Disclaimer: Characters and things all belong to Joss Whedon & Mutant Enemy, and most certainly not to me.
Rated: quite a strong R (sex & violence)
Summary: Spike comes back from Africa, and what happens after this, blah blah blah. Yes I know there are countless post-S6 fics, but mine's different, honest!
Note: This story is not particularly redemptionista-friendly, it has to be said. In fact, if you like Good, Buffy-loving, Puppy-hugging, flowers and sweetness Good Boyfriend Spike... I don't recommend you to read any more than the first paragraph. You have been warned!
THE CURE FOR REDEMPTION
Spike came back to Sunnydale a very different vampire. He came back as William - with a soul. His grief and guilt had for a short time threatened to crush him, but he knew in himself that it was the demon that had killed - and that had kept him going. William knew that Spike was dead. Although it was true that he could lose his soul by acheiving perfect happiness (an unavoidable supernatural law) he had sincere doubt that would ever happen to him - his remorse and mourning lurked behind and seeped into every thought in his head. But despite his misery, he knew he could do good now. He could help humanity against the demons - at the Slayer's side, if she'd let him. He'd managed to overcome some of his demonic urges even before regaining his soul (with the help of the chip, of course) so the Scoobies would likely accept him back again. He only hoped Buffy could forgive him for what he'd... tried to do. He approached the house.
"Buffy?" William tapped cool fingers against the wood of the door, and it creaked slightly as it swung open. Not right. She wouldn't have left her house unlocked, she knew much better than that. She wouldn't have left Dawn exposed to danger. Something was wrong. Guilt resurfaced - he should have been there for them, he should never have left, he... He squashed the feelings. No time for this. He had to go in, see if they were alright.
William treaded carefully, utterly silently, listening for the smallest noise to betray someone or something in the house. Best case scenario - Buffy and Dawn were out and had left in a hurry, accidentally leaving the door unlocked. Worst case - he'd got there too late. His throat tightened at that thought. If that was the case, he'd find a way to destroy and cause suffering to those who were responsible.
A soft laugh echoed from another room. The house wasn't haunted, but it sounded ghostly to William. It also sounded very familiar, although he couldn't place where he'd heard it before. He was distracted from this thought, and alerted to action by the next sound he heard; the unmistakable sound of a scream, muffled by a gag. Dawn.
Crossing the short distance to the bathroom door in seemingly fewer steps than ever before, William kicked the unlocked door open. The thought occupying his mind had been "save Dawn", but it was immediately forgotten when he saw the worse danger. Buffy. Her legs were bruised and broken in several places, and her ankles were bound by the laces pulled out of her trainers. Her hands were handcuffed behind her back, and her hair was clenched tightly in the cold beautiful fingers of his Sire.
"Drusilla." he spoke in a harsh whisper.
"William, my love." Drusilla's features morphed into her true, demonic face. "Would you care to join me? I'm hungry, but you're starving. You've not killed lately at all. Thats bad for you."
"Dru, let her go." William stared, eyes wild with horror at Drusilla's mouth drawing dangerously close to the helpless Slayer's jugular. He wouldn't have resisted, he knew that. Why would she?
"Spike... save Dawn..." Buffy forced herself to speak, despite her throat being constricted by fear - the fangs just a mere inch from taking her life.
"I'm not leaving you here to be killed, Buffy." William said resolutely. He was on the side of the good this time. He might have given up on his hopes that Buffy would ever love him, but he wasn't going to let her die. "I'm not kidding, Dru, put her down. For me."
"Bad, bad, Spike." Drusilla pouted. "You speak as if you still care about me. But you chose her over me." William looked down, almost ashamed. He had been trying to use her love - perhaps her single remaining element of good - against her. Then he cursed himself yet again for faltering. He was letting his Sire have power over him, like he would have before. Letting her influence him. Well, not this time. He was over her, well and truly, and she was *evil* on top of that.
"Let her go." his voice shook with thinly veiled anger... and more than a little fear.
"I'll bite her." Drusilla said, in a singsong voice. "Bite and drink and fill my tummy full. And you wont have a drop, because you're like daddy now. Your heart's all poorly."
"Dru, for Christ's sake, you don't want her!" William exclaimed. "It's me you want. Hurt me instead. That's what you like, isn't it, love?"
