[Reviews - 1167]
-
Table of Contents [Report This]
Microsoft Word Chapter or Story | ePub eBook Chapter or Story | Printer Chapter or Story

Has been viewed 6162 times

- Text Size +




Buffy woke up disoriented, experiencing a sensation she wasn't familiar with. Something was coursing through her, like lust but different—stronger. It was intense and intoxicating, making her whole body hum.

And then she knew. What she was feeling became blindingly clear to her, and she jumped from the bed, running to the bathroom with her hand over her mouth. She made it to the toilet just in time, emptying the meager contents of her stomach into the basin.

She wiped her mouth before flushing, then leaned back against the cool bathroom wall. Her stomach was still rebelling, though now she had nothing left in her system to purge. She kept her head down, purposely avoiding the mirror. She couldn't stand the thought of having to look at her own reflection.

She'd forgotten again. The vampire had touched her—wooed her—until she'd again forgotten he was a monster. Buffy pulled her knees to her chin, shame flooding her. She'd always fought to be strong, but now, she saw she was weak. She didn't even have the strength to resist the caress of a cold-blooded killer.

He'd fed again. Somehow, she'd let herself ignore that that was more than a possibility, spending the afternoon in his arms without thinking even once about how soon he would take another life—or lifting a finger to stop him.

Tears rolled down her cheeks as she hugged her knees tighter. She'd sat back and allowed him to kill again and then—to make it even worse—she'd experienced the kill right along with him. She'd felt what he felt as he fed off of his most recent victim, felt how he'd enjoyed it. Knowing those feelings came from an outside source didn't serve to quell Buffy's horror or shame. He'd killed and he'd liked it—and now she knew how that felt.

"Buffy? Kitten, what's wrong?"

Buffy didn't look up when Spike came back to the motel room and stopped in the doorway of the bathroom. She couldn't look into his eyes. They were always so full of emotion—so human—that they made it hard for her to remember she was looking at a monster.

Spike came into the bathroom, kneeling beside her. "I felt you through the claim. You're upset."

Buffy kept her eyes trained on the linoleum floor. "Get away from me."

Spike sighed. "So it's back to this then, is it? Come on, luv. You and I both know you never get very far with this." He reached out to stroke her hair.

Buffy jerked back, scrambling to get away from him. "Don't touch me! You've still got his blood on you!"

"You know where I was then," Spike said, figuring out the reason for Buffy's behavior now. "I've got to feed, Buffy. Besides, it wasn't like it was anyone special—just the motel clerk."

Buffy looked up then, flinching as she saw his face. He was so handsome, but she had to make herself remember that it wasn't real—just the disguise of a man who had been dead for over a century. This face she saw now wasn't the same as the last face the motel clerk had seen before he'd died. "That doesn't matter! He was a person! He…he could've had a family, people who loved him. Did you even think about that?"

"What does it matter? Do you think a lion wonders if a gazelle has a family before he has it for dinner? It's the sodding food chain, Buffy—and I'm higher up than he was."

"It's not the same!" Buffy replied. "This isn't the Discover Channel. You're murdering people! It's wrong!"

"I'm a vampire! I kill, I feed. It's what I do. You bloody well get used to it."

Buffy rose to her feet. "No. I could never get used to that. I won't…I won't live with a killer." She tried to leave the bathroom, but Spike grabbed her, pinning her against the wall.

"You don't have a choice," he told her, his voice low. "You're my mate—mine. You don't have any say in how your life is run from now on. I've been more lenient than I should've been already, but that can change real quick. You know that free will you're so fond of? I could take that away in an instant, force you to be my willing slave all the time. You want that?"

"No," Buffy said, her head turned to the side.

Spike shook her, hitting her back against the wall. "Look at me when you say it."

Buffy brought her face around to meet his, her eyes narrowed even as tears glistened in them. "No."

"Then you get yourself dressed right now so we can get out of here. Anymore backtalk from you, and your free will is gone—got it?"

"Yes."

Spike let go of Buffy's arms and she slumped back down to the floor. "Don't dawdle. We didn't get nearly as far as I wanted to last night."

Buffy got off the floor, going into the bedroom to find her clothes.

*** *** ***

When Spike saw that Buffy had put that horrible pink sweatshirt back on, he knew he should order her to take it off and leave it behind. It was an obvious act of defiance, and he should curb those before they got any further out of hand. However, her distress was clear through the claim, and if the sweatshirt made her feel better, she could wear it—he'd just have to make certain that that was where her defiant behavior ended.

Spike picked Buffy bags up off the table, then pointed towards the door. "Go to the car."

Buffy gave him a glare before she started to turn around. Spike moved before she could get very far, grabbing her arm and pulling her against him so he could speak into her ear. "Give me that look again and I smack it right off your face. Are we clear?"

"Crystal," Buffy ground out.

"Good." Spike let go of her, pushing her forward as he did. Buffy stumbled for only a second before regaining her poise and walking to the DeSoto.

She waited for Spike to come unlock the car door, her arms wrapped defensively across her chest. Her gaze traveled unbidden to the motel office, a lump growing in her throat as she thought about what was in there. A dead body—a man murdered by the evil thing she was traveling with.

She wanted to run, to keep going until she found herself back in her life again. But she knew he'd catch her, and then he'd take away her free will for sure, just like he said he would back in the bathroom. She was trapped, forced to spend the rest of her life with a vampire.

