“*What*?” Despite her increasing dislike for the pompous British man who seemed to think that he had the right to dictate every aspect of her daughter’s life, Joyce was still stunned to think that he would actually betray her to the Council. “Do you really think he’s gone to tell them where we are?”
Buffy hesitated an instant, not wanting to believe it herself, before nodding her reluctant response. “I’m pretty sure they’re probably already nearby. And when he comes back, chances are they’ll be with him.”
“Good – you caught that, too,” Spike stated, relief in his voice. “Not just me, then. You had me worried for a minute there, pet.”
“So where are we gonna go?” Dawn asked anxiously, needing some sort of reassurance at the moment.
“We’re gonna get out of town,” Buffy told her. “Drive for a hundred miles or so – and check into some unknown little motel in some little nameless hick town where no one would ever think to look for us.” She paused before adding, “And then, we’re gonna figure this out. *Without* the help of anyone who has any ulterior motive in this besides solving the problem.”
Spike nodded slowly, relieved and satisfied, impressed with his mate’s perception. He had wondered if she was really missing the odd behavior of her friend the witch, and if she realized the danger of Xander’s self-serving motives as well. As far as he was concerned, they had all they needed, right here.
Except *maybe*…
“Er, Buffy – what about Demon Girl?” he asked her speculatively. “Not -- *your* demon girl…Anya. She knows a lot about this sort of thing, and she seems to be on our side in this. Why send *her* away?”
Buffy gave him a dubious look. “Can you imagine Xander’s reaction if I had tried to have her stay? And I think it might have aroused suspicions all around. Once we get someplace safe, I’m gonna call Angel again and tell him a little bit more about what’s going on. I’ll have him find a way to get Anya to wherever we are then. But for now – it’s probably safer this way, for *her*.”
They all rose at that point and began to prepare to leave, recognizing the wisdom of the Slayer’s plan. Her friends were well-meaning, or at least *thought* that they were – but were still mostly motivated by selfishness. Xander’s hatred of Spike would color everything he said or did in regards to the situation; Willow was clearly hiding something about her botched spell, and the last thing they needed at the moment was her attempt at a repair job; and Giles, while he had the best interests of his Slayer at heart, was likely to allow his poor judgment and long-held beliefs to bring her to her death.
It was best for their newly-reshaped little family unit to get away from it all – including Buffy’s friends.
As Joyce headed into the small bedroom that had been used as Spike’s recovery room, to gather up the cooler with the remaining blood it held, and the other items they had left there, Buffy moved to follow her and help her – stopping when Spike gently caught her arm.
She turned to face him, a question in her soft, emerald gaze.
“Buffy – can I – I need to talk to you, pet,” he told her, his voice low and slightly faltering, his eyes not quite meeting hers.
Buffy glanced uncertainly at Dawn, who immediately spoke up.
“I don’t know if that’s a good idea. What if Buffy’s demon comes back?” she pointed out – but it was clear that her words were motivated as much by curiosity as by her strong desire to protect her friend.
Buffy looked uncertainly at Spike. “I feel like I’m in control. As long as we’re careful not to – do anything to upset her – should be okay.”
She shrugged tentatively, but waited for her mate’s response. He was the one who wanted to talk to her, and the one who would be facing the greatest risk – so it was up to him whether or not they would chance a Dawn-less conversation.
After a moment he nodded firmly. “It’ll be all right. Just for a minute, love.” His eyes were full of a mixture of trust and apprehension that made him seem so vulnerable.
Buffy smiled reassuringly, reaching out to take his hand gently in hers. “Okay.” She nodded toward the large bedroom, the one in which they had spent their first night, her smile taking on an oddly bittersweet, ironic quality. “There’s something I wanted to show you, anyway.”
She did not miss the flash of fear in his eyes when he followed her gaze toward the room that had seen so much of his suffering and abasement, and not only at her hands.
“Trust me,” she whispered gently, giving his hand a light squeeze. “I know it’s hard…”
She never finished the comment.
