warm mouth. Buffy’s eyes were closed in concentration as she caressed him deeper. Seeing her reddened lips wrapped around his cock and feeling her blonde hair lightly teasing his stomach drove Spike mad.


“Feels so good,” Spike groaned, suddenly pushing Buffy’s head lower onto his shaft, thrusting upwards into her warm cocoon, making her gag.


Buffy began to choke, and hurriedly tried to take him out of her mouth. Spike growled and forced her head down, locking her into position. Buffy tried to relax, breathing slowly before she began to move her head up and down his cock, sucking him hard with her hot little lips.


Spike continued thrusting upwards, making Buffy deep-throat him, his head touching the back of her throat. He moaned in ecstasy as he felt the tremors of his release begin, before erupting into her mouth with a shuddering roar. Immediately, Spike pulled her up flushed against his chest.


“Well done, luv. You did what I asked. Now you get your rewards.”


Buffy looked at Spike nervously, flinching as he ripped the buttons clean off her jeans before pulling them roughly off her legs. He massaged her bum cheeks before sliding one finger under her knickers to tease her folds.


“Hmm. You’re wet. I guess you liked sucking me off more than you thought.”


Sickened by his amused face Buffy began yelling obscenities at Spike, twisting her naked body from side to side. He immediately flipped her over, his hard body above hers, hands holding her arms painfully above her body as he chuckled at her feeble attempts to escape.


“Get off me you pig! I wouldn’t touch you. You’re below me!”


Suddenly his amusement disappeared.


“Below you, slave?” he said between clenched teeth. “I don’t think so.”


His eyes turned golden as his fangs descended, her fear holding her in place as he ripped her underwear clean off, laughing darkly at her trembling when he trailed one fang along her cleft.


“In fact,” Spike continued, “I’m pretty sure I’m on top of you.”


He darted out his tongue, licking her folds from top to bottom, Buffy moaning at the sensation, her anger dissipating at the mind-numbing feelings she was experiencing. Spike trailed one finger from her clit, rubbing the pearled nub in maddening circles until she quivered with excitement. He pushed one finger in roughly, causing Buffy to whimper, her head thrashing from side to side at the pleasure being wrought on her body.


Spike began curving his finger upwards, stroking her inner muscles as he pumped his finger in and out. Buffy moaned and Spike upped the tempo, thrusting a second, then a third finger insider her, hitting the bunch of nerves that made Buffy shudder deliciously. He left his fingers to piston in and out whilst he licked her clit, sucking gently, Buffy squealing with pleasure.


“Please, Spike,” she begged brokenly, as he bit down gently on her pearl, her screams filling the room. Buffy felt a strange yet glorious tension building up inside of her, and she was finally pushed over the edge by Spike’s talented tongue, screaming and thrashing her head, quivering with her climax until only faint tremors wracked her sensitive body.


She opened her eyes to see Spike grinning back at her as he bundled her lax body into his embrace.


“What… what was that?” she asked faintly, still shocked at the feelings swirling inside of her.


Spike cocked one eyebrow up at the question, smiling when he realised she really was a delicate, untouched virgin; one he would surely delight in breaking.


“That luv, was an orgasm. Take it you never experienced that before?”


Buffy shook her head silently, tears suddenly pooling in her eyes as she buried her head in his shoulder. Spike frowned, lifting her head with careful fingers.


“What’s wrong, pet?”


Buffy’s pale tear-stained face presented an image so heart wrenchingly sad, a vision of innocence, distressed at her present situation.


“I’m a slut, aren’t I?” she whispered, hiding again against Spike’s hard muscled shoulder.


“Why’d you think that?”


Spike was genuinely confused. This girl was a clean, beautiful slate – what was wrong? He barely caught Buffy’s confession, only his vampiric hearing catching the words that would cause him to fly into a rage when understanding.


“I have a boyfriend.”

Spike sat up, yanking Buffy with him. His arms were like iron vice-grips, created a cool prison that Buffy could merely struggle against.


“Boyfriend?” he repeated silkily, azure blue eyes darkening in anger.


Buffy was silent.


Spike deliberately tightened his hold on Buffy, causing her to yelp in pain.


“What boyfriend, luv?”


Spike was seething with rage.


A boyfriend? Another guy had touched her, held her, kissed her?


He began growling, deep rumbles that excited and worried Buffy as she lay on his chest, weak and confused over the past few days.


Spike lightly shook her, conscious of that fact she was tender, but the red-hot fury he felt towards the mystery boyfriend was so intense. He felt like snapping heads off, brawling with any bloody poof that got in his way until he finally found his prey, torturing the guy with railroad spikes to make sure he understood why he was the feared William the Bloody.


He grinned slightly despite his dark mood, smiling when he thought of draining the boy slowly, cutting into his flesh so slowly that he felt every ounce of pain, his screams music to Spike’s ears.


Buffy looked up at Spike, and saw the destructive and vengeful thoughts that flitted over his face and frowned.


“Nuh-uh. I won’t tell you! You’ll kill him!”


Spike looked down at his suddenly responsive captive, noting her passionate eyes, her flushed face, blonde tendrils of hair swirling around her, giving her an almost ethereal light.


He chuckled, caressing her face with soft fingers, pressing a light kiss to her temple.


Buffy shivered, closing her eyes languidly, her body warm from his tender actions.


Suddenly her eyes snapped open, green eyes piercing as she stared back at Spike.


“No you don’t, mister! You can’t... you can’t just touch me and try and make me forget that you’re going to try and find my boyfriend! Promise me you won’t touch him!”


Spike chuckled, amused at Buffy’s protests.


“Not bloody likely, luv. He’s not your boyfriend anymore, and once I find him, he’ll wish he’d never met you.”


He slipped into his fangs; saliva dripping as he eagerly anticipated the delight he would take in ripping the whelp apart.


“He’ll never know what hit him.” He puffed his chest out slightly. “Being killed by a master vampire”.


Buffy snorted, rolling her eyes muttering. “I wouldn’t hold your breath. If you had any that is.”


Spike lifted her head up, forcing her to face him. His gold eyes flashed until he reined his demon in, placating him with the promise of violence later. Blue eyes now regarded Buffy, as Spike tilted his head to one side, curiously watching her.


“What d’ya mean, pet?”


Buffy shifted, obviously uncomfortable with the sudden questioning into her love life.


“Well… I think you know my boyfriend. He’s Dru’s sire…”


Spike sat, his body frozen in shock as he absorbed this in.


“Angelus?” he spat incredulous. “Peaches is your BOYFRIEND?!”


With a roar he tossed Buffy off him, and jumped up to begin pacing the room. Spike felt anger swell inside him, making him to go wild. With a growl, he flung a table across the room, ripping accompanying furniture into small shards as he felt the jealousy bubble up inside of him.


The thought of the brooding bastard touching Buffy, watching her smile, dance… the images were too much.


Snarling, he leapt towards the bed, grabbing Buffy and harshly throwing her against the headboard. He panted unnecessarily as he nuzzled and growled at her neck.


Buffy yelped, understanding that this was not the caring Spike that had just cradled her in his arms. This Spike was acting on rage, feral; a pure demon pissed as hell at the thought of Angel being her boyfriend.


“You’re MINE!” he yelled, shaking her as she failed to answer. “Not HIS!”


Buffy nodded slightly, terrified at the vicious man tossing her about like a rag-doll.


All euphoria at finding her new powers had disappeared, all the pleasure she had felt at Spike’s sexual tutorage had evaporated – Buffy felt helpless, exposed, and petrified.


As Buffy began to struggle, she saw Spike’s beautiful features shift, the ridges on his forehead and glint of gold promising pain. Her body grew rigid, frozen in a cold panic as Spike’s fangs descended, puncturing her golden flesh. A shooting pain ran through her body, and Buffy scrunched up her eyes in terror, convinced she was about to die.


Spike only took one long pull of her blood, leaving her feeling light-headed and floating, relaxed despite the violent situation. Buffy looked up dazedly at Spike’s golden eyes as he pulled back.


“Say it!” he rasped, licking the potent blood from his fangs as he felt her power thrum through his veins. “Say you’re mine,” he urged, anxious to show Angelus the Slayer was his.


His only.


Buffy whimpered when Spike sat up, leaving her body aching for his touch as he simply stared at her. She closed her eyes, a single tear escaping, rolling down her cheek as she found herself trapped in this nightmare.


“Never,” she whispered, before Spike hit her, the blow making her fall into darkness, unconscious.



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



Buffy awoke to any empty bed, closing her eyes tightly as she found herself still in the mansion.


Please let it be a dream, please, pretty please!


She chanted vehemently, digging her nails into the palms of hands as she wished. Opening one eye a crack, she winced as she was sucker punched once more by the reality of the situation.


Still imprisoned? Check. Pain? Double check. Problems with your captor?


Don’t even get me started.


Sitting up, Buffy groaned, flexing muscles sore from her fight with Spike the day before. She carefully inspected each wound, anxious to see if they were healing. As her small hands travelled upwards, her fingers grazed the bite-marks on her neck, gingerly tracing the two perfect holes that now marred her delicate skin. She shivered, yanking her hands away as she pulled the comforter around her body.


“I can’t believe he bit me! Stupid vampire… I’m not a snack y’know!” Buffy began to grumble, as she snuggled back into the duvet. Her eyes wandered over the rumpled sheets, images flashing through her mind of last night.


Her body writhing in passion from Spike’s talented touch…


The gleam in his eye as he had traced the curves of her body…


His bare chest…


Buffy placed her hand on Spike’s side of the bed and gulped, tears pooling in her troubled eyes.


“I can’t believe he left me… after all that,” she whispered.


Suddenly the door opened, and she smoothed her hair back from her face, ready to face whatever Spike threw at her, determined not to show any weakness in front of the cocky vampire.


She was surprised to see a young woman scurry in, balancing a large tray of food in one hand and a package in the other. With a frown, she glanced around, looking for a possible weapon to defend herself if needed and falling short.


Buffy started scowling at the vampire that nervously stood before her, jumping out of bed to adopt a defensive pose.


“Slay… Slayer,” she greeted with a tremor in her voice, “My name is Elise, and I shall not harm you. I have been sent by the Master to feed you and to provide you with anything you may require.”


Buffy’s stomach growled, yet she continued to look pointedly at the new vampire, her green eyes narrowing with annoyance.


“Did he now?” she remarked dryly. “And why can’t the Master deal with me himself?”


The women flinched, and took a few steps away from the angry blond. She had no wish to take on the Slayer, injured or not.


“He is sleeping, as it is a few hours until sunrise. He wishes for you to regain your strength for your battle.”


Buffy laughed, casually taking the plate of food that had been provided and began to tuck in.


“Let me get this straight,” she began, a smile on her pale face, “Spike told you,” she pointed her fork at the vampire, “To be my hired help for when I kick his ass?”


Elise nodded her head in earnest. “The Master is very busy and wanted to ensure you are well cared for in his absence.”


Buffy snorted, her eyes disbelieving, as she continued to wolf down her food with an alarming speed. “Sure.”


Once finished, she stood, stretching, as she advanced towards the obviously nervous woman hovering by the door.


“So Elise, what are the chances I could get an axe, a sword, and a lighter?”



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



Spike had been pacing for hours, his abandoned duster was flung across a chair, taking constant drags of his cigarette until it burned to the butt, before whipping out another and smoking it furiously.


What the bleedin’ hell is wrong with you, mate? Trying to claim a slayer for heaven’s sake!


Spike stopped dead in his steps, incredulous at what had happened hours before. He’d not even claimed Dru for crying out loud, what on earth had possessed him to try it with a stupid chit like the Slayer?


Spike resumed his pacing.


Got to stay away from her.


Just until he figured out why he felt so much for the little blonde that was tucked up in a room above him. Of course he wanted her, who the bloody hell wouldn’t? The problem was, he wanted her too much, felt for her, liked her, even had goddamn fun with her.


It had to stop.

Bouncing on her toes, Buffy wiped the sweat from her forehead, and circled her opponent once more, feeling the delicious threads of adrenaline pulsate through her body. As her enemy barrelled forward with the intent to knock her off her feet, she kicked her right leg out. Sheer Slayer power hit the chubby figure with brutal force, causing it to double over with pain.


“Hummmph!”


A muffled cry came from the fallen opponent, and Buffy laughed, her light tones tinkling through the heavy silence. She crouched over the prone figure lying on the floor, and began to undo the body suit she insisted Elise wear.


After many lonely days of solitary training, Buffy and Elise had formed a tentative bond, which had surprised them both. Since Spike had decided once again to abandon Buffy to her prison, she began relishing her time with the vampire, who also seemed to enjoy herself.


“That’s it!” Elise huffed, as she finally rid her self of the comical protective suit.


Buffy grinned, and turned her big green eyes onto the irate vampire with a mischievous gleam in them. “Oh, come on Elise! I wasn’t so bad, was I?”


Elise’s growling suggested otherwise.


“Okay, okay, I apologise. Any chance I could have some water in a bit?” Buffy asked contritely.


“Sure,” Elise relented, her eyes softening on the petite girl in front of her. “Just give me an hour to clear up and report back to the Master.”


Buffy nodded appreciatively, and waved goodbye as Elise left, listening for the slide of the dead-bolt and her retreating footsteps. Buffy turned towards the closet, rummaging around until she found what she was looking for, a silver Zippo lighter.


Since that night, when the ceiling had collapsed on her, Buffy’s mind had been on nothing else.


Except a pesky, hot vampire. A very hot vampire. Mmm…


Shaking her naughty thoughts away, Buffy concentrated on the lighter before her. Elise had granted her plastic axes and swords, as Spike had adamantly refused to give the Slayer any weaponry.


Buffy had felt like a fool when she first wielded the child’s sword, but she quickly reasoned that honing her slaying skills were more important than looking like an idiot.


Elise had also managed to procure the last thing on Buffy’s list, with the promise that she wouldn’t burn the mansion down.


Buffy could feel the changes in her body, changes that had resulted in her power manifesting in strength and intensity. She had begun practising on harnessing her unique power, racking her brains to remember what Giles had taught her in training.


