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Spike knew what she was doing, but he didn’t let it bother him. She was staring out the window as he drove, most likely trying to remember the way, storing street names in her memory. They both knew she wouldn’t do anything though, not when she thought her family was at stake. He had found out everything he needed against her, but got more than he asked for.
*flashback*
Wesley handed him a file, “It’s everything from her elementary report card to her little sister.”
Spike frowned, taking it, “She has a sister?”
“Dawn Summers – goes to Sunnydale High School. You’ll be interested to read why Buffy probably came to L.A. too,” he added with a knowing look.
“And why’s that?” he looked curious as he opened the file.
“I’m assuming it has something to do with what happened to her mother,” Wesley guessed. Seeing Spike’s questioning expression, he added, “It’s in the police report, and the newspaper article I was able to find.”
Flipping a few pages aside, he came to the cutout article of a newspaper. Woman Dies Tragically From Hit-and-Run. His eyes widened slightly, continuing to read the article:
At approximately 5pm, a Sunnydale civilian, Joyce Summers, was run down and killed by a reckless hit-and-run driver. There was only one witness: Mrs. Summers’ daughter, Buffy Anne Summers. It has been confirmed that the suspect is a student at UC Sunnydale, Parker Abrams. Police are doing their best to track down the suspect, and a full report of the tragic witness account is anticipated to be released tomorrow morning.
Taking a moment, Spike stared down at the papers in his hands, frowning. His picture of Buffy in a spoiled role of rich valley girl was suddenly thrown out the door. Imagining her grief and horror, he flinched. He had been wrong about her.
*end*
He pulled the car down into the warehouse, and turned off the engine just as the other cars pulled in next to him. Unlocking the doors, they both got out at the same time as everyone else.
“I would say it’s time for a celebration, don’t you think?” Cordelia smiled as she held up the disks and addressed the others.
“You kidding me? We better do something. We only spent a month going over that shit,” Gunn added.
Spike wasn’t paying attention to them, staring at Buffy and the way she wrapped her arms around herself when she thought no one was looking. When she noticed he was, she dropped her arms to her side, giving him a cold look and turning away.
*flashback*
“Who is Parker Abrams?” he asked suddenly, breaking the silence between them in his room.
She froze, widened eyes turning to him. “How did you hear that name?”
“Saw it in the paper,” he replied.
“You ran a check on me??” she asked incredulously. Shaking her head in disgust, she marched over to the bed and tried to ignore him.
“What happened?” he asked quietly.
“None of your business,” she answered, lying down and pulling up the covers, turning away from him.
“Is he why you ran to L.A.?” he asked, not giving up the subject that easily.
“No,” she partially lied.
“Then why did you?”
“Why do you care?”
“I don’t,” he lied.
She didn’t answer him.
“Was he your boyfriend?” he asked, neutralizing the tone of his voice.
“Was,” she replied, hoping he would drop it.
“Until he killed your mother?” he raised his brow, deciding to dive in all the way if she was going to act difficult.
She whipped around on the bed, glaring at him. “No, until he couldn’t keep his hands to himself. Then, he killed her. Are we finished?”
He ran his hands through his hair. None of this was supposed to have happened...The only thought that came to his mind was that he’d have to do something about it.
*end*
“Spike?” Wesley asked again.
“I’ll be there later,” Spike replied, eyeing the direction that Buffy went off to. The gang gave him looks, but shrugged it off a second later.
“I’ll let you know if there’s anything wrong with the disks when I check,” Wesley said, but Spike had already turned away and headed off.
~
She marched into the room, not caring where he wanted her to be. Beyond acting the part she had been told to do, Buffy couldn’t care less about the stupid disk or what it meant for them. Grabbing the hem of her shirt, she pulled it off over her head and began to look through the few drawers that had come to be hers.
Walking in, he saw her changing, her bare back to him. She knew he was there, but didn’t address him, as usual. “You did good today,” he commented, stepping closer as he observed the smooth of her back and the slight curve of her breasts.
“Hating you publicly? Not a problem,” she replied, “or a stretch.” Finding a comfortable silky tank top, she pulled it on, knowing he was staring at her. It had come to be something she was able to do – change in front of him without a second thought. It wasn’t like it was anything new, and after a while, she had stopped caring. It didn’t matter - none of it did.
“I’m sure it’s not.”
She turned to look at him for a moment, surprised at his response. He gazed back at her, not offering more than that.
“Don’t you have a celebration to be attending?” she asked, changing the subject but not breaking her own gaze.
