Chapter Seven: A Night Out


After two long hours of struggling with the binding clothing and scrutinizing over her hair and makeup, Buffy emerged from the washroom. Spike nearly tripped over his own two feet when he caught sight of her. She was wearing a red corset that was covered entirely in black lace, which pushed her breasts up and gave any onlookers a good eyeful. Her strong thighs were covered in a black leather miniskirt and her long legs were sporting black fishnet stockings. The outfit was topped off with the pair of knee-high black hooker boots Spike had noticed earlier in her bag of tricks.

Her face was painted with heavy make up. Her eyes were smokey, rimmed in black eyeliner, and her lips were painted blood red. Her hair was brushed up neatly in a high ponytail without a single straying strand. She looked amazing. And if Spike didn’t do something soon, he was sure he was going to burst.

“So, do I pass the test for sleazy ho bag sex slave?” Buffy asked, cocking her hip.

Spike inwardly moaned as he held his hand out to her. Buffy peeked at it and realized he was handing her the leash. She took it and secured it around her neck, allowing the attached silver chain to dangle down her front. Going back into the washroom, Buffy gazed into the mirror. “I think the spikes on the collar are definitely the finishing touch,” she giggled.

“You look great, luv,” Spike complimented.

“Damn Skippy,” Buffy replied, giggling again.

Spike liked seeing her like this; confident, happy, wearing lace and leather. Keeping his eyes on her, an idea popped into his head. Abruptly turning back into the room, Spike strolled quickly over to the far wall next to the room’s main door. Kneeling down, he removed a section of base board and pulled out a red velvet bag. Getting back up, he felt Buffy’s close presence.

“What’s that?” she asked.

Turning around to face her, Spike undid the cords of the pouch. “Hold out your hand,” he ordered.

Buffy opened her hand palm up. It was a slight show of trust on her part which he fully noted. Turning the pouch upside down, Spike allowed its contents to spill into Buffy’s awaiting hand. “My necklace,” Buffy said, bringing the silver chain and cross to her breast. “Why are you giving this back?”

“Cos it’s not mine,” Spike simply stated. “Plus, it’s a little incentive for those wankers to keep their greedy little mitts off ‘f you.”

Buffy clasped the chain around her neck, adjusting it so that it was in plain view and not obstructed by the leash and collar. With the outfit complete, Spike gave Buffy his trademark smirk, “Let’s get going, luv.” Almost as though it had materialized out of the thin air, Spike placed a black hooded cloak around Buffy’s shoulders. “It’s cold out,” he explained. Drawing the cloak tighter around herself, Buffy nodded in gratitude.

She nearly jumped out of her skin when she felt Spike’s hand cup her face, pulling her gaze up into his own. “Whatever happens tonight, I want you to know that I don’t mean it. ‘Preciate what you’re doin’ for me, luv.”

With that said, and without waiting for Buffy’s response, Spike turned on his heel, the chain of her leash wrapped tightly around his other hand, and walked out the room’s only exit, with his slave not too far behind. What he had failed to notice was that one of the sparse chairs in the room was strangely missing one of its legs.




********

The trip out had been rather uneventful which was expected seeing as how the house was completely deserted. The same could have been said for the rest of the neighborhood as they quietly made their way down the streets of Sunnydale. It was a part of town that Buffy had avoided, even during the day, before her capture. The Bronze was on the borderline between the safe and not so safe part of town. It explained why the raid had occurred that fateful night.

When they neared the club, Spike pulled Buffy closer to him. “Better keep your eyes to the ground, pet,” he whispered. Buffy quickly dipped her head low, keeping it bowed.

As they neared the front doors, Spike held out the leash, making it more visible to anyone watching. “Move it, Slave,” he ordered, tugging on the chain. Buffy allowed herself to be pulled, even staggering a little to make it seem like his treatment of her was slightly rougher than it actually was.

Walking up to the two vamps posted at the door, Spike vamped out and growled. The two instantly fumbled out of the way and bowed to show the respect that was due to their leader. Spike shoved the doors wide open, and swaggered in, dragging Buffy along with him. She kept close to him once they entered the club, keeping her gaze to the floor, too petrified to look anywhere else. She could here the growls and curses coming from all around her. There was loud, angry heavy metal music playing over the speakers and the air was filled with cigarette smoke. She knew just from looking at the floor that the Bronze had changed drastically since the last time she had been there.

