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Out of My Head

Part 11 

 

Sigh. Why did he have to go and do that now? Now of all times, when she’d just started to get used to their... situation? < Dammit, Spike > she thought, craning her neck slightly to look up at the smooth, porcelain beauty of his face. < Why’d you have to make this all complicated now? >

 

It wasn’t that she didn’t care about him -- she did care about him. It was obvious in the things she did with him, and besides, it was too exhausting to keep denying it. The playful teasing, the “couple fun” innuendoes, and days ago, when Riley had stabbed him and dislocated his shoulder. She’d spent an entire hour with him one time, no hanky-panky -- just taking care of him, and getting him used to rotating his shoulder again. And they’d had fun. They’d poked and teased at each other, talked and laughed... she’d seen a side of Spike that nobody had ever been allowed to see. She’d seen him happy.

 

But what if this was just a lead? What if he didn’t really love her? Maybe he’d sensed that she was awake, and had said that to throw her off? What if he was just gonna keep on with this little act, until she’d completely fallen victim to him, leaving her free for him to kill?

 

And it wasn’t just that. She didn’t love him back. She didn’t know what she felt for him, but it sure as hell wasn’t love. Loving someone was of the bad, as far as Buffy Summers was concerned. She loved her father, and the big jerk had left them in the divorce anyway, refusing to even talk to them anymore. Loving Angel had meant having to kill Angel. Then getting him back. Then losing him all over again when he left “for her own good.”

 

Please.

 

Loving people other than her own mother, Dawn, and the Scoobies was a bad thing. Her friends and Giles had stayed with her for five years already, and her mother and Dawn, fake memories of the latter or not, had always been a part of her life.

 

She was not gonna let Spike in.

 

Besides... If she didn’t love him, then he couldn’t leave her.

 

Except that now she knew he was in love with her. She was infinitely sure that she didn’t love him back... maybe... but this provided a difficult situation. Could she really let Spike stay around , knowing that he loved her, and not do anything about it? Was that fair to him?

 

Then she realized -- he hadn’t meant for her to hear. If he’d wanted to tell her he loved her, then he would’ve said so, out loud, face-to-face. He’d made sure to say it when he thought she was asleep. That way, he’d hoped she wouldn’t hear him.

 

Well, this could be a good thing. Maybe it meant that he didn’t really love her. Especially since he’d had the cowardice to tell her when she slept.

 

Or wait... maybe it was just because... hello, obvious here. Spike: William the Bloody. The Big Bad. Evil. Soulless. Vampire.

 

She was his complete opposite. Spike happened to be a well-respected member of the Undead Citizens of Sunnydale. If it got around that he was in love with the Slayer, then he’d probably be killed. Or there would at least be attempts made on his life.

 

Then again, Spike was never a very conventional vampire. He’d always broken the rules. He was breaking them right now, simply by being with her. If he couldn’t even follow through with habit and allow it to get around that he was even more of a traitor to his kind by being in love with her, then what the hell was the point?

 

She was starting to suspect that the very point was that he was ashamed of his feelings for her.

 

And that cut worse than if he’d been planning to gut her in her sleep all along.

 

She couldn’t work with this. She had to find a way to turn him off of her. And she would do anything -- anything -- to do it.

 

 

 

 

She awoke to the sensation of soft, cool lips trailing the shell of her ear, and an equally cool hand running over her thigh. She mumbled something softly and whimpered. Opening her eyes, Buffy looked up and was met with dancing, sparkling blue eyes. Spike grinned, then ducked his head, moving his mouth against her cheek, her chin, and her throat.

 

He’d woken up next to her, and the better part of an hour had been spent watching her face as she slept. Spike didn’t know how he’d managed not to revert into Sex-Starved Animal Spike right then and there, but he was semi-grateful. He had the feeling that if he hadn’t, he’d have been rolled right out the window by now. He hadn’t been able to resist after a while, and his body began moving of it’s own volition, beginning to kiss and touch her.

 

It was surprising how incredibly arousing it was to see Buffy wearing something of his in her sleep. He was pretty sure she had nothing under there.

 

She better not have. He hated those damn bras of hers.

 

Oh, shit, and speaking of windows... He glanced up toward the deadly entrance, noticing that the shades had already been drawn shut, save for a little slit where a tiny stream of light entered. He hoped to God that the sheet was enough to cover his highly-flammable areas.

 

Which was pretty much everything.

 

He turned his attention back to Buffy, who was gazing up at him. Her face was slightly unresponsive, and she had a sort of glazed look in her eyes that made her look all the more drowsy. Drugged, actually, but he knew better than to say that to her. He placed his hand on her belly and returned to worshipping her skin with his lips.

 

Okay, so she wasn’t gonna be turning him off of her anytime soon. This was an extremely good thing to wake up to. Sort of like it had been measured out. She was the right amount of sleepy, and Spike had just the right amount of sensual emanating off of him and into her with each hungry brush of his lips. Ooh, and now tongue. Hey, tongue. Buffy turned over and tilted her face toward his, intent on capturing said tongue in her mouth. She was suddenly aching to feel his lips on hers, to feel his hands roaming her body. It felt so wonderful when he touched her, and worrying about last night was too big a job for the moment.

 

She just wanted him.

 

Spike eagerly complied to her very clear request for lip-wrestling, pressing his mouth tightly against hers and pulling her close. Buffy’s arms slid around his waist, and her lips kissed back desperately, teasing and biting at his mouth until Spike was growling and overcome with want. He rolled her onto her back and leveled his tight, lithe body over hers, pressing her down gently into the mattress.

 

It helped immensely that Spike wasn’t a bulging, rolling heap of muscle as his Sire and Riley had been.

 

“Buffy,” he muttered softly between kisses, sliding his hands slowly along her legs. Buffy moaned softly as Spike pressed against her, all-too-clearly feeling his want and need, hardening further with each passing second. As one hand grasped her waist firmly, he allowed the other to sneak under the long, black T-shirt, moving quickly up her side from her nearly bare hip (save for the strap of her panties) up her bare belly to the bottom swell of her breast. Cupping the soft globe of flesh, his index finger and thumb affixed themselves on her nipple and gently squeezed, tugging on the tender nub. Spike’s lips covered her own, swallowing the loud moan she gave at the pleasing, almost painful stimulation.

 

One leg wrapped around his own, and her bare foot gently nudged his rear, tugging him closer to her. Her sneaky little fingers grabbed at the hem of his shirt and lifted up, pulling the offending garment over his head. Spike echoed her actions, nearly tearing the shirt in his fervency to get the bloody thing off of her. Almost as soon as it had been thrown across the room, probably never to be found until six months in the future, he dove headlong into her naked breasts, attaching his lips to the nipple his fingers had favored before and sucking fiercely. Buffy managed to clap her hand over her mouth before she let out a scream to wake the dead (and undead alike) and grasped at the back of his head with the other, pulling him closer and closer to her.

 

She couldn’t get enough of him.

 

Which was probably going to be very bad, considering she still had to tell him that he needed to back off and she couldn’t love him.

 

< God, Buffy, you are such a damn hypocrite. You don’t want to be in a relationship with him, but you still can’t get enough of him touching you? Bad Buffy! Bad, bad Buffy! >

 

Stupid voices. She willed them to shut up. < Go away. Fooling around time with Spike. Fight later. >

 

Against their will, Buffy pushed the voices into the very back of her mind, far, far away where she could forget about them. If she couldn’t hear the voices, they weren’t really there.

 

She wondered momentarily if being around Spike too much was making her become a slightly less severe Drusilla.

 

For now, she pushed herself close to the vampire’s searching mouth. Suddenly frantic for the full sensation of his body against hers, her fingers moved between them, jerking his jeans apart with one sharp yank. Spike, through the haze in his mind, vaguely realized what she was doing and conceded, allowing her to shove the jeans down his strong legs. He pulled away from her breast and forced his mouth against hers once again as he kicked his pants off of his feet and onto the ground.

 

< Naked Spike! > the working part of Buffy’s brain informed, her inner self squealing in childish glee. She could feel his rock-hard erection pressing firmly into her thigh, so, so close to her aching pussy, and her arousal was doubled instantly. She was craving him, and it was a wonder that she hadn’t yet ripped off her panties and ridden him into oblivion yet.

 

Luckily, she didn’t need to -- Spike was taking care of it.

 

He couldn’t stop -- didn’t want to stop, and probably never would be able to, even if Buffy asked him. Straight-minded tunnel vision, he saw the object of his desire, and went for it.

 

Buffy’s thong was ripped right off of her body and pitched across the room.

 

Cool, experienced fingers found their way inside of her and Buffy had to do all she could not to scream and sob in pleasure. Spike nipped her lower lip gently, then sucked it into his mouth as he began to work her, his hand flush against her pelvic bone, his thumb running circles all around her sensitive clit before pressing right into it and rubbing. His tongue pressed against her lip, and suddenly Buffy felt him bite into it, then suck it in even further.

 

As if she weren’t already becoming the Pacific Ocean. Spike was making it worse, rather than better. Desperately, she maneuvered her hips to settle him between her legs, the velvety tip of his cock pressing against but not quite into her entrance. She kissed him heatedly, one hand on the back of his head, and wrapped her left leg firmly around his right. The other leg was arced at the knee and her foot was settled firmly against the mattress. She thrust her hips up.

 

Spike’s eyes widened and he pulled away, looking down at her. Buffy looked back at him as calmly as possible, which wasn’t working too well because if he didn’t start moving within the next minute she was gonna pin him to the floor and fuck him right back to his grave.

 

Ahem.

 

Spike slowly began rotating his hips, pressing the head of his cock against her clit, refusing to enter her just yet. Buffy’s arms began to thrash and she nearly started to weep in frustration. A lock of sweat-drenched hair fell across her brow and Spike tenderly pushed it away, pausing in his impromptu torture session. “What is it, luv? What do you want?” he asked, voice sotto.

 

She gazed up at him, fingers clenched in his platinum curls, her eyes wild and frenzied. “Spike, please,” she gasped hoarsely, “please, I need you inside me.”

 

He swallowed hard. Uh-oh. Big step. Very big step. Did he really want this?  This was a sin, he was sinning. It had to be a sin to fuse God’s light with the Devil’s darkness, to completely and entirely defile a Slayer and divest her of her purity.

 

Oh, sod it. He was a vampire, he was fucked for eternity no matter what he did. Might as well add the sexual corruption of the Slayer to the list.

 

His eyes blazed gold for one exact second as he slid into the Slayer’s body. Both eyes widened, and breathing exploded into shocked gasps.

 

Holy shit.

 

“Spike,” Buffy whimpered, grabbing at him convulsively.

 

He buried his face in her shoulder, giving one loud groan. “Oh, god, Buffy...”

 

So hot. Scalding, almost. Incredibly tight. She did feel nearly virginal. Why the hell was that? She was practically ripping the skin right off of his cock, and he hadn’t even moved yet!

 

Moving. Oh, that’s right. He should probably do that. Although it felt like he could come right then and there just resting inside of her. He slowly began to withdraw from her tightly stretched passage, before sliding equally slowly back in.

 

Oh, he already knew this wasn’t gonna take long. A few more strokes, and he was gonna be a goner.

 

Faster and faster, he began to pump, murmuring soft, tender words at first, then moving on to blissful obscenities as movements increased. Buffy’s hips arched off of her bed at each stroke, the Slayer herself lulled into a joyfully pre-orgasmic state by the complete feeling her lover was giving her. Moans and kitten-mews and gasps were voiced loudly as she writhed under him, thrusting her hips right back at his, their pelvises colliding with vigor.

 

Wow, wow, wow, holy fucking shit, wow. He was enormous up close, but she hadn’t really had any idea how big he really was until he’d buried himself in her body. She had a feeling she knew where the name, ‘The Big Bad’ actually came from now.

 

< Lookie lookie what Spikey’s been hiding all along... >

 

This was incredible. Unlike anything she’d ever even felt before. He fit her completely, in every single way, his body pressed tight against hers, interlocking in all the right places, and even his cock fit her perfectly. Just the right length, right to the center, and it stabbed her belly at each thrust.

 

Why was she planning on pushing him away again?

 

She couldn’t exactly remember. Her brain had gone on sensory meltdown as soon as Spike had started touching her. She might as well have brain damage now, because there was no possible way she was going to be able to even remember who she was, let alone anything else. All she knew right now was that she and Spike were having sex, and it was the best experience she’d ever had.

