Disclaimer: I don't own or profit from BtVS
Spoilers: Helpless
Thank you to everyone who has shown their support with their wonderful reviews. A special thanks to Aknien who let me know that Kralik means rabbit in Czech. How fun!
Also a huge thanks to ObscureBookWyrm who so patiently puts up with me and my little quirks.
More Than Just a Girl
Chapter Three
Buffy ran hell-bent, the large, terrifying vampire close on her heels. She could feel the weakness of the rotted boards beneath her feet and she was struck with the hope that they would buckle under the vampire's heavier weight as she raced down the hall. The upstairs was dark, cluttered with broken crates, moldy boxes, and empty liquor bottles from squatters. She was disorientated, petrified, and desperately wanted to find her mommy. She tried to glance into the open rooms as she rushed by, but all she could see were clusters of impenetrable shadows. Kralik was close enough to paint his cold breath across her nape, and the closed door at the end of the hall was an ominous barrier. She delved her hand into her side pocket, her fingers closing around the first weapon she could find. She whirled around, her stance strong as she extended her arm, holding a large, intricately embellished crucifix.
Kralik slid to a stop in front of her, his wide smile revealing yellow, rotted teeth. Buffy could only wonder at how filthy and twisted his fangs would look when he finally vamped. She dug her free hand in her other pocket, searching for a stake, confident the holy relic would hold him at bay. She cried out when he wrapped his thick, sausage fingers around her thin wrist in a vise-like grip and yanked her forward. He pressed the cross to his skin, slathering the relic across his naked chest and down his belly towards his crotch, where his erect penis tented the loose fabric of his pants.
"Just a little lower," he urged. Smoke trailed up from his crackling skin where it blackened at the edges.
She dropped the cross before it reached his waistline, jerking her hand back as if she were the one burned instead of him. Bile choked her, and she had to drag panicked breaths through her mouth to stop herself from sicking up all over the floor.
"You're one sick puppy," she panted, slowly backing away from him.
His large, muscular shoulders rolled as he shrugged. "I know," he replied without guile.
Suddenly he disappeared as he was slammed through a doorway into another room.
"Hello, cutie." Spike smirked. Her palms itched to slap the cocky grin off his face.
"Way to distract him. Not!"
He glared at her, his yellow eyes gleaming in the shadows. "Slayer or not, you're still a bitch."
"Jerk," she huffed. She took a deep breath in preparation to really lay into him, but from inside the room there was an angry roar, and her insides turned to jelly.
"Third story." Spike cocked his head towards the stairs. Buffy nodded and rushed past him.
Spike whirled towards his opponent just as a large body rammed into him, shoving him with bone-jarring force into the wall. His ribs cracked under the blow as a wide, muscular shoulder pinned him to the wall.
Buffy whimpered at the loud crash behind her, but she didn't hesitate. Her priority had to be her mother, not the evil jerk who was blackmailing her. She raced up the rickety stairs, smirking as Spike's snarky words trailed behind her.
"Well, aren't you a rascally little wabbit?" Spike taunted, thrusting his elbow downwards, grinding it hard into meat and bone. Kralik bellowed and wrapped his arms around Spike's narrow waist, launching the smaller vampire into the ceiling. The crown of Spike's head smacked against a thick beam, sending shocks down his spine, into his toes. He flew into the far wall, slumping bonelessly to the ground. Dazed, he dragged himself off the floor, blinking his glazed eyes rapidly as he squared off with his opponent.
"You're so scrawny, brother. I never understood why Mother chose you. She never really desired you. Not demon enough for her. Too soft. Too loving."
Spike's growl was low and deadly. Kralik's words echoed Drusilla's rant only a few weeks prior. He had never been wicked enough for her. No matter how many villages he decimated or nuns he fed her, he never could live up to the paragon of evil that was her daddy. Worse was the knowledge that while Drusilla might not want him, she needed him. It tied him to her in a way that was inescapable. Even if he wanted to leave her, he couldn't, because he loved her-would always love her. She needed someone to care for her, to watch out for her. If anything could be learned from Prague it was that Drusilla was too insane to see to her own wellbeing, and Spike was the only one willing to put aside his needs to care for Drusilla's. No one else, not her sire or her other childer, ever did so. How she could have treated him so poorly was bewildering to him. What had he done wrong? Why was she drawn to these monsters?
