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banner created by AJ Hofacre © March 10, 2008

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...part V...
.:illusions of the mind.:.

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She just needed someone to talk to. It had nothing to do with the way he’d been with her last week. Nothing to do with how sweet and gentle and kind he’d been. Nothing at all with how he possibly could have taken full advantage of her, fucked her to death, drained all her blood and left her for dead, but chose not to at the last minute and instead climbed out her window.

Nope, nothing at all. Totally innocent.

Ugh. It was getting extremely hard to put Spike in the same group she reserved for people like... Quentin Travers. And Ethan Rayne. Especially when he seemed to be playing the part of a bad puppy with a good streak.

Heh. He would kill her in an instant if he ever heard her say that out loud, and she damn well knew it.

The thought still made her grin involuntarily. Spike the wonder pup! Now THAT was a major funny.

Well, anyway, she had to get some things off her chest. She was to be due at the Magic Box’s brand new training room – courtesy of Giles and Xander (and it was really a miracle that the Magic Box Owner’s Curse hadn’t yet fallen on him - of course, he'd only owned the store for a little less than two weeks) -- in an hour for a round of sparring with Giles. But it wouldn’t hurt to stop by to just... check on Spike. She hadn’t seen him since their mini rendezvous the week before and it was starting to grate on her nerves.

O-kay, so she was going mad.

She just could not understand what was going on. The world was starting to crash down around her. Not for the first time, but it had already passed the way-too-many-times-to-count mark. Riley was nothing more than a completely annoying hassle anymore. Mom had just recently had some sort of sick spell. It had come out of nowhere, and she just couldn’t understand it. Something was wrong with her mommy... and it scared Buffy. Really, really scared her.

And on top of it, Dawn wasn’t real.

She had performed a spell to see if anything magical was attacking Joyce– a very useful Willow suggestion – and everything had been in a daze. Everything had been real, had felt normal. But pictures of her family had confused her, Dawn’s bright, happy image flashing in and out eerily. She’d passed by Dawn’s room – a room that also flashed in and out of focus. The room wasn’t really Dawn’s. It was filled with cardboard boxes, belonging to her mother.

And then there was Dawn herself.

Dawn was flashy, too.

So who was it that was screwing around with her family now? Monks. And how did she know this for certain? Well... after she'd made a fool of herself, hurt Dawn, and made her not-really-there sister cry, she'd followed her nose to a warehouse-type setting, was attacked by a blonde bitch with a really bad perm who was strong in the "really" sort of way, and was told by a monk that her innocent little sister was actually a mystical Key that didn't really exist.

Her sweet, beautiful, annoying pain in the ass sister wasn’t real. Nothing that was remotely associated with Dawn was real. So if Dawn wasn’t real, then why in the hell was she here?

Because the monks knew of her calling. Had created Dawn from Buffy's own blood - and how had they managed that, anyway? Buffy didn't just bleed for anyone, after all... well, except for the few times when someone had caught her off guard, anyway - and then zapped her into Sunnydale and into Buffy's life so seamlessly that it really was like Dawn had always been there.

That dead order of monks that had been screwing around with her – and the whole damn town, apparently -- had done a damn good job. Nobody else realized that her "sister" was just a little bit different than was passing for regular in Sunnydale.

Even Spike hadn't been able to tell. Which was odd, since he was a supernatural presence, and should’ve been able to detect other supernatural presences. For Christ’s sake, she herself was the Slayer, and Spike could probably scent her from the other freaking side of California.

Why was that?

She could wait until she got to the shop. But she didn’t want to risk letting the others know. Xander tended to have a big mouth, and would blurt it within a five to ten minute time span. Willow... Well, Willow was good with the secret keeping. Sometimes. She winced as she remembered several times before when Willow’s extra-hyper ‘I-know-nothing-see-nothing-hear-nothing’ attitude with secrets tended to become part of the ‘I-know-and-I-wanna-tell-but-I-can’t-tell-and-oh-god-I-can’t-keep-it-to-myself-anymore!’ variety.

Since Anya couldn't even keep her mouth shut about her and Xander's sex life, she could not be trusted to keep her mouth shut and that was final. And she didn’t have anything against Tara, really. She just didn’t know her all that well, but Buffy assumed that since Willow and Tara were usually in on everything together, if Buffy were to confide in Tara, the taller blonde would probably tell her girlfriend as well.

