He felt Buffy tense up her leg to
kick him and he moved his body out of the way, still pinning her
wrists to the ground.
He emitted a low, guttural growl, nothing
like his usually joking, sexy growl he did to excite her. It was
purely animalistic and she noticed. He saw her eyes widen and heard
her heartbeat quicken. He used her surprise to his advantage, and he
entered her.
Buffy let out a gasp of surprise and pain. He
thrust himself inside of her repeatedly as hard as his super-human
reflexes would allow, not caring if he hurt her. Buffy lay there,
staring blankly off into space, usually spike was careful with her,
well at least as careful as you could make it while still being
rough. This was nothing like the other times he was inside of her,
his face was as expressionless as her, his eyes occasionally catching
a sparkle when she gasped out of pain, which he probably took as
pleasure. When he came, blood came out, but instead of pulling out
and directing the mess elsewhere, he stayed inside of her until it
was all out. He got off of her and straightened himself up. He looked
into the mirror, not a hair out of place. Perfect.
Buffy still hadn't moved to where he left her. He sighed and picked her up, she immediately tensed.
"Don't worry luv," he crooned
to her as if she were a child, "I'd never hurt you." He said
and planted a small kiss on her forehead. He stood her on the ground
and she allowed him to remove what was left of her robe then he
picked her up and gently sat her in the now cold bathwater. Almost
immediately after putting her in the tub, the water turned a dark
pink color.
"Early one morning," He sang as he grabbed a
loofah and began scrubbing her down with it. Buffy started shivering
then she watched as spike undressed himself and climbed into the
bathtub behind her.
"I'll keep you warm pet." He
promised her as he wrapped his arms around her.
Spike gently began
washing buffy's hair, "look up," He prompted so he could rinse
the vanilla scented bubbles off of her head. When he was done washing
buffy, he picked her up with one hand and drained the tub with the
other. Carefully as if she were made of porcelain, he wrapped her up
in an oversized towel and carried her to her room, once inside he
laid them both down on the bed.
Buffy had still not willingly
moved or spoken.
She had waited until she had heard his contented snores before she grabbed the stake out from under her pillow and staked him, without thought, without hesitation, without emotion, it was purely mechanical.
The sun had come up to find Buffy Summers huddled up small and naked on the floor of her bedroom, bleeding from the opening between her legs, some of the blood was hers, some wasn't.