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Author's Chapter Notes:
Alright my pretties...I hope you enjoy. My muse has been a finicky b*tch lately, so she needs some extra coaxing to behave.

Thanks as always to my bestest beta eva...Sanityfair
Spike’s eyes shot open from the shuffling noises, interrupting his sleep. Since becoming a vampire, he never fell fully asleep, too many enemies…too many ways to meet a dusty end. Without moving, his ears zoned in on where the sound came from- across the room. Several more moments filled with constant rustling, drove Spike to growl angrily, “Bloody hell slayer! Can’t you stay still over there?”

“I’m trying to get comfortable,” Buffy’s muffled whine, accompanied her continued movement.

“Well, save your complaints for management! Just stop your wiggling, so I can get some decent kip!” Buffy finally stilled. Following several beats of silence, Spike’s lids closed once more. They remained that way until she moved again.

“Really? It’s it too much to ask for you to keep bloody still?”

“I’m sorry, it’s just I’m reallyuncomfortable.”

Spike realized after several beats why she was. With a roll of his eyes, he spoke.

“Slayer, the loo is six paces to your left.”

“What? I can’t…not with you here,” Buffy whispered with embarrassment.

“Then don’t, no blood off my fangs.” Holding back his snicker, Spike continued, “Rain, waterfalls, fast running streams…”

“Shut up Spike!” Buffy snapped, as she pressed her thighs closer together.

“Drip…drip…drip…”

“Shut up…oh no…fuck it!”

Buffy threw the sheet back and shuffled six paces to her left. Spike heard the hurried rustling of her clothes and the quick descent of her pants. After several beats, despite her attempts to cover it with strategically placed coughs- came the stream of relief. “Ahhh…”

“Better?”

“Much.” An automatic swoosh of water followed Buffy’s sighed response.

“Slayer, the sink is two paces to your right.” Spike instructed her before he closed his lids once more.

“Thanks.” Buffy murmured, as she ran her hands under the stream of cold water. Cupping her hands, she captured several mouthfuls before she headed back to her bed.

After several tosses, turns and shifts, Buffy settled. Spike murmured to himself, “About bloody time,” once she finally stilled. Finding comfort, Buffy’s lids fluttered, as sleep started to drag her under.

“Slayer, the shower is seven paces, to the right of the loo.” Hearing Spike’s words, her eyes snapped wide open.

“What?”

“I said…”


“I know what you said, and I don’t stink!”


“From where I’m lying, you’re pretty ripe slayer.”

“Whatever Spike! Your one to talk, your dead!”

“Oi, I may be of the undead, but I surely don’t smell like it. Unlike others that shall remain nameless…YOU!”

“If I smell so bad, why are you just complaining now? Been in the same room for hours, and the only thing you’ve commented on was…um…you know.”

“Oh ph...lease. You can shag solider boy, but you can’t say it? And for the record, I wasn’t referring to the scent of bonking it’s something else. Quite nasty, if I do say so.” Buffy’s eyes widened from the allegations that she stank, especially since it was after she pulled her pants down.

“I’ll have you know, I’m all with the hygiene! I’m clean as a whistle, whistle clean I am, so for you to say that I…that I stink really…”

“Shut up for a minute slayer! I’m trying to think over here, and your incessant prattling is scrambling my noggin!” Spike’s words, followed by his deep intakes of unneeded breath, stilled Buffy’s rambling momentarily before she whispered once more.

“What are you doing?”

“Trying to place that scent. Ah…that’s it! It’s the same smell that laced the blood that the commandos tried to feed me when I was first captured. Luckily, I didn’t drink it. A fellow vamp told me it was filled with a sedative of some sort. Why do you…” Spike’s voice faded, as Riley’s words filled her mind, “This is what needs to be done.”

Buffy’s fingers slowly rose to her throat. With her fingertips, she found a small, raised puncture wound. Her eyes widened with disbelief. Buffy sprang from her bed, shuffled six paces and dropped to the floor. With her hands, she sought the metal rim of the toilet. She pulled herself upward and dry heaved several times. Once her stomach ceased its spasms, Buffy slumped on the cool metal of the ground. It felt comforting, minimizing the heat and anger that rushed to her skin. After several slow, cleansing breaths, she dragged herself back to her bed.

The room was filled with a heavy silence as she slid under her covers. Tears streamed down her cheeks at the realization Riley had done this to her. He slept with her, drugged her and sold her to be some sort of modern day gladiator. Spike’s nose tickled once more with her tears.

After several beats he spoke, “Those tears aren’t for him are they?”

“Him who, Spike?” Buffy’s voice sounded so small and wounded, which caused Spike to snap his response.

“Captain Cardboard, that’s who! He’s the bastard that sent you here, wasn’t he? How did he do it?”

“I don’t want to talk about it Spike.” His eyes widened as he connected the facts in his mind.

“He drugged you while you were shagging?”

“Spike, I said, I didn’t want to talk about it.” Buffy’s tone remained soft, but rose slightly with ire.