 

If God struck him down right then for banging His warrior of light, Spike would die a very happy man. He’d thought last night had been perfect, just holding her and falling asleep with her in his arms. This beat that outlook by about a million to one. This was like being transported to his very own Utopia, and in it’s own way, he was being gifted by the sun. That big stupid bleeding yellow ball in the sky was actually giving him some of its light, transporting it from Buffy to his body, and thought it was scalding him, setting him on fire, it was only in the best possible way. He was brought out of his reverie by the sound of the Slayer’s grunts, which were becoming increasingly louder and higher with each push closer to the edge.

 

“Yes,” she repeated with a gasp, each time Spike’s hips slammed into her own. “Harder,” she implored, “more,” she begged, and each plea and declaration ignited something inside of him, making him work to give her the best orgasm of her life. One hand moved down slowly as his lips founds hers again, and dug between her legs, searching and finding her clit. Fingering and twisting it, he forced himself to wait until his hand had been sufficiently lubricated by her juices, then pulled his mouth away from hers, lifting his hand to his face and slipping the wet fingers into his mouth. Buffy allowed an aroused moan to escape her throat before pulling his face back down to hers. Spreading her legs apart farther and lifting them over his shoulders, he pushed into her faster and harder, angling himself to find the delicate patch of nerve endings inside of her, making her bite his lips in an effort to keep her cries down.

 

Something inside of Spike snapped when she bit his mouth and he drove his body viciously into hers with wild abandon, slapping his hand down over her mouth to keep the Slayer from waking up the other two women in the house. It was an ungodly time to get up, being seven in the morning, and it was a good thing that both Dawn and Joyce slept like the dead, but Buffy wasn’t holding either one of them to that, and so she appreciated Spike’s movements.

 

Really appreciated them. She wiggled her body under Spike’s, then bucked harder, squeezing her muscles and strangling the vast member within her. Spike’s eyes popped open and he dove down, burying his face in her neck and letting out a choked groan of pleasure.

 

It was Buffy in the lead by a squeeze, but Spike was catching up with a few more thrusts. Buffy counters with a bite to his shoulder with her dull teeth -- Spike looks astounded, and falls behind slightly, trying to catch up. Spike allows his game face to appear, opening his mouth.

 

He attacked like a viper and slid his fangs carefully into the juncture of her neck and shoulder, covering his own markings. Quick and painless. He pulled his fangs back out and suctioned his lips around the wounds, sucking hungrily and sensually.

 

The feeling overpowered Buffy -- it was true that usually a vampire’s bite hurt. But that was when they intended to kill someone. She got the feeling that killing her wasn’t particularly what Spike had in mind at the moment, since his teeth were no longer buried in her flesh.

 

A vampire bite during sex was supposed to bring some of the most intense pleasure ever known. But it had never been experienced between a vampire and a willing human before. And never had that human been a Slayer.

 

The results?

 

Buffy buried her face in Spike’s neck, opening her mouth and crying out, her screams muffled by the vampire. The girl was catapulted through her orgasm as clearly as a rocket was shot from a launching pad into the outer limits of space. Her body tensed, then began to convulse, jerking spasmodically against Spike’s as her insides clutched and tightened. She grasped at him tightly, then threw her head back and let out a long, low moan as she spasmed and came hard, her juices flooding and scorching him. Spike allowed a growl to rip past his lips from the heat, and with at least two more thrusts, he came, barreling right behind Buffy, his dead seed firing into the very depths of her body. His body shivered and as the last drop was expelled from him, he collapsed heavily on top of her.

 

Both brains were on hold for the next ten minutes, neither sure what to say other than ‘wow.’ Finally Spike looked up, staring her directly in the eyes, his expression curious. He reached up a hand and gently ran his thumb down her jaw until his hand cupped her chin. Moving up, he kissed her lips gently, then rolled onto his back next to her. “Go on wash up, pet,” he suggested softly. Buffy couldn’t resist a grin at the tone of his voice. He sounded as he’d just been shown the hidden treasures of an Egyptian king. Not greedy -- just extremely awed, and amazed.

 

His voice was cracking. < Haha. Spike’s going through puberty again. >

 

She took his advice and stood up, looking for her robe and wrapping it around her when she found it.

 

Buffy fumbled her way toward the bathroom, then securely locked the door behind her. She turned to look at herself in the mirror.

 

Realization at what just happened finally hit her.

 

“Holy shit. I just had sex with Spike.”

This was definitely gonna deter her from her goal.

 

 

 

 

Glory rolled her eyes as she lay on the couch in her apartment, her foot lolling about. Needless to say, the goddess was supremely annoyed. “He’s getting stronger. I’m losing him. I’m losing control of him!” She pulled both legs up and threw them across the arm of the sofa, nearly kicking two of her demon lackeys, Jinx and Murk. Jinx gazed at her with eyes of adoration.

 

“You're speaking of Ben, most glamorous yet tasteful one?” he asked. It really was quite amazing how the disgusting little blobs flattered to her. Glory glared at him.

 

“He stabbed you in your body,” she muttered.

 

Murk held his hand up, as if asking permission to speak. “Jinx is all right, your highness. And we do have the new knowledge that the key is a human being.” Glory grumbled and sat up, gazing at the little turd.

 

“If time runs out on us and all we're left with is info? Then we're screwed,” she informed. As if the dipshits got it.

 

“Oh, surely not!” Jinx cried, beginning the first wave attempt at comforting the goddess.

 

Glory shook her head quickly, her blonder curls going everywhere as she leaned back. “No, we’re screwed!”

 

“But you are a god! The sacred Glorificus!” Murk said, joining in with the effort.

 

Glory sighed. “I’m a god in exile. Far from the hellfires of home and... sharing my body with an enemy that stabs my boys in their,” she paused momentarily, poking Jinx in his stomach, causing the demon to wince and groan in pain. “Fleshy little stomachs.”

 

She leaned back once again, ignoring Jinx, and closed her eyes. “Ugh! I’m in pain!”

 

“How can we help?” Jinx asked quickly. “We will lay down our lives!”

 

Glory stopped for a moment, tilting her head as she pondered the question. Then she stood up and looked around at her minions. “The Slayer and the Key are connected. She's going to have contact with it. Find out who's new in her life, who's ... special, who's different. Watch her.”

 

Murk nodded hastily. “We can do that O... thou.” Obviously he’d run out of steam in preparation for a new term of endearment.

 

Glory continued, gaining speed. “I want to hear about everyone she has contact with! That girl has my Key --” The demons instantly bowed their heads, “-- and I’m trusting you boys to get it for me. If you love me...” The demons looked up again, eyes filled with devotion to the goddess. “... get it for me.”

 

The monks looked back at each other, smiles wide on their ugly little faces. Glory smirked.

 

Those little shits were so... helpful.

 

 

 

 

“I had sex with Spike. I had sex... with Spike. Spike and I had sex. Oh, my god, this is so not sounding right!”

 

If she wasn’t careful, Buffy was going to drive herself up the Wall of Insanity. It was bad enough that she’d been doing this mentally from the moment Spike left. She’d come out of the bathroom that morning with the true meaning of ‘dazed and confused’ spray-painted all over her face. After they’d dressed, Buffy had ushered Spike as quickly and quietly downstairs as she could, and had begun to lead him toward the kitchen, only to be stopped short by the sound of pans banging together against the stove.

 

< Mom! > was her prominent thought.

 

She dragged Spike toward the foyer and looked at him, wide-eyed. “How fast can you run?” she asked. He gave her a Look, then rolled his eyes and bared his fangs as an answer, interpretation being, “Duh. Vampire.”

 

Buffy looked down sheepishly. “Right,” she muttered. “If you don’t want to go poof, you’re gonna need to be like a gunshot, Spike. Are you going to use the tunnels or just run straight to the crypt?”

 

Spike shot her his lower lip. “Why can’t I just stay in the basement till nightfall?”

 

She glared at him. “Because my mom actually goes in the basement, and she would find you. Easily. And then she’ll wonder why you’re here, and I don’t particularly feel like explaining to her that you spent the night and we woke up... doing things to each other.”

 

Spike grinned, a full eye-crinkling, teeth-baring grin. “Is that what they’re calling it, Slayer? Cuz usually I just refer to it as --”

 

Her hand slammed down over his mouth. “Not another word out of you if you wanna make it home with everything on your body intact and in correct working order.”

 

Spike casually ran his tongue over her palm, smiling when he felt Buffy shudder and a small thrum of desire bolt through her. She took her hand off his mouth and he grabbed it, then wrapped his other arm around her waist, pulling her close. “It’s all right, luv. I’ll go, an’ you won’t have to explain a thing to your dear old mum. An’ if she happens to see me, just let her know that I came to check up on you an’ the Nibblet. Right, pet?” He touched her chin, lifting her face up to meet his gaze. Buffy nodded slowly, chewing on her lower lip. Spike ducked his head a bit, touching his lips to hers quickly. “Don’t need to tell anyone, pet. ‘S just between you an’ me.” He pulled away and Buffy nodded again.

 

Like she’d been planning on telling anyone anyway. She’d just fucked her mortal enemy/ally/sometime-comrade -- in her bed of all places!

 

She watched at the door as Spike stepped onto the porch, gathered his duster over his head, then took off down the street, stopping at a sewer entrance, lifting the lid and jumping into the tunnels below. She rolled her eyes. Spike was the only vampire she knew who had a particularly dangerous interest in gallivanting around town under the sun.

 

Well, actually... Spike was the only vampire she actually knew personally.

 

Shaking her head, she’d turned back into the house, and gone about her business, all the while cursing herself.

 

“He’s in love with you, and you sleep with him when you say you want to turn him off of you?” she chided herself now. So it had been throughout the whole day. Buffy ranted and raved, cursing at herself for her stupidity.

 

The part of her that had taken over when Spike had started the entire situation finally replied to the contradicting voices that she had shoved to the back of her brain. < That’s enough! You wanted it, and you know it, stop acting like a child! >

 

Okay, true. She had wanted it. But she hadn’t been entirely in control of her body then. She hadn’t had sex in a while. All she and Spike had been doing was fooling around orally. Actual penetration was a completely different thing, something Buffy had been lacking for a bit. She hadn’t meant to give it to Spike.

 

Even though it had been an earth-shattering encounter. Especially when he’d sunk his teeth --

 

< No! Bad Buffy! No thinking of the evil vampire and the bities! Bad, bad Buffy! >

 

Damn it, if she kept using the word ‘bad,’ nothing was gonna stop her from running right back to the actual Bad. Her imagination was working overtime and putting herself and the vampire into several extremely interesting and very -- very -- tempting positions.

 

This was not good.

 

Actually, it was good, but in a very different context than she would’ve preferred it to be. Spike was taking over her mind, when she should be concentrating more than ever on Slutty Evil Hell-Bitch Glory. The goddess was getting closer and closer to finding out the truth, and that was so beyond un-good. She was not gonna let someone she loved get hurt, all because she couldn’t keep her hands off of a very pushy, very annoying vampire.

 

That did it. She had to be serious this time. She wasn’t going to let Spike take over. She was going to be strong, and selfish for the right reasons. Spike was not the right reason. Dawn was. Her mother was. Giles, Xander, Anya, Willow and Tara were.

 

She was not gonna jeopardize the lives of the people she actually loved for a fling with Spike, of all people. It just wasn’t ethical.

 

At the moment, she was wandering around in a graveyard that was about five streets away from Spike’s. Buffy made an about-face and began heading down those five streets to confront the latest addition to her list of Relationships That Start Out Badly.

 

As she arrived at the crypt, Spike swung the door open, bare-chested and smug, startling her. He grinned and nodded toward the inside of his crypt. Obviously, he’d been expecting her. Stupid presumptuous vampire.

 

“Have a good day, luv?” he questioned, tilting his head and fumbling around the sarcophagus for something... the sarcophagus that was covered in silk sheets that she was positive Spike had stolen, no matter how pretty and comfy they looked. Eh, he was probably looking for liquor anyway. She shrugged.

 

“It was... uneventful, I guess,” she answered. Spike stood up straight and raised an eyebrow, shooting her a smoldering look. Buffy felt her cheeks flush as she realized what that look was inquiring. “Um... except for that.”

 

The 1000-watt grin reappeared and he resumed his search. “Good to know.” He straightened again, holding a bottle of bourbon around the neck in his fist. < Hah! Right on the money! > she thought, eyeing the drink as he unscrewed the top and took a gulp. Then he set it back down and motioned to her, holding out his hand. “C’mere,” he said softly.

 

Instantly, she knew what he was thinking. She was about to decline, but looking in his eyes, and seeing the hope and desire for her, she relented.