Spike came over to her side of the car first, unlocking the door and holding it open for her as he really were her boyfriend and not her captor. She slid into the seat, shuttering as the door slammed behind her. She didn't look at Spike as he got into the car, staring instead at the black of the painted windshield. She was trapped, unable to even see the outside.

"Are you hungry?" he asked her. "I can stop somewhere for you."

"I ate when you were asleep," Buffy replied, her eyes still facing straight ahead.

"That couldn't have been a real meal, pet. Will you be all right with more fast food for now?"

Buffy hated this the most—when he pretended to actually care. She didn't know why he bothered, what he could possibly gain from the act. "I'm not hungry."

"You've got to be hungry."

"I don't want anything from you. I'd rather starve."

Spike's only response was to start the car and tear out of the parking lot. He pulled into a fast food restaurant across the street, ignoring Buffy's protests as he went into the drive-thru and ordered her dinner.

Once he had the food, Spike thrust it at her. "Eat."

"No."

"Either you eat or I make you eat—that's the only choice you're getting."

Buffy snatched the bag from him, not wanting Spike to take away what little bit of herself she had left. She ate quickly, silently cursing him as she did. If she couldn't fight against him, at least she could hate him.

Spike didn't turn on any music this time, and Buffy found the silence to be even worse. With no sound and no view beyond that of the car's interior, she felt confined, trapped in a box—or a coffin.

"Where are we?" Buffy asked suddenly, unable to stand it anymore.

"It's none of your business," Spike replied without looking at her.

"Knowing where I am isn't any of my business?"

"No, it isn't."

"Where are we going then?"

"That's none of your business either."

"Yes it is! I deserve to know where you're taking me!"

"The only thing that matters for you is that you're with your mate. Anything beyond that is inconsequential."

"No, that isn't all that matters! I don't even want to be with you at all. I wish I'd never met you."

Spike's body stiffened. "The feeling's more than mutual."

"Guess that can be the one thing we agree on," Buffy muttered, her eyes trained again on the black painted windows.

"You know, I don't know what your bloody problem is. I didn't kill your mum, so you can stop blaming me for that. And it's not like you've got things so bad. You're my mate, so I have to make sure you're taken care of."

"I don't want you taking care of me. And my problem is that I'm the prisoner of a vampire. That doesn't exactly fill me with warm fuzzies when I think about it."

"A prisoner?" Spike repeated, scoffing. "You are not a prisoner."

"What am I then? It's not like I can leave you now."

"Not anymore than I can leave you! We're connected now, Buffy—you to me and me to you. Even if we went our separate ways the claim would pull us back together. We need each other now."

"You're the last thing I need."

"You need me now like you need to breathe, baby. You can try fighting it all you want, but it won't do you a damn bit of good. I'm in your system, in your blood."

"I'm stronger than some stupid claim," Buffy protested. "I'll learn how to fight it eventually."

Spike laughed, earning him a glare from his mate. "Nothing's stronger than a claim, ducks. Not even the most powerful magic in the world can break one. Believe me, if getting out of this was an option, then we already would've gone our separate ways. I'm not any more thrilled about the whole thing than you are."

"You got the better end of the deal," Buffy replied.

"Why, because I get to spend so much time around your precious self? Hardly. You've been nothing but trouble for me since the start, princess."

"Better than being stuck with you. You're evil!"

"And from my point of view, you not being evil is as much of a problem," Spike pointed out. "An evil mate wouldn't whine at me for feeding."

"I am not whining! You killed a man, and that's wrong. Murder is wrong, and it's never going to something I'm okay with."

"Well, you're just going to have to be!" Spike yelled, slamming one hand against the dashboard and making Buffy jump. "This isn't a negotiable topic. I wouldn't change my feeding habits to please anyone, especially you."

Buffy said nothing in response, knowing this conversation was getting her nowhere she wanted to be. She knew the only way to ensure a vampire stopped feeding was by making it dust, and that was not something she was capable of doing when it came to Spike. She was forced to spend the rest of her life letting people be murdered—as she experienced it right along side the killer. It was a horror she wasn't sure she could face.

Buffy curled up in the passenger's seat of the oversized car, staring at the black, empty windows.

*** *** ***

Buffy had fallen asleep by the time they reached the next motel, and while Spike carried her in as he had the night before, this time he merely dumped her unceremoniously on the bed before backing away.

The girl was doing something to him. He wouldn't dare admit it to her, but as the effects of the claim were far from one-sided, there was nothing the claim did to her that didn't have the reciprocal effect on him.

He hadn't quite relished the kill tonight, not the way he normally did. He'd tried to tell himself it was because a middle-aged, overweight motel clerk wasn't exactly the tasty morsel say a ripe, young virgin was, but he knew in all honesty that it wasn't just that that left the bad taste in his mouth. He'd felt her distress over the claim and it had tugged at him, making him hurt because she was hurting. If that happened every time he fed…

Spike shook his head, denying where that train of thought seemed to be heading. Buffy would get used to things eventually. She'd have to start realizing the way things were and come to accept them. He couldn't stop feeding, and she'd come to live with that in time.

Sensing the sun coming up over the horizon, Spike stripped off his duster, shirt, and bootsand got into the bed.

*** *** ***

Questions? Comments? Rotten tomatoes?





You must login (register) to review.