“You ready, Spikey?” Angel said glancing over at the blonde in the backseat.

Spike took a long last drag off his cigarette and flicked it out the window. “Yeah, mate. I’m ready.”

Angel grinned and pulled the balaclava that sat on the top of his head down over his face, Spike did the same and reached for the handle of the door as they pulled up. He slapped the driver on the shoulder. “Andrew, remember, wait here? Don’t piss off and leave us,” he paused for emphasis then continued, “or I’ll kill you.”

“Sure, Spike.” the nervous curly haired kid said shifting in his seat. He reached into the glove compartment and took out a similar balaclava to the ones the other two wore. He pulled it into his lap and then repositioned his hands on the steering wheel as the car slowed, finally stopped and Angel and Spike made their way into the bank across the street.


* * * * *

“Everybody freeze!” Angel shouted at the top of his lungs as they entered the bank, pointing their guns.

Spike turned to him and cocked his head. “You’ve been wanting to say that cliché line your whole life haven’t you?” he asked, receiving a smirk back from Angel he shook his head ashamed but amused, and they separated. Angel went up to the front desk and Spike began to look around, from what he could see there were no customers, so he moved around the cashier’s desk to the back corridor where the private offices were.

There was only one guy behind the glass at the front and he wasn’t sat at a desk, he was further back sorting through draws when he heard Angel shout. Angel could see he wore a manager’s badge and told him to stay where he was, hoping that Spike would find someone they could use to their advantage.

“Is anyone else here?” Angel asked. The manager’s eyes immediately darted to the back, but he said nothing. “If there is someone else here, my mate’ll find them.” Angel threatened. Eventually the manager nodded. “Right,” said Angel holding up his gun, “So think about this, you’re behind bullet proof glass, but they aren’t…so if you don’t want someone’s death on your conscience you won’t go for that panic button you’ve been eyeing.”

He could see conflict in the manager’s eyes, but he was pretty sure he’d got him where he wanted him. “Your bank’ll have insurance,” he continued, “you should know that being the manager. So all you have to worry about is not doing anything stupid that’ll get someone else killed.”


* * * * *

Buffy was stood up in an office pacing back and forth; she’d been waiting for the manager to come back for 10minutes and was anxious, she knew the bank was closing soon and she had to get this whole thing sorted tonight. Suddenly she heard the shouting and froze, ironically like she’d been told to, but just instinctively out of fear. She had no idea what to do. She tried to consider her options, but her brain was too fuzzy. She could make a run for it, but she was in the back of the building, far from any customer exit. She could hide, but where was there to hide?

She heard movement, and the sound of that movement was getting closer. If she was going to do something it had to be soon, but her brain just wasn’t cooperating. She decided unwisely she knew to run, but as soon as she opened the door and ran into the corridor she crashed straight into the firm chest of another person.

“I’d stay there if I was you, pet.” Spike said to her.

Buffy moved back as he gestured to the gun in his hand, and then to her.

She seemed meek enough he thought, to understand that it was best not to try anything. “So what’s you name, luv?” he asked, seemingly interested he started to circle her.

Buffy didn’t even attempt to answer him, she just stared back blankly, turning too so that she never had to have her back to him.

“Okay, not a talker.” he huffed. For some reason he wanted to ask her again, he wanted to tell her that she didn’t need to be afraid of him, but he wasn’t stupid enough to do that. He may not have wanted her to be scared, but if she wasn’t she could cause trouble, so he just gave up and turned around to hear what Angel was saying to the guy at the desk.

Spike felt the girl move behind him and looked back to see her trying to run away. With a few strides he caught up with her further down the hallway. His left arm wrapped all the way around her chest, flattening her breasts down almost painfully and pinning her arms to her side. His right hand came up to put the gun he had to her neck.

“Ah-ah-ah. Not so fast, luv.” He began to drag her backwards, nearer to the front and Angel so that they weren’t separated for too long. He glanced over his shoulder and saw that Angel was getting the manager to go into the back where the real sums of money were. He turned back to the girl who he was holding. “Now, why don’t we try this again, huh?” he asked panting in her ear with the effort of hauling her, “What’s your name?”

“Buffy.” she said trembling slightly from how close and tight he was holding her. She’d never seen a real gun before and never thought she’d be this affected, but she wasn’t stupid, she was going to do everything he said as long as he had that pointed at her.

“Good girl.” he whispered huskily.

Buffy was fighting back tears at this point, but desperately didn’t want to cry. She wanted him to know she was going to do as he asked, but she didn’t want him to think she was totally vulnerable.

Spike looked behind him again and Angel was finally getting the manager to open the door to the cashier desks, but when Angel took the bag of money off him, transferred it to his other hand and turned to Spike the guy tried to run back into the safety of the room, on the way grabbing one of the small metal partition that bordered the area for queuing. He held it up to Angel’s head as Angel turned around and angrily raised his gun, pointing it at him.

“Don’t you even think about it.” Spike shouted. His main aim was to try and stop Angel from doing something stupid, but he was taking to the manager. He knew if he didn’t back off Angel was going to lose it, and they’d be totally fucked. He turned himself and Buffy around and stepped slowly forward, “Put it down, or say goodbye to goldilocks here.” He shoved the end of the gun further into Buffy’s throat making her whimper and forcing her head to tilt back.

The manager suddenly looked panicked, he didn’t want to let them get away, but he wasn’t going to put someone he didn’t know in danger, that’s what Spike had been counting on. Angel’s previous threat that he could be responsible for getting someone else hurt now seemed inescapably real, so he dropped the metal column and raised his hands up.

“Wise decision.” Angel said dropping his arm, and then suddenly out of nowhere he raised it once more and shot the guy in the shoulder.

Buffy screamed and struggled in Spike’s arms at the shock of the noise and seeing the manager fall into the doorway. For all she knew he was dead, everything had gone so fast she hadn’t seen where he’d been hit.

“Jesus Christ, man!” Spike shouted angrily, trying to keep his grip on the girl in front of him.

“Relax.” Angel replied, “It’s just a flesh wound.”

Spike bit his tongue. This sort of psycho bullshit was Angel’s M.O. so he should have expected it. After all wasn’t it this kind of shit he saw all the time? Wasn’t that the reason he was here, the reason he’d gone in on this stupid money trip? So that he had the means to get away from this crazy bastard once and for all?

Behind them all the manager rolled over on the floor clutching his shoulder, Buffy tried to calm herself when she saw he was still alive. She saw him moving around and then he threw himself forward while he had the chance, the door shut behind him and he crawled away into the safety of the bullet proof room. Angel and Spike didn’t see, and she didn’t let on that she had. Unbeknown to them all he crawled under one of the desks and hit the panic button, turned out this wasn’t the first time he’d been robbed, though it was the first time he’d been shot.

Buffy was still struggling, especially when Angel started moving towards her. Spike was staring at him defiantly as if still waiting for a better explanation, but Angel didn’t seem to care. When he got to Spike’s side they heard a siren in the distance.

“What’s that?” Angel asked turning his head towards the door.

Spike paused and then groaned angrily, thrusting Buffy away from him like a rag doll until she slammed into Angel and he grabbed her and held her in the same way Spike had. Then he turned them round to see what Spike was up to.

Spike was leaning over the counter as far as he could with the glass partition in the way, completely ignoring the moaning man on the floor behind the desk for a second. Then his body stiffened when he noticed him. Coming to stand up once more his fist smashed down on the counter in frustration.

“What the fuck, man?” Angel asked wanting answers.

“Panic button.” was all Spike said as he stormed back towards the unlikely couple.

“Shit.” Angel said, “Just our luck that there was a squad so close, I can fucking hear it already.”

“Everyone can fucking hear it.” Spike growled angrily.

“What are we going to do now?”

Spike looked at the floor and thought for a moment, then he looked back up at the girl in front of him. “Sorry pet, guess it ain’t over for you quite yet.” He yanked her out of Angel’s arms and in front of him, turning back to Angel and telling him to stay behind them.

When they got outside they realised it was just one police car and the cops hadn’t even got out of it yet, so Angel made a run for Andrew, and Spike slowly backed away in the same direction. He still had a tight grip on Buffy and she knew she couldn’t struggle free so she had stopped trying; after all he still had the gun.

The police officers got out of the car, leant over the roof and aimed their guns at Spike, one warning that more police were on their way and that he might as well give up. But they were close enough to the open door of the car now that he could just shove Buffy into the backseat and follow behind her quickly. Before he’d even shut the door properly Andrew had started to drive away and the rookie policemen fired a few shots in vain.

Andrew sped away as quickly as he could and soon they were far away on the route they had planned.

“Sit on your hands.” Spike said glancing over at Buffy.

“What?” she shrieked confused.

“Sit on you’re bloody hands you stupid bint.” he repeated more harshly.

She lifted up her bottom and slid her hands underneath and then gasped when she felt something at her neck. Spike had moved the gun back to her and he was staring at her, his piercing blue eyes standing out against the black of his mask. Buffy started shaking.

“Don’t move, don’t speak, and I won’t hurt you, kitten.” he said softly and Buffy was confused at the sudden change in him. He’d said it almost affectionately, but it was after all a threat so she tried to do just that. After a while though she turned her head to look through the back window best she could without him noticing. She was hoping to see them being followed, but she couldn’t see anything, and dejectedly she realised they’d lost the cops already.

“What went wrong?” Andrew gasped once they had driven a little further.

“Someone got the police, what do you think went wrong?!” Angel snapped at him, straining his neck to look through the back window.

Andrew swallowed nervously looking to Spike for a better answer, but Spike was silent. He knew if he could say what he wanted to say it would be something along the lines of, ‘Angel was a dick, that’s what happened, and if he’d held it together for a few more minutes the whole thing could have been handled smoothly.’ But he knew Angel wasn't used to controlling himself or his anger, and letting himself go like that no matter how much chaos followed, fuelled his baser need for the buzz and excitement that came hand in hand with his love affair with violence. It all meant that if he actually said what he wanted to the only thing he'd achieve would be to give Angel the chance of another argument, another fight, and Spike was determined that he was getting out of this crap, not dragging himself further into it.

“Who’s the girl?” Andrew asked when he saw Spike’s resolve face.

“She’s our…” Spike stumbled on his words looking over at Buffy; she looked back at him terrified. “She’s sort of our…hostage.” He sighed, now looking through the back window himself.

“Oh gees, Spike! What are we going to do now?!” Andrew panicked.

“You absolute pillock!” Spike snapped, removing the gun from the dip in Buffy’s collarbone where it had slipped, and using that hand to yank up his balaclava.

“What?” Andrew stuttered.

“How many bloody ‘Spike’s’ do you think there are in California?...Scratch that…in the world?”

“Erm…not many?” Andrew suggested hopefully.

“Try one…So how easily do you think the police could find me now she knows my bloody name?” Spike hung his head in exhaustion. “You total spanner.”

“Bad luck Spikey.” laughed Angel, “Guess you’re stuck with the girl.” He took a look around then patted Andrew on the shoulder, making him jump, “but as for me I’m off, drop me. I can walk from here.”

Andrew pulled to the side to let Angel out, he was on his way to Darla’s and they all knew it was near here. He got out and then leaned on the window and poked his head back inside the car.

“I’ll see you in a few days like we planned.” Then he turned to Buffy, “See you later sweetheart.” he said sinisterly.

Buffy was more than terrified by this point, and although Spike was the one who had pointed a gun at her, and although he was the only one capable of hurting her at that very moment she couldn’t stop the shiver Angel’s promise sent through her. All she could see was his eyes through the balaclava, but they weren’t bright and blue like Spike’s, they were dark and frightening. That was enough, his voice and his eyes were all it took to make her more afraid than she’d ever been before.

Eventually he turned and left, running down a back alley he took the balaclava off and ran a hand through his brown hair. He never looked back so Buffy never got to see his face, but she didn’t think she’d ever forget those eyes.

“You might as well get out too,” Spike motioned to Andrew, “You alright here?”

“Yeah, I’m good…But god, Spike I don’t think I’ll ever stop shaking.”

Buffy heard her blue-eyed captive, Spike, sigh quietly. “We always knew something like that could happen. It was a risk, but it paid off. That’s all you need to worry about…mate.” He stopped himself at the last minute from saying Andrew’s name, but Buffy wouldn’t have noticed anyway, she was too confused to see the person who had 20minutes ago kidnapped her actually consoling someone. “There’s nothing to tie you to what happened, you’ll be fine.” he finished.

Seeming to dwell on that for a moment Andrew then took a deep breath and got out. “You sure you’re okay with the car?” he asked passing Spike the keys through the back window.

“No.” he said honestly, fully taking off his balaclava and then looking at Buffy for a brief second.

That was the first time she’d really gotten a good look at him since his face had been uncovered. He was handsome, with platinum blonde hair, obviously dyed, and a scar on one of his eyebrows. He was like something out of a movie; a type of person she didn’t think really existed until now, in that he was a complete contradiction; totally hot and totally dangerous all at the same time.

She snapped back to the scene when he continued to talk. “Not really. But I’d rather do it myself that leave it to you. Why don’t you just go home, I really think you’ve ballsed things up enough for one day.” And with that his softer side disappeared once again.

She really didn’t get him.

Andrew sighed, but knowing Spike was right he headed off with his hands in his pockets.

She was about to tell him that he had been a bit harsh on the driver, that was until she felt his hand roughly and painfully yank her arm and pull her out of the car with him. She stumbled and nearly fell upon exiting, but she managed to stand up eventually. She’d forgotten who she was dealing with there for a second, he may be good looking, but he was kidnapping her.

“Get in the front.” he said bluntly, opening the door for her.

She got in quietly, they weren’t anywhere public so she didn’t think screaming would help, and she didn’t know exactly where they were, so she didn’t think running was an option, not that she could get out of his ironclad grip anyway. She decided the only option was to shut up and get in, when she did he shut the door behind her brutally. Then he locked the car in case she made a runner, and only reopened it when he was at the other side and could immediately get in. This told Buffy a few things; he was serious about this, he wasn’t stupid, and he wasn’t planning on letting her go anytime soon.


* * * * *

They hadn’t spoken one word to each other. Obviously Buffy didn’t know what to say and didn’t want to step out of line, and Spike was lost deep in thought about what he was going to do next.

He couldn’t believe he’d gotten into this mess, or more specifically he couldn’t believe that Angel and Andrew had gotten him into this mess. If Angel hadn’t have shot that guy he wouldn’t have crawled away and hit the panic button in spite, and if Andrew hadn’t have said his name in the car he could have dropped this chit on the sidewalk somewhere like he’d wanted to. These thoughts didn’t pass through his mind for very long, he of all people knew obsessing over past mistakes, whether they were his own or someone else’s, never did any good. You couldn’t turn back time, you couldn’t take anything back. It was time to stop thinking about the past and concentrate on the future. In a few weeks he’d be out of here, a new place, a new start, and a new life. None of this would matter. He just had to think about how he could still have all that now he was stuck with this girl.

Buffy sneaked a glance at him a few times on the way. She couldn’t help herself, she was confused and scared. This man was taking her somewhere, she didn’t know where, and she didn’t know what would happen to her once they got there. The only thing she could do was try and figure him out, see if his behaviour or expression would give anything away, but she couldn’t even guess at what he was thinking. He looked as if he was miles away, almost distant, too distant for her to read.

Eventually they drove up what looked like the back end of a street, and stopped directly in front of one of the back gates along a high wooden fence. Spike switched off the engine, and straight away Buffy tensed, realising this was the end of the road so to speak, and that whatever happened in the next few minutes was going to let her know what she was really in for.

He looked over at her and hesitated, and if she hadn’t known better Buffy could have sworn he looked nervous for a moment, then his determined face was back and wrenching his door open he was suddenly out, round the car and at her side in a flash. He opened her door and jerked her out of the car awkwardly like he had done before. “Get out.” he growled.

He shut the door flippantly as he was preoccupied with dragging her towards the gate. He unlocked and opened it, throwing her onto the other side of the fence, and then turned around to relock it behind them. When he turned back to her he realised he had shoved her a little too hard and she was on the ground on all fours. He took a few seconds to appreciate her ass, then scooped her up by the waist like a weightlifter, and holding her to him carried her across the lawn towards what looked like a very classic and homely house.

This was when panic suddenly hit Buffy and all the intelligence and calm she had relied on up ‘til now went out of the window. At this point she forgot he was strong, dangerous, had a gun, and had threatened her more than once, all the above didn’t matter; all that mattered was getting away from him. He still had her by the waist so her legs and arms were free. She kicked and swung her limbs about until she unbalanced him and he had to put her back on the ground to stop himself from falling over. Seeing her chance she pushed away from him, getting free from his grasp and then trying to pass him to get to the gate.

Instinct took over in Spike when she came past him, first he tried to grab her, then she turned and slapped him, then as quick as breathing he hit her.

He’d done many, many bad things over the years, things he wasn’t proud of and things he had tried very hard to forget, but of all the things he’d done Spike had never hit a woman before.

He didn’t know why he’d done it, he’d always had a temper, and he knew that. He wasn’t like Angel, someone who would hurt people just for the hell of it, someone who took pleasure in it. He could never be like that, but he was capable of violence. It was the reason he’d dug himself in this hole in the first place, the reason he was no good. He could keep his temper under control most of the time, only because he didn’t want to be a slave to his anger, but ever since that day years ago he’d known what he was truly capable of. That’s why he wanted out of here, away from Angel and all his wannabe friends, because things would only get worse if he stayed.

This was proof enough of that, but for a second he couldn’t believe he’d actually hit this girl. If a guy hit him or pushed him he would hit back, but he’d always kept his cool if it was a girl, and he’d been slapped by many a girl. Except this one was different, she was standing between him and an easy life, she was the only thing tying him to this crappy existence, here where he was trapped in Angel’s bullshit. He panicked, if she got away he faced jail and he had no time to think before he acted.

Buffy had fallen to the floor and being incredibly strong he had knocked her out. Spike leant down to make sure she was okay, cupping her cheek in his hand and turning her face. He brushed a lock of hair from where it had fallen over her eyes, and as he moved his hand away he felt her steady breath puff out against his skin and relaxed, at least she was okay, just out for the count.

Sighing he rolled her onto her back and bent over to pick her up, one arm underneath her knees and the other supporting her head. He walked her into the house, still trying to decide what to do with her.


* * * * *

When Buffy woke up she didn’t know where she was, and she didn’t remember everything at first. She opened her eyes but wherever she was it was quite dark, empty, and she couldn’t find anything familiar. It looked like a basement or cellar, but there wasn’t anything there, anything to ground her or give her a clue as to where she was. It was just a room, a dusty, disused space.

She tried to get up from the chair she was sat on, but something at her wrists stopped her, it felt like they were glued down. She dropped her head and saw she was tied to the chair, and it wasn’t just her wrists, but her ankles too. Fear hit her like a bolt of lightening.

As she tried to violently pull herself free she felt the burn of the ties on her skin. Pain seemed to be the first of her senses to come back to her clearly, and as she struggled and twisted more pain came. Then pain started throbbing in her cheek bone. That’s when it all came back to her, initially in fragments. The robbery, the car, the garden, him…him hitting her…Oh God.

She was wrenched away from her thoughts by a heavy clanging, and then she saw a burst of light spread over what she could now tell was a set of stairs along half of the far wall in front of her. The staircase extended above the basement ceiling so she couldn’t see anything at the top, only that strip of light, then she heard footsteps. Her heart rate picked up and she started to helplessly fight against her bonds once more, whimpering as they cut into her further.

As Spike finally succeeded in forcing the basement door open it made a harsh sound as the lock unclicked, and he openly cringed hoping the noise hadn’t woken her up or caught her attention. He then proceeded to make his way slowly and as silently as possible down the stairs.

His heart sank when he saw her looking right at him, awaiting his arrival. Bloody bint was awake; she was going to cause him even more trouble now. He saw her open her mouth, possibly to scream, but he stopped her. “Don’t bother.” he said bluntly.

After initially halting her plan she screamed anyway. She was shaking with fear, struggling to get loose, and shouting help and get away from me and all manner of things Spike didn’t bother to pay attention to. He simply rushed down the steps and behind her, reaching a hand forward swiftly to cover her mouth. He could feel her agitated breath on his palm and her whole body heaving beneath it with the force of her distress. He had to calm her down, even if it was an attempt in vain he had to try, because she was going to be so much more trouble if she was screaming and crying all the time.

“Shhh” he tried to sooth, though a soothing noise from her kidnapper obviously did nothing to quiet her. “Look, I said don’t bother.” he continued, “Don’t bother screaming, there’s no point. No one else lives here but me, no one from outside the house is going to hear you all the way from down here. Besides, check the walls, sound-proofing.” he pointed out brusquely.

Buffy looked to her right and saw the walls were indeed honeycombed with a thick layer of insulation or foam.

He continued, “So it’s not going to get you anywhere. All it’s going to do is piss me off and tire you out. Okay?” he leaned his head to get a brief look at her face and noticed the panic was still there but less than before, and he also noticed her body was a little more relaxed. He risked it and pulled his hand away, standing still for a moment in case he needed to replace it.

Satisfied she’d given up on the yelling he walked slowly in front of her. First he turned her head and examined her face, seeing the bruise which had formed on her cheek whilst she was unconscious. He noted that it wasn’t too serious, just would probably cause a nasty ache for a few days. After spending practically all his life in one fist fight or another he knew the difference. Then he bent down, she made a muffled whimper and he felt her body jump. He leaned back a bit and raised his hands. “Not going to hurt you love, just checking you’re tied up okay.” She stopped making a sound, but her body stayed tense as he used one hand to loosen the shoelace which tied her left wrist, whilst holding it down firmly with his other hand so she couldn’t get away or strike out at him.

She saw Spike’s face flinch slightly at the sight of her reddened skin, and then he tied it back tight again and she gasped. “Sorry.” he mumbled genuinely, before repeating the same thing with her other wrist, and then bending low to check her ankles. He saw that they weren’t as bad, because the ties there weren’t directly on her skin.

“I’ll get you something at the store for your wrists.” he said almost awkwardly.

Buffy was slightly intrigued. He’d seemed so rough and calculated up until now, apart from when he’d reassured her and the driver in the car, but then he’d still threatened her, and been rude to him so she hadn’t taken his concern seriously. This was the first time he’d seemed to give her anything more than a cool, cold front.

“It’s Buffy right?” Spike asked looking up at her.

She nodded and looked away, and he looked back to what he was doing.

“They’re gonna find you, you know.” she said defiantly, his slight tenderness making her unafraid of him for a brief moment.

Spike looked up for a split second then hung his head in silence for a while before speaking. “No, they won’t pet. I know you want them to, but they won’t.” He sighed and it almost sounded to her as if he was pitying her, because she wasn’t getting out of this, she wasn’t getting rescued. And then suddenly fear hit her again, worse than ever and she tried to bite it back.

“They will.” she whined, almost stumbling over the words as she felt tears sting her eyes.

“Sorry sweetheart. No one’s going to come looking for me.” He paused, knowing there was a very important exception, “Not as long as you’re here, anyway. You’re the only thing tying me to that robbery.”

Buffy was suddenly not liking where this conversation was going. Her mind raced, replaying the events in detail, or as best she could remember them. “The car!” she suddenly stuttered out. His head shot up for a minute and she thought she had him, but it was only her sudden outburst that had shocked him and nothing more, because as she continued to babble about how the police had followed them for a few blocks and had probably identified the car, he began to relax and even smirk.

“I’m not tied to the car in any way, none of us are. It was stolen and I got rid of it after. That’s where I’ve been since you passed out last night, so don’t think anyone’s gonna tie me to that. That’s not your way out of this sweetheart.”

“Where?”

“Where what?” he asked shaking his head in confusion.

“Where did you take the car?”

“Look love, I know it’s not exactly been the best day so far to showcase my intellect, but I’m not dumb, okay? Far from it, so I’m not going to give you more to tell the cops than you already have.” He huffed, pulling her ankle bonds tighter once more and then standing up. “This isn’t a bloody bond movie, where I gloat and tell you all my plans for no reason. This is real life…fucked up real life.” He turned around so he wasn’t facing her anymore and put his hand over his forehead in frustration.

He was angry now, but she wasn’t scared. She could tell he was more mad at himself and what had gone wrong than he was at her. Though she was still very aware that she didn’t know him, it was a possibility he could take it all out on her anyway, but at that moment for some reason she thought she could tell what he was thinking.

Without looking at her, as if he couldn’t or didn’t want to remember she was there right now, he stormed across the room to the stairs and began to leave.

“What are you going to do with me?” she called out, making him halt his climb.

He didn’t look back at her, or even turn slightly. He dropped his head a little and closed his eyes, “I don’t know, Buffy…I really don’t know.” And then he left.


* * * * *

She must have drifted off, but she wasn’t sure when or for how long, so she had no idea what time it was. The dark, dank cellar gave nothing away and although there was light coming from somewhere, a window perhaps, she wasn’t facing it, and she couldn’t tell from the patches of light on the floor whether it was daylight or moonlight. She thanked God it was there though, because she was scared enough already, she couldn’t imagine how she’d feel if he’d left her in the dark. She’d always been afraid of the dark, ever since she was a little girl.

Memories of her childhood suddenly flashed before her eyes, and a tear slipped down her face when she reflected on the fact that no one would miss her. After all she didn’t have any family anymore, and she’d cut most of her friends out of her life after her mom passed away and she’d moved here to college. Would anyone even notice she’d gone? Another tear fell from the same eye, rolled down her face to join the other, and then ran down to her lips. She tasted the bitter saltiness and took a deep breath to calm herself, just in time to hear the door above her open.

Spike came down soon after, this time he didn’t hesitate or warn her to be quiet. It might have just been that he was confident she wouldn’t scream, but at the same time it seemed like there was something wrong with him, and he didn’t speak or even acknowledge her as he squatted down in front of her chair, balancing on his toes.

Before he did anything he reached into his back pocket and took out a few strips of blue material. They looked like a torn up shirt, and that’s probably exactly what they were. He placed one strip underneath the arm of the chair, tied it above Buffy’s forearm and knotted it twice. It wasn’t tight enough or harsh enough like the shoelaces had been to cut into her skin, but she could tell without trying that she wouldn’t be able to get free from it. He did the same to the other arm and when he seemed satisfied he loosened the shoelace tie on her right wrist.

Buffy winced at the sting, when he took the lace off her sore skin protested, resisting the separation, almost attaching itself to the binding.

This time unlike the time before he didn’t apologise, but he wasn’t rough with her, and part of her thought that meant that he was sorry, but he was just tired of saying it. It was a bit wrong after all, to kidnap someone and then repeatedly apologise for it.

He untied the other wrist and then shifted on his feet a bit to lean back, so that he could reach into the tight front pocket of his jeans. From the pocket emerged a tube of some sort of cream, recalling his earlier promise Buffy presumed he’d been to the drug store while she was out of it and picked up some antiseptic.

He twisted off the cap, put a tiny amount of cream on his finger and spread it around her wound. She hissed at the cold sensation and the sting of the sore, it was only a sensitive friction burn, but it hurt like hell.

As he continued Buffy felt more and more uncomfortable, and again she felt like she needed instructions on how to act. Searching for something to break the tension she decided to speak, mostly out of a need for conversation, but also because she wanted to make more sense of him, “So your name’s Spike?” she asked to try and get him to end the silence.

He paused for a second, but then squeezed the tube for more cream and continued. “Sort of…Guess there’s no point in me denying it now.” he said “So you get that one for free.”

“What’s your second name?” she ventured.

She saw him smirk wildly and almost chuckle, “That one’ll cost you.” he said smoothly. But Buffy didn’t like the suggestion, knowing it probably would cost her. She then noticed his hands had left hers and saw him returning the cap lid to the tube. “I’m not a doctor,” he said as he stood up, “so that’ll have to do. I don’t really know what I’m doing.”

That was pretty obvious, she thought. Although he did everything carefully and precisely he didn’t seem comfortable with her being there, like he wanted her to be gone because he didn’t know what to do with her. The idea that he wanted rid of her was one of the thoughts Buffy hated dwelling on most of all. As much as she wanted to leave she wanted him to let her go, not get rid of her. That could mean a million other things she didn’t want to think about.

He gazed down at her and that was the first time since he’d come down the stairs that he’d looked at her properly. He noticed her wet cheek. “You bin crying?” he asked in his thick English accent.

Buffy said nothing and looked away from him.

“Shit.” he mumbled turning his head to the side. He seemed to be trying to think what to do, but then all he did was turn as if to leave and she panicked.

“I need to go to the bathroom!” she suddenly blurted out.

He turned around shocked, and she could tell she’d gotten him again with something he hadn’t yet considered.

He bit his lip and like earlier seemed to pause for thought. Then he leaned down over her and took a longer piece of material from his back pocket. He untied her arms one at a time and held them together in front of her. He tied them together at the wrist, trying not to agitate her sores and then he moved back slightly.

“You make one wrong move.” he warned, leaving the threat open, as if he knew that Buffy had such an overactive imagination that it was the scariest thing he could do to leave her guessing the consequences.

He bent down and untied her ankles, and the next thing she knew she was slung across his shoulder and he was striding up the stairs as if she weighed nothing. As soon as she was out of the cellar her captive brain took over; she ignored the décor, the homely touches of the house that could give her a clue to Spike’s character. Her brain was focused only on escape from the minute she’d come out of the dark, and all that she was making a note of was the layout of the house. She saw the back door to her right as he carried her up another flight of stairs. Then he took her round a corner and to the left, and dropped her down on what she realised was a toilet in a moderately sized bathroom.

He leaned forward, untied and took the material from her hands and before she could even register the feeling of being free he was gone and had closed the door behind him.

Buffy just sat there for a long time. She shuffled around to make it sound like she was doing something, and then looking to her right she saw the sink. Without even having to think too much about it she reached out and turned on the tap. With that she stood up, knowing she’d given herself some time, but not much.

She took some deep breaths and tried to scan the room and think. When nothing came to her she became aware that minutes had passed and the tap was still running, so she went over to the sink and turned it off.

“Buffy?”

She heard Spike’s voice calling to her from the other side of the door. There was no way out of the bathroom, no conjoining room, no other exit, and the only part of the window that she could see which would open was a small part at the top that she could never fit through.

“Buffy?!” he called again, this time with a louder tone, one which almost frightened her.

That’s when it came to her; Spike, he was her way out. Or more specifically he was the only thing standing between her and her way out, not these four walls. If he wasn’t there nothing could stop her, she’d just need to run. So how was she supposed to get rid of him?

“I’ll just be a minute!” she cried pulling the flush on the toilet and then frantically looking around for anything she could use against him. She stopped dead when she saw the shelf to the left of the bathroom door. Right in the centre was a large ceramic vase. It was black with a white pattern, and had several fresh lilies in it. Perfect.

“Okay!” she cried stepping quietly towards the shelf and lifting the vase from where it sat. She stayed there behind the door and waited for him to enter. It seemed like everything was going in slow motion, yet her heart was beating twice as fast as it normal did. She swallowed hard as if to steady herself and raised the vase a little higher. As soon as she saw him she squeezed her eyes shut and swung her arms down, she knew she’d hit him when she felt the vase smash within her hands. She opened her eyes to see him on his knees on the floor, clutching the back of his head with his left hand.

There was so much blood it shocked her still for a moment, but when she saw him blindly crawling towards the sink, seeking out anything to hold onto to keep himself from falling flat on his face, she knew she’d succeeded in really hurting him and that gave her hope that she could actually get out of here before he came round properly from the blow.

With the doorway now clear she took her chance and ran, she remembered the layout from earlier and ran straight for the back door. Not knowing how to get to the front of the house she didn’t risk wasting precious time in searching for it. She knew the back gate of the garden was probably locked, but she’d climb over it if she had too, and at least she knew where it led.

Reaching the back door she felt the adrenaline rushing through her system, she’d not only bested her kidnapper, but she was so close to getting away that she could almost see her freedom. She hadn’t had fresh air for over a day and the bitterly cold wind that blew onto her face was the first thing she felt as she left the house, taking the three back steps all at once, making it across the patio and finally onto the garden.

It was raining hard, but Buffy didn’t even seem to notice how grey everything was or how cold it was, all she noticed was how difficult it was to see with the rain lashing down in front of her face, and how uncomfortable it was to run when her clothes soaked through and stuck to her skin. She didn’t think about how long it had been raining, that it had probably been pouring down relentlessly all day. That was until the ground beneath her became an obstacle and she slipped, crashing down to her knees into the muddy earth of the garden. She landed with a thud and placed her hands out to cushion her fall, but it did little except keep her upright.

She took a moment to calm herself as the pain of her fall vibrated through her knees and up her thighs, but then she realised she didn’t have a moment to spare. She moaned as she rose up to her feet, her hands trying to find purchase even though they were caked in slippery mud themselves.

She saw the gate at the other end of the garden and was about to run towards it again when she was grabbed from behind.

“Miss me, Princess?” Spike panted harshly into her ear.

She struggled, kicked and grabbed his arms to try and push them off her, but he wasn’t budging. She could feel his chest rise and fall violently, either he was really pissed or he was still reeling from the effects of the vase. His clothes were heavy and wet just like hers and they stuck to her body where her skin was bare, as if everything was weighing her down into him.

After what she’d done to him upstairs he relished the sight of her; her hands and legs covered in mud, her hair wet and messy, and her top cold, and see-through, and clinging uncomfortably to her. He could feel the rain beating down on both of them, but all it did to him was sooth his aching head wound and make him feel safe in the knowledge that she wouldn’t get far.

“Let me go!” she screamed as she fought with him. His arms came up just below her chin and she saw her chance, lowering her head she bit into his forearm as hard as she could and he groaned in pain and let go of her for a second.

A second was all she needed and again she made to run when he came towards her once more. He grabbed onto her left arm, but as he reached for the other she turned the right side of her body away. He stepped forward to catch her and lost his footing. He fell backwards awkwardly and Buffy followed him down landing sideways on top of him.

She tried to get up but he still had hold of her arm and he yanked it back viciously. Purely out of instinct she turned around and lashed out at him, before crawling away on her hands and knees.

Spike immediately recoiled and his hand flew to his cheek to feel it wet with blood now as well as rain. “You little bitch!” he growled suddenly climbing to his knees and reaching forward for her ankles. He heaved her towards him with such force that she yelped at the pressure on her joints. She was suddenly underneath him and he was pinning her shoulders down. Her face was almost pressed directly into the mud and she could hardly breathe.

“Stop.” he cried as she wriggled underneath him.

She didn’t stop.

“STOP!!!” he growled dangerously.

And then she did, straight away.

His voice had made her stomach flip fiercely; she was more terrified than she had been when he’d placed that gun to her throat for the first time.

He crawled further up her body, sliding against her, and she could still feel his chest heaving, the rhythm of it matched hers as she panted harshly, exhausted by the fight. They stayed that way for what seemed like hours, him stretched out on top of her, as the rain continued to fall.

Occasionally she would make a movement and he would press into her slightly, just to let her know he was still aware of her. After a while though he did move off her and he carried her inside. She was almost becoming used to him carrying her everywhere, and he was almost used to having her in his arms.

When they got inside he bypassed the kitchen and went into the living room, a room she’d not seen before. He dropped her down in the centre of it.

“Strip.” he said calmly.


* * * * *

Buffy’s head shot up to look at him.

As if it would make her feel more at ease he reached down and stripped off his own top first. In fact it did the exact opposite, and Buffy panicked. Outside she didn’t move a muscle, but inside her body was screaming for her to make another run for it, even if the last time didn’t get her anywhere.

“We’re gonna catch pneumonia otherwise, luv…And your clothes are caked in mud.” he said reaching out to her as if to do it for her. She pulled back immediately in answer that she’d do it herself, but then stopped.

He knew why. “I’m not turning ‘round, pet. You’re just gonna have to blush and bare it.”

She felt sick to her stomach at that point, and she wanted to cry, but she bit her lip to stop herself from doing so. She turned around so that her back was to him, took a deep breath and pulled her blue shirt over her head.

Luckily when she began to slide down her skirt and thick tights he did look away, but only to locate a chair, and then he dragged it across to her. Seeing she was now only in a practically see-through crop top and her underwear, both of which had escaped the mud onslaught, he decided she could stay as she was and told her to sit. Buffy felt like a dog, but she did as she was told and he began the laborious task of tying her up again with more strips of shirt. She was too tired to fight him, and he knew it.

Suddenly she shivered and he sighed. “I’ll get you one of my shirts.” he said not even looking at her; he just got up, gathered her clothes and walked out of the room. She heard a beep coming from the kitchen from what she assumed was the washing machine, and then the inevitable churning sound when it started its cycle. She heard him climb the stairs and some other noise before he reappeared a few minutes later with a white cotton shirt.

He knelt down in front of her to help her on with it, and when he looked up his eyes were bang level with her chest. She saw him stare for a moment and suck in a deep breath. When he looked up again he locked eyes with her and it was clear he hadn’t expected to. He was suddenly embarrassed that she’d been watching him and seen him stare. “Sorry.” he laughed nervously. Buffy didn’t say anything, to be honest she wanted to laugh too, but it was wrong and awkward and she thought it best from now on to do nothing at all. One thing she’d learnt from this whole thing was how unpredictable the man in front of her was.

Buffy was a fighter, and she was sure eventually her strength and bravado would return, but right this second she was too shaken to try or test him.

He straight away got on with clothing her. He untied one hand at a time, and grabbing her wrists as gently as he could he put her arms into the sleeves one by one. She bit back a gasp when his hand skimmed the skin on her forearm gently; everything was happening so slowly and tenderly it was almost sensual, and she thought he felt it too, because he was avoiding her eyes completely now. He looked in total concentration at her body as he manipulated it, and when he’d finished tying her back up he reached forward to pull both sides of the shirt together in front of her bosom.

He threaded a couple of buttons into the holes painfully slowly, and stared at them as if it was the hardest thing he’d ever had to do. Buffy didn’t say or do anything the whole time, she was in a fog, confused by how something so simple could affect her so much. Just then Spike seemed to snap out of whatever trance he had been in and rose to his feet.

“You’re bleeding.” she said innocently, seeing the angry marks on his face and the red which now ran through his once blonde hair. Her hand itched to touch him, as if it would say sorry, like his gentleness just now had been his apology. She knew she shouldn’t want to apologise, but she did. Her pride made her keep quiet, but she continued to stare at the wounds she’d given him guiltily.

“I’ll be back later.” he said with a shaky voice. And with that he was gone. She heard him run upstairs, and he didn’t come back down until 20 minutes after the washer had stopped.

* * * * *

Neither of them said anything as they sat across from each other in the living room, the moment was awkward and the air was thick with tension. Spike had come down a while ago to load Buffy’s clothes into the dryer, but instead of going back upstairs he had come and sat with her, and now there was just silence.

Suddenly Spike broke the calm, got up and started walking towards her. She stared at him terrified and tried to read his expression, but it baffled her; it was emotionless. He’d sat there uneasy and fidgeting, clearly finding the silence and company as uncomfortable as she did, and now he didn’t seem bothered by her at all.

When he got to her side he didn’t stop, but carried on and walked behind her. The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end when he leaned down. His breath on her back made her want to shiver. He slid his hands behind her on either side, in between her and the chair, to grab the wooden frame.

“What are you doing?” she asked, her breath faltering as his skin brushed hers.

“I’m putting you back down in the cellar.” he said to her, and then under his breath muttered, “You unsettle me up here.”

Buffy heard him though, and wondered if it was only her tendency to run that unsettled him, or was it something else about her?

“What about my clothes?” she asked as he picked her up, chair and all. She gasped slightly in shock when he lifted her, but then stayed quiet and waited for an answer.