"C'mon then, brother. Show me how you're the better demon." Spike danced on his toes, flicking his fingers in a taunt.
Kralik's belly rippled when he laughed. "When I'm done here, and I've licked up all your dust, I'll take my new childe to visit Mother. Their screams will sing me to sleep as they hang in writhing beauty from the crosses I'll construct for them."
A tremor of real fear skittered down Spike's spine, but it wasn't Dru he imagined on Kralik's cross. Buffy's tear-stained face and blackened flesh flashed through his mind.
"Not goin' ta happen, mate."
Spike was the better fighter, but Kralik had size and madness on his side. Spike raised his fists in a defensive stance, ready to block any more heavy-handed blows to the head. He didn't expect the ornate cross to be thrust towards his crotch by the other vampire. Spike leapt back, colliding with the wall, giving Kralik just enough opportunity to slip the holy relic under the hem of Spike's tee and shove it down his pants.
"Bloody hell! You sick fuck!" Spike screamed. He scrambled to yank it out before it burned his most precious appendage right off his body. The crucifix tumbled to the floor as a two-by-four caught him below the ear. The world went black as he hit the ground.
Buffy found her mother in the last room in the east wing. She was bound to a ladder-back chair, a filthy rag thrust between her teeth. Buffy slammed the door shut behind her and jammed another chair under the doorknob, hoping the blockade would give her more time. She rushed to her mother's side, fussing with the knots. Her mother was squirming in her seat, making incomprehensible sounds behind her gag.
"Just chill for a sec, Mom. Let me get this and we'll get out of here."
If it weren't for the pervasive rot throughout the entire house, the vamp would have had her. A floorboard creaked, and Buffy whirled around in time to see a yellow-eyed fledge in bloody tweeds launch itself at her. It was soft, a paunch-bellied, middle-aged man before its turning, but it was heavy as it fell upon her. It snapped its long, dripping fangs and Buffy felt cold spittle fleck her cheeks.
It took all her strength to hold it off, and she didn't dare free a hand to reach for a stake. One wrong move and its fangs would be in her throat. Joyce squealed behind her gag and kicked the creature with her unfettered foot. Her blows were weak, but distracting. The vamp turned its head to growl menacingly and Buffy reached for the stake jabbing her in the hip. The creature spat like an angry cat as it turned to dust.
Buffy blinked, momentarily stunned. She had done it. No super strength, no catlike reflexes, just her. And, well, her mother. But that wasn't anything new. Images of Spike sprawled out on grimy industrial linoleum in the school's cafeteria while Joyce hefted a fire axe overhead flashed through her mind. Spike. I hope he's okay. Seriously? Where did that thought come from? She should be doing three cheers at the thought of him being dust. That, of course, would mean facing Kralik on her own. That thought shut her 'dust Spike' cheer squad right the hell up.
Buffy coughed and rose shakily to her feet. Down the hall, she heard the pounding of heavy footsteps. She frantically cast her gaze around the room, looking for something to free her mother. Her eyes landed on a half-full glass of water and inspiration struck.
Buffy had almost finished cutting her mother free with a pair of garden shears she'd found when the door shattered apart under the force of Kralik's full-bodied sprint into the room. Buffy fell back, her stake raised defensively. He paused, his muddy eyes lingering on her breasts and crotch. She had never felt so helpless in her life.
There was a lurch of fear when she realized Spike wasn't barreling in behind him. Was he dead, dust on the floorboards somewhere? Why did the thought make her heart clench?
Kralik's leering gaze turned to her mother. "It's going to be such a delight watching you eat your mother's face off. I have a thing about mothers. I know this about myself."