Spike stopped when he reached his makeshift throne, happy to find it vacant. Buffy was careful not to bump into him. She hid her hands beneath her cloak, since they were starting to shake, and waited for instructions.

“Sit,” Spike ordered as he reclined on his big high-back leather chair. Buffy instantly settled at his feet, always keeping her eyes to the floor. Spike reached down and started to pull off her cloak, leaving her a little more exposed to the room full of vampires. If she could have lifted her eyes to the room, she would have noticed that most, if not all of the vampires in the room were salivating at the mouth, some from more than just mere appetite. As Spike pulled his hand away from Buffy, he allowed his thumb to brush against his mark, in the hopes it would calm her. Luckily for her it did, making the tension gradually flow out of her body.

Keeping his grip tight on the leach, Spike glanced around the room, noticing that everyone was looking their way but not a single vampire dared to make eye contact. He took it as a good sign.

“You got a lot of nerve bringing her here,” a quiet but confident voice spoke behind him.

Glancing over his shoulder, Spike saw Damon come up to sit in one of the seats by his left side. Leaning in towards him, Spike calmly said back, “And you must be yearnin’ for a Redwood through the chest.” There was no humor in his statement. “Don’t really care if you believe it, mate. So long as the mob does,” Spike countered.

“I guess we’ll just have to wait and see,” Damon retorted.

Buffy already didn’t like Damon. From what she could hear, he was an asshole. If she was a leader she would have gotten rid of him a long time ago. He was too defiant and way too arrogant. She also wasn’t completely convinced that he wasn’t a threat to Spike.

“So took the pet out for a walk?” a different voice called from Spike’s right.

“Vincent,” Spike welcomed the newcomer. “’Sprise to see you here.”

“Figured it was time I showed my face,” Vincent replied.

Oddly enough, Buffy was grateful for the elder vampire’s sudden appearance. He seemed to have buffered out the tension Damon had created, which even a person staring at the floor could sense. Vincent was without a doubt English, like Spike, but his accent was more refined, upper class even. And he didn’t speak with any airs of superiority or bouts of insolence like Damon. There was just something about him that seemed like he’d stay loyal to Spike even until the end.

“Where’s Tash?” Spike asked, looking out into the crowd.

“Getting someone to eat,” Damon replied casually.

Buffy tensed up at his words. She knew that the room was filled with vampires. But it hadn’t really hit her yet what that meant. Suddenly, she was noticing sounds that she hadn’t picked up on when she had first entered the Bronze. There were moans and whimpers accompanied by growls and even a few screams. Buffy assumed that like her there were other humans at the club. But unlike her, they weren’t gonna leave alive. Her blood ran cold at the idea that people were being used like cattle all around her and that there was nothing she could do about it. She just wanted this night to end.

The music suddenly changed, gone were the harsh notes and screams that were associated with heavy metal, replaced with instead by the loud strong beats of techno. Buffy, though her eyes were still lowered, could sense a shift in the room. She assumed that everyone was moving to the dance floor.

Since his makeshift throne faced the stage, Spike was able to see the large mob rush the floor once the music changed. Stomachs now full and bodies warm with stolen blood, the crowd moved, gyrated and grinded to the erratic beats. The spectacle before him exuded raw sexuality and the stench of their arousal soon filled the air to the point of suffocation. Like a domino affect, one triggered the other and soon Spike found himself falling victim to it as well. He looked at either side of him and noticed that his second-in-commands had disappeared, most likely in search of something to fuck. Spike glanced down at Buffy, who was unaware as to what was happening around her. The way she was dressed, her absolute compliancy and the fact that he was chocking on everyone else’s arousal was driving him insane. The desperation for release was consuming his every thought.

Spike reached down and wrapped his hand around Buffy’s upper arm, lifting her up off the floor. Shaken at first by his unexpected actions, Buffy eventually rose to her feet and allowed Spike to guide her onto his lap. He pulled her as close to him as she could get, making her ass push against his erection. Spike groaned not only from the contact but from the little gasp that escaped Buffy’s lips. Trying to keep his composure, Spike leaned into her and whispered into her ear. “Just relax, pet.” He brushed his mark with his thumb, causing a shiver to run through her. He continued to rub the bite mark, circling it with feather light caresses. “You have no idea what you do to me,” he huskily whispered in her ear as he stimulated her flesh.

