Chapter 2

What was going on?

Buffy recovered herself and stared at Spike, who was now sitting sideways on the edge of the bed, smirking at her. Okay, maybe she shouldn’t have thrown that candle at him. But she hadn’t been able to bring herself to touch him or even come near his naked form as he lay on the bed. It would have been way too much of a temptation. Seeing him like that brought back every single moment of last night.

The things he had done to her. The things he had made her do. The things she had done. Just looking at him brought all of that back. His weight upon her, the scent of him, the taste of him, the hard thickness of his cock driving into her...

God, no! She wasn’t going to think of that! She couldn’t believe how she had acted last night! She had behaved like a ho! It had been a horrendous mistake and she was never going to let it happen again.

Besides, look at him. So smug and smirking. Was it something about her that the guys she slept with turned into assholes the next morning? But then Spike always was an asshole. The monster.

There was something different about him. It wasn’t the Spike she was used to in the last couple of years, the Spike who said he loved her, expecting her to believe that when everybody knew vamps couldn’t love. This was more like the Spike he had been before the chip, the Spike who hated her guts.

Yeah, Spike was a monster, without a soul, and his ‘love’ was not love but obsession. Still, now that she started thinking about it, started seeing this weird difference, she realized that he had mellowed a little after getting that chip. Been hurt this morning when she had rejected him. She had a moment’s compunction about that. She had done to him what Angelus had done to her. Far worse, really.

She set her jaw. It didn’t matter. He was a vamp and he was a monster. He didn’t have feelings.

“Get dressed,” she said harshly. “Dawn’s missing.”

He frowned and his gaze slid sideways. For a moment he stared into space oddly.

“Oh!” he said suddenly. “Right. Your sister. Is that supposed to mean something to me?”

“We’ve got to find her!”

“Ever think of a LoJack for the girl?” He smirked at the look she gave him. “Why come to me? All you have to do is get your little Scooby gang to fan out over Sunnydale and bellow her name a few times. Don’ need me for that.”

“She went out with Willow.”

“And so? Red’s a Scoob. Kid sis is safe as houses. Kind of a sorry excuse to come by.” He leered at her. “If you want the touch, all you need to do is ask.”

She glared at him. “Willow’s into something. She and Dawn have been missing for hours. There’s this guy named Rack...”

His gaze unfocused itself again. “Rack?”

“Yeah. He’s some sort of warlock or black magician...”

Spike nodded abruptly. “I know who he is. Deals in black magic, the really dangerous kind. Part demon he is, how much nobody knows.”

“I’ve been all over downtown and I can’t find his place.”

“That’s because he cloaks it. Moves it around so no one can find it unless you’re into the big bad—a witch or a vampire or a demon.”

Buffy scooped up his jeans from where they lay on the floor and threw them at him. “So let’s go!”

“I don’t take orders, pet. You want a favor? Try asking.”

She stared at him. “I thought you cared about Dawn.”

He looked at her with cold eyes. “I’m a vamp. A monster. I don’t care for anybody, remember? Ask, Slayer.”

She snarled, then gave in. Dawn’s safety was on the line. “I want you to find Rack’s place for me.”


“What?” But the tight, cold smile on his face was answer enough. She bit her lip. “Will you find Rack’s place for me?”

“Still waiting.”

She gritted her teeth. “Please.”

He laughed. “That hurt, dinnit? So used to throwing your weight around. Being a little tin god.”

She couldn’t believe the way he was acting. What had gotten into him?

“But since you asked so...nicely, I’ll help.” He stood up.

She turned her gaze away hurriedly from that spectacular, naked body.

“Oh, that’s right,” he scoffed. “Hide your blushing eyes. Purse your face into prim and prissy.”

He was suddenly right up in front of her.

“There isn’t an inch of me you haven’t seen, pet. Not an inch you haven’t tasted.” He grabbed her hand and raked it down his torso, closed her palm around his cock. “You’ve had that in your mouth.”

Boiling with fury, she tore her hand away and punched him in the face with all her strength. This morning when she did that, he hadn’t retaliated, just wiped away the blood and looked at her with eyes that held hurt behind the defiance.

This time he hit back, a powerful backhand that knocked her clear across the room. She staggered to her feet, gasping.

“Not gonna be your punching bag anymore, Slayer. Hit me, I’ll hit back.”

She stared at him in disbelief as he yanked on his jeans and pulled his tee-shirt over his head, then reached for his duster.