“I’ll bring them down later.” was his only response as he headed through the house awkwardly with her in tow. He paused and jerked his hands further up the frame. This hoisted the chair up for a second making Buffy’s stomach flip. Although she knew how strong he was from all the times he’d carried her before, she was still afraid of being dropped.

When they got to the basement he took her down slowly, stopped every couple of steps to set the chair down and reassess his grip. Buffy shut her eyes through the whole ordeal, before she knew it she felt him turn her around, and there she was centred in the room once more, facing the stairs, her previous chair discarded in the corner.

She felt him move from behind her and he strode away without a word.

“Wait!” she called out. She felt her bravery come back a little.

She heard him give a heavy sigh and he walked back to her, “What is it now?” he asked; his face strained as if he didn’t want to hear what she had to say. In reality he didn’t, because he knew everything she said or did caused him more trouble.

Buffy studied him for a moment, judging his mood, “What about the next time my clothes need washing?”

Spike said nothing, but he looked up at her.

“You gonna give me your shirt every time?” she pushed.

“I guess.” he answered flatly, seeming calm. She hadn’t won yet.

“But you’re keeping me here indefinitely right?...That’s the plan?” Although he hadn’t changed his demeanour much she felt she was getting somewhere.

Spike just shrugged.

“So it’s not going to be very practical if I just have this set of clothes for you to wash and rewash all the time.” she paused, “What about showers?”

“Showers?” Spike repeated, confused, for the first time caught off guard.

“Showers? Baths?...I’m gonna start to smell pretty bad if you don’t let me have one.” He moved to speak, but she denied him. “What about when I need to go to the bathroom again?”

She had continued before he could answer her in the hopes of simply bombarding him with questions which would force him to see the reality of keeping her here.

“What about brushing my teeth? Washing my hair?” she continued.

She could see him fiddling with something in his back pocket, but she carried on unperturbed. “God forbid what about when that time of the month comes around…How am I going to change my tampons if I’m tied to a chair all day?!”

While her mouth was still moving he took a large piece of cloth from his jeans, unbeknown to her something he’d been searching for during her entire rant, and sank to his knees. His movements were so swift that she was still talking when he reached behind her and tied the cloth around her mouth twice.

Before deciding on the cotton shirt for her new ties he’d cut up an old suit jacket that didn’t fit him anymore. In the end he’d thought the rough texture would cause as much friction on her arms as the laces had done, but he’d put a large strip of it in his jeans anyway. At the time he wasn’t sure why, but now he worried that he’d known at some point he’d have to gag her. His gut twisted a little at the thought that his instinct was trained for this sort of thing.

Buffy’s eyes widened, shocked and outraged by what he’d done.

“It’s late, Buffy. Really late.” he said exasperatedly from the floor, completely ignoring her reaction to the gag, “I’m going to bed.”

Buffy mumbled something as she tried to speak, and under normal circumstances Spike would have probably had to fight the urge to smile at her feeble attempt, but he was too tired, and he was too cranky, and his head still throbbed.

She tried again, and thrashed around at her bonds in frustration when the sound coming out refused to match the words she wanted to say.

Spike immediately leaned forward and grabbed her arms to keep her still, “Hey, hey! Buffy! Stop!” he shouted, but this time there was no anger or frustration in his voice, and if Buffy had stopped to listen she would have heard a hint of consideration in his tone. However she didn’t stop, not at first. “Buffy, luv. You’re gonna make your wrists worse.”

Buffy felt tears building up behind her eyes. Her body sagged, giving up before her mind did. As soon as he’d said those words she’d played the scene forwards in her head, struggling wouldn’t get her free. His admission though almost caring reminded her that she’d struggled before, and all she’d done was hurt herself. It reminded her that she’d screamed, she’d fought, she’d lashed out at him, she’d run, and nothing had worked, nothing would work. So she gave up. Exhausted from everything that had happened that day, tired from trying to fight him she gave up.

He felt her body relax and let go of her. She felt the tears threatening to come and willed him to leave before they did. She got her wish, he stood up, left, and as he climbed the stairs she couldn’t hold back the flood gates. All she could do was pray that her face would dry before he came back down, and she wouldn’t have to show him her weakness ever again.

* * * * *

Buffy woke up to the familiar clang of the basement door opening, and once fully roused waited for him to come down.

She felt like she hadn’t gotten much sleep, but then it might not be so strange to still be tired, as she didn’t know what time it had been when Spike had put her back down in the cellar; it could have been early morning by then already.

However long she’d been out she knew she’d woken twice. She couldn’t place what the sounds were that woke her each time, the sound proofing on the walls letting as little sound in as they might out, but she assumed they were coming from upstairs, so she also assumed they were coming from Spike. That meant that he probably hadn’t slept well either. When he came down eventually, carrying a pile of clothes in one hand that she recognised as her own, and a glass of water in the other, she saw the bags under his eyes to prove it.

He didn’t say one word to her as he came closer, setting the glass down on the floor. He took her gag off and untied her; he placed the clothes in her lap and the gag in his back pocket. He took a few steps back towards the stairs as if to block them, but his expression didn’t look worried that she’d run, and that scared Buffy a little. Although she wouldn’t admit to liking him in the slightest, the gentleness he usually showed her, the human side of him, his faults and insecurities, everything like that helped her be a little more at ease. This cool calculated resolve was something she didn’t like.

She suffered the embarrassment of having to dress in front of him. He stood there stoically and when she’d finished she paused unsure of what to do. Then she picked up his shirt that she’d stripped off herself and held it out to him. He looked at it as if it was the first thing that clued him in to her being done, as if he hadn’t been watching her all that time.

He waited, and for some reason that Buffy couldn’t fathom she felt the strong urge to sit back in the chair, and so she did. It was as if his eyes had told her to. He stepped back towards her, retied her as he had done a million times, and still he said nothing. It was starting to drive Buffy a little bit crazy.

Afterwards he went over to pick the glass up from where he’d left it. She thought he’d forgotten about it, but he came back and brought it close to her. As she parted her dry lips and felt the cool water fill her mouth and slide down her throat she realised he hadn’t forgotten. He’d realised she needed water. He’d realised she would need to be untied to dress herself. He’d moved away from her, she guessed so that she wouldn’t lash out at him, and he’d blocked the stairs to stop her from running if she tried. He’d tied her back up and not let her touch the glass, again she had to guess, but she presumed it was in case she threw it.

All that meant he’d thought carefully, for a change he’d planned something. That was the scariest thought of all; that he might finally know what he was doing.


* * * * *

Spike had left her once more and hours had passed. She’d fallen asleep out of sheer boredom, but she’d been awake for at least 2 hours by her estimation. She couldn’t get to sleep again, partly because she wasn’t tired anymore, and partly because she was obsessing over something. The thoughts plaguing her weren’t the thoughts that should be plaguing her; thoughts of what would happen to her or if she’d ever get away from Spike. The thoughts were about her and Spike however. She couldn’t shake the feeling that his behaviour that morning was unusual.

Sure she didn’t know him, but from what she’d seen up until now, Spike was hot and cold, violent or gentle, he was never mild, he was never in between, he was never uncaring, he was never like that.

She must have done something to cause it, and worse, she didn’t know why but it bothered her if she had. He was probably mad that she’d tried to escape and in doing so nearly ruined his plans. He was probably mad she’d hit him over the head with a vase, scratched his face and left her mark on him. She’d had a right to do all those things, so why did she feel bad?

Buffy was fed up of obsessing, but then her stomach growled and gave her something else to think about. She should have realised earlier, but when the uncomfortable pains hit her she remembered she hadn’t eaten a thing since she’d been here.

As if he’d read her mind Spike came down 10 minutes later with some sandwiches. He pulled up her old chair, sat in front of her and carefully fed her, but although his actions were intimate and had Buffy’s heart fluttering, he acted as closed off as he had done before.

She took a minute to apologise for the scratches and the vase. She waited to see how he’d react, but he didn’t. He just picked up another sandwich and continued as if she hadn’t spoke at all.

As soon as she was done he got up and left. He was halfway up the stairs when she called him back.

“Spike?”

He turned wordlessly.

“Can you…” she faltered, and then looked away nervously as she tried again, “Can you not leave me in the dark?…I don’t like the dark.”

Spike’s jaw twitched as he fought his emotions, she didn’t see because she was too embarrassed to look at him.

When she finally shifted her gaze back to the stairs he was gone. She hadn’t realised, because his steps had been soft and the door hadn’t shut. He’d left it open; she couldn’t see it, but she knew because the light still trickled down, leaving her for once not in the dark.

* * * * *

Spike’s odd behaviour continued. She only saw him when he came down with food, water or to take her to the bathroom, and he wouldn’t speak to her much when he did see her.

He came down at different times during the evening to feed her, which always consisted of takeout of some kind, and he now left the basement door open so she could call out when she needed something. She didn’t know what bothered her more, that she had no one to talk to, or that he didn’t seem to care that she was there.

One of the only things he said to her was on their first trip back to the bathroom. He came down during the night because she’d called for him. She hadn’t been to the toilet yet, but he’d finally let her drink something so she now actually needed it. He carried her upstairs and dropped her down into the centre of the room untying her hands. He left her feet tied together, pointed her towards the sink where a new pink toothbrush stood in a glass and said “Just don’t you try anything this time.”

Buffy was grateful that he’d trusted her enough to close the door, not only so he wouldn’t see her doing things she preferred no one else saw, but also because she didn’t want to see him laugh when she unceremoniously hopped over to the toilet to do them. But as she sat there in that clean white room, staring at the tiles beneath her feet, she realised his tone bothered her. It hadn’t really been serious, if anything it had been playful, he didn’t seem in the least bit worried that she would or could try anything this time.

Whether he truly did think that or she was just being paranoid she didn’t know, but he certainly appeared more confident that she wouldn’t escape. Leaving the cellar door open had been a big step, but he hadn’t hesitated. He now only shut it when he went out of the house completely and she was pretty sure the second thing he’d said to her was “Shout again if you need me, pet.”

The reason she had to do that was because he seemed to be busy all the time. With the door open she could hear the occasional scuffle or banging, but she couldn’t for the life of her work out what he was doing. To be fair the banging had been brief, everything else sounded like shuffling, the moving of things or rearranging of things. It almost sounded like he was redecorating, and the first thing that crossed Buffy’s mind after that assumption was that surely he had more important things to be worrying about? But whatever the task he was at it day and night until what Buffy figured was her 7th day in his cellar, and unless she called for him his coming down was erratic.

The only exception was the morning. They’d fallen into a routine in the morning; he’d come down early and bring her toast, then take her upstairs to the bathroom so she could use the toilet and brush her teeth with the toothbrush he’d bought her.

After a few days he was trusting her to feed herself. He’d sit across from her after untying her and watch her like a hawk, but Buffy was usually too hungry to care that he was staring, or to feel intimidated. Although she had to admit that his behaviour and even his absence did make her more wary of him than usual. Absence makes the heart grow fonder they say? It was more like fear the unknown. Day by day the more he stayed away upstairs making his racket, the more he didn’t talk, the more he became the unknown. Buffy was losing her edge, because she didn’t know what was going on, what he was doing or more importantly why he was doing it.

There were still moments of course, moments when she saw his gentler side, but they were few and far between, and if anything they only made things more confusing. One minute he’d be brushing a crumb from the corner of her lips because he’d already tied her back up and she hadn’t felt it there; he’d be looking at her, his eyes burning through her, and the next he’d act as if she wasn’t important again, swanning off to lumber around in the attic.

That’s the one thing Buffy had figured out; he was definitely doing something in the attic. Not only were the sounds too muffled to be coming directly from the floor above, but she’d seen the attic on one of their trips. He’d taken her past that door before, the door on the second floor across from the top of the stairs, but she figured it was just another room. One day she noticed it was open, and as he carried her she strained her neck to see around it to another staircase. Her initial thoughts were something along the lines of how big is this frigging house? But then she felt something wash over her, something deep in the pit of her stomach; an uncomfortable feeling that she couldn’t shift. She felt like that room meant something for her, and she shuddered to think what he was doing up there after that.

On the 7th day he came down, untied her as usual, took her upstairs as usual, and she brushed her teeth, got fed, and got ignored as usual. Then in the evening he came for her, she presumed he was taking her to the bathroom even though she hadn’t shouted for him, but instead he took her right up to that door.

She was tossed over his shoulder like a rag doll, her hands dropped down below her, her waist resting on his shoulder. She was folded over him so the top of her body laid against his back, if she’d been any taller her eyes would have been level with his ass, which she had to admit even now wouldn’t have been the worst thing to have happened to her. She couldn’t see very well because of the hair hanging in front of her face, but as he turned towards the door she lifted her head and saw at the side of the staircase was a camp-bed. It looked rickety and uncomfortable, but it had new sheets on it and two lots of pillows. She didn’t have time to comprehend what it was doing there before Spike had opened the door and was climbing the second staircase behind it. She could feel him ascending upwards and she could see a new step appearing in front of her face every few seconds, until once again he stopped.

He was unlocking another door from the sounds of it. Buffy’s heart was in her throat, it had nothing to do with her being upside down, and everything to do with what she feared was waiting for her behind that next door. It had to be something bad, because he hadn’t told her what he was doing; in fact he hadn’t spoken to her at all. Maybe he was trying to distance himself from her emotionally, so he could get rid of her for good. Maybe this was it.

He opened the door and walked forwards into the room beyond it. Obviously Buffy couldn’t see where he had taken her, all she knew was the carpet was a misty blue colour not too far off the shade of his eyes, but not as deep in intensity. Her last thought was a strange one, one that she fought with all her being, but one which popped into her head regardless. It was a wish, a wish that she could look into those eyes once more, no matter what he was going to do with her, if this was it, that would be her last request. She had no idea why; maybe she’d hope to find some sort of regret in them for what he was about to do to her, or maybe she just wanted to see them, because these days they were her only comfort.

Suddenly she was heaved over his shoulder until her feet hit the floor. She was stood facing him now. His expression confused her, he looked uncomfortable, maybe even a little bit embarrassed, but he didn’t look like he was going to hurt her, not like she’d expected.

Without a word Spike gestured with his hand to the room behind her, urging her to turn around and look at it. She was quite far in, but stood facing him and the door. Bewildered she did as he asked and turned.

The first thing she felt was relief, when she saw that the room he’d brought her to was just a room. There were no torture instruments or chains, no guns or knives, sacks or gloves. It wasn’t a room for getting rid of anything, or anybody. It wasn’t really even an attic, it was a bedroom, and as far as Buffy could see that’s all it was.

It was a good sized room, the big double bed in the middle of it took up most of the space, and Buffy had knocked into it as she turned. The whole room was blue, the carpet, the bed sheets, the walls. There was a door to the right that was open slightly to reveal on ensuite bathroom, which looked a decent size from what Buffy could see of it through the crack.

She was still confused momentarily as to why Spike had brought her up here, then her gaze shifted focus to the bed again, a pile of clothes lay neatly folded on the end. They didn’t look like Spike’s clothes; they looked like girl’s clothes. Suddenly the pieces started to fall into place, as she followed the bed with her eyes to the far wall where a window should have been. She could see the frame, and desperate trickles of light forcing their way through the edges, but it wasn’t a window anymore, it had been boarded up. She guessed not to keep the light out, but to keep something in. To keep her in.

Buffy stood staring her way around the room, as the relief she had initially felt turned into defeat. Her captor wasn’t getting rid of her; he was just moving her to another cage. Granted, a nicer cage, but still a cage. A cage that was just as hard to escape from, and just as unfamiliar.

Spike waited patiently for her to twig on, then sensing she had, stepped forward and said, “This was my room, but you’re gonna be in here from now on.”

Buffy just stared for a while longer, not acknowledging that he had spoken. She wondered if this was really happening. This was her room? How long was he planning to keep her here for if he thought she needed her own room?

She knew this was all her fault, because she’d pushed him. She’d made him see the practicalities of keeping her tied to a chair in his basement, but she’d wrongly assumed that he was confused and rash and that he’d let her go once she’d pointed out all those things, not calmly and slowly plan and work to create a better option for himself.

At least she knew now what he had been doing the past few days, the window for starters.

“The windows boarded up, and the door’s been reinforced.” he said as if reading her mind. “There’s a peephole and a lock on the outside of the door, so you can’t try any of your tricks again.” He said it almost humorously, with a slight smile, remembering the fight they had in the mud, no longer angry at her the memory now amused him.

She still stood facing away from him so she didn’t see him smile and didn’t sense he’d made a joke. She listened to everything he said, but didn’t process it. She was still in shock, she’d have to take everything in and think about it later.

“I’m gonna go,” he said after she didn’t say anything back to him again, “Let you get used to the room. I’ll be back later before you go to sleep.”

Buffy turned back to him, “Where are you sleeping?” she asked dazed, still in shock that’d he’d done all this.

Spike misunderstood and thought she was worried that he planned to sleep in here with her, so he laughed, softly, and it almost brought her out of her daze. “I’m on a camp-bed for now, at the bottom of your stairs.”

Buffy briefly remembered seeing the bed, but her mind wasn’t enough together to ask him why he needed to sleep in the hallway when he had this whole big-ass house to himself. He left before her brain could come anywhere near catching up enough to ask questions.

Almost without thought she began to move around the room, looking at everything in turn. In the bathroom there were new toiletries and clean towels. Her toothbrush from downstairs had been put in the same glass at the side of the sink.

She came back into the bedroom and sat down on the bed, saw the pile of clothes again and pulled them onto her lap. She removed each item from the pile one by one and was surprised that they all seemed to not only be her style, but also her size. How could he have guessed her size so perfectly? The most amazing of all was that he’d bought her underwear, and even the bras were in her size. Buffy mused over the idea that he’d been checking her out when she wasn’t looking. It was entirely possible, as this little surprise room had shown her that he hid things from her very well.

Suddenly Buffy focused on something at her feet. It was an extension cord poking out from under the bed. She put the pile of clothes aside and knelt down on the floor. She lifted one side of the duvet, peered under the bed and saw the cord ran all the way underneath. She replaced it and looked over to the other side, seeing it travel all the way across the room to the furthest wall where it was plugged into the mains, to what she figured was the only set of plug sockets in there. Confused she looked back to the extension, and then to her right to see what was plugged in that was so important that it couldn’t just have been moved closer to the socket.

It was a lamp, standing on the side table by her bed. She thought back to her own bedroom, she had a lamp right next to her bed there as well; she kept it on all through the night, just as she had kept on her nightlight as a little girl. Her crippling fear of the dark was only helped by the presence of another person, if she was in her room alone she always had a light near her. Then she remembered telling Spike the other night not to leave her in the dark, and suddenly realised why he thought the light was so essential that it needed such an elaborate set up.

But even after that revelation she now felt completely in the dark. Completely lost and in the dark once more.


* * * * *

The next day Buffy fought to move her hands and feet like she did every morning, but this time she found no resistance, no ties pulling her down. Was she back? Had it all been some kind of terrible dream?

She opened her eyes hoping to see familiar walls filled with familiar posters, look down and see her bed sheets, to be in her bed, but instead the walls were blue, like the sky, like his eyes. She sat up immediately, but the covers were not her own, nothing was. Everything rushed back to her, and instead of being upset she was disappointed, in herself. How could she be so foolish? She had to be on the ball; she couldn’t afford to be fading into fantasy every chance she got. She wasn’t home, and if she carried on this way she never would be. She had to keep her wits. She had to snap out of it.

She could do that, she felt refreshed. She’d gone to bed quite early, so early in fact that if Spike had come back up last night like he promised she hadn’t heard him. She looked up at the sound of footsteps, her eyes drifted to the door just as there was a knock on it.

“Buffy? You awake?” Spike asked from behind the wood.

Buffy sat up in bed and nodded meekly, before she had the chance to answer him verbally the door opened and he walked in.

She looked up at him questioningly, her expression must have looked indignant, because as Spike stepped in and closed the door he pointed casually to the peephole reminding her that he could see her from outside, in way of explaining why he’d come in without waiting for an answer.

Buffy still felt a little intruded upon, and uncomfortable sat there in the pyjamas he’d bought her, wrapped up in his sheets, in his bed. But this was his house, and he was her kidnapper, so she supposed he could do whatever he wanted. She just hoped he wouldn’t take advantage of that fact.

He sat down on the bed, too close for Buffy’s liking. She was resting against the headboard, so couldn’t move further away. Her only chance for distance was to get out of the bed altogether, and she felt too vulnerable in her nightwear to do that. If she hadn’t thought it would draw unnecessary attention she’d have liked to have grabbed the sheets from where they were trapped underneath him, and pulled them all the way up to her neck. She made do with drawing her knees up to her chest and hugging them close to shield herself.

Spike seemed oblivious to her worries, though he sat staring at her as she fidgeted. She could see a small smile creep in and out of the corner of his mouth, as if he was fighting it.

“How did you sleep?” he asked eventually when he saw she’d come to sit still.

Buffy only nodded.

This time he couldn’t hide his smile, it spread across his face and lit the entire thing up, a dark velvet chuckle rumbled at the back of his throat. He found her uncomfortableness amusing apparently.

Buffy’s eyes narrowed and her brow creased as she tried to give him her best glare.

Spike laughed again and then changed his tone of voice, “How’s the room, kitten?” he asked gently, considerately, as if to make her forget he’d laughed at her at all.

“Kitten?” she repeated. That’s one she hadn’t heard before.

“It’s my new name for you,” he explained, “…after you gave me these.” He turned his face to show off the fading scratches on his cheek.

Reflexively Buffy winced at the thought of how much they probably still stung. She didn’t like the feeling of guilt that flushed through her once again. She wanted to cover, because she was sure that either her concern or her embarrassment would show. She quickly thought of something to ask him as a distraction. “Did you come up last night?” she asked timidly. Then worrying that he might take that to mean she was sad he hadn’t she added, “…Its okay if you forgot, I just wondered.”

He smiled sweetly, and she wasn’t sure if she liked it or not.

“I didn’t forget, pet.” he said quickly, “I knocked, but you didn’t hear me. I peeked through and saw you in bed, so I left you alone. Figured you needed the sleep after everything.”

Buffy fidgeted again, uncomfortable with the thought of him watching her sleep, even though that’s not quite how he’d put it.

“I’m surprised you didn’t hear me though. I wasn’t quiet.” he confessed.

Although she was usually a light sleeper Buffy wasn’t surprised she’d slept through his knocking. Spike was right, after everything she needed a good, long sleep, and last night in this bed she’d taken full advantage of the opportunity to have one.

She suddenly realised how much of a difference having this room was going to make to her, and even though she resisted it she inwardly felt relieved.

He’d never have to come take her to the bathroom, because she had her own now. And he wouldn’t have to come check on her bonds, because she didn’t need any.

That’s when it hit her; he would hardly have to check on her at all. Buffy didn’t like the thought of that. Yes Spike scared her, and yes she didn’t know what he was going to do with her in the long run, but she’d been here a week already, separated from the outside world, from home comforts and common surroundings, and he was the only thing she had.

She hated feeling a tie to him, she hated feeling anything for him, but she knew that without him she’d have nothing and no one. She would be utterly alone. She would be a complete prisoner, locked away with no contact, no comfort, and no chance of a reprieve from either plight.

“Things’ll be better now you’re up here.” he said after a while.

Here out of the way, she added to herself. Out of his way.

* * * * *

Her and Spike found a new rhythm; he now only came to her 3 times a day, every day at the same times. He gave her food, took away her empty plates and even branched out into cooking for her rather than just getting takeaway. He was actually pretty good, or at least Buffy thought so when she compared his food to anything she’d tried to make before. She figured he must just not have had time to cook for her in the past. Now he had all the time in the world, and so did she.

She was lonely. She hated to admit it, but now having her meals delivered was the highlight of her day. Obviously being a captive there wasn’t much she had the freedom to do, so if he stayed and said a few words to her she spoke back, just sometimes to check she still had a voice.

They never spoke in depth and never for very long, but he’d ask her things like was she okay? Or did she sleep well? Enough for her to feel like she wasn’t going mad.

Another week past; it was day 15. Buffy counted the days on a pad of paper Spike had left in one of the bedside draws. Something changed that day; she could sense it as soon as he walked in the room.

“What do you want?” she asked, feeling something was wrong. It wasn’t meal time and she hadn’t shouted him. Yet here he was, stood with his back against her door.

“Nothing, kitten.” he said with a wary smile.

Buffy’s brow came together in confusion.

“I just came up for a chat.” Surrendering to her questioning stare she heard him sigh, “I thought you might be lonely, Buffy.”

Suddenly Buffy felt anger pump through her veins, she tightened her hands into fists at her side, though she never intended to lash out with them. She didn’t need to be pitied. She didn’t want to need his company, or his conversation. She tried so hard to believe that she didn’t need anything from him, except her freedom.

“Get out.” she said through clenched teeth.

He could see that she was practically shaking. She moved towards the bathroom trying to escape him, hoping he’d be gone once she got back out, but he walked across the room, stepping into her path abruptly. He reached out and grabbed her arm to hold her back.

“Kitten?” he asked, implying more words which would have asked her what was wrong.

She looked up at him. “I said, GET...OUT.”

She tried to move once more, but he had her fast.

“What’s got into you?” he asked stunned. The last few days she’d been polite, she’d wanted to speak to him. Every time he came into her room he’d sensed that she wanted him to stay, just to talk.

He’d tell her about the weather outside, and try not to let it get to him when he saw the sad longing in her eyes to see it, no matter whether it was good or bad. He’d talk about the news in the papers and what he’d read that morning. He never let her look at them herself in case there was news about the robbery. He knew that would only upset her because the police had no leads, but he told her funny or interesting stories alongside that instead.

Their routine was working, their tension resolved. She’d been easy to keep, and easy to look after the whole week, so where was all this coming from?

He heard her breath slow as he held her, she became more pliant in his arms, but there were still traces of anger on her face.

“This is how I’m supposed to be.” she said anxiously, “How a kidnappee is supposed to act towards her kidnapper.”

Spike didn’t flinch at the words. He’d never deluded himself; he knew exactly who and what they were to each other. “You can act however you want to act.” he answered, frustrated, “but if you want to act like a spoiled child, go ahead!” He was starting to feel his control slip, so he stepped back. “We have to live together, Buffy. Might as well make the best of it.”

“Until what?!” she screamed, “Until you decide on a good place to stash my body?! Because if that’s all you’re waiting for I hear there’s an old swamp nearby. They’d never find me!”

Spike did flinch at that, even though he had considered it.

“But that’s not it, is it?” she carried on, “The problem’s that you think you can keep me here forever. That I’ll just sit back and let you.”

“Why don’t you just shut your mouth, luv.” Spike said gruffly. He was trying to keep his voice light so that he didn’t scare her, but it was laced with warning.

Knowing she wouldn’t get past him she stepped back and sat down on the bed, “Why won’t you just leave me alone? I don’t want to ‘chat’ with you. I don’t want to even look at you.” she said bitterly, hoping her words had hurt him, but immediately regretting them when she looked up and saw that they had.

Quickly though he drew a mask over it and became resigned to the fact that he couldn’t do anything to make her happy. “Fine, I don’t know why I bothered. Was just trying to be nice.” he grumbled out in defeat, sitting on the bed beside her.

Buffy thought over that statement and how it made her feel. She still felt angry at him for coming to see her, but she was also angry at herself for upsetting him, and for caring that she’d upset him. That was the most worrying thing, that she might be truly sorry that she’d hurt his feelings. She had a right to be sharp with him.

She thought about her explanation before, but truly she didn’t know how she was meant to be acting. Was she meant to fight him at every corner? Or was it better to do everything he said, agree with him, play along and get him on her side?

Then again maybe she was right before, maybe her confusion had nothing to do with trying to figure out what was appropriate behaviour, and more to do with appropriate feelings.

She didn’t know what Spike was thinking, but he said nothing. The more the silence rolled on the more she thought, and the more she did that the more she got confused. Of all days, why today did he have to confuse her like this? Couldn’t he have stayed out of her way, not upset her, just for today?

“Some birthday.” she mumbled to herself.

“What was that, kitten?”

She panicked and her eyes widened when she realised her mistake in not saying it in her head like she’d meant to, “Nothing.” she said hastily.

“Did you just say what I think you said?” Spike asked tensely.

Buffy looked at his expression carefully before answering, he looked ready to take a bullet, and she guessed why. She’d learnt enough of him to know that he had moments, they may be fleeting and few, but he definitely had moments where the thought of what he was doing to her cut him up inside.

Buffy remembered what everyone said about birthdays, that they were the one day you were allowed to be selfish, so she selfishly nodded, determined to make him feel whatever it was he was afraid to feel.

He turned away from her, looking at the floor in front of him. They continued to sit still, side by side until finally Spike began to shake his head.

“I can’t…” he started to say, but stopped himself.

Buffy had no idea where he was going with that sentence, and was surprised by the painful tone in his voice. She saw him scrunch his eyes shut, and then he stood up and walked out.

* * * * *

Buffy was napping, something she did a lot when Spike wasn’t around. It helped pass the time and also when she was asleep she couldn’t think about where she was; she could be somewhere else, anywhere else. This particular nap also helped her not to dwell on the fight Spike and her had had, or on her confession.

He was obviously planning to forget she’d ever said it, and that was fine with her. After all she’d rather have no birthday at all than a birthday in prison, no matter what the prison looked like. It’d be the worst birthday ever, and Buffy had had a few awful enough to give that title proper meaning.

When she woke there was no light trying to force its way around the edges of the boarded window, so she guessed it was evening. Spike hadn’t been up to her since this morning, she wasn’t sleeping as deeply anymore, so she would have woken if he’d knocked this time.

Just after that she heard the front door shut, and only then realised he must have been out all this time. She got up and went to the peephole, waiting for him to come upstairs to bed so she could at least get a glimpse of him as he passed by.

She heard noise in the kitchen, cupboard doors opening, then more footsteps, closer now, and then eventually he came into view. He looked tired and soaked through, it must have been raining. In fact it was, she could hear it now, beating against the house something terrible.

Instead of passing the door like she’d expected though, Spike came through it and started up her stairs, something in his hand. She moved back away from the door and held her breath.

He looked through the peephole and saw her standing there. He sighed deeply and then opened the door. He moved through the door sideways, keeping his hand and whatever was in it concealed outside. He looked up at her and sheepishly brought his hand into view.

Buffy gasped. He didn’t?

“Happy birthday, luv.” he said as he set the cake down, pulled out a lighter, and lit her candles.

* * * * *

Minutes later chaos ensued. Buffy was screaming, pacing and throwing things around the room.

“Buffy,” he said shutting the door, “Calm down. You’re being hysterical.”

“Hysterical?!” she screamed trying to rip a pillow.

Spike strode towards her, stood behind her and tried to wrestle the pillow form her. He only succeeded in helping her to rip it. Feathers scattered in the air and floated down. He grabbed her, she pushed him away and he stumbled backwards.

When he straightened himself up Buffy turned looking for her lamp. She picked it up and just as quickly sent it crashing to the floor.

Spike’s face pained, and she wondered if he knew as well as she did how much that lamp meant to her.

“Buffy, stop!” he insisted, standing still, now deciding to stay out of the way.

She ignored him, and continued.

“You aren’t even gonna say thank you?! You ungrateful little cow!” he screamed, finally snapping.

She turned to him shocked, and then laughed, “Seriously?” she paused, and then her words were suddenly thick with sarcasm, “Thank you, Spike. This is the nicest thing anyone’s ever done for me.”

“You’re welcome.” he said bitterly, not missing a beat.

“I can’t believe you did this!” she said as if it was the dumbest thing in the world to do.

Spike’s temper was at boiling point from the way she had twisted his gesture and made him feel stupid. “FINE!” he shouted at the top of his lungs.

Buffy vibrated with the force of his voice, it was like a punch to her system and she froze. She didn’t like to admit it, but after it she felt tears prick her eyes. She felt like a vulnerable child, wanting to cry just because she’d been shouted at, but his aggressive pitch had knocked the wind out of her.

He picked up the lighter and shoved it roughly into his back pocket, stomping about the room as he did so. He looked at the cake, “You gonna blow them out?” he asked.

Buffy would have laughed if she hadn’t been so close to crying. She tried to suck it up and shook her head vehemently.

“Fine.” he said again, leaning down and blowing them out. He strode towards the door, “Happy fucking birthday.” he said as he slammed it behind him.


* * * * *

Buffy sat there, laid against the wall by her bed, surrounded by torn pillows and feathers, broken glass from the lamp. She’d collapsed when the tears and sobs had finally caught up with her. When Spike had left they’d racked her body and forced her to slide down helplessly to the floor, and she hadn’t yet recovered or moved to fix a thing. Her knees were at her chest like they usually were when she was trying to protect herself, though this time she wasn’t sure what she was protecting herself from. Maybe it was from how she felt, because she felt awful, she felt sick to her stomach.

Her face was sticky wet from crying, her chest hurt from laboured breathing. She felt exhausted, but she was too restless to sleep, so she just sat.

She wanted to be far, far away, somewhere she didn’t have to deal with all this. She didn’t want this to be real, she was doing everything wrong and wanted a chance to do it all again. Starting with not going to the bank that day, but if she couldn’t change that she’d like to change how she’d reacted earlier. She knew she was perfectly justified in it, but she’d been cruel and ungrateful, and even if that was what he deserved from her that wasn’t the kind of person she wanted to be.

She was a fake. When she’d seen that cake she had been angry, she couldn’t deny it and she wasn’t ashamed, but she’d also been touched and she’d only acted out so she could hide that from him. What she’d put on before was nothing but a show and she wanted to undo it.

Despite the circumstances he’d done a nice thing for her. He’d done a completely idiotic, stupid and insensitive thing at the same time, but she knew his intentions were good and that moved her. In that moment she’d realised that she would probably never be able to truly think badly of him. Until he did something to really hurt her she knew that anytime she tried it would be tainted by other feelings.

She tried to hate him with every fibre of her being, but he wouldn’t let her. He had to ruin it with every chance he got; he had to make it hard for her. She was angry, but only because there he was when she needed him to be the villain, still trying to be the hero. It reminded her of everything that was wrong with this, with them; it reminded her that she shouldn’t be feeling what she was feeling.

Spike had been gone for hours and he still hadn’t come back. There was a fierce storm outside, one for the record books, and she hated thinking he was out there in it, mad at her, hurt because of her, maybe trying to get himself into trouble.

She stared at the cake, it looked lovely, and it wasn’t from a supermarket or a corner shop. It wasn’t an expensive cake, with her name in the icing and her favourite flavouring in the sponge like the ones her mum used to buy her, but he’d clearly gone to a patisserie to buy it, and he’d clearly chosen it with her in mind. The candles were blue, she wondered if he knew that blue was now her favourite colour, or if he thought it always had been. Maybe they’d just been the only candles on sale, but either way it didn’t matter.

The wax had solidified once more, leaving great blobs on the sides of each one where they had been dripping. She wished she had a lighter so she could watch the flames. The fact that they no longer burned made her feel cold, made her shiver. She stood up, walked over to her closet and pulled out a jacket. At the time she’d wondered why he’d bothered buying it her when he didn’t let her outside, but now she welcomed its place in her wardrobe.

She was snapped out of her thoughts when she heard a noise from downstairs, as if someone was at the back door of the house. At first she thought she was hearing things, but she kept still and quiet and waited for it to happen again. Eventually it did, first a knock and then a muffled shout.

More knocks came and they were loud, almost ferocious, but she didn’t care. Spike wouldn’t knock, which meant someone else was here; someone who didn’t know about her.

Forgetting about Spike she stood up, wiping the tears from her face. She ran to the attic door and banged on it as loud as she could. She could get away from this, away from Spike, away from all this confusion. She ignored the twinge in her heart when she thought about it and she screamed.

“Help!” she cried out, wondering if she could even be heard from all the way down there, “Help! Somebody! I’m in here!”

The knocking continued, and for a moment Buffy gave up screaming, realising whoever it was was too far away from her, through too many rooms and walls and windows to hear her, but she grabbed for the handle of the attic room door in vain and rattled it violently as if by some kind of magic it would suddenly come off the day someone came round, after so many attempts to loosen it before had failed.

Suddenly she stopped dead when she heard an almighty bang, and it dawned on her that whoever it was downstairs had just broken in. It sounded like they’d kicked the door right off its hinges, but they couldn’t have because she heard them shut it again just as loudly.

She feebly tried to dwell on the idea that they’d heard her scream and had come in to investigate; to be her knight in shining armour, but in reality she knew the distance from here to the bottom floor, and with the reinforcements on her door she knew no one would be able to hear her tiny voice from there. Her shouting was nothing more than a desperate attempt at hope; she knew it would never attract attention. She wasn’t relieved that this person was here anymore, because they weren’t here for her. She was scared, but scared seemed to be her M.O. these days.

She backed away from the door slightly, but not far enough that she couldn’t lean towards the peephole if she needed to. She kept straight and still as a stone, afraid the slightest movement would give her away once whoever it was got closer, and somehow she knew they would get closer.

The footsteps got louder, and then she heard who it was making them when they shouted for Spike. It was the dark haired man from the robbery, the shooter. There was no mistaking it.

His tone as he continued to shout and search through the house didn’t really sound genuine, as if he didn’t really want anyone to answer; he was checking that Spike wasn’t here, not hoping that he was.

Buffy knew she shouldn’t move, but almost like a reflex she took a step back, the terror in her heart once she’d heard his voice again overwhelmed her. Her eyes shut in panic as soon as she heard the squeak. That traitorous squeak of the floorboards beneath the carpet, and then looking down when she saw the blue covering the wood she wished that Spike was here to cover her. Knowing he wasn’t she waited, as loud, confident footsteps began and drew nearer.

Buffy heard them stop outside her door and she held her breath hoping her silence would dissuade him from entering, but then she heard the lock being toyed with and moments later she leapt back as the door flew open and swung violently. He looked shocked when he saw her, but mostly he looked pleased.

He chuckled, as if he couldn’t believe she was here, or maybe he couldn’t believe she was still alive. “Looky what I found.” he sing-songed as he stepped into the room shaking his head, “Spike’s little hostage all defenceless…and ripe for the taking.” As he spoke he broke into another smile, then turned and closed the door behind him, “Had no idea I’d find such a treat when I came up here, but I did wonder what he’d done with you.”

Buffy said nothing; her eyes flitted to the window, the door, knowing she would find herself trapped, but looking anyway.

Facing her again and seeing her wondering eyes he said, “You’re not going anywhere baby.” He paused and leaned forwards as if he planned to share a secret with her, “I got’ya.” he said darkly.

Buffy swallowed hard as he stepped towards her, she didn’t run, didn’t see the point as she had nowhere to run to. He came to a stop directly in front of her and she longed to step backwards but she was glued to the spot in fear.

“What are you, his live in love toy or something?” he asked whilst tracing the back of his hand gently down her right cheek.

Buffy flinched away from his touch and looked up at him wounded. She hated it, but it wasn’t just at the insult on her, but also the notion that Spike was capable of that.

He continued his sharp reading of her, “No, I suppose good-old Spikey would never dream of doing something like that would he?” he said in a patronising tone, “Me on the other hand...”

He laughed, and it made Buffy feel sick.

“Buffy, right?” he asked, beginning to circle her slightly, “Baby…we are going to have…so…much…fun.”

Everything that happened next began in a rush of movement and blurred together. Before she could even catch a breath he was on her, trying to grab her, kiss her.

She struggled and pulled away from him when she could, but she gasped when he kicked her legs out from under her and suddenly they were on the floor, his heavy body crushing hers.

Buffy beat her hands against his back, pulled them back down and pushed at his shoulders, but he didn’t budge.

