Chapter Nine
Buffy stormed silently through the night, Spike and Sid right behind her. When the Magic Box came into sight, she moved quicker, her heart slamming in her chest at the thought of finding another girl. Pulling out her key, she twisted it in the lock, nearly snapping it in her haste to get inside. Spike grabbed her arm before she could go through the door, pushing her behind him and entering first. She rolled her eyes at his show of macho, and followed him in, nearly getting tripped by Sid in the process.
Walking into the main part of the store, Spike shifted into his demon form, to see more clearly. The smell hit him as soon she opened the door, which was why he pushed her out of the way. He knew, that she could take care of herself, but the need to protect pushed that from his mind. He didn’t see anything out of the ordinary, so he started to move towards the training room. His foot hit something, sending it skidding across the floor with a clatter. His yellow eyes picked out the tell tale shape of the spike, and he exchanged a glance with Buffy.
“Training room.” she whispered, moving in that direction. Sid’s nails clicked against the tile as they made there way into the back. When he started to growl, Spike grabbed her again.
“Wait here.” he hissed, staring at her for a long minute before letting her go and disappearing into the back room. For once, Buffy listened, folding her arms across her chest as she waited for him to return. Sid sat next to her, ears perked, listening. Buffy looked around the room, searching for any sign that the nut was still in the building. But, she didn’t have Spike’s super sense of smell, or his enhanced night vision, so all she could see was the outline of the furniture, books, and magical stuff. Her Slayer self was screaming at her for just standing there and letting Spike do all the investigating. But, the girl part, the part that was terrified, stood and waited for him to return. She had a feeling that she didn’t really want to know what was waiting for her in the training room. That feeling tripled when she saw the vampire moving back towards her, a piece of cloth grasped in his hand, a look of sympathy on his face.
“Oh, god.” she whispered, when she recognized the material. Her numb fingers reached out to close around the soft flannel. Tears slid silently down her face as she held it up to her face, breathing in the familiar scent as well as the tiny smell of blood. Her eyes met Spike’s in the dark, as she searched for confirmation.
“Xander.” Spike solemnly nodded his head, his heart wrenching at the stark grief in her eyes.
“That’s not all, luv.” he told her, holding out his hand to take hers. Her fingers were colder than his as he led her into the room. Buffy stood in the middle of the room, clutching the shirt as if it were a lifeline, as her wide eyes scanned around the room. On every available inch of wall space, there was a picture. Black and whites, Polaroids, and even computer images. Pictures of Willow and Tara as they were leaving class, smiles on their faces. Pictures of Anya and Xander, looking happy and in love. Pictures of Spike, stalking through the cemetery in search of something to kill. Even one of Giles and Spike caught unawares outside the Magic Box, sharing an infrequent moment of camaraderie. Images from her room, of her sleeping. Pictures of her pleasuring herself. Changing her clothes. Sleeping with Sid laying next to the bed. And even further back. Pictures of her and Dawn laughing about something. Willow and Tara sitting on the bed with her while they talked.
Buffy turned in a slow circle to see the images that were overlapping each other. Hundreds of pictures of her life, of her friends. Evidence that her life had been invaded over loaded her mind until she felt sick and light headed. But then, her eyes found the real gift that had been left for her.
There, in the corner, by the practice dummy, hung the girl. There was nothing ritualistic about her death, nothing symbolic. She was just completely and utterly decimated. She had been strung up with some sort of wire, and her arms and legs were stretched out taut from her body. Her throat had been ripped out, and her blood drained from the savage wound, as well as the many others littering her frame, to pool thick and black on the mats below her. He had attacked her with the ferocity of an animal, leaving nothing behind that resembled the girl she was.
Buffy felt like the room was closing in, and she heard her own blood rushing in her ears. Her heart could have jumped out of her chest it was pounding so hard. Suddenly, the floor was rushing up to meet her, and blackness clouded her eyes. Spike caught her as she fainted.
~*~*~
“Miss Summers, can you think of anyone who would want to hurt you or your friends?” The Officer asked, for what seemed to Buffy, the hundredth time. She shook her head numbly, one hand still fisted tight in her lap, the other resting on the soft fur of Sid’s scarred head. The dog hadn’t left her side since Spike left, obeying the command to keep her safe. They had both decided that he should leave, since the questioning could take longer than he had left in nighttime hours, and neither wanted to explain why he would have to leave through the sewers once they were let go. He stayed until the cop cars pulled up, then brushed a kiss across her mouth. The look on her face had him nearly saying sod the day, but, she had insisted.
