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Chapter Six


Spike had no idea of the time. He’d woken from his nightmare ravaged dream while it was still dark. Taking advantage of the lack of light, he dressed in the clothes that Dawn had brought for him. Tara had left them carefully folded on the floor beside the bed. He didn’t want to see his mutilated body and shuddered as he tucked himself inside the jeans. Swallowing hard against the bile that that rose in his throat, Spike sat on the chair that Tara had used. Pulling back the drapes, he stared out into the night. Where was TwinSpike? Had he been to check on him yet? Were the others already dead by his hand?


The vampire shook his head. No, he couldn’t have discovered what was going on yet. If he had found out then he would have come for Spike before killing the others – that bastard would make him watch – he was sure of it. Tara had left three bags of blood and Spike walked over and drained them all. His stomach cramped in protest at the lack of nutrients in the pig’s blood and he gasped as he doubled over until the spasm passed. Panting slightly, he resumed his place at the window, waiting there until the light of dawn forced him to pull the drapes together once more.


He didn’t want to see Buffy. Didn’t want to look in her eyes and see her pity. Pity would be there, of that he had no doubt and the thought of it churned the blood in his stomach. He was no longer the creature she had loved. He was weak, broken and it felt like he would never get back to how he was before…before that bastard ruined him.


The sound of footsteps hurrying up the driveway caught Spike’s attention and he rose from the chair, took a couple of strides and then turned around and sat back down heavily. His mind was in turmoil. A large part of him wanted to get down those stairs as fast as he could and fling himself at Buffy; he ached to feel her warm body against his, but another part of him told him to keep cool, not to show how much he had longed to see her again when he was being held captive. He just needed to make sure that she and Niblet were safe from his doppelganger and then… He didn’t really want to think of what then.


He heard Buffy come into the house and ask Tara where he was. Footsteps thundered upstairs and Spike stood once more, holding himself tense and shoving his hands into his pockets. The door was flung open and there she was – the love of his whole existence – the lover who hadn’t realised she was shagging the twin. The bitterness of his thoughts made him turn his face away as she strode towards him. He knew that his emotions showed on his face no matter how he tried not to let them.


“Spike! Oh my God, Spike!”


And then she was there. Her arms around him, hugging him with Slayer strength. She mistook his flinch, thinking that she’d hurt him, but it was his unbeating heart that was searing with pain. He could still smell TwinSpike on her. He closed his eyes, knowing that she would have had to sleep beside him after Dawn told her the truth, but part of him had wanted the Slayer just to have staked the bastard and then come for him.


“I didn’t hurt you, did I?” she asked letting her arms fall away from his body and taking a step back.


Spike didn’t trust himself to speak, and so kept his eyes averted, shook his head slightly, and widened the space between them a little more. He could practically feel her eyes looking over him; he shifted uncomfortably and glanced gratefully at the doorway when Dawn walked slowly through it.


“Hey,” she said softly as she hugged him gently.


Without thinking Spike put his arms around her. A loud gasp reminded him of his mistake and he gritted his teeth as he glanced over Dawn’s head at Buffy. Her mouth was wide open and her gaze was fixed on his left hand. When she caught him looking at her she quickly looked away. Spike felt sick to his stomach. She obviously couldn’t bear the sight of him.


“So what are we going to do?” asked Buffy. She’d moved across the room and had her back to him as she spoke.


Before Spike could speak, Dawn pulled out of his arms and snarled, “Kill the bastard!”


It was a toss up as to who was more shocked by Dawn’s outburst, but neither Buffy nor Spike contradicted her.


Silence hung heavy in the room until Spike asked where Willow was, worried that she hadn’t wanted to help him.


“Downstairs talking with Tara,” said Dawn.


“Are you ready to go downstairs?” asked Buffy, still not looking at Spike.


“Um…yeah.”


She marched out of the room without a backwards glance. Spike caught Dawn staring at him and quickly looked away. Not quickly enough. She rested a hand on his arm.


“She’s just so mad, she wants to kill him. She loves you, Spike. You know that she does.”


Spike shrugged slightly. “Best get down there.” He tried to prevent Dawn from holding his left hand, but short of snatching it violently away there was nothing he could do. He shuddered as his three fingers wrapped around her hand. It felt so wrong.


The others were in the kitchen and Spike sat at the table without meeting anyone’s eyes. He loathed the way that they’d all stopped talking when he’d limped in.


“So why didn’t you just stake him after Niblet told you what he was?” Spike said bleakly into the silence.


“We…He…” spluttered Buffy.


He stared at her coldly and raised an eyebrow. “He what?”


