“Slayer,” Spike snarled as he stepped out from behind several trees.
Buffy whirled around, stake in hand. “Great,” she said when she saw who it was. “Spike, what the hell are you doing back here? And on campus? Last I heard you were getting your ass firmly kicked by Angel in L.A.”
Spike jabbed a finger at her. “That’s a bloody lie! That poncy bastard? I had his ass kicked.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Blah-di-blah cakes,” Buffy said, crossing her arms and rolling her eyes. “So not how I heard it went down. Angel? He’s fine. And you’re still as pathetic as ever.”
“Do you know what that wanker did?” Spike asked. “He smashed the Gem of Amarra! Smashed all chances of invulnerability for any of us! And it’s all. Your. Fault.”
“My fault?” Buffy asked. “What color’s the sky in your world, Spike?”
“It is your fault, Slayer, for giving him the ring in the first place. And I’m here for a little revenge-having. No, won’t get the ring back. But it’ll make me feel real good to bathe in your blood.”
Buffy raised her stake. “And it’ll make me feel real good to step through your dust.”
They squared off and Buffy was about to throw her first punch when a shouted “NOW!” came from the woods around them. Buffy froze, shocked momentarily by the sound. “What the–” she said, right before a mysterious black-ops guy grabbed Spike from behind and jolted him with a bolt of electricity. Spike’s eyes rolled up and he fell to the ground in a black leather heap.
Buffy glared at the commando and took a threatening step forward. “Thanks for interfering, you–” She stopped, feeling a burning at the back of her neck that quickly raced down her spine and made her whole body convulse. The last thing she knew was the smoky smell of Spike’s duster as she landed on it and him, face first.
Buffy opened her eyes to a wash of white. Like bleached-teeth white. The brightness of the color made the pounding in her head that much worse. She rolled over slowly to figure out where the hell she was and bumped into a black-covered part of Spike. Cautiously, she pushed herself into a sitting position and looked around.
Apparently, they were in some kind of cell. Three of the walls were that blinding white–and padded–while the front “wall” was more like a huge picture window. There was no furniture and, most worrying to Buffy, no visible door.
“God,” Spike groaned next to her. “Got the tiny hammers banging on my brain, but no booze enjoyment to go with them.” He flopped onto his back and cracked open one eye to look at her. “They grabbed you too, Slayer? Huh. Guess they don’t realize you’re the defender of all things good and fluffy. Or…” He sat up quickly. “Maybe they know you’re all hero-ish and they don’t realize I’m evil!”
He struggled to his feet and went to the glass wall. “Hello out there! Vampire here! Eater of children!” Spike leaned forward to brace his hands on the glass. “Not goo– Bloody fuck!” he yelled as the window zapped him with a large blueish bolt of electricity. “Kentucky-fried Spike is not tasty!” he shouted at the ceiling.
Buffy shook her head, equally amused and disgusted by Spike. “Oh, now that was clever,” she said. “That’ll definitely get you out of here. Especially the ‘eater of children’ part.”
“Actually, that was more Dru’s thing. Liked me a juicy teenager now and again, though.” He dropped his nostalgic expression and crossed his arms. “What do you suggest we do to get out of here then?”
“We wait. Someone has to come with food.” Buffy stood up and brushed her peasant blouse and jeans off. “When they open the not-immediately-evident door, we jump them.” A sudden loud buzzing made them look up. A small trapdoor opened in the ceiling and two packages fell out and onto the floor. “So much for the ‘jumping them’ idea,” Buffy said. “How the hell did they get us in here?”
Spike shrugged at her question and picked up the packages to examine them. “Looks like this is mine–blood. And yours is–and I’m only guessing, mind you, because it’s perhaps the most unappetizing sludge I’ve ever seen–macaroni and cheese?”
“Give me that,” Buffy said. She grabbed the plastic packet with the yellowish-orange goop inside and inspected it. “They expect us to eat this crap?” She looked up to see Spike, in full vamp face, tearing into his blood. “Obviously not a problem for you and why am I not surprised?”
“It’s good, Slayer,” Spike said between gulps. “Don’t know when your next meal will be, so you might as well eat up.”
“I am not that hungry,” Buffy said, gingerly holding the corner of the packet.
“Suit yourself,” Spike said. He finished his blood off and licked his lips before his face melted back into human. “Knew you weren’t a practical girl. Could tell by the ridiculous boots you wear.”
