Part 2
Breathing heavy, she looked around, turning quickly from side to side. His laughter sounded out, rich and full. She growled. "You mean you didn't help organize this circus?" She had started backing up, only to find herself quickly pulled against his chest. His arms held her in a vice grip.
"Now, slayer, what makes you think I give a bloody hell about what happens with you? I woke up over there in a pretty little cage. Bollucks, I don't bloody well know how the hell either of us ended up here, pet." His words were whispered gently against her ear. She struggled in his arms, but without her strengths, there was little she could do.
Cor, her wiggling body in his arms felt wonderful. Muttering to himself, he pushed that thought out of his head, even as he grew hard thinking about her. Leaning in, he let his mouth close in to her ear.
"Is that quiet enough yet, slayer?" Realizing she was stuck, she nodded, and he let go. She fell back, and crouched down. Breathing heavy, she faced towards his voice.
"Let's just get this over with. Fight to the death and all that. I'm sure you won't mind a stake, will you?" She sounded like the old Buffy, but he could tell she was different, not the same.
"Let's dance, slayer." He dove in, and caught her off guard. She stepped to the side just in time to miss the brunt of his attack, but his shoulder drove into her side, and pushed her back against the wall. Stepping back, he paced slowly in front of her, watching her through silted eyes. "Well, what are you waiting for, slayer? Not gonna stake myself, you know." She crouched low, and pushed herself at him, and jumped back. She came at him next with a spinning kick. Through it all, he staggered back a bit, but was fine. His laugh reached her ears and infuriated her more.
He spun around for a roundhouse kick, nailing her in the face. She went flying against the wall again, and the bittersweet smell of blood again filled the air. She pulled herself up, and growled. Good, he thought, she's really pissed now. She came low at him, plowing her head into his stomach, and pushed him back until he fell this time. Stumbling on top of him, she pulled her fist back, and punched him square in the face.
Rolling to the side, she quickly stood up, and readied herself for another attack, when his laughter reached her ears.
She frowned and waited, when suddenly, she could see him. He had his lighter with him, and had lit it. She blinked at the sudden light, however weak it was. His face came into view, and she watched him wearily.
Spike, though, had started looking around, and found that they were in an old mansion. A large fireplace took up most of one wall, and had wood in it. Above it, on the mantle, there was an oil lamp, and several candles. Everything was covered with dust, and cobwebs. He left Buffy standing there, confused and worried.
Spike took the oil lamp down first, and lit it, then lit some of the candles. Once the place was rather decently lit, he looked at the wood in the fireplace, and started digging around. He found some kindling, and worked on lighting the fire.
Buffy watched him with a look of utter confusion on her face. "What are you doing?" she finally asked him.
"Burning your stakes, Slayer." His answer was quick, and sarcastic. "What does it look like I'm doing? I'm giving us some bloody light, that's what." He looked back at her, half hidden in shadows, and gave her a smile that was meant to warm her up as much as the fire would. She had a swollen cheek, and her face had blood on it, both dried, and drying. In the last 8 years, she had grown more mature, looked more mature. Her face had haunted his dreams for those 8 years. Several times, he had nearly convinced himself to come back to Sunnyhell, but he always stopped himself.
"Oh hell, slayer, I'm not going to fight you while you are down. Takes all the fun out of it for me. Now, what happened, lose all your strength? Take a bloody long holiday from working out? Or wait, I bet you retired and let the other slayer take over, innit right, pet?" He walked slowly towards her, measuring out each step as he went. She watched him come closer, but knew it wasn't to attack. His body didn't hold that tight tension he had when he fought. He stopped a few feet from her, and looked her in the eyes.
"No, I didn't take a holiday. The council of watchers is testing me, I think. And don't have any fears about me not being able to fight. I can still do it." ****************
/part2
Breathing heavy, she looked around, turning quickly from side to side. His laughter sounded out, rich and full. She growled. "You mean you didn't help organize this circus?" She had started backing up, only to find herself quickly pulled against his chest. His arms held her in a vice grip.
"Now, slayer, what makes you think I give a bloody hell about what happens with you? I woke up over there in a pretty little cage. Bollucks, I don't bloody well know how the hell either of us ended up here, pet." His words were whispered gently against her ear. She struggled in his arms, but without her strengths, there was little she could do.
Cor, her wiggling body in his arms felt wonderful. Muttering to himself, he pushed that thought out of his head, even as he grew hard thinking about her. Leaning in, he let his mouth close in to her ear.
"Is that quiet enough yet, slayer?" Realizing she was stuck, she nodded, and he let go. She fell back, and crouched down. Breathing heavy, she faced towards his voice.
"Let's just get this over with. Fight to the death and all that. I'm sure you won't mind a stake, will you?" She sounded like the old Buffy, but he could tell she was different, not the same.
"Let's dance, slayer." He dove in, and caught her off guard. She stepped to the side just in time to miss the brunt of his attack, but his shoulder drove into her side, and pushed her back against the wall. Stepping back, he paced slowly in front of her, watching her through silted eyes. "Well, what are you waiting for, slayer? Not gonna stake myself, you know." She crouched low, and pushed herself at him, and jumped back. She came at him next with a spinning kick. Through it all, he staggered back a bit, but was fine. His laugh reached her ears and infuriated her more.
He spun around for a roundhouse kick, nailing her in the face. She went flying against the wall again, and the bittersweet smell of blood again filled the air. She pulled herself up, and growled. Good, he thought, she's really pissed now. She came low at him, plowing her head into his stomach, and pushed him back until he fell this time. Stumbling on top of him, she pulled her fist back, and punched him square in the face.
Rolling to the side, she quickly stood up, and readied herself for another attack, when his laughter reached her ears.
She frowned and waited, when suddenly, she could see him. He had his lighter with him, and had lit it. She blinked at the sudden light, however weak it was. His face came into view, and she watched him wearily.
Spike, though, had started looking around, and found that they were in an old mansion. A large fireplace took up most of one wall, and had wood in it. Above it, on the mantle, there was an oil lamp, and several candles. Everything was covered with dust, and cobwebs. He left Buffy standing there, confused and worried.
Spike took the oil lamp down first, and lit it, then lit some of the candles. Once the place was rather decently lit, he looked at the wood in the fireplace, and started digging around. He found some kindling, and worked on lighting the fire.
Buffy watched him with a look of utter confusion on her face. "What are you doing?" she finally asked him.
"Burning your stakes, Slayer." His answer was quick, and sarcastic. "What does it look like I'm doing? I'm giving us some bloody light, that's what." He looked back at her, half hidden in shadows, and gave her a smile that was meant to warm her up as much as the fire would. She had a swollen cheek, and her face had blood on it, both dried, and drying. In the last 8 years, she had grown more mature, looked more mature. Her face had haunted his dreams for those 8 years. Several times, he had nearly convinced himself to come back to Sunnyhell, but he always stopped himself.
"Oh hell, slayer, I'm not going to fight you while you are down. Takes all the fun out of it for me. Now, what happened, lose all your strength? Take a bloody long holiday from working out? Or wait, I bet you retired and let the other slayer take over, innit right, pet?" He walked slowly towards her, measuring out each step as he went. She watched him come closer, but knew it wasn't to attack. His body didn't hold that tight tension he had when he fought. He stopped a few feet from her, and looked her in the eyes.
"No, I didn't take a holiday. The council of watchers is testing me, I think. And don't have any fears about me not being able to fight. I can still do it." ****************
/part2