“Guess what?” the Slayer smirked, apparently unbothered by her momentary position of disadvantage, beneath her opponent. “Your little friend Buffy’s not being here has its advantages – like, for example…” She shrugged casually, “super-fast healing, greater strength – ‘cause you know, less pesky human frailty to hold me back. Humanity can be a real drag, Spike,” she observed in an unsettlingly cheerful voice.
Spike was ready, eager to wipe the smug smile off her face once and for all.
Well – at least until *Buffy* was wearing her own face again.
But before he could react, the Slayer punctuated her words with a forceful shove that sent him somersaulting backwards off of her. However, he was unfazed by her attack as well, quickly springing to his feet and readily awaiting her next move. It did not bother him that she was a bit stronger than he had expected her to be; after all, he was feeling unusually strong himself, after feeding from her so many times in one night.
He smiled wickedly as a very pleasant thought occurred to him.
“No big surprise there, love,” he shrugged, his golden eyes flashing with dangerous glee as he returned her smirk easily. “I have a few dim memories of humanity, myself…remember what it was like…know you’ve gotta be feeling bloody powerful, suddenly being free of – well, *most* of that. But here’s the thing, pet, the one thing I don’t think you’ve figured on -- I can *feel* that greater strength – coursing through *my* veins.”
He paused for a moment, giving her a few seconds to process his words, before going on with a bold, victorious smirk, “Good thing I had a little drink before the fight, eh, pet? Evens up the odds a bit.”
He was pleased to see the Slayer’s eyes widen with surprise, and realized with a sense of satisfaction that it had not occurred to her that *he* might have gained the increased benefit of her strength, too, by drinking from her while Buffy was outside her body, and she was so much stronger than usual.
“What’s the matter, pet?” he taunted her with a smirk, feinting in toward her, his smile widening when she quickly backed up a step. “Thought you were just whining about a ‘fair fight’ a few minutes ago. Though I can’t rightly say when you decided that was what you wanted – this entire evening considered,” he reminded her, his smile fading, his eyes becoming darker, serious.
The Slayer forced her bold smile back to her lips, throwing her head back defiantly as she replied, “Oh, but Baby – the evening’s just beginning…” As she spoke, she lunged quickly toward him in an attempt to throw him back down to the ground.
He caught her as she reached him, effortlessly tossing her over his shoulder and into the wall behind him, spinning around to face her as she struggled to rise, a bit dazed from the violent – and terribly loud – impact
“No, love,” he corrected her in a soft, menacing voice, as he stalked slowly toward her. “I assure you – it’s just…about…over…”
She scrambled quickly to her feet, glancing to either side of her with near-panic in her eyes, as she realized she really had no where to go. The small size of the little motel room did not leave her much room to work with. She stood there with her back against the wall, next to the deadbolted door – and a light of evil inspiration suddenly began in her eyes.
Spike caught it, realized what she was thinking – and quickly cut her off, slamming his fist into the wall beside her – between her and the door – with carefully restrained force. He really did not want to awaken their fellow motel guests and draw attention to them – or to have monstrous repair bill charged to them when they left this little dive – so he tried not to hit the wall *too* hard.
Still – the impact left a crack in the plaster beside her head.
“I don’t think so, pet,” he informed her in a low, grim voice of intent determination. “You’re not going anywhere until this is good and settled.”
“Oh, yeah?” the Slayer countered, a challenge in her glittering green eyes, even as she leaned back against the wall, apparently intimidated by his oppressive nearness. “That’s funny. Because *I*…*do*!” As she spoke, she brought her knee up sharply, in a direct path toward his groin.
Spike saw the blow coming, and ducked back before she could actually make contact – but in so doing, he allowed her to move away from the wall. In a matter of seconds she had twisted the deadbolt on the door and opened it, backing out onto the walkway, grinning wildly a him in giddy triumph.
“Come on,” she baited him mockingly in a loud whisper, beckoning him toward her with a double-handed gesture of challenge. “Let’s take this show out into the streets – get some nosy neighbor to call the police. Let’s see how many innocent little humans we can get killed in the process of our little showdown, shall we?”
Spike hesitated, aware that she was more than capable of carrying out what she was suggesting. The Slayer would have no problem with drawing attention to them – and he knew as well as she did that any ordinary human would not be capable of stopping the conflict between the vampire and the super-human Slayer.
In fact, anyone who tried would be sure to get seriously hurt or killed, if the Slayer had her way about it.
