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Chapter 8


Spike stood at the check-in of the hotel and drummed his fingers against the counter, impatiently waiting for someone to show up. Buffy shuffled her feet and played with the hems of her sleeves as she waited for him to get them a room. He could practically taste her nerves.


“Anybody here? If someone doesn't come within a minute I'm gonna tear this place apart!” Spike yelled and smacked his open palm against the ringer so hard it broke. He cursed and rubbed at his palm. He should just go get the key himself and sod paying them. Then he'd come back and suck the hotel employees dry. Well, after he scared the piss out of them.


A boy in his late teens came out of the nearby door, fumbling with the fly on his pants on the way.


“Sorry, sir! Nature called. You know how it is.”


He smiled at Spike, in hopes of appeasing a potential customer, but the only thing he encountered was a fierce glare.


“No, I really don't. Nor do I care about your disgusting habits, you git!”


The boy flinched and ran a hand through his messy brown curls. Spike saw his attention wandering away and in Buffy's direction, immediately fixing on her bare legs with a glassy look.


The warning growl from Spike had the boy clearing his throat and looking down.


“Ehm... What can I do for you, sir?”


If Buffy wasn't watching, he'd tear the boy's head clear off his body. Maybe later.


“Now, you're asking? So nice to see the services in this town are top notch,” Spike said sarcastically and let his eyes flash yellow for a fracture of a second, then sneered at the boy's wide eyes.


“R-right. Sorry, sir! It won't h-happen again, I swear!”


The reception clerk swallowed and took an unconscious step back. Spike followed his retreat with an evil glint in his gaze, daring him to run.


“Bloody right, it won't, boy! Now give us a room. Two beds... and make sure it has thick curtains, will you?”


Spike let a smirk play upon his lips, then licked the sharp point of his fang when he was sure the boy was looking.


The loud gulp was his only response.


Spike inhaled the potent aroma of fear wafting off the whelp in waves. It was delicious. This feeling of power, toying with this cowardly human and making him sweat bullets as he fumbled with the keys, trying to find the right one.


“Here you go, sir. Room 327, floor three. If you need room service, use the phone in the room to call the reception desk. It'll be 120 dollars a night,” he said in a rush, avoiding eye contact with Spike again.


“120 bucks for a night? Are you people crazy?” Spike overlooked the cringe his outburst had provoked. He was really hard pressed not to literally tear into the employee. He wasn't used to paying for anything. He took what he wanted and when he wanted it without answering to anyone. He looked over his shoulder at Buffy, slumped his shoulders and sighed.


“Right then, I'll take it. But it's a bloody theft!”


The boy presented Spike the key, his hand shaking so hard it made the key vibrate. Spike waited a long tense moment before he took it, enjoying the situation immensely. He snatched the receptionist's wrist roughly and tugged him forward. Spike felt the boy’s bones creak in protest against the powerful grip and Spike leaned into him.


“I catch you looking at her like that again, I'll rip off your bollocks and shove them down your throat. Are we clear?” Spike whispered, his narrowed eyes deadly serious.


“Y-es! All clear!” the boy squeaked out and Spike let his wrist go, snatched the key and slapped a few crumpled bills onto the counter. He turned on his heel, leaving the traumatized receptionist standing there, gripping the counter to help himself stand upright.


Buffy watched the interaction with rising alarm, ready to intervene when she saw Spike lean into the employee, but he let him go abruptly and strode towards her.


“All set to go, pet. Here, hold on to me.” Spike carefully swept her off her feet and into his arms. Her whole body bounced slightly as he swaggered through the lobby and into the elevator.


Buffy leaned her head against his neck and closed her eyes. For a second she had been sure he was going to kill that guy, and she didn't know if she would have had the strength to stop him. If she even wanted to. She couldn't imagine hurting Spike. Just the thought of it sent an unpleasant shudder down her spine. Even if that wasn't the case, she was no longer obligated to save lives.


'Why should I care if Spike made them all his dinner?'


After the fleeting thought raced through Buffy's mind and finally registered, she stiffened in Spike's arms.


'God, what's wrong with me? Am I really that heartless?'


“You alright, pet?” Spike looked down at her frowning face and unfocused eyes. He’d felt her tense in his arms, along with a feeling that something was wrong. She had smelt different for a second. Still sweet and alluring but there was a waft of decay corrupting it. It brushed Spike's nostrils so swiftly he almost thought he had imagined it. Almost.


“What? Ye-” she started to say, but stopped herself, pondering it for a while, “No, I'm not.” She bit her lip and looked him in the eye for a second, then leaned back against his neck again, clutching at him just a tad tighter.


“I figured.” He nodded. The elevator dinged opened and Spike stepped out of it, carrying her towards their room. “Here we are. Home sweet home and all that.”