He kissed her neck, scraping his teeth up and down as her pulse beat fast and heavy beneath in her veins. She could feel him breathing, panting on her like an animal in heat, and she felt like she was going to vomit. He moved away slightly so she turned her head to prevent him repeating the action, but this only exposed the other side of her neck, and he bent down to treat it the same way.

“Stop,” she screamed, “You’ll never get away with this!”

“I think I already have.” he whispered darkly into her ear, biting the lobe harshly between his teeth. Buffy hissed at the contact and pushed at his bulky frame once more, but this only caused him to chuckle. The sound made her gut twist as his hands moved down and slid beneath her to grab and squeeze her ass.

Tears stung her eyes as she tried to fight him mentally as well as physically whilst he continued to assault her body. There had to be a way out of this, she just had to think, but the only thing that came to mind was Spike. He had to come home, he had to stop this, he had to save her. She knew he’d save her. She didn’t know how or why, but she knew deep down that if only he’d come back she’d be okay.

What if he didn’t come back in time though? And that’s when Buffy realised that Spike might be able to save her anyway.

“Spike will kill you!” she screamed, loud enough that Angel froze and pulled up to look into her eyes. And as blind a shot as it had been his reaction gave Buffy more confidence that she was onto something, so she continued, “If he finds out you were here, that you broke into his house, that you came in to…”

“He’ll be mad as hell.” Angel said with a sneer, as he contemplated just how angry Spike would be, but suddenly no longer fearing it. It’d probably turn into a fight, a couple of punches, nothing more. It would be sport for him, no long term damage to their relationship. Just a bit of harmless violence; he relished the idea.

Buffy saw it all playing across his face and she swallowed hard, trying to remember where she was headed before he interrupted her.

She carried on with a shaky whisper, “If he knew y-you came here, that you t-touched me, or h-hurt me. He’d kill you.”

“And what makes you think he’ll care about you?” Angel asked.

“He’ll care.” she said adamantly.

“About you?” he laughed, “All you are is a nuisance; he cares that you’re here because it means the cops don’t have you yet. He doesn’t care about you. You’re just a little whore.”

Impulsively Buffy spat at him. His words stung her more than she liked; no one called her a whore. She didn’t lie back and take stuff like that, no matter the circumstances, but more than that, just the thought that Spike could think that way about her. She stared at him defiantly, not realising the magnitude of what she’d done.

Angel paused momentarily and then in anger pushed her harshly down into the floorboards where he had her pinned. She groaned from the pressure on her shoulder blades until he pulled back, grabbing the lapels of her jacket with one hand and raising the other up high as if he was preparing to strike her.

Buffy panicked and said the first thing that came into her head, in her moment of need retreating behind Spike once more, “He’ll care if you leave a mark on me!” she pleaded. Her eyes shut, ready to receive the blow anyway, but it never came, and she heard him laugh again.

Angel raised himself up on his knees and yanked her up with him, she was still between his legs, but was leant towards him uncomfortably, with her back off the floor.

“You think so?” he asked with a grin, almost laughing in her face, “Ask him...” he continued with a sickeningly sweet amusement, “Ask him about all the things we’ve done together; all the people we’ve hurt; about all the blood on his hands.”

Buffy could smell his thick, warm breath on her face as he pulled her closer to him, her upper body further off the floor and nearer to his.

“He wouldn’t shed a tear, or break a jaw to mourn your passing when he’s leant a hand in so many others.”

Buffy screwed her eyes shut against the words, waiting, for what she didn’t know, but her body was coiled tight in anticipation, and she feared every breath would be her last, but minutes later she realised she was still waiting. Eventually he let go of her jacket and she dropped. She whimpered as her back hit the floor with an unforgiving thud.

“…But maybe you’re right,” he said finally, watching her from the floor, “Spike always did have a soft spot for the most unlikely people.” Angel knew full well of Spike’s softer side, and unfortunately it didn’t go hand in hand with him being soft enough to push around. Spike and him had had many blow-outs about this sort of thing, Angel knew Spike wouldn’t stand for him beating up a defenceless girl in his own house and leaving him to clean up the mess, no matter how much fun he could have with her before he got home. He’d go spare.

When the time came to get rid of her he hoped Spike would have the balls to do it, and if not he’d have to take over, but there was a time and a place, and the girl was right Spike would be pissed he’d come over uninvited and let himself in. Not to mention if he left blood stains all over the place, that sort of thing probably wouldn’t just end up in the one-round fist fight he’d originally anticipated.

She looked up into his face; his brow was furrowed like he wanted to pounce, but as if something was holding him back. Was he just bored with her? She imagined men like him got easily bored with people, as if they were nothing more than toys to play with. She wondered if he simply wanted a new toy, or if she’d really gotten him thinking. The threat she’d made had been a long shot, but was he truly afraid of Spike’s reaction? If he was did it mean he knew Spike would care, or just that Spike was someone to be feared? She couldn’t imagine this man being afraid of anyone, but if he was afraid, what kind of man did that make Spike? For once she wasn’t allowed to dwell on her questions.

“It’s your lucky day, baby.” he said, his eyes twinkling with a deviousness that Buffy had never seen before, “I’m going to let you go.”

Suddenly he reached down to her and grabbed her coat again, this time dragging her to her feet with him, but pulling her further, up onto her toes so they were almost eye level. The shock forced a squeak out of her at first, but he caught her gaze and suddenly she was terrified into silence once more. Until then she’d never realised how he towered over her.

He carried on, spitting the words into her face, his lips uncomfortably close to hers, “But if you think for one minute that I’m going to let you out of this alive now you’ve seen my face as well, you’d better think again.”

His eyes darted fast between hers, they were strained and she could tell this was probably the first time in a long time that he’d had to keep his anger under control.

“I’ll give him his chance, ‘til the money-date.” Angel continued, though Buffy had no idea what that meant. Then the next second she didn’t care, because he had one last thing to say, “He’s going to get rid of you by then…Or I will.”

He dropped her again, but this time it was from a height, and she landed more harshly than before. Everything rushed around her so fast it matched the escalation of her heart beat, which was thrumming in her ears. Everything was so bright and so loud, and she didn’t even notice him leave until she heard the lock outside click and she looked back up and saw that she was alone.

Without another thought she scuttled away into the bathroom and closed the door.


* * * * *

Spike came home much later, he was exhausted, but he’d had time to calm down and that’s all that mattered to him. He didn’t know why but he lost his cool around Buffy more than he was used to. He preferred it at times like this when he could manage to get his feelings fully under control.

As he strode up the stairs planning to go straight to bed he heard something. He realised as soon as he reached the landing what it was, and although he knew instantly what he was going to do about it, he still hesitated for a moment. He could hear Buffy, and she was crying, in fact she was sobbing to be more accurate. It sounded quiet, gentle, but he knew that was mainly because of the distance between them, and when he went up those second set of stairs and opened her door like he knew he had to, those cries wouldn’t be so quiet anymore.

She was really upset; he could tell she wasn’t faking. The sobs were harsh, but they weren’t attention drawing or theatrical. He could imagine how they were probably making her whole body shake as she tried to smother them. He didn’t know this girl by any means, but he didn’t think she was the type to fake anything in order to get attention or pity, he doubted she even knew that he was home.

With that thought crossing his mind he briefly considered continuing with his original plan to go to bed, she would never know he’d ignored her. But it was hopeless; he knew immediately that that wasn’t an option. It wasn’t about whether she knew he would come and comfort her or not, it was about the fact that he wanted to. No matter how he tried to keep his cool he knew one thing; he was falling for this girl.

Not in a clichéd affectionate way, he told himself. It was just that he was drawn to her, unable to distance himself even though he needed to. No matter what the circumstances he couldn’t help but feel something for her. He didn’t know what it was; he tried to tell himself it was only sympathy. He did worried about her, but wouldn’t any normal person?

Granted, any normal person wouldn’t have kidnapped her and locked her away against her will, but even if he wasn’t normal he refused to believe he was a monster. He couldn’t see her every day, see the pain she was going through, and not care. There was nothing he could do about it, he valued himself and his future over her, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t sorry about it, and it didn’t mean he didn’t care. He had feelings; somewhere buried deep he did.

Whatever the explanation he knew he was going up there, to check on her, whether she wanted him there or not he had to go. He couldn’t stop himself, and he wouldn’t be able to live with the guilt if he didn’t. He took the stairs carefully even though a part of him wanted to run he kept a slow pace so that his footsteps didn’t startle her.

“Buffy?” he croaked carefully as he got closed and unlocked the door to her room, but he heard no answer, “Buffy, pet you okay?” he asked stepping inside without even thinking about checking the peephole as usual.

He came around the door and just as he thought it would the crying got louder now there were fewer barriers between them, but it was still muffled slightly and he still couldn’t see her. The noise was coming out of the bathroom he realised, and he noticed immediately the door was shut. He crossed the room, a million thoughts running through his head, but the need to find out what was wrong with her was at the forefront of his mind.

He slowed down as he found himself in front of her ensuite, he decided he should take a breath, and with his heart in his throat he tapped gently on the door with the back of his hand, and asked to come in. She didn’t open the door, and her sobs didn’t falter, so Spike closed his eyes and opened the door himself, not looking forward to what he would find.

She was a mess, Buffy knew she was, she just couldn’t help it, and she sure as hell couldn’t stop it. She wasn’t sobbing loudly, or uncontrollably, but her tears were relentless and she felt as if she was shaking from the inside out, although she wasn’t moving a muscle.

“Is this about earlier?” Spike asked as he entered, “I’m sorry pet. It was a really bad idea…” he paused when he finally got a good look at her. She wasn’t looking at him or anything in particular, her detached expression scared him and he knew instantly that she wasn’t crying about the birthday fiasco, there was something really wrong with her.

He knelt down straight away and without thinking about keeping his distance or her personal space he brushed away the stray hair that had fallen over her left eye and swept it behind her ear.

“Spike?” she said turning to him.

“What happened?” he asked in confusion.

Buffy suddenly came back to herself, the present, the room she was in. Finally she was aware that it was really Spike here with her now and no one else. Suddenly her mind was bombarded with voices, opinions, worries, as she tried to decide what to do. Should she tell him what happened? Should she tell him anything at all?

Maybe he could make sure it wouldn’t happen again, maybe Spike would fight her corner? But she was still confused why earlier in her moment of need she’d thought so much of him. He was her kidnapper, how long was it going to take for her to think of him that way again? He wasn’t her rescuer and he didn’t want to help her; he wanted rid of her, so surely the more likely scenario would be that if he knew she’d seen that other man’s face he’d try and pass her off on him, say she wasn’t just his problem anymore. She didn’t know what frightened her more, staying here and never knowing if she’d be safe, or being given to that man, and knowing exactly what awaited her.

“Pet?” Spike pressed, hurrying her thoughts.

“The man,” she began quietly, “from the bank?...The man who shot the bank manager?”

“Angel?” Spike asked without thinking.

“Angel.” she echoed, repeating the name to herself as she remembered his needy touches.

She shivered.

“What about him?” Spike pushed, suddenly confused and wondering when she’d finally explain what was wrong. His heart ached to help her and he didn’t like the feeling, or the helplessness he was experiencing in the meantime.

“Who is he?”

Spike sighed regretfully, wishing he could give her whatever she wanted, even if he didn’t know why she wanted it, “I can’t tell you that, pet…You know I can’t.”

“You’re protecting him?” she asked without judgement. It wasn’t an assumption, it was a genuine question and she wanted a genuine answer.

“I’m protecting us all.” he explained, avoiding agreeing with her. He didn’t want to admit he was doing Angel a favour by not divulging more about him, but it was a necessary evil in order to keep them all safe. They were all known associates and the police could easily follow one of them to the others.

Buffy didn’t fail to notice how he’d dodged her question; she picked up on his unwillingness to group himself with Angel. “So you’re not his friend?” she pried.

“No.” he sighed again.

Buffy dwelled on that. The voices in her head were getting louder, confusing her. Did that mean he wouldn’t give her to Angel if he knew? Or would it mean he’d be more likely to give her away, knowing how much of a pain she was to look after, maybe wanting to annoy Angel at her expense.

Her mind hurt, she’d been crying all day and her nerves were ready to snap, the effort to stop them was putting her under enormous strain.

“Then why were you there with him?” she asked.

Spike seemed dumbfounded by her question at first, but she glared at him suddenly, waiting for an answer.

“I…” he stuttered, “It had nothing to do with him.”

She laughed bitterly, “Liar.” Just like that all the compassion she’d felt while she worried about him in the storm earlier was gone. She felt nothing for him but hate; finally she felt pure hatred for him, because he’d brought her here, and by doing so he’d brought that monster into her life. “I bet he’s your buddy, your best pal,” she continued, “bet you do everything together. All sorts of seedy, disgusting things.” Her mind replayed Angel’s words; Ask him, about all the things we’ve done together; about all the people we’ve hurt; about all the blood on his hands.

“Buffy the only reason I did that job was for the money.” Spike defended, “I didn’t do it because I wanted to, and I didn’t do it for Angel, I have no loyalty to him. I was there because I want to start a new life, and it’s all I know. I needed money to get away from people like him. All my life I’ve…”

“Spare me the sob story.” she said cutting him off.

Spike’s jaw twitched as he fought down the demon inside him.

She didn’t believe he was good, that he wanted to be good, she wouldn’t let herself. He was lying, he had to be. “I think you should go, Spike.” she said softly, trying not to sound frustrated. She didn’t want to make a scene or start a fight with him, knowing now how his temper could flare dramatically even when he seemed at his calmest. “Just go.” she asked quietly.

He stared at her for a long time, he could see legitimate hurt in her eyes, so he tried not to let his anger take over this time. “If that’s what you want, kitten.” he said getting up and shutting the bathroom door behind him. Buffy’s head fell onto her knees, and she soaked her jeans through with her tears.

* * * * *

Spike didn’t come to see her all the next day, not even to bring her food. She didn’t hear him leave, but wondered if he’d gone out before she woke up, because she didn’t hear any noise coming from the rest of the house all day, and when she called out for him no one answered.

As the day dragged on Buffy found that not only was she becoming beyond hungry, but she was bored. Again she found the idea that Spike was her only solace inescapable, because in his absence she had nothing.

Faced with being alone she fell asleep early in the evening, but when she woke the next day it was because he was knocking lightly on her door. She sat up in bed and he came in a moment later, too ashamed to meet her eyes properly at first.

Huffing Buffy threw the covers off herself and shuffled to sit on the end of the bed, for once too mad at him to let the fact that he was shirtless bother her. Sometimes if he’d just gotten out of bed or was just ready to get into bed he came to her in just his sweatpants. Normally that made it impossible to be mad at him; as if his charm seeped out from his personality and into his rock hard abs. Buffy was still a woman, she allowed herself a quick glance at him, but today she was too far gone to let his body sway her.

She waited for him to speak, because she had no idea what to say. She waited thinking maybe he would explain himself, but he didn’t, so she had to take the first step.

“Where have you been?” she asked sharply.

“I had to go see a friend.”

She turned and locked eyes with him, “Who?”

“I can’t tell you who.” he said not breaking eye contact with her, suddenly no longer afraid.

“Why?” she asked.

“I needed some advice.”

“About me?”

“About stuff.” His expression seemed to ask her if that was enough of an answer, but hers told him no.

“Look, just keep out of my business, and I’ll keep out of yours.” he said frustrated.

Buffy laughed, “What business do I have? I’m a prisoner. I have no one to talk to; I can’t even remember the last time I went outside…and oh yeah, as of yesterday I’m being starved!”

Spike winced, and his voice softened, “I’m sorry about that, kitten.”

“Sorry isn’t good enough!” she snapped.

“Well sorry’s all I’ve got!” he yelled suddenly.

Buffy froze as she usually did when he raised his voice that loud.

Spike continued almost snarling, “I have other things on my mind you know, luv. I’m sorry your stomach started rumbling, but I’m trying to sort my life out here!”

Buffy felt defeated; for a second she no longer wanted to argue, she just wanted this to be over. He saw it in her eyes and took a few strained breaths to calm himself.

“We can’t go on like this, Spike.” she sighed out after a while.

“I know.” he said, mirroring her tone as he stepped further in and finally shut the door behind him. “I think maybe if you just tried to see things from my point of view...”

Buffy stared at him in disbelief. “What are you talking about?”

“Like you said, we can’t go on like this. Things need to change.” he explained.

“Things need to stop!” Buffy shouted, rising from the bed as the fight in her built up once more, “I meant we can’t go on like this, Spike.” she said gesturing to the room around them, “You have to stop pretending this solves anything, you have to stop keeping me here! You have to let me go! Its time this stopped! Its time it all stopped!”

“Buffy, you don’t get it. I can’t just let you go. It isn’t that simple.”

“Make it that simple!” she cried in frustration.

He stepped further inside and took another harsh breath through his teeth as he fought to keep his control, “Buffy, you need to look at it from my perspective…”

“I don’t want to look at it from your perspective. You’ve kidnapped me! Why the hell would I care about you? If you don’t have the balls to kill me, then just get over yourself and let me go!”

“Get over myself?” he repeated incredulously, “If I let you go I’ll go to jail, Buffy. You do realise that right?”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t know people that robbed banks went to jail. That doesn’t seem fair.” Buffy replied sarcastically, but not maliciously.

“Come on…” Spike begged for a little latitude.

“No I misunderstood.” she butted in, “I don’t want you to go to jail,” she said straight-faced, “so I’ll stay.”

“Really?”

“Hell no!” she shouted.

“You’re a selfish spoiled little brat.” Spike snapped.

Buffy stilled, hurt etched all over her beautiful face, but Spike was fed up with being brought to his knees by that look. He was fed up of her Princess routine.

“Yeah, that got your attention huh?” he said furiously. “I could talk until I’m blue in the face about my problems and you wouldn’t listen, but insult your pretty little arse for one second and suddenly you’re all ears. You don’t think of anyone but yourself!”

Buffy bit her lip hard to keep from screaming. When he’d finished she took a deep breath and started calmly, “I’m not listening to you because I don’t owe you that. I don’t owe you anything.”

“Buffy…”

“No!” she said, tired of his assumptions. “I’m not selfish, don’t you dare say I’m selfish! I gave the first 18 years of my life up for someone else! And now I only have myself to think about. Right now I’m allowed to think about me, when it’s me that’s being kept here against my will!

“Buffy…” he tried to interject again.

“You know who’s the selfish one?!” she said, “You! You’ve never been told what’s right and wrong, never respected anyone, especially the law. You think you can do whatever you want; screw over whoever you want!”

Spike suddenly held his hands up in desperation, “I don’t want to rot in jail, why can’t you understand that?”

“I do understand that, I just don’t care!” she screamed.

“Yes you do!”

Buffy was taken aback, she gasped. Her heart stopped a little. Had he found her out?

“I…” Spike scrambled over his words, unfortunately he stumbled long enough for her to escape into the bathroom and slam the door shut behind her.

“Shit.” he said under his breath.

* * * * *

Buffy was sat there, on the edge of the bath, willing herself to pull it together.

Did he know her feelings for him? Had he always known? Or had he just called her bluff back there?

He was a man, and they weren’t known for being the most perceptive when it came to how women felt, so there was a chance he was still in the dark. After all she didn’t even know what her feelings were for him, so how could he?

She hoped whatever the case that he’d let it go. It wouldn’t make things any easier if they acknowledged it, so maybe he’d pretend, for her. Maybe she could go out there and he would change the subject back, but then of course going back into that was almost as uncomfortable a prospect.

Buffy had been hurt by him jumping to conclusions, acting as if he knew everything about her from what he saw on the surface alone, what he’d seen in the past few weeks. But hadn’t she done the same?

She pulled the hair back from her face, raking her hands through it. Sighing she got up and stepped towards the door; she took another deep breath and gently pushed. He was still stood in the middle of her room; if he’d moved at all it was a few tentative steps closer, but nothing too noticeable.

For a while she said nothing, but when she dragged her gaze up to his face she saw the worry in his eyes.

“Spike, I’m…”

“I’m sorry.” he said quietly interrupting her.

Buffy said nothing, hoping he would continue. She knew that they both had things to be sorry for, but she wanted to hear what he had to say before she made her own apologises.

“I shouldn’t have said you were spoiled, or selfish. I obviously don’t know you...” He paused; he wanted to ask her what she’d meant when she’d said she’d given up her life for another person, but he knew it wasn’t his place to pry, and he also wanted an end to this conversation, fast. He continued reluctantly, “But I can’t let you go, Buffy.”

Buffy walked towards him and when she stopped close by he looked away.

“I’m scared, luv. I don’t want to go to jail.” Spike’s eyes were glued to the floor, “I know I should let you go, but I’m not ready to spend my life in a prison cell. I don’t want to go to jail, and I honestly don’t know what to do with you.”

Buffy was surprised he’d admitted that to her, she was almost relieved. “I could promise I wouldn’t tell anyone.” she suggested almost as a joke.

Spike laughed bitterly, “And I wouldn’t believe that, even if I wanted to.”

Buffy sighed, “Spike, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t,” he begged, his nerves on edge, “Please don’t say anything else.”

“But it’s true. I don’t want to be sorry, but I am.” She stepped even closer, so that they were right in front of each other, moved by his sudden vulnerability she now didn’t feel uncomfortable being so near to him. “I’m sorry I said those things. They might be true, but I don’t have a right to say them, because I don’t know you either.”

For the first time in a while Spike looked up at her, his face looked pained as if he was really desperate for her to shut up now.

Buffy knew she had to continue, she could sense he was getting ready to stop her so she had to get it all out, “What I do know is that you have to let me go…You have to Spike, because…”

Before she could finish her sentence she felt pressure on her mouth, and it took a few seconds to register that Spike had forced her silence, and a few more to register that the pressure keeping her quiet was actually from his lips.


* * * * *

His lips were strong and insistent on hers. The kiss wasn’t gentle, it was desperate. Buffy couldn’t remember how long they’d been kissing, or when she’d decided to kiss him back, but there they were, battling each other passionately. Her hands longed to run through his hair or maybe grab him and keep him still so she could control the kiss herself, but he’d beat her to it and was holding her arms in a vice like grip at her side.

Spike was on autopilot and had completely forgotten where he was, but not who he was holding. He didn’t want to forget when she whimpered into his open mouth, but it was his turn to moan when he slid his tongue in to play and she surprised him by reciprocating and caressing it with her own.

His hand slid possessively into her hair and he took a step forward, causing her to take a couple back. When the corner of the bed hit her legs it brought her to her senses. What was she doing?

Suddenly Buffy pushed at his chest, and unlike Angel as soon as he felt her resistance Spike pulled away. When he saw the raw shock on her face he snapped back to reality and gave her the room she needed.

Buffy didn’t understand what had possessed him to do that, or what had come over her when she’d responded. She stared at him with wild questioning eyes and her fingers came to touch her mouth, reminding them both what had happened. Their lips tingled with the memory.

Spike looked away also unable to comprehend what he’d done or why, and before either of them could speak he left the room in an awkward hurry.

* * * * *

The next morning Buffy woke up to find a cereal box and a carton of milk to the side of her door. Spike was going to play it that way, avoiding her she realised. When she took a shower later that afternoon and on coming out saw a plate full of pasta had replaced the cereal she was sure of it. He must have waited until he could hear the water running.

That night when he still hadn’t come up to the attic and actually faced her she knocked loudly on the door, shouted his name and waited. It was late, but she couldn’t sleep for thinking about him, and she hoped he’d come talk to her.

At first she heard nothing, so she knocked again, “Spike? Are you out there?” she asked.

Still nothing.

Spike had woken to her first knock, but he hesitated, not wanting to see her still. He found however that he couldn’t resist her in the long run.

“Spike?” she shouted once more, “Please?”

Spike sat up and hung his head. He took a deep breath, ran his hands through the loose curls on his head and sighed. Before he knew what he was doing he was at the top of the stairs unlocking her door.

She heard him come and waited patiently for him to enter, but instead he simply opened the door, and then walked back down to the landing.

Buffy was frozen, unsure of what to do, what he wanted her to. It was the first time she hadn’t had a gut reaction telling her to run; instead she kept standing at the attic door, waiting for the okay to leave. And it didn’t feel as sad as it sounded to finally be doing what he told her, but it was worrying.

When Spike realised she wasn’t following him he stopped and looked back up at her, “Come on, kitten. I trust you.”

Buffy came down, but internally she didn’t let go of his confession. Did he trust her because he knew she couldn’t escape? Or because if she did he knew he could stop her? Or did he mean he trusted she wouldn’t try and escape?

Surely that wasn’t true, although she had faulted at the top of the stairs she still wanted to leave didn’t she? Buffy didn’t know why she’d frozen there like that. Maybe he knew something she didn’t.

Before she realised it she was at the landing too. He took her hand and went around the corner, but before she had time to have a problem with the gesture he let her arm drop and took a seat on his camp bed.

Buffy followed him out into the hallway and stood in front of him. He eyed the stairs for a second and then looked back at her. That comforted her; at least he was still a little worried, that meant he didn’t think he’d totally subdued her.

Spike was making himself at home on his faux bed, whilst Buffy stood there far from comfortable.

“You’ve been avoiding me.” It was phrased more as an accusation than a question, but he answered it never the less.

“Yes.” he said simply.

“Because we…” she faded out uneasily and looked down at her feet.

Neither of them said anything for a while; Buffy had expected him to jump in, either to take the pressure off her, or because he would want to apologise for his behaviour, but for a long time he didn’t.

“I’m sorry I haven’t been to see you today, kitten.” he said finally.

Better late than never she thought. “Its okay, I understand.”

Again silence.

Buffy looked around, trying to get inspiration for a conversation topic when she realised neither of them was ready to talk about their kiss just yet. “So you sleep here then?” she asked suddenly, “Erm…is it comfy?”

Spike smiled, amused by her desperate endeavour to end the silence, but didn’t answer.

“It looks okay.” she continued, unfortunately staring at him rather than the bed when she spoke, so her meaning became open to his wandering mind.

Spike smile became a grin. Buffy’s cheeks turned red when she saw the look on his face.

“So…why the hallway again?” she asked trying to move on.

Spike decided to give her a break and let her first awkward conversation attempt go; “I told you, you’re in my room.” he said lightly.

“Yeah, I remember,” she replied bemused, “but how is that possible?”

Spike simply raised a questioning eyebrow.

Buffy answered him in her own way, “I mean, have you seen the size of this place?”

He laughed, it made her stomach flip and she had to smile.

“I just don’t get how such a big house can only have one bedroom, what’s wrong with all the other rooms?”

Spike paused for a long time, and it looked as if he was thinking something over. Buffy couldn’t imagine what it was, but she got lost in his expression.

“Come with me, pet.” he said abruptly.

“Why?” she asked suddenly nervous.

He smiled, “You want to know why I’m here in the hall, right?” he asked.

“Yeah, but…”

“Then follow me.” he said getting up and walking down the hall past the bathroom and to the next door on the right, she followed him.

He opened it slowly and coughed, “Er…I guess this is a storeroom.” he said almost embarrassed. He didn’t enter; instead he stepped back and held a hand out motioning for her to go first. Tentatively she did. He went in too eventually, but hung back in the doorway to give her space to walk around.

Storeroom? She mused. More like music room. It was packed full of instruments, so many that she had to be careful how she walked so that she didn’t knock anything over.

There were guitars to the right, 2 acoustic and 3 electric, all propped up carefully on stands, but their straps hung haphazardly like they had just been dumped there. In the near corner was a drum kit, she imagined it was relatively unused and would have shone like new if it hadn’t been so dusty.

Almost the mirror opposite, the left hand side was littered with classical instruments, placed much the same as the guitars, and in the corner a beautiful black grand piano stood proudly. Unlike the drum kit it was almost painful to see it covered in dust. It sent a chill down her spine because of its enormous presence.

She turned around; her eyes scrunched painfully tight as she looked at Spike and tried to meet his gaze. “What is this?” she asked, now understanding why he was embarrassed introducing her to this place; it was a crime to store these things and not use them.

Spike stood away from the wall he had been leaning against, “Time for questions later, pet.”

“But…”

“Trust me,” he said chuckling, “You’ll have plenty more to ask in a minute, so might as well save ‘em up.” With that he walked out.

She followed him out of the music room and across to another room opposite it.

“This is my office.” he said quietly, flicking on the light.

Much like the music room Buffy saw that it was packed full of things. The theme in here wasn’t music however, it was art. There was an easel in the corner by the window, a canvas stood against it, but it was covered with a dirty cloth. More canvases were propped up on the floor in front of it. There were beautiful pictures on the wall, all of them abstract and amateur, but still wonderful. There were shelves full of handmade sculptures and pots, some painted and glossed and some still in rough dull clay, but all very handsome pieces.

Buffy’s eyes were drawn to the edge of the desk where something familiar now sat. “Is that the vase I…”

“Clonked over my head?” Spike finished, “Yeah, that’s the one.”

It was glued in so many places Buffy wondered why he’d bothered putting it back together, it must have took him a long time, and the pattern of lilies was no longer anywhere near as beautiful, even though it was still pleasing to the eye it had lost its flawlessness.

“Its special.” he said as if answering her silent question.

“Did you…?”

Spike nodded. He knew she was going to ask him if he’d made it and the answer was yes, he’d made them all, but he didn’t want to talk about it, so he just nodded and backed out of the room, waiting for her to follow him again.

The next room he took her to was back the way they had come, at the other end of the house. It would have been pitch black if there hadn’t been moonlight coming in from the window. He hadn’t turned on the light switch so she was tentative when she entered. As she looked around she started to understand why, it was a dark room, or a makeshift one anyway. She was sure there’d be a light somewhere, but it didn’t need one for her to see it properly, it was meant to be viewed in the dark.

In the centre of the room were two long tables set end to end, above them hung a wire with empty pegs on it, and below that on the table side by side were plastic trays which she figured were used for the chemical baths. But everything was empty and long since used.

Buffy walked around hoping to find some trace that this strange enchanting room was still cared for, but there was nothing. Spike sat down on the desk in the corner and watched her as she explored.

After a while she stopped. “So,” she started turning to him slowly, “now for the questions.”

Spike smirked and prepared himself.

“Actually just one, a big one…” she sighed, “Why do you have a dark room, an office full of art work, and a store room full of instruments?”

Spike smiled and laughed quietly. “That’s the billion dollar question you’ve been dying to ask me?”

“Pretty much.” Buffy smiled back, then her face fell, “I mean, it’s actually more: if you can do all these things…if you have all this talent, then why do you…”

“Do what I do?” he offered, so she wouldn’t have to label him.

“Yeah.” she said sadly.

Spike’s face fell too while he tried to think of a more serious answer to give her than the one he’d planned on. “It’s…” He paused, he didn’t know why but he decided to bravely take a leap into the unknown, “I don’t know why I do all these things…or why I keep them after. I’m trying to live up to something I guess…” he said quietly readying himself, “Buffy, my mum died when I was 16…and I won’t lie and say my life was perfect until then, far from it, but I loved my mum, and she always believed I would do great things. I guess all mums do, right?”

Buffy looked guiltily back at him; mad at herself for bringing it up now she knew where it was rooted. She of all people knew what something like that can do to a person, how far it can taint every single insignificant part of your life.

“But for a long time after she died I didn’t feel that I could do anything; I felt useless…And then a couple of years ago I tried to prove myself wrong. When I decided to be a musician I spent all the money my mum left me on instruments; first it was classical, and then it was guitars and drums and sound proofing the basement.” He smiled to her, but she didn’t smile back this time, it wasn’t funny to remember the first time he’d told her that information.

He continued, “Then I decided I wanted to be an artist, so I bought paint and canvases and clay and…and I was fooling myself with that too…” He chuckled, but Buffy could sense the bitter edge to it as he recalled what was not the simple carefree story it seemed.

“I tried all these other things too, but I felt lost without her. Truth was I had no idea what to do. I was burning through her money trying to find something I could be good at, trying to be better, trying to find myself again. I finally realised it was impossible.”

“So you gave up?” Buffy asked carefully.

Spike breezed past her comment, “So I decided I should just accept where I was and work my damned hardest to get some more money together so I could get away from it…All this prattle wasn’t the answer to that, you can’t get out, you can’t escape unless you really escape…” He stared down at the floor shaking his head, “but now I don’t know, maybe I can’t get out…I mean my one shot at a new life’s gone to hell…that was my last…” he stopped abruptly with no sign that he would continue this time.

She saw he was closing up on her. He’d opened up a little, but it was too hard for him to go any further. Buffy took a moment, she knew what she had to do and she hoped it would work. She hoped that if she told him about her mother then he wouldn’t feel so vulnerable about what he’d shared, or be too scared to share more. “My mom died too.” she said.

His head snapped up suddenly and he looked across at her to see if she’d really said what he thought she had. “Really?” he asked.

Buffy nodded, “She died just over 2 years ago.”

Spike got up from where he was and stood, “You don’t have to tell me about it, kitten…if you don’t want.”

“Its okay,” she said looking at the floor suddenly, “I don’t know why, but I want to.”

Spike stepped forward and waited for her to start in her own time.

“It was a shock when she died, but it shouldn’t have been. She was in and out of hospital my whole life.” She looked up at him, a little embarrassed that he was staring so intently at her, but carried on, “When I was younger it was depression. My dad left us when I was 9 and she never got over it…Sometimes she’d go for walks and not come back, she’d forget to pick me up from school or cook dinner, or clean the house…so I had to. I had to make sure she ate everyday, because otherwise she wouldn’t…and at night I had to put her to bed on the couch when she drank…But I didn’t mind, because we managed, and at least she’d stayed with me, my dad didn’t.”

Spike took another step closer, not wanting to interrupt by saying it, but wanting to show her he was there for her.

Buffy looked away again, but she appreciated his closeness.

“When she was finally pulling herself together, I think I was 14. That’s when she got diagnosed with cancer…”

Spike froze for a second, but then took another step.

“She fought it pretty well, chemoed the hell out of it and we thought it was gone, but on my 17th birthday she collapsed. It was back, and there was nothing they could do this time.”

“Buffy, god that’s…” He reached a hand under her chin and brought her head up so her eyes could meet his. “I can’t believe you went through all that.”

“I told you you didn’t know me, Spike.” she said softly, “I may only think of myself, but I never used to have that chance. And when my mum died I felt like I had no one, I felt lost, like no one could possibly understand me. People tried, but I pushed them away; I pushed and I pushed, and then eventually I really didn’t have anyone. Just me.”

Man, did he regret judging her. When she shouted and threw tantrums it wasn’t because she was spoiled; she was just a wounded little girl. She was independent. She was a fighter and he’d pushed her to fight back so she had.

“I’m so sorry, kitten.” he said brushing his hand against her cheek for a second, both of them surprised how natural it felt.

“Anyway,” Buffy said, trying to get through the rest of the story so she could finish it, “she died my last year of high school. She hadn’t been fit to work for a long time and we had nothing, but I had my college fund from my dad, the only thing he ever gave me all my life, so as soon as I graduated I skipped town, started college, and got a job to pay off our debts…Well, that was the plan…” she paused for a second, “Anyway…I wanted a new life after she died, and so I went out and got one. I understand being lost; I understand the need to start over.”

Spike didn’t know what else to say, his story wasn’t as straight forward as hers, and as much as he wanted to tell her about it, to share his pain and make her feel like she wasn’t alone in her loss, he couldn’t. She wouldn’t understand if he told her everything, she shouldn’t understand.

“What was your mother’s name?” Buffy asked as she watched the emotions playing across Spike’s face.

“Lily.” he said sadly.

Buffy felt tears prick her eyes as she remembered the vase, but she didn’t want to cry over breaking it, or apologise to him for how much it must have hurt him. She didn’t want to make this about her regret.

“What happened to her?” she asked carefully, and as her question registered she saw him physically tense, felt the atmosphere change around them and she wanted to take it back.

His jaw twitched, “Can we talk about something else?” he asked.

Buffy didn’t push. It took a lot for her to talk about her mother, and she didn’t know why she had been able to with him. She didn’t expect him to share just because she had; it wasn’t something you could force. His secrets made him such a puzzle for her, but she’d have to unravel them one at a time, when he was ready.

She looked up into his big blue eyes and held his gaze as she gathered her strength to ask what she knew she wanted to ask. The words came out tender, “Why did you kiss me yesterday?”

His face softened, and he found that he couldn’t look away from her, and when he realised that he knew he had to answer, “I wanted to shut you up.”

Buffy searched his eyes, “There’s another reason.” she said confidently.

“I…” he tripped all over his words, something he did an awful lot around her; he took a deep breath, “You said you didn’t know me.”

Her brow creased in confusion, but still her voice was careful, “I don’t understand.”

“When you said that…I felt something.” He suddenly realised they couldn’t get much closer than they were, yet his body felt a pull to her, a need to be nearer.

“What?”

“I felt regret, I guess.” he choked out. “I wished that things were different. That we’d met differently.”

Buffy was still confused, but she was feeling a similar pull to him, and when his hand came to rest on her arm she felt warmth spread through her body and didn’t pull away.

“If we’d met differently you could have known me.” he explained, “I realised I wanted you to know me.”

“Spike.”

He leaned down, and she knew that he was going to kiss her. She wanted him to, she really did. She wanted to feel the heat of his mouth again, to feel the strength of his kiss in the way his lips moved on hers, but she couldn’t bring herself to let him, so she moved away at the last minute.

Spike pulled back a second later, trying to save some dignity after her rebuff. He wasn’t going to try again; he was choosing to be a gentleman. Yesterday, tonight, he’d forget they ever happened if that’s what she wanted. He didn’t want to forget, but he would.

He sighed sadly, “Maybe we should just go to bed.”

Unable to look at him and knowing that she’d probably made him feel utterly stupid Buffy couldn’t answer him so she just nodded. She felt an ache in her gut from hurting his feelings, but she knew this wasn’t right. She had to keep reminding herself of that.


* * * * *

The first time he’d stayed away and starved her had been childish and she hoped he’d learnt how childish it was, but it was two days after their almost kiss in the dark room and Buffy hadn’t seen or heard a word from him.

She couldn’t let him get away with it again; it was bad enough being here and kept against her will, throw in her crazy feelings for Spike that were growing in intensity day by day and it was truly agonizing. Now that he was starving her again it was unbearable.

The last time they had both made mistakes, and even though that didn’t excuse his behaviour she’d had second thoughts about giving him what-for because of it. This time she had no guilt; she’d done the right thing stopping the kiss, and if his feelings had been hurt it wasn’t acceptable to avoid her in order to make himself feel better.

Buffy didn’t have any idea what to say to him, but she wasn’t going to stand for being treated this way. They’d had an awkward moment, they’d had them before and they would probably have had them again. Now she wouldn’t give them the chance to; she was getting out of here.

Some part of her knew from the first missed meal the morning after she’d rejected him that he wasn’t going to come to her for a long time, so she’d started thinking this way almost immediately. He’d probably catch her before she got anywhere near her aim, but it was worth trying. Now that she was mad at him the urge to escape had come back anew, it made her wonder what she’d be doing the week and days before.

Had she been staying here, for him?

* * * * *

He hadn’t seen Buffy for two whole days. Well, to be specific two days, three nights; not that he was counting.

Walking up those attic stairs this morning, it felt like he’d only been there hours ago. He knew it was stupid to hope that it felt like only hours to her. He knew she’d gone without food, conversation and companionship, which meant all that time would have been painfully realistic to her.

She’d really hate him now.

He tried to think that was what he wanted her to feel, but that was just as stupid a thing to hope for. The last thing he wanted was for her to hate him.

He paused at her bedroom door and weighed up his options; he could beat around the bush, he could defend himself, or he could man up and apologise; get right to the point and admit what an asshole he was being to her.

Deciding that was the best thing to do he unlocked the door and braced himself.

“I’m sorry, pet. I…” He stopped.

She stared at him, dead still and dead silent.