“Yea. Is that what you’re wearing to it?” he asked, eyes gesturing at her silk shirt that showed off a lot of skin.
She narrowed her eyes, “Who said I was going?”
“I’m saying.”
She turned away from him, picking up a brush off the night stand. “I’m not going.”
“Are you always going to fight me?” he asked.
She stopped mid-brush, and turned around to glare at him. “I don’t think I’ve been fighting you enough,” she gritted, both of them knowing what she was referring to.
That look flashed across his features briefly, and his gaze broke away from hers.
“Don’t give me that fucking look again. You know exactly what you do, and you mean it,” she said hatefully.
“I told you-,” he began to defend.
She walked past him, heading for the bathroom in quick steps, “I don’t want to hear it. I’m not going.”
Her demeanor finally hit a nerve, and his anger seeped back in. Coming up behind her, he grabbed her and whipped her around, slamming her into the wall near the bathroom. “You forget the one who’s in control here,” he warned in a low voice.
That line was not new to her. She stared at him defiantly for a moment, not intimidated by the closeness of his body or face to hers. Speaking clearly and slowly, she responded, “I don’t feel like fucking right now.”
His jaw tensed at her unexpected words, and he narrowed his eyes. “You’re going.”
Lips pursed, she didn’t respond, continuing their stare down as she tried to maintain what she could.
“Even if I have to drag you there.” Giving her one last warning look, he pushed off the wall and turned from her, walking towards the bathroom.
Buffy didn’t move for a minute, silently letting her rage bubble up inside her. She hated him in these moments more than anything, because with all the resistance that she was capable of, something about his serious demeanor caused her to unwillingly give in. With anger in her moves, she stomped over to the drawer and opened it roughly, pulling out one of her revealing shirts. Slamming the drawer closed, she began to re-dress.
~
She had no doubt that this would just be all of them getting drunk off their asses. Rolling her eyes in irritation as she walked with Spike over to the mess hall, Buffy was dressed in her leather outfit – in front of the others, that’s what she always wore. Dark eye makeup, straightened hair, leather-tight clothes – it was a way to be a different person, one that wasn’t the girl she used to be.
Noticing Spike going in a different direction, she frowned and paused, “Where are we going?”
He turned halfway, serious and unreadable eyes looking directly into hers. “The celebration,” was all he said before turning around and continuing toward the training room.
Following him hesitantly, she heard the commotion coming from the room before they even stepped in. As Spike opened the door, she took in the sight before her.
All of Spike’s side was there – Illyria, Wesley, Darla, Cordelia, Lorne, Gunn, Faith, and Harmony, and several other ‘insignificant’ people. Everyone was loud and boisterous, and the smell of alcohol permeated the air. What she didn’t understand was why they were in here, until she saw a large table with several knives set out on it.
“What are those for?” she didn’t let her tone falter.
“You’ll see,” he replied simply, not looking at her.
“Spike!” the sound of Faith’s voice called out as she approached him, “I gotta say, I’m deeply hurt that I wasn’t on this little classy mission of yours.”
“Hate to break it to you, Faith, but you’re not the classy type.”
“Hey, I can be classy,” she put her arms out, offended, before directing her attention to Buffy, “just as much as little miss pom-pom here.”
Buffy shot her a glare, until Cordelia and Darla came up to her from behind, interrupting before she could bite back. “You two ready?” Cordelia asked, her gaze directed at Buffy.
Her angered expression faltered, “What?”
“I’m ready whenever she is,” Faith smirked.
Buffy looked back and forth between them, now confused.
“You didn’t tell her, did you?” Darla asked Spike in an amused tone, tilting her head.
“Tell me what?” she whipped around to Spike, voice on edge, knowing something was wrong.
Staring back at her, Spike took a moment to observe her appearance. She had changed a lot of the course of two months, knowing most of it was because of him, but it was in these few moments that he imagined the girl underneath this image, the girl she used to be – carefree, innocent, normal.
He hadn’t told her because he knew she wouldn’t understand. “You’re going to fight Faith tonight.”
Buffy faltered, “I thought this was supposed to be a celebration,” seeing them back up and make room.
Faith stood where she was, smirking at Buffy’s confusion, “it is. You’re getting a sort of…initiation, for pulling off your first job. Well, I guess it would be a second initiation, wouldn’t it?”
