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Author's Chapter Notes:
WARNING: the next few chapters contain semi-to-non-con sexual activity...the next few chapters will be the darkest part of this fic...you have been warned...
And just two more words for those of you who are anxiously awaiting the winner of this fight, before you stone me....
ASSUME NOTHING!!!!
Enjoy, and happy reading! :)
Buffy watched, her heart pounding with adrenaline, her fear swallowed up in the triumph of her trick, as Spike righted himself from the dizzying blow, all the more impactful as it was completely unexpected. She mentally congratulated herself as he stared at her incredulously, the expression in his eyes shifting as she watched, from confusion -- to shock -- to disbelief -- and finally, rage.

"You bloody *bitch*!" he roared at her, lunging for her in his fury.

She easily side-stepped him as he had done to her before, trying hard – and mostly successfully – to keep her mind on the battle at hand, and not on the brief but amazing interlude she had just shared with her opponent. She had been surprised by the evidence of his arousal, as he had held her pinned to the wall -- but even more surprised by the responding desire it had awakened in her.

In that moment when she had realized that he wanted more than her blood or her defeat, her mind had flooded with memories of previous kisses, embraces, all taking place while under Willow's spell -- and then, as his mouth had descended toward her throat, without really knowing why she was doing it -- she had kissed him.

Yes, she knew that she did not want him to bite her, and kissing him made for a very good distraction. But she could just have easily “distracted” him with a knee to the groin, instead of the tender kiss she had chosen. She was trying to keep from admitting it to herself, her mind racing with wonderings even as she kept her eyes focused on her enemy, but the truth was, she had kissed him -- simply because she wanted to.

Afterwards, she could hardly believe what she had done. She felt a sense of shock at her own boldness, as well as at the feelings that that single kiss had evoked. But the fact remained that she was still face to face with a master vampire whose ultimate goal was to make her his submissive little slave -- never mind the fact that the whole thing had been initiated by her to begin with -- so she had taken the opportunity that had presented itself -- and pretended that she had planned it all along.

And now, invigorated by her small triumph, she was in full-on slay-mode, her mind racing several steps ahead in the fight, shrewd and calculating – she felt absolutely unstoppable. However accidentally the situation had come about, she was beginning to think that she could make pretty good use of the situation, after all. Spike seemed to be every bit as angry as she had been before, over his insulting sexual comments -- too enraged to concentrate fully on what he was doing.

And she fully planned to use that to her advantage, and press it as far as she could.

"What did you expect, Spike?" she sneered. "That I would just fall at your feet? 'Oh, yes, Mr. Big Bad Evil Vampire! I'd *love* to be your simpering little sex slave!" She scoffed at him. "Right! Like that'd ever happen!"

The furious vampire came at her again, incensed by her mockery of how he had fallen for her ruse. There was a low, menacing growl deep in his throat as he spoke in a voice that still trembled with anger, but was a bit more controlled than moments before.

"Bloody right it wouldn't! A sex slave has to have at least some idea what she's doing; otherwise she's not worth it. And *you*, Slayer," he sneered. "are *not* worth it!" He paused. "No," he went on. "I don't think I'm going to waste my time. I think I'm just going to drain you dry!”

Buffy felt her temper rising, but this time she knew what he was doing, and she fought it back. She had learned her lesson the hard way, and she had no intention of letting him get to her again like he had before. No, at the moment she was all about making *him* lose his cool -- and make a crucial mistake.

“Maybe you’d better wait to make any judgments on that until you can speak for yourself,” she suggested with a predatory smile. “Just give me a few more minutes,” she shrugged, her eyes glittering dangerously in the dimly lit room. “and you can tell me yourself whether or not I’d be a waste of your time!”

Her sudden burst of confidence was vaguely unsettling to Spike. He could see a difference in the way she was fighting, speaking, responding to his barbs. It was as if she realized that she had underestimated him to begin with, but now she was doing battle on a whole different level, anticipating his movements more quickly – using every bit of the skill and power of the chosen warrior that she was.

He realized that this made things considerably more difficult, and he would have to be at his best as well if he wanted to get out of this free and undead, but he still determined not to let her see that she was getting to him.

“Right,” he drawled with a derisive smirk. “I think I can live without knowing, pet. Honestly, I’m really just not that interested. No, I still think killing you is my best option.” As he spoke, he lunged at her again, aiming a fist for her face.

"I don't think you've *got* any options, Spike," Buffy laughed as he lunged at her again, and she dodged out of his way at the last second, causing him to pass her, grabbing his arm as he did and using his own momentum to sling him into a pillar a few yards away.