“Be there when I get home.” Was all she said, and she shooed him into the basement, then turned to let the police in. He had taken the pictures from her room with him, since she hadn’t wanted the police to go to the house and find all her Slaying equipment in search of the camera. They had taken the shirt from her immediately, as well as all the remaining pictures. She had answered questions as to who they all were, and WHERE they all were, over and over until she thought she would scream. No, she didn’t have any idea who would want to hurt her. (No one human, anyway.) No, she didn’t have any way to contact Willow and Tara. Yes, she could contact the owner of the store. He was in England. She could try to call Xander and Anya. No, she hadn’t heard from anybody but her sister since they all left. Yes, Spike was still in town. Yes, she knew how to contact him. No, she didn’t know either of the girls. The room in the back was used for training. She was really into self defense.
Round an round they went, until Buffy just answered, not really listening any more. Finally, after the coroner had come, and the police had taken pictures, the body had been taken from the store. She stared in wide eyed horror as the black encased figure was wheeled away. The Officer watched her, noticing that she’d had enough. With a sigh, he closed his book, the offered her a ride home. She nodded once again, her throat unable to form words around the lump that had developed in her throat. With a snap of her fingers, she called to Sid, and they followed the officer out into the air of the early morning.
~*~*~
As soon as she and Sid were through the front door, Buffy was enveloped in a pair of cool, strong arms. She nuzzled her face against his chest, taking comfort in the smell of soap, fresh laundry, and Spike. She was unaware of the hot tears that coursed down her face, soaking the front of his borrowed t-shirt.
“It’s okay, pet. Just let it out.” He murmured, running his hands over her back.
“I hate this.” She hissed, her voice muffled.
“I know.” He brought his hands up to cup her face, brushing the tears away with his thumbs. “You need to call Giles.” She nodded her head, leaning up to kiss him. She thought briefly over how quickly it had become so easy to touch him, to accept his touch. “Come upstairs when you’re done.” he told her, moving away to give her privacy. She watched him trot up the stairs in a pair of her father’s old sweats and one of her too big shirts, a hint of a smile playing across her lips.
Scrubbing a hand over her face, she walked into the kitchen to call Giles.
~*~*~
She listened as the front door slammed shut. He had been gone a long time this outing, and a part of her had hoped that he would forget about her and not come back. But, the tiny part of her that still wanted to survive, was terrified of the agony of starving to death, despite the pain and torture that followed his returning.
She heard his muffled curses as he stormed towards the bedroom. She closed her eyes as he entered, blood staining his clothes and skin. He hadn’t brought this one home, she thanked the Gods. She would have surely lost her mind if she had been forced to watch him play with her.
She listened as he stalked through the bedroom, heading towards the bathroom. Letting out a breath that she hadn’t realized she was holding, she opened her eyes. She knew that she’d only have a short reprieve. Once he was done, he would use her again, screaming Buffy’s name as he came. It didn’t matter, she thought. She didn’t feel anything anymore when he did it. She was numb, and she didn’t know if that wasn’t worse than feeling everything.
~*~*~
Buffy wiped fresh tears away as she hung up the phone. Giles would be home tomorrow, as long as he could get a flight out within the next couple of hours. Relief flooded her at that. Having Spike only eased the terror, marginally, and that was just because the nut job had it out for him as much as for her. Giles would come home, take over, and they would find out who was doing this.
Picking up the phone, she dialed the number that Anya had given her, ‘just in case of apocalypse.’ After six rings, and no apparent answering machine, Buffy hung up. She stood, worrying her bottom lip with her teeth, on hand still on the phone. Without stopping to question her actions, she picked it up again. Dialing quickly, she held her breath while it rang.
When Cordelia’s voice came over the line, Buffy opened her mouth to speak, only to shut it again when she realized it was the machine. Fidgeting impatiently, she waited for the beep, then spoke quickly. She asked Cordy to check up on the construction company that Xander had said hired him, and also the Wiccan group that Willow and Tara were with. Hanging up the phone, she wiped her sweaty palms on her jeans, then turned to leave the kitchen.
Only to be confronted with the raised scarred eyebrow of Spike.
“What?” She asked, crossing her arms over her chest.
“Checking on Angelus. ” It wasn’t a question. She scowled at how easily he could read her.
“No.” she spat, raising her chin.
“Oh, come on. You could have rang information for those numbers.” He told her, chuckling when she stuck her tongue out at him.
“Don’t tell me you haven’t considered it.” She grumbled, brushing past him.
“Actually, I hadn’t’.” Her eyes were shocked when she looked at him. “It doesn’t ‘smell’ like him.” He stated simply, taking her hand as he moved past her, drawing her to the stairs.
“You can SMELL him?”
“Yeah. Vampire.” he reminded her. She nodded.
“Does it. . .” he stopped on the top stair when she faltered for words. His blue eyes met hers, waiting for her to finish. Taking a deep breath, she did. “Is it someone we know?” she asked on a rush. He hesitated a moment before answering her.
“I dunno.”
“What do you mean, you don’t know?”