His eyes glimmered with anger; it flushed all the way through him, pumping his body with adrenaline. His calculating instinct took in every part of the scene within an instant and assessed it; she was sat on her knees in the corner of the room by her bed, her face was wet with tears and the bed was covered in uneven wood chippings and dust.

In her right hand was her hairbrush, but she was holding it the wrong way. On one side was a brush, and on the other was a sharp point designed to lift up and section the hair. He’d seen his mother use one like that once and had bought it for Buffy with that in mind, but she wasn’t holding it towards her at either end. It was extended out towards the window sill jammed into the board that covered the window, jammed into a tiny hole that was now at the base of the board.

Buffy knew it was a possibility, no in fact a high probability that Spike would find out what she was doing, but she hadn’t been prepared for what would happen after. Her heart suddenly started beating a mile a minute. She hadn’t planned ahead, she just hoped she could chip the board a little and then from there she’d make a new plan depending on how fastened down the whole thing was when she got underneath it. She had expected Spike might catch her at some point before she succeeded; she had expected him to be hurt, or angry, but he looked murderous.

Suddenly like frightened prey she ran, spooked and not knowing what else to do.

Spike knew she was going to run for the safety of the bathroom and barricade herself away from him. He wouldn’t allow it; he leapt over the bed and caught her, shoving her against the wall.

She screamed as her head hit the plaster, but before she had time to acknowledge what had happened he was dragging her backwards into the centre of the room. Her feet jerked underneath her uncomfortably as she tried to keep up with his unsteady pulls. She panicked, thinking he was trying to take her out of the room. She didn’t want to find out where or why so she started to fight him, but Spike simply didn’t want her trapped between him and the wall when he was this angry, he didn’t plan on taking her anywhere, just moving her a little.

Finally he stopped dragging her and just held her tight by her arms, but she carried on trying to get away, so he shook her to make her stop. Her hands came up to hit him, still scared he was planning to take her downstairs even though he was stood still.

He wrestled the hairbrush out of her hand, partly because she was thrusting the point at him in order to get him to back off, and partly because it was just pissing him off to have what she’d done waved about in his face. He threw it behind her and it hit the wall with a bang making her jump.

Seeing her momentarily shocked still by the noise, and by his aggression, he decided it was time to drive some sense into her. He yanked her close to him, “What the fuck did you think you were doing?” he asked shaking her hard, his fingers tightening on her in a bruising grasp.

She whimpered.

He just shook her again, “You think this is a bloody game?!”

“I can’t stay here.” she whined, “You just want to keep me here forever and I’m not yours to keep!”

Is that what she thought? That he wanted her here? Was she suggesting that all this time he thought he’d been deciding what to do with her he’d really just wanted her around?

Even if it was true he ignored it. “You think this is a bloody game.” he repeated to himself, frustrated with her struggles.

She could feel his breath on her face, and couldn’t help but remember when Angel had held her this way. She didn’t like being scared of Spike, but when the memory resurfaced it brought back the fear she’d felt as well.

Spike had seen the panic earlier and it hadn’t bothered him. When she’d fought back it had been her natural reaction. But now, when he saw the terror in her eyes he suddenly felt sick; what was he doing? He loosened his grip on her, but didn’t let her go. He needed her to ground him as he tried to remember what the hell was going on.

Why had he reacted like that? Even if she chipped a hole in the window board she’d never have the strength to rip the rest down, and even if the board wasn’t there she couldn’t climb down three stories without injuring herself. He’d boarded the window to stop her trying that, but the very idea of her hurting herself caused him to pause in his examination.

After that he immediately knew his problem, if the thought of her hurting herself stopped him thinking straight, the thought of her leaving him was bound to send him crazy. And she had nearly left him.

He’d thought what she did the other night was rejection, but this felt so much worse than simply pulling away from his kiss; this was her fighting to pull away from him altogether. For the first time he wasn’t sure he cared if she left and called the cops on him, he just didn’t want her to leave, that was the part that mattered now.

Was that why he’d gotten so angry?

Buffy had no idea what to say, she’d seen Spike angry, and she’d seen him upset, but she couldn’t describe what she was seeing right now. She wasn’t scared anymore; she had no idea what he was thinking, but she knew whatever it was it was hurting him.

Spike pushed her away suddenly as if she’d burnt him. She fell, luckily onto the bed, and he stormed out of the room, locking the door as he left.

As he hit the second stair case down he started a faster pace; he almost ran out of the house and down the street. The cold air cut straight through his thin shirt, but it didn’t even occur to him that he should have stopped to bring a jacket, and he never considered going back for one. The only thing that he could think of doing right now was putting some distance between him and that house, more specifically between him and the girl in that house.

* * * * *

He was gone the whole day; it was night time before she saw him again. She was in the bathroom when he came in all guns blazing. He’d calmed down, but you wouldn’t know it from the entrance he made.

Spike was determined to sort this out once and for all, crashing through into her bedroom suddenly and slamming the door shut behind him.

“What the hell?” she shouted storming in to meet him, stomping her feet like a petulant child.

“Look Buffy. I’ve had enough of this.” he said with an unforgiving voice, “I’m tired of you. I’m tired of upsetting you and then feeling bad about it.” He took a deep breath, “You get me so riled up I lose my temper and I hate losing my temper with you.”

She stood there amazed; she couldn’t believe they were here again, him refusing to admit she had a right to be upset. “You’re not seriously blaming me for what happened earlier?”

“No.” he said; she was dead wrong, this wasn’t another one of those talks. “I’ve had enough of that too…You want to leave, I get that; you’re going to do everything you can to leave, that’s your right. I’m done with expecting you to play along, it was a stupid thing to hope for, but I’m also done with letting you run rings around me.”

Now she had no idea what was going on, his confession had thrown her off. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Spike stepped towards her, his gaze on her never faltering, “I trust you, and then I get mad when you throw that trust back in my face.” He sighed, finally looking away, “That’s my fault, not yours.” he admitted finally, “You’re my hostage, not my friend. I shouldn’t be trusting you at all.”

Buffy didn’t know what to say.

“From now on I’m not going to expect anything from you,” he said, his voice going almost soft, “apart from maybe expecting you to be the handful that you are.”

Buffy was silent, she hadn’t expected this play from him.

Spike looked at the bed as if he wanted to sit down, but he decided against it. He wanted to show her he was boss, he wasn’t going to sit and chat with her like he used to, “I hope that if I’m realistic about you I won’t be disappointed, and then I won’t be to blame for losing my temper.”

He looked back at her seriously, Buffy felt like a grounded teenager whose parents were about to lay down the law.

He began again, living up to her suspicions, “But that means I’m going to be tougher, you have to realise I’m not going to be letting you get your own way anymore. Next time I lose my temper its not going to be my fault. What I did earlier, I’m not proud of it, but I’m in charge and for your own good you’ve got to stop pushing me.”

“Or else what?” she asked defiantly.

“I don’t know.”

Buffy was taken aback, had all his bravado gone so suddenly? “You don’t know?” she repeated.

“Yes, and that’s what scares me.” he said staring at her intensely, “I honestly don’t know what I’ll do. I don’t know what I’m going to do, I don’t know what I’m doing…I’m completely and utterly lost and now you know the truth of it. I’m not playing unpredictable to frighten you. I am unpredictable, and I haven’t done anything with you because I haven’t decided what to do yet. That’s the truth.”

Buffy paused, trying to comprehend what he was saying, finding her conclusion hard to swallow. “Are you telling me I should be scared of you from now on?”

He hesitated, but answered her, “Yes.”

It was obvious what he was getting at, but she wasn’t prepared for it. She’d been scared of him at first, of course she had, and there were times that he frightened her still, but Spike wanting her to be scared of him felt wrong. She was angry at him for even suggesting it. “What you’re doing, it’s not right.”

He sighed; frustration leaking out of every breath, “I know that, it’s just…” he took another pause while he tried to think how best to phrase something he felt like he’d explained a million times, “I had this chance, Buffy. A real chance at a new life, you said you understood that. You moved away and made a new life for yourself. I just want to do the same, but now you’re acting as if that’s not a good thing to want.”

Buffy started shaking her head before he’d even finished, “I said I understood wanting a fresh start, Spike. I never said I got one.”

“What does that mean?”

Buffy wasn’t going to answer that; she didn’t want to get into personal things again. She’d shared things with him the other night in a tender moment, the moment had passed. Right now, in this moment, his behaviour didn’t warrant that kind of trust and honesty. “It doesn’t matter;” she said bluntly, “we’re talking about you here, not me.”

“You and me, we’re tied together now, luv; whether you like it or not. I had a plan, and you’re in the way of that plan.”

“What plan?” she asked bemused, “You’re just running away from your past. That’s not a plan.”

“It’s what you did.” he replied.

“But running away doesn’t solve anything!”

Spike paused, “But you said…”

“Stop assuming things, Spike!” she cried, grabbing her hair as if she was going to pull it out of her head, “I said I moved away; yeah maybe I did run, but I never said that worked. You’re always making assumptions about me and my life, what do you know about my life?!”

“I…”

“I’ll tell you what. Nothing! I tried okay, I tried to run, but it didn’t work. I’m alone, and I’m in debt, and I’m struggling to just live!” she screamed at him.

Spike didn’t know what to say, he stood there a little stunned as she ranted, but everything she said made it clearer why she’d been so irresponsive to his plea for understanding.

Buffy started to pace in front of him as she continued, “I work two jobs, Spike, and they come before everything else. I don’t have time to meet people, or have relationships, or even breathe sometimes. I have to miss college a lot because if I don’t work I don’t earn enough money to eat or pay the bills, and because of that I’m flunking things that if I had the time to do I could pass with my eyes closed. I have bank loan after bank loan and I’m this close to losing everything I have.” She suddenly stopped pacing and locked eyes with him, “I mean why do you think a 19 year old girl was in a private office at the back of a major bank 10 minutes before closing?...Do’ya think I was there talking about opening a young person’s savings account?”

Spike was glad she didn’t give him time to speak, because he had no idea what would come out of his mouth. He was trying to stay calm, but she was talking to him, and looking at him as if he was stupid.

“No,” she continued, “I was there to beg for more time to pay off my arrears. I’ve only just turned 20 and I have arrears, Spike! My ‘new life’ as you call it is worth shit!”

He reached out for her, “Kitten, I…”

She pulled back sharply so he couldn’t get to her. “Stop it!” she cried stepping away from him, “Stop with the pet names, and the affectionate touching, and the seeming like you care.”

“I do care!” he protested.

As important a confession as that was she ignored it. Part of her didn’t even hear it; the other part didn’t want to hear it. “And stop acting like I’m ruining your last chance at a decent life. I’m not. You gave up the right to a decent life years before you met me! Decent lives are for decent people!”

Spike sucked in a harsh breath. “And what am I?”

Buffy said nothing; she knew the expression on his face. She’d seen it many times before, and it always came just before he was ready to snap. She bit her tongue.

“Come on, Buffy.” Spike said, moving closer, trying to get in her face and intimidate her, “You seem to know me sooo well, so tell me. What kind of man am I?”

Buffy moved away from him, space was what was needed right now. She hoped in the time it took her to go to the bed and sit down they both would have calmed a bit. She also didn’t want to say this to his face, after this morning she was now prepared to back off if she thought it would give him time to get himself together.

She sat down at the far side of the bed against the head board, not looking at him and sighed, this was it. “You were probably just like me once, I don’t deny that. But you aren’t anymore.” she said. “When my mum died I did something, maybe it wasn’t right, but at least it was something. I went to college, I got a job. I’m guessing not showing up for however long I’ve been here probably isn’t good, but before this, I had them.”

Her tone was sad, and Spike wouldn’t have been human if he didn’t feel bad listening to her. Feeling sorry for her, and feeling guilty for his part suddenly took all the steam from his argument. He came to sit down on the bed too, but he sat on the side and faced away from her.

“I was trying to pay my way out of debt. I tried to make up for her not being here, just like you did, and yes it meant I lost a lot of things. I never made new friends; I lost the ones I had, like I’ve told you before. In doing that I hurt myself.” She paused, he looked over his shoulder and she was suddenly looking right at him. The look in her eyes made him ashamed before she even said the words, “But I never hurt other people.”

What could he say to that?

“You want to know what kind of man you are, Spike?” she continued, “You’re the kind of man that thinks it’s a good idea to rob banks with a man who…”

Spike’s brow knitted together when she paused, but she ignored it. This wasn’t the time to tell him.

“You think you can run, but you can’t.” she said taking a different direction, “No one can out run their past. Mine caught up with me, and so will yours. You can move to a different city, a different state, a different country, but you’ll still be you. You’ll still have the same past; it won’t erase who you are, or what you’ve done. It won’t scrub it clean. You’ve done horrible things, you do horrible things, and yes you may care, but you do them anyway. And maybe that makes you better than Angel, but it doesn’t make you a decent man. You’ll never be a decent man. Not when you’re the kind of man who kidnaps young girls, and doesn’t think about what will happen to them, or what damage it’ll do to them. Being here, you think that’s okay for me? Do you think even at the best of times, when I’m safe and fed and placid that I’m okay? That one day I’ll forget all this happened and be fine?”

“I know you want to go home…I don’t know what to do.” he said painfully.

“I don’t want to go home,” she said shocking him, “What do you think I’ll go home to if you let me go, Spike? I have no friends to comfort me, no family to welcome me back. I had jobs and college classes which I’ll have lost by the time I get out, and a pile full of unpaid loans at the bank. You think I want to leave because my life is so much better than this on the outside?” she shook her head, unable to finish.

She felt the tears come, she knew she couldn’t hide them completely, she forced out her last point, and as soon as it was done she broke down, “I just want to leave, because the only thing I have left is my freedom.” She felt her body shaking; she threw herself down on the bed completely, and tried to hide her face. “Please just leave.” she said into her pillow, but he heard her, and when her voice sent an aching to his heart he knew he had to do as she said.

Buffy laid there sobbing as he got up and walked to the door slowly. He stopped dejectedly, but didn’t turn to face her. “You can think whatever you want of me, Buffy…but it doesn’t mean that it’s true.” He turned the handle, opened the door and walked onto the stairs, but said one last thing before he left her, “And for the record, I’m sorry…but no matter how you twist it, I still envy you.”

Buffy looked up at him for a moment with confusion, this temporarily halted her tears.

He saw her expression in the corner of his eye. He kept his gaze on the floor, because he didn’t want to see her crying again, but he explained himself, “Like you said you have your freedom. I’d give anything to have that.” With that he shut the door to and she heard the lock click.

She turned her face back into the pillow, and cried until she fell asleep.


* * * * *

When Buffy woke up she knew it was late; she felt horrible. Her head was banging and her face was sticky wet, both caused by crying too much last night. She’d been exhausted by it, no wonder she’d slept so long, but it hadn’t done her any good. Now she just felt groggy, the way she always did when she overslept.

She was getting out of bed when she saw it, by the door just like he used to leave it; there was her food for the day. He’d left her a box of cereal bars and a pile of sandwiches. She knew it was his way of making up for how much food she’d gone without, but as she tossed the covers off herself and went to retrieve it from the doorway she knew it was too much. She imagined it was probably because her stomach had shrunk a bit due to the no eating.

She picked them up never the less and went to sit back down on her bed. It was a little cold in the house that day, so she tucked her bare legs back under the bed sheets and placed the food in her lap. She’d been dreaming of having this much to eat for days now, yet as she bit into the first sandwich and opened the box to count the bars inside she knew she couldn’t finish both right now.

But she supposed the bars would keep for a while and that’s when the idea hit her. If she just ate the sandwiches she could save the cereal bars, hide them somewhere, keep them for days, maybe a week or two. Then the next time Spike decided to starve her she’d have something to tide her over. If he thought she could eat them all at once he wouldn’t be surprised if the box was empty when she gave it back, so before she finished her sandwich she took out all the bars and stashed them around her room. She didn’t have a massive choice of large hiding places so she had to make do with sneaking the bars separately into nocks and crannies that she found; one in her toiletry bag, one down behind her bedside table, one in her coat pocket in the wardrobe, and so on. She only hoped that if she needed them she could remember where they all were.

She briefly wondered when her captive mind had taken the driving seat back from her emotions, but while it was useful she let it be.

* * * * *

Spike came home that evening and the house was cold, he’d not turned the heating on because Buffy was in bed when he’d left and he thought he wouldn’t be gone long. Now he imagined how she’d spent the day and cringed; it wasn’t freezing but she was bound to be unhappy, he hoped the fact that he’d left her some food would lessen the likelihood that she’d be angry with him.

He went to put the heating up on his way through the kitchen. As he passed by he yanked up his heavy shoulder bag onto the island and left it there as if it wasn’t important, but when he came back he laid his hands on top of it and stared at it for a long time, as if it was the most precious thing in the world.

To him it was.

Not so much the bag itself, but what was inside, and what it would mean for him. The money had been divided and everyone had got a decent cut, Spike made sure of that. Once things had cooled down, and Buffy was out of the picture he could use this to go anywhere, to do anything, no matter what she said to him.

Angel had asked about her today, and he’d had a glint in his eye that Spike didn’t like one bit. It made Spike feel protective of her and without hesitation he’d lied; when Angel had asked if Buffy was still in the picture Spike had covered and said he’d got rid of her and none of them had anything to worry about. Even if it wasn’t true, he didn’t want Angel to know that.

He took a glance towards the stairs; thinking of her for a brief moment had brought her back into his focus. He was making these plans for the future, but he had to think of the present. Without realising it one thought of Buffy made him forget everything he had to look forward to. He tossed the bag under the stairs in the cellar and went up to see her. Angry or not, he’d missed her today.

* * * * *

Buffy had heard Spike come back a few minutes ago. Her mind hadn’t stopped thinking all day. Part of her knew he’d come up to see her eventually and she waited patiently for him; hoping that the longer he took the more time she would have to pull herself together and go through with this.

“Kitten?” he asked tentatively coming around the door.

He saw her sat on the bed. She looked up at him and smiled, “Spike?”

As she stood up and walked towards him Spike couldn’t escape the idea that although she seemed pleased to see him, which was strange enough in itself, she was also nervous about something. He wasn’t sure what, but he didn’t have time to wonder about it, because when she spoke next he forgot about almost everything.

“I’m glad you came back.” she said softly, moving right up in front of him.

He wanted to ask her if she meant it, but he couldn’t speak. He was suddenly very aware of what she was wearing. He remembered buying it her, a black dress, short, tight. He never thought she’d wear it, but when he had made out his lie to the sales assistant who had helped him pick out Buffy’s clothes, that his “girlfriend” had flown across the country to see him and had lost all her luggage at the airport, therefore explaining the new wardrobe surprise he was giving her, she had assured him that she would need a little black dress, and he hadn’t bothered to argue, especially when his mind had wondered at the possibility of her in it. She looked just like his fantasy, or maybe even better.

“What’s going on, Buffy?” he asked, coming back around to what was happening. Something was off, he could sense it; he just couldn’t put his finger on what it was.

“Nothing.” she said, simply, “I’ve just been thinking about what’s going on with us.” She paused so his mind would wonder at the mention of them, “What you said earlier…I can’t be scared of you, Spike. I know why you want me to be...” she hesitated, trying to find the strength to continue. “You’re scared, so you want to push me away…but I’m not going anywhere. You know I’m not.”

Spike looked at her carefully, trying to judge her meaning, but failing as always to figure her out.

“You asked me to be scared of you,” she continued laying her palm on his cheek, “but how can I be scared of someone who is so obviously scared themselves?”

His eyes flittered up to hers but he found her stare too intense.

“Spike?” she pressed.

“Buffy I am scared, okay?” he said softly, “I don’t know what to do.” His eyes darted between hers agonizingly. He didn’t know if he was hoping to find the answer there, or just her understanding, but he waited for something.

She put her second hand on the other side of his face, “I know that,” she said starting off calmly, hoping this would work, “but that doesn’t make what you said alright.”

“Buffy, I’m…”

“Don’t.” she shook her head. “Don’t apologise, don’t talk okay?”

She leaned in slowly, but he felt like it took him by surprise nonetheless. Her lips met his slowly and he let her be in control. She teased him with her mouth, never fully committing but always seeking more from him, and he groaned at the frustrating pace; something in him aching because he was having to hold back so much.

As soon as he made the noise she stopped. He expected her to pull away eventually, but he didn’t expect what happened next. Without another word she took his hand and led him towards the bed.

He stood in front of her not knowing what to do; she sat down and reached for the black t-shirt he was wearing. She fingered the hem and slowly inched it upwards.

She stared up at him for a short time, and he understood what she was asking. He took the bottom of his t-shirt from her grasp and pulled it over his head swiftly. He flung it absentmindedly to the floor and waited.

She trailed her fingertips exploratively around his naked chest and stomach. Spike was holding his breath, hoping it would stop him from embarrassing himself, because he wanted to groan at every touch. Tentatively she leaned forward and pressed a chaste kiss against his abs, as if she was testing something. He watched her intensely as she did it again, and again, kissing her way around his body. He was afraid that any sudden movement might scare her and make her change her mind about what they were doing, but after a while he couldn’t stand to be passive any longer; he wanted to join in this thing, whatever it was.

He decided he had to touch her, even if it was in the smallest way. He brought his right hand up and hesitantly laid it on the back of her head. When she didn’t stop kissing him he moved it further, letting his fingers tease their way through her hair. She moaned, stood up suddenly and locked her lips to his passionately.

Her aggression seeped into him and Spike instinctively grabbed her ass and pulled her up off the floor, encouraging her to wrap her legs around him. He walked them forward while still devouring her mouth, but not realising how close they were to the bed he tripped and they fell onto it suddenly.

Together they rolled so they were comfortably laid next to each other and Spike moved down to explore her for the first time. He pulled her dress up passed her hips, and held her still. Her breathing became unsteady when he slowly laid an open mouthed kiss against the seam of her panties, his warm breath tickling her belly. He paused to tease her, making her wonder if he would go lower so soon, but instead he carried on upwards until he reached her waist.

Buffy rolled onto her back and Spike climbed on top of her and buried his face into her hair. His hands now held her toned stomach, stroking softly up and down the smooth skin there until her dress began to ride up under her chest. Her hands were still twisted in his curls, if she’d been aware of the fact that she was pulling him closer to her she would have realised how lost in her role she had become.

He scraped his teeth along her throat, and even though maybe she should have compared his actions with Angel she didn’t, because although they had done the same thing to her Angel’s rough unwanted touch was a million miles away from this. It didn’t feel anything like when that monster had touched her. Everything he did was to drive fear into her, to dominate her; tease her with the possibilities of how he could hurt her. This was teasing and it was serious, but it was unselfish, it was sexy. It wasn’t about what Spike could do to her; it was about what he could give to her. It showed his need for her body, need that he was desperately trying to reign in. Spike was doing everything he could not to frighten her with his passion, but with the slide of his teeth against her skin she felt it regardless, and she shook with anticipation.

As if to calm her he slid one of his hands up from her waist until it cradled her right breast, and when she sighed he squeezed it gently. This time she moaned and it came from the back of her throat and filled the room; her back arched to push herself more into his grip. He paused his ministrations against her neck in awe of her reaction, and then smirked, gratified that he could pull that kind of response from her.

“You are so sexy.” he breathed, shifting so that he could push his whole body against her. They fit together perfectly; she could feel every inch of him, every hard, long, inch against her skin.

With his words she almost came back to reality, but with his actions he pulled her back down deep into her fantasy. And she liked it there.

She forgot why she was doing this, she forgot that they weren’t just two people in love who liked touching each other because it made the world fall away.

He kissed her neck, once, twice, and then again. He started to slide down her body, his kisses slipping lower too. When he reached her collar bone his left hand came to pull the fabric of her neckline aside. She wasn’t wearing a bra, and as soon as he saw her firm nipple standing out he sucked it into his mouth.

Her back arched, trying to push herself into him again. He couldn’t give any more attention to the breast he was lavishing, so instead he decided he needed not to neglect the other and reached out his hand to caress it.

When she started to writhe underneath him it made him want to smile, that he’d found something she liked so much, and he couldn’t stop tormenting her after that; taking turns with her nipples, sucking them until they were red raw, stopping every now and then to lick them, or flick them with his tongue, which made her make the most delicious noises, and one time even shriek.

Suddenly Buffy reached between them, her hand slid down, finding his belt buckle with her finger tips, she traced around it for a second before undoing it and quickly unzipping his jeans.

Spike paused, a little stunned and looked up into her eyes for the first time. Hers were closed, but he waited to see her reaction once she realised he’d stopped. It was obvious where this was leading, but her actually taking that step had knocked the wind out of him and he was left a little hesitant.

“Are you sure?” he asked breathlessly.

Buffy opened her eyes finally, but only for a second, she didn’t want to betray anything by looking at him. She just nodded, but the nod was eager and determined and gave Spike the answer he wanted clearly.

Her hand left him, but his quickly took over what she’d started and he pulled himself free of his boxers. Placing one last kiss on her bare stomach he stood up and pushed down his pants and underwear and stepped free of them, kicking them behind him with his feet.

His eyes never left her. He couldn’t move all of a sudden, seeing her ready, willing, open for him, half stunned and flushed from what he’d done, and half impatient for what he might do next. He couldn’t breathe; she was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

Buffy would normally have felt embarrassed at someone staring at her in that way, but he looked so awed at her body; he looked at her so intensely that she felt she couldn’t look away to hide her face, or the blush creeping into her cheeks. She felt tied to him, locked to his gaze, there was something pulling her, aching from the distance between them. Fighting it was useless, she surrendered; if he was going to just stand there, she’d carry this on.

It was part of the plan she reminded herself, but it was more than that now, she needed him. Suddenly not afraid she sat up on her knees and pulled her dress up all the way over her head, casting it aside and moving forward until she was knelt on the bed in front of him.

He couldn’t just stand there after that, her being so close, dressed in nothing but a black thong. She was like an unwrapped present sitting there ready for him to enjoy.

Buffy was contemplating what to do next, her head was swimming with all sorts of ideas but before she had time to pick one Spike had swooped in. Suddenly she was knocked backwards by his kiss, down on the bed beneath him once more. His hand cradled in her hair, forcing her lips to glue themselves to his, taking her breath away with his kiss.

She realised that every time their lips separated he was chanting her name, and it made her ache even more for him.

Finally Spike reached down, sliding his fingers beneath her thong, testing to see if she was ready, hoping to god she was. She was slippery and warm and tight and fuck he needed to be inside her. In one swift move he pulled her panties to one side, lined his cock up at her entrance and thrust into her.

Buffy made something like a “Nuuuuuh!” sound when he finally buried himself all the way. Spike pulled away and saw her eyes were scrunched closed, he worried for a second that she was in pain, but then when she wriggled a little it sent shockwaves all the way down his dick and he felt the need to close his eyes painfully tight as well. That’s when he realised she had just felt what he felt. Fucking amazing.

She opened her eyes eventually, when she got used to the feeling of him and he looked at her but stayed still inside her. She was glorious; her golden hair fanned out behind her and her body was flushed all over already. Her eyes were glossy, pleasure filled but pleading with him, and he knew for what.

For the first time he thought he saw understanding in her eyes, that they were finally feeling the same thing, finally wanting the same thing. And it was overwhelming, and it was breathtaking, and it was a million other things his brain couldn’t process.

He was pulled out of his thoughts when Buffy grabbed his biceps suddenly with her hot little hands. She used them as leverage to pull herself up and thrust further onto his cock. Spike almost growled, but he got the message, she wanted him to move. In her. Fuck. He couldn’t stop swearing in his head as he tentatively pulled out of her and thrust back in.

It felt so good he soon started moving faster, one time he went a little harder than he meant to, his control slipping, but she fucking liked it and gasped his name, and he was undone.

At some point they remembered they weren’t being careful and Spike pulled out with a curse word from him and a moan of protest from her. He found some condoms in the bathroom next door, after all it had been his at some point, and before she knew it he was back, spooning her from behind and whispering dirty words in her ear. His breath was hot on her neck as he ground his erection into her ass and reached around to finger her clit and tease her pussy, groaning when it reminded him how wet and open she still was from their previous fucking.

When she started mewling he whispered in her ear, “That’s it purr for me. I always told you you were a ‘kitten,’ my kitten.” When she started full on moaning and reached her hand behind her to clutch his head and grab his hair he lost it.

His hand left her centre, roughly grabbing her thigh and pulling it around and behind until it was hooked over his. This made a better position to sink back into her, deep and hard, and he did. He set a slow rhythm, so slow it almost killed him, but she was shaking it felt so good and that spurred him on.

When he felt himself about to come he stopped, rolled her onto her back, moved down between her legs and brought her off with his tongue first. While she was still dizzy he slid back inside her, on top of her again so he could look into her eyes when he came.

* * * * *

Buffy woke up in the early morning. She rolled off her back to see her alarm clock said it was precisely 4.37am. She bit her lip and turned her head to the other side, knowing what she would find, but still unprepared for it.

There was Spike, laid away from her, but she was glad she couldn’t see his chiselled face. His blonde hair was tussled, and she knew that was her fault, paths left by her wondering fingers, moving through his hair as he pleasured her, over and over.

She cringed at the thought of their unbridled episode. He’d been so free with her, so giving, she hadn’t expected it, and it was that that unsettled her, made her feel wrong inside.

She got up, she couldn’t stay in that bed with him a moment longer, the guilt in her stomach churning bile up into her throat. She slipped from underneath the sheets and ran as silently as she could into the bathroom, lifting the lid off the toilet and throwing up whatever she had left in her belly.

She swept a hand over her forehead, feeling it become clammy, and wiped her mouth with the other. She straightened herself up and turned to the sink, washed her hands and rinsed her mouth out with mouthwash. Taking a deep breath when she’d finished she finally glanced at the mirror she’d been avoiding above, and suddenly felt sick all over again.

She found herself almost unable to look at her own reflection. She didn’t want to, but she made herself not only look, but stare. She forced herself to see what was really looking back at her, to judge herself and her actions for what they were.

What had she done?

Spike was sleeping in her bed, probably happy, probably guilt free, totally unaware of her real motives; totally unaware that she’d whored herself out to him to keep him from hurting her, to keep him from getting rid of her. Totally unaware that she’d planned the whole thing, planned to seduce him, trick him into her bed and keep him there until he agreed to let her go. Now she knew she couldn’t go through with the last part. She couldn’t sleep with him again, knowing what it truly felt like to be worshipped by him, but what was done was done, and she couldn’t undo it.

When he’d come to her yesterday and told her things were changing she’d panicked. He wanted her to be scared of him, which meant no more talks, no more company, no more her and Spike. He wasn’t going to put up with her anymore. What did that mean? She’d been frightened, not that he’d get rid of her, although that was always a looming threat in her mind, but that her life here would be even more unbearable if things really did change.

She had to do something, and this had been it. But as she stared into her bathroom mirror, her knuckles turning white where her fingers gripped the edge of the sink, she felt wrong inside and out.

He’d made love to her, she hadn’t wanted it to be like that, but she’d felt it with every fibre of her being. They hadn’t fucked. But she still felt like a whore, and knowing how much feeling he had put into it, only made her feel worse about what had happened. She’d done something so terrible. She’d used her body to get what she wanted, to get him on her side again, and in doing so she’d played with his heart.

She didn’t really know now what she thought would happen, she couldn’t get passed this feeling she had, she couldn’t imagine how she hadn’t seen this coming, how she thought it could turn out any other way. There was something between her and Spike, she couldn’t deny it, and she shouldn’t have ignored it. Of course she’d feel this way after finally being with him.

Maybe she wanted to tie him to her; he’d said he wouldn’t let her wrap him around her finger anymore, maybe she wanted to prove that she could still manipulate him. Also he’d admitted he hadn’t got rid of her yet because he hadn’t decided what to do with her, which meant that he was about to. She had to do everything she could to get him on her side. She’d seduced him to save her life, that’s what she’d told herself. That’s how she’d planned to justify it to herself afterwards, but now all those reasons just seemed empty, maybe the truth was that she was just afraid he was slipping away from her and she didn’t like it.

She wanted to think it’d been out of desperation, but she’d planned it and executed it so perfectly she felt nothing but calculating. Her plan had gone too well, she’d fallen deep into it herself, and now she was stuck.

“Buffy?” she heard a half asleep voice call out from the other room.

When she came back in Spike was laid with his arm out on her side, as if he’d reached for her and found her missing. He seemed asleep even though she’d heard him say her name. When she hung back in the doorway he rolled over to face her, and did the worse thing he could have possibly done. He smiled.

“I think you should go now.” she said, though it felt like someone had punched her in the stomach when the words left her mouth.

His smile fell uncomfortably into confusion.

Buffy had planned to seduce him, to use him, but she couldn’t go through with it. Although she’d gone too far, it wasn’t unfixable. She’d slept with him, but she didn’t have to do it again. She couldn’t use him again, she’d tried on something that didn’t fit and it was time to take it off. It hadn’t been Spike that hadn’t fit, quite the opposite in fact, but to be with him this way, for her own gain, lying to him about why, that wasn’t her.

“You shouldn’t be here…We shouldn’t have done this, it was a mistake.”

Anger suddenly flushed through Spike, “Want to run that by me again, pet?” he said irritably.

Buffy felt like she needed to take a beat and a deep breath to stand firm enough to be this cruel; cruel to be kind. But she didn’t want him to see her internal struggle, so she didn’t hesitate in answering, “I said, ‘I think you should go,’ Spike.” Turning to her closet and opening it up for no good reason she closed her eyes and then continued more sharply, “And don’t call me ‘pet.’”

Spike didn’t have a clue what was happening. Last night, it had been incredible. It had been the sun, the moon, the earth and the sky to him. It had been life altering, something to remember, not something to be dismissed.

“But last night…”

She turned back to him before he could finish, “Last night, like I said, it was a mistake.”

“I thought we’d…”

“What?” she asked, interrupting him again before he could say anything to make her waver, “That we’d get up and read the newspaper together?...Or maybe you just thought you had free rain, think you could fuck me whenever you like now? Want a quickie this morning did you?...Sorry to disappoint.”

“Seriously, Buffy.” he said bewildered, “What the fuck is happening right now?” Was she screwing with him? Was this all a big joke to her?

“Just get out!” she screamed, frustrated that no matter what horrible things she said he wouldn’t go. It only made it harder.

Shocked by her outburst and by everything she’d said Spike realised she had gone off the reservation, or at the very least she was fucking with his head. Either way he wasn’t staying around for her girl interrupted shit. Seeing that she’d turned around to face away from him again he muttered a couple of choice swear words under his breath before leaving.

Buffy didn’t think he could slam her door any harder than he had done in the past until he left that morning, and she didn’t think her heart could break anymore than when she heard him call her ‘a fucking slut’ when he knew she could hear him.


* * * * *

Spike had been to her that day already, and three times the day before, bringing all of her meals. She didn’t know what hurt her more, the fact that most of the time he couldn’t stand to look at her, something that made her remember in detail what she’d really done to him, to them both; or that even though he was obviously hurt and showing it he didn’t avoid her this time. He still cared if she ate.

That first day he’d just opened the door, dropped the food on the floor with a thud and left again, but the next day he actually came into the room. He practically threw the plate at her though and said, “Enjoy it, princess.”

He hissed out the unfavourable nickname and it made Buffy’s stomach turn and before she could stop herself she was sneering out something equally nasty to mask how hurt she was. “Fuck you, Spike.” she said popping his name.

“Already did.” He smirked and moved to leave.

She panicked and shouted his name. He stopped and turned to her, and for a moment she didn’t remember why she’d done it, maybe because she regretted snapping at him. After all he could have been worse, he could have screamed and shouted; he could have not come at all. Maybe he was sulking, but he had a right to be upset, and she didn’t.

“I think we should talk.” she said sadly, knowing this would hurt them both even more, but also knowing that it was necessary to stop this cycle being dragged out another day or more.

Spike laughed under his breath, “The other night you told me not to talk.”

She looked down at the bed sheets she was sat on and whispered, “A lot of wrong things happened that night, Spike.”

“Like what?” he asked sharply.

She looked up at him slowly, but she wasn’t ready to carry on just yet, she didn’t have the courage.

“Come on, Buffy. Like what?” he asked again, “What was so god awful about me making love to you? Please tell me, because I’m at a loss.”

She tried not to let her quickening heart beat distract her, but it did. “I didn’t want it to happen…” She tripped over her words again, “It wasn’t meant to happen like that…”

She was talking about her plan rather than about them, but Spike mistook her and stepped forward angrily, “You did want it to happen, I know you did!” he shouted the words through clenched teeth. He stepped further towards her once more and continued, “And it was meant to happen.”

He had tried to stay calm, but with that last declaration she looked away from him and he felt the anger rise to the surface. He beat it down again, knowing it would only get in the way of what he had to get off his chest.

“It was meant to happen;” he repeated, “I’ve been fighting it for a long time and so have you. We’ve both been pretending that’s not where this was headed, but it was always going to end that way. It’s been on the cards since the day I brought you here, you’re not dumb enough to deny that are you?”

She didn’t answer him.

He paused, “There’s something between us, and if we’d met under different circumstances we’d have jumped each other’s bones a long time ago, if you ask me I’m surprised we lasted this long without it happening.”

Buffy took a breath, “But we didn’t meet in other circumstances, Spike. You have to face up to what we really are to each other, here and now, given the cards we’ve been dealt.” She got off the bed and stood in front of him. She was trying not to raise her voice and start an argument, but she saw how this was going to play out. She was always dragged into his pattern of fighting, and she could see he was about to lose his cool, but she hoped she could convince him of her point before it got that far. “We’re not lovers, we could never be lovers and we should never have been lovers.”

“Stop saying that.” he said turning away from her.

Buffy was surprised by his reaction, but she didn’t ignore it. What seemed to hit him the hardest was the idea that this was wrong, so maybe that’s what Buffy would have to focus on.

“It just didn’t feel right what we did, Spike.”

“It did to me.” he said, but she didn’t hear him; maybe if she had it would have weakened her resolve.

“You need to move on from it,” she sighed, “like I have.”

Spike laughed, bitterly, and Buffy noticed the change in his tone, and sensed his darker side was about to make an appearance. She wasn’t wrong.

“You’re not moving on from it, you can’t, not really.” He turned to face her again and walked right up into her personal space, “No one can have a night like that and forget it, you’re just pretending.”

“You think you’re calling my bluff, Spike, but its just wishful thinking.”

“Of course it is, luv.” he said laughing again. “Because I’m sure you scream like that for all the guys you forget about so easily.”

“No, you’re right, I don’t.” she said going in for the kill as the softly-softly approach still wasn’t deterring him, “I’ve never faked it like that before for anyone.”

She saw the flash in his eyes before she felt herself being pushed backwards, all the way to the wall with a slam.

“Take that back.” he growled.

She tried to laugh, as if she was being callous, but it didn’t quite come out right so she spoke instead, “Why? Does the truth hurt.”

“It’s not true.” he whispered, staring at her deeply.

“You think so highly of yourself?” Buffy asked, but before he could answer she continued, “You shouldn’t.”

He shook her a little, “I made you feel things.”

Her gut twisted at the memory, but she blocked it out. “Shame, guilt; yeah, lots of things.”

“No.” he said shaking her again.

“Get over yourself!” she shouted.

“Why are you denying it, Buffy?” he asked almost bewildered, “Your body is made for my body. I made you moan, and sigh.” He looked down at her mouth, “And cry out for me,” he leaned in to ghost his lips over hers, “for more of me.”

“It’s not true.” she said echoing his words, halting his assault on her senses before her body started to shiver at his closeness, “You’re nothing to me, you don’t even register.”

He pulled back, but his face was set in stone as if he was unaffected, “Your brain can deny it, but your body can’t. I bet that pussy of yours never had someone so deep.”