"I like for you to hurt me too, sometimes." Drusilla said, as if considering the offer. "To cut me... slash me... lash me. And kiss it better."
"I will. I promise." William said sincerely. He would. Anything to ensure the humans would make it out of here alive. Drusilla giggled suddenly.
"Step into the bath." she told him. William noted he hadn't slackened her grip on the Slayer. Buffy struggled, but ineffectually. Drusilla had been thorough in rendering her helpless, after being caught out last time. William stepped into the bath. And noticed the handcuffs. They were attached to the taps, two pairs, which meant both of his hands would be well and truly stuck.
"Dru, I'm not-" he swiftly averted his eyes, so he wouldn't be looking her in the eye. That would be a grave mistake. "Let them go, first."
"I shall not. You'll follow them. You'll leave me again, my William."
"I wont." William again felt the wretched guilt of hurting her feelings. Even though she was an evil demon, she loved him. "Ok, look?" he cuffed himself with ease to the taps. "I'm chained." He remembered the similar situation when he'd first got the chip. When Buffy'd been there, tormenting him with her blood. Red drop. Her blood. Buffy's shocked, strangled cry finally escaped her lips, and caused Spike to realise that Drusilla had *not* kept her word. So much for bargaining with an insane vampire. What had he been thinking?
"Dru!" his voice was full of pain. "Stop! Please!" Drusilla lifted her head, lips stained red. The drops of blood now formed a steady, pulsing stream. Buffy was dying. Suddenly William found himself roughly twisted around to lie on his back, and felt a weight on his feet, as Drusilla stepped into the bath along with him. She sat gently down on his stomach, and carefully undid each and every button on his shirt.
"You're all poorly in your heart." she repeated. "But I can make it better, see? Mummy will make it all right again." Her fingernails, sharp, cut shallow rivulets of blood in her Childe's chest. She dipped her head to lick at the drops. William clenched his jaw, not wanting to show any response to this. She had him exactly where she wanted him. This was his torture. His penance. And his heaven. "You love me, don't you, Spike?"
"I..." Drusilla heard him pause, and slapped him hard across the face. "I do." He did. God, he didn't want to, but he did. He always did. He looked, eyes full of pain, into his Sire's eyes. She caught him in that single second, and drew him into her mind. Sunnydale burning... Buffy lying drained, upon her bed... vampires celebrating, killing, fighting, making love to one another as the humans fled or died in the frey. He snapped back to reality, suddenly remembering where he was and what was going on. He vamped out as the force of his anger overwhelmed him, and pulled hard upon the cuffs. The taps creaked, but held firm. They wouldn't break any time soon. Drusilla looked with admiration upon this display of violence. William became gradually conscious that there was a strong scent of warm, fresh blood in the room - not just his own, cool vampiric, old blood. He looked down. The bath was filled about an inch in depth of it. It was warm, and soaked through his clothes, staining the dark grey of his faded black jeans a deep brown. "Buffy..." he let the word escape his lips in a mournful whisper.
"Buffy." Drusilla echoed, dreamily, trailing her fingertips through the blood. "Slayer." She brought her fingers to William's lips. "Blood." The sweet tang of the drops slipped into his mouth, and tempted his tongue. More - *more* - his whole being ached for the taste, for the life.
"Don't..." he weakly protested, feeling his body and his demonic nature beneath the soul, overtake all moral convictions. He needed this. Drusilla nodded approvingly, seeming to read his mind, and unfastened more of his clothing, pulling off boots, tugging blood-drenched denim off of his skin. The level of blood was even higher now, but not enough to even begin to cover his exposed flesh. He felt the cold of the air upon his similarly cold skin. The smooth pressure of Drusilla's body as she moved over him, spreading blood over his skin, her own lacey grey dress getting soaked a dark red. And suddenly... infinite pleasure, the wonderful warmth of her taking him inside, head falling back, cracking upon the back of the bath, but not feeling the pain. Tasting the Slayer's blood in her mouth as they made love, passionately, violently, feeling the cold enamel of the bath beneath him... pulling him further inside of her, helping him reach... happiness.
Perfect happiness.