Riley was absolutely out of the question.

So that left Giles.

And Spike.

She didn’t know what it was, but something made her feel like she could trust him. She stopped for a second, inquiring the annoyance that was Buffy’s Life. She stomped her foot.

"Dammit! It was so much easier when he hated me!"

It was too hard. She was just going to have to tell him to leave her alone again. The feelings he’d invoked in her the other night were still shrouding her, and making her dizzy. If Spike would just leave her alone, then she wouldn’t feel so damn confused, and needy, and fluffy, and stupid, and so damn girly, and Jesus H. Christ what the hell was wrong with her?

Ugh!

"Okay. This is silly. I am not nervous about seeing Spike! I’ll just... go to his crypt and talk to him about Dawn. I’ll tell him to leave me alone. And then I’ll go. Far away. Very... very fast."

She turned in the direction of the crypt and took a deep breath.

"I can do this. I can go. Now. Now. Go NOW."

Her legs refused to budge. She gritted her teeth. Must move legs. Must move NOW. Move, legs, move!

She forced one leg forward, then the other. And finally she started to move.

And once she started to move, she found that she couldn’t stop. Her legs acquired a mind of their own, leading her nonstop to Spike’s home. She grumbled. It figured. Looking up at the sky, she threw her hands up.

"Why me?"

---

Spike’s eyes glittered excitedly as a young minion rushed toward him, trying to look (snort) dangerous. The elder vampire grabbed him by the scruff of the neck, raising his knee and slamming the fledgling’s face into it so brutally that it broke the twit’s nose and shattered his teeth. Spike chuckled to himself, his entire being practically glowing with malice. Hmph. Too bad vamps can’t get dental plans. It’ll take this one at least a week to heal.

The minion groaned and threw a weak punch, and Spike jumped back, one leg whizzing through the air and knocking the fledgy in the head. The force of impact sent him flying right into a gravestone, cracking his head open, and Spike pounced, stabbing the twerp with gusto.

Or not.

He grunted and rubbed his nose, wiping himself off from the moron dust before it decided to infect him. Then he hit the ground as another little toad attempted a weak sneak attack on him, jumping off from the top of a mausoleum. Christ, another few inches to the right, and the dunce might’ve actually gotten him.

But he hadn’t.

Spike stood up, grinning insanely. Thank god. He’d been hoping that the fight wasn’t over.

He’d needed this. He’d really needed this. He had to take his damn aggravations out on something, after all. Too many annoying things had been going on since last week, and it was really making him hate the world. FUCK the world... well, no. None of the Happy Meals deserved that. Much. No, better yet, fuck Buffy. This ensured very bad, naughty and thought-provoking terminology, but it got the point through.

She was driving him batty, and he hadn’t even seen her since the Watcher had opened his store! Well, he supposed it was better him seeing her than that prick of a boyfriend of hers – Buffy had kept Riley away at the distance of a one-hundred foot pole for the past week or so, while Spike had felt like a damn ping-pong ball, bouncing between his crypt and the house on Revello. And when he wasn’t watching her sleep through her window, he was daydreaming about her in the crypt. She was always on his damn mind.

This could NOT continue.

Pfft. Yeah. Because William the lovesick fool would quit just because Spike threatened him.

On top of that, White Bread had been snooping around in his crypt. Prolly lookin' for a scrap of the Slayer's unmentionables, Spike thought now, his grin widening and giving him a truly psychotic quality that Dru had never had.

He’d instantly recognized that repulsive woodsy, outdoors-y scent when he’d entered the crypt yesterday (he’d been out and about Sunnydale, fighting the "good" fight and nicking a few packs of ciggies – you know, the usual). And he’d literally had to dig his fingers into the walls to keep himself calm.

Jesus, he was gonna hafta smoke up a hell of a storm to get rid of that nasty-ass smell.

BUT... he decided not to go kill the git. Mainly because he still had bouncy, happy, giddy thoughts dancing around in his brain of Riley bursting into the crypt only to find Buffy in Spike’s arms in the throes of passion. And, even better, he was praying that it would eventually culminate into one bitchin’ fight. That’d teach the little schoolboy to mess with Big Bad.

And it was really – really – fun to torture him.

Now would be a real good time to practice.

The nit’s face transformed into Riley’s and Spike abruptly snapped. He dove onto the vampire and proceeded to beat the un-living shit out of him.