She swallowed. "Not gonna happen, insane-o guy."
Kralik cocked his head. "How interesting. I can see why my brother desires you. You are very similar."
Kralik almost snared her with a clumsy grab to her arm; she was so stunned by his words. Spike desires me? She thought his demand of sex for help was just another way to degrade her-a demeaning show of superiority over her. There was no desire. Only there was. She saw it in the wide-blown pupils of his eyes and his heavy panting when he kissed her in the car.
"But neither of you can stop this, little girl. The Council promised you to me. That's why they brought me to you."
Buffy's blood ran cold. She couldn't say who was more of a monster: Kralik or Quentin Travers. She pushed away the rising fury and freefall feeling of betrayal and focused on the threat in front of her. In the kitchen the insane vampire had reacted violently when Spike mentioned Dru. Maybe it would work again.
He lunged at her, but she dodged under his arm, dancing away on her toes. She may not have had the strength, but she still had her training. She lithely evaded his lumbering swings, making use of the small, cluttered room that hampered the larger creature. She ducked behind a pile of crates, kicking them towards his feet. He stumbled, but didn't fall as she hoped.
"Speaking of mothers. I spent some quality time with yours last year. She went on and on about her boys Spike and Angelus, but never once mentioned you. Are you sure you're Dru's? 'Cause I don't think she's yours."
She danced backwards and her heel landed on a discarded beer bottle. She flailed, her arms pin-wheeling as she fell backwards. Kralik leapt forward, and she was able to use her loss of balance to duck away from his swing, but not far enough. His knuckles grazed her nose, and pain exploded through her sinus and under her eyes. She tasted the metallic tang of blood in the back of her throat. Although reflexive tears blinded her, she was moving before she fully hit the floor, scurrying behind a cluster of moldy cardboard boxes.
"You know nothing of Mother," he thundered behind her. "We have a special relationship." He swiped, catching a few fine blonde tendrils of hair in his claws. She somersaulted away, ignoring the prickle of pain as her hair was yanked from her scalp.
"Yeah, special. So special she forgot all about you."
He roared, gripping his head in agony. She rushed him, but he swatted her away like she was nothing more than dandelion fluff. She hit the floor hard, rolling to a stop by the wall with a groan. She watched from the ground as he shook out his pills from a small bottle, placing them on his tongue. She used the wall as support as she dragged herself to her feet. She kept her movements unthreatening as he gulped down the full glass of water he found in the corner of the room. He shuddered a moment longer, before turning his yellowed eyes towards her.
"I'm going to brand crosses onto your-"
He shuddered again, belching smoke. He glanced down, clutching at his stomach until his claws dug bloody furrows in his gut.
"What did you-?"
Buffy smirked. "I'd be punning right now if I was at full Slayer strength."
Spike raced into the room, coming to a full stop at the sight of Kralik squirming on the ground, steam rising from his flesh. Buffy's gaze roamed over Spike, taking in the smear of blood trailing from his scalp to underneath the collar of his duster. He was alive. She didn't care to examine the relief that flooded through her.
Kralik's clawed hand swiped at the edges of Spike's duster, but the vampire quickly sidestepped. "Brother. Help me."
Spike slid a cigarette between his lips and lit it with flourish. "Sorry, mate. I don't help the helpless." His clear blue eyes sought out Buffy. "Only those who can help themselves."
Kralik gave one last agonized scream, then burst into ash. Spike grinned maliciously, his wicked delight stamped on his sharp, angelical features as he cocked his head to trail his gaze slowly down her body. She wasn't sure if he was looking for injuries or perving on her. Probably both, she thought with disgust.
He licked his lower lip, his eyes sharpening with predatory intensity, and with horror she realized there was a slow dribble of blood from her nose. She quickly wiped it away with the back of her hand, before he got any ideas about licking her clean. 'Cause, ewww.
His gaze flickered to the pile of dust behind her, then to Kralik. His smirk made her proud in a way that only Giles' compliments usually did.
