Severed Ties

Chapter 29

Estranged

June 10th, 2002

Early Morning

The distant thunder in his head refused to abate and the longer he ignored it, the faster it closed the gap. After several minutes, it was the only thing he heard.

"Bloody hell," Spike said and massaged his temple. "Could someone please turn off the sodding fireworks." He opened his eyes and squinted into the darkness. As he adjusted to the darkness he saw the flecks of light that trickled in through the…where the hell was he?

A quick glance around the room and he knew exactly where he was: one cozy little crypt.

"Home, sweet, home," he mumbled and swung his legs off the tomb. His knees buckled when he tried to stand and the vampire leaned against the concrete structure, waiting for his head to stop swimming. "What the bloody 'ell happened last night?"

Ignoring the stake firmly lodged between his eyes Spike shuffled a few feet away from the tomb. His legs were still weak--as if he hadn't eaten for a few days--but he didn't topple over. When he thought about it, Spike realized that it had been almost two days since he had eaten and even then it wasn't enough to sustain him for a day.

"Well, objective one has been determined," he mused and shuffled over to the battered fridge. He opened the door and saw that the pint he bought from Willy's was a little more than a swallow by vampire's standards, but it was the only thing he had. "Bottoms up," he said and devoured the life-giving fluid in a single gulp.

"Now," he said, ambling towards his favorite (and only) chair, "let's see what's on the telly." Twenty minutes into 'The Price is Right', Spike felt the discomfort in his neck, which, earlier, had taken a backseat to the pounding drums in his head. But without the terrible hangover being so…terrible, the slight throb made itself known. He massaged his tense muscles and was going to pass off the displeasure as a kink from sleeping the wrong way on the crypt. That was until his fingers slid over two small pinpricks.

"What the bleedin' 'ell," he shouted and jumped to his feet. His first instinct was to run for a mirror but that was quickly squashed. His fingertips traced the healing wounds and Spike didn't need a mirror or anyone else to tell him what had happened.

Some putrid vamp bit him.

"When I find that bugger," he roared, searching his mind for a clue on his violator. Oh, no, pain wasn't going to be the answer. He was going to deliver the most vicious, gruesome torture session since the Angelus's spree in Germany in 1895. No, it was going to be even worse than that. The bastard would beg for mercy, he'd keep the tosser alive until he got bored and even then…

It came out of nowhere.

"Oh, God," he whispered, dropping to his knees. Last night returned with a fury, obliterating his thoughts of vengeance. Image upon image of the night's events played through his mind in glorious Technicolor. How she had nearly bloody jumped him in front of the entire Bronze. How he'd told her things about Buffy as they walked the streets of Sunnydale, ducking into an alley when she'd offered to show him something. Oh, she showed him something all right. She'd pressed him against the wall, raped his cock with her lips and tongue, drinking his essence down. He'd tried to fight her but he couldn't. And then, she'd bit him…she drank for what seemed to be hours and he'd grabbed her ass while she did it, whimpering, begging her to stop. Only Angelus had made him feel so powerless, taking his body whenever the elder vampire wished those first few years of unlife. But even then Spike had fought, been beaten and then used. She never tried to force him. Still, it was something he didn't want. He had Buffy for pity's sake, and she--Morrigann--still bent him to her will. No, he didn't want to do it; he told her to stop countless times, he tried to push her off, he…

…Loved every second of it.

As the remembrance of the pleasure the woman--vampire? --Had given him surged throughout his undead veins, Spike threw up what little blood was in his stomach. He dry heaved for several minutes, ignorant of the tears of rage and shame blurring his vision. He gasped for unnecessary air and when his lungs capitulated, he whispered to the empty crypt words that would haunt him the rest of his existence.

