Buffy fell into a deep sleep. Old and new memories filled her dreams. Her eyes twitched beneath heavy lids.
From the darkness, and ethereal figure swirled before her. Eventually, these wisps of iridescent air took the form of her mother. A warm loving smile etched her beautiful classic features. Her arms spread wide, offering a temporary sanctuary from the world, bestowing with unconditional love.
Joyce slowly disappeared, replaced by clear pictures of Willow, Xander, and Giles, seated around Giles’ apartment. Studying ancient tomes designated for the next Big Bad. She still felt loved. However, the peace and safety her mother’s embrace and presence offered had disappeared.
Soon their faces and the comforts of home faded away, transforming into infinite faces of demons. Monsters that should only exist in nightmares and fables, but for her were all too real.
From the sea of demons before her stood only one, which drew her gaze. Endless shadows encased him, hugging his body in a snug form of leather and denim. Only the beacon of bleached white locks separated him from the dark that cloaked him. His mischievous grin and fathomless blue eyes ensnared Buffy.
He disappeared as she continued forward. The darkness wrapped around her, consuming her. No longer did the wondrous feelings of warmth and affection exist. Only the cold hardness of malcontent reigned. His grin and fathomless blue eyes ensnared Buffy.
After the years of her residing between light and dark, the darkness had come forth to stake its claim. No longer did she live within the darkness, she had become one with it. With each battle, each slay, the shards of darkness punctured her mind, heart, and soul. Constant battles with real and figurative demons were slowly becoming her sole reason for being.
Scattered memories melted into an alleyway behind the Bronze. The dust of a newly staked vamp swirled in the air, as a slow sarcastic clap filled the silence. Birthed from the shadows was an unknown vampire, clad in leather. His features were set with a hardened gaze and set smirk. Despite his human facade, his words tore through her, as though they were fangs.
”Nice work, love.”
“Who are you?”
“You’ll find out on Saturday.”
“What happens on Saturday?”
“I kill you.”
As Buffy watched him retreat into the shadows another memory came. The deafening sound of glass shattering, wood splintering, and the screams of scared students and adults alike fleeing. Now standing amidst the debris and melee stood the definition of danger. With a slight flurry of pictures, he now stood before her, smirking in demon guise. His strangely soothing timbre caused her to shiver with fear and unexpected excitement.
”Fe, fi, fo fum. I smell the blood of a nice ripe girl.”
“Do we really need weapons for this?”
“I just like them. They make me feel all manly—the last Slayer I killed…she begged for her life. You don’t strike me as the begging kind.”
“You shouldn’ta come here.”
“No, I’ve messed up your doilies and stuff. But I just got so bored. I’ll tell you what. As a personal favor from me to you, I’ll make it quick. It won’t hurt a bit.”
“No Spike, it’s gonna hurt a lot.”
Her memories moved forward once more, to them standing in her living room while her mother watched with utter confusion. Begrudgingly, they made an agreement to end Angelus’ ploy to raise Acathala. He kept his word, keeping Giles safe and taking Dru away, leaving her to close the portal, which Angelus’ blood had opened. Once closed, the process dragged Angel to hell and her heart with him.
The dream skipped to Spike’s brief, but pertinent visit, when he gave insight to her and Angel’s relationship. Which both had adamantly refused to acknowledge or name. With complete certainty, he told them, as they all stood among vampire dust and a ruined magic store, that they would ‘never be friends, and he would always be ‘loves bitch.’ With keen insight, he labeled their feelings and recognized their doomed relationship, before they did.
Flash to him huddling under a worn and tattered blanket, seeking sanction from the deadly sun and the Initiative, using knowledge of the unknown as an advantage to gain safe passage into Giles’ home. Teasing and taunting words were thrown between them, as they chained him to the bathtub, a chair and to her side. Despite the mutual loathing, he helped, in his own way. His aid began slowly chipping away at the shell of hardness surrounding her mind in regard to him.
Her memories flickered with like a photo album caught in a fierce wind, flipping to each time, each fight, and each word they shared. Finally, the pages settled.
She was perched on his lap, his arms wrapped lovingly around her waist. Deft fingers, drawing lazy patterns upon exposed flesh. His soft caresses leaving white-hot desire and need in their wake. She remembered his strong, yet gentle mouth on hers, probing, exploring, tasting, memorizing, until they were both dizzy with need. His whispered words of their future and his devotion, danced upon whispered in the shell of her ear.
