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I hope that everyone is enjoying. Big thanks to Sanityfair! Take a look at her first fic The Kiss! Also thanks to Pixiecorn for the lovely banner!
One Hour Prior



Spike’s lengthy strides ate up the small space before him, while his mind raced. A short time had passed since the guards had taken Buffy to her first battle. Agitated ramblings spilled forth as he continued to pace.



“No, no you don’t care if she survives! She’s the bloody slayer for fuck sakes! Should be relishing in the fact that some demon is going to have his one good day, not worrying about her like some bleedin’ git!”



Spike was broken from his thoughts when the unexpected announcement of “Assume the position.” echoed through the enclosure.



His demon flashed forward briefly and then receded. Grumbling colorful words about his captors, Spike quickly stripped off his tee and carelessly threw it on his bed. He proceeded to head over to the furthest wall, where he placed his palms and forehead upon the cool metal. Once the door slid open, Spike’s ears were flooded with the sound several tasers pulsing and four strong heartbeats. Hovering in the doorway sneering, Jack eyed Spike as callous words passed his lips.



“Showtime leech.” Triggered by his words, the three guards approached the submissive vamp, one murmured instructions on his approach.



“Turn slowly, hands in the air.”



Spike’s scarred brow rose with the seemingly unintended bad pun of an old black and white western. Once he followed the guard’s instructions, his gaze met and held firm with Jack’s. With mirth gleaming in his eyes, Spike pursed his lips and blew a taunting kiss. Jack scowled briefly and nodded briskly towards the guards.



On his silent command, two guards grabbed Spike’s upper arms to escort him to his destination— The Ring. Traveling the same path as Buffy, Spike was inundated with the heavy stench of her fear, which increased the closer he got to the main room.



Passing over the threshold, his demon visage emerged when the overwhelming reek of death and blood surrounded him, replacing Buffy’s fear. The guards led him to the red line surrounding the demon holding area. The same place, only two days before, where he had awoken. Several demons turned to watch him enter. The remaining demon’s stares were fixed on what lay beyond the metal grate.



Heading towards the group, golden eyes flashed when he witnessed where their gazes held. Standing in the middle of the gladiator style enclosure, stood the wide-eyed, scantily clad slayer. Regardless of the innate strength and power she possessed, Buffy appeared so small and lost within the arena. Gone was the confidence she held while in Sunnydale, being replaced by uncertainty and trepidation.



“And her opponent, another first-timer to grace our ring, Pei!”



Spike witnessed Buffy stiffen as the commentator’s baritone voice rang out. Entering, or more so shoved, into the arena was a dog-like demon. Looking slightly familiar, Spike shook away the thought and focused on Buffy.



“Boy, even though humans usually make my fur crawl, I wouldn’t mind showing that chick my sword,” commented a blue furred demon off to Spike’s left. Numerous demons chuckled following his remark. In response, Spike golden eyes and fangs flashed as he let forth a menacing warning growl in his direction. Holding his claws up in mock surrender, Spike’s intense stare returned to Buffy.



Due to the deafening chants of the crowd, Spike was unable to hear the conversation transpiring between her and the demon. However, studying her face and body language, he could tell that she didn’t feel threatened. She appeared almost…relaxed. This expression and posture held until he witnessed her eyes widened when she glared at something over his shoulder. The demon’s reaction to whatever was brought forth caused him to cower and eventually attack Buffy.



Instantly, slayer reflexes kicked in and within a moment, the fight was over. The slumped dead body of the dog-demon and the roar of the crowd were the only remnants of the non-existent fight. Buffy was grabbed by the guards and escorted from the ring. Spike pushed through the crowd and headed towards the red line. He attempted to catch her gaze, which appeared to be fixed on nothing as she was dragged past him and he assumed, brought back to their room.



Shortly following her departure, another fight commenced and ended just as quickly, when one demon decapitated another with its bare claws. When the victor was leaving the ring, Jack called forward, one of the demons Spike met when he first arrived. The demon was being escorted towards the ring, as Jack’s gaze moved from him to Spike.



“Ready blood-sucker? Time to meet a dusty end.”



With false bravado, Spike approached and stepped past the line. Two guards took their place behind him and urged him forward. Standing on the threshold of the arena the commentator made his announcement.



“Our next contest features one of the more popular fighter’s we’ve had the pleasure of presenting, a rare find. This true champion possesses the deadly combination of skill and strength. Let’s give it up for the menace of Venice, the one, the only—Forizonoriniz!”



The crowd’s once dull roar, increased in intensity and volume. Fozi stood motionless, eyeing Spike with deadly intent while the announcer continued.



“Forizonoriniz’s challenger makes his ring debut tonight. He’s a highly skilled fighter with a taste for blood and torture. Let’s welcome— William the Bloody, the Slayer of Slayers—Spike!”



