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Author's Chapter Notes:
hey everyone. I did my first exam and couldn't wait to post till monday. So here is a chapter, relatively short but it sets up a few issues which will become fairly major within the story.

By the way fubar if anyone is unsure is an Australian slang word for Fucked Up Beyond All Recognition
It hurt to open his eyes. The blood which had congealed over Riley’s face was stiff, a crisp layer which when brushing his hand against, refused to move.

He could remember the night with clarity up until a body had slammed into his side and smashed him to the ground. Riley had never even had a chance to catch a glimpse of his assailants face, the man punching him solidly in the head continuously.

Sitting up with a groan, Riley rubbed at the blood spattered across his face. Despite not knowing who had left him not much more than a bloody mess, it would have to be Spike.

He’s the only one who can punch that hard.

It only made Riley that much more determined to make the obnoxious Brit pay.

Him and his little bitch.

Opening his eyes and squinting through the blurred lenses, Riley noticed that he was locked in a holding cell. He knew from memory that they were located on the general floor in a restricted area that only a select few had access to. Spike being one of them. It was solid concrete and worse than a prison cell in the fact that it had no windows and an immovable steel door. Angel was obviously not going to forgive him.

Hazily remembering being dragged to the area, Riley cursed as he found his mobile confiscated. Parker had told him to call upon securing the girl and would only punish him more if he didn’t update on the situation. The large man cringed at the thought of what he would be subjected to if he ever escaped.

And that was a large if.

Gang members that betrayed or touched what was not theirs often went missing according to public records. Unofficially they ended up in a dumpster in LA. Parker was the only man fated to get away from the Aurelius’ clutches and even then Masters had had to intervene to ensure his safety and stop continuous bloodshed.

No Higher Power would interfere on Riley’s behalf.

Slumping back against the wall, the country hick turned poorly made gang member counted his remaining minutes.

Spike would be coming soon enough.

***

Buffy shook off the thick blue covers of the bed, a pleased smile blooming on her face as she took in Spike’s tousled form. The bleached blond had slept the night away, barely moving an inch except to brush bruised lips against her shoulder blade. His hands were buried underneath the pillows, soft snores escaping a gaping mouth.

He was completely adorable.

The petite blond moved swiftly across the room, still unsure of herself in such a bare state. Part of her was shocked at how quickly things had progressed but inwardly she knew it was the right action. Spike had done nothing but protect her, most notably from the corn fed idiot last night.

Buffy had a dark idea of what fate Riley would suffer.

Noting that Spike was still asleep, Buffy pulled on a set of clothes, a heavy woolen jumper hiding her slight frame from any peering eyes which may glance at her once she left the room. Either there were not enough women for the men or Buffy was attractive by belonging to Spike.

She didn’t want to analyse the feeling that welled inside her at the thought of being owned by anyone. It was inevitable but not something her nature could truly accept. She placed her hand on the door knob, unlocking it as quietly as possible before slipping out of the room.

Just like before the hallways loomed in either direction however this time Buffy decided to be adventurous and traveled off in the opposite direction. The carpet beneath her bare feet was a dark red almost the colour of blood and thankfully free of any indicative stains. It continued what seemed endlessly, rooms once more appearing on either side a few feet down from theirs. Spike must like the privacy. One hand brushed the walls, dipping regularly at each doorway. There were easily over 10 rooms on either side and that was not counting downstairs.

She reached the corner of the hallway several minutes later, a sharp angle leading into more gloomily lit passages. Buffy hesitated a moment, her small nose scrunching in thoughtfulness as she contemplated whether to go any further. That direction lead to Angel’s rooms and the more senior members of the gang, people who Buffy wasn’t positive that she wanted to get to know so personally… Spike was still passed out in their bed and any screams would be ignored.

She made to turn back when a solid chest blocked her retreat. Not again.

This time though the man stepped when seeing that he was far too close for his own good. Buffy’s hazel eyes entranced him, causing Jacob to gulp nervously. He had always been a sucker for a pretty girl.

