Summary: Buffy Summers is the blind daughter of a wealthy business man. Spike Tyler is the misogynistic ex-cop hired to kill her. With five hundred grand on the line and LA's finest police hot on their tail, will Spike be able to go through with it? More importantly, will he be able to look past the abuse he experienced as a child and see that not all women are who he made them out to be? Warning: Character death.
Rating: NC-17
One step forward. Deep breath. Listen for Spike. Still sleeping. Another step forward. Exhale. Listen for Spike. Still sleeping.
Buffy repeated these actions until her hand finally found the rusty doorknob. She closed her eyes and twisted it gently, her ears continuously on the lookout. Spike still appeared to be asleep.
You can do this, Buffy. Just breathe. She took one last, deep breath before turning the knob all the way and carefully opening the door.
Squeak.
Buffy flinched. The noise was barely audible, but it sounded as if it echoed through the entire room. Luckily, her kidnapper didn't seem to notice. She opened it a little more, just enough for her small body to slip through. When she succeeded, she didn't bother to close the door behind her. It was too risky. Gathering her wits, she turned to her right and headed towards the staircase. With a hand on the wall for support, she gradually stepped down.
Almost there. Just a little further... Her feet finally found the hard surface of the floor. Yay! Now I just need to get to the door and--
"Where do ya think you're goin', Missy?"
Buffy froze. Shit. "U-Umm..."
"Does Spike know you're up and about?" Vince wondered, licking his lips at the sight of her.
"Yes."
"Is that so?"
"He wanted me to get something from his car." Oh, god, that was so lame.
"I see," he said, stepping towards her. "So he asked his blind hostage to get it for him?"
"Uh-huh."
Vince paused, eyes focused on her breasts. "Tell ya what. You do me a favor and I'll forget our little run-in."
"You will?"
"Promise."
"What kind of favor?"
"I think you know, sweetheart."
Buffy cringed. "I'm not having sex with you."
"Not even a quick blow behind the counter?"
"No!" she exclaimed, mortified.
"That's too bad."
Before Buffy knew what hit her, she was pressed up against the wall, a pudgy hand reaching under her halter-top. "Get off me, you bastard!"
"I didn't want to use force, but I'm not really seein' an alternative."
"Get off!" she demanded, trying her hardest to escape. She knew her cries were loud enough to wake Spike, and she knew her plan of escape had failed. Somehow, the thought of Spike dragging her back to the room and tying her to a chair seemed more appealing than this. At least he didn't try to take advantage of her.
Just as Vince began to unbutton her jeans, the sound of a pistol being cocked interrupted him. He looked to his left to see Spike standing there, gun pointed at his head.
"Best not to do that, mate."
Vince gulped and stepped away from Buffy. She quickly pulled her shirt down, cheeks flaming. Why does he even care if I am raped or not?
"Sorry, man. Just wanted to have a little fun."
Spike rolled his eyes and finally lowered his weapon. "Keep your hands to yourself, alright?"
The frightened man nodded.
Spike grabbed Buffy by the arm and forcefully tugged her towards the staircase. "You and I are gonna have a little fun upstairs with Mr. Rope," he said.
Damnit! She tried to wiggle free, but he held her tightly around the waist.
"Can't say I didn't warn you, love."
"I promise I won't run away again," she tried.
He just snorted. Buffy attempted to hold onto his shirt to keep her from falling on her head, but all she groped was bare skin. He must be shirtless.
She settled for raking her nails down his back.
"Bloody hell!" he hissed, almost dropping her. "You want a sodding concussion?"
"I want you to let me go!" she retorted.
"Sorry, but you're not very convincing when you're upside down."
She sighed. "You're such an asshole."
"And I'm all you've got. So you have no choice but to behave."
They reached the hotel room and Spike set her down, shutting and double-locking the door behind him. He shouldn't have cared if Buffy got fucked six ways from Sunday by the grotesque hotel clerk. She was probably used to it, right? Female and all. A race that lacked all sense of morals and self-value. Right?
Yeah. Right.
Spike pushed her down into the chair again and pulled his black t-shirt over his head, wincing when the material brushed against the fresh nail marks on his back.
"Well?" she wondered.
"What?"
"Aren't you going to tie me up?"
"No."
"Why not?"
"Changed my mind."
Thank god. "Oh."
"Yeah. Figured you wouldn't be makin' any escape attempts with Vince ready to pounce on you at any given moment."
"Why did you stop him?" she asked. "Didn't want him to soil the goods?"
Spike scoffed. "I already told you. I'm not going to have sex with you, pet."
"I bet you say that to all the girls before you rape them," she said, indignantly.
He glared daggers at her. "I do not rape women." His voice was almost menacing.
"So you just settle for killing them then?"
"Just you."
She shook her head. "Right. Because I'm such a threat."
"Someone thinks so."
"I don't believe you."
"What?"
"You heard me," she told him. "I bet this is all your doing. You were probably feeling particularly bitter one night and decided to kidnap the first girl who crossed your path."
"Whatever helps you sleep at night."
She sat back in her chair. "Doesn't matter. When my father finds you, you're as good as dead."
"Daddy dearest isn't going to find me. Or you for that matter."
"Whatever helps you sleep at night."
He pressed his lips together and regarded her. She sat straight up in her chair, eyes staring ahead of her. She didn't look like someone who had a mere three weeks to live. "What's your story?" he asked.
