Buffy stared up at him, unable to find words. This wasn’t supposed to be happening. They were supposed to be escaping soon, finding freedom. Liam wasn’t supposed to find out, not now.
“Don’t even lie to me about it, bitch. I know you’re doing it. You’ve probably been fucking him since this summer, right under my nose, you worthless little whore.”
“Liam, please, I…”
Liam came around from behind the desk and grabbed her arm before backhanding her hard across the face. “Shut your lying whore mouth! You fucked my son, Buffy. My son.” He shook his head. “I should’ve known better than to marry such a piece of trash.” His hand tightened around her arm, causing Buffy to hiss in pain. “You know, I knew you were cheating on me. All those ‘shopping’ trips and not a single bag or a charge to your credit card? Did you think I was an idiot? Fuck, Buffy that’s just insulting. But then to find out you’re spreading your legs for my son? I should beat you so hard no man ever wants to look at your face again.”
Buffy struggled to break Liam’s grip on her arm. She could taste blood on her lip and knew this was only the beginning. “Let me go. Please. I’m sorry, Liam. Just let me go.”
“You’re sorry.” Liam laughed darkly. “You’re not sorry, bitch, but you’re going to be.” He tossed her down to the ground, making her back hit the wood floor hard before he was over her, holding her down as he opened her robe and shoved up the bottom of her nightgown, ripping the silk.
“Get off me!” Buffy yelled, struggling under him her legs scissoring as she tried to break free of his bulk.
“I don’t think so. Your trashy, cheap cunt is mine, bitch. I paid for you. I bought you. You’re not for him.”
Even with everything Liam had done to her, this would be it. This would be the thing that would push her over the edge, the thing she wouldn’t be able to take. She fought harder, struggling with everything she had. She wouldn’t simply lie there and take this…
“Be still!” Liam bellowed, his hand going around her neck. She sputtered, her eyes bulging, and she thought in a panic as she struggled to breathe that he may not stop. She pushed at him with her hands, looking at his face as a cruel smile spread across it.
“Maybe it would be better if you were just dead. Then I’d know exactly where your whoring pussy was.”
Then, with a dark laugh, he let go of her neck, and Buffy gasped for air, her lungs burning.
“That’s too quick though, baby. I feel like making you hurt tonight. You owe me a pound of flesh after what you did to me.”
One hand pushed at her chest to hold her down as the other went to his belt buckle. He opened his slacks and pulled out his cock. His eyes met hers as he stroked it, wanting her to watch, wanting her to know exactly what he was about to do to her.
His eyes closed for just a moment, but it was what Buffy needed. With more strength than she knew she possessed, she wrenched her leg free and kicked up, kneeing him in the groin. Liam howled, his eyes widening, and Buffy rolled out from beneath him.
While he struggled to get to his feet with his trousers undone and his cock aching, Buffy ran to the desk and pulled open the top drawer on the right-hand side. She knew what was usually there, and breathed a sigh of relief as she saw it still was.
Liam stopped short as Buffy took the revolver out and pointed it towards him. “You stay the hell away from me, you fucking bastard!” she yelled, hysteria in her words.
“Buffy, baby, come on, put the gun down,” Liam said, fixing his pants with one hand as he held up his other one. “I was just angry, Buffy. I didn’t really mean any of it. You know I’d never hurt you like that. Come on. Put down the gun, and we’ll go to bed and talk in the morning.”
Buffy shook her head, hot tears stinging her eyes. “No. No. All you ever do is hurt me, Liam. I’m not going to let you do it anymore.”
“Buffy, put the damn gun down.”
Her hands trembled around the weapon as her thoughts whirled around in her head, moving too quickly. She didn’t know what to do. She wanted William...
Suddenly, Liam launched himself at her, and Buffy screamed before she ran out from behind the desk, towards the door. She heard Liam shift, coming for her again, and she closed her eyes and pulled the trigger before she could think, three shots ringing out in the office.
The room grew still, quiet again, and Buffy opened her eyes, her face growing pale as she realized what she’d done. She didn’t see Liam, but she didn’t hear him either, and he wasn’t coming for her. That must’ve meant she’d…
A blind panic slamming into her, Buffy ran from the office, down the stairs, out of the mansion. She needed to get out of there; she needed to find William. He’d help her. He’d protect her.
She needed William.
Spike pulled into the parking lot of his apartment complex fighting to stay awake. It had been a long day, but it had also been productive, and despite his exhaustion, he was feeling good about things. It had been easier to get across the border than he’d expected, and he’d found a place where he and Buffy could lay low for a while until they figured out the next step.
For the first time since they’d started this thing, he felt some real hope. This was doable; it could work.
Then, he got to his front door, and all of that came tumbling down.
Buffy was sitting on the ground, trembling from the cold. She was wearing nothing but a silk robe and nightgown, and she was sporting several fresh bruises.
“Buffy? Pet, what happened? Are you all right?”
She said nothing, only reached into her robe and pulled out a gun. She dropped it in her lap, her eyes wide, scared.
“Holy fuck… Buffy, what did you do?”
“I…I didn’t mean to,” she whispered.
Spike looked around, realizing they were in a public place. He picked the gun up, then helped her to her feet, letting her lean on him as he brought her into his apartment, locking the door behind them.
