Buffy The Vampire Slayer - Broken Origin I

~*~

Author: Dev Nine-Asher

~*~

A/N: Hey there, just wanted to point out I borrowed the idea for imprisoning the Slayer and therefore temporarily ending the line, from The Lost Slayer series by Christopher Golden. It's not a huge part of the plot at all, mostly just an excuse for Spike not to kill Buffy right off, lol. But if you haven't read the series, and are planning to, you might – just the slightest bit – consider parts of this chapter as spoilers. I own nothing, btw. Thanks for reading!

~*~

Chapter Four

~*~

With all that had happened it wasn't all that surprising to Buffy how easy it suddenly became to separate herself from what was going on around her.

For instance, she didn't even scream when a handful of large, angry looking vamps surged through the door at the bottom of the pit, and the particularly big, mean, ugly one heading them at the front actually pointed a gun at her.

It looked more like a high-powered rifle, actually…

"Throw the stake down, Slayer," the lead vamp growled.

Frowning slightly, Buffy turned her head and looked down at the jagged piece of wood still clutched in her hand. She hadn't even realized she'd pulled the stake back out of the vampire's chest before it had disintegrated.

"Put it down," she heard a now familiar voice say, and looked up distractedly to see the blonde master vampire standing with the big one who had the rifle trained on her.

Buffy looked into his burning blue eyes and found herself smiling slightly. Before she even knew what she was going to do, she raised the stake and jumped right at him, aiming for his heart.

The shock on his face was the last thing she saw before she heard the rifle go off. Something struck her hard in the neck, and her eyes closed as she felt the stake ram home, and heard the vampire dissolve into dust…

~*~

Her first glimpse of Heaven was a dirty, spotted, water-stained…ceiling?

Buffy's heavy eyelids flickered for a minute before she became aware of a dull, aching pounding in her head. She squeezed her eyes shut for a minute before she instinctively lifted a hand to rub her aching neck. There was a small, painful bruise just under her right ear that was incredibly sensitive to any kind of pressure. She groaned, feeling her stomach lurch with sudden nausea. It felt like something small and furry had curled up and died in her mouth.

She slowly came around on the stiff steel cot, which was situated in a small, airless, windowless room that boasted little else -  a thin blanket, a seedy looking sink and toilet, a single steel chair, and a bare, single bulb burning in a cracked white porcelain socket near the narrow steel door.

Oh, and of course the sullen blonde vampire standing against the institution green cinder-block wall with his arms crossed over his chest.

"I-I killed you," she croaked, struggling to sit up without dry-heaving, or her head exploding.

He snorted. "Right. You didn't even come close – ended up staking the dolt standing next to me. Kinda' did me a favor, though. Nasty bastard didn't exactly believe in oral hygiene, know what I mean?"

Buffy shuddered at the impact of his unnerving eyes, feeling highly intimidated. " But…I got shot. I-I felt it."

"Tranquilizer dart, you silly bint." He shook his head at her. "Jesus, can't you even tell the difference between a tranq gun and a real gun?"

"I'm still alive?" she heard herself asking unexpectedly. "I'm not, like…dead?"

The vampire's lips thinned as he continued to watch her from beneath his dark lashes. "Not yet, love, but don't fret – tomorrow is another day, after all."

Buffy stood up, startled by his words, and then forced herself to act relaxed as her nausea became a very real threat. There was no way she was going to humiliate herself by barfing in front of him. This vampire clearly got way too much satisfaction out of her discomfort. "Is this going to become a habit? Me waking up in weird rooms with you stalking me?"

"I'd be glad of it, if I were you. If I hadn't been here, you would never have woken up in the first place." He straightened up from his slouched position and snagged the only chair with one hand, dragging it forward and thumping it down in front of her.

"You try to run, scream, stake me, you won't like what I do to you. I'll snap your neck like a dry twig, got it?" He caught her eye and indicated the seat across from him with a jerk of his chin.

She didn't sit. "What does it matter? You're going to kill me anyway." She tried to look defiant.

 "I thought about it," he agreed threateningly. "I might just start thinking about it again, if you don't mind me. Now sit down, shut-up, or I'll tie you to the bloody chair with your intestines." A knock sounded at the door, and then it opened an inch. The vampire went over and stuck his head out, arguing fiercely with whoever was outside.

Buffy sat down in the chair with a huff, her lower lip jutting out. "So, if you're not gonna' kill me, what is this?" she demanded tiredly. "The Slayer/Vampire getting-to know-you social hour? No offense, but I tend to only hang out with guys that actually have a pulse."