 

Okay... one more time wouldn’t hurt. One more time, and then she’d tell him to shove off.

 

Buffy took a hold of his hand and allowed him to lift her onto the silken sheets gracing the tomb. His hands quickly began to unbutton her blouse, and as he slid it off her shoulders, he looked up at her, his face serious. Buffy stared back at him silently, then wrapped her arms around his neck, kissing him fervently. Spike held her tightly and kissed her back, then trailed his lips down her neck, sucking on the skin lightly.

 

Her fingernails ran up and down his back, stroking gently as he pushed her back and climbed on top of her. Reaching under her, Spike grasped for her bra, then growled softly when the hooks refused to release. “I swear to God, the bastard that made these infernal contraptions should’ve been hung by his toes and had his neck snapped, and if he didn’t, I should’ve done it!” he growled, getting very close to biting right through the damn straps.

 

Buffy laughed softly and arched her back, unclasping the “infernal contraption” easily as Spike’s focus drifted to the top of one of her breasts. Raining kisses over the soft mounds, he helped Buffy pull the cursed thing off of her shoulders, revealing the rest of her breasts to him. Once again, Buffy reached down and unfastened his pants, helping him slide them down his legs and leaving him strong, visibly aroused, and completely nude as the day he’d been born (and nude as he’d probably died, knowing Drusilla).

 

Spike’s hand shot for her own pants, yanking the things down her legs and leaving her in a tiny black lace thong. Which did not last long as Spike’s horniness got the best of him, causing him to snatch them and chuck them right over his shoulder. His mouth once again met with Buffy’s skin and he kissed an insane, winding path over her neck, chest, breasts, stomach and down to her pelvis, nuzzling the insides of her thighs. He breathed in deeply, savoring the scent of her arousal, indulging in the fact that it was all for him, that Buffy savored this as much as he did. He lips pressed against the mouth of her womanhood and he slid out his tongue, tracing the lips.

 

But he didn’t linger. He stopped long enough to get a small taste and a soft moan from Buffy, then began to kiss his way back up her body. “God, I love you,” he mumbled, half-realizing what he’d just said, partly horrified that he’d let it slip, and partly relieved because he’d finally said it, and relished the salty tinge of her skin from the beginnings of her perspiration.

 

Buffy heard him quite clearly. And that alerted her, reminding her of her mission. She swallowed hard, and looked around frantically. Spike wasn’t gonna stop without just cause and she needed one hell of a just cause to get him off and away from her. Damn it, what would Giles tell her to do? What would Mom say, or Angel...

 

Angel.

 

That was it.

 

“Buffy,” she heard her name tumble softly from Spike’s lips. Closing her eyes, she leaned back and moaned softly.

 

Moaned someone else’s name.

 

“Angel.”

 

And immediately regretted doing so.

 

Spike shot up within a second and stared at her with wide, shocked eyes. Hurt eyes. The hurt she saw dug deep inside of her, making her heart twist, making her wince internally, making nausea well up and giving her the intense urge to vomit at what she’d just pulled. At the stupid, stupid thing she’d just said.

 

Spike was still staring at her, disbelief clouding his eyes. And he was backing away from her fast. “Angel?” he whispered. “You were thinking of... Angel?” he asked.

 

The cruel, heartless part of Buffy, the part that kept insisting that this entire thing she’d started with Spike had been nothing but a mistake from the very start, took over and forced her to nod. The part of her that had formed a loving attachment to Spike was shoved to the back, shackled and chained in the cerebellum, unable to do anything but watch in horror at what was happening.

 

Spike swallowed hard. “And... that first time...? You thought of Angelus when I was inside of you.” He wouldn’t look at her. He was staring sullenly at the wall, his expression slowly becoming blank and void of any emotion whatsoever.

 

“Of course,” she replied cruelly, her inner mind unable to believe the hostility in her words. She saw Spike flinch and Cruel-Heartless-Buffy continued. “You don’t think I actually gave a damn about you, do you? You were just something to tide me over until I found a replacement for Riley. Have to say though -- you gave great bone. At least you were good for something.”

 

< Stop it! Stop right this minute! What are you doing?! > Loving-Caring-Buffy shrieked from her confines. < How can you say that to him?! >

 

There was nothing but silence for a few minutes. Buffy kept her eyes on Spike, waiting to see his reaction. Slowly, he began to move, picking up her clothes. He handed them to her, then waited for her to dress again. He, however, remained nude.

 

When she was fully dressed, she looked to him again. Cruel-Heartless-Buffy took over once again. “Look, I’m sorry if you got the wrong idea. You do realize that you’re a vampire, right? And I’m the Slayer. It could never work. Not that I wanted it to, you know, but come on, Spike. You can’t actually think that I was falling --”

 

“Get out.”

 

Buffy looked at him quickly, noticing the muscles in his jaw beginning to twitch. “Seriously, if you really think --”

 

And suddenly she was slammed against the wall, a naked, angry vampire snarling at her, eyes glowing a fiery gold. His hand was wound tightly around her throat. “Get out,” he growled, his upper lip curling in hate and disgust. Not disgust with her. Disgust for himself. For allowing himself to fall so deeply, only to get burned much worse than he’d been burned before.

 

And suddenly, Cruel-Heartless-Buffy dropped back in fear, finally slapped silly for the stunt she’d pulled, and Loving-Caring-Buffy was free, scrabbling desperately at the last scraps of hope. Buffy snapped to, gasping and gazing at him.

 

“Spike? Spike, please, oh, god, I’m so sorry! I am so, so sorry, I don’t know what came over me. Please forgive me, please, Spike, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry!”

 

Spike’s jaw clenched once again, and he flung her down, turning away from her. “Just get out. Don’t come back.”

 

She moved toward him, grasping his arm. “Spike, no, please --”

 

Spike snarled viciously and swung his arm back, throwing her into the wall. “GET OUT!” he roared, his eyes blazing a hellish orange. Buffy stared at him, eyes wide with fear, and she began scrambling backwards toward the doors of the crypt. Standing up, her chest began to heave, and she gave a soft sob. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered, giving a sob.

 

As she turned and left, Spike sank to the floor against the sarcophagus, putting his head in his hands. Suddenly his fist shot out and slammed into the wall, and he growled in pain when the vessels and the skin of his hand split at the knuckles, beginning to bleed.

 

“Dammit,” he sighed softly, shutting his eyes.

 

 

 

 

Outside, Buffy cursed herself several times over for her bitchy nature. Yeah, she hadn’t wanted to endanger the people she loved about Spike. Problem was... Spike was one of those people.

 

It had smacked into her the second those cruel, cruel words had slipped out of her mouth. The minute she’d seen the hurt in his eyes, she had practically died.

 

She didn’t want to hurt the people she loved. So why had she?

 

She sniffed and gave a soft sob before walking off, her face in her hands.

 

 

 

 

All was clear. A small demon was making sure of that. He motioned back into the bushes about ten feet to the west of Spike’s crypt as the Slayer walked off, her arms wrapped around herself. This was it, this had to be it. They’d been keeping a close eye on the Slayer the entire day, and the only person they had seen come in contact with her had been the vampire.

 

The vampire was the one they wanted.

 

Jinx walked out of the bushes confidently, his crumbly little chin high up in the air. Five more demons followed him.

 

Time to get the Key.

 

 

 

 

Spike shifted slightly as his jeans slid over his narrow hips. His face had become a mask of despondency, and after slamming his hand into the wall a few more times, nearly shattering his fist right along with the wall, he refused to make any sound at all. What was the point?

 

He was a fool. He’d been a simpering, puppy-faced fool for even thinking that this bloody thing with the Slayer meant anything to her. All she’d wanted was to get off. And since Spike had shown interest... the victim had been easily established.

 

He should have known better. He could sense it in her when she was dating the Farmboy part. Riley had just been rebound after she’d lost Angel. And Angel had been the love of her life. Her first love. She would never care about another the way she’d cared about his stupid, fucking, soul-filled Sire.

 

How lovely. That morning, he’d been worried about corrupting the Slayer’s body with his own.

 

This, apparently, was his punishment.

 

He rubbed at his eyes as he fastened his pants. He hadn’t even pulled his shirt over his head when he sensed another demon entering. Turning quickly, he faced the door, then frowned.

 

“Who the hell are you?”

 

Jinx appeared out of the shadows by the doors, followed by several other demons who looked almost exactly like him. “Forgive me for our intrusion, my friend, but I would like a word with you.”

 

Spike stared blankly at the little twit. “Nope. Sorry. Not really in a mood to get all talkative.”

 

Jinx smiled. “But I insist.”

 

Spike tilted his head, noticing that the demons were beginning to circle him. “Well, since you put it that way, NO!” He managed to duck in time as he sensed one of the turds take a swing at his head, then dropped to the floor and swung his leg out, tripping the demon up and sending him flat onto his back.

 

Growling now, Spike looked up, eyes glowing, at Jinx, then ran him down, knocking him to the floor and kicking him. He managed two more kicks before two of the demons grabbed him by the arms. He snarled and sank his fangs into the arm of one, then head-butted the other. Though his rage at Buffy’s betrayal to him fueled his fight, the demons managed to gain control of him, reducing his efforts to violent struggles.

 

Jinx struggled to stand up, glaring in disgust at the vampire. “Tie his hands! Glory will want him restrained!”

 

Instantly, the demons followed orders and Spike hissed as his arms were drawn sharply behind him, being tied together. With one last-ditch effort to escape, he spun once and kicked the first demon that had attacked him swiftly in the head, his foot landing right in the creature’s upper spinal cord, shattering his neck. He landed in a heap on the ground, dead. Horrified, one of the demons holding the vampire’s arms grasped a brick off the ground and smacked it into Spike’s head. The blonde bloodsucker let out a cry of pain, arching backwards as he attempted to close his eyes to the thrums of agony.

 

“Let me go!” he howled, his attempts at struggle not stopping, but becoming less effective.

 

Jinx stomped over and violently smacked the demon that had hit Spike. “Careful with him! Did it not occur to you that she would want the Key intact?!”

 

Spike’s breathing had become harsh, labored gasps, and his head shot up at the mention of the Key, his eyes wide. “Key? Who’s a Key? I’m not the --”

 

Jinx angrily stuffed something into Spike’s mouth, to Spike’s desperate but now-muffled protests. His struggles did not cease, and he kept shouting through the dirty-feeling cotton that had been used as a silencer as he was dragged away.

 

< They think I’m the Key? Oh, bloody hell... Spike, ol’ boy, you’ve gotten yourself into it now. >

 

Not one of the demons took notice of their dead comrade, lying on the ground with his neck in such an awkward position. They lugged Spike out of the crypt.

 

 

 

 

“Dentist appointment go okay?” Tara asked as she walked Dawn out of the orthodontist’s office.

 

Dawn nodded arrogantly, baring her teeth in a wide grin. “Proud to say no cavities, no need for fillings or crowns, no teeth falling out, and no tell-tale signs of the vampire pointies. Statler was glad. He gave me a Blow-Pop. Does that make any sense? A dentist giving you sugar to rot your teeth? Well, I guess it makes sense, you know, so that you can go back and get screwed out of lots more money for it. Hey, doctors are pretty smart!”

 

Tara just giggled at the over-exuberant teenager. “Are you sure Dr. Statler didn’t put you on the happy gas before you left?”

 

Dawn stuck her tongue out. “Very funny.” Then she turned to Tara excitedly. “Ooh, can we go visit Spike before we head to the Magic Box? It’s okay if I go see him, Buffy just says that I need someone with me just in case some of Glory’s goons are around. Please can we go, please can we go?”

 

Tara smiled, nodding. “Sure, Dawnie. But we can’t stay long, cuz after we hit the Magic Box, I hafta get you home. We don’t want your mom to worry.”

 

Dawn squealed, jumping up excitedly. “Definitely! Thank you!” She grabbed the witch’s hand and began racing to the crypt. “Come on, come on, come on!”

 

When they arrived at the crypt, the first thing Dawn noticed was that everything was in disarray. Which was odd, because whenever she’d been to Spike’s before, everything had been in perfect place. She’d managed to weasel it out of him, and figured out that he was a closet neat freak. Kinda like how Buffy was a closet pig. Tara followed her in, a slight frown on her face.

 

“Where is he?” she asked, confused.

 

Dawn frowned. She was starting to get an uneasy feeling. The feeling only intensified when she saw Spike’s shirt and adored leather duster lying on the ground. “I don’t know, but his duster’s here... Tara, something’s wrong, Spike would never go anywhere with his duster! This thing is like his child, he never lets it out of his sight!”

