'Think Buffy,' she thought while trying to get to her phone to dial 9-1-1.
'Wait! I'm in London...is it 911? Damnit!' She didn't know. Now, she was in
trouble and even in more trouble than before.
"Lover," Angel spat, his voice filled with repulsion. Or was it coldness,
Buffy couldn't tell and she didn't think it mattered. He sashayed over to
her. His appearance screaming more than "Oh yea. I can kick your ass, so
give me what I want, or I can make it really painful." She stood still and
closed her eyes. 'I am just dreaming. Dreaming.'
He circled her, like as shark does his pray. His mouth ended up at her ear. "Don't flatter yourself, Buff. You weren't that good in bed. Been having fun with that vibrator?"
On a normal day, Buffy would have bitch slapped him back into next year, but knowing what Angel is capable of, she decided not to. He bent his finger and ran it down her cheek. She didn't even lean into his touch, like she does with Spike. Her body began to tingle, but not a good tingle, more like a fear tingle. 'What is he going to do with me?' her mind wept. He laughed at her pensive front. "Don't try to think, baby. You never were good in that department. Come to think about it...you weren't really good at anything."
Angel's mockery was always the worst. He knew her secrets, her fears; he knew her body...he knew everything about her, which is why it hurt. Someone who claimed to love her but didn't. He just wanted the action. "Why do you like to hurt me?" she asked quietly, finally getting the nerve to speak. He punched her in the stomach and she grabbed it in pain. While she was bent over, he grabbed her shirt, and pushed her to her knees, peeling the shirt off of her. Buffy had a slight idea of what he was going to do next. 'Just stay calm,' her mind told her. With a grip on her hair, he pushed her face foreword. Her eyes were below his bellybutton. She didn't want to look up or down, so she just closed her eyes.
Spike saw Buffy's front door ajar. He heard struggling, cries, and growls. Spike was about to rip the poofster's head off. He loved Buffy, damnit, and nobody hurt his Buffy. He quietly, or as quiet as he could, walked over to Buffy's room. The door was opened, so he could see the terrible scene.
Buffy was on her knees, bare chested. Angel, Spike guessed, was standing before her, forcing her head, which was acting lifeless in his hands, towards his unbuttoned pants. Buffy didn't look unconscious or hurt, but more frightened than Spike has ever seen a woman in his life, even his mother. Spike's heart shattered. He quickly went into Joyce's bedroom and dialed the emergency number.
After giving the worker the address and the predicament, she told Spike that the police would be there in twenty to thirty minutes –enough time for hell to break loose. He enforced that it was important, but the lady told him, that they already had their hands busy with a robbery going down on Main. He kept his calm, though. He wanted to save his anger for Angel.
Spike wasted no time. He appeared in front of her door, smugly, crossing his pale arms over his chest. "Am I interrupting anything, peaches?" he asked.
Angel tore his attention away from his unresponsive ex-lover and looked over at the joke that was in the hallway. "Spike?" Buffy asked her voice raspy. She was shaking, cold and scared. "So, peaches, couldn't get your own bloody git, so you took mine?" Angel chuckled. "You two are..." he trailed off pointed fingers at both. "Ha. I thought she would be dwelling over me for years." Angel pulled away from Buffy, to scope out his competition. Buffy scampered away and put on a shirt.
Angel swayed his way over to Spike, always making an entrance. They both analyzed each other, trying to figure out their weaker points. Spike, Angel deciphered, would be quick on his feet, but easy to knock out. Angel, Spike thought, looked like the only reasons the poof could dominate was because of his size and weight. Angel walked right to Spike, nose to nose. Examining was over and intimidation was starting.
Buffy, after loading herself with a sharp knife in her waistband, she took her heavy math book (she always knew it was good for something) and crept behind Angel. She took the book over her head and was about to bring it down on his gelled head, but his hand caught her wrist. And spun her around, so her arm was behind her and she was facing Spike.
"Bad Buffy," Angel scolded, putting more pressure on her wrist. "Stop," she pleaded not looking Spike in the eye. "No," he growled. He pulled her arm further behind her; she was sure it was dislocated.
Spike had enough of this. The lady had said not to do anything or start anything, just stand back. But he loved this girl and she was being tortured; standing back was the farthest thing from his mind. He had to come up with a plan. He had to because this-this was his Buffy.