With a slight shove from the guards, he entered. The bright lights and deafening sounds of the crowd assaulted his senses. Attempting to get his bearings quickly, Spike blocked out all that was around him and focused on the red furry demon before him. Releasing his inner cockiness, Spike spoke with a taunting tone.



“Fozi, you seem like a decent bloke. As a little favor from me to you, I’ll make this quick, won’t hurt a bit.”



Fozi’s eyes twinkled with mirth while a feral, knowing grin graced his serrated maw. His head lolled back slightly as his body began to twitch and shake. Fixated on his actions, Spike stood motionless.



Instantly, the tufts of fur split apart, giving way to bulging, onyx flesh. His snout elongated as three rows of fangs descended. Once small horns and claws lengthened and twisted. Now three times the size he was when he entered, the only feature that remained, was the wide fathomless eyes that still held delight.



“Oh bollocks,” Spike cursed, his widened gaze searched the demon’s transformed body for the best way to attack him. Not seeing any outward weaknesses, with a loud war cry, Spike charged forward.



With lethal grace, Spike successfully landed a spin-kick to his abdomen. Instantly, his body jarred from the wall of muscle he connected with. A deep chuckle sounded from Fozi when Spike followed up with a strike to his face. Having the same result as the kick, the slightly agitated demon retaliated with a deadly swipe of his clawed hand. The talons whizzed through the air while Spike skillfully rolled away from his blow. Realizing a frontal assault was futile, Spike decided to use his speed and agility, to his advantage.



Gradually, with predatory strides, he circled Fozi. Awkwardly, he followed Spike’s movements. Once in reach, Fozi lunged and raked his claws down Spike’s chest. Leaving five bloody gashes in their wake. With a roar of pain and frustration, Spike attempted a leg sweep. When Fozi clumsily jumped, Spike took this opportunity to spring from his crouched position and jump onto his muscular back.



Fozi’s bulky arms unsuccessfully flailed behind him, in an attempt to dislodged Spike. Securing himself, he held on tightly, encircling his forearms around the demon’s throat.



While he continued to shake and thrash, Spike maintained his grip and wrapped his legs around the demon’s waist. Fozi used his claws to tear into Spike. Slicing through denim into flesh and reaching the bone. Despite the agonizing pain, he deftly maintained hold. Fozi stopped moving and attempted to reach him once more with his arms. Spike took this opportunity to release one arm from his neck. Quickly reaching up, he violently yanked one of his horns from his massive skull.



Fozi bellowed in pain, resuming his fierce shakes. Spike squeezed his thighs tighter, grasping the horn and with both hands thrust the appendage into the demon’s jugular. Spurts of bluish-black blood propelled forward, spraying the arena and Spike, with a foul, thick fluid.



Spike continued to twist and force the horn deeper, while Fozi spun aimlessly in an effort to disentangle him. After several futile moments, the demon stilled and with a final expelled breath Fozi fell forward, landing face first onto the ground.



Before he hit, Spike jumped off his back and stood to the side. With unneeded breaths, Spike panted heavily while he watched in awe. In death, the beast transformed from the mountain of muscle, back into the smallish, red furred demon.



Staring at the bloodied body of his opponent, Spike felt out of sorts. Neither the violent death created by his own hands nor the crowd’s thunderous applause and cheers did little to appease his demon nor soothe his state of mind. Normally, he relished in death and destruction, but this felt cheapened some how. With an unsteady gait, he headed towards the door, while the commentator’s voice echoed through the arena.



“Ladies and Gentlemen, for those that are keeping track, that win was number one for the vampire, in five minutes thirty-eight seconds. Keep your eyes out for this one—Spike!”



Wearily, Spike headed towards his room with three guards in tow. Once the metal barrier slid open, the sweet intoxicating scent of Buffy tickled his nose. Instantly, his human façade slid forward, as his pain and disturbing thoughts disappeared. With a teasing tone, he called out.



“Honey, I’m home…” Spike announced as they shoved him harshly into the room. The sounds of pleasure and falling water drew his gaze. Before him, separated by plexiglas stood the completely nude Slayer. Bubbles offered the only cover, for her taut body. After several moments of speechlessness, two choked words fell from his mouth.



“Bloody ‘ell.”



Pure unadulterated lust darkened typically sparkling blues. He gaze remained transfixed on the vision before him. Golden flesh kissed with cascades of water and bubbles. Her rosy-tipped peaks adorned small and pert breasts. Toned abdomen housed a perfect navel made just for the tip of his tongue, which gave way to—



“Spike!” Buffy’s scream and twisting body broke Spike from his lustful perusal. She attempted to cover each exposed area, to no avail. With one arm wrapped around her chest, concealing her breasts and the other covering the apex of her thighs, which now firmly pressed together, Buffy screeched once more.



“Spike, what the fuck are you doing? Turn around…turn around now!”



Blinking himself out of his trance, Spike finally responded.



“Now, why would I do somethin’ like that Slayer? Free show an’ all, would be a right shame to let all of this go to waste by me scurrying and coverin’ my eyes?” Defiantly, Spike crossed his arms over his injured chest. His stare and smirk remained fixed.