“Exactly what I said. There’s something. . .changing it.”
“What?” her voice trembled again, and she hated herself for it. Disgusted, she firmed her chin up and looked at him, waiting for his answer.
“It’s like, they know it can be recognized, and they’re doing something to change it. If I could pin it down, the problem would have already been taken care of.” She shivered at the cold menace in his tone, the flash of yellow in his eyes reminding her just what he was. He watched for her reaction, recognizing acceptance as it settled over her features. If it was someone she knew, she would deal with it. Standing before him was the woman who had sent Angel to hell. He nodded once in approval, than took her hand once again.
“Where are we going?” she asked when he pulled her past her bedroom. Even though she shuddered to go back in, knowing about the camera hiding in there.
He didn’t answer her, just led her to the open bathroom door. A gasp escaped her lips as she took in the room.
Candles lined the back of the sink, and the top of the toilet, there soft light casting shadows on the walls. The tub was filled with steaming water, and frothing bubbles. The smell of vanilla and cinnamon filled the air. She looked over at him, seeing the open look love and concern, and felt herself topple over the edge she hadn’t realized she had been balancing on.
“Spike. . .” He silenced her with a finger over her lips, then led her over to the tub. Cool hands slid over her arms, causing her to shiver.
“Just forget, for awhile, baby.” He told her, his voice a silky whisper. She nodded, entranced by the look in his eyes, the tone of his words, and the feather light touch of his fingers across her skin. He reached one hand up an pulled the clip from her hair, causing it to fall in a golden waves across her shoulders. He dipped his head, to capture her bottom lip between his teeth, gently nibbling on it as his hands reached for the hem of her shirt. He pushed his hands under that material, sliding them across her warm skin, pushing her shirt up in the process. He never stopped the soft exploration of her mouth until he went to draw the shirt over her head. She raised her arms dutifully, her eyes wide and dark with desire. Heat coursed over her at his gentle handling of her, and she just stood, turning herself over to his whim. Dropping the material to the floor, he returned his hands to her skin, his mouth to hers. His tongue traced the outline of her lips, before dipping inside to tease. Her fingers fisted at her side, and she hissed in air before lazily rolling her tongue across his. She trembled when she felt his fingers brush over the clasp to her jeans, yanking a bit until it opened, the zipper pulling free. He slid his hands around her waist, pushing them in the back of her jeans, and kneading the globes of her buttocks.
Feeling her knees weaken, she raised her hands to grip his shoulders, tilting her head to deepen the kiss. She sucked on his tongue, delighting in the growl that filled her. He pushed the denim over her hips, pulling away from her to kneel at her feet. She looked at the top of his white head, dutifully lifting her legs at his urging so he could divest her of the rest of her clothes. When she was finally naked before him, he stood, his midnight colored eyes memorizing every golden curve. She felt herself flush at the naked look of longing in his azure depths. Her nipples pebbled under the intensity of his stare, and she felt a fresh wave of arousal suffuse her. He reached out a hand to her, waiting for her to take it. When her trembling fingers wrapped around his, he turned to help her into the bath.
She sighed as she sank into the warmth of the water, feeling a flash of guilt as the tension began to drain from her,
“None of that, sweetness.” he told her, pulling his shirt over his head and kneeling beside the tub. “You have to live, despite what that bastard wants. Just feel for awhile. Don’t worry about anything. Let me take care of you.” He said, grabbing a washcloth and soaping it up. His words washed over her, as warm and enticing as the water. She nodded, sighing once again when he brought the rough material to her shoulder. Closing her eyes, she gave herself over to the feel of him washing her. She arched into him when he brushed to terry cloth across her tingling nipples, feeling the answering tingle begin in her sex. Little bolts of electricity darted along her skin wherever he touched, and she unconsciously started to mewl. While he washed her arms and shoulders, he reigned kisses across her face, her eyelids and the place where her shoulder and neck curved together.
“God, Spike.” She breathed, when he reached beneath the water to brush the washcloth against her core. Her knees fell open to give him better access, her breath hitching as the rough material grazed over her clit. Her eyes snapped open when the feel of the cloth was replaced by his clever fingers. Her eyes clashed with his as he explored the soft flesh of her cunt, his face a study of concentration as he sought to bring her pleasure. She shuddered when he pushed one, then two fingers into her slick heat, slowing pumping them into her while his thumb circled the hardened nubbin of nerves. Her hips shifted against his hand, her blood singing with fire as he brought her to a slow, tortuous orgasm. His name fell from her lips as the waves broke over her, her back arching towards him. She gasped when he captured one wet, rosy nipple in his mouth, his blunt teeth gently scraping. She exploded with the added sensation, her inner muscles clenching around his probing fingers.
She moaned in protest when he pulled away from her, and she opened her eyes to look up at him.
