Chapter Six: A Vampire's Layers


She was running as hard and as fast as she could, but it didn’t get her anywhere; it was like sprinting underwater. She didn’t know what it was, but she knew something was after her. Every time she looked back all she saw was darkness, which only made her try harder. Frustrated by the fact that she couldn’t speed up, she could feel the gnawing fear about to fully consume her. All Buffy could do was keep trying, even though the thing wouldn’t relent, wouldn’t cease in its pursuit.

Spike stirred, pulled out of unconsciousness by a scream. Looking around, he realized he was on the couch, remote still in hand. Turning in the direction of the scream, he saw Buffy writhing and whimpering in her sleep.

“Buffy,” he whispered.

Deaf to him, she continued to thrash, her beautiful face distorting in fear and pain. Spike reached over to her, placing a delicate hand on her shoulder. “Buffy, wake up luv.”

Her eyes suddenly shot open, tears instantly spilling down her cheeks. Shooting up, she latched onto him, her small arms tight around his torso, her wet face buried in the crook of his neck. Her little body rocked with sobs, pulling Spike out of the initial shock of having her so close to him, making him protectively wrap his arms around her. With soothing strokes and hushed words, he managed to help her stop crying.

“Nightmare?”

“Yeah,” she replied, still in his embrace.

“Might help if you talk it out, luv.”

“Was just your typical can’t-get-away-from-something-you-can’t-even-see kind of nightmare,” she explained, sniffling between her words.

“You alright now, luv?” Spike whispered, rubbing her back.

She only nodded into his chest, not wanting to let go. If she closed her eyes and tried really hard, she could pretend Spike wasn’t an evil vampire and that he was just a man who was apparently in love with her. It was a nice fantasy, but short lived when she could no longer ignore how cold and still his chest was. Pulling away, she settled back against the couch’s armrest, arms wrapped around her trembling body. Looking up at Spike, she noticed the pain plastered on his face. “Sorry for getting all grabby,” Buffy said, knowing the intimate moment they had just shared must have affected Spike in some way.

“No problem,” he said, smiling shyly.

Buffy, who was still reeling from her nightmare, couldn’t believe she was actually looking at a bashful Spike. It scared her how she could now plainly see the love in his eyes. Why hadn’t she noticed it before? Realizing that she had stopped shaking, Buffy allowed herself to relax. “Spike?”

“Yeah, luv?” he answered, looking at her as though he was readying himself for more rejection.

Buffy didn’t respond, she just slowly crawled toward him and settled against his side. Dumbstruck, Spike leaned back, allowing her some space next to him on the couch. With most of her body melded to his side, Buffy placed her head on his shoulder.

“Pet?” he asked, remaining completely still for fear that any sudden movements would scare her away.

“Just distract me for a while,” she replied, rationalizing her actions to not only Spike but to herself as well.

“With what?” Spike asked, slowly becoming less tense as she languidly stroked his arm.

“I don’t know. Maybe tell me about who you were before you became a vampire.”

Spike gulped at her query. “Why d’you wanna know?”

“I dunno. I guess I wanna know the guy behind the vampire. You know, like why one minute you can be the meanest jerk on the planet, and then the next minute, you’re the sweetest man I’ve ever met? Maybe if I find out about William, I might start to understand something about Spike.”

If his heart could beat, it would have broken through his chest. “Umm…I…there’s…well…umm…where d’you want me to start?” he asked, adorably flustered.

“At the beginning, I guess. Where were you born?” she asked innocently, playing with the sleeve of his t-shirt.

“London. Lived there all me life, my human life that is.”

“Umm, what was your family like?”

“Nothing special. All I had was me mum, but we got by.”

“What happened to your dad?” Buffy asked.

“Died when I was three. He was a barrister, decent man and he did a lot for average folks in London. So I was told, anyway. Was stabbed to death on his way home from work,” he said the last part in a barely audible whisper.

“I’m so sorry,” Buffy said as she gazed up at him with the utmost sincerity.