“Well, get the brakes off, Slayer. Thought you were in a hurry to find Kid Sis.”

He strode off, leaving her to follow in incredulous silence.

It didn’t take long for him to find Rack’s den. Spike wondered whether his future self would have found it so easily, sappy as he had turned, no longer pure evil. But this Spike was still a big bad.

Slayer stared around in bewilderment when he said, “Here it is.”

All Buffy could see was a long stretch of empty alley. “There’s nothing here.”

Spike grabbed her hand and held it up, moving her palm back and forth over air which rippled at the touch.

“It’s invisible. Can you feel the mojo now?”

“I feel heat,” she realized.

He nodded. “Energy expended in keeping it cloaked. Come on.”

The air shimmered again as he stepped forward. Spike abruptly vanished, the hand gripping hers the only part of him still visible. She stepped forward under his pull and was suddenly in a dingy waiting room. Glancing over her shoulder, she saw the closed door that she had come through was still wavering after her passage. Then it stabilized and looked like any other door.

Inside, the place was fairly run-down, the chairs and sofas and lamps shabby. A seedy looking man took one look at her, then dropped his cigarette and ran. The door slammed behind him. A couple of tense young girls just barely out of their teens stared after him, but stayed on the couch where they were sitting and waiting. They looked strung out.

“Users,” said Spike with a scornful glance.

“Drugs?” Buffy exclaimed, shocked.

“Magic. Can be just as addictive. Rack’s a pusher. That black magic, it can give you a real high. Lot of power there.”

“Willow’s into this?”

“You’re asking me? Seems so.” Spike shrugged. “You’re the one who wanted to come here. What tipped you off?”

“A witch called Amy. I think she’s the one who brought Willow here, got her hooked.”

A man came out of an inner room and stopped, his brows rising. His eyes pointed in different directions, he had a scar on his face, long stringy hair, an amulet around his neck, and he gave off an aura of pure sleaze.

“I thought I felt power out here,” he remarked. “The Slayer. What brings you to my humble abode? Or need I ask?” He gave Spike a dangerously menacing look. “You should have known better, vampire.”

Spike shuddered dramatically. “Got me just shivering in me Docs here, wanker.”

“Is Willow here?” Buffy demanded, cutting across both of them impatiently.

Rack gave her an expressionless glance. “What makes you think she’s here?”

Buffy sighed. “Look. Don’t make me give you grief. I know she comes here. I want to know where she is. Tell me and I’m out of here.”

Rack considered for a moment, then shrugged.

“Come inside,” he said, then blocked Spike from following Buffy. “Not you, vampire.”

“Can’t pass up a chance to see the inner sanctum, now can I?” Spike gave him a wide smile that showed fang. “You really don’t want to try to stop me.”

“And you really don’t want to take me on,” hissed Rack.

“You don’t know me very well, do you?”

It was never a good idea to challenge Spike, Buffy thought. He never could pass up a challenge. It looked like Rack was starting to realize that.

After a moment, Rack shrugged and stepped out of the way. “It doesn’t matter. Come in if you want to.”

The outer room had been something like a trashy version of a dentist’s waiting room. The inner was a little more plush though still tacky, with sofas around its perimeters and a round table surrounded by cushions at its center.

A drop of something fell past Buffy’s shoulder and joined a red puddle on the floor. She looked up sharply.

A young woman floated against the ceiling, her head and limbs and long black hair hanging downwards limply. She was very dead.

Spike reached out, collected some of the dripping blood in the palm of his hand and lapped at it with relish. Buffy recoiled in distaste and he gave her an amused glance.

“Witch, huh? Can taste it. Lot of black mojo, she had.”

“But not enough. She came here to kill me. Don’t touch the athame, vampire,” said Rack sharply as Spike bent to pick up a knife lying on the floor below the body.

“Rather not,” Spike agreed. The athame was a wicked looking thing—a long, sinuous, pointed dagger with strange, sharp protrusions and with arcane symbols inscribed on the dully gleaming, black blade. “Sacrificial knife? And enspelled.”

“She made it specially to kill me. But I was ready and waiting.”

“You can pat yourself on the back later, warlock,” said Buffy sharply. “What I want to know is where’s Willow?”

“Is she always bossy like this?” Rack asked Spike.