Angel, with Buffy still in his grasp, walked Buffy away from Spike. Still having one hand free, she lifted up her shirt a little so Spike could see the knife there. He smirked, 'That was his Buffy.' They shared a loving glance, and Buffy, even though her anger was revolved with him showing up, knew that he still wanted her. They were thrown out of their thoughts when Angel spoke. "Really, Buff, you should get over me already. It has been more than half a year since our wonderful love affair." She got the courage to speak, only because Spike was there and could protect her. "It wasn't an affair. And it wasn't wonderful. You raped me, Angel." He snorted. "Not this again! It wasn't rape." He rotated her around to face him. "You were asking for it. You were the one shaking your ass in those leather mini skirts and wearing those tight midriffs." She high kicked him in the chest. He fell more from the shock, than the blow. She straddled him and began to punch him in the face. "I-I am not the victim!"
After a couple hits, he clutched her middle and pulled him off of her. He punched her in the stomach, again. When she was bowed over, he kneed her in the neck. She rolled on the floor and gasped for air.
Spike, on the other hand, was searching for a gun or just something, anything. Neither Joyce nor Giles had a pistol. They were just going to have to fight with what God gave them, their body.
"Tell me you love me!" Angel screamed while hitting Buffy in the face. "I know you love me. Tell it to me." Blood trickled down her mouth and her throat. "I don't love you," she said while spitting blood in his face. "Why you little..." He lifted up his hand to punch her, again, but Spike grabbed it. "Sorry, peaches, but I was taught never to hurt women." Angel snorted. "She is anything, but a woman! A slut, maybe, bu..." He was cut off by Spike's fist. He tried to react, but Spike was too quick.
Spike was attacking Angel with all his might. He was stronger than Spike had expected. He was more experienced, but cocky, so Angel lacked in his overall fighting performance. He truly hated this man and not only because of what he did to Buffy, but of his aura around him. Spike sensed some evil lurking around in his brain.
"Don't you ever call Buffy a slut!" Spike yelled from deep in his throat. Angel tried to kick Spike, but he blocked. "You annoy me, child," Angel retorted. Angel found Spike's Achilles' heel –his knee.
When Spike was younger, around thirteen, his father beaten him to the point where he couldn't move his legs. It was later found out, that his ligaments in his legs are very tight, and snap easily, resulting in a sprain. Ever since, his knee was known to give out. His knee would pop out of socket and just collapse.
"Bloody hell," Spike said as he crumpled to the ground. 'Great time for my bloody knee to give out!' he thought. Angel went straight for Buffy. She was crawling for her knife, which she flung under her bed, without his knowledge. Blood was blurring her vision and stinging her eyes. He grabbed her waist and pulled her off the floor. "I know you love me, Buffy," he said while pulling him into his lap. She was struggling to get his hands away from her. "I never loved you," she said disgust dripping from her words. He pinned her down to the ground, pressing deeply into her skin with his hands. "And how the fuck would you know what love is?" Buffy used her right leg to kick his torso off of her. "Because," she motioned towards Spike and their eyes locked, "I am in love with Spike." She paused and anger flooded her voice. "And what I had with you was never, ever like what we had." Buffy turned back to Spike. Smiling she said, "I'm so much in love with you." Angel faked a gag. "This is sick!" He pushed Buffy out of his way. She hit the floor with a thump and she cried out. He went up to Spike. "I've had enough of you." He took Spike, who was still on the floor from his incident with his knee, up in his hands and began to punch him senseless. "She made my life miserable. Put me in jail, with all those butt rappers." Spike smiled, "You didn't drop the bloody soap, did you? You always looked like a gay poof to me." Angel growled deeply. "Better watch this, Buff." He took Spike and kicked him across the room. "Not so smug now, are you?" Angel lifted him up by his shirt. "She deserves to have everything in her life ripped away from her." Spike rasped, "No one soddin' deserves that, peaches." Angel laughed. "Whatever, mate!" Spike's feet were off the ground. Angel walked, with Spike in his hands, over to her wall. "She put me through hell." He pushed Spike against the surface, letting his head slap hard against the wall. "I am just putting you out of your misery." He threw him against the wall again. He let go of his shirt and Spike slipped down the wall, his eyes rolled in the back of his head. Buffy screamed. "You bastard! I hate you, fucking bastard!"
She pealed herself from the floor and ran over to Spike. She checked his pulse; he still had one. Buffy, she decided, had two choices. She could either cry over Spike or kick Angel's ass for hurting the man she loved. Buffy liked the second choice. "I am not the victim," she shouted. She ran at him, knocking him down to the ground. She put all the stress and worries and pain, back on him. "I hate you," she whispered, but came out as a harsh breath. Punching him in the face, her knuckles began to bleed. Or was it Angel's blood? She couldn't tell. "This is for making my life shitty!" she said while raising him off the ground and pushing him back down with a swift kick. "This is for breaking my mother's heart!" she stabbed, making him stand up again and punching him in the gut. "This is for Spike!" she said while punching stepping on his toe and punching him in the face, again. "And this-this is for me!" She kneed him in the crotch with as much force as she could master.