She kept her own movements calm and even as she sauntered toward the slightly disoriented vampire who was pulling himself to his feet, bracing himself on the pillar that she had so thoughtfully positioned behind him. "Pretty soon," she went on with a smirk, "your only option at all is going to be to make -- me -- happy!"

With those words she came at him again before he had time to recover, attacking him with a series of powerful punches, keeping him trapped between her and the pillar, and not giving him enough time to get in any blows of his own. He felt a rising sense of alarm at the fury and power of her assault, which seemed to be increasing with every blow.

When she stopped, he was holding one arm across his ribs, struggling to straighten back up. She did not give him time to, moving in quickly with a brutal backhand punch that knocked his head back into the wall, followed by a roundhouse kick to his stomach that dropped him to the ground, breathless.

"Guess I picked up a trick or two from you, after all, Spike," she smirked, a strange almost feral gleam in her glittering green eyes. "Don't give your opponent any breathing room. Thanks for the lesson."

He came to rest on his knees for a moment, still dizzied by too many blows to the head, and watched her warily as he struggled back to his feet as quickly as he could, only to lean back against the pillar for support, gasping for breath. She moved in closer, her eyes narrowed with a dangerous, predatory light as the Slayer closed in on her prey.

"My pleasure, pet," he gasped out finally, giving her a cool smile in spite of his apparently bad situation. "Got one more lesson for you, though."

"Oh, yeah?" she smiled coldly, her expression and tone saying that she was quite confident by this point in her ability to end this fight quickly. "What's that?"

Instantly his breathless gasping ceased, and he raised his head, meeting her gaze with a sharp, predatory smile. "I don't *need* breathing room," he informed her softly, delivering a lightning fast punch to her face that knocked her back a bit, then moving away from the pillar and spinning around to land a vicious kick to her back that dropped her to the ground on her stomach.

Buffy fought off panic, allowing her deepest instincts to take over, rolling onto her back with her arms out defensively in front of her, her fists ready, just as Spike leapt upon her, struggling to pin her to the ground and subdue her.

It was the thought of submission that infuriated her on some deeper level. She was more than just a girl being attacked; she was the Slayer, the Chosen One. She was strong, powerful, and more than capable of defeating any enemy that came her way.

With these thoughts that flew through her mind, and a fresh surge of adrenaline born of her desperate situation, she suddenly felt a rush of primal power coursing through her body, and she knew -- *knew* -- that she could win this.

Spike was laughing, holding her arms down across her chest, a triumphant gleam in his eyes. Her eyes widened when she realized that the fight had him more aroused than ever – and then narrowed in outrage and defiance. He saw her reaction, his eyes narrowing with satisfaction as he slowly ground down against her once, leaning down to whisper near her ear.

“Still think I’m bloody neutered, Slayer?”

She gasped at the sensation of her body’s automatic reaction to his touch, and the low, seductive tone of his voice. Once again, she was stunned at how badly she actually *wanted* his touch.

And yet, she felt an overwhelming sense of rage overcome her, her inner Slayer rebelling at being touched in such a dominant, overtly sexual way by the demon that she had come here to wrestle into submission.

With a quick upward thrusting motion, she slammed her elbow up into Spike’s chin, snapping his head back and making him loosen his grip on her, and then took her advantage to reverse their positions, straddling his hips and gripping his wrists, pinning them over his head.

He fought to free himself from her grip, finding it difficult with the lack of leverage, but his wrists still edging up from the ground in her hands as he tried, their arms locked together trembling with their combined effort. Her face was mere inches from his, her sparkling green eyes narrowed in a calculating look, somewhere between menace and seduction.

When she thought back on it, Buffy would not immediately understand what had possessed her to do what she did next. She was not even aware that she was going to do it as she went into action, her body moving with the impulses of her inner Slayer, as opposed to those of the naïve, self-conscious girl that she was most of the time.

Much to the surprise of her opponent beneath her, Buffy began to slowly bear down in a circular motion on his bulging erection, some powerful, primal instinct telling her that this was the way to overcome the creature she was striving with – to place him at her mercy.

She smiled in sly satisfaction when he gasped, throwing back his head involuntarily, his struggles against her restraining hands weakening for a moment and his wrists falling back to the ground – as the Slayer in her had known that they would. “Hmmm,” she murmured, a throaty sound that was almost a purr as she leaned down so close that her lips brushed his ear. “Maybe not.”

“I – don’t…” he gasped out, trying to come up with a coherent statement, stunned and overwhelmed with feeling as the Slayer brought his wrists together over his head, holding them with one hand, freeing the other to slip down to the front of his jeans, slow, expert fingers rubbing around the head of his erection, driving his desire even higher.

