A cold chill of fear swept through the Slayer’s heart at the look on Spike’s face. For the first time in years, she felt like the prey instead of the predator. As the vampire master that she had deliberately enraged and unleashed – why, again? – began to slowly circle her, a feral gleam in his glittering golden eyes, she began to wonder if she had made a terrible mistake.
*Get it together, Buffy!* she snapped at herself almost frantically. *It’s Spike. You can take him. Just Spike. ‘Chained to Giles’ bathtub’ Spike – ‘helpless, harmless chipped vampire’ Spike – you can do this – you can do this!*
But her desperate self-directed pep talk lost some of its impact at the predatory glint in the eyes of the powerful, confident vampire who was currently stalking her, looking more like “I’ll kill you on Saturday” Spike than any of the other versions she could remember. She had made the mistake of forgetting just how dangerous he could be, and he was clearly as deadly as he had ever been.
She watched him carefully, turning with his movements, well aware that she had worked him into an even greater determination to beat her than he had already felt, and that if she was not careful, she could find herself fighting not for her freedom, but for her very life.
She was beginning to regret pushing and goading him earlier that evening. She had wanted to provoke him into being a greater challenge to her – but she had a feeling now that he would have been a difficult enough opponent if she had left well enough alone.
Why hadn’t she left well enough alone? she wondered desperately.
“So it’s just not enough for you that you’ve destroyed everything that was important to me, everything that was ever good in my bloody unlife, is it, Slayer?” Spike laughed harshly, bitterly, as he edged ever nearer to her, tightening the circle he was pacing slowly around her. “You got the notion in you head that you’d like to make me your soddin’ slave as well, is that it? Well, think again, love! It’s Never. Gonna. *Happen*!”
On the last word, he feinted in toward her, and she ducked back, nearly stumbling over the ruins of some ancient furniture behind her. He laughed again, and she cursed her too-obvious fear, her heartbeat racing as she fumbled -- *fumbled*! – in her waistband for her stake. That was not what she wanted – not what this was about – but if it came to it, she would stake Spike before she would let him kill her.
Or enslave her.
“Is that *another* new fragrance you’re wearing, pet?” he asked her suddenly with an almost pleasant smile – as pleasant as his terrifying demonic visage could ever appear. There was a mocking light in his eyes as he said conversationally, speculatively, looking up toward the ceiling as if in thought, “Smells a bit like – oh, I don’t know…”
His fierce eyes focused back on her as he finished in a deadly soft voice, “Absolute terror.” The smile slowly came back into place as he added, “Love it on you, love…bloody wonderful.”
He paused in his smooth, predatory movements to offer a little shrug. “Personally, I *still* think you desperately need a shag. Wouldn’t hurt you to learn a thing or two – at least from what *I’ve* heard.” He gave her a suggestive smile as he added, “And I’m gonna bloody *love* teaching you – after I thoroughly kick your bitchy little arse!”
The fear in the Slayer’s eyes was suddenly consumed in flames of fury. Her sexual skills – or lack thereof – was quite a sore spot for her lately, and Spike’s bold declaration of his plans for her once he defeated her, in combination with his insulting, derisive words, drove her over the edge.
She lunged at him with a sound that was almost a growl, a primal cry of fury, her stake raised, forgetful of her purpose. He easily dodged her over-extended assault, his laughter only incensing her further as she came to a stop and spun around several yards past where he had been only moments before.
“Now, now, love,” he chided her with a smirk. “Mind your temper. Didn’t think you wanted to dust me. I know I don’t wanna kill *you*.” His smile quirked upward wickedly as he added, “I’d much rather make you do my bloody bidding for the next – well…” Another careless shrug. “…rest of your life.”
She stood there, breathing hard, preparing herself to attack again, and was caught off guard when she saw him slowly morphing out of game face, his hands held up in a gesture that clearly said “wait a moment”.
“I’ll drop mine,” he said in a quiet, serious voice that was all the more dangerous for its softness. “if you’ll drop yours.”
Her eyes widened for a moment, surprised that he would make such an offer. She *was* a bit more of a threat with her weapon in hand, she knew that. But so was he, with his full vampire strength behind his attack. She slowly lowered the stake, suppressing a smile. Without his being in his true form, she knew she was much stronger – and he was out of practice.
Besides, she only needed the stake if she planned to kill him. Which she didn’t.
“Fine,” she said shortly, dropping the stake and allowing it to roll unheeded a few feet away.
