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Author's Chapter Notes:

WARNING this Chapter contains attempted rape, nothing graphic whatsoever but just in case some people may find it upsetting I’m giving everyone a heads up…and don’t worry it is NOT Spuffy...



PLEASE READ:- I would love it if people would decide to follow me on twitter, because I made an account last week just for you guys…I never had a reason to before, I thought no one would need to know what I was up to all the time apart from my friends, and facebook does a good enough job of making it easy to keep in touch with them…but then I thought with how bad I’ve been at updating recently Twitter might be a good place to give you guys info on my stories…so if people follow me (that being the crucial part of the plan before I do anything else) and let me know that you’re a reader so I know people want me to then I’ll do my best to post every few days with info on my stories and how they’re coming along, and also when I’ve updated etc, vice versa people can contact me on there if they have any questions about my stories or want to give me a kick up the arse because I haven’t been updating! Here’s the link to my twitter - http://twitter.com/AngelelauraRae ...



Also I was trying to keep all the Chapters after the first one (which had to be longer to set the story) uniform in length, but this one and the next 2 will be longer reads…nothing too much just a little more because its gaining momentum from here on in…





Buffy sat there, laid against the wall by her bed, surrounded by torn pillows and feathers, broken glass from the lamp. She’d collapsed when the tears and sobs had finally caught up with her. When Spike had left they’d racked her body and forced her to slide down helplessly to the floor, and she hadn’t yet recovered or moved to fix a thing. Her knees were at her chest like they usually were when she was trying to protect herself, though this time she wasn’t sure what she was protecting herself from. Maybe it was from how she felt, because she felt awful, she felt sick to her stomach.

Her face was sticky wet from crying, her chest hurt from laboured breathing. She felt exhausted, but she was too restless to sleep, so she just sat.

She wanted to be far, far away, somewhere she didn’t have to deal with all this. She didn’t want this to be real, she was doing everything wrong and wanted a chance to do it all again. Starting with not going to the bank that day, but if she couldn’t change that she’d like to change how she’d reacted earlier. She knew she was perfectly justified in it, but she’d been cruel and ungrateful, and even if that was what he deserved from her that wasn’t the kind of person she wanted to be.

She was a fake. When she’d seen that cake she had been angry, she couldn’t deny it and she wasn’t ashamed, but she’d also been touched and she’d only acted out so she could hide that from him. What she’d put on before was nothing but a show and she wanted to undo it.

Despite the circumstances he’d done a nice thing for her. He’d done a completely idiotic, stupid and insensitive thing at the same time, but she knew his intentions were good and that moved her. In that moment she’d realised that she would probably never be able to truly think badly of him. Until he did something to really hurt her she knew that anytime she tried it would be tainted by other feelings.

She tried to hate him with every fibre of her being, but he wouldn’t let her. He had to ruin it with every chance he got; he had to make it hard for her. She was angry, but only because there he was when she needed him to be the villain, still trying to be the hero. It reminded her of everything that was wrong with this, with them; it reminded her that she shouldn’t be feeling what she was feeling.

Spike had been gone for hours and he still hadn’t come back. There was a fierce storm outside, one for the record books, and she hated thinking he was out there in it, mad at her, hurt because of her, maybe trying to get himself into trouble.

She stared at the cake, it looked lovely, and it wasn’t from a supermarket or a corner shop. It wasn’t an expensive cake, with her name in the icing and her favourite flavouring in the sponge like the ones her mum used to buy her, but he’d clearly gone to a patisserie to buy it, and he’d clearly chosen it with her in mind. The candles were blue, she wondered if he knew that blue was now her favourite colour, or if he thought it always had been. Maybe they’d just been the only candles on sale, but either way it didn’t matter.

The wax had solidified once more, leaving great blobs on the sides of each one where they had been dripping. She wished she had a lighter so she could watch the flames. The fact that they no longer burned made her feel cold, made her shiver. She stood up, walked over to her closet and pulled out a jacket. At the time she’d wondered why he’d bothered buying it her when he didn’t let her outside, but now she welcomed its place in her wardrobe.

She was snapped out of her thoughts when she heard a noise from downstairs, as if someone was at the back door of the house. At first she thought she was hearing things, but she kept still and quiet and waited for it to happen again. Eventually it did, first a knock and then a muffled shout.

More knocks came and they were loud, almost ferocious, but she didn’t care. Spike wouldn’t knock, which meant someone else was here; someone who didn’t know about her.

Forgetting about Spike she stood up, wiping the tears from her face. She ran to the attic door and banged on it as loud as she could. She could get away from this, away from Spike, away from all this confusion. She ignored the twinge in her heart when she thought about it and she screamed.

“Help!” she cried out, wondering if she could even be heard from all the way down there, “Help! Somebody! I’m in here!”

The knocking continued, and for a moment Buffy gave up screaming, realising whoever it was was too far away from her, through too many rooms and walls and windows to hear her, but she grabbed for the handle of the attic room door in vain and rattled it violently as if by some kind of magic it would suddenly come off the day someone came round, after so many attempts to loosen it before had failed.