Fledgy never knew what hit him.

---

Buffy had heard the sounds of a fight from a long way’s back and, really, it only figured that it was occurring in Spike’s area of the burial grounds. She raced over and stopped short, staring at the spectacle presented before her.

Wow... He’s really whaling on that vamp.

...Yeah. He really was.

Spike was visiting nearly every single physical torture that he’d been taught as a fledgling by Drusilla and Angelus. All except the very one that had given him his name. The vampire he was utterly destroying couldn’t have been more than a week old, and was enduring a huge amount of torture.

He wasn't faring very well.

From what Buffy could see, the newbie’s nose was broken, and there was a sharp, jagged slice right down the center of his forehead about an inch and a half long. Several teeth had been broken, and the thing’s borrowed blood was gushing out of every single injury. It was limply cradling its hand, and it looked like Spike had actually broken – no, shattered it.

She winced as Spike began to ram the vampire’s head into a large, wide gravestone. Repeatedly. By the time he let up, there was nothing vaguely recognizable about it. Baby Vamp’s face was nothing more than a mushy mess of bone, blood, and flesh, and he was nearing unconsciousness.

It nauseated her.

Not to say that Buffy didn’t enjoy the hunt. She loved it, and she loved the fighting, but that was as far as it went. She wasn’t absolutely brutal about it... she wasn't Faith. On the first open shot she got, Buffy would dust the sucker. She fought when she had to, and she dusted as was necessary. She did her duty.

But Spike had tortured this little piss, and he’d enjoyed every blood-soaked minute of it.

Spike jerked the minion upwards and prepped himself to torture the little prick more, an insane grin plastered on to his lips, blood splattered on his face. Okay. This was bad. And disturbing, but really, really bad.

Even Buffy had her limits when it came to stinky, smelly, stupid little vamps.

She waited until Spike stepped back to kick him before she grasped a stake she’d brought with her, and chucked it with perfect precision into the younger vampire.

Poof. Bye-bye.

Spike did a double take, then looked in Buffy’s direction, before grunting and rolling his eyes. "Well ruin my fun. You can come out now, Summers."

Buffy carefully crept out from behind the bushes, feeling extremely weary around the Master vampire.

What the hell was I thinking? she thought. Not even a minute ago, she’d been worried that as soon as she saw him, she'd pounce on him and fuck him to death! But now, after what she’d just seen him do, she’d come to her senses. This guy was a vampire, a killer. He enjoyed it. And she’d been ready to rape him? Ewwww... She folded her arms, a look of disgust on her face.

"What the hell was that? Why didn’t you just dust him? Why’d you hafta abuse him?" she asked.

Spike rolled his eyes and glared at her before turning away, lighting up a Doral (one of his many nicked ciggy packs). Yeah, NOW the bitch gets self-righteous. When he turned back, Buffy was right next to him, reaching up and grabbing the cigarette right out of his mouth. Spike sputtered in surprise, trying to snatch it back.

"Hey! Give it! Buffy, give it! Damn you, bitch, give it back!"

It fell to the ground, meeting an extinguished end underneath Buffy’s very thick black heel.

Spike exploded and dove on her angrily, knocking her to the ground. Buffy let out a surprised yelp and wriggled around, trying to get away.

"You stupid bitch, why the fuck did you do that?!" he howled.

Wait, what the fuck? Why was he so mad? It was just one fucking cigarette, and he had plenty more packs at home!

As soon as this clicked, he stopped, which gave Buffy a clear shot. She bucked him up and kicked him three feet away before hopping to her feet. Walking toward him, she kicked him in the side, making him groan and roll onto his back. She watched him solemnly as she pinned his arms down, straddling his waist and sitting on him. Spike whined, growled, hissed and struggled under her, trying to wrench his arms out of her grasp. Damn it, he kept forgetting – he was the Slayer of two Slayers. He’d bested two of them, but it sure as hell didn’t mean that he was stronger than them. There was a reason that he hadn't beaten Buffy after all the times he'd tried.

"Lemme go, dammit! Leggo! What the bloody hell is wrong with you?!" he griped, finally flopping back and glaring at her, his lower lip jutting out in a sullen pout. Buffy drew out another stake, one that she’d hidden under her jacket, and brought it slowly to his chest, pressing the sharp point gently against his heart. Spike gulped hard, a real fear flickering in his eyes as the point of the stake lightly poked through his black T-shirt and pricked his skin.