 

Tara eyed the coat. “Well, maybe he was in a hurry. An emergency came up, or --”

 

“Tara, Buffy and I are his emergencies. And there’s nothing wrong with either of us. Something happened, and I’m gonna find out... Is that blood?” Dawn had caught sight of the dents and blood spills covering the walls next to the sarcophagus. Okay, now she was scared. “Oh... oh, Tara, it’s blood. What if it’s Spike’s blood? What if something awful happened to him? And -- oh, god, there’s more right there, look!” The teen pointed to a spot on the floor where the brick had fallen. It clearly had to have smacked Spike hard enough if it had opened a wound in his skull big enough to dribble blood.

 

Tara didn’t want to admit it, but it did look as if something had happened to Spike. She moved over to Dawn and wrapped her arms around the frantic girl, hugging her close. “It’s okay, it’ll be okay, Dawnie, I promise. We’ll find out what happened, I promise you.”

 

Dawn gasped and sniffled quietly into Tara’s sheer green floral-print shirt, until she noticed something out of the corner of her eye. She lifted her head, still sniffling, and wiped at her eyes. “What’s that?”

 

The Wicca looked behind her and noticed a big brown boot on the floor next to the sarcophagus. She let go of Dawn for a moment and walked over cautiously. Bending down, Tara none-to-eagerly poked at the thing, then rolled it over, revealing the dead demon. The witch quickly pulled away, putting her hand over her mouth and grimacing. “Oh... oh, god... His neck was snapped. I think the only other person that could do something like that besides Buffy is Spike, so he must have had a fight in here.” She stood up and sighed. “Dawn, come on, we should -- Dawn?” Tara looked at Dawn, who’s face had crumbled and was now a mask of horror as she stared at the dead heap.

 

“That’s... Isn’t that one of Glory’s minions?” the girl asked in a shaking voice.

 

Tara gazed at Dawn with trepidation, then quickly looked back down at the demon. “Oh my god.” She looked to Dawn again, who was beginning to tremble in fear.

 

“She’s got Spike,” the teen whispered, her voice taking on a high-pitched, deranged note. “She’s got him! Oh my god, Tara, Glory’s got Spike! Glory has him, she has Spike! We have to get him back, we have to get him! Tara, please, let’s go find Buffy, please, we’ve got to get him back! Please!”

 

By then, Dawn’s pleas had become frantic shrieks, and tears were flowing down her cheeks. Tara quickly wrapped her arms around the sobbing girl and walked out of the crypt, heading directly for the Magic Box. And suddenly Dawn regained her senses, breaking into a run.

 

“Dawn!” Tara called desperately, then chased after her.

 

 

 

 

She could sense Willow approaching her even before the door to the training room opened. “I’m a horrible person.”

 

Willow froze, confusion etched on her face. “What?” She didn’t understand. All she could comprehend was that Buffy had scrambled through the door of the Magic Box, tears streaming rapidly down her cheeks, refusing to talk to anyone. And now she was curled up against the wall in the training room, her legs pulled up to her chest and her arms wrapped around them. Her chin rested on her knees, and continuous, soft sobs escaped past her lips.

 

“I’m a horrible person, Willow,” she repeated, her face scrunching up as she gave another sob.

 

Willow sat down next to her, her eyes wide. She shook her head quickly. “No! No, Buffy, you’re not--”

 

Buffy finally looked up and growled, “Oh, cut the bullshit, Willow! I’m a bitch, plain and simple! I’m awful to people, I’m mean, and hurtful, to people that don’t deserve it, to people I care about!”

 

Willow jumped back, her eyes widening further. “Buffy, did you have a fight with your mom, or Dawn?” The Slayer shook her head quickly, burying her face again. Willow frowned. “What happened?” She remained quiet, refusing to answer. The red-head grumbled under her breath, then shouted, “Buffy, TELL me! I thought we weren’t gonna keep secrets from each other!”

 

At that, Buffy seemed to return and looked up again, wiping her eyes. She was silent for about a half a minute more, then drew a deep breath before speaking. “There’s no easy way to say this, so I’m just going to tell you.” Willow nodded in anticipation. Buffy glanced at her, a bit fearfully. “For the last... month or... two months, or whatever... I’ve been seeing Spike.” Willow didn’t even have a chance to react before Buffy was off and running again. “The whole thing started the night he got the chip out and bit me, and I tried to push him away, but the more I was around him, the more I wanted to be with him, and Wills, you should’ve seen us the other day, we were teasing each other, joking around, tickling each other and I felt like I was in a real relationship again, and I know this is wrong, but I’ve never felt more happy until we...” Buffy hazarded a look at her best friend, then swallowed hard. “Willow, he’s in love with me.”

 

Imagine the Slayer’s surprise when Willow smiled, instead of putting up an enormous, frantic curse on Spike’s head for manipulating her. “I know,” she said softly, touching Buffy’s hand. “I could tell.”

 

Buffy looked at her hard, then looked away again. “And I ruined it. He has to hate me now... oh, god, Wills, the things I said to him... no humane person would ever say the things I said to the person that loved them!”

 

Willow’s eyebrows rose and she looked at Buffy in confusion. “What did you do?” she asked.

 

Buffy swallowed hard, covering her face in her hands. “Willow... we... had sex. For the first time this morning. And... when I went to see him again tonight, to tell him that I had to concentrate on Glory... we kinda got a little... occupied... and he told me he loved me... and I-I called him Angel. Purposely. Right to his face.”

 

Willow gaped at her in astonishment. “Buffy! How could you do that?”

 

Buffy shifted and turned toward the Wicca. “I don’t know, it was like something possessed me and forced me to tell him those things, and when I got back in control, I tried so hard to apologize, but he just wouldn’t hear it... And now he’ll never forgive me, I know it. I did the worst thing imaginable that anybody could ever do to him. Willow, I feel so awful, the second I realized what I’d said to him, I’d felt like throwing up, and right now I just wanna die and --”

 

Willow held up her hand. With Buffy rambling so much, it was damn hard trying to wrap her mind around everything. Now she knew Buffy felt awful, because Buffy never rambled. “Wait, wait a sec, Buffy. How do you feel about him?”

 

Silence.

 

Buffy looked away, then buried her face against her legs again. Willow got the feeling that the Slayer was never going to stop crying if she didn’t help, and so she placed a hand on Buffy’s back. “It’s okay, you don’t have to tell me if you don’t know.”

 

“But that’s just it,” Buffy’s choking voice replied. “I do know. I... Willow, I’m in love with him. And I didn’t even realize it until he kicked me out of his crypt.”

 

Willow pulled Buffy into a hug, resting her head on top of the blonde’s. “I kinda got the feeling that you did.”

 

Buffy’s face scrunched up, and she started to weep again. “Willow, what am I going to do? I have to get him back, I need him!”

 

Willow looked down at her. “Then tell him. Tell him you love him. It’s the only thing you can really do, and if he doesn’t believe you, then the only thing you can do is just give him time to get it --”

 

“Where’s Buffy? Buffy? BUFFY!”

 

The Slayer instantly shot to attention at the sound of her sister shrieking her name. She wiped her eyes quickly and stood up, walking to the door. Dawn shot through and barreled right into her, grasping at her tightly, screaming and crying at the same time.

 

“She has him! Buffy, she’s got him, Glory took him! We have to get him back, please, we’ve got to save him, Buffy, we’ve got to bring him back!” the teen sobbed hysterically, crying into Buffy’s neck.

 

Dread overcame the Slayer and she looked down at her sister numbly. “Glory has... who?”

 

Tara’s voice came through the doorway, overpowering Dawn’s frantic cries. “Spike.” Buffy looked up at the blonde witch, eyes widening. Tara walked into the room, looking tired and saddened. “We went to visit him, and when we got there, one of Glory’s minions was dead on the ground. Everything was a mess and there was blood on the floor and walls... we figured it had to be Glory that took him. Buffy, you’ve got to go after him, for Dawn’s sake, look at her.”

 

Buffy did just that, staring down at her younger sister. Dawn looked as if she was having a conniption fit, the frenzied, frightened glare shining in her tear-filled eyes doing nothing except confirming it. She hugged Dawn to her tightly, refusing to fall to tears herself.

 

“We’ll find him, Dawn, I promise. Tara, take Dawn home, please --”

 

“No, I want to go with you, I want Spike back!” Dawn protested, her voice reaching a shriek again.

 

Buffy grabbed Dawn’s face in both hands and looked her in the eyes. “We will find him. But Glory is too dangerous. She’s already got her hands on Spike, I’m not letting her anywhere near you. I swear to you, the second we get him back, I will call, I promise you that, okay? Let Tara take you home, it’s safe there.”

 

General Buffy in charge once again. She turned to Willow. “Come on.” The four of them stormed into the store, catching Xander and Giles’ attention immediately. Anya looked up from the cash register and shuddered at the authoritative aura the Slayer emanated. Instantly, she walked over to the group. Something big was going down, and she most definitely was gonna be a part of it.

 

“Listen up,” Buffy began, looking around. “Glory’s got Spike. There’s no way in hell that she’s invited him for tea and cookies, so we’re going after him, NOW. He’s vital to the team... and to us,” she looked over at Dawn, then continued. “I have a feeling I know where Glory’s place is, so follow me until we get there. Soon as we hit it, Willow, stick with Anya, make with the magic, Xander, Giles, come with me, get as many goddamn weapons you can get your hands on and use them.” She turned to her sister again, hugging her tightly. “We’ll get him back. He’ll be home in no time, calling you stupid pet names and everything, I promise you.”

 

Dawn hugged Buffy back tightly, squeezing her eyes shut. “Be careful. Don’t come back with bloody stumps for arms and legs.” Buffy scowled at her, then motioned for Tara to take off.

 

Tara quickly embraced Willow and gave her a kiss, whispering, “Please be careful, and don’t over-do the magic, okay?”

 

Willow nodded. “Of course.”

 

Tara gave her a weak smile, then took Dawn’s hand and hurried out the door. Giles lugged out his weapons chest and began pulling out all the weapons, tossing Xander a crossbow and an axe. A sleek silver sword was handed to Buffy and she scrutinized it with fierce determination in her eyes. Grabbing a crossbow and about seven bolts, she didn’t even wait for the others to get their things together before she stomped toward the door.

 

“I swear to God, if she’s so much as poked him, I’ll rip her skull out through her mouth, then beat her to death with it.”

 

Hell hath no fury like a pissed off Slayer.

 

---

Out of My Head

Part 12 

 

Two terrified demons managed to drag a snarling, extremely pissed-off master vampire with snapping jaws into the room, even though his arms were securely tied behind him. Upon noticing, Glory dropped her magazine, standing up off the couch and gawking.

“What the hell is that and why is his hair that color?” she asked, the disgust obvious on her face. Jinx and Murk struggled to right Spike and stood up straight, gazing up at the goddess.

“Stunning one, we believe he is the Key!” Murk began, Jinx echoing the last two words while Spike looked back and forth between them and Glory in annoyance.

Glory’s eyes lit up and she smiled. “Really? That’s fantabulous!” she exclaimed, walking toward them. The light dimmed as she approached Murk and shoved him. “And impossible.” She eyed Spike, then began to circle him like a shark. Spike watched her cautiously. “He can't be the key, because, see, the key ... has to be pure.”

She stopped in front of him and began sniffing at him like a dog at a fire hydrant. Spike grimaced, backing away, thoroughly uncharmed by her apparent need to see if he had that nice, fresh feeling. She righted herself and looked at him. “This... is a vampire.” Spike’s eyes widened in alarm. < Bloody hell, she can tell what I am by sniffing me? >She glanced at him again, then glared at her minions. “Rule number one, vampires equal impure.”

He was beginning to see why Glory was insane. She was acting like Dru -- sweet and seductive one second, and ready to claw your face off the next. Either way, he was starting to freak out. “Yeah, damn right, I’m impure. I’m as impure as the driven yellow snow! Lemme go!”

Glory ignored his request. “You can't even brain-suck a vampire,” she sighed, patting Spike on the chest. “He’s completely useless.”

Spike nodded quickly. “So I’m just gonna let myself out.” He attempted to dart away but was stopped by the smug, grinning, ugly little face of Murk. He grimaced and backed away.

Jinx gave Glory a confused look. “But, your holiness... we observed the Slayer. She preferred the company of this one above all the others.” Glory looked over her shoulder at Spike, who was glaring at Murk and eyeing her carefully. “She treated him as precious.”

“Really? Precious?” Glory asked, the final consonant of the word becoming a hiss. She tilted her head, pushing Jinx aside and walking over to Spike again. Looking him up and down, she said, “Let’s take a peek at you, precious.”

