Chapter Five
Buffy huddled deeper into her nest of blankets, her teeth chattering from the chill. She had been staring disconsolately at the shiny face of the dial around her neck for some time, her blue hand perfectly in line with Spike’s red one.
Both pointers had moved ever-so-slightly around the dial, and Buffy could only conclude that the day in Little Waterton had been part of the game, one of the challenges. A challenge that had left her feeling empty, abused and violated.
She sighed, and squeezed her eyes shut; wishing she could just click her heels together and be back home, with no memory of what had happened between her and Spike.
Spike. He had stormed off not long after they had come round from whatever magic the gamemasters had used on them, apparently unwilling to put up with the insults and accusations Buffy had thrown at him.
She had been caught in the moment, forgetting that it had probably been Gavriel and Natan who had orchestrated the whole thing. She had taken one look at Spike, and seen red, punching him in the nose without a second thought.
Looking back, Buffy realised that Spike had looked as bewildered and lost as she had, underneath his customary smirk and sneer. After her first punch connected with his nose, he had blocked her second and third attempts, before turning in a swirl of black leather and running off into the dark, a muttered, “We’re in the same bloody boat here!” echoing behind him.
Buffy’s eyes blurred, and she laid her head on her knees, not making any attempt to brush them away. She didn’t even know why she was crying, she was the Slayer, for god’s sake! A silly thing like this shouldn’t bring her to tears.
But she felt violated. Dirty. It was a repeat of Willow’s will-be-done spell, only a thousand times worse. Under the influence of Willow’s magic, she and Spike had been engaged, in love and unable to keep their hands off each other.
This, though… they had been married. Husband and wife, and everything that entailed. Buffy’s face burned as she remembered the events of the morning. Sex. Sex with Spike. The gamemasters had forced her into a situation where she’d willingly slept with Spike, and she felt disgusted with herself.
On one level, she knew that it was not her fault – and she could grudgingly admit that it wasn’t Spike’s fault either. But another, less rational part of her, felt that she should have realised what was going on sooner, that Spike should have known.
It shouldn’t have happened. She hadn’t wanted it to happen. But it had, and now she didn’t know how to feel. And no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t stop thinking about it.
Not only the sex, though that occupied a large part of her thoughts, but the rest of it. The happy, suburban marriage. The run-of-the-mill job, the perfect little house and family-sized car. For the first time in as long as she could remember, she had felt like a normal woman, with no responsibilities beyond avoiding her boss and remembering which groceries to buy.
Buffy sighed. There was a small part of her that still longed for that kind of life, and it pained her to know that it would probably never happen. She was the Slayer, and they were always destined to be alone.
She looked around once more at the shabby walls of the lean-to she’d found earlier, conveniently near to where she’d woken-up from the distorted reality of Little Waterton. There had been a bowl of water, and a small loaf of bread next to a pile of ratty blankets, but she had ignored them, not giving into the hunger or thirst that was gnawing at her stomach.
Buffy huddled deeper into the blankets, and pulled her knees into her chest. A few moments later, she had fallen into an uncomfortable slumber.
***
There was something watching her. Buffy had awoken a few minutes earlier, and when she had sensed the presence of something else nearby, kept her eyes firmly closed.
She took a couple of deep breaths, and then used her Slayer senses to try and get a bearing on who – or what – was in the lean-to with her.
It was a few feet to her right, perfectly still and emitting no sound. It didn’t feel particularly demony, there was no tingle at the back of her neck like when a vampire was close, nor the odd gut-wrench she was used to feeling whenever something otherworldly approached.
But there was definitely something there.
Buffy took a few more moments to mentally catalogue all of the resources she had on hand. Bowl of water? Check. Stale loaf of bread? Check. Anything that would actually be useful? A big fat zilch.
She supposed, at a stretch, she could use the metal bowl to cause some damage, or pull a loose piece of wood from the walls of the lean-to, but if she opened her eyes to a slavering beast, the makeshift weapons wouldn’t last long at all.
No matter, they would have to do. She made a mental note of where each potential weapon was: metal bowl to her right, rotting plank to her left, and opened her eyes.
“Oh!” Buffy scrambled to her feet, eyes wide as she took in the last thing she had expected to see. “It’s you!”
***
Spike knew something was wrong when he woke up in his Sunnydale crypt, and not the little hut he’d hunkered down in the morning before.
He jumped down from the sarcophagus, and looked around. Everything seemed normal, as it had been before: ratty old armchair, black and white television and old-fashioned fridge. Even the dust and cobwebs that lined every surface were the same.
Spike shrugged, taking it in his stride. Perhaps the Watcher had found a way to free them from the other dimension. He sauntered to the fridge, and took out a packet of blood, grimacing in distaste at the sight of it congealing slightly at the sides. He had just taken one long pull of the red liquid, when the door to his crypt slammed open, and in strode the Slayer.
“Your Watcher get us back then, Slayer?”
Buffy glared at him, then took a stake from her back pocket. “I’m done.”
“What’s that?”
“You took advantage of me.” Buffy’s voice was calm. She walked towards him, stake held out in front of her, steps steady.
Spike frowned. “We took advantage of each other, if I recall. Not my bloody fault.”
“I should have done this years ago.” Buffy lifted the stake, and moved even closer.
Spike could tell that she was deadly serious, more so than she had ever been when trying to kill him. And at that moment, he was done, too.
“You know what? Do it. Bloody just do it.”
Buffy lowered the stake slightly, confusion entering her eyes. “What?”
“End… my… torment. Seeing you, every day, everywhere I go,” Spike chuckled, wryly. “I get tornadoed off to the land of bloody Oz and you’re there. Take me out of a world… that has you in it! Just kill me!”
At the end of his impassioned speech, Spike tore his shirt off, giving her clear access to his heart.
They stared at each other for a few moments of charged silence, and then Spike grabbed Buffy by the shoulders, drawing her close to him, pressing the front of her body against his, and he kissed her.
The kiss sent tingles up his spine, and he pulled her even closer, his hands wandering up and down her back, into her hair.
“Spike… I want you.”
Spike nuzzled her neck, taking in the sweet-smell of her hair. “Buffy, I love you. God, I love you so much.”
***
Spike jolted awake with a gasp, eyes wide as the dream replayed itself before his eyes. He looked around frantically, seeing the bare wooden walls of the little hut he’d found the night before. He was still in the other dimension, still in the game. It had been a dream.
“Oh, God, no.” Buffy, I love you. God, I love you so much. “Please, no.”
TBC
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Author's Chapter Notes:
Thanks to those who have been reviewing. Thank you to PaganBaby for beta reading this chapter for me.
Chapter End Notes:
Some lines of dialogue taken from episode, Out of My Mind. Thank you for reading. Please let me know what you thought with a review, they really do make an author's day!