She grimaced at that, this time she didn’t have to fake her repulsion. “You’re disgusting.” she choked out, taken aback.

“Maybe, but you never had it so good as me.”

“Please, I had to close my eyes through the whole thing.”

“You did,” he said remembering, “but only because I made you come so hard your eyes rolled back into that pretty blonde head of yours.”

Everything he was saying was true, and Buffy felt tears brimming behind her eyes. She hated that she was hurting him; it was tearing her apart as she was forced to remember that night. It made her finally realise that by denying Spike of her, she was also denying herself of him, and the way he made her feel.

She covered quickly; he didn’t even notice her inner reflection. “Actually more like so it was easy to imagine someone else.” Her voice was starting to wobble, and she was sure that soon he would break her down, and part of her wanted him to; to break her down and never let her build these barriers back up again.

“You’re lying.” He meant those words to sound adamant, and to her maybe they did, but he felt they betrayed his insecurities, his failing confidence.

Buffy didn’t really know what to do anymore. Her guilty tears were still seconds away from claiming her, but should she keep going? Push him away once and for all? Or come clean and admit he was right, that she was lying to him?

She knew what she wanted to do, but she couldn’t stop that feeling in her gut that told her it was wrong, that they were wrong. Spike was right, there was something between them, but they weren’t meant to act on it; she couldn’t, and she couldn’t be the one to tell him that, she wasn’t strong enough. Maybe if she carried on fighting with him he’d pull it out of her? “Then why won’t I sleep with you again?” she asked him, hoping that would really get him angry, angry enough to shout at her until she had no choice but to give into him, “If you’re so great? Why am I flat out rejecting you?”

She waited, expecting him to come out with another witty retort, but it never came. He simply stared back at her for a moment or two and then let her go and left the room. She heard several doors bang on his way out and knew he had gone.

* * * * *

When Spike got back later he was still feeling the same, though he couldn’t think of any words that did his emotions justice. He wasn’t angry that she’d dented his pride and insulted his manhood, he wasn’t upset that she had rejected him and made him feel stupid, he wasn’t crushed that the best night of his life would not only never happen again, but that the very memory of it had been tarnished. None of these words held a candle to how that girl had made him feel, and as he came in from the cold he felt cold, through and through. Dark, alone and cold, and not even hearing her voice gently and tentatively call out for him when he reached the top of the stairs made him feel any better, in fact it only made everything worse.

“Spike?”

He ignored her, and this time unlike any other day he was determined to succeed. He went into his study and changed out of his wet clothes, it seemed to always be raining when he fled the house to get away from her, as if the weather was determined to mirror his mood, or was out to make fun of him.

“Spike?”

He busied himself with anything he could, he even went downstairs, but when he came back up to use the bathroom he heard her again. She was relentless, but she never raised her voice, and every now and then he heard a sob choke through.

He was furious with himself when he opened the door to her room, furious with her for breaking back into his heart for the millionth time. She was sat at the far end, huddled against the wall with her knees tucked under her chin. The bedroom was in darkness but the bathroom light filtered through enough so he could see her shift, bring her legs down away from her face and look up at him.

“Where have you been?” she asked.

“Out.” he said.

She sobbed again, and that’s when he stepped forward, tilting his head to really look at her in the dim light, “Have you been crying?”

Buffy shook her head pathetically, and if it hadn’t been completely inappropriate Spike would have laughed at how feeble her attempt was to hide her tears. They spilled out in front of him regardless of how much she tried to hide her face.

He walked across the room to her, and knelt down so their faces were almost nose to nose.

“What have you got to cry about?” he asked her bluntly.

Buffy wondered what he meant, was he belittling her, was he mad and suggesting she wasn’t allowed to cry because he was the one in pain? She decided to just answer him honestly as if he’d really been asking her that simple question. “You.” she whispered.

“Why the hell were you crying over me?” he seemed legitimately shocked.

“What I did to you was…” she trailed off, more tears bleeding out of her sore eyes.

“What did you do, luv?” He brought his hand up slightly wanting to cradle her cheek in it so she wouldn’t cry anymore, but when she saw it she flinched and he drew it back. He could have still touched her, but he didn’t, because he couldn’t. She wasn’t going to answer him, she wasn’t going to let him in at all, and he wouldn’t be made a fool of.

Instead he stood up and walked back towards the door, but he felt himself being turned around before he even heard her move and she threw her arms around him, hugging him painfully tight.

“You’re emotions are kind of giving me whiplash, Buffy.” he said trying to pull away, a little angry with her.

She held him firm for another second and then let him go, but only once he’d stopped trying to make her. “I’m sorry.” she whispered still crying, “This is my fault. I can blame you for so many things, but this part’s all me.”

His face softened immediately when he looked into her eyes, she was genuinely sorry, but she looked a little frantic. “What’s all you?” he asked, becoming slightly worried.

“I need to tell you something.” she said quickly, “I need to tell you before I lose my nerve again.”

“You need to calm down, pet.”

“Maybe.” she said softly. She looked behind her and saw the bed. She moved back to it, and like she had done that night, she led him over with her, and he blindly followed, not even thinking about why he shouldn’t. When she got there this time though she just sat, and motioned for him to sit next to her. They sat there in silence for a long time until Buffy calmed down enough and finally said something to him.

“Spike the reason I asked you to leave the other night…” she looked up at him, hating the fact she had to get this off her chest, that she felt, or more like knew she owed it to him to be honest. “It wasn’t because I really wanted you to leave, or because I didn’t want you; you didn’t do anything wrong…I did.”

“What are you getting at, pet?” he asked, now puzzled by her confession.

“I just needed to tell you that.”

This time he turned to her and shouted at her, “God damn it, Buffy!” It wasn’t mean or spiteful, he was just frustrated, and when he continued to talk it turned out it was exactly what she needed to hear from him. “Look, just for once forget who I am and who you are, and why we shouldn’t sit here and have a fucking conversation, and just tell me what’s going on in that head of yours without being scared of it…or me!”

“I used you, Spike.” she blurted out.

“Come again?” he asked still not piecing it together, which made it worse for her.

“You’re going to hate me after I say this, and its ironic, because these past few days I’ve actually been trying to get you to hate me, and now that I’m actually going to tell you this it’s the last thing that I want.” she laughed at herself, “You were right, Spike…about everything…about how amazing that night was, about how you made me feel,” she continued before he could get his hopes up, “but I was telling the truth when I said I didn’t want it to happen like that, and that I didn’t want it to happen again.”

“I don’t understand, Buffy.” he said shaking his head, trying to take everything she had just admitted in and process it, “I don’t want to sound like an amateur in my sexual experience, but I’ve never felt anything like that before, it’s not something I would want just the once.”

“I know,” she sighed choosing her next words carefully, “I’ve never felt that way before either. And I also know you’re not an amateur, believe me, I know, I’m enlightened on that point.” He smiled until she said, “But there’s a reason behind what I said, and when you hear it you’ll understand, and you’ll feel the same.”

Spike nodded to signal that he’d let her speak.

“I planned it, Spike; the whole thing.” She expected him to butt in, part of her even hoped he would, but he was still respecting her and keeping quiet, so she had to continue. “I didn’t like the idea that you were going to be in control of things. I had to get you on my side. I slept with you that night so you’d think twice about getting rid of me.”

Spike frowned, “Not really complaining here, luv; seen as I didn’t know the reasons behind it.”

“But you would have found out eventually,” she sighed, “and even if you hadn’t I knew. You were so tender and giving, but I was using you…and it was killing me.”

If she hadn’t been so tired, Buffy was sure she would have started crying again. “I didn’t want to hurt you, Spike. I didn’t think about it properly, I didn’t think how it would make me feel afterwards. I went through with it believing it would turn things in my favour, but when I saw how much it meant to you I knew I couldn’t do it ever again. It made me feel cheap just imagining how much it would hurt you if we carried on and you found out my motives further on down the line.”

Spike screwed his face up in confusion and looked away, as if he was trying to make sense of something he didn’t quite understand.

Buffy thought she’d made herself clear, but she didn’t anticipate how much of shock that would be for Spike to hear all at once, especially after the way she’d acted earlier that day.

“So, let me get this straight...” he said, “You slept with me so I would let you go, but now you don’t wanna sleep with me again, because it would hurt us both too much?”

Buffy nodded guiltily.

They sat there in silence for at least 5minutes without either of them knowing what to say next.

Then out of nowhere Spike asked, “Did you really fake it?” He knew it was such a guy-thing to ask, but out of everything that had happened, his bruised ego came to the forefront of his mind.

“No.” she said honestly, “That night was electrifying, you did make me feel things I’ve never felt before, and I shouldn’t have made you think otherwise, but I didn’t expect to feel like that. I wanted to bargain for my freedom and I know I hurt you when I threw you out, when I said all those things to make you angry and to make you hate me, but I didn’t want you to want me. I didn’t deserve you wanting me like that when I…”

“Didn’t want me back?” he finished for her.

“I didn’t say that.”

“But you didn’t really want to be with me, did you?”

Buffy didn’t want to answer; she didn’t want to give herself to him more than she already had. Instead she implied what she wanted to say, “I hope you know how difficult it is for me to answer that.” She paused, “And I hope that is enough of an answer.”

He nodded, it was. If she hadn’t wanted to be with him it would have been easy for her to say, her silence gave him his crumb for now.

“I can’t justify what I tried to do, Spike, but I’m sure you can think of reasons why I did it. If not then maybe it’s because I don’t deserve to have excuses. What I did was wrong, and I’d give anything to take it back.”

Spike looked up at her hurt for the very first time, he could cope with what she’d done, but as before he couldn’t cope with her dismissal of their time together.

Buffy understood a little; “Only to save us both the pain of the consequences.” she clarified.

Spike huffed a laugh, but it wasn’t his usual laugh, it was sadder.

“What?” she asked.

“Its only what I deserve.” he said.

She wanted to tell him it wasn’t true, but she’d done as much convincing as she could tonight; anything else was dangerous territory. She couldn’t seem like she cared too much about his feelings, even if that was the case.

Out of the darkness came his voice, “I forgive you, pet.”

She looked up at him, wondering if she’d heard him right.

“But you’re wrong about one thing…I don’t feel the same now I’ve heard your story…What you did wasn’t okay, but…I shouldn’t expect you…” he trailed off sadly, correcting himself, “I shouldn’t expect anything.”

Buffy knew she should stay quiet. She’d felt guilty and Spike had forgiven her and cleared her conscience. She had no need to push anything further, but what she knew she should do, and what she wanted to do where always the opposite.

“If I asked you something, Spike, would you answer me?...If I asked you why you said things like that, would you tell me?”

He looked at her pained, this is what he’d feared the most, her asking him straight out; asking to hear about his past. He couldn’t deny her anything; he could hide it from her forever, willingly, but not if she asked him like this. “You know why I’m a bad man, Buffy. You of all people know why.”

“I didn’t ask how I see you, Spike, or what you’ve done to me. This isn’t about me…” she paused, “I asked you why you talk that way about yourself.”

“You really want to hear it?” he sighed.

She nodded, not trusting her voice.

He turned away and laughed under his breath, laughed at himself, at her and at their situation. Laughed because it was so inappropriate to laugh when everything he’d built with her would be destroyed by the story she was asking for, the story he knew he’d have to tell her one day.

“Just for the record, I don’t want to tell you…” he said shaking his head. “But I will.”

She didn’t know what he was going to say, whether it would be about the things he’d done, why he did them, or how they made them feel, but she wanted to know why he thought he didn’t deserve her. It might be true, but she needed to hear it.

“Ever wondered why I talk… ‘funny’ I guess would be the term?”

She nodded, she did wonder about Spike’s past; about simple things like where he was from and where he grew up just as much as his criminal background.

“Me and my mum didn’t always live here, but my step dad was American and he got us all Visas or whatever. My mum felt a bit pressured, but we came over from England when I was about 10; he’d gone to so much effort after all.”

Buffy could sense a hint of bitterness in his last statement; she waited patiently. This wasn’t going to be a pleasant story so she knew she couldn’t push him.

“And it was alright for a while...but then he got laid off work, and my mum had to take a couple of crummy jobs to keep us afloat. He started drinking, and…well…I can’t really blame the drinking, I think he’d always been violent, its just he had an excuse for it when he started that.”

Buffy gazed over at him, she had no idea what to do or say as she saw Spike’s story unfold before her eyes. This man, as with most violent men, had been the victim of violence to begin with. She knew that’s where this story was heading, and part of her knew it was going to be even worse than she imagined.

“He started on my mum first, but for a while I didn’t twig. Those stupid excuses…you know, ‘walked into a door,’ ‘tripped,’ ‘clumsy me, don’t worry.’ They all make sense at first, because it’s someone you love and you don’t really wanna see the truth. You want to think they all were accidents, because then they’re not in danger. You don’t want to see the truth, because then you’re scared for them all the time. Eventually though you find out; it’s the way they act around each other, for me it was the way her hand shook at the dinner table when she passed him something, or the way her voice shook when she apologised to him for the slightest…” he sighed, “And then of course it happened to me…after that it all became clear what was happening to her.”

“He hit you?” she asked, with some last shred of hope that it wouldn’t be true.

“Not very often…not as much as he hit her….just sometimes, I talked back to him and he didn’t like that…but it was never that bad for me…”

He trailed off, and sensing he was doing the same Buffy prepared herself for the rest of his story.

“One day when I was 16 I was upstairs in my room and heard them arguing; they rarely ever argued when I was in the house, they’d save it until I was at school or whatever I was doing instead of school. Vice versa he’d try and only hit me when my mum was at work, made it easier for everyone to pretend it wasn’t happening if it all happened in secret…but a few times things had got rough and I’d had to get in between them. Sometimes I’d managed to stop it, and sometimes I just took the punches meant for her, but it was better that way...”

Buffy gave him a concerned look, but he simply answered, “I had to.”

She didn’t know what to say, her childhood hadn’t been a bed of roses, but in her own way she’d felt loved. Her mother often failed to pull herself together, but she always tried, because she hated what their lifestyle was doing to Buffy. Her father had abandoned them, her mother had been ill, but she’d never been abused; she’d never been in a situation where she’d had to take a beating to spare someone she loved having to suffer it instead.

“Anyway, this day, I knew it was going to be one of those days. I couldn’t figure out what he was angry at her for, but then I never could. I came down and he was shaking, his fists were clenched, and I knew what was going to happen, but I couldn’t move.”

He paused for a long time, Buffy fidgeted, he didn’t notice she’d moved closer to him.

“The next minute…it was like she flew backwards…When something like that happens it’s not in slow motion,” he said turning to her, “not like they say. When something like that happens, it happens almost too fast, everything’s a blur and you can’t make sense of it. So, she flew...hit her head on the kitchen side and fell on the floor, and then he ran over to her.”

Buffy thought it was over, but then Spike huffed a bitter laugh and hung his head, it drew her attention enough that she studied him before he spoke. It was all going to come out, that’s what his expression told her.

Spike turned away, he couldn’t look at her when he said, “Silly bastard didn’t even realise she’d been dead since she hit the counter, just kept on hitting her.”

Buffy felt bile climbing up her throat and swallowed hard.

“Like I said, fast, everything was so fast, and I wanted to stop it, but I wasn’t fast enough…He just kept hitting her and hitting her until…”

She swallowed again, but this time for the courage to ask, “Until you stopped him?”

The guilt in Spike’s eyes when he looked back up at her answered her question.

“I had to Buffy.” he said breathlessly, a tear falling out of his right eye, “She was my mum.”

Buffy felt the pain he did, it made her heart ache, but he’d just admitted her worst fear; that the man she felt for was a murderer. Her heart couldn’t hear anymore, but she knew she had to finish this, “What happened?”

“I don’t know.” he said, shaking his head, the tears running freely now, “I honestly don’t. Everything went dark, like some rage blackout, but when I came back to myself I was standing over him, he was on the floor and I was kicking him. I backed away when I realised what I’d done. There was blood everywhere and my knuckles were covered in it, some of it his, I could tell I’d been hitting him, because his face was swollen and bleeding…But some of it was mine, because I’d hit him so hard and for so long I’d broken the skin on my hands. I looked back down at him, and he wasn’t moving, and I had no idea how long he’d been dead, how long I’d worked on him, but I knew he was…they both were.”

When he looked across at her this time he saw her move. She’d looked away so that he couldn’t meet her eyes. It felt like a knife to his heart that she could no longer look at him, but he hadn’t expected anything else from her, so he said, “I’d beaten him to death.” so that there wouldn’t be any misunderstanding between them, so that she knew everything he’d done, everything he was capable of doing.

Buffy collected herself, she felt tears coming, but she wouldn’t let them fall, because she didn’t understand them. She didn’t know if they were from fear, or from pity, whether they were for her, or Spike’s mother…or even for Spike. So she wouldn’t let them come.

“What happened after?” she asked, thankful her voice didn’t betray too much.

Spike carried on looking at her, even though she wouldn’t return the favour. “I called Angel.”

Buffy snapped her head towards him, he was shocked to see that that confession had gotten her attention so much, she always acted so bizarrely when he mentioned Angel, yet she’d only met him once. He didn’t question anyone who knew the real Angel and was wary of him, but Buffy hadn’t even had a taste of what he was capable of.

His brow knitted together in confusion, but he didn’t think she had anything to say, she almost looked stunned, so he continued, “When my step dad first started hitting me I went off the rails, I stopped going to school and I fell in with a bad crowd, or as bad as you can get at that age…Sometimes few of the guys went to places they shouldn’t, hung around with people they shouldn’t, and through them I’d met Angel a couple of times. Everyone knew him around town because of his dad. He runs all the business in the south of city.”

“And by business you mean?”

“Not stocks and bonds.” he answered simply.

Buffy nodded and looked down at the floor as he continued wrapping up the ordeal.

“Illegal gambling, drugs, prostitution, you name it…but most of all he owns the game, he owns people…He hands out favours and loans and the means to make your own petty dealings…but then you have to enter the fold and pay him back...and that’s what happened to me.”

He stood up suddenly, and it shocked Buffy a little. As he walked forward she wondered if he was going to leave, but when he carried on talking it was clear he just wanted to put some distance between them.

“I called Angel, and I wasn’t making much sense, but I said I’d do anything if him and his dad helped me out…He came over to the house and even he was shocked at first…It makes me sick to remember it, but he was grinning the whole time, telling me he didn’t know I had it in me, and he seemed…” he turned around to her once more and this time she did look at him, wondering what he was going to say, “…proud.”

Her insides churned, that sounded exactly right for Angel.

Spike moved towards her, holding his hands out, “I kept telling him what happened, I was rambling. I couldn’t make sense of it either and he just started laughing, and I started having a panic attack. The next thing I knew I was crouching on the floor wheezing, seeing spots and he was stood behind me, his hand on my shoulder telling me to calm down, that his dad would fix everything and I’d be taken care of.” Spike got down on his knees in front of Buffy. “He said he’d stash the bodies somewhere they’d never be found, and I flew into another rage, shouting that he couldn’t do that to my mum…I had him up against the kitchen counter, by the throat…”

He hung his head, and Buffy itched to put a hand on his face, but by now she was feeling too numb.

“He started laughing again, saying that he liked me, I was going to be ‘useful.’ I was so scared I stepped back and started thinking a mile a minute. I’d never been violent in my whole life, and suddenly I’d killed someone and wanted to kill Angel too…I know it sounds daft, but that’s when I realised I was no good, just like everyone but my mum had always told me. I wasn’t a good person, and if Angel thought I was good at being bad, maybe that was something…I know its bullshit, but I was a kid. I literally had blood on my hands, and the only person in the world who cared about me was dead. There in front of me was a guy who was gonna make all that go away, and so I did whatever he told me too…His dad got rid of my step dad’s body, the police questioned me, but I got given a really expensive lawyer and he saved my ass. Police figured my step dad had killed my mum, freaked I would find out and had run out of town. Case closed.”

“So for all that you gave your life away?” Buffy asked.

He looked up at her wounded, but couldn’t answer her straight away.

“You sold your soul to the devil and never looked back.” She continued, “No matter what it cost you, or other people; no matter what he asked you to do, or what part of yourself you had to betray.”

“He kept me out of jail, he looked after me in a way that I can’t just ignore…I owe his father my life.”

“You lied to me.” she said feeling betrayed somehow. “You told me you didn’t have any loyalty to Angel.”

“I don’t.” he stressed, “Not to him; Angel was just a go-between, his father did everything, and as far as he’s concerned I’ve more than repaid my debt. I’ve stolen for him, I’ve dealt for him, hurt people for him, I’ve…”

“…killed for him?” she finished.

“I’ve done enough for him. I don’t owe him anymore; he keeps me around because I’m useful and I’m there, but if I had the money to start somewhere fresh he wouldn’t look for me, not if I left on good terms.” was his only answer; ignoring her question was as good as a yes.

He saw the look on Buffy’s face, it was not acceptance or understanding, but it also wasn’t rejection either. She may not like, or feel comfortable with what he’d done, but she hadn’t decided to push him away again just yet, not until she’d let it sink in, and that was fine for now.

“It's done.” he continued defeatedly, “I just want an end to it now, even if I don’t deserve one.” He sighed, deeply, with all his being, and moved passed her, around to the other side of the bed behind her, and laid on top of the sheets. He shuffled up and brought his hand to her hip, encouraging her to lie down in the space he’d made for her. Catatonically she did.

Once she was settled next to him he wrapped an arm around her. “I’m just so tired, Buffy.” he whispered.

So was she, physically, emotionally, mentally, she was tired. So tired that she drifted off to sleep almost immediately, and when she woke it was the middle of the night. She’d woke in a panic from her nightmares, like most times during the night. Spike’s arm was still around her and out of reflex she gripped it tighter as if he would protect her from something that wasn’t really there in the first place.

Feeling her touch, but still very much asleep Spike’s arm slid further round onto her stomach and pulled her closer.

She let it, suddenly her head filled with thoughts of Spike rather than the dark man from her dreams. Why after all she’d heard that night was everything still the same? Why did Angel haunt her dreams and Spike make her feel safe?

Was Spike a good man who had made mistakes? Had his violent start to life imprinted on him forever, or could he be a person again? Was he good, or did she just want him to be good? She knew one thing; none of the answers would come to her tonight.

She realised she was absentmindedly stroking Spike’s arm with her finger tips. Hoping sleep would come and things would make sense in time she gave up and closed her eyes, never moving out of his embrace.


* * * * *

Buffy woke up with Spike on top of her.

She was writhing underneath him, trying to get away, but she didn’t remember why. Was he trying to hurt her? What had happened during the night? And why couldn’t she remember?

Then when he spoke, it became clear.

“Buffy, wake up; it’s just a dream.” he said to her.

A dream; that’s what it had been, a dream she’d had before, she remembered now. Then she realised where she really was; she wasn’t there in the dream with that man, she was here with Spike.

She opened her eyes finally and saw his face, it was panicked, worried, she might have even said afraid, but she wasn’t sure what of. Neither was he, because he was now searching her eyes for an explanation.

She tried to sit up and he rolled off her to let her so she could pull herself together. She took a lot of deep breaths and looked around the room anxiously trying to ground herself. When she’d taken some time to calm down she looked over at him. He was laid beside her, still looking worried, but trying to give her the space she needed.

He was still waiting for her to talk to him, but when she finally composed herself her feelings instantly changed from confusion to embarrassment.

“What happened?” she asked looking down at the covers between her legs. She knew full well about her nightmare, but she was referring to what had happened to clue him in to it as well.

“Why don’t you tell me, luv?” he said, his brow furrowing, “All I know is you’ve got a hell of a right hook on you.”

“What?”

She snapped her face back to him questioningly. Spike shifted to raise himself up so that he was resting on his arm and simply tapped his chin with his free hand; his jaw looked a little red.

“Oh my God!”

He laughed warmly, “Its okay, I promise. It’s just a...” Then his breath was caught short, because Buffy had jumped over to him suddenly. It stopped his train of thought dead.

With her hand glued to the side of his face she sat there on her knees in front of him checking over his jaw, staring at it and stroking it almost affectionately. She looked concerned, a feeling he’d never seen her have before, more specifically never seen her have for him. It made his insides flutter.

“It’s just a graze, I swear.” he said; his voice breathy and a little shaky because of her closeness.

She seemed to notice how unusually tender her behaviour was for the first time and pulled away uncomfortably, but as her hand dropped from his face he caught it in his.

“What was that dream, kitten?” his eyes darted up and between hers to try and figure out what was going on from her face, in case her words didn’t help.

She swallowed carefully thinking her answer through, “Nothing.”

“Do you have nightmares?” he asked.

He didn’t mean did she ever have nightmares though, he meant did she have nightmares here. She did; that was the answer, but she couldn’t say that to him, because he wouldn’t understand.

He’d think she’d always had nightmares, because of this place, because of him. That wasn’t what kept her up at night, even though maybe it should have. It wasn’t him; it was ever since Angel attacked her. It didn’t happen every night, but every few, and when they happened they were bad. Usually they were so bad they woke her, but seeing she was alone in her room made her remember that he wasn’t really there anymore, knowing that she’d go back to sleep and have more pleasant dreams the rest of the night, so she had never mentioned it.

But she couldn’t explain all of that to Spike, because she hadn’t ever told him about Angel, and part of her felt it was too late to now, so many other things were going on.

“I…” her voice broke in panic, what was she supposed to say? She didn’t want him to think she had nightmares because of him, but how could she prove otherwise without telling him about what Angel had tried to do to her? How would he handle that if he knew?

She rolled over as if to get out of bed and he didn’t like that she was about to run away from him again. He pulled on her hand and brought her back to him, staring her out.

“Tell me.” he begged.

She wanted to, but when he looked at her like that, so desperate to know what was wrong, she was confronted with how much he cared for her and she couldn’t escape it. It made her want to kiss him, the urge was almost uncontrollable. His feelings were so intense they made her want to leap, because she knew he wanted to take her in his arms and make love to her again and when he stared at her that way it made her want to let him.

Spike saw the conflict in her eyes, and at first he mistook it for her unwillingness to share, but then he recognised her expression. She was fighting with herself, she was about to make a move on him, he knew it, he couldn’t explain why but he knew it was coming. He also knew she’d hate herself for doing it after the fact, because she had always regretted it when something had happened between them.

So he took the decision from her, if she was going to regret it he’d stop her from having the chance. If she had to hate someone it could be him, not herself. He pulled back, letting her hand drop, and moved to the opposite side of the bed, swinging his legs over and out from the covers until he was sat on the edge. Without much hesitation he got up and out of bed altogether, picking up the shirt he had shed during the night and putting it back on.

He may be a bad man in her eyes, but he didn’t want to be that kind of man. He knew she wasn’t sure about him anymore, and even if she made the first move he would still be taking advantage of her in her confused state. After last night he couldn’t push her.

Could he?

Maybe he should just make her face up to what was going on between them. Or maybe he was right, maybe she had to come to that realisation in her own time.

“Spike, where are you going?” she asked bewildered. She wondered what she’d done to make him suddenly want to leave her, and her relief that she no longer had to tell him about her dream was quickly replaced by something worse. She didn’t know what had happened, how she’d upset him, but she could sense something was wrong and she wanted to know what it was.

Before his resolve weakened he walked to the door, turning back to her briefly to find her just as confused as he thought she would be. “Go back to bed, Buffy. I’ll leave you some lunch to wake up to. Think about…” he said breaking off, swallowing and beginning again, “I’ll come back to see you again tonight and we’ll talk.”

What did that mean? She could hear that he was implying more than what he said, he wasn’t just coming back to see her, they were going to talk, but about what? What had he wanted her to think about? She knew of course, and if he hadn’t caught her by surprise with this she’d have understood him straight away, but everything was happening so fast, one minute they were about to kiss and the next she was talking to the back of his head.

“Spike, I…” before she could even think about how to phrase her words he was already shutting the door closed between them.

Spike locked her in as usual, but then he turned, and for a second he was unable to leave so he leaned back against the wood. Looking at her just then he knew he wanted her, every time he looked at her he knew. Even if she didn’t know what she wanted, he did.

He’d give her the day to decide, that’s all he could promise her. Then he’d be back. For her.

* * * * *

He spent the morning walking the streets; she spent the day sitting in her room, and the irony didn’t escape him, that in leaving her to choose a life with him as he had, he had left her to choose whether she wanted them to stay that way. Him outside, free to go, free to roam, and her forever waiting, locked up with the rest of his secrets.

He’d realised this morning that he wanted a lot more from Buffy than he was getting, but he wasn’t stupid; he knew it was difficult for her to have any kind of relationship with him, never mind the one he wanted, which was bound to fail; it was a lot to ask of her, and if he was a better man perhaps he wouldn’t have asked it at all.

Maybe if he was a better man he would have given her more time to think about everything as well, but he was going back to her tonight, he knew he couldn’t wait any longer than that. He just hoped she knew what he wanted from her by now; he hoped she’d take the day to think if it’s what she wanted too. Tonight they were going to talk, and she was going to make up her mind about him once and for all.

Buffy was still confused, one minute he was comforting her, she felt closer to him than ever and then the next he was fleeing the scene. Also after what he’d told her last night she’d expected to feel differently, but she didn’t. She’d seen his darkest side, the side he was afraid to show her, and today just felt like another day, the world kept turning and she kept feeling more for him than she was meant to feel. But it was all nothing compared to the confusion she felt waking up with him during the night; his presence had helped her get back to sleep when she was afraid, and that’s the sort of thing you can’t ignore.

She had a lot of thinking to do, and she didn’t even know if Spike would even come back like he had promised.

* * * * *

When Spike had finally ran out of thoughts he’d ended up on the other side of town, and before he knew it he’d found a bar and starting drinking it dry. He stopped at one point deciding he needed a cigarette. He hadn’t smoked for a long time, but his arguments with Buffy often sent him craving a pack. He stood up from his stool and went to pull his jacket off the backrest, fully intending to come back for at least one more drink, when he stumbled and almost fell.

It was time to call it a night, but he needed something else to do, after all he wasn’t ready to go to her yet, and he couldn’t anyway, not in this state.

When he got outside the cold air hit him like a kick in the gut and he felt the bile build up in the back of his throat. Pushing it down he reached inside his jacket and pulled out his cigarettes. He tapped the bottom of the box sharply into his palm, then drew one out and put it between his lips. He lit it, took a slow drag, sucking in a long deep breath with it, and blew it back out just as slow again.

“Fuck.” he sighed suddenly, leaning against the rough brick wall. He didn’t know what the hell he was going to do, another walk around the streets at night waiting for her to figure out what she thought of him? He was scared and anxious to find out the answers she had for him, but it was all déjà vu. He didn’t care, if it meant they had a chance he’d walk and wait forever.

Buffy climbed into bed late that night, wondering why Spike hadn’t shown up, worried where he was, and if he was okay. She didn’t care anymore that it was wrong for her to worry about him, she just did. She didn’t care anymore why he’d left; she just wanted him to come home. She didn’t care that “home” had crept into her vocabulary either.

He held himself steady, so the boards beneath his feet wouldn’t creak. He held his breath, so that she wouldn’t hear his rapid anxious breathing outside her door. But after everything, Spike couldn’t hold his nerve.

His eyes screwed shut, he clenched his fists at his sides; rain dripped down the sleeves of his leather coat and chilled his knuckles. He couldn’t do this, he couldn’t do this to her. He couldn’t ask this of her.

He turned and ran down the stairs to his study; slinging his coat on the chair he braced himself on his palms against the desk. He’d go to his bed, not to hers. Tonight he’d be strong.


* * * * *

Buffy woke feeling the bed dip, the covers shuffled against her skin and a warm body moved up against hers; a hand ghosted down her arm, someone kissed her shoulder. She was groggy, confused, so she opened her eyes and turned, forgetting where she was.

When she saw it was Spike, when he gently moved the hair out of her face and caressed her cheek she fell, and so did her guard. Every barrier she still had up, every shred of doubt, whether valid or not no longer mattered.

She didn’t have any answers for him, but it didn’t matter; he couldn’t be strong for her and that didn’t matter either.

She looked at him for a second, but only a second before kissing him. His heart leapt at her acceptance, he could feel her skin beneath his and it set his soul on fire just like the last time.


* * * * *

Spike woke up next to someone, holding her in his arms. He didn’t remember the last time that had happened, it was strange, but he was glad of it. This girl, the girl in his arms, was changing him inside and out, he could feel it. He hadn’t thought about leaving for a while, he hadn’t thought about his future, just about her. There was a holdall full of money sitting in his kitchen cupboard, it’d been there 3days, and he should have been thinking about leaving, putting his mother’s house on the market, deciding what to do with Buffy and be half way to Rio or somewhere equally exotic by now, but he didn’t want to do any of those things.

If he’d made any decision it had been to do nothing, not to plan, not to leave. He ignored the money and the niggling feeling that something was wrong, that in the end someone would notice he’d not left, perhaps even Angel, and come looking for him. He hoped with all his might that nothing would ruin this, but he knew in the back of his mind that his worries were real, and they wouldn’t go away. All he could do right now was try and forget them for a time, and man did this girl make that easy, and just as easily as his mind had started wondering it was back, to her. He brushed everything aside with only a last short question, when had his priorities changed?

He opened his eyes and saw her face. She had a contented look set into her warm features; her skin was a little flushed and her golden locks a little messy, but it didn’t stop her being beautiful, if anything it made it just a little harder for him to breathe.

He remembered the night before, how passionate she’d been, how giving. She’d been there with him, loving him with her body, just as he’d loved her with his.

When she’d kissed him back he couldn’t explain the feeling that washed over him, but it spread through his body like a fire. And it wasn’t just his body she stirred to life, but his heart. He’d always thought it was rusty through lack of use, apparently not.

They hadn’t spoken, but that’s because there was nothing to talk about. They had pushed towards each other, their lips never separating, and his arms had wrapped around her. He’d ground his erection into her sex and groaned at the sensation. He’d moved his kisses to her neck and listened to the noises she made in gratitude. Her hands had moved down to remove his trousers, but he’d stopped her.

Almost immediately he’d changed tact, he wanted to draw this out. Their first time together had been mind blowing, but he hadn’t savoured it, naïvely thinking they would have their time again he’d just enjoyed the moment and taken it for granted. He wouldn’t make the same mistake again, because nothing was for certain, especially when it came to them.

As if it was happening all over again Spike lay in bed and remembered every move they had made last night. How he’d travelled down, kissing her chest, pulling down her top to lick her nipple quickly, she’d squirmed and gasped and he’d smirked, but carried on moving lower.

When he got to her shorts he drew them down an inch and licked the soft skin he found just below her stomach. He felt her shiver and looked up to where she was laid staring at him. Her eyes were intense, and he imagined so were his. They didn’t break eye contact as he untied the string on her bottoms and slid them down her thighs.

Buffy was about to shrug them off all the way when he grabbed her legs to still her and dived into kiss her in her most intimate place. She cried out in shock and pleasure, weaving her hands into his hair so that he wouldn’t stop.

He licked her from her clit to where he wanted to bury himself, and back again slowly, so that she shook and whimpered with anticipation. After he felt her get wetter he stuck his tongue inside her, fucking her with it until she grabbed his head almost painfully. He felt her panting and straining to keep her cool, but he wanted her to lose it, so he looked up at her, waited until she saw him, and went to town on her clit while she watched. She came and before she knew it he was back on top of her.

He cupped her face and she stared at him with misty eyes. He was smoothing her hair away, bringing her slowly back down to earth, but his eyes were asking her whether she wanted to go higher.

Even though her body was still tingling she found the strength to push him off her gently and get out of the bed. She ran to the bathroom, and when she came back she found a bewildered Spike laid where they had both been a few seconds before.

He was confused, but he wasn’t angry, and although she hadn’t meant to make him feel like she was rejecting him, she was glad that he wasn’t annoyed at her for it. She held up a condom wrapper timidly and he immediately caught up to what she was doing. When she got back to the bed she seemed slightly nervous; having escaped him for a second, seeing him there laid out for her like an Adonis, she felt her throat close slightly and suddenly dreaded that she looked a little worse for wear at the side of him.

Nothing was further from Spike’s mind as he looked her up and down, he sat up on his knees and reached out for her, pulling her forwards back onto the bed with him, now with her on top; she giggled and was instantly relaxed. Not only that, but her confidence came back. She knew they’d stopped, he’d looked at her and suddenly the need for her was just as strong. Spike thought she was desirable, and she didn’t think she’d ever discovered that in a man before; he wanted her as much as she wanted him.

This time Spike went to take his own trousers off, and Buffy let him, she’d slipped her shorts off at some point, but didn’t even realise when. Before he could even take a breath she was rolling the condom down on his very hard cock and resting herself above it.

She sunk down, and the feeling was indescribable. She rocked forward and back and he groaned with every tiny movement. She was tight and hot around him, and so beautiful moving on top of him. He was in sensory overload, but he needed to see more of her, to touch all of her. He sat up, pulled off her top and started kissing her chest wherever he could, holding her and urging her movements to become more sure and steady. Several times he almost came, but he stilled her, took the time to kiss her, to ghost his fingers down her arms and lazily thrust into her now and then to keep himself from exploding.

He could see her eyes trying to close; she could barely keep them open as all her concentration was on her impending orgasm. He wanted to look into her eyes, but he was having the same problem. It was all too much, but he kept it going, rolling her beneath him he kissed her passionately and continued his slow tortuous rhythm.

He felt himself coming, and he didn’t have any control left to stop it, he looked at her and realised she was coming too, he hadn’t had to do anything to her, just love her and she was coming, and that sight made him fall over the edge with her.

She shuddered into her climax and held him close; he shook too and kissed her neck. She turned her head and kissed his jaw and he stared at her, drinking her in with his eyes and then kissed her again. They made love once more and fell asleep still entangled.

Back in the present Buffy made a cute sound as she started to wake up and it caught Spike’s attention. He smiled, waiting for her to come round for a second. “Morning.” he said; the words almost got stuck in his throat. He waited patiently, his body stiffening as if preparing itself for a blow, but the blow never came.

“Morning.” she replied.

It was the sweetest thing he’d ever heard, and the sweetest thing he’d ever seen when she turned her head and smiled at him. Not only was she not running, not screaming, not hiding from him, she was smiling.

Even though he’d seen every inch of her, explored her and tasted her and done unspeakable things to her body, he felt nervous when she turned and moved closer alongside him to get comfy. Her leg brushed up against his and his insides fluttered like a giddy teenager sharing a bed with his girlfriend for the first time, and it didn’t feel too far removed from that situation, because something had shifted. It was unspoken and although it was important it wasn’t necessary to acknowledge it, she wasn’t just Buffy to him anymore. Things were more complicated, and yet more simple.

“What are you thinking about?” she asked, looking up at him with her big, bright eyes.

He smiled, reached a hand out to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, “Nothing.” he said gently, and then he kissed her, and this time there was no fear that she wouldn’t reciprocate; there was just the need to do it.

His body pressed into hers in all the right places, his weight wasn’t overbearing, but just enough to warm and comfort her, and his kiss made her head spin even though she was lying down. He sent her to places she’d never been to before and she was tired of denying it. She hadn’t decided anything, she hadn’t planned anything, she was just doing, and everything else would have to come after. She slipped a hand into his hair, pulling him down to where she was.

When they eventually broke apart they were both breathing heavy. They knew what was going to happen. Last night had been slow and dramatic, a coming together of forces trying so desperately to be apart. They were telling each other without words that they finally accepted being in the same place, that even if it wasn’t right, it was happening. It was a climax, and here was the aftermath. Now whatever they were had to be solidified, there needed to be a declaration, a passionate expression. It wouldn’t be slow, and it wouldn’t be gentle, their need was too much.