"Now listen to me," she started quietly. "Listen to me good. I have to talk to you. I need to tell you something about Dawn. Don’t ask me why I feel the need to tell you of all people, but I do, so you’re gonna shut your hole and listen." Spike frowned, his head tilting to the side. Then he realized that this was just Buffy’s way of calming him down. She wasn’t gonna stake him.

Well thank bloody god. He’d thought that the claim had malfunctioned.

She took the stake away gingerly, but didn’t move otherwise – because honestly, she really liked the position she was in. Spike sat up carefully, leaning back on his elbows. He stared up at her curiously.

He didn’t mind this position either. He sensed her need to be serious, though, and figured he could somehow manage to keep his beast-y hormones in check. There would be no flipping of Buffy and no fucking her into oblivion.

Yet.

Buffy sighed, running a hand through her hair. She closed her eyes, then reopened them and looked earnestly at Spike. "I don't know much about the world outside of Sunnydale. In fact, I've lived here for years, and I still don't know all there is to know about Sunnydale. But one thing I have to be familiar with is the supernatural. And the supernatural aspect is killing me, because it doesn't just affect my friends... it affects my family. What I'm trying to say... is that Dawn’s not real."

Spike’s eyebrows shot upwards and he reacted with confusion. "Bitty isn’t real? Whassat mean?"

"It means I did a spell. A spell to reveal if something magical was attacking Mom. And instead, I discovered that my sister is made of magic."

Spike stared at her in disbelief, utterly stunned. "Jesus... Any of the Scoobies know?"

Buffy shook her head. "Just you and Giles."

Spike scowled. "Take that back! I am NOT a bloody Scooby!"

His indignant reaction made her laugh. "Fine, then. Just Giles. I don’t know, I don’t trust the others to keep it quiet."

Spike chuckled and relaxed, laying back and folding his arms behind his head. "I take it you're thinkin' of the whelp an' his demon bird, then? What about Red, an’, uh... Tara, is it?"

Buffy shrugged. "Willow isn’t exactly secret-keeping competent. And I have nothing against Tara. I just don’t know her that well."

Spike smirked. "An’ Cabbage for Brains?"

Buffy giggled, instantly knowing he was speaking of Riley. "I haven’t even seen him since the last time he tried to talk to me. And I get this weird feeling that he was only nice to Dawn for my sake."

Spike grunted. "Nonsense. The bit's a little baffling when you first meet her, but she grows on ya. She's sweet an' peppy enough to cheer anyone up, anyway."

Buffy grinned down at him. "We are both talking about the same Dawn Summers, right? The one that spills various liquids on my favorite pants, or steals my clothes when she thinks I won't notice them missing?"

Spike was quiet for a moment, smiling up at her. His brain had gone on leave, and he’d barely heard what she’d just said; this position was getting to him...

"Y’know... you look awful lovely up there, pet," he purred. When he’d sat up, Buffy had slid down onto his hips, and Spike’s entire, ahem, anatomy was sick of keeping its immediate reaction under wraps. So to speak.

Buffy's grin disappeared and she froze completely as she finally noticed the rising hardness against the inside of her thigh. Quickly, she stood up and bolted away like a frightened colt.

I will not be turned on, I will not be turned on... There will be no turning on of me by the evil blood-sucking demon!

"No, Spike, don’t even start! That’s the other reason I came to see you. I want you to stay away from me. Don’t touch me, don’t tease me, don’t mess with my head, just back off and let me be. Leave me alone."

She ignored the constriction inside her chest and the warning twinge that ran down her spine at her words. Spike slowly stood up and smirked.

"Right. Like you really want that." Buffy frowned.

"I do!" she whined. Spike rolled his eyes and made as if to stomp away. When Buffy reacted, taking a step forward to follow, Spike spun and grabbed her arm, flinging her against the wall of his crypt. Following quickly, he pressed himself up against her, his hardened cock pressing right into her stomach. Buffy drew a sharp breath, her head dropping back against the wall. She bit her lower lip and refused to close her eyes, watching him wearily. He ran a hand from her hip up slowly to a soft, small breast, squeezing gently, then a little harder when Buffy whimpered. Leaning against her, his lips pressed to her ear, he murmured, "You sure about that, pet?"

Pulling away, he gave her a knowing look before rounding the corner and walking into his home.