He took her to the couch, dropping the gun on the side table. “Tell me what happened, luv,” he implored as he sat beside her, doing his best to keep his tone even as not to spook her any further. “Did you kill him?”
“I don’t know.”
She was still shaking, and in the light of the apartment, Spike could see how bad her bruises were and that her clothes were in disarray. He didn’t even want to think about what that could mean… “Did you shoot him?”
“I…I think so. I fired the gun, and then he was on the floor, and…” Buffy slumped forward, sobbing against William’s chest.
He pulled her into his lap and held her, rocking her back and forth as he did his best to soothe her. He wanted to make it better for her, but how could he? How could he ever possibly hope to fix this?
“He knew about us,” Buffy said finally. “I thought he was at work, but he came home late, around ten, and…he…he had pictures. Surveillance photos. I don’t know where he got them, but he had them, and, oh god…” She stopped, her body convulsing for a moment, and Spike was afraid she was going to retch before she stopped and spoke again. “He tried to rape me. And…and I think he wanted to kill me.”
She pulled up, her eyes seeming to glass over. “I just fired. I didn’t look. I just pulled the trigger three times. He was coming for me, and I pulled the trigger three times.”
Spike ran a trembling hand down her hair. “But you didn’t see if they hit him?”
“No, but he was down, and he was quiet, and…” Buffy broke off with a sob. “If he’s dead, I killed him, and I’ll go to jail. I don’t want to go to jail, Will. Not because of him.”
“You won’t. We’re going to Mexico, remember? We’ll still run, Buffy.”
“But they’ll look for me now,” Buffy replied, her body starting to shake harder. “Spike, they’ll give Border Patrol my picture, and they’ll be looking for me, and I’ll never get over. I…” She crumbled, crying against him. “I’ve ruined everything for us.”
“No, it’ll still be all right,” Spike insisted, not willing to believe he was going to lose his chance with Buffy. They were in love, and they would get their happy ending. He had to believe that. “You don’t even know if you shot him, pet. He could’ve just been staying down because he was afraid you’d shoot again.”
Buffy looked up, her shiny eyes possessing a sliver of hope. “Do you think so?”
“It’s possible,” Spike replied. “And if you weren’t even looking where you were shooting, they there’s a very good chance you didn’t hit him. Did you see blood?”
Buffy shook her head. “No.”
“Then we don’t know what happened,” Spike told her, trying to make his voice soothing as he smoothed his hands over her hair. “Let’s just wait until the morning and suss all this out then. There’s a good chance he’s not dead, and we can just leave like we planned.”
“Is there?”
“Yeah, baby, there is.” Spike stood with her, cradling her in his arms as he took her towards the bedroom. “We’re going to go to sleep now, okay? You’re exhausted, mentally and physically, and you can’t think straight like that. We’ll plan our next move in the morning.”
She didn’t protest when he put her in the bed and climbed in beside her, but instead curled up at his side and quickly fell asleep, the events of the night catching up with her, her mind and body not able to go any further. She was with William now. He’d take care of her…
Spike, however, remained wide awake. He didn’t feel as certain as he told Buffy he was, and he didn’t believe himself when he told her Liam probably wasn’t dead. And if he was dead, well, Spike had to come up with a plan and fast.
She was right about Border Patrol. They could switch tactics and head to Canada instead, but that would keep them in the States for longer, plus they’d have to find a place to move on from there.
The only thing he knew for sure was she didn’t deserve prison. As he looked down at the angry bruise marring her beautiful face, Spike knew that much was true. If she had shot Liam, then he deserved to die for what he’d done to her that night. Hell, he deserved worse than death.
Spike was still awake when the sun rose, his mind still racing as he tried to decide how they were going to get out of this. Buffy needed him to rescue her now more than ever, and he couldn’t let her down.
It was a little after eight a.m. when his cell phone rang, and Spike carefully slipped away from Buffy, grateful when she didn’t move. He took the phone into the living room, closing the bedroom door behind him, and grimaced when he saw his mother’s name on the caller ID.
“Hello.”
Darla didn’t waste her time with preamble. “William, your father was shot last night. He’d dead.”
Any hope William had for anything was gone in that instant. He didn’t respond to his mother, only closed the cell phone and let it fall to the ground. It rang again a moment later, but he didn’t answer it this time.
His eyes went to the gun, still on the side table, and he knew what he had to do. He walked mechanically over to it and wiped it down with the end of his t-shirt before putting his own hand on the trigger, then touching the gun everywhere until he was sure his prints remained. Then, he grabbed a pad of paper and wrote a quick note, knowing he had to tell her where he was and hoping she would heed his plea to stay quiet, to let him do this.
He had to do this. He had to do this for her.
With an ache of his heart, he looked towards the closed bedroom door, but he refused to open it. He couldn’t look at her. If he looked at her, if he saw what he was saying good-bye to, then he wasn’t sure he could go through with it.
But he knew it was the best plan. If they ran, there was no guarantee they’d make it, and even if they did, she’d be running forever. She didn’t deserve that life, especially not with all she’d been through. If he took the blame, if he let it all fall on him and kept her away from it, then perhaps she’d have a chance at something someday. Maybe she’d even find someone worthy of loving her.
Spike walked out of the apartment without looking back, the gun still in his hand.
I actually finished this story in draft form last night, so the chapters will come more quickly now. Which I’m sure you’re all grateful for with cliffhanger endings like these…
Please review.