Summary: Once, William Pratt was a quiet poet, madly in love with his wife, Drusilla. Now, Spike is a loner, hunting in the night for the monster who took her away. He is focused on vengeance, making no room for anything else in his life – until his plan to get his revenge takes a turn he never could have predicted.
Author's Notes: Parts of this fic get very dark. There’s angst, there’s violence,
there’s stuff that’s not altogether happy. It’s not all angst, but
there is a good bit, especially in certain parts. If at any point it
gets to be two much for you, you can do one of two things: stop
reading, hold your breath and hope it gets better, or email me and ask
me to answer any question you have about what’s coming up to see if
it’s something you still want to read. (I’ll always answer those
questions in private emails sent to addie_logan@yahoo.com. I will not
answer them in a public forum like my livejournal or a review page. I
don’t want to spoil the story for people who don’t want to know.)
However, what I ask you not to do is complain to me about things
being too dark or tell me it’s too much for you. I have some readers
who have problems with angst and some who don’t. I’m not going to
shortchange the ones who do, or myself for that matter, because some
people can’t take it. That’s not fair to anyone. So if you don’t like
what I’m writing, then that’s your personal preference, and you’re free
to read something else. I understand that, and I’m fine with it. I’m
not fine with flame wars, nor am I fine with people harassing me,
writing me threatening emails, or trash talking me around the internet.
(And just so you know, I’m not paranoid – this has happened.)
So, to sum up – there is angst. If you like it, that’s cool,
keep reading. If you don’t, that’s cool, too, you can quit reading. Or
read with one eye covered. Or something. Just don’t flame me.
Rating: NC-17
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Buffy woke as the sun set over the horizon, stretching as best she could in the bathtub, a small groan escaping her.
The blood and rest must’ve done some good, since she was now aware
enough to notice the aches and cricks in her body from spending too
much time chained up in a small space. She wished Spike would let her
out, though she understood why he wouldn’t. He didn’t trust her, and he
certainly didn’t have any reason to either.
She looked down at her hands, noting that her wounds didn’t look any
better. She didn’t even want to think about what her face looked like,
and for once, she was grateful she no longer had a reflection. She was
sure she was beyond repulsive.
Buffy shifted again, unable to get comfortable at all in the tub. She
knew she should probably sleep some more, but she was too restless and
sore now.
And hungry again…
She bit her lip, mulling over what to do. Eventually, she figured Spike
would bring her more blood, but for all she knew, it could be hours,
possibly even not until tomorrow. Hell, she didn’t know if he planned
to come back into the bathroom at all. Should she stay where she was
and wait him out, or would it be okay for her to let him know she
needed something?
Finally, she decided to take a chance. If he didn’t want her bothering
him, well – what could he do to her that was worse than what he’d
already done?
“Spike?”
She was relieved when a few moments after she called his name, he cracked open the bathroom door and peeked in. “Yeah, pet?”
Buffy couldn’t help the tremble that passed through her at the
nickname. She wasn’t even sure he was aware he’d started using a term
of endearment towards her, but every time he did it, her body had an
involuntary reaction. Human or not, he was…attractive. Firm wiry muscles and the most gorgeous blue eyes she’d ever seen. And so different from Angelus…
“Buffy, did you need something?”
His question made Buffy blink, snapping back to the present and
realizing her mind had wandered a bit. Oops… “Um, yeah. I was,
um…hungry again. Can…can I have more blood? Would…would that be all
right? If it’s not, that’s okay, I’ll just be quiet.”
“No, it’s fine,” Spike assured her. “It’s been in the fridge. Do I need to heat it up?”
“If you wouldn’t mind. Cold blood is all clotty and nasty.”
Spike made an expression of distaste. “Yeah, I’d imagine it would be. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”
He shut the door again, and Buffy leaned against the pillow he’d
brought her earlier. She couldn’t believe she was actually perving a
little on the guy. Sure, he was handsome, but he was also human.
That, and he’d dumped holy water all over her, hit her several times in
the face, zapped her with a taser, threatened her with both a stake and
sunlight, and was currently keeping her chained to a bathtub. None of
that exactly screamed “seductive.”