With a resolute expression on his face, his mind made up by the sorrow and guilt in her voice, her vampire was already tugging her toward the closed bedroom door, determined to prove that he *did* trust her, in spite of his fears. It was *not* Buffy who had hurt him, and the sooner they could prove that to themselves, the better.
“ ‘S ok, Niblet,” he called over his shoulder. “I’ll call you if I need you.”
Dawn’s concern quickly overrode her curiosity, as the possibilities, thoughts of what could happen in that room before she could have a chance to stop her sister, raced through her mind.
“But, Spike!’ she objected, moving to follow them from where she stood across the room. “What if you…”
The rest of her question was lost to them, as the bedroom door shut firmly behind them.
Dawn stopped short, a worried frown on her lips as she softly finished, “…can’t?”
As the Slayer closed the door firmly behind them, Spike found himself suddenly in total darkness. Even his vampire senses did little to penetrate the blackness in front of him, as there was not the faintest trace of light in the windowless room.
He almost laughed, albeit nervously, when he felt Buffy’s warm, soft hand slide over his open but useless eyes, in a gesture that seemed utterly pointless at the moment.
“Close your eyes,” she whispered in a soft, mysterious tone.
He did laugh, then. “Won’t make a bloody bit of difference, pet,” he pointed out, trying to keep his tone calm and light, not to reveal the rising apprehension he was feeling in spite of the humor of the situation.
“It will in a minute,” she told him as she removed her hand from his eyes, which were obediently closed, despite the redundancy of it.
He could hear the smile in her voice as she spoke, followed by a quiet click, which he assumed by the slightly erratic traces of light he could pick up through his closed eyelids, was a flashlight. He waited for a few moments, as Buffy’s footsteps crossed the room, and he heard the quiet sound of a match being struck.
Immediately, he sensed the lighting in the room change, growing slightly brighter as the Slayer continued to move about the room – and he felt a bit better at the thought.
A few moments later, he felt Buffy’s hand slip gently back into his, felt her arm wrap around his waist in an affectionate gesture, as she spoke softly near his ear, “Go ahead. Open your eyes.”
When Spike obeyed, the soft glow of warm, golden candlelight met his vision, as it slowly adjusted from the pitch darkness of a moment before. The sight that met his wide, wondering eyes was completely unexpected, yet beautiful, and filled his heart with a feeling of warmth to rival the candlelight – and that was quite a feat.
There were candles everywhere – spread throughout the room, arranged to cast a soft glow that was bright enough to create a sensation of warmth and safety, yet dim enough to feel intensely romantic.
The chains had been removed from the large, ornate bed that dominated the room. In fact, it hardly looked like the same bed at all. It had been re-made with a brand new bedspread in a dark, sensual red, turned back invitingly to reveal black satin sheets beneath it. Beside the bed was a small glass nightstand that Spike knew had not been there before, on which had been arranged a small silver ice bucket, and two delicate crystal glasses. In the ice bucket, a bottle of fine red wine was chilling.
A slow smile spread across the vampire’s face as he took in the scene. It was not the most original set up he had ever seen, but that was not necessarily a bad thing. At least this way, there was absolutely no question as to what Buffy’s intentions had been.
“Planning on seducing me, pet?” Spike guessed in a low, teasing voice that did little to mask his desire. His fears had vanished in the light of the romantic setting that his mate had taken the time to arrange.
“Planning on making it up to you,” Buffy corrected softly, moving around in front of him and looking him in the eyes with a solemn gaze. “Planning on – undoing some of the damage. In some – small way.” She grimaced slightly as her hand rose to trace the edge of a nearly faded bruise on his cheek that had not been there when she had set up this room, and added in a soft, apologetic tone, “*Very* small. Meaningless, really – compared with…”
“No,” he interrupted her gently, a reassuring smile on his lips. “It’s not meaningless, pet. It means a lot.”
