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Chapter 13
A/n: this is a pretty vivid & cruel chapter. Reader beware

The airport was practically empty at three a.m., when the broad broody vampire stepped off the plane. He hefted his weapons bag over his shoulder and walked through the bright airport. Grabbing a taxi, Angel traveled to Buffy’s apartment building. He tried to open the door, but it was locked, he buzzed Buffy’s apartment, but no answer. Standing in the cold street, the brunette huddled in his coat. He had decided to bunk down in a near by motel.

Meanwhile, a few miles away…

Buffy’s body showed more and more signs of Spike’s brutal treatment. Light bruises formed on her hips, marking her with his imprints. She couldn’t look down at where her body had been attached to his, but she still hurt. A small throbbing pain increased as the hours went on, indicating she was bruised there, too. Her hands and arms were red with dried blood. William tried to free her from her cutting binds, but they wouldn’t budge. Instead, he laved the reddened and broken skin with antiseptics and tried to put gauze around the more injured areas.

William barricaded the door, ensuring that no one would come in, unannounced. He held her beaten body as she cried. Buffy hadn’t put the whole incident together, but she realized the man that had been pounding into her was not William, she should have known. It was so brutal, so primal, it could only be called ‘fucking.’ The feelings and urges it had brought out in Buffy, made her shiver. She never felt like that, so wild and uncontrolled. Her inner slayer encouraged her to push harder against Spike, feeling so complete when he thrust inside her. She felt so guilty. The experience should have been bad, she should have fought, not give into her desires. William held her, whispering words of encouragement and love. His hands tenderly caressed her, giving her a safe place to let her frustration and sadness out.
~*~*~
Spike collapsed in the master bed, next to Drusilla. He spent over an hour picking pieces of glass out of his chest. That damn glass shattered the moment he hit it, ripping into his pale skin. It was all worth it, though. He could live for a week on the little bit of blood he managed to ingest from her ankles; it was ambrosia. He still saw her hot, writhing body under him, begging for release. Smiling, he closed his eyes. He needed rest to continue with his plan. Soon, she would be his bitch, doing what he wanted to do to her.

The binding against his chest tightened, dragging Spike out of unconsciousness. He opened his eyes to see one of the most beautiful creatures he knew straddling his chest, naked. Her dark hair hung over his face as she peered down at him and smiled wickedly. She ground down her dripping sex onto his upper chest, soaking his skin with her scent. With one sharp claw, she cut him across his cheek. He felt his skin open to the cool air of the room and his blood dripping down to his neck.

“My naughty Spike.” Spike looked up at her eyes; large, swirling, dark pools reflected back at him. For years, he got lost in those beautiful eyes, so dark that you swore you could see Hell itself. He saw a hint of red, her craziness, swirling with the black indicating that she was not quite level headed. “You thought you could have your own dolly to play with.” Spike stared up at Drusilla when she grabbed a knife beside her. He started to struggle, trying to buck her off his chest when he realized his arms and legs were stretched taunt. Looking at his wrists he saw the heavy chains connected to the wrought iron bed. Knowing his feet were in the same predicament, Spike growled at Drusilla. “Tut, tut, my dear boy.” The cold, long blade of the knife made contact with Spike’s shoulders first. He felt the metal slowly slice into him like soft butter. Smiling, Drusilla stopped pressing down on the blade, letting his rich red blood to pool at the surface of his skin. She dragged the blade across his clavicle, avoiding any thin skin so she would not break it. She continued her journey, ending on the opposite side of his body. Quickly, she drew the blade down into his skin making an identical mark as her last. “Such pretty colors, love. You should see them.” The knife was withdrawn from his body and laying only a few inches from her legs. She slid down his body, slowly, letting her cream trail across his skin. She leaned down, bringing her nose to his chest where she was sitting. A pool of her arousal sat there, soaking into his skin. She inhaled her scent on him and smiled. “Such wickedness it is. My mummy always told me a boy would break my heart.” Drusilla sat up again, still straddling his hips. Her hands came up and cradled her chest. She whimpered as if in pain, but Spike could see any.

“Dru, baby? Come on, pet. Untie me.”

