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Slave Master by Blood Faerie
Author: Elizabeth Anne Summers
Title: Slave Master
Episode: Bad Eggs
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Sexual Situations, some of it is non-con so don’t read and complain if you that squicks you
Disclaimer: I don’t own BtVS, but I’ll just create something better someday.
Summary: Most of us have seen the episode, Bad Eggs, or are at least familiar with it. It has been given a major Spuffy-shaped twist. Spike wants revenge on the slayer and has a plan that pushes the limits. Like usual, his plan buggers up.
Author's Notes: My Spike has swagger. Changes to canon will be explained, so read on. Thanks to the betaing work of Meg and what little Sue did.

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Sunnydale High loomed dark and foreboding, fitting for the structure that sat atop the opening to hell. Spike paused outside and reached out with his senses to make sure there was no one still about at this hour, especially that watcher with some late night research about Fyarl penises...or some such nonsense.

Satisfied the coast was clear, Spike made his way inside and towards the Principal’s office. He picked the lock before he was inside and striding towards the desk; he figured it would be the best place to hide his little weapon. Pulling the package in question out of a duster pocket, he knelt to affix it under the desk.

Once it was secure, he stood, looking around the office for anything worth pinching. Nothing caught his interest so he left feeling pretty smug. By the next night, the Principal would show up on his doorstep and the plan would be under way—the plan to get his revenge on the Slayer.

He lost himself in memories for a moment as he walked out.

The Slayer and Slayer Jr. had crashed the ritual to heal Drusilla. The spineless poofter had slipped away as Drusilla had defended herself against the dark skinned slayer. When Slayer Jr. had looked to be getting the upper hand, he had tossed the Slayer aside to help his Dru. Breaking the young girl’s neck with a vicious twist, he’d turned in time to see the Slayer set the place ablaze. Scooping his dark princess into his arms, he’d made a break for the door, but just as he was within reach of it the organ came crashing down on them.

By the time he’d clawed his way out—covered in burns and with several broken ribs—Drusilla, his wicked plum, was gone, burnt up in the fire that he had barely escaped. But, that blonde slayer bitch was still alive!

He would get her, though. He wasn’t the Slayer of Slayer for nothing and he was pulling out all the stops with this plan. He would go for her biggest weakness, the humans she let get close to her. Other slayers were more careful to keep themselves separate from those they protected or, more likely, their watchers were better at drumming it into their empty little heads. This one actually attended school and let others help with her calling. Something he could use to get to her.

That was the fantasy that kept him going—his fangs buried in her neck with her blood flowing like a river down this throat. It was his goal more than ever now with the death of Drusilla.

Just thinking of it caused his hunger—his need—to rise sharply and he strode off into the night to find a ready meal, a warm female body.


Willow and Xander walked into the library after class to find Buffy with her nose deep in a large and very old book. She looked up when the two set their book bags down on the table before pulling out chairs. Xander started tilting his chair back as usual, to Giles’ annoyance.

“You missed class,” Willow stated the obvious.

“Of course, because she was here in the land of fun,” Xander said sarcastically.

Buffy ignored him and looked at Willow. “Did Mr. Whitmore notice?”

Willow nodded and the Slayer sighed. Buffy shot a baleful look towards her watcher then closed the book with a thud.

“We had vampire business,” she offered by way of an explanation. “Like usual.”

“Mr. Whitmore sent me with your project, though.” Willow reached into the front pocket of her book bag to pull out two eggs. She handed one to Buffy.

“How...nutritious?” Buffy eyed it with suspicion.

“You have to take care of it like a baby and come to class—for real—so that he can grade your progress. Somehow it’s supposed to show us why we shouldn’t get pregnant, I think.”

“Behold the cheapness of it.” Xander held up his own egg.

“The American educational system, will the wonders never cease.” Giles shook his head. “Watching an egg is somehow supposed to prepare you for the responsibility of parenthood? An inanimate object is supposed to represent a fully cognizant child?”

