AN: Thanks to Mita427 and socialitegirl ;)
"The Virus of Life"
…You're relaxed, you're so blind, you're amazing.
You don't even know the danger you're facing.
If I'm quiet, I'll slide up behind you-
And if you hear me I'll enjoy trying to find you…
Slipnot
Less than twenty minutes after Buffy's less than forthcoming explanation, Joyce and Dawn saw her flee once again from their place on the couch in the living room. Except this time, instead of running up the stairs to the bathroom, Buffy ran down the stairs and out the door, refusing to talk to either of them. Dawn watched from her peripheral vision as her mother shook her head, rising from the couch.
"Mom, where are you going? I thought we were gonna watch the movie?"
"Oh, I know, sweetheart. I just…I have to go make a phone call," her mother explained, heading for the stairs.
"You're going to your room for privacy, huh?"
"Well, sweetie…yes."
Dawn decided to not ask any more questions, already knowing that she wasn't going to get a straightforward answer.
"Okay. But when all of my fried peanut butter and banana sandwiches are gone, don't look at me," Dawn threatened lightly, taking another bite from her experimental snack.
Joyce made a face that fell somewhere between a grimace and a smile. "I'm sure that I'll be missing out. Maybe we can order a pizza for dinner?" On Dawn's nod of approval, she made her way upstairs.
Dawn waited several minutes after her mom left, flipping from the originally planned film "Romy and Michelle's High School Reunion" to see what else was on.
The black and white scene, apparently taken with a modern day camera, caught her eye mid-flip. That— and the male nakedness of the full frontal variety in the scene gave her pause as well. Dawn quickly turned the volume down a bit, as she leaned forward on the couch, glancing nervously toward the stairs. She listened intently, relieved when she didn't hear her mother's footsteps returning just yet.
She turned her eyes back to the television screen, and saw that guy from "Keeping the Faith." He was naked too. She frowned when she saw the large, dark swastika covering his entire left pec, along with other racially-themed tats covering his upper body. Dawn surmised he was in a prison shower, due to the guard in the corner and all. She gasped as she saw his naked rear end, and lower torso as the camera angle changed; desperate hope born of her curiosity about the male anatomy made her long for the camera to go just a bit lower…
The camera cut to the guard, leaving the shower room along with the rest of the inmates as a group of men entered, coming up behind the guy she recognized from the romantic comedy. One slammed him into the wall as he screamed a "fuck you!" as three others joining the first man. Each grabbed an arm or a leg, pinning his naked form to the tiled shower wall, making sure to hold his legs apart.
The scene literally slowed down as a really big guy threw a towel around the restrained man's neck, yanking his head back. The look in his eyes was that of power, lust and hate all rolled into one. Dawn's heart raced as she watched the scene unfold.
Wanna be a nigger, sweet boy?
Fuck you!
We gonna treat you like one.
No!
Come on!
Dawn sat in silent horror, mouth slightly agape and suddenly dry as the large man rammed into him, raping him. Though the sound on the television was low, his cries of pain were still audible enough to be terribly disturbing. His face, contorted in sorrow and hurt as he weakly tried to yell another "fuck you", broke something in her, and she felt tears welling in her eyes at the horrible injustice of it all, especially the way that the guard just turned a blind eye to it all, closing the door to give the rapists privacy.
It had never occurred to her that something like that could happen to a man. The scene was so disturbing, that she forgot all about the many penises that were being shown, and found herself sitting there, a few tears traveling down her face as she waited for it to end.
That was real sweet.
Fuck you!
The rapist slammed his victim's head into the wall, knocking him out. The camera showed him sprawled on the floor as blood ran from his temple where it had hit the wall, and from…from his…
It wasn't fair—he had been outnumbered, and completely defenseless…
Defenseless…
Something was niggling at the back of Dawn's mind, but she couldn't quite figure it out.
It only took six stitches.
Dawn gasped aloud when she realized what the doctor on the television screen was referring to.
She dropped the remote when she heard someone knocking at the door. Shaken, but quickly gathering her wits about her, she picked it back up quickly, looking for something mild and innocuous—stopping when she found a children's program on Nickelodeon.
Dawn quickly wiped at her eyes as she headed for the door, tucking her long, brown hair back behind her ears as someone knocked at the door again.
"All right, I'm coming!" she called out, placing her hand on the knob. She opened it, and furrowed her brow at the person on the other side. The thoughts whispering at the back of her mind grew a bit louder as things slowly began to click into place.
"Hey, Dawnie. Buffy home?"
sssssss
"God, I cannot wait until this menopause is over. When is this period going to end?" Joyce asked herself, frustrated at being in the bathroom so long just because she had to change again. She had anxiously wanted to call Giles, but nature called her first, demanding that the Aunt Flow situation be remedied immediately. She rolled her eyes at how rapidly she was going through her Kotex, having been on her period almost two weeks already, as she put the purple box back in the cabinet underneath the bathroom sink.