Buffy glanced imploringly at Willow, who obliged by stepping in.


“We thought that if we killed him that it might kill you too,” she explained.


“You’d all be safe then wouldn’t you? So why didn’t you do it?”


Buffy whirled around to face him. “We don’t want you dead!”


Spike only heard the ‘we’. He’d said it hoping for an ‘I’. He closed his eyes, knowing that he wasn’t being fair, but it was hard for him to be objective when his jeans fitted a bit more loosely at his crotch. When he opened them, Tara was the only one looking at him. He smiled at her weakly but could see that she wasn’t convinced.


“So what’s the plan then?”


“We trap him in the basement until we figure out how to get rid of him properly. Tara said that you told her TwinSpike was big with the magics?” said Willow.


“TwinSpike?” said Spike. They’ve given him a fucking name!


“Well, we had to call him something,” snapped Buffy defensively.


“'Bastard' not do it for you then, love? ‘Cause that’s what I called him most of the time?”


The others gasped but Buffy just said softly. “It’s just a name. Won’t matter what he was called when he’s gone, will it?”


Spike shook his head.


Buffy sat down and closed her eyes. She shuddered as she thought of all the times that she’d… How could she have not known? She opened them and met Spike’s eyes before looking away, the guilt she felt was eating her up inside and it hurt too much to see the pain in Spike’s face.


Spike took her glancing away as another rejection. He rubbed his left hand over his face and then swiftly put it out of sight when he realised what he’d done. Getting up from his seat to avoid seeing the pity on their faces, he stood by the window and peered out. The sun didn’t reach this side of the house and he could see the bright flowers in the garden waving gently in the breeze.


Until falling in love with the Slayer, Spike had never really missed going out in the sun. He’d belonged to the night and thrived there. The monochrome world suited him better than the Technicolor one ever had. But now…he yearned to walk beside Buffy in the sunlight. He wanted to see the way the light danced off her hair and not content himself with lurking in the shade. Spike realised with a jolt that he had had enough.


His love for the Slayer was as unnatural a creature as he was himself and he shouldn’t be enticing her into the dark. No wonder she hadn’t realised that she was bedding someone else. There had been plenty of rough sex between them. How could she be expected to tell the difference? She didn’t love him – she simply thought that she needed him – thought that a human wouldn’t be enough for her, but she was wrong. Her dreams should be of fat grandchildren and white picket fences, not of aging while her lover remained the same. How could they have ever thought that they would be able to be together?


He forced himself to turn his attention back to their plan. It seemed too elaborate to work. Typically, they seemed to favour the complicated but it didn’t matter. When the doppelganger was trapped in the basement, Spike intended on staking the git himself the first chance he got.


It was decided that Tara and Willow would arrive at the house just after Buffy pretended to get home from work. Working together, the two witches were sure that they could counter any magics that TwinSpike threw at them. Once he was secure, they’d call Dawn and Spike and then hit research mode until they were certain the twin’s destruction wouldn’t adversely affect Spike.


The others left so Spike and Dawn made their way to the living room and channel hopped until they found a program that they could agree on.


*~*~*~*


TwinSpike was feeling pretty pleased with himself. He’d resisted the urge to torment Spike some more. Leaving him tied up like that for a few days would really be painful. He grinned at the memory. Then, as he wandered around the tunnels he’d happened across a kid, a boy of only thirteen, who’d climbed down into the sewer on a dare. TwinSpike had growled ferociously as he grabbed him, purely for the benefit of the friends he could hear at the surface.


The boy had pissed himself with fear as TwinSpike held him down and bit deep into his femoral artery. The kid’s screams when he’d ripped off his jeans and had a bit of fun were so fucking satisfying that TwinSpike had come in his jeans as if he were a kid himself. The body was so torn up that TwinSpike fully expected stories of an alligator in the sewers to be splashed all over the papers if it were ever found. He’d carried the remains for two miles before dumping it. With a bit of luck it wouldn’t be found for a while.


He rubbed his belly as he opened the door to Revello Drive. He had made a bit of a pig of himself but the boy had just been so tasty. How the hell Spike could live on that animal blood he’d never know. Out of the corner of his eye, saw the light glint of the blade of an axe but he had no time to react and the flat of the blade hit him on the side of the head and knocked him into the kitchen. He fell in a crumpled heap on the floor, unconscious and the three women leapt into action.


By the time that he’d awakened, he was securely shackled to the wall of the basement by his neck, ankles and wrists. The first thing he saw was the Slayer. The second was that he had been stripped naked.