Angel knelt down on the ground, cupping his balls. "You bitch!" He stiffed the pain and got up, tears in his eyes. He grabbed her upper arms and shook her ruthlessly. "I will kill you!" he said a serious look on his face. She believed him. He could kill her.
The ambulance and police walked up the stairs to their flat. "Room 1452, this is it!" called an officer. He kicked the door open. Gun loaded, he walked in. He heard screams coming from down the hall. He rushed over, gun still in hand, and opened the door.
'The knife!' she reminded herself. She ducted one of his punches and grabbed the knife that was under her bed. She placed it by her breast, pointing towards him. He launched at her, unaware of the knife. Murder was in his eyes. His eyes bugged open; he screamed in pain as the knife sliced through his skin. He clutched the knife; blood formed around his hands, and fell to the ground.
Buffy ran over to Spike. His eyes were closed. She sat over on her legs and rocked back and forth.
The police ran over to Angel. They checked his pulse. With a head gesture, men in white coats put Angel on a stretcher. "Take him. He's loosing blood fast."
Tears were rolling down her face, making a salty puddle on Spike's chest. Her bottom lip trembling, she cried, "Please Spike. I love you. It has taken me so long to say it –don't leave me now. Please. Don't leave me. I-I- I need you."
Giles and Joyce were chuckling softly over the play they just saw. They saw a white stretcher go up their apartment. "Giles?" she asked fear in her voice. His heart sped up faster in his chest. "Buffy!" he cried running up the stairs not caring about the yellow tape.
They walked into Joyce's flat terrified. She ran into Buffy's room and her breath caught in her throat. "Buffy?" she asked. The small girl hurdled over Spike, her head on his chest and her hand entwined with his. "He left me too," Buffy said softly. Her eyes stared blankly at the floor. "But he hasn't left yet, so why isn't he with me?" She started to beat on his lower chest. "Be with me! Be with me, damnit!"
Giles lifted the unwilling girl into his arms and drug her off of Spike. "Buffy, love, calm yourself." Horror clouded her face. "Don't you dare!" She slapped his hands off of her and fell to the ground. She crawled over to Spike and kissed his forehead. "I love this man and you are asking me to..." a stranger caught her off.
"Ma'am. We need to get both of you to the hospital." She nodded dully and got to her feet. Giles and Joyce were still in shock –Buffy just said the "L" word...and to Spike!
He circled her, like as shark does his pray. His mouth ended up at her ear. "Don't flatter yourself, Buff. You weren't that good in bed. Been having fun with that vibrator?"
On a normal day, Buffy would have bitch slapped him back into next year, but knowing what Angel is capable of, she decided not to. He bent his finger and ran it down her cheek. She didn't even lean into his touch, like she does with Spike. Her body began to tingle, but not a good tingle, more like a fear tingle. 'What is he going to do with me?' her mind wept. He laughed at her pensive front. "Don't try to think, baby. You never were good in that department. Come to think about it...you weren't really good at anything."
Angel's mockery was always the worst. He knew her secrets, her fears; he knew her body...he knew everything about her, which is why it hurt. Someone who claimed to love her but didn't. He just wanted the action. "Why do you like to hurt me?" she asked quietly, finally getting the nerve to speak. He punched her in the stomach and she grabbed it in pain. While she was bent over, he grabbed her shirt, and pushed her to her knees, peeling the shirt off of her. Buffy had a slight idea of what he was going to do next. 'Just stay calm,' her mind told her. With a grip on her hair, he pushed her face foreword. Her eyes were below his bellybutton. She didn't want to look up or down, so she just closed her eyes.
Spike saw Buffy's front door ajar. He heard struggling, cries, and growls. Spike was about to rip the poofster's head off. He loved Buffy, damnit, and nobody hurt his Buffy. He quietly, or as quiet as he could, walked over to Buffy's room. The door was opened, so he could see the terrible scene.
Buffy was on her knees, bare chested. Angel, Spike guessed, was standing before her, forcing her head, which was acting lifeless in his hands, towards his unbuttoned pants. Buffy didn't look unconscious or hurt, but more frightened than Spike has ever seen a woman in his life, even his mother. Spike's heart shattered. He quickly went into Joyce's bedroom and dialed the emergency number.
After giving the worker the address and the predicament, she told Spike that the police would be there in twenty to thirty minutes –enough time for hell to break loose. He enforced that it was important, but the lady told him, that they already had their hands busy with a robbery going down on Main. He kept his calm, though. He wanted to save his anger for Angel.
