Spike didn’t like the idea of patrolling, and it didn’t occur to him until fifteen minutes before he was due to meet her that he could have looked up her number in the phone book and changed their plans. As it was, he’d spent most of his energy bolting over to her place to walk her to the hunting ground, and was only slightly shaken when no one answered his rather brutal pounding on the door.
If she wasn’t at home, she was likely coming directly from the library. And though his instincts told him to head her off along the way, he knew that, even with a town as small and pathetic as the Hellmouth, he could end up chasing her scent for hours before he finally found her. He knew where he was supposed to be, and he knew that she would be there, too.
Buffy wouldn’t be thrilled about the idea of abandoning her nightly routine, even if she was feeling under the weather. However, he wasn’t about to take another chance with her like the one last night. If it happened again, he might not be quick enough. He’d rip apart any rat bastard who was dumb enough to touch her.
In the meantime, he was hoping he could talk her into something else. Perhaps a walk or a movie or something else—and though it made him less a vampire and more a slayer-smitten man, by God, he couldn’t be bothered to care anymore. There obviously wasn’t anything he could do about it—his feelings were real and they weren’t going anywhere—and it was better being the man that she could deserve and being this close than being a vampire and not having her at all.
It took less than three minutes to race from Buffy’s house to the place in Restfield where they’d agreed to meet for their non-date patrols. He was mildly concerned when he didn’t see her waiting for him, but forced himself to keep from panicking. Slayer strength or not, Buffy was incredibly self-reliant. He wasn’t going to overcrowd her with mollycoddling…but he couldn’t stop himself from worrying.
Spike began to pace, then decided that it would be better if Buffy saw him as calm and collected and not overly alarmed. He forced himself to sit atop a grave marker, his fingers immediately beating a cadence onto the surface until he occupied his hands by searching for his smokes.
A foreign scent hit him the second he lit up, and he had to fight off a grimace. It was female, and non-Buffy, and had his insides churning immediately.
“You ever hear those things’ll kill you?”
“You can imagine how much I care.” Spike slowly trailed his gaze up. It was the other one. The brunette slut-of-an-excuse for a slayer. “You’re…Faith, right?”
She grinned, pleased, and crossed her arms. “My reputation precedes me.”
“Not sure that’s something I’d be proud of, pet.”
“You’re out here waiting for Buffy, aren’t you?”
Spike stilled and blew out a cool stream of smoke. “You know, for a bint I’ve never met before, you sure do seem to take an interest in what I’m doing.”
Faith shrugged and tossed her hair. “Hey, me slayer, you vamp. I don’t need to give you a copy of the script now, do I?”
He rolled his eyes. “Somehow, you don’ strike me as the type for convention. Of all the slayers I’ve known—which is, I assure you, quite the lengthy list—I don’ believe I’ve ever had one waltz up an’ start making introductions.” He took another long drag of his cigarette and cocked his head. “Most turn arse an’ run.”
“Now, now, Willy. It’s unbecoming of you to lie to me.”
His eyes narrowed. “That's a shame, pet, 'cause I want so much to be attractive to you.”
If she heard the sarcasm dripping from his voice, she didn’t acknowledge it. Instead, her gaze slowly raked down the length of him and she licked her lips appraisingly. The sensation made him want to heave.
Who the fuck does this bitch think she is?
When her eyes met his again, he felt his insides recoil in disgust.
God, she didn’t honestly think I was serious, did she?
“You don’t think I know your whole sordid past?” Faith replied, arching a brow. “I know you’re out here waiting for B, which is a bust, by the way. She’s been told not to show up. And if she does, guess who gets to blow the horn?”
Panic shot to the bone. Spike was on his feet in an instant. “Why?” he demanded, forgetting himself. If she was looking to prompt a reaction and make him reveal something significant, he wasn’t doing much to stop her. Then again, she’d mentioned Buffy, so all rationality was irrevocably lost.
“Why? Didn’t you get the memo? B’s got a nasty cold. The kind that made her melt into a squishy, not to mention breakable human. We can’t have her running around thinkin’ she’s got power while the likes of you are out here waitin’ to teach her a lesson she so richly deserves.” Faith’s brows perked and she slid her hands into her pockets, taking a presumptuous step forward. “But see, the thing is, I don’t think B would mind runnin’ into a nasty if it looked like you. The girl’s got a major jones for vamps.” She paused. “From the look on your face, I’m guessin’ this is something you already know.”
Spike swallowed hard and began walking backward. Every step that she took propelled a fresh wave of nausea through his gut. But it was more than that; it was the wicked delight in her eyes. As though she knew exactly how he was reacting to her. As though she knew that he’d rather fall heart-first onto a stake than touch female skin that didn’t belong to Buffy. There was something off about her. Something dark and twisted. Something that the demon in him recognized, but rejected rather than welcomed.
Her darkness was too overbearing. Her voice struck him in the same manner as nails being dragged down the proverbial chalkboard. There was nothing appealing about her. Not to the demon. Not to the man. And perhaps that had everything to do with her not being Buffy, but to Spike, that reasoning was more than enough.
Plus, she seemed to really enjoy the fact that Buffy was elsewhere. As though she’d intentionally sought him out, knowing that he was the one to go after if she wanted Buffy hurt.
“Well, then,” he said. “I’ll jus’ be—”
She walked right up into his personal space and placed her hands on his chest, and he was hit by another wave of nausea. “What’s the rush?”