He grinned at Buffy and tilted his head on one side. “Never thought you were into bondage, love. Should have said sooner – think of all the fun that we’ve missed out on.”


Buffy strode towards him and slapped his face hard enough to make his head crack against the wall.


“Just shut up!”


Wincing and working his jaw, he glared at her defiantly, chanted a phrase and waved his fingers in her direction. His brow furrowed when nothing happened. It was Buffy’s turn to smile.


“The basement is a now a magic free zone,” she stated. “You can’t use it in here.”


“But neither can your bloody pet witches,” snarled TwinSpike, beginning to realise that he was in trouble.


Buffy glanced to the right and he followed her gaze until he spotted the sharply honed axe. “Won’t need magic to kill you. I can do that part myself.”


“You get me all hot when you talk like that.” TwinSpike pointedly looked down at his erect cock.


Buffy shuddered. “You disgust me.” She turned on her heel and began to climb the stairs.


“Not true, pet,” TwinSpike mocked. “You’re disgusted with yourself for enjoying what I did to you.”


She quickened her pace and slammed the door when she stepped out into the kitchen.


Not true. Not true. If she repeated it enough, she’d believe it.


*~*~*~*


Spike and Dawn arrived at Revello Drive to find Willow, Tara, and Buffy all gathered in the living room surrounded by books. Willow’s laptop was on and Tara was busily tapping away at its keypad. To Spike’s relief, Xander wasn’t there; the last thing he needed was pity from him.


“Where is he?” demanded Dawn. “Can I go and hack him into pieces?”


“That’ll be my job, love,” said Spike softly, though the fact that he was so close to his tormentor was almost unbearable.


“No. It’s mine,” said Buffy getting up and walking over to Spike.


She ran her hand up his chest, checking his expression carefully to make sure that she wasn’t touching him anywhere that was sore. Her eyes widened as she felt the metal plate over his heart. He made no attempt to stop her when she pulled his t-shirt up and touched it.


“Does it hurt?” she whispered


“Not now.”


“Why did he do it?”


Spike took her hand in his right and moved it from his chest. “So he couldn’t dust me if I pissed him off.”


Her hands wandered to the thick metal band around his neck. “Was this—”


“That was just to tie me up with,” interrupted Spike.


“Oh,” she said weakly. “Did he do anything else?”


Spike shook his head. “My hands and my foot, is all.”


He caught Tara’s eye and nodded fractionally to acknowledge her silence on the matter.


“Spike, I’m s—”


“So have you found anything yet?” asked Spike too brightly, moving away from Buffy and sitting down.


Buffy paused for a moment and then sat on the couch opposite where Spike was sitting.


“We think since he was created by magic then he has to be destroyed by magics too,” said Willow. “Only we’re not sure how yet.”


“But you said that magics won’t work in the basement since you warded it,” Buffy said frowning.


Spike got up and walked towards the kitchen.


“They won’t,” explained Willow. “I’ll have to disable the wards first.”


Buffy leaned forward in her seat. “That’s too dangerous. There must be another way.”


Glancing over his shoulder, Spike saw that no one was taking any notice of him, so he limped as swiftly as he could to the door to the basement. He paused with his hand on the handle.


The bastard can’t hurt me now.


Raising his chin, he gritted his teeth and opened the door. Hating the fact that he had to hold onto the hand rail to steady himself, he slowly made his way down.


“Well, well, well. What have we got here?” TwinSpike sneered. “I didn’t think you’d have the balls to come down to see me. Oh, that’s right. You haven’t got the balls, have you?” He licked his lips. “I’ll take your other one once I’m out of here.”


Spike shuddered and looked anywhere but at his double. “Shut up.” His voice wasn’t the commanding growl he had intended; it came out weak and tremulous.


“Ooh! I’m quaking here. So masterful aren’t you?”


Spike forced himself to lift his head and meet the ice cold blue eyes of TwinSpike. “I’m not the one who’s trapped anymore,” he whispered.


If he thought that his words would have an effect on the doppelganger, then Spike was mistaken. TwinSpike didn’t so much as blink.


“But no matter what happens to me. I’ve still won and you know it.”


“You can’t win when you’re dead.”


TwinSpike grinned, curling his tongue behind his top teeth for a moment before saying, “You know that I can. You know that I already have.”


Spike clenched his left fist and brought it up to chest height.


“You’ll remember me forever,” goaded TwinSpike. “Every time you raise that fist and every time you scratch your pathetic solitary bollock.”


Backing away, Spike lowered his hand and stuffed it on his pocket.


“What’s Buffy think of the new you? You smell of her but only a little, so I’m guessing no big reunion so far?”