“Remember Buffy,” Giles instructed. “Use your strengths as a Slayer. Close your eyes and feel what you have been destined for your whole life. Great power.”


Buffy did just that, closing her eyes and holding the lighter in front of her. She cleared her mind, thinking only of the one command that she desperately wanted.


Fire.


The word resonated in her head until she felt a sudden heat in her hands. Opening her eyes a crack, she smiled with glee as she watched a blue flame flicker from the lighter.


Oh yeah. Spike is in trouble now.



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



Giles sank his head in his hands, a small sob escaping from his hunched form.


It had been four days since Buffy had been kidnapped, four days since that fatal night where twenty-two lives had been lost, ripped from the world by the evil that continued to roam the streets.


Four days where his heart continued to bleed.


Glasses abandoned on the desk, Giles lifted blurry eyes to reach for another book when figures huddled by the library doors caught his attention.


Sighing, he brushed his tears away from his weary face. He had to be strong, for Buffy’s sake. If there was any chance she was still alive, he would do everything possible to get her back. His dreams were haunted by her image, her smile, her laugh.


She’s just a child, for God’s sake! Please say she can’t be dead…


Straightening his back, Giles wiped his glasses clean and saw Willow, Xander, and Oz at the doors, and beckoned them over to the table with a weak smile.


“Hello all,” he began, awkwardly hugging the young red-headed girl, who flew into his arms.


“Any news G-man?” a subdued Xander asked.


The silence was palpable. The sorrow in the older man’s eyes revealed all.


“None.”


And with that single word, his heart broke all over again.


Willow slowly disengaged herself from Giles’s arms, which had suddenly gripped her in his sorrow. She knew that they couldn’t give up, and began to sift through the books scattered on the oak desk.


“Well,” she began timidly, wiping a few stray tears from her eyes, “We should keep researching William the Bloody. His weaknesses, his tactics, what he likes…” she trailed off.


“Yes. Quite,” Giles replied, his focus once more on the task at hand. He began to hand out multiple books with a grateful smile.



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



An hour had passed, and nothing new had been gleamed from the hordes of books abandoned around the floor. Empty pizza boxes scattered the desk, alongside polystyrene cups with the last dregs of coffee stuck at the bottom. Giles had just succumbed to sleep when suddenly Xander stood up, his chair screeching on the tiled floor.


“EUREKA!” he yelled a wide grin on his boyish face.


Giles woke up to a start, hurriedly straightening his glasses before peering into the book thrust at his face.


“Look G-Man! It says the Slayer who has – and I quote ‘defeated the Master will be captured by another, one who is famed for his fascination with her fallen sisters’ – that’s gotta be the one and only Dead Boy Junior!” He waved the book with a flourish.


Giles frowned, trying to grab the book that danced before his eyes. “Yes, it sounds like our Buffy, but if you… will just… let me… SEE!” He snatched the book from a jubilant Xander and began to read.


Willow and Xander began chattering excitedly, high on the prospect of saving their friend, while Oz watched Giles whiten in shock, until with trembling fingers he lay the book down. Glassy eyes stared out of the window until a quiet voice cut into his dazed mind.


“What is it, Giles?” Oz asked.


The Watcher turned towards the teenagers, who had now quietened, their curiosity piqued.


“A prophecy.” He visibly gulped, and ran a hand through his rumpled hair. “It tells of a Slayer growing powers, far beyond the realms of an average Chosen One, once captured by the ‘new’ Master.”


Xander hooted with laughter. “All right! Go Buffster! She’s gonna whoop Bleach Boy’s ass! High five!”


Yet Willow and Oz did not reciprocate. Troubled by Giles sombre mood, they awaited his response.


“No,” he whispered, his face pale. “It warns that if the two may fall in love, they would create the most powerful couple in existence.” His eyes turned back to the window, watching the sunset as it filled the room with a warm glow.


“The Slayer will fall to darkness. Her goodness shall be no more.”

Spike had resisted visiting Buffy for four nights now. Four long and lonely nights, which had given him far too much time to think.


The Slayer invaded his every thought. She was there when he woke, she was there when he hunted and killed. Bloody hell, she was even in his dreams.


The Slayer had bulldozed her way into his life. It was all her fault really, Spike rationalized. She had flaunted herself in front of him, beckoning him over with short skirts and pouty lips at every chance. Why, he’d be a fool not to notice her. She had pratically begged Spike to sit up and take notice.


And boy, had he noticed.


It made it that much harder to stay away from her. He’d come to count on Buffy’s glare when she was furious. He eagerly anticipated the next sarcastic retort that rolled off her delectable lips. Then, to top it off, he missed her adorable smile. It was rare around him, but heck, every time that girl grinned - it floored him.


He blinked, surprised at his own revelation. Spike wasn’t stupid. What had begun as a thrilling chase of cat-and-mouse had now shifted into something far more sinister.


Spike had caught his mouse.


So why did this infatuation for the Slayer refuse to abide? Why couldn’t he get her out of his mind?


Spike frowned, bemused at how such a slip of a girl caused him such a headache. One minute he was ready to wring her pretty little neck, the next he was desperate to kiss her into oblivion.


The Slayer had also made Dru uncontrollable. Her frenzied rants had become so severe she usually forgot to eat or refused to. Instead, Drusilla whispered sweet nothings of fate and fortune to her many dolls.


Fate, Spike decided, had obviously come to bite him in the ass.



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



Elise huffed impatiently at the guard smirking at her. She had been trying to see Buffy for half an hour now, but her efforts had been thwarted. Panic began to seep through her bones as she worried about the young girl mere meters away.


The temperature had dropped suddenly in the early evening, with blistering winds that howled through the mansion. Blankets, and feathery comforters were piled next to the door, to protect Buffy from the icy cold. A hot water bottle lay on top. Elise had been meticulously careful to provide her new ward with everything she could possible need to keep warm.


“Don’t care what you gotta do. The Master ordered no-one can see the Slayer until he’s awake.”


“You don’t understand,” she explained. “I am supposed to look after the Slayer, and right now she needs blankets. She’s human or are you too stupid to remember that?”


The burly guard hissed at that, taking a threatening step forward.


“You better watch your tongue minion,” he spat viciously. “I don’t care if the Slayer fucking freezes. She’ll just have to suffer.”


His gloating smile infuriated Elise, and she screeched in frustration.


The guard just stared impassively back at Elise.


Elise narrowed her eyes. “Fine. I’ll just go inform the Master how the Slayer got pneumonia!”


“What was that?” A deep voice inquired.


Elise spun around to see Spike approaching, a scowl on his handsome face.


“It’s just…” Elise began to babble. “It’s so cold, and even though we don’t feel it Buffy – I mean the Slayer,” she amended, “must be frozen and the guard won’t let me in!”


Spike shot the guard a nasty look.


“I see. I’ll deal with the Slayer, Elise. And you,” he turned towards the nervous looking guard, “I will deal with you later.”


Gathering up the blankets from the floor, Spike quietly entered Buffy’s room. Shutting the door quietly behind him, he slowly walked towards the bed.


It had been so long since he had seen her.


The occasionally peeks through the peep-hole had not satisfied Spike one bit. And now, he gazed at her small body, he felt dizzy with the relief of seeing her again.


Buffy was wrapped in a duvet, shivering, although still asleep. Tiny mewls escaped from her quivering form, making Spike hurry over to her side. He went quickly to work, gathering duvets to wrap around her small frame until he was satisfied she would be warm.


Her angelic face gripped him, and he stared at her, captivated by her beauty. Pressing a tender kiss to her temple, Spike made a move to leave. A whimper stopped him in his tracks, and he rushed back over to Buffy’s side.


Sleepy eyes fluttered open, as Buffy awoke. Her body stiffened as she realised who was beside her, the fear evident in her eyes.


“S’okay, pet. Was just making sure you were warm enough, that’s all.” Spike’s deep and comforting voice made her relax a little.


“You alright?” he asked carefully.


She gazed at him, bewildered. “No,” she whispered, hugging her pillow close.


Spike understood. God, he could have kicked himself. She was so fragile. She was still scared after their last encounter where he bit her in the heat of the moment. It was no wonder she was wary of him.


He moved to sit next to her, shifting until he was comfortable. “Anything I can do, love?”


What a question, Buffy thought. There was something she wanted, she thought dazedly. To escape from this nightmare.


“I want to go home,” she whispered, her green eyes wide. “I promise I’ll come back for our fight…” Buffy begged.


Spike shook his head slowly.


“I can’t stand it here,” Buffy moaned hauntingly. She grasped his arm, tugging him towards her.


“Please let me go,” she begged brokenly, hot tears spilling down her face. Spike sighed, and gathered her in his arms, murmuring soft words of comfort.


Relishing the feel of her in his arms, he closed his eyes. “I can’t pet. I can’t let you go,” he said quietly. Buffy’s body trembled, her hands shaky as she held onto Spike’s arm like a lifeline.


“I’ll do anything.”


Spike gazed at the young woman nestled in his embrace. Her eyes were glassy and red-rimmed from crying, her hair in disarray. She was breaking up, and it was all because of him. But Spike couldn’t help it – he didn’t understand why he was so attracted to Buffy – but knew letting her go wasn’t an option.


Spike began stroking her hair trying to soothe her. “No, pet,” he whispered. “I’m sorry but this is something that won’t change.”


“No! Get off me!” she cried, pushing Spike away from her. “I hate you!”


“Buffy.” Spike reached back for her, his body bereft without her warmth.


“NO!” she screamed, slapping his hands away.


Spike turned angry.


Bleedin’ chit runs hot and cold!


He sat up, coolly watching her scurry to the other side of the bed, wild-eyed.


“I want to go home!”


Spike remained silent.


“I said I WANT TO GO HOME!” Buffy wailed, hysterically.


Spike stood up, his stance unflinching. “I told you. No. You will stay here Slayer, until I say so.”


His body ached to console her; he wanted to right all his wrongs, but Spike couldn’t. All he truly knew was that he wanted her, and he wouldn’t let her go without a fight.


He turned back to look at Buffy, who had curled up in a ball on the bed crying quietly.


Spike slowly moved towards her, so she wasn’t spooked and draped a blanket over her small body.


Nuzzling her neck, he licked the bite marks on Buffy’s neck. Exhausted, she didn’t even flinch. Easing his body next to hers, Spike closed his eyes tiredly. He waited as her breathing evened, until she fell into a troubled sleep.


Yet Spike still continued to hold her, wondering why he cared so much.

Spike had slipped away in the early hours of the morning. The Slayer had been restless, often moaning quietly in her sleep. Spike would gather her back in his arms, eager to soothe away her nightmares. It was only after the third dream when he heard her whisper his name that it finally dawned on him.


Her nightmares were filled with him.


Spike had wanted to leave, distance himself from the reality of the situation. A situation which had seemed so clear, so beautifully black and white in the beginning.


Want the Slayer? Well then, by all means have her!


If only.


Spike ran a hand through his hair in agitation. Over the days, things had become horribly complicated. Buffy had refused to concede that she was a prisoner of a Master Vampire. Instead, she had fought like a vicious wild cat at every corner. Pure defiance oozed from her body, hatred blazing in her eyes every time they met.


Spike had finally had enough. Sure, biting her then knocking her out probably wasn’t the best way to go around things - but the demon had insisted. A display of dominance was needed, and Spike had stepped up to the challenge.


Just like a vampire should.


Now Buffy seemed broken. Spike shuddered, haunted by her tearful green eyes. He had never wanted to make her suffer, but bloody hell, that girl just knew how to drive him up the wall.


After she had quietened from her last dream, Spike had kissed her brow and left the room.


With morning fast approaching, Spike clambered into bed contemplating how to deal with the fiery blonde. He would have to keep asserting who was in charge. It may cause more tantrums and plenty more tears, but Spike knew that the relationship couldn’t progress until she realised who was boss. It would just take time.


As the sun began to rise, Spike fell into a deep sleep, troubled by what he would encounter later that night.



* * * * * * * * *



Buffy had woken with a start. Her head had whipped round, eyes darting anxiously around the room to see if Spike had stayed the night. She relaxed as she found the room to be empty, her slayer tingles failing to go off.


Relieved to have avoided a confrontation, Buffy wrapped the duvet around her and shuffled towards the window. She had torn down the protective blinds and the black paint that protected the vampires from a smoky and untimely death.


Since she had caused the ceiling to crumble in her last room, Buffy had been moved to the basement for everybody’s peace of mind. It smelt of damp, and was often cold and unpleasant but Buffy realised it had been blessed with something momumentous. A window.


Although it was small and partially underground, it allowed her glimpses into a world of colour and beauty, a world she had now lost. Eager to see daylight again, Buffy had scratched at the corner of the window until her nails bled.


Just to see the sun.


Now, she perched by the window eagerly, her breath misting up the glass until she wiped the steam away before pressing her nose against it again. She sighed, feeling slightly calmer since waking. She smiled absently as she watched a bird flutter from a nearby tree to fly off into the sky.


‘What I wouldn’t do to be that free.’


A click of the lock broke Buffy’s daydreaming. She stiffened immediately, her body rigid with panic as she hurriedly covered the window with the blind. Her breath came out in pants as she pressed herself up against the wall, eyes locked upon the door.


‘Oh God. Oh God. Oh God. Don’t be Spike. Please, please don’t be Spike.’ Buffy chanted, her fists clenched, digging her nails into her skin.


Elise bustled in with a big smile on her face.


Buffy gave a watery smile of relief.


‘Thank God. It’s Elise.’


“Hello! Got some lovely treats for you today, Buffy! We have blueberry tarts, French croissant – how very continental! Oh and this…” She trailed off, suddenly taking in Buffy’s heaving chest and stricken eyes.


“Whatever’s the matter?” Elise placed her tray upon the bed before stepping towards Buffy.


Buffy squeaked and burrowed under the duvet. Tears sprung into her eyes as she mentally chastised herself.