"Alright, that's enough to be going on with!" He turned on her, his fangs descending like blades as the heavy steel door slammed shut again. "Piss me off again, and I can promise you that what you went through tonight will be one of your most pleasant memories!"

Buffy closed her mouth with a snap.

"Okay, first things first. If you run, try to escape, believe me when I say you won't be able to find anywhere safe enough to hide from me. I'm not making light with you. Believe me when I tell you, I'm not a nice bloke."

Buffy made a show of sighing. "If you aren't going to kill me, just how long do you expect to keep me here, anyway?"

His eyebrows flew up and he leaned forward into her face, a glint of challenge in his eyes. "As long as I bloody feel like it."

Shaking her head, Buffy rolled her eyes and said willfully, "But you can't just keep me here – I mean, what's the point? There's no kind of gain in it for – oh my God." A thought struck her, and she thoughtlessly jumped up out of her chair. She scooted around it, putting it between her and the vampire. "I have to die for another Slayer to be called."

His blue eyes gleamed with anarchy as he backed off and slowly started circling her. "Not nearly as thick as I thought you were, are you?"

Buffy shook her head again as she felt the blood drain from her face. "Y-you can't just lock me up for forever. You won't get away with it. My – my parents – the police, they'll realize I'm missing and come looking for me!"

"Yeah, they'll come lookin' for you pet, but not for the reason you're thinking of. It's a sad fact these days, teenagers get all depressed and unbalanced, end up offing the 'rents. They'll come lookin' for you to lock you up, no doubt. What's the difference in being in this room for the rest of your life and bein' stuck in a prison somewhere? Get a lot more privacy here, I'd wager."

She felt sick at her stomach. "It's not true. Nobody could believe that I – that I could ever – " Buffy sank down onto the cot. It was true. She was popular at school, but it wasn't like she'd ever had any real friends. The 'friends' that she did have she knew were jealous of her – and they'd have no trouble at all believing what they wanted to believe.

"Why are you doing this to me?"

"Oh, please. Don't flatter yourself. What, you think I want to stick around this sinkhole? Not bloody likely. M'only here 'cause I got nothin' better to do. Bein' in charge has it's perks, sure, but s'not like I'm King of the bleedin' World. I get the respect, yeah, but I also get stuck with all the crap." His eyes swept over her distastefully. "Like figurin' out what to do with the likes of you."

"Hell-o! You're a vampire - you don't have to stay here if you don't want to." Buffy squinted her eyes at him through the long tangle of her hair. "You're running away from something, aren't you? What is it?" she asked in mock sympathy. "Bad break-up?"

The vampire's mouth fell open. "Shut-up. You should watch how you speak to me, little Slayer," he warned her, his jaw working furiously.  "Your words are gonna' start costing you."

"Whatever," Buffy retorted snidely.

He walked over to her and wound a tendril of her hair tight around his finger. "You know what I think? I think you'd like to see me lose control – bite your throat out and bleed you to death. I think that's exactly what you'd like me to do."

Buffy barely kept herself from shying away. His nearness made her extremely nervous, especially know that she knew exactly who and what he was – "Wait."

He dropped his hand and lazily tilted his head at her.

"You never…never told me what your name was."

"That's right, I never did, did I? How rude of me." He smiled at her. "I'm Spike."

Buffy's eyebrows shot up. "Spike? Your name is…Spike?"

He scowled. "Yeah - what of it?"

"Oh, nothing." She bit back a smile. "So, uh…why do they call you that? I don't," she snorted, trying to hold back a laugh, "I don't see a studded collar anywhere."

Spike drew back, offended. "M'not some bleedin' bulldog, Slayer. Rest assured, I earned all of my nicknames."

Buffy bit her tongue. "Yeah? What's your other one? Scamp? Scooby? S-Scrappy Doo?" She couldn't help herself. She laughed out loud.

He looked at her with narrowed eyes. "William the Bloody…and I'll gladly demonstrate how I got 'Spike' if you don't have a care. I've still got some rail spikes 'round here someplace, I'm sure. Nice, big rusty ones. Maybe I won't have to worry about you scarpering off if you're impaled on a door somewhere…" He trailed off, appearing to actually be giving the idea some serious thought. "S'worked before."

Buffy stopped laughing. She went pale and nearly retched.

 "'Sides," he continued, " I wouldn't talk – what kind of name is 'Buffy', anyway? I've heard of weeds with better names."

Buffy angrily got up from the cot, her head whirling, and then collapsed back down on it. One hand clutched her head, the other her stomach. "If you're not gonna' kill me, then go away," she moaned. "I think I'm gonna' be sick."