“Once again, behold the cheapness of it.”

“Either way, Giles, you heard the girl. I need to go to class, no more hogging me to yourself for your torture sessions,” Buffy said. “And failing grades does not a happy mom make.”

“There is a reason that slayers are usually privately tutored and taken from their families,” Giles pointed out.

Buffy just rolled her eyes at him and looked back down at her egg. “I need school. I need to pass school. You wouldn’t want me to be a single mother on welfare all because I was a high school dropout, would you? Who would take care of Eggbert?”

She held up the egg and gave her watcher a pout. He gave a ragged sigh and removed his glasses to polish them. Why me? Why did I have to be assigned to the most difficult slayer to ever be called?

“I only have your best interests at heart. Unnecessary distractions could get you hurt, or worse.” He replaced his glasses on his nose.

“I’m sure if you had it your way, I would be locked in a convent.”

Giles opened his mouth to give a snappy retort, further escalating the argument, but Willow quickly stood up. She saw where this was going and wanted to head it off.

“Ooh, it’s time for class again. You better go to this one.” Willow ushered Buffy towards the door.

Xander followed more slowly and turned to Giles at the door. “I’m all for the convent idea. I’ll get the truck and you get the rope.”

He received a reproachful look from the librarian for his attempt at humour so he quickly left to catch up with the two girls.


Rubbing his hands together gleefully, Spike walked out of his room on the second level of the factory he now called his lair. His plan was well underway and already students, as well as some parents and teachers, had been arriving to start serving him. He knew they would come here without prompting, and all because the mama bezoar was nestled safely under his factory. Just where he could get all the eggs he needed. The babies were naturally driven to find their way back to their mama with the help of their hosts.

Making his way out onto the little platform at the top of the stairs, he looked over his troops. This small army would be used to fight the Slayer this time instead of his usual minions. She wouldn’t harm her friends or any other humans, would she?

A sinister chuckle choked to a stop as Spike realized he’d made a gross miscalculation…again.

Why did all his plans blow up in his face? He had been so sure this one would work after he’d planned so carefully! Not carefully enough, apparently, according to the proof before him.

Among the sea of faces peering up at him expectantly was a blonde girl. A blonde girl with emerald eyes. Eyes without their usual fire. The Slayer. The Slayer, now under the influence of a bezoar hatchling, was standing there, another mindless follower.

A slow smile crept back onto his face and he started down the stairs with renewed vigor. Maybe this was the best possible fuck up he had ever made. It dawned on him that while his plan may have gone astray he now had the Slayer under his control. He could do with her whatever he wanted. And what he wanted did not bode well for the despicable bint.

Spike came to a stop in front of her, studying her to make sure she was really under the control of a bezoar. He could smell the creature on her and that along with the unusually vacant expression confirmed she was now a host for one of the hatchlings. He grabbed the Slayer by the arm and glanced at the others, giving them a quick order to work on harvesting more eggs.

With the other drones occupied for the time being, Spike eagerly dragged his surprise back up the stairs to his room. He shoved her roughly, sending her sprawling on the bed, before kicking the door shut.

The sight that greeted him when he turned back around made him pause. Buffy was sprawled on the bed, her hair fanned out around her head and legs splayed wide, giving him a nice view of her knickers under the dangerously short skirt. His jeans were getting uncomfortable, but he easily remedied that when he shucked his clothes with shaking hands.

Why were his hands shaking; maybe it was the wealth of emotion welling in him over this act? No, he wasn’t some randy virgin. But, this was not something he had been anywhere near doing with the slayers he encountered in the past. He had only been focused on their death to further his name. This was just further proof of how different this young girl was—how she affected him—no matter how he wanted to fight it.

With a growl, his demon shoved aside his inner William. He was just taking advantage of a lucky opportunity. Yes, that was it. His hands stilled, consoled by his demon’s deluded thoughts. He had lost the love of his unlife and was in need of a good shag. That was all this was. Nothing more. He would keep her around, but only to use her for all she was worth.

