full 3/4 1/2   skin light dark       
Master by Aurora
Chapter Ten-Some Things Never Change
<<     >>
Chapter Ten: Some Things Never Change

If someone were foolish enough to set foot onto the streets of Sunnydale after sunset, and were by some off chance actually able to look around as they were relentlessly being chased down by a pack of rabid vampires, they would have noticed that the town’s nighttime activities consisted solely of the periodic flashings of traffic lights. Stray cats didn’t even dare to venture out into the streets, almost as though they intuitively knew that it was no longer safe after dark. Sunnydale, a once wholesome generic blip on the California map, was now a virtual ghost town. During the day, many of Sunnydale’s population kept to themselves; the constant fear that they had grown accustomed to during the night had finally pervaded into their daylight hours. The days seemed shorter and the nights seemed colder in this small town. The faith that one day good would finally triumph over evil, a sentiment that many residents had once clung to with such maddened conviction, had eventually grown stale, withered away with the tragic deaths of loved ones. After the death of the Slayer, a pilgrimage had occurred out of Sunnydale. Many had left the town, but some still remained, mostly because they had no where else to go.

Though, amidst the sadness and despair, tucked away in one of the many abandoned residential areas of Sunnydale, was a single house that contained within its brick walls the still kindled flame of a hope. A faction composed of a brave few who had stayed behind to stave off the oncoming tides of darkness that seemed to be on the brink of fully consuming this poor beaten town. To the outside world, the house appeared uninhabited, yet if one were to venture inside to the basement, one would be pleasantly surprised to discover that there were a few residents of Sunnydale busily at work, refusing to give up.

The large unfinished basement was scattered with numerous fold-out tables and chairs. The area was dimly lit, with only a few sparsely distributed low hanging ceiling lamps to provide the much needed light. Computers, telephones, televisions, radios and any other forms of communication equipment were strewn all over the room. The people occupying the limited space were themselves dispersed, clustered in groups, appearing to be preoccupied in whatever tasks they were doing. Some were making stakes, others were reading large dusty texts and some were even sparring in a far corner, trying to better their skills at staking a vampire.

However, even with all the hectic commotion going on at the headquarters of Sunnydale’s only vampire fighting force, there was one table where all activity seemed to emanate from. It was at this centrally situated table where a map of Sunnydale was constantly laid out and from where all orders were issued. Here the leaders of this band of makeshift warriors devised their strategies and revised their tactics. It was where the first link in the chain of command began and at the moment, admist all the hustle and bustle, it was here where a meeting was taking place.

“If we station two cohorts here and here,” a middle aged Englishman said as he indicated to the map. “We should be able to corner them.”

“That’s assuming they’re still nesting in that abandoned warehouse. We haven’t sent a scout out there for over three weeks; they could have moved to somewhere else by now,” the brunette standing crossed armed next to the Englishman commented as he peered down at the map.

“I’m not risking sending anyone out to that side of town. Even during the day, it’s too dangerous. You remember what happened to Larry?” the older man replied.

“Yeah, stepped into the wrong shadow,” another young man answered stoically from his seat at the table.

“So do we just send everyone in and cross our fingers that they’re still there?” a redheaded girl meekly asked, peeking down at the schematic from over the seated man’s shoulder.

“We know that’s not the main house. It’s too close to the border. I’m assuming it’s just an outpost of some sort for a few of Spike’s minions. It should still be occupied and shouldn’t be too difficult to take back,” the man stated, taking off and wiping down his glasses as concern marred his brow.

“We could always just burn it down,” a brunette girl quipped.

“Only as a last resort. We don’t want to burn half of the town down,” the Englishman responded, taking the suggestion in all seriousness as he placed his spectacles back on his face. “Xander, I want you to gather a fair share of volunteers. Twelve would be ideal. Get them equipped and fill them in on the plan.”

“Got it, G-man.”

Suppressing the automatic urge to scold the young man for the annoying nickname, he continued on issuing orders. “Oz, help Xander out. Afterwards, I want you to do weapons check. We need to do an inventory.”

“Sure thing.”

“Willow, I know you’re still working on it but do you think that spell will be ready any time soon?” the man asked.