Her eyes widened for a moment, before they narrowed. She turned her head to the side and shot Spike a hateful look. It suddenly had become quite clear. She was a fool to think that rape was enough of an “initiation” – no, she suspected this was when they decided they were going to kick her ass until she could hardly move, or god knows what other sick things they had planned for her. Well, she wasn’t going to go down without a fight. “You can all go to hell,” she straightened her stance, lifting her chin as she braced herself for the fight to come.
The others stood around them in a large circle, looking amused and ready for her bloodbath – except Spike. His body tense, he knew there was no other way. It was what she needed to do, what he needed her to do.
“Sweetie, we’re already going there,” Faith smiled calculatingly, before launching her body into a spin-kick, sending Buffy reeling to the side before she could even get out of the way.
Buffy fell on her hands, and she grimaced, touching her hand to her left cheek.
“Don’t tell me that’s it? You can’t collect your prize if you don’t manage to live through this.”
Getting up quickly, Buffy threw herself forward, throwing a punch. Faith caught it easily in her palm, and looked cockily at her, a second before Buffy’s other fist slammed forward into Faith’s face, causing a resounding crunch.
Faith staggered back, surprised. She touched a hand to her nose, and red coated the tips of her fingers. The others grew deadly quiet, their attention suddenly at its peak as their movements to step closer became the only sound in the room.
“Oh, it’s on now, sister,” she broke the serious silence with deadly intent. Lunging forward, she let out a series of blows, attempting to punch or backhand Buffy in the face. Buffy dodged quickly, barely able to decipher what was coming at her, but she moved with a natural grace she hadn’t quite exerted before.
Frustrated, Faith grabbed Buffy by the shoulders threw her down with full force.
Panting, Buffy ignored the pain, seeing the objective clearly in her mind for the first time: win. It was time to stop defending herself, and start kicking some ass of her own. Seeing the table of knives to her side, she smirked and grabbed one, poising it in the correct grip.
“What? You going to play dirty? Where’s my knife?” Faith asked, putting her arms out.
“Get it yourself, bitch.” Buffy stabbed forward, missing her by an inch. She let out a series of quick moves, trying to slash or stab her. Faith dodged quickly, blocking Buffy’s wrists a few times and flinging her arms back.
Landing a rough punch to Buffy’s jaw, Faith took the moment to grab a knife of her own, smiling as she turned back to face her opponent. Not wasting time to quip, she swung forward.
Both of them dodged and missed the blades at the last moment, panting, adrenaline pumping and feeling every close call.
“Well, I’ll be fucking damned,” Darla commented, impressed. “It’s a real show.”
Spike spared a quick sideways glance before turning his full attention back to Buffy and Faith. Every swing, his fists clenched, the tip of the blade appearing to barely miss skin.
Dropping her knife on purpose, Faith grabbed both of Buffy’s arms and slammed her head forward to Buffy’s, head-butting her and causing the other knife to fall. She grabbed both of Buffy’s wrists, pinning them down as her other hand grabbed her by the neck. Bringing her close to her own body, Faith put on a taunting smile as she yanked Buffy’s hair back, baring her neck.
Buffy breathed heavily, angry that Faith gained the upper hand, but she didn’t know what game she was playing now.
“I’m liking this more and more,” Lorne commented to Gunn and Wesley with a raised eyebrow, both men nodding.
Faith leaned in, close to Buffy’s ear, “Maybe the problem is that you’re mad, but you don’t know what the hell you’re mad at more.”
“Get off me,” Buffy gritted out, feeling Faith yank harder on her hair.
“I’ve got news for you, B,” she whispered, “it ain’t us.” Throwing Buffy backwards roughly, she put her hands on her hips as two men dragged someone out. Hands bound behind their back, a black sack over their head – the man groaned in pain as he hit the floor, face first.
On the ground, Buffy turned to the unexpected entrance, shocked to see someone tied up.
“String him up,” Spike ordered, shooting Buffy a look that she couldn’t read.
Her fight with Faith seemed to be over – cut short for this intrusion, but she didn’t know why. She stood up, stepping forward as they tied ‘him’ to the wall. “What the hell is going on here?” she asked, adrenaline still pumping. Was this a way to distract her before Faith attacked her again?
“This is the initiation part,” Spike turned to her with a cold look. “That was just a warm-up.”
They pulled off the black bag, revealing a bruised face. She widened her eyes, stepping back. It was Parker.
He looked up, lifting his head weakly. Those eyes.
He didn’t seem to be listening as his maniacal eyes showed his road rage. And as if the world were ending, the car approached the figure and Buffy saw her mother’s face flash in front of her eyes.
