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Influence of Demons by gabrielleabelle
 
Blood
 
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The poured cement of the backroom floor was cold. Buffy could feel it even through her jeans. Sitting on the floor hadn't been her preferred choice. However, just getting her, a human, into the gambling club and into one of the private rooms with Spike had been enough trouble. Neither she nor Spike had offered much of an argument when the establishment had refused to give her a chair.

Buffy actually didn't mind sitting by Spike's chair, staring at the faded sign on the wall across from her. The private room "rules" were written out on it, though there weren't many rules in a place such as this. Any club that allowed vampires in was guaranteed to be a shithole. The rules threatened bodily harm for any damage of property, though it didn't mention anything against fighting, fucking, or killing. Classy.

She was enjoying the silent treatment that Spike was treating her to. He'd stopped talking to her after they'd left Dehevret's base. More specifically, he'd stopped talking to her after she'd told him that she hated him. She felt no remorse for letting that nugget of honesty out, though. It was true. Every inch of his stupid, crazy, vampirey self filled her with disgust.

Bright red pain flashed as she looked around. She hissed, hand automatically going to the bite on her neck. It still hurt. All the time, it ached. She'd managed to forget about it, though, until she turned her head and opened the wound again. She didn't have anything to bandage it with, so she was stuck with blood running down her throat to the collar of her shirt. She kept her hand cupped over the mark, hoping it would stop bleeding soon. Spike had gotten her some food earlier so she wasn't as dizzy as she had been. That had broken the bank, though, prompting Spike to join in a high stakes card game to obtain some more money.

While this world had developed gambling and card games, it somehow hadn't managed to invent poker. Instead, they had a game called Cabbas that served the same purpose. There were cards and bluffing and cheating and betting and winners and losers. Despite her current hatred of him, Buffy desperately hoped that Spike would be a winner. Otherwise she would have to go out and fuck for some money.

No, he hadn't said that. However, Buffy knew they wouldn't have many other options if they couldn't get money in this game. Money was as essential in this world as it was back in her world, and they had too long a journey to go without it. The thought left Buffy with a giant knot in her stomach. She was trying not to do the hooking thing anymore. She'd decided to stop being that girl.

Then Spike had done that thing with her. And while she'd kinda wanted him, she hadn't wanted it. He was forcing her back into being that girl without even realizing what he was doing. She hated him for it. Especially since he was the one who had made her decide not to be that girl. He'd shown her the exit to the tunnel, convinced her to go towards it, and then he'd blocked the way. She couldn't get past him.

The wooden chair collided with her head as Spike leaned back in his seat, chuckling to himself. Buffy scooted over to give him more room. He was either bluffing or he had a good hand.

"Let's make this game a bit more interesting, yeh?" Spike said to the others at the table. They'd been playing for fairly low stakes so far, so Buffy wasn't entirely surprised that Spike was looking to up the ante now. "I'm putting my slave here in the pot. Winner gets a round with her."

Buffy looked up sharply, feeling the tight coil of panic wrapping around her. She got on her knees to face him. "What the hell are you doing?" she asked, voice coming out with all the assertiveness of a quaking field mouse.

His mouth twitched in irritation as he leaned over to whisper to her, "Calm the fuck down, alright? Just raising the stakes. More money that way. I'm in for a win this hand."

He spoke softly to keep the other demons from hearing him, but a look at his hand showed her that he had the First card. That's usually a good way to win in Cabbas, as the First card was something of a wild card. It wasn't a bad hand, but Buffy still didn't want to bet that on it.

There were three other demons at the table, all of them watching with amusement. Buffy recognized the look. They were sizing her up, picturing her in their mind. She'd been treated to that careful, sexual perusal so many times, she had thought she was immune to it. This time, though, she felt sick with their eyes on her. Her instinct was to run out of the room, but she knew Spike wouldn't let her get far.

After putting on a great display of reluctance and disappointment, two of the demons folded, deciding they didn't have the cards to handle the pot. Buffy tried to ignore their longing gazes. The third demon, a vampire, stayed in with a smug grin, betting the rest of his money.

There was a substantial amount in the pot. 134,000 keras. And her. Buffy bit down on her lip as she watched, muscles tensed and poised to run, though she knew she wouldn't be able to.

Spike was the perfect picture of confidence, raising an eyebrow at the other vampire. "Well, let's see 'em, then." With a casual motion, he tossed his cards on the table, sitting back and smiling while the other two demons admired his hand.