Well, maybe the chains, she conceded, but not in a cold, hard bathtub. That took the sexy right out of the equation.
When he came back with the blood, Buffy found herself watching him
move, her mouth watering unbidden. He moved with such deadly grace,
relaying the hunter he was with every step. If he was in good enough
condition to go toe to toe with demons… She trembled at the thought of
the body that had to be under those tight, black clothes.
If she was going to actually do a human, it would be one like him.
Or, well, him, she realized. While her previous attempt to
seduce him had simply been a ploy to get free, her reaction now was
genuine attraction. He was gorgeous, with a face much more angelic than
she’d spent most of the past twenty-five years looking at. His features
were perfect, not a single blemish marring his face, save for one scar
that cut a jagged line into his eyebrow – and even that just seemed to
add to his overall hotness.
She’d always assumed that sex with a human would be icky, but watching
him, she wondered if that would be the case at all. Sure, they got all
sweaty and hot, but his warm touch had felt so good on her, the few
times he’d touched her in something other than anger. And to listen to
his blood pumping under his skin, his heart pounding in his chest, as
he fucked her? Just thinking about it made her mouth water…
And the bulge in his jeans… She didn’t have to break out a ruler to tell he had more there than Angelus did.
“Uh, Buffy? Do you want this or not?”
“Huh?” Buffy asked, blinking, before she realized Spike had already
unchained her hands and was handing her the mug. “Oh, right, Sorry. I
was just…” You’re pretty… “I keep zoning out. From the pain,” she said, hoping that was a believable explanation.
Spike winced and drew back from her. “I’m sorry.”
Buffy’s hands shook at his apology, and she almost dropped her mug. “Are you?”
“Yeah,” Spike admitted, looking down at his hands and not her burned face. “I… I took things too far.”
“Well, it’s kind of what you do, isn’t it? I mean, I get the feeling
I’m not the first vampire you’ve ever come in contact with, and I doubt
the others lasted this long.”
“Yes, but I don’t…” A flicker of what Buffy could only call regret went
across his face. “I never treated one like I did you. Not like that.
Not when they weren’t even fighting back.”
“Don’t feel so bad about it,” Buffy said, her gaze drifting down to her
mug of animal blood. “I’m a pathetic excuse for a vampire anyway. At
least according to Angelus.”
Spike’s head cocked to the side and he regarded her with a frown. “He said that to you?”
“Yeah. Somewhere in between telling me he never loved me and calling me
garbage.” Buffy didn’t know why she was admitting this, especially
since it was still too raw for her to even want to talk about it, but
she found herself saying the words nonetheless.
“Is that what made your change your mind about helping me?” Spike
asked, taking a step closer to the bathtub. “Did you try to go back to
Angelus and he turned on you?”
“Yes,” Buffy admitted, a lump in her throat. “I…I really needed him,
you know? I was hurt, and weak, and I needed someone to take care of
me, and I thought he’d do it. He’s my sire. We’ve been lovers for most
of the past two and a half decades. But…but he turned me away. He said
he had someone better now, and that I was just useless and disgusting
to look at now that I’m all burned up. He knocked me down, and he
yelled at me, and then he told the minions to take out the garbage.”
She spoke in a rush, the dam bursting inside of her again, and as soon
as she was through with her confession, she was crying once more.
She could be manipulating him. Spike knew that. But somehow, he didn’t think she was. She looked so completely…broken.
It hurt his heart to watch her.
“Buffy?”
She looked up at the soft way he said her name. “Yeah?”
“If I kept you unchained while I was awake, you wouldn’t try anything, would you?”
“No.”
“And you know I’d stake you if you did.”
“Yes.”
“Good.” Spike leaned over the bathtub, taking her blood from her before
he pulled the keys out of his pocket and unlocked the chains. Buffy
sighed in relief when she could move her limbs again, stretching them
out experimentally.