“Oh, yeah.” Spike had started wandering around the room, picking up and replacing objects restlessly. “It’s a thing with her. This is mild. She must like you.”

“How could she not?” purred Rack and smiled lasciviously at Buffy. “You’ve got no magic. Not a spark. But that Slayer side of you. That has power. You burn with power. We’d make a good team.”

Buffy shuddered. “Eww! Gross. Put that thought right out of your head.”

“Yeah,” said Spike. “There’s only one big bad can make her scream.”

Buffy flushed hotly and glared at him. “Shut up, Spike!”

Rack looked disgusted. “You’re throwing yourself away on him? A goddess like you? What a waste!”

“No, no.” Spike smirked at Buffy. “Really hits the heights with me, she does.”

Buffy made a strangled sound, speechless with rage. How dared he humiliate her like this?

“I could give you power,” murmured Rack insinuatingly into her ear. “Power to rule the world. Power beyond anything you’ve ever dreamed of. Intoxicating power you’ll feel like fire and wine and honey in your blood.”

He rubbed his hands together and sparks flew off them.

“Let me show you.”

“No.” She was glaring at Spike who grinned back. If only she didn’t need him to find Dawn for her. She could have staked him then. Maybe she would when all this was over. “All I want is to know where Willow is.”

“Not here. You just missed her.” He was circling Buffy slowly. “She tasted of strawberries. I wonder what you would taste of.”

“You’ll never know. Do you know where she’s gone?”

“No.” Rack brushed that away impatiently. “You have no idea what real power could be like. Let me give you a taste. Let’s both of us have a taste.”

He raised his hand, fire flickering upon his palm.

“We done here?” Spike asked Buffy.

She gave Rack an exasperated look. “Looks like.”


He sliced the athame across Rack’s throat from ear to ear. Buffy leaped back as blood sprayed. Rack fell, his eyes wide and horrified, trying desperately to gurgle spells through the blood flooding his mouth from his windpipe, its corrugations clearly visible now that it was in two separate pieces .

“Wasn’t ready this time, was he?” Spike remarked with satisfaction. “Nice blade that witch made. Curbs his power. No one takes what’s mine, wanker.”

“Spike!” gasped Buffy in shock.

“Was enough of a demon for me to be able to kill him. And I really was in the mood to kill something. You gonna waste time whining over him, Slayer? I just did all those pathetic little users out there a favor, including Red.”

Buffy stared down at the body spasming in its pool of blood on the floor. It finally stopped twitching and lay still, its eyes staring blindly at the ceiling. The body of the witch fell to the floor.

“I guess you did,” she said at last.

The room around them rippled, then abruptly vanished. They were standing in the alley again, in the midst of a clutter of sofas and cushions and other furniture. The two young girls in the waiting room had been knocked sideways on the couch they had been sitting on and were now staggering to their feet. They stared at the two bodies lying on the ground in front of them, then turned and ran.

“Put the word out,” Spike called after them. “Rack’s history. Going to have to find your black juice somewhere else.”

“Now how are we going to find Dawn?” groaned Buffy.

“We follow Willow.” He was sniffing the air. “She was here, so I should be able to pick up her trail. Yeah, here it is and she was with your sis. This way.”

They ran down the sidewalk. Some distance down the street, Spike came to an abrupt halt.

“They got into a car. All cars smell the same. Of exhaust and gas fumes.”

“Willow doesn’t have a car.”

“Then she ripped one off. Good for her.” He grinned when Buffy frowned. “Hey, what can I say? Evil here.”

“Now what?”

“We follow the demon. Come on.”

“What demon?” Buffy exclaimed, racing after him.

“The demon chasing them.”

“There’s a demon chasing them?” They were both running flat out now.

“Something Red cooked up by the smell of it. Her signature’s on it. I’ll bet Rack tricked her into it somehow. It’s not something a witch like her would normally summon.”

Both Slayer and vamp hearing suddenly picked up a scream.

“Sounds like your brat,” remarked Spike. “The trouble she keeps getting into, guess she has a lot of practice squawking. That way.”

Buffy was already tearing in that direction. Down an alley, into an archway...There! A car had been crashed into a concrete pillar and now stood with its front end badly crumpled. Beyond that was Dawn with a scarlet skinned demon leaping at her. There was blood on Dawn’s face where it had clawed her and she was cradling her left arm as if it hurt.


Buffy tackled the demon, carrying it away from Dawn. Spike watched them slug it out for a minute, then shrugged and walked over to where Dawn was slumped on the ground.