“Spike, don’t be an ass—“



“Speaking of arses, take a spin Slayer, haven’t had a glimpse of that tasty peach yet.”



“Fine, fine, you want to stare, go ahead!” Buffy snapped, while she remained partially covered. Spike’s scarred brow rose while waiting for her to move. With a huff, Buffy continued.



“I was bluffing. Please Spike, give me a little dignity.” With imploring green eyes, Spike finally relented.



“You know Slayer, for mortal enemies I’m giving you far too many liberties. Tellin’ you now, this is the last favor, I’m doin’ for you. So enjoy.”



Spike turned towards the wall. Buffy stepped out from the flow of water. Once she moved, the stream automatically shut off. Shivering from lack of coverage, Buffy’s teeth started to chatter. After several moments of hearing this, Spike’s voice echoed through the room.



“After all that yammering, why aren’t you getting dressed?”



“I don’t have a towel to dry off with.”



“No shite Slayer! It’s not the bloody Ritz, no fluffy towels nor complimentary chocolates on your pillow, we’re captives remember?”



“I know it’s just…”



“What?”



“I don’t want to use my sheet then I won’t be able to sleep tonight.”



Hearing the pout in her voice, Spike envisioned Buffy’s pursed bottom lip as she sat on his lap during Red’s wonky spell. The combination of the memories of that day and her bare, wet body behind him caused Spike’s cock to painfully press against the tight confines of his denims.



“Just use my shirt Slayer.”



Spike sidestepped several paces until he reached his bed. Removing the shirt, he balled it up and threw it over his head. Buffy hesitated momentarily, before sliding the worn fabric over her body. The hem grazed at the tops of her thighs, just barely concealing her sex. Grabbing the collar, she lifted the material to her nose. The faint scent of all that was Spike; cigarettes, whisky and leather tickled her senses.



Spike heard the shirt caressing her bare flesh. In his mind’s eye, he envisioned his hands skating over her nubile body, teasing her nipples into hardened peaks. Stroking her taut stomach, while he descended lower towards—



“Spike, I’m decent now, you can turn around.”



He cursed under his breath that was the second time she blocked his mind from reaching the glorious heaven between her thighs. Spike sighed and turned around. His gaze landed on Buffy sitting shyly on her bed. With her fingers, she worked her damp locks into a braid. Each movement of her arms caused the hem of his tee shirt to rise ever so slightly. Never before in his undead life was he envious of anything more so than the piece of cloth that adorned her body.



Stifling a groan, he turned to sit on his bed, to shield his wayward erection. Attempting to keep his mind off the tantalizing woman across the way, Spike decided to talk shop.



“So, what happened in the ring Slayer?”



Buffy’s hands stilled briefly. With a slow and steady intake of breath, her eyes lowered. Despite her whispered response, Spike could hear every word.



“I don’t know. I went in there scarred out of my mind that some demon was going to tear me apart. Then, Wally—“



“Who?”



“The demon…his name was Wally. He told me that he didn’t want to fight. That he didn’t want to see me dead, but by the same token, didn’t want to die either. He suggested that we shouldn’t fight and maybe they would call it a draw. Let us leave. Who knew, a pacifist demon? Well, it was a good theory until they brought out a hose.”



“A hose?” Spike’s scoff, drew Buffy’s eyes upwards. When he witnessed the unshed tears hovering on her lower lashes, the humor left his features.



“He said that water kills his kind. It makes their skin shrink until they suffocate. What a horrible way to…so they forced him to attack me. He was only trying to save himself. The scary thing was the slayer in me chose to move, not the person.”



“Slayer, despite what happened in the ring tonight you can’t go in there thinking every demon is willing to chat and attempt to make peace. They’re out for blood, your death and the twenty-first win. You need to remember that.”



“Spike, do I detect a hint of concern in your voice?” Buffy jested as she regarded him.



“Yeah, well I think its blood loss or something. Anyhow I want my shirt back and for me to get out of this hellhole, you’re my ticket out. Twenty-first win an’ all.”



“Right, twenty-first win,” Buffy agreed while she stifled a yawn. Noticing this, Spike stood, pulled his boots carefully from his feet and slid under the sheet. Gratefully, the bleeding had stopped, and he could feel the flesh knitting back together, due mainly from the fresh human’s blood he consumed the other day.



“Nigh’ Slayer,” Spike called out, after he clapped his hand to shut off the lights. Rolling over to face her side, he witnessed flashes of Buffy’s pert globes while she climbed into bed. A soft sigh of comfort escaped her lips as she nestled beneath the sheets.



This overwhelming stimulation of sights and sounds went straight to his cock, which hardening and lengthening once more. Attempting to escape the Buffy overload, he turned and buried his head under the pillow. “It’s goin’ to be a long night,” Spike murmured as he willed sleep to come and take him under.





Chapter End Notes:
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