The vampire across the table didn't appear fazed, however. Gently, and with great satisfaction, he placed his cards down. Buffy felt as if ice cold water had been pumped directly into her veins. He had a Direct Straight. Highest hand possible. It even best the First card.

Spike's confidence broke in an instant as he recoiled, mumbling a swear word. Buffy's eyes were drawn to the door. Maybe she could make it. Maybe Spike and the other vampire wouldn't catch her. Maybe she'd get out of the club unharmed. Maybe a pink winged hippo would fly down and help her. Buffy gripped the back of Spike's chair, squeezing hard as she tried to keep herself calm.

The winner of the game only gave a passing glance to the money as he stood up. Spike had his head in his hands, leaning forward onto the table. Mumbling. Fucking insane vampire always talking to himself. He was gonna sit by and babble while Buffy was forced to reward the other vampire.

The vampire was tall, yet more filled out than Spike. Buffy took note of the knife he seemed to have stashed in his boot as he slowly sauntered around the table. "Thanks for the game," he said to Spike. Reaching Buffy, he crouched down to meet her at eye level.

The most random piece of trivia floated to the top of her mind at that moment. A scrap of information remembered from a college class that she hadn't even known she'd retained. Rabbits, when threatened, will get stuck in a "fight or flight" response. The adrenaline rush from being scared makes them apt to either fight the threat or run away. However, rabbits get so overwhelmed by the adrenaline that they don't know which to choose, so they freeze. They freeze, they tremble, and they die.

Buffy used to fight. Now she was a rabbit.

She jumped as the vampire lifted her chin to make her look him in the eye, going into his vampface to display his fangs. "I'm gonna fuck you till you bleed, cunt. You'll be screaming for mercy once I rip into your pussy."

She flinched at his words, the bitemark at her throat suddenly pulsing as her heart sped up. She heard the laughter of the other demons, but they sounded like they were in some hazy distant land. Spike's growl cut through the fog. Buffy pulled away from the vampire before her as Spike sprang out of his seat, grabbing the chair and snapping the leg off. The other vampire barely had a chance to turn around before Spike had staked him through the back with the wooden chair leg. He snarled as the dust fell, turning to the other two demons in a silent challenge.

The demons were willing to fight it out, apparently, as they were standing and coming around the table in almost an instant. One of the demons was short and scaly, but muscled with sharp claws and some painful-looking spikes on its tail. The other demon was taller than its compatriot, but it was also leaner and slightly less lethal-looking. Probably faster, as well.

Buffy's muscles decided to start working again, and she quickly scooted out of the way, not wanting to get caught in the fight. Spike was already smiling, happy to get into a brawl, no doubt. She hadn't seen him fight in years. She'd forgotten what it looked like. The grace. The strength. The sheer brutality. How much he relished it. He was a vampire, no different than the one he'd dusted. He was just the same as every other being in this dimension that had hurt her. Why was she turning to him for help? Why was she expecting him to be a good guy? He was as far from good as the vampire who'd wanted to make her bleed or all the clients she'd served through the years or those demons that had sealed her powers.

Spike growled as the shorter demon slammed its spiked tail into his side. The tail remained lodged, worsening the wound. Spike took advantage of it, though, grabbing the tail and pulling the demon forward. As the demon struggled, Spike sank his fangs into its neck, messily letting the blood flow out rather than drink demon blood. The taller demon punched Spike's side wound in an attempt to get him to release his friend. Spike just looked up in irritation, casually snapping the neck of the clawed demon before turning to the tall one. Demon blood covered Spike's mouth, face, even throat. Disgusting.

There was a moment's pause as the other demon made the decision to run. As he turned to spring for the door, though, Spike grabbed him, sending him crashing to the floor. There was a frantic struggle as the demon called for mercy in his own language, holding out his hands in his plea. Buffy huddled near the wall, trying so hard to be somewhere else, but having no choice but to watch in horror as Spike repeatedly slammed the demon's head against the floor. The blood was pouring. The face was gone. The demon was dead. And Spike was smiling. Blood smeared his duster and hands.

She'd forgotten. There were no good demons.

Spike licked his lips as he got back to his feet. On the other side of the room, Buffy stood as well, shaking slightly. So many things were wrong now. Her entire life was wrong. She'd been able to ignore it before with the drugs. But not now. She didn't know how to fix things. She'd thought following Spike could help. She'd been wrong. He was wrong. She couldn't trust him not to hurt her. He was a demon. It's what he did.

