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Author's Chapter Notes:
I know it's been forever since I've updated but there were valid reasons-like no computer on which to do it. That problem has been solved though so the show must go on!
Chapter 19

Buffy's head landed on the dark wood of the 'war table' they were all gathered around with a painful sounding thump. She closed her eyes tightly, clasped her hands together under the table, and prayed for a hellmouthy event of the time travel kind. A spell, or a demon, or a quirk in the time-space continuum that would enable her to prevent the current torture she found herself enduring. Something that would stop her from encouraging Anya to share the experience and knowledge she had gained in over a thousand years as a vengeance demon. She wouldn't have kicked herself so hard for overlooking this font of information if she had realized that Anya would want to share all of her experience and knowledge in one sitting.

One.

L-o-o-o-n-g.

Sitting.

She had spent the last three hours trying her best to stay focused and engaged in an effort to make up for her previous idiocy, but super strong Slayer infused with the powers of goodness or not, there was only so much she could take. Admittedly, there were a few stories that had her laughing her ass off, and more than a few useful tidbits of information, but Buffy was now convinced that 'boring monotonous lecture speak' was a skill that came with either being British, or having more than one lifetime worth of years under your belt in which to practice. The theory frightened her a little bit considering that her mate had both qualifications. His lectures would probably be twice as boring and long then, and she had tied herself to him for eternity.

She looked at him speculatively, only to see him giving her one of his patented tongue rolled behind his teeth, eyebrow in his hairline smirks. She felt the heat crawling over her body and glared at him. He knew damn well what that look did to her, and was doing it on purpose. Well, that's probably no more than she deserved for mating with an evil vampire. A mate that would use his wicked sexy smirk and his unredeemable evil tongue to heat her up at the most inappropriate times.

Two could play that game though.

She uncrossed her legs under the table and spread her thighs apart, allowing the aroma of her arousal to slowly filter up to his senses, and sent him the tactile memory of how it felt when he'd had her cuffed to the tub and spanked her mercilessly for breaking his 'rules,' the pain mixing with the pleasure in an intense swirl of sensation that drove her to the very edge of sanity. His eyebrow dropped and his smirk disappeared. He sent her the promise of a repeat performance and began to send her an image of her own heart shaped ass covered in his red handprints and jiggling with ever smack, but then his nostrils flared before he could take the imagery any farther. He could smell her arousal now and he abruptly sat down in one of the chairs he had scorned earlier, claiming to be too hyped up from the disappointingly short kicking of his Grandad's ass. He scooted up to the table to hide his own arousal from the rest of the Scoobies and glared at Buffy. She just smirked.

Chosen One for the Powers of Good:1

Wicked vampire with the evil Powers of sexy: 0

"…and that's when I learned about the true evil of bunnies." Anya concluded a story that Buffy had completely missed.

Buffy's head jerked up and took in the slightly horrified and disgusted expressions of everyone that had actually heard the story. She moaned in self pity and thumped her head down onto the table again, following up this time with a few more good thumps. Naturally, she would miss the story that pertained to the possibly-a-Slayer-dream she'd had last night.

Okay, that was it, she was done for now, the rest of the lecture would have to wait for a time when her brain didn't feel like it was going to implode from and information overload. "I gotta go on patrol now if it's gonna get done tonight." she exclaimed before Anya could start her next anecdote, jumping up and heading for the door without meeting any of the shocked or knowing eyes around the table. Spike jumped up and followed her, just as she'd known he would.

"Will you be back later to make your report?" Giles asked.

"No. Unless something comes up, we'll wait for tomorrow to do that." She already knew what was going to come up, and it wasn't something she particularly wanted to report back to her father figure about. Ever. The two bottle blondes swept out of the library, completely ignorant of the mixed emotions in the gazes that followed them. Emotions that ranged from pleasure to disgust, amusement to jealousy, and envy to hatred.