She washed her hands, contemplating how exactly she would ask Giles what exactly was going on in her daughter's love life. If there was anyone who would be privy to such information, it would be him or Willow. Joyce sighed—one way or another, Buffy always ended up being a complete mystery to her, or a complete stranger, depending upon one's perspective on things.
She hadn't been aware of her being the Slayer for so long, hadn't been aware of Angel, had only vaguely known of Riley until the past summer…and now it turned out that the guy had some sort of violent streak, for some reason or other deeming it fit to beat up on a vampire who literally couldn't touch him—at least, not in a harmful manner, anyway.
Truth be told, Joyce was quite fond of the unusual vampire. He was an excellent conversationalist, and knowledgeable about so many things—history and philosophy, and traveling, for he'd been to so many places. He had excellent taste in music, and knew lots of pertinent (although mundane) information in regards to "Passions."
In certain aspects, he reminded her of Ripper.
Joyce chuckled at the similarities between the two as she sat down on her bed. Then she quickly sobered at the thought as she recalled Ripper…and the handcuffs…and the police car…
Really not going there. But Spike's not so bad. If he were human and employed, why'd he be perfect…
She laughed to herself as she imagined Buffy's reaction to that particular thought—a mortified look accompanied by an "oh, gross mom!" Or possibly an "if you like him so much, then you date him," which would be a fruitless statement, because by then, her daughter would most certainly have threatened to stake him. She wasn't sure why Buffy and the others talked badly about him so much—he truly was a pleasure to have around.
"He's much more fun than Angel, and Riley's as dull as ditchwater sometimes," she thought aloud, not realizing that she had picked up the phrase from the platinum blonde. She bit her lower lip as she picked up the phone, dialing the Magic Box.
Four rings later, someone answered.
"You've reached the Magic Box, how may I help you?"
"Giles? It's Joyce."
"Joyce? How are you?"
"I'm fine— it's Buffy I'm concerned about. She had some kind of falling out with Riley, and said that it wasn't safe to be around him. Do you know anything about that?"
There was a terribly long silence on the other line, followed by a clearing of the Watcher's throat. "Well, um, I…I'm not sure—"
"Rupert, please," she pleaded with him. "What's happened?"
Giles sighed into the phone. "Oh, dear. It appears that Riley has…taken up quite a few nefarious activities as of late."
"What kind of 'activities?' Buffy told me not to let him in the house."
"I suppose that's for the best." He was really saying the statement to himself, momentarily forgetting the woman on the phone as he thought back on an uncharacteristically unwound Spike.
"Why? What did he do? Buffy mentioned Spike—"
"She did? What did she say?"
"She mentioned something about Riley attacking him, but was very vague and then ran off. Literally. Is Spike hurt? Does he need some kind of help?"
Giles smiled slightly to himself at her overt concern for the vampire. "He's…he'll be all right. He's staying with me for the time being."
"Oh. That's nice of you. But you still haven't told me what happened."
There was another of those awkward pauses from the shopkeeper, and Joyce just waited patiently, knowing that he would eventually give in to her and answer.
When he did, however, she wished he hadn't.
Joyce was disturbed, to say the least, when he explained what had transpired between her daughter's beau and the vampire, and the events of the vampire bites that had led up to the incident. She grasped at the neckline of her shirt in worry, not sure how, or if it was even possible to make this right— not for Riley, of course, but for her daughter, and for Spike.
It was times like this when she found herself forced to reevaluate the definition of "monster."
Spike managed to fit less and less into that category of late, but never had she fathomed that the ex-soldier could be defined as such himself. Riley was supposed to have been safe, solid and potential husband material. But that was officially over now. Joyce swore that if the lumbering bastard ever came near one of her babies again, there would be hell to pay.
It wasn't until after she had ended her conversation with Giles that she realized that she had unconsciously included Spike on that list.
sssssss
After her extremely late night of partying, Harmony made her way through the tunnels (to avoid the now setting sun) back to the crypt, and her blondie bear. She was warm and full from a recent meal, and more than eager to share the warmth with her pseudo-boyfriend.
"Spikey! Your Harmony honey is baaack," she called up to him after seeing he wasn't on the lower level. She was halfway up the ladder when she realized that he wasn't home, and with a pout, decided to wait for him in her lingerie in the easy chair and watch a bit of television until he came back. Or take a nap, and have him pleasantly wake her up…
Her thoughts dissolved into dust as the aroma of sex and blood infiltrated her nostrils. She breathed in deeply as she surfaced on the upper level, walking around the crypt until she made it into the center of the room, where the scents were strongest.
She frowned as she smelled Spike, blood, cum, and a scent that was familiar, though she couldn't exactly place it. When she realized how much of a feminine scent it was not, her frown turned into a grimace, knowing that her Spike would never do such a thing.