Spike shrugged, trying to hide how her kindness was making him feel. “Never really met the man, but thanks anyway.”

“So you just lived with your mom?”

“Yup, just the two of us.”

“Until you became a vampire anyway,” she commented.

“Yeah.”

Buffy suddenly noticed the pained look on his face and quickly changed the topic. “I just live with my mom too.”

“That right, pet?”

“Well technically, it’s me, my mom and my sister.”

“What happened to your dad?”

“My parents split up and like every stereotypical divorce scenario; I ended up with my mom.”

“Must have been hard on you.”

“It was, and it got worse before it got better. After a while, dad just stopped caring. We barely got birthday cards. I think it was harder on Dawn since she was the baby. She would always stick up for him whenever I’d make a comment about his absentee parenting.”

“She sounds like a pain,” he stated in half-seriousness.

“Naw…well sometimes, but we usually get along. She’s a pretty decent kid.”

“You alright, pet?”

At first she didn’t know why he was asking her that until she brought her hand to her face and felt sparse tears. Sniffling, she answered, “Yeah, I guess I just miss them.”

The feeling of guilt resurfaced in Spike, suddenly needing to veer the conversation away from things that might be painful for her. But before he could say anything, she did it for him. “So, what did you like?”

“What d’you mean?”

“What were you into? Did you go to school?”

“Yeah. Father’s inheritance got me the best education London could offer.”

“Where’d you go?”

“Oxford,” he mumbled, hoping she didn’t hear him.

“Where?”

“IwenttoOxford.”

“Oxford! Wow! Oxford? Are you kidding? You must have been a genius. What happened?” she joked, giggling.

“Funny.” But he couldn’t care less if she had called him a spineless jellyfish. Hearing her laugh was like music for his nonexistent soul and he was just about ready to do anything to hear it again.

“What did you study?” she asked, with a new found respect for her vampire captor.

“Everyone figured I’d just go and study law, like me pops. But it didn’t suit me.”

“Well, what did?”

“You’re gonna laugh at me if I tell you,” Spike said, turning his head away from her inquisitive looks.

“I promise I wont.”

Turning back to look at her, searching her face for anything but unadulterated honesty, he sighed and told her. “Literature.”

“You’re a Lit major?”

“You said you wouldn’t laugh,” Spike scowled at her.

“I’m just surprised. Ya know, I was actually considering having a minor in classical literature,” she explained, giving him a meek smile.

“Didn’t think you a bookish kinda girl.”

“Most don’t. I like reading though, when it’s interesting. What do you like to read?” Buffy asked, already knowing the answer.

“Byron, Shelley, Thomas, and sometimes Auden.”

“So poetry?”

“What’s wrong with poetry?” he asked indignantly.

“Nothing. Just would have never pictured you as a poet.”

“Never said I wrote it, just read it.”

“Read me some,” Buffy timidly asked as she buried her face into his shoulder.

“Don’t have any with me right now, luv.”

“There’s gotta be one you remember by heart,” she whined.

God help him if she resorted to begging because he just might explode from sheer joy at all her unexpected niceties. “There’s one that sticks out.”

He felt Buffy settle against him, getting comfortable. When she stilled, he began.

“My love is like to ice, and I to fire:

How comes it then that this her cold so great

Is not dissolved through my so hot desire,

But harder grows the more I her entreat?

Or how comes it that my exceeding heat

Is not allayed by her heart-frozen cold,

But that I burn much more in boiling sweat,

And feel my flames augmented manifold?

What more miraculous thing may be told,

That fire, which all things melts, should harden ice,

And ice, which is congeal'd with senseless cold,

Should kindle fire by wonderful device?

