Spike watched the Slayer carefully as he slowly advanced on her, ready to cut off her escape if she tried to move away from the car, behind her at the moment. As long as she was penned in on both sides, he held at least a slight advantage, if only in position.
Besides – he much preferred having her where he could see every little move she made.
Fortunately, she did not have quite the same advantage when it came to seeing *him*. Her eyes were still adjusting to the moonlit night shadows that surrounded them, peering out into the darkness to make out his black-shrouded form. Only the bright platinum top of his head made him visible to her at all.
“Come on, Baby,” she taunted him, her voice trembling slightly. “What are you waiting for? Let’s *do* this, already!”
Spike smiled with secretive amusement. He was a very experienced fighter, having over a century’s worth of said experience, and he knew that she was just trying to goad him, trying to push him into making his move on *her* terms – but he would make his move when he was bloody well good and ready.
She was terrified, barely holding on to her own control; every sense he possessed was telling him that.
She was experienced in torture and cruelty, but apparently not in actual combat with an opponent who actually had a chance at defeating her. Her unwillingness to place herself in a situation where she had to face an enemy with strength equal to her own was proof enough of that. Her demeanor, her tone, everything about her stance screamed, “Let’s just get this over with, one way or the other.”
The anticipation, for her, was worse than the reality; it was driving her out of her mind.
But Spike planned on taking his sweet time.
His years spent under the control of Angelus, Darla and Dru had not been utterly wasted, though they had been little more than an experiment in torment and cruelty. He had learned how to draw out the fear, the agony of anticipation, in a victim, until it took only the slightest touch of actual pain to utterly break the victim’s will.
True, in most cases during these lessons, he had played the part of the victim in question – but still, now, he found himself inclined to thank his grand-sire for the lesson.
By the time he was through with the Slayer, she would be begging for release from the mortal body she had imprisoned herself in. And when that time came, he and Buffy, together, would gladly claim dominance over her, sending her fleeing desperately back to her former prison – wherever that might happen to be.
But for now, she was still defiant as ever, glaring at him as he edged almost imperceptibly nearer to her.
“Come on, Spike!” she sneered. “You broke my leg, remember? When you threw me off a building? You’ve already beaten the crap out of me, and you’re *still* afraid to fight me?”
Her tone became cruel and full of a sadistic amusement that had become all too familiar to the blonde vampire over the past few days, as she remarked, “I guess I really did a number on you, didn’t I, Baby? Traumatized for life, now, aren’tcha?” Her lower lip jutted out in a mocking pout of feigned sympathy, “Poor little Spikey – never gonna be the same…”
Her words had their desired effect – though he had no idea why she would desire it – as he suddenly lunged toward her, grabbing her around the throat and slamming her backward so that the back of her head hit the half-raised trunk lid with a painful impact. He jerked her back away from it for a moment, slamming the trunk closed behind her before shoving her back against it again with breathtaking force.
“I’ve been through a lot worse than *you* could ever dish out, love!” he informed her in a low, menacing growl, blazing golden eyes meeting hers in fury. “Don’t think for one bloody second that I’m afraid of you – because I’m not!” he declared hotly.
It infuriated him that she was still smiling, her green eyes glittering back up at him defiantly, as she shrugged carelessly, and gasped out against the restraining hand still at her throat, “Your mistake.”
It only dawned on him then, that so far, she had made no move to attack him, or to fight back at all, when he had closed the distance between them. She had allowed him to move in close, even when he tossed her about like a rag doll – completely unresistant to his brutal manhandling.
He realized the truth a moment later, cursing his own foolishness silently. It was as he had suspected earlier. She *had* been saving her strength – saving it for just the right moment, when she could do the most damage.
A moment like now.
She brought her supposedly injured leg up sharply between his legs – and he just barely managed to pull back in time to avoid what would have been a crippling blow.