Neither of them wanted foreplay, but he found her open for him, and he was more than ready so it didn’t matter in the end.

She floating with his kisses and touches, but she wanted more. She felt like she couldn’t breathe until the moment he finally thrust inside her, and then she felt safe, as if she’d been saved from a fall, she finally felt grounded.

He moved fast, but only because she urged him on, with her thighs against his, with her feet underneath his ass, with her nails scrambling for purchase on his back; they slipped against the sweat, but pulled him closer whenever they could.

Her face was reddened with blush and his voice was horse as they both built towards the edge. He groaned out desperately when he reached the end, and she cradled his head into her shoulder and stroked the back of his neck as he breathed out hot air onto her breast and tried to control himself.

The next 5days they spent in bed, like a couple on honeymoon, and forgot the world existed.


* * * * *

Buffy shivered a little and huddled into him.

“Are you cold, luv?” he asked softly, pulling her even closer to him.

“I’m fine.” she whispered, trying to hide her smile. Then she laughed out loud despite herself.

“What?” he asked.

“You, being so caring,” she paused trying to find her words, “it’s…”

“Is it weird?” he asked sounding worried, almost vulnerable.

Buffy looked over her shoulder and saw his face, and it made her feel awful for laughing at him. It was weird, but it wasn’t bad, it was the furthest from bad that you could get. She turned; making him lie on his back she straddled him, cupped his cheek and leaned down to kiss him.

“Its wonderful.” she said after the kiss.

He smiled and they both knew the tension had lifted.

“Its just, who knew you were such a big softie.” she joked.

“I’m not a softie!” he said feigning outrage, “I’m horrid really.”

“No you’re not.” she laughed.

Spike couldn’t help the genuine smile that came to him on hearing her say that, but he soon recovered and could joke again, “I’m a dangerous rebel.” he said, smirking with his eyes as much as his smile.

“Oh, please.” she said mocking him, “You’re soft…like a big cuddly teddy bear.”

“Oh, yeah?” he said hearing her scream when he flipped them and suddenly he was on top of her, “I’ll show you soft, little girl.”

She giggled as he kissed her neck, but her laughter didn’t last long after his kisses went lower.


* * * * *

“What your full name?” she asked suddenly, her voice uneven because she still hadn’t caught her breath back. She was laid next to him, her naked leg hung over his, her arms wrapped around him and her head on his chest, but she lifted it up to look at him.

It caught him off guard, but he answered her without much hesitation. “Spike Henry Pratt.”

She smiled at him, happy for many reasons that he’d answered her; because it was honest, because it was unafraid, because he was playing along and pretending that there were no consequences if she knew.

He smiled back. “And yours?”

“Buffy Anne Summers.”

“Well that only took nearly a whole month.” He laughed.

Had she really been here nearly a month? she wondered; and they’d been together like this for what, 2days? Was that all? she thought. Then why did it feel so normal?


* * * * *

The morning after she was in her bra and panties; his chest was bare. He sat behind her, suddenly wrapping his arms tighter around her and she leaned back into him. He could smell the blossom shampoo on her hair; it was still wet from their shower.

“Come on,” he said suddenly as he felt her sag into him as if she was drifting off to sleep, “let’s go downstairs and I’ll make you some breakfast.”

He nudged her with his legs to get her to move, she didn’t though; she was a little shocked. Had she heard that right? They were both going downstairs?

In the end he climbed out from behind her and off the bed, because she still hadn’t moved or said anything. As if he was still sat there propping her up she stayed perfectly still. He smiled at her, but it didn’t snap her out of her daze.

He leant down and scrambled around on the floor for his clothes, he disregarded his trousers, which Buffy was silently glad about, because the boxer shorts on their own were good, and instead he picked up his black shirt. He’d briefly gone downstairs one morning to put some clothes on, hence the shirt being in the room, but when he’d come back the clothes hadn’t lasted long, hence its place on the floor.

He threw her the shirt and she seemed to get the idea; they were pretending.

She could do that.

She slipped the shirt over her head as if slipping on a costume, ready to pretend she was just another girl, and he was just another guy. But she suddenly realised the part wasn’t so simple, in this scenario she wasn’t just a girl, she was his girl. Although it shouldn’t have been, it was easy to imagine, so she’d wear his shirt, and she’d be his girl; for today if not for longer.

The past few days he’d made her meals, but she’d waited upstairs. He’d closed the door, but hadn’t locked it and she hadn’t ignored that fact completely, she just wasn’t letting herself think about it too much. She could have gone down and joined him, maybe that’s what he had wanted, but she’d always stayed where she was. This time she followed close behind him.

She stood near the stairs as she watched him cook. He served up toast, bacon and fried eggs onto two plates and then rinsed all the pots and put them in the dishwasher.

She looked to the kitchen door, but all it caused was an ache. It wasn’t the need to leave anymore, but the need to stay; the pull she had in her heart to stay here. Even just looking at it made her feel guilty; she had no urge to go through it.

Spike looked at her just as she turned back to him, but he knew what she’d been doing, and what she’d been thinking. He knew she didn’t want to be so confused, so he made it really simple. He held out his hand for her, and she took it.

He pulled her gently to stand in front of him and backed her into the kitchen side. He ran his hands slowly and carefully up her thighs and under the shirt that she still wore, and when his hands reached her hips he gripped her there, lifted her and sat her down on the counter top. Next he pulled off her panties, unbuttoned the shirt but left it on her, and he took her right there, in front of the kitchen door.

She didn’t look at it again, and their breakfast went cold.

That night they watched TV in the living room and fell asleep together on the couch. She woke up later in bed realising Spike must have carried her upstairs while she slept, and she wondered if he’d been worried she might wake up before him that morning and escape, but then she turned over and looked past him until she could see the bedroom door; it was open. Before she could think he rolled over in front of her and pulled her towards him and she went back to sleep.


* * * * *

On the 5th day he lay with her, as close as he’d ever been to another person, their heartbeats thudding along slowly in the same rhythm. They were finally together, and he didn’t care about leaving this place, starting a new life, or running away. He wanted to be here with her, it’s where he belonged.

He felt for the first time that what he needed to be a good man wasn’t around the corner, it was here; in his hands, in his arms, just within his reach. She had made him that better man already; he could feel it and he didn’t have to look any longer, and he didn’t have to run anymore. He was happy, because he felt brand new, but that’s not all he felt.

A part of him, a part ever growing larger, was aching. Deep down he knew the girl in his arms had another life far away from here, and no matter how undesirable, it was the life she wanted back, and it didn’t involve him.

She had feelings for him, he knew it, and she might even belong with him, but she wanted to be free; she wanted to leave. That thought ripped him in two, because he understood it, understood why and he didn’t blame her or judge her or hate her for it. If anything he was hurting not only because he knew she wanted to leave him, but because he cared for her so much now that he knew he was going to let her.

He knew in that moment that this was the best day of his life, but it was also the worst. He finally had what he wanted, but in finally having it, he knew he had to give it up.

He hugged her closer, and she made a contented sigh and snuggled into him without really knowing it. He leaned down and kissed her hair and thought, I love you Buffy Summers, but its time to let you go.


* * * * *

When he told her she threw her arms around him, she smiled and threw her arms around him, and he knew it was wrong, but it broke his heart that she was so happy.

And when she kissed him he wanted to die, and when he touched her skin it was too much, and when he took her to bed and made love to her one last time it wasn’t enough.

They didn’t speak about what she was going to do. Neither of them even thought about the police, Buffy was too busy thinking about her apartment, about fresh air and real light, and Spike was too busy thinking about her to think about himself.

She couldn’t stop smiling as she packed, packed away the things that he’d bought her, into bags that he’d bought her, and no matter how hard he shut his eyes it didn’t stop her packing.

He got up and got dressed.

“Where are you going?” she said almost playfully, hoping he wasn’t planning to go too far.

“I’m going out.” he said bitterly, and that was that.

He thought he heard her squeak, as if she was going to say something, but couldn’t decide what to say. He thought he heard her feet follow him to the top of the stairs, but there they stopped. He didn’t look back at her, because he couldn’t have that last look. It didn’t feel wrong to go, with the house wide open so she could leave, it finally felt right, and he had to make his peace with that.

He found the scuziest place he could find, one where the alcohol was dirty and the staff kept their mouths shut. He’d just sat down, ordered his drink and was waiting for the glass to slide into his palm when his solitude was destroyed.

“Fancy seeing you here.” Angel’s voice slicked out from behind him.

Spike didn’t talk much, he grunted here and there when he felt he had too, but mostly it was Angel that kept the conversation going, happy enough that he had someone to perform in front of, not so much concerned with whether they actually wanted to hear what he had to say. After a few rounds Spike lost his taste for the drink and the company, and they both finished and headed out the back exit.

“See you later, mate.” he said walking away. He had a million other things more important to do than give Angel another minute of his time.

“Just to make things clear...” Angel shouted, causing Spike to stop and turn back to him, “the girl’s a 100% out of the picture, right?”

Spike lied effortlessly, “The only people she’s telling her story to are the fishes…assuming the swamp has fishes.” He laughed to sell it; Angel joined in soon after, but it made Spike want to curl his hands into fists.

“Shame about her.” Angel said shaking his head.

“Yeah mate, it is.” Spike turned away again, holding a hand in the air to signal he was gone this time.

Angel shouted after him once more, but this time with a passing comment, he didn’t expect to get a reaction from it, “Silent enough, but I bet deep down she was a screamer!” His chuckle was sickly.

Spike’s jaw clenched and he was glad he was facing away. He didn’t hide the genuine disgust in his tone, but he was careful in his choice of words when he shouted back, “Good job I put her out of her misery before you got to her then!” He knew exactly how to play this, if he didn’t show some kind of remorse for her, along with some hatred for the way Angel was talking about her, it would be clear something was wrong.

“Lucky for her,” Angel laughed again, to himself almost, “cause if I’d have had another minute alone with her I’d have savoured it the second time.”

Spike shot back around. “What the fuck do you mean a ‘second time’?”

Angel’s smile didn’t fade, but it changed from teasing to smug, “Oops.” he laughed.

The next thing he knew he was against the wall, Spike moved with the speed and brutality of a cannon ball, driving him towards it. Angel was larger, heavier, stronger, but Spike was fuelled on pure rage right now, and he was hoisting Angel up, making his leather jacket tear under the rough texture behind him.

Angel’s eyes sparkled like a wild animal, “Take it easy man; she’s just a fucking female!” His head jutted out at Spike like a warning, because it was the only part of his body he could move freely without shoving Spike away and this getting more physical. He secretly hoped it would however, and though his words said back off, his eyes still glinted with playfulness.

“What the fuck are you talking about, Angel?!” Spike screamed, spitting his words out in a rambling rush as the adrenaline in his veins thumped harder and faster. “You tell me right fucking now or I’m going kill you with my bloody bare hands.”

Angel had had enough of looking like Spike’s bitch, he shoved him away, then threw a punch so hard Spike’s ass hit the floor on the other side of the alley. Holding his face Spike tried to get up and move back into the fight.

“Now, that was self-defence.” Angel said explaining his punch, making sure he wouldn’t get one back for the moment, giving himself time to lay his story down.

Spike was not amused, “My patience is wearing pretty fucking thin right now, stop playing me and tell me what the fuck you meant about Buffy!”

“Easy,” he said as Spike got up and stumbled towards him, “Look, one day I came to the house, you weren’t there, so I let myself in.”

“You did what?!” Spike yelled.

“Oh forgive me, princess.” Angel spat, “But I’m sorry to disappoint the neighbourhood watch, I’m a bad man.”

“Just get on with it.” Spike growled.

“I was searching around looking for you,” he paused as a smile crept back onto his face, “and I found her.”

Spike rushed him again, “Did you touch her?” he hissed.

“Now what fucking difference does that make…” The end of his sentence was highlighted by Spike’s fist connecting with his jaw.

“Did you fucking touch her you piece of shit?!” Spike shouted. Without waiting for an answer his fist came down, something crunched underneath it, and just before the expected rage black out Angel blocked the next punch and hit back.

It was equal for a time, circling each other they both got lucky hits in, to look at them they both looked equally hurt, equally bloody, but Angel knew how to use and focus his anger, and Spike didn’t. The next few punches sent Spike dizzy, the few after that sent him to his knees, and the throbbing in his face made it hard to think as he tried to stand.

Angel’s fist pounded Spike’s face so hard he couldn’t see straight or balance himself any longer, he fell backwards and Angel kicked him in the stomach and then the chest to make sure he wouldn’t get back up again. He curled around Angel’s foot in agony, making a choking sound as the force shot the air from his lungs out his throat. Eventually blood shot out of his mouth as well as noise, that seemed to satisfy Angel and he stepped back.

Spike tried to get up, but he couldn’t. He knew he’d get to his feet eventually, but it wasn’t going to be now. He was at Angel’s mercy, a very unsafe place to be. Luckily for him Angel was tired of this, Spike was upset, not on his game, it wasn’t the sport he wanted, and it was kind of pissing him off.

“Jesus, you’re pathetic.” he said standing over his beaten friend. He walked away, wiping the blood from his nose, and then as if suddenly remembering what started all this he stumbled back around and up to where Spike sat.

“It doesn’t matter, but I didn’t fuck her.” he said, “I scared her, touched her up a bit, probably got a lot bigger taste of her than you ever did, you pansy…” he kicked Spike’s foot, but Spike didn’t budge so he carried on, “At the end of the day she was your mess, she made me realise it was funner for me to think about you having to get rid of her than do anything myself. Big soft Spike had to get his hands dirty, much more of a trick than murdering her myself.”

Spike didn’t feel relief that Angel hadn’t actually raped Buffy, how could he when it’d been so close to being another way.

“I’m surprised you don’t know any of this shit, man.” Angel continued, “She told me she was going to tell you, actually told me you’d care if I hurt her. You could tell in her eyes she was telling the truth. She actually thought you were going to save her from me. Guess I’m not the one she needed saving from.”

Spike knew Angel was trying to hurt him, trying to make him feel guilt, and he fucking did; only it wasn’t guilt for killing someone, it was guilt for betraying someone. It felt just as bad, because this time he loved her, and he let down everyone he loved. Is that why she hadn’t told him, because he hadn’t come to rescue her? He thought about the day he found her in the bathroom, shivering, and his gut hurt.

Spike was in his own world, in his own head and Angel saw it. Realising this wasn’t as fun as it should have been he gave up, walked off and left spike there in his own blood and pain.


* * * * *

He’d been fine walking down the alleyways to the house, after all the walls had been there on either side to keep him upright, but the last stretch along the back garden was a challenge. He stumbled his way up the steps, and heaved his way through the kitchen. Losing his balance slightly he reached for the door in support and it shuddered under the strain.

She came rushing in a second later wondering what all the noise was. Stuck somewhere between worrying it was someone breaking in, and anxious that it might be Spike coming home.

She wondered why he was curled up on himself, stood, but almost falling, sagging as if he couldn’t hold himself, and then he looked up at her.

“What the hell happened to you?!” she yelled horrified.

His face was pink, a darker skin tone than she’d ever thought possible on him, his lip was engorged on one side around a cut, though she thought tear was a better description of the damage. His cheek bone was also swollen, she could see the blood underneath the skin already forming a thick bruise and he couldn’t open his left eye as wide as his right. He tried to wink at her but failed, “Hello, pet.”

“Spike!” she gasped, rushing over just in time before he fell, supporting his weight the best she could.

“Don’t mind me, kitten.” he said laughing.

“Kind of hard to do that when I’m the only thing between you and the floor.” she huffed. “Guess it’s a good thing I stuck around.”

“Didn’t think you would, thought you’d be long gone by now.” he said bluntly.

Buffy tried to shoulder away the hurt as he tried to appear emotionless about her leaving. In her heart she knew he didn’t mean it that way, but she couldn’t help the note of disappointment in her voice that she had to tell him, “I wouldn’t leave just like that.”

He looked up at her and sighed. He couldn’t manage a smile, but she knew he was trying to show her something tender in his expression so she let it go. She pulled him to the kitchen island with all the strength that she could muster, and with a groan that plucked at her heart strings Spike fought the pain and hoisted himself up onto it.

“What happened?!” she cried, looking over him.

“I’m fine.” came his noncommittal response.

“That’s not an answer,” she said, her face pulling between anger and concern, “what the hell happened to you, Spike?!”

“I’m not saying.”

She laughed shortly, “What are you 5?”

He sighed, collecting himself, “It’s not like that, luv. Its just best you don’t know.”

“I can’t believe it!” she said, beginning to pace, “Here I’ve been thinking you’d just run off, were just sulking somewhere, and all this time you’ve been hurt, and I’ve been thinking the worst of you!”

“I’m fine.” he stressed.

“Spike, you are not fine.” she said through gritted teeth, “I mean, look at the state of you!” She came back to stand still in front of him, and looked distraught over his wounds, the ones that she could see at least, she stepped very close to him and pleaded, “What have you gotten yourself into, please Spike tell me, because if I have to worry about you anymore I’m going to…”

The moment his finger touched her lip to silence her, she swallowed down so many things. Her rambling was just an outlet for the confusion and worry she felt right now. And there again was that pain because she was leaving, leaving him like this.

“Hush now, pet.” he said softly, “Stop fretting. I’m fine.” He sighed, “I promise I’ve been in worse scraps than this and come out alright. I didn’t think you’d still be here, I’m glad you are, but I didn’t want to come home to you like this. I’m sorry I gave you a scare, but all I need is some cotton buds and water to clean myself up, and a glass of whiskey to steady my nerves.” This time he managed the wink.

She only managed a nod and disappeared upstairs.

Spike’s heart began beating a little too fast for his ailing body to manage when he thought she’d gone to get her stuff, but when he looked back around to the door he noticed all her bags were neatly piled there already; it was a miracle he hadn’t tripped over every one of them on his way in.

When she did come back she had a small bowl of water and a box of cotton buds to explain her absence.

“The whiskey?” he chuckled.

“I’m not your waitress.” she said with just the slightest hint of a smile at the end. He pulled a puppy dog face at her and motioned to a bottom cupboard in the kitchen, the next thing she knew she was sighing and slamming down the bottle she found in there. However he never touched it, because she set herself immediately to work on cleaning him up.

He couldn’t take his eyes off her as she gently wiped away the blood from his face, but she concentrated on what she was doing and didn’t seem to mind.

He thought about the role reversal, how he had cleaned up her wounds a few weeks ago, how she had been his burden, and how now he was hers. He almost wanted to stop himself from thinking about it, but he knew she was leaving him and it was all for the best so he no right to stop her. And he couldn’t look at her, or be so close to her, without thinking it was the last time.

Suddenly he hung his head, she was finished anyway, but the action and its implications didn’t escape her. She picked up the used buds and threw them in the trash, and she went to wash the bowl in the sink. It was hard to do, but he tried to ignore her movements, she was eager to go, and he didn’t want to keep her against her will anymore. When she’d finished she stood in front of him, almost challenging him to look at her, but he didn’t.

“Why did you leave earlier?” she asked eventually. She already knew, but she wanted him to tell her.

“No reason.” he lied, “Just needed some air.”

Buffy frowned touching his chin and motioning him to turn his head, “Looks like you got more than that.” she said viewing his swollen cheek bone again.

Spike huffed a bitter laugh, and it made his chest ache.

There was silence between them for a time; Buffy soon realised she’d have to take the lead in this because he wasn’t going to.

“Spike, you do know that I’m not happy I’m leaving you, right?” she said suddenly, but softly.

He looked up at her, his frown gone, but he was still too afraid to replace it with anything more positive.

“I know that’s what’s upsetting you, and I’m sorry you think that, but I’m just happy that you’re letting me go.” she added, meeting his confused gaze so he understood her sincerity before she continued, “It’s not about the leaving part; you’ve always misunderstood me, since the day we met.” She shook her head and smiled.

But he thought that maybe now he did understand. She was happy she could walk in the sun, she was happy she could go home and sleep in her own bed, she was happy she could go shopping and talk to people, meet new people even, and live a real life. Whether it was good or bad it would be something, and she was happy about that, but most of all she was happy it was him giving her all that.

“I know what this means, Spike.” And she did, she knew what it meant for him to let her go, and she didn’t take his decision for granted. She knew what was at stake, but more than that, she knew how much he wanted her to stay. “I couldn’t leave before…I stayed because I wanted to see you, one more time before I go. I wanted to tell you this, because I don’t want you to misunderstand me anymore. I don’t want you to second guess me and come up with the worst scenario, I want you to know the truth…” she sighed not fully knowing how he would respond to the next part, “So now will you do me a favour in return and tell me how you got this way?” She asked hopefully, bringing a hand up to rest above his cheek, afraid to touch it and put him in more discomfort.

He hung his head and turned it away from her, but he answered her nevertheless, “Angel.”

“Angel?” She couldn’t help the fear that crept into her voice, as if the very mention of him made her feel like he was stood right behind her; she fought to look over her shoulder.

“I bumped into him early and he…let slip about what happened.”

Buffy still didn’t really understand what he was talking about until he looked up at her, as if he’d wronged her, and he told her he was sorry.

“For getting beat up?” she asked bewildered.

“For leaving you alone,” he corrected, “for leaving you when…when he came to the house.”

For a moment Buffy panicked, remembering everything that she’d kept from Spike and all the reasons why. And she knew the anxiety she felt now was because everything was coming out, and all the secrets she’d kept to protect him had been pointless, because here they were, laid out for him to see.

She looked at him, and he couldn’t meet her eyes now, he was sorry, genuinely, but she took no comfort or pleasure in his pain. She could practically see what his guilt was doing to him, so torn up for putting her in danger from this man, and she knew he’d feel this way, and it was the only reason she hadn’t told him. She didn’t want this, for him to feel responsible, to feel accountable. It was his fault, for keeping her here, for introducing her to this world, to these kinds of people, and to him, but whether it was irrational or not she hated to see him take the blame he deserved, because she hated to see him this way.

This time when she reached out she did touch his face, and he flinched a little, but she couldn’t not touch him, and he wanted the touch, painful or not, because it gave him the courage to look at her again, to feel worthy to look at her.

“It’s okay.” she whispered.

“Its not…did he, what did he do?” he stuttered.

She tried to smile, “Nothing. It doesn’t matter.”

“It does.” he said almost angrily, but slightly broken, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t want you to know. I didn’t want to hear you say sorry.” she said.

“But it’s all my fault.”

She stared at him, “I forgive you.”

And although that implied he was right to blame himself, he didn’t care, because she forgave him, and if she’d just been saying it just to spare his feeling she would have lied and told him he wasn’t responsible. But Buffy wasn’t like that, she was honest in times like these, when it mattered, and he knew if she said so she really had forgiven him.

“I’m sorry anyway,” he said, “I’ll always be sorry.”

She smiled, and then, now over the initial shock of his revelations, she put all the pieces together. “Did you start a fight with him over me?”

He found her honesty infectious, and although he wasn’t proud he couldn’t lie about it, “Yes.”

She seemed to dwell on that for a moment, she creased her brow, but not in a disapproving way, almost sadly, and then she came towards him and kissed him.

It wasn’t logical, it wasn’t right, but it was true.

She didn’t approve of fighting; she didn’t like the way Spike looked now, or think his bruises were sexy. She liked his courage, she liked that he’d stood up for her, to the man who hurt her. She liked that he showed his guilt and didn’t shy away from it, though he probably threw the first punch he wasn’t proud of it, but he wouldn’t stand for anyone treating her roughly and getting away with it. All these things combined and she knew every doubt she’d had about this man was unfounded, what was true was that feeling she’d had during Angel’s assault, that faith in Spike that he would come and rescue her. He hadn’t saved her that night, at least not physically, but she hadn’t been wrong to think that he would, because he wanted to save her now, and although it was too late to change anything, it was overwhelming to her how deep his feelings really went. He was good, at the core, and that’s all that mattered.

The kiss was soft and tender and chaste, but so different from anything that they had shared before; although it didn’t seem possible, this was new. Spike felt something he hadn’t felt before, but it wasn’t coming from him. He had always put his feelings out there, and though he didn’t share them in words it was obvious that he loved her in his actions, even before he acknowledged it to himself. He knew something similar was now happening to Buffy. She didn’t say a word when they broke apart, and he couldn’t tell from her expression whether she knew it herself yet, but he knew it; she loved him.

She really loved him, from every part of her he saw it radiating.

And that was the last thought he was left with as he watched her turn around and walk out of his life.


* * * * *

“I’ve been over and over this.” Buffy said exasperated, her body ached, her eyes were heavy. She’d seen more of this police station than she had her apartment since she’d got back, and it was physically draining her.

“We’ll go over it again and again until you tell us what we need to know.” Agent Adams said coldly.

“Are you allowed to speak to me like that?” she asked, “I’ve told you I don’t want to press charges, I came to you because the bank manager told you I was abducted and I wanted the police to know I was fine.” Buffy rose out of her seat, “I came to stop your missing person’s investigation, nothing more.”

“It’s not as simple as that Miss Summers;” Agent Adams said getting uncomfortably close to her, “like it or not your friend was more than an abductor, he robbed a bank and shot a civilian!”

“That’s it, I’m leaving.” Buffy said through clenched teeth.

Agent Finn grabbed her arm gently near the door. He was different from his partner, she could tell, but his kind gentle eyes did nothing to quell her anger.

“He’ll behave if you stay, I promise.” he whispered.

Buffy turned back towards the other Agent, “I don’t see why we even need to do this.” she sighed, “You have the bank manager’s statement, and mine.”

Adams said nothing.

Agent Finn drew her attention back. “You were the only one to actually spend time with them. Please Miss Summers.”

She sighed again, hoping if she stayed a little longer they would get tired and send her home. She’d had her electricity and phone cut off whilst she’d been away and she hadn’t even had time to reconnect them yet, all she did was sleep, eat, and come here it seemed.

Eventually she nodded, and walked back around to her seat at the table. She said nothing for a long time, but silence wasn’t uncomfortable for her, it was actually quite welcome. It seemed all people wanted her to do these days was talk, and it was tiresome.

“I apologise Miss Summers.” Agent Adams said. “I just need to ask these questions, and my superiors need answers. Sometimes the pressure of the job makes me lose my temper in here.”

Buffy knew he was more desperate than sorry so it could have been believable that he needed his ‘answers’, but she also knew he was talking shit; he ran this investigation. His superiors didn’t care whether they got the right guy for this, just as long as the case was closed. This man had a personal vendetta he wanted exercising, and he expected her to help. She’d drawn that much from their regular meetings.

She rolled her eyes to show she didn’t believe him, and after that he knew a soft approach wouldn’t work.

“I don’t understand you Miss Summers, but I will.” he said, his tone changing immediately. “I have a gut feeling normally about people, and my gut’s usually right. I know you’re protecting them, and I could guess why, but I don’t know yet.”

Buffy said nothing.

Agent Adams put his palms flat on the table and leant forward, trying hard to appear intimidating, but never crossing the line into her space.

“I’m going to have you in this room everyday until I understand you. It could be in 3weeks, 4months, 2days, or 5minutes, but I won’t give up.”

“You can’t do that,” said Buffy, “I haven’t done anything wrong, and you can’t keep bringing me here against my will if I refuse to press charges, all I am is a witness and you can’t harass witnesses like that.”

“Are you just a witness, Miss Summers? Are you just a victim as you lead us to believe,” Agent Adams pressed, “or are you their accomplice?”

Buffy was outraged, “I was kidnapped!”

“Were you? How many kidnap victims protect their kidnappers?”

Buffy was speechless, she couldn’t believe anyone would stoop this low, but she also didn’t have an answer for him.

“You could be in on the whole thing, the robbery, the assault on the bank manager, you could be an award winning actress for all I know, and have us all fooled. How many little innocent college girls run with criminals?” he started to raise his voice, “If I charged you with aiding and abetting alone I could keep you here for 24hours straight, and let me tell you, every second of it would be in here with me.”

“I can’t believe you’re doing this to me.”

Agent Finn tried to speak, but Agent Adams put his left hand out in protest and it silenced him. “Give us a name, Miss Summers.”

Buffy’s head hurt, she was confused, concentrating on not giving in, but at the same time trying to process what this man was saying to her. Could they really do that? Would she go to jail for something she didn’t do? She knew she wasn’t ready to give up on Spike, and she would never turn him in, but did that mean going to jail for him? Was she ready to go that far? To go to prison? For the crimes he committed, they committed? For Angel?

“Angel.” she said suddenly.

Agent Finn didn’t miss a beat, “O’Connor?” he asked confused.

“I don’t know,” Buffy said shaking her head. “The other men just called him Angel.”

Agent Adams paused for a second, if it was true it would be a prestigious collar, he’d surely get a promotion and lots of recognition. So would the entire department if they had actually found a witness who was willing to tie the O’Connor kid to any crime on any level. If they could keep her safe until the trial and she actually testified, it would be the case of his life. He stood upright and walked the length of the room and back. It just didn’t feel right; the name Angel wasn’t the one he wanted.

Before Agent Finn could speak again Agent Adams had jumped in. “This is bullshit. If Angel O’Connor had abducted you, and you were the only thing linking his name, his face to this robbery, you wouldn’t be sat here. One phone call to his father and we’d have never found you.”

Buffy shuddered at the thought.

Adams had been convinced she was lying about Angel being involved, but in her wince he’d seen recognition. He was still sure that she wouldn’t be alive to tell the story if Angel had been the one hiding her away, but she knew something of him, and he had some part in this. Instead of being glad of having one suspect, his greedy nature came out, he wanted all the names and now he had one he wasn’t going to stop until he got them all.

“Agent Finn,” Adams said after a moment, “Will you step outside with me?”

Agent Finn looked confused for a second, but he gave the other Agent some room to pass him and followed him as he left.

Buffy heard them talking outside, but their voices were muffled so she couldn’t make out what they were saying; it made her nervous. She didn’t think they had bought the Angel thing, but why else would they need to have a private conference? She knew enough of Agent Adams to be wary of him, something was going on. She didn’t know whether it was to do with her, or Angel, or even Spike, but he knew something, she’d given something away.

She was so confused, and the longer she waited the more confused she became. She saw one of them leave, pass the door and down the corridor before she lost sight of him, the glass on the door was misted so she couldn’t be sure which one, but her heart dropped a little because the build of the man looked more like Agent Finn than Agent Adams, and she hated the thought of being left alone with the other.

Luckily 10minutes later he came back, yet still no one entered the room. They stood having an exchange to the side of the door; just so she could see. Not only did they exchange words, but something they passed to one another. Then whatever it was was tucked firmly into a jacket, and both men came back inside to her.

She waited for an apology, but none came.

“I’ve seen this before,” Agent Adams said aggressively, as if she had annoyed him even though they’d been separated, “I’ve seen you before.”

“What do you mean?” Buffy asked bewildered.

“Stockholm Syndrome.”

Buffy had heard the term.

“Just because he didn’t hurt you, you know that doesn’t mean he cares about you, right? That’s what Stockholm syndrome is Miss Summers; a misguided attachment to your kidnapper, a belief that if they don’t hurt you, it’s because they like you.”

Buffy took a deep breath, “I’m sure it’s more complicated than that, but again I don’t know what you’re talking about. What does this have to do with anything?”

“It has to do with everything.” he said plainly, “Everything you’re not telling us, and why. You’ve tricked yourself into believing this man is a good man, that he never hurt you because he was never capable of hurting you. It’s all a lie Miss Summers, he could have hurt you, he has killed before, and he will kill again.” He paused, “And I know this because I know exactly who kidnapped you.”

Buffy’s eyes shot up in panic. Even if he was bluffing, she couldn’t help that initial fear, that shot in her heart that she might have given Spike up to him already.

Agent Adams smiled, her expression made him even more confident. “I know enough about Angel and his friends to work it out, but even if I’m wrong about who it is, I know I’m right about the why now. You have feelings for this man.”

He placed a photo down on the table.

“You’re living in a fantasy you know.”

He pointed towards the picture, as if she hadn’t been staring since he put it down, in reality she couldn’t take her eyes off it. In front of her was a crime scene photo. A man in a pool of blood, his face looked like raw meat, he was lifeless, brutalised.

“He beat this man to death you know?”

“Who did?” she stuttered.

“He did.”

The way he said it, she just knew he meant Spike. He laid another photo in front of her.

“And this man.”

Then another.

“And this one. Your boyfriend, or whoever you’ve talked yourself into believing he is; he killed them with his bare hands, and these are only the ones we’ve linked him to so far. Did he tell you about his past, about doing this?!”

She placed her finger on the photos and slid them violently away from her to the other side of the table, she looked at the floor.

His tone softened, but it was anything other than comforting, “Do you know what some experts say about Stockholm Syndrome? They say the captives are like children, they imprint on the closest adult in control so that they can survive. It’s an instinct, it can’t be helped. They align themselves with the kidnapper and it makes them feel safer, so they can be calm and collected and are more likely to get out alive and undamaged psychologically. It’s about survival.”

Buffy’s mind was racing, her thoughts stills on the photos. In her heart she didn’t want to believe Spike had done those things, but when he talked about Angel’s father, and the things he’d had to do for him he’d alluded to it all.

“It’s understandable, but it’s not real.”

His voice brought her out of her thoughts and against her better judgement she started to listen to him.

“You were going to die and your mind protected you from the reality you were in. Your emotions were used to defend you; you made yourself think that this man cared for you, because it helped you to stay strong. But he took you away from your home, kept you locked up and maybe he didn’t kill you, but you will never know why he let you go.”

Although his words were confusing, although they were persuasive, he lost her for a moment there, because she was in no doubt why he let her go. She knew why, didn’t she?

“I know you’re thinking you’re different.” Adams continued, “That’s understandable too. It’s too soon, and too much to have your bubble burst, to change your way of thinking. But I will not stop until you give us Sp…” he stopped almost saying the name himself, “until you give us his name, because what you’re doing although understandable; is wrong. This man is on the streets, this criminal, this murderer, because of you.”

Buffy shook her head. He wasn’t those things.

“Some people have been kidnapped, threatened, locked away for months, and they’ve stood up for their captors. One woman even killed herself after her abductor went to prison, she actually felt so guilty giving him up that she couldn’t live with herself. Do you think that’s healthy? Do you think that’s normal?”

“No.”

Agent Adams came around behind her and leaned in to her ear, unlike before he didn’t keep himself in check, he was uncomfortably entering her personal space and he didn’t care, “Why, what’s the difference here, between you and her?”

“I know him.” she said no longer able to keep quiet through his verbal assault.

“Do you? He didn’t hurt you, because he liked you, is that what you think? He’s changed; he’s a good man underneath. I’ve met victims of abuse that are less scared to come forward than you Miss Summers. He hasn’t even laid a finger on you by your accounts and you’ve still let him warp your mind!”

“Enough!” Agent Finn shouted. He walked towards Agent Adams and grabbed his arm to pull him away from Buffy, “If this goes to court and they find out you badgered her this way…”

“They’ll do what?” Agent Adams shouted, “I just want to know where to start! I don’t expect to use this for evidence, so it doesn’t matter how I get it, the name’s just my starting point.”

Buffy picked up the pictures again and brought them closer, she stared down at the face on the table in front of her, and she wished she had the strength, but she felt it slipping away.

“He’s killed so many parts of you, of yourself, but he hasn’t killed you, not yet. Just give us a name!”

“I said that’s enough!” Agent Finn said.

“Tell me, I know who it is, so does Agent Finn, so do you.”

Buffy broke down in tears; she grabbed the photo of the murdered man and looked at it crying. She said nothing, and she hadn’t even realised what she’d done until she heard his voice behind her.

“That’s good enough for me.”

And then the tears wouldn’t stop.


* * * * *

As he handed her her jacket Agent Finn tried to catch her eye, “Those men, they weren’t saints you know.”

“I’m sort of tired of hearing this tale.” she replied weakly.

“Not the men who abducted you,” he faltered for a second, “the men Spike killed.”

“Are you condoning…?”

“Never. I would never condone taking another person’s life, especially not that way, but…” he sighed, “Look Miss Summers, you seem like a bright girl. I don’t know whether my partner’s right about you, but I think you’re a sensible person, a strong person, to go through what you did. I don’t think you should feel bad about giving this man up to us, because he’s a criminal, and he deserves to pay for the crimes he’s committed. But I see there’s something else going on, it’s none of my business, but I don’t ignore it or dismiss it as easily as Agent Adams does. These men were murderers themselves, not one of them cleaner than that and I just think that you should have all the facts; I don’t want you to feel guilty for giving him up, but I don’t want you to feel guilty for feeling guilty either. Everyone has their story. We’re both trying to catch criminals, and we’ll send them to whatever punishment they deserve, but there are two types of police officers, those who ignore the story when it gets in their way and those that don’t.”

His words gave her enough comfort to gather the strength to leave, to start her car and set off driving, but a few blocks later she broke down again. She pulled over to the side of the road, and let the tears come. She wasn’t crying because of the way she had been treated, she wasn’t crying for the horrible things she’d seen. She’d betrayed the man she loved, and she couldn’t feel anything else but that.


* * * * *

She hadn’t been here since the day she left, but when she had left she’d memorised every step she’d taken, every turn, every street name, so she could find her way back. And it’d taken her 2 weeks to get here, a full 10minutes to work up the courage to step up to the door, to knock on the door had taken another 5, and longer still to realise he wasn’t in.

She took out the old student diary she had in her bag, ripped out a page from the centre and scribbled a note in the only thing she could find, her eyeliner. Pushing it under the door she took a deep breath and left just as easily as she had come, torn between being grateful she didn’t have to face him just yet, and sad over the weight she had on her shoulders still.

The police were looking for him, they’d come knocking on his door as soon as they had enough evidence to hold him for questioning. She didn’t know why they hadn’t already, but maybe they were waiting for something.

She walked away, down the steps, across the street. She felt no better for coming, because she still didn’t know if he would get the note and do what she asked. She hadn’t been in touch with him for weeks; if he was angry he might see her name at the end, throw it away and not even read the rest. And she couldn’t blame him for that.


* * * * *

Spike had been to a bar every night since Buffy had left. He would get so blind drunk that he could barely remember his own name and then he’d have a few more. In truth the alcohol didn’t affect him too much on the surface, he could walk in a straight line and he didn’t slur his words when he talked to the drunks either side of him, it was deeper down it did its work, exactly where he wanted it to. It made him numb, it made him forget about her, about how lonely his big house now seemed, how cold and drafty it was without her in it. It also made him forget about leaving, and that he still hadn’t.

He had his money; he’d paid off Angel’s father to leave the city and the “family.” Angel wasn’t happy about it, but he didn’t care, he could have left anytime he wanted to, and still day after day he found himself drinking to forget everything, because he couldn’t face the thought that she’d left him, but that he still couldn’t leave her.

That night he came home the same as every night, at least he was the same; it was something else that had changed. He didn’t feel it when he first got in, or even when he went into the living room to sit down on his couch. In the end he didn’t sit, the couch hadn’t felt comfy in a while and so he stood to take his coat and shoes off.

Soon though he realised he hadn’t come home to a cold house, it seemed different and it didn’t feel as empty, because when he looked down there was something under his foot, stuck to the underneath of his shoe, the corner poking out.

He reached to pull it off and wipe away the dirt of his footprint. It was a diary page, from January, sectioned off into days, with dates at the top of each box and lines in between for writing. He looked it over and saw nothing special, so he turned it; there diagonally across the other side was a note in thick black.

“I need to see you. Meet me at the Bronze club tonight at 8. Love Buffy.”

Thumbing her name made the writing blur over the page. He crumpled the paper in his palm and sat down. The couch was slightly softer than he remembered and he sunk back into it to think.


