For a few brief minutes, Spike just sat there, allowing the warmth and comfort of Buffy’s mental and emotional touch to soothe the agony of pain and violation that stayed with him, despite the fact that the Slayer’s attack was over, and she could never hurt him again. Somehow, it seemed to cling to him, covering him and making him feel uncertain, ashamed, and vulnerable.
*It’s all right,* Buffy told him gently in his mind. *It’s okay…she can’t hurt you anymore…*
Her tender words, the indescribable sensation of her love that he felt like a physical presence, went a long way toward soothing the hurt of the past few hours and days. He just let it wash over him, surrounding him and reassuring him, reminding him that though the creature on the bed wore his mate’s body – it was *not* his mate who had done those things to him.
Still, though he would not have told Buffy so – he was glad that at the moment, it was only her psyche, not her physical body, that was touching him, holding him so intimately.
As much as it troubled him, the thought of her physically touching him at the moment made him feel very sick.
All too soon, Spike was drawn, unwillingly, from the soft, safe embrace of his lover’s heart, by the harsh, angry sound of the Slayer’s voice.
“You think you’re pretty clever, don’t you, Baby?” she sneered, her voice dripping with hatred and defiance. “Think you’ve won?”
“Think I’m gonna,” Spike corrected her with grim certainty, raising his head from the table and regarding the helpless Slayer with cold, impassive eyes. “Soon enough, pet.”
Her dark jade eyes flashed fire in her anger at his words, as she yanked uselessly against the chains that held her. “I don’t know how you managed to get around the dominance claim…” she declared, “…don’t know how you’re doing this – but I’m gonna figure it out, and I’m gonna make you wish…”
“Save the threats, Slayer,” Spike cut her off sharply, rising from his chair and advancing slowly toward the bed. “I’ve heard ‘em all the first time around, in case you’ve forgotten. And besides – it’s not like there’s that much to bloody figure out, anyway. Let me save you the time and effort, pet.”
He paused, stopping beside the bed, meeting her eyes with cool, calm triumph in his own, as he relished the beautiful truth he was telling her.
“You’re not going to do anything to me, pet – because you can’t. Your whole soddin’ ritual – bottom line is – it’s bloody useless as far as I’m concerned. There is no way in soddin’ hell that you will *ever* be able to bring be under your control – because I’m already bound by another claim. A *stronger* claim.”
She laughed derisively, shaking her head in disbelief as she looked him up and down in a way that still made him shudder inwardly. “Whose claim?” she demanded incredulously.
He looked at her for a moment as if she were incredibly stupid. “Buffy’s,” he replied finally, in a slow, patient voice.
The Slayer’s eyes widened, and she frowned slightly, clearly confused.
Spike was more than happy to clarify things for her.
“Should have studied up on claims a bit, pet, before you started trying to initiate one. Should’ve known what you were getting into before you were into it. Buffy claimed me as her mate – not as a slave or minion or anything less than her equal partner. And that kind of claim is binding – permanent. No other claim can wipe it out. You and no one else can claim me, ever,” Spike informed her with unmistakable triumph in his voice.
“So it looks like all your efforts were wasted, pet. Too bad. Just when things were starting to get interesting, you turn out to be a bloody boring failure.”
His smug grin was infuriating to her. With an angry growl, the Slayer jerked against the chains that held her, in a vain attempt to get to him, malice and hatred obvious in her feral eyes – which at the moment, held no trace of his mate, the Buffy that he loved.
“Maybe I can’t claim you – maybe you’re right,” she conceded after a moment, her voice trembling with defensive anger. “But you still can’t stop me – not for good. I’m still in this body, and you have no way of kicking me out. What are you gonna do? Leave your precious *Buffy* all chained up constantly?”
“No,” Spike replied immediately, his voice calm and clear. “We’re *gonna* kick you out, love. Send you back where you came from – where you can’t do any more damage to anyone – ‘cept of course the monsters Buffy fights each night, once you’re locked away safe and she’s got her normal Slayer powers back...”