The horrified, teary-eyed girl tied to the sink was taken afterwards, as a dessert.
Rated: quite a strong R (sex & violence)
Summary: Spike comes back from Africa, and what happens after this, blah blah blah. Yes I know there are countless post-S6 fics, but mine's different, honest!
Note: This story is not particularly redemptionista-friendly, it has to be said. In fact, if you like Good, Buffy-loving, Puppy-hugging, flowers and sweetness Good Boyfriend Spike... I don't recommend you to read any more than the first paragraph. You have been warned!
THE CURE FOR REDEMPTION
Spike came back to Sunnydale a very different vampire. He came back as William - with a soul. His grief and guilt had for a short time threatened to crush him, but he knew in himself that it was the demon that had killed - and that had kept him going. William knew that Spike was dead. Although it was true that he could lose his soul by acheiving perfect happiness (an unavoidable supernatural law) he had sincere doubt that would ever happen to him - his remorse and mourning lurked behind and seeped into every thought in his head. But despite his misery, he knew he could do good now. He could help humanity against the demons - at the Slayer's side, if she'd let him. He'd managed to overcome some of his demonic urges even before regaining his soul (with the help of the chip, of course) so the Scoobies would likely accept him back again. He only hoped Buffy could forgive him for what he'd... tried to do. He approached the house.
"Buffy?" William tapped cool fingers against the wood of the door, and it creaked slightly as it swung open. Not right. She wouldn't have left her house unlocked, she knew much better than that. She wouldn't have left Dawn exposed to danger. Something was wrong. Guilt resurfaced - he should have been there for them, he should never have left, he... He squashed the feelings. No time for this. He had to go in, see if they were alright.
William treaded carefully, utterly silently, listening for the smallest noise to betray someone or something in the house. Best case scenario - Buffy and Dawn were out and had left in a hurry, accidentally leaving the door unlocked. Worst case - he'd got there too late. His throat tightened at that thought. If that was the case, he'd find a way to destroy and cause suffering to those who were responsible.
A soft laugh echoed from another room. The house wasn't haunted, but it sounded ghostly to William. It also sounded very familiar, although he couldn't place where he'd heard it before. He was distracted from this thought, and alerted to action by the next sound he heard; the unmistakable sound of a scream, muffled by a gag. Dawn.
Crossing the short distance to the bathroom door in seemingly fewer steps than ever before, William kicked the unlocked door open. The thought occupying his mind had been "save Dawn", but it was immediately forgotten when he saw the worse danger. Buffy. Her legs were bruised and broken in several places, and her ankles were bound by the laces pulled out of her trainers. Her hands were handcuffed behind her back, and her hair was clenched tightly in the cold beautiful fingers of his Sire.
"Drusilla." he spoke in a harsh whisper.
"William, my love." Drusilla's features morphed into her true, demonic face. "Would you care to join me? I'm hungry, but you're starving. You've not killed lately at all. Thats bad for you."
"Dru, let her go." William stared, eyes wild with horror at Drusilla's mouth drawing dangerously close to the helpless Slayer's jugular. He wouldn't have resisted, he knew that. Why would she?
"Spike... save Dawn..." Buffy forced herself to speak, despite her throat being constricted by fear - the fangs just a mere inch from taking her life.
"I'm not leaving you here to be killed, Buffy." William said resolutely. He was on the side of the good this time. He might have given up on his hopes that Buffy would ever love him, but he wasn't going to let her die. "I'm not kidding, Dru, put her down. For me."
"Bad, bad, Spike." Drusilla pouted. "You speak as if you still care about me. But you chose her over me." William looked down, almost ashamed. He had been trying to use her love - perhaps her single remaining element of good - against her. Then he cursed himself yet again for faltering. He was letting his Sire have power over him, like he would have before. Letting her influence him. Well, not this time. He was over her, well and truly, and she was *evil* on top of that.
"Let her go." his voice shook with thinly veiled anger... and more than a little fear.
"I'll bite her." Drusilla said, in a singsong voice. "Bite and drink and fill my tummy full. And you wont have a drop, because you're like daddy now. Your heart's all poorly."
"Dru, for Christ's sake, you don't want her!" William exclaimed. "It's me you want. Hurt me instead. That's what you like, isn't it, love?"