Buffy watched him move away from her, and growled in anger, stomping her foot. Damn it! Why did she keep letting him do that?

She flung herself after him, kicking down his door.

---

Something about that entire encounter made him tense. Buffy had looked upset, then happy, then upset, and now she was angry. Holy shit, he thought, as he saw his girlfriend literally kick open the door to Spike’s crypt. He felt giddy. She was finally going to kill him!

As he expected, the sounds of a very loud fight began to echo back and forth across the cemetery, Buffy shouting obscenities, (Buffy knew obscenities?) and Spike shouting them right back (Spike knew... actually, that was nothing new.)

He’d nearly been ready to run over to Spike and bury a stake in the vampire’s back when he’d seen him press against Buffy, fondling her. The odd thing about it was that Buffy hadn’t done anything to stop him (well, she hadn’t right then. She was more than making up for it now, he supposed). When he’d been following her, he’d gotten the hint that Buffy was coming to see Spike, and he’d seen that odd little exchange when Buffy had taken Spike’s cigarette. When Buffy had straddled the vamp and held the stake to his chest, Riley had been praying with all his heart that she would finally kill the stupid piece of scum, but then she’d taken it away and had just sat there. On top of him.

Riley shuddered at the image.

He’d realized that they were talking by the hand motions and the jerking-of-heads they kept making, but he couldn’t hear one word of the conversation. Apparently, though, Spike had said something that Buffy didn’t like because she jumped up and away from him. And after another short exchange, Spike had thrown her against his crypt, acting very depraved.

He snapped out of his little reverie when he heard Spike let out a startled yell. Dammit! He was missing all the fun!

---

This wasn’t usually the way he got his rocks off, but he was gonna take what he could get. Buffy was on top of him, hitting him in the face, chest, and anywhere else she found would cause him pain, except...

He’d noticed she’d steered plenty clear of one – big – happy spot.

He cupped her ass and flipped her over, shoving her against the dusty floor, aiming a punch at the side of her head. Buffy jerked at the blow and sat up between his legs, pushing him onto his back. Looking down at him, she smiled.

Yeah... she could get used to this position.

She crawled up his body like a cat and sat bluntly on his chest, rising up with each useless breath he took. She was trying incredibly hard to keep herself under control, but ye gods, she was horny as hell now. What she wanted was to just rub herself all over him, make him moan and squirm a little (more) and forget about everything that had been plaguing her.

But she couldn’t do that. It was wrong.

Spike noticed her distraction and took the open opportunity to roll her over onto her back. Sliding up, he pressed himself against her and his hips gave their own involuntary thrust. He could smell her desire – even if she didn’t realize it – and it was driving him crazy.

Before he could dive down on her, Buffy kicked him off again and jumped up, grinning wickedly. Spike’s breath caught and he licked his lips. Christ, did she have any idea of just how sexy she was with that look on her face?

Buffy administered a full spin, kicking him right in the center of his chest, then leapt on him, hooking her legs around his waist. She gave him a sharp uppercut to the jaw, and Spike growled, acknowledging the slight pain before he jerked her against him and shoved her to a wall, kissing her fiercely. Buffy responded in kind, thrusting her warm wet tongue into his mouth. All too quickly, though, she jerked away, and it was back to business, hitting him and causing him much pain.

Spike dropped her to the ground and backhanded her roughly, as ecstatic as he could be that he was able to fight the Slayer again, and not just take her punishing hits. Dropping to the ground, he stuck a leg out and spun, making an attempt to bring her down, but his leg met with empty air as Buffy had jumped up when she saw his intent. Pouncing on him, she kneed him in the ribs, then – in a rather bold move for her – reached down to grasp him outside his pants, squeezing almost painfully. Spike let out a startled cry and arched up, thrusting once into her hand. Buffy leapt on him, shoving her lips to his in a brutal kiss, biting his lower lip and making him cry out for joy.

"Minx!" he gasped, eyes flashing delightedly.

He growled and rolled them over again, grasping at her shirt and trying to tear it off. He needed to see more of her, needed to feel more of her. But Buffy apparently didn’t want that. She jerked away from him and lashed out, smashing her fist into his nose. She obviously wanted to continue the fight.

Maybe that was just how she got off.

On one hand, he was getting frustrated. He wanted to shove her down, rip her clothes off and fuck her to death. But on the other, he was ecstatic. Human. Animal. Equal. In every way. Just like him. God, he wanted her.