The emotion she heard in his voice caught her off guard, and she looked up at him in surprise, a tentative hope in her eyes. “I just – I just wanted to – to do things right. To – to make you mine…but…without hurting you, Spike. To do it the way – the way I wish I’d done it, now.” She was silent for a moment, her gaze dropping again as she added apologetically, “I thought we’d be here longer. All night, anyway. I guess – plans change…” she finished weakly, regret in her voice.
Spike gave a quiet, rueful laugh. “Yes, they do,” he agreed softly.
A brief silence fell between them, not uncomfortable for Spike, lost in his thoughts for the moment – but Buffy felt her guilt more intensely with the opportunity to think about it. After a moment she cleared her throat quietly, shaking her head slightly as she looked up into his eyes with an expectancy that broke the moment.
“So,” she said with a forced smile that did not quite reach her eyes. “you wanted to talk to me about something?”
Instantly, the dynamic between them seemed to shift, as Spike’s demeanor changed before her eyes. Much to her surprise and dismay, his smile faded, as did the fragile security that had been building in his eyes, in the moment before he broke her gaze. She felt him tense under her arm, but he did not pull away from her.
Perhaps he was afraid to.
“Well – it’s like this, love,” he began, a bit hesitantly, his voice quiet and carefully calm. “I – I had an idea. About – how to control this thing – how to beat it…”
“Spike,” she interrupted, a note of caution in her voice, “don’t you think we should discuss this when we’re not alone? I mean – if you’re actually on to something we could get this thing really riled…”
“I know,” he nodded, his serious gaze still not meeting hers, focused rather somewhere near her shoes. “I just – didn’t really want to talk about this in front of your little sis, pet.”
Buffy frowned, puzzled. “Okay,” she said slowly. “if you’re sure…I – I don’t want to hurt you, Spike…”
“I know,” he repeated with another nod, “but…it may be our best shot at beating this thing…but it could be a mite much for the Little Bit to handle. Some delicate details best not shared with the family, eh, pet?”
Buffy studied the anxious, troubled eyes now searching hers for a moment before nodding her reluctant agreement. “Okay,” she said in a slightly warning voice, “but if I start to change you yell for Dawn before I can touch you, all right?”
“All right.” Spike’s eyes were as serious as hers as he solemnly agreed to her condition.
They both knew that if Buffy *did* lose control, they would only have a few moments before she could easily keep him from calling for help.
The blonde vampire drew a deep breath in preparation for what he was about to say. “Right, then…here it is. ‘Ve got this theory, love. You say this – Slayer-demon – thing hasn’t claimed me – and yet she acts all bloody possessive and such…”
Buffy nodded. “Yep. I can feel it when she’s fighting to come out. She wants you to be hers. And it makes her furious that you’re not…”
“Like maybe she feels – cheated, perhaps?” Spike suggested, a glimmer of insight in his eyes that caught Buffy’s interest.
“What do you mean?” she asked, puzzled.
“Well, you said from what you’re feeling, she seems to feel like you two are one and the same. She backs down when I submit to you, that sort of thing. She told me as much back in the Magic Box…”
“Right,” Buffy said, nodding to show that she was following him so far.
“So – you said you figured she was *there*, but not strong enough to do anything yet, when you initiated the dominance ritual…from the moment Red did her mojo – right?”
“Right.”
“But she couldn’t stop you from messing up the ritual – and then you did a one-sided mating claim, which put me under your control anyway – right?” Spike went on, pausing and looking at her to be sure that she was still with him.
She was frowning, concentrating hard – but still with him. “Right.”
“Must have been right frustrating for her. Must still want pretty badly to finish what *you* started and establish her dominance,” Spike remarked almost casually, watching her face closely, both to gauge her understanding, and for any sign of a reaction from the demon.
“So – you’re saying that maybe – the reason she keeps trying to exert her dominance over you – to get you to submit – is because we never finished the dominance ritual?”
“Right,” Spike nodded. “Problem is this – remember why you had to do the soddin’ spell in the first place?”