She found the garden shears and quickly released her mother, who engulfed her in love and the steady babble of questions. Buffy made all the right noises while leading Joyce out of the house. Spike had disappeared, but she knew he wouldn't go far. He undoubtedly wanted to get paid.
He was waiting for them by his car, and she wordlessly slipped into the backseat with her mother, who was shivering with shock. She held the cold woman tightly as Spike drove them home. He parked in the driveway, but made no move to get out of the car.
"Wait here," she told him preemptively. She was grimy, exhausted, and mentally drained, but she knew none of that mattered to the soulless vampire.
An hour later she walked out of the house, wearing her most conservative pair of slacks and a wool turtleneck. Spike didn't glance towards her as he leaned against the driver side door, smoking a cigarette. She ignored him as she silently slid into the passenger seat, where she sat frozen in prim chastity, her knees bolted together, her ankles neatly crossed. He finished his cigarette, every second grating on her nerves, and then flicked it away. She expected him to get behind the wheel, but instead he stalked around the car and wrenched her door open.
Fear bubbled along her nerves when he reached inside, his face an emotionless mask. She tried to struggle as he yanked her from the car, but he was far too strong. She was reminded that despite her conquests this night, she was still just a girl, and he could kill her with a flick of his wrist. She started babbling excuses for her tardiness before she was fully erect.
"Look, my mom was really upset, okay? I had to calm her down and get her some Valium. She wouldn't let me leave her side until she was asleep and then I really needed to take a shower. I thought you'd at least appreciate that. Even if you're a vampire, clean is still clean. Unless you like it dirty."
He smirked, rolling his tongue behind his teeth as he pushed her up against the car.
She crossed her arms beneath her breasts defensively. "You know what I mean, pig."
He didn't answer, just lowered his gaze to the top of her plumped breasts. She dropped her arms quickly and planted her hands on her hips. The new arrangement didn't cool his ardor. If anything it seemed to increase it.
His silence unnerved her. "What are you waiting for? I thought you wanted to do this?" she snapped.
He braced his hands on the low roof of the car, trapping her between his arms. The intensity in his eyes reminded her of how he looked after their kiss. If want were a physical thing, then it would burn to the touch. All the air around her seemed to disappear, leaving her gasping. Eternity expanded in a bubble around them, ending at their fingertips. The world continued on, but they stayed frozen in each other's dominions.
"Don't you want me?" she asked breathlessly. A tendril of honey gold hair shifted across her cheek, and he lifted his hand to wind it around his fingertips.
"I want you more than I've wanted anything in a long time." She gulped audibly at his words, and his fingers slid away from her hair. "But I'm not going to take you now."
Buffy's brows snapped together and the insecurity that had haunted her since Giles stripped her of her powers howled through her soul.
"It's because I'm not the Slayer right now, isn't it? I'm just a helpless little girl. I'm not worth the effort. I'm not special enough."
She tried to slip under his arm to escape to the house, but he slid his fingers through her hair and fisted his hand near her scalp to hold her still. He angled her head up to his, ignoring the stiff set of her jaw.
"You're more than just a girl, Buffy Summers. You're amazing. Tonight you managed to single-handedly take out a larger, stronger, and criminally insane opponent while barely breaking a sweat. You didn't need your slayer strength to do so. All you needed was yourself. The slayer is only an enhancement to what's already there. You're a bloody brilliant fighter, strategist, leader, and downright fantastic woman. I was wrong to call you helpless. You're anything but."
Buffy leaned against the car, a little weak-kneed. Spike was staring at her like she was something between a goddess he wanted to worship at the feet of and a tray of sweets he wanted to devour. Her insecurity dissolved under the flood of his praise. He was absolutely right. She had defeated her enemy that night, and she hadn't needed supernatural aid to do so. If she was just a girl, then she was a helluva one, because not only had she survived, she'd won the fight and saved her mother. You know what? She was friggin' awesome! She was more than a match for either Spike or Angel.