“Dunk your head, luv.” he told her, holding up a bottle of shampoo. Buffy did what he asked, despite the utter lack of wanting to move. He smiled at her when she reemerged from the water, than began to wash her hair, his strong fingers massaging her scalp and making her shiver all over again. She marveled at the tenderness he was showing her, having a hard time reconciling it with his usual cockiness and swagger. “Dunk again.” he said, rinsing the soap from his hands as she did so. Once she came back up, he helped her stand, and started to dry the moisture from her body, then bundled her into her robe. He urged her to sit on the toilet and combed her hair until her scalp was tingling, and her hair was dry. Then, he pulled her up, blowing out the candles before taking her hand once more. She looked at him quizzically when he led her into her mother’s room. Sid raised his head to look at them when they entered, then rested his head back on the floor.
“Don’t want an audience, pet.” He told her, his voice thick with need.
“Thank you.” she said, not really knowing what she said it for. A smile curved his lips, and he pulled her to him, leaning in to kiss her once again. Her arms wound around his neck, her fingers playing with the soft ends of his hair as their tongues danced. He pushed her robe opened. He laid her on it, using one hand to brace them as he continued to devour her lips. The kiss had turned from gentle to hungry, teasing to possessive. He ground his cock into her cunt, the feel of her heat nearly doing him in right then. She thrust up to meet him, needing to feel him in her, filling her. She tore away from his mouth, her gasping words breaking his hold on his control.
“Please, Spike. I need you inside me.” She whispered urgently in his ear. He crushed his mouth against hers again, reaching down with one had to free himself from the sweat pants. She reached down to help, and soon he was loose the tip brushing along her dripping slit. With a twist of his hips he was inside of her, his growl lost in the hot cavern of her mouth, her moan drowned out by his growl.
Her heat surrounded him, burning him. Making him shiver with it’s intensity.
He was so cold, it was like being impaled on ice, and Buffy couldn’t remember anything feeling so good. She quickly became impatient with his stillness, a desperate need to feel his icy shaft sliding in and out of her caused her to thrust up, demanding friction. He ripped his mouth away from hers to watch her as he began to thrust, his strokes long and slow, quickening at her urging. Fire ran through them as their hips moved in unison. Each plunge brought his pelvic bone in contact with her aching clit, sending little darts of bliss across her nerve endings.
“Oh god, Spike. Yes. Please, so good. Harder.” She mumbled against the skin of his neck, where she currently nibbling and licking. Her wish was his command and he pumped harder, sliding a hand under her ass to angle her up, pushing himself deeper. Her scream filled the air when the tip of his cock hit her inner sensitive spot. Her muscles clamped hard around him, sending him spiraling into his own climax. Her nails dug ruthlessly into his back as she rode the tremors out. He slammed into her once, twice, on the third time he pushed himself to the hilt. With a hoarse cry of her name, her collapsed against her, his icy seed shooting deep into her womb.
“God, I love you.” he whispered, his unneeded breath coming in heaving gasps. Buffy trailed one hand through his hair, the other lovingly down his back. His words washed over her, cleansing the sickness that had been her companion since he handed her that shirt. His weight felt comfortable on top of her, his amazingly still hard shaft felt wonderful buried deep within her.
God, she could get used to this. She wrapped her legs around his lean hips, and began to slowly rock against him. Angel had been so large, dwarfing her with his size. Riley was the same, and his heat was immense. She nearly felt smothered each time they made love. Parker. . .well, there was no need to even compare him. Not when Spike was nestled so perfectly between her thighs, his hips thrusting lazily into her. And his tongue and lips were doing amazing things to her nipples.
There was no need to hurry this time, now that the first initial shock of lust had been sated. Now was the time for exploring, discovering. Their hips never ceased in motion as wet mouths, rough tongues and hands conquered every inch of skin they encountered. Soft gasps and moans, as well as the occasional growl from Spike, suffused the room, wrapping them in a sensual cocoon that blocked out everything, save each other.
Over and over they brought each other to the precipice, dangling dangerously close to the edge, only to pause. Breathe. Calm. Finally, it would be held off no longer and suddenly they were floating on a sea of bright colors, tastes and textures. And when Spike grazed a fang along the curve of her breast, his cool, wet tongue lapping the blood, Buffy screamed his name, the final wave crashing over her.
Spike shuddered as the taste of her warm, sweet essence flowed over his tongue. He buried himself as deep as he could. His now thoroughly warmed body pulsing deep inside her. He knew, that right now, with her warmth flowing around him, through him. . .this was the closest to heaven he would ever get.
If the devil saw fit to take him now, Spike would go willingly. Nothing in Hell would ever be able to take this away from him. With a contented purr, he rolled to his side. Gathering her tiny form against him, the rumbling in his chest soothing them both into a content and thankfully dreamless sleep.