Buffy stopped at the top of the stairs when she got outside and tilted her face up to the sky with her eyes closed. Spike stopped next to her and looked at her, puzzled. The pose she was in was a familiar one to him, but not one he expected to see on the Slayer. It was the stance of a hunter, seeking prey. Slayers may be chosen to kill his kind, but that did not make them hunters. He knew from studying them as much as he had that they acted more like prey, luring the hunter to them and then taking them out, but she was pulling large drafts of air into her lungs, mouth opened as she tasted the air, just as a lioness would do in search of prey. Just because she looked like she was hunting didn't mean she was. After all, she wasn't a hunter, she was a defender. Maybe she was just taking in the night air and enjoying the moment of peace and quiet. Spike didn't particularly care for peace and quiet.

"What the bleedin' hell are ya doin then Pet?" he demanded, smirking when she jerked her head around to glare at him.

"I'm hunting Spike. What the hell does it look like I'm doing?" she said testily.

"Well, it looks like you're huntin, I just didn't figure it to be all that likely." he admitted. "You are the snack after all, not the snacker." he admitted.

"Not anymore." she said with a smug smile. "My job got a whole lot easier with the whole Slayer merge-y thing. I don't have to hang around cemeteries and dark alleys waiting for them to come to me anymore. Now I can just sniff out their hidey holes and take out the whole nest. Now shut the hell up for a minute and let me concentrate."

"This I have to see to believe." he said softly, infusing his words with doubt even though he really didn't doubt her. At this point, after the last twenty four hours, he was pretty much open minded about anything that had to do with this chit. So he waited, if not patiently, at least quietly while she scented the wind and listened to the night. It didn't take long before she lowered her head and began to jog towards the old warehouse district he had so recently taken her friends to in search of a love spell. He could feel her excitement through the claim as her adrenaline surged and prepared her for the fight ahead.

"There's a nest of fifteen, mostly fledges about two miles away. One of them, probably the leader, is older. Not as old as you though." she informed him rubbing the back of her neck as she interpreted the vague feelings she referred to as her 'spidey senses', a skill that she had picked up after the big merger. Before she'd always been able to sense the presence of vampires, and occasionally differentiate between a fledgling and a Master, if the Master was powerful. She had also been able to feel a slight difference in the signature of vampires from the Aurelius line, something she attributed to her death at the hands of the bat faced Master, but she'd never been able to count and categorize the feelings until she'd merged with her demon and they'd begun to work together. Spike shot her a glance as he jogged along beside her, not quite sure which issue he wanted to address first. The sight of silver flashing in her eyes and delicate fangs poking out of her mouth distracted his mind from questions about her certainty and pushed it right into the gutter, where he'd like to bend her over and take her in front of anyone and everyone, let the world know that she was his.

"Fight first, fuck later." she said, picking up on his sudden lust. "I always get worked up anyway taking out so many vamps at once, now I've got you to take care of the after burn." His anticipation level shot through the roof, but her casual comments brought him back to the questions he'd wanted to ask a moment ago.

"You don't really think you can take out that many alone, do ya Pet?" he asked. "Fledges or not, that's a bit much to believe. No worries tonight though, with me here you won't have much left over."

"How about a little wager then, since you doubt my mad slayer skills?" she asked, having a pretty good idea that he wouldn't be able to turn down a bet.

"What kind of wager?" he asked as they came to a stop a block away from the nest she was taking them to. The gleam in his cerulean gaze told her everything she needed to know about his affinity for gambling. Between that and the inability to ignore a challenge that she had seen last night, she could probably get him to do anything she wanted.

"You stand back and watch me take them out. Don't interfere unless one of them actually manages to get some fang in me or otherwise incapacitate me. If I can take them all out, with no help from you in less than five minutes, I win. If it takes me longer than that or if you have to help me out, you win." she said confidently.

That damn eyebrow went up again and he just looked at her speculatively as if calculating the odds. He had to admit, to himself anyway, that her confidence threw him a little and made him doubt his own assumptions. "What are the stakes then?"

"I win, you have to carve all my stakes for a month." she responded quickly, eager to get out of her least favorite chore as a Slayer.

"And if I win?"

"What do you want?" she asked, looking up at him with silver flashing in her eyes and fangs gleaming in the moonlight.

