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A/N: Update, update! I know it’s been a while, hope everyone is still with me!

Also, have a quick pimp: Elysian Fields has opened! I'm sooooo excited! If you wanna know more about it, go to that link or visit my LJ post here!

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Chapter 4: Possession


Buffy was seriously outnumbered.

A lone street lamp offered minimal lighting for the cramped alleyway, but there was no hiding the veritable swarm of vampires before her. The illumination from the low wattage bulb was hardly enough to alleviate the dark, but it somehow managed to provide just the right amount of glow to reflect from the amber eyes of the numerous demons. Each wore the same expression. They were salivating. Black-hearted eyes stared and lips curled sadistically, the malevolent intentions of the creatures clearer than day. They were scarily intent in focus, hungry for one precious thing. Her blood. Buffy shuddered once, allowed her fear to take control for two seconds before she pushed it aside. She needed to find a way out of this situation, and fast.

Buffy’s eyes flicked from one side to the other, forming a mental inventory of possible weapons or escape routes. A glance over her shoulder proved backtracking was not an option. And the closest doorway was ahead of her, three vampires deep.

Packing crates to her left offered possible weaponry—if she could smash a sliver of wood free before the vampires advanced. The Slayer inched toward the crates and the mirage of protection they offered. The demon closest to her tilted his head to the side, then shook it in a ‘nuh-uh’ motion, an evil confident smile twisting its lips.

The front line advanced. And still their expressions remained exact duplicates of the other, their examination of her actions a scrutiny so deep she could feel the stares right through her. Buffy felt like a lab rat, trapped in a maze that had no foreseeable exit. Or a roast chicken that was being dangled on a string, right over the open maw of a crocodile, just like she’d seen on an episode of Animal Planet. She was a lamb to the slaughter.

Sometimes, like this moment right now, it really sucked to be known by the demonic community.

And if she didn’t act fast, sucking would become a part of her reality.

~*~*~

Cloaked in darkness high above the alleyway floor, he watched. A devilish smirk teased the edge of Spike’s lips as he observed the scene below unfold before him, a scene seemingly created just for him.

She was surrounded. The way her heart rate had spiked when the vampires closed off both ends of the alley had been divine. Fear muddied the air surrounding the Slayer, a scent Spike could bathe in all night long if the circumstances would permit it. There was nothing like a slayer afraid, and there was no slayer like the one below him.

Thoughts of her death by his fangs floated across his mind, taunting him with possibilities. However the temptation to bag this slayer, in the more carnal sense of the word, was a hell of a lot more appealing.

Resolved to wait until the opportune moment to strike, Spike settled back to watch the show.

~*~*~

Buffy shot a nervous glance toward her salvation once more, in an attempt to calculate the distance. It was far, but not too far. She could make it. But it wasn’t going to be easy.

Here’s hoping I can pull this off…

Her movement was sudden and precise, the leap deliberate, calculated. The dive wasn’t anywhere near far enough, the protection the wooden packing crates outside of grasping range.

One of the vampires lunged for her, just as she’d assumed he would. Just as she’d planned for. Pivoting on the spot, Buffy threw all of her weight to one side, allowing the vampire’s forward momentum to carry them both toward her desired destination. The hands that clutched around her throat disappeared into dust seconds later when their hard landing shattered the wooden salvation.

One opponent dusted, twenty or so to go. Only now, a cache of makeshift weapons surrounded her.

~*~*~

Spike was impressed. That wasn’t a move he’d seen from her before. He filed it away in his mind for later consideration—knowing all her tricks would only make his job—his desire—of taking her down all that much easier.

~*~*~

A fist to her face caused stars to burst behind her eyes as Buffy flew backwards. They weren’t being fair, not even close. Usually when a bunch of vamps attacked they’d take shifts, alternating who bore the brunt of her defence. But not this group; they were of a more one-for-all-and-all-for-one mentality it seemed. This wasn’t random, it had to be planned.

And it just wasn’t fair.

“What are you guys, Musketeers?”

The quip was rhetorical, like most of the comments that flew from her mouth during battle. A way to unnerve her opponents, a show of strength, a distraction from the Oh my god they’ve got me surrounded thoughts that were swirling through her head. There wasn’t time for thinking, only action.

They were trying to move the fight, direct her away from the arsenal behind her. Without those packing crates Buffy was a goner, she knew it and they knew it. The makeshift stakes were doing their job and she’d managed to dispose of three of the other vampires, but doing so required up close and personal time with the fiends. She needed space, needed them to back the hell off so she had a decent chance to fight her way out of this mess. Which is why she chose a two by four to be her new best friend.

Grasping the broken beam tightly at one end, Buffy swung with all her might, grunting with exertion as the sweeping arc of the weapon connected with not one but three vampire heads.

“Clonk!”

A satisfied grin rose on her face as the demons took a step back, creating the space she craved. So long as she kept them at further than an arms distance away she might have a chance at escaping this alleyway alive—thinning the number of vampires that populated the streets of LA was just a bonus.

~*~*~

She was bleeding.

The two by four she’d used to clear the space around her had been down right genius—no vampire was going to risk a chunk of wood in the face by getting any closer than they had to. So long as she wielded the weapon her defence would be harder to penetrate. Which is why it had been snatched from her hands by one of the larger of the undead. Using his buddy for decoy—care of a shove in the back—the vampire had caught the sailing piece of timber midway through its arc post skull connection. Caught it and yanked, hard.

The slayer had yelped in pain as the phallic item was snatched from her hold, splinters tearing chunks in the flesh of her palms.

And now she was bleeding.