Buffy was no longer able to control her actions. His touches were sending shocks straight to her womb, making her panties drenched. She writhed in his lap, trying to get the much needed friction between her legs. Spike groaned louder as she moved against his hardened cock. “Make me so weak,” he whispered so quietly that even he barely heard it.

Spike took his hand away from Buffy’s neck, which caused her to whimper from the loss, but soon replaced it with his lips. Buffy squeaked as his mouth kissed, nipped and sucked on her already sensitive wound. At that moment Buffy dared to look up and what she saw shocked her. She had expected everyone to be staring at them but instead she found that they were all too preoccupied with satisfying their own needs. Buffy couldn’t believe how here she was, writhing in Spike’s lap before a whole group of on-the-verge-of-fucking vampires. She turned her gaze to the far corner of the room. Oops! Make those actually-fucking vampires. Strangely, the idea of being with Spike in front of so many people made Buffy feel so liberated. She found herself getting off on the danger of it.

Feeling a little braver, Buffy reached a small hand behind her and began to stroke Spike’s denim clad erection. The moment her hot hand touched him, Spike’s hips bucked and he growled into her neck. Her bold move made Spike intensify his ministrations until Buffy was on the cusp of orgasm with a nearly black hickey. He deliberately pulled away before she could come. Spike had stopped in hopes of enticing her to do more, to simply act without any inhibitions, but what he got was not what he had unexpected.

Buffy didn’t know what came over her. It was as though all rational thought and logic had just flown out of her head. The orgasm Spike had been building up threatened to be explosive, and not being in the right frame of mind at the moment, she was willing to do anything to just come. Spinning in his lap, Buffy straddled him and started to grind her soaking sex against his hard cock. The friction wasn’t enough and soon she found herself frantically unzipping his jeans and pulling him out. Stroking him a few times for good measure, she pushed her thong out of the way and impaled herself on his cock. Feeling his cool member fill and stretch her, Buffy developed a newfound appreciation for thigh high stockings.

Spike’s eyes almost rolled to the back of his head as he entered Buffy’s searing hot velvet quim. He hadn’t fucked her since he had told her he loved her, and God, how he had missed it. She rode him slowly, bringing herself back close to fulfillment. When Spike couldn’t take it any longer, he began to thrust his hips in time with hers. Both were soon on the edge, both waiting for that one thing to drive them over.

It was Spike who finally acted. Grasping her head roughly, he brought the unmarred side of her neck to his mouth. Vamping out, he sunk his fangs in her neck, drinking down the warm blood that flooded his mouth. The moment he pierced her kin, Buffy’s orgasm ripped through her, making her inner muscles pulse around Spike’s cock. Holding out for a few seconds, Spike soon followed, pulling away from her neck and screaming out her name in release. Slowly sliding out of her, Spike lifted her limp body and cradled her against his side, allowing her head to lazily nestle onto his shoulder. Her warm breath tickled his skin as she exhaled heavily, still reeling from the mind shattering sex they had just had.

They both looked around and saw that the mayhem still hadn’t died down and that no one was paying them any attention. Deciding he had made his point, Spike whispered, “Time to go, luv.”

Buffy simply nodded and slowly slid off his lap. Spike draped the cloak back over Buffy and started to lead her toward the front exit. With downcast eyes, she allowed Spike to lead her through the apathetic crowd, her mind beginning to wander.

She wasn’t sure if having sex with Spike had been such a great idea. Buffy knew he had initiated it, getting her all hot and bothered, yet surprisingly, she wasn’t angry at him for it. Deep down, when she had first agreed to help him with his crazy plan, she had a feeling she was going to end up sleeping with him before the night was through. She just hadn’t expected it to happen in front of a crowd. Yet, when all was said and done, she had jumped him and had wanted it just as badly as he did. She could play it off as it being all an act for the masses, but she knew better. She worried that he might interpret it as more than just sex. To be honest, Buffy wasn’t sure herself what it had meant.