"A sex slave for a month." he answered without hesitation.

"I don't know…" she said, dragging her words out. "Depends on who this bitch you want is and whether she'd win in a fight against a pissed off, possessive Slayer."

"You, ya silly bint. I win, and you do whatever depraved sexual acts I want, without question or hesitation, for the next month."

"That doesn't sound like an equal trade for carving stakes." she hedged. He sensed weakness, and thought that maybe she wasn't quite so confident after all. Time to move in for the kill.

"Not my fault you've got no imagination. That's what I want if I win."

"Fine. But if I win, you carve my steaks and wash my clothes for the month." she countered. This way she could also get rid of the tiresome chore of washing demon goo, vamp dust, and all the other general nastiness out of her clothes that she hid from her mom. Not that she had to hide anything anymore. But all the same, it had taken her most of the last three years to learn how to get purple demon blood and red skin acid out of her clothes.

"Deal." he accepted eagerly, feeling certain that he had just earned himself a Slayer slave. "Now, how's about we get this show on the road?"

"Alright, just remember, you stay back and watch the artist perform." she said setting off for the abandoned warehouse at a lazy lope that ate up the ground surprisingly quickly. He stayed behind her, but he also stayed close. He didn't doubt that she'd get off to a good start, but there was no way he was going to wait until some filthy fledge actually managed to get their mouth on his mate. Just the thought had him growling low in his chest. She was his. Her blood was not meant for any other and he wouldn't give anyone else the chance to taste her ambrosia. He still had to put his foot down about her sharing her blood with Dalton. As much as he'd always liked the quiet, peaceful vampire, he still didn't intend to share his Slayer with anyone. Not even someone that reminded him a little of his own poncy self before he'd been brought into the strength he now owned.

Picking up on his thoughts, Buffy quirked a curious eyebrow at him and let him know that she had questions for later, then gave him an eager grin that he recognized from having been on the other side of such a bloodthirsty look many times just before he engaged in battle. She kicked the door tucked into the corner of the warehouse open and walked in as though she owned the place, Spike hot on her heels and not happy about her obvious sense of over confidence.

"Did somebody place an order for delivery?" she quipped to the astonished vampires milling around the victims they had brought back to share. Then she did something that made him want to crow in pride and scream in frustration all at once. She leaped over their heads and landed right in the middle of the crowd standing over one of the unconscious girls they'd been feeding on. He was definitely going to have punish her for putting herself in such a precarious position, he decided, just as soon as he saved the girl and killed the wankers who were quickly regaining their composure and moving in for the kill. He moved in to help her but before he got further than one step she'd started whirling and twirling, kicking, punching, staking and leaping around with such speed and grace that he found himself dumbfounded.

She hadn't been kidding when she'd claimed she was an artist, he realized. He'd never seen anything as beautiful or as arousing as this little spitfire, running circles around fifteen hungry vampire, humiliating, confusing, and taking them down before staking them. She had no hesitation and didn't fumble or stumble at all. She was glorious. Poetry in motion. A stake in each hand and vampire dust shimmering and filling the air around her as she took out three vamps with one swing. After taking out all of the fledglings she was left facing one more. The so-called Master of the motley crew she had decimated in less than two minutes. The sallow vamp opened his mouth to say something, no doubt one of the insipid threats that she always heard from overconfident vampires, but before he got a word out she shifted to her left foot while her left shot out and landed right over his heart, impaling him with the long wooden heel she'd customized for all of her boots. She quickly jerked her foot away, before his dusting could hurt her stylish yet sensible shoe and was left standing alone in the middle of the echoing warehouse, surrounded by dust that was still drifting to the ground and five half drained, unconscious blood bags.

She looked over at Spike with a smile of pure joy on her face, exhilarated by the exercise, proud of her good showing, and relieved to have won the bet.

He was speechless.