He stalked towards the bed and grabbed her ankles and pulled her towards the end of the bed so that he could remove her clothes. He took a moment to pause and admire her naked body before kneeling over her and looking her in the eyes.

His hand fisted in her hair, forcing her to keep his gaze, though there was little chance that she would turn away in this enslaved state. “From here on out, your only duty is to serve me. You will see to my pleasure and anythin’ else I order. Got that, luv?”

“Yes,” Buffy replied automatically.

“Yes, *master*.” He tightened his hold on her hair to emphasize his point.

“Yes, master.”

He released her hair and trailed his hand down her neck, down her body with light touches from the tips of his fingers.

“Tell me, kitten—not that it matters much—but are you a virgin?”

“Yes, master.”

“Well, I will just have to teach you how to please a man.” He slid a finger into her pussy. “Just as I thought: nice and tight. And you’re gettin’ so wet for me.”

He continued stroking her, inserting another finger then a third before he was satisfied. Then he suddenly wondered why he cared if she was ready. His demon quickly came back that it was best not to damage the goods right away. Yeah, that was what was up with this bit of foreplay.

Removing his fingers, he trailed them over her thigh then grabbed her hips to flip her over onto her stomach. He ordered her onto her hands and knees. She complied and he positioned himself behind her, but paused at seeing the bezoar hatchling. Grimacing at it, he tossed the blanket across her back to hide the disgusting creature. It wasn’t a particularly arousing sight.

He grabbed her by her hips and jerked her back, thrusting his whole length deep into her. She gave a pained cry that only spurred him on as he kept thrusting hard without any remorse. He wasn’t there for her pleasure; she was there for *his* pleasure!

The punishing pace continued until he came with a roar then collapsed on top of her. After a moment, he rolled off of her and pulled her close.

“Bloody amazin’, pet. Don’t know why I didn’t fuck you sooner; killin’ you is a waste of a good sex slave.”


For several nights, Angel waited for Buffy to arrive for patrol with no luck. The first couple nights, he was willing to think that maybe she was sick, even if slayer constitution kept her from ever really getting sick.

But, a week was way beyond a little bug. He had been worried that she was avoiding him, but he would have caught her scent around town still as she dodged him during her patrols. Her scent had faded and he was starting to wonder why she was slacking off.

He made his way over to her house, ready to remind her of her responsibility as the Slayer. His redemption was on the line, too, and he wasn’t about to do her job for her.

When he arrived at Buffy’s house, he reached out with his senses and only found Joyce Summers at home. Perhaps Buffy was at her watcher’s place doing research. Maybe something big was coming and that was why she was too busy to patrol. But, why hadn’t she told him? He started for Rupert Giles’ flat with a puzzled frown.


Spike walked back into the factory after making a meal of one of his little slaves, licking his lips clean of the last delectable drop. He stopped when he saw Buffy at the bottom of the stairs instead of in the bedroom where he left her.

“What are you doin’ out here, pet?” He tilted his head.

“I was looking for you, master. I was lonely and missed you, master,” she replied with her patented Summers pout.

He curled his tongue and leered at her. She was a wet dream, standing there in a black negligee that he had stolen for her. It was a barely there baby doll with a red ribbon that matched a silky red robe worn over it.

“Well Master is back and ready to make it all better.”

He caught her around the waist and pulled her up the stairs to the platform overlooking the factory floor. There were slaves milling about in various states of carrying out Spike’s orders, including collecting the bezoar eggs from the mother. He smirked down at them as he bent Buffy over the railing.

“Let’s give them a good show, yeah?” He chuckled and ground his erection into her, leaving no doubt to his meaning.

“Yes, master,” she said with a breathy tone he attributed to her arousal.

His hands smoothed over her hips then started hitching up her robe and nighty. One hand kept them up while he fumbled with his jeans. He released himself into his hand, giving himself a couple good strokes before starting to slide the head along her slit. Both moaned as his cock became slick with her juices and she panted as he plunged into her. She gave a grunt and her hands gripped the railing.

He leaned over her to whisper hoarsely, “Does it turn you on, the excitement of doin’ it out here in front of them? You don’t know if they’ll remember this if they ever get free. Though, they’re bound to like what they see.”

She whimpered and he took it as her response to being fucked hard, a sound of pleasure. She had made similar sounds many times during their sexual activities. The whimpering spurred him on. His fingers dug into her hips as his thrusts picked up speed.

“Bloody hell, Slayer. Always the best shaggin’ I ever had, always. Your pussy is so hot. So tight. Those little slayer muscles are a soddin’ miracle, they are,” he babbled as he kept bucking his hips into her.

The aforementioned muscles rippled around him them clenched hard, milking his shaft and sending him over the edge. He spilled himself into her while grunting his completion, bending over her when he paused for unneeded breath.

Soon he was hardening again and he pulled her around to face him. Pushing her to her knees, he thrust his cock towards her lips hoping she would take the hint. She should after all her *training*. After a moment’s pause, she leaned forward to take him in her mouth. He groaned happily and buried his hand in her hair.

“Yeah, that’s it, kitten. I got you trained right well,” he started to babble again as she worked her mouth on his erection.


This was just ridiculous, Angel thought to himself as he walked back towards his apartment. Both the slayer and her watcher were gone and without any word to him. What were they thinking by leaving him out of the loop? They needed him.

He was walking near the industrial side of town, full of old factories and abandoned warehouses. When he turned a corner, he stopped as he caught sight of Buffy’s little redheaded friend. She was walking outside a factory that didn’t look as empty as the others.

“Willow!” he called out as he hurried to catch up with her.

There was no reaction at all and his first instinct was to get annoyed after the disappointment over the disappearance of Buffy and the watcher. They had been missing for nearly a month at this point and it was wearing on his nerves.

He frowned upon noticing her vacant expression, waving a hand in front of her face and keeping pace beside her. It was as if he wasn’t even there. He wondered if this was coincidence concerning Buffy’s disappearance or actually related. It was decided that he would follow her and find out what was going on.

They walked into the factory and Angel found many more people who looked just as out of it as she did. He spotted other friends of Buffy and was surprised when the watcher stepped out from a side door carrying a crate.

When the shock wore off, he finally caught a familiar scent among all the combined scents of the zombies. Make that *two* particular scents.

“Spike.” The name came out a growl, eyes flashing amber.

He turned back to the human automatons and finally saw what was in the crates that were being carried about. Eggs. He tilted his head then sniffed. Having a hunch, he grabbed Willow and spun her around. Under her shirt was some demon hatchling attached to her spine.

He ripped it off, tossing it to the floor so that he could smash it with his foot. He then released Giles and another teen in a similar fashion. As soon as they gathered their wits, he told them to go about freeing the others while he went to get Buffy. He missed the glances that Willow and Giles shared at the mention of the slayer’s name, already off tracking down the source of the scents.

Angel’s nose led him to a set of stairs leading up to a room that used to be the manager’s office. As he climbed the steps he was able to pick up more distinct scents. Sex. That drove him into a blind rage and he barreled through the office door.

Spike looked up calmly from the position he had purposefully put himself and Buffy in. He had of course sensed Angel the moment his wanker of a Grand-Sire entered the factory. It didn’t bother him if Angel freed his slaves; he had what he wanted right there in his arms. Buffy. *That* he wasn’t so willing to let go. He was ready to dust the ponce to keep Angel from taking her from him. Not that Spike would shed a tear over the loss of his hated Grand-Sire.

“I knew I should’ve destroyed you the night Dru brought you home.” Angel sneered at Spike.

Spike remained unruffled, brushing his hand over Buffy’s bare stomach. He had them resting on their sides with her back pressed to him. His hand traced circles over her abdomen, gradually making its way lower.