"What have I done?"

~~~

Early Afternoon

Her eyes traveled between the two sibling demons, their attention fixated on the heated center of her splayed legs. She stroked herself, delicate fingers caressing the unquenchable throb of her sex. The short bastard, D'bahn, grunted her name, intermingling several obscene suggestions as to what they could do to her. The talk only excited her more and when her fingers slid into her moist center, Morrigann cried out and rode the wave of ecstasy. The sight of the room's other two occupants ejaculations spewing from their engorged cocks only added to her arousal and she cursed, knowing that only one thing would alleviate the pulsing need that was always a part of her.

"Did you hear me, bitch?" D'bahn shouted and slammed his fist into the bed. Morrigann jumped but quickly righted herself. She glared at the heavily panting demon and rolled off the bed.

"Gee, D'bahn," she said, flouncing to the closet in all her naked glory. "Why don't you yell a bit louder, I don't think they heard you in Quortoth."

His steps were heavy and he walked over to her, stopping just before their flesh made contact. "Let us fuck you, succubus. You know what we could do to you, make you come and shiver for days. Look, look at this." She glanced down at his impressive member, one that had yet to lose its rigidity, even after his orgasm. She licked her lips and turned her back to him, sliding her arms through the maroon blouse. Its back-less nature allowed her wings to breathe and, if she decided to use them, wouldn't ruin another shirt.

"That is quite handsome, Zidiahni. It would fit quite well, although," she murmured and bent over at the waist. Her hands squeezed the ripe flesh of her ass and she chuckled to herself at twin groans that sounded behind her. "But I bet you'd have to push real hard to get it into my tightest hole."

Wood shattered and Morrigann turned towards the sound. The normally calm M'ul Aut held a generous portion of the headboard in his one good hand and the slit where his eyes should have been thrummed with a hazy energy.

"It is not wise to tease us, Morrigann," he said, his usually smooth voice rough with need. "I like to think myself a master of my own flesh but, alas, I am a demon. There is only so much I can take."

"So what are you trying to say?" Morrigann asked and shimmied into a pair of black hip huggers.

"You know what we're saying, woman," D'bahn said. He sneered, displaying his brilliant rows of teeth and Morrigann shivered at the violent undertones shuttling through the room.

"And what are you going to do about it?" She mewled and slid her fingers down her pierced belly and into her unzipped pants.

"Nothing," a cold voice announced and the three occupants turned towards the door.

"Frost," D'bahn whispered. Morrigann heard the disdain in his voice and hid a chuckle. She finished dressing, carrying her ankle boots to the bed, pleased that even Frost could not completely avert his eyes from her sashaying hips.

"Well, well," she said and sat down, tugging her boots on. "Frost finally joins the in crowd. So, Frosty, what brings you here?"

"You know why I am here, woman." His crimson eyes fell across the two Zidiahni, who avoided his gaze. "I know about your power, succubus, and I will not allow our Lord's plans foiled because of your inability to keep your legs closed."

Morrigann was on him in the blink of an eye and she hid a smile at the gasps of surprise that filled the room. She raised her finger to his face and she laughed aloud when he flinched.

"Yes, you do know my power, Frosty, and you know what I can do with that. Not even you, with your holy principles of honor could resist. I could have you on your knees begging for me to let you taste me if I wanted." She closed the distance and though he was still, she could hear his hearts beating faster than normal. "And all it would take, oh great warrior, would be a single touch, a single taste of my flesh. Remember that." She turned from him and pulled her hair over one shoulder. Flexing the muscles in her back, she winced as the tattooed wings came to life. They were transparent in nature yet stronger than mesh steel, acting as weapons when the need arose. And from the respect that lined Frost's eyes, her message had been received.

"Don't forget, boys, I am a lieutenant of Gabriel, just as you are. Do not make the mistake of underestimating me because I am a woman. I may lay on my back often, but you must ask yourself; when I am in that position, who is it that truly has the power?"

Silence descended on the room and she left the three males staring at her wake. Her lips turned up in a smirk. She knew exactly what Gabriel wanted; she would not ruin it because she needed the release of her throbbing hormones. She had enough control to avoid that. But what she didn't have was the delicious vampire from the night before. Indulging in his body, on his blood, would not corrupt Gabriel's plans. In fact, it would even expedite his timetable. So, yeah, she would have her Spike, every inch of him. He would beg for her, do anything she asked him.

"But for now," she said and glanced at the three naked men tied to the pillar. "You three should sate me until I can have my alabaster god." She drew fingernails across one terrified man. His breath hitched as the blood pooled from his wounds and when her tongue raked his flesh, he instantly calmed and his desire was visible.

As she pleasured the three, feeding off the lust generated by the coupling and then their blood, Morrigann focused on the image of the platinum blonde. He had resisted her for quite some time before succumbing and though his will intrigued her, she refused to be satisfied with anything other than his complete subjugation. She would have William the Bloody; she would have his mind, his body and his demon's spirit.

And there would be nothing he could do to stop it.