All too soon, the spell was broken, leaving her bereft and lost. The love, although false, seemed real within her mind and heart. It still does each time she gazes upon the heavy silver skull ring that lies nestled amid her other cherished jewelry of a silver cross and Claddagh ring.
The flashes of memories began to slow and stop at the recent past. His fathomless blue eyes held respect and sheer awe. His heartfelt, caring words surrounded by sarcasm and indifference, to hide his true feelings. Despite his protests, his actions rang clear. He called forward her deep unexplored feelings for him, which she’d shunned and dispelled repeatedly. These were now the only things that kept her sane and whole.
In an instant, she’d stripped all the hate and loathing of the past away, leaving him not only emotionally, but also now physically bare to her gaze. His near perfect form christened by water, flowing over tantalizing flesh. His deft hands stroking, pleasing but never finding release, leaving them both unfulfilled.
As he turned away from her, the cold steel walls of their room, transformed into a deluge of water encasing them both. His human façade was gone. His demon, with descended fangs glistening in the soft light, a look of unsatisfied hunger and desire swirling in his golden eyes remained.
Unafraid, with a slow loll of her head, she bared her neck to him. Tenderly, he gathered her in his strong arms. With leisurely laps of his raspy tongue, he ascended the column of her throat. Basking in his overwhelming ministrations, her eyes fluttered closed.
Following several tediously slow, pleasurable passes of his tongue needle-sharp fangs gently pierced her jugular. As her life’s blood filled his mouth, she felt cherished, desired, and saved. While her blood flowed, so did the moisture between her thighs. Slowly, all too soon, his fangs retracted. Instantly, his sparkling blue gaze filled with reverence, held hers. Placing her hand tenderly to his cheek, words poured forth from her heart, “Spike, I lo—“
Startled form her dreams, Buffy sat up quickly. Her heart pounded, as her breath heaved in and out of her slack mouth. Her own unspoken words still hung heavy within her head. As did what she witnessed last. That was not dream, nor a memory. From the familiar feeling washing over her, she knew it was a vision. Gaining some semblance of control, she slowly gazed upon her co-star.
Still asleep, he lay on his unmade bed. Spike's right arm haphazardly covering his eyes, while the other rested on his chest, which slowly raised and lowered with unneeded breath. Before she could process all that transpired within her dream, Jack’s harsh, hate-filled voice echoed through the room.
“Twenty minutes till show time little girl.
Buffy slowed slipped her weary body from bed. Despite the many hours of sleep, she felt more exhausted now than she had been prior. Tentatively, her gaze fell on Spike, who remained motionless, before slowly undressing.
Spike’s consciousness greeted him with an incessant pounding resonating through his head. His stomach roiled with each beat, threatening to purge his newly swallowed feast. After several moments of silently willing the pain to stop, he noticed that the pace of each throb had slowed, now resembling a steady drumbeat, or more so, a heartbeat.
Grateful it wasn’t his head that was imitating a ticking time bomb, Spike focused on the sounds in the room. His cock immediately lengthened and hardened informing his brain what the noises he heard were, Buffy undressing. The soft whispers of clothes sliding across flesh, pooling to the floor, and her slight sighs from the liberation of said clothes, all tantalized his mind. Instantly, he was inundated with her heavenly musky essence, making his mouth water and his cock press painfully against his already constricting denims.
Before he could shift his arm and gaze upon his dream made reality, Jack’s voice rang through the room. “Prisoners, you know the drill!” Cursing the bastard and his inopportune entrance, Spike assumed the customary position. He tried to capture Buffy’s gaze, which remained hidden under closed eyes.
“Buffy, are you—“
Jack and three guards entering ended his words mid-sentence. Without a sound, she turned from the wall, her arms outstretched in submission. With a taunting smirk, Jack stood to the side, while the guards ushered her out. The definitive closing of the door, hit Spike deeply as he turned to look towards the empty side of her room. Instantly, his worried pacing began.
Lead through the halls, Buffy tried to clear her mind, which still was hazy with her dreams, more so her vision. ”Spike is going to feed off of me, willingly?” before her mind could venture further, she entered into the main room.
Her stomach roiled from the overwhelming stench. Stifling her gag reflex, Buffy quickly focused on her task at hand. Alluding confidence she did not fully feel, she passed the area where they held the demons. She heard several murmurs, some in English and others in foreign demon tongues. Although she didn’t listen, she knew their words were unkind and flat out crass, regardless she remained composed. Guided up the ramp, she stood on the threshold of the arena while the commentator announced her opponent.