Spike struggled to make himself think through the powerful sensation of the Slayer’s hand and body against his, moving not like a self-conscious, inexperienced college girl, but like the most dangerous siren he could imagine. He knew she was luring him to his doom.

Still, he could not resist her.

Still – he tried.

“No,” he whispered. “Stop…”

Instantly Buffy ceased all motion, raising her hips up off of her rather incapacitated quarry, resting on her knees, hovering over him, moving her hand up to grip his wrist again, as she leaned up close to his face, kissing his throat a couple of times, slowly, seductively.

She pulled back, her voice a low husky murmur, to whisper, “You want me to stop?”

His body ached with the loss of her touch, which had both eased the agony of his need and driven it deeper into him. “No,” he gasped almost without meaning to. “No…don’t stop…”

The Slayer’s low, predatory laugh sent both chills down his spine and a rush of heat through his body, at the intentions that that laugh betrayed. Her hand obligingly returned to his aching erection, stroking him firmly through his clothes, and he left out a low moan of pleasure. There was a reason why he wasn’t supposed to be enjoying this. Why wasn’t he supposed to be enjoying this?

It did not seem to matter. He closed his eyes, losing himself in the sensation.

Buffy leaned down close to his ear, her hot breath sending a shiver down his spine as she whispered in a gloating tone of triumph, “You are making this so…easy…”

His eyes suddenly snapped open, her words bringing the gravity of the situation back with blinding clarity. Buffy realized her mistake when his struggles renewed in earnest, and he managed to jerk one arm free, backhanding her off of him with a powerful blow and landing quickly on top her again.

His eyes were still hazy with his need for her – but he did not mean for that to be a problem for long. His slow smirk spread across his face, even as he tried to catch the breath he did not need, looking her in the eye to say softly, “You almost had me there, Slayer.”

She smiled back up at him lazily, her demeanor unshaken by the reversal of their positions. “Who says I still don’t?” she countered.

“Gotta say,” he said with a little half shrug, gripping her wrists in a mimickry of the position she had held him in. “You’ve just about changed my mind pet. Don’t know if you’re worth a second go – but I’ll take a first.”

The Slayer’s smiling eyes narrowed and darkened dangerously, and she raised her knee quickly between his legs – not too hard; after all, she didn’t want to ruin the rest of her plans for the evening – but enough to be painful against his over-sensitive manhood. He gasped in pain, and she felt his grip loosen on her.

It was enough for her to break it, slamming her fist across his face again, and toppling him back off of her. She grabbed him again, pinning him down before he could recover, and then rubbing her thigh roughly over his erection, causing him to groan with mingled pain and pleasure at the contact.

She leaned in close to whisper in his ear, seeing the effect she was having on him and taking her chance, “Had enough?”

He fought to open his eyes, gradually bringing them to focus on her in a lascivious grin as he gasped out, “Hardly, love.”

The Slayer felt a surge of anger at her power being defied, and increased the pressure slightly, watching as his eyes rolled back slightly just before he closed them. “I think you have,” she smirked. “You know you’ve lost. I win. Just say it.”

He did not open his eyes, light-headed, panting for breath by now, but his smile still returned as he whispered, “Never, pet. Sorry. And you can’t win – if I don’t – say it.” His words came out in gasps for air, but still held an infuriating note of triumph.

She knew he was right – and it enraged her. The main point of the whole exercise was for him to acknowledge her authority. She could beat him and screw him six ways to Sunday, and if he refused to acknowledge her – it would be meaningless.

“Well, then,” she said with a cool smile. “I guess you’d better start talking, hadn’t you?” As she spoke, she applied more pressure with her knee, eliciting a soft moan that could have been of either pleasure or pain – or both. “Say it,” she whispered in a harsh, demanding tone by his ear, jerking her knee up harder, while still careful not to do any *real* damage. “I win – right?”

She was surprised – and elated – when the vampire beneath her nodded slowly. She froze, her eyes widening in disbelief. Was he really conceding defeat? Had she really won so easily? “Right?” she repeated, wanting to be sure it was not just a fluke.

“Right,” he whispered, nodding again. “Right.”

The stunned, elated and disbelieving college girl came to the forefront for a few moments in Buffy’s excitement, still not comprehending completely what had just happened, only that she seemed to have come out victorious.

*I won? I really won?* she thought with joyous disbelief, as she backed up and climbed off of her conquered foe…

Completely missing the almost imperceptible soft smile that crossed his lips.





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