“Something wrong with your arm, kid?”

“Don’t touch it!”

“Wasn’t going to. Busted, is it?” he asked without interest.

Dawn nodded, tears pouring down her face.

“What happened?”

“That demon was chasing us,” wept Dawn. “It said Willow summoned it. We stole a car to get away from it and Willow drove by magic. Something went wrong and we crashed and, when I crawled out, the demon grabbed me. I don’t know where Willow is and...”

The tumbling stream of words broke down into sobs.

“Yeah, yeah. Turn off the puling waterworks, kid.” Spike sat down comfortably beside her, an elbow across his upraised knee, and watched Buffy and the demon batter at each other. “It all just sounds par for the course.”

“Aren’t you going to help?”

“Why? She’s the Slayer. She can handle it.”

“But you always help!”

“And never got thanked for it.”

Dawn stared at him as if this were an alien concept.

“But...” she mumbled and he gave her a sardonic look.

“It’s finally occurred to me that being a nice guy doesn’t work with you lot.”

The demon had suddenly stopped short and begun to tremble. Spike watched it with one eyebrow raised. Buffy too was giving it a bemused look.

Now you’re scared?” she said to it, then shrugged. “Better late than never.”

The demon screamed, steam coming off it, then dissolved into a shower of sparks and smoke. Behind it, Willow’s form became apparent, magic still crackling from her fingers. Her eyes were completely black.

“Oh, yeah, better late than never,” agreed Spike dryly. “Seems like Red finally pulled herself together.”

He slid back as Buffy ran over to Dawn and started fussing over her. Dawn pulled away as Buffy reached out to her.

“I need to see,” Buffy insisted. “Let me see your arm.”

But Dawn had got her arm at an angle that gave her the least pain and she was terrified that being touched might make it hurt more.

“No, don’t!”

Willow came rushing up. “Dawn! Oh, God, there’s blood!”

“We’ve got to get her to a hospital,” Buffy said to Spike.

He nodded brusquely, then lifted Dawn smoothly to her feet with one hand under the elbow of her undamaged arm and the other about her waist. She gasped, but he had taken all her weight and she had not had to flex any muscle that might give her pain.

“Dawnie!” Willow was reaching towards Dawn. “Dawnie, I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry. It was an accident! I didn’t see...”

“Stay away from her!” Buffy said in a cold fury, getting between them as Dawn recoiled.

But Willow ran around her to get to Dawn. “Dawnie, I didn’t mean any of this to happen!”

To Spike’s appreciative amusement, Dawn slapped Willow across the face as hard as she could.

“Dawnie!” Willow exclaimed in shock. “Dawnie, don’t!”

Dawn ignored her and wavered towards the sidewalk under Buffy and Spike’s guidance, bent protectively over her arm. Behind them, Willow went into meltdown, collapsing onto the ground and crying wildly. Spike glanced over his shoulder at her with unwilling understanding. He’d made wrong choices himself, wasn’t going to cast any stones. He paused and looked at Buffy.

Buffy stared back inimically for a moment, then let out an exasperated breath and turned back. Her meaningful glance at him said, ‘Take care of Dawn,’ and he nodded resignedly. Guess he was stuck with the little bint.

Still, he was kind of pleased with the kid. She had gumption.

“Well, you whacked Red a good one, didn’t you?” he said, amused, as he led her down the street.

Dawn gave him a scowling, unrepentant glare. He grinned. Bitty Buffy.

“She deserved it!”

“I’m sure she did.”

“She left me sitting in that waiting room for almost two hours with this way creepy guy! And then when she came out she was really mean, making fun of me for wanting to go home and saying I was too chicken to play with the grownups. And she drove by magic, except she did it crazy and crashed the car. And that demon! She made it! And...and...Oh, Spike, it was horrible!”

“Sounds like.”

He stroked her hair lightly and comfortingly, then realized what he was doing and jerked his hand back sharply. He didn’t feel anything for Dawn. His memories said that he had been very fond of her, that a lot of things had happened between them over the last summer when the Slayer had been dead. But memories were just that—memories. They had no reality, were like some movie playing in the back of his head. The feelings that had once been behind that movie didn’t exist. Future Spike had experienced them, but he hadn’t. It was just a gesture, to get her to stop whining. That’s all.