Spike made a face. "Gladly." He turned away. At the door he stopped and looked back at her. "By the way, Slayer, I meant what I said. Try to escape and I'll nail your bloody feet to the floor."

The visual was enough to make her scramble up and dive for the toilet.

Spike chuckled evilly as he slammed the door shut behind him.

~*~

Buffy cracked the big vampire across it's skull with the short steel bar she'd painstakingly worked up from the cot springs. He fell back onto the floor, and she smiled grimly, picking up the end of the heavy cot and lifting the end of it over the vamps neck. She slammed it down, hard, and heard a satisfying crunch as it's head was severed. It dusted without a sound.

It hadn't been hard luring one of the vampires guarding her inside her room with a claim that she was sick, and needed a doctor – she'd been throwing up nearly all day, after all, especially after seeing the tray of food they expected her to eat. She kicked the door shut on the other vamps outside, and hefted the steel bar above her head again.

There was a noise outside the door and she heard someone say, "What the hell was that? Where's Abe?" The door opened again, and three more vamps spilled inside, growling and snarling.

Buffy pushed down her nausea, which she was beginning to suspect was from some sort of concussion, and concentrated on her remaining strength.

One down,  three to go…

~*~

Buffy opened the first door she came to an inch or two. Under the dim orange glare of an outdoor light she saw the glow of a cigarette, then the outline of two vampire guards leaning against the exterior wall.

She closed the door. What was she going to do now? She couldn't leave, not with the two vampires there. They'd make to much noise before she could take them down. Cautiously she made her way through the crates to the opposite side of the building. She found another exit and peered out. The door opened into a narrow passage between two buildings. No sign of a guard here.

Buffy bolted.

~*~

Spike leaned against the railing of the catwalk leading up to his bedroom, and lit up a cigarette.

He'd just risen for the night, but he hadn't slept all day. He'd been too busy wondering what the hell he was going to do with the Slayer. He'd spoken to a few contacts earlier about her, and learned she hadn't even been reported missing yet.

Shifting, he flicked some ashes from his cigarette and absently watched a puff of smoke drift toward toward the roof.

Lucius had been infuriated when he'd told him he had no immediate plans to kill her. He'd claimed it would be too dangerous to keep her alive.

"We keep her alive," he'd told the other vampire with a cold glance.

"She's the Slayer, Master," Lucius had grunted with strained patience. "If she frees herself – "

"I know she's the Slayer, you moron. Look, it's simple enough. What happens when we kill her?"

Lucius's eyes lit up in understanding. "Another is Called."

"Exactly. What better way to keep the bloody Slayers off our backs? Just think of it – we keep this one an indoor kitty, and the world is our plaything for at least fifty years."

Spike looked out over the now empty warehouse. Once it had become known the Slayer was as good as dead, nearly every creature mucking about the place had gleefully hightailed it – and good riddance.

One of the guards passed by underneath him. He spoke absently to the other vampire, but his thoughts were still on the Slayer.

His cigarette had burned itself down to nothing, and he tossed the butt away.

The night was quiet. It was time for him to go out. He was descending the walk when he caught a movement in the shadows below. With a low growl he vaulted the remaining distance to the floor and landed lightly on his feet.

Spike didn't even bother calling an alarm – she was moving too fast now for any but him to catch her. He caught a glimpse of his escaped Slayer as she broke out of one of the exits, and sprinted into the night.

The area surrounding the warehouse was populated by deserted factories and tiny neighborhoods long-ago slated for demolition. The whole of it was riddled with countless alleyways and wide open sewer entrances. If she got too far into the labyrinth, he'd be hard pressed to find her. She'd go to ground like a frightened kitten.

She was rounding a corner now, running like the wind.

Spike slipped silently along behind her, every sense acute, grinning as the joy of the hunt sent adrenaline flooding through him. As the distance between them shortened, his instinct took over, and he could see and hear every detail about the night around him.

The girl was close to an alley entrance now, but she didn't have a chance of escaping him. He saw the flash of her legs as she ran through a cloud of steam streaming from a manhole, and he saw her look over her shoulder at him. Her expression was white and terrified in the dingy light.

Spike caught her by the waving banner of her long hair just as she reached the dark alley. She made a sound in her throat, but she didn't scream.

For a moment he felt the thundering of her heart against his chest, heard her gasping breath in his ears. He chuckled lowly in her ear and she pushed violently against him, pulled away from him and ran on.

"Call the game, Slayer," he called after her. "Admit it, you know it's over."

~*~

Buffy ran. She didn't think. She just ran.