~~~

Evening

It took six tries before Spike was able to get up, the burning sensation in his gut frying all neural activities. His eyes had remained on the stone floor beneath him. It was better this way; if he didn't move--didn't think--then maybe the events of the night before would disappear. Maybe it was just a bad dream, some sick vibe from the ether fuckin his mind up and showing him the impossible. He would never cheat on Buffy. Never. Nothing could make him do such a thing; no matter how brassed off he was at her. He loved her more than life itself and would do anything for her, even if it were to stay away.

But he surely wouldn't cheat on her.

Several hours and two packs of Marlboros later, Spike stood outside 1630 Revello. His hands shook as he stared through the window. It looked as if everyone was present and accounted for, though he had yet to see Buffy through the curtains.

"How am I gonna tell her this?" he asked the twilight sky. No answer was forthcoming and his shoulders slumped. This was not going to be easy.

He shuffled towards the door and immediately changed his route, slipping to the back of the house. Coming in through the kitchen would be much easier; he wouldn't have to answer the questioning gazes that would surely intensify the guilt that already threatened to overwhelm him. His hand touched the knob and he stopped; the fear in his blood screamed at him to retreat. Even the demon bade him not to enter the house but Spike ignored it all. Sure, she may stake him and her friends would be all 'We told you so', but he would meet it head-on.

"Here goes nothing," he said and pushed the door open.

And walked right into World War III.

"You're a fuckin liar!" Jay's voice cried from the living room.

"Jay," Giles said, "why would they lie about it?"

"Because they hate him. You all do…except for Dawn and Tara, nobody here likes him."

Must be talkin' bout me, he thought wryly before he sobered. From the sounds of the conversation, tempers were high, but what had he done? They couldn't have known about his infidelity, could they?

"Look," it was Peaches. "Spike's a demon, Jay. Very unique as far as demons go and you know how sensitive he can get."

"So you're saying he did it?"

"I didn't say that. What I'm saying is that you should keep an open mind. When Spike gets hurt, he lashes out without thinking. And this may have been the case."

"Didn't look like it to me," Faith muttered. What the bloody hell was goin on? Spike crept a bit closer towards the room, peeking around the corner. They were all there. Xander and Faith leaning up against the wall, angry scowls etched on their faces. Giles sat in the recliner, glasses in hand, refusing to look at a particularly livid Jay who stood in front of him, arms crossed.

"Well, Faith," the young woman's voice was filled with a dangerous version of Buffy sarcasm, "considering that you're always looking at my Mum's men, who knows what you actually saw."

"And I suppose I was seeing things, too, huh Jay?" Xander asked and pushed himself from the wall.

"Xander," Cordelia said. She sat on the couch, next to Willow and Tara. Angel stood with his hand on her shoulder and Spike slipped around the corner when his Sire's brow scrunched in concentration.

"No, Cordy," Jay said, "let him talk. I mean, from what I understand, Xand, you've been tryin to get into my Mum's pants for how long now? And you haven't got far have you?"

"Jay, that's not fair," Willow said.

"And this would be the perfect opportunity to get her…"

"Jay…" Faith warned.

"…cause you know, if Daddy did that, she'd be all hurt and in need of comforting…"

"Jay, please," Giles said. "This is unnecessary."

Tara spoke up for the first time. "Don't, Jay. We're not gonna gang up on him. We'll hear his side of the story."

Xander snorted. "I already know the bastard's side of the story. Tonguing it with a Cyndi Lauper wannabe when the woman he supposedly loves is crying her eyes out, nearly getting herself killed."

What? Buffy, what happened to my girl?

"…and this is the perfect chance for you, huh. Can't get to her unless she's defenseless."

"You know I'd never do that," Xander shouted.

"So when you cradled her in your arms, carried her upstairs, you mean to tell me you didn't get a hard-on? And don't lie to me, Xander; remember, part vampire here."

Xander sputtered and Spike glanced around the corner. The whelp and his daughter were toe to toe now and if it weren't for the seriousness of the situation, he would have found it quite amusing.

"I have Faith now, Jay," Xander said, his voice eerily calm.

She shrugged. "So. You had Cordelia, too and look what happened there…"

"Jay," Willow said but she was interrupted when Faith's palm slammed into the petite woman's face.

"That's enough," Spike roared and rushed to his daughter's side. Her face was set in a harsh scowl and her eyes glistened with unshed tears. But when she saw him, the floodgates burst and she wrapped her arms around his neck.

"Daddy!" She cried, burying her face in the cotton of his shirt. Spike wrapped the young woman in a leather embrace, blocking out the accusing stares that burned through his cold flesh. He kissed the top of her hair, whispering comforting endearments that only a Daddy could.

When she had finally calmed, Spike pushed her away and nearly choked at the trust and loyalty in the cerulean green eyes. He brushed the residual tears away from her cheek and stepped back.

"It's not true, Daddy, is it? Xander and Faith didn't see you doing that, did they?" Jay's pleas broke his heart. She sounded so much like a child, not like the twenty-three-year-old warrior she truly was. He wanted to coddle her, tell her that he didn't do that, anything to wipe that look of reserved despair from her eyes. But more than that, he wanted to tell her the truth.

"Jay…"

"C'mon, evil undead," Xander taunted, "tell her how you didn't shove your tongue down that woman's throat."

"Xander," Angel warned and grabbed the brunette's shoulders. "Let Spike explain." Brown eyes turned towards the platinum blonde and any bravado he had disappeared under Angel's heavy gaze.

"Daddy…?"

"Bitlet, I…" but he couldn't finish, the guilt burned a hole in his vocal cords, rendering him mute. He hung his head, refusing to look up even when he heard the horrified gasp and the shuffling of feet that was quickly followed by front door nearly torn from the hinges.

Smack!

Spike reeled from the slap and stared up into Dawn's hurt eyes. She had been silent during his eavesdropping but his wordless confession had drawn her ire.

"You bastard," she spat, "how could you?"

"Dawn, I…"

"She loved you and you betrayed her like this?" she shook her head and let out a hoarse laugh. "You know, I didn't say anything cause I didn't think I had to. Jay was there for you, defending you. Hell, even Angel gave you the benefit of the doubt…" She stopped and wiped her teary face. "I trusted you Spike. Not with my life--I still do, I think--but I trusted you with Buffy's heart. I knew you'd never hurt her like Angel or Riley or, hell, our Dad. But you did. I hope you're happy with yourself." And with that Dawn left the room. Her heavy footfalls sounded all the way up the steps before they disappeared.

"Guess the wonderful Spike isn't so wonderful after all," Xander snorted.

"Xander, that's enough," Giles said and stood. He approached the vampire and Spike's shoulders slumped. Here it comes; stake to the chest. Rupes'll do it well.

"While I do not know the circumstances of your behavior, Spike, I do know the ramifications of your stupidity." Giles closed the gap further and Spike saw the glint of Ripper behind the glasses. "I love Buffy--we all do--and we abhor her in pain. Even more, we detest those that cause her pain. And since now that person is you, might I suggest you vacate the premises before I resort to actions that, albeit may be justified, we shall all regret." His peace said, Giles turned his back and that hurt Spike more than the vampire thought possible.

