Chapter 13
Spike heard her words uttered softly, and saw the look in her eyes and knew that she wanted this, and that she wanted what would come from this. His demon surged forward as the purring vibrated his chest. The smell, her unique scent, the blood, all of it was too much, and he let his fangs sink deeply in, melting her skin like butter on the 4th of July.
Under him, Buffy whimpered slightly, and cried out his name. Her eyes were shut, and her mouth was opened slightly. Buffy's arms were lying back against the ground, her thin fingers grasping at the ground. She was desperately trying to find a way to keep her body on the ground, when all it wanted to do was float away.
Spike's hands were roaming along Buffy as he continued o softly suck at her neck. Spike was in heaven. He must be, for that was the only explanation for the intoxicating blood surging through his veins, and the feeling of her soft flesh under his hard body. His body sung with tension, the vibes coming out as deep rumbling purrs.
He finally pulled his mouth from the wound, and he let his tongue swirl softly against the wound. Buffy's legs parted, and found their own way around his, while her pelvis arched upward, eagerly seeking the friction his own could provide. As his lips trailed a silky smooth path down her throat, her hands finally left the grasping confines of the floor behind her, and wound their way into his hair.
It was stiff, evidence of to much hair gel, but it was him, and it held his face and wondrous mouth to her. Spike tugged at the collar of her shirt, and pressed ardent kisses along her collarbone, before dipping his mouth to the tops of her breasts. Buffy continued mewling soft sounds of pent up desire as she writhed under him.
***************
Travers looked to the screen, and saw what was going on. He knew, had known for some time now, that these two were the ones to fulfill the prophecy. For the longest time, the council had counted on Angel, and for that reason, had never done anything with him, but now he knew better. His lips curled into a sardonic smile, and he pressed a button. "They are done, remove them."
***************
Buffy felt as though her body was on fire, and the difference between the chilled skin and the heat burning under her skin was a carnal ancient feeling. She was acting in a licentious manner, her body screaming for more, while her mind half-heartedly tried to warn her of the dangers against this. Spike's mouth had made its way to her nipple, and as he took the tiny rosebud into his lips, she moaned loud. Her back arched up off the floor, an eager display meant to earn her more of his silken mouth around her tender flesh.
One of his hands wound its way under her, and supported her body to him as he sat up, his mouth never once breaking the desired contact with her skin. It may have felt like heaven to him, but it was also torture, plain and simple. Dru had taught him many forms of torture, as had Angelus, but they were nothing compared to the wondrous feeling that was named Buffy. Buffy slid into his lap, locking her legs by the ankles around his back.
Her neck arched, dropping her head back. Her soft blond hair brushed at Spike's fingertips as he rubbed at her flesh. His fingers found the edge of her shirt, and started to urge it up and off of her slim body. Buffy couldn't comprehend his want for a moment, and then as realization dawned on her, she grasped the shirt with both hands, and tore it from her body.
Spike's fingers grazed Buffy's bare skin, sending jolts down her spin, and threatening to melt her on the spot. She brought her eyes level with his, and her small pink tongue darted out to wet her suddenly dry lips. Neither of them was aware or conscious enough to realize that there were others coming into the room until it was almost to late. Something at the back of Buffy's mind urged her to look around. When she did, her eyes widened.
"Spike." Her voice was soft, almost like she was frightened. It was all they had a chance to say before she was ripped from his arms, and he was held back from her. He vamped almost instantly, and a deep rumbling growl emanated from him as he watched her being dragged away, her top still bare, gleaming naked in the fire light for their leering eyes. She started to struggle almost instantly as the two men in black fatigues held her tightly, and then hauled her from the room.
"Spike!" She cried out over her shoulder as the twp dragged her. Spike caught hold of one commando's arms, and nearly tossed him through a wall. His demon was urging him forward, commanding that he save Buffy, that he save the woman who would be his mate. Spike was running on primal instincts now, and his primal urge was to kill. The first who was unfortunate enough to get in his way was pulled close, and his neck broken in a matter of moments.
Three more stood their ground, and as Spike's fisted hands beat two of them, the third struggled with his dart gun. Quickly, he shot the gun, and the dart inside shot out towards Spike. It landed right below his neck, on his back. After a few more swings, Spike was sluggish. In a matter of minutes, Spike lie slumped on the ground, unconscious. The three commandos's picked him up, and dragged him off towards the locked room.