"Spike's so not into guy-on-guy action," she thought to herself, recalling their conversation about a three way. She squatted down, closer to the scents, and inhaled deeply, shuddering slightly as her mind darted off to a more than dark place at the possibilities of what could have happened to him.
At least there's no dust—that's something.
She closed her eyes, and inhaled slowly once again, concentrating. Her eyes flew open as the image in her mind's eye connected her to the distinct smell. Yes, though she wasn't terribly familiar with the scent, she knew. His sweat and his stink was all over the room, just as it had been that night of Spike's failed attempt at removing his chip.
The Slayer's boyfriend.
Harmony's expression hardened as comforting thoughts of vengeance filtered through her brain…
"Duality"
"Riley? What are you doing here?" Dawn asked, holding the door with one hand while using her body to take up the narrow space the open door created, essentially blocking his entrance.
"Well, I came to see my girlfriend—your sister?" he stated slowly, talking to her as if she were five or something.
Her eyes narrowed.
"She's not here. And even if she was, she doesn't want to see you, apparently. What did you do to Spike?" To her credit, despite her anger with him, she sounded nothing more than genuinely curious, but the inquiry caught Riley off guard, his expression immediately turning sour.
"Why? What have you heard?" he demanded.
"That you took advantage of his chip and the fact that he's all…"
Defenseless…attacked Spike…
…six stitches
Fuck you!
Dawn slammed her eyes shut at the images in her mind, horrified as suddenly she could see Spike instead of the guy from the romantic comedy in those showers, and Riley behind him in the place of his attacker…
Her voice was barely over a whisper, her eyes widening as they came back into focus on the ex-soldier standing in front of her.
"What did you do?"
Riley's expression went swiftly from sour to strong indignation.
"Nothing he didn't deserve," he retorted. "He's just a thing Dawnie. A monster—"
"Nothing he didn't deserve? What does that mean? What did you do?" she repeated quietly, her breath quickening with apprehension.
"It's not your concern."
All signs of emotion drained from Dawn's face at his impatient, dismissive words. "No, I suppose it's not," she admitted. "But my sister said that you aren't welcome here anymore, because she isn't so sure what you're capable of. And yet, Spike is still allowed in our home. Buffy's always made sure to drill it into my brain that monsters of any kind are not allowed or invited here ever. And suddenly, you're off the invite list, and Spike's not."
Her façade of indifference broke, and her eyes narrowed in anger and hurt as she concluded coldly, "And that tells me that you must've done something awfully horrible to him in order for her to do that. Now go away."
As Dawn began to close the door, Riley put his hand against the top of it, pushing it just enough so that it stayed slightly open.
"Look, whatever you've heard…" his voice trailed off at the girl's look of fright.
Dawn began pushing on the door in earnest, using her full weight to lean on the door.
It was useless, of course, against his greater strength.
"Dawn—"
"No! Go away! Get away from here!" she yelled, sliding against the wooden floor of the hall because of the socks that covered her feet.
Riley ignored her words, pushing a bit harder, causing the opening in the doorway to widen by about an inch or so – but it was enough to push Dawn off balance, making her slide down and crash to her knees, her hands slapping stingingly against the varnished planks.
"Dawn, are you okay? I didn't mean to—"
Dawn looked up at him through the curtain of her hair, wincing at the pain in her knees. She turned sideways, relieving the pressure and stress of her weight from her bruised shins and onto the sides of her folded legs, as she tucked her hair behind her ears, looking at the floor, embarrassment making her unwilling to look at him.
"Here, let me help you."
"No, don't touch me," she commanded softly, her voice trembling. "Get out."
Riley shook his head, refusing to leave things this way. He had to make it right.
"No, I'm going to help you." He bent forward, grasping her shoulders to help her stand.
Her head whipped up toward his, and he saw the overt fear in large, wet, blue eyes. And then– he felt something triggered inside of him by that fearful, vulnerable look, in his newfound "dark place," and breathed out a soft, involuntary groan into her face. She winced in distaste as the scent of his hot, mint Listerine breath assaulted her sense of smell.
Dawn recognized the change in him immediately. She recognized it, and yet didn't know what it was; she just knew that she didn't like what she saw, and was beyond scared of what it could mean, in light of her growing suspicions of what Riley had already done to her friend.
"No," she whimpered as he stared at her, his expression, though disturbing and creepy, still unreadable as to his intent.
Riley mentally shook himself, placing Dawn carefully on her feet.
"'No' what?" He turned his head away from her, taking a step back. He put his hands on his hips, looking at her again, his expression remorseful.
"I would never hurt you, Dawn. Or Buffy, your mom—"
"And Spike? What about him?"
Riley's lips thinned into a straight line. "You have a crush on him, don't you?"
Dawn's eyes widened at the question, silently admitting that the answer was yes.
"He's not worth it," Riley sneered softly. "He's less than nothing. It'd serve you well to remember that."