‘Slayers are strong, you idiot! You can get through this. You’re going to kick Spike’s ass and Elise being all nice is not going to make you bawl like a baby!’


Buffy peered from behind the duvet as Elise settled next to her. Buffy struggled with what to say until Elise broke the uneasy silence by placing a gentle hand upon her arm.


“I know,” Elise mumbled before starting again. “I know I’m a vampire, and we are destined to dislike one another. However, I can’t help but feel like you are a friend to me, Buffy.”


Buffy turned to gaze at the uncomfortable vampire squirming on her seat. She sighed, before replying.


“I know, Elise. I feel like you’re a friend to me also, but friends of mine cannot be killers.” Her voice shook. “Friends of mine don’t murder innocents.”


Elise took her hand away sharply.


“I understand. But Buffy… I’ve never killed anyone.”


Her quiet declaration was met with a swift intake of air. Buffy stared at Elise, her eyes incredulous.


“You’ve never killed? Why should I believe you?”


Elise blinked.


“No, I don’t suppose you would. But I assure you, I am telling you the truth. You are locked up in a mansion filled with vampires. I do not benefit from telling you this. You are not in a position to slay me right now.”


Buffy nodded. “True,” she conceded with a smile. “I haven’t fulfilled my sacred duty in a while now. However, this could be one of Spike’s sick mind games to make me trust you.”


Elise looked outraged. “No!” she exclaimed, her hands gesturing wildly in the air. “I would never trick you, Buffy. I never kill, I only take what I need. I do not fit in with humans, yet as I do not share the animalistic tendencies of my vampire counterparts. They shun me also.”


She placed her hands on her lap in a bid to contain her anxiety.


“I think Master Spike asked me to look after you as he knew I would not treat you like the others. You remind me of my little sister, Buffy,” she admitted quietly. “I simply want to be a friend.”


Buffy smiled.


A friend.


God knows she needed one. She gazed at Elise, noticing how sad she looked. Perhaps it was true, she mused. Elise was kind to her for no reason, and it seemed to strengthen the idea that she had retained her humanity.


Placing a hand on her arm, Buffy grinned again.


“I would like that.”


Elise beamed, then strode over to the bed to retrieve the breakfast tray. Thrusting it into Buffy’s face, she gave her a mock glare.


“Well, as your friend I urge you to eat! I spent a lot of time making this so you would put some meat on your little bones!”


Buffy giggled, plucking a blueberry tart from the selection. Munching it, she closed her eyes in delight.


“’Is delicishus” she mumbled, her mouth full.


Elise smiled, simply ramming another tart into Buffy’s mouth, causing her to splutter.


“Good. Now, as you’re eating you can tell me why you were upset earlier.”


Buffy finished eating, wiping her hand against her mouth delicately.


“It was just Spike. He came in last night to give me some duvets, and we ended up yelling…” Buffy stopped, grabbing another pastry. “You’re great Elise, don’t get me wrong. But I hate it here, trapped and restrained at every corner. If I do the wrong thing, I get chained up.” Buffy’s eyes welled up with tears. “I’m just a girl,” she whispered. “I know I’m the Slayer, but I can’t take these games Spike plays. One minute he is nice, the next he’s trying to take a chunk out of my neck!”


Elise murmured sympathetically, rubbing her hand against Buffy’s in a comforting gesture.


“I’m sorry, Buffy. I didn’t think Spike would be so aggressive before the fight.” She paused, her face thoughtful. “Although Spike may come across as cruel at times, I know he cares about you. He just doesn’t understand it himself.”


Buffy sniffled. “How do you know?”


Elise gave her a conspiratorial wink. “Why, just last night, he staked the vampire guarding you because I wasn’t allowed in! He was upset that you were cold, and were made to suffer.”


Elise stood up, smoothing out her skirt before walking to the door.


“Have an open mind, Buffy. Do not panic when you see Spike, you now know his true feelings. Use it to your advantage.”


With a warm smile and a cheery wave, Elise let herself out, leaving a very confused Slayer huddled by the window.



* * * * * * * * *



Spike merely growled at the vamp acting as sentry at Buffy’s door. He had no time for pleasantries. The guard jumped, hands fumbling for the keys before placing it into the lock. His hand shook as he twisted the doorknob, but the door didn’t budge.


Annoyed at the delay, Spike began snapping his fingers.


“Haven’t got all day, mate,” he growled.


The guard began rattling the handle frantically, anxious to avoid Spike’s anger.


“It’s the d-door Master, it just won’t move!!”


Anger blazed in Spike’s eyes.


“What do you mean ‘it won’t move’?” he hissed through gritted teeth. “It’s a sodding door, open it for Christ’s sake!”


The other vampire yelped in fear as he continued to tug on the doorknob in earnest.


“I’m sorry Master, but it’s stuck. I don’t know why!”


Spike turned narrow eyes back towards the door.


“I know why,” he muttered darkly. “The Slayer.”



* * * * * * * * *



Buffy giggled as she watched the doorknob rattle. Who knew keeping Spike out would be so easy? She had simply slipped a chair under the handle and – hey presto! – suddenly her bleached blond problems disappeared.


Oh, she knew she would have to open the door sometime soon. She just didn’t feel like seeing Spike yet after last night. Buffy was still overwhelmed by the whole “kidnap” situation, and any chance she could delay a confrontation with the Big Bad himself she grabbed with eager arms.


So for now, she was perfectly content to listen to the panicked cries of the minion and giggle when she heard the occasional English swear words.


Spike wouldn’t let her go home?


Fine by her!



* * * * * * * * * *



“Open the bloody door, Slayer!” Spike yelled furiously, beating his hands on the heavy door.


Silence.


“I swear you little bitch, I am going to snap your neck when I see you!”


Spike faintly heard Buffy chuckling on the other side of the room. Infuriated by her gall, Spike let out a howl, slipping into his demonic visage.


He spun around to stare at the minions gathered in the hallway.


“What the hell are you staring at?” he spat viciously. “OPEN THE SODDING DOOR YOU FOOLS!”


The minions surged forwards, battling with each other to reach the door first. Spike groaned, slapping a hand to his forehead as he watched his incompetent followers fall and stumble in their haste.


“I’m surrounded by idiots…” he muttered with a sigh.


Spike turned back round to face Buffy’s room, leaning his head against the wall. Closing his eyes, he concentrated until he could hear the steady thump of Buffy’s heart and her even breaths.


“Slaaaayer…” Spike sing-songed darkly. “Slaaayer! I know you can hear me, my pretty kitty.”


Buffy’s head shot up from the bed when she heard Spike’s deep voice, laced with danger.


“I promise you now Buffy, when I get in there, you’re gonna wish you’d never pulled this stunt. I’m going to teach you a lesson, pet. A lesson you won’t forget.”


Spike smirked when he heard her heartbeat quicken, apprehension and fear coming from underneath the door. He heard her take a deep breath, before she scurried inside the room.


Glancing at the door, he saw one of the minions wielding a chain saw. Spike grinned widely.


“Won’t be long now, luv. Won’t be long now.”

Buffy scurried to the window, pressing her back against the cool glass. She gulped as she heard the unmistakeable roar of a chainsaw revving to life.


Hardly a reassuring sound.


Smart move Buffy. Real smart. Let’s piss off a Master Vampire, and just for kicks taunt him a little before realising how bad the consequences are going to be…


The noise outside reached a crescendo, with jubilant cries from minions as the wooden door began to groan and splinter. Buffy suddenly snapped to attention, eyes frantically searching for a weapon of any kind.


But Spike had obviously taken notes from their last encounter. A single iron bed, table and a matching cupboard were fixed to the floor. Lacking any wood to use as a makeshift stake. Buffy stared hard at the bed, willing it to move with her mind.


Move, she chanted silently, beginning to panic. The bed began to tremble making the iron bars rattle, but the restraints were too strong.


She was running out of time.


The door was on its last legs, leaving Buffy one last alternative. Sneaking forward and taking care to avoid the saw, she snapped off a shard of wood, wincing as splinters embedded themselves in her hand. Hurrying back from the door, she slipped it into the back of her jeans as she stared at the disintegrating door.


Wood chips and dust floated down, until a figure jumped over the debris.


“That’s two doors you’ve ruined now, pet.”


Buffy gave a reluctant smile at that.


“Oh no… and you had such a beautiful home,” she retorted sarcastically.


Spike stalked towards Buffy, his duster billowing behind him. Her breath caught as she admired his chiselled face, her gaze resting upon his sensual mouth. A mouth that had kissed her brutally, had made her shiver and give in.


He was beautiful.


The beauty came with a price. Spike’s hands clenched in anger. Danger radiated from his body; he was a warrior ready to pounce.


Minions swarmed to the doorframe, peering in to watch the inevitable show-down, murmuring and chattering excitedly.


Spike spun round, growling at their insolence.


“Leave. Now.” he snarled, baring gleaming fangs.


The crowd quickly dispersed, leaving the two in eerie silence.


“These stunts are becomin’ tiresome Slayer.” Spike spoke quietly, his voice laced with menace.


Buffy spluttered indignantly, but Spike flashed her a look.


“Quiet.”


He stalked forward, his eyes glittering darkly.


“The time for games” he spat, “is over. I’ve been more than fair. Allowed you to have whatever you wanted – with Elise catering to your every bloody whim.” Spike slammed his hand down on the bed-side table.


“An’ what do you do?”


Buffy glowered at him, colour rising in her cheeks.


“WHAT DO YOU DO!” Spike roared.


“I fight back!” Buffy yelled angrily. “Until you let me go, until you stop this endless waiting! I’ve been stuck here, for weeks in this… this… prison with no light at the end of the tunnel! When will you fight me Spike? A month? Two months time?”


Spike’s eyes flashed fire as he stared at her.


Buffy carried on heatedly.


“Should I wait for you to come and kill me in my sleep? Or will you make me a vampire? You’re the one playing games Spike,” she accused, pointing her finger at him. “How dare you tell me I’m not appreciating how good you’re treating me!”


Spike walked up to Buffy, until he was inches apart.


“Is that what you’re waiting for Slayer? For me to make my move?”


Breathing heavily, Buffy titled her nose upwards. “Damn straight I am.”


His mouth curved into amused smile at Buffy’s petulent tone.


“Why then,” Spike said smoothly. “I apologise.”


Confused, Buffy wrinkled her brow. This wasn’t turning out how she had expected. Something was off. Spike was now leaning up against the wall, his stance deceptively casual. She had expected her words to anger him, but he seemed to find it hilarious that she had been waiting for him to do something, anything.


The thought made her blood boil.


Arrogant prick.


Well, if he found it so funny perhaps it was high time she made the first move. Fingering the stake hidden in her waistband, she gripped it tightly ready to spring forth and attack.


It seemed Spike had other ideas.


Quick as lightening he rushed her, his hard body pressing hers into the wall.


“Tut-tut, pet. None of that.”


Buffy immediately began to struggle, her body squirming against Spike’s. Unable to move she lashed out, viciously swiping her nails over his arms. Yet Spike didn’t register any pain. He simply grabbed her more firmly, stilling her movements and closing his eyes as he relished the feel of her back in his arms.


Moving closer he opened his eyes, mere millimetres away from Buffy. Suddenly she froze, realising what an intimate position they were in. Blushing profusely, she tried to edge backwards but found herself irrevocably trapped.


“What... What are you doing?” Buffy mumbled weakly.


Spike smiled wolfishly.


“Makin’ my move of course.”


And with that, he kissed her.


He was tender and soft – at first. Light, butterfly kisses that made her grow weak, as she sank into his embrace. Somewhere, somehow, Buffy could hear a voice screaming this was wrong, that he was evil - but she ruthlessly pushed the thought away.


It felt too good.


Pushing away from the wall, Buffy kissed Spike back, twining her arms around his neck. Her abandoned stake clattered to floor. Spike growled his approval, turning the kiss wild. Like lovers reunited, they clamoured to touch each other, burning with need. His lips feathered her throat, until he skimmed down to her pulse, making intricate patterns with his tongue. Buffy trembled in response, moaning and tilting her neck to allow him further exploration.


Spike hid his shock at Buffy’s wanton behaviour, greedily taking what was now freely offered. After days of tormenting himself that locking up such a creature of beauty and innocence would lead nowhere – he had been rewarded. Spike had done nothing to deserve it, but it sparked hope in his chest. She wasn’t shying away from him any more. She was frantic, wild, her scorching hands teasing every part of his body. She was his.


“Oh God…” Spike thrust his erection against her, making her moan in delight.


“More,” she gasped, grinding against him and arching her back. Spike hissed, his eyes melting to gold as he gazed upon her exposed breasts. His shaft throbbed, and he clutched Buffy’s bottom to thrust even harder.


“Buffy,” he hissed desperately. “I won’t be able to stop…” he trailed off, struggling not to take the writhing woman in his arms there and then.


Got to slow it down. Have to gain control.


But it was so hard.


He ached to possess her, to thrust himself inside her. He panted, taking deep breaths to clear his head and quell his burning desire.. Buffy shivered as she felt his cool breath tickle her neck. He was so intoxicating to her, a dangerous drug that she simply couldn’t get enough of. Tonight, she would give in to all her traitorous feelings, and banish her fears. Writhing in his arms with increasing frenzy, she clung to him as if he was a life-line.


Surprised, Spike stumbled back, keeping his strong arms curled around Buffy’s body and supporting her slight weight. Unable to resist, he bent his head to press cool lips on the dip of her breasts. His tongue began to trace her heated skin, pulling down her bra so he could feast hungrily on every inch. Buffy shuddered, her mind becoming hazy, as she cried out for more.


Dear God, don’t stop…


Sucking lightly on her skin, Spike shuddered, revelling in being so close to his woman. His mate. After being denied her touch for so long, his demon quickly became aggressive, insistent. It began to whisper, compelling him to claim her, make her his and his only. Spike shook his head frantically, grappling for control.


It’s too soon.


The demon’s whispers turned into a roar, demanding that he take her with or without her consent. Closing his eyes, Spike buried his head in her neck whilst his hands continued to squeeze her bottom. The possessive way he kneaded her skin sent frissions of desire dancing up her spine, making her moan throatily.