Buffy thought for a moment. “Because you couldn’t be bound with a dominance claim as long as you were powerless to resist. We had to take the chip down, or else if I beat you, it wouldn’t count, because you *couldn’t* fight me…” Her voice trailed off, her eyes widening, as she began to put together exactly what he was saying.
“So…” she guessed, rising excitement in her voice. “you’re saying the demon keeps trying to finish the unfinished dominance ritual – to make you submit to her – but she can’t, because the one-sided mating claim basically does the same thing your chip did – it means you *can’t* fight back…”
“…so no matter how many times she hurts me, no matter how many times I submit – it doesn’t count. Because I don’t really have a chance to fight back,” Spike concluded.
“Wow,” Buffy whispered, looking away as she tried to process it all. “That explains a *lot*.” She paused, before meeting his eyes again with a pensive frown. “But how does that help us beat it?”
“Right – here’s what I was thinking,” Spike began with a nervous, slightly shaky breath. “So – she wants to complete this ritual. But she can’t because I can’t resist her – you – her in you…” Spike shook his head, trying to clear it of that muddled line of thinking. “…*anyway*…I know a way – that I *could* resist – the both of you…”
Buffy’s frown deepened as she caught the hesitant, apprehensive note that had crept into his voice. “What?” she asked softly. “How?”
“Well…” Spike looked away from her, swallowing hard, before continuing a bit nervously, “and this is only – if you want to, because – well, it’s soddin’ eternity, pet, but – but it might be the only way…”
“Spike.” The sharp note to her voice made him flinch slightly, and she grimaced apologetically as she moved in closer to hi, her hands seeking his waist and drawing him in close to her in a comforting way. “It’s okay. I’m in control. She’s not even *trying* to surface. Tell me. How can you fight her?”
“If…” Spike began, going very still under her touch, not lifting his gaze, his voice whisper soft. “…if you let me…return your claim.”
When she said nothing, he looked hesitantly up at her, searching for some sign of her reaction. Her expression was blank, revealing nothing, as he restated his answer to be sure she understood.
“If you – allow me to claim *you*…”
Buffy’s eyes slowly widened as she realized what he was saying – and that a part of her actually rose up in longing at the mere words – desperately *wanting* what he was saying to happen.
When she still said nothing, Spike looked down again, as he spoke hesitantly, trying to explain, his tone anxious and self-conscious.
“I mean – it’s forever, Buffy, and I can bloody well understand if you’re not ready for that, or don’t want to at all, but I swear you’d never have to worry about what I’d do if I wasn’t forced to submit to you, because pet, I swear to you I’d never…”
Her hand rose between them, and he flinched slightly – until her fingertips came to rest gently over his lips, stilling his nervous, babbling words.
“Say I do…” Buffy said softly, a very serious expression on her face. “Say I let you claim me. How would that help us defeat her? What would we do then?”
Spike stared into her eyes for a long moment, reassured to see no trace of anger or the defensive rage that characterized her demon, as he squared his jaw and answered with quiet determination, a glimmer of mingled anger at the things the demon had done to him, and excitement at the prospect of repaying her for them, showing in his eyes – leaving no doubt as to what he felt the outcome would be.
“We finish the bloody dominance ritual.”
He sought the Slayer’s gaze, watching her expression as she thought it over, the beginnings of a hopeful smile on his lips. Slowly she raised her eyes to his, a determined set to her chin – and Spike’s hope was suddenly replaced with dread.
The cruel, almost feral gleam in her eyes, the slightly predatory smile on her lips, was all the warning he had before her hand at his lips lowered to seize his throat in a grip just short of utterly crushing his windpipe. As it was, he could not speak, could not make a sound.
The only one that could help him was close enough to hear the softest cry – if he could only have cried out at all.
Both Spike and Buffy realized too late that the Slayer demon had not been silent because it was too weak to fight, but had merely been listening – waiting – and now, had taken them both by surprise.