On that note, he turned and left, closing the door behind him. Dawn didn't know whether to sigh in relief or to cry at the horrifying truth she had just learned. Even without knowing the details, she knew now what had happened between Spike and Riley. She now recognized the look that Riley had given her as he had grasped her shoulders, his warm breath an uncomfortable intruder on her face.
It was the thrill of power and lust, feeding off of her fear of him.
Just like the rapist in the film.
Dawn felt her knees begin to give out on her, and she eased down onto the bottom step of the staircase, waiting for her mom to come back downstairs— and hopefully make her world right again.
sssssss
Buffy found herself sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of the couch, Spike lying sideways on it facing her. She had the now half-empty bottle of alcohol to her lips again, and at this point found the taste to be…not so bad. It still left a burning trail down her throat, but she didn't notice that as much by now, being just this side of tipsy and all.
"Ya know, this floor is way uncomfortable. You are so sharing that couch, Mister."
"I'm really not sure there's enough room up here for two people, pet, what with me lying down and all," he slurred out in response.
"Well suck it up, bleach boy, cause I'm sure my ass is getting numb, and cushions are comfy." She got up slowly, groaning to herself as the room swayed just a tad to the right of her usual line of vision.
At least, it seemed like it did.
Maybe it was her swaying.
She lay down alongside him, facing him, and promptly pouted as the feeling of being on the edge of a cliff overwhelmed her. A look of dreaminess came over Spike at the plush bottom lip prominently on display and oh so close to him.
Buffy took no notice, of course.
"Feels like I'm gonna fall off, Spike."
He threw his arm across her at that, leveling his eyes with hers as he held her firmly against him, keeping her from falling, being her anchor.
"Better?"
"Kinda…" Her eyes brightened as an idea flickered across her mind.
"Oh! I know—get up for a sec."
"Oh, come on pet. I'm all comfy like about now." He gave her a pout to rival her own as he weakly protested.
"Stop being a baby," she admonished, pulling him over as she scooted underneath him, lying flat on her back. She positioned him comfortably above her, stretched out across her, their chests, torsos and pelvises melding together. Spike lay rigid as Buffy moved the leg closest to the couch up so that her knee rested against it, and the other up and over the back of Spike's leg, crisscrossing with it, and thus making her pelvis tilt upward. He stifled a groan, bringing his head down on the couch next to her neck so she couldn't witness his discomfort.
"There. All better now," she cooed with a sigh, stroking the back of his head lazily. "Or more comfortable anyway." She used her free hand to grab the abandoned bottle off the floor, taking another swig.
"Drink?" she offered when she had finished.
"God, yes," he murmured, taking the bottle from her as he lifted up slightly, having a healthy swig as well. After several seconds passed, noticing that now only a fourth of the bottle remained, as Spike continued to chug it down, Buffy snatched it from him, causing a bit of the amber liquid to dribble down his chin and splash onto her top. She took another swig herself before placing it on the floor next to the couch.
"That's it—I'm cutting you off. No more alcohol for you." She closed her eyes slightly, pulling him back down against her, his chin slightly resting on her shoulder, and resumed her stroking of his platinum curls.
"Didn't know your hair was so curly. It's totally adorable."
"Yea, and that's exactly why I don't usually neglect slicking those bloody curls into oblivion. Slayer?"
"Mm hmm?" Her voice was soft, her heartbeat slowing down to a strong and steady rhythm, and he knew that she was starting to doze off.
"What're you doin' here, luv?"
"Huh?" Her eyes opened slowly, and she pulled back a little, turning her head so that she could face him.
"I don't need or want your pity, love. And I don't want you here if you're jus' doin' it to assuage your guilt or somethin' like that. I'm fine, really."
Her brow scrunched up at that, but she held his gaze. "'Fine' is a four letter word, Spike. And I'm not…here for that. I'm not sure why I'm here, actually. I just felt like I should be, even if I… didn't know what to say. I feel awful for what happened to you, I won't lie, but at the same time…there's no way that I could've—that he would…I'm so furious with him…I'm sure it's not possible, but I wanted to try and make it right."
Spike sighed audibly, touching her still damp hair in slight fascination, trying to think of an appropriate response to her rambling but well-intentioned explanation.
"Bein' my drinkin' buddy's a damn good start."
Buffy smiled at that before pulling him to her again.
sssssss
Riley marched away from the Summers' home, overwhelmed with confusion, and driven by anger. Confusion, because of what he had felt when he had had Dawn in his grasp—her overt fear reminding him of the moment right before he had taken Spike. His jaw clenched in frustration as he tried to understand what he had come so close to doing– again.
It all had happened so quickly—the feeling of power as he had looked into her blue eyes, feeding off those fearful tears that had welled up there.
He had looked at her, and remembered Spike—saw Spike— and it had been intoxicating.
Spike.
This, all of this, was his fault. Losing Buffy, scaring Dawn, having his darkest secrets out in the open…
And for those reasons, he had to pay. The vampire was going to pay.