Such is the power of love in gentle mind,

That it can alter all the course of kind.”*

Uttering his last word, he gazed down to look at his newfound love. Her even breathing and calm heart rate told him she was peacefully sleeping. So much had happened today, that he was still a little unsure if it all wasn’t just a dream. He had nearly lost everything he had worked for concerning his Clan but he could care less. Buffy was all that mattered. After he had told her his feelings, she had considered them seriously. She hadn’t laughed in his face, but instead, after the shock had worn off, told him she needed time. And now, here she was, actually reaching out to him. The hope he had that she might some day reciprocate his feelings was growing. He couldn’t let himself mess things, he just couldn’t.




*******


The slamming of a door and the mutterings of an infuriated vampire woke Buffy from her dreamless sleep. She groaned and rolled over into the empty space next to her, realizing Spike must have carried her to bed after she had fallen asleep. She opened her eyes to see Spike staring at her with a regretful expression on his face. “Sorry, luv. Didn’t mean to wake you,” he said sheepishly.

Buffy smiled at how cute he was being. She still couldn’t believe how emotionally complicated Spike was, especially with his newly proclaimed love for her. “That’s okay. I needed to get up anyway,” she told him, noticing how much more nervous he seemed around her. “So what was with all the yelling?” Buffy asked, hoping casual conversation would ease the tension.

Spike scowled. “Damon and I had a bit of a disagreement?”

“About?” Buffy asked, knowing it was probably about her.

“I killed one of his fledges.”

“Why?”

“The lug head said a few things about you that I didn’t much care for,” Spike explained.

“Like what?”

“Let’s just say that I don’t even want to repeat it.”

“Oh,” Buffy bashfully stated. “Is this gonna make things worse for you?”

“Was just a fledge. Damon might stay mad for a few days but he’ll get over it; can always fix things with those three. It’ll only get worse if the whole lot of ‘em start formin’ opinions. That’s why I had to kill him; nip it in the butt,” Spike explained.

“Aren’t you worried that Natasha or Vincent or even Damon might turn everyone against you?” Buffy inquired.

“A little. Mostly because I’d have to kill ‘em. You see pet, even if my so called lieutenants make the whole rabble of ‘em mutiny, the minions won’t last a second without their leaders. ’S why I’m more worried about minions hell bent on a cause than ‘em mindlessly followin’ Damon.”

“Uh huh. Aren’t you being a little too sure of yourself? I mean, what makes you think you can just knock off any of your pals? They gotta be stronger than the average vamp to buddy up to the likes of you, right?” Buffy asked, getting up from bed.

“There’s a reason why I’m Master vamp, luv,” he stated, standing a bit taller and giving her a look that conveyed absolute power.

“So I’ve been told,” Buffy replied, quickly changing the topic. “I’m gonna go take a shower.”

Spike watched as she scurried off to the washroom. After shrugging off his duster, he jumped onto the couch with remote in hand, continuously changing channels. He wasn’t sure what he was going to do. Any more minions like Damon’s and he was going to have a major crisis on his hands. He needed to show all of them that Buffy was nothing more than just a plaything, even though he knew she was so much more. He needed to put it all to rest so that he could keep his clan and Buffy too. But how was he going to do that?

Spike started to slowly develop a plan as he idly flipped through mid-afternoon television. His mind went on pause when Buffy stepped out of the washroom, steam billowing around her towel clad body. He hadn’t realized he was staring at her until he noticed she was looking directly back at him. Breaking her gaze, Buffy went to the room’s only dresser and pulled out some clothes and made her way back to the washroom. She soon remerged, clad in blue jeans and a black t-shirt.

“Nice shower, luv?” Spike asked as Buffy made her way over towards the couch.

“Yeah,” she answered, still feeling a little funny after their stare-fest. She wondered if the awkwardness between them was going to be permanent.

“So I guess there isn’t anything I can do to help with your current quandary?” Buffy asked but not really sure why she did.

Spike was surprised by her offer. He knew she wanted nothing more than to be free of him, to be free from this prison he had created. But here she was, offering her help. Did it mean she was allowing herself to see that he really did truly love her? Was she starting to accept his love?

“There might be. But I dunno if it’s something you’d be willin’ to do,” Spike said.

“Well, what is it?”

“We go out,” he stated only to receive a confused look.

“Huh?”

“To the Bronze. If I publicly show everyone that you are my slave and nothing but my slave, they’ll accept and move on. We can end this stupidity by tonight, luv.”

Buffy suddenly grew agitated. “So you want me to go out with you to a club filled with vampires and play slavegirl? The same club your friends raided and kidnapped me from not even a month ago?” she asked.

“It might be the only way, pet.”

Buffy nodded, seriously considering her options. Spike was never going to let her go. He claimed he loved her, and from what she had experienced last night with him, she was beginning to believe that it might be true. Emotionally speaking, Spike might be more than the average vamp but when it came down to it, that’s what he still was –a killer. His moral compass was completely disoriented from years of guiltless killing and god knows what else. She wasn’t sure if she would be able to overlook that even if he truly did love her.

Buffy also knew that since Spike was never gonna let her go, she was trapped. If a revolt did occur, she wouldn’t survive. She would be a prize awarded to the victor. And an emotionally confused Spike was a lesser evil than whatever else lurked downstairs. She really had no choice. If she could help Spike get everyone off his back and bring stability back to this messed up vampire clan, she would. As long as Spike was around, Buffy still had a chance. But the mere thought of going back to the club scared her to death. God, she must be nuts because she was actually going to go along with it!

“Okay. Let’s do this.”

Astonished for the second time that day, Spike allowed her words to sink in. Taking in an unnecessary breath, he began to explain what needed to be done. “This is how it’s gonna be, pet. I know you don’t want me treatin’ you like how I did before, but if we want to make this believable, you’re gonna have to make an Oscar worthy performance. I’m talkin’ full and total submission or nobody’s gonna buy it.”

“Fine. I understand. I don’t like it, but I understand. And you better not push me anymore than you have to,” Buffy warned, knowing that if Spike ever wanted her to consider his feelings, he couldn’t blow this.

“I won’t,” he promised.

“So other than that, what else do I gotta do?” she asked.

“Well, you’ll have to follow my every order and never look directly into my eyes or any other vampire’s for that matter. You’ll have to sit at my feet when I tell you to and…” Spike started to explain, but soon trailing off, unsure how to continue.

“And what Spike?” she asked, getting annoyed.

“Possibly wear a leash?”

“What! You’re kidding, right?” she asked bewildered, looking up into his face to see that he wasn’t anything short of serious. “You’re not kidding.” Buffy shrugged. “I guess if the occasion calls for it, but don’t be getting any ideas,” she warned, pointing her finger at him.

“There’s also the issue of wardrobe, pet,” Spike brought up, dreading what he was about to ask.

“What do my clothes have to do with anything?”

“Well, everyone expects that I’m keeping you around for certain reasons. And if we don’t make that obvious, then they gonna start thinkin’ there’s more goin’ on,” he told her, avoiding looking straight at her.

“So basically, if I don’t look like a sex slave, nobody’s gonna believe I’m one?” she reiterated his logic.

“Pretty much.”

“I’m not wearing any golden bikinis,” she declared, getting up and walking toward the bed. She knelt down, pulled a plastic bag from under it and brought it over to Spike. “I guess that’s what these are for,” she commented, opening the bag full of kinky clothes that Spike had asked Natasha to get for her.

Spike gulped and nodded as he eyed the corsets, fishnets and black hooker boots in the large bag.

“What time are we leaving tonight?” Buffy asked, closing the bag and bringing back Spike’s attention to the issue at hand.

“When it gets dark,” Spike responded, mentally kicking himself for acting like a horny teenager.

“I better go get ready,” Buffy stated, making her way to the washroom with bag still in hand.

When Spike heard the bathroom door close behind her, he groaned loudly. Ignoring his rock hard erection, Spike grudgingly searched for the leash while Buffy got ready for their big night out.


*poem called Ice and Fire by Edmund Spenser