Feeling like the air was being sucked out of her body, she took a shaky step forward as the overwhelming rage filled her mind. The pain of the memory was never as vivid as it was in this moment, and the emotion choked in her throat.
“Buffy?” he asked in a raspy voice, not believing what he was seeing. He recognized her face instantly, but everything else about her was a drastic difference. “What’s going on?” he asked, confused. “Who are these people?”
She didn’t answer him, merely staring at him as if a ghost was making himself known. “You-,” she stopped, wanting to say a million things but not knowing what it was. Turning to face Spike, she shot him a look that demanded answers.
He stepped forward, until he was next to her. Running his fingers lightly across her shoulder blade, he said quietly but seriously, “It’s your chance.”
Parker let out a chortled laugh, “You actually know this guy, Buffy? Don’t tell me your with him.”
Buffy shot back around, glaring at Parker’s attitude. Even in this situation, he was still the same asshole. “Shut the fuck up, you murderer.”
Frowning, he shook his head. “I didn’t murder anyone.”
Grabbing her knife off the floor, she was in front of him in seconds, pointing it at his throat. “You murdered my mother,” she said in a deadly tone, pressing the tip of the blade into the skin of his neck.
He suppressed his choked sound, feeling the sharp edge at the most vulnerable point of his throat. “Please,” he managed to rasp.
Her chest heaved up and down, the turmoil playing through her head, remembering the moment of the crash over and over again, remembering every time Parker tried to get sex out of her, even if she didn’t want it. It wasn’t rape, but it was damn near close. She wasn’t naïve to the fact Parker smooth-talked his way into everything, and out of everything, no matter how reluctant the other person was.
“Don’t get soft,” Spike ordered in a low voice. “It’s what he’ll try to do.”
She raised her chin, glaring at Parker, and not turning around to address Spike.
“Kill him, Buffy,” Faith said. “He’s nothing.”
Parker shook his head slightly, still conscious of the knife near his throat, which was slowly receding. “You wouldn’t do that, Buffy - not to me. You couldn’t.”
“Do it,” Cordelia said harshly, speaking up for the first time.
“You wouldn’t be able to live with yourself,” Parker reasoned, seeing he was winning the battle as her knife was almost away from his neck.
Buffy let her hand drop down to her side, knife pointed down.
“How could you just let him get away with what he did?” Spike asked incredulously, voicing the thoughts of everyone in the room. It wouldn’t have even been up for consideration if it was any one of them.
Parker laughed in relief.
“If she’s not gonna-,” Faith began.
“I’m not,” Buffy said, staring directly at Parker as she spoke. She cut down his ties with one quick swing of her knife, and he fell to the floor. As he lifted his head up with a patronizing smile, she punched him square in the face.
Spike jerked his head up a little, curious to see what she would do.
Continuing to punch him several times in between her words, “You…murdered….her…you bastard.” She grabbed him and slammed her knee into his crotch, eliciting a sharp groan. Throwing him backwards towards the center of the room, everything else seemed to fade away. No one else mattered. The only person she saw was Parker, and the image of her broken mother.
They watched her, quietly. Normally, the blood sport would’ve excited them. But this was something deeper. Losing a mother like that was something no one should suffer, even if a few of them already had. Spike watched her, seeing her emotion pouring out with every hit. They just let her pound on him endlessly, not making a move to interfere. It was what he had planned all along, after all.
Parker’s head began to give in easily to her punches, signaling that he was unconscious. She stared down at him, lying on the floor. His face was a bloody mess, his eyes were swollen slits. Normally, the sight would’ve disturbed her, but she felt no remorse whatsoever.
“Kill him,” Darla urged. “Just end it. If you don’t, he wins.”
Breathing heavily, she began to slowly stand up, still riveted by what she caused. She looked at her fists, and saw blood on her knuckles. Finally, she said with a shake of her head, “No. I won’t kill him.” She knew Spike was about to ask why. She turned to look directly at him, “Because if I did, then you would win.” Turning to glance at Faith, she added, “And you’re right, he is nothing.”
He frowned, taking in what she said. She gave him one last look, before turning away and walking out of the room, not caring if she risked the chance of getting a knife, or a bullet, in her back.
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Author's Chapter Notes:
A/N: I go between flashbacks and current time, usually with a whole paragraph in italics or a * denoting the beginning and end of a whole flashback segment. My only advice is to not skim to lessen any confusion. Thanks for all the reviews last chapter! I don’t know if I can keep up this writing pace during midterms, but hopefully I’ll continue to write like I did this week :)