With a grim expression on his face, Riley headed back to his apartment to retrieve a few supplies. After that, he would head to Restfield Cemetery.
He had a vampire to confront.
sssssss
Harmony, her expression one of pure determination born of rage, headed swiftly through the tunnels. Her destination was one of the many local demon bars down by the docks. The sun would set in another twenty minutes or so, and she figured that by the time she resurfaced to ground level, the sun would be low enough that she would be able to get in the front door without incident.
She knew that she had to act quickly, because as soon as it was nightfall, she had a mission to accomplish. She had to be swift, because the Slayer might be lurking about, ready to screw up her plans— though that didn't mean that it couldn't still be as painful as her intended victim deserved.
Maybe I'll have time to pick up a camera. Gotta cherish those memories.
"That soldier prick is so gonna pay for even thinking to lay a hand on my blondie bear."
She unconsciously shifted into game face, craving blood…
"Guiding the Blade"
"So, you told Joyce," Anya observed from directly behind Giles. Judging by her extreme proximity, he knew she'd been eavesdropping. "Do you really think that was such a good idea?"
"Well…Joyce, she um…you have no idea how convincing that woman can be when she wants to."
"So you hadn't meant to tell her then? It just slipped out, right?"
"Yes. Exactly."
"I'm guessing I shouldn't tell Xander, then."
"No, especially not. Xander's reaction might be…less than kind…honestly, who can tell with that boy? That, and Spike has a right to his privacy."
"Yes, he does. Except when it comes to Joyce, apparently."
"Anya, I told you I had no intent—"
"And now you want me to lie— by omission, but lie, nevertheless— to the man that I love? The man I live with, share my bed with?"
Giles gave her a pained expression, not sure what to say.
"All right. I can do that. No problem." She smiled cheerfully at him.
He sighed his relief. "Yes. Very good. The matter isn't to be discussed with anyone else. Not Xander, Willow, or Tara."
"And Dawn?" Anya inquired, her brow crinkled in confusion.
"Bloody hell! Of course Dawn is not to know! I thought that much was obvious."
"How was I supposed to know? You gave me this list and—" Anya stopped mid-sentence as another customer entered the store, turning to smile brightly and greet him, completely ignoring Giles.
Shaking his head, he looked down at his watch, and wondered how the vampire was faring, not to mention Buffy. He sincerely hoped that they could find some semblance of solace at this time of darkness for them both.
sssssss
"Dawn, is everything all right?" Dawn heard her mother call from the top of the stairs.
She heaved a sigh, continuing to hold her head in her hands, eyes tightly shut. "Yeah, it's just…Riley came by. I wouldn't let him in, though." She straightened a bit from her position on the stairs, watching as her mother slowly descended, concern tinged with apprehension on her face.
"What did he say?" her mother asked cautiously, standing before her.
"He um, he said he wanted to see Buffy, and I told him he wasn't welcome here anymore. And then…it was mostly my own dumb fault. I was probably overreacting, but his eyes…"
"Did he do something to you? Touch you? Hurt you?"
Dawn saw that her mother had that look in her eyes— the one that said she wanted to do some serious damage. Buffy got that look too, sometimes, particularly when she felt that those closest to her had been threatened.
"Dawn?" Her mother gripped her shoulders, searching her face with worry in her eyes, and Dawn realized that she still had not answered her questions.
"No. He just scared me, is all. Will -- will Spike be safe? At Giles'? I don't want Riley anywhere near him, Mom. He's…he's changed. I don't want him around any of us."
"Oh, sweetheart." Her mother embraced her, stroking the long strands of her hair that hung down her back. "Buffy will keep Spike safe. And next time you find Riley at our door, come to me, and I'll take care of him," she said softly— in the kind of soft voice that was menacing and deadly, at the same time.
Dawn took comfort in that.
sssssss
Harmony strolled into the dark bar, searching every patron's face with her golden eyes. She smiled with satisfaction as she found the one she'd been searching for. He was sitting in a booth near the back left end of the bar, enjoying a drink, casually looking over the crowd.
His name was Chris, and he was tall, with dark brown hair accentuated by hypnotic dark brown eyes, sensuous lips, a lean, agile body…well, he was almost perfection. His voice didn't have as much bass in it as she preferred, and though he had that swagger that she found to be oh so sexy, he just couldn't do it like her Spike.
In fact, no one could she admitted to herself.
But he was still way good looking.
Their eyes met, and he grinned at her. Harmony sauntered over to him, and sat down without an invitation.
"Harm, pleasure seeing you here. But I'm guessing that you're only gracing me with your presence because you finally managed to convince that delectable boyfriend of yours to have a lil' party, eh?"
"Actually, no Chris. He still politely declines…but I do have a party that I'm sure you'll like just as much. Maybe more in certain ways."