“Almost. I just got to tweak it a little but it should be ready by tomorrow morning,” the witch stated, sounding a lot more confident than she had minutes ago.

“Good. Show it to me whenever you’re ready,” he instructed, turning to the group as a whole. “We’ll reconvene an hour before dawn.”

The group immediately sprang into action, all heading in different directions as they weaved their way through the crowded basement. The Englishman sat down, his eyes never leaving the map.

“And what about me Giles? What do you want me to do?” the brunette asked, unsure why she hadn’t been given an assignment.

“I need you to help me strategize.”

“Okay, so where do we start?” she asked, taking a seat next to Giles.

“Well, you could tell me again what you remember from that night,” he said softly, knowing it had been a very upsetting experience for the girl.

“It’s still pretty hazy, but what exactly do you wanna know?”

“Do you remember how the vampires organized themselves?”

“Uhhh…They were kinda in packs, you know, like wolves,” she described, unsure how to convey what she remembered.

“That sounds about right. A big raid like the one they conducted on the Bronze would call for the utmost synchronization,” Giles commented. “Was there anything that seemed particularly unusual before the attack?”

“No, not really. Well there was this one girl wearing this totally heinous wannabe Versace halter dress, but other than that I guess it was pretty normal,” she stated, unaware of the irritated look Giles was giving her.

“Apart from the night’s fashion faux pas, was there anything else that you can recall that might actually be of some use? Like maybe how many vampires there were?” Giles inquired, annoyance evident in his voice.

Unaffected by Giles’s mild scolding, the girl answered indignantly. “You’re kidding right? Giles, there were like a gazillion vamps. Plus, I was a little too preoccupied with trying to get the hell out of there to take the time to do a head count.”

“Alright,” he exhaled, frustrated at the lack of success they were having. “Can you think of anything else that might be of some relevance?”

“We’ll there was this one thing that I thought was really weird,” the brown haired girl replied thoughtfully.

“And what was that?”

“When I was hiding in the vent, before I crawled out of the building, I heard one of them say that they ‘should bring the human back to him’. I’m not sure who they were talking about and I couldn’t catch a glimpse of who was saying it. Do you have any idea what it could mean?”

“Good Lord,” Giles uttered under his breath. “Are you certain that’s what you heard?” he asked sternly, needing confirmation.

“Yeah,” she quickly answered, a little surprised by his suddenly troubled expression.

“Why didn’t you tell us before?” Giles prodded, sounding increasingly distressed.

“I was traumatized. Even if I did remember everything from that night, I’d probably still want the memories repressed. That one just happened to come back to me a few nights ago and I wasn’t even sure if it was real,” the girl defended.

“Let us hope it isn’t real. Because if it is then it would mean that someone was taken back to William the Bloody, which in of itself is a fate much worse than death,” Giles grimly stated.

“But who? Everyone at the club was killed that night,” the girl wondered.

“Not everyone,” Giles replied looking poignantly at the brunette.

“Well, like duh Giles. I know I wasn’t,” she remarked, twirling her finger through her now slightly longer chestnut hair.

“No. I mean of course you weren’t but there was also another body that was never found,” the Englishman noted.

The girl’s eyes grew wide when she finally grasped at what it was Giles was referring to. “No…it can’t be. You all said that they turned her. That she was lost and was as good as dead.”

“We assumed she was turned. We have no proof in the matter. There’s a possibility that she might have been the one they brought back to Spike,” Giles solemnly explained.

“It can’t be,” the brunette cried out, still not having completely mourned her best friend.

“I’m sorry to say, but it appears that Buffy did survive the raid only to be taken as Spike’s hostage. And knowing him like I do,” Giles added, the searing hatred he felt for the vampire hidden under a composed demeanor. “I fear that she’s still in his custody.”

The girl’s brown eyes were filled with unshed tears, threatening to spill at any moment down her flushed cheeks. Initially she had refused to believe that her best friend was gone but the inevitable truth eventually caught up to her, and only recently did she allow herself to mourn. The figurative wounds she had incurred from her friend’s supposed death were yet to heal. If what Giles was alluding to were true then she had been right all along.