“Hey! I like these boots. They’re very comfortable.”
Spike snorted. “Yeah. Right.”
“You’re one to talk, Mr. Clompy Big Boot Guy,” Buffy said, feeling her temper flare. She couldn’t believe she was getting angry over Spike dissing her choice of footwear, especially since they were trapped by God knows who, God knows where. She took a deep breath to calm down. Displaced anger, that’s what it was. Plus the general all-encompassing irritation that was Spike. “So just shut up,” she said lamely.
Spike laughed at her. “The brave Slayer, afraid of a little food.”
“For your information, I am not afraid of it. I’m obviously being cautious. Who knows where this stuff came from?”
“Seems to me if they wanted us dead, they would’ve done it by now,” Spike said, tossing his empty packet into the corner of the room. “I know you’re hungry. Can see you salivating.”
“Why do you care so much?” Buffy asked.
“Care?” Spike said incredulously. “Couldn’t care less. In fact, don’t eat it. Starvation makes you weak–and would make my killing you that much easier.”
“I swear to God, Spike, if I still had my stake… Fine.” She ripped open the packet and squeezed some of the concoction into her mouth. Surprisingly, it did taste like macaroni and cheese. And it was actually good. She ate some more and, before she knew it, the plastic bag was empty. “Satisfied?” she asked as she threw her packet on top of his.
“Slayer, you have no idea what it would take to satisfy me,” Spike said, his voice low. He narrowed his eyes and took a step toward her, but stopped suddenly, as if he’d hit an invisible barrier. “And–and you wouldn’t be it,” he said defiantly.
“What are you talking about?” Buffy asked.
“Nothing,” Spike said, putting his hands up defensively. He shifted uncomfortably and wouldn’t meet her eyes. “Nothing at all. Especially not about wanting to suck on that little hollow at the base of your throat or slide my hands up the skin of your back to feel how smooth it is. Not about any of that.”
“Huh?” Buffy said, though the idea of Spike’s mouth and hands on her in that way was surprisingly not disgusting. Buffy looked around, shocked at her thoughts. “What is going on here?”
“What do you mean?” Spike asked way too casually.
Buffy snuck a look at the front of his jeans. Her jaw dropped. “Are you getting–an erection?”
Spike looked down at his groin and then back at her. “Don’t be ridiculous, Slayer. If I am, it’s only at the thought of tearing your head off and drinking in–the nectar between your legs. Sucking on you. Making you come in my mouth.”
Buffy’s feet felt rooted to the floor as she watched him lick his lips and blink slowly at her. He took another step and her body reacted to his nearness. Not with revulsion and fury, but rather with…
“Oh my God,” Buffy said.
“I could be,” Spike said, moving in closer.
“No,” Buffy said, but she didn’t back away. “This can’t be right. There’s no way I could be–attracted to you.”
“Is that what you’re feeling, Buffy?” Spike asked, his voice like rough silk caressing her skin. “Attraction is a funny thing because here I was hating you just–what?–minutes ago, but now…” He moved even closer and ran a finger down her cheek. “Now I just want to shag your brains out.”
“What?” Buffy squeaked. She felt her whole body flush and certain parts moisten at his words and touch. She was shaking with the effort to resist what her entire being seemed to want–sex with Spike. Just the idea would normally make her sick to her stomach, but instead she was closing her eyes and letting him press up against her. “This is not right,” she said. “They put something in the food. They drugged us into wanting each other.”
“Probably,” he said. “But I’m surprisingly okay with the idea. Not to say I won’t still want to kill you when we’re done.”
“I’ll kill you now if you touch any other part of me,” Buffy ground out. Spike reached between her legs and gently squeezed. “I think,” she gasped.
“Always knew there was something between us,” Spike said as he gently rubbed her through her jeans. “Hate, heat, desire… All the same thing, basically.”
“They are so not all the same,” Buffy said, clutching his shoulders as she felt her knees get weak. “I can’t want you. I don’t want you.”
“Could’ve fooled me,” Spike said. He curled his tongue over his teeth and popped the button on her Levi’s. “Don’t think, Buffy. Feel. Like me. Go with it. Instead of fighting you, maybe I’ll just fuck you to death.”