Chris sucked in air between his teeth, hissing. "You naughty girl, you. Will it hurt?"
"Most definitely. It's all about the pain."
"Pleasure is hard to come by these days without the pain," he said thoughtfully.
Harmony gave him a hollow smile in return. "I'm thinking that you and I will most certainly find the pleasure through someone else's pain. Does that count?"
"Will there be blood?" he asked darkly, his voice low and suggestive.
"Only if we do it right."
"And I'm guessing 'right' in this sense will be quite wrong?"
"Very. Very wrong."
They smiled at each other with understanding. Harmony nodded toward the exit, a question in her eyes, and he smiled as he tossed a few bills onto the table. She stood up, Chris followed suit, and they left the bar and headed out into the night.
They had many things to discuss.
sssssss
With a stealth that comes only with age, Spike rose up from the couch so as not to disturb the slumbering slayer. As comfortable and lovely as it had been lying beside— well, on top of the woman of his desires, he was in no mood for a kip, and at the same time, didn't feel much like thinking. The alcohol he had drunk had not been enough to soothe his troubled emotions, and after further contemplation, he realized what was missing— his smokes.
Of course, in his haste to leave his crypt, he had left them on the upper level somewhere— probably on the counter. And of course, the Watcher had stopped smoking once he hit the age of "responsibility" and so forth.
It looked like leaving, if only briefly, was the only option.
Spike sighed, glancing over at Buffy. A little drool was dribbling from the side of her mouth, causing him to crack a grin at the unexpected sight.
"Bloody hell, she's adorable," he murmured, grabbing his coat. With the sun finally set, he could leave his blanket behind, as he headed out for a comforting box of mentholated smokes.
To be truthful, it wasn't so much the cigarettes themselves he found comforting, as the fact that they represented part of an image that he wanted—needed— to maintain. The…incident earlier that day had deeply rattled him, taking him back to a place that he had desperately wanted to believe was forever dead and buried. After his rebirth, he had sworn to never be a victim again— or at least, not to someone so utterly beneath him.
In his opinion, Finn was practically as low as one could get.
Walking the streets of Sunnyhell, Spike felt an anger rise in him at how helpless he had been— how the attack had made the Master Vampire feel as if he had been reduced once more to nothing more than…him.
William.
There were many aspects of his human self that Spike longed to forget, yet no matter how hard he tried, no matter how much time had passed, time and again he found that he was still there.
It was William who had so desperately wanted to cry while he was being violated by Riley, and it was only his demon that had kept him from breaking down.
During the attack, anyway.
Spike was finally beginning to accept that when it came to expressing sensitivity and grief that he tried so hard to conceal, William usually could best his demon. But there had been a few times– other times— when he had been able to preserve his well-practiced façade.
But the bloody chip had taken even that away from him.
Keeping his emotions in check was one thing, but not being able to defend himself physically…it made him feel just that more helpless. Sure, he could still look the part— the devilish smirks, the swagger, the coat, the smokes and alcohol…but it all meant nothing if he could no longer back it up.
He was officially a victim again.
Albeit, a very much unwilling one, but a victim nevertheless.
And that was something that he could not accept. Something he refused to accept.
"Not gonna be anyone's bloody bitch anymore," he said with determination.
"I think I'm gonna have to disagree with that, Spike."
Spike froze at the sound of the cold mockery in that terrifyingly familiar voice, his spine stiffening in apprehension, and another feeling that he did not want to acknowledge.
Now or never, mate. Are you a victim, or not?
Spike made a split second decision– and ran.
Better to be a coward than a victim.
"Let My Savage In"
Buffy was in a rush, trying to clean up the bathroom before her mom got home. Bent over the tub, scrubbing its sides, she heard the heavy clomping of boots entering the bathroom behind her.
"There you are. Been lookin' for you."
She stood up at the sound of his voice, and Spike appeared before her, only standing in the tub, rather than behind her, where the sound of his voice had come from.
"Give us a hug, then," he whispered, and she found herself taking off her shirt.
"Topless hugs are more fun," she explained, pulling his T-shirt apart right down the middle, exposing the smooth, pale skin of his chest before leaping upon him, wrapping her legs around his torso, her arms wound tightly around his neck. She could feel his huge erection beneath her, and gasped when she realized that there was nothing separating their interlocking parts, and that he was deep inside of her. It felt as he was everywhere at once, all around her, consuming her.
She groaned low in her throat, dropping her dampened brow on his leather-clad shoulder, and shuddered as her orgasm came instantly at the contact. It felt as if she couldn't breathe, but she was not afraid. A wonderful sense of calm coursed over her at the same time.
"Bloody hell, 's Joyce," Spike muttered, looking out of the square window that now existed in the once solid ceramic tiles of the shower wall. Buffy looked up, realizing what he had just said, and sure enough, her mother was standing below on the street, wearing a long, flowing red dress with black trim. Her hand was held up to her face, shielding her eyes from the setting sun as she attempted to look up toward the window, and Buffy hoped to God that she hadn't seen them in their very-much-compromising position.
Spike put her down before dashing out of the bathroom in search of her mother. Buffy searched for her pants, wanting to hurry downstairs before her mother could suspect anything.
Wearing a pair of wrinkled pants that she had found on the bathroom floor, she finally made it out to the street, and saw a little boy with blond, curly hair and deep blue eyes full of tears. He appeared to be wearing Spike's clothes, only they fit his little-boy-sized body perfectly. She guessed that he was maybe about nine or ten.
"I cleaned the tub," she hurriedly explained to her mom, who wasn't really paying that much attention to her.
Joyce's eyes were focused on the little boy standing before her.
"The bad man wants to hurt me," he whimpered to her mom, rubbing at his eyes. Her mother looked sympathetic, but remained silent, wanting the little boy to continue. "I'm just a poor boy— I need no sympathy. I'll kill him before he touches me again." The last sentence was not spoken in the little boy's voice—but in Spike's.
Buffy frowned with concern, realizing that it was in fact Spike, hiding behind the façade of an innocent little boy.
"But you can't. Your chip…"
"What, this?" the little boy asked, still in Spike's voice, holding his hand out to her. There was a tiny microchip in his small palm, and he sneered at her as it burst into sky blue flames. "Thunderbolt and lightning," he laughed as it crumbled to dust. "Didn't think I'd be caged forever, did you?" he asked rhetorically, shifting into game face.
Buffy was taken aback as she saw the little boy's face shift into that of a vampire—and in the sunlight, no less. Her mother stood there impassively as the vampire boy lunged for her daughter, grabbing her wrist and biting into it.
Buffy hissed in pain out of reflex, but it didn't hurt.
Not at all.
"Spare him, Sweetie—he's just a poor boy," her mother pleaded with her.
When she didn't move or cry out, he released her, and all at once he was full grown Spike again, not in game face.
Holding a guitar.
He began strumming it softly, looking down at his hands as he plucked its strings.
"I never wanted anybody more than I wanted you. The only thing I ever really loved was hurting you. Don't go, I never wanted anybody more, than I wanted you. The only thing I ever really loved was hate…" His voice trailed off, and he suddenly appeared to be very confused. He looked up at her then, as if searching for something in her expression.
"Buff—"
Slamming into the floor from rolling off of the couch jarred Buffy out of her strange dream. Putting her hand to her head, she sat up slowly, wondering if it had been a slayer dream, or a wacky, crazy dream induced by the effects of alcohol on her own subconscious.
She really couldn't tell.
With everything that had been going on in the past twenty four hours, it was truly hard to say. But there was one thing she did know for sure.
Spike was no longer in the safety of Giles' apartment.
"Damn it, Spike," she muttered, getting up and heading to the door. He was out there somewhere, alone. She just hoped he didn't run into any trouble before she could get to him.
Trouble meaning Riley, of course.
sssssss
Spike had to wonder if he had been asking for this. Going out alone, still chipped and therefore unable to defend himself from the only monster that was any real danger to him was bloody stupid, after all. But of course, there was no time to dwell on such trivial matters now.
No, now was the time to focus on running like hell.
His body tensed, his knees slightly bent as he prepared for his mad dash; but before he had the chance to move a yard, a bolt of electricity hit the base of his skull, sending him crashing to his knees, his body shaking in involuntary spasms as his hands shook out in front of him. A choked scream completed his moment of pain, as he collapsed face forward on the ground. As the pain began to subside, he was viciously shocked again in roughly the same spot. It felt as if his brain was on fire.
"You thought I was going to let you get away with it, Spike? You thought I was just going to let you walk away?!" Riley kicked him in the ribs so hard that the wounded vampire was flipped forcefully onto his back by the blow.
"You're going to pay, you son of a bitch." The molten lava of anger and hatred burst forth from within Spike, making him no longer care about the firing of his chip he would surely receive from striking out at the wanker. Vamping out, he thrust his foot out at Riley, catching the soldier directly in his privates with the thick, hard sole of his combat boot. It was only after his bull's eye hit that he braced himself for the pain.
Except, there wasn't any- only a slight tingle in the back of his noggin...
Well, isn't this just… neat.
Getting to his feet, as Riley remained on the ground, moaning in pain, Spike kicked him in the face experimentally, knocking his rapist onto his back from the blow. There was another tingle, but less noticeable than the last time.
Spike grinned around his fangs.
"No, you're gonna pay, you limp bastard. Thanks to your wankerish tactics of attempting to fry my brain with your little taser, my chip seems to be out of commission— for the most part. This is gonna be—Aagh!" Spike yelled in pain as Riley stabbed him in his jean-clad thigh with what must have been an eight inch blade, burying it to the hilt in the vampire's flesh.
