Chapter 6

Buffy walked to the edge of the alleyway and took a deep, well-needed breath. She tried to calm her racing mind and just think. She needed to find Spike and figure everything out. She was running on adrenaline and went where her body took her. Her legs were pumping away with all their might once again but this time her destination surprised her. She came to an almost screeching halt in front of Spike's crypt; back to square one as they say. She took a long, hard look at the crypt, suspicious and weary of her unconscious decision to come back here. What caught her eye was the crypt door, slightly ajar with light squeezing through the tiny crack. Without hesitating, she swung open the door and made her presence known

"Spike!" She called out into the now fully lit crypt with candles aplenty. "Spike!"

A platinum head rose from beneath the ground as he ascended the stairs from the lower level. A look f concern shrouded his face as his body went to meet the frazzled slayer that just burst through his door.

"Don't take a damn step closer!" She warned as her body prepared for attack.

"Love, what's going on? Is everything alright?" Spike asked after he stopped dead in his tracks.

"Tell me the truth!" Buffy ordered with Mr. Pointy firmly in her grasp.

"The truth about what, pet? What are you getting at?" He replied with confusion as he studied her reaction with an intent stare.

"You're evil again, aren't you? A stupid vampire told me so. Tell me, Spike! Tell me," Buffy rambled as her grip on her favorite stake began to stumble and as the anger and confusion made her shudder.

Spike cautiously took a step forward and stepped clearly into the candlelight. His clear alabaster skin glowed under a maroon button up that he wore unbuttoned, of course. Classic black jeans hugged his legs as the button on those too weren't left to do their job. He was perfect; down to his hear feet which kissed the ground with every step he took towards the slayer.

He slowly enveloped her in a hug, she fumbled a bit at first but she gradually settled into him as he whispered soothing nothings into her ear. His hands ran calming paces over her hair and she was finally able to calm down after a few minutes.

"They said they were working for you when I found some vamps attacked someone. They said they knew about us," Buffy admitted.

"Do you always believe what people tell you, love?" Spike calmly asked as he cupped her head in his hands.

Her big eyes gazed back at him as she shook her head no. Suddenly, she realized what a vulnerable state she was in and quickly exited from Spike's cold, yet comforting arms. He let her go immediately and laughed as she made the realization. He raised a hand once again, but only to comfort himself as he rested it on the back of his neck.

"Cuz bloody hell, it would be a travesty if you were concerned for me," Spike retorted.

"Shut up, Spike," Buffy said as she gained some composure.

"Come by for your fix and come to find that your little puppy has run off," He continued, "Well, now you've found me, we gonna get to shaggin' or what?"

Buffy's face filled with shock as she listened to his words. She was using him for her own pleasures. And he knew it. He must have known it from the beginning. Guilt began to overcome her as the weight of the situation was just thrown onto her shoulders. Ever since he had come back, she didn't feel like herself. She just needed something to make her feel alive, like everything was ok. Being with him did that for Buffy. Nothing mattered except exactly what was going on between them. No vampires, no demons, no nothing. But now that things were so much better, why did she keep coming back to him?

"You know, I've had a rough day, nothing a good shag couldn't fix," He continued as he stepped towards Buffy again. His arms grasped onto her arms and his head ducked in towards her awaiting ear.

"I love it when you beg for it, scream my name, wrap your tight little frame in my sheets. And I know how much you love it, too, Slayer," His deep voice hummed.

Her face was tinged a slight shade of pink as she squirmed in his arms, not finding as much comfort in them as she did before. But his grip was not going to loosen up any time soon.

"Did I ever tell you that you're the first slayer that I've ever laid?" Spike kept telling her, "Don't you feel lucky?"

"Spike," Buffy tried to say with resolve but it only came out a mere whimper.

"There's always a little bad in the good. And I can just taste it every time we–"

Spike was abruptly interrupted by a fuming slayer as she shoved him away from her. Her disgust has gotten the best of her and put the distance between them. Spike's almost maniacal laughter bounced off the walls as he stumbled a few steps back.

"You're a pig," She spat.

Spike's laughter subsided, "Oink, oink, baby," he said as he opened his arms and welcomed the insult.

But Buffy's eyes were distracted as they widened at the sight, "What happened to you?" she gasped as she took an unconscious step forward.

What she saw was his bare chest, exposed as his maroon button-up had slid away from his chest. His milky skin was clouded by a series of precise half-healed scars, colored an angry red. Three slices shaped a large upside down "Y" and spanned almost his entire upper left torso. A splatter of burns also covered his body as if someone had sprinkled drops of holy water all over his delicate skin. Her body yearned to touch him and make sure everything was alright, but she controlled herself, at least tried to.

"Concerned?" Spike pinpointed the exact emotion that was flowing through her veins.

Buffy's body once again assumed itself ready for battled. She stood her ground, but didn't bother to raise her hands in defense.

"Who would've thought that the killer of slayers would become the slayer's little bitch? Ole' Spikey's gone soft, got the hots for the slayer," He told her mockingly and quickly stalked over to her in the blink of an eye and pressed his body upon hers.

She stood tall against him, unaffected by his near presence and refused to back down. Her angry face met his menacing one. What caught her off guard was a rough hand to the back of her head that clutched her hair in an unyielding clench and another to her arm. Her body refused to move, to fight back, as her face was forced dangerously near his. His once caressing lips, now brutally smashed against hers in a bruising kiss. His hands didn't allow her the slightest bit of movement, she was trapped, nowhere to go except where he wanted to. He pulled her head back once more to look at her face, savoring the lingering taste of the slayer. He saw anger, disgust, and hurt written all over her pretty features as she panted for air.

His tight grip on her arm loosened and made its way up to her face. Buffy grunted and struggled but it was no use. His hand met her face with the lightest of touches, drifting over the tan skin of her forehead to her cheeks and rested down to cup her cheek. He leaned in close again, his chiseled cheek against hers.

He whispered into her ear with a low rumble, "Spike hasn't gone even again, love," he slid his tongue over her jugular, pumping ever so rapidly and gave it a blunt nip with his bare teeth, "He always was."