“Oh, nice,” Buffy said sarcastically. “Use that line on all the girls?” But even as she snarked at him, she was pulling him down to the floor with her. She pushed his duster and red button-down shirt off his shoulders and rucked up his t-shirt, staring at her hands in amazement. What the hell was she doing?
“Spike,” she said as he pulled her blouse over her head to reveal her silk camisole, “we’ve been drugged. We can fight this. You really don’t want to do this. We hate each other!”
Spike dragged his tongue over her cloth-covered nipple before taking it into his mouth and sucking. Buffy collapsed backwards, cracking her head on the hard floor. Spike put his hands on either side of her and followed her down, still massaging her nipple with his tongue and teeth. As Buffy’s arms flopped to her sides, Spike released her breast, leaving a wet circle on the silk, and took the other into his mouth.
“Spike, think about what you’re doing,” Buffy breathed. “You’ve got to stop.”
He did stop and Buffy felt the loss immediately. “Oh, you want this, Slayer,” he said. “In fact, I want to hear how much you want this.”
“What?” she asked, her traitorous hands clutching him, trying to force his mouth back to her breast.
He shook her off. “Beg me, Buffy,” he said, his voice so low and sexy–Spike’s voice sexy?–that Buffy shivered at the sound. “Beg me to fuck you.”
“I won’t,” she said with as much conviction as she could muster, though her hands were running all over his sculpted chest under his shirt. Who knew Spike’s body was so incredibly hot? Buffy thought. No! Not hot. Evil! “You can’t make me.”
“Silly Slayer,” Spike laughed. “Never challenge old Spike when it comes to shagging. Believe me, you will beg me.” He slowly dragged the zipper down on her jeans and slid his hands under her, cupping her ass. He squeezed and Buffy groaned. Moving quickly, he pulled off her boots and removed her jeans. Buffy protested weakly when he grabbed her ankles and yanked her legs apart, even though her brain was screaming at her to kick him away. With a smug grin, Spike crawled up her body and buried his nose in her pink panties. “God you’re wet,” he said, amazement in his voice. “Can you feel how wet I’ve made you already?”
“Not you! The drugs! The drugs made me wet. I mean–I am not wet, you evil, disgusting thing.”
“Yeah, well, this evil, disgusting thing has made you so wet, your panties are drenched with it.” He ran his tongue along the sides of the elastic and Buffy jerked. “Ready to beg for it, Slayer?”
“Go to hell, Spike,” she said.
“Oh, shall I stop then?” Spike asked, lifting his head.
“No!” Buffy yelled. “I mean–“
Spike hooked a finger under her panties and moved them to the side. She could almost feel the heat of his stare as he bared her most private parts. “Guess you really aren’t a blonde,” he said before leaning in again. His tongue lapped at her folds, but never touched where Buffy–despite everything she told herself–wanted it and him most.
“Was that pleading in your tone, Buffy?” he asked, laying his cheek on the inside of her thigh. His fingers lightly combed through her pubic hair, still teasing her. “Because that sounded awfully close to pleading to me.”
Buffy shook her head as tears of frustration filled her eyes. Spike slid a hand up and under her camisole until he reached her nipple. He ran a fingernail over it, making Buffy cry out. She flung an arm over her eyes and finally caved. “Spike, please,” she said, desperation in her voice.
“Please what?” he asked right before his tongue lightly tapped her clitoris.
“Ah, God!” Buffy said. “Please!”
“Be a bit more specific, love,” Spike said, pinching her nipple.
Buffy bit her lip hard enough to break the skin. She tasted blood on her tongue. Seconds later, she tasted Spike as well as he covered her mouth with his. Buffy knew she should be reacting with a big eww because hello! He was sucking the blood out of her lip! And that could be nothing but eww. Except her body didn’t react like it was gross and disgusting. Her skin prickled and she wrapped herself around him, grinding her pelvis into his and taking his mouth again and again.
Finally Spike lifted his head and looked down at her. His lips were swollen, as were hers, and there was a hard glint in his eyes. “Ask me for it, Buffy. Ask me now ’cause I won’t wait much longer.”
She didn’t even think before the words flew out of her mouth. “Please, Spike. Please make me come. Please fuck me now.” She tore his t-shirt in half and peeled it off his torso. “I know it’s the drugs. It has to be the drugs,” she mumbled as she worked on undoing his belt and the button and zipper to his jeans. “But really not caring much here. I just, God help me, need you in me. Right. Now.” She shoved his jeans down with her feet, just far enough to let his penis spring free. Spike pulled her panties aside and pushed into her slowly, his thumb rubbing her clit in a circular motion as he moved.