"What?"
"Your story. How did you become blind?"
"I thought you didn't care."
"I'm just curious is all."
"Why do you hate women?"
"I asked you first," he countered.
"I'm not sharing."
"Then neither am I."
"Fine."
"Fine."
It was silent. Spike didn't know what to do with her. Buffy didn't know what to do.
"I'm takin' a shower," Spike finally mumbled, stripping off his shirt again.
"I won't be here when you get back."
"Where will you go?"
Where will you go? The question echoed in her ears. "I don't know."
"You know Vince won't keep his grubby paws off of you. And I won't be rescuin' you next time."
"I don't need to be rescued."
"Right."
She sighed and crossed her arms over her chest. "What do you expect us to do for food? Because I certainly don't plan on starving to death."
"It would suit you. You're as skinny as a rail."
"I'm sure you're one to talk."
"You have no soddin' clue what I look like."
"Well, you felt..." Muscely. "... thin."
"I'm decently proportioned, I'll have you know."
"Pfft. Yeah."
Spike paused. Were they... bickering? "I've got money," he continued, slightly disconcerted. "As soon as you learn to do what you're told, I'll get us some food. I have to stop back at my place, anyway."
"For what?"
"Clothes, mostly."
"What about me?"
"You'll wear what you've got on."
"For three weeks?!" she asked, incredulously.
He shrugged. "I don't see why not."
"So I'm supposed to take a shower and then put these dirty clothes back on?"
"Sure."
"I think I underestimated your evilness."
"My evilness? I'm hardly evil."
"You put a gun to my head. That qualifies as evil in my book."
"I thought you were..." His voice trailed off. "I was doin' my job."
"Then maybe you should look into unemployment."
"Or not."
"Do you want to kill me?"
Spike hesitated. "Doesn't matter."
"I think it does."
"You're goin' to die either way."
She refused to let his threats scare her. "We'll see."
"You don't think I'll go through with it?"
"I don't."
"You're in for a rude awakening, love."
"Stop calling me that."
"I do what I please."
Buffy leaned back. Spike ran a hand through his mussed hair.
"I'll get you some clothes when I go out," he said.
She was going to reply, but the bathroom door slammed shut before she could open her mouth. It wasn't long before she heard the water turn on, and Spike mumble something about a "bloody shower curtain". With a deep sigh, she contemplated her options.
She could probably go. Run down the stairs, past Vince, out the doors, and into the morning sun. She could escape. But something was holding her back. What was it again? Oh, yeah...
Where will you go?
When Spike emerged from the bathroom, Buffy was sitting right where he left her.
"Can I have a pen and paper?"
Spike dried his hair with the fluffy bath towel. "What for?"
"To write."
"How can you write? You can't see a bloody thing."
"I can still write."
He sighed. "I'll see what I can do."
Buffy continued to sit in her chair, listening as he shuffled around the room. "When are you going out?"
"Soon."
"I won't be here when you get back."
"You said that last time."
"I'm serious now."
"Is that right? Where will you go?"
This time Buffy didn't hesitate. "Anywhere." Anywhere is better than here...
"I see." He pulled on his black t-shirt. "So I better tie you up then, yeah?"
She didn't answer. When Spike finished putting on his boots, he approached the rope, picked it up, and began to tie her wrists to the chair.
"Fine," she mumbled under her breath.
"You'll stay put?"
She nodded.
"I don't believe you."
"Maybe because I'm lying?"
He pulled the rope tight.
"Ow!" she protested. "Alright. I promise not to leave. Just... please get me some pen and paper."
"What are you goin' to write? Love letters?"
"Hardly."
He took a moment to think. Then he untied her. "I'll tell Vince to keep a lookout for you. Better not try anything."
"I won't."
Spike stood up. She heard him exit and re-enter the room, hopefully with the things she asked for.
"Where do you want these?" he asked, holding up the few sheets of paper and a black pen.
"I'd like to sit on the bed," she replied.
"You can't write at the desk? I sleep in that bed."
Buffy rolled her eyes. "My butt is sore. And it's not like I'm diseased or something."
"Yeah, yeah." He walked over to the queen-sized bed and set her items down. "Happy now?"
"Far from it. But thanks for asking." She stood up and held out her arms. "This way?"
Spike reached out and wrapped his hand around her wrist, leading her towards the bed. Out of habit, Buffy was about to say thank you--genuinely, this time--but caught herself. Instead, she just nodded and climbed up into the welcoming sheets.
"I'll be back in a couple of hours," he stated, heading towards the door. "Don't do anything stupid."
"Like try not to leave?" she wondered, sweetly.
"I'm warnin' you, pet." Spike was confident that she would still be there when he returned. Her only means of escape was through the front, and he was certain that Vince would handle the situation if need be. Of course, there were probably other ways out of the hotel, but fortunately for him, Buffy was blind. She would have no clue where to start.
"You don't scare me," she said.
"If I don't, then maybe I'll call Vince up here to baby-sit you."
"I'll be good."
He sighed and opened the door.
"You're picking up food, right?"
He paused. "Yeah."
"Can you get some chocolate chip cookies? I love those."
"No."
Then he was gone.
Buffy sighed and reached out for the pen and paper. She thought for a moment to herself, chewing on the end of the writing utensil, and then began to scribble down a few sentences feverishly...
~~~
"I can't believe you didn't tell me she was blind."