“You mean…?”

“Yes, Cordelia, I believe Buffy is still alive but one can only imagine what that poor girl must be going through.”


She was running again. Her sides hurt as she breathlessly tried to get away from the man that was chasing her. Buffy didn’t know if she would ever outrun him but she had to keep on trying. She wasn’t exactly sure what would happen if he caught up to her but she knew she didn’t want to find out. Buffy struggled to run harder, but it made no difference; her pursuer was always just a few paces behind. Every time she glanced over her shoulder, there he was, like a sinister presence that refused to let her be. His face was blurred and his features were indiscernible but she could still tell it was a man running after her. Buffy was petrified; scared to the core, but what made her blood run cold was the menacing laughter that seemed to follow after her. Her feet pounded the asphalt as she made her way down some unknown winding road, the sound echoing through the darkness that surrounded her. After what seemed like eons of sprinting, the laughter abruptly stopped. Thinking that the threat was gone Buffy slowed down, ready to turn around to see if the man had given up. A blood curdling scream was the only answer to that uncertainty.

“Buffy,” Spike worriedly called to her as he gently shook her from her sleep. “Buffy, wake up luv.”

Her eyes shot open, gazing up to find Spike inches from her face. Screaming, Buffy jumped, unintentionally whacking Spike in the nose with her forehead. Crying out in pain, the vampire grabbed his face as he put some distance between himself and a fully awake Buffy. “Christ, pet, nearly broke my nose,” Spike nasally remarked, still cupping his sore sniffer.

“Sorry, but you scared the crap out of me. What were you doing anyway, hovering over me?” Buffy asked, rubbing her forehead.

“You were screaming,” Spike quickly replied, making his way back towards her seeing as how the threat of getting hit again had slightly diminished.

“No I wasn’t,” Buffy denied.

“Yeah you were. You were lyin’ there with your eyes closed, hollerin’ at the top of your lungs. Thought you were havin’ some kinda spell,” Spike countered, sitting down beside her. “What’s going on, luv?”

Buffy gave out an exasperated sigh. “I had a nightmare.”

“Again?” he asked, visibly concerned.

“The more fitting question would be ‘still?’ as in ‘am I still having the nightmares?’” Buffy stated casually, unconsciously fiddling with the drawstring to her pj bottoms.

Spike appeared confused by the news. “You mean it’s that same dream?” Spike wondered.

“Yup. Every night it’s the same thing. I’m running, they’re chasing, and it finishes off with me getting caught. Really makes for a good night’s sleep, don’t ya think?” Buffy explained sarcastically.

“Why is it I’m only finding ‘bout this now?” Spike inquired, inwardly hating himself for not having picked up on any signs that Buffy was having recurring nightmares.

“Cuz you were never around when they happened. It’s not just something one brings up in casual conversation,” Buffy rationalized, wishing they were talking about anything else. “Can we just drop it?”

“Fine,” Spike conceded, making a mental note to force the issue later.

Buffy suddenly took note of what the vampire was wearing. He was sporting his black leather duster, which he only wore when he was heading out. “Where are you going?”

“Out, pet. Got a clan to manage, remember?” Spike replied nonchalantly as he stood up.

“Spike,” Buffy called out as he made his way to leave, her tone absolutely serious. “You promised.”

Turning back to look at her, the vampire groaned. “I’m not in the least bit peckish and I don’t need to feed every single day.”

“You know you’re a real crappy liar,” Buffy retorted, crossing her arms.

“Pet, I don’t wanna hurt you unless I have to. I can wait a few days until I absolutely have to feed,” Spike reasoned.

“So you wanna wait until you’re starved? Isn’t that just more dangerous? I mean, call me crazy but I know when I’m dying to eat something it usually isn’t part of the daily recommended servings of fruits and vegetables,” she argued.

“What are you talkin’ about?” Spike asked, beginning to think that maybe Buffy had gone mental from constantly being cooped up in her room.

“What I’m trying to say is that if you push yourself to that extreme, you’re gonna end up doing something stupid, like kill someone or….”