When he was in as far as he could go, Buffy let go of her death grip on his shoulders and rubbed her hands over her face. He was deep. Way deeper than she’d ever felt before, and his thumb was driving her mad.
“Look at me, Buffy,” he said and she raised her eyes to his. “Smart man would walk away right now, leave you wanting, aching, needing. Fine torture that would be. Slayer begging a vampire to fuck her. Could get a lot of mileage out of that one.” Buffy frowned, confused. “Thing is?” he continued. “I’ve never been all that smart. ‘Sides, pulling out of you now would be as much torture to me as you.”
“Believe me, Spike,” Buffy said. “You’re torturing me right now by not moving. Wanna talk me to death? Do it after we’re done with this.” She snapped her hips, driving him deeper than either of them thought possible. Spike’s eyes went wide for a moment before he began taking her with long strokes. He latched onto her nipple again and let his pelvis brush against her clit as Buffy arched her back, pushing more of her breast into his mouth. She grabbed at him when he suddenly released her, but then relaxed as he pushed her camisole up to get at her skin. He thrust and brushed and sucked, all in a rhythm that was quickly sending Buffy over the edge. When he lightly bit her nipple, she came, trembling beneath him as the pleasure spread to her nerve endings.
“Not done with you yet, Slayer,” he growled as he continued to pound into her. With each surge, little aftershocks shook Buffy and she made small, grunt-like noises. When it got to be too much, she cried out “Spike” and he sped up. His thrusts became erratic before he drove all the way inside of her and froze. He shouted her name as he orgasmed and, finally, he collapsed on top of her.
“Who authorized this?” a voice asked. Buffy was instantly alert. She lifted her head to look over Spike’s shoulder and saw a whole row of lab-coated men and women standing on the other side of the window. Half were scribbling on clip boards while the other half stared at Spike and Buffy. One man stood apart from them, his hands on his hips.
“Oh my God, we’re a zoo exhibit,” she whispered to Spike.
“What the hell did you give her?” Stand-apart Guy asked. Buffy noticed his lab coat was more wrinkled than the others’. Obviously a rebel. A rogue scientist?
“Same thing we gave him. We wanted to observe the mating rituals of demons, so we coated the blood and food packets with an experimental drug that’s immediately absorbed through the skin and carried to the hypothalamus,” Lab Coat Guy answered.
“You did what? But she’s not a demon! She’s a student of Professor Walsh’s!”
“Oh no,” Buffy groaned. This guy recognized her. Or at least he recognized Buffy Summers. She cringed and let her head drop back to the floor.
Spike raised an eyebrow at her. “Who’s that, love?” he asked.
“I– Oh! Oh God!” She pushed Spike off of her and rolled out from under him.
“Well, her readings certainly aren’t purely human,” Lab Coat Guy said calmly as Buffy scrambled for her jeans and shirt. “Interesting. Even more interesting is that we hadn’t tried this particular mixture on ‘live’ subjects before so the dose was very small. We never anticipated consummation, not with the amount we gave them. Must be a lot more powerful than we initially thought. Certainly bears further experimentation.”
“Not with her,” Rogue Scientist said, pointing at Buffy. “Get her out of there right now before Walsh sees her.”
“How do you know Professor Walsh? Why would she see me? And you used us as your lab rats?” Buffy shot the questions at them angrily as she straightened her clothes and stepped into her boots. Spike was much slower getting off the floor and pulling his own pants back up. “Who do you think you are?” she demanded. “And do you have any clue who you’re messing with?”
“Hush now,” Spike said in a low voice as he kicked aside his ruined t-shirt and shrugged on his red button-down and duster. “Don’t be showing all our cards at once, pet.”
Buffy glared at him, though she knew he was right. A little right. Because the enormity of what they’d just done together was setting in, and Buffy was pretty much willing to do or say anything that would get her the hell out of there. Immediately. Without having to actually talk to Spike.
“I think I’m gonna be sick,” she said.
“Just a side effect of the drug,” Head Lab Coat Guy said. “It’ll pass.”