Spike slowed his movements as he concentrated on regaining control of his demon. Noticing that he had stilled, Buffy took the opportunity to skim her hands up his muscled back, kneading the tight muscles there. Groaning with delight, Spike clutched Buffy tighter resuming his exploration of her neck.


“Witch.”


Buffy arched one eyebrow.


“Excuse me?”


Spike chuckled, his rich tones sending a flood of heat through Buffy’s body. He leant into her once more, swinging her into his arms and striding out of the room. Buffy didn’t protest, tucking her head into Spike’s shoulder.


Spike ran up a flight of stairs and opened a door along the hallway, kicking it shut. He gently lay down on the bed, cradling Buffy’s body next to his.


They lay in silence for a few minutes until he finally spoke. “Think you’ve cast some sort of mojo on me, Slayer. Making me act like a bleedin’ nancy boy.”


Buffy untangled herself from his embrace to snuggle on his chest. Spike’s arms immediately reached for her, running his hands through her hair.


“You’re some kind of sickness. A disease that has infested my body and now I can’t get you out.” Buffy retorted.


Spike scoffed. “Well that’s just rich! At least I’m nice about it Slayer.”


Buffy giggled then abruptly stopped. She’d failed to stop this thing with Spike again, further complicating a horribly twisted situation. She lifted her head to look at him with serious eyes.


“This,” she gestured to the both of them “isn’t right. You know that. We’re too…” she searched helplessly for the right word. “Different.”


Spike nodded slowly.


“We can make this work. I want you with me always.”


If she could learn accept his status as a Master vampire and understand that he could be good to her despite his evil nature, maybe they would have a chance. He frowned. It would mean going against everything she’d ever been taught, breaking the chains of responsibility that had bound her since she was called. Foolish as it might be, Spike longed for her acceptance and a change to show her that they were true mates.


He had hope.


Buffy shook her head vehemently.


“No. Never.”


I could never become a vampire.


An unnatural chill seeped into Spike’s body at her words, creeping over his limbs and filling his stomach with dread. The borrowed warmth of Buffy’s body drained away as if he no longer held her in his arms. He longed to rub his body warm, to reawaken the warmth that had been his in life, but his body remained rigid and colder than usual. The room grew silent, her small breaths and racing heartbeat the only noises. With stricken eyes, he gazed at Buffy, wondering why he desired a mate who constantly remained so far from his grasp. Always out of reach. Suddenly, his eyes hardened.


He would not give her up.


Whatever it was between them – and he’d be buggered if he could explain it – he wouldn’t let it go. With steely resolve, he shook off the initial shock over Buffy’s rejection. Spike brushed a hand against her bare arm, watching her shiver before moving away. Buffy turned to look at him.


The golden flecks in Spike’s eyes appeared to flare. He gritted his teeth, as Buffy began to edge away. He reached for her, to draw her back in but her quiet voice stopped him.


“Don’t.”


Spike balled his fists into the bedsheets, radiating danger. “You will admit you want me Slayer. An’ when you do, this game is over. Because then I won’t be forcing you. I’ll know you really want to be mine then.”


He rolled off the bed, and walked to the door.


Buffy sat up. “Wait!”


Spike turned round, his face angry. “What?”


Buffy winced at his harsh tone. Ducking her head down, she began playing with the comforter before regaining her courage.


“Where am I?” she asked meekly. “This room is different than the rest.”


It was true. The room was plush, the centrepiece a large wrought-iron four poster bed, with billowing red and gold curtains. Pillows completed the sumptuous image, highlighted by flickering candles dotted round every available space.


Spike turned back round, and opened the door.


“My room. ’Night Slayer.”


He slammed the door shut with a bang, followed by bellow for a minion to stand guard.


Buffy huddled in the middle of the bed, gathering the duvet around her. It smelt of Spike. Horribly confused, Buffy lay back and wished that she could find the courage to tell Spike how she felt. As she stared unblinking at the dark ceiling she wondered why the words just couldn’t come.


*


Buffy tossed and turned for the millionth time that night, yet still couldn’t get to sleep. Her mind kept re-living the conversation she had with Spike. He’d been so still, his body rigid when she told him she couldn’t be one of them.


A creature of the night.


Yet, Buffy still felt this ache in her stomach – that she and Spike had no future. Whatever drew them two together would never be explored. Never be granted a chance.


She was a Slayer, with a duty to kill his kind to protect the innocent. How could she condemn hundreds to die to join Spike and his clan.? Not only that, she was a teenage freaking girl! Explaining to her friends and mother that she had fallen for a souless vampire could never end with well-wishes and smiles.


Buffy couldn’t rest until she tried to make Spike understand that she couldn’t sacrifice herself or hundreds of innocents because of her weird infatuation. If she could find the right words, maybe he’d let her go.


Springing out of bed with a hopeful smile, she searched until she found a scrap of paper and a pen. Thinking hard, she scrawled a quick message before propping up the note on the table.


Feeling much better, she settled down to sleep.


“Goodnight Spike,” she whispered.



*



As Buffy slept soundly, Spike returned.


It felt good having Buffy in his room. Her golden hair tangled in his pillows, her bronzed limbs caught up in his bed sheets. It didn’t seem strange that the most feared assassin of his kind was slumbering peacefully in his bed.


It was however, disconcerting that she snored.


Smiling slightly, Spike turned to leave, comforted that his Slayer was all right. A piece of paper, crudely positioned on the table caught his eye. In red, a large ‘S’ was smeared on the top. Curious, he opened up the note and read the message inside.


“Spike,
I’m sorry about this evening, I don’t want to lead you on. You seem to forget that we come from different worlds, My destiny is to kill your kind and protect the world. This attraction between us has to end. I won’t let you take away my destiny by making me a vampire. We don’t have future together. Please let me go.
Buffy.”


Spike spun back to Buffy’s sleeping form, his jaw slack.


The chit thought he was going to turn her? Spike silently groaned. No wonder she had so firmly rejected him! He was simply asking for a chance and Buffy thought he intended to make her a vampire.


Spike grinned. If he could get her to understand that they could be mated without his turning her, maybe Buffy would give into her feelings. True, giving in would mean going against values that had been instilled in her since she was called. But if she gave in, it would me that she wanted to be with him – mind, body and soul. Tomorrow, he would begin his campaign to win Buffy over.


Things were about to get very interesting.

Spike felt nervous.


For the first time in years he was feeling bleedin’ nervous.


Shifting his feet outside his room, he awkwardly juggled the present in his arms. Wrapped in pink – adorned with a gaudy looking bow, a mere box potentially held the key to winning over Buffy’s affections.


Spike reached for his key, sliding it into the lock before pausing. Would this help Buffy to look beyond the vampire, and see the man beneath who was desperate for a chance?


Just one chance.


He’d thought long and hard about how to go about this.


How do you court a woman?


When he was human, a bloke was expected to shower his betrothed with gifts. Pretty trinkets and what not. Drusilla had demanded little children to snack on, to pry their limbs apart. She had squealed in delight over wicked looking toys to help her to create beautiful scenes filled with blood and flesh. Spike scrunched up his face in distaste. Somehow Buffy didn’t catch him as the torturous type.


Then it struck him.


He needed a present that would show that he cared about her, yet something that she would enjoy. It needed to ease the hours of loneliness and boredom that seemed to fill her every waking hour. These small steps would slowly convince her that he wasn’t as cold and heartless as she believed. He closed his eyes, pained at the memory of last night. He had to make her feel more comfortable with the situation, to win her over, or he would fail.


Anxiously moving forward, he reached for the doorknob and walked into the room. His eyes quickly adjusted to the darkness, glowing as they searched the room for Buffy.


Always for her.


Moving silently, he gently placed the box on the floor before lying down on the bed, instantly squeezing her to him. He sighed, nuzzling her hair, the familiar feelings of contentment and belonging washing over him as he clutched her closer.


“Mornin’ sweet,” he rumbled as she began to rouse.


Buffy stretched out her lithe body and blinked sleepily. She eyed him casually before gathering the duvet around her and snuggling back into bed.


Spike widened his eyes incredously.


“Oi. Slayer. Wake up!”


Nothing. Curled up into a tiny ball, she didn’t even stir.


Spike growled impatiently. He sat up firmly, making the bed bounce and began to snarl, hoping it would spur her into moving.


Cracking open one eye, she looked at him.


“Go away,” she mumbled.


“Charmin’. Just charmin’. Here I am – with gift an’ all – an’ you tell me to bugger off.”


Buffy peeked from under the duvet, her still-sleepy eyes curious.


“A present?” she yawned. “Gimme.”


Spike chuckled. “Sorry Princess. It requires payment ’f sorts. You only get it if you get up.”


Buffy glared at him and made a big show of fluffing up her pillows before lying down and closing her eyes again.


“Not interested.”


Spike sighed. Stubborn little chit. He gazed at her, reaching out to brush one cool finger against her cheek. She mumbled something sleepily before batting his hand away.


He laughed and rose from her bed.


“Fine, I get the message! Night pet, an’ sweet dreams.”


He reached down to give her a lingering kiss before reluctantly moving away.


It didn’t bother him that she hadn’t jumped up to see him with open arms.


He had all the time in the world.



***



As soon as the door closed, Buffy scampered out of bed, her eyes gleaming.


A present? Spike got her a gift!


She squealed excitedly, idly guessing what it could be. A necklace, with precious gems?


Oh! Perhaps sparkling diamonds to adorn her ears.


She narrowed her eyes. No, it couldn’t be jewellery – the box was far too big and heavy. Kneeling down, she crouched down towards the box, pressing one ear to its side.


Suddenly the box moved.


Intrigued, Buffy made quick work of tearing off the wrapper, coloured paper flying everywhere. When she was finished, she sat back with a wide grin.


It was a black and white kitten.


Curled up in a feathery blanket, the kitten slept, occasionally wriggling in its sleep to get comfy. With one hand, Buffy reached in to gently stroke his fur. A rumbly purr began to emanate, making her giggle.


Sounds like Spike.


She sighed contently as the kitten began to rouse, realising what a sweet gesture Spike had made simply for her wellbeing.


She suddenly smiled wickedly.


She didn’t have to be a vampire to make it up to him.



***



Spike peeked into his room the next night, careful to not to disturb Buffy again. He was slowly starting to realise his girl was not a morning person.


Must be used to living like a vamp he grinned.


She sat cross-legged on the floor, squinting at the television as she lazily stroked the kitten curled up in her lap.


As a monster flashed on-screen Buffy yelped, then began furiously yelling at the screen.


“As if demons look like that,” she snorted, unimpressed. “I mean look Rocky,” gesturing wildly to the television, “would you be scared of some guy in green face paint?”


Rocky let out a yawn.


“Exactly. Didn’t think so.”


Spike smiled, amused at the conversation between the two.


“Evenin’ pet,” he called cheerily, strolling to sprawl out on the bed.


Buffy gasped, caught off guard. Nervous, she struggled to remain calm, willing her suddenly racing heart to slow down. She itched to turn round but feigned disinterest, choosing to carry on watching the stupid program.


“What? Oh, hey Spike,” she said coolly, eyes fixed on the screen.


Spike stifled a chuckle. Nice try love. I know you want me. Heartbeat’s goin’ ten to the dozen.


“Like your present?”


Buffy glanced down at Rocky. Carefully, she peeled the kitten from her lap and placed him on the floor. She gave a little stretch, before walking over to the bed, and sitting down next to Spike.


“I love him,” she admitted softly. Weaving her hand into his, their fingers interlocked as she moved closer. “Thank you.”


Relief washed over him.


He’d done it..


“My pleasure pet,” he croaked out, his throat suddenly scratchy.


She squeezed his hand in response, making him glance down in awe. She has such little hands… he thought idly. Little hands that were touching him. Showing him affection. He gulped, wondering why he felt so overwhelmed.


His shocked gaze connected with hers, and she frowned, wondering why he looked so funny.


“You alright Spike? You don’t look so peachy.”


Spike coughed, breaking his hand free from her grip.


“’m fine. Must’ve been something I ate,” he joked weakly.


Buffy scowled.


“Very funny, Spike. Real cute.”


Angry with herself for overlooking his vampiric nature, she stomped back to the television, her back firmly to him.


Spike groaned. Nice one mate. Somehow, he’d bollixed it up again. He ran an agitated hand through his hair, making his curls spring free.


“Buffy luv, I’m sorry. That joke was in poor taste, I know.”


She was silent.


He tried again.


“C’mon Slayer!” He whined pitifully.


Sighing, he crawled across the floor, placing his head in her lap. Big blue eyes beseeched her to forgive him.


“Pretty please? I’ll make it up to you. Do whatever you fancy.”


Buffy narrowed her eyes, finally sparing him a glance.


“Anything?” she asked slyly.


Spike began to backtrack. “Well... within reason pet. Nothing the poof would do, ‘m not dressing up like a nancy boy or wearing makeup!”


Buffy began to giggle. Spike in drag – what a thought! Shaking her head, she smiled. “Nothing like that I swear. Just a night in, me and you. My choice of film, plenty of buttery popcorn goodness. How’s that sound?”


Spike grinned, pulling her down to press a light kiss on her lips.


“Sounds perfect,” he whispered.


Standing up, he strode briskly to the door. “Just tell Elise the movie pet and I’ll see you here around seven t’moro evenin’. Big Bad’s got to catch some kip.”


Buffy rolled her eyes, hiding her smile.


“Oh, and Buffy?”


She glanced back at a contrite Spike.


“I really am sorry.”


And with that, he left.

Green eyes sparked in annoyance as Buffy glanced at her watch again. Half past seven.


Spike was late.


She shivered, the black silk top suddenly feeling too cold on her exposed skin. She’d slipped on the wicked looking material, quickly recognizing it would be appreciated by Spike. She’d finished her outfit with faded ripped jeans, perfect for a movie-night.


Except there didn’t seem to be a movie night.