He watched it for a moment, bemused, before looking back at her and shaking his head slightly, laughing.
“What?” she asked, irritated, assuming a battle stance, on guard for his next attack – which she was certain she could take. “What’s so funny?”
“Nothing much,” he chuckled, still shaking his head. “Just this…” His smile faded as his features suddenly shifted back to reveal his true vampiric nature. “I lied.”
Her eyes widened in disbelief, as self-directed fury came over her that she had been foolish enough to trust him, and she darted down to reach for her stake again, noting with dismay that it was just a bit out of reach.
Before she could get to it, the lightning fast vampire was blocking her path, a smile of triumph on his face. She took a step backward warily as he walked slowly toward her, unhurried. “Big mistake, Slayer,” he said softly. “Dropping your weapon. Mine’s a lot easier to get back than yours is.”
“I’m gonna make you pay for that, Spike,” she practically spat out at him, still backing away, glancing about her for anything that she could use as a weapon. “You tricked me! Even if you do beat me – you’ll always know that it wasn’t a fair fight.”
“Well, what can I say, love?” he smirked. “I’m evil.”
Buffy found suddenly with dismay that her back was to the wall. She knew he was at least nearly as strong as she was, and better armed at the moment, but her only choice was going to be to fight her way back out of the corner and somehow get to her stake. Even if she didn’t actually use the stake, it would at least even the playing field again, giving her a bit of protection if she needed it.
She lashed out with a rapid fire blow to his stomach, doubling him over slightly, and followed up by aiming a second blow at his face. But he once again employed his vampire speed, and caught her wrist before the blow could connect, pinning it back against the wall, raising his other fist to smash down into her face.
He released her wrist, raining down more and more powerful blows upon her, before she could even recover from the first one. He paused, breathing hard, standing over her with an almost jovial smile that said how much pure pleasure he was getting out of the act of beating the crap out of her, and watched as she shook her head, gasping for breath, trying to struggle to her feet.
“You know where I think you made your big mistake, Slayer?” he mused, with a thoughtful little frown, though his eyes still danced with laughter. His smile gradually faded to a serious expression as he answered his own question. “You forgot who you were dealing with.”
Buffy managed to make it to her feet, though she was still winded and battered – and scared out of her mind. She had barely managed to get in a few good blows – and he was ready for more again. “*That* won’t happen again!” she said in a defiant near-whisper of fury, glaring at him with disgust.
“No,” he said softly. “I don’t believe it will. In a few minutes, pet – you’ll be well aware for the rest of your life just who I am – your master.”
The words set her heart to pounding with terror – and she felt a new surge of adrenaline pumping through her. That could not -- *could not* -- happen! He watched in pleased surprise as she steadied herself, eyes flashing deadly fury focused on his. She was weak, and weary – but she was far from giving up.
“Sorry to disappoint you,” she said, her voice lighter than she actually felt, spinning suddenly to catch him in the side with a kick that was more powerful than he had expected, and actually managed to knock him down. “But you’ll have to find someone else to be your little servant and do every little thing you say.” Before he could rise, she pressed her slight advantage, slamming her fist into his face as he rose to his knees, knocking him back again.
“Oh, wait!” she corrected with a frown of mock concern, that quickly turned to a smug smile. “Never mind. You’ll be too busy doing every little thing *I* say!”
“Not bloody likely, pet,” he muttered, staggering to his feet and backing quickly up a few paces, hurrying to put a little bit of distance between them to give him time to recover. It seemed that the Slayer, caught off her guard the first time, was getting her second wind. “You’ll have to dust me first.” He shrugged. “Not that that’s gonna happen, either.”
“We’ll see,” Buffy mused. “Not exactly what I had in mind…but you never know. Keep pressing your luck. You might not end up at my beck and call after all.”
“I’m counting on that,” he shot back, feinting in to the left and then surprising her with a sharp blow to her right that sent her staggering back toward the wall again.
He moved in quickly toward her again, repeating what had worked the first time and not giving her a chance to recover. The blows fell too quickly for Buffy to keep count as she was pressed back again against the wall. One powerful punch knocked her head back against the wall, and she struggled to hold her head up, on the verge of blacking out.
When she managed to open her eyes, Spike was gazing into them, fierce golden eyes searching hers with what looked a bit like – concern? No, she scoffed at her own ridiculous thought. Idiotic delusion brought on by too much trauma to the head. She was suddenly very much aware of how close he was to her, standing in front of her so near that their bodies were almost touching.