“You’ll be going back in before I go to sleep,” Spike told her, even as
he held out his hand and helped her to her feet. “I can’t let you be
free when I can’t keep an eye on you.”
“Okay.” Buffy ran her fingers along his wrist, her hand lingering a
little too long in his as she climbed out of the tub. She could feel
his pulse, and it made her want things other than just blood.
She could hear his heart pounding and his breaths grow ragged. Her eyes
shifted to his lips, her tongue darting out to moisten her own as she
wondered what he’d do if she kissed him. Would he push her away in
disgust, or would he…
Her train of thought was stopped short when he jumped back from her,
running his hands shakily through his platinum blond curls before he
picked the mug back up and thrust it at her. “Here, eat. You were
hungry,” he said, his words coming a bit too quickly to be normal. “And
I’m going to shower. Because you’ve been in there, and it’s been a few
days, and…” He took a deep breath, calming himself down. “You can go
sit on the couch. There’s a television, too. I’ve got cable.”
“I’ll still be there when you get out,” Buffy said.
“Yeah, I know.”
Buffy let her eyes flicker down to his crotch for just a moment before
she left he bathroom, and she smirked to herself as she confirmed in
her mind that his shower was going to be a cold one.
It made her feel a little better to know maybe this attraction wasn’t one-sided.
True to her word, Buffy was on the couch when Spike came back out of
the bathroom. She was curled up against the arm, her now-empty mug on
the floor, her eyes focused on the television. The side facing him now
was the side that had been least affected by his torment of her the day
before, and he realized with a quick intake of breath how beautiful she
actually was.
Clearly, she’d been young when she’d been turned, though she looked
mature enough to pass for a woman and not a child. His eyes traveled
the length of her, down the golden waves of her hair, over her firm
breasts, all the way down her strong, well-formed legs. He had a
fleeting thought of them wrapped tightly around his hips, her breasts
bare and bouncing as he…
Spike shook his head, deciding that line of thinking was going to stop
right there. She was a vampire. A cold, dead thing. If he actually
touched her, he was sure he’d enjoy it less than his body was trying to
convince him of at the moment.
Only her hand had felt nice in his when he’d helped her from the bathtub…
Which had been another dumb thing to do, he chastised himself. He had
to stop feeling sorry for her and remember what she was. Even if what
she’d told him about how Angelus had treated her when she went back to
him was true, that didn’t make her somehow suddenly on his side. She
was a demon, evil and a killer. She was probably only here with him
now, agreeing to his terms, because she needed help both healing and
getting revenge on the lover who scorned him. As soon as Angelus was
dead, she was sure to turn on him.
Which meant he had to keep alert so he could get her first.
“Did you get enough to eat?”
Buffy turned to look at him, and while she’d started to answer his question, her words came out as a broken squeak. He was…shirtless. And still wet from the shower. Oh, baby…
Spike felt himself blushing at her unabashed ogling of his chest. Her
eyes darkened, and her tongue ran over her lips slowly, as if she were
imagining tasting him. As if he were something she’d like to eat.
If she hadn’t been a vampire, that may have unnerved him a little less.
“Uh, Buffy? You’re not still…hungry are you?”
She looked at his face then, her eyes still full of lust. “Not for blood, no,” she replied with a coy smile.
Oh bloody buggering fuck… There was no way of mistaking what she
was hungry for. Quickly, Spike went to his dresser and pulled out a
t-shirt, slipping it over his head before she could get much more of a
look. “Well, that’s good,” he said, his voice holding a slight tinge of
panic. “If…if you need more blood, I have it.” He took a seat on the
opposite end of the couch from her, practically sitting on the arm.
Buffy sighed internally, her head ducking down at the sting of his
rejection. She felt so stupid for not checking herself and actually
trying to be seductive. Of course he didn’t want her. She was hideously
ugly. Half her body was covered in horrible boils, she was partially
bald, and she knew her currently-blind eye had to look disgusting.
She steeled herself against yet another flood of tears, tired of
breaking down like a child over and over again. Instead, she looked
away from him, concentrating on the television.
Spike said nothing else, and she let the silence stand.
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