He did not have time to struggled, though he already knew it would have been futile, before she had pushed him back against the wall behind him, firmly, but not hard enough to make a sound that could be heard in the next room.
He was gasping for breath, his hands clutching at hers on his throat in a desperate attempt to regain his power of speech – until she dug her thumb painfully into her mark, and a moan of agony rose in his throat – a moan that was smothered to silence by her merciless grip.
She didn’t have to command him; against everything in him that longed to fight back, he lowered his hands obediently to his sides, ceasing his useless resistance.
“That’s it,” she whispered in a cruel mockery of soothing gentleness, her hand at his waist pressing him back against the wall as she moved in closer to him – and eliciting a sharp, breathless gasp of agony at the jarring of his injuries.
“Oh, Baby,” she whispered, with a falsely sympathetic little pout near his ear, “did I hurt you?” Her cruel fingers gripped the soft, bruised flesh of his abdomen, just above his hip, and squeezed relentlessly. “So sorry,” she smirked as he let out a choked, soundless cry.
Her voice was suddenly as pitiless as her actions as she leaned in to whisper, her lips brushing his ear, “You think you can beat me that easy? Not gonna happen, Sweetheart! You’re *mine*!” she declared in a viciously threatening tone, as she pressed harder on his stomach to emphasize her point, and he thought he might pass out from the pain. “Mine to do whatever I want with! Mine to *kill*, if I want to, Spike. And I will, before I’ll let you do that to me!”
“Buffy?”
Dawn’s high but muffled voice was suddenly heard from the other side of the closed door. “Spike? Are you guys okay? It’s been a long time…”
“Just fine, Dawnie, do you mind?” Buffy replied in a voice of mild irritation and impatience that sounded precisely like the one she typically used with Dawn, her cruelly smiling eyes never leaving Spike’s wide, panicked ones. “We’ll be out in a minute, honey, just wait in the car.”
There was a moment’s silence before Dawn’s slightly uncertain voice was heard again. “Okay. Hurry up.”
Spike closed his eyes, fighting off a sense of despair – of which his captor was all too aware.
Her lips were still against his skin as she whispered in a voice of mock urgency, “ ‘Dawnie! Help me, Dawnie! Please!’” Her voice became hard as she finished with a sneer, “ ‘I’m nothing but a pathetic little wuss who needs a little girl to…”
Her words were suddenly cut off as a small but firm hand closed around her wrist, trying to pull her cruel hand away from Spike’s injured torso.
“Buffy! Buffy, *stop*!” Dawn demanded angrily.
It was only a matter of moments before the strange power that Dawn possessed had brought Buffy back to them. Overwhelmed with the power of the unknown magics that were at work to allow the girl to fight back the demon, the restored Slayer sank to her knees on the floor, breathing hard, as she struggled to recover from the encounter.
Dawn stood over her, watching her carefully, her hand resting on her shoulder – just in case.
Spike stood where she had left him, against the wall, gasping in the deep, ragged breaths she had denied him, nearly overwhelmed himself with relief, one hand clutching his battered stomach, as he kept his eyes cautiously focused on his mate, waiting for her to recover.
After a few moments, Buffy slowly raised her head, looking between her sister and her mate, as her disorientation faded away. And then, to their surprise, a slight smile began on her lips, as her eyes focused on Spike’s face.
“Well,” she gasped, her voice little more than a whisper as she caught her breath. “I’d say we must have struck a nerve – wouldn’t you?”
Gradually a smile came over the vampire’s lips to match hers, as he realized the reason for it, and nodded slowly. “Yeah,” he replied. “I’d say so.”
“What are you two talking about?” Dawn asked, an anxious frown on her face as she looked between the cryptic pair. “What’s good about this?”
Buffy smiled at her sister as she climbed back to her feet, a glow of excitement and satisfaction in her eyes.
“What’s good about this, Dawnie – is that we just figured out how to stop this thing.”
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