“So what, you’re three for three? I guess Angel was right…you’re not worth a second go. Really slayer, you have tragic taste in men.”

Hearing his words, Buffy sprang from her bed. Her eyes flared with rage. Fists clenched, as she screamed her response, "Fuck you Spike!”

Spike let Buffy seethe several moments before he spoke, “That’s it. You feel it slayer? Feel the rage? Take it and use it. Don’t let that wanker get the best of you. Remember how you feel right now, each, and every time you enter in the ring. You’ll never lose, with that type of fire.”

Buffy blinked several times as his words washed over her. She hated to admit it, but he was right. If she went in the ring all weepy, she’d end up dead. This feeling of sheer and potent rage, this would assure her survival. “Once I’m on the outside, human or not, Riley is a dead man,” Buffy inwardly vowed.

“I hate to admit it, but you’re right,” Buffy agreed, while she sat on her bed.

“Of course I am slayer. Well, about everything except you’ll never lose. Naturally you will. By my hands.” Spike’s light teasing tone, replaced her anger with the ghost of a faint smile.

“We’ll see Spike, we’ll see.”

“That we will. Now, go back to bed. We need our rest, got demons to kill.”

Buffy reclined on her bed with a thousand thoughts buzzing through her mind. With a mental shake of her head, she cleared them. Right now, she needed to sleep. Tomorrow may be the first day of these “battles to the death.” With a heavy sigh, she closed her eyes. Instantly, the room was flooded with bright lights.

Before she could ask Spike why he turned on the lights, a loud voice echoed, “Prisoners…assume the position! Foreheads and palms on the back wall! Now!”

Spike pulled himself from his bed, grumbling both British and American curses. Buffy sat up, watching him move and follow the voice’s command. His palms were flush against the wall. Before he placed his forehead, he turned towards her.

His jaw clenched as he yelled, “Slayer, get your skinny arse up! These bastards are not going to ask twice. They’ll zap you, if you don’t move now!” Spike tilted his head slightly, while he contemplated his words. With a grin, he continued, “Actually, you know what, stay there. It will be quite fulfilling to see you writhing in pain from an electrical shock.”

“Shut up, I’m moving!” Buffy hissed, as she walked towards the wall.

With a slight whoosh, the door that led to Buffy’s side, opened. From their positions, neither could see who walked in. Due to Spike’s heightened senses, he could hear five heartbeats intermingling with the faint buzzing of electricity. At least two were armed with tasers. The heavy stench of cheap cologne assaulting his nose told him Darin MacNamara was back.

“Ah, I see our two newest guests have found their accommodations suitable. If you haven’t, well, just remember there’re at least thirty other demons that would find them quite luxurious. I assure you, they would trade in a heartbeat, or several depending on the demon you ask. You two should be flattered I am concerned of your well-being. This is not done with every demon that comes here. It appears your arrival to the final match is of utmost importance.”

“Aren’t we lucky, mate.” Spike sarcastic tone echoed off the wall. Hearing his words, Darin’s eyes narrowed as his angered gaze bore into Spike’s back.

“Not your mate, demon. It would be best you keep your mouth shut and do what you’re told. I’ve may have been significantly compensated for the two of you, but this does not mean I won’t kill you myself for your insubordination.” Darin’s voice was cold and callous. Once he finished addressing Spike, his eyes turned towards Buffy. With a deep breath, his pleasant tone returned.

“Now, where was I before I was so rudely interrupted. Oh yes, speaking of your well-being... here are your daily rations.” His eyes shot to Spike briefly, “None for you leech. You’ve already had yours. Ok, that’s about it, don’t expect to see me again. This was a one time courtesy visit, for the higher-ups.” Darin turned to exit the room before he passed the threshold; he called over his shoulder.

“First battle tonight little girl, they expect you to be properly dressed.” His hearty laugh was drowned out by the heavy metal door sealing shut. Several moments after the door closed, they pulled themselves from the wall. On the floor, was a Styrofoam tray, which held a viscous lump of some foreign substance resembling mutated oatmeal.

“I really hope those are raisins,” Buffy murmured as she slowly approached the mass. Spike’s hearty laugh filled the room as he pointed towards her bed. Her eyes followed and landed on the item that triggered his laughter.

“No…no…no!” Buffy yelled, approaching her bed. Her eyes widened as she held up the first offending item.

Within her grasp, was a black leather bustier. Upon further inspection, she noticed adorning the cups and hem were strategically placed pieces of gilded metal. She proceeded to look down at the two other scraps of leather. Which were so miniscule, they could not be construed, in her mind, as articles of clothing. She lifted up the larger of the two, which she believed to be a skirt. Shaking her head in disbelief, she lifted the final piece up for inspection. Instantly, her eyes widened.

“No fucking way! There… is… no… way, I’m wearing that!”

With petulance, Buffy threw the leather scrape down on the floor. Spike’s laughter ceased momentarily hearing her words. Immediately, his hearty laughter returned with renewed intensity, which was directed towards the offending item he spied at her feet, a black leather thong.


Chapter End Notes:
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