Grabbing her by the front of her lacy peasant-style shirt, he lifted her up, then tossed her like a rag doll across the crypt. Buffy cried out from the impact of her back against the wall, but recovered quickly, and came back just as hard. Her hits were merciless, unrelenting, vicious, bloodthirsty, always accurate, always landing exactly where she wanted them. Spike was equally brutal, equally vicious. The first time he’d fought with Buffy, the first time he’d seen her moves, he’d been hooked. He couldn’t get enough.

But now it was something new. He wanted to fight her, always wanted to fight her. Hell, he’d always wanted to fuck her, too. Now... Now, he wanted to love her.

Wasn’t there some big cosmic rule somewhere up there stating that this was bad?

Oh, god, who cared?

He thrust his leg out and kicked her behind the knees, sending her to the ground. Buffy grabbed his own legs and shoved him back, making him fly right into the wall. Getting up, she ran for him, leaping on to him once again, her legs wrapped tightly around his waist. Spike cried out softly as he felt her thighs squeeze around his middle, so hard that his ribs were nearly cracking.

Stabilizing herself with one hand on his shoulder, and one leg around his waist, she came at him with a one-two hit that involved a punch to the jaw and a swift kick to the head. Spike, for all the dizziness he was feeling from the punches, still managed to right himself and grabbed her leg in mid-air, sweeping his large hand down from the calf to the thigh. Buffy stared at him, refusing to let any emotion whatsoever appear on her face, nearly biting her tongue in two when Spike’s hand drifted down between her legs.

His hand gently brushed over the hinge of her inner thigh, stroking slowly before allowing his fingers to settle right at her jean-clad clit. He pressed his thumb against it and Buffy’s hand suddenly shot out, grabbing the back of his head. Her lips came down on his, sucking, licking and kissing fervently. Her tongue slid along his lower lip teasingly before plunging into his mouth, and Spike groaned, hiking her up in his arms. Stumbling across the crypt, he made an attempt to find the big stone slab he napped on and, giving up, finally just drew her to the ground. Almost instantly, Buffy rolled on top of him, her kisses becoming fierce and nearly savage.

Spike growled, and Buffy’s anxious motions stilled. She pulled away and looked at him. Spike snarled softly. He wanted this girl. He wanted her more than anything, and god damn it, he was going to have her. He thirsted for her.

Now or never, mate, his demon growled. Spike grabbed the back of the Slayer’s head. Peering into her eyes, he slid into game face and opened his mouth. Buffy stared at him, licking her lips anxiously. She made no attempt to get away. Is that the claim, or is it her? he wondered silently. Either way...

He pulled her down and gently sank his teeth into her neck. Buffy let out a small whimper, clinging to him tightly. Spike rolled them over, landing on top, and slowly began to grind into her, his hands tracing a pattern across her body. Buffy moaned, her hands reaching up to stroke his hair. "Oh, god," she whimpered. Spike hardened even more, and let out a purr, which came out garbled through the blood in his mouth. Swallowing, he pulled away for a moment, licking her wounds, then put his lips against her ear, licking at her ear lobe.

"Mine," his voice rumbled contentedly, and Buffy felt a spark shoot through her body. All at once, she realized what had happened back at the doctor’s office. She understood it all. And she grinned.

She grabbed his head and pulled it back down to her bite marks, a silent invitation to drink more.

Oh, she knew what he was hoping for. She fully realized that he’d claimed her.

But he’d teased her mercilessly. And she wasn’t exactly content to sit back and let him gloat around to everyone that he owned her. Because he didn’t.

Her smile grew as Spike hungrily drank from her. She was so gonna make him wait.

---

Riley watched in horror at the scene before him. A random thought occurred in his head. If he’s such a great hunter, then why hasn’t he sensed me, yet?

The answer? Because his Buffy was busy blowing Spike's mind away.

He thought he’d faint the second he saw Buffy smile at the vampire and bring his face back to her neck.

And he’d heard the whispered claim.

Oh, shit, not good, not good, this was not fucking good.

He turned on his heel and raced toward the Magic Box. He knew, better than anyone else, how much the Scoobies (except for Buffy’s sister) hated Spike. Maybe once they heard about this, they’d accept him again and finally put the damn vampire out of their misery.