She flopped onto the bed, jolting Rocky awake. Mewling a protest, he arched his back to stalk off, scouring for a new place he could sleep undisturbed.


“Great,” she muttered. “Even the cat doesn’t want to spend time with me.”


Oh God. Here she was feeling sorry for herself because she wished her demon lover had kept their date? He might be extraordinarily handsome, with strength and power emanating from his presence, but he was still a vampire.


A killer.


A killer, who had asked her to become like him.


And since that night, Buffy had been… tempted.


The thought of the two of them as creatures of the night was somewhat desirable, sending satisfaction humming through her veins. Danger was a feeling Buffy had always savoured. The idea that she could join him as an equal sent illicit thrills up her spine.


A velvety dark voice began to whisper.


You could be free. Free from this wretched life of duty…


Buffy shook her head, furiously trying to silence those thoughts away.


You would have no one to dictate how your life would be. Nothing but Spike and freedom… the voice hissed.


“No!” Buffy yelled angrily. Shivering, she sat up straight. “No,” she whispered again.


She would not submit to the dark pleasures of Spike. She had to be strong.


What then should she do? Night by night, her resolve faltered, and she inched that little bit closer to giving into Spike and his whims.


Maybe, just maybe Buffy could bring out his goodness? Balance out his darkness with her light?


A hopeful smile played across her lips.


She would try.


Scrambling off the bed, she ran to the bathroom to check her appearance. Dashing on some strawberry lip balm, she quickly ran a brush through her tousled blond locks until it shined. The routine actions made her switch off from her troubles and provided her worried mind with a reprieve.


Yet still she remained troubled.


Hiding from the fear that threatened to consume her – the realization that her dark impulses were simply growing stronger.



***



Spike ran up the stairs, taking two at a time. Bloody minions, he thought angrily. Making me late for my girl. Idiots.


Panting for un-needed breath, he skidded to a halt before her door, quickly dismissing the guard that stood ever present. Bursting in, he held out his arm to wave his apologies.


“I know, I know – I’m late! But, pet, ’m so sorry. The damn minions decided to have a scrap an’ I had to sort the pillocks out. C’mon lets not fight…”


“I’m not mad,” she called cheerily from the bathroom.


Spike raised one scarred eyebrow in disbelief.


“You alright, pet? Bumped that pretty head of yours whilst I was gone?”


Buffy walked into the bedroom with a scowl.


“Fine, be an ass! Make me angry at you. Whatever.”


“Kitten’s got her claws out tonight I see,” Spike drawled, obviously amused.


“Yeah, and she wants to slice that smirk off your goddamn face,” she muttered irritably, snatching a DVD to jam it into the player.


“Mmm,” Spike had suddenly appeared at her neck and began nuzzling her exposed skin. “My feisty Slayer. You excite me so. Tell me, luv,” he murmured, pressing kisses down to her collarbone. “Do I excite you also?”


Buffy felt her irritation melt away, arching back into his hard, unyielding body. Her hurried breathing was music to Spike’s ears, and he wrapped his arms around her, keeping her petite frame upright. One hand trailed down to her shoulder, gently brushing aside the strap of her top.


She moaned, feeling his growing erection straining thick across her back.


She just couldn’t fight him, nor fight his touch. Her only hope was by giving into her traitorous feelings, she would change Spike for the better.


Breathless and a little bit dizzy, she stumbled onto the bed. Spike growled, displeased to find his arms suddenly empty of an aroused Slayer.


Moving forward like the predator he was, he flexed his arms to shrug off his duster.


“You still haven’t answered me, Slayer.”


His voice was low and husky.


“Do…”

He toed off his boots.


“I…”


He then pulled off his black t-shirt to reveal a chiselled torso.


Staring directly into her eyes, he played with the button of his jeans before undoing it, and inching the zipper down with excruciating slowness.


“Excite you,” he finished, standing in front of her.


Buffy swallowed audibly, unable to look away. The voice re-appeared, whispering delicious words into her ear.


Take him. He is yours.


“You excite me,” she whispered, her green eyes growing dark.


His eyes narrowed, promising all kinds of wicked pleasure.


“Let me excite you more.”




****




“No!” Buffy’s cry startled them both.


She tore her gaze away from Spike and huddled on the bed shaking slightly. The dark thoughts were bombarding her, demanding that she take what was rightfully hers.


Excitement. Spike. Freedom.


She needed to calm down, to take this slower. She needed control.


“Pet? What’s wrong?”


Spike began to worry. Tension rolled off his girl in waves, mingling with the power surrounding her tiny body. The pull of their bond was so strong, and he ached to finally possess her, end this game of cat and mouse. Yet he had to be patient.


And right now, his mate was confused and upset. He had to soothe her, and ease her pain.


Erection be damned.


Moving slowly forward, he quickly did up his jeans and reached out for the Slayer.


“I’m going too fast aren’t I pet?” he rumbled, smoothing her hair back from her face.


Buffy shuddered, snuggling into his embrace.


“Sorry,” came her muffled reply. “It’s a bit overwhelming, you know?”


Spike nodded, soothing purrs rumbling from his chest.


“It’s okay. We can go as slow as you want. Or, if you change you’re mind, just as fast,” he added with a chuckle.


Buffy peeked out from under his arm to swat him round the head.


Breathing deeply, she slowly began to ease the desire gripping her body.


“How come you’re being all ‘sensitive-guy’ about this?” she asked suspiciously.


Spike shrugged, and carried on stroking her hair.


“I’m willing to wait for what’s mine.”


She stiffened; delight sparking through her body at that remark. The possessive tone of his voice that had been terrifying, now thrilled her. A delicious heat pooled between her legs, making her shift uncomfortably.


God, how she wanted him!


The ferocity in which he staked his claim on her, was so thrilling.


Spike watched the play of emotions on her face curiously.


Ha! She wants me. She just can’t admit it. Stubborn bint. She wears her emotions on her sleeve.


Buffy quickly regained her composure, with another biting remark honed by years of high-school.


“You know, this “I Tarzan, you Jane” thing is getting really old. You need to realise that this just isn’t happening Spike.”


Spike merely grinned, flashing his fangs.


He knew better.


“Sure pet. Sure.”



****



The night went smoothly, with talk of their relationship finally discarded.


Buffy had cajoled Spike into watching her choice of DVD after all; Pretty Woman. Spike had made several crude comments about the outfits that Julia Roberts was sporting.


“Sure that I can’t persuade you to wear that get-up?” he waggled his tongue at her.


Giggling, she reached over to punch him in the arm.


“Only if you quit wearing the seventies get up. You modernize, I’ll… hookerize. Deal?”


Spike tackled her to the ground, cushioning her fall with his own body. She wriggled beneath him, before pulling his head down so she could kiss him.


Hot, wet drugging kisses that made him moan and clutch her closer.


Letting her gasp for air, he released her lips, golden eyes narrowing in intensity.


“You’ve got yourself a deal, pet.”

Buffy sleepily began to stir, yawning widely as she stretched out her hand in search of Spike.


Nothing.


She sighed wistfully, opening her eyes to find herself alone as usual. She sat up, immediately re-living how enjoyable her evening with Spike had been. Leaving their somewhat undefined relationship status behind, it had allowed them to spend quality time together. Just two people, instead of vampire and Slayer.


Such a shame, though, that it messed up her head even further. She knew with a sick dread in her stomach that the relationship was doomed.


No happy ending for Buffy.


But the more time she spent with Spike, the harder she found him to resist.


Buffy frowned, padding towards the shower.


God, this was never meant to get so complicated. Apart from the big brooding anomaly that was Angel, she had no problem staking any vampire that came near her.


For that, was her sacred duty.


Sacred duty bites ass.


Levitating the shampoo, Buffy ordered it to squirt some on her head. Using her hands for once, she vigorously massaged the suds into her hair. Stopping, she came to a realisation. Spike wasn’t like other vampires.


God, Spike wasn’t even like other men.


He was different.


He made her laugh and smile through simple conversation. He could make her feel cherished and reassured through a single touch.


He made her feel alive.


She felt such a deep, latent desire for him, an unfamiliar feeling that shook her every time. One look from him and heat coursed through her body, weighing down each and every limb until she was completely at his mercy.


Yet she also felt so inexplicably lost, a floundering and inexperienced teenager. Buffy desperately wanted the man she longed for, but didn’t always know where she stood with him.


Did Spike return to Dru every morning? It was something she hadn’t contemplated before.


Her eyes hardened. It looked like both Angel and Drusilla were going to be sorely disappointed.


She had no intention of sharing.



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



Elise smiled as she surveyed the impressive feast before her. Plates were piled high with fresh fruit, cereals and flaky pastries. She picked up a pitcher of orange juice and gracefully mounted the stairs.


Spike’s head popped up right in front of her unexpectedly and she shrieked, stumbling forward as he rushed to catch her.


“Apologies, M-Master,” she stuttered. “I didn’t see you there.”


Spike cocked one eyebrow, grinning slightly.


“Obviously not. Are those breakfast treats for the Slayer?” he asked briskly.


“Yes. I went a little over-board I’m afraid.”


“Hmm,” he peered at the tray. “No scones,” he commented, appearing unimpressed. “You can’t have a good brekkie without scones… bleedin’ Americans…” he muttered. Clearing his throat, he wiggled his fingers. “Well, pass it over ‘ere. Me and the Slayer have unfinished business.”


Elise’s eyes widened, yet she reluctantly handed over her bounty to the impatient vampire before her.


Oh dear. I hope Buffy will be alright…



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



Buffy had returned to bed.


She couldn’t stop thinking about Spike. Her constant questioning about their relationship had left her with a headache and she longed for some semblance of peace.


Groaning from her migraine, she suddenly jerked upright. Tingles! Those small caresses along her spine only meant one thing.


Spike was near.


Her stomach full of butterflies, she anxiously watched as the door open. Spike peered around the edge, greeting her with a sheepish smile.


“`Lo, luv.”


Buffy managed to squeak out a mumbled reply.


He chuckled, strolling over to the bed and placing an impressive tray of food before her. Still smiling, he climbed into bed before wrapping his arms around her.


“Still sleepy, hmm?” he asked, nuzzling her silken hair.


“A little. This is lovely,” she gestured towards breakfast. “Thank you.” Buffy turned to look at Spike, who quickly captured her lips for a kiss.


Her head positively swam. Once he was in close proximity, she couldn’t think, couldn’t speak. Her mind focused on one thing – Spike kissing her. It felt like she was drugged, her body relaxed and ready for the taking. Mewling for more, Buffy inched closer.


Spike groaned, and she suddenly felt his arousal growing against her thigh.


Smiling, she weakly pushed him away.


He gazed at her, his expression curious. “Why we stopping, pet?” his husky tone causing her to shiver.


She gazed pointedly under the covers to his groin. “Someone’s getting a little too excited…”


He looked insulted at her declaration. “But that’s a good thing! Means I find you bloody gorgeous!”


Buffy rolled her eyes, choosing to ignore the comment and instead reached for a buttery croissant. Nibbling on it delicately, she turned to face him again.


“So,” she began conversationally. “How come you are up so early?”


Spike gazed at her for a while, taking in her beautiful face flushed from their kissing. Her mouth, pink and moist, begged him to taste her again.


Mine! he thought vehemently. Mine to touch, mine to taste, mine to take.


His eyes darkened as he dreamed of the night he would finally have her; the night he would sample the delights his body had been aching for. Oh, how he would be gentle – at first! But he would make sure his beautiful mate would want it. No, he would make sure she craved it! Craved his punishments, just so he could kiss it all better.


“Spike?” Buffy waved a hand in front of his glazed eyes. “Hello? Anybody home?”


He caught her hand, pressing a gentle kiss to her palm. Reining his demon in, he chased all dark and desirous thoughts away and began dotting butterfly kisses on her hand.


She giggled, tugging it away.


“I didn’t want to go to sleep `til I saw you again.”


Buffy’s eyes widened in surprise before she hurriedly looked down.


“Easy, Goldilocks,” he reassured softly. “I just wanted to see you for once in the mornin’.”


She stole a glance at him, flabbergasted he would be so considerate. It was giving her the major wiggins, truth be told. Men weren’t supposed to notice the little things – were they?


Buffy’s head began to throb again, all with the relationship-thinking again. Her headache returned with a vengeance, the pressure centering to a pinpoint between her brows. Moaning, she pressed one hand to her forehead and grimaced.


“What’s wrong?” Spike asked concerned.


She worried her bottom lip, reluctant to talk at the moment, waiting for the pain to abate.


Her silence worried him and Spike frowned, his eyes fixed on her flustered face.


“Kitten? Are you sick? Your heartbeat is a little fast, but nothin’s wrong, is there? Is it too hot? I remember you complained `bout the heat before… should I open a window?”


Spike rattled on, his eyes travelling up and down her body, inspecting her for any signs of sickness while Buffy simply stared at him, astonished at the intimate display of concern for her well-being.


He took her continued silence to indicate pain, and quickly replaced her hand with his larger one. His cool palm on her head soothed her frayed nerves considerably, and she relaxed much to Spike’s relief.


“You feel warm. Should you feel warm? It’s been so long I’ve forgotten how warm you humans should be…”


“Spike-” Buffy tried to interject.


“Maybe Elise will know. Elise! ELISE!” he began to holler in booming tones. “ELISE! Get your bleedin’ arse up here!”


He jumped off the bed, striding towards the door to look for assistance. Bloody hell. No one appeared. He had seen the expression of pain etched in Buffy’s features at his bellowing.


And it scared the hell out of him.


Where the fuck was Elise? If anything happened to Buffy… He swallowed audibly, struggling for composure. Panicked, he hurried back to the bed to check on his mate.


“Can’t get the help,” he muttered disgustedly.


“But, Spike, I’m-”


“Sick,” he finished firmly, his eyes softening as he gazed at her. “I know, pet, I’ll make sure you feel better, Elise will get a doctor.”


Elise’s head appeared at the door, gasping once she saw Spike smothering Buffy with a duvet.


“What’s wrong!” she shrieked, wringing her hands anxiously.


