~*~*~*~
She heard the knob turn, and her eyes darted up. She rushed forward to turn the lock before the door could be opened, but it slammed into her before she could.
Stumbling back, strong arms caught her before she could fall.
Spike’s brow furrowed. He let go of her when he realized that her hands were pushing him away as if she was disgusted by his touch, or even afraid of him. His stomach dropped. “It’s not what you think.”
“Really? I’m thinking Amy is dead.” She stepped back farther.
He sighed, running his hands through his hair. “Ok, it is what you think, but I didn’t kill her.”
“Then who did?” She tried not to react to his still bloodied appearance.
“I don’t know. She was fine when I left the room.”
She had to remember who he was – a killer, her rapist – he was evil. She forced herself to look calm and collected, although the image of Amy’s body kept haunting her mind. “I don’t believe you.” She inched towards the dresser, remembering what she had left in there – what Cordelia had given her.
Spike saw the way she was inching around the room, and it looked like she was trying to get as close to the door as possible. Frowning, he asked, “Are you afraid of me?”
“Shouldn’t I be?” Her tone was deceptively calm, even though her imagination was running wild. Spike was a killer. She had known it before, but it didn’t compare to seeing it in front of her.
“You know I wouldn’t-”
“How do I know?” she cut him off. “For all I know, you tortured her to death. All those days chained in a tub? Can you honestly say you didn’t kill her?”
He sighed, feeling like whatever he said or did, she would always think of him as a monster. And perhaps she was right. But he tried to reason with her, because it was the only thing he could do.
“Think about it, Buffy. Why would I kill her, especially right then? She’s useless to me dead. Hell, when Rack finds out…” He ran one hand down his face.
He was right. It didn’t make sense for Spike to kill Amy, because if he had done it, it had to have been before the fight. He hadn’t even fought with Angelus yet, and wasn’t it the point to use Amy to trick him? And would Spike really just kill her and leave her there?
At the same time…
Spike had won; she was safe. What good was Amy to him now? It was possible he had had time to kill Amy in the minutes before she got to the room. She remembered the panic in his voice as she opened the door. What if he had really done it? She didn’t doubt he was capable of it.
Red. She saw red all over. Blood all over the floor, blood all over everyone, blood pooling around a strung-up girl in leather. A blood-covered Spike.
“Get out of here,” his voice sounded cold and harsh in the silence of the room.
He was a cold-blooded killer. Killers did whatever they wanted - they were liars who manipulated people to get what they wanted…like sex.
Like sex from her.
Looking up at him, she wondered if it was all an elaborate ploy. Get her to think he wasn’t just the monster she first thought him to be. And if he was? Was he that great of an actor? It could all be a part of his plan to conquer her - play with her. Killers weren’t caring – they were selfish.
He hesitated under her scrutiny, unsure of what was running through her head. “You alright?”
And there was the concern – the concern that made her forget he was a killer. He kept her safe from Angelus yet again, and it wasn’t something she could just avoid or ignore. He promised her he would win, and he did.
The change in his behavior towards her was undeniable, and every time she thought about it, it made her angry – angry that he thought he could just make things better if he protected her, fought for her, comforted her. It wouldn’t erase her memories.
That was when she decided. No matter who he was, she had to get out. Away from here. Away from him.
Two times she had been allowed out – the job and the club. It meant that she would have to go out on more jobs, make a plan to escape. She would have to prove to them that she could handle it, which ultimately meant she had to convince Spike to let her go. As for the club, he had only let her go because he felt guilty about keeping her cooped up.
When it came down to it, she realized the way out was through him.
That was when something clicked in her mind.
“Pet?”
She snapped back to reality, and saw the increasing concern on his face as he said, “You don’t look so good. You feel alright?”
Would it work? Would he see through her?
“I feel fine. I don’t want to talk about Amy anymore, ok?” she replied as she closed her eyes.
Inwardly, he sighed with relief that she seemed to be dropping the subject.
“You should probably get cleaned up,” she pointed at his appearance.
“Right,” he tried to mask his disappointment.
“Just let me wash my face before you use the bathroom.” She turned and moved to the bathroom door.
His expression was filled with surprise at her words – surprise that she was openly not telling him to leave. Spike was glad her back was turned.
Buffy sighed to herself in front of the mirror. ‘I can do this.’
She would get out, because now she knew how.
~
It’s not like he had never gotten rid of a body before. In fact, it was what Angelus used to make him do as a sort of cruel punishment. He remembered the first day he had to do it; he had thrown up at the sight of a woman’s mangled body lying dead on Angelus’ bed – sheets completely red with blood. It had taken him nearly an hour to even approach it.
Spike had come a long way from William. He had dumped many bodies, without a trace of remorse or disgust. This one shouldn’t be any different.
Somehow it was.
His mind wandered as her lifeless eyes stared back at him, and the room suddenly seemed so small.