"I didn't know!"
It was late. Probably after ten. He was gone almost the entire day, making various errands. He had tried to visit Willy, but Willy wasn't home--so he called him a few hours later, as he drove back to the hotel. "How could you not know?"
"I wasn't informed," Willy said.
Spike was very curious about this whole situation. He had a hunch that Angel was the one out for Buffy's blood, but he couldn't be sure. "Who's behind all of this?" he questioned.
"Don't know."
"I think you do."
"Alright, alright. Maybe I do," he relented.
"Well?"
"Can't say."
"Goddammit, Willy! Why not?"
"Because! I'm sworn to secrecy and all that shit. I'm sorry, man."
Spike sighed. "Is it Angel?"
"What?"
"She mentioned some tosser named Angel. Is it him?"
Silence.
"It is, isn't it?"
"I can't tell you that, Tyler."
"You can bloody well tell me something."
"I would if I could."
He gave up. "Fine, whatever. Just... hurry it up, alright? It's going to be hell, livin' in that room for three weeks. The chit is a sodding nuisance, she is."
"That's good, right? It'll make it easier."
"Right." He didn't sound too convincing.
"Anyway, I'll keep in touch. You should really get back, 'cause the whole "missing person" thing will be happenin' tonight. The cops will be everywhere."
"Christ. It's been twenty-four hours, hasn't it?"
"Almost."
Spike nodded. "Yeah, I better go."
"Good luck, friend."
"Bye."
Click.
By the time Spike reached the hotel, it was almost midnight. He had to admit, he was somewhat nervous. Although he had been careful, and there probably weren't any clues leading to their hideaway, it was still a risky situation. One slip-up and everything could go to hell.
He sauntered into the building, carrying a few bags of food and clothes. Vince greeted him with a nod and Spike disappeared up the stairs. He found the key at the bottom of his pocket and swiftly opened the door to their room. It was dark. Squinting to see through the veil of blackness, he fumbled for the light switch and flipped it on. The room lit up and he finally saw her.
Buffy was sleeping. A few sheets of paper lay around her still form, as she slept soundly on top of the warm covers. Spike set his bags down on the nearby desk and took a few cautious steps towards her. She was curled up in a ball, facing his direction. Her face was soft and glowing, the cruelty of her past not aging her one bit. She looked young and full of life, and... innocent. Very innocent. Untainted and untouched, like the purest of angels. It was unnerving to say the least.
Spike quickly stepped away from the bed, almost tripping on his shoelaces. Bloody hell, mate. She's not innocent. She's just... sleeping. He shook his head and forcefully snatched up the bags, carrying them over to the small refrigerator. He pulled out the various items, such as fruit, water, lunchmeat, bread, orange juice, potato chips, and...
He pulled the container of chocolate chip cookies out of the plastic bag. With a bitter snarl, he tossed them into the garbage can.
"And look. The bloody bitch took my bed," he growled, pulling his shirt over his head and stalking towards the bedside. Just push her off. Who cares? However, he couldn't. That frustrated him to no end. With an angry tug, he whipped the covers back and climbed in. Buffy stirred next to him and turned over on her side. Still, she slept.
Spike took a deep breath, trying desperately to calm his rattling nerves. He scooted over to the farthest edge of the bed, making sure he was nowhere near the woman sleeping next to him.
Then he closed his eyes.
~~~
The Summers' residence was in chaos, as swarms of people trampled in and out of the hectic home. Cop cars were all stationed outside, as the officers questioned a handful of worried neighbors.
"No, I didn't see anything... Buffy was the sweetest girl... do they know anything? ... What kind of parents let their blind daughter out at night? ... that Buffy was so sweet... no, I didn't see anything..."
All of the people on the block said the same things. No one had seen Buffy that night. So far, no one had called regarding a ransom. In fact, there had been no unusual phone calls that could give the police the slightest hint as to where little Buffy Summers had gone.
Joyce wrung her sweaty palms together, nervously chewing on her bottom lip. Hank stood by her side, hands on his wife's shoulders.
"Anything?" the frantic mother asked.
One of the officers gave her a sympathetic smile. "No, I'm sorry. But it's still early. There's a very good chance that your daughter is alive and well. We'll do everything we can to find her."
"But she could be anywhere..." she sobbed.
"Then we won't sleep until she's found."
Although his words were comforting, it still didn't dull the ache in the desperate parents' hearts.
Suddenly, Angel O'Neil bounded through the front door. "Buffy... is she...?" He had seen a report over the news that Buffy was missing. He was at her house mere seconds later.
"Oh, Angel, it's awful," Joyce said to the young man, tears running down her face. "She's been missing for a day now."
"God," he choked out. "I can't believe it. I mean, I just saw her. How can she be gone?"
"The police are searching everywhere," Hank replied. He knew that this case wouldn't be as publicized as it was now, if he wasn't a millionaire. He was paying these people good money to make sure his daughter was safe.
"Are there leads? Anything?" Angel wondered.
"Nothing."
"I have to help. I have to do something. Buffy could be hurt... I-I can't just sit around and let her be gone."
"There's nothing we can do right now, Angel," Joyce told him.
"So we just wait?"
She nodded, sadly.
"No," he argued. "I'm not going to wait. I'm going to do everything in my power to make sure she's alive and well."
"Angel..."