Contrary to what everyone (apparently) thought, he knew quite a bit about vampires. Through Giles’ study sessions, and Maggie Walsh’s intense analyzations, he’d heard quite a bit about vampire rituals. The vamping processes, the claims, thralls, et cetera. And he was judging that Giles knew a helluva lot more about it than he did.

He had to get to the shop, fast. Buffy’s life was in danger!

---

Spike purred softly, nuzzling into his former enemy.

No, he hadn’t fucked her. In that short amount of time? Pfft, yeah right. Spike was proud to say that he had about five times the stamina of a regular vampire. He used to have Drusilla to please, after all.

No, at the moment, he was curled against Buffy's warm body, his arms around her waist, a hand gently stroking her abdomen, his face butting gently into her neck like a cat begging to be pet. Buffy in turn was nothing short of bewildered but she looked contemplative. What the fuck was he doing? Spike looked up and observed her.

"You know I wouldn’t hurt you, right?" he asked, his voice a soft deep rumble, echoing in the crypt. Buffy stared at him, thinking, her head tilted to the side.

"I know," she replied wearily.

This was too fucking weird. She was curled up on the floor, her former enemy in her arms... the one who’d been looking for her blood since the moment he’d met her. Well, he had her blood now. But she wasn’t dead. And now he was lying here, telling her that he would never hurt her. Buffy mentally groaned.

Oh, no, my life isn't strange. Nothing strange about it at all...

She’d pleaded with him to stop drinking the second she’d felt herself becoming weak. He’d complied, albeit a little reluctantly. What exactly was it about her blood that made everyone want to drink her? Anyway, that was what had surprised her. Spike had stopped, and she hadn’t had to bash him over the head with a really big heavy object to get him off of her. He’d had complete control of himself. Not like Angel.

She looked over at him. She had to make sure.

"Have you killed anyone?"

Spike lifted his eyebrows. He was genuinely surprised. Hadn’t he told her that night back in her room that she’d made him... ahem, impotent, once again? He hadn’t made an attempt to kill after that. He’d still been attacking demons and vampires and such. Once a traitor, always a traitor, he thought with a sigh.

"No, pet. I told you I couldn’t. I haven’t even tried since that little rank bitch popped up, looking like you an’ all." He tilted his head and looked at her. "It is all your fault, y’know. I’m the saddest excuse for a vampire ever there was."

Buffy snorted. "Yeah, I’m so sure it’s my fault that you can’t kill." She paused. "Oh... so... you want to kill?"

He sighed. "I’m a vampire. ’S in my nature. Y’know, havin’ to satisfy the demon, all that rot." Buffy looked queasy. "Oh come on, then! You’re not gonna let that spoil it all, are you? At least I don’t wanna kill you!"

Buffy scowled and jerked away from him. "Oh, yeah, so that makes it all okay? You don’t want to kill me, but you still want to kill other humans? Yeah, Spike, that makes it all better! Go on, wreak havoc, kill people, just as long as you let the Slayer live. She has to allow that!"

Spike stood up quickly, scowling. "Oh, sod off, Slayer. You act as if this is new, like you never realized this before! If you paid some attention, you’d realize that me, evil vampire," he pointed at himself, "does not wanna kill you, goody-goody vampire Slayer," he pointed at her, "an’ that in itself is a huge bloody step up from where we were last year!"

Buffy folded her arms, silently fuming at him. "Am I supposed to be impressed, then? Ooh, Spike doesn’t wanna kill me. I think I’ll give him a cookie!" She shook her head, starting to pace. "You know, you are one amazing vampire. You have such gall sometimes, and I can’t believe that I’m still putting up with you, when I really should have killed you the second you came back. Again."

Spike growled. "Well, it was soddin’ Harmony! What with her destroying my brain cells with her talkin’... All her ‘Spikey, I need to eat, take me out to eat, treat my like a soddin’ material-y mother fuckin’ princess,’ YOU never would’ve even fuckin’ known I was back, an’ I coulda killed you an’ be done with it!"

She managed the most disgusted Look to cover up the sting she’d felt. "I almost fell for that ridiculous act! I can’t believe I was so stupid! You are so easily fucking readable, and I’m amazed that I actually let you get away with what you’ve been doing to me lately! I know you claimed me, but don’t fucking think it means anything. I’m NOT yours. I never was. I never will be. This... thing you put on me, it’s gonna wear off, and the second it does, you can kiss your stupid ass good-bye!"