Spike's leg buckled slightly, and he stumbled backward, grasping the handle of the knife with both hands, trying to pull it free from his tense muscles. It hurt like a bitch, but the pain was nothing he couldn't handle. Unfortunately, he couldn't pull it out fast enough, and Riley took advantage of his distraction, tackling him to the ground with a grunt, consequently lodging the knife further into Spike's thigh once again, but this time at an awkward angle. He reached into another pocket of his cargo pants, and held something else out in front of Spike's face.
It was a can of pepper spray.
Spike screamed in pain as the pepper spray burned his corneas, dilating his blood vessels, and tainting the ocean blue of his irises and the whites of his pupils with red.
During Spike's distraction, Riley grabbed his wrists and held them together, binding them with a plastic clamp and pulling it tightly so that it dug painfully into his skin.
"See, Spike? I always come prepared," Riley panted out, his eyes traveling slowly over Spike's incapacitated form with undisguised lustful anticipation.
"You aren't gonna get away with this," Spike gritted out the words, fighting back a wave of panic at the helpless condition that he was finding himself in once again, regardless of the chip's failure.
Before Riley could retort, a yell of fury interrupted him, followed by a blur of blonde as Riley was tackled off Spike and slammed into the ground by the young woman. Riley's eyes widened when he realized that it was no woman at all.
It was a vampire.
Harmony? Spike thought, twisting his head to confirm with his eyes what his keen nose already smelled.
Riley smiled at her.
"Glad you could come. You can be the first part of the lesson— my demonstration to Spike of just exactly what I'm gonna do to him." His cold eyes looked her appreciatively up and down as he shrugged, "More or less."
Eyes narrowed with hatred, Harmony shut him up by punching him in the jaw, the powerful blow whipping his head to the side.
"Wrong, bitch, cause I am so gonna be the one teaching you a lesson."
Riley grunted as he used his upper arm strength to the max, hurling her up and over his head and onto her back. She quickly twisted once she had landed on her back, pulling herself up onto her knees, grasping Riley's wrists and twisting them into an X in the process. Riley never got the chance to react, for as soon as she had him properly pinned, shifting into her game face, a tall, brown-haired, male vampire leapt upon him, smiling gleefully as Harmony bit into his neck.
"Harm?"
Harmony's head shot up, and she smiled fondly at her blondie bear, who was now standing, hands bound in front of him, staring bleary-eyed at the scene unfolding before him.
"Yes, Spikey. It's me. I came home earlier and you weren't there, and I smelled…" Harmony faltered, swallowing as she looked away. "Him. I just couldn't let him get away with it, could I?" she asked as Chris trailed his hands slowly up and down Riley's torso, enjoying the smell of his fear in the air.
Spike tilted his head, staring more at Harmony than at the other two. She was starting to look a bit worried— as if perhaps she had done the wrong thing. Spike looked down at Riley, who was panting heavily, attempting to wriggle from beneath the vampire, who had his hips and thighs locked in a vice grip between his powerful legs, rocking against his pelvis with his own as he hummed in pleasure. Two thin trails of blood dribbled from the twin puncture marks in his neck. Harmony had been extra careful not to rip his throat.
After all, he had to be alive and alert for all of the fun.
It didn't look at all comfortable for the captive soldier.
Wouldn't be fair to worry her unnecessarily, would it?
Spike smirked at her devilishly, swaggering up to her. He held his bound wrists out to her, and Harmony temporarily used her knees to pin Riley's wrists down, so that she could pull apart the plastic clamp that bound Spike. She smiled at him as the thin plastic fell broken to the ground, ineffectual. With a hard tug, Spike yanked the knife out of his thigh with a grunt, then held it before him, admiring the length of the blade. He looked back down at Harmony and smiled.
"Of course not, pet. But let's not have your friend enjoy all the fun, yea?"
sssssss
Buffy was rushing through Sunnydale, checking one place after another in a desperate attempt to find the traumatized, vulnerable vampire. She had been to the Bronze, the Magic Box, the corner store…and she couldn't find Spike anywhere. She figured that the one place he wouldn't be was at his crypt, considering that was the place where it had happened.
Buffy shook her head, feeling sickened by the unbidden images attempting to force their way into her mind's eye.
Force. Definitely a bad choice of words there…
She sighed, focusing on her…dream. The brief, hot, Spike-sex—definitely no prophesy in that. Then there was her mother, and Spike as a young boy, so she assumed that was still the wacky subconscious coming into play.
But the chip…
His chip bursting into flames, Spike biting her— definitely some extreme warning bells going off there.
But he said he'd never hurt me. Buffy's brow crinkled as she remembered another line from her dream.
I'll kill him before he touches me again…
An all-consuming fear gripped her, and she knew she had to find Spike before something awful happened.
She just wasn't sure what that something was.
A/N: If you're enjoying this or finding it remotely intriguing, please, please review. It's not only good for Muse, but it's good for the soul.