"Then why don't you…?" She glanced away. She had no idea why she was pursuing this. She should just take the out and run for the hills. It wasn't like she actually wanted to have sex with Spike. Did she? She was Angel's girl, wholly and completely. Her body belonged to him, even if he couldn't touch it. Then why was she practically throwing herself at Spike? She had her answer when he skimmed his fingertips along her jaw, angling her face towards his, and shivers of desire cascaded through her body, hardening her nipples beneath her blouse, making her clit quiver. When he touched her, her entire body ignited with desire. It was bad and wrong, and oh so wicked, but she wanted this man like the desert wanted rain.
"Didn't keep up my end of the bargain, did I?" he told her huskily.
"What do you mean?"
"You did all the work. Dusted two vamps without a lick of my help."
Buffy licked her lips, aroused by the way his eyes greedily followed her tongue. "But you did help. You distracted Kralik so I could get by him, and I would have been a goner if you hadn't come along in the hallway."
He shrugged, and the ripple of muscle beneath his tee hypnotized her. "Maybe, but I think you could have gotten away on your own. The point is, I didn't earn a reward, did I?"
She parted her lips to reply. To say what, she wasn't sure, but his thumb skimmed along her lower lip, distracting her. He pushed the pad of his thumb inside her mouth, dragging it along the edge of her teeth before slipping it back out.
"Would love nothing more than to spend the night showing you how to use this pretty little mouth of yours, but I haven't earned the right. Haven't earned you."
Her brows snapped together. "I'm not a thing. I'm not a medal or a golden cup. You can't earn me. I'm the one who decides." She pushed him away from her, a little surprised when he let her go.
"And what does it take to get you to decide?" he asked.
She walked towards her porch, refusing to turn around and look at him.
"You already had your chance, and you turned it down, Spike."
"More's the pity. But that wasn't you decidin', was it? That was you givin' yourself up as a prize," he growled.
She spun on her heel, her hands fisted along her thighs. Pride stiffened her spine and raised her chin into the air. "That will never happen again," she spat.
"Good on you," he spat back as he stomped around the front of his car to the driver side. "You're too good to whore yourself out like that." She vibrated with fury, and for a moment she felt in sync with his own intense anger. He wrenched the door open and paused to shoot her a look of longing. "No one should ever control your body but you, Buffy. Not the Council, not your Watcher, and not the poof. Don't let people put a leash on you. You're strong enough to be your own person."
The sound of his door slamming was loud in the darkness of winter's night. Thunder cracked and a deluge of rain dumped itself from the heavens. The shock of the freezing water jolted her out of her paralysis.
She raced down the rain-slicked driveway, her heart loud in her ears. He pulled to a stop, rolling down his window. The cold rain soaked her to the bone, and her hair hung lank and wet around her shoulders. She wrapped her thin fingers over his doorframe and leaned down so their eyes were even.
He was white-knuckling the steering wheel as if it was the only thing anchoring him place, stopping him from flinging himself at her. He stared straight ahead, and a small muscle in his lean cheek jumped.
"Look at me," she commanded softly.
He turned his head; his full lips pressed firmly together, his pupils blown wide, the barest band of blue glittering at the edges.
"You're the only man who's ever looked at me like that." She could feel her heartbeat in her throat, and it felt like she was suffocating under the weight of her laboring heart.
His eyes dropped to her lips before meeting her gaze again. "Like what?" He curled his tongue behind his teeth, and for the first time since meeting him she knew it wasn't a deliberate act of seduction. It was an imitation of the unconscious desire he had to devour her in the most intimate way possible.
"Like you'll die if you can't have me."
His eyes flared, and the creaking of the steering wheel reforming under his supernaturally strong grip was loud in the silence of the cab. Time stretched and neither of them moved, knowing if they did, their control would collapse.
She licked her lips. "I'm tired."
His face shuttered, and he turned away to stare out the windshield at the wet-gray world.