* * * * *

Buffy was nervous, she couldn’t stop looking around, and she wasn’t just looking for Spike. It had crossed her mind more than once that the police might be following her. That if they knew she was harbouring feelings for the person who’d kidnapped her that they would think she might try and contact him again. She was worried, but she couldn’t see any other way to warn him; he hadn’t been there when she’d gone to his house, and she didn’t have his phone number to call him up and tell him what happened. Plus part of her had to see him, even if it was risky, she had to see him one last time before he left, because leaving was what she knew he had to do.

He couldn’t stay around and wait until the police had enough evidence to arrest him. The question stuck in her throat, the one she didn’t know if she had the courage to ask, was whether he’d take her with him. She didn’t know if he’d say yes and that made her afraid to say the words. She honestly didn’t know whether she would ask him, but the question was there in her thoughts nonetheless.

Some guy came over to her just then; he stunk of beer and was stumbling around, getting uncomfortably close. “You been stood up?”

His breath made her want to gag.

“No.” she said firmly, backing away as far as she could.

“You sure?” he asked, “Because you’ve been looking around for someone for half an hour, and no one seems to be coming. Sounds like being stood up to me?” He grinned disgustingly.

It was true, but it didn’t mean he wasn’t coming, she’d been here 20minutes early; he was only a little late.

“Look, I’m really not in the mood, so can you please leave me alone.” she asked.

“Hey, don’t be getting upset. I’m not the one who stood you up! I’m the one who’s willing to make you forget though.” He leaned forwards as if he was going to kiss her, Buffy shoved him a little, and he flew back a lot.

Confusion hit her, she wasn’t puny, but no way would her little shove have sent him that far, he was stunned from the force. Then she noticed a presence to her left, Spike walked in front of her.

“I think it’s about time you pissed off mate.” he said angrily.

Buffy felt her heart skip a beat, “You came.”

Spike turned to her, forgetting the man behind him, who took the opportunity to skulk off. He sighed, “Of course I did.” he said dejectedly. It was Buffy that had left him not the other way around; he was upset that she thought he wouldn’t show.

Buffy bit her lip, “I didn’t mean anything by that.” She wanted to explain that she wasn’t doubting his character, but just worried he was angry with her for leaving, or because she’d not been in touch before now. However she had enough explaining to do as it was.

She took a deep breath and moved back a step underneath the stairs. Somehow that made her feel like she was in a safe cocoon. It stopped her wanting to run, and because Spike was in front of her she didn’t have an escape root anyway.

“Why am I here?” he asked, trying to seem calm, still upset about seeing that guy coming on to her right in front of him.

“You sound like you didn’t want to see me.” she whispered.

It was almost a question and it broke through his resolve, she looked upset when she said it so he knew he had to answer.

“I did.” and he left it at that, unable to commit more.

There was silence for a long time, and neither of them looked each other in the eye.

“This is awkward.” she said suddenly, “I didn’t expect it to be like this.”

“Me neither.” he said, “It’s nice to see you, Buffy.” He hadn’t meant to say that, but it slipped out.

She smiled, “Well that makes up for the awkwardness a little.”

She came towards him, tentatively and uneasily placing her arms around him and she laid her head on his chest.

He hugged her back, relaxing into the embrace and for a moment forgot where they were; the music blaring, the people bustling past them. He felt in a quiet room alone with her, and over the smoke and the smell of people he could lean down and take in the fragrance of her hair, and he knew that he had missed her, and he hugged her harder.

It took all her strength to pull away, but she did. She had to tell him what she’d brought him here to tell him; she couldn’t wait another minute even though she wanted to. It felt wrong to lead him on; the guilt of what she’d done was too heavy a burden.

“Spike, I have something to tell you, and you’re going to hate me when I do.”

“Sounding a bit familiar, pet.” he said, but there was no humour in his voice, his tone was cautious. As much as he would have liked to think she just wanted to see him he’d known it was about something important, otherwise she wouldn’t have waited two weeks and then suddenly turned up on his doorstep.

“Its about the police, they’ve been hassling me ever since I left.” she confessed.

“Don’t worry about the bloody coppers, they’re none the wiser.” Spike replied.

Buffy hesitated for a long time, “That’s not true.”

Spike looked puzzled as she shook her head, he could see she was struggling with something, but he didn’t know what. “What is it, luv? Did they say something?”

It crushed her, the weight of that question. No, they hadn’t, she had. In the end she just blurted it out, “They know Spike, they know it was you.”

Spike’s face was like stone. “Are you sure?” he said evenly. Buffy looked panicked, maybe even more so by how calm he was being, but he had to make sure she wasn’t simply being paranoid before he reacted.

“I’m sure…because…I gave you away.”

Spike’s face pulled into something she’d never seen before. He almost shouted, but he didn’t want to attract attention, so his question came out like a quiet hiss, “What?!”

“I didn’t mean to!” she cried, “I didn’t say anything, but they knew.”

Spike’s demeanour changed immediately, “Shit, hey, hey.” he said reassuringly, pulling her close to him, but she stepped back.

“They had a hunch it was you and they said all this stuff about what you’d done, and that you didn’t really care about me so why was I protecting you, and they practically said I was crazy for pretending we cared about each other, and I started crying, and then they knew they were right...”

“Kitten, its okay.” he said, reaching out to her again, bringing her into him. She started sobbing, “Look, I’m not angry; I was just shocked at first, I didn’t mean to shout, or upset you. I should have known the cops would give you a hard time, you don’t have to explain anything to me.” He whispered the next part, “And for the record they weren’t right about everything.”

Buffy knew what he was talking about, “That’s the bit I never believed. It was real between us wasn’t it?”

He didn’t say anything, but he hugged her harder.

“I didn’t mean to give you up.” she said into his shoulder.

“Its okay.” he said rubbing her back.

Buffy pulled away suddenly, “How can you say that? What I did, I…” she trailed off, unable to even think about it.

“I knew this might happen one day, Buffy. It’s the reason I kept you locked away remember? When I let you go I had to prepare myself for this.”

“You thought I’d betray you?” she said miserably.

“No,” he said, “but I should have, if I was smart I should have thought about it.”

Buffy couldn’t deny that, she was saddened by it, but at the end of the day it was true, they hadn’t always trusted each other, and she didn’t even know if he should trust her now.

“Policemen have ways though,” he continued, “and I thought they might figure it out.”

“I’m so sorry.” she whispered.

“Please, stop.” he begged.

Tears were streaming down Buffy’s face freely now, she wiped them away with the sleeve of her jacket, but he still saw them coming.

“Shh,” he soothed cupping her face and moving into her again, “I’m not going anywhere.”

Buffy had been quiet for a while, but that snapped her out of her silence. “You need to leave, Spike, tonight. They’re just biding their time; they’ll come looking for you eventually. You need to get out of the state, out of the country!”

Spike was silent now, and it unnerved her. Leaving had always been his plan, but he said nothing when she suggested it.

“You’re still leaving, right? You have the money?”

“It’s not as simple as that, luv.” he said taking a step back.

“Of course it is! You stay and you get sent to prison, you leave and you don’t!”

“And what about you?”

That made her shut up.

Spike looked pained, almost angry, his jaw was clenched as he spoke to her, “I’m running off into the bloody sunset all alone, and I’m running the rest of my life, and I can never come back for you, or see you again.”

She swore there were tears in his eyes, but they were gone as soon as they appeared.

She didn’t know what to say, she wanted to be selfless. She wanted to tell him to go again, to push him towards safety, even if it meant she was alone. But then her heart wanted him to stay, and it broke at the thought of him leaving. This was the man she loved, talking about a future they couldn’t have together, and that was crushing, and she couldn’t be strong and selfless anymore, so she stayed quiet.

“Say something, Buffy,” he pleaded, “If not about that then about anything.”

Buffy thought about that for a long time, and then took the plunge. “They told me things,” she said carefully, “things you’d done, that they thought you’d done; to get me to give you up.”

He exhaled a deep breath as if he was smoking a cigarette, “They pull dirty tricks.”

“But you never told me about these things.” she asked, heart in her throat, “You said you’d done some things, for Angel’s dad, but you didn’t tell me about them.”

“What are you getting at, luv?” he asked gently.

“Did you?” she breathed, “Do the things they told me?”

The music was louder now, but he heard her perfectly, he stepped back away from her, unlike weeks before there was no hesitation when he told her the truth, “It depends what they told you.”

Buffy didn’t falter either, “At first I thought you might have.” She stepped forward to close the space again, “Afterwards I thought you couldn’t have, because if you had, and they knew you had they’d have arrested you, and it made me feel so awful for giving you up, but I couldn’t hold it in when I saw. They showed me photos, and true or not I didn’t want to believe what they were saying, and they knew, they saw me struggling with it and that’s how they knew.”

Spike put a hand up to hold her cheek and absentmindedly let the tips of his fingers run through her hair, “I’m sorry you had to see that.”

Buffy was talking breathlessly, “But did you?”

He sighed, but never took his hand away from her face, “Probably. I’ve done bad things Buffy, if you’re ever going to accept me, to love me; I want you to understand that before you make that choice.”

Buffy’s eyes squinted.

He thought this was it, she seemed to not grasp what he’d said and he was scared that meant that she’d never take him for what he truly was.

She brought up her own hand to his face, mirroring his affection, “Loving you isn’t a choice for me.” she said, “I just needed to know one way or the other.”

He wound an arm around her waist, gripping her tightly and stepped forwards; before he even knew it he was pushing her into the stairwell. His mouth was on hers hungrily, desperately moments later.

Buffy felt herself melt into him, and all the awkwardness slipped away, all the painful images in her head from the interrogation slipped away, all the bad things Spike had done, that she had done, and it seemed like no time had passed at all since their last week together, when everything had changed. It felt right to be here, with him, like this, and she held onto that.

Spike pulled away reluctantly, “I have to turn myself in Buffy. It’s the right thing to do.”

She grabbed his face with both hands, “No, Spike! Please run! If you won’t leave me behind then I’ll come with you.”

He closed his eyes and shook his head, “I don’t want it, Buffy. That kind of life, it’s not fair on you.”

“Please, Spike. Please.” she said suddenly crying, her hands grabbing and twisting the collar of his jacket on each side. “Just take me somewhere, and just be with me, and don’t let me go.”

He laid his forehead onto hers and stared into her eyes. He knew she meant now, this moment, because she was tired of fighting him over tomorrow. Take her somewhere and make love to her, show her what they had together, and he almost didn’t want to, because he knew whether she was thinking of the future now or not it would come up again. She’d try to convince him to go with her, and he didn’t know what he would say the next time, it was so hard to say no to that. Even if she didn’t ask he didn’t know if he could do it, take her to bed and then leave her.

His heart surrendered moments later. It wasn’t fair to give her false hope, but he had to have this night with her, to remember the better man that he was trying to be, because it was her that made him want to be better. It was her love that made him want to set things right, even if she hated him because of it. He just hoped he could make her understand why he was doing this.

They walked to a motel and booked a room for the night, his house was too far away and so was her flat, they didn’t speak about it but time was of the essence.

Buffy went to open the door, but she could feel his impatient breath on her neck and it made her fumble. When they were inside he kicked the door behind him, and before it was even shut to he was kissing her again.

Her fingers felt numb as they tried to work him out of his jacket, and she didn’t even realise she’d succeeded until she heard the dull thud it made when it hit the floor behind him.

He slipped hers off soon after and then his hands came to hold her shoulders and although he kept kissing her a second longer, she knew he was preparing her for him to pull away. Because of his grip he easily kept her at a distance when he did.

He did nothing except stare at her a while, but he looked so serious that she didn’t feel like she could ask him what he was doing. He reached out eventually and touched her, just gently on her face, but it felt all the more powerful because of the build up. He pulled a piece of hair from behind her ear, twirled it between his fingers and then let it fall.

His eyes searched hers for something as he took a step forward, and a knot clenched in Buffy’s stomach. He slid his hand boldly underneath her shirt at the bottom, and stroked the skin just above hip. She fought back a shiver as his other hand started undoing the buttons in front and his mouth latched onto her neck.

Her hand came up and wound through the hair on the back of his head for support, because as he started walking her backwards he leant over her and she felt as if she was going to fall.

That was his intention of course and when she finally untensed her body and succumbed to everything she fell back onto the bed with him on top of her. He’d undone all the buttons of her shirt now, and he rolled away and smoothed the sides of it apart, ghosting his fingers over her stomach and ribs as he did so. He watched her give in to her shivers this time under his touch and he placed a kiss on her stomach.

Her breathing became heavy as he took another minute to stare at her and take everything in before moving on top of her again and pressing himself into her.

“You’re so beautiful.” he whispered in awe, “I missed you so much.”

“I missed you too.” she said arching into him and pulling his head down to her chest.

He kissed the skin between her breasts and moved up slowly towards her collar bone, then he turned his head and kissed up her neck before breaking away.

He moved to face her directly, “Sometimes I thought I’d never see you again.” he said, almost as if it was still a worry.

Buffy couldn’t think what to say to that. She couldn’t honestly tell him she would have come back to him if she hadn’t needed to tell him about the police, because she didn’t know for certain. She knew she wanted to be with him though, in every way. So she kissed him, to silence everything.

And they made love, but it was different than all the times before. They weren’t coming together for the first time in uncertainty or getting lost in the moment and pretending, this was real and hurried and precious and as if they were never going to see each other again.

Buffy pushed that thought away with all her energy, because this wasn’t the time to worry about what Spike had said; she knew she could talk him out of handing himself in; they could run away together; he wouldn’t abandon her like that. She tried to fight that thought, but it kept winning over. The truth was all around them, in the way they moved together, in the way they memorised every part of each other. It was in the way he looked at her, and that was the worst thing of all.

It was as if he was a satellite that didn’t believe she had the power to make him stay grounded, and the fact was through everything she told herself, she could feel that thing, whatever it was that was pulling at him and he was right, it felt stronger than her. If she could only have tonight and tomorrow she knew she could convince him to leave with her. She held him tight to reassure herself that he was still there at least for now, and even after, when they were spent and she could hardly breathe, because the space between them was so hot and the air so thick, she still pulled him closer.

He got the message and he wrapped her up in his arms, his chest moving up and down agitatedly with the strain of trying to steady his breathing, and she fell asleep there.

Spike never slept though, he laid there for hours watching her, and then when it became too much he rolled her away, got out of the bed they’d shared and got dressed. It was still dark outside, so it was obviously before dawn, but that’s all he knew. He snuck out of the room to see if there was anyone at reception, he needed to borrow a few things, and satisfied with what he found he snuck right back in a few minutes later. He laid something on the pillow for her to wake up to and stood there a moment.

Spike looked down at her, lying there on the bed. He turned around to leave and had to shut his eyes tight. He felt an ache in his chest, but he had to push through it. This was the right thing to do, for him, for her, for everyone involved. He would never forgive himself, but he had to do it.


* * * * *

Buffy woke up when the light streamed through the windows, it had been warming her skin, but as it got brighter it also pulled her away from sleep. She rolled around to snuggle closer to Spike, smiling before she’d even reached him, just happy to wake up and have him there.

And then he wasn’t.

She reached for the pillow where his head should have been, and instead there was an envelope; she grabbed it and sat up, brushing her hair away from her face she opened it. Inside was a short letter written on the motel note paper she’d seen at the reception desk when they’d checked in.

She swallowed the lump in her throat and read what he’d left behind.

“Buffy,

I know you want to run away with me, and I can’t tell you how much it means to me that you would risk everything to do that. But I couldn’t bare you giving anything up for me.

I know you’ll hate me for this, but I had to turn myself in, and I couldn’t let you talk me out of it, because one more morning with you and you would have. I know you accept me now for who I am, but I don’t. I need to set something right in my life, or I’ll always be looking over my shoulder, and I’ll always think I don’t deserve you. I need to try and be a better person in my actions not just my thoughts. Like you told me, running away doesn’t solve anything.

I understand if you don’t want to speak to me, and even if you get over being angry at me I understand if you don’t want to wait for me. I just need to pay my debts, and I don’t want you to have to pay them too.

I love you.

Spike.”

Buffy felt all the air leave the room.


* * * * *

She couldn’t breathe, there was a weight on her chest that made it hard to suck in enough air, she took breaths, but they felt redundant and painful. She stepped forward, trying to steady herself, catching the last of her tears with her jacket sleeve.

“Can I help you?” the redheaded clerk said. It was clearly a practiced and empty gesture she gave every time the bell of the door sounded, initially she had no more care for Buffy than a motion sensor, but when she looked up her face dropped.

“Yeah, I…can you tell me where the nearest police station is?” Buffy asked.

The clerk looked a little taken aback as Buffy’s story seemed to unfold a little more; she’d taken her for upset and now apparently she was also in trouble too. On one hand although she wasn’t the most thoughtful person it would take a lot not to feel for someone so clearly shaken, on the other hand her job restricted her from getting too involved, she’d pretty much seen and heard everything you could imagine working at a motel, and she was meant to ignore it. With that in mind she settled for simply answering the question, “Erm, it’s about 5 blocks away.”

Buffy nodded.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” was all Buffy could manage in reply, “Can you point me in the right direction?”

The clerk did and Buffy headed out following what she’d been told.

She walked with heavy steps, it took a lot of effort for her to put one foot in front of the other. Her pace was slow until her mind caught up with the situation. Until then Buffy had felt catatonic, as if she’d woke from a dream and wasn’t sure that this was all real, which wasn’t a million miles from the truth. She moved slow, she thought slow, as if she was wading through water, but suddenly the sea parted. She was heading to talk to Spike, to ask him why he’d done what he’d done, to face what was to come next, but what she hadn’t considered was that it might not be too late to stop him.

Her pace picked up a little with every new thought that sprang up in her head. She didn’t know what time he’d left her because she’d been asleep, and she hadn’t thought to ask anyone at the hotel if they’d seen him go; she’d presumed he’d left during the night, but what if he hadn’t?

Her steps quickened again. Even if he had left a while ago he could still be waiting to speak to someone. Unless he walked in and announced his crime in front of the entire station at the top of his lungs he’d probably have to wait his turn like everyone else, but given his flare for the dramatic she couldn’t rule the first scenario out either.

She was jogging now, both feet off the ground, a few minutes later and it was a run, she was breaking a sweat and her shoulder bag was defiantly swinging around at her side as she moved, knocking into her hard on occasion.

When she reached the station she paused at the front door, knowing she needed a minute. The run had dried all her tears up and cleared her head, but she had to collect herself even more before she did this. After a couple of staggered breaths she knew the minute was over and she pulled on one side of the heavy double glass doors. Entering she took a few minutes to take in the layout of the building, but spotting what she assumed was the front desk she headed for it with determination.

The policeman there seemed friendly enough, though at first he was flicking through some papers rather than noticing her he eventually asked her what he could do for her.

“I’m here because my boyfriend is very stupid.” she said bluntly, both the words ‘boyfriend’ and ‘stupid’ slipped out easily from her mouth. “I just want to know if he’s been in, his name’s Spike Pratt.”

The officer’s eyebrows furrowed, but Buffy couldn’t tell if he was confused at what a girl like her was doing asking after Spike, meaning he had already come in and confessed, or if he was simply confused at her dishevelled appearance. She’d gotten hot whilst running and haphazardly unbuttoned her coat at the top, middle and bottom, but missed a few buttons in between. She was breathing heavily and her cheeks were flushed. Not to mention that although her hair was technically still up in a ponytail it was barely holding on by a few strands, and the rest were every which way around her face. In short she looked as if she’d been mugged. So maybe it was ironic she came in here asking after a thief looking to everyone as if she’d just been running away from one.

After a while Buffy became impatient, “Has he?”

The officer’s face changed immediately to a stoney professional expression, immovable, “I’m sorry, but we can’t release that kind of information.”

“Are you joking?” she huffed sharply, she didn’t know if it was the situation or the adrenaline pumping around her body that made her brave enough to talk to a policeman that way, but his expression didn’t change, he seemed to have seen it all and wasn’t offended by her tone.

“I’m sorry,” she back tracked, “but as you can probably see I’ve run all the way here to see this guy, and not only won’t you tell me if he’s here, but you can’t even tell me if he’s been here?”

The officer sighed, “If you’re a family member and this person has been taken into custody you’ll be informed, if he’s here being questioned or talking to an officer he will be kept completely anonymous, and the only people I can tell he’s here are the onsight detective and the next desk sergeant who relieves me.”

Buffy tried again, “Look this guy, he’s coming to do something really dumb, I cannot stress how dumb, but he shouldn’t be doing it. He thinks it’s his only option, and I need to stop him ruining his entire life, and mine. I’m not just wasting your time, this is really important.”

The officer was about to roll off his previous statement again, like a broken record that he often played to these kinds of people, but when he looked at her he honestly didn’t see a time waster. For once he saw sincerity, and it was a rare thing to see in his line of work; it almost made him want to give in, but he just couldn’t do it. “Look miss, I’m sorry. I can take your name and a number, and if at the end of the day the detective on duty thinks it would be in his interest to call you you might hear from us. I can’t do anything more.”

There was silence for a long time, but neither retreated from their position physically or conversationally, until Buffy made her next decision.

“Well my name is Miss Summers, but you won’t need to ring me up, I’ll just wait.” Buffy said, moving towards the waiting room behind her.

“Miss Summers,” he shouted so she would turn back to him, “this isn’t a time issue. You can wait, but waiting won’t change the fact that I can’t tell you anything, no one can.”

“I’m going to wait.” she said firmly.

The officer leaned over the desk to her slightly, “It won’t make a difference.”

She didn’t know if she was reading too much into it, but she sensed he wasn’t just being general, which although it put a tight knot in her stomach it also made her decision to stay even easier. “I don’t have anything else I’d rather do than be here for him.” she said flatly. Then she turned, walked to the back wall, and took the furthest seat facing the desk. From there she could see the front desk where everyone signed in and out, the corridors behind, all the movement that went on in the lower floor and the doors to the detectives’ offices. If no one would tell her what was going on, she’d stay here and figure it out herself.


* * * * *

Spike had been sat in this same room for hours, there was a clock behind him, but he didn’t see the point in turning around to look at it. He was here for as long as it took, and he was going to stay and see it though until the end no matter what.

The first officer he saw was an older man, glasses, he sounded like he had a bit of an English accent, which would have put him at ease if it weren’t for what he was here to do.

“Look if I do this there’s not just me to think about.” Spike had said to him, “I’ll confess to the robbery and the kidnapping officially. I’ll tell you how Angel’s involved and then I’ll tell you whatever you want to know about him. I probably know something about everything when it comes to him…but there’s someone caught up in this and before I do anything you have to promise me they’ll be safe.”

“I can assure you if you make a deal with us we aren’t going to take any chances with your safety, Spike,” Officer Giles said sincerely, “or that of others if what you’re going to say puts innocent people in danger.”

“I want full witness protection.” Spike said firmly.

Giles was a bit bowled over that he had the nerve to demand anything, but he wasn’t alien to criminals getting power hungry in this kind of situation, it was best to set them straight on what they could and couldn’t have from the beginning, “Of course we’ll arrange a new identity for you once you’ve completed your sentence, if the Witness Protection Program agrees to it.”

Spike sensed what he was implying with that, “Not for me, for them.” he clarified.

Giles paused, unsure of how to continue for a minute, “…Right.”

“Look if you’ll give it to me give it to me as well, god knows I probably won’t last long without it. But I have to know she’s safe first, and if I’m locked up somewhere and I can’t protect her I want her to be untraceable…Otherwise I’ll take my chance in court, and you can leave all the files you have on Angel open and unsolved. She has to be safe or there’s no deal.”

Giles sat down and took off his glasses, “I’m sorry…who is it that has to be safe?”

“Buffy Summers.”

The name rang a bell, but it took a few seconds for it to register, “The girl you kidnapped?”

Spike didn’t flinch at the label, but he also didn’t answer him directly. “If Angel finds out she’s alive he’ll hunt her down. She’s the one I want in protective custody. If I hadn’t turned myself in, even if I’d have left town Angel might have still tracked her down, this bloody town’s so small he could have run into her on the street for Christ’s sake, you never know. I thought about giving her some of my money, to make a new start somewhere else, but she still wasn’t guaranteed safety. This is the only way.” he sighed putting his head in his hands for a second, eventually coming back up to meet the other man’s eyes, “I’ll give you Angel, and you promise to make her safe.”

Giles was stunned, he thought Spike would have his demands, be unmoving, or put his foot down to get something for his time, but he hadn’t expected it all to come down to the girl. He reflected for a moment on what he’d heard of her refusal to give evidence on her kidnappers, but that had been before his time on the case so he hadn’t looked into it yet.

“I’ll be a while,” Giles said, not knowing what else to say, “there are lots of people to call and I’ll have to draft up a deal.”

“I can wait.” Spike said.

He nodded, got up and left the room.

Spike ran his hands through his hair. What had he just done? Whatever it was, there was no going back now.

Later that day, after leaving Spike to sit and stew over his decision, interrupted only occasionally by different cops coming in to take various statements from him, Giles came back with everything he had to sign.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” he asked just as Spike was about to put pen to paper.

“I don’t think you should be asking me that.” he said with a smile. He respected the fact that this cop certainly had to have balls to give him an out like that when the whole case was on the line.

Giles would have smiled, but it wasn’t in his nature to smile at people on Spike’s side of the desk, “Maybe not, but I’m asking anyway.”

“Of course I don’t want to do this.” Spike said bluntly, “But it’s the only way to keep her safe.” he said the next part in a whisper, “Its better this way.”

Giles heard, and the look on his face, the almost silent whisper, and the feeling behind the words told him there was more to this story than there seemed on the surface.

After he’d signed Spike sat back, his face heavy with what he’d just done.

There were a million things to say to someone like Spike at this point, but none that mattered, so Giles simply took the papers from him and left, telling the officer outside to take him to a cell. He was on his way back to his office, passing the front desk when he saw a woman out of the corner of his eye that made him double take. It was late, and although she looked tired she didn’t look much of anything else so he doubted she was in trouble. He knew there were officers free and no one was being interviewed, so what was she still doing sat there? He took a step back until he was next to the desk sergeant. “Who is that girl?”

“Erm, her name’s Miss Summers. She came in asking for that bank robber, I told her I couldn’t tell her if he was here or not, since then she’s just been sat there waiting.”

Giles paused, “Give me 5minutes and then send her to my office.”


* * * * *

When Buffy entered the office she wasn’t sure what to expect, she saw a man standing near the desk who looked her way when she came in.

“Miss Summers, please take a seat.” he said to her calmly, holding his hand out.

Buffy looked around for a second. The room was too neat, too ordered, and she felt awkward just being there, like even the smallest movement would put something out of place and upset him, but she eventually sat down because he had told her to.

“My name is Officer Giles,” the man said, “but you can call me Giles.” His tone was warm. He smiled and then walked to sit on the seat next to her rather than the one behind his desk.

With that Buffy realised her initial judgement of him was wrong, he wasn’t uptight at all, and she wasn’t in trouble, at least not yet.

After a few unsettling minutes where neither of them said a thing eventually Giles spoke up, “I know why you’re here, Miss Summers. You’ve come to see Spike, is that right?”

Buffy nodded.

“I’m afraid I can’t let you see him right now. I wish I could, but he isn’t allowed visitors.”

Buffy was fed up of hitting a brick wall in this place, it seemed they could pass her around, but no one could let her get to Spike. Maybe at least this Officer Giles could give her the answers she wanted.

“I just want to know what’s going on,” she said, “and I know everything’s complicated, but I’m a part of what’s going on; a really important part actually, and I just wish everyone would stop pushing me around.”

“I don’t mean to push you around, Miss Summers.” Giles said, “If it’s worth anything what Spike is doing is very brave. He’s thinking of you, and he’s also helping us catch a very dangerous man.”

Buffy squinted, not fully understanding, “What do you mean?”

“He’s going to provide evidence against Angel, not only for the robbery, but on a few of our cases.”

“I…” Buffy didn’t know what to say, “He shouldn’t do that, Angel will…”

“We’ll make sure he’s safe.” Giles interrupted. “It’s a deal, his sentence will be reduced and he’ll have police protection during all the trials.”

Buffy thought long and hard, but she still didn’t think this sounded like a good idea, the police couldn’t stop Angel. “Maybe it will change things if you tell him I’m here, can you tell him that? I want him to know.”

“I’ll tell him you’re here.”

His genuineness streamed from every part of him, and it comforted her a little that he would answer her honestly when she asked, “Just tell me when I can see him?”

“I don’t think you’ll be able to see him for a while.” he sighed sadly as her hopeful expression slipped.

“I really need to see him Mr. Giles.” Buffy said desperately, “He’s got things all wrong, and I just need to speak to him before he says anything on the record.”

Giles’ chest ached for her and for what he was going to have to say next, “I’m sorry Miss Summers,” he said shaking his head, “we’ve already made the deal, he’s told us everything and he’s signed a confession. Even if he were to retract it this will still go to trial and that’s still going to go into evidence.”

Suddenly Buffy understood why people compared emotions to a damn bursting, because that’s what it felt like was happening inside of her at that moment. Her eyes burst with tears, her entire being racked with them and her head fell into her hands.

Officer Giles was immediately moved to reach out to her, he pulled his chair forward and he put an arm around her as she sobbed. He could feel the force of her emotions shaking through her body, and all he could wonder was; what had this poor girl been through?

Buffy felt like the floor was crumbling beneath her feet, and she grounded herself in this stranger who was holding her. But all that it meant was that she didn’t fall completely, it didn’t mean she didn’t feel everything still. Her mind raced through the options before them all, and only one thing seemed possible to help him now.

“Can I testify?” she said suddenly, lifting her head up, her eyes glistening with tears and searching Giles’s “Is it too late?”

Giles thought carefully about his answer before he said it, “No it’s not too late, but are you sure you want to put yourself through all that now?”

Buffy took a deep breath and tried to settle herself so that he would take her seriously, “I know I said in my statement that I didn’t want to go through the story, but I want to now. I want to help Spike. I can testify what actually happened, that it was Angel that shot the bank manager, and Angel who threatened my life, and I can stop them pinning everything on Spike and it’ll back up his story and show them it’s the truth.”

Giles considered her for a moment, he’d seen people desperate to back up someone’s story before, and he could usually tell their reasons. He sensed Buffy did want to tell the truth and so she’d be a solid witness, but she was going into it blind. “Miss Summers, what’s going to happen next is going to be hard, whatever part you play in it. As soon as this goes to trail the papers will get wind and I don’t know if we can keep your name out if it. It could go on for months before we see a trail date.”

Buffy nodded that she understood.

“Also when it does go to trial, you have to know that Angel’s father will hire a very ruthless lawyer, he has several in his pocket. They’ll bring into question why it took you so long to say something, and they’ll talk about your relationship with Spike. You won’t be on trial, but they’ll be questioning the validity of your evidence, and it might feel like you are.”

Buffy shook her head, “I’m not scared about that.”

“You should be.” Giles sighed, took off his glasses and knelt in front of her. “If you testify it’ll be worse than not, but after we’ll be able to put you into witness protection, its part of the deal Spike agreed with us anyway. You’ll be as safe as we can make you, but before you decide anything you have to know the kind of people you’ll be dealing with.”

Buffy huffed, “I have first hand experience of what Angel is capable of Mr. Giles.”

“With all due respect Miss Summers, you don’t.”

Buffy thought about that for a long time, it was probably true, she probably hadn’t seen the worst of Angel, but that was because of Spike. “Call me, Buffy.” she said. This man, Giles, was being straight with her, about everything. She hadn’t had anyone do that with her in a long time and she appreciated it, even if it was hard to hear.

“I want to help, Spike.”

“Buffy…”

“No.” she said, “I understand. I know I should think about this, but I also know 100% even if I do I’ll still want to help him…and we haven’t got time to waste…I know you won’t understand this, but I love him.”

Officer Giles put his glasses back on. He didn’t know what to say to that. He stood up and turned around. Despite the good he’d seen in Spike with his selfless affection for Buffy it made him sad to see a bright young girl so enamoured with a criminal heading straight for jail, but he couldn’t argue with those words, few could.

“Come back to see me tomorrow,” he said finally, “We’ll talk again, and if it’s still what you want I’ll help get the process started.”


* * * * *

She let the water beat down on her face, each drop hitting her harsh, but refreshing her at the same time. She had to be clear today, she had to be lucid.

She combed her hair, still wet, in front of the mirror and with each stroke she went over what she was going to say; the action giving her a calming rhythm to rehearse to.

She fastened an earring into each hole along her ear, when she was done she let out a breath. She slipped on her shoes, slung her bag over her shoulder and then as she was reaching for the door someone knocked on it.

She almost jumped out of her skin, but she’d already committed to opening it, so she did. On the other side was a young man in a suit.

“Hi, you must be Miss Summers?” he said.

“Buffy.” she corrected.

“Buffy.” he smiled, “Are you ready to go?”

Buffy nodded.

The man spoke again, “Officer Giles sent me, he thought it might settle you to have an escort, and he can’t come himself because of his position in the case, but he will be at court when we get there.”

Buffy hesitated, “Can I see your badge?” she knew she was being difficult, but as well as lending her a shoulder to cry on, and helping her and Spike with his deal and the trial, Giles had also been making Buffy just the kind of paranoid that was sensible for the situation she was putting herself in.

“Of course.” he said, suddenly turning serious and getting it out to show her, as if seeing his own badge made him turn into cop mode.

“Okay,” she said hesitating, “I’ll just lock up, and we can go.”

“I’ll be down at the car.” he said, sensing she needed a minute to herself.

As she turned to retrieve her keys from her bag she thought about everything that had happened in the last 4 months. How crazy her life had been, how awful it had been not being able to see Spike in case it called her testimony into question before the trial. However she knew today would be just as challenging, seeing him but not being able to talk to him. It would almost be worse.

And of course she had to sit through the account of everything that happened, from several people, some of whom would be lying, and then tell her own version. Then there were the questions about her and Spike, which for the most part she had been told to answer truthfully in case it came out, it would look better if the court knew that she had feelings for him from the beginning, they were actually going to try and use it as a positive for Spike’s character.

She thought endlessly about what she would say; how she would deal with this question, and that question. She hadn’t been coached because that wasn’t allowed, but Giles had gone through her statement with her a few times to make sure everything was right, and she knew she couldn’t go off track or it could lead her into the unexpected question. Giles said they did crop up, things she wouldn’t have considered, lines of questioning that seemed innocent, but had a purpose. She couldn’t do anything about that, she just had to take whatever happened.

It was a long time coming, but 4 months of hell and today she would finally get it over and done with, then after that it was out of her hands.


* * * * *

“Can you state your name for the record please?” Charles Gunn, Spike’s lawyer asked.

The start of the trial had taken forever, and the longer it took the more nervous Buffy became, sat in her seat watching things unfold she felt helpless.

“Spike Henry Pratt.” Spike answered.

When she saw him take the stand a few minutes ago, she felt it didn’t matter whether she was testifying or not, because she still couldn’t stop him from having to stand there and defend himself in the first place. She wasn’t naïve, she knew what he’d done and he was going to be punished, but it all seemed cruel to her because she didn’t want him to be, and she didn’t care about the law, or the lawyers, or the policemen sat either side of her.

“And Mr. Pratt can you please start by telling us the events of April 6th.”

“That day me and Angel…

“That would be the defendant Angelus O’Connor right there?” his lawyer clarified by turning to face Angel.

“Yes.” Spike agreed.

“Please continue, Mr Pratt.”

Spike briefly turned his gaze to Angel, he held it long enough to send him a message that he wasn’t backing down. His old ties, his old life, his old code; he was breaking it all today. “That day we went to the first national bank.”

“With the intension of robbing it?” Gunn asked.

Spike didn’t hesitate, “Yes.”

“And Mr O’Connor was he aware of that intention?”

“He was, it was his idea. He told me he wanted to do something without his dad, something to set his own business up and he asked me to help.”

“And why did you?”

“I wanted to get away from him and his dad. I wanted to start again somewhere else, stop doing what I was doing, but I didn’t have the money to.”

Spike looked back at Angel, as his lawyer continued, “Was it your decision to bring firearms into the bank?”

“No it wasn’t.” Spike said, “Angel brought the guns. If I’m honest it didn’t bother me much, and I did use it to our advantage, but I didn’t think Angel would shoot anyone, and it was him that fired. I told the bank manager if he didn’t calm down I’d hurt the girl, but I never even pointed my gun at him. I did at Buffy, and I was stupid and I’ll go to jail for it as I should. But I wasn’t the one who shot that man; I’ll do my time for what I did, but not for what Angel did.”

Charles Gunn looked pleased enough with that, “No further questions your honour.”

The judge took over, “Mr McDonald do you have any questions for Mr Pratt?”

Lindsey McDonald smiled as he got up, and that was never a good thing. “Yes your honour I do.”

He took his time walking out from behind his desk and circled the floor in front of the stand. Finally he spoke, “So by your accounts it was my client who shot the bank manager and not yourself?”

“Yes.” Spike said firmly.

Lindsey looked confused; he was a good actor when he needed to be, “Even though there are no witnesses to support your claims?”

“There’s Buffy, and the banker manager.” Spike insisted.

“They are witnesses to the crime, but the criminal was wearing a mask.” Lindsey said bluntly.

Spike said nothing this time.

“So why did it take you so long to come forward?”

Spike sighed, deciding to be straight, “Honestly I didn’t see a reason to.”

“You thought you could get away with it?”

Gunn interjected, “Objection. Leading question.”

“Overruled.” the judge said dismissing him.

“At the time I thought that things like that didn’t matter.” Spike explained, “I was wrong.”

“Really?” Lindsey seemed amused.

“Buffy made me realised that.” Spike smiled, hanging his head as the smile grew infectiously at the thought of her.

“Buffy?” Lindsey said now focused as he turned to the court, “the same girl who you kidnapped?” He now turned to the jury, “The same girl that plans to testify in your defence and to incriminate my client?”

Spike was doing his best to keep his cool up until then, but his smile disappeared suddenly. Lindsey was hitting a nerve with Buffy and he couldn’t help himself, he raised his voice when he argued back this time, “He incriminated himself when he shot that man, and whatever Buffy says today is up to her…even if she wants to say nothing at all.” He didn’t say it suggestively, not enough for anyone to pick up on, but he sent her a look silently begging her not to get involved. She looked away, her mind was made up and she wouldn’t let him sway it.

“It’s highly unusual for a victim of a crime to come and testify against one of the criminals and not the other.” said Lindsey, “What’s the reason, considering that you had never met her before April 6th, that Miss Summers is testifying on your behalf?”

Spike hesitated, he knew why, but it wasn’t his place to out Buffy’s feelings, “You’d have to ask her that wouldn’t you?”

“Indeed.” Lindsey said calmly, “But I’m right in saying you do have feelings for one another, you mention them in your statement?”

Spike thought carefully before he began, “I did mention I had feelings for her. They’re very strong, and they’re very real, but I can’t ignore where they came from or how we discovered them. I need to be honest before we can start anything between us.”

Buffy shifted uncomfortably in her seat.

Spike continued, “What I did to her I can’t undo. I kidnapped her; I kept her locked away, all because I was scared, but I did think about her, towards the end she got through to me. I let her go.”

“So it that why she’s testifying?”

“If you’re trying to ask if I’m playing a game with her, no I’m not.” Spike said angrily.

“Of course.” Lindsey said turning away, and then held up a hand and pulled a face as if he’d forgot to ask something. Lindsey McDonald never forgot to ask a witness anything, it was all part of the façade. “One last thing Mr Pratt. Who drove the car?”

Spike didn’t let it show that that question had caught him by surprise, “Why?”

“Well in your version of events, that you claim to be so accurate, you don’t mention who drove the car. I believe you did after some reluctance give the police his name and whereabouts.”