Suddenly she stopped dead when she heard an almighty bang, and it dawned on her that whoever it was downstairs had just broken in. It sounded like they’d kicked the door right off its hinges, but they couldn’t have because she heard them shut it again just as loudly.

She feebly tried to dwell on the idea that they’d heard her scream and had come in to investigate; to be her knight in shining armour, but in reality she knew the distance from here to the bottom floor, and with the reinforcements on her door she knew no one would be able to hear her tiny voice from there. Her shouting was nothing more than a desperate attempt at hope; she knew it would never attract attention. She wasn’t relieved that this person was here anymore, because they weren’t here for her. She was scared, but scared seemed to be her M.O. these days.

She backed away from the door slightly, but not far enough that she couldn’t lean towards the peephole if she needed to. She kept straight and still as a stone, afraid the slightest movement would give her away once whoever it was got closer, and somehow she knew they would get closer.

The footsteps got louder, and then she heard who it was making them when they shouted for Spike. It was the dark haired man from the robbery, the shooter. There was no mistaking it.

His tone as he continued to shout and search through the house didn’t really sound genuine, as if he didn’t really want anyone to answer; he was checking that Spike wasn’t here, not hoping that he was.

Buffy knew she shouldn’t move, but almost like a reflex she took a step back, the terror in her heart once she’d heard his voice again overwhelmed her. Her eyes shut in panic as soon as she heard the squeak. That traitorous squeak of the floorboards beneath the carpet, and then looking down when she saw the blue covering the wood she wished that Spike was here to cover her. Knowing he wasn’t she waited, as loud, confident footsteps began and drew nearer.

Buffy heard them stop outside her door and she held her breath hoping her silence would dissuade him from entering, but then she heard the lock being toyed with and moments later she leapt back as the door flew open and swung violently. He looked shocked when he saw her, but mostly he looked pleased.

He chuckled, as if he couldn’t believe she was here, or maybe he couldn’t believe she was still alive. “Looky what I found.” he sing-songed as he stepped into the room shaking his head, “Spike’s little hostage all defenceless…and ripe for the taking.” As he spoke he broke into another smile, then turned and closed the door behind him, “Had no idea I’d find such a treat when I came up here, but I did wonder what he’d done with you.”

Buffy said nothing; her eyes flitted to the window, the door, knowing she would find herself trapped, but looking anyway.

Facing her again and seeing her wondering eyes he said, “You’re not going anywhere baby.” He paused and leaned forwards as if he planned to share a secret with her, “I got’ya.” he said darkly.

Buffy swallowed hard as he stepped towards her, she didn’t run, didn’t see the point as she had nowhere to run to. He came to a stop directly in front of her and she longed to step backwards but she was glued to the spot in fear.

“What are you, his live in love toy or something?” he asked whilst tracing the back of his hand gently down her right cheek.

Buffy flinched away from his touch and looked up at him wounded. She hated it, but it wasn’t just at the insult on her, but also the notion that Spike was capable of that.

He continued his sharp reading of her, “No, I suppose good-old Spikey would never dream of doing something like that would he?” he said in a patronising tone, “Me on the other hand...”

He laughed, and it made Buffy feel sick.

“Buffy, right?” he asked, beginning to circle her slightly, “Baby…we are going to have…so…much…fun.”

Everything that happened next began in a rush of movement and blurred together. Before she could even catch a breath he was on her, trying to grab her, kiss her.

She struggled and pulled away from him when she could, but she gasped when he kicked her legs out from under her and suddenly they were on the floor, his heavy body crushing hers.

Buffy beat her hands against his back, pulled them back down and pushed at his shoulders, but he didn’t budge.

He kissed her neck, scraping his teeth up and down as her pulse beat fast and heavy beneath in her veins. She could feel him breathing, panting on her like an animal in heat, and she felt like she was going to vomit. He moved away slightly so she turned her head to prevent him repeating the action, but this only exposed the other side of her neck, and he bent down to treat it the same way.

“Stop,” she screamed, “You’ll never get away with this!”

“I think I already have.” he whispered darkly into her ear, biting the lobe harshly between his teeth. Buffy hissed at the contact and pushed at his bulky frame once more, but this only caused him to chuckle. The sound made her gut twist as his hands moved down and slid beneath her to grab and squeeze her ass.

Tears stung her eyes as she tried to fight him mentally as well as physically whilst he continued to assault her body. There had to be a way out of this, she just had to think, but the only thing that came to mind was Spike. He had to come home, he had to stop this, he had to save her. She knew he’d save her. She didn’t know how or why, but she knew deep down that if only he’d come back she’d be okay.

What if he didn’t come back in time though? And that’s when Buffy realised that Spike might be able to save her anyway.

“Spike will kill you!” she screamed, loud enough that Angel froze and pulled up to look into her eyes. And as blind a shot as it had been his reaction gave Buffy more confidence that she was onto something, so she continued, “If he finds out you were here, that you broke into his house, that you came in to…”

“He’ll be mad as hell.” Angel said with a sneer, as he contemplated just how angry Spike would be, but suddenly no longer fearing it. It’d probably turn into a fight, a couple of punches, nothing more. It would be sport for him, no long term damage to their relationship. Just a bit of harmless violence; he relished the idea.