She struggled to move away from the wall, needing to put some space between them, and realized that he held her wrists, pinned to the wall on either side of her head. She fought to pull out of his grip, but she was beaten and weary, and he was still strong, having suffered little actual damage in the fight so far.
“Let go of me!” she snarled at him helplessly, though she knew he would not. Her heart sank with despair as she realized how thoroughly he had her, but she tried hard not to show it.
His perceptive eyes took in every detail of her demeanor, her expression. He could hear her heart racing, the intoxicating call of her blood beckoning him from the places where his blows had broken her skin. He could smell the fear radiating off of her, knew that she knew she had lost – and yet, she stared back at him with bold defiance, her mouth set in a line of determination.
If she was going to lose – she was not going to do it crying or pleading or uselessly trying to get away.
She was the Slayer.
There was only dignity for her, even in her defeat.
He found himself suddenly feeling a sense of awe as he stared into her emerald eyes, shining up at him with no lack of fear in their depths, but with a courage that was stunning to him, considering the fate that lay before her. He imagined breaking that courage, beating and humiliating it out of her, forcing her to obey his every command until one day, that confidence, that inherent power – shattered under his will.
It was a sickening thought.
*Bloody beautiful,* the thought came to him unbidden, and his eyes widened in surprise that he should be thinking that about his mortal enemy, now fallen into his hands.
But then, why should he be surprised? he reminded himself, his mind going back to Red’s spell, and how desperately he had wanted Buffy then – the feel of her soft, silky skin beneath his hands, her soft warm kiss on his lips, those defiant, vibrant eyes gazing at him in adoration.
Those eyes widened suddenly, and he realized suddenly the effect that the sight of her, the memories of touching her, were having on him. They were standing so close together that she could not help but feel the pressure of his swelling erection against her thigh.
He watched with a bit of embarrassment – which irritated him, because he was a bloody vampire, damn it! He shouldn’t have been embarrassed! – and then surprise as various emotions passed through her eyes. Surprise – indignant anger – and then, a certain softening in those fathomless green eyes – followed by – longing.
He was stunned when suddenly the fragrance of the Slayer’s arousal came to his senses, unexpected. He held her very life in his hands; the fact that he wanted her in this way would have horrified and sickened many girls, considering his intentions for her.
And yet, the Slayer, his mortal enemy – wanted him back.
*Focus!* he reminded himself suddenly. *Focus, Spike! This is your victory, now take it! Take it now!*
He forced a careless smirk to his lips, shrugging his shoulders as he said, “Well, that didn’t last long. Bloody unsatisfying if you ask me. But it looks like I win, pet.” He lowered his mouth toward her throat, intending to savor the taste of his prize.
Suddenly, the Slayer’s head dipped down with his, her mouth darting into his path, catching his lips with hers in a bold maneuver that stunned him and took his breath away. At first he pulled back a bit, not sure how to respond, but when the Slayer’s hungry mouth only moved forward with him urgently, he found himself responding, leaning further in to deepen the kiss.
His hands left her wrists and went to her waist, pulling her in closer to him, relishing her gasp at the sensation of his bulging desire pressed against her still-covered center. Her hands went around him as well, one at the back of his head, urgently pressing them closer, the other around his waist, moving rapidly up and down his back as they kissed.
Finally, when she was breathless and desperate for air, they separated, staring with a sort of shock into the other’s eyes. He had no bloody idea what was happening here – what sort of a turn this whole thing had just taken – and his eyes searched hers uncertainly.
“Buffy,” he whispered, shaking his head. “What…”
She was staring up at him earnestly, wide-eyed with seeming surprise at her own actions. He watched again as the expression in her eyes changed gradually, running a gamut of conflicting emotions – desire, need for him – followed by a sobering realization of what had just happened between them – shock…and then…
She looked down, breaking the connection, her hands which now rested at his waist slipping back around in front to rest between them at the top of his jeans.
“Spike, I…” she whispered, shaking her head, not looking at him. “I…” She moved one hand to brush lightly across his cheek as she slowly raised her eyes to his again, once again earnest and searching, though somehow – different – than before…
And suddenly, her hand flew back, forming a fist as it did and slamming into his face hard, knocking him a few steps back, and she took her opportunity to spin away from the wall, a soft little laugh humming in her throat, not fully released, as she shook her head with a slow, triumphant little smile, just before she softly finished her statement.
“…can’t believe that actually worked.”
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Author's Chapter Notes:
The following chapter or two will begin to get into semi- to non-con sex....be warned!!!!