Buffy would never understand how he managed to unlock and open the door without dropping her, but he somehow did.


Spike kicked the door close with his boot and put Buffy gently down on the nearest bed.


“I'll run you a bath, then go fetch you some grub while you're at it, okay?” Spike looked at her for acquiescence.


“Will you be long?” Buffy gazed up at him from the bed, eyes wide.


“I'll be a minute, you won't even notice. Scout's honor!” Spike grinned at her and made the Scout salute with the three of his fingers.


Buffy hesitated, then nodded. “Okay.” She watched him turn on his heel and disappear in a swirl of leather behind the bathroom door. She could hear the sound of the rushing water seconds later. Buffy glanced around the room, taking in the white crisp sheets and falsely cheerful yellow comforters on the full sized beds, the stark white walls with one small boring painting of a landscape on it, the sturdy pine furnishings.


Buffy stood up and walked towards the curtains, sweeping them aside with her hand and resting her forehead on the cool window. She stared hard into the darkness, and let it envelop her perception as she tried to dull down her swirling thoughts. Trying not to think about how uncertain her future was. About the person she'd become. Maybe she could stay hidden within the walls of this room forever, shut out the outside world and the demons she needed to face along with it.


A hand on her shoulder startled her and Buffy swiftly turned around, the heavy curtains swishing back into their rightful place.


Spike retracted his hand. “I'm gonna get you something to eat. Bath's all ready. You need any help?”


“No, I think I'll manage fine on my own.” She smiled at him, corners of her mouth turning upward in hesitation, the muscles of her cheeks tensing from disuse.


“Right. I just meant... never mind.” He stood there awkwardly for a moment, and then headed towards the door, looking at her over his shoulder as he closed it behind him.


Spike had the sudden urge to bang his head against the wall. What was it about the slayer that made him lose his edge, and instead turned him into a harmless puppy? And could he be any more daft than being all cavalier and offering his help to bathe her? Not even in a sexual way. No sleazy thought had even crossed his mind. Spike just meant to carry her, so she wouldn't aggravate her feet more she already had. Wash her hair maybe. He was acting like a human being! A decent one at that. Spike grimaced and sauntered down the corridors of the hotel. He needed to reclaim his balls, pronto!


For a moment he pondered visiting the git from reception, but swept the idea aside.


'Too obvious.'


He found his potential victim just two blocks away from the hotel. A lone brunette wandering the dark streets was just asking for trouble. She was a slim, pretty thing and as she rounded the corner to use the shortcut of a stranded alley, Spike grinned. He stalked after her, his feet light and soundless on the concrete as he moved through the shadows.


Predator chasing after prey. It was what he did. Spike wouldn't allow that to change as already felt too human when he was with Buffy. He was still a vampire. It had taken him a lot of years to push back all the traces of his pathetic human self. And lately, he feared that if he continued this way, there would be nothing left of him but the shadow of the monster he had created himself to be. Not a demon. Not a human. He wouldn't fit in any world but the limbo in between, holding onto the slippery vestiges of his past just as he tried to reach towards the unpredictable limb of the future. Buffy's hand. Could he really let himself go? Let her possess him?


'Can't let her get under my skin even more that she already is.'


Spike entered the alley, moving deliberately forward, his every move a symphony of deadly grace. He grinned as he noticed the girl facing the fence at the other end.


Dead end.


'How very fitting.'


“What's a pretty bird like you doing out here all alone? You know, the whole red riding hood routine is fairly dangerous.” He was a few feet away now. Still moving forward. Her fear reached his nostrils and he drew it in with utmost gratification.


'Still got it, mate.'


“Who are you?” her high voice trembled and shook, the sweetest sound in the world. Sound of suppressed terror.


“Spike.” He vamped out and grinned at her, gleeful and hungry. In a blind panic, she pierced the thick silence of the late hour with a deafening scream.


Spike was on her in a blink of an eye, squeezing her throat shut and laughing as she clawed at his hand in a fruitless effort of dislodging his grip. He backed her into the fence, intruding in on her personal space further. Yellow eyes burrowed into the wide chocolate eyes as he grabbed a fistful of her dark hair and tilted her head to one side.


He scraped his fangs along the length of her neck, leaving shallow trails of her blood in their wake. Her pulse beat wildly beneath his mouth, echoing the last seconds of her life.


“Poor lamb. All terrified.” Spike sucked at her neck, bringing the blood closer to the surface. She whimpered and struggled.


“I promise it won't hurt... much.” He laughed and sank his teeth into her jugular, slurping noisily as he drank her life essence, letting the warmth flood him and fill him out. He ground his hardness into her.


She gasped out.”Please.”


He had heard it so many times, in so many different situations. That last desperate attempt at making him let them go. To spark a feeling of sympathy perhaps. He never did.