When Spike had told her he loved her, she had been adamant about not being able to love him back. She had convinced herself that he didn’t know what love was and that he was nothing more than a cold blooded killer. And here she was, helping him keep his title as leader of his clan by screwing his brains out in front of a room full of vampires. Buffy knew she was throwing him mixed signals, but she hadn’t meant to. So much had happened with Spike in the past few days to make it all so much more complicated between them.

Unfortunately for Buffy, she didn’t see the minion until it was too late. Colliding into him, Buffy accidentally looked up at him from the unexpected bump. The vampire appeared infuriated, and not really noticing she was tethered to Spike, grabbed her roughly. “You dare look at me!” the game faced vampire spat in her face, making Buffy instantly cower and bow her head. When he didn’t let go of her, Buffy struggled to get out of his grasp, causing the chain around her neck to swing wildly. When the silver cross hit his hand, hissing as it burned, all hell broke loose.

Feeling Buffy’s sudden halt, Spike turned to see his girl get smacked to the ground by some meat-headed fledgling. All he saw was red as he raced over to them, ready to rip the vampire to pieces. He knew the minion was another one of Damon’s but he didn’t give a fuck. No one touched what was his.

The vamp stood over a fallen Buffy, readying himself to strike her again as venomous words spilled from his fanged mouth. “Stupid bitch! Maybe this will teach you a fucking lesson!”

As he went to make his move, Spike flew between the vampire and a cowering Buffy, his death grip somehow finding its way around the minion’s neck. “Better step off, mate. She doesn’t belong to you,” Spike stated rather calmly, surprising everyone around him.

“Let go of him Spike.”

Spike could hear Damon’s threat from within the crowd of onlookers that now surrounded them, but he didn’t give it a second thought. If anything his grip only tightened, threatening to snap the vamps head right off his neck.

It was only when he heard Buffy whimper that he realized they needed to get out of the club before everything they had accomplished that night had been for naught. Throwing the vampire to the floor, Spike called out to Buffy. “Let’s go,” he ordered. It killed him that he couldn’t go over to her and scoop her up into his arms. But if he showed any sign of emotion toward the girl, things no doubt would have only become worse.

Buffy shakily got herself to sit up, trying desperately to get up as quick as possible. To Spike it was all too reminiscent of the first night she had been brought to him. He waited patiently, face devoid of any emotion until Buffy finally stood up on trembling legs, head bowed and ready to follow her Master.

As they turned to leave, Damon’s minion slowly rose up, staggering to get his bearings, and locked onto Spike’s back with a murderous glare. Ready to retaliate, the vamp sprang into attack, lunging toward a vulnerable Spike. However, to get to him, he had to push past Buffy. Nearly knocking her down as he flew by, the vamp halted when he felt that something was off. Peering over his shoulder, he saw Buffy holding a stake that was embedded in his back.

“Ah fu—“was all that was heard before he collapsed into dust.

The room was dead silent; all amber eyes were glued to the girl who had just slain one of their own.

“Whoa.”

Some vampire’s lone remark, though brief, was a good representation of what was going through minds of everyone else in the room.

Spike, who had been none the wiser, turned to see Buffy with dust at her feet and with stake in hand. She was staring at it as though she couldn’t believe she had just actually dusted a vampire. Her eyes were just as wide as of those around her, the shock and amazement at the power she wielded with a simple piece of wood gradually sinking in. Spike watched as her expression changed from bewildered to self-contentment, almost to the point of pride in what she had just done. Buffy, slightly bolder, glanced around, gazing right into the eyes of other vampires, at times actually making a few fledglings take a few steps back.

Spike didn’t know what to do. He knew it could get ugly if he didn’t approach it the right way. If it were really up to him, he’d just stay exactly where he was and admire Buffy. There she stood, defiant in all her glory. Her chin was up with her cloak thrown behind her shoulders, exposing her supple body to the crowd. It was almost as though she was begging for someone else to take her on. God, he loved this woman.

“Can’t just let anyone touch what’s mine,” Spike stated loudly, making sure everyone heard him. “If any of you lays a hand on her and survives, you’ll have me to contend with!”

With that said, Spike turned on his heel, pulling Buffy, who had reverted back to her meek head bowed stance, along with him. Everyone silently watched the duo leave, all with a new found respect for their leader and his feisty slave girl.