“Hey. I haven’t had the chance to introduce myself but my name’s Jacob O’Hara.”

Extending his hand, Jacob brushed jet black hair from his forehead, the shaggy cut reminding Buffy of a rock star’s haircut. His eyes were neither green nor brown, a thin ring of yellow circling the pupil. His nose was defined, complimented by a thick bottom lip which jutted out conspicuously.

Buffy liked him immediately.

“Nice to meet you Jacob O’Hara from I presume Ireland?” Her voice was upturned at the end, grinning unabashedly at his confirming nod. “My name’s Buffy Summers.” She grasped his hand lightly noting the way he seemed to cradle it rather than shake it firmly like a man.

“How come I haven’t seen you before?”

Jacob shrugged, his quiet nature making an unexpected appearance, as his head ducked shyly. “I was away on business for Angel and only got back this morning” he explained. “I had heard about you and just had to meet the infamous Buffy Summers who has both gangs breathing heavy.”

He looked away, embarrassed at her blush. This was already inappropriate by his peer’s standards but the girl intrigued him. How could such a pretty girl want anything to do with William the Bloody?

He caught the last bit of Buffy’s question, smiling in encouragement as she pulled him with her down the corridor to breakfast. He would take advantage of Spike’s hangover while he could.

***

The room was swimming. There was no other way to describe the merry go round that made his stomach want to chuck and his head thud for eternity.

I shouldn’t of drunk so much bloody booze.

Spike raked one hand through already poofterish looking locks, groaning as he realised that he already slept in far past his normal waking time. It was nearing the end of breakfast, a thought which made the contents of his stomach threaten to escape. He pushed back the notion of sitting up, instead inhaling deeply the scent of a girl and could that be…

Spike shook his head in bewilderment, regretting it a moment later when a gong seemed to shatter in his brain. Drinking was definitely not of the good. Particularly when you could barely remember a sodding thing. There was a hazy memory however and if Spike was imagining himself as a far luckier bloke he could consider the possibility that he and Buffy had done more than sleep. Plus there was that infuriating smell of pure Buffy, something that no amount booze could eradicate from his senses.

The bleached blond forced himself upright, a string of “bloody hells” and “sodding fucking Jack Daniels” raining throughout his speech. That was the last time he ever got drunk without counting the amount of shots. He slowly turned his head to look at the sheets, noting their jumbled mess and feeling a strange sense of melancholy fill him. She had left him in the bed alone. Granted I sleep like the sodding dead thought Spike in an attempt to quell his hurt feelings, but it’s the principle of the thing. He scented the air again. They had definitely been up to something. His knuckles were bruised with a dark purple, clean and smelling of soap which he guessed was from a recent bath. The Brit didn’t often have time for a shower when out on the road with the poofter and one of his deals. There was no way he’d share any hot water with the wanker. The sight would leave him scarred for life.

Snorting at the direction his thoughts were taking, Spike willed himself to remember something, anything so he would not hurt the tiny chit who had obviously been about some bloody business with him last night.

The snapshot of Finn’s broken face fixed into place, causing Spike to clench his hands unconsciously. He had fubared the pillock for pawing at Buffy, hazy memories recalling the sight of the jock’s hand crawling up her leg.

That explains the hands, thought Spike wryly. Now to these sheets…

The bleached blond sat there for twenty minutes, odd images of the shower and Buffy’s concerned expression fading in and out of view, however nothing more came to mind. “Fuck.” Spike knew that a major piece was missing, an issue that could tear apart his complacency and nonchalance towards his current situation in a heart beat.

I’ll just have to act like everything is normal and hope Buffy gives me a clue. Either that or shoot myself in the bloody head and stop a few headaches.

He threw off the sheets, walking naked to the cupboard and clambering into the traditional black t shirt and jeans. Spike had the sinking feeling that no matter what he said or didn’t say things were about to get infinitely more complicated.

At least I can finally take care of that pillock Riley. The man’s time was finally up.





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