*Buffy…* he began slowly. *Love…what…*
*We have to warn Mom and Dawn – she’ll go after them first…* Buffy reminded him, the urgency unmistakable in her voice. *…and then we have to get her away from the motel, if possible…like…away from all these people…*
*All *what* people, pet? Things look pretty quiet for now…*
*But that changes the second she decides to scream…*
The Slayer was still standing there, attempting to stare him down, waiting for him to make a move. Suddenly, it seemed to occur to her what she *should* be doing under the circumstances, and she darted off down the walkway toward the room a couple of doors down.
“Bloody soddin’ hell,” Spike muttered, starting to go after her, but then hesitating by the door, taking a moment to grab the cell phone off the table as he headed out onto the walkway.
The phone was already set to Joyce’s number, and Dawn was waiting by the phone urgently, so he had barely stepped out onto the sidewalk when he heard her anxious voice.
“Hello?”
“Dawn, don’t open the door! Whatever you do, do *not* open the bloody door!”
“Spike – what…”
“Just listen to me, okay? I’m gonna get her away from the door as fast as I can…you and your mum just be ready for anything…I’m gonna take the car in a few minutes, okay? So don’t be worried…”
As he spoke, making his way down the walkway toward their room at a brisk pace, he could hear a sharp, but not too forceful, knock in the background.
“Spike?” Dawn’s voice was uncertain, and verging on panic, in his ear, as he came within a few feet of the Slayer, standing outside Joyce’s and Dawn’s door, smiling at him calmly as she suddenly stopped her polite knocking and drew back to kick the door as hard as she could.
It shook with the force of her blow, but did not quite give way – not yet.
“*Spike*!” Dawn’s shrill almost-scream in his ear was cut off as he snapped the phone shut and slipped it into his pocket, just before grabbing the Slayer by the hair and yanking her back away from the door, shoving her into the railing that ran along the second floor, outdoor walkway they were standing on.
“Hey, Baby,” she said softly, teasingly, as she looked him up and down suggestively. “Can you wait just a second? Got something I need to take of first, and then I’m all yours.”
“Tempting as the offer is, pet,” he replied, his voice low and dark and tinged with disgust as he returned her derisive, up-and-down look, gripping her wrists and holding her back against the railing, so that her back bent over it, placing her in very real danger of toppling over backwards, had he not been holding her up. “I think I’ll pass…and so will they.”
“We’ll see about…” she began to retort – but her words were cut off as he suddenly released her wrists, smashing his fist violently across her face, and then following up the blow with a second, equally forceful punch across the other side of her face.
While she was dazed, recovering from the blinding blows, he suddenly gave her a violent shove that sent her careening backward over the railing, smashing hard into the unyielding pavement of the parking lot beneath them.
“Spike!”
Dawn’s terrified cry behind him spun him around for a moment in surprise, throwing him a bit off his guard. He had not realized that she had been watching the little encounter, even after he had instructed her to stay in the room and lock the door.
“Go back inside!” he ordered sharply, in a voice that trembled with terse emotion, as he grabbed the railing and sprang over the edge, landing cat-like on his feet near the coughing, groaning Slayer on the ground.
He could not be sure if Dawn had obeyed him or not – but he meant to make sure that it did not matter. He tried not to think about the fact that Dawn had just watched him smacking her sister around – at least, it would have appeared that way to her. He tried not to think about whether or not Joyce had witnessed the display, what she might think of the whole thing.
All he could allow himself to focus on right now was the battle at hand.
Buffy’s body was struggling to rise to its feet, after the breath-taking blow it had taken in the fall. The distance was not really that greatly dangerous, to a Slayer – but it was enough to bruise and weaken her somewhat. As she stumbled to her feet, glaring at him with murderous dark green eyes, he advanced on her slowly, deliberately.
“I’ll kill you,” she stated coldly, her voice low and dangerous.
“Maybe,” he shrugged carelessly, as he closed the distance between them. “Not tonight.”
He punctuated his words with another brutal blow across her face that sent her staggering back, before she could even raise a hand to him. He noticed as he did so that she limped slightly, nearly losing her footing, though he had done nothing to injure her leg.
Except, of course – shove her over a railing two stories high.
Yeah. That might have done it.
A slow smile spread across his lips as he advanced on her again. “What’s the matter, pet?” he taunted her softly. “Having a bit of trouble?”
Her eyes widened in fear, as he launched another blow, this time to her stomach, that knocked her back onto her knees, coughing and gasping for breath.