Buffy saw it all playing across his face and she swallowed hard, trying to remember where she was headed before he interrupted her.

She carried on with a shaky whisper, “If he knew y-you came here, that you t-touched me, or h-hurt me. He’d kill you.”

“And what makes you think he’ll care about you?” Angel asked.

“He’ll care.” she said adamantly.

“About you?” he laughed, “All you are is a nuisance; he cares that you’re here because it means the cops don’t have you yet. He doesn’t care about you. You’re just a little whore.”

Impulsively Buffy spat at him. His words stung her more than she liked; no one called her a whore. She didn’t lie back and take stuff like that, no matter the circumstances, but more than that, just the thought that Spike could think that way about her. She stared at him defiantly, not realising the magnitude of what she’d done.

Angel paused momentarily and then in anger pushed her harshly down into the floorboards where he had her pinned. She groaned from the pressure on her shoulder blades until he pulled back, grabbing the lapels of her jacket with one hand and raising the other up high as if he was preparing to strike her.

Buffy panicked and said the first thing that came into her head, in her moment of need retreating behind Spike once more, “He’ll care if you leave a mark on me!” she pleaded. Her eyes shut, ready to receive the blow anyway, but it never came, and she heard him laugh again.

Angel raised himself up on his knees and yanked her up with him, she was still between his legs, but was leant towards him uncomfortably, with her back off the floor.

“You think so?” he asked with a grin, almost laughing in her face, “Ask him...” he continued with a sickeningly sweet amusement, “Ask him about all the things we’ve done together; all the people we’ve hurt; about all the blood on his hands.”

Buffy could smell his thick, warm breath on her face as he pulled her closer to him, her upper body further off the floor and nearer to his.

“He wouldn’t shed a tear, or break a jaw to mourn your passing when he’s leant a hand in so many others.”

Buffy screwed her eyes shut against the words, waiting, for what she didn’t know, but her body was coiled tight in anticipation, and she feared every breath would be her last, but minutes later she realised she was still waiting. Eventually he let go of her jacket and she dropped. She whimpered as her back hit the floor with an unforgiving thud.

“…But maybe you’re right,” he said finally, watching her from the floor, “Spike always did have a soft spot for the most unlikely people.” Angel knew full well of Spike’s softer side, and unfortunately it didn’t go hand in hand with him being soft enough to push around. Spike and him had had many blow-outs about this sort of thing, Angel knew Spike wouldn’t stand for him beating up a defenceless girl in his own house and leaving him to clean up the mess, no matter how much fun he could have with her before he got home. He’d go spare.

When the time came to get rid of her he hoped Spike would have the balls to do it, and if not he’d have to take over, but there was a time and a place, and the girl was right Spike would be pissed he’d come over uninvited and let himself in. Not to mention if he left blood stains all over the place, that sort of thing probably wouldn’t just end up in the one-round fist fight he’d originally anticipated.

She looked up into his face; his brow was furrowed like he wanted to pounce, but as if something was holding him back. Was he just bored with her? She imagined men like him got easily bored with people, as if they were nothing more than toys to play with. She wondered if he simply wanted a new toy, or if she’d really gotten him thinking. The threat she’d made had been a long shot, but was he truly afraid of Spike’s reaction? If he was did it mean he knew Spike would care, or just that Spike was someone to be feared? She couldn’t imagine this man being afraid of anyone, but if he was afraid, what kind of man did that make Spike? For once she wasn’t allowed to dwell on her questions.

“It’s your lucky day, baby.” he said, his eyes twinkling with a deviousness that Buffy had never seen before, “I’m going to let you go.”

Suddenly he reached down to her and grabbed her coat again, this time dragging her to her feet with him, but pulling her further, up onto her toes so they were almost eye level. The shock forced a squeak out of her at first, but he caught her gaze and suddenly she was terrified into silence once more. Until then she’d never realised how he towered over her.

He carried on, spitting the words into her face, his lips uncomfortably close to hers, “But if you think for one minute that I’m going to let you out of this alive now you’ve seen my face as well, you’d better think again.”

His eyes darted fast between hers, they were strained and she could tell this was probably the first time in a long time that he’d had to keep his anger under control.

“I’ll give him his chance, ‘til the money-date.” Angel continued, though Buffy had no idea what that meant. Then the next second she didn’t care, because he had one last thing to say, “He’s going to get rid of you by then…Or I will.”

He dropped her again, but this time it was from a height, and she landed more harshly than before. Everything rushed around her so fast it matched the escalation of her heart beat, which was thrumming in her ears. Everything was so bright and so loud, and she didn’t even notice him leave until she heard the lock outside click and she looked back up and saw that she was alone.

Without another thought she scuttled away into the bathroom and closed the door.


* * * * *



Chapter End Notes:
Call me a bad updater, officially…so sorry…Anyway what do people think of this?



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