She had been the best of the lot though, except for Joyce. He was sorry when the memories told him that Joyce was dead now. He had liked Joyce who had given him hot chocolate and listened to his troubles and had seen him as a person not a thing. Joyce had been one classy lady. She had reminded him of his own Mum, who had been sweet and trusting too, and had cared. The Bit cared too. Dawn had tried to support and defend him. Guess she had earned a little help back.

So he took her to Emerg, sat with her until she was finally taken away to be looked at, and yawned through the wait while they fixed her up. Turned out she only had a fracture, though it would take her some time to heal, being human and not a vamp or a Slayer. Would keep the little bint out of everybody’s hair for a while. He wondered, amused, how Buffy was getting on. He had the easier job, having to deal only with the kid, not a hysterical Red. Even if the Slayer hadn’t been blaming Red for Dawn’s injuries, she wouldn’t have much sympathy for Willow anyway, not having all that much to spare from whining over herself.

Buffy herself was realizing that she was having trouble dredging up any concern for Willow. She got her home and put her to bed and knew all the while that all she was feeling for Willow was a vague sense of duty and irritation. She shouldn’t be this way. Willow was her best friend and Willow had gotten herself so addicted to magic that Tara who truly loved her had finally walked out on her in a desperate attempt to force her to come to her senses. But even that hadn’t worked. Willow was drowning and Buffy hadn’t even noticed.

Part of it was anger. Resentment that Willow had pulled her out of Heaven and now almost got Dawn killed. But the real truth was that Buffy didn’t care. Not about Willow; not about anyone. Except maybe Dawn, who was innocent. And even that was a lukewarm feeling compared to the fierce love and protectiveness she had felt for Dawn before Buffy had died and been resurrected.

After the perfect peace of Heaven, this world was Hell. The sounds and noises, the demands of living impinging upon her. She cringed from that, all of it—life and the things she had to do and the responsibilities heaped upon her. She wanted that peace. That perfect peace of death.

Everything was gray. She felt nothing. Not for anyone. Felt neither joy nor sorrow, just a tremendous apathy.

Somewhere back in the far recesses of her mind, not even really admitted to herself, she had hoped that Spike—that monster, the one vampire she allowed within killing distance of her—would actually kill her. But he hadn’t. Instead he kept insisting that he loved her. As if a vampire could love! The more he said it, the more she hated him for it. For lying to her, for lying to himself.

But Spike was the only thing who could make her feel. Lust. That shameful, white-hot lust that broke through the gray and made her feel alive again.

“It took me away from myself,” Willow was saying. “I”

Buffy jumped, then hid it. “I get that. More than you...” She broke off abruptly, looking away. “But it’s wrong. People get hurt.”

The thing was, sleeping with Spike didn’t hurt anybody but herself. Not even Spike, though she would be using him. A vampire had no feelings, so couldn’t be hurt.

Willow pulled her blanket tighter around herself. Tears were still seeping slowly down her face.

“If something had happened to Dawn tonight,” she whispered. “Something worse...”

“It didn’t.”

“I-I was out of my mind. I-I did things I can’t even...”

Out of sight, Buffy’s nails dug into her palms. The things she had done with Spike!

“It won’t happen again,” said Willow intensely. “I promise. No more spells. I’m finished.”

“I think that’s right. To give it up,” Buffy said slowly. “No matter how good it feels.”

There was the sound of a car stopping outside the house. Buffy looked out of the window. It was a cab, with Spike stepping out of it. She looked at the cab with surprise, then realized why he had taken it when Dawn got out and sagged against him. Dawn’s arm was now in a sling and she looked as if she would have fallen onto the ground if Spike hadn’t been holding her up.

“Dawn’s back. Will you be all right while I go see to her?”

Willow nodded.

“The E.R. doc gave her something for the pain,” explained Spike when Buffy came down and reached worriedly for Dawn who collapsed against her groggily. “It’s knocking her out.”

“Sleepy...” muttered Dawn.

“I’ll take her up,” nodded Buffy. “You can show yourself out.”

But he was still there, sprawled into an armchair and calmly watching TV when she came back down after putting Dawn to bed.

Buffy frowned. “Why are you still here?”

He gave her an amused glance. “You owe me for the cab fare, Slayer.”


“Why should I shell out for you lot?” he mocked and she compressed her lips tightly as she went to dig the money out of her purse.