Spike wasted no time. He appeared in front of her door, smugly, crossing his pale arms over his chest. "Am I interrupting anything, peaches?" he asked.
Angel tore his attention away from his unresponsive ex-lover and looked over at the joke that was in the hallway. "Spike?" Buffy asked her voice raspy. She was shaking, cold and scared. "So, peaches, couldn't get your own bloody git, so you took mine?" Angel chuckled. "You two are..." he trailed off pointed fingers at both. "Ha. I thought she would be dwelling over me for years." Angel pulled away from Buffy, to scope out his competition. Buffy scampered away and put on a shirt.
Angel swayed his way over to Spike, always making an entrance. They both analyzed each other, trying to figure out their weaker points. Spike, Angel deciphered, would be quick on his feet, but easy to knock out. Angel, Spike thought, looked like the only reasons the poof could dominate was because of his size and weight. Angel walked right to Spike, nose to nose. Examining was over and intimidation was starting.
Buffy, after loading herself with a sharp knife in her waistband, she took her heavy math book (she always knew it was good for something) and crept behind Angel. She took the book over her head and was about to bring it down on his gelled head, but his hand caught her wrist. And spun her around, so her arm was behind her and she was facing Spike.
"Bad Buffy," Angel scolded, putting more pressure on her wrist. "Stop," she pleaded not looking Spike in the eye. "No," he growled. He pulled her arm further behind her; she was sure it was dislocated.
Spike had enough of this. The lady had said not to do anything or start anything, just stand back. But he loved this girl and she was being tortured; standing back was the farthest thing from his mind. He had to come up with a plan. He had to because this-this was his Buffy.
Angel, with Buffy still in his grasp, walked Buffy away from Spike. Still having one hand free, she lifted up her shirt a little so Spike could see the knife there. He smirked, 'That was his Buffy.' They shared a loving glance, and Buffy, even though her anger was revolved with him showing up, knew that he still wanted her. They were thrown out of their thoughts when Angel spoke. "Really, Buff, you should get over me already. It has been more than half a year since our wonderful love affair." She got the courage to speak, only because Spike was there and could protect her. "It wasn't an affair. And it wasn't wonderful. You raped me, Angel." He snorted. "Not this again! It wasn't rape." He rotated her around to face him. "You were asking for it. You were the one shaking your ass in those leather mini skirts and wearing those tight midriffs." She high kicked him in the chest. He fell more from the shock, than the blow. She straddled him and began to punch him in the face. "I-I am not the victim!"
After a couple hits, he clutched her middle and pulled him off of her. He punched her in the stomach, again. When she was bowed over, he kneed her in the neck. She rolled on the floor and gasped for air.
Spike, on the other hand, was searching for a gun or just something, anything. Neither Joyce nor Giles had a pistol. They were just going to have to fight with what God gave them, their body.
"Tell me you love me!" Angel screamed while hitting Buffy in the face. "I know you love me. Tell it to me." Blood trickled down her mouth and her throat. "I don't love you," she said while spitting blood in his face. "Why you little..." He lifted up his hand to punch her, again, but Spike grabbed it. "Sorry, peaches, but I was taught never to hurt women." Angel snorted. "She is anything, but a woman! A slut, maybe, bu..." He was cut off by Spike's fist. He tried to react, but Spike was too quick.
Spike was attacking Angel with all his might. He was stronger than Spike had expected. He was more experienced, but cocky, so Angel lacked in his overall fighting performance. He truly hated this man and not only because of what he did to Buffy, but of his aura around him. Spike sensed some evil lurking around in his brain.
"Don't you ever call Buffy a slut!" Spike yelled from deep in his throat. Angel tried to kick Spike, but he blocked. "You annoy me, child," Angel retorted. Angel found Spike's Achilles' heel –his knee.
When Spike was younger, around thirteen, his father beaten him to the point where he couldn't move his legs. It was later found out, that his ligaments in his legs are very tight, and snap easily, resulting in a sprain. Ever since, his knee was known to give out. His knee would pop out of socket and just collapse.