He barely had time to wonder why this particular creature seemed to have such an affinity for going after his manly bits, when the foot attached to her clearly *not* injured leg hooked behind his ankle as he stepped back, throwing him off balance and knocking him to the ground, flat on his back.
She pounced without hesitation, crouching over him on her hands and knees, grappling for his wrists in an attempt to restrain him – and he knew that if she managed to get a good hold on him, it would be next to impossible to break her grip. She had the advantage of position now, and she was clearly feeling much better.
He realized with a grim certainty that he was most definitely in for the fight of his life.
He had killed two Slayers before – but this was different.
Both of those girls had had the strength and agility and skill that naturally came with the Slayer package – but in the end, it was their humanity that had been their undoing. Human emotions, human exhaustion and sorrow and depths of feeling that this creature before him could never hope to understand – those things were what had caused both Slayers to succumb to his assault and give in to the death wish that they probably had not even known they possessed until those fateful nights of their deaths.
This creature before him had none of those frailties.
True, if he could gain the upper hand and manage to hurt her, he would be well on the way to defeating her. She could not take much pain. But she was incredibly strong, fast, unbelievably powerful – and quite possibly the most formidable opponent Spike had ever faced. She was a *pure* Slayer, no trace of humanity in her save the body she inhabited.
Which – in another cruel twist of fate that served as another factor not exactly in his favor – just happened to be the body, and face, of the woman he loved.
He would just have to get past it.
He would have to get past the voice in the back of his head, telling him that this was more than he could do – past the fear of facing this creature that had so thoroughly decimated him only hours earlier – past the horror and sick revulsion at the thought of breaking and bruising the body of the love of his life…
He just *had* to – or they were *all* doomed.
He jerked his wrist out of her hand, just as she managed to catch it, knowing that once she had him restrained, it would be all over. As she lunged after him to steady her grip, lowering her torso and head over him, nearer to his mouth, he lunged upward toward her, fangs extended toward her throat.
Caught off guard, her eyes widening in surprise and fear, the Slayer scrambled backward, not wanting to allow him to get his fangs into her flesh and weaken her again -- and Spike used the opportunity to push her backward off of him and struggle to his feet.
Immediately she threw herself toward him again, intent on using her sheer strength to force him back down – but he was ready for her this time. Just as she reached him, a forceful backhand fell across her jaw, knocking her a few steps back. A follow up to her ribcage left her gasping as she struggled to catch her breath enough to retaliate – and Spike smiled slowly.
Breath – that was something that he, thankfully, did *not* need.
He had no intention of allowing her the chance to recover.
While she was still trying to regain her balance after his most recent assault, Spike rallied all the strength he could muster after this terribly exhausting night, and let loose with a fresh volley of blows, raining indiscriminately upon the unprepared Slayer, driving her backward across the sand, until he had her once again pinned between his body and the hard, unyielding metal of the car.
She struggled blindly, futilely, against him, still unable to recover enough to form a decent counter-attack – just trying to defend herself, as he punched her again, with a hard fist across her face, knocking the back of her head hard against the car.
The quiet, disoriented moan of pain that left the Slayer’s lips was like the sweetest music the blonde vampire had ever heard, and he could not help the vicious smile that rose to his lips, as she stopped struggling, weakened by the beating he had dealt her. It was all she could manage just to deal with the screaming of her senses with the unfamiliar sensations of pain coursing through her borrowed body.
“What’s wrong, Sweetheart?” he asked with a smile that was almost pleasant, as he gripped her hair and yanked her head backward hard, twisting his hand in her disheveled blonde locks to increase the strength of his hold – and her sense of helplessness. “The pain a bit much for you? You know – you could always let go…”
She tried to shake her head, though she still seemed a bit dazed and had not yet opened her eyes. “No,” she moaned, her voice a bit slurred from the blows she had taken to the head. “No – won’t…”
“Oh, yes, you will, pet,” he assured her, his voice low and soft and terrifyingly enthralling – a tone that was both deadly and mesmerizing. “I can promise you that. The only variables in this bloody picture are how long it takes – and how much of you is left when you *do* submit to me!”