He wasn't listening. "Buffy will be okay," he said and stormed out of the house. "You'll see."
"Riley, you're drunk."
"So are you, babe."
Buffy took a step forward and tripped over her own feet. She giggled.
"See?" he said, waving a strand of brown hair out of his eyes. "Here, let me help." Riley reached down and pulled the hiccupping blonde to her feet.
"Thanks," she laughed. "But we probably shwalk back home."
"Shwalk?" He stumbled a bit, but finally reached his black BMW. He fumbled around for the keys, dropping them three times, then unlocked and opened the passenger door.
"Ya," she nodded. "You know, the thing we do with our legs." Buffy took another step forward and tripped again.
"Something you really need to work on," he noted. He picked her up and helped her into the car.
"Thanks! But we might die."
"We'll be fine," he told her, hopping into the driver's seat and closing the door. "I'm a professional." Riley kept trying to press a foreign object into the ignition, with no prevail. "Stupid key!"
"Um. That's a lighter, honey."
Riley looked down, and burst out laughing.
"Yep, we're gonna die," Buffy sighed, and leaned back in her seat. A few minutes later, they were gunning it down the familiar road...
She opened her eyes.
Tears began to form behind her tired lids, but she brushed them away. Buffy really hated that dream.
She blinked a few times, and it wasn't long before reality all came crashing down upon her. She wasn't warm and safe in her own bed, clutching Mr. Gordo to her trembling body. No. She was in a strange bed, in a strange hotel room...
... with a strange man clutching her to his trembling body.
What the... ?
Buffy tensed in his embrace, as he clung to her almost desperately.
"No," he whispered in his sleep. "Don't go. You can't leave me like this, Dru."
Drew? Hmm, maybe he is gay...
"Get off me," she said, trying to wiggle herself free.
He only held her tighter, pulling her closely to his bare chest. A betraying, little gasp escaped her lips when his arm brushed up against her breast.
That's it. "Let. Go."
Nothing.
"Spike!"
Nothing.
Buffy began kicking her legs. She flailed them about, making direct hits with his shins, ankles, and accidentally...
"Oi! Bloody hell!"
Spike's eyes shot open when she kicked him in the groin. When he realized he was holding her--holding her--he released her like fire. Sweat formed on his brow and his breathing was unsteady, as he turned over onto his back.
She quickly scrambled free to the farthest side of the bed. "Don't do that again," she told him.
His jaw tightened in response. "I was havin' a dream, you stupid bint. You didn't have to kick me."
"You wouldn't let go."
Spike growled and sat up, running a frustrated hand through his messy hair. The dream was still fresh in his mind...
~~~
"How could you do this to me, Dru? You got me bloody fired!"
Her bottom lip began to tremble. "You needn't shout at me, William," she whimpered.
"Stop calling me that!" He picked up a lamp and threw it across the room. It hit the opposite wall with a "crash".
Drusilla flinched. "I said I was sorry."
"Sorry. You're always fuckin' sorry," he roared. "You cheat on me once and you're sorry. You cheat on me twice and you're sorry. Now you get me fired from a job I happen to love, and you're sorry. Well, you know what? Fuck you, Drusilla."
She continued to whimper, pouting like a poor, abused animal. "Must you be so cruel? I love you, William. You know that."
"And this is how you show it? By FRAMING me?"
"I had to! I could have gotten fired myself."
"Why, you..." He had to take a deep breath, or he was sure he was going to explode. "I can't take anymore of this, Dru. I can't keep lettin' you fuck with me."
"Then I'll go."
This got his attention. He looked up at her, eyes wide. "What?"
"I said, I'll go. I can't take anymore of this either, you know. You and all of your... issues."
His fists clenched at his sides, but he said nothing.
She took a deep breath and regarded him, face expressionless. "I'm leaving you, William. I'll pack my bags tonight."
Spike didn't know what to say--what to do. He should just let her go, but how could he? She was everything to him. "Dru, don't... don't go. We can work through this somehow. I'm sorry I shouted, baby. But please don't go."
Drusilla sighed. "I'm sorry."
She began to walk away, but he was immediately at her side, taking her in his arms. "No. Don't go. You can't leave me like this, Dru."
"It's for the best," she said, stiff in his embrace. "You're a good man--not to mention an amazing lover--but this isn't going to work anymore. Alright, pet?"
Spike took a step back, his face hardening once more. "I see," was all he said. And he did see. For the second time in his life, he saw.
"I'm sorry, William. Maybe--"
"Get out."
"But--"
"Get the fuck out of my house!" If she didn't leave now, he knew he was going to do something he'd regret.
Drusilla winced at his tone, but knew better than to argue. So she simply nodded and walked past him.
Spike didn't look at her. He couldn't look at her. Not after--
"Spike!"
He jerked his head up, obviously lost in his own, little world. Buffy was sitting on the edge of the bed. "W-What?" His voice was shaking. Sodding voice.
"I'm hungry."
"So?"
She sighed. "So, can you get me something? Or at least help me to the fridge? Blind girl, here."
"Uh, right."
Spike took a deep breath, erasing all memories of Drusilla from his mind. He had more important things to worry about now. Like how he was going to kill this insufferable, young blonde...
"What did you get?" she wondered, gathering up all of her stray sheets of paper and quickly stuffing them under the pillow.
"Food," he mumbled, standing up and stretching.
"I see. Did you get my cookies?"
"No."