“Why don’t you go ahead and free all those people out there. Do the white hat thing you do. I got all I want right here, mate.” Spike grinned up at his Grand-Sire.

To continue goading Angel, Spike leaned into Buffy and bit her shoulder. She gave a little moan that enraged Angel more than the bite. He flew at the blonde couple, making to tear her away from Spike.

Both vampires were surprised when the supposedly enslaved Slayer skittered out of reach. They gaped at her as she stood in the corner eyeing her former boyfriend warily.

Angel recovered first and went to take her arm again. “Come on. I’m taking you home where you’ll be safe.”

“You should do as Spike said; free my friends and the others. Make sure they’re okay and get home safely,” she told him as she dodged his hand again.

The vampires gaped even more at her response—if that was possible.

She chuckled at the looks on their faces. “You’re both looking at as if I sprouted wings and horns.”

“You can’t really want to stay here with *him*, Buff,” Angel spoke first again. “He has you under his control.”

“Funny, ‘cause I’m gob smacked ‘cause she’s not actin’ like she’s still controlled by the bezoar.” Spike was openly staring at Buffy. He stepped past the older Aurelian to get to her. “How long? Were you ever under its control at all? ‘Cause I saw it.”

“You only saw it the first night and after that you kept it covered out of disgust. That helped, because I *was* under its control, but somehow eventually recovered enough to tear it off. After that, I just figured I’d play along ‘til I could save my friends. I needed Spike alive—well, unalive—in case I needed him to free the others. I didn’t know if it was safe to just tear off the creatures.” She cast her eyes downward. “Eventually, I didn’t want to leave. I was still waiting for a chance to save the others, though.”

“Buffy, you can’t mean that! You must still be under his control somehow!” Angel grabbed her—ignoring a protective growl from Spike—and spun her around.

The only remaining evidence on her golden back was the faintest of scars from the bezoar’s claws. Angel stared, unable to compute her behavior even with the proof right there that she was acting on her own free will.

Spike pulled Buffy away from Angel and snarled possessively in full game face. He didn’t totally understand what all had just went on, but he did at least get that Buffy had chosen him. Even if she wasn’t his slave anymore, his demon still recognized her as his mate.

“Angel, I think you should leave before Spike gets rid of you and he might not be able to stop himself before you dust.” She lifted her brows. When Angel went to protest, she lifted a hand. “I made my choice and it’s mine to make—*not yours*. You need to go see to the others. Please.”

The brooding vampire looked between them, pointedly glaring at Spike before leaving. This was not over, but he needed to make this small retreat now and go lick his wounds. Then, he could think this over and what he would do about it.

Once Angel was gone, Buffy turned to Spike and actually gave him a sheepish look. “Are you really mad?”

It took Spike a moment to stop gawking at her in stunned disbelief before he could answer her. “How?”

“I think it has to be the slayer thing. It fought off the intruder to my body eventually. And, if the bezoar puts their prey in submission by injecting a toxin, I probably healed it away.” She gave a shrug.

“But, how long?” He looked her over in wide-eyed wonder.

“Oh,” she said and tilted her head. “Somewhere around a week into it.”

He choked as he thought of all the things he had done to her since she had regained control. All the “training” he had put her through, thinking she was just some mindless slave. Another thought occurred to him, though, and it made him wonder again at her telling Angel she wanted to stay.

“You could have staked me, pet. You had plenty of chances,” he said with a strained voice.

She gave him a shy smile and smoothed a hand through his messy curls. He leaned into her touch, rubbing his cheek against her in a cat-like manner.

“Oh, I got my shot in,” she murmured softly as her fingers brushed over the mark on his neck, causing him to shiver.

La Fin.

AN2: This is supposed to be one episode out of a season, I didn’t make it tidy since the reader should assume the next episode would continue with the aftermath, of course. I don’t plan on writing that next episode/sequel and if someone else wants to, they can. Also, someone can write this one from Buffy’s POV if they feel the need to show what was happening from her side. I didn’t want to go there because it would ruin the surprise ending.