“Hmm,” he mused thoughtfully, coming to stand over her intimidatingly. “Wonder how long it takes a Slayer to mend broken bones.” He shrugged. “Longer than you’ve got, I’d wager.”
She scrambled back to her feet, staggering a couple of times but managing to do it, although with a groan of pain at the effort. Her eyes were wide and panicked, as she glanced around at the empty parking lot, beginning to realize the hopelessness of her situation.
She *did* have accelerated healing – but he was right. It would not work fast enough to help her in this fight. Spike did not seem about to let up, despite her obvious disadvantage. No, he was rather determined to take advantage of it himself. And he had been right about one thing, though she had not wanted to admit it before; she had not even been completely aware of it before.
But it was becoming more clear with every moment of this increasingly unbalanced fight.
Human pain was something that she was not very well-prepared to deal with.
Already, she wanted desperately to give in, to stop the vicious beating he was delivering that left her entire body aching, burning, filled with pain and exhaustion. The only thing that was holding her back from doing so was the thought that when she did, she would be returned to the prison that had held her before.
The quiet, peaceful prison – where there was no appalling torment such as he was currently giving her…
*No!* she reminded herself fiercely. *No, I can’t give in! Can’t let him win…*
She stood there for a moment, debating – aware that she was not capable of holding out against him for long. And then, finally, the Slayer decided on a course of action.
She ran.
Well, as much as someone with a badly injured leg can run, anyway; she turned and limped away from him desperately across the parking lot, screaming out in a shrill, frantic voice, “Help me! Somebody help me! Help me, please, he’s going to kill me! *Help me*!”
Spike felt the first moment of true alarm he had felt in the situation, since driving her away from Dawn and Joyce’s door. If she managed to get some innocent, hapless human involved, someone was bound to get hurt. He didn’t want to actually hurt Buffy’s body too much more than he already had; he certainly couldn’t kill her – and she could cause a lot of trouble for him if he could not get her away from here before she drew too much attention to herself.
He noticed with a sudden sense of amusement that she was heading toward his car, only a few short yards away from her by now.
But *he* was only a few short yards from *her*, as well – which he quickly closed, just as she reached the car, shoving her up against it from behind, one hand quickly locking over her mouth and pulling her back against him, his other arm wrapped around her shoulders and holding her to him, while effectively pinning her arms.
She struggled violently against him, almost managing to break his grip, before he slammed her forcefully forward against the car, at the same time mercilessly kicking her injured leg out from under her. She let out a scream of pain that was muffled by his firm hand, as he leaned in closer, pressing her between him and the car, as he raised his hand in front of her face – holding the keys to his car.
“Thinking of going for a ride -- *Baby*?” he sneered, his lips so near to her ear that she could feel his smirk against her skin. “Funny – so was I. But you won’t get far without these. Good thing I’ve got ‘em, eh?”
His hand slipped from her mouth to close around her throat, as he lowered his hand to attempt to unlock the door. She struggled against him, but was unable to break his grip as he managed awkwardly to open the door, and tried to shove her in.
She was gripping the handle of his car door tightly, pulling against him with all her strength. His hand slipped from her throat as he fought to counteract her resistance and force her into the car.
“You are *not* getting me into that car!” she snarled, hanging on for all she was worth to the handle, trying to break his grip on her. “Not while I can do anything about it!”
“Oh, is *that* all,” he replied calmly. “For a second there I was worried – but that won’t be such a very long time. Now, let’s see? What did *you* do when you wanted *me* not to be able to resist you?” he mused with mocking thoughtfulness.
“Oh, right,” he smirked. “Now I remember…”
His hand gripped her hair in an iron fist and suddenly slammed her head forward hard against the unyielding metal of his car, and he felt her body suddenly go limp beneath him, as she lost consciousness.
“Bloody hurts, don’t it, love?” he said in a voice of quiet mockery, though he was not sure if she could hear him or not by then.
It didn’t really matter; it was incredibly satisfying, either way.
She offered no resistance as he bundled her around to the back of his car, and deposited her roughly and unceremoniously in the trunk. As he got into the driver’s seat and started the engine, glancing around at the still-quiet, deserted parking lot, he realized that Buffy had been quiet for quite some time now.
*Buffy, love?* he asked her softly. *You all right?*
*Um…I hope so,* she said in a small, timid voice after a moment. *Just – sort of – trying to deal…*
Spike knew exactly what she meant, but had no words to offer to comfort her, so he just stayed silent, as he pulled the DeSoto out of the parking lot and headed out across the desert, into the night surrounding them.
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