She was trying to get back to being herself again. She couldn't do so while she lived in fear of Spike.

Spike turned back to her with a small grin on his face in satisfaction for what he'd done. All of Buffy's pent-up adrenaline and energy was waiting for him, and she released it as she punched him in the nose. Her knuckles cried in pain, but she didn't care. She didn't even care that he barely seemed to flinch at her attack. Instead, she screamed and hit him again, this time in the stomach. She was aiming for the bleeding wound the demon had left Spike with.

He shoved her away, but she pushed back. She remembered a time when her punches actually had an effect. When she hurt others instead of being the one getting hurt. Yeah. She used to hurt demons. They used to fear her. When had that got turned around?

Knowing how ineffective her punches were against a vampire, Buffy used her nails, clawing at his face. He backed up a step, trying to grab her hands.

"What's your fucking problem?" Spike yelled as he dodged another punch of hers.

"You're my problem you...demon!" Buffy felt her entire body wavering as if she were on the edge of a cliff. Just the wind would knock her over. She took advantage of Spike's stunned surprise to bend over and fetch the discarded chair leg that he'd used earlier. She hadn't held a stake in years. It was makeshift, yes. But her hand curved around it as if she'd just been patrolling last night. She brandished it as if she'd never been apart from her calling. "No different from the rest." Her voice was trembling against her wishes.

Spike held up his hand, keeping his chest away from her. "Now, pet. Think here. Whatcha gonna do if you dust me? Not many places for you to go round here, yeh?"

He had a point. Fuck. She shook her head. "I'll go to that shelter - "

He laughed. "Yeah, like you remember how to get back there."

She didn't need him. She didn't need a demon. She was better than that. Buffy changed her grip on the chair leg, using it like a baseball bat to smash Spike across the face. She couldn't back down on this one.

The suddenness of the impact caused Spike to lose balance. He fell against the wall, reaching an arm out to catch himself. Buffy heard a muffled swear word but didn't pay attention to it.

"I can't stay with you," she protested. She sounded too desperate to her own ears. She didn't know how to not sound desperate at this point. "You're a demon. You're like them." All of them. The demons that had taken her from herself.

Spike shook his head. "I'm different." The words came from bloodstained lips.

"Why? Don't tell me you care about me or some shit."

"No," he said with a forced tone as if he were speaking to a child. "I don't give a bloody fuck about you, actually. But I'm not like the rest of these demons in this world."

"And what makes you so different?"

"I got a soul."

All her energy drained from her as the words left his mouth. The chair leg fell from her fingers, and she suddenly felt as if she'd run a marathon. The world was shifting around her. He had to be lying, even as he was looking her in the eye, opening everything up to her. She didn't believe it. She looked away. "Bullshit."

He stood up straight, readjusting the duster on his shoulders. "Whatever you say. Doesn't change the fucking thing. Had to get it."

"Why?"

"To get back to our world. Why else?"

She crossed her arms, looking down. If she didn't look him in the eye, she could still pretend he was making it up. "You're not making any sense."

He sighed. "Nature of the portal, Slayer. Can't get from there to here with a soul. Can't get from here to there without one. Way of the worlds."

She bit her lip again. She was developing a sore spot from doing that. She wanted him to be lying. Him having a soul would just complicate everything. However, she was having trouble convincing herself that he was lying. "I made it here with a soul," she said.

"Yeah. I've been trying to figure that one out for years."

She looked back up at him. He was unmoving, watching her warily in case she decided to lash out again. He was telling the truth. She knew it. He had a soul. Spike had his soul. She frowned. If he had his soul, then...

"How'd you get your soul back?" she asked. "Is it a curse, like Angel's or - "

He laughed, but there was no joy in it. "It's a curse alright. Nothing like Angel, though. Not even mine. Well," he looked off to the side. "Suppose it's mine now. Wasn't originally. The shaman had to give me someone else's soul."

Her stomach turned. Some poor person's soul was trapped inside a vampire? "Why?"

Spike looked at her as if it were obvious and she were an idiot for not knowing. "Well, my soul's not here, is it? Not in this world, at least. They couldn't give me my own soul so the shaman made do with what he could find."

"Whose is it?"

He shrugged. "Don't really know. Doesn't matter. Annoys the fuck out of me. All the time, making me regret things or do things or not do things. It's..." he rubbed his forehead. "It's like hell in my head."

"You feel guilty," she stated quietly.

"No!" He said it quickly. Too quickly. After a pause, he looked away. "Yes."