***************
Chapter 14
Travers watched closely as the two were brought into the basement where he was. A room was set up in the back corner, with a twin bed, a dresser, a small bathroom, and glass walls. Buffy was waiting in there on the bed when Spike was dragged in. He was dropped unceremoniously on the floor and she quickly went to him. Around her chest, she had a blanket pulled around her, one of the first things she had done when she was dropped in this room.
Beyond the glass walls, everything was black. Buffy placed a hand on Spike's head, and felt him. An odd thing to do for a vampire, but she had done it from reflex, her mind telling her to check him for a fever. She wasn't surprised when it came away a bit cooler then it had been before hand. She couldn't get him to the bed, so she brought him the pillow instead, and slid it under his head. Buffy screamed out, pounding her fists on the glass, crying for an answer. Finally, she tired, and laid down next to Spike, resting her head on his chest. She soon fell into a deep exhausted slumber, her mind undisturbed by dreams of any kind.
************
Travers watched Buffy, but couldn't find it in himself to be surprised over her actions, either upstairs in the house, or down here, in her cell. He watched, and then leaned back to kick his legs up on the newly cleared desk. He knew they couldn't see outside of the cell, and he was glad for that, for he didn't think she would be to happy with him otherwise.
***************
Spike woke slowly, his foggy mind meandering as it cleared away the cobwebs from the corners. He realized quickly that he was on a cold floor of some sort, but he could feel a pillow under him, and the slayer on him. Not on him completely, he noticed after another moment, but rather, she was using him as her own pillow. He glanced around the room as his arms sought to hold her, as though to assure himself that she was really there. He remembered the time before. Had it been last night? This morning? For that matter, what time was it now? His mind was still blurry as he tried to recall everything.
He could remember her being ripped from his arms, and he knew he fought hard to get to her, but then everything slowed, and blurred, and then finally faded away. He glanced down at her then, and saw that her shoulder were bare, and he remembered her being topless when she was dragged away. Spike slowly sat up, easing Buffy from him as he did. Finally, he was up, and she lay curled on the ground using the pillow, and curled into her blanket.
Spike took survey of the room, and saw a dresser. Not wasting any time, he crossed to it, and opened the drawers. Inside, he found an assortment of clothes. All of them looked like they were either hers, or at least her size, so he was glad for that. After making out the glass walls, he had no desire for anyone else to be seeing her body. Spike pulled open another drawer and found several pairs of jeans and a few of his shirts. Growling lowly under his breath, he slammed the drawer shut. He made his way over to the small bathing area.
The cell itself was set up almost like a hotel room, but with just the one bed. He found several books he had been reading on the nightstand, and several magazines that must have been Buffy's. He barely managed to contain the demon in him as he stalked around the room. Spike knew that the wankers must have been watching and preparing for both of them for a while now. He heard Buffy groan slightly, and in an instant, he was back at her side. She opened her eyes slowly, and looked up at him. Pulling her blanket tight around her shivering body, she sat up.
"How're you feeling, Slayer?" He asked her softly
"I could answer that, but I'd rather not. God, it's freezing in here!" She huddled in the blanket, then went to the bed, and slid under the thick comforter that was on the bed. Spike went to the dresser again, and pulled out a thick sweatshirt and a pair of matching sweat pants. She looked at the clothes Spike sat down, and her eyes widened in surprise.
"Those are mine, Spike." She looked from the clothes back up to Spike.
"Yeah, figured as much. Some of my clothes are here as well, and my bloody books. Wankers must have nicked my stuff when they got me. Bloody pillocks." He was pacing back and forth again, and ran a hand through his tousled hair.
Buffy felt her stomach starting to rumble as she slid under the covers to put her sweatshirt on over her chilly body. She came out from under the covers with the top on, while her hands worked to shed herself of the grubby bottoms. She quickly pulled on the clean pants, and smiled in relief. "God, I'm starved Where's the food around this joint?" She walked around the small room, opening drawers, examining cupboards, and poking at the nooks and crannies. She grumbled in complaint at the lack of food.
"Ok, if they're gonna put us up in Hotel Hell, the least they could do is FEED US!" Buffy growled loudly. Spike continued his pacing. The small space was starting to bug him. He wasn't claustrophobic; he just hated to be confined, especially when he had energy to burn. Buffy's ramblings reached his ears, and he stopped to look at her. "Well, they did provide me with food," Spike said with a lewd wink towards her. She stood gape mouthed for a moment, then realized he was teasing her, and laughed weakly.