Spike managed to muster up some of his trademark insolence. “Sod off,” he growled softly, scowling at her.

Glory raised her eyebrows, and laughed. “Oh...” The amusement disappeared and she grabbed the front of Spike’s shirt, bringing him in close to her face. “Watch what you say, sweet cheeks. Didn’t anybody ever tell you not to piss off a god?” With that, she hauled off and punched him in the nose. Spike went flying, catapulting backwards until he hit the wall. He moaned softly in pain as he slid down it., blood trickling out of his nose and down over his lip.

Glory walked toward him and tilted his head up, forcing him to look at her. She sighed. “He doesn’t look very fancy to me,” she muttered, then grabbed Spike’s bottom lip, lifting him up.

Spike yelped. “Hey! Watch the lip!”

Glory continued. “But if the Slayer protects him, maybe appearances are deceiving.”

She threw Spike onto the circular mattress that was her bed and grinned in approval when he landed on his bound wrists, crying out in pain. She followed and climbed on top of him, straddling him, then trailed one long, perfect red nail down his chest. She looked up and caught his eye. “Maybe there’s something on the inside.”

With that, she thrust the finger into Spike’s stomach, laughing in pleasure when Spike screamed out in agony. Leaning over him as she twisted and wriggled her finger inside of his stomach, she brushed his chest with the other hand in a comforting gesture. “Shh... What do you know, precious?” She jabbed at him once, harder. “What can I dig out of you?”

Spike writhed in anguish.

 

 

 

At the same time, about two hundred feet outside the apartment, Buffy screamed and dropped to the ground, grabbing at her stomach. Giles rushed over immediately, bending down to help her up. “Good God, Buffy, what is it?”

Xander stared at them in confusion. All he knew, all he could see, was that something was hurting Buffy, but... there wasn’t anything around to hurt Buffy. Maybe it was cramps. “What’s wrong, Buff?”

Buffy moaned softly, squeezing her eyes shut. “It’s the claim. Something’s going on, Glory, somebody, is hurting Spike,” she groaned. Taking a deep breath, she managed to get to her feet with Giles’ help, then wrapped her arms around her stomach, pushing against the pain. “Oh... Christ, we have to get to him!”

She began walking off toward the apartment complexes again, holding her own quite well despite the pain she was under. Xander and Giles exchanged a look, then raced after her.

Earlier plans had been nixed, and Buffy had sent Willow and Anya ahead of the group to discover where any impossible magicks had taken place. The Slayer had given them directions to a slightly posher part of town, to a few apartment complexes where several weeks earlier, she had found what Giles had called the Sphere of Dagon. The rest had gone after weapons. Now, they stood outside the very building where Spike was being held captive. A loud scream pierced the air, and Anya jumped, then jumped again when Buffy echoed it, keeling over into Giles. Willow’s eyes widened.

“Oh, no. Oh, no, it’s the claim, isn’t it? Oh, no, what are we going to do, what can we do, huh, Giles? What can we do to help her, this is not good, not good at all, what’s going to happen if the Slayer is under assault injuries that haven’t even happened to her, huh, Giles, what’s going to--”

Buffy stood straight up, cutting off Willow’s sentence by holding her hand up. “I’m fine, Will. But right now...” she swallowed hard, squeezing her eyes shut. “Right now, we have to get to Spike.” Sucking up every ounce of sheer will and strength she had, she forced the effects of the claim away and drew a deep breath. She looked toward the buildings, then turned her head to the side in Xander’s direction. “Xander?”

The dark-haired boy instantly recognized the unspoken command and began unloading the weapons they had taken from the shop from a duffel bag that hung at his side. Buffy had attempted to leave by herself earlier, and he’d run out, trying to talk her back in, convincing her that a sloppy Slayer was going to get Spike killed. He’d brought her back in and they’d sorted through weapons, and now Xander pulled out two crossbows, handing them to Willow and Anya, along with several bolts. He offered the Slayer a machete and a crossbow of her own, and she fingered the trigger impatiently as Xander gave the Watcher a longsword. He himself took the handle of an axe with a very large, very sharp looking blade, and yet another crossbow, which he slung over his shoulders.

Buffy slipped the machete onto her back, then mimicked Xander’s actions, slipping the crossbow around her shoulders. She glared hard at the room where Spike was apparently being tortured.

“Move out,” she growled in a tone that would very much rival Spike’s own. She stalked toward the buildings, gold-colored fury building in her eyes. The Scoobies swallowed at her tone, but nevertheless followed the Slayer.

They arrived inside the building and Buffy again became into general. “All right, here it is: Anya, Willow, stick together, search the second floor, Xander, Giles, explore the lobby, I’m going up to the third floor to see if I can find Spike. Go!”

She began moving up the staircase, Anya tailing after her and Willow pulling up the rear. Only they heard her quietly utter, “Bitch is gonna pay.”

In her head, Buffy’s subconscious echoed that sentiment. < Yeah, she will. And so will you if you don’t get to him in time. >

 

 

 

Willow watched Buffy as she continued up to the third floor of the building, stopping off at the second floor with Anya. The former demon was looking around nervously, and jumped slightly when Willow cleared her throat. She turned to the witch.

“Could you not do that, please?” she hissed. “There’s a god somewhere in this building, torturing Spike, and I really don’t want her to get torment happy with me, too.”

Willow shrugged. “Sorry... But do you think this is worth the trouble of... of saving Spike?”

Anya turned her gaze on the red-head. “What are you talking about? There’s no question about it, Spike has to be saved, otherwise everything goes ker-plooey. And not only that, but he’s claimed Buffy. So if he dies, she is going to be in some serious physical pain.”

Willow chewed her lip as they began to walk carefully down the hall. “I-I know, but... but what if Buffy doesn’t get there in time? A-And Spike tells? Having a god torture you can’t be all that fun and, and Spike wasn’t very reliable in the past anyway. What if he tells Glory about the Key?”

Anya glared at her. “Spike wouldn’t tell. He, he couldn’t tell, have you even seen the way he is with Dawn? And he’s crazy about Buffy, so if he told, heh, well so much for the lovin’ there.”

Willow sighed. “Again, I know. I’ve seen how he looks at Buffy. He’s in love with her, and she told me that she feels the same way. But still, this is Spike we’re talking about. He’s the one that held a broken bottle at my face and threatened to cut me two years ago, he’s the one that started a massacre at the high school on Parent-Teacher Night... Maybe he has changed, but torture could make him unchange in an instant. I know he loves Buffy, but...” She looked up toward the third floor as another pained, very Spike-sounding scream rang out. She glanced down at her feet. “What if it’s not enough?” she finished quietly.

Anya followed the Wicca’s gaze up the steps and frowned, worrying her lower lip.

If that wasn’t enough, then oblivion was imminent.

 SO not a good thing.

 

 

 

Glory was having way too much fun. She couldn’t help it. She hadn’t tortured someone since she’d been banished from her home sweet hell and hooked on to that stupid brat, Ben. And that had to have been, given Ben’s age, around 25 to 27 years ago. Maybe less, but who was counting, really?

Point was, she had her very own vampire to maim and break and cut, and sooner or later, he was going to give in.

And if he didn’t, she would make him.

The vampire, at the moment, wasn’t talking though, and that was just pushing her along. Oh, god it was fun trying to weasel the info out of him. Her minions were standing in a circle around them, in order to keep him from escaping, which was pointless since the little bloodsucker was chained to the ceiling, his boots barely touching the ground.

The demons were watching in eager fascination. Well, not so much fascination as it was apprehension. Glory knew that they realized that this could happen to them if one of them pissed her off the slightest bit. She was proud of that fact.

Glory was insane, but she wasn’t to the point of humbling herself.

Spike, meanwhile, was fighting unconsciousness. Mainly for the reason that he feared what the psychotic deity would do to him if he did conk out. He’d already endured so much from her. For starters, his nose was broken. Again. Glory had taken an interest in his face, and he had two black eyes, both so swollen that he could barely see save for squinting. Glory had gotten extremely brassed off and frustrated at one point, and there were scratch marks across his face to show that, dark, bleeding furrows dug deep by her claw-like nails. He could barely see from the blood that was trickling down through his eyes.

His chest was beaten to a pulp, black and blue bruises all over, and there was one, perfectly circular, perfectly ugly wound where Glory had pushed her finger into him. Glory finally turned away from him, and he allowed himself to relax a bit, unable to do much else besides hang there. He’d been attached to a chain that had been looped around something in the ceiling, and all his muscles were straining downwards. Any second now he was sure they were going to rip right off of his bones.

Oh, god, what was it going to take for her to stop?

Oh, right. That.

Glory turned around again and Spike raised his head, swallowing hard and tensing up when he saw her hands behind her back. Whatever was coming next could not be good. Christ, this woman was worse than Dru was when at her best.

This could not be happening.

Glory walked up to him, an innocent, sweet smile on her face, and Spike shied away from her wearily, unable to get very far due to his suspension. Casually, the goddess brought out her hands and Spike’s eyes widened in fear: a stake in one hand, and a long, ornate silver dagger in the other. He wasn’t sure which one was worse. The stake had its up side, because she could stab him, and the pain would last but a second. On the other hand, she could push the thing in as slowly as possible, and torture him even further. Besides, he really didn’t want to die.

And then there was the dagger. And he knew -- he knew -- that Glory would use the sharp blade to every single advantage, and he’d look like a demolished Rose-Phase Picasso painting as a result. But at least he couldn’t die from it. Well, unless he lost all his blood.

Either way, he was now scared shitless.

Glory smiled at the terrified look on his face, and pretended to dither between which weapon to use, then slowly put the blade down. Walking up to him, she gently pushed away the scraps of his destroyed T-shirt and lightly trailed the tip of the very pointy, very lethal wooden stake over his chest. Spike let out a soft whimper, trying to push away from her, and Glory reached up to touched his cheek.

“Shhh... I know, precious, I know,” she said in a soft, kind voice. “Do you want the pain to stop?” Spike nodded his head desperately. Glory smiled. “Then it will,” she continued, running her hand from his cheek to his pecs. “All you have to do is tell me who the Key is. Then the pain will stop for good, and I promise that I’ll let you go.”

She said it sincerely enough, but Spike was looking in her eyes, and he knew instantly, as well as from common sense, that he would die even if he did decide to give up Dawn.

His hesitation was quick to irritate Glory, and her impatience rose. She moved the stake up toward his heart, settling it in about two inches above the vital, un-beating organ. “Now, now, baby doll. Tell me who the Key is. Unless you actually enjoy the feeling of wood going through your skin.”

The stupid vampire still wasn’t talking. She scowled and pushed the stake in, pressing it into the same area that Riley had staked him in just a few weeks before. Spike threw his head back and cried out as she pushed it in one, two, three inches. The stake was now lodged above his heart, right between his shoulder and collarbone, and blood was seeping out of the wound, drenching the wood and running down his chest.

Glory scowled. Either this guy was really loyal, or he was really stupid. He was still refusing to talk. She yanked the stake out violently and that caused him more pain than it had with the stake going in. Blood gushed down his chest from the injury like a waterfall, and Spike kept his head down, shuddering and whimpering in pain.

Glory sighed and tossed the stake over her shoulder, unknowingly beaning one of her demons on the head with it. She walked back to where she left the knife, then moved behind Spike with it. “I have a riddle for you, precious,” she began, stroking his face with her free hand. Grabbing the back of his head, she pulled him backwards until he was suspended horizontally, his legs hanging limply in the air, then rested her cheek against his, smiling. “How is a vampire that won’t talk... like an apple?”

She moved up her dagger-occupied arm, then pressed the blade into his skin, dragging it viciously down his chest. Spike moaned in agony, tears of frustration running over his cheeks and bloodying up his vision and features even more. The blade ran cleanly through his skin, cutting it up like butter, digging through the muscle, and it was all he could do not to give in to the beckoning oblivion. Glory grinned, proudly displaying the large ‘G’ that she’d carved into his torso. “Think I can do you in one long strip?” she asked, positioning the knife horizontally, preparing to slice down.

That was it. He couldn’t take anymore.

“Enough. No more,” he wheezed weakly. “I’ll tell you who the soddin’ Key is.”

 

 

 

Buffy winced and knelt to the floor as another scream sounded and a sharp pain ran though her chest. She’d barely been given a few moments before another, sharper pain ran along her stomach.