The room seemed so small, because all he could feel around him was her, and she wasn’t even touching him yet. He sat still, afraid if he moved, she would suddenly hate him again. Her eyes avoided his, even as she stood in front of him, cloth in hand.
He struggled as he pulled the body to sit upright in the tub, but her head and her limbs fell back. Halting, he looked at her neck. There was a belt of deep purple and black bruises along her skin.
He winced as the cloth touched a bruise on his face, and he saw her jerk back.
“Sorry, reflex.” He straightened and readied himself, trying not to look the way he felt – like an awkward teenager.
Under closer scrutiny, he knew they weren’t the kind of bruises that hands would leave. In fact, it didn’t take him long to realize what they were from.
Someone had choked Amy to death with her own chains.
His eyes scanned over her body for any other clues, but there were none. When he looked down in the tub though, he saw a small piece of debris. He examined it, discovering it was a broken fingernail.
It wasn’t Amy’s.
“Who do you think did it?” Buffy asked, breaking the silence between them as she carefully blotted at the blood on his face. Anything to get her mind off the way his eyes were fixated on her.
“I’d say Angelus, but he couldn’t have done it himself.”
“Because he was at the fight.”
“Right. Don’t remember who was there or not, ‘sides Angelus.” ‘And you.’ “Do you?”
“Well,” she sighed, “I know Cordelia was there…and I remember Illyria, but she’s hard to miss – blue hair and all…”
He heaved the body up and rolled it over the edge of the tub, onto the sheet he had pulled off his bed. It hit the ground in an unusual way, but he just rolled it into the sheet without letting it affect him.
Her closeness was beginning to affect him. He shut his eyes when he felt her breath brush against his face as she exhaled.
It looked like she wanted to say something, but kept hesitating.
“What is it?” he asked, capturing her hand to stop her from her task. She wouldn’t answer, but looking into her eyes, he saw it. Gratitude.
~
“There’s the man of the hour,” Faith chided as the others let out yells of congratulations. Everyone was already in the dining hall awaiting a celebration.
“Where have you been, man? We thought you were a no-show.” Gunn handed Spike a beer.
“Sorry – had to stop the internal bleeding,” he joked half-heartedly.
“Well, internal bleeding is a small price to pay for the way Angelus looked after you pounded his face in,” Cordelia offered.
“It was priceless! Darla, do your imitation of Angel-cakes again,” Lorne laughed.
Darla made a bewildered face, imitating the way Angelus looked when he came back into consciousness. Anger and indignation flooded into her expression and she started huffing, a combination between rage and brooding.
Everyone burst into laughter at the accuracy of it, and it was apparent to Spike that they were all drunk or almost there. Maybe now would be a good time to tell them Amy was dead. He almost hated to ruin their fun and games.
“You know you just won, right?” Cordelia asked, seeing the serious expression on his face.
“Yea, what’s up with you? Shouldn’t you be all cocky and arrogant right about now? I didn’t even see your ‘victory saunter’ when you came in here,” Faith joked.
“Yea, what’s the deal, Spike?” Gunn asked.
“First of all, I don’t saunter.” He scowled. “And the deal is…,” he sighed before continuing, “Amy is dead.” He tried to gauge their reactions, knowing they would figure out it meant much more than Amy’s life.
A few of them exchanged looks, letting the implications seep in.
“Someone broke in and strangled her to death.”
“That means it was an inside job,” Wesley looked puzzled. It meant that Angelus was waging a war against them – one that they had expected to explode for a long time.
“Seems so.”
~
The rage he felt vibrated through his body as he stared into his battered reflection. Never in his life had he wanted to kill Spike more than in this moment.
“I wouldn’t want your whore if you begged me to take her.”
He didn’t just want to kill Spike – He would make him suffer until he begged to be put out of his misery. He had an idea of where to start.
Picturing Buffy in his mind, he thought of several ways he would love to break her. He would make her bleed, from the inside out – make her scream – make her cry – watch the life drain out of her. Angelus could just picture the look on Spike’s face at the sight of his innocent, little Buffy marred by blood and sex.
He smiled evilly at the new possibilities ahead of him.
~*~*~*~
Training had almost increased to twice the length, and the only time Buffy had had so many bruises was back in her first month. There was just one main difference.
The sex. As in, they hadn’t had sex since before the fight. Every time it seemed like they would, Spike made up some excuse and avoided it, perplexing her. He had only ever danced around the subject.
“No.”
“Why the hell not? It’s bigger.”
“Size is not the issue.”
He scoffed, “So every woman claims. And it is when I crash into a dresser everywhere I turn.”
“Then leave,” she rolled her eyes at him, as if the answer were obvious.
“I told you why I can’t,” he scratched back of his head, not looking at her.
“You could buy an inflatable doll,” she joked dryly.
“It would squeak too much,” he replied instantly, not able to resist the beginnings of a smirk. “Besides,” he said in a different tone as he stepped towards her, “it’s not the same.” He absently traced her shoulder with his hand.