She wasn't surprised. "How very kidnappery of you."
Spike paused to look at her. "Did you just say 'kidnappery'?"
"Yes."
He shook his head. "Bloody weird, you are..."
"At least I'm not a sadistic monster."
Spike counted to ten. Then he counted backwards to one. "You best take that back, love," he finally said.
"Why should I? It's the truth. And it's not like you're going to kill me."
"No, but when I do, it will be very painful."
She didn't say anything. She could tell by his voice that he could go off at any given moment, and she really didn't want to deal with that right now. Besides, she was still pretty shaken from her recurring nightmare. Which reminded her... "What were you dreaming about?"
"None of you goddamn business."
"I was just asking. Jeez."
He pulled out a bottle of water and a banana and approached her. "My ex."
"What?"
"I was dreaming about my ex, if you must know."
"Oh, right. Drew. I'm sure he's kicking himself for letting a prize like you get away..." The next thing she knew, something hit her in the head. "Ow!" She picked it up off her lap, trying to feel what it was. Her eyes went wide. "You threw a banana at my head!"
"You deserved it."
"No one deserves to be hit in the head with a banana."
He scowled for a moment, and then realized she had called Dru a "he". "Wait a minute. Dru is a woman, you silly chit."
"A girl named Drew? That's a laugh," she snorted.
"It was short for Drusilla."
"Like that's terrifically better. It sounds so... vampy."
"Like Buffy is any better?" he countered.
"Like Spike is any better?" she countered back.
"It's a nickname."
"For what?"
"Not tellin'."
She rolled her eyes. "Like I cared," she grumbled.
Spike sighed and handed her the bottle of water. "I'm takin' a shower."
"Wait. Can I?"
"Bloody hell! You're not takin' a shower with me, pet."
"Ugh. Not with you. Before you."
Well, he was pretty hungry. He supposed he could wait a little while before freshening up. "Be my guest."
"Wow. I didn't take you to be a "ladies first" kinda guy."
"You're hardly a lady."
Buffy frowned, oddly hurt by that statement. But she quickly shook her head and stood up.
"You know how to get there?" he asked.
"I did a little recon after you left last night."
He just nodded and watched as she disappeared into the bathroom. After Spike heard the water turn on, he pulled an apple out of the refrigerator and flushed it down with some orange juice. He decided he wasn't very hungry, afterall, and it only made him feel sick. He sighed and glanced around the room, eyes falling on the stack of towels he had meant to put in the bathroom. If he didn't give them to her, she would probably be bitching when she got out.
Setting the container of juice down, he picked up one of the towels and approached the bathroom door. And the second he opened it, he remembered: No shower curtain.
He should have tossed the towel in and shut the door, never looking up. That's what he should have done.
But he didn't. Spike looked up.
And froze.
Buffy obviously hadn't heard him come in, because she was merrily scrubbing herself into a lather, humming some mundane tune. Her back was to him, and he watched, almost transfixed, as the droplets of water and soapy suds trickled down her bronzed skin.
Look away! Look away! He didn't look away. How could he? He was a man, afterall. And even though he hated her guts, she was still... a woman. With a perfect body, that was slender and toned--curved in all the right places. Part of him was silently asking her to turn around, so he could see the rest of her.
But Spike was eventually shaken out of his trance-like state when he felt a stirring in his jeans. He looked down to see a quickly growing bulge. He glared at his betraying anatomy and cursed himself for still standing there. Why are you still standing here? Get out!
This time he took his own advice and swiftly shut the bathroom door. A little too loudly.
Buffy stilled when she heard the bathroom door slam shut. Had he seen her? She reached a hand out and realized that she had forgotten to pull the shower curtain back. Reaching around a little more, she realized that there was no shower curtain. Oh, god!
Cheeks flushed with embarrassment, she furiously began to scrub herself clean. Nothing like your kidnapper walking in on you naked to really get the day going...
"Do you hear that?" Buffy asked.
"What?"
"It's raining."
Spike leaned back in the bed, flipping through various television stations. "Yeah," was all he said.
Two days had passed in mostly silence, as Buffy continued to scribble away with her pen and paper, and Spike tried his best to ignore her. His mind often strayed to the memory of seeing her nude in the shower, but the moment that happened, he would quickly turn on the TV or thumb through a magazine--anything to take his mind off that.
Buffy sat next to him on the bed, writing furiously. She stuck the tip of her tongue out in concentration, all the while keeping a decent distance between them. She didn't like being too close to him--also, she didn't want him to try and sneak a peep at what she was writing.
"What are you writing?"
She instinctively hid her papers from wandering eyes. "None of your business."
Spike was curious, but he didn't press the matter. "Alright."
An hour went by. It was probably around nine o'clock. Spike was still watching TV, but Buffy had already tucked her writings under her pillow. He guessed she was going for subtle, but he was well-aware of her hiding place. But he never looked.
Buffy suddenly laughed out loud.
"Somethin' funny, love?"
"You're watching the Simpons," she stated. "I saw that episode."
"How do you know what I'm watching?"
"Um. I may be blind, but I'm not deaf."
"Right."
"Yeah," she said. "I laughed when I saw it with Riley, too. He..." Her voice trailed off.
"He what?"
"Nothing. Goodnight." She rolled over, facing away from him, and closed her eyes.
Spike sighed. "G'night." But he didn't go to sleep. He just stared blankly at the television set, his mind elsewhere. "Buffy?"