< Great, thanks for the claim, Spike > she grumbled inside her head. It took all her willpower to stand up once again, one arm pressed against the pain in her stomach, the hand of her other arm pressed against a section near her shoulder. She stopped, squeezing her eyes shut until the pain faded away, then sighed in relief. She wiped her hand across her face, then frowned as something somewhat sticky, with a coppery smell to it covered her skin. She looked down at her hand.

Covered in blood.

She looked at her other arm.

Yep, that one too.

Glancing down at her shirt, her eyes widened in horror. The pain in her chest had taken the form of a circle, and blood was seeping down her front like she’d been wounded. Further down, on her stomach, blood had pooled out into the form of a letter ‘G.’ Quickly, she pulled the shirt up and searched for any wounds.

Nothing.

And the same went for the circle on her chest.

“Okay, this is getting a leeettle too weird for my tastes,” she said out loud. No wounds, but she was bleeding. The same way the pains appeared even though nothing was around to cause them. It was Spike’s claim. It had to be; there was nothing else it could be.

Which meant that Glory was starting to get stake-happy.

Buffy’s eyes widened in panic at the thought, and she raced up the rest of the stairs. She passed a window in the hallway as she ran, noticing that the sky was beginning to lighten, signifying morning. They’d been out all night.

If she didn’t get Spike back by the time day broke, she was never going to forgive herself.

 

 

 

Glory sighed as the walking and talking corpse panted and gasped, asking for water. Snapping her fingers, one of her minions ran off to the kitchen, and was back within a second, wielding a glass. This was the second thing the vampire had asked for since breaking for her, and Glory’s impatience was again getting the best of her.

She took the glass and lifted it to Spike’s lips, carefully tipping it as he swallowed rapaciously. Blood ran down his face and into the water, but Glory really couldn’t care less. He was a vampire -- one, he drank blood, anyway, it didn’t matter if it was slightly diluted with water, and two, he was nothing but an informant to her. Why the hell should she be hospitable?

When he was done, she pulled the glass away, and put on her tender, loving face.

“Is that better?” she asked gently. Spike coughed softly as a reply. She smiled softly. “Do you think you can try to talk again now?” Spike nodded slowly, swallowing and exhaling his breath as he looked up at her. “Good.”

The women seriously needed anger management. She whirled on him. “Because I’m tired of these games!” she yelled, smashing the glass into his face. It shattered into pieces, hitting the floor. She turned away, throwing her hands in the air. “’I need time, I need a drink,’ you’re a very needy little bloodsucker,” she accused, flopping onto the sofa and crossing her legs. “And it’s not very attractive.” Spike scowled at her, mentally stirring up ways to maim and torture her. Of course, she was a god, and he was a vampire.

It wouldn’t work.

“So start talkin’,” she continued, folding her arms.

 

 

 

Buffy crept up to the door she’d seen open. Crashing noises had sounded from it, as well as the sound of Glory’s eternal bitching, so it was obvious that this was the place. Peering in, she caught a glimpse of a room overflowing with satin pillows, silk sheets, and cashmere drapery. And in the middle of it all was Spike.

< Oh my god > she thought, eyeing his body. He’d been brutalized. Glory had truly gone overboard.

Unless, for Glory, this was only five steps away from overboard.

How had he managed to survive thus far? It was impossible! Had he been human, Spike would’ve either been dead or in a coma. Of course, it probably helped that he was dead already, but still... Christ.

Something caught Buffy’s eye on the floor of the room, and her eyes widened in alarm. She had just come pretty damn close to losing her lover.

It was a stake. And by the looks of it (the small puddle of blood around it probably gave it away), it had been thoroughly used on Spike. He had a big hole in his chest, in the same position that the circle of blood had appeared on Buffy’s shirt, and it was looking pretty damn bad.

Oh, and how about that? Glory had put a little claim of her own on Spike. It should’ve been obvious when that big ‘G’ had shown up on her shirt.

Buffy stopped and listened when she saw Spike begin to talk.

 

 

 

Spike nodded. “Yeah. Okay. The Key. Here’s the thing...” he began, fiddling with the chain binding his wrists together. He was weak, but it was worth a shot at getting away anyhow. He twisted them around, trying to loosen them. “It’s that guy... on TV... what’s-his-name?”

Glory frowned at him, not comprehending. “On the television?”

Spike nodded again. “That show... the prize show... where they guess what stuff costs?”

Murk, who had approached Glory with Jinx the moment she’d sat down, tilted his head. “The Price Is Right?”

Jinx’s eyes lit up. “Oh, Bob Barker!”

The demons twittered excitedly, and Murk stepped forward. “We will bring you Bob Barker! We will bring you the limp and beaten body of Bob Bark --”

Glory jumped up angrily. The demons instantly shrank back. “It’s not Bob Barker, scabby morons! The Key is new to this world...” She turned to glare at Spike. “... And Bob Barker is as old as grit.” She smiled. “The vampire... is lying to me.”

Spike suddenly broke into a case of weak, hysteric giggles. “Yeah... but it was fun. An’ guess what, bitch?” He tried tugging at the chains again, desperate to free himself before Glory could really do some damage for what he was about to do. “You’re never gonna get your soddin’ Key. ‘Cos you might be strong, but in our world?” He leaned forward and glared at her. “You’re an idiot.”

 

 

 

Buffy’s face could’ve cracked; she was grinning so hard that the Mona Lisa would be envious. True, Spike was doing something incredibly stupid by baiting and extremely pissy hellgod, but then again, this was Spike. He wouldn’t be himself if he didn’t; he was practically known for doing incredibly stupid things.

Glory was getting beyond pissed, she could tell, and Buffy officially had Spike to thank for that. The second they got out of there, the moron was getting a kiss.

Well, a kiss was all she could offer at the moment. It wasn’t like she could throw him down and rape him. Vampires liked pain when it came to sex, but not in the situation Spike was in. That was too much. And besides, they would be in the middle of a battle, and she couldn’t abandon her friends. Couple fun would have to wait.

For now, though, Buffy just sat up and enjoyed the show.

 

 

 

Glory’s eyes widened. This, this thing, this mere vampire actually had the nerve to insult her? “I am a god!” she yelled, jaw clenching.

Spike snorted. “Yeah, the god of what, bad home perms?”

Glory’s jaw dropped and her hand went up to her hair, patting it defensively. “Shut up!” she yelped, moving forward menacingly, and wondering exactly why the vampire didn’t seem to be scared of her anymore. “I command you, shut up!”

Spike rolled his eyes. “Yeah, okay, sorry, but I just had no idea that gods were such prancing lightweights.” < You’re pushing it, you are really pushing it... > he thought. Glory scoffed at him in disbelief. His voice dipped down to a threatening, vicious note as he stared at her. “Mark my words, hellbitch... My girl... is going to kick your skanky, lopsided ass... “ < Oooh, good one, Spike. > Glory’s head turned and she checked out her ass, still unwilling to believe that his fear had disappeared and that he was actually talking to her that way. “...Back to whatever place would take a... “ He looked her up and down and scoffed, glaring at her, his upper lip curling in disgust. “... A cheap... whorish... fashion victim... ex-god... like you.”

Each word had been said with Spike’s biting malevolence, accents being placed on each and every syllable in order to spite her.

And it worked. Perhaps too well.

Glory’s rage took advantage of the situation, and spun around, delivering a devastating kick to Spike’s middle. He winced as he heard something snap, realizing full well that the bitch had just broken three or four of his ribs. The chain binding his wrists gave way, and he flew backwards, crashing into the hallway outside the door. Doing a back-somersault, he slammed into a chair, splintering it.

Inside, Glory stared stonily at the chain that had been holding Spike before she’d literally kicked him out. Her demons surrounded her, looking up questioningly. Glory stayed silent for a moment, then said, in a dangerous voice, “Bring him back.”

Buffy jumped when Spike flew past her into the wall, and she scrambled over to him, still toting the crossbow and machete. He groaned, muttering, “Good plan, Spike,” then looked up, startled, when Buffy grabbed his arm and pulled him up. “Buffy?”

She nodded quickly, looking behind her at the minions, then back at him. “Yeah, baby, it’s me. I’m gonna get you out of here, I swear I will.” Together, they ran down the hallway toward the open elevator doors (well, Buffy ran; Spike sort of ran-walked-limped) as the hordes of little hobbits-with-leprosy charged after them. However the doors closed before they could get inside, and in a fury, Buffy shouted, “Fuck!” and slammed her foot into the door.

Spike moaned softly and slid down the wall, looking up at her. Buffy spared a glance at him, then looked behind her. Abandoning the task at hand for the moment, she grabbed the crossbow, aimed, and pulled the trigger, shooting one of the charging demons in the chest. He let out a funny little ‘eeee’ sound and flew up, landing on his back with his feet in the air, instantly dead. His comrades ignored their fallen man and continued after the Slayer as Buffy pried open the doors, shoving them apart.

She bent down to Spike and cupped his chin. “Spike, I need you to get down there, can you do that for me?” Spike gave a soft whimper that broke her heart but he nevertheless grunted and turned over on his stomach, sliding into the elevator hatch. Grabbing the machete off of her back, Buffy slashed it across the face of one of the demons nearing her, then jumped down the hatch with Spike, being careful to avoid his already heavily injured body. Opening the latch at the top of the elevator, Buffy gently lowered Spike into it as Jinx and another demon watched them from the open elevator doors. She peered up at them, then lowered herself in as well.

He stood up shakily and Buffy caught him in her arms before he fell over, brushing her fingers over his face. Reaching out her other hand, she took his and squeezed gently.

“Can you run?” she asked. Spike wobbled again and Buffy grabbed at him, wincing. “Whoops, guess not.” The elevator ‘ding’-ed and the doors opened, revealing the demons, led by Murk and Jinx, running down the staircase. Anya and Willow had run back down to the lobby at the sound of their descent, and now all of them stood at the ready for the attack.

Murk started toward the elevator as Jinx initiated the war. “You do not insult Glory by escaping!” he called out. Buffy and Spike scowled at him and simultaneously thrust up their middle fingers. Murk seemed surprised by this reaction; apparently, he’d been expecting them to be quivering in actual fear. Buffy jerked the crossbow in front of her again and fired a bolt, purposely hitting Murk in the right-of-center of his chest. The little demon cried out as he flew back, his eyes widening at the clear sight he now had of the short, powerful blonde girl. “Slayer!” he cried out.

“That would be me,” Buffy muttered under her breath, then turned toward Spike, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “Stay in here, you’re too weak.”

Spike fell back against the wall feebly, lifting one arm to try and clutch at her. “Buff --” he choked, then squeezed his eyes shut as an overwhelming stretch of pain assaulted him, finally succumbing to senselessness. Buffy swallowed hard, fighting the tears that were trying to force themselves down her cheeks and ignoring the angry voice inside her head that said that she had caused this to happen to him.

Convincing herself that he would be safe inside the elevator, she ran out toward the action. Xander saw her out of the corner of his eye and took a moment to wave. “Hey! Welcome to the chaos!” he called out. Buffy shot him a grin and saluted, then dove headfirst into the fray.

Anya was standing on the final step of the staircase, shooting the bolts from her crossbow wildly at the demons that were attempting to attack her, at times taking the crossbow itself and smashing them over the heads with it. Willow had discarded her own crossbow in favor of her rapidly advancing witchcraft. There was a circle of absolute calm surrounding her, and as her chanting reached a crescendo, her head shot up and her already green eyes glowed even brighter, almost blindingly so. She threw her arms up, capturing the twenty or so demons that had been surrounding her barrier. She slammed them into the ceiling before throwing her arms toward the right and sending them flying out the windows in a rain of broken glass.

Xander spun around as a demon lunged toward him, catching the little bastard with the axe and flipped him over his shoulder, then whirled around just in time to brace an attack from another demon.

Buffy looked around and snatched her crossbow up, taking out another demon, until Murk, who had removed the bolt from his chest, advanced on her and kicked it out of her grasp. She spun to look at him and received a punch to the face. Recovering quickly, she kicked Murk down to the ground, then ducked as another demon decided to attack. Kicking Murk twice more, she punched the second demon, then spun around and kicked a third.

Leveling the handle of the axe like a quarter-staff, Xander smacked a demon in the face with it, then fended him off before swinging around and stabbing a second demon in the chest. The first demon recovered and attacked him again, punching him twice. The first demon made an attempt to punch him a third time, but Xander ducked and caught him on the chin with the axe handle. Smacking him a few times, he shoved the blade into his belly and jerked upwards before retrieving it and spinning around.