"I like for you to hurt me too, sometimes." Drusilla said, as if considering the offer. "To cut me... slash me... lash me. And kiss it better."
"I will. I promise." William said sincerely. He would. Anything to ensure the humans would make it out of here alive. Drusilla giggled suddenly.
"Step into the bath." she told him. William noted he hadn't slackened her grip on the Slayer. Buffy struggled, but ineffectually. Drusilla had been thorough in rendering her helpless, after being caught out last time. William stepped into the bath. And noticed the handcuffs. They were attached to the taps, two pairs, which meant both of his hands would be well and truly stuck.
"Dru, I'm not-" he swiftly averted his eyes, so he wouldn't be looking her in the eye. That would be a grave mistake. "Let them go, first."
"I shall not. You'll follow them. You'll leave me again, my William."
"I wont." William again felt the wretched guilt of hurting her feelings. Even though she was an evil demon, she loved him. "Ok, look?" he cuffed himself with ease to the taps. "I'm chained." He remembered the similar situation when he'd first got the chip. When Buffy'd been there, tormenting him with her blood. Red drop. Her blood. Buffy's shocked, strangled cry finally escaped her lips, and caused Spike to realise that Drusilla had *not* kept her word. So much for bargaining with an insane vampire. What had he been thinking?
"Dru!" his voice was full of pain. "Stop! Please!" Drusilla lifted her head, lips stained red. The drops of blood now formed a steady, pulsing stream. Buffy was dying. Suddenly William found himself roughly twisted around to lie on his back, and felt a weight on his feet, as Drusilla stepped into the bath along with him. She sat gently down on his stomach, and carefully undid each and every button on his shirt.
"You're all poorly in your heart." she repeated. "But I can make it better, see? Mummy will make it all right again." Her fingernails, sharp, cut shallow rivulets of blood in her Childe's chest. She dipped her head to lick at the drops. William clenched his jaw, not wanting to show any response to this. She had him exactly where she wanted him. This was his torture. His penance. And his heaven. "You love me, don't you, Spike?"
"I..." Drusilla heard him pause, and slapped him hard across the face. "I do." He did. God, he didn't want to, but he did. He always did. He looked, eyes full of pain, into his Sire's eyes. She caught him in that single second, and drew him into her mind. Sunnydale burning... Buffy lying drained, upon her bed... vampires celebrating, killing, fighting, making love to one another as the humans fled or died in the frey. He snapped back to reality, suddenly remembering where he was and what was going on. He vamped out as the force of his anger overwhelmed him, and pulled hard upon the cuffs. The taps creaked, but held firm. They wouldn't break any time soon. Drusilla looked with admiration upon this display of violence. William became gradually conscious that there was a strong scent of warm, fresh blood in the room - not just his own, cool vampiric, old blood. He looked down. The bath was filled about an inch in depth of it. It was warm, and soaked through his clothes, staining the dark grey of his faded black jeans a deep brown. "Buffy..." he let the word escape his lips in a mournful whisper.
"Buffy." Drusilla echoed, dreamily, trailing her fingertips through the blood. "Slayer." She brought her fingers to William's lips. "Blood." The sweet tang of the drops slipped into his mouth, and tempted his tongue. More - *more* - his whole being ached for the taste, for the life.
"Don't..." he weakly protested, feeling his body and his demonic nature beneath the soul, overtake all moral convictions. He needed this. Drusilla nodded approvingly, seeming to read his mind, and unfastened more of his clothing, pulling off boots, tugging blood-drenched denim off of his skin. The level of blood was even higher now, but not enough to even begin to cover his exposed flesh. He felt the cold of the air upon his similarly cold skin. The smooth pressure of Drusilla's body as she moved over him, spreading blood over his skin, her own lacey grey dress getting soaked a dark red. And suddenly... infinite pleasure, the wonderful warmth of her taking him inside, head falling back, cracking upon the back of the bath, but not feeling the pain. Tasting the Slayer's blood in her mouth as they made love, passionately, violently, feeling the cold enamel of the bath beneath him... pulling him further inside of her, helping him reach... happiness.
Perfect happiness.
The horrified, teary-eyed girl tied to the sink was taken afterwards, as a dessert.