“Piss off,” mumbled Spike still backing up.


“Look at you. You’re beyond pathetic. Does she know how you offered yourself to me? Has she told you that she’s had the best sex she’s ever had in these last few weeks?”


“Not true.” It wasn’t much more than a whisper.


“Should have done you a favour,” goaded TwinSpike as Spike retreated up the wooden staircase, “and gouged your eyes out. Save her having to look at all that hurt and save you from seeing her guilty looks when she wishes it was still me in her bed! Save you from her pity when you can’t fulfil her like I did!”


Spike ran the last few steps and slammed the door shut behind him. He took a deep shuddering inhalation of breath and tried to stop the shakes that were threatening to make his legs give way altogether. After a couple of minutes, he walked unsteadily to a chair at the kitchen table. It scraped on the tiled floor as he pulled it out and then he sagged down into it, resting his elbows on the table and his head in his hands.


He leapt six inches in the air when a quiet voice spoke behind him.


“Are you okay?” Tara walked around so she could take the chair opposite.


A quick glance at her face told Spike that she knew he was anything but okay. She was the quietest of the Scoobies and noticed more because of it.


“Whatever he said it’s not true,” she added when he remained silent.


Spike met her eye and held her gaze. “I think that you and I know that it is.” He looked over his shoulder towards the living room; he could hear the others talking. “He’s done a better job on me than if he’d killed me.”


Tara reached out and took one of Spike’s hands in both of hers. “You’re strong, Spike. Stronger than you think. You’ll come through this.”


He smiled at her and looked down at their joined hands. “Yeah,” he whispered. “’Course I will.”


She squeezed his hand and then left him alone. Spike knew that he’d avoided her eye because she would see that he didn’t mean it. He let his mutilated left hand rest on his mutilated groin. How could he exist like this? Why couldn’t he just go down there and chop the bastard into little biddy pieces whether it dusted the double or not? Tara had got it so wrong. He wasn’t strong – not anymore.


*~*~*~*


The research was done. The spells written down and double checked. They would do it in the morning. Willow was practically asleep on her feet and needed to be well rested to be able to finish what she’d started when she had created the doppelganger. Willow and Tara headed out the door together and Dawn yawned theatrically and announced that she was going to bed, leaving Buffy and Spike alone in the living room.


Buffy shifted uncomfortably in her seat and smiled shyly at Spike. “Well, that was subtle.”


“Yeah.”


Spike began to fiddle with his fingers then stopped when he counted how many were there. He shoved his left hand into his pocket.


Getting up from the chair, Buffy walked over and sat on the couch next to Spike. She couldn’t fail to notice that he moved ever so slightly away from her as she did.


God, he hates me for not noticing.


“Why do you keep doing that?” she asked gently.


“Doing what?” said Spike, staring at his feet and trying not to think of how one boot was far too wide for the remains of his foot. For a second, he wished the bastard had blinded him, least then he wouldn’t see the handiwork of his double every time he looked at a part of himself.


“Hiding you hand.”


Spike swallowed hard and glanced to the side, but said nothing. She reached out and held his right hand. The hole in its palm was small and she ran her fingers over it, noticing how Spike cringed when she did.


“Does it hurt?” She lifted it to her lips and placed a kiss over it.


He shook his head.


Buffy let go of his right and tugged gently at his left elbow, encouraging him to withdraw his hand from his pocket. Spike’s throat was so tight that it was a good job that he didn’t need to breathe. He let her take his hand and shuddered as she stroked where his digit ought to be. He thought that he was going to vomit when she began to place kisses all over it. It wasn’t right. She shouldn’t be doing it. Moaning softly he tried to pull it away but she held it tight.


“Please,” he whispered, unsure of quite what he meant. He couldn’t bear her to touch it, but couldn’t bear the thought of her stopping either.


She used her free hand to cup his chin and turn his face towards hers. He still couldn’t meet her eye. He shivered as he felt her warm breath on his face, and couldn’t help but look up. Buffy leaned closer and pressed her lips gently against his and suddenly he was lost, he couldn’t have pushed her away if his very existence depended on it.


Her tongue played along his teeth and without conscious thought Spike opened his mouth and groaned as it quested. Buffy shifted closer and wrapped her arm around him. She put her hand beneath his shirt and he jumped when she met his flesh as if her touch burned. Finally, he managed to move. He put his left hand behind her head and pulled her in for a hard kiss, twining his fingers through her hair.