She watched as Spike's eyes clouded over with hurt before unbridled rage replaced it. He stomped over to her and grasped the back of her head, twining his fingers through her soft blonde locks and shoving her head back.

"I wouldn’t be talking to me like that if I were you, pet. After all, like you said, I’ve claimed you. An’ whether you think so or not, you are mine. I could play with you like a cat with a mouse for hours, or I could just kill you straight off. Your life is pretty much in my hands, an’ bein’ your endearin’, Almighty-Bitch self ain’t gonna help your odds any."

Maybe it was the cold deadly glare in his stony blue eyes that made her want to back down. But to be truthful, Buffy was about as bull-headed as Spike himself was, so having a glaring match with Spike for dominance wasn’t going to help things much. She leaned forward, making as if to kiss him, and when his face got close enough, she head-butted him, sending his head jerking back as a roar ripped out of his throat. Letting go of her, he jerked his arm back and hauled off, sending a sharp, punishing blow across her face. Leaping up, he kicked her in the head with one heavy, boot-clad foot, knocking her to the ground.

Buffy let out a sharp cry when she hit the floor, but had enough sense in her still to roll out of the way when Spike reached for her again. No, wait... no... Damn that stupid vampiric speed. Spike caught her, picked her up around the waist and threw her against the wall. Buffy stumbled and let out a soft, low moan of pain. A patch of skin at her forehead had broken open, and now she was bleeding. The dark crimson trickled down her forehead and started to blur her vision as it seeped over her eyelids. She wiped it away impatiently and looked up, just in time to catch the panic-stricken stare on Spike's face. She tilted her head a little in confusion.

Just a second ago he’d been ready to kill her. And now he was wigged that he’d made her bleed, by throwing her into a wall.

God. Hot and cold much, Spike?

Well, anyway, the look was gone now, and Buffy was struggling to get up. She looked down at her blood-smeared hand, then up at the one who’d caused it.

Now she was pissed.

Spike let out a strangled grunt as Buffy threw herself at him, beating him anywhere and everywhere, leaving no part of his body unharmed by her hands. Okay, so throwing her into the wall had been a little much, but she had pissed him off! It had been a natural fighting reaction; that was all. Buffy’s fists were coming in rapid succession now, one after the other, aiming at different sections of his face. He could feel his left eye swelling, and blood was dripping down from the lip that she’d managed to split four times in four different parts.

Yeah, he could safely say that he’d goofed.

No, wait. Why the hell was he letting her hit him? He could damn well defend himself at least. Didn’t fucking matter if this prissy little bitch was pissed at what he’d done. She only had one little injury by him, but now he had several by her hands. He was the Big Bad, god damn it, and he was not about to let a prudish stuck-up bitch like Buffy forget that. Throwing her off of him, he grabbed her by her hair and hauled her over to the sarcophagus, a deep, resonating warning growl emanating from his chest and past his lips. He watched as she attempted to stand her own, but he caught the flinch that was nothing but two-twentieths of a second and imperceptible to the human eye.

Good. She knew who was boss.

His fingers tangled in her long blonde curls, his hand still clutching the back of her head, he snarled, "I told you to watch what you did around me. You never did take orders well, did you, luv?" Buffy growled and struggled against him, trying to get him to loosen the death grip on her hair – it was starting to hurt! Spike chuckled, entirely amused by her attempt at resistance. Shaking his head, he punched her again before jerking her head up to meet his.

Perhaps he was a little too pleased by that pained yelp she let out.

"I told you, pet. Your life is essentially in my hands. An’ if I were you, I’d get my act together, an’ treat me with some respect. But since you don’t seem to wanna do that, methinks ‘m gonna have to punish you."

Buffy looked up into Spike’s blue eyes, which had changed from a teasing, sparkling cerulean to an angry, deep, churning navy. And maybe, for the first time since she met the peroxide blonde, Buffy was scared of him.

Way to go, Buff. Care to piss off any more master vampires while you’re at it? Let’s call Angel up, shall we? Or how about Drac? We’ll have a fucking party!

Desperation tended to make her have Stupid Thoughts. Calling up Angel was definitely not the way to go, and summoning Dracula up was most certainly a big no-no.

Was this another one of her ‘open mouth, insert foot’ moments?

She snuck another peek at Spike’s extremely brassed-off baby blues.

That was a definite yes.

Oops.







TBC.

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