***************
Spike was lying on the bed, a book propped in front of his face. Buffy had taken his place in the center of the room, pacing back and forth. Among her belongings, she had found a deck of cards, and they had played that for a bit, but enough was enough. They had been cooped up for days all together, and the forced 'vacation' was really starting to grate on her nerves. She felt her strength coming back, though, so that was a good thing. Spike laughed softly at a part in the book he was reading, but stopped reading when he detected the slayer glaring at him. "What? I can't enjoy myself, just cause you can't?" She snorted, and turned away, then resumed her pacing.
***************
Spike dealt the cards slowly, feeling each one as he went. She picked them up, and started doubtfully at him. With a smug smile marring his face, he carefully went over the rules again. They had run out of card games to play nearly an hour before, so now it was teach the slayer night at the Buffy and Spike house of love. Neither was paying much attention to the surrounding glass, so when the door opened, they both jumped.
A young girl walked in, her arms laden with a trey, and a small bag. She quickly sat both down, and hightailed it from the room before they had a chance to react. Buffy smelled the air, and hopped up. She pulled the cover off the trey, and squealed with joy. There on the tray, two plates filled to the brim with French toast, eggs, bacon, and toast sat. There was also two glasses of orange juice, two granola bars, and two apples. Spike picked up both the granola bars and both the apples, and placed them in a drawer for later.
Buffy ate her food quickly at first, but slowed when Spike warned her against filling her starved belly to fast. "What? Whhhhy?" She whined to him.
"Slayer, you eat to fast, and you are gonna taste that food twice. You want that?" She sullenly shook her head no, and as soon as he looked down at his plate of food, she stuck her tongue out at him. Their plates had names on them, and Spike quickly found that his juice and his syrup were laced strongly with human blood. When he commented on it, Buffy pushed her plate away, and wrinkled her nose. "Oh, ewwww. You just had to tell me that while I was eating, didn't you?"
After finishing their breakfast, they examined the large brown paper shopping bag. Inside, Spike was surprised to find a small plug in clock, a wall calendar, and two board games. Opening the calendar, Spike noticed that for the month, several days were crossed off; leading him to believe it was 3 days past their confinement. They put the calendar up as some sick reminder of just how long they had been in captivity, and set the clock on the nightstand. According to the clock, it was early morning. Buffy felt herself growing tired, and laid down on the bed. Spike looked over at her for a moment, and then slid in next to her on the tiny bed. She glared at him half-heartedly but allowed him to snuggle up to her.
Spike heard her words uttered softly, and saw the look in her eyes and knew that she wanted this, and that she wanted what would come from this. His demon surged forward as the purring vibrated his chest. The smell, her unique scent, the blood, all of it was too much, and he let his fangs sink deeply in, melting her skin like butter on the 4th of July.
Under him, Buffy whimpered slightly, and cried out his name. Her eyes were shut, and her mouth was opened slightly. Buffy's arms were lying back against the ground, her thin fingers grasping at the ground. She was desperately trying to find a way to keep her body on the ground, when all it wanted to do was float away.
Spike's hands were roaming along Buffy as he continued o softly suck at her neck. Spike was in heaven. He must be, for that was the only explanation for the intoxicating blood surging through his veins, and the feeling of her soft flesh under his hard body. His body sung with tension, the vibes coming out as deep rumbling purrs.
He finally pulled his mouth from the wound, and he let his tongue swirl softly against the wound. Buffy's legs parted, and found their own way around his, while her pelvis arched upward, eagerly seeking the friction his own could provide. As his lips trailed a silky smooth path down her throat, her hands finally left the grasping confines of the floor behind her, and wound their way into his hair.
It was stiff, evidence of to much hair gel, but it was him, and it held his face and wondrous mouth to her. Spike tugged at the collar of her shirt, and pressed ardent kisses along her collarbone, before dipping his mouth to the tops of her breasts. Buffy continued mewling soft sounds of pent up desire as she writhed under him.
***************
Travers looked to the screen, and saw what was going on. He knew, had known for some time now, that these two were the ones to fulfill the prophecy. For the longest time, the council had counted on Angel, and for that reason, had never done anything with him, but now he knew better. His lips curled into a sardonic smile, and he pressed a button. "They are done, remove them."
***************
Buffy felt as though her body was on fire, and the difference between the chilled skin and the heat burning under her skin was a carnal ancient feeling. She was acting in a licentious manner, her body screaming for more, while her mind half-heartedly tried to warn her of the dangers against this. Spike's mouth had made its way to her nipple, and as he took the tiny rosebud into his lips, she moaned loud. Her back arched up off the floor, an eager display meant to earn her more of his silken mouth around her tender flesh.