“I’m thinking it really won’t,” Buffy insisted. Spike took a step toward her, but she waved him off. “No. No more–touching–of any kind.”
“Seems to me you weren’t denying my touch just a little while ago. In fact, do believe I had you begging for it, didn’t I?”
“I swear, I’ll–“
“You’ve got to let them go.” Rogue Scientist’s voice stopped their bickering.
“We have our instructions,” a female lab coat said. “We need to implant them with the device.”
“This isn’t right, what you’ve done to them. Especially what you’ve done to her,” Rogue Scientist said gravely.
“Take it up with the boss.” Head Lab Coat Guy gave a nod and the scientists moved away from the window. All but one. Their defender stared at them, regret all over his face.
“It’s not right,” he said again. He shook his head and left as well.
“Wait! Now what?” Buffy called after him.
“Don’t touch the glass, love,” Spike reminded her.
“Shut up. I’m not stupid. Incredibly embarrassed and horrified and completely grossed out, but not stupid.”
“Have a funny way of showing ‘grossed out’,” Spike commented idly. “Looked more like sexually satisfied to me.”
“I’ll sexually satisfy you,” Buffy threatened. “Wait. That didn’t come out right.”
“Now I know first-hand why Angel didn’t think you were worth a second go,” Spike sneered. “You’re too much of a bitch afterwards. Make a man’s privates shrivel up.”
“Go to hell, Spike. And I don’t see your privates shriveling, you perv,” Buffy said.
“Well, no. Actually, might just have another go at you, seeing as we don’t have much else to do, trapped here the way we are.”
“Like I’d ever let you– And if you say anything to anyone, I’ll–“
“You’ll what? Suck me off?” Spike mocked her.
“I’ll cut it off, you bastard!”
“Keep your voices down, you two!”
Buffy and Spike whirled to see Rogue Scientist standing at the window again. This time he had two of the commandos with him. “Step back,” he ordered. He pressed something on the outside wall and the glass slid open.
“Oh, that’s how,” Buffy said.
“Come on!” their rescuer hissed.
Spike and Buffy exchanged a look. “He tries anything funny, we can take them,” Spike told her. She nodded her agreement. They stepped across the cell threshold and, after looking warily at the burly commandos, followed the scientist.
He led them down a corridor and down another corridor until they reached a door. He stopped and turned to them. “This is it. Except for one last thing.” He nodded and the soldiers grabbed Spike and Buffy, holding them still. Buffy stamped on her guy’s foot and was about to throw him off of her when she felt a prick in her neck. The scientist stepped back from her, holding an empty syringe, and quickly shoved another needle into Spike’s neck as Spike struggled with his own captor. Buffy blinked rapidly. Things were getting blurry.
“Sorry, guys, but we can’t have you remembering anything that happened here. You’ll be free but you might experience random memory lapses, aside from the blank of all of this. Not that you’ll even remember me telling you these things.” Buffy’s head was swimming and her eyes were closing when she heard, “Dump them back where they were taken.” Then everything was blissfully dark.
Buffy groaned as she came to. She smelled grass and felt it crushed beneath her cheek. Her head hurt. Her whole body felt tender, though she had no clue why. Especially why she was feeling sore down between…
“Bloody hell,” Spike said from somewhere behind her. “Usually I get to enjoy the actual alcohol imbibing before the tiny hammers start beating on my brain.”
Buffy frowned as she cautiously sat up. She looked at Spike as he blinked up at her. “What happened?” she asked.
“Damned if I know,” he said, rolling onto his back. “Was about to fight you, felt myself zapped and don’t remember anything after that.”
“I saw you get zapped. Then I think I got zapped too. But why did they just leave us here?”
“Don’t know, don’t care,” Spike said as he staggered to his feet. He looked down. “Bloody bastards took my t-shirt!”
Buffy stood as well and brushed her clothes off. “Not like you don’t have dozens of others exactly the same,” she said. She pulled her blouse away from her body, noticing her camisole felt wet. Sweat? Dew? She shrugged and turned on Spike.
“I believe I owe you one large, well-deserved ass kicking,” she told him.
“Oh no, Slayer. You are the one about to have her ass kicked. In fact, you’ll be begging me to just kick your–” They froze. Spike shifted his eyes nervously as Buffy shook off a huge feeling of déjà vu.
“Maybe another night,” she suggested quickly.
They took off in opposite directions.