A demon feeling guilty. Buffy touched his chest where his heart would beat if he were human. Somebody in this world felt guilty. "Good." She shoved him back against the wall, not caring when his head snapped back to collide with it. She'd finally found a demon she could defeat in this world.

Buffy pressed her body against his as she bit his neck, sinking her teeth in as hard as she could. Spike let out a surprised cry and lightly tried to push her away, but Buffy could tell that he was afraid of using too much force. He didn't want to hurt her. Not while he had a soul in him.

She pulled back to inspect the bloody bitemark. Her mark. Oh, sure, it would fade from his body. The mark would remain in his mind, though, to let him know that he wasn't as powerful as he thought he was. When she looked into his eyes, she could see the confusion in them. She smiled before sweeping her leg behind his, sending him to the floor.

She had a power she hadn't wielded in years as she straddled him, pinning him to the floor. He could have pushed her off, even as she retrieved the wooden chair leg to press against his chest. She knew that his vampiric speed and strength could easily overpower her. Instead, he watched warily as she pulled his duster from his shoulders before pushing his shirt up and over his head.

The red, gaping wound that the tailed demon had left drew Buffy's attention. It was on his right side. Three ragged holes were still bleeding liberally over his abdomen. He still had blood on his face from the fight, as well as on his hands. Covered in blood. She pressed her hand against the wound. Blood oozed between her fingers, and Buffy heard Spike's sharp intake of breath at the sensation.

Buffy would be the Slayer again. She would make demons fear her as they once had.

She curled her fingers, digging more deeply into the wound. Spike cried out, grabbing her hand to pull it away, but a sharp glare from her gave him pause.

"I'm not tagging along anymore," Buffy said.

Spike tilted his head in question. Well, as best he could while lying on the floor, looking at her as she straddled him.

"I want my power back. And you're gonna help me," she explained. He had to know the power was shifting.

"Right, pet," Spike said. "Why don't you let me up so we can keep on with that?"

She turned her head, presenting her neck to him and displaying the mark he'd left on her. "The soul makes you feel guilt, doesn't it? For this?"

"And for other transgressions," Spike whispered.

Buffy sat back. "I know a way to make things up to me."

He was still as she stood. Still as she removed her pants and underwear. She could feel the faint exhalation against her thigh as she sat back down, this time straddling his face while facing his legs. She leaned over, hands seeking the lean muscles of his abdomen.

"Make me feel good," she said.

She barely needed to say anything. Spike's arms wrapped around her legs, and then his tongue was at her clit, stimulating her as she put her head down on his stomach. She moaned. The clients almost never did this for her. They were too concerned with their own needs to bother with hers.

Her finger traced around the puddle of red where the gaping side wounds were. Buffy's breath hitched as Spike inserted a finger into her while still paying attention to her clit with his tongue. She put her palm to the broken skin of the bloody wound and pressed down.

His attentions stopped as he cried out. She sat back slightly, lowering herself closer to him while still keeping pressure on his injury.

"Don't stop," she ordered.

After a few seconds, the pleasure resumed. Buffy continued to press against the wound, enjoying the cool flow of blood pouring out. It dripped onto the floor at the same time as it spread further across Spike's stomach.

Buffy gasped as Spike bit down on her clit, forehead falling to his stomach. Two fingers were stretching her then as she felt the culmination of years of deadened sensation come alive inside her. She screamed her release, back arching, eyes closed.

She was panting on her folded arms atop his abdomen. A cold hand softly stroked the outside of her thigh as she came back to herself. She smiled. She got the demon to work for her this time.

Buffy rolled off him, twisting around so she could face him. Her juices had mixed with the blood on his face to stain his cheeks. He looked at her with uncertainty, obviously not sure where they stood.

His confusion made her smile widen. She leaned closer. "Did that make the soul feel better?"

He shook his head. "No."

She fell back on her elbows, frowning at his answer. "Why not?"

He brought a hand up to wipe his face, though it was a futile effort. They'd have to find a place to wash up. He sighed. "Cause the fucking thing knows that sex isn't what you need. Even if it's you being a commanding mistress and all. At the end of the day, you'll still think yourself a whore cause of it."

Wrong wrong wrong, so many completely very many different levels of wrongness. Buffy couldn't even look at him anymore as she stood on shaky legs to put her pants back on.

"Buffy," he said, not having moved from his place on the ground.

She didn't let him finish whatever he'd been planning to say. "Let's get cleaned up and go. We're wasting time."

tbc...

 
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