The Slayer opened bleary, red-rimmed eyes of shimmering jade to meet his – and the terror he saw there was breathtaking.
The fact that it was in the shining eyes of the woman he loved was more than a little disconcerting; but Spike had to recognize that had it been a different person, only a few short weeks ago – one of the countless nameless, faceless victims he had taken over the course of the last century – he would have relished the scent, the sight, of the overwhelming fear that she was so clearly experiencing.
The fact that this was his torturer, his enemy, made it only that much more sweet.
“You’ll never make me do it,” she rasped out, glaring up at him, though tears of frustration, fear, and pain shone in her eyes. “You won’t – I’ll die first, and take her with me!”
His too-expressive blue eyes must have shown something of his hesitation at those chilling words, because a weak, trembling smile rose to the Slayer’s lips, as she held his gaze defiantly. “Don’t so much like the sound of that, do you, Baby?” she observed with a smirk. “Don’t wanna hurt your own mate, do you? Maybe you’d better back off, before she ends up dead!”
Spike knew that what she was saying was a very distinct possibility. He and Buffy really had no way of knowing how the whole thing would work, what with Buffy being in his body and all. If the Slayer died, it *was* highly likely that Buffy would die as well – or at the very least, live, but be trapped within *his* body forever.
That was not a terribly pleasant thought.
Still – the Slayer could not know just how ignorant of the specifics of what they had done he and his mate were.
Spike forced a smug smile to his lips as he boldly stared her down. “I s’pose that’s why it’s a bloody good thing that she’s in here and not in there, then, ain’t it, pet?” he mused. “I don’t have to worry about hurting *her* -- I can just take my time and enjoy hurting *you*.”
Her eyes widened slightly, and he took satisfaction in the fact that she had fallen for his words. She did not have any of her own – completely lost for a response.
“Unless of course – you’re ready to submit,” he suggested softly, his smile fading to a serious expression, as he drew her head back farther, pushing closer to her, pressing her back over the car.
He felt it as she tried to raise her leg to attack him – but he would not fall for the same trick twice. Before she could really move, he had shifted his leg, raising it slightly to pin both of hers in place, as he leaned in closer to her throat.
"You challenged me – Spike -- William the Bloody -- master of the line of Aurelius, to defend my liberty – my own right over my own will – claiming it to be your own," he stated in a soft, even voice that held her attention – echoing the earlier words of her spoken, formal claim. A wicked glint formed in his eyes as he moved in closer, his face inches from hers, as he went on in a whisper.
“But now – it’s *you* who must defend your own freedom, pet – or give it up completely…”
“Why would I ever do that?” she demanded in a voice that trembled with fear and anger, glaring up at him with a defiance that was looking more and more empty every moment. “Why would I willingly surrender my very existence – my liberty – to *you*?”
“Because, pet,” he replied without hesitation, his lips parting to reveal his glistening, deadly fangs, poised to once again break her tender flesh, “you’ll find that freedom has its price…”
Without warning, he plunged his fangs downward into her shoulder, tearing slowly down in an agonizing attack that left her screaming in pain and outrage – and stark, absolute terror…
…for there was no one about to hear her screams, to come to her aid.
She was all alone, against a creature that at this moment, held her life in his power.
Spike drew back to see her wide, shocked eyes staring at him in horror and pain – pain greater than she had expected to feel – greater than he had expected her to feel. He thought again how much it was working to his advantage that the Slayer was so pitifully prepared to deal with the frailties that came along with humanity.
He leaned in even nearer to her, holding her gaze firmly, unflinchingly, with a certainty in his eyes that told her that he was nowhere near backing down, no matter how much damage she forced him to inflict on his mate’s body. A slow smile of triumph formed on his face, as he asked her a question – the question of the hour – in a low, hypnotic voice.
“What do you think, pet – is your freedom worth its price?”
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