Murk shot back up to his feet and assaulted Buffy again, aiming a fist at her face. Buffy blocked the punch, brought her leg up in a snap-kick, then ducked another punch. Pulling her arm back, she snapped her fist at him, a punch which he blocked. Knocking him upside the head with a foot, she punched him twice more, catching him fully off guard. Then, spinning, she thrust her foot out and caught him on the side of his head, sending him flying.

As he slashed yet another demon, one more of the little bastards snuck up behind him, catching Xander in a headlock and pointing a very sharp knife at his throat. Xander gurgled and let out a strangled cry. Giles, who had been slashing demons left and right with the longsword, heard him and rushed to his side. Lifting his sword above his head, he brought the hilt down hard on the demon’s head. He fell backwards and Giles brought the blade of the sword down, stabbing the little monster in the belly. Free now, Xander gave Giles a grateful grin, then dove headfirst toward a reviving demon, tackling him to the ground. Straddling said demon, Xander began punching him gleefully.

Now he knew why Buffy enjoyed this so much. It was a kick-ass stress-reliever!

Finally, he grabbed the dagger that he had swiped off of the other demon before he’d been set free and drove it down into the demon he sat on. Xander stood up and brushed himself off, glancing around. He spotted Jinx and Murk running back up the steps and called out, “Buffy!” before he was tackled from the side by another demon who hadn’t had the smarts to escape with the ones that had gotten away.

The Slayer jerked her head up in time to see Jinx and Murk retreating, then rolled her eyes, shaking her head. Her head twisted in Anya’s direction, the former demon shrieking as one of the few demons left began grabbing at her. Buffy darted toward the girl and struck a blow to the back of the demon’s head. Grabbing either side of his face as he turned around to her, she twisted, snapping his neck cleanly.

Looking around to Xander, she saw that the demon he was now combating with had his arm wrapped tightly around Xander’s throat. The boy jabbed his elbow into the demon’s stomach, then turned and began punching him in retaliation. “Xander!” Buffy called out, hefting her machete up in the air. Xander turned and, seeing what Buffy had planned, ran and hid behind Giles. The Watcher turned and scowled at him.

Buffy threw the machete, watching grimly as the sharp silver metal flew through the air and embedded itself into Xander’s assailant. And suddenly, all was silent. Buffy looked around and noticed that the lobby was now littered with nothing but dead demons. Her eyes latched onto the elevator and she rushed down the steps. “Giles!” she called out. “Get that piece of shit off of my machete, I’m not leaving it here!”

Hurrying toward the elevator doors, she sank to her knees and crawled in, taking in Spike’s face. She wasn’t sure what was worse: that he was so bloody that the red cascade hid most of his serious injuries, or the fact that he had serious injuries underneath the blood. She drew a deep shaky breath, then pulled him into her arms, grunting softly as she lifted him. It was easier picking him up when he wasn’t unconscious, mostly because he helped her boost up, but carrying a sack of one-hundred forty some-odd pounds of dead weight vampire was putting a serious strain on her muscles.

She carried him out of the elevator, staggering slightly under the weight, and walked to the middle of the lobby, viciously kicking aside one of the dead demons, as if it was redemption for what their master had done to her lover.

Xander, who had otherwise been occupied (Anya had thrown her arms around him in relief a few seconds earlier and had a grip like an octopus at the moment), stopped kissing his girlfriend and froze in absolute shock at the sight of Spike’s battered body, Willow and Giles parroting him with their silence. Anya glanced at him and held her hand over her mouth, her skin tinting a bit green and hinting at nausea. “Oh, my god,” she whispered.

Buffy remained quiet for a moment, studying his face. She’d been incredibly close to losing him, and the last thing he would have remembered of her was her voice calling out his Sire’s name. How incredibly stupid was she, exactly?

She lifted her head and peered out the doors of the apartment building, eyeing daybreak wearily. She turned slightly, protectively hiding Spike from any stray rays of the rising sun. She glanced at her mentor. “It’s morning. I’m not gonna let him fry. We need to get him out of here.”

Giles stared at his charge quietly for a moment, examining the girl’s despondent face. Carefully, he removed his coat and placed it over Spike, draping it over the vampire’s torso. Buffy looked up at him slowly and he smiled gently at her. “I’ll go collect my car,” he said softly.

Buffy returned his smile with a weaker one of her own. As he turned to leave, she called out, “Giles!” He turned slightly, looking at her. She bit her lip. “Thank you.” Giles smiled, nodding his head, and continued walking.

Buffy lowered her head, returning her gaze to Spike. She shifted him slightly and sat down cross-legged on the floor, placing him in her lap. Willow moved over and wrapped an arm comfortingly around Buffy’s shoulders, and the Slayer allowed her shoulders to shake from her sob. Anya pulled away from Xander and moved to sit in front of Willow, murmuring something to the witch about a healing spell. The ex-demon placed a gentle hand on top of Buffy’s, and gave the Slayer a tiny, brave smile. Buffy sniffled, but managed a smile back. It wasn’t very often that Anya expressed sympathy. Buffy had a feeling that Anya knew about her emotions concerning Spike.

Xander quietly stood back, gazing at his three women. Willow, his best friend since diapers; Anya, his other half, his girlfriend and lover; and Buffy. Jesus, what could he say about Buffy? She’d been his crush, his best friend, his consort, his muse, his saviour (more times than he’d like to admit)... most of all, she was his idol. He’d stood by her for so long, and watched every single torment that she’d ever been put through, saw her fly through each and every opposition with ease. She’d had her heart broken more times than California law should have allowed. She’d been put through the ringer because of her duties, and once, four years ago, she had even died because of those same duties. And yet, she just kept going. She amazed him with every breath she took.

He watched her now, staring at her face; took in her distraught form, cradling Spike so close, so protective of him. She looked utterly devastated. Yeah, he hated Spike, but the truth was, the blonde jerk had grown on him. He’d begun to anticipate their barb fights and pool matches, the name-calling competitions and what-not. And as much as he hated to admit it... ever since Buffy had dumped Riley, ever since Buffy had latched on to Spike... He had never seen the girl happier since before Angel had become Angelus. And it really grieved him to realize that it was Spike’s doing.

He had followed her on patrol once when he’d noticed her extra-perky behavior -- he and the others had deduced that she must have been seeing someone but the relationship was still too new to thrust the guy past her attack-dog friends. He had stayed at least two-hundred paces behind her, but followed closely enough to have a good view. When Spike appeared the instant she stepped on to the cemetery’s grounds, he’d expected Buffy to become cold and distant, telling Spike to just get the hell away from her. Instead, he’d had to turn away when Buffy had grinned and thrown her arms around Spike, obviously euphoric to see the bloodsucker.

He hated the idea of Buffy being with another vampire. This girl had become like his sister (his little sister if he wanted to be technical; she was younger than him), and the thought of any harm coming to her from another vampire, after all the chaos that Angel’s evil twin had caused, drove him crazy. She was worth so much more than that, his Buffy.

But the thing about Buffy was that she’d always had things in common with Spike. The ones that stood out the most in his mind was both were stubborn as asses, both challenged tradition in every which way, and both loved with all their beings.

Xander hadn’t forgotten Drusilla. He wished he could, the damn psychotic bitch, but he’d been there when Spike had returned to Sunnydale after the whole Acathla mess. He’d seen how empty and hollow Spike had been because the looney had broken up with him. And he’d seen Spike the year before, almost always giddy when in the company of his beloved Princess. He’d adored Drusilla, worshipped the earth at her feet.

Buffy had likewise adored Angel, though not to the same extent. Angel had been her first everything, almost. She had loved that damn vampire with every part of her being, and unfortunately, it had nearly killed them all. But it hadn’t been her fault. All she’d done was love him -- she hadn’t known anything about the repercussions of his curse.

He thought back to past times that he’d seen the two together. Thanksgiving last year; the horrible Willow-spell-gone-awry that had convinced them that they were engaged; their intimate little dance at the Bronze a few weeks ago, and countless other times. Spike was enamored with the blonde Slayer, and Xander knew now that Buffy was just as enamored with Spike.

He didn’t like it, and he probably wouldn’t for the rest of his life. But Spike made Buffy happy. And if Spike was what she needed, then Spike was what she was going to get.

He walked over as Willow and Anya moved about a foot away -- probably to do a spell -- and slipped off his jacket. He sat down next to Buffy and gently nudged her arm. She looked up at him and he smiled slightly as he spread the jacket over Spike’s bottom half. Buffy’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion. He shrugged.

“Hey... somebody’s gotta stay around to beat me shamelessly at pool,” he explained. The tiniest of grateful smiles cracked Buffy’s face, and she openly sobbed, resting her head on his shoulder. Xander sighed softly and wrapped his arm around her slight form, resting his head on top of hers as she cried softly.

About ten minutes later, a honk signified Giles’ return.

 

 

 

Buffy had kept her word to Dawn. She had pulled an E.T. and phoned home to alert her sister that Spike had been recovered. She’d needed to hold the phone about a foot away from her ear when Dawn shrieked, and Buffy had heard a very distinct thump and crash! She   assumed that her sister had gotten overly excited, had Dawn-bounced either her mother or Tara and knocked them down, dragging a vase or lamp along in the process. The thought amused her.

But not by much.

Anyway. That was why her mother, Dawn, and Tara were all standing at the door impatiently when they arrived. Joyce clapped her hand over her mouth at the sight of Spike’s prone body under Xander and Giles’ coats. Dawn’s eyes widened when Buffy entered with Spike, Giles, Willow, Anya and Xander in tow. Tara immediately went over to her girlfriend, looking at Spike wearily, her eyes filled with trepidation. She exchanged a glance with Willow, but the red-headed Wicca shook her head, remaining silent.

A hysterical scream cut through the air when Giles and Xander removed their coats and Dawn’s eyes fell on Spike’s bloody form. “Oh my god! Spike, oh my god, what happened to him, what did she do to him?!” the teenager shrieked, rushing towards Buffy and grabbing at the body of her protector.

Buffy jerked away from Dawn desperately, trying to keep a firm hold on her lover. “Dawn! Dawn, stop, otherwise you’re gonna make me drop him!” she cried out. Joyce, her jaw dropped in dismay, walked up behind Dawn and wrapped her arms tightly around the girl, turning her face away from the gruesome mess of Spike’s face.

Buffy looked around uneasily, her movements jerky and unsure. She focused her gaze on her mother. “He needs to stay somewhere. I won’t leave him alone in his crypt.”

Joyce responded immediately, pushed on by the heartache she felt at the sound of her youngest daughter’s sobs and the fear and worry she saw in Buffy’s eyes. “He can stay in my room, however long it takes. I’ll use the sleeper couch until then.”

Buffy gave a small, curt nod and looked around before starting up the steps. Giles followed behind her, quietly speaking to her about heavy blankets for the windows.

The Scoobies and the remaining two Summers women watched as the three disappeared, and finally Willow sunk heavily onto the couch, her face in her hands. “I feel awful about Spike, and horrible for Buffy, I really do... but what if he told Glory about the Key?” she asked quietly.

Xander wrapped his arm tightly around Anya, stared up the staircase quietly, then looked back at his best friend of twenty years. “He didn’t, Will. Don’t know how I know. He just didn’t.”

Willow nodded.

 

 

 

Giles had helped her clean him up as best he could. Now she wasn’t sure why they got rid of all the blood. Because honestly, Spike looked worse without the gore running over him. Her lover was now sporting two, blue-black shiners on both eyes. His lower lip had been busted open. His nose was broken. Deep, red furrows covered his cheeks.

The brand new stake wound in his chest was bright red and throbbing, no where near healing; it had only now just started clotting, and the slightest movement would break it open again. Bruises covered his arms and chest. There was a big, ugly round wound in his stomach. She assumed that had been the first claim-affect wound she’d felt, outside the apartments. From the looks of his middle, he had a few ribs broken. And there was that big, hideous signature Glory had left on his torso.

She had insisted that they wrap him up to get rid of it faster.

Her Watcher had stayed a little longer to toss some heavy winter blankets over the windows of Joyce’s room, and they’d spread a canvas sheet out on the bed to keep the blood from damaging the covers. He was gone now, as was most everybody else except Willow and Tara. Willow was downstairs, explaining to Dawn what had happened.

Buffy herself had been up here since she’d come home. That had been about two hours ago. Eight-thirty AM, the most ungodly time in the world to be up. She hadn’t closed her eyes once in the last twelve hours.

She was standing at the door now, a cup of tea that her mother had brought her in her hands. She was gazing at Spike silently. What else could she do? He was only unconscious... but if he were human, she would be staring at a corpse right now.

Okay, so she already was. An unanimated corpse, then. Nothing inhabiting his body. Just a raw, bleeding, dead body.