"Bloody hell," Spike said as he crumpled to the ground. 'Great time for my bloody knee to give out!' he thought. Angel went straight for Buffy. She was crawling for her knife, which she flung under her bed, without his knowledge. Blood was blurring her vision and stinging her eyes. He grabbed her waist and pulled her off the floor. "I know you love me, Buffy," he said while pulling him into his lap. She was struggling to get his hands away from her. "I never loved you," she said disgust dripping from her words. He pinned her down to the ground, pressing deeply into her skin with his hands. "And how the fuck would you know what love is?" Buffy used her right leg to kick his torso off of her. "Because," she motioned towards Spike and their eyes locked, "I am in love with Spike." She paused and anger flooded her voice. "And what I had with you was never, ever like what we had." Buffy turned back to Spike. Smiling she said, "I'm so much in love with you." Angel faked a gag. "This is sick!" He pushed Buffy out of his way. She hit the floor with a thump and she cried out. He went up to Spike. "I've had enough of you." He took Spike, who was still on the floor from his incident with his knee, up in his hands and began to punch him senseless. "She made my life miserable. Put me in jail, with all those butt rappers." Spike smiled, "You didn't drop the bloody soap, did you? You always looked like a gay poof to me." Angel growled deeply. "Better watch this, Buff." He took Spike and kicked him across the room. "Not so smug now, are you?" Angel lifted him up by his shirt. "She deserves to have everything in her life ripped away from her." Spike rasped, "No one soddin' deserves that, peaches." Angel laughed. "Whatever, mate!" Spike's feet were off the ground. Angel walked, with Spike in his hands, over to her wall. "She put me through hell." He pushed Spike against the surface, letting his head slap hard against the wall. "I am just putting you out of your misery." He threw him against the wall again. He let go of his shirt and Spike slipped down the wall, his eyes rolled in the back of his head. Buffy screamed. "You bastard! I hate you, fucking bastard!"
She pealed herself from the floor and ran over to Spike. She checked his pulse; he still had one. Buffy, she decided, had two choices. She could either cry over Spike or kick Angel's ass for hurting the man she loved. Buffy liked the second choice. "I am not the victim," she shouted. She ran at him, knocking him down to the ground. She put all the stress and worries and pain, back on him. "I hate you," she whispered, but came out as a harsh breath. Punching him in the face, her knuckles began to bleed. Or was it Angel's blood? She couldn't tell. "This is for making my life shitty!" she said while raising him off the ground and pushing him back down with a swift kick. "This is for breaking my mother's heart!" she stabbed, making him stand up again and punching him in the gut. "This is for Spike!" she said while punching stepping on his toe and punching him in the face, again. "And this-this is for me!" She kneed him in the crotch with as much force as she could master.
Angel knelt down on the ground, cupping his balls. "You bitch!" He stiffed the pain and got up, tears in his eyes. He grabbed her upper arms and shook her ruthlessly. "I will kill you!" he said a serious look on his face. She believed him. He could kill her.
The ambulance and police walked up the stairs to their flat. "Room 1452, this is it!" called an officer. He kicked the door open. Gun loaded, he walked in. He heard screams coming from down the hall. He rushed over, gun still in hand, and opened the door.
'The knife!' she reminded herself. She ducted one of his punches and grabbed the knife that was under her bed. She placed it by her breast, pointing towards him. He launched at her, unaware of the knife. Murder was in his eyes. His eyes bugged open; he screamed in pain as the knife sliced through his skin. He clutched the knife; blood formed around his hands, and fell to the ground.
Buffy ran over to Spike. His eyes were closed. She sat over on her legs and rocked back and forth.
The police ran over to Angel. They checked his pulse. With a head gesture, men in white coats put Angel on a stretcher. "Take him. He's loosing blood fast."
Tears were rolling down her face, making a salty puddle on Spike's chest. Her bottom lip trembling, she cried, "Please Spike. I love you. It has taken me so long to say it –don't leave me now. Please. Don't leave me. I-I- I need you."
Giles and Joyce were chuckling softly over the play they just saw. They saw a white stretcher go up their apartment. "Giles?" she asked fear in her voice. His heart sped up faster in his chest. "Buffy!" he cried running up the stairs not caring about the yellow tape.
They walked into Joyce's flat terrified. She ran into Buffy's room and her breath caught in her throat. "Buffy?" she asked. The small girl hurdled over Spike, her head on his chest and her hand entwined with his. "He left me too," Buffy said softly. Her eyes stared blankly at the floor. "But he hasn't left yet, so why isn't he with me?" She started to beat on his lower chest. "Be with me! Be with me, damnit!"
Giles lifted the unwilling girl into his arms and drug her off of Spike. "Buffy, love, calm yourself." Horror clouded her face. "Don't you dare!" She slapped his hands off of her and fell to the ground. She crawled over to Spike and kissed his forehead. "I love this man and you are asking me to..." a stranger caught her off.
"Ma'am. We need to get both of you to the hospital." She nodded dully and got to her feet. Giles and Joyce were still in shock –Buffy just said the "L" word...and to Spike!