He had never asked money from them in the last year since he had started believing he was in love with her, though he wasn’t above filching it from Xander just to piss him off.

“Here,” she snapped, thrusting a twenty at him. The cab ride couldn’t have cost anywhere close to that much, since the hospital was not that far away. “Keep the change. Call it a tip.”

He came and flicked it out of her fingers.

“Thanks. Tip for what? Satisfying you proper last night?”

Her fingers closed furiously into a fist. He laughed.

“Yeah, hit me, Slayer. I’ll fucking do you right here on the floor. Make you scream again the way you did last night.”

“Shut up!” She glanced involuntarily over her shoulder. “Last night didn’t happen!”

“Oh, it happened, pet. And it’ll happen again. You’ve got a yen for it now.”

“I have not! Last night was the most...perverse...degrading experience of my life!”

He leered at her. “Yeah. Me too,” he purred.

She snarled. “That might be how you get off, but it’s not my style!”

“No, it’s your calling. Gave me a run for my money, Slayer.”

She bit her lip. They both knew how she had acted, the things she had done.

He looked her up and down scornfully. “Nice disguise you’ve got going there, even without that tacky coat. Hair scraped back like that, sweater covering everything up from chin to fingertips. Seen Salvation Army cows have more sex appeal than you do right now. But that was the idea, wasn’t it? So that no one, not even you, would ever believe you could do the things you do.”

She flushed. She had just yanked on these clothes this morning after she had stripped out of that lacy blouse and leather skirt she had worn last night and hadn’t really admitted even to herself why she had chosen them. Of course he had seen right through it. Spike always saw things that she and the Scoobies foolishly took at face value.

“Miss Priss. Yeah, right. You may fool yourself, Slayer, but you don’t fool me. I’ve seen what an animal you are underneath. I’ve tasted it.” His tongue curled meaningfully against the edge of his teeth. “So raw.”

“Get out!”

“Too late. It’s not gonna be so easy getting rid of me. Don’t you know the old saying? Give the devil a finger, he takes the whole hand. I’m in your system now, pet. You’ll come crawling.”

“Never!” She gave him a contemptuous glance. “You’re the one who crawls, Spike.”

He smirked. “That was before. I admit it. You’ve had me by the short hairs. Thought I loved you. Don’t anymore. Got my rocks back. New man here. Or old. However one looks at it. And this man’s got what you crave.”

He ran his hand deliberately down his torso to his groin.

“Fucked your brains out last night and you loved every nasty second of it. Can do it again. But this time you’ll have to ask. This time I’ll make you say please. Make you beg. And you will.”

She swung at him, almost out of her mind with fury.

He ducked the blow and slammed her up against the wall. Then his mouth was on hers, his tongue invasive, thrusting within, the way his hips were thrusting, grinding into her. She could feel him hard and aroused against her. In horror, she felt her own involuntary response, felt last night’s heat rising.

It didn’t help that she was now aware of how beautiful he was. She hadn’t seen him naked before last night. Hadn’t seen those smooth, rippling muscles, that sixpack, hadn’t felt that skin satin against hers, hadn’t watched his stomach muscles flex as his cock thrust into her. Every bit of last night’s excesses came surging back with the pressure of his body on her and the taste of his mouth and the scent of his skin.

She tried to tear her mouth away. “Don’t!”

“Stop me.”

She couldn’t. Her mouth responded helplessly to him, answered every demand of his, twisted against his, tongue thrusting back, body arching to his, hands clenching on the smooth leather of his duster.

“You want it,” he said with satisfaction.

She did want it. Even anger was welcome after the grays, hot and sharp and red. And lust was a blazing fire through her whole body, sparks flying along her every nerve as his hands slid over her, thrusting under her sweater to knead her breasts, shoving between her legs to knead her core through the denim of her jeans. He was too good at this game, a hundred and twenty years of experience behind that wicked tongue, those clever, knowing, inflaming hands.

For once she was alive. Awake and alive and burning.


She shoved him away with all her strength. He let himself be shoved away, laughing as he staggered backwards.

“You’ll come to me, Slayer. And then...I’ll make you come. Again and again. For hours. You know I can. You know I will. Proved it last night, din’ I?”

He had. And for hours she’d been searingly alive.

“You’ll come to me,” he said with absolute confidence and swung on his heel, duster flaring, and swaggered out.

“I won’t!” she whispered desperately. “I won’t!”

And was horribly afraid that she was lying.


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