Umm, you’re psychotic?
“Look—”
“Buffy’s not here. I know she’s got you on a short leash, right?” She grinned when his eyes widened, and leaned in closer. “Oh, come on. You two haven’t exactly been discreet. If you’re gonna be her secret boyfriend, you might wanna make it more conspicuous than dates in a graveyard.”
He was paralyzed with loathing. His joints were stiff, his muscles suddenly stone. If she didn’t stop touching him, he was going to yack. And it wasn’t going to be pretty. “You stupid bint, take your hands off me.”
“Why? Buffy’s not been very giving. Thought you might want an actual ride.” Her teeth clamped down on his ear. “I’ll hold more than your hand.”
That was it. Spike’s bumpies burst through his human face and he seized her shoulders, thrusting her away from him in disgust. He wanted to lash out, make her bleed; make her scream until she begged for mercy for even hinting at what she’d practically shoved down his throat. However, his body was overwhelmed with dizzy sickness. He couldn’t move very well, let alone give her the arse-kicking she so richly deserved. “Get away from me,” he growled, coughing and reaching for a gravestone to maintain balance. “Get the fuck away from me.”
“Aww! You’re faithful! That’s so sweet.” She neared again. “But then, so was my driving instructor. Didn’t stop him from screwing me senseless in the backseat of the driver’s-ed car. So was that cop that let me off the DWI for the price of a blowjob. So was—”
He was shaking with a combination of revulsion and outrage, the inner roaring drowning out her litany of sexual indiscretions—thank the bloody maker. His demon was clawing at his skin from the inside, screaming to rip the chit limb from bloody limb. If she touched him again, all bets were off. He’d let the beast go. He’d cast the human in him aside and let the beast go. And if that happened, he’d tear her apart.
“You don’t strike me as a vanilla kinda guy,” Faith observed. “Lord knows I’ve needed a good ride—”
Spike roared and swung at her, sending her to the ground with a deliciously satisfying crash. “Who the fuck do you think you are?” he demanded. “You stupid—”
The next thing he knew, her foot collided with his chest, and he was sent spiraling back until he smashed against a mausoleum wall.
“Don’t tell me she’s got you tamed, too!” Faith shouted angrily. “You fucking coward. You’re all a bunch of cowards! Angel hiding behind his soul. Can’t betray little Miss Buff even though she’s out fucking another vamp, one already sans conscience who can’t be—”
Spike’s eyes widened and he rolled to his feet. “So that’s it, then? Whatever Buffy has, you gotta take?”
Faith shrugged. “She’s got so many things she doesn’t deserve. Angel’s loyalty? Where the fuck does she get off keeping him so damn faithful to her while she’s out doing evil—that’d be literally—every night? Her precious Giles doesn’t seem to mind, either. That nice house, her mom, her perky little friends…she screws up, and everyone turns a blind fucking eye. I screw up, and I got a fucking Inquisition breathing down my neck.”
He laughed humorlessly. “So, what? You think offerin’ yourself as a piss-poor consolation prize is gonna even the odds? Do you have any idea how many times you’d have to kill me before I’d even consider touching you? I can barely hold down my lunch long enough to kill you right an’ proper. You’re disgusting.” The flash of anger behind her eyes was delicious. “An’ that’s what this is about, innit? Buffy has everythin’ an’ you’ve got nothing. Boo bloody hoo. You’ve come to the wrong bloke if you’re lookin’ for pity. Tell me, how much have you worked for? How much have you sacrificed? How much do you deserve?” He punctuated his point with a severe right hook, his demon cackling with glee when she was sent crashing back to the earth. “Fuck, I don’ even know you, an’ I know the answer to that. Nothing. You deserve nothing. An’ that’s what you’re gonna get from me. Nothing. An’ you’ll never get it from anyone else, either. Not anyone with a bloody brain on their shoulders. There’s a reason she has more than you. She’s better than you. An’ you’ll never have what she has.”
“You’re smitten with her,” Faith panted, wiping blood off her chin. “And what do you get outta it beyond a stiff dick? I’ve seen you two together. She’s stopped putting out now, and she doesn’t let you touch. Never lets you touch.”
Spike’s eyes flared. “Better a saint than a whore.”
Faith shook her head. “She’s limp. She’s a fucking rag doll. If it’s strength you’re looking for, she has none.”
He laughed incredulously. “You’re unbelievable.”
“You have no idea how often I hear that.”
“So Buffy goes human an’ you think you can wheedle in an’ try to take more of what she has?” Spike shook his head. “You think that her being a slayer has anything to do with…” He broke off. “You know, you’re not even worth the air I don’t breathe.” He stomped over angrily and smashed his foot into her head with a swift kick. She collapsed, unconscious, and his demon roared his triumph. “Nighty night.”
He didn’t get two steps away. Spike stopped cold.
Buffy was standing just a few feet away, her eyes shining with tears and her jaw slack.
“Spike,” she gasped, trembling.
Something within him snapped, and a growl hissed through his fangs. She was there. She was right there. And he was in pain. He’d been touched by another female, and he needed Buffy. He needed her hands on him to wash the ache away. He needed her so much. He needed to protect her. He needed to touch her. He needed to hold her. He needed to fuck her. He needed everything.
Something snapped. Conscious thought was shoved aside. The man was gone in a blink.
And all that was left behind, raging with need, was the beast.
To be continued…