A moment and then, "What?"
"Uh, I know this is gonna sound stupid or whatnot, but..."
"Yeah?"
He paused. "Nothing."
Buffy turned over so she was now lying on her back. "What?"
A minute passed. Then another. It felt as if millenniums had gone by before he spoke. "I'm sorry."
She had to admit, she wasn't expecting to hear that. She said nothing.
Spike cleared his throat. "I know you probably don't deserve this. And it's nothin' personal, mind you. I just--"
"Guilty conscience?"
"No," he replied, a little too quickly. "The point is, I don't know you. I don't know what you did to piss this wanker off, and part of me doesn't want to know. But... for some reason, I don't think you deserve this."
"You could always let me go."
"No, I can't."
"Can't or won't?"
"Both."
She swallowed. "Then I'm sorry, too."
He nodded. "Yeah."
Buffy's eyes watered a bit. Was he really going to go through with it? Were these really her last moments on earth? Sometimes she thought so. Sometimes she didn't. Spike was a complete mystery to her--and to be honest, she had no idea what he was capable of.
Maybe if I got to know him? Yeah, but that would involve actual conversations. And a certain level of intimacy. Maybe I can persuade him to let me go? Her mind went through all the things that men enjoyed: sex, sports, sex, cars, sex, beer...
Beer! She could get him really drunk and then maybe he'll reveal some vital information that would be necessary for a successful escape attempt!
No. Nothing good came from alcohol.
Cars? Uh, moving along...
Sports? Yeah, she could bore him to death with her lack of knowledge on the subject and then maybe he'll get so annoyed with her, he'll let her go. That, or kill her.
Sex. Buffy blushed at the thought. For one, she had very little experience. And two, he hated women, anyway. But that didn't stop him from sneaking a peep at you in the shower...
He probably just opened the wrong door!
Right. And who's the blind one in this situation?
She sighed. No, sex wouldn't work. Besides, what would that accomplish, anyway?
He could fall in love with you.
Buffy almost gasped out loud at this concept. It was crazy, insane, stupid, and... could it work? He was obviously softening somewhat towards her. He apologized, right? That's progress. That's... something.
But love was something else entirely. It took more than a couple of weeks to fall in love with somebody. Didn't it? But if it worked, then she could go free... there's no way he would kill her if he loved her...
Or at least developed some sort of feelings for her.
So it was settled. Buffy would do everything in her power to make Spike Tyler fall head over heals for her. Even if that did mean having to let her guard down a little. It would be worth it. And in no time at all, she would sleeping in her own bed, in her own home, and this would all just be one, very bad memory.
"Are you sleepin'?"
Buffy almost jumped at the sound of his voice. "No. Why?"
"Just wondering. Can't sleep."
"Do I care?" Oops! "I-I mean... is there anything I can do to help?" Real smooth, Buffy...
Spike frowned and turned off the television. Buffy was lying on her back again. "Uh, not to my knowledge."
"Oh," she said. "I'm good at shoulder massages. Do you want one? I hear they're... relaxing." What?! Hello! Jumping the gun much??
He looked at her curiously. Something was up. "Did you just offer to give me a massage?"
She gulped. "Um, yes?"
"Did you happen to... find drugs of any sort lyin' around the room?"
"What? No! I don't do drugs."
"And you do remember that I plan on killin' you in a few weeks..." he stated, as if trying to get the facts straight.
Another gulp. "Yuh-huh."
A beat. And then he shrugged his shoulders. "Alright then."
"What?"
"If you're offering..."
"No! I-I take it back."
Spike was seriously confused. "Now you take it back?"
"Yes," she nodded. I can't do this! I can't pretend to be nice...
Spike studied her and noticed that her cheeks had turned a lovely shade of pink. In all of his life, he had never seen a girl blush before. It was almost... well, it was kind of endearing. "So no massage then?"
She shook her head.
"Right. So we'll blame that on a sudden spurt of insanity?"
Insert vigorous nod here.
Spike sighed. "Fine."
Buffy, still terribly embarrassed for making an idiot of herself, took a deep breath and sunk deeper into her pillow. A few minutes later, Spike turned off the lamp and the room went dark.
Way to go, Buffster. Now, not only does he still hate you, but he also thinks your a freakin' headcase. She decided that she needed a new plan of attack. She'd prefer to take things slowly, but time was of serious importance in this case. Maybe she should just have sex with him right now and get it over with? There's always a connection after sex, right? That's what Riley used to say, anyway...
But, god! If she was too embarrassed to give him a shoulder massage, how could she convincingly pull off a seduction?! She knew that she couldn't. She didn't have it in her to be sexually forward. Especially with some killery guy she barely knew.
Okay, so then what? She could always just go with a friendly gesture to start things off. Like a hug, or pat on the back, or...
Oh! The leg touch! She had done that right when they first met. If he didn't pull away then, why would he now? It was just a simple gesture, afterall. And if he wasn't fond of her advances he could always push her away. Then she'd come up with a new technique.
Right. Okay. I can do this. With her heart beating rapidly against her chest, she reached over placed her hand gently on his thigh.
Spike sucked in a breath. "Um... B-Buffy?"
Act coy! "Hm?" she asked coyly, running her hand tentatively up and down his jean-clad leg. He didn't seem to be pulling away. That's good. Yay me!