One of his hands wound its way under her, and supported her body to him as he sat up, his mouth never once breaking the desired contact with her skin. It may have felt like heaven to him, but it was also torture, plain and simple. Dru had taught him many forms of torture, as had Angelus, but they were nothing compared to the wondrous feeling that was named Buffy. Buffy slid into his lap, locking her legs by the ankles around his back.
Her neck arched, dropping her head back. Her soft blond hair brushed at Spike's fingertips as he rubbed at her flesh. His fingers found the edge of her shirt, and started to urge it up and off of her slim body. Buffy couldn't comprehend his want for a moment, and then as realization dawned on her, she grasped the shirt with both hands, and tore it from her body.
Spike's fingers grazed Buffy's bare skin, sending jolts down her spin, and threatening to melt her on the spot. She brought her eyes level with his, and her small pink tongue darted out to wet her suddenly dry lips. Neither of them was aware or conscious enough to realize that there were others coming into the room until it was almost to late. Something at the back of Buffy's mind urged her to look around. When she did, her eyes widened.
"Spike." Her voice was soft, almost like she was frightened. It was all they had a chance to say before she was ripped from his arms, and he was held back from her. He vamped almost instantly, and a deep rumbling growl emanated from him as he watched her being dragged away, her top still bare, gleaming naked in the fire light for their leering eyes. She started to struggle almost instantly as the two men in black fatigues held her tightly, and then hauled her from the room.
"Spike!" She cried out over her shoulder as the twp dragged her. Spike caught hold of one commando's arms, and nearly tossed him through a wall. His demon was urging him forward, commanding that he save Buffy, that he save the woman who would be his mate. Spike was running on primal instincts now, and his primal urge was to kill. The first who was unfortunate enough to get in his way was pulled close, and his neck broken in a matter of moments.
Three more stood their ground, and as Spike's fisted hands beat two of them, the third struggled with his dart gun. Quickly, he shot the gun, and the dart inside shot out towards Spike. It landed right below his neck, on his back. After a few more swings, Spike was sluggish. In a matter of minutes, Spike lie slumped on the ground, unconscious. The three commandos's picked him up, and dragged him off towards the locked room.
***************
Chapter 14
Travers watched closely as the two were brought into the basement where he was. A room was set up in the back corner, with a twin bed, a dresser, a small bathroom, and glass walls. Buffy was waiting in there on the bed when Spike was dragged in. He was dropped unceremoniously on the floor and she quickly went to him. Around her chest, she had a blanket pulled around her, one of the first things she had done when she was dropped in this room.
Beyond the glass walls, everything was black. Buffy placed a hand on Spike's head, and felt him. An odd thing to do for a vampire, but she had done it from reflex, her mind telling her to check him for a fever. She wasn't surprised when it came away a bit cooler then it had been before hand. She couldn't get him to the bed, so she brought him the pillow instead, and slid it under his head. Buffy screamed out, pounding her fists on the glass, crying for an answer. Finally, she tired, and laid down next to Spike, resting her head on his chest. She soon fell into a deep exhausted slumber, her mind undisturbed by dreams of any kind.
************
Travers watched Buffy, but couldn't find it in himself to be surprised over her actions, either upstairs in the house, or down here, in her cell. He watched, and then leaned back to kick his legs up on the newly cleared desk. He knew they couldn't see outside of the cell, and he was glad for that, for he didn't think she would be to happy with him otherwise.
***************
Spike woke slowly, his foggy mind meandering as it cleared away the cobwebs from the corners. He realized quickly that he was on a cold floor of some sort, but he could feel a pillow under him, and the slayer on him. Not on him completely, he noticed after another moment, but rather, she was using him as her own pillow. He glanced around the room as his arms sought to hold her, as though to assure himself that she was really there. He remembered the time before. Had it been last night? This morning? For that matter, what time was it now? His mind was still blurry as he tried to recall everything.
He could remember her being ripped from his arms, and he knew he fought hard to get to her, but then everything slowed, and blurred, and then finally faded away. He glanced down at her then, and saw that her shoulder were bare, and he remembered her being topless when she was dragged away. Spike slowly sat up, easing Buffy from him as he did. Finally, he was up, and she lay curled on the ground using the pillow, and curled into her blanket.
Spike took survey of the room, and saw a dresser. Not wasting any time, he crossed to it, and opened the drawers. Inside, he found an assortment of clothes. All of them looked like they were either hers, or at least her size, so he was glad for that. After making out the glass walls, he had no desire for anyone else to be seeing her body. Spike pulled open another drawer and found several pairs of jeans and a few of his shirts. Growling lowly under his breath, he slammed the drawer shut. He made his way over to the small bathing area.