She was about a block from the warehouse now, in a neighborhood the likes of which she in her sheltered existence had never seen. All around her there were dilapidated houses, overgrown lawns, and rusted, burnt out vehicles. It was like some kind of post-apocalyptic nightmare.

She was running harder, faster than she ever had before in her life, trying her best to disappear into the twilight. She knew – just knew – that he was coming for her. Buffy veered off into a neglected looking yard, heading for an impossibly narrow alley between two crumbling, deserted houses. She whipped through rotting clapboard and rusted nails, her ears protesting at the sounds that were giving her away.

Buffy almost ran face first into the wall before she saw it.

Panting, her vision blurring, she looked up – and up. She saw that she'd run into a trap of her own making. Entering this alley had been a deadly mistake. She was surrounded on three sides by a concrete wall that had to be at least twenty-five feet high, and was topped by rusty orange razor-wire. The sounds of fast-moving traffic on some road or another could be heard on the other side.

It took her less than a minute to realize she would never get over the wall alive.

It took less than that for the vampire to find her.

Feeling his presence like a dousing of icy water along her spine, Buffy turned to face him, trembling from head to toe.

Spike stood in front of her, his posture deceptively lazy, both hands tucked into his duster pockets.

"Running away, pet? Here I'd thought we'd already agreed you were my…guest."

She flattened herself against the wall.

Spike walked toward her slowly. He wasn't in any kind of hurry. For the first time in over a year he was truly enjoying himself.

 "You really are new at this, aren't you? Running into a blind alley," he drawled. He shook his head…and swung a fist at her face.

~*~

Buffy ducked and kicked out at his head…

…and he caught her foot in one hand, stopping it in mid-air.

She gasped and he drove another punch straight at her. With her leg captured, she couldn't dodge it. She'd never been hit so hard in her entire life. It was like getting struck by a semi. Buffy went flying through the air and into the alley wall.

The world was spinning around her as she staggered up, leaning on the wall.

Spike stepped up to her, and she set her jaw, faking a left. When he moved to avoid it she brought up her right and punched him in the nose. He howled and grabbed at it, cursing, and then, with fire in his eyes, he dropped his hands and lunged at her.

Buffy caught his wrist, spinning, and brought her elbow up into his chin. Her movements were too quick for her to follow after that; she was running on pure adrenaline and intuition by that point.

The vampire grunted, blocked another punch to his face, and instantly retaliated with a palm strike.

She fell back, stunned, but quickly recovered and dropped onto her hand, using it as an axis to pivot her entire body. Her feet swept the vampire's feet out from under him. He landed flat on his back.

To her eternal surprise he laughed aloud.

'He's enjoying this,' Buffy thought incredulously.

"You know you've got quite a punch for a feather-weight."              

Just as he was scrambling to his feet, Buffy kicked him in the chest. He fell back, and she whirled to kick out at him again – but when she turned around he was gone.

There was nothing in the alley but trash and steam.

A prickling sensation moved along her spine as she slowly turned in a circle, looking cautiously around. All she could hear was the sound of traffic and her own harsh breathing.

The weird sensation continued along her spine, convincing her he hadn't left. She was fast starting to recognize the feeling. It seemed to come upon her whenever…

Spike was around.

Buffy didn't see where he was, but she found herself turning toward her left all the same. Her eyes flew wide as her mind had the time to register the shape of a man in a long black coat before he jumped at her.

Her yelp of surprise was cut off by the hand he slammed against her mouth. Caught off balance, her arms flailed as he shoved her against the wall.

"Be a good girl, or I'll have to hurt you again," he whispered harshly in her ear.

Buffy lifted her hands to push him away, but he caught her wrists.

"Had no idea you'd be such a hellcat," he said, sounding pleased.

She bucked against him, trying to free herself. He lifted his hand from her mouth. She sucked in air to yell, but stopped when she realized there was no one around to hear.

Spike laughed, deep and low, and flipped her around to her stomach, pushing her against the wall. Sharp pain ran through her nerves as he yanked her wrists together.

Fear clawed at her as she struggled to draw air into her lungs. An ache pounded in her temples as she pushed against him.

Spike pulled the bandage off her wounded wrist and used it to knot her hands together behind her back. He then caught her shoulder and pulled her around. She caught a glimpse of his snarling smile before he dragged her off the wall and bent slightly, slinging her over his shoulder. Her hair fell into her face as he sauntered off, carrying her down the alleyway.

Buffy closed her tired eyes and sighed.

What was he going to do to her now?

~*~

To be Continued in Chapter Five

~*~

Next: