Spike stands outside for a few minutes, clenching and unclenching a fist, trying to will himself through the door. His stomach is in knots, butterflies tickling the edge of nervousness.
If I had a heartbeat it'd be deafening right now.
It's not just the thought of seeing her, though that's done plenty to set him on edge. Riley being downtown, it's a ticking time bomb, with no clue how long before it goes off.
Bloke's getting further away from towing the line. If I don't play this right, I'm dust. If he comes back early and catches me in her bedroom I'm a dead man.
More so than usual.
Thoughts of the night before pull at his mind. The way she'd swayed in Riley's arms, all soft and happy and sweet. All smiles and whispers. No idea of the lies he was hiding. Of the bite marks underneath the bandage on his arm. He thinks of Buffy underneath Riley, grinding ineffectually against him as he paws at her. Slips inside her. Not seeing it with his own eyes is little respite, his imagination fills in the gaps with excessive, graphic clarity. Choking him completely. Twisting his heart with thoughts of what it would be like to feel her beneath him... see her wanting him like he wants her...
Alright... so it's worth the risk.
Even if she stakes me it'll be worth the risk. Can't go on like this...
He lets himself in as quietly as possible, closing the door behind him with barely a sound. The house is silent. Almost silent. Upstairs overhead is a soft gasp from Buffy's room, and he prickles, suddenly panicking that he's misjudged the situation entirely. That Riley is in fact in the house and he's about to get himself dusted over nothing.
When no other sound travels down to him he starts his way up the stairs.
God Buffy, I'm risking everything for you. How have you got me wrapped up in you so quickly?
He heaves his mind back on track, back to the task at hand.
This'll be it though. She'll see it, see him getting the juice sucked out of him by some vamp trollop and she'll realise what a lying piece of shit he is. Knew he was a fucking asshole from day one. No one ever listens. Happy to tag and capture and cut up whatever he wants, then goes and pays vampires to suck him dry. Hypocrite.
Coulda told her what a mistake Angel was too. Sure he can brood and pout and play the poor victim of gypsy curses 'til he's red in the face. Says he has to come to terms with infinite remorse, but pretends he doesn't have any memory of it all around her. Pretends that shoving a soul back in is just a reset button, but he remembers everything. Always did. If I'd warned her then... Didn't particularly have a reason to at the time, but shit I really coulda saved her some hassle over that one. Should've killed him over what he did with Dru anyway.
Stupid girl's got the worst taste in men, always picking the sweet kind gentleman without realising they're the most dangerous. The ones with the most to hide.
He can smell her, a softly sweet clean smell everywhere through the house. It's stronger on the landing, and damp like she's showered recently... He takes a breath, wanting to fill his lungs with it, wanting to hoard it, unable to stop his mind lingering on the thought of her peach colored skin glistening under hot water.
He fingers the grain of the wood of her door. Taking a moment, trying to regain composure a little but his fingers are shaking.
As he slips in she stirs, a slight rustle of the sheets and he catches the smell of her again. Stronger. Sweeter.
...Wetter.
That scent. Warm, and fragrant and a little earthy, human and alive, heat built in underneath it...
That time in Giles' chair... Wet fingers... Hungry mouths...
His throat swells shut entirely. There's no accompanying scent of Riley lingering in the bedroom. Fresh sheets. No trace of his scent at all. He's not keeping clothes here then.
Girl's going unfulfilled too often... give me a chance Buffy, I'd do it all for you. You wouldn't catch me running around behind your back.
I'd be yours if you'd have me-
"Riley?"
It takes him a moment to find the words caught in his throat, feeling like his voice box has completely abandoned him.
Her orgasm shudders through her, making her shiver and sigh, and in that moment she hears it. Heavy booted footsteps on the stairs.
Guess he lost track of time with his army troop, she thinks, taking a breath, relieved he didn't walk in on her 2 minutes ago, whispering Spike's name as she imagined his tongue inside her.
There's a pause outside her door just before the handle turns and she relaxes into the pillows, suddenly feeling very drowsy after her ebbing release. Her bedroom door clicks shut but he hovers in the middle of the room, not moving further in.
"Riley?"
He shuffles, moving into a beam of light cast from a streetlight outside.
"...It's me."
Hard cheekbones and pale skin are suddenly illuminated in stark black and white tones, as if he's stepped straight out of her thoughts into her bedroom.
She sits bolt upright, only just remembering in time that she's wearing nothing underneath the bed covers, and she clenches the comforter to her breasts.
"What the hell are you doing? Was I somehow not clear enough the last time you wandered in uninvited!?"
"I wouldn't be here if I didn't have a good reason." he moves further out of the shadow and freezes for a second, realizing her shoulders are bare. The way she's holding the comforter up across her chest... "I..." God, get a grip.
"So this isn't like last time? When you had absolutely no reason?"
"I'm serious-"
"Get out."
"Look, I'm trying to help you-" This is unravelling. I'm unravelling...I didn't expect her to be... to be-
"Get out, or I'll throw you out myself!"
He bars the image from his mind, knowing it'll derail him further.
"And as much as I'd love the full show, pet, we really don't have the time."
She flushes a deep red that's little more than a darkening of her cheeks in the gloom of her bedroom. He moves closer to the foot of the bed, and she hardens her jaw, trying to figure out how she can pull her clothes on and simultaneously wrangle him out of her bedroom.
"I want to show you something." There's a desperate insistence in his voice that makes some of the fury evaporate a little.
"What?"
"You need to see this. But we have to go now if we want to get there in time."
They square each other off, glare for glare, but her curiosity wins out over stubbornness. She sighs, biting her lip.
"Turn around."
Spike raises an eyebrow, eyes pitch black with dilated pupils gleaming in the dark.
Didn't ask me to leave. Or wait outside. Is her resolve slipping faster than she wants to admit?
Her eyes flare and he realizes he's staring at her, knuckles white against the railing of the bed. He turns, leaning against the bedframe, keeping the railing in his hands to steady himself.
Naked Buffy. All alone in a room with her. And she doesn't even seem to mind... If I turned around, if I kissed her would she stop me... if I pulled her down on the bed with me would she stop me?
He stifles a moan, wicked thoughts pulling at his mind with hot little fingers, making him harden against the fabric of his jeans.
Buffy keeps the comforter pinned to her chest as he turns away from her, only letting it slip once his head is turned. She's left a little pile of clothes next to the bed, Thank God, but...
Oh. Underwear. I put what I had on before in the laundry hamper in the hall and my underwear drawer is on the other side of the room by the door...
I could ask him to move...
...I could ask him to leave...
She decides against both, knowing her voice will come out cracked and dry.
Don't think I could really take his snide commentary right now...
She slips into what she has, a thick green sweater and sweatpants, sans bra and panties, finds sneakers and pulls them on, lacing them up tight.
Not ideal. But it's dark he won't be able to tell, right?
...Vampires have good night vision though don't they?
Crap. Can't do anything about it now.
"Ok. Let's go." She pulls on a denim jacket over the sweater, ignoring his trailing glance that slides over her as she moves passed.
They drive downtown, Buffy keeping her jacket closed across her chest, feeling like she could do with five or six more layers despite the balmy night air.
Had to pick up the jacket without buttons. Please. Please, please please don't let this be a drop-kicking, back-flipping kind of excursion.
He hasn't said anything since they left the house, sharing a truce-ful silence as the interior of the car flashes underneath headlights passing overhead. Occasionally their eyes meet in the dark and Buffy's throat feels like it's going to close altogether.
Thoughts of him, of having him, letting him have her had only just dwindled and then as if summoned he was in her room, staring down at her as she clung to the bedsheets. Almost like he could read every single thought. Like he always somehow managed to.
God this is so far passed awkward, this out the other side into please just let the Earth swallow me whole.
"Are you going to tell me what we're doing?" She was right, her voice sounded strained and on the edge of breathy.
"It's not really something I can tell you, luv. This is a show not tell sort of situation."
"I hate surprises."
He smiles bitterly. You're really going to hate this one.
Spike parks his car a few streets away, shuts off the engine, nerves shaking through him like ants under his skin.
This is going to hurt her.
She moves to open the door and he catches hold of her wrist, staying her for a second.
"Buffy-" Tell her. Tell her you love her. Ask her to leave him, and spare her all this... But instead he swallows his words, knowing this is the only way she'll listen. He lets go of her wrist, clenching his jaw as she climbs out of the car.
They turn into an abandoned factory car lot and her heart drops.
I don't think I've ever once been in a factory and not had to fight my way out. That's not how Sunnydale works.
She bites her lip, resigning herself to the fact that by the end of the night Spike will probably get more than a bit of an eyeful, and that she'll never ever live it down.
They cross the lot. Spike can already feel his hackles rising, skin tingling from the smell of blood inside. From the stench of bodies pressing against each other in dirty surroundings, making the air thick with it. His demon fights a little against the leash of control but he winds it back tighter.
Not now. Gotta keep the face she likes in place for this.
He opens the door for her, and she steps inside. As her eyes adjust to the gloom, she recoils, fingers twitching for the stake that she suddenly realizes she hasn't brought. Vampires, littered through the room in various states of undress, in various states of...
...feeding. But there's no screams, or cries. Not even whimpers, just a low continuous note of moaning and sucking. Like she's walked into the middle of an orgy.
Oh Jesus... what is this.
He catches her fingers as they reach for a stake that's not there.
"Don't start slaying. This isn't what we're here for."
She's too stunned to move for a moment. Oh my God, how can it get worse than this. If this isn't what we're for...
He nudges her gently and she nearly trips over her own feet as he gets her moving, walking towards a set of stairs at the back leading up.
He can smell him now. Underneath all the blood, and the lust, and the sweat, Riley's smell is a bright white note, the scent of the soap he uses mingling with the smell of his blood. Like a glowing line it disappears up the stairs and he moves Buffy towards them, keeping near in case she trips. Litter and rotting clothes left behind by careless patrons decorates the steps as she picks her way over it all.
A hand suddenly drops onto his shoulder, spinning him round.
"What d'you think you're doing?" A hefty vamp glowers down at Spike. He's big, and mean looking, but he's still only fresh, not more than a few months out of his grave. Weak compared to Spike, and his centuries of feeding.
Don't need the hassle. Spike thinks, un-balling a fist. Don't want to start a brawl that'll make Captain Crewcut come running.
"Just having a look mate," he shrugs the hand off his shoulder. "Keep it down."
"You can't go up there-" The hand grabs his shoulder again and Spike chokes him by the throat, squeezing with one hand until the vamps eyes near pop, nails digging into tendons. He shoves him hard, and the vampire sprawls on the floor, unnoticed by the rest of the warehouse's clientele.
"I said keep it down," Spike sneers, straightening his coat and following Buffy up the stairs.
It's worse somehow on the second floor. Heaps of trash in corners, used needles, dirty clothes and filthy tattered curtains that flutter against the windows. The smell is worse too. Of piss and blood and sex. There's a row of offices, secluded rooms with moans and grunts spilling out of them. Spike can hear Buffy's heartrate start to tick over higher. Not usually one to panic this place has gotten fully under her skin, making her want to gag.
I can't do this. She thinks, feeling suddenly dizzy from the smell of sex and blood. There's no air in this place, every breath she takes feels like it's already been sucked in a hundred times. Circulating through dead lungs. This is... this is completely disgusting. How did I not know about this? Surely Giles should know about this? She feels her gag reflex suddenly tighten, and takes a steadying breath, accompanied by every smell seeping out into the hallway.
She's about to walk further down the hall when Spike stops her with a hand on her arm, nodding to an office room off to her left.
I don't want to go in there. I don't want to see what's in there if it's worse than this.
She steals herself, not wanting to crumble and flee in front of Spike. She pushes the door open, making her way inside a little, before stopping in her tracks.
Two figures are sprawled on a filthy mattress on the floor. A man, shirtless with his face in shadow, tangled around a vampire, thin, female, twisted in between his legs. Grinding against him. Her lips pressed wide and hungrily over his arm. Something black has spilled onto her face, a thick line of blood dripping down, running down her neck. The man sucks air into his lungs as she bites down further, moaning.
What the hell am I doing here? Rage mingles with disgust and she tries to edge back out of the door.
"Harder." He groans, and Buffy freezes. Recognising the voice. Her lips move but nothing comes out.
Riley...
"Uh..." Oh God... it can't be... please tell me I'm dreaming. This is some twisted awful nightmare...
His head snaps up at the sound of her gasp from the open door. Spike is behind her, steadying her with a hand on her back as she tries to find air in the dank disgusting room.
I'm going to be sick.
Oh God I really think I'm going to be sick...
"Buffy-" Riley moves to untangle himself from the vampire on top of him and she backs out of the room, not wanting to give him a chance to reach her whilst he's still covered in his own blood and the vampire's drool.
She snaps out of her daze then, shaking herself out of shock as she pelts back out into the dingy hallway.
"BUFFY!" Riley screams after her but she's half way down the stairs, running for the exit.