Wait. Was that a... moan?
Spike froze as her hand began to move. "What are you... ohh..." Push her away, damnit!
"What did you say?" she wondered, her voice containing just the right amount of sweetness. Suddenly, she felt his leg begin to rise beneath his jeans. She frowned. Since when did legs--oohhh... oh, my god!
Buffy pulled her hand away so fast, she accidentally smacked herself in the face. I just touched his naughty parts! her brain provided.
Spike growled--either because of the fact that she stopped, or because he didn't push her away in the first place--he didn't know. "What the fuck was that?" he demanded, sitting up in bed.
Buffy hid her face in her hands, too ashamed to speak. What the hell did I just do? Oh, god. Oh, my GOD!
"Buffy!"
"I-I don't know!" she finally answered, humiliated out of her mind. "I was just... trying to be nice. I-I didn't mean to..."
"To put your hand on my dick?!"
"I was just trying to touch your leg!" she insisted.
"Why the bloody hell would you want to touch my leg?"
"Because! I..." Shit. How was she supposed to answer that?
He waited for her response. "Well?"
"I-I thought that if I was nice to you, you'd let me go," she admitted.
Spike grit his teeth together. "Is that right..." he bit out.
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to do that."
He took a deep breath, trying to keep reign on... well, whatever it was he was feeling. "I'm takin' a shower."
Buffy frowned. "You took one this morning."
"Trust me. I need another."
She felt the bed shift, and it was soon followed by the slam of the bathroom door. Buffy pulled the covers up over her head, wondering why she had to be so stupid. She couldn't do anything right! Her face flamed at the thought of... touching him like that. Not only that, but his reaction to her. Hated women, huh?
She sighed. This was pointless. It all was. There was obviously no way he was going to let her go, especially now. She should just resign herself to the fact that she was going to be dead in a couple of weeks.
Buffy took a deep, quivering breath. When she finally heard the water turn off, she closed her eyes and feigned sleep.
When Spike returned, the only sound in the room was the rain lightly tapping at the window and Buffy's steady breathing.
Pitter. Patter. Pitter. Patter.
It was still raining. Spike attempted to fluff the pillow beneath his head to make himself more comfortable on the hard floor, but it didn't help. The incessant rainfall was far from soothing and the rough carpet was far from accommodating. The thought of climbing back into the bed that he had rightfully called crossed his mind once or twice, but he didn't move. He just closed his eyes once more, willing sleep to overtake him.
But it didn't.
Sodding hell, he inwardly cursed, turning onto his back with a sigh and staring up at the blackened ceiling.
Spike decided that he was afraid to get back into bed. He wasn't afraid that Buffy would try to--do that--again... no, he was afraid because he liked it. Girls had come on to him before, sure, but his reaction had never been so strong. Hell, he jumped in the shower to wank off only seconds after she touched him. It was almost embarrassing.
He closed his eyes again. Sleep had to come eventually, right? Maybe if he kept trying, he--
He paused suddenly at the soft sounds coming from the bed above him. He strained his ears to hear, and sure enough... Buffy was crying. Crying?
Buffy buried herself as deep as she could into the soft pillows and blankets. She didn't want to wake him with her tears. Who knew what he'd do. He sounded so... angry, before. And she really hadn't meant to touch him like that. God, it was humiliating.
"Are you crying, pet?"
Her watery eyes shot open. Crap! I woke him up! She sniffled a bit and then answered, "No."
"Not what it sounds like to me."
"I have allergies," she said.
He almost believed her. Almost. "It's because of earlier, isn't it." It was a fact, not a question.
She didn't answer.
Spike sighed. "Didn't mean to lose my temper. I was just... startled," he explained.
"You probably think I'm some big ho now," she replied, wiping at her stained cheeks. Then she added for good measure, "Not that I care what you think of me..."
"I don't think you're a ho. And that says a lot, comin' from me."
"I probably am. I would've had sex with you, you know. If it meant my safety. Does that make me a prostitute?"
"Uh, no. That would involve sex for money. And that doesn't make you a ho either. Just smart," he shrugged.
Buffy frowned. "Ego much? I doubt you're that cute."
"You'd be surprised."
"I'm sure," she scoffed, although quite curious...
A small smile quirked at the corner of his lips. "If you ever get your eye sight back, you'd shag me in a minute."
Oh, my God! Is he flirting with me? "Shag you? Pfft. Yeah. Like I even know what that means..."
"Don't get out much, do you?"
"I'm blind. What do you think?"
He paused. "I think you're smarter than you look. But not as worldly."
"Excuse me? You don't know me. You have no idea what I've been through."
"White flag here, love. I'm just bein' honest," he told her.
Buffy swallowed, still hiding under the covers. A few moments passed and she felt the bed shift again.
Spike sat on the bed and studied her through the layer of darkness. Then he sighed and lay down. "So, enlighten me," he said.
"What? No. It's none of your business."
"So? Strangers are easier to talk to, yeah?"
"Not crazy ones."
"Lucky for you, I'm not crazy."
"I'll believe it when I see it."
"Not fair comin' from a blind girl."
"Oh well."
He leaned back into his pillow. "Why are you so bloody difficult?"
"I have a right to be. I'm stuck in a room with a weird, British guy."
"Beg your pardon? Since when does me bein' British have anything to do with it?"