“You mean *my* powers back!” the Slayer snapped, her eyes flashing with resentment and anger.
Spike shrugged, seemingly careless about the whole affair. “Whatever.”
A harsh, bitter laugh left the Slayer’s lips at that. “Good luck!” she scoffed, rolling her eyes before looking him up and down in a derisive, suggestive leer that sent a shudder down his spine, in spite of his determination not to let her get to him. “The way I understand this whole thing – the only way you can get me out of Buffy’s body and locked away again is to complete the dominance ritual, and *win*. And I *know* what’s at stake – my freedom – my very existence as I know it.”
She shook her head, meeting his eyes with determination and bold defiance as she declared, “I’ll *never* submit to you!”
“You might be surprised, pet,” Spike countered softly, to his credit, not showing the effect she was having on him. A cold smile came over his lips as he added in a voice of chilling menace, “I think you’ll find I can be every bit as bloody *persuasive* as you can be!”
“*Please*!” the Slayer sneered. “You think you can just torture me into submission? Sorry, but I have one little advantage that you didn’t have while I was cutting your severely lacking body to pieces and finding out just how long you could be exposed to open flame without catching on fire!”
Spike tried not to visibly flinch at the cruel mockery in her voice, reminding him in vivid detail of the things she had done to him; he just stood there quietly, listening calmly as she went on.
“If I don’t happen to care for the show -- *I* don’t have to stick around for it! I can just let your little Buffy out again, let her take control – and just hide out for awhile, until you’re done with your little torture scene – until you think you’re safe…”
She paused again, a triumphant, mocking smile on her face when Spike looked away, though only for an instant, before forcing himself to hold her gaze firmly.
“I don’t know how you feel about torturing your own mate – some guys are into that kind of thing – but at any rate, I don’t think it’d be very effective,” she finished with a little smirk. “You can *try* to make me submit -- *if* you can even make me stick around long enough!”
Much to the Slayer’s surprise, Spike’s response to her words was a soft, ironic laugh.
“And that *would* be the question of the hour, wouldn’t it, pet?” he mused softly, edging nearer to her, his eyes focused on hers. “Can I make you stay, long enough to drive you out, at least? Again, pet – you really don’t seem to have the first bloody clue as to what’s actually going on around here.”
She frowned, bothered by his calm, dispassionate response to what she had thought was a very clever, very reasonable threat.
“I think you might have a bit of difficulty getting Buffy to come back to the surface – seeing how she’d have to be *in* there in the first place to come out – wouldn’t you think?” His eyes narrowed in a look of cold, smug certainty, as he came to stand directly at her side, near the head of the bed.
For the first time since waking, the Slayer appeared to actually be a bit frightened. “What are you talking about?” he demanded sharply. “What do you mean, she’s not in here? How could she not be?”
“What’s the matter?” Spike taunted her in a low, soft voice, holding her gaze with a look of challenge as he leaned over her. “You almost sound as if you don’t like the idea…I thought that’s what you *wanted* -- that pretty little body all to yourself – isn’t it?”
“It’s not possible!” the Slayer shook her head, her eyes wide, frowning slightly in thought as she looked away from him. “Is – is the little girl dead?” she asked suddenly, looking back up at him with a cruelly hopeful smile. “Because that would solve a lot of my problems!”
Spike’s breathtaking backhand across her face took her by surprise, knocking her head back against the headboard, as he braced his hands on the bed on either side of her, leaning down to glare at her, furious, glittering golden eyes inches from her own.
“She’s alive and well,” he informed her in a low voice of barely restrained anger. “And she’s going to stay that way. You’ll *never* touch her!”
A slow smile crept over the Slayer’s face, even as her tongue darted out at the side of her mouth to lick the blood from the spot where his hand had broken her flesh.