“Bad dog, gruff.” He saw a moment of clarity in her eyes before she slapped him again, bringing her sharp claw-like fingernails across his smooth skin. “You,” she sneered, “are not to talk.” She reached around her body, searching for something, smiling she brought it in front of her. She stuffed the ball gag into Spike’s mouth as he protested, quickly tying it around his head. Spike growled, vibrating his chest. Drusllia looked down at her prey. His face shifted, letting his fangs elongate and bite into the ball. “Won’t do you any good, love.” She smiled wickedly again, raising a squirt bottle. “Did she squirm like you?” A cool shot of liquid pierced his skin and the holy water started to burn. Spike’s body became rigid as pain shot through, he groaned, refusing to scream. “Did she whimper and whine.” Another shot hit his torso, water dripped down his side, following his ribcage. Spike growled again, trying to free himself. “Shut up,” Drusilla’s hand came down and slapped Spike, turning his head to the side. “Did she weep?” He felt the liquid burn as another wave hit him. Drusilla crawled down to his thighs, avoiding the holy water. With her free hand, Drusilla reached for the knife again, cutting into his flesh on his stomach. “Did she know it was my bad boy?” Spike jerked his head up, watching Drusilla draw delicate patterns across his torso. The sharp tip of the blade slightly sliced through, leaving red welts. She sunk the blade in deeper, stabbing his body with the metal. Screaming behind the gag, Spike felt his blood move to the wound, trying to repair its vessel. Spike’s demon howled, trying to free itself. With another spray hitting Spike, Drusllia moved off Spike’s body, ready to move onto more important parts. “Did she know you were trying to take our precious William’s present away?” She lowered her aim of the spray bottle. She squirted the liquid on Spike’s flaccid cock. Usually he would enjoy these torture sessions as form of foreplay, but not this time. She wasn’t looking to give pleasure after the pain; she wanted him to suffer. He could see the anger surging inside her eyes as she continued to hit him. She changed the squirt bottle’s tension and spray nozzle. A fine mist of the water fell on top of Spike’s groin. His hips surged upwards as the pain settled in. Growling non-stop, Spike watched Drusilla bring the knife down towards his bare necessities. Letting the tip puncture through his soft skin, she dragged it down through his coarse curls. “Sh, my pet. Soon, you’ll not worry about our William and his present.” The blade sliced through the skin at the base of Spike’s hardening cock. Jerking, he renewed his quest to be free, tugging on the bonds. Knowing his body was betraying him, Spike gave up fighting his arousal and let it take over. Drusilla watched as his penis thicken and lengthen. “Do you want her?” Spike fought against the gag in his mouth, his sharp teeth biting through the material. “Were you going to make a slayer pet for yourself? Leaving our Childe out of it?” With a quick turn of her wrist, the knife moved down to his thigh with a dark tail of blood following it. “My naughty Spike, you will not get any pudding.”

Humming to her self, Drusilla sat back on her legs, looking at her handy work. Spike was now writhing with pain and impending release. Drusilla hopped off the bed and swaggered of to a chest. She opened the wooden lid and searched through it. She found her prize and came back to the bed. Spike watched her dangle her little toy in front of her breasts, rubbing the material on her nipples. “You, have been a bad boy and you will get no treats.” She forcefully grabbed his cock, encasing it in a leather cock ring. Groaning, Spike tried to bite through the straps of his gag, only to be sprayed with holy water again. His whole body ached with scratches, punctures, and burns as Drusilla continued his torture. “She is William’s, my dear boy. You have your own toys and cannot share his.”

Grunting and closing his eyes, Spike made it through Drusilla’s arduous torture session, knowing that he would continue to pay for trying to fuck the slayer.

~*~*~
The moans and grunts came first. Then the stench of blood being sacrificed drifted down the hallway. Then the muffled screaming came. William understood what was happening; he knew Drusilla was protecting him and Buffy from Spike. Glad that his sire was kind to him, William wrapped his arms tighter around Buffy’s cold body and slipped into unconsciousness.

Buffy felt William’s arms become tighter as the screams died down. She knew that voice… if almost sounded like William’s… but it wasn’t, it was Spike. She heard the muddled cries of pain through the wall, as the law of the family was being enacted. Tears ran down her cheeks, as she listened to the unusual quiet of the day. The occupants of the house are now resting and she was stuck shackled to a bed, at their mercy. Looking at William’s face, Buffy studied his face. His baby fat was long gone and chiseled cheekbones replaced his puffy cheeks. With elegant arches to his eyebrows and fluttering lashes covering his eyes, it finally hit Buffy. William and Spike looked incredibly alike. They could be twins. The hair was different. And, they smelled different, Buffy thought as she sniffed at William’s neck. But the body, they were identical. Muscles straining under William’s clothes were the same muscles being tortured in the other room. Thoughts of souls and reincarnation fluttered around her mind. Could it be? Could these two beings have started out as the same? And, if they had started out the same how come they were so different now? Spike was sarcastic and violent and William was quieter and devoted. He never showed a violent side to her, even when Drusilla first handed her over to him. She was the one thrashing around and screaming. Confusion ripped through her brain, it was too much and it was time to rest, she was safe for now.

a/n: You guys are awesome at reviewing.... would you like more today?





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