“End up killin’ you,” Spike cut her off, knowing precisely what she was about to say.

“Yeah, that too could happen,” Buffy agreed, but seeing the uneasy look in his cobalt eyes, she added thoughtfully. “If we do this little by little, you won’t go on a bender and do something you’ll end up regretting.”

Letting out a compliant breath, Spike nodded. “Alright, let’s do this,” he said as he made his way over to the bed, taking off his duster and sitting back down next to her.

“Wow, you really know how to sweet talk a girl,” Buffy joked.

“Pet, this is serious,” Spike chided. “It’s gonna hurt a hell of lot more than my other bites.”

“Why? It shouldn’t be any different than before,” she questioned, becoming a little unnerved by Spike’s warning.

“The others were shallow, and I didn’t take much blood. They were just tastes really,” he replied, taking her hand in his in an attempt to emphasize the gravity of the situation.

“Oh,” she replied, now definitely frightened.

“You still wanna do this, luv?” Spike asked quietly.

Taking in a deep breath, Buffy nodded her head vigorously. “Yeah,” she answered, her conscience reminding her that it was something that had to be done.

“Lay back for me, pet,” Spike instructed as he gently pressed a firm hand against her shoulder. Buffy did as she was told, lying down on her back with her head on her pillow. She was nervous and with him looking down at her, she felt strangely vulnerable, exposed even.

“Comfy, luv?” he asked, receiving only a nod as his answer. Leaning on one arm, Spike slowly brought his free hand up to Buffy’s neck. She tensed the moment before his fingers could brush against his mark on her neck.

“What are you doing?” Buffy asked, flinging her head away from the undesired caress.

“It’ll be less painful if I touch my mark. It’ll distract you,” he explained, gazing down at her, hoping she could see that he wasn’t trying to do anything funny.

“No. There will be no touching of the neck,” Buffy refused.

“But, pet…”

“No. I said no touching,” she adamantly refused.

Spike caved in again for what seemed like the hundredth time that day. “Alright, just relax. The tenser you are the more it’s gonna hurt.”

Once Buffy had calmed herself down, Spike lowered himself onto her stilled form, half-sitting with his weight still supported on his elbows. Looking down into her hazel eyes, he gave her a reassuring smile. “It’s gonna sting for a bit pet, so just hold on.”

Buffy nodded, finding she was unable to respond. Vamping out, Spike glanced down one last time, making sure she knew exactly what it was she was getting herself into before he moved to the left side of her neck. He let out a muffled growl just as his fangs pierced the sensitive column of flesh.

Buffy cried out. Spike was right. It was more painful. Really painful. All he had done was penetrate the skin and she was in pure agony. It hadn’t seemed so bad when he had done it those other few times before but she had to admit that they had occurred under very distracting circumstances. Namely, during a mind blowing orgasm that at the time had changed the world as she knew it. Yet now, it was painful and so much deeper and her heart was beating rapidly from the fear that was building up inside. Buffy had to restrain herself from pushing him away. She had to trust him. God, did she ever want to trust him.

Spike could hear her whimpers of pain and eased a little on the first few pulls he took from her. He drew himself up so that he was now lying on her left, slightly draped over her side, and wrapped his right arm around her waist. The change in position allowed Buffy to get a better hold of him, strongly grasping his shoulders and digging her nails into his skin as she tried to deal with the pain. If it didn’t end soon her claws were going to break through fabric and skin, and draw blood.

Spike knew they were nowhere near finished and that the level of pain Buffy was in was just unacceptable when he knew there was something he could do about it. Pulling out his fangs, he lapped the blood coming from her neck, trying to coax a reaction from the old wounds that were still active under the new ones. He was rewarded with a sharp gasp, followed by soft mewls as he continued to lick the punctures. Spike could feel her relax again and was about to sink his fangs back into her neck, when Buffy suddenly wrapped her leg around his waist.