Spike wasn’t worried just yet, but he was wary why this was being brought up, “It was a friend of ours,” he said, “Andrew. He sat in the car; he didn’t have a gun, so I didn’t think it was important.”

“A Mr Wells, is that right?” Lindsey asked.

Spike nodded. As Lindsey had said he was reluctant to turn Andrew in at first. The kid couldn’t handle something like this, but the police made it clear he had to give them everything or there was no deal, and Andrew was easy to get rid of. He’d put him on a bus to Mexico and as soon as he’d checked into a motel on the other side of the boarder he’d given him up, knowing full well they’d never catch him.

“Mr Wells conveniently couldn’t be located to stand trial with you both.”

“Conveniently?” Spike repeated back.

“Well it seems an extraordinary coincidence, doesn’t it? That you refuse to hand this man over at first, and then as soon as you do he’s nowhere to be found. If that was the case all along why worry about giving the police his name? Because as soon as you do he can’t be prosecuted?”

“I suppose coincidence is the right word.” Spike said calmly.

“Or was it that you had pre-arranged with Mr Wells when you would talk to the police about him, and in your hesitation you were simply giving him time to run?”

“Objection!” shouted Gunn.

Lindsey continued regardless, “And in fact, you and Mr Wells are in this together, and you have paid him the amount you claim my client has from the robbery to run away so that you can pin your crime on my innocent client? After all, the only other person involved isn’t here so we have to take your word, don’t we Mr Pratt? A word of someone who has allowed a criminal to evade arrest.”

This was how he knew Lindsey played, it wasn’t by the books, and it wouldn’t win him any favours with the judge, but he painted the picture he wanted for the jury and he didn’t let the rules stop him from showing it to them.

“Objection! Hearsay!” Charles Gunn said leaping to his feet this time.

“Sustained,” said the Judge, “Mr McDonald, watch yourself.” The judge then asked for the last question to be taken off the record.

“Yes your honour. No further questions.” he said seriously, but he couldn’t stop the Cheshire cat grin that grew across his face as he took his seat.

The prosecution wouldn’t ask Spike any questions because they’d agreed with his testimony, but Angel’s defence had taken him down enough. Whether it was on the record or not the jury had heard it; the idea was planted that Spike wasn’t to be trusted.


* * * * *

The first questions by the prosecution lawyer were fairly painless, and Buffy had been allowed to tell her version of events relatively uninterrupted. She’d explained about the robbery in more detail than Spike had, and she’d talked about her captive time as well. Spike’s lawyer too was nice, although he did have to push her when it came to Angel; it made her uncomfortable, but she knew it was necessary.

“Miss Summers, is there any doubt in your mind that the man who shot the bank manager is in this court room today?”

Buffy shook her head and swallowed, “No doubt, it was Angel.”

Charles Gunn continued, “But you didn’t see his face on the day of the robbery?”

“I didn’t,” Buffy took a much needed breath, “but a few weeks later, while I was at Spike’s I saw him again and I know it was him.”

“How did you know it was the same man from April 6th?” Gunn pressed, needing more from her.

“His eyes,” she said, hoping the ball in her stomach would die down as she thought of them, as they were then and now, burning into her, “I would never forget those eyes.”

“And tell us what happened when he confronted you while you were kidnapped.”

Buffy hesitated, but she knew she had to do this. “I was being held in the attic by then, and I heard a noise downstairs. I shouted to whoever it was and they came up. Mr O’Connor broke into the room I was in and he recognised me immediately. He told me Spike should have gotten rid of me by now. He threatened me; he was scared I’d tell the police about the robbery and about him.”

Lindsey stood up, calmly but almost annoyed, “Objection, did he say that or is the witness simply guessing?”

“Sustained.” the judge said, although she wasn’t Lindsey McDonald’s biggest fan she had to follow the rules. “Just try to stick to what he actually said and did, Miss Summers.” she said softly.

Buffy nodded and paused to collect herself, trying to remember his exact words so she could be clear. “He said I’d better think again if I thought he’d let me live now I’d seen his face as well. That Spike had until the money date to get rid of me, or he would.”

“Do you know what the money date meant?”

“No.” she said honestly.

Gunn walked towards her slowly, “Why didn’t he kill you, Miss Summers, did he say?”

“He told me,” she tensed her body, she wouldn’t cry, she wouldn’t, “he told me he was going to have a little ‘fun’ with me first.”

“Its okay, Miss Summers take your time.”

“I tried to fight him off, but he was too strong,” Buffy looked into the court room, everyone’s faces were painted with concern, they looked sympathetic, but also scared of what she was going to admit, none of them seemed to want to hear it because it sounded so awful, but at least they believed her. “He didn’t get a chance to really hurt me, because I brought up Spike. I told him if he touched me, if he hurt me in anyway Spike would kill him.”

“Why did you say that, Miss Summers?”

The next part was easy to admit now, “Because I knew Spike would protect me. He cared for me; I didn’t want to accept that then, but I had to admit it to myself to convince Angel. There was something there between us, and it was awkward and wrong at the time, but it was there, and I knew he’d save me if he could.”

“And once Spike found out about Mr O’Connor hurting you, what did he do?”

“He got into a fight with him about it,” Buffy said, hurting at the memory of seeing Spike the day of the fight, “but he lied to Angel and told him I was dead so that he wouldn’t look for me.”

“How do you know he got into a fight?”

“Because he came home to me afterwards and he could barely stand. Angel had beaten him to a pulp.”

“Your honour, objection.” said Lindsey, “Miss Summers can’t prove it was my client, she wasn’t there.”

“I’m telling the court what Spike told me.” Buffy snapped.

The tension in the court room broke for a second and a few people laughed at her outburst, which was lucky. Spike smiled, that was his girl.

Charles Gunn continued, “Just to be clear Miss Summers, this time did he lock you in the house?”

“No,” Buffy said, “he’d already let me go. I could tell he didn’t expect me to be there when he got home. He didn’t want me to worry about him, or Angel.”

“What is your relationship with Mr Pratt, Miss Summers?”

“I’m in love with him.” The court room all looked shocked, there were gasps and it made Buffy cringe, she flinched for a second, but held firm overall. “I don’t expect people to understand it, I don’t fully understand it. But he’s handed himself in for me, he wanted to make sure I was safe from Angel. I asked him to run away, but he wanted to face up to what he’d done, so that he could protect us both. He’s a good man; he’s just trying to get away from his past, like everyone else.”

“Thank you.” said Gunn.

As he sat down Buffy braced herself, it was Lindsey’s turn next.

He approached her with a swagger she instantly disliked.

“Good afternoon, Miss Summers,” he said, his Texas drawl thick on his tongue, “If we accept the very slim chance that you could have recognised my client as one of the robbers simply from his eyes, how do you know when both were masked which was Spike and which you claim to be my client? Wasn’t there a lot of noise, a lot of confusion?”

“Your client was the one who shot someone.”

“Do you really know that, or are you just wishful thinking?” Lindsey asked quickly.

“I know that.” she said through gritted teeth.

“And to go back to the night you were released. Did you actually witness Mr Pratt telling my client that you were dead? Or did you see the altercation that allegedly happened because of you?”

“No I didn’t.” Buffy said, her annoyance was obvious.

“So you can’t really say that my client had any disagreement with Mr Pratt about you?”

“I told you he told me if Spike didn’t get rid of me he would.”

“But how do you know he meant killing you?”

She sighed, “He was on top of me, holding me down, he tried to assault me.” her voice became sarcastic, “Saying I wouldn’t live. That kind of gave me a clue.”

Lindsey didn’t miss a beat, “But if this did happen as you say it did, he never said anything about killing you, he let you go; he never specifically said anything about remembering you from the robbery either?”

Buffy thought about that for a while, of course she hadn’t said he had in her testimony, but Lindsey seemed so sure. It clicked with her in that moment what kind of person he was. He was exactly the kind of person who would defend Angel not only against what he’d done, but knowing full well what he’d done. “You’re right,” she said slowly, “You seem to be able to tell my story pretty well to say you’ve only heard it once from me. I wonder who else you’ve heard it from?”

Lindsey couldn’t help smiling, he knew if he brushed past that quickly enough the jury wouldn’t get suspicious, but he enjoyed that she was trying to play with the big boys, “I apologise Miss Summers, I’m sure this whole thing must be very upsetting for you. They say stressful situations like this can make it hard to recount things, I shouldn’t have pushed.”

“Are you implying I’m making it up?” Buffy instantly felt like she’d took one step forward and two steps back, she was letting him get to her.

“That’s for the jury to decide.” he said smugly, “I’m simply stating the facts, and the facts are that you were held at gunpoint, kidnapped and kept for a month by a dangerous criminal, and pushed by the police for a statement for weeks. I know this time has been stressful Miss Summers and there are many people putting pressure on you to say your part.”

“Objection.” said the prosecution lawyer, “Is there a question anywhere in the near future?”

“Sustained,” the judge said dejectedly, “Please stop wasting our time Mr McDonald.”

“Again, I apologise your honour.” Lindsey said charmingly, “I’m simply trying to show I understand where the witness is coming from.”

“No,” said Buffy, suddenly, surprising everyone, “you’re trying to make it look as if I’m saying what I am because I’m crazy, or scared, or trying to please people. I’m telling the truth; 100% what happened, because if Spike is going to stand up for what’s right, so am I. Spike and Angel robbed the bank, Spike threatened me, Angel threatened the bank manager. Spike took me home, but it was Angel who made a real threat to my life, and it was him I saw shoot the gun.”

Lindsey didn’t know what to say for a second, but only a second. “Just make it clear for the jury Miss Summers. You never saw my client’s face during the robbery?”

“No.”

“You never heard him say he took any part in it?”

“No.”

He smiled, “Thank you Miss Summers.”

Lindsey went and sat down. Buffy looked over at Spike, his eyes were warm and he smiled at her, but it didn’t comfort her one bit. She still smiled back.

“Mr. McDonald, are you done with this witness?” the judge asked.

“I’m done.” he said.

“Very well, this court will reconvene at 9am tomorrow morning.”


* * * * *

Angel and Spike were told to stand, and they did so. They were facing the firing squad together, but Spike didn’t look at Angel, all his thoughts were on himself and Buffy. Whatever was said in the next few minutes would be out of his control, and it would affect everything.

The judge paused for a few minutes, gathering her papers in front of her while the court room settled, and then directed the jury members, “Would the foreperson please read the findings of the jury with regards to Mr O’Connor.”

“On the count of armed robbery.” the woman on the end read clearly, “we the jury find the defendant, Angelus O’Connor, guilty.”

There was uproar, but it was soon quashed by the judge. “And now with regards to Mr Pratt.” she motioned when there was silence.

“On the count of armed robbery we find the defendant, Spike Pratt, not guilty.”

Buffy smiled, but the young cop next to her put a hand on her shoulder, signalling they weren’t finished. She looked over to Spike confused and then realised he was still stood stiff, bracing himself for another verdict to be read.

The foreperson continued, “On the count of aggravated robbery we find the defendant, guilty.”

With that Spike’s shoulders fell, he shouldn’t have expected anything less, but his heart ached for Buffy and the hope she had given him. It had been pointless.

The judge took off her glasses and readied herself to address the court with her verdict. “Mr O’Connor, I am appalled by everything I have heard today, by the account of your cruelty, your malicious behaviour, and also the disrespect for the law and this court that I have witnessed with my own eyes. I am dismayed at your lawyer’s cheap tricks and poorly constructed defence. I have no hesitation, taking into account your previous convictions irrelevant of how minor...”

Minor thought Spike. Angel could thank his daddy’s lawyer for that.

The judge continued, “…in sentencing you to 15 years without parole. You will be taken to start this term immediately, but any other pending charges unrelated to this case will be settled at a later date, and will not be included in my sentence.”

Angel flew into a rage, but no one heard what he said because the court room filled with noise, everyone’s reaction just as violent at first.

He turned to Spike briefly, “You’re a dead man.” he yelled.

“Whatever mate.” Spike said, brushing him off, until Angel rushed him and grabbed hold of him.

Policeman rushed towards them both and dragged them apart, being just as rough with Spike as Angel even though it was obvious who was at fault.

“This is a fucking joke!” Angel shouted towards the judge.

The judge banged her gavel, and everyone went silent after a while. “Council, please settle your client or he will be held in contempt.”

Lindsey gave him a grave look and Angel retreated back to his original position.

The judge raised an eyebrow, as if waiting for something else to kick off, but when it didn’t she turned to Spike.

“Mr Pratt,” the judge sighed, “although I do count you as a valuable prosecution witness in the cases against Mr O’Connor, that is not my concern today, and I cannot ignore your part in this crime. I cannot either ignore that a citizen of this state was severely wounded through your scandalous actions and your total disregard for the law, and although you were not the one to fire the shot, you threatened him and have been found guilty of aggravated robbery. And while I do believe as your lawyer has argued, that you wish to start a new legitimate life with Miss Summers, which in itself shows your remorse for the pain you have caused her and those effected by your crimes, it cannot be before you have been punished for those crimes. The point of justice is to be unbiased, and so even though I feel for you and your situation I am unwavering in giving you a sentence of 6 years imprisonment.”

The crowd in the court room made a loud dull noise; it was hard to tell whether it was outrage because of the high sentence given his deal the highest he could face, or outrage at the judge’s reluctance to give it. Either way the only thing Spike heard was the number 6. His head fell down at first, and then he looked over to the side were Buffy sat. He expected to see her hiding from him, but she looked straight back at him and wouldn’t turn away. Her expression seemed to be one of determination, maybe that she was confident that she could be there for him despite the time, but he found no comfort in it, because she didn’t know what she was promising.

The judge continued, “This is to be served in a federal prison and therefore there will be no chance of an early release despite any good behaviour. However the sentence may be increased by bad behaviour, so I would suggest Mr Pratt keeps his head down and does his time quietly.”

Buffy hated the glazed look in Spike’s eyes, as if he was looking at her but didn’t want to see her at all.

“For the both of you we will take into consideration time already served in county jail and this time will be deducted from your total sentences.”

4 months off a total of 6 years didn’t give him any comfort now, and with that Spike stopped listening, turned away from Buffy and just waited to be taken down from the dock. As he was he saw the detective he’d made his initial deal with standing at the back of the room, he remembered now the protective glances he’d made at Buffy during her testimony. As he passed him he touched his jacket sleeve gently so as not to get the attention of the policemen either side of him, and said, “Take care of her.”

Rupert Giles couldn’t help the surprise etching across his face; in his gut he believed Spike didn’t deserve the sentence, but every piece of evidence told him this was a heartless criminal stood in front of him. To have his last wish be such a sincere unselfish request did surprised him, but he knew it was important, so he nodded.

Looking behind him one last time Spike saw Buffy, she had moved as close to him as possible, but they weren’t letting her through. He knew he shouldn’t give her anything to hold onto, it was unfair to her to give her anything she could use as a reason not to let him go. But seeing her there stood so sadly, wanting something from him, he found as always he couldn’t deny her, and he smiled. As if everything would be alright, and they would be together soon, he smiled.


* * * * *

“Can I see him?”

“I’m afraid not, Miss Summers.”

Buffy’s face cracked a little for a second, her smile heavy and uneasy, “Please, Giles. When can I get you to call me Buffy?”

Giles didn’t waver, but he did give in to her request, “Buffy,” he said, “we have to talk about Witness protection. There’s still much we have to sort out with them, but now the trial’s done everything will move very fast, and it might seem very sudden. You have to see them later today.”

“Will you come with me?” she asked vulnerably.

“I can come into certain meetings with you, but there will be times when I won’t have the authority.” Giles said truthfully, then he saw the expression on her face, she hadn’t wanted specifics, she’d wanted overall support. “I’ll come with you this afternoon.” he clarified.

She let out a breath she didn’t even know she was holding. Giles was right, they hadn’t even talked yet and she felt things were moving too quickly. Spike had been there, then he hadn’t, and soon she wouldn’t be here either.

“Spike was accepted too.” Giles’ voice broke through her mind’s wanderings, “Conditional on his behaviour in prison.”

“Good.” she nodded, relieved.

Giles sighed, unsure of how to say the next part without overwhelming her, “About Spike’s deal, if it’s okay with you we’ll contact you when he’s released, and if you wish there is a chance we can come to an arrangement and factor Spike into your new identity. Of course that will be your choice at the time.”

“In six years?” she asked.

“Yes.”

Buffy felt numb; a lot could happen in six years. An awful lot.


* * * * *

The windows were only tinted to stop the outside looking in, but she still couldn’t see, the sun was too bright. It wasn’t worth screwing her eyes up to squint a view; she knew there was nothing to see. The place wasn’t important, only the person waiting there was. It had been so many years, so many years waiting for this day and it was finally here. She felt like everything in all this was blurred, it didn’t seem real. It was as if in her new life, the one that she’d come to know, the one that she’d found comfort and safety in, she’d read a book, a fairly good book, an exciting book, one with romance and drama and angst. But now that she’d read it and been forced to put it in a draw, now that she’d closed the last chapter she’d suddenly been transported back into it, and it was her romance and her drama and her angst, and the last Chapter hadn’t been that, it’d been the lead up to this, and she would have to decide how it ended.

As the car bumped along the unused roads she wondered how long it would take to get there, how long she would have to think about all this, as if 6years hadn’t been long enough. But the thing was she knew her own mind, and sure she’d be swayed by whatever feeling came over her when she saw him, but she’d already made her decision.

Spike was already there, waiting. The meeting place was an abandoned farm, abandoned as far as he could tell, but to be honest with his limited knowledge it could easily be very much in use, there was just nobody here. It was too hot, baking almost, the car was air conditioned and fresh, but he was stood in the open. His expression was calm, but underneath he was revelling in the fact he was allowed outside. Although he wished he was alone he knew why the agent with him was here, for his own protection, and hers, and the guy was nice enough to give him his space, space enough to breathe.

He lit up a cigarette, a habit only made worse over the last few years, but he needed it now more than ever. His chest ached with anticipation, and as much as he loved the smell of the open air, the farm yard off in the distance, the land that spread out with no fences for miles around him, it almost felt overwhelming, and as silly as it sounded he had to concentrate on not suffocating from it.

He was wearing sunglasses, but the sun still scorched his eyes a little, he wasn’t used to this heat, this amount of sun. He sucked on his cigarette again, his lungs filled with the smoke and it did all he expected it could do to calm him down. His heartbeat was loud in his own ears and even as he leaned against the car he fidgeted in discomfort as soon as his back hit the side. He walked a little and sat on the trunk instead; still uncomfortable he looked down, staring at the dirt, kicking the dry earth with the toe of his boot.

When her car pulled up he didn’t hear it, even though its tyres crackled along the hard stones on the ground as it approached. It parked away away, the driver wanting to give her some time before she had to go and join him.

She opened up her door and stepped out into the blistering heat. The smell was familiar to her, even though she’d driven far this was the kind of place she’d come to know the past few years, rural and peaceful, the smell of grass and dirt, the land and nothing else for miles. It steadied her a little, but only a little. She took a breath of the warm air and felt better, better still when the door behind her opened as well. She felt his presence behind her and that gave her some of her confidence back.

Her hair was glistening, but it wasn’t the golden blonde it had once been, it was dark, a muddy brown, and it hung long, longer than she’d ever had it before, sleek and straight and comfortable around her face. She was in her everyday clothes, something she might go to work in, jeans, a small white top and a beige cardigan which draped loosely around her body but hugged her arms and shoulders. Here on a day like today she didn’t need it, but she hadn’t known where they would be going.

She looked up in front of her and saw him then. He wasn’t facing her, but she knew it was him. Even his dark curled hair and stockier shoulders couldn’t disguise him. She’d thought about how different he’d look and she wasn’t wrong, but she longed to see his face, she knew she’d see the real change in him there. She’d see the hardness or weariness after what he’d gone through, or what she hoped for the most, she’d see the same features shining underneath that she remembered, and that would tell her that he was still himself under it all.

He drew his hand through his hair, his wasn’t dark by choice, but it wasn’t worth the hassle trying to get his hands on the dye, or the hassle from the other inmates. He didn’t want to draw too much attention, he’d kept his head down enough that he hadn’t been caught out for bad behaviour, but he’d got his fair share of warnings, enough that the message got around that he wasn’t easy prey. He knew his name wouldn’t be alien to anyone inside, but that wouldn’t help, because along with who he was everyone also knew why he’d got his reduced sentence, and that didn’t gain him any favours, so he had to keep his eyes open and his head clear for the first year, beating down anyone that tried to challenge him, sometimes metaphorically. With that thought he stopped dwelling over his time inside, he’d have to relive it all too soon anyway, he knew she would ask about it and he couldn’t lie to her.

Buffy was about to shout out to him when the man behind her, Owen spoke. She was silently glad because she didn’t know what she would have said anyway, and she also feared that even if she had followed through and tried to shout him that her voice would have choked out on her, but Owen’s question she could deal with.

“Are you okay, Dawn?” he asked her softly.

She turned around to him, nodded and smiled warmly, it wasn’t a reflection of what was going on inside her, but she was fond of Owen and she didn’t want him to worry more than he already had to about her. He seemed on edge still, looking here and there, it was his job to scan the area, but his eyes weren’t taking anything in because he was too worried about her she could tell, so she grabbed his arm gently to ground him, and he relaxed.

Just then at their connection, her hand squeezing his arm, she thought of Spike, and what he would think if he saw. She looked over her shoulder and checked to see if he had turned and caught the exchange between them. He was turning around, but he hadn’t yet and she was glad he hadn’t seen the affection she showed another man, because she didn’t want to upset or confuse him before they had had a chance to talk.

He looked around and saw her, saw how plain she looked, a different woman from the girl he had met all those years ago. Her hair was the first striking thing of course, it did make her fade a little into the background, made her look a little older, but it suited her so well, it made her look complete. Like her hair her clothes weren’t flashy or showy anymore, but more than that, they didn’t accentuate her body, but they didn’t hide it. They were comfortable, flattering, subtle; they didn’t scream confidence like a short skirt or a bold colour would, they whispered it, that she knew herself, she was self assured and independent. It wasn’t just her clothes but her general appearance, the stance she had in front of him, and all the agents. She wasn’t nervous, or naïve anymore, she didn’t stand out because she didn’t need to stand out.

Her beautiful face was the only thing about her that at least resembled what she had been, but even that was covered in new signs of time that he hadn’t expected. There were lines around her eyes, worry lines, she still looked great, but she looked resigned, resigned to where she was, her lot in life. It wasn’t a bad thing, in fact it made him a little nervous. However hard her life was in a new place, or however unfulfilled without him she was, she was settled, and he didn’t know if that meant there was room for him, even if she still missed him. He hadn’t thought that she’d look this different, he just hadn’t. Even though it had only been a few years, it seemed a lot longer now she was stood in front of him. The gap between them seemed so vast.

He was sure the changes ran more deep than her appearance, he’d guessed them all, but he would never know for sure until they spoke. There was a worry that he wouldn’t or couldn’t fit into her life, even though she had agreed to meet him and talk about it, deep down he knew she would have met him either way. She wasn’t the type to brush him off even if she had made the decision to move on from him; she could just be here to tell him in person, it was the reason his heart was beating so fast, but there was another feeling, relief.

In seeing her, he knew what he felt for her wasn’t a puppy love, neither was it brought on by their circumstances, or grown out of his guilt. It was solid and deep and true, a friendship, seeing her he felt home. The feeling of relief was to see her well, to have her back to him whatever the outcome afterwards, a missing part of him found safe and he felt calm and happy even if he had to leave her again. Buffy felt it too, but he didn’t know; they didn’t get a chance to feel anything but their own emotions. She closed the car door and stepped away from it. When he moved to say whatever it was that would have been the first moment between them, an approach or a hello, or even a smile, a shot rang out, and she hit the floor.


* * * * *

Spike had ducked, but a moment later he was stood again, one of his agents had run from the side of the road and was now in front of him blocking his body, poised holding a gun. If he’d thought for a second he would have known the agent was protecting him from the next inevitable shots, but at that point in time he was only angry that the man was holding him firmly down so that he couldn’t stand and look over the car to where Buffy was, so he pushed him aside and ran around it. He thought he’d seen her hit the floor, the imagine was burned into his mind, the shot going off and her landing with a loud thud, he had to know if she was alright.

He kept himself low, knowing that the shooter would try again, and try again they did. Spike crouched around the back of his car until another shot went off and then dared to look over to her. She was laid on her stomach on the floor, but her eyes were alert and glued in his direction. Her agent was crouched in front of her, his hand on her so that she wouldn’t follow her instincts and run out into the open, she was safest behind him until he could locate where the shots were coming from and find the correct direction of cover.

Spike took in the picture for a second and then it hit him that she wasn’t hurt, that her agent, whether he was simply a cop or in fact more likely her contact in witness protection had pushed her to the ground. She had a graze on her forehead where she must have hit the gravely dirt of the road, but apart from that she was fine.

He rushed towards her then without thinking, without waiting for a break in shots. He was probably doing the most stupid thing, but he had to be near her. Just then the agent in front of Buffy fell, a bullet pierced his chest and he hit the car with a bang like a thunderclap. Spike ran, grabbed Buffy by the shoulders and pulled her up. He didn’t know if the man was dead or not, he wasn’t moving but that didn’t mean anything. To Spike however he had a one track mind and it was his focus to get Buffy out of there first before he checked on anyone else. She reached out for the man on the floor, tears tracing tracks down the dirt on her face, but he felt her body sag with emotion and it allowed him the leeway he needed to pull her away, around the back of her car and out of the firing line. For now the bullets stopped, but Spike knew they only had a few minutes, and being behind a car filled with petrol wasn’t a safe place to stay.

“Are you hurt?” he turned to her, panicked.

She looked startled and couldn’t speak, he would have been more gentle with her if they had had the time, but they didn’t, so he shook her and shouted the question once more.

She shook her head, knowing he needed an answer, tears filling her eyes again, unable still to speak.

“Can you run?” he asked.

She nodded.

That’s when he grabbed her and pulled her close, hugging her tighter than he ever had, never more scared to lose her, but she didn’t understand fully why until he let her go, holding her at arms length, staring her down and said, “You run into the woods towards the barn and find cover.” And then she understood, he wasn’t coming with her when she ran.

“No, Spike.” she said almost hysterical, “We can both make it.”

He shook his head firmly, “They’re after me. They probably don’t even know who you are, you’re in witness protection and only a handful of people know about this. They’ve followed me and found you by chance, and the quicker you get away from me the more time it’ll take them to catch on to who you are.”

“You think they don’t know who I am?” she asked confused.

He was about to answer when a shot fired and hit the tyre of the car they hid behind; there was a pop and the car slumped slightly as it deflated. After that the shots at them subsided, the agents had started firing back equally and had become the targets themselves. For now.

He started again, knowing he had to make himself clear before he had any chance of getting through to her, “I’m saying, I think they were sent after me.” he said, “They wouldn’t have a clue you were headed to see me, so if you run now they won’t recognise you.” He turned away to look at the distance on his left and right and under his breath she heard him say, “I mean who would.”

It was ridiculous, how in the midst of everything she could be mad, but she was. What was that supposed to mean?

He caught the angry glare that she was sending him once he looked back from scanning first her escape and then his own. “What?”

“Nothing.” she snapped.

Despite his racing mind it took him only a few seconds to catch on, “Jesus, Buffy really? You’re going to make me explain myself while we’re being shot at?”

She shook her head, she knew it was stupid and she felt bad, but he could see she was still upset.

He put a finger under her chin, moved closer to her, his boots scraping on the ground and looked her straight in the eyes. “You look fantastic, luv. Better than I could have imagined, and it’s something I’ve imagined a lot.” And before she could let that sink in he kissed her full and hard on the mouth, and then he placed his forehead on hers and begged her to run into the thicket on their left.

Eventually she relented, after he begged, and pleaded, and promised he would join her there soon, but mostly because he asked her to trust him.

She ran, heart in her throat, she couldn’t tell whether it was her heart beating or bullets hitting things that kept a rhythm to her steps, but something made her run faster. She slid her way into the woods like sliding into first base on a playing field. Dust flew in the air and then nothing, she was hidden, for the time being behind some bushes and she took a few minutes to collect herself and look back to Spike. He’d already started moving in the other direction. It seemed he was right and the shots followed him, luckily not too close. She took no comfort in that, and instead turned to look for the barn.

She made herself pick up her feet and run again. Her heart had calmed, but as soon as she was in the open she felt the panic once more. The adrenaline was coursing, but she still felt pain every time she sucked in a breath because she did it too fast and too desperately.

As Spike reached an out building and ran behind it he looked back and saw two agents. One of them was still behind his car, gun pointed and firing in the direction of the shots, the other was by Buffy’s taking the pulse of the man Buffy and him had seen shot. It must have been good news even though he still wasn’t moving, because after a short pause he began to pull him into cover.

Spike’s plan had worked and he had drawn their fire away from Buffy, but he didn’t have anywhere to go, he was trapped and until the agents did their jobs or failed he wasn’t going anywhere, and he couldn’t make it to her.

Buffy reached the barn in what seemed to feel like hours but was probably seconds. She pushed the heavy wooden doors opened, but stood there dumb for a few minutes while she tried to get her brain to work out the best thing to do.

After a while she turned and closed the doors behind her to cover her entrance, then she ran to the ladder she saw in front of her and climbed it into the hay loft. Her hands were shaking and she felt like she could slip at anytime. She blew out deep breaths to keep her whole body steady and concentrated all her efforts on her assent. When she reached the top she hauled herself up and turned around. She tried to pull the ladder up with her, but at first it was too heavy for her to dislodge, it took a few tries but eventually she got it off the ground, she pulled it up a bit at a time, but all in all it was too much and it clattered to the floor. Resigned she covered herself in hay and shadows and lay waiting.

Back at the cars, Spike was still hiding behind the wall, he couldn’t tell where the agents had been firing, but they seemed focused enough to allow him the belief they had found the shooter. They had exchanged shots, first them then the shooter, and eventually everything had stopped. The agents beckoned Spike over and he ran behind the car where they were now stood rather than hiding.

“Are we okay now?” he asked, his blood thumping in his veins in case it wasn’t over.

The agent who had been in Buffy’s car ran over to the bushes in front of them.

“Are we okay?” Spike repeated. The agent next to him said nothing, but he held a hand up to his earpiece so he could listen carefully to it.

The agent now in the bushes must have said something to him, because he then turned to Spike. “We took a shooter down. This place is secure now, but we think there’s another.”

“Another shooter?” Spike was confused, “Then why isn’t he still firing at us?”

He didn’t answer, Buffy’s agent was emerging from the bushes and Spike could hear him radioing for an air ambulance. The one next to him then asked him which way Buffy had gone. The urgency in his voice made Spike catch up to them quickly. Once he was on the same page he bolted, bolted for the barn and the direction Buffy had ran.


* * * * *

Spike’s instinct was to shout her name, but he knew better. He sped his way through the tall grass until he could see the barn in the distance. His worst fear realised when he saw a man entering it with a gun. His heart stopped and for a moment so did his feet. Then a beat later her was pushing himself forward, “I’m coming.” he whispered.

Buffy’s arms itched, her legs too. In fact her whole body itched from the prickly sticks of hay, she couldn’t breathe either. She decided she couldn’t stand it any longer and shook it away from her face, planning to cover herself again after a few deep breaths, but it was too late.

The doors flew open, 10 times easier then when she had entered. She could see a man, but only his bottom half. As she tried to rack her brain for what Spike had been wearing that day the man stepped forward and she saw his face, his face that clearly did not belong to Spike, or anyone else she knew.

She was frozen, and the memory of that day in the bank flashed in her mind. At least she’d tried to run that day, this time there was nothing to do. Any movement would draw his attention. There was no way down, it was too high to jump from unaided, and even if she did he blocked the nearest exit. Her only hope was that he wouldn’t look up and see her, but just then he did.

Their eyes locked, half in the hay, half hidden, but her eyes stood out brightly either way. She kept his gaze wondering what his next move would be, but when he smiled at her it reminded her of Angel’s smile and she knew she no longer wanted to know.

She got up and made to run, maybe she could make a jump for one of the wooden frame posts if she ran around to the other side of the loft. She didn’t make it very far before he aimed his gun.

“Not so fast, Buffy.”

She stopped.

“It is Buffy, right?” he laughed, “I hope so, I’d hate to kill the wrong girl…Actually it’s not the worst thing I’ve done.”

That she believed.

He tilted his head, uncocked his gun, and Buffy shut her eyes tight. Waiting for the inevitable she dreamed up thoughts of Spike; their last night together, their happy last few days in his house, and with those thoughts her body stopped tensing. Suddenly she felt relaxed and unafraid. She just wished he was here so she could tell him what she’d decided to do about them. Not that it would change anything now, but he deserved know.

Then came the noise.

Buffy’s body flinched, but not because of the pain she expected, because that never came. For a second she wondered if that’s what it felt like to die, painless, but the noise hadn’t been what she expected either, something didn’t add up. Her eyes shot open in realisation, and she saw her shooter laid on the floor, blood across his face, unconscious, and Spike was stood over him holding the barrel of the gun in his right hand.

He looked up and saw her staring.

Feeling worried, not knowing if she was in shock or just horrified at his violent actions he spoke, “He’ll be okay, I just hit him with it. He’s just out cold.”

She continued to stare, expressionless.

“He was going to shoot you, I had to.” he justified.

She shook her head, realising what his assumptions of her behaviour were. A tear slipped down her cheek as she tried to pull herself together. She pulled her hands up to cover her face; she couldn’t believe she was okay, that they were both okay, and just when Spike had resigned himself to the fact that he’d completely shocked her, she smiled. She smiled from ear to ear until he saw, understood, and smiled back.

The next second she was running to the other side of the loft and a second after he ran to stand underneath her so she could jump safely into his arms.

She fell awkwardly into him, but eventually slid down to stand on her own two feet, relaxed, still in his embrace and clinging onto him.

“I thought I’d lost you for good, baby.” he whispered into her hair.

She hugged him tighter to remind him he hadn’t.

“I missed you,” she confessed, “everyday. I want you to come home with me.”

He pulled away and looked at her straight on, cupping her cheek, “Are you sure?”

She nodded. “I’ve thought about it over and over, and I don’t want it any other way.”

He pulled her into him, and she lay her head on his chest. He rocked them slightly until she almost forgot where they were. That was until the agents ran in. They slowed when they saw the situation, taking only seconds to put together what had happened.

“We need to get you two out of here as soon as possible,” one of them said. “just tell the drivers where you want them to go Miss Summers.”

“It’s Dawn,” Buffy corrected, “What about, Owen?” she asked concerned, noticing, but temporarily ignoring the raised eyebrow she was getting from Spike.

“Special Agent Thurman is on route to the hospital. He was wearing a vest, but it was partially damaged by the bullet. Mostly he got the wind knocked out of him, but it’s a clean shot, he should be fine. You’ll be kept informed once your home.” He finished then went outside to call for backup.

“How long will people be?” Spike asked the other agent, who was now crouched next to the still unconscious shooter.

“Teams were already in place as a precaution, so they’ll just need a few minutes to mobilise.”

He looked awkwardly back at Buffy, realising in their time of waiting he would have to ask one of his questions sooner or later, before it drove him mad. “So who’s Owen?” He tried to be casual about it, but didn’t quite pull it off.

“Don’t worry, he just my person.”

“Person?”

“Yeah. You know, my witness protection guy. I guess yours too now.” she smiled and he forgot all about the question just as she’d planned.

The agent came back in, “There are people on their way to your vehicles; they should be there by the time you are.”

They moved awkwardly out of the way and he turned to her. “So, Dawn, huh?”

She smiled back carefully, shyly, “What? You don’t like it?”

“It suits your new look.” he said twirling a strand of hair around his finger for a moment. “Very grown up.” He caught her eyes and saw she wasn’t satisfied with that, “And very beautiful.” he followed, smirking.

She laughed, and it was great to hear her laugh. “I’m not the only one who abandoned the blonde.” she said matter of factly.

“Mine wasn’t by choice though, kitten. And I don’t like it. It’s not me at all.”

She thought for a moment then agreed.

He dropped the hair he’d been playing with suddenly and considered something, “Do I need a new name?”

She laughed again surprised, one of the agents pushed past them and then she realised he was waiting for a real answer. “Hmm,” she said stringing it out, “well ’Spike’ isn’t really going to fit in where I live…It’s a small town…” she thought for a while, “How about something like William, or James?”

Spike immediately pulled a face, “Not very dangerous sounding, luv.”

She frowned, “I think I’ve had enough danger to last me a life time.”

He knew it wasn’t a dig, but it also wasn’t a lie either so he said, “I’ll think about it.”

“I’d appreciate that.” she said, smiling again.

They started to walk towards the door together, and after a while he couldn’t hold the question in any longer, “So what am I going to do?” he asked, “In this small town of yours? Seen as you’ve given it so much thought.”

She didn’t look at him, she smiled a little and swung her arms as she walked beside him, “Well, I’ve been thinking about that for a while,” she said coyly, ignoring the drama around them.

“And?” he pressed.

“Well I thought my kids might need a…”

Spike stopped in his tracks, “Kids?! You have kids?!”

She was utterly confused for a minute, stopped and stared at him, and then she realised where his mind had gone, and although it was her fault she laughed, big and loud. Spike was horrified. This wasn’t funny, he felt angry, confused, hurt.

After a while she turned back to him, “I’m a school teacher Spike not a mom!”

He’d never heard her laugh so much, but he was still slightly stunned and it allowed her the time to really get the giggles.

After a while it started to bother him that she was still laughing at his gaff, and he started glaring at her.

She stopped herself then, “I mean my school kids.” she reaffirmed, holding back her grin.

He kept quiet for a while, she started to pout, waiting for him to forgive her for laughing, eventually he huffed, “What about them?”

She took his arm in hers, smiling and lead him forwards to start their walk again, “Well, like I said it’s a small town,” she said, “and there isn’t really anyone who knows anything about music or art. It might be nice to give the kids someone who does.”

Spike thought about that, rolling it over in his mind for a long time. He didn’t answer her, tell her if he thought it was a good idea, all he did was smile, lean down to her head and kiss her hair as they walked.

Later when they got to the cars he suddenly stopped, he looked at his, and then at hers. There was no sign that anything had gone on in that place apart from a deflated tyre, the wounded man had been taken away and everything else had happened too far away to see. Stood there in that piece of dry nothing land it felt as if today hadn’t even happened. He dropped her arm and she immediately looked up at him to see why.

Nothing in his expression particularly gave him away, but she eventually understood him when she looked in front of them. Agents were stood back at their cars, ready to take them off separately again if that’s what they had decided. She couldn’t see how scared he was, but she felt it radiating off him.

Quickly so not to leave him hanging she took his arm again, pulled him to the car with all 4 wheels and opened the door for him. They were going together; she thought she’d made that clear. “I told you already.” she said kissing his cheek then getting in.

He wanted to be cool, but he couldn’t hide his grin as he climbed in behind her.

They sat there for a long time, and he took her hand. “I love you.” he said, knowing to have said it sooner might have pressured her.

“I love you too.” she echoed back, snuggling up to him and laying her head on his chest like before in the barn. His heartbeat rapidly becoming her new favourite song to listen to.

She felt him shift and looked up at him, “What?” she asked concerned.

He had the hint of a smile at her worry, “You’ve just never said that before that’s all.”

She looked a little hurt, so he put a hand up to her face, his fingertips ghosting across her cheek, “I knew you did. It’s just the first time you’ve said it to me like that.”

Buffy’s frown softened and she laid her palm against his chest, “You’ll just have to forgive me for that.”

“If not today, then I’ll forgive you tomorrow.” he said, squeezing her hand. It was the first tomorrow he’d ever truly believed in.

THE END