Spike was surprised as the sound of her voice suddenly seemed very familiar. It was just like Buffy's. He drew out his fangs sharply and looked down at the girl's terrified eyes. But it was Buffy's green eyes staring at him, life withering away as she looked at him. Hurt. Betrayed.


He roared and shoved the girl away. She staggered and fell, holding her bleeding neck and sobbing quietly. Spike paced, running his hand through his hair, and ranted incoherently.


“Wanker! You must be the most miserable excuse for a vampire, Spike. Grand-dad would be so proud, right after the git laughed his arse off!” Spike gestured wildly with his hands and continued talking to himself.


“It's all your fault! I've got you under my skin, making me feel all tingly and warm! Why are you doing this to me, Buffy?” Spike clenched his teeth and punched a hole into the bricks of the building. He looked at his bloodied knuckles and slumped in defeat. He finally noticed the sobbing girl.


“And what are you bawling your eyes out for? You're alive, aren't you? So run home to your mummy and daddy like a good little pedestrian and leave me the hell alone!” Spike snarled at her and the girl rose up on shaky legs, fleeing away from him as quickly as she could.


'Well, there you go, you twat. Everything just went arse over tit. Why not just seal the deal by tattooing 'pathetic' right across your forehead?'


Then Spike thought of Buffy-- the Slayer, the supposed bane of his existence. She was his. Would it really be worth it to swap all that with the empty existence full of carnage? Wasn't this what he always wanted?


'Doesn't mean I can't feed. Just won't kill them is all.'


Spike huffed and stuck his hands into the pockets of his duster. He strode out of the alley, hoping the fast food joint that he'd seen earlier was still open.


'Hope Buffy likes cheeseburgers.'


******


Meanwhile Buffy slipped out of the sweater, folded the fuzzy article and put it on the lid of the toilet. She turned towards the sink and grabbed the mini bottle of shampoo and mini soap that were necessary amenities in every hotel. To her, they were luxury she hadn't been able to enjoy for far too long. She clasped them in her hands and turned around.


The water in the bath glittered, reflecting the bathroom's fluorescent light off its surface. Buffy stepped closer, put the soap and shampoo down and grasped the ceramic rim for balance. She lifted her leg and sank a foot into the warmth of the water. The surface rippled at the intrusion.


Buffy hissed as the hot water caressed her battered foot and then proceeded to put the other one in too. She slowly slid in until only her head and knees were sticking out of the water. She closed her eyes and let the warmth engulf her senses and drown out everything she wanted to avoid thinking about.


Grime and dried blood muddied the water, spread out and dirtied the edges of the bath. Buffy opened her eyes and grimaced at the sight. It was the perfect reflection of how she felt. Dirty and polluted.


She took the plug out and drew her knees to her chest, wet hair sticking to her back, and watched the lowering level of the water as it swirled down the drain in a vortex tinted with red and brown.


Buffy untangled her limbs, stood up and turned on the shower, tilting her head back as she let it wash away the remaining dirt. She crouched, reaching blindly for the soap and shampoo, and massaged the shampoo into her hair.


She felt gross, and it was just a matter of time that Spike would get over whatever insanity that was forcing him to stay with her and see that too. He didn't have any obligations towards her, didn't have to stick around to watch over her miserable and ugly self. He'd leave and she'd never feel his reassuring embrace, or even hear him yell at her in anger as he paced back and forth in agitation.


'He'll hate you!' A voice in her head whispered.


Buffy shivered despite the water beating mercilessly on her skin. The steam filled out the small room, obscuring the mirror above the sink. She rinsed her hair and breathed heavily as the feelings took hold of her. Fear. Doubt.


Buffy scrubbed hard at her flesh, her nails leaving deep welts on her skin. She wanted to tear out this feeling of hopelessness, of being dirty and used. She turned the faucet fully on cold, and icy water sprayed at her flesh, forcing out everything else but the coldness. The clatter of her teeth was getting louder by the second. Buffy shut it off when she couldn't take it anymore and stumbled out of the bathtub.


She stepped precariously on the slippery tiles and wiped the steam off the mirror with the palm of her hand. She looked at herself. At the hollow eyes and sunken cheeks. The ever present internal pain manifesting itself in the tautness around her lips. She squeezed her eyes shut and when she opened them again her reflection flickered and changed.


It wasn't her anymore. Rotten teeth of a monster leered back at her, black bottomless sockets devoid of eyeballs glared from the mirror. The bleached skull barely covered by translucent, grey skin. Dead.


Buffy screamed. An inhuman sound tore out of her throat and filled her ears, drowning out the click of the front door being open. Her shaky hands rose and touched her face, her eyelids, as her yell died down. Buffy looked at the mirror again, her breath coming out in short panicked gasps.


There was nothing there but her.


TBC