Spike's eyes brushed across the room and memorized everyone's face. Xander's disgust, Faith's anger, Willow's anger and confusion, Tara's sympathetic frown. Cordelia scowled at him, a mannerism imitated by his Sire.

"Guess this is goodbye then," Spike said and started for the door. "I'll be around, still, until this is taken care of. Just let me say my peace to Buffy."

Before the room could interrupt in protests, Angel grasped Spike around the collar. "No, you won't, Spike. Not now. She's hurting and going to see her now will only hurt her--the both of you--even more. Get out of here. She'll see you when she's ready."

He dropped his hand and Spike was almost to the door when Angel called him. "Oh, and Spike?" The blonde didn't turn around but felt Angel's cool breath on the back of his neck. When had he even moved? "We will settle this up, you and me. Don't doubt that."

Any snarky retort died before it was formed and Spike walked out of Revello without another word. He shivered when the door slammed shut. It was eerily familiar to the feeling that ran through him; like he'd just been closed out on the only things worth living for.

~~~

She knew he was there before they did. Even with cries drowned out by the pillow she muffled her sorrow with Buffy still felt that tingle at the back of her neck when he stood outside her window. Although a part of her wanted to see him, needed to feel his arms around her, the other part, the scorned part of her, hurt so much by men, wanted nothing to do with the bastard.

"Go away," she murmured into her pillow. The distance between her and the others muted their words but she heard the raised voices and when the door slammed, she knew Jay had left. Several minutes later the stomping of a certain brunette's feet sounded throughout the house and Buffy almost chuckled at Dawn's behavior. When the door opened, Buffy feigned sleep. Dawn crept into the room and stared over the motionless slayer. After several minutes she leaned over and kissed Buffy on the cheek.

Buffy sat up when Dawn's own door clicked shut and glanced around the room. Willow and Tara had given it up to her after she'd come home from the hospital but it had only been a temporary thing. But last week the two had told Buffy of their plans to move out after this latest threat was settled. Although she was sad, the prospect of her and Spike having their own room made up for that. In fact, they had already planned how they would christen the room as their own. But now all her dreams had been crushed by one moment of indiscretion that had probably turned into something more when she left.

I should've confronted him she thought and stood up. Aside from the pain that lanced through her being, the guilt for not talking to Spike, letting him go and probably…sleeping with that other woman, was her intimate companion. It must have been her fault that he went to someone else. After all, they always left her and she had given Spike his fair share of reasons this past year, including her behavior when her father was here; he'd only been trying to help and she dismissed that. No, it was definitely her fault.

She walked to the window, her step devoid of any spark. That spark flared when she saw him looking up at her. His posture matched hers exactly; hands at his sides, shoulders drooped and the despair washing off him in waves. Buffy's first instinct was to go to him, to hell with what she saw. She wanted to hold him and give him her love. She wanted…

No. It didn't matter what she wanted anymore. As if from the ether, her spirit returned, full of fury. Spike had hurt her in the worst way possible and he wouldn't get her sympathy. It was his fault, his fault damn it, not hers. She was a good woman who deserved to be treated right and she wasn't going to let some undead bottled blonde make her doubt herself.

An eerie calm settled over Buffy and she cast forth her most menacing glare. If possible, Spike's shoulders sagged even further and before he turned away, Buffy thought she saw tears cascade down his cheek. She refused to acknowledge it, however, and stared at his retreating form, the familiar hard shell heart driving away the grief. But even as Buffy allowed the slayer part of her access to the woman, something in her screamed that it was a mistake. It wasn't the slayer that would win this battle but the woman whose heart belonged to a soulless vampire. And without that human part of her, everyone on the planet was going to live the rest of their lives in a world of pain and misery.

But for the first time in her life, Buffy Summers, Vampire Slayer, didn't give a damn.

TBC in Shallow Cuts…