“She’s sick,” he stated matter-of-factly.


“I’m not sick!” Buffy shouted, her voice muffled under the covers.


Spike raised his eyebrows in disbelief. “You bloody liar. You said you felt ill!” he exclaimed.


“No I didn’t! You decided that I felt sick, and then I tried to tell you… but you weren’t listening.” she explained, flinging her hands in the air. “Geez! I just have a headache. It’s nothing an aspirin won’t cure.”


Elise smothered a giggle, schooling her face into a mask of seriousness once Spike glared at her.


“Sod off!” he growled menacingly at the other vampire.


With a yelp, Elise nodded and made to leave.


“Apologise!” Buffy hissed, jabbing her elbow into Spike’s ribs.


“Owwww!” he whined, frowning at her in confusion. “What was that for?”


“You yelled at her for no reason. Say you’re sorry!” Buffy demanded, crossing her arms over her chest like a petulant child.


“No, I bloody won’t!” he huffed indignantly. Then she began to pout, that adorable lower lip puckering when she sniffed and his face crumpled as he felt his heart flutter.


“Pet. This is not how things work around here.” He ran an agitated hand through his hair, unsure of why he felt compelled yet again to appease her. When she began to protest, her little fingers curling around his wrist, however, he got angry.


Wasn’t it enough that his stomach lurched when he thought she was ill but now… now she was trying to reduce him to apologising to bloody minions?


Minions?


Snarling, Spike sprung away from her grasp.


“I’ll send up some aspirin. See you later, pet, got some business to attend to.” Without a kiss goodbye, he stalked out the door before she could entrance him any further.


Muttering obscenities, he strode down the hallway, catching a glimpse of Elise.


She was a good minion, he reasoned. Never caused him any trouble and did what she was told. Wasn’t that a rarity these days? Spike shook his head in disbelief as he began walking towards her.


Bugger. I can’t believe I’m doin’ this!


Finding her fumbling at her door, he coughed loudly. Surprised, she turned around, her face a giant question mark.


“Sorry `bout earlier, Elise. Didn’t mean to yell an’ all that rot.”


She tried to hide the visible shock on her face. The Master? Apologising? She was startled out of her stupor as Spike hovered by, tapping his foot, obviously waiting for a response.


“It’s fine,” she began carefully. “But thank you all the same.”


With a curt nod, he spun on his heel and left to go back to his room to get some much needed sleep.


A few doors down, a smiling Slayer with her ear pressed to the wall gave a little whoop of triumph. Jumping up, she snuggled back into bed, grabbing the television remote.


Finally, a certain vampire had listened to her for once.


And that had to count for something.

Spike shrugged on his duster and grimaced. He couldn’t pussy-foot around anymore.


He had to see Dru tonight.


Walking down the corridor, he wondered how she would receive him.


Since the earthquake, Dru had retreated even further into her fantasy world of dolls and pixies. The pixies no longer liked Spike. Dru had been very vocal about that.


She had once been a beautiful, deadly seductress who had captured his undead heart. Renowned throughout the world. Adored by many.


Now, she was merely a child.


Games and dolls were the only things that excited her these days, her moments of lucidity becoming less and less frequent. When she did return to reality, she was furiously angry. Bitter insults rolled off her tongue, and she destroyed anything in her wake until she exhausted herself.


Spike would then leave, having tucked up his plum in an old comforter and snuggling Miss Edith under her arm. With a parting look before he left, his heart would break as he was reminded of what she’d become.


Stopping at a heavy iron door, he nodded briskly to the vampire on guard. The bulky man took off a chain hanging from his neck, using the key attached to open the door.


Pushing it open, Spike walked into the lions den.



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



“Naughty, wicked, Spike.” A cold voice hissed. “You’ve made such a mess.”


Spike glanced around the pitch-black room, his eyes adjusting to the dark, dank conditions.


“How’s that, Dru?” he asked calmly.


She glided out from the corner of the room, a sliver of moonlight filtering in from the curtained window lent her a haunting glow.


“You’ve changed.” Her face was sorrowful. “You don’t want me anymore.”


Spike’s mouth twitched as he gazed at the woman whom he’d loved for almost a hundred years, and it felt as if his heart was being ripped to pieces.


“I still want you, pet,” his voice cracked. “I still love you.”


Dru’s face twisted into an ugly sneer. “I still love you,” she mimicked. “Ha!”


Spike slumped into a chair, running a tired hand through his hair.


“I do. I care for you, my Princess. I always will.” He sighed wearily. “I just… can’t be your Prince anymore. I’m sorry.” And he truly was… sorry that she was lost in an imaginary realm, sorry that he couldn’t prevent it. Not so sorry, however, that the Slayer was in his life.


As if she’d read his thoughts, Dru began to shake, murmuring angry words to the doll cradled in her arms. She pointed her finger at Spike accusingly.


“I know why,” she said with a sly smile. “I can see her floating all around you. Makes me sick.”


Spike sat up straight, narrowing his eyes.


“Who is floating around me?”


She began crooning to the porcelain figurine, eyes glazed. She was lost to the fairies again.


Tiring quickly of her game, he launched himself out of his seat, grabbing her in an instant.


“Drusilla,” he growled warningly. “I know you can hear me. Who is around me? Who!”


Her eyes re-focussed and gleamed with rage. With a strength he didn’t know she possessed, she shoved him - hard. Spike staggered back, hitting the wall with a heavy thump.


“Her!” she hissed. “The Slayer. You’re covered with her.” Her thin nose lifted with an air of disgust while he looked away.


How could he deny it?


“But she won’t play. No, no, my pretty.” She swayed closer, trailing one ruby-red painted talon down Spike’s cheek as he frowned, unable to comprehend her nonsensical prattle.


“She’ll be a bad kitty.” Dru started to cackle before twirling in circles as she sang, “Bad kitty, bad kitty! She’ll be a bad kitty!”


He dusted himself off, watching her spin around the room until she stopped next to him, clutching her doll protectively to her chest.


“Spike?” She suddenly sounded like a lost little girl.


“Yes, luv?” Reaching out, he banded an arm about her waist, bringing her close to him.


“Can I have a little boy for tea? Miss Edith said he would make me happy again.”


Rubbing comforting circles on her back, he smiled resignedly. “Of course, my plum,” he murmured reassuringly.


Nestled against Spike’s shoulder, Dru’s eyes gleamed with malice.


Poor William. Mummy will make it all better. Mummy will get rid of the bad kitty.


For the first time in weeks, Drusilla began to smile.



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



Buffy danced around her room, humming along to some pop song she’d heard on TV earlier. She glanced at her watch, noticing it was almost nine.


Spike would be here soon.


Grinning widely, she skipped to her vanity, plucking up a vanilla scented body cream from the selection of bottles displayed. She scrunched up her face, concentrating on making the lotion hover above as she rubbed it in.


Chewing her lip, she surveyed her closet. She wanted to look sexy, but not slutty. Suddenly, her face lit up as she levitated a silk black dress and golden shoes into the air. Smoothing on a pair of stockings to match her lace garter belt, she quickly slipped into the outfit. She noted the black dress made her green eyes appear dark and stormy as she gazed at herself in the mirror.


She felt somewhat older, sophisticated. She was slowly shucking the awkwardness she felt at being a teenager, embracing this new and darker persona. She gave a throaty giggle, twirling in front of the mirror once more.


Spike is going to go crazy!


A heavy knock on the door startled her as she spun around.


“Come in,” she called out.


As Spike walked in, she was shocked at the rumpled state of his clothes, his face ragged and careworn.


“Spike!”


She rushed into his arms, knocking the wind clean out of him. He stood rigid, surprised at the spontaneous show of affection before his arms clasped tentatively around her small body, bringing her closer. He inhaled the scent of her; a delectable mix of vanilla and strawberries and with a deep sigh, he began to relax, concentrating solely on the girl in his arms.


Taking comfort in her embrace he didn’t move for a long time, until Buffy finally pulled back.


“What’s wrong?” she asked quietly, cupping his cheek with her small hand. Closing his tired eyes, he leaned into her touch, enjoying the feel of her heat and compassion.


“Spike?”


He could hear the concern in her voice. Opening his eyes, he smiled weakly at the beauty in front of him. “It’s nothing, luv. Just a long night.”


Buffy wrinkled her nose, unconvinced. “Are you sure?” she pressed quietly to which he merely nodded, blue eyes filled with something close to regret.


She worried her bottom lip. He had a deeply haunted look in his eyes that she ached to wash away. Raising his hand, he brushed a gentle finger against her mouth, wanting to soothe her anxiety. His caress spread warmth throughout her body, suffused her nerves, calming her down. She placed a gentle hand on his arm, and graced him with a reassuring smile.


“Let’s forget about it then. Shall we watch another movie?”



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



Spike was fighting his demons once more. He desperately wanted to confide in Buffy, wrap her in his arms as he poured out his troubles. She would ease his fears and with a well aimed quip make him smile again.


But how can I tell her I went to see Dru? Bloody hell, how can I even explain Dru?


But his fears evaporated once Buffy had shown her trust in him through the simple touch of her hand. Delighted, he managed to stop himself from pulling her back into his arms, instead following her to the bed.


His eyes travelled up and down her body, his mouth forming an appreciative smile.


“You look absolutely enchanting, pet.”


His husky, deep tone sent a shudder through her body. She began to blush, remembering the sexy get-up she was wearing.


“Ohh! It’s just… just something I threw on, really… I mean…”


Spike began to chuckle, deep rumbles that reverberated around the room. “Okay, pet. Just something pretty you found. You didn’t wear it for me then?” He poked out his bottom lip in a pout.


Buffy huffed, and climbed onto the bed. Folding her arms across her chest, she glared at him.


“You know I did! I wanted to look nice, and you just… just laugh at me!”


He sobered immediately. Flipping over on all fours, he prowled up the mattress until reaching her side.


“I didn’t mean to laugh, sweet. I’m glad you wanted to look all sexy for me. Makes me hot just lookin’ at you.”


She shuddered, feeling his cool breath tickle her ear. As he nibbled away, she sniffed appreciatively until an unfamiliar scent wafted through the air. She suddenly jerked upright.


It was women’s perfume.


A perfume that she never wore. It was too dark and oppressive. She trembled, for instinctively she knew it was Dru’s.


Spike lifted his head at her sudden stiffness.


“Why do you smell like another woman?” she whispered.


The question stopped him in his tracks.


Fuck.


Her eyes filled with tears.


“I can explain…” he offered weakly.


“Can you?” she cried, scrambling away from him. Eyes flashing furiously she pointed a shaky finger in his direction. “You bastard. You’ve been with her, haven’t you? Your skanky, vampire slut!”


She trembled, feeling utterly sick. How could she be so blind? Spike had tricked her; probably delighting in how he’d worked the Slayer up before taking his desires elsewhere. Slaking his lust on his goddamn whore!


“She’s not a slut,” he snapped. Running a hand through his hair, he breathed in deeply. “Look, you know my history with Dru. She’s my sire and I’ll always care about her. I can’t abandon her like Peaches did and leave her to fend for herself.”


Cobalt blue eyes beseeched her to understand.


“Her mind’s all over the bleedin’ place. I’m just lookin’ after her, pet, nothings goin’ on. I swear it.”


Spots of colour had risen to her cheeks, and she shook with anger over one particular comment.


“Can’t leave her to fend for herself? That’s rich. A killer who needs looking after? I bet you provide all the services she requires, hmm?”


Now he began to grow angry. Stubborn chit won’t listen.


He clenched his fists, trying to keep calm. His eyes flickered from blue to gold, revealing his inner battle for composure.


“Listen, Slayer,” he growled through gritted teeth. “I am not with Dru anymore and I haven’t been for a long while now. You don’t have to like me seein’ her, but you’ve gotta accept it’s going to happen, alright?”


Buffy trembled with the fury rising inside of her, threatening to spew forth. He obviously thought she was house-broken, willing to let him play nurse-maid with his supposed ex. He probably drank from her too, spewing the same husky words to his vampire bitch before sipping away at the precious liquid in some kinky vampire blood play.


She ruthlessly squashed the urge to cry.


“Dream on, Spike. There’s not a chance in hell that I’m going to let you come back here night after night and play me for a fool! If you want to spend your time with that tramp, then fine. But don’t expect me to be waiting for you with open arms. Not any longer!”


His demon sprung forth, features vamped, growling at her rejection.


“You’re mine, Slayer, and you best not forget that. I will return every night to you – and make sure you enjoy it!”


She took a step forward, her eyes glowing an eerie green.


“Yeah? Well, let’s include Angel in this equation then. It’s only fair if you’re off making goo-goo eyes at Dru that I get some quality time with my old man.” As expected, he hissed at that.


“Angelus won’t have any share of you.”


“Oops,” she murmured, her eyes glittering maliciously as she ran her hands down her body, stopping to linger at her curves. “It’s a bit too late for that.”


With a howl, Spike started for her, his demon enraged at the thought of his sire with his mate.


Suddenly, the television began to spark, white-hot embers spitting out from its cables.


As Spike turned around in shock, Buffy was oblivious, still roiling in anger and the shock of his betrayal. Her green eyes burned even brighter with the pain his duplicity wrought, simultaneously the television screen exploded, sending crackling electricity and shards of glass towards them.


She yelped as he dove for her, pushing her out of harm’s way, making her land on the floor with a thump.


“Are you okay?” he asked frantically, running his hands over her body to check for injuries. “Bloody thing just blew up right in front of us!”


She looked over at the ruined television set in surprise. Whoops. She shivered, realising how close she had come to being electrocuted, by herself, nonetheless.


Spike frowned, noting her paling face and deftly picked her up, bringing her to the bed.


“I’m sorry, pet. I just got so mad,” he muttered apologetically, wrapping the duvet around her. He winced, noticing a piece of glass had cut her head which began to bleed.


“You’re hurt,” he whispered, and his eyes filled with pain before he made to leave. “I’ll go get somethin’ to clean you up with.”