"Because! You... you say all these creepy things I don't understand. Like "shag" and "sod". Isn't that dirt or something?"
"It means... oh, bullocks! I'm not explainin' my dialect to you."
"See? There you go again!" she stated.
"What?"
"You said "bolix"."
"Bolix? Did not."
"Did too."
"Did--" He stopped and sighed. "You still never answered my question."
"Sorry, but I'm not showing you my dark side."
He curled his tongue behind his teeth. "I'll show you mine, if you show me yours."
Buffy gulped. Okay, if he wasn't flirting then, he was definitely flirting now. And why should she take the bait? She should just close her eyes, go to sleep, and... "Fine." I suck.
"Yeah?"
"Yeah. You go first."
"No bloody way!"
"Then I'm not talking."
He grumbled. "Alright then. What do you want to know?"
"Who's Drusilla?"
"My ex."
"Okay, but what--"
"Ah, ah, ah," he scolded. "My turn."
She huffed and rolled onto her back.
"Who's Riley?" he wondered.
"My ex."
He was about to speak, but Buffy cut him off. "Why did you break up?"
"Various reasons. How did you go blind?"
"Car accident."
Spike couldn't help but let a smile slip. "Is this little game goin' to consist of more than two-worded answers?" he asked.
"Not likely."
Another smile. "Suit yourself."
"Fine then."
Silence.
Buffy shifted uncomfortably on the bed. "What were the various reasons?"
Spike closed his eyes, as cruel memories invaded his mind... "You cheat on me once and you're sorry. You cheat on me twice and you're sorry. Now you get me fired from a job I happen to love, and you're sorry..." He swallowed back the newly forming lump in the back of his throat, suddenly realizing that this was a bad idea.
"Spike?" she asked, after almost two minutes went by in silence.
He opened his eyes again. "I can't."
"I thought we were past the two-worded answers stage."
"No." He shook his head, the pain too real. "You don't understand. I-I can't talk to you like this."
"Like what?"
"You bloody know like what!" he shouted.
Buffy flinched, wondering what she said to piss him off this time. Did this guy have that multiple personality disorder thing? How can someone go from quirky, flirty guy to massive prick in a matter of minutes? "God, what is your deal? And why were you even being nice to me in the first place?" She thought for a moment. "Maybe you don't hate women. Maybe you're just saying that so I'll think you hate women. Then one day you'll catch me off guard and rape me or something. Maybe--"
She cut off abruptly as Spike's hand reached out and captured her wrist. She sucked in a breath when he pressed her palm against his naked chest. Buffy tried to pull away, but he kept her hand firmly in place, grazing it along the marred flesh. "What are you--" Then she felt them. She bit her lip. "Scars," she murmured.
He ground his teeth together, his eyes closed. "My mother did that to me," he said. "So believe it when I say I hate women." He let go of her hand.
But Buffy didn't pull away. Still chewing absently on her bottom lip, she moved her hand upwards, her fingers leaving a feather light caress against his skin.
Spike's breathing quickened, wondering what she was trying to do. He caught her hand. "Stop that," he whispered.
"No."
"What the hell are you doing?"
"Trying to see you."
He frowned, but let go of her hand. It continued its journey north, stopping at his chin. She was about to reach out to feel his face, but he jerked away, shooting out of bed at lightening speed. "No."
"What?" she wondered.
"Don't touch me."
She blushed. "I just wanted to know what you looked like."
"I don't want you to know."
"Why not?"
"Because! It's too..." His voice trailed off.
"Intimate?" she provided.
Spike didn't answer.
"Thought so."
"What do you know?" he demanded. "What the hell do you know about intimacy? You're so fucking naive."
Buffy's eyes widened and she sat up in bed. "How dare you," she spat. But she quickly quelled her anger and said with the most amount of certainty she could muster, "You have a thing for me."
He gaped at her. "What did you just say?"
She held her head high. "You do. You like what I stand for. You like what I am. Uncorrupted. Innocent. Naive."
"You have got to be joking..."
"You like that I'm not like them," she concluded.
Spike's eyes flashed. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"Yes, you do." To be honest, Buffy had no idea what made her say that. But it seemed to strike a nerve, so she went with it...
He began to pace the room. "Fine," he relented. "I'll be straightforward with you. You're not what I expected."
Buffy listened to him, curiously.
"But that doesn't mean I have a thing for you. I don't go soft every time a pretty bird walks into my life."
I'm pretty? she wondered, absently. She had a very dim recollection of her physical attributes. Three years really puts a damper on the memory. And no one ever brought up the way she looked, so she never really thought of herself as anything to be desired.
"Are you even listenin' to me?"
Buffy blinked. "What was that?"
He rolled his eyes. "Forget it."
"No. I-I spaced. No one's ever said I was pretty before, so my mind sort of..." She sighed. "Go on."
Spike regarded her carefully. No one ever told her she was pretty? How was that possible? "Uh, no. It's not important."
"No, really. I'm listening now. I'm All Ears Buffy."
The corner of his mouth twitched, as if a smile was beginning to surface. He shook his head. "It's late," he finally told her.
Buffy resigned herself to the fact that this conversation was officially over. "Yeah," she agreed.
"I'll, uh, see you in the morning."
"Right." She swallowed. "Goodnight." Buffy was surprised when Spike climbed into bed next to her. She didn't say anything.
He turned over so he was facing away from her and closed his eyes. "Goodnight."
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