“Touchy,” she said in a softly taunting parody of concern. “Easy, Baby – you wouldn’t wanna damage Buffy’s body *too* badly. You know – for whenever she decides to come back from – wherever she is – and get back in it.”
“Oh, don’t worry – she hasn’t gone far,” Spike murmured with a chilling little smile of amusement, his eyes glittering with malicious glee. “And you know – at this point – I don’t think I’d have quite the problem with damaging her body I once would have had. Once, like say, oh -- *before* ‘her body’ got its rocks off torturing and raping me for the past few hours!”
The expression on the Slayer’s face at his words was a mixture of cruel satisfaction at the painful emotions still too evident in his face and voice – and a rising apprehension at the vengeful menace that was also clear in the vampire’s eyes – and swiftly overwhelming the pain and vulnerability that joined it there.
“Anyway,” Spike went on in a quiet, frighteningly restrained voice, “it’s not as if *Buffy’ll* feel it. She’s not even in there at the moment. You’re all alone, little Slayer. And judging by the first impression – bloody hell, the *only* impression – you’ve made on me thus far, I’d wager to say you don’t do so well at handling the pain and suffering yourself.”
He shrugged carelessly, his expression showing little of the gratification he felt when she broke his gaze, looking away.
Apparently – he was right.
“Understandable,” he mused in a casual tone. “You spend most of your existence noncorporeal, physical sensations such as pain must seem a bit more intense than they do to creatures like me.”
Without warning, he interrupted his own words to punctuate them with a harsh blow with his fist to her ribcage, and she jerked against her bonds as she reflexively doubled over – as much as was possible, at least.
“That,” Spike went on calmly, as she groaned softly in pain and tried to catch her breath, “and the fact that you’re a bleedin’ pansy.”
“You let me out of these chains,” she challenged him through gritted teeth, her voice trembling with rage – and not a little fear, “and I’ll *show* you what a pansy I am!”
“Yeah,” Spike scoffed. “So long as you can get me *in* them first, right, pet? You seem to prefer fights you know you can’t lose. I knew a bloke like that once.” He smiled coldly, a sort of nostalgic smile for times he would rather *not* remember.
“Yeah,” he affirmed, after a moment’s consideration. “Definitely a bleedin’ pansy.”
“You aren’t gonna win this! I can take whatever you dish out!” she insisted, her voice sounding slightly out of control with her fear, despite her bold words. “I don’t care what you do to me, Spike – I’ll *never* accept your dominance!”
His smile softened in a menacing way, as he leaned in nearer to her, so near that his now-covered chest brushed slightly against hers as he met her eyes unflinchingly.
“Easy to say now,” he murmured, his eyes slowly traveling down from hers, down the column of her throat, and beyond, before moving back up to meet her gaze again, “before I’ve even touched you.”
She had no response – but he could smell the Slayer’s fear – see it in her eyes. He had hit the nail on the head with his earlier assessment. This particular demon was not accustomed to having a human body, and could probably not tolerate pain very well.
That was good. It meant he would have to do less actual damage to Buffy’s body to yield the same results.
It *was* good, he reminded his own demon, still clamoring for vengeance against her.
“Here’s what I think, pet,” Spike went on softly, his hands moving slowly to rest at her waist, further restraining her. She bucked uselessly against his grip, but couldn’t budge him, as he continued.
“I think you won’t last two minutes without having Buffy to hide behind.”
Frustrated at her helplessness, increasing filled with fear, the Slayer let out a little growl of anger and desperation.
“Where is she?” she demanded, glaring up at him. “What have you done? How can she *not* be in this body?”
Spike was silent for a long moment, considering.
*Go ahead.*
He could hear the glee, the triumphant vindication in his mate’s voice in his head, and knew that she wanted to see the look on the Slayer’s face as much as he did, when she heard the truth of what they had done.
*Go on,* Buffy urged him eagerly. *Tell her.*
“Simple, pet,” Spike replied with a little shrug, looking down for a moment before meeting her eyes again.
“Because she’s in *this* one.”
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