“Our next contest features one of the more popular fighters we’ve had the pleasure of presenting. From the medieval lands of Pylea, Landokmar of the Deathwok Clan!”
Boisterous cheers filled the arena and continued as his hate-filled gaze skimmed over the crowd. Once they slowed to a dull roar, the announcer’s deep voice continued.
“Back by popular demand, the only female to grace the arena, but don’t let her petite stature and Siren features fool you. She’s here for one reason and one reason only, to slay demons. The one, the only—The Slayer!”
Swallowing back the bile that rose to the top of her throat, Buffy stepped out into the bright lights and deafening roar of the crowd. Once she adjusted to the sensory assault, her steely gaze assessed her opponent.
Standing over six feet tall, the green-skinned demon was clad in medieval period garb, black leather doublet and breeches, which he’d tucked into his knee-high boots. Protruding from the middle of his forehead, were large ridges nestled between two small, red horns. Unfettered brown hair flowed down past his shoulders. A long mustache and goatee of the same color, framed a menacing scowl, as his piercing blood red eyes fixed on her.
Despite Buffy’s defiant gaze holding firm with his, inner turmoil swirled within her mind as she remembered her last opponent and his horrible and unneeded death. She recalled Wally’s sweet awkward smile, his several attempts in initially befriend her regardless of their situation and the true reason for them being in the ring together. The trip down memory lane instantly cut short by her current opponent’s deep, repulsive voice ringing out.
“Filthy cows, all of you! Through many cows’ lies and deceit, a fierce warrior of the Deathwok Clan has to sully his hands with your blood. No matter, I will win this insignificant match and soon return to my lands telling all of my strength and gallantry in the land of the cows.”
Buffy’s eyes widened first in disbelief, then instantly replaced by pure fury for the demon that stood before her. A gratifying smirk spread across her lips as her inner slayer took hold.
“Mooo…” Following her taunt, in a flurry of motions, Buffy was upon him. Delivering a roundhouse kick to his abdomen, a loud whoosh of his expelled breath and hunched over form incited her to attack again. Three skillful, solid punches connected with his exposed face. Ignoring the loud satisfying crunch of his nose breaking, Buffy lowered herself and attempted to sweep his legs out from under him.
Recovering quickly from the several blows, Landokmar jumped, avoiding her. On his descent, he deftly kicked Buffy, knocking her backwards. Sliding across the floor, Buffy launched herself off the floor and now stood before him. With slow strides, she circled him assessing her next move.
With an inhuman growl, he rushed towards her. Sidestepping him, she delivered a spin kick, connecting with hard with his lower back. Instantly, he fell to his knees, with both hands clutching the struck area. His breaths became shallow and shaky pants. Buffy took this opportunity to deliver another blow to the same area. On contact, his body stiffened before he crumbled forward.
The crescendo of the crowd’s cheers reached an all time high, as Buffy stood over her fallen adversary. Buffy remained poised in the ready, to finish the battle if need be, until the commentator’s voice rang through the thunderous arena. Finally relaxing, Buffy knew that his presence was to signal the end of the fight and confirmed what she already knew, his death.
“Match in four minutes and fifty-eight seconds for our newest member of the McNamara’s prize fighters, The Slayer!”
With steady steps, Buffy headed towards the exit. Once she stepped into the main room, Jack met her with slow applause and sarcastic words.
“Pretty impressive little girl, completely underestimated you. The fact you figured out those filthy demons hearts were in their asses is a major feat. Oh, well. Now I know I really have to step up your opponents. Can’t make it too easy on you, can we?”
With Jack’s silent nod, three guards urged Buffy forward with their presence behind her. They led her through the halls and back to her room, where she knew that her painstaking task of waiting for Spike’s return lay ahead of her.
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Author's Chapter Notes:
Ok, I appreciate all that have stuck with this story. I am really have a lot of fun with this story and I hope the same holds true for all of you as well! Big thanks to Sanityfair, sorry this chapter needed so much work!! *luv ya sweetie!*
Don't forget, those in the US, thank your Vet today!
Don't forget, those in the US, thank your Vet today!
Chapter End Notes:
This chapter is a little different the rest, more insightfully! Don't worry, Buffy WILL NOT become Ms. Broody Pants, I promise! And those that watch Angel, I know that Landokmar doesn't come through the portal until the second season, but I felt that it really worked here, so here it was put. Reviews are loved and cherish and savored like Godiva chocolates!!! Take a look at my new story Unlocking Ecstasy. The second chapter is now posted