The smell of blood to a vampire’s nose was like ringing a dinner bell—it made them hungrier. None of the vampires below would have tasted Slayer blood before but they could sense her power, just from the scent. And they salivated for it, the attacks becoming more brutal as they fought for a taste from the pint-sized slayer-shaped tap.

While Spike had no problems with his prize being tenderised by the others of his kind, he did have an issue with sharing. There would no tasting of the Slayer’s blood by anyone bar him.

Two steps forward to the edge of the building and he stepped off, soundlessly dropping to the alleyway floor with the grace of a cat.

~*~*~

Buffy knew the instant Spike dropped in on the fun, despite the lack of noise his entrance provided. She could sense him; tingles of familiarity running up and down her spine. In fact, Buffy had sensed him even before this fight had begun, but he’d stayed back. Voyeurism was not something she had the bleached vampire pegged for. Nor did she think he was the type to let the opportunity to score another notch on his slayer slaying belt be stolen from right under his nose.

Twice already she’d felt the cool breath of death near her throat and twice he had not acted upon it. Both times she had fought her way to a modicum of safety, yet neither time had escape been guaranteed.

The fact that he’d hung back—or above to be more precise—both infuriated and confused her. Spike’s lack of action gave birth to a little niggle of doubt at the back of her mind. Did he not want to be the one responsible for her eventual death? Was her blood no longer the prize he’d once sought? Or did he put this group together to weaken her just enough to make it easier for him to step in for the kill?

Her palms stung from the countless splinters imbedded in her flesh, her jaw ached from the numerous punches she’d been unable to duck, and her muscles were weary from the fight. But she was in no way done for. In fact, she’d thinned the number of vampires by seven, quite an achievement in her book.

So why now?

Why drop in now, when she had a degree of control over the situation. Was he here to join in on the beat-the-Buffy game, or did he just want a closer look?

She growled in frustration.

And Spike laughed.

“Getting’ a bit testy, pet? Didn’t think growling was your style.”

He was leaned up against the side of the building, his stance relaxed.

“What do you want, Spike? In case you hadn’t noticed, I’m a little busy here.” She emphasised her point with a roundhouse kick to the jaw of one of her opponents.

“You’re holding your own,” he shrugged.

The raised brow she shot him was enough opportunity for one of the vamps to sneak in a punch to her abdomen, and Buffy curled over in pain, angry at herself for becoming distracted by the bleached pain in the ass.

“Or, you were.”

The blatant amusement in his tone irritated Buffy beyond belief; she clenched her jaw, grating her teeth as she tried to focus her full attention on the trouble before her. The demon responsible for the assault copped a boot to the head for his troubles.

“I could do without the commentary.”

Spike mock pouted, even though the Slayer’s attention was fixed elsewhere. “And leave you without a target to lash that tongue at? That would just be a waste.”

Innuendo dripped from his words and Buffy’s skin flushed with embarrassment.

“I thought I told you to—” The sentence hung unfinished in the air, cut off when a fist shot through her defence and clocked her in the jaw.

Spike chuckled. “Gettin’ sloppy in your old age.”

Buffy’s eyes flashed in anger as she turned her full attention toward Spike. “I thought I told you to leave. Me. Alone!” she snarled.

Mirth danced across Spike’s face, and that infuriated Buffy more. She took one step toward the former Hellmouth menace, forgetting for half a second that she was still surrounded by vampires after one thing and one thing only; her blood.

Buffy was knocked to the ground hard and the wind whooshed out of her lungs, leaving her gasping for several long moments. Spike wasn’t here to help her, that much was obvious. In fact, Buffy was almost certain he was just letting the other vampires knock her around a bit before he leapt in for the kill. The scary thing was a large part of her was almost relieved by that fact. Better to die at the fangs of a once mortal enemy than by that of several unnamed newbies.

Inspiration struck her. Spike wanted her death to be his, wanted to add her to his list. There was no way he was going to allow another vampire to swoop in and steal his thunder.

Buffy just found her escape card.

Seconds was all it took for the vampires to haul her to her feet, seconds to stretch her arms out to either side in an effort to restrict her movement. Buffy put up a little bit of a struggle, enough for show, before she folded in on herself. Outwardly her expression was one of resignation; inwardly she was fighting to control the grin that wanted to stretch across her face.

A set of fangs began to descend toward her neck and it took every ounce of her control not to fight.

Just a matter of time before…

“Get your bloody paws off her!”

The vampire attached to her left arm disintegrated into a cloud of ash, his head torn clean off his shoulders by a very enraged Spike.

The urge to giggle rose in Buffy’s throat but she pushed it down, using her free arm to sock the vampire holding her right arm in the face. A loud crunch announced his newly broken nose and he let go, another vampire eager to take his place.

But before he could, Spike had snatched Buffy’s arm and dragged her behind him, snarling and growling in full game face at the other vampires.

“Back the fuck off, she’s mine!” Spike snarled.

Indignation rose in Buffy’s eyes. “Hey! I am no—”

“Yeah?” One of the other vampires retorted. “I don’t think so, we found her first.”

Spike stomped on the edge of a broken piece of wood, flicking it into the air in front of him. Before the demon who had dared to question Spike’s claim on the Slayer could say another word, the weapon was snatched from the air and thrown dart-like straight toward the offending vamp’s chest.

“She’s mine,” Spike snarled with authority.

“Hey man, we weren’t to know. It’s not like she’s got any marks or—”

Spike’s arm shot out to grab Buffy and yanked her toward him. Before she could protest he sank his fangs into the creamy column of her neck and pulled a long, warm mouthful of her blood into his throat.

“Mine.”

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A/N: Hope you liked the chapter!

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