Buffy shook her head dazedly, her limp hand falling from his grip. “Don’t worry, I’m not like Dru,” she murmured. “It’s just superficial.”


He ignored her hurtful remark, carefully tracing her wound with a finger before leaning forward and lightly kissing it better. He trembled, still shaken by the accident and lay down beside her, gathering her close.


“I’ve got you, pet. Gave me a right shock there. You sure you’re alright?” He tightened his embrace as if she was in danger again.


Nodding dumbly, her little fingers fisted the duvet. Her mind was elsewhere. How did it happen? How had her new powers gotten out of her control, suddenly take on a life of its own?


Dru, that’s how. Anger began to simmer again, and she took a few deep breaths to bring herself back under control. She needed to calm down and harness the energy she was able to wield. If she didn’t, she could seriously hurt someone.


Spike glanced down, noting her agitation and moved closer to nuzzle her hair. Sighing, she briefly allowed him to comfort her. She ached to tell him, confide in him her fears about her volatile powers but she was so hurt. She just didn’t trust him now, and he had reminded her of what he truly was.


Heartless and cruel.


Tearing herself from his grip, she pushed him away, burrowing under the duvet.


“I think you should leave,” she croaked, her voice scratchy from yelling.


Spike gazed at her silently, cocking one eyebrow.


“Sorry, love?”


Buffy blinked her tears back.


“What? You hard of hearing now, Spike? I said LEAVE!”


“Leave my own room, in my own house?” He chuckled, shaking his head. “You must be in shock after the telly exploded.”


She lifted her head to peer at him. “Shock? Perhaps you’re right,” she whispered. “After all, I’d have to be suffering from some sort of head trauma to ever-” she raised her voice, “-and I mean ever consider you as a prospective boyfriend.” She ran her eyes up and down his body distastefully. “Let alone a bed-partner. Go back to your whore, Spike. And don’t ever think about touching me again.”


He snarled at the insult, springing up towards her. The little witch.


“You should know by now that you don’t want to push me. It’s guaranteed you’ll lose.” Struggling to keep his fury under control, he made a move to leave.


“But have it your way. Choose to give in to your fucking female insecurities and ignore me and you’ll be faced with something you will wish you could escape. I promise you, pet,” he hissed menacingly. “It won’t be fun and games. Not any more.”


With a violent curse, he strode out of the room, bolting the door shut behind him.


Buffy stared at the door, before curling up and gave way to sobbing.

“Are you freaking kidding me!” Buffy screamed as a tray was slid into her room before the door slammed shut.

A bowl full of porridge sloshed to the side, soaking the accompanying stale bread.

Enraged, she ran to beat her fists on the door.

“Hello? Hello?”

She peered through the cracks, spotting a meaty vamp prowling across the doorway.

“I can see you, fang-face! For two days you’ve given me this… this crap to eat and I’ve had enough!”

The vampire sentry turned to snarl in her direction then continued his pacing.

Buffy sighed, blowing hair out of her face before sinking against the adjacent wall. Her stomach rumbled uncomfortably, making her wince.

“Look, can you just get Spike or Elise?”

“No need, pet. I’m already here,” a familiar voice retorted.

“Spike!” she hissed, scrambling up to look through the crack again. “Where the hell have you been?”

He chuckled darkly. “Wouldn’t you like to know. What seems to be the problem?”

She immediately felt sick, not wanting to hear about his exploits with Dru. Choosing to ignore his taunts, she tried to remain cool.

“The problem-,” she replied through deep intakes of breath, “-is that I’ve been ignored for two days and given slop to eat! What’s the deal?”

Spike crouched down so he was level with the key-hole, a thoughtful expression on his face.

“Why, Slayer, you objected to the way I treated you before. All pansy-like. So, I thought I’d let you see what a real prisoner feels like. Tell me, pet.” His voice dipped dangerously low. “How does it feel?”

Positively seething, she did her best to keep her voice even.

“Oh, I see. You’re playing another of you’re little games. How mature. If it’s games you seek, why don’t you go play with Dru – and bring me Elise back.”

“`Fraid not,” he said coldly before walking away. “Life’s a bitch, Slayer. Get used to it.”

“Come back!” she cried, as she watched him disappear from view.

Life is a bitch. she thought morosely as she gazed at the greying porridge.

And don’t I know it.

******

Buffy licked her dry lips.

She had woken drowsily from a dream filled with heaping bowls of pasta followed by apple cobbler and cream.

She sighed dramatically.

The day had been painfully long, with no sight of food or Spike, and as for her friends – Pah! What friends? – they were nowhere to be seen.

So much for a rescue mission.

Nibbling on her bottom lip, she frowned as she flopped back onto her bed. She’d never felt so alone. And so goddamn hungry.

Being in solitaire had given her too much time to stew over her situation, she thought ruefully. Taking some deep, cleansing breaths, she tried to rationalize her friends’ behaviour. It wasn’t really the Scoobies’ fault, she mused.

Who could blame them?

She was trapped in a house, God knows where, by two master vampires and a dozen minions who would love a home delivery of humans.

She closed her eyes, thinking of her Watcher, her friends, her mom.

God, she missed her mom.

Buffy gulped, blinking away the prickling of tears, wishing for hugs and whispered comforts she longed to hear, so immersed in her thoughts, she failed to feel Spike approach.

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

Spike watched his golden beauty pouting on her bed. He felt the familiar ache between his legs and braced one hand on the doorframe, lightly banging his head against the heavy wood.

How can she even think I would look at Dru again after her? Does she not know how much I want her?

Gazing at her through the small peep-hole once more, he noticed how fragile his girl looked. Frowning, his glance flickered to the uneaten porridge bowl on the floor. Perhaps he was being too hard on her.

He sighed in resignation. How things changed.

Ripping through the throat of the last Slayer he had encountered filled him with indescribable euphoria, and a gripping bloodlust. He shuddered at the thought of killing the beautiful girl sprawled out on the bed.

His attraction to the Slayer had reached hidden, intense depths. He began to listen for her laugh and admire her fierceness, her strength to get through any situation. He loved catching glimpses of her silky skin when sparring, her pout when she didn’t win a fight.

Groaning internally, he thought back to the first time he’d touched her intimately, shuddering at the recollection of his golden goddess’s lips, bobbing up and down his cock as she licked him clean…

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

Buffy’s eyes shot open.

Spike.

She could feel the familiar tingles caress her back, making her squirm as she strained to listen for signs of him.

Arching upwards, she heard his low and muffled moan from behind the door. She grinned wickedly.

Time for revenge. Let’s see how you like playing second fiddle.

With a mischievous gleam in her eyes, she sat up and stretched, pulling her tank top taut against her nipples and husked sexily in a feminine, throaty sigh.

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

Spike lifted his head, his azure eyes narrowing as he watched Buffy twist her body, his eyes immediately drawn to her beautiful breasts outlined by her tight shirt. He watched as she pouted, glancing around the room, seemingly bored.

He felt his cock instinctively rise and begin to harden.

You’re killing me, luv.

He adjusted himself, eyes locked onto the slight figure that lay languidly on the bed. He felt like a bloody pervert, peering through a hole in the door, but by God, he wouldn’t – no – couldn’t look away. His breathing became laboured, watching with incredulous eyes as Buffy discarded her top followed by her pants.

“Geez, it’s so hot in here,” she complained. “Don’t vampires think of air conditioning?”

Watching as she wriggled uncomfortably atop the bed in nothing but a matching black lacy bra and barely-there knickers, his prick twitched behind his zipper.

She lay back, her hand drifting down to gently caress her thigh as she closed her eyes.

“Oh, Angel…” came her whispered voice, a secretive smile tugging at her lips. “I miss you, baby,” she moaned as she touched her breasts longingly.

Spike gasped. A wholly new and unfamiliar pain weighed on his chest, causing him to absently rub at it.

She thought of him?

He growled, his eyes flashing golden, shifting into his fangs.

How dare she think of fucking Peaches after they had been together?

She’s mine, goddamn it! She will think of me, and ONLY me once I’m through with her!

Clenching his fists, he tried to calm himself lest he bust down the door with his bare hands.

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

Buffy smirked at the all too familiar growl of displeasure she heard emanating from Spike.

Serves him right, she thought.

Time to turn this up a notch.

She moaned, letting her hand glide towards the apex of her thighs, toying with the lace edging of her panties before slithering beneath the hem.

“Ohhhh!” she exclaimed breathlessly, and couldn’t help picturing the platinum-haired vampire caressing her, his skilled cool fingers tracing her hot, feverish skin. Her hips soon joined her fingers in tandem as she slipped further into her fantasy, nearly forgetting herself and her plan when she spoke next.

“Sp… Angel. Oh! That feels so good.”

An almighty crash shocked her eyes wide open, darting over to see Spike’s silhouette at the door, his white hair shimmering in the borrowed light. With fangs dropped and blue eyes melted into gold, his low growling rumbled through the quiet room, promising violence and revenge for her behaviour.

Ruh-roh.

He stalked towards her; slow measured steps that made her shudder, noticing the predatory gleam in his eyes. She began to pant heavily when he stopped at the edge of the bed, snarling as she reached for the comforter as a barrier to his rage.

She lifted her chin and stared at him defiantly, deliberately covering her scantily clad body.

In a blurr of motion, Spike was on top of her, roaring mad and snapping at her neck with deadly intent. She began screaming, trying desperately to buck against his body in an effort to flee.

But he was too strong, too powerful.

Snatching her hands, he pinned them over her head, nipping at her exposed breasts as she thrashed wildly to free herself.

“What do you want, Spike?” she spat, shaking with both anger and fear. His rich chuckle made her shiver as she gazed into feral, golden eyes.

“Seems that you’ve forgotten who you belong to, pet,” he muttered, violently ripping her bra from her body, throwing it carelessly to the floor.

“Jealous are we?” she snapped despite her panic, trying to sit up, unaware she was thrusting her bare breasts at the angry vampire on top of her.

He shuddered, feeling the pointed nipples brush against his chest, and with a howl of frustration, chained Buffy back to the bed, like their first night together.

“You are MINE!” he roared furiously, and dragged an incisor across her supple breast, blood seeping out and trickling over her collarbone.

Delighted, he watched with fascination as the Slayer’s potent life-force bled onto bronzed skin before lapping it up fervently with his cool tongue. He could smell her growing fear, savouring her terror as she struggled in his arms, making him laugh, eager to torment her further.

“Am I scaring you, pet,” he asked mockingly.

“Has the Big Bad taken it too far?” He wrenched her lithe frame further upright with a bruising intensity.

Buffy bit back the urge to cry out in pain, instinctively knowing that it would only add to his perverse satisfaction. He watched her through narrowed eyes which glittered with amusement that she was helpless, a fly caught in his web.

Spike tilted his head to one side, squeezing her breast painfully, enjoying the way she winced from his cruel treatment. “I tried to be nice, you know?” he asked softly, then let out an evil chuckle. “Guess we’ll have to carry on doing it the hard way.”

Her expressive eyes widened in horror, and he licked his lips with anticipation. Slowly, he traced one hand down to her sex, stroking it through her skimpy knickers. Clever fingers pressed firmly over her sensitive nub to idly play until she grew wet, the scent of her arousal thick, his demon screaming for him to take her. Encouraged, he replaced the hand at her breast with his tongue, greedily sucking and biting at the plump mounds of flesh.

Buffy moaned against her will, growing excited at the vampire’s merciless attention to her nipples. Her traitorous body arched towards him, focussed solely on the sensations he elicited from deep within her womb, wanting more, needing more, anxious for him to increase her pleasure.

He smirked, pleased with her response and pressed harder on her clit, flicking and caressing the tiny button with growing urgency.

“Spike… Please!” she pleaded with him, and he grinned, biting her puckered flesh in playful nicks until she writhed in ecstasy.

“You want this?” he rasped as he dug his fingers into her waist, lowering his muscled body to rub his hardened length along her damp core.

His voice was steady and measured, but his body shook as he struggled for control.

“Admit you think of me, Buffy, admit that you want me… and I’ll make the ache go away,” he promised, golden eyes flashing with intensity.

Tonight, he did not wish to force himself on her.

Tonight was to be different.

“Ego much?” she gasped, trying to press herself closer to his deliciously cool skin, whimpering when he inched away. She reached for him but he caught her hand, stilling it as he gazed at her silently.

Spike knew he couldn’t deny himself much longer. His body trembled, yearned for her touch, his demon raging to hear her willingly submit – yet he continued to resist.

“Say it,” he urged, desperate to plunge inside her snug heat, bring them both to sweet release.

Buffy struggled momentarily then slumped back on the bed. She understood that if she professed her irrational hunger for Spike, she would be bound to him forever. She may never be free. Yet as her body pulsed with raw need, blood thumping so loudly in her ears it clouding her mind, defeat didn’t seem such a bad prospect.

Tentatively, she lifted her eyes to his to see the desire reflected there.

“I want you,” she whispered huskily and he stopped his retreat, cocking his head to one side, watching her with curious eyes.

“I know you do,” he taunted, his deliberate tone instantly angering the Slayer.

She stared at him incredulously as he straightened and treated her to a calculating grin.

Her blood ran cold and she shivered, realizing she’d just been duped. Oh no he didn’t! But one look at the fixed mirth in his expression told her he had.

“Still-” he began nonchalantly, “-now doesn’t really work for me, luv. It’s too close to my bedtime and I need my kip.” After waggling his brows at her, he hopped off the bed, straightening his jeans before swaggering towards the door, pausing as he grasped the handle.

“But don’t worry. I’ll take you soon enough. Make you mine.”

He bared his fangs, eyes darkening with anticipation, His pride having trumped his libido, he would settle for a cold shower tonight.

With a hateful laugh he made his grand exit, leaving a half naked Slayer screaming in sheer frustration, her yells resounding throughout the mansion.

Checkmate, pet.

Giles poured another drink into his tumbler and rubbed his eyes. He glanced at his watch, noting it was seven in the morning which meant the gang would be arriving shortly.


Time was of the essence.