He'd always known that she was a damn good fighter, but what he'd just witnessed should have been impossible. It was amazing, beautiful, glorious, poetic, fierce, and without a doubt, the sexiest thing he had ever seen. His chest felt full and his zipper was strained, he was ready to 'take care of the after burn' for her, right here, right now. He moved in to do just that, pinning her in place with the intensity of his golden gaze, but she shook her head sharply, fighting off the almost enthralled feeling his lust was engendering in her and stepped away from him. "Gotta call for help for these guys first, then go somewhere else. I don't like to hang around for the cleanup." she said in a husky voice that just made him more determined to mark her, claim her, have her, now. His demon was in full control and wanted his mate in the most primal, animalistic of ways.

He growled at her, not willing to wait for anything. She was his mate and he would not be denied. She growled back, thinking to stand her ground until she probed the claim and realized that Spike was gone. She was facing nothing but the demon now, and the demon was acting on primal needs. So she spun around and ran to the back of the warehouse, jumping out a smashed window and fumbling her cell phone out of her pocket to place a call to 911 for the victims she'd left in the warehouse. She could hear his outraged roar and the sound of his boots slamming the ground behind her as he chased her into an empty lot overgrown with waist high grass. The adrenaline that she'd expelled in the fight was surging through her veins again as she ran from the furious demon chasing her down. She gave breathless directions to the dispatcher on the other end of the line, another one of the Sunnydale's willingly blind citizens, despite the fact that she had an insight into the darkness that thrived so well here. Just as she hit the end button, disconnecting the call, Spike slammed into her from behind, carrying them both to the ground and knocking the breath out of her when he landed solidly on her back.

She tried to gather the black spots floating in front of her eyes into a coherent vision while desperately attempting to suck in more than the tiny gasps of air that Spike was allowing her. He pressed his body firmly into her, grinding his erection into the curve of her ass and snarling at her still for daring to run from him. Buffy wanted, more than anything to flip him off of her and dominate him the way he seemed determined to dominate her, again, but the position he had her in made it impossible to do. His entire body was laying flat on her, crushing her breasts into the soft grass beneath her, hurting her sore ribs and limiting the amount of air she was able to breathe, the black spots wouldn't go away, they were becoming larger, meeting and connecting, the darkness taking over her vision and she began to feel panicky. It didn't matter that the demon who had her so helpless was her mate, shared her soul and was inextricably linked to her life. What mattered was that it was pure demon, with no traces of the immature, yet strangely wise, cocksure, incredibly sexy man that she was foolishly starting to fall for, and the demon was on the verge of knocking her completely out.

Then he braced his hands beside her useless arms and pushed his chest up, allowing her to breathe freely again, while grinding his cock even harder into the sweet curves of her ass. After a few grateful gasps of air, she tried to put her hands under her and get the leverage to push him off of her. He grabbed her wrists and held her hands down, pushing them roughly into the ground beneath her as he kept his chest up, allowing her to continue breathing.

"You think you can run from me?" he demanded harshly, voice rough and deepened under the influence of an angry demon. "You are mine!" He pushed his hips into her roughly, thrilling at the pained grunt this elicited from her. "You belong to me. Your ass belongs to me. That hot little pocket of heaven between your thighs belongs to me." He was speaking almost in rhythm with his thrusts as he continued to grind his hips into her breathing his words of ownership into the curve of her ear. "Your blood belongs to me. Even soul belongs to me Slayer, and you will not run from me. Ever. Again." With his last word he bit her savagely, digging his teeth into her slender throat, ravaging the flesh below her ear and gorging on the ambrosial blood that pulsed into his mouth with every beat of her heart. "Mine!" he snarled, desperate to reaffirm his claim after she had denied him and run from him. When she didn't confirm his claim and only whimpered instead he shook his head, like a dog with it's favorite chew toy, ravaging her neck even further. "Say it bitch!" he growled.

With those words Buffy, and more importantly the demon inside her, had had enough. He had shown her last night that being dominated wasn't a horrible thing under the right circumstances, but she was damned if she was going to let this kind of behavior slide.


Chapter End Notes:
A/N: Don't hate me for leaving you here, but it was starting to look as though this chapter was reaching monstrous proportions as compared to the rest of them, and this seemed like a good spot for a nice cliffhanger. Hope your fingers don't get too sore from hanging on!



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