The cell itself was set up almost like a hotel room, but with just the one bed. He found several books he had been reading on the nightstand, and several magazines that must have been Buffy's. He barely managed to contain the demon in him as he stalked around the room. Spike knew that the wankers must have been watching and preparing for both of them for a while now. He heard Buffy groan slightly, and in an instant, he was back at her side. She opened her eyes slowly, and looked up at him. Pulling her blanket tight around her shivering body, she sat up.
"How're you feeling, Slayer?" He asked her softly
"I could answer that, but I'd rather not. God, it's freezing in here!" She huddled in the blanket, then went to the bed, and slid under the thick comforter that was on the bed. Spike went to the dresser again, and pulled out a thick sweatshirt and a pair of matching sweat pants. She looked at the clothes Spike sat down, and her eyes widened in surprise.
"Those are mine, Spike." She looked from the clothes back up to Spike.
"Yeah, figured as much. Some of my clothes are here as well, and my bloody books. Wankers must have nicked my stuff when they got me. Bloody pillocks." He was pacing back and forth again, and ran a hand through his tousled hair.
Buffy felt her stomach starting to rumble as she slid under the covers to put her sweatshirt on over her chilly body. She came out from under the covers with the top on, while her hands worked to shed herself of the grubby bottoms. She quickly pulled on the clean pants, and smiled in relief. "God, I'm starved Where's the food around this joint?" She walked around the small room, opening drawers, examining cupboards, and poking at the nooks and crannies. She grumbled in complaint at the lack of food.
"Ok, if they're gonna put us up in Hotel Hell, the least they could do is FEED US!" Buffy growled loudly. Spike continued his pacing. The small space was starting to bug him. He wasn't claustrophobic; he just hated to be confined, especially when he had energy to burn. Buffy's ramblings reached his ears, and he stopped to look at her. "Well, they did provide me with food," Spike said with a lewd wink towards her. She stood gape mouthed for a moment, then realized he was teasing her, and laughed weakly.
***************
Spike was lying on the bed, a book propped in front of his face. Buffy had taken his place in the center of the room, pacing back and forth. Among her belongings, she had found a deck of cards, and they had played that for a bit, but enough was enough. They had been cooped up for days all together, and the forced 'vacation' was really starting to grate on her nerves. She felt her strength coming back, though, so that was a good thing. Spike laughed softly at a part in the book he was reading, but stopped reading when he detected the slayer glaring at him. "What? I can't enjoy myself, just cause you can't?" She snorted, and turned away, then resumed her pacing.
***************
Spike dealt the cards slowly, feeling each one as he went. She picked them up, and started doubtfully at him. With a smug smile marring his face, he carefully went over the rules again. They had run out of card games to play nearly an hour before, so now it was teach the slayer night at the Buffy and Spike house of love. Neither was paying much attention to the surrounding glass, so when the door opened, they both jumped.
A young girl walked in, her arms laden with a trey, and a small bag. She quickly sat both down, and hightailed it from the room before they had a chance to react. Buffy smelled the air, and hopped up. She pulled the cover off the trey, and squealed with joy. There on the tray, two plates filled to the brim with French toast, eggs, bacon, and toast sat. There was also two glasses of orange juice, two granola bars, and two apples. Spike picked up both the granola bars and both the apples, and placed them in a drawer for later.
Buffy ate her food quickly at first, but slowed when Spike warned her against filling her starved belly to fast. "What? Whhhhy?" She whined to him.
"Slayer, you eat to fast, and you are gonna taste that food twice. You want that?" She sullenly shook her head no, and as soon as he looked down at his plate of food, she stuck her tongue out at him. Their plates had names on them, and Spike quickly found that his juice and his syrup were laced strongly with human blood. When he commented on it, Buffy pushed her plate away, and wrinkled her nose. "Oh, ewwww. You just had to tell me that while I was eating, didn't you?"
After finishing their breakfast, they examined the large brown paper shopping bag. Inside, Spike was surprised to find a small plug in clock, a wall calendar, and two board games. Opening the calendar, Spike noticed that for the month, several days were crossed off; leading him to believe it was 3 days past their confinement. They put the calendar up as some sick reminder of just how long they had been in captivity, and set the clock on the nightstand. According to the clock, it was early morning. Buffy felt herself growing tired, and laid down on the bed. Spike looked over at her for a moment, and then slid in next to her on the tiny bed. She glared at him half-heartedly but allowed him to snuggle up to her.