He fingered the book that contained Buffy’s prophecy in all its glory. The heavy tome conjured an ominous air with its blood-red lining, recounting in gold calligraphy the most terrifying and dangerous fabled creatures that had ever walked the planet.


The Master, Glorificus, even The First.


Therefore, it was the last place he would have ever looked to find information on a Slayer.


It was quite marvellous really.


The prophecy revealed how one unique Slayer would be subjected to great trauma, which would lay the foundation for her transformation. Under this intense pressure, an intolerable situation where death is the likely end to her ordeal, the Slayer would find inner strength. Deep residing determination to live would spark changes that would alter the balance between light and darkness forever.


First, she would invoke her inner power to turn her deepest thoughts into reality.


“And all thy thoughts and all thy desires will be granted…”


As her power grew, so did her love for a Master Vampire, until…


“Vampyre and Slayre will be bound together. Once the union is consummated, their powers will multiply. The Slayre will be touched with darkness, until it swallows her completely. She will be lost to the cause.”


It seemed, for Buffy to survive the battle with William the Bloody, her purity, her goodness would be compromised. Giles grimaced. It was rather ironic.


As he sat alone nursing his brandy, he was plagued by one terrifying fear…


That it was too late to save the girl who he had begun to love as a daughter.



~~~*~~~



A few minutes before dawn broke, the noise and bustle outside his door indicated everyone had begun to arrive. Giles had plenty of time before they came, had thought long and hard, coming to the conclusion that manpower would be another vital component to his plan. Hence Cordelia Chase.


And Xander Harris, for that matter.


As the teenagers assembled around the table, their wide, young faces looking expectantly at him, he mentally groaned.


Eyes of the innocent. They have no idea how Buffy could either die, or be the death of us.


Angel materialised out of the shadows, hovering near the banister until with an impatient huff from Giles, he sheepishly sat down with the others; ignoring the scowl Xander directed his way.


Ah, yes. Angel. The vampire was yet one more equally important player if they were going to succeed.


“I thank you all for coming on such short notice,” Giles began solemnly. “As you all know, Buffy is still missing. Thus, I propose we begin to finalize a plan to rescue her before Spike can do her any harm.”


At the mention of his name, Angel growled, his eyes flashing golden as he thought of his petulant childe having Buffy at his mercy.


His Buffy.


“If you’ve quite finished?” Giles asked, looking pointedly at the angered vamp.


Angel lifted big brown eyes to his and nodded, wisely sobering from any possessive thoughts in lieu of the meeting.


“Buffy may be party to a prophecy which would result in her becoming a creature of darkness. It is therefore imperative that we rescue her before any kind of, of… ahem.” Removing his spectacles, he pinched the bridge of his nose from the less than savoury thought accompanying his next words. “Relationship develops between her and William the Bloody.”


“Hmmph!” Xander snorted, disbelief written on his face. “Colour me blind, but I don’t see Buffy exactly going all goo-goo eyed over fang face!”


“Well,” Giles replied impatiently, cleaning his glasses vigorously, “That’s the beauty of prophecies – they show the future – even if it’s downright absurd!”


“What’s the plan?” Angel’s deep tone cut the dispute between the two short, bringing the focus back to the severity of the situation.


“Quite simply, really. We find out where Spike is hiding. Once this is established, we storm his lair as soon as possible, preferably at the crack of dawn,” he explained briskly, knowing they couldn’t afford to waste another day.

“Everyone must help clear a pathway of sorts, to allow Angel to distract Spike whilst I retrieve Buffy and bring her back.” He scanned the room, looking at the frightened faces before him, minus one brooding vampire, of course.


“Surprise is key in this operation. If they are able to mount any type of defence against our attack, we may never get the chance to save her again.”



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


Buffy howled her frustration into the pillows then sat up, grabbed the bowl of porridge and hurled it across the floor in her latest wave of destruction. She yelped as the action strained her arm, bruised from the night before.

Peering down at the skin, it had turned an angry shade of blue, a colourful reminder of how brutal Spike could really be.


She had misjudged him.


Grown accustomed to his playful side, she forgot how forceful he’d been during the first days of her captivity. He’d been so possessive, dominant, intent on hitting the point home over and over again just who she belonged to.


Him!


She shivered. Perhaps it would be better not to defy him for a few days. He was obviously willing to fight her into submission, or rather beat her in any number of torturous and painful ways no doubt. No, right now it would be far better to keep her mouth shut while she hatched a plan to escape.


And escape she would, she thought fiercely.


She just had to think of other ways to break free now that she realized the limits of her tele-kinetic powers. They only seemed to work if she could see or visualise the item she wanted to move. Without seeing what type of locks and bolts they had on the door, she was unable to will them open.


She stiffened as she heard the distinct footfalls that could only belong to Spike stomping through the hallway, coming for her. The door suddenly flung open and he strolled in casually, trademark smirk in place.


“Evening, Slayer.”


His voice washed over her skin, caressing her and she fought to ignore her body’s reactions. Instead, she threw him a dirty look and turned away, earning her a most unhappy growl.


“Look at me when I’m talkin’ to you, Slayer,” he hissed, taking a few steps towards her.


“No,” was her sulky response, and resisting the urge to stick out her tongue, she continued staring blankly at the wall.


He moved forward quickly, wrenching one small arm behind her back, pressing her down into the bed.


“Buffy, Buffy, Buffy. Always trying to defy me. If punishing you won’t change your attitude, maybe punishing someone else will.”


“No,” she whispered, terror gripping her body making her heart race. He laughed in that malicious, evil way of his that told her how much he enjoyed lording his power over her, taunting her, making her squirm.


Why-oh-why did she do the very thing she told herself she wouldn’t and defy him?


“Now, who shall I pick? Red-head? Nah, too easy. What about Rupes? I hear your fussy old Watcher likes to stay late at the library. Isn’t that right, pet?”


“Please don’t,” she choked out, tears trailing down her cheeks. “I’ll.. I’ll be good. I promise.”


Spike smirked as he released her arm to slide his hands underneath her trembling body, pulling her upright, flush to his chest.


“I know you’ll play nice, Slayer,” he hissed by her ear. “You’ll do whatever’s necessary because it’s your duty to protect.”


He tenderly brushed a lock of hair out of her face, yet there was no warmth in his eyes. When he released her from his embrace, she huddled at the end of the bed.


“Now, how can you make nice to me for being such a stuck up bitch?” He tapped his finger against his chin before giving her an evil grin as if grasping a particularly naughty thought. “How about you give me a strip tease, hmm? Just like the one you gave me last night.”


Shocked, she gazed up at him. He knew she had been teasing him all along?


He smirked coldly. “Oh, yes. I knew what you were up to. Turns out… don’t much care if it was an act or for real. His name will never be uttered by you again – do I make myself clear?”


She nodded dumbly, ducking her head to avoid his gaze. Sauntering towards her, he crawled on to the bed to sit, his back against the headboard, arms folded behind his head with an expression of smug triumph crawling his arrogant features.


“Now. Where’s my strip tease?”


Buffy worried her lip before heaving a small, defeated sigh. She had no choice. She had pushed him too far and now he was pushing back, testing her boundaries to the extreme. This was all her fault really. If she weren’t so stubborn, maybe greeted him with a submissive smile when he first arrived, she wouldn’t be in this position.

Hands shaking, she lifted the bottom of her jumper, sliding it over her head. Spike’s eyes darkened with lust, growling at the peach satin bra that hugged her figure. Taking a deep breath, she unbuttoned her jeans, hurriedly shimmying out of the denim.


“Take it all off,” he ordered huskily, inching forward.


She opened her mouth to protest, but shut it just as quickly, knowing better than to argue now. With unsure fingers, she brushed the bra straps down her shoulders until finally manoeuvring to undo the clasp behind.

She watched Spike’s eyes flicker from blue to gold and back again, lingering over her exposed breasts.


Her nipples pebbled against the cold air in the room and he groaned at the mouth watering sight, eager to touch and sample the bounty presented to him.


Wanting to get it over with as quickly as possible, Buffy stood and tugged down her matching underwear. Ashamed, she lifted her hands to cover herself but he growled in warning so she dropped her arms listlessly and knelt back on the bed, wishing she could die.


Spike rolled off the bed, walking slowly around her. His lustful gaze made heat flood her face as she shifted uncomfortably. He chuckled, a low unpleasant sound which sent terror through her veins. What would he do to her now?


Trailing one finger across the top of her breasts, he paused to dip deep into her luscious cleavage. My God, what a vision she was! Blushing like the innocent virgin she was. He laughed again, thrilled to be the one tasting these delights.


And taste he would.


No, Angelus would never have a chance. The Slayer would be tainted goods before he finished with her. Tainted and spoiled for the rest of her sorry life. He frowned.


Except… he didn’t want to take her ruthlessly. No, Spike wanted to show her pleasure, pleasure only he could give. He wanted to hear her moans and know that they weren’t false or forced, but came from the deep lust that would grip them both.


Bloody hell. He was going about this all wrong. Again!


Jerking his hand away from her breasts, he shakily gathered up the comforter and wrapped it around her body. Her questioning eyes gave him pause, but he shook his head, unable to explain. They sat in silence for a few minutes, before he began to speak.


“I don’t want to force you into this. You just… you just make me so mad, pet. You know how to push all my buttons… buttons I didn’t even know existed anymore.” Shoving his hands in his jeans, he was desperate to be back in her good graces.


“Can we stop playing games?” he asked softly. “I don’t want it to be like this with us anymore. I like you, you like me – it’s just that simple.”


She managed a shaky smile at that.


Trust Spike to give it to her straight.


“But it isn’t that simple. I shouldn’t like you, should I?” Teary green eyes gazed up at him, making his chest hurt. “I feel so... torn. Like I’m betraying my duty as a Slayer, letting all my friends and family down.”


He nodded in understanding, noting her inner battle for composure and her sudden quickening heartbeat. “I know.”


Fuck it, he thought dejectedly.


Forgetting their argument, he scooped her into his arms, and pulled the duvet over them, causing her to snuggle into his embrace and sigh contently.


He understood exactly how she felt.


No self respecting vampire should have to feel this bleeding ache in his chest when the Slayer got upset and confused, shouldn’t want to ease her pain, fight tooth and nail just to put a smile on her face. A smile which seemed to shine so much brighter when he was the cause of it.


“I want to be with you Spike,” she confessed quietly.


Her whispered admission visibly shocked him, his eyes narrowing as he stared intently at her, searching for any indication she was being anything less than honest.


But her heartbeat remained steady, her beautiful eyes unblinking as she held his gaze.


She wants to be with me.


Relief and joy coursed through his body and he hauled her closer, raining down kisses all over her face until she managed a shaky grin. “Say it again,” he urged huskily, running his hands up and down her body.

Cupping his cheek, she gazed into his eyes. “I want to be with you, Spike. I just don’t know where we go from here.”


Nodding in response, he began stroking her back in a tender gesture meant to assuage her fears for which she was thankful.


“I know, pet. And there is no easy solution, but if we work together, I think we can get through whatever hurdles we face.”


She could see how passionate he was about her. The love and affection warming his eyes reassured her that she was making the right choice and she felt like a huge weight had been lifted from her. She didn’t have to feel guilty about falling in love with him. She couldn’t help her feelings, and now that she knew these feelings were reciprocated, she felt like an equal again. She was no longer playing by Spike’s rules.


They would make the rules up together.


He grinned down at her upturned face, tracing the contours of her lovely face with his fingertips. “God, you’re gorgeous,” he muttered.


Burrowing closer in his embrace, she blushed. “Do you really think so?”


He lifted her chin up until they were face to face. “Of course I do. You’re a bloody vision. My vision,” he amended. And with that, he pressed his lips to hers.


She gasped in surprise but allowed him to kiss her more deeply, swirl his tongue against hers. Her small hands crept up to link behind his neck, fingers twining and playing in his hair as she drew him in deeper. Highly aroused and greedy for more, he kissed her with increased urgency until she pulled away for oxygen.


“Sorry, pet. Forgot you have to breathe.” Chuckling, he rested his forehead against hers as he gazed into her desire darkened eyes.


She smiled back weakly, lightly caressing his sculptured cheekbones with a feather light touch. As he purred at her actions, the slow rumbles that filtered through her skin made her body to hum in response.


“Play fair,” he muttered as he dotted cool kisses over her brow and forehead, playfully swatting her hand away.


At this she giggled, feeling happy after resolving their feud. Eager to make up for lost time she slipped her hand under the covers to slowly lift his shirt. He groaned as she agonisingly took her time revealing each inch of flesh to her hot little hands, idly making patterns on his skin.


“And where would the fun be in that?” She laughed, continuing to stroke his chest.


Shuddering, he closed his eyes at the delicious torture, fighting the urge to rip his top off, to feel their skin pressed against each other.


“Buffy,” he rasped, clutching her tighter. “I know this is madness - a vamp and a Slayer. But by God I will make you happy. I promise…”


She found herself suddenly rolled over with a highly aroused master vampire straddling her. Before she could catch her bearings, he’d captured her lips once more, effectively cutting any more conversation short. He kissed her longer and harder, groaning as he tasted her again.


God. I want to devour her.


This hunger for her only seemed to deepen every time he touched her, kissed her. She mewled when he finally released her lips, rubbing herself along his body.


“Ahhh, please… please don’t do that,” he pleaded, closing his eyes with the delicious agony of her moving sinfully against him.


“Why?” she asked coquettishly as she undid the remaining buttons on his shirt.


“I won’ stop” he warned, groaning as her skilful hands turned him incoherent.


Regret and longing filled her, but she shook it away. “So what happens now?”


“Buffy stops teasing me?” he asked hopefully as she walked her fingers up his now fully bare chest.


Nodding, she answered, “For now.” Sighing, she nestled back in his embrace and yawned widely.


“Sleepy pet?” he rumbled, stroking her hair.


“Mmm-hmm. I think you wore me out…” she trailed off, falling into an easy slumber.


Above, Spike chuckled.


“Just you wait for what’s to come, sweetheart. Just you wait.”