Buffy forced herself to not pull back, seeing what he would do, but he pulled back a mere moment later, and she frowned.
He turned away as if remembering something, and resumed his original topic. “What is the issue?”
“Huh?” she asked, topic forgotten.
“Why don’t you want to move back?”
At that, her expression dropped and hardened. “You don’t seriously think I would ever use that bathroom or sleep in that bed again?”
“Well, what do you expect me to do? Construct a new bathroom for you? I got a maid to sterilize it twice.”
She shivered, remembering Amy’s body, and drew her arms around herself. “I can’t.”
“You will.”
She scowled up at him. “Why should I?”
He sighed, knowing she wasn’t going to like his answer. “You’re either mine, or you’re theirs. If you stay here, then that means you’re fair game. I can only threaten lackeys for so long. The others will start to suspect.”
“I’m not anybody’s,” she gritted, trying to keep her temper in check.
“It’s just the way it is. You have to choose.”
When she realized he wasn’t trying to be a jerk, she plopped herself onto her bed, frowning. Finally, she looked up at him with resolve, “Replace the bed, and maybe. That thing is tainted.”
“Replace the bed?” he asked indignantly. “Are you kidding?” As soon as he looked at her resolve face, he knew he had to cave or else she wouldn’t budge, and he cursed inwardly. “Fine. I’ll get a new sodding bed.”
She had to contain her smug smile.
It wasn’t until training with him one day that she figured it out.
She grunted, pushing Spike off of her from her pinned-down position and quickly getting to her feet. As Spike was getting up himself, she grabbed him by the back of his neck and slammed his head down into her brought-up knee.
“Bloody hell!” he yelled as he clutched his nose, but before he knew it, his legs were kicked out from under him and he fell flat on his back.
She straddled him, mimicking their earlier reversed position by pinning his arms above his head. “Give up?” she raised her brow.
“Are you trying to break all my body parts?”
“Maybe.”
Spike had to swallow his groan as she lowered her hips until she was straddling his. He tried to push up, but it only worsened things as his crotch ground against hers and his face brushed against her chest.
Involuntarily, she let out a little sound at the contact, but she tightened her grip on his arms to maintain her hold. “Your nose is bleeding,” she whispered against his face.
“It’s what happens when you crash it into your kneecap.” Even as he said this, he had to keep from rolling his eyes back because she shifted, grounding down against him. “Stop.”
“Why?”
“We’re training,” he reasoned.
“It never stopped you before,” she let go of his arms and went for his belt buckle.
His mind went through why he couldn’t. She would hate him. Sex would always make her hate him. He no longer wanted to see the hurt on her face, because all he saw was that face – the one he caused when he raped her, when he took out his anger towards Dru on her.
He grabbed her hands, stopping her. “No.”
“No?” she asked unbelievingly. “What do you mean no?”
“As much as I want to, we’re not having sex.”
After a moment of confusion, she pushed off him angrily. “You’re fucking someone else, aren’t you? That’s why you haven’t tried to have sex with me in days.”
Getting up to face her, “That’s not it, and you know it.”
“Then what is?” she demanded.
“I won’t hurt you again,” he looked to the side, unable to look at her as he recalled the things he had done.
“You won’t hurt me again?” she repeated incredulously.
“You’ve made it clear what sex means to you.”
“Tell me what it means to me, Spike. Enlighten me.”
“I’ve sentenced you to a life a rape, remember?” He tried not to look like it bothered him as much as it did.
“So what? Now you’re going to prove you’re not a rapist? It’s a little too late for that.”
“I know how this sounds, but I’ve changed.” He didn’t know into what, but he knew he had because he no longer saw himself as the same man who would hurt her like that. “You can’t tell me you haven’t noticed.”
“I’ve changed too, or have you not noticed? I’m no longer the innocent girl that begged you not to hurt me. Do you think I would ever try to have sex with you if I still was? You made me this way.”
He could see the anger and the hurt battling in her eyes, and he felt a pang of guilt, wanting to console her. Stepping toward her, he reached out to touch her cheek, “Buffy-“
She backed away from him.
“Don’t be like this.” He tried to grab her hand, but she jerked her hand out of his grasp.
Ignoring him, she stormed out of the room, not wanting him to see how much she hated herself too.
~*~*~*~
[Reviews - 837]
-
Table of Contents [Report This]
Chapter or Story |
Chapter or Story | 
Chapter or Story
Has been viewed 4894 times
- Text Size +
-
Table of Contents [Report This]
Chapter or Story |
Chapter or Story | Chapter or Story - Text Size +
Author's Chapter Notes:
Chapter revised, especially the ending. I realized I had Spike way too pansy-whipped for this part of the story (that’s for later heh). Also, if anyone is reading this while waiting for chapter 20, it's coming - slowly but surely. Thanks for waiting!