Buffy twisted free from his grip and unsuccessfully hid a small grimace at the look of hurt in Spike’s eyes before he let her go and looked away. He’d never thought he was worthy of her love for him, she knew that, but the irony was it was the other way around – she wasn’t worthy of such adoration. She needed to dispel his fears and dispel them quickly.


She took a step towards the staircase and then glanced back. “Aren’t you coming then?”


“I thought…I mean…”



Holding out her hand, she said softly, “Come to bed with me, Spike. I need you.”


As his cock twitched in his jeans, Spike stared at her. She waggled her fingers to encourage him off the couch and like a robot he stood up and walked on stiff legs towards her. Taking his hand in hers she led him upstairs to the bedroom.


Spike covered her hand as she reached for the light switch. When she glanced at him, he shook his head slightly. He wasn’t sure how far he could manage to take this and knew that light wasn’t going to help his cause. With Spike watching intently, Buffy began to slowly unbutton her blouse. She cupped her pert breasts as she unclipped the clasp on her bra.


“Oh, God, Buffy.”


He fell to his knees, hands clutching her hips and buried his face against her stomach. She squeezed her eyes shut as hot tears pricked at her lids. She pushed her blouse from her shoulders and stroked Spike’s hair. They remained like that for some time, then she gently urged him to lie on the bed.


Spike rubbed his hands over her perfect body – the body that he knew so well. He knew every tiny scar. She opened the button and zipper on her pants and then smiled up at him.


“I need your help in getting these off- they’re a tight fit.”


Spike tugged on the pants as she raised her hips and wriggled until they were near her knees. He then pulled each leg free one at a time and tossed the clothing to the floor.


“This looks kind of unfair,” complained Buffy with a pout. She ran a hand over her body and let it come to a stop between her thighs. “I’m all naked and you’re…not.”


Hesitantly, Spike took off his shirt, his eyes never leaving Buffy’s. He gained confidence when her eyes didn’t stray to the metal in his chest but kept locked onto his. He growled as he struggled to kick off his boots and was grateful that Tara had bandaged his right foot. Buffy’s hands went to the waistband of his jeans but he distracted her by slipping his fingers inside her.


His half hard cock suddenly stood up and took notice and Spike almost wept with relief. Buffy moaned and arched her back as his fingers found the mark. He began to slide down the bed but she stilled him when she placed a hand on his shoulder.


“I want you inside me,” she whispered.


Spike fumbled at his button fly like a kid on his first time. If Buffy was surprised that instead of taking them off he simply released his erection, then she didn’t show it. She wrapped her small hand around his shaft and licked her lips as she pumped it slowly.


“Christ,” he croaked. It had been so long. He’d dreamt of this each time that bastard had been ramming his cock into his arse.


Laughing softly, Buffy guided him to her opening. She watched him close his eyes as the head of his cock was slowly pushed inside. Buffy felt Spike tremble when he was fully seated in her. She grabbed his neck, pulled him to her for a kiss.


“Baby, that feels so good,” she murmured. She shifted to gently encourage him to move and put her hands on his backside.


Gathering his scrambled wits, Spike pulled out almost completely before thrusting into her again. He set a slow rhythm to try to make it last as long as possible, the tingling at the base of his spine told him that this wasn’t going to take too long.


Raising her hips, Buffy began to force the pace. She wrapped her legs around him and kissed his neck, then worried at the flesh with her teeth. Spike howled and came hard. His face shifted for the first time since the magics controlling his game face had disappeared. He was brought back to reality with a thud when his bare gums met her flesh. With a whimper he morphed back, relieved to find that he could.


“Shh, baby. It’s okay,” said Buffy.


He tried to pull away but the Slayer still had her legs around him and she hugged him to her chest, effectively immobilising him. She only loosened her grip when she felt him relax into her once more.


His softening cock slipped free and Buffy allowed him to roll to lie at her side.


“I’m sorry that you didn’t—”


“Tonight was about you,” interrupted Buffy. “I wanted it just to be you.” Because I’ve been in this bed each night with the thing that has hurt you so badly. I’ll never be able to make it up to you.


Spike pushed a tendril of hair away from her face and saw tears glistening in her eyes. He had to force himself not to get up and get out of the room. He’d never left her unsatisfied before. TwinSpike was right. Seeing her pity wasn’t what he wanted. What did he expect; he was only half of what he had previously been.


Buffy tried to snuggle up to Spike but the metal plate in his chest reminded her of what was in the basement and of what Spike had been through while she… So in the end she turned her back to him and let him spoon her.


Spike held her until she was asleep and then gently got out of bed and padded downstairs, drawn like a piece of iron to a magnet, to what was shackled in the basement.





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