The moment Spike had pulled out his fangs, Buffy thought it was over. Then when he began to run his rough tongue over her incredibly sensitive skin, she could have sworn something instantly exploded within her. She had experienced this before, but the pain from this bite that accompanied the pleasure made everything so much more intense. Buffy was becoming increasingly aroused from the slightest lick and soon found herself where she had been a week before; about to do something she knew she would later regret simply because Spike was touching her in just the right way. Though at first she had refused to let him stroke his mark on her neck, inwardly she had wanted it, craved it even. And now, she urgently longed for him to satisfy the smoldering inferno that was ready to burn her inside out.

Almost in lightning speed, she drew one leg around Spike’s waist and rolled him on top of her, so that he was fittingly situated between her thighs. Spike felt like he had been winded, though he had no real necessity for air. The immediate erection he had gotten the moment he had sunk his fangs into Buffy’s flesh was now pressed against her searing heat. He didn’t want to move, knowing that he would be digging his own grave if he goaded Buffy on any further. Spike wanted to take the high road, ignore the fact that only two layers of fabric separated his throbbing cock from her now soaking quim, and just finish the task at hand. However, the scent of her arousal, her lust filled whimpers and the constant rotating of her hips broke his last bit of restraint.

Returning his mouth to the wound, he bit down again, eliciting a scream from Buffy’s lips, her nails piercing his skin through his black cotton tee. Drinking down enough of her blood, Spike pulled his fangs out for the last time, but morphed back into his human face and continued to suck on the wound. The harder he sucked, the faster Buffy grinded her pussy against his engorged member, his hardness hitting her perfectly against her clit. The primal dance they seemed to be in felt like it continued on forever, pain and pleasure melding into one as they neared the maximum precipice of their senses. Buffy’s last sliver of inhibition had left her, freeing one of her hands to stroke Spike’s chiseled stomach, her blood coated nails grazing his pebbled nipples. Arching her back, she tightened the grip her legs had around his waist in an attempt to push her molten core harder against him. The world blurred and the loss of blood made her lightheaded. Buffy felt as though if she didn’t come soon she would die.

All of a sudden, Spike began to thrust his hips back in time with hers. His lips had moved to her ear, saying words that he had never said to her before. “Cream for me luv. Ugh, love to see you come in my arms. So beautiful. Make me so weak, you do. Love you so much. Come for me, pet. Love you, love you, God, love you so much,” Spike incoherently rambled, his voice strained with need.

With his love drenched words, Buffy finally flew over the edge. “SPIKE!!!!” she screamed his name, her body quivering beneath him.

Not wishing to shoot his load in his jeans, Spike waited until she stilled. With a few calming breaths, he lifted off of her, yanking off his shirt. Buffy gazed up at his bare chest with a lust glazed stare, unmoving as she tried to reel from what she had just experienced. Her sex fogged brain was confused when he suddenly stood up, having expected him to continue on what they had started. Leaning over, he pressed the bunched up cotton shirt against her neck, trying to get the wound to stop bleeding. Taking her hand and making sure she held the shirt firmly in place, he stood back up and slipped on his duster. Disregarding the stinging he felt from the leather against the small gashes on his back, Spike made his way to the door.

“Spike?” Buffy called out as she watched him leave.

“Another day, luv. Gotta head out,” he replied, peeking at her over his shoulder.

Buffy nodded, biting her bottom lip. When she had asked Spike to drink from her instead killing people to get his blood, she hadn’t expected it to turn out to be another one of their no-sex orgasm sessions. It was tense and awkward again between them, but she couldn’t explain why and wasn’t sure who was really to blame. Buffy felt like she should be mad at herself or at him, but what she really wanted more than anything was to have him come back to her and hold her for the rest of the day.

Seeing the dejected look in her eyes, Spike added, “Means more than you’ll ever know what you just did for me pet. Never forget that.” The moment the words were uttered, Spike threw the door open and left Buffy to contend with her wounds and her overwhelmingly confusing emotions.

Shutting the door behind him, Spike leaned against it as he buried his face in his hands. “What the fuck did I just do?” he irately asked himself.

Dejectedly dropping his hands to his sides, Spike looked down and realized that he was still hard as a rock. Groaning, the vampire crossed the hallway and entered his room, feeling a hint of déjà vu as he went to spend a few lonely hours coming down from the high that being with Buffy always brought on.
<<     >>