Unbound

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She was angry, hurt, confused. Why did magic keep throwing her and Spike together? Why did Willow keep messing with her life? Despite her embarrassment, she knew there was only one person she could talk to now and her feet led her unerringly to Restfield cemetery. It would be awkward, no doubt, but once Spike understood that a spell had been involved, it would be okay. Wouldn’t it?

Biting her lip, she went up to the crypt and knocked lightly on the door, before pushing it open. Spike was sitting in his armchair and turned to her in surprise as she entered, watching her somewhat warily.

“Slayer, didn’t expect to see you tonight.”

“Expecting someone else?” she bit out before she could stop herself and the vampire raised an eyebrow- whether in surprise or amusement, she could not tell.

“Not expecting anyone,” he answered smoothly and she sighed, moving to lean against the sarcophagus.

“Look, about the other night...”

Her eyes met his and she froze, her gaze locked on his. Suddenly, the words she had planned to say didn’t want to come. Spike finally broke the silence, turning away from her as he did.

“S’alright, Slayer. Just forget it, right? Losing our marbles and all that.”

She frowned at his biting tone, studying his features and trying to read him. He seemed...angry?

“Spike...it was a spell,” she said quietly and he slowly turned his face towards her.

“A spell?”

“Willow made a wish...I think. And then...well, it was a spell.”

“Right. Thanks. That it?”

She opened her mouth, ready to lash out and ask him why he was being so funny when she spotted the wound on his neck. It was large, barely-healed- and it looked like a bite.



Something drove her forward and she walked over to the armchair, crouching down beside it- knowing that, although he would not look at her, Spike was following her every move.

“What happened?” she whispered, brushing her fingers against his neck- feeling him stiffen automatically. Why hadn’t she felt this? Because you’ve been busy blocking him out, her mind prompted.

“S’fine. Battle wound,” Spike mumbled, shifting away from her touch.

“Spike-“

“I said it’s fine. Leave it, Slayer.”

She recoiled at his harshly-spoken words and rose to her feet, hiding her hurt with anger.

“Whatever. I don’t care.”

She spun on her heel and was halfway to the door when he stopped her.

“Buffy.”

His voice was soft, wary, but it was the uncommon use of her name that struck her. She turned back to face him and noticed the weariness in his face- as if he hadn’t been sleeping. She stood in silence, waiting for him to speak and he fidgeted nervously, pushing himself to his feet and going over to a chest and pulling out a bottle. He took a swig and turned back to her, his eyes burning.



“Got a visit,” he said softly, his eyes fixed on hers, “From Dru.”

“Dru?” she repeated numbly, scanning his face. Why had Dru come back? For him? She felt a burning in the pit of her stomach and held her hand to it, watching the vampire avidly.

“What happened?”

“Got a beating...insulted for turning white hat...for caring- well, anything Dru could think of.”

“Why would she do that?”

“’Coz I’m a failure...a disgrace to the good name of Aurelius. Doesn’t matter that her precious Daddy’s been waltzing around with that soul, doing good for years...No, William wasn’t supposed to play nice.”

He sounded almost crazed and he was pacing now as she watched him worriedly.

“Never was good enough, anyway. Why should she be surprised that I turn out even worse than her ‘Daddy’? No soul and yet here I am, sitting around, actually caring if the Slayer gets herself offed.”

He froze, his eyes meeting hers in a blaze of emotion and she inhaled sharply.

“Shouldn’t be like this,” he got out, seemingly half to himself, “Why don’t I want to kill you?”

He threw a glance at her and then continued his pacing as he took a swig from the bottle. Forcing herself into motion, she stepped into his path, holding out her hands as he came to a stop just inches from her.




“Spike, what happened?” she whispered, her eyes scanning his.

“See this?” he murmured, pulling the collar of his shirt aside so she could see the full extent of the bite on his neck, “This is to remind me who I belong to.”

Her eyes moved back to his, wide and searching.

“You mean...”

“Claim’s been overridden, Slayer. You’re out of my head...just like you wanted.”

“But you said...you said it didn’t work like that.”

“S’different...it’s Dru...and her claim is stronger. Blood…lust...love. Things you wouldn’t know about, Slayer.”

She found herself taking an unconscious step backwards, her arms crossing over her chest as if to defend her from his cruel words.

“I think I should go. You obviously need some time alone.”

She stepped back again but at the same time, he stepped forward, catching hold of her arm with his free hand.

“Slayer,” he almost growled and she felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand up.

“Spike, let me go,” she whispered, trying to prise his hand from her arm.

“It’s not right,” he murmured, his eyes burning as he looked down at her, ignoring her plea, “Sunshine doesn’t feel like this. This...this is hell.”

She watched him with wide eyes, not understanding what he was talking about.

“Burning right inside me and I can’t get rid of it, no matter what I do. What have you done to me, Slayer?” he whispered desperately and before she could react, his lips were on hers, hard and demanding.



She was trapped in his grip, his mouth moving roughly against hers- and yet somehow she couldn’t find the strength to push him away. He yanked her closer, his other arm snaking round her waist as he kissed her hungrily, his teeth catching her. She moaned in a mixture of pain and pleasure and he pulled her tight against him, his mouth ravishing hers, his tongue sliding against her lips, teasing her. She still had not moved, her hand still on his where it held her arm, only shifting as he released her and his hand slid up her arm to bury in her hair. He tilted her mouth towards his, his tongue teasing hers and she moaned, quickly coming back to reality.

She hefted him away, breathing heavily as she stared at him, her fingers pressed to her lips. She pulled them away to see small spots of blood staining them and her eyes flew to his again. He was watching her with dark eyes and she forced her gaze away, unnerved by his actions.

“I have to go,” she got out shakily.

“Slayer- Buffy.”

“Please...I-I have to go.”

Without another glance at him, she rushed out of the crypt and raced home, barely aware of the tears crawling down her cheeks. She reached her house and let herself in, going straight to her room before her mother could stop her. She flopped onto the bed and touched her fingers to her lips, trembling as she curled up into a ball. She was overwhelmed and eventually cried herself silently to sleep, her fingers pressed to her swollen lips.