She was the biggest bitch in the world.

She had allowed fear of past relationships get the better of her, and had done something she had never thought she was capable of -- she’d broken Spike’s heart.

What kind of woman did that to the man they were in love with?

< A bitchy, cold-hearted, insecure one > her subconscious responded in a reproachful tone.

Flesh-and-Blood Buffy lowered her head and stared into the tea cup. Chamomile, with just a bit of eucalyptus and lemon, something to help soothe her, her mother said. Soothing.

Pfft. Yeah, right.

She was wound up tighter than a spring. Spike hadn’t moved once in the last -- she glanced at the alarm clock -- two hours, fourteen minutes and thirty-seven seconds. Not even to moan or shift. He was dead to the world.

Dammit, there was that word again. Dead. Dead, dead, dead. That was what Spike would have been if she hadn’t gotten there in time. That was what she would be if Spike ever woke up and reverted back to hating her.

She liked when he loved her a lot better.

But she knew she deserved whatever was coming to her. An Angry Spike was fun to mess with, a Drunken Spike was amusing to watch, but a Heartbroken Spike was a force to be reckoned with. She wondered briefly just what kind of torture it had taken him to win Drusilla back from that Chaos demon. He had obviously gotten her back, and then she’d dumped him again for a fungus demon. According to that chatterbox moron Harmony, anyway.

She wondered what sort of torture she would be in for when he was feeling good enough to repay her for her cruelty.

Of course, there was one tiny little upside in this. Back at Glory’s lair, Spike had been insulting Glory, doing his best to rile her up. He’d mentioned something about ‘his girl’ kicking Glory back to her little hellhole. That had to be good, right? He was referring to her as his girl?

Unless ‘his girl’ was Dru or Harmony, which she truly doubted since Dru didn’t seem to care enough about her boy anyway, and Harmony was... well, Harmony.

She might be in the clear after all.

She looked toward the bed again, and jumped in barely contained excitement. He was waking up. She darted to his side, sitting on the edge of the bed and grabbing his hand. “Spike?”

The vampire’s head turned slightly to the right, and when his scratch marks met the cool pillow, he hissed in pain, grumbling under his breath. “Bitch,” he muttered, his hand shrinking out of Buffy’s grip.

Buffy looked down at her empty hand. Then again, maybe she was screwed for all life, because she had driven the man who loved her away. She sighed sadly. “I deserve that. I am a bitch. I’m so sorry, Spike, I... I was just scared...” Spike grunted softly and shifted again, and Buffy nodded. “No, you’re right, that’s no excuse. I should have talked to you, told you. I shouldn’t have said all those awful things to you. I’m so, so sorry, Spike.” She bit her lip and decided to try her luck. “Can you forgive me?”

He growled softly, then gave a soft ‘hmph’ and cracked his eyes open. “First off, luv, I was talking ‘bout the hellbitch. I wanna know where she went so I can fuck her up for doing this to me.” Buffy gave a tiny smile.

Which disappeared in the next second. “An’ second, I’m not so sure I want to forgive you. That was absolute bullshit what you pulled back at my crypt, Slayer.” Ooh, ooh, bad, he was back to calling her ‘Slayer.’ He only did that when he was truly pissed at her.

She sighed. “I know, I know, I never should’ve--”

“Bloody right, you shouldn’t have!” he snapped. At the sight of her shrinking back, his gaze softened and he sighed, his voice taking on a plaintive, pleading tone. “Why would you do that to me, Buffy? You know how I feel about my sire. It wasn’t enough that the jackass had to lose his soul and take Dru away from me, but how do you think it feels to know that his poofier, self-righteous half was the one you loved? He was your first love, Buffy, how in the bloody fuck can I compete with that? Then to hear his name come out of your mouth when...” He trailed off and turned his head away.

“I wasn’t thinking about him, Spike,” Buffy said, catching his hand again. “I was thinking about you... nothing but you... I couldn’t think of anything else. You... I don’t know what you do to me, Spike. But I like it. Because it makes me feel... because it makes me happy. I didn’t have that with Angel. I never had that with Riley.” Spike grunted at the use of the soldier’s name. Buffy smiled and continued, reaching up and touching his cheek. “So why do I feel happy with you? I guess that’s the major extra-credit question. And I think I know the answer to it.”

Spike’s eyes quirked upwards to it with barely disguised interest. Buffy leaned forward and kissed the shell of his ear. “I love you,” she whispered.

About a second later she had to use every ounce of Slayer strength to keep Spike from leaping out of bed and mauling her with kisses. She pushed him down onto his back gently, then tilted her head, pressing her lips softly to his. “I love you, Spike,” she murmured again, smiling.

Spike stared up at her, looking as though he had something to say, but he remained silent for the moment. Finally, he sighed and looked away. “I still don’t know if I can forgive what you did. You can’t just do that, luv, whether you love me or not.” He sighed again. “Give me some time to mull it over. Alone.”

The smile dropped off of Buffy’s face, and she looked down, stinging tears pinpricking her eyes. “Right. I understand. I’ll just... leave you alone.” He nodded absently, and Buffy sighed walking towards the door.

She was halfway out when he called her back. Frowning, she tilted her head at him. He quirked his lips to the side in an imitation of his renowned sardonic smile and shrugged.

“Had enough time to think it over. An’ to be honest, I’ve never been much of a thinker. More of a ‘get up an’ do-er.’ Point I’m getting at is, I’m a sorely whipped, fluffy little puppy, an’ I’m yours. You’re forgiven.”

Buffy stared at him for a moment, not comprehending. Then one of the little voices in her mind kicked her ass into gear. A smile grew across her lips and she exhaled in astonishment, then gave a soft, happy, ‘I-can’t-believe-it’ laugh and ran over to him, hugging him as hard as she could without stirring any of the wounds under their gauze and dressings. “Thank you,” she whispered, kissing his neck. “I’m so glad you’re all right.”

Spike glared down at her. “All right? You think this is all right? Woman, go get your top checked!”

Buffy grinned and scrunched her nose up at him. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry this happened to you, Spike.”

He gave a one-armed shrug. “Not your fault. Don’t worry ‘bout it. Now stop saying you’re sorry.”

Buffy nodded quickly. “Right, you’re right. Sorry.” He growled. She giggled. “Okay, okay, last time, I’m sorry for being sorry!”

“Slayer!” he barked. “Knock it off!”

Buffy nodded. “Right. Sorry.”

He turned an irritated gaze at her. “Buffy...”

She giggled. “Okay, I’m done, I promise.”

He grunted. “Good. Now get over here an gimme a kiss.”

Never one to disobey -- actually, always one to disobey, but not when it came to certain things in relationships -- she leaned forward and covered his mouth with her own.

And oh, the world of Spike-kissage. Probably the only thing better, according to him, would be kissing her. Or a few other things that he clearly enjoyed doing. Soft, warm, melty kisses that turned her insides to mush and if she was standing, she probably would’ve had to lean on him for full support.

From his point of view, this was just the first step toward the pinnacle of All Things Buffy. She was so warm, so hot, so scalding, her nimble, impertinent little tongue dashing in and out of his mouth, quirking his lips, tracing his gums and reaching nearly to the back of his throat.

Which reminded him. He needed to have that little mouth on areas other than his own lips more often.

The sound of a throat being cleared from behind them made Buffy jump and break the kiss. She turned around, startled, then scowled at the tall, lanky form of her sister.

Dawn stood at the door, blue eyes mischievously bright, and pink little mouth quirked in an amused little curl.

“Busted. Is Buffy being good to you, Spike? Anything I need to call her on?” she asked, turning her gaze to the slightly-frustrated vampire on the bed.

He looked at her, and his gaze became affectionate. He lifted his arm, wincing slightly at the pressure it placed on his ribs, and wrapped it around Buffy’s shoulders. “Actually, big sis here isn’t such a bint after all, Pint-size. Second 'fore you came in, she was admitting to being a bitch and lowering herself to apologize to me.”

Dawn’s eyes widened. “You mean Buffy came off her pedestal? And I missed it? Dammit!”

Buffy glared at her sister. “Watch your mouth. And that qualifies for a hey. Hey!”

Spike chuckled and motioned to Dawn. “C’mere, Nibblet.”

Dawn happily bounced over and wrapped her arms around him, burying her face in his neck. “I’m so happy you’re here!" she mumbled into his skin. "I don't know what I would've done if Buffy hadn't gotten you back."

Spike closed his eyes and smiled slightly. "Well, I'm here. In helluva lot of pain, but here. No worries. I'll heal."

Buffy tilted her head. "Are you supposed to be up here?"

Dawn immediately became defensive. "Mom's in the kitchen making Spike hot chocolate and warming up some blood; she didn't say I couldn't come up here, she just said I had to be on the couch when she got back!"

Buffy grinned. "Then you should get back now. Mom has a Spidey sense, too, y'know. The one that tells her when her daughters aren't listening to them?"

Dawn grimaced, then nodded. "Right." She turned and headed toward the door. "Now, no channeling the Discovery Channel bunnies, okay? Unless you want Spike to strain a few different muscles," she said slyly, looking at her sister.

Spike shot up and reached for her, regardless of his injuries. "Why you cheeky little--" The repercussions of his actions caught up to him and he slithered back against the bed in pain, whimpering. Dawn giggled and ran off down the hallway.

Buffy smiled down at him, stroking his forehead. "No moving, Spike. You'll start to bleed even worse."

The vampire grunted and glared at her. "Yes, Mum."

Buffy's grin grew wider and she squirmed onto the bed next to him, her hand still attached to his, and rested her forehead against his.

Spike smiled, and sighed, breathing in the sweet vanilla of her skin and the aromatic lavender of her hair. This was how it was supposed to be. This was where he belonged. With Dawn running around the house, taunting them and humiliating Buffy like a good little sis would. With the woman he loved cuddled up next to him, loving him back -- and he had no doubt that she loved him now, not after what she'd done to get him back. And Joyce was downstairs in the kitchen making him some hot chocolate and blood, for Christ's sake!

Granted, it was going to take a while for Joyce to get used to the idea that her daughter was in love with another vampire, and vice versa after all the shit that poor woman had gone through. First Angel, who's been pretty much normal in all aspects (except for the obvious one). And now him. Granted, Joyce liked him better than she'd ever liked Angel -- enter a smug grin here -- but he had once been hell-bent on killing her daughter. His mind called up his first meeting with the brave, brazen older woman -- more particularly, an especially painful axe to the head, and a vicious "Get the hell away from my daughter!"

Now he saw where Buffy got it from. He had never expected the Slayer to have friends and family on her side.

But yeah, Joyce probably wouldn't be too happy that a vampire was putting the life-time commitment-y thing on her eldest. But he could prove himself to her. Once again -- Spike, not Angel. Joyce liked Spike -- not Angel. And anyway, she would have to get used to it. He supposed that this was his home now, after all. Buffy had dragged him in, and he was pretty sure he was never going to come out. But still -- Joyce -- the matriarch of the small family, the one who fixed him hot chocolate with the squishy little marshmallows in it, who had comforted him when Drusilla had broken his heart. Dawn -- the inquisitive little twerp, the snoop, the one with the college-level vocabulary and the sarcastic dry-wit; she truly was a Bitty Buffy.

And then, of course, his Buffy. His Slayer. His enemy. His lover. His everything. The beautiful woman with a heart of gold, the Slayer that had broken all the rules by falling in love with a vampire, the Slayer who had actually been brave enough to quit the Council, and in his eyes, the greatest, most powerful Slayer to ever walk the face of the earth. She had eternally tainted him. Not that it wasn't a good thing. Very, very good, in fact. No other soul-less demon could claim that they'd fallen in love with the Slayer and had her love him back.

Angel absotively, posilutely did not count!

Hey... he actually belonged somewhere, now. He was welcomed with open arms into the Summers' household. He was respected and treated as an equal by Joyce, Dawn adored and admired him (and he could swear the little chit held quite a fancy for him, too), and to Buffy... he had suddenly become the world. He was her happiness, her joy. And Buffy herself had given him so much already. Just by trusting his love and loyalty, and allowing him to freely enter her home for four straight years, she had given him... everything.

She'd given him a family.

She'd given him a home.

She'd given him a reason to live.

Hell... that was a lot more than he'd ever been given before.

And as for the whole evil thing...? Well, he was pretty sure there were other areas in and around the house where he could truly unleash it on Buffy in his own creative way. Up against a wall, the doors, the bathroom, the washing machine...

The thought brought a truly blissful grin to Spike's face.

< Hehe. >

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