"But I want to make another deal with you." He turned back, his scarred brow cocked. "You pick me up tomorrow at dusk and I promise to stay with you all night as long as you don't bite me."
"Why?"
She swallowed and dropped her eyes to the cracked pavement beneath her feet. Already, rivers of rainwater were streaming down the driveway towards the gutters. Her fingers tightened on the door as she marshaled her courage. Usually when she was afraid, she shoved 'Just Buffy' into the darkest corner of her mind and locked her down like a felon in solitary, but 'Just Buffy' was the one lending her strength now. The girl wanted the man just as much as the Slayer wanted the vampire. She met his eyes, determined and proud.
"I want to experience intensity before I die." She'd almost died tonight. She almost died every night. She had long ago resigned herself to never experiencing certain things. Paris in the spring, the feel of the white satin of her wedding dress under her fingertips, the smell of her baby fresh from the bath. This was one thing she could have before she died. But only if she was brave enough to take it.
He looked away. "You've had that already. As I remember it resulted in some of the worst months of my unlife."
"That was love. Love is powerful, but it isn't intense or primal or…"
"Passionate."
She cut him a scathing look. "Love is about cherishing each other. It isn't about trying to tear each other apart, devouring, and hungry and….driven."
"It should be. Love should be all those things and more."
Her brow crumpled and she pushed herself away from the door, needing to distance herself from him. She had thought he would leap at the chance to spend the night with her, not give her the third degree about her relationship with Angel. Perhaps she'd read the signals wrong. Maybe he didn't want her at all.
"Never mind." She turned on her heel and stomped towards the porch.
The car door creaked; then he was in front of her, his hands wrapped around her upper arms.
"Tomorrow night, as soon as the sun sets. I'll show you intensity, Slayer. I'll teach you about passion. But I won't come for you. If you want it – really want it – then you have to come to me."
She swallowed hard, and she knew he felt the tremor that rocked her body. His fingers tightened, pulling her closer to his chest. His strength engulfed her, and she had to struggle not to close her eyes in pleasure.
"No biting," she commanded.
The grin that stretched across his full lips could only be described as wicked. "There'll be bitin', but not the bad kind. I promise." His dark gaze focused on her lips. "Now, let's seal the deal with a kiss."
He didn't give her a chance to reply, folding her into his arms and fitting her against the hard ridges of his chest. When she tipped her face up to his, she expected a kiss similar to the one they'd shared in the car; a kiss full of suppressed, raging desire and agonizing want. Instead, the tip of his tongue traced the silky edge of her upper lip, sending an eruption of tingles along her jaw and down her spine. She parted her lips, and his agile tongue slipped in at the corner of her mouth to lick the edge of her teeth. Tentatively she touched her tongue to his, unprepared for the jolt of sensation the simple caress evoked.
His palms cupped her cheeks, the tips of his fingers fitting along the edge of her jaw. His thumb caressed her skin, easing over her lower lip and pressing into the corner of her mouth, coaxing it wider for his invasion. She opened herself up to him, inviting him to devour her. He didn't refuse. He pressed the hard line of his body into her soft curves, his hands tilting her head to just the right angle so he could slide his tongue against hers in long, sure strokes that seemed to lick all sense of reason right out of her brain.
Her knees buckled. Never, not once, had her knees ever buckled during a kiss. Not during her first experimental touches with Pike or her fumbling with Owen. Not even during the loving, tender sessions with Angel. She thought it was a myth made up by romance novelists and chick flicks.
He caught her before she hit the ground. She looked up to see him laughing at her with his eyes. She would have said something scathing, but she was too busy trying to catch her breath. He steadied her before stepping away. It felt like he took a piece of her when he did.
His grin was infuriatingly cocky, but his face was softer than she had ever seen before. It was breathtaking.
"Tomorrow. Sunnydale Motel, room seventeen," he promised. "And wear something slutty." He slapped her on the ass. She squeaked in feminine outrage